happening to him? Would they wait outside the Cave?
Had they spoken to Claudia? Anxiety tormented him, and he would not let himself think the thing that he dreaded, that lurked in the dark of his mind like a spider, like Incarceron's mocking whisper.
That Keiro might have taken the Key and gone.
He shook his head. In the three years of the Comitatus, Keiro had never betrayed him.
Taunted him, yes, laughed at him, stolen from him, fought with him, argued with him. But he'd always been there. And yet now Finn realized with a sudden coldness how little he knew about his oathbrother, about where he had come from. Keiro just said his parents were dead. Finn had never asked any questions. He'd always been too absorbed in his own agonizing loss, in the memory flashes and the fits.
He should have asked.
He should have cared.
A rain of tiny black petals began to fall on him. Looking up he saw that the people were throwing them, tossing out handfuls that fell on the cobbles and made a fragrant dark carpet on the road. And he saw that the petals had a peculiar quality, that as they touched each other they melted, and that the gutters and streets ran with a sticky, clotted mass that exuded the sweetest of scents.
It made him feel strange. And as if it broke into a dream, it made him remember the voice he had heard in the night.
I am everywhere. As if the Prison had answered him. He looked up now, as they marched under the gaping maw of the gate, and saw a single red Eye in the portcullis, its unblinking gaze fixed on him, 'Can you see me?' he breathed. 'Did you speak to me?'
But the gate was behind him and they were out of the City.
The road led straight and it was deserted. The sticky oil trickled along it; behind he heard the gates and doors slam, the wooden bolts drawn across, the iron grilles crash down.
Out here under the vault the world seemed empty, the plain swept by icy winds.
The soldiers hastily unshouldered the heavy axes they carried; the one in front also had some sort of device with a canister attached, a Same-throwing machine, Finn guessed.
He said, 'Let the Sapient catch up.'
They slowed, as if now he was not their prisoner but their leader, and Gildas strode breathlessly up and said, 'Your brother hasn't shown himself'
'He'll turn up.' Saying it helped.
They walked swiftly, closed into a tight group. On either side the ground was seamed with pits and traps; Finn saw the steel teeth gleam in their depths. Glancing back, he was surprised at how the City was already far behind, its walls lined with people, watching, shouting, holding their children up to see.
The guard captain said, 'We turn off the road here. Be careful; step only where we step and don't think of running off. The ground is sewn with fireglobes.'
Finn had no idea what fireglobes were, but Gildas frowned. 'This Beast must be fearsome indeed.'
The man glanced at him. 'I have never seen it, Master, and don't intend to.'
Once off the smooth road the going was rough. The coppery earth seemed to have been scored and clawed into vast furrows; in several places it was burned, carbonized to a charcoal crispness that rose in clouds of dust as they trod on it, or vitrified almost to glass. Enormous heat would have been needed to do that, Finn thought. It stank too, an acrid cindery smell. He followed the men closely, watching their steps with nervous attention; when they paused and he raised his head, he saw that they were far out on the plain, the Prison lights so high above they were brilliant suns, casting his and Gildas's shadows behind them.
Far in the mile-high vault the bird still circled. Once it screeched, and the guards looked up at it. The nearest muttered, 'Looking for carrion.'
Finn began to wonder how far they would walk. There were no hills out here, no ridges, so where would they find a cave? He had pictured it as some dark aperture in a metallic cliff.
Now he was filled with a new apprehension, because even his imagination was betraying him.
'Stop.' The guard captain held up a hand. 'This is it.'
There was nothing there. That was Finn's first idea. Relief flooded him. It was all a pretense. They'd let him go now, run back to the City, spin some gruesome tale about a monster to keep the people quiet.
Then, as he pushed past the men, he saw the pit in the ground.
And the Cave.
JARED SAID, 'You promised them maps that don't exist! It was a crazy idea, Claudia.
Things are getting so dangerous for us!'
She knew he was deeply worried. She crossed to his side of the carriage and said, 'Master, I know. But the stakes are so high.'
He looked up and she saw the pain was back behind his eyes. 'Claudia, tell me you're not thinking seriously about this folly of Evian's. We are not murderers!'
'I'm not. If my plan works, there'll be no need of it.' But she didn't say what she was thinking: that if the Queen really did find out, that if he, Jared, was in any danger at all, she would have them all killed without hesitation, even her father, to save him.
Maybe he knew it. As the carriage jolted he glanced out of the window and his expression darkened, his black hair brushing the collar of the Sapient coat. 'Here's our prison,' he said bleakly.
And following his gaze she saw the pinnacles and glass towers of the Palace, the turrets and towers festooned with flags and bunting, heard that all the bells were ringing to welcome her, all the doves flapping, all the cannon were being fired in deep booming salute from every mile-high terrace that rose in splendor into the pure blue sky.
20
We have put everything that is left into this.
It is bigger than all of us now.
'Take this, and this.'
The guard captain thrust a small leather bag and a sword into Finn's hands. The bag seemed so light, it must be empty. 'What's in it?' he asked nervously.
'You'll see.' The man stepped back and glanced at Gildas. Then he said, 'Why not flee, Master? Why waste your life?'
'My life is Sapphique's,' Gildas snapped. 'His fate is mine.' The captain shook his head.
'Suit yourself. But no one else has ever come back.' He jerked his head at the Cave entrance.
'There it is.'
There was a moment of tense silence. The guards gripped their axes tightly; Finn knew that this was the moment they expected him to make some sort of break for freedom, now that he had a sword in his hand and his back to unknown terrors. How many of those brought as Tribute had screamed and fought in panic here?
Not him. He was Finn.
Reckless, he turned and looked down at the crack.
It was very thin, and utterly black. Its edges were burned and scorched, as if the metal of the Prison's structure had been superheated and melted countless times into grotesque twistings and taperings. As if whatever crawled out of these metal lips could melt steel like toffee.
He glanced at Gildas. 'I'll go first.' Before the Sapient could object, he turned and lowered himself into the slash of darkness, taking one last rapid look into the distance.
But the scarred plain was empty, the City a remote fortress.
He slithered his boots over the edge, found a foothold, squeezed his body in.
