Текст книги "Incarceron"

Автор книги: Kathryn Fisher

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"But it's so clear!" Eagerly she read it again. "I mean ... grief will be real ... When my son is King ..."

As he came over and lit the lamp she looked up at him and her eyes were bright with excitement. "Master, it proves she killed him. She murdered the King's Heir, the last of the

Havaarna dynasty, so that his half brother, her own son, could have the throne."

For a moment he was still. Then the flame steadied and he looked up at her. Her heart sank. "You don't think so."

"I thought I taught you better than that, Claudia. Be rigorous in your argument. All this proves is that she intended her son to be King. Not that she did anything about it."

"But this G—"

"Could be anyone with that initial." Remorselessly he stared her down.

"You don't think that! You can't..."

"It's not what I think that matters, Claudia. If you make an accusation like this, you need proof so complete, there can be no question of any doubt."

He eased himself into a chair and winced. "The Prince died in a fall from his horse.

Doctors certified it. His body lay in state in the Great Hall of the Palace for three days.

Thousands filed past it. Your own father ..."

"She must have had him killed. She was jealous of him."

"She never showed any sign of that. And the body was cremated. There's no way of telling now." He sighed. "Don't you see how this will look, Claudia? You'll just be a spoiled girl who doesn't like her arranged marriage and is willing to rake up any sort of scandal to get out of it."

She snapped, "I don't care! What—"

He sat up. "Quiet!"

She froze. The fox cub was on its feet, ears pricked. A whisper of draft gusted under the door.

Instantly they both moved. Claudia was at the window in seconds, darkening the glass; turning, she saw Jared's fingers on the control panel for the sensors and alarms he had fitted on the stairs. Small red lights danced.

"What?" she whispered. "What was it?"

For a moment he didn't answer. Then his voice was low. "Something was there. Tiny.

Perhaps an eavesdropping device."

Her heart thudded. "My father?"

"Who knows? Maybe Lord Evian. Maybe Medlicote."

They stood a long time in the dimness, listening. The night was still. Somewhere a distant dog barked. They could hear the faint baas of the sheep in the meadow beyond the moat, and an owl, hunting. After a while a rustle in the room told them the cub had curled back up to sleep. The candle guttered and went out. In the silence she said, "I'm going into the study tomorrow. If I can't find out about Giles, at least I can learn something about Incarceron."

"With him in the house ..."

"It's my last chance."

Jared ran long fingers through his untidy hair. "Claudia, you must go. We'll talk about this tomorrow." Then all at once his face was white, his hands flat on the table. He leaned over and breathed hard.

She came around the telescope quietly. "Master?"

"My medication. Please."

She grabbed the candle, shook it back into light and cursed the Era for the hundredth time. "Where ... I can't find it..."

"The blue box. By the astrolabe."

She groped, grabbing pens, papers, books, the box. Inside was the small syringe and the ampules; fitting one on carefully, she brought it to him. "Shall I ...?"

He smiled gently. "No. I can manage."

She brought the lamp closer; he rolled his sleeve up and she saw the innumerable scars around the vein. He made the injection carefully, the microinfuser barely touching the skin, and as he replaced it in the box, his voice was calm and steadier.

"Thank you, Claudia. And don't look so scared. This condition has been killing me for ten years and it's in no hurry. It will probably take another ten to finish me off."

She couldn't smile. Times like this terrified her. She said, "Shall I send someone ...?"

"No, no. I'll go to bed and sleep." Handing her the candle, he said, "Be careful how you go down the stairs."

She nodded, reluctant, and crossed the room. At the door she stopped and turned. He stood as if he had been waiting for that, closing the box, the dark green of the Sapient coat with its high collar glinting with strange iridescence.

"Master, that letter. Do you know who it was written to?"

He looked up unhappily. "Yes. And it makes it even more urgent that we get into his study."

The candle flickered as she breathed in dismay. "You mean ..."

"I'm afraid so, Claudia. The Queen's letter was addressed to your father."

5

There was a man and his name was Sapphique. Where he came from is a mystery. Some say he was born of the Prison, grown from its stored components. Some say he came from Outside, because he alone of men returned there. Some say he was not a man at all, but a creature from those shining sparks lunatics see in dreams and name the stars. Some say he was a liar and a fool.

-Legends of Sapphique

"You have to eat something." Finn scowled down at the woman. She sat facing resolutely away from him, her hood over her face.

She didn't say a word.

He dumped the plate and sat on the wooden bench next to her, rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. Around them the noise of the Comitatus at breakfast rang and clattered. It was an hour after Lightson when the doors that were not broken had sprung open with that great crack of sound it had taken him years to grow used to. He looked up at the rafters and saw one of the Prison's Eyes watching curiously; the small red light stared unblinkingly down.

Finn frowned. No one else took any notice of the Eyes, but he loathed them. Getting up, he turned his back on it. "Come with me," he snapped. "Somewhere quieter."

He walked quickly, not turning to see if she followed. He couldn't wait any longer for Keiro.

Keiro had gone to see about their share of the plunder because Keiro always saw to those things. Finn had realized long ago that his oathbrother was almost certainly cheating him, but he could never bring himself to care that much. Now, ducking under an archway, he came out at the top of a wide staircase that curved elegantly down into darkness.

Out here the noise was muted and echoed strangely in the cavernous spaces. A few scrawny slave girls hurried past, looking terrified, as they always did when one of the

Comitatus even glanced at them. From the invisible roof vast chains hung in loops like great bridges, each link thicker than a man. In some of them the uber-spiders had nested, creaming the metal with sticky web. Half a desiccated dog hung head-down from one cocoon.

When he turned, the Maestra was there.

He stepped forward, his voice low. "Listen to me. I had to bring you. I don't want to hurt you. But back there, in the transitway, you said something. You said you recognized this."

Dragging back his sleeve, he held his wrist out to her.

She flicked one disdainful glance at it. "I was stupid to feel sorry for you."

Anger rose in him but he held it down. "I need to know. I have no idea who I am or what this mark means. I don't remember anything. "

Now she did look at him. "You're a cell-born?"

The name annoyed him. "That's what they call it."

She said, "I have heard of them but have never seen one before."

Finn glanced away. Talking about himself disturbed him. But he sensed her interest; it might be his only chance. He sat down on the top step, feeling the cold chipped stone under his hands. Staring out into the dark, he said, "I just woke up. That was all. It was black and silent and my mind was totally empty and I had no idea who or where I was."

He couldn't tell her about the panic, the terrible screaming panic that had surged up and made him beat and bruise himself against the walls of the tiny airless cell.

Couldn't say that he had sobbed himself into a vomiting fit; that he had cowered in the corner shaking for days—the corner of his mind, the corner of the cell, because each was the same and each was empty.

Perhaps she guessed; she came and sat by him, her dress rustling.

"How old were you?"

He shrugged. "How do I know? It was three years ago."

"About fifteen then. Young enough. I've heard some of them are born insane, and already aged. You were lucky."

The barest sympathy. He caught it despite the harshness of her voice, remembered her concern before the ambush. She was a woman who felt for other people. That was her weakness and he would have to play on it. As Keiro had taught him.

"I was insane, Maestra. Sometimes I still am. You can't imagine how it is to have no past, no idea of your name, where you came from, where you are, what you are. I found I was dressed in a gray overall with a name printed on it, and a number. The name was FINN, the number 0087/2314.I read those numbers over and over. I learned them, scratched them on the stones with sharp fragments, cut them in letters of blood on my arms. I crawled around the floor like an animal, filthy, my hair growing long. Day and night were lights that came on and went off. Food slid in on a tray through the wall; waste went out the same way. Once or twice I made an effort and tried to scrabble through the hole, but it snapped shut too quickly. Most of the time I lay in a sort of stupor. And when I slept, I dreamed terrible dreams."

She was watching him. He sensed she was wondering how much was true. Her hands were strong and capable; she worked hard with them, he could see, but she had reddened the nails too. Quietly he said, "I don't know your name."

My name doesn't matter." She kept her gaze level. "I've heard of these cells. The Sapienti call them the Wombs of Incarceron. In them the Prison creates new people; they emerge as infants or adults, whole, not like the halfmen. But only the young ones survive. The

Children of Incarceron."

"Something survived. I'm not sure it was me." He wanted to tell her about the nightmares of fractured images, the times he woke even now in a panic of forgetfulness, groping for his name, where he was, until Keiro's quiet breathing reassured him. Instead he said, "And there was always the Eye. At first I didn't know what it was, only noticed it in the night, a tiny red point glowing near the ceiling. Slowly I realized it was there all the time, came to imagine it was watching me, that there was no escape from it. I began to think there was an intelligence behind it, curious and cruel. I hated it, squirmed away, curled up with my face against the damp stones not to see it. After a while, though, I couldn't stop glancing around to check it was still there. It became a sort of comfort. I got scared it would go away, couldn't stand the thought of it leaving me. That was when I started to talk to it."

He had not told even Keiro this. Her quietness, her closeness, that smell of soap and comfort, he must have known something like them once, because they drew out his words, hard now, reluctant.

"Have you ever talked to Incarceron, Maestra? In the darkest night when everyone else is asleep? Prayed and whispered to it? Begged it to end the nightmare of nothingness?

That's what the cell-born do. Because there is no one else in the world. It is the world."

His voice choked. Careful not to look at him she said, "I have never been that alone. I have a husband. I have children."

He swallowed, feeling her anger puncture his self-pity. Perhaps she was working on him too. He bit his lip and pushed the hair from his eyes, knowing they were wet and not caring. "Well, you are lucky, Maestra, because I had no one but the Prison, and the Prison has a heart of stone. But gradually I began to understand that it was huge and that I lived inside it, that I was a tiny, lost creature, that it had eaten me. I was its child and it was my father, vast beyond understanding. And when I was sure of that, so sure that I was numb with silence, the door opened."

"So there was a door!" Her voice was edged with sarcasm.

"There was. All the time. It was tiny and it had been invisible in the gray wall. For a long time, hours perhaps, I just watched the rectangle of darkness, fearing what might come in, the faint sounds and smells from beyond. Finally I summoned up the courage to crawl to it and peer out." He knew she was looking at him now. He gripped his hands together and went on steadily. "The only thing outside the door was a tubular white corridor lit from above. It ran straight in either direction, and there were no openings in it, and no end. It narrowed eternally into dimness. I dragged myself up—"

"You could manage to walk, then?"

"Barely. I had little strength"

She smiled, humorless. He hurried on. "I stumbled on till my legs wouldn't hold me, but the corridor was as straight and featureless as before. The lights went out and only the Eyes watched me. When I left one behind I found another ahead, and that comforted me, because stupidly I thought Incarceron was watching over me, leading me to safety. I slept where I fell that night. At Lightson there was a plateful of some bland white food by my head. I ate it and walked on. For two days I followed that corridor until I grew convinced I was walking on the spot, getting nowhere, that it was the corridor that was moving, streaming past me, that I was on some terrible treadmill and would walk forever. Then I slammed into a stone wall. I beat on it in despair. It opened, and I fell out. Into dark-ness."

He was silent so long she said, "And found yourself here?"

She was fascinated, despite herself. Finn shrugged. "When I came around I was lying on my back in a wagon with a pile of grain and a few dozen rats. The Comitatus had picked me up on one of their patrols. They could have enslaved me or cut my throat. The Sapient was the one who talked them out of it. Though Keiro takes the credit."

She laughed harshly. "I'm sure he does. And you never tried to find this tunnel again?"

"I tried. I've never succeeded."

"But to stay with these ... animals."

"There was no one else. And Keiro needed an oathbrother; you can't survive here without one. He thought my... visions ... -might be useful, and maybe he recognized I was reckless enough for him. We cut our hands and mixed blood and crawled under an arch of chains together. It's what they do here—a sacred bond. We guard each other. If one dies, the other takes revenge for him. It can never be broken."

She glanced around. "He's not a brother I would choose. And the Sapient?"

Finn shrugged. "He believes my flashes of memory are sent by Sapphique. To help us find the way out." She was silent. Quietly he said, "Now you know my story, tell me about the skin-mark. You spoke of a crystal..."

"I offered you kindness." Her lips were tight. "In return I'm kidnapped and likely to be murdered by a thug who believes he can store lives up for himself. In silver rings!"

"Don't joke about that," Finn said uneasily. "It's dangerous.

"You believe it?" She sounded astonished.

"It's true. His father lived for two hundred years ..."

"Total rubbish!" Her scorn was absolute. "His father may well have lived to old age, but probably because he always took the best of the food and clothing, and left any danger to his stupid followers. Like you." She turned and glared at him. "You played on my compassion. You're still doing it."

"I'm not. I put myself at risk to save you. You saw that."

The Maestra shook her head. Then she caught his arm and before he could pull away, pushed the ragged sleeve up.

His dirty skin was bruised but unscarred.

"What happened to the cuts you made?"

"They healed," he said quietly.

She let go of his sleeve in disgust and turned away. "What will happen to me?"

"Jormanric will send a messenger to your people. The ransom will be your weight in treasure."

"And if they won't pay it?"

"Surely they will."

"If they won't?" She turned. "What then?"

Unhappy, he shrugged. "You end up a slave here. Processing the ore, making weapons.

It's dangerous. Little food. He works them to death."

She nodded. Looking straight out into the dark emptiness of the stairway, she took a breath and he saw its mistiness in the cold air. Then she said, "In that case we make a deal. I get them to bring the crystal and you release me. Tonight."

His heart thumped. But he said, "It's not that easy ..."

"It is that easy. Otherwise I give you nothing, Finn Cell-born. Nothing. Ever."

She turned and her dark eyes watched him steadily. "I am the Maestra of my people and will never submit to Scum."

She was brave, he thought, but she had no idea. In less than an hour Jormanric could have her screaming to give him any-thing he wanted. But Finn had seen that too often, and it sickened him.

"They must bring it with the ransom."

"I don't want them to have to. I want you to take me back to where you found me, today, before lockup. Once we get there—"

"I can't." He stood up abruptly. Behind them the clang of the signal bell sent a flock of the sooty doves that infested the Den flapping out into the dark. "They'd skin me alive!"

"Your problem." She smiled sourly. "I'm sure you can invent some story. You're an expert."

"All I've told you is true." Suddenly he needed her to believe him.

She put her face close to him and her eyes were fierce. "Like the hard-luck tale at the ambush?"

Finn stared back. Then he dropped his gaze. "I can't just free you. But I swear, if you get me this crystal, you'll get home safely."

For a moment the silence was icy. She turned her back on him and hugged herself. He knew she was about to tell him. Her voice was grim.

"All right. A while ago my people broke into a deserted hall. It had been bricked up from the inside, maybe for centuries. The air was foul. When we crawled in we found some clothes gone to dust, some jewelry, a skeleton of a man."

"So?" He waited, intent.

She looked at him sidelong. "In his hand was a small cylindrical artifact made of crystal or heavy glass. Inside it is a hologram of an eagle with open wings. In one claw it holds a sphere. Around its neck, like yours, it wears a crown."

For a moment he couldn't speak. Before he could draw breath she said, "You must swear my safety."

He wanted to grab her hand and run with her, now, back to the shaft and climb up and up to the transitway. But he said, "They have to pay the ransom. I can't do anything now if we tried, we'd both be killed. Keiro too."

The Maestra nodded wearily. "It will cost everything we have to make my weight in treasure."

He swallowed. "Then I swear to you—on my life, on Keiro's life—that if they do, no harm will come to you. That I'll make certain the exchange is honest. That's all I can do."

The Maestra drew herself up. "Even if you were once cell-born," she breathed, "you are fast becoming Scum. And you're as much a prisoner here as I am."

Without waiting for his answer, she turned and swept back into the Den. Slowly, Finn rubbed a hand around the back of his neck, feeling the damp of sweat. He realized his body was a knot of tension; he made himself breathe out. Then he froze.

A dark figure was sitting ten steps down the dark stairs, lounging against the balustrade.

Finn scowled. "Don't you trust me?"

"You're a child, Finn. An innocent." Keiro turned a gold coin over thoughtfully between his fingers. Then he said, "Don't swear on my life again."

"I didn't mean ..."

"Didn't you?" With a sudden jerk his oathbrother stood, 66 strode up the steps, and stood face-to-face with him. "Fine. But remember this. You and I are joined by sworn contract. If Jormanric finds out you're double-crossing him in any way, we both end up as the last of his pretty little rings. But I don't intend or die, Finn. And you owe me. I brought you into this warband, when your head was empty and you were stupid with fear." He shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder why I bothered."

Finn swallowed. "You bothered because no one else would put up with your pride, your arrogance, and your thieving ways. You bothered because you saw I would be as reckless as you. And when you take on Jormanric you'll need me at your back."

Keiro raised a sardonic eyebrow. "What makes you think—"

"You will one day. Maybe soon. So help me in this, brother, and I'll help you." He frowned.

"Please. It means a lot to me."

"You're obsessed with this stupid idea that you came from Outside."

"Not stupid. Not to me."

"You and the Sapient. A pair of fools together." When he didn't answer, Keiro laughed harshly. "You were born in Incarceron, Finn. Accept it. No one comes in from Outside. No one Escapes! Incarceron is sealed. We were all born here and we'll all die here. Your mother dumped you and you can't remember her. The bird-scar is just some tribemark.

Forget it."

He wouldn't. He couldn't. He said stubbornly, "I wasn't born here. I can't remember being a child, but I was one. I can't remember how I got here, but I wasn't bred out of some artificial womb of wires and chemicals. And this"—he held up his wrist—"will prove it."

Keiro shrugged. "Sometimes I think you're still out of your head."

Finn scowled. Then he stalked back up the stairs. At the top he had to step over something crouched there in the dark. It looked like Jormanric's dog-slave, straining at the end of its chain to reach a bowl of water that some joker had placed just out of reach.

Finn kicked the bowl nearer and strode on.

The slave's chain clanked.

Through its tangle of hair, its small eyes watched him walk away.