me?' and at the same time the girl said, 'Are you still there?' in awkward collision.
Then she said, 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't be speaking to you. Jared warned me about this.'
'Jared?'
'My tutor.'
He shook his head, and his breath frosted the crystal.
'But look,' she said, 'it's too late now and I can't believe a few words can damage a centuries-old experiment, do you?'
He had no idea what she was talking about. 'You are Outside, aren't you? Outside exists?
The stars are there, aren't they?'
He was terrified she wouldn't answer, but after a moment she said, 'Yes. I'm looking at them.'
He breathed out in amazement; the crystal furred instantly with frost.
'You didn't tell me your name,' she said.
'Finn. Just Finn.'
Silence. A self-conscious stillness, the Key clumsy in his hands. There was so much he wanted to ask, to know, that he didn't know where to begin. And then she said, 'How are you speaking to me, Finn? Is it a crystal key, with the hologram of an eagle inside?'
He swallowed. 'Yes. A key.'
A rustle, behind him. He looked around the tree, saw Gildas snore and grunt.
'Then we each have a replica of the same device.' She sounded quick, thoughtful, as if she was used to solving problems, working out solutions; a clear voice that made him remember suddenly, with the tiniest spark of pain, candles. The seven candles on the cake.
At that moment, with their usual abruptness, the lights of Incarceron came on.
He gasped, saw that he was standing in a landscape of copper and gilt and tawny redness. The forest stretched for miles, sloping down, far down into a wide, undulating landscape. He stared at it in astonishment.
'What was that? What happened? Finn?'
'The lights went on. I ... I'm in a new place, a different Wing. A metal forest.'
She said oddly, 'I envy you. It must be fascinating.'
'Finn?' Gildas was on his feet, looking around. For a moment Finn wanted to call him over, and then caution set in. This was his secret. He needed to keep it.
'I have to go,' he said hurriedly. '1'll try and speak to you again ... now we know... that is, if you want to. But you have to,' he added urgently. 'You have to help me.'
The girl's answer surprised him. 'How can I help you? What can be wrong in a perfect world?'
Finn's hand tightened as the blue light faded. Desperately he whispered, 'Please. You have to help me Escape.'
13
Walls have ears.
Doors have eyes.
Trees have voices.
Beasts tell lies.
Beware the rain.
Beware the snow.
Beware the man
You think you know.
Finn's voice. As she pulled on the gauntlet and flexed the foil, his voice whispered again inside her mask.
You have to help me Escape...
'En garde, please, Claudia.' The swordmaster was a small gray man who sweated profusely. His sword crossed hers; he gave signals with the tiny precise movements of a skilled fencer. Automatically she responded, practicing lunges, parries—sixte, septime, octave—as she had done since she was six.
There had been something familiar about the boy's voice. Inside the warm darkness of the mask she bit her lip, attacked, took quarte, riposted, hitting the maestro's padded jacket with a satisfying thud.
The accent, the slightly slow vowels. It was how they spoke at Court.
'Feint of straight thrust, disengage, please.'
She obeyed, hot now, the glove already softened with sweat, the foil whipping, the small clicks of the familiar exercise comforting, the control of the sword forcing her mind to speed.
You have to help me Escape.
Fear. Fear in the whispering, of being overheard, of saying what he said. And the word
Escape like a holy thing, forbidden, full of awe.
'Quarte counter quarte, please, Claudia. And keep your hand high.'
She took the parries absently, the blades of the foils sliding past her body. Behind the maestro Lord Evian came out of the main door into the courtyard and stood on the steps, taking snuff. He watched her, elegantly poised.
Claudia frowned.
She had so much to think about. The fencing lesson was her own escape. In the house it was chaos; her clothes being packed, the last measurements for the wedding dress, the books she refused to leave behind, the pets she insisted came with her. And now this.
One thing—Jared would have to carry the Key. It wouldn't be safe in her baggage.
They were fighting now. She let all thoughts go, concentrated on the hits, the clicked parries, the bending of the foil as she hit once, again, again.
Until finally he stepped back. 'Very good, my lady. Your point control remains excellent.'
Slowly she took off her mask and shook his hand. Close up, he looked older, and a little sad.
'I'll be sorry to lose such a pupil.'
Her hand clenched on his. 'Lose?'
He stepped back. 'I... it seems... after your wedding ...'
Claudia restrained her anger. She released his hand and drew herself up. 'After my marriage I will still require your services. Please disregard anything my father has said about this. You will travel with us to the Court.'
He smiled, and bowed. His doubt showed; as she turned away and took the cup of water from Alys, she felt the heat of humiliation scorch her face.
They were trying to isolate her. She had expected this; Jared had warned her of it. At
Queen Sia's court they wanted her alone with no one to trust, no one to plot with. But she was having none of that.
Lord Evian had waddled over. 'Quite wonderful, my dear.' His small eyes enjoyed her figure in the fencing breeches.
'Don't patronize me,' she snapped, 'waving Alys away, she took the cup and jug and stalked to a bench that stood at the edge of the green lawn. After a moment Evian came after her. She turned on him. 'I need to talk to you.'
'The house overlooks us,' he said quietly. 'Anyone can see.'
'Then wave your handkerchief and laugh. Or whatever it is spies do.'
His fingers closed the snuffbox. 'You are angry, Lady Claudia. But not, I think, with me.'
That was true. But still she glared at him. 'What do you want from me?'
