Incarceron

For a moment, nothing. A rat ran up the passage, saw her, and slunk around. Then the voice said thoughtfully, "Your idea of Fi

She stared up into the darkness. "No."

"Oh yes. Your father was right. To survive here men descend to the depths of their beings. They become beasts, not caring, not even seeing the pain of others. Fi

Its voice was chilling her. She didn't want to listen, to be drawn into its persuasive doubts.

She activated the Key, turned into the low passage, and began to run.

Her shoes slithered on the rubble that littered the floor, bones and straw, a dead creature so desiccated, it collapsed as she jumped over it.

"Claudia. Where are you?"

It was all around her, before her, under her.

"Stop. Please. Or I will have to stop you."

She didn't answer. Ducking under an arch, she found three tu

The Prison rumbled. The floor rippled, rose up under her like a carpet. She gasped as it flung her up; she landed with a cry, one leg bloodied, but picking herself up, she raced on, because it couldn't be sure where she was, not with the Key.

The world rocked. It tipped from side to side. Darkness closed in, noxious smells seeped from the walls, bats swirled in clouds. She wouldn't scream. Clawing the stones, she pulled herself on, even when the passageway lifted itself up and became a hill, a steep, slippery slope, and all the rubble that lay on it slid down on her.

And then, just as she wanted to let go and slither back, she heard voices.

KEIRO FLEXED his fingers. His face was flushed and his eyes would not meet Fi

Keiro ignored him. He looked at Fi

"All my life." His oathbrother's voice was subdued.

"But you. You were the one who hated them most. Despised them ..."

Keiro shook his head in irritation. "Yes. Of course. I hate them. I have more cause to hate them than you. Don't you see that they scare me stiff?" He flung a glance at Attia, then yelled out at the Prison, "And you! I swear if I could ever find your heart, I'd slice it open!"

Fi

He was never scared stiff.

"All my sons think that" Incarceron said slyly.

Keiro slumped against the wall. A Are seemed to have gone out of him. He said, "It scares me because I don't know how far it goes." Lifting up his hand, he flexed his finger.

"It looks real, doesn't it? No one can tell. And how do I know how much more of me is like that? Inside me, the organs, the heart. How do I know?" There was a sort of agony in the question, as if it had been asked silently a million times before, as if behind the bravado and arrogance was a fear he had never revealed.

Fi

"No. I don't want to know."

"It doesn't matter to me." Fi

Quietly she said, "So we're all flawed. Even you. I'm sorry."

"Thanks." Keiro was scornful. "The pity of a dog-girl and a Starseer. That really makes me feel better."

"We're only—"

"Save k. I don't need it." He brushed away Fi

Gildas limped past. "Well, you get no pity from me. Let's get on."

Keiro stared at his back with a rigidity of hatred that made

Fi

Fi

When the world stopped moving, the air was thick with dust; it hung like a fog, and there was a ringing in his ears. Gildas was hissing in pain. Attia scrambled over; she pointed through the miasma. "Fi

For a moment he had no idea. Then he saw it was a face. A face that was oddly clean, with bright clever eyes and a tangle of hastily tied hair. A face that was staring at him out of the mists of the past over the tiny flames of candles on a cake that he leaned over and blew out with one exhausting breath.

"Is that you?" she whispered.

He nodded, silent, knowing this was Claudia. 

32

You will thank us for this. Energy will not be wasted on frivolous machines. We will learn to live simply, untroubled by jealousies and desires. Our souls will be as placid as the tideless seas.

The soldiers came after two hours. Jared had been waiting for them; he had lain on the hard bed in the silent room and listened to the sounds of the Palace through the open casement; the galloping horses far below, the coaches, the scurry, the shouts. It was as if

Claudia had taken a stick to a nest of ants and now they were in a swarming panic, their

Queen injured and their peace gone.

The Queen. As he sat up stiffly and gazed at the men, he hoped he wouldn't have to face her fury.

"Master." The liveried servant seemed embarrassed. "Would you come with us, sir."

Always the Protocol. It saved them from facing the truth. As they led him down the stairs, the guardsmen fell in discreetly behind, their halberds held like staffs of office.

He had already gone through all the emotions. Terror, bluster, despair. Now all that was left was a sort of dull resignation.

Whatever the Warden would do to him had to be borne. Claudia had to have time.

To his surprise they took him past the state rooms, where anxious envoys argued and messengers ran in and out, down to a small room in the east wing. When they ushered him in he saw it was one of the Queen's private drawing-rooms, cluttered with fragile gilt furniture, an elaborate clock on the mantelpiece heaped with cherubs and simpering shepherdesses.

Only the Warden was here.

He was not sitting at a desk, but standing, facing the door. Two armchairs were arranged at easy angles by the hearth, where a great bowl of potpourri sat in the empty fireplace.

It still felt like a trap.

"Master Jared." The Warden indicated one chair with a long finger. "Please sit."

He was glad to. He felt breathless and light-headed.

"A little water." The Warden poured it and brought the goblet over. As he drank from it

Jared felt Claudia's father ... no, not her father ... watching him acutely.

"Thank you."

"You haven't eaten?"

"No ... I suppose ... in all the fuss ..."

"You should take more care of yourself." The voice was hard. "Too many hours working at these forbidden devices."

He waved a hand. Jared saw that the table near the window was covered with pieces of his experiments, the sca