'Find anything?' she said.
He shrugged. 'Nothing I didn't know. What about you?' He noticed she had left the A section and was up among the C's. 'Why there?'
'What Blaize said about no Outside. I thought I'd look up Claudia.'
He went cold. 'And?'
She was holding the book, a big green volume. She closed it quickly and turned, shoving it back into the shelf. 'Nothing. He's wrong. She's not in Incarceron.'
There was something subdued about her voice, but before he could think about it Keiro's hiss of wrath jerked him around.
'He's got everything about me in here! Everything!'
Finn knew that Keiro had been orphaned as a baby and had grown up in the gang of filthy urchins that always seemed to be hanging around the Comitatus; warriors' by-blows, children of women they'd killed, kids who nobody knew. It would have been a tooth-andnail struggle to eat and survive and keep a face as unmarked as Keiro's in that ferocious rabble. Maybe that was why his oathbrother looked so alarmed. He too closed the book with a clap.
'Forget your petty histories.' Gildas looked up, his sharp face lit. 'Come and read a real book. This is the journal of one Lord Calliston, the one they called the Steel Wolf. He is said to have been the first Prisoner.' He turned a page. 'It's all here, the Coming of the
Sapienti, the first convicts, the establishment of the New Order. They seem to have been relatively few, and they spoke to the Prison in those days as they spoke to each other.'
Now he did sound awed.
They crowded around and saw that the book was smaller than the others and the text truly handwritten, with some scratchy pen. Gildas tapped the page. 'The girl was right. They set the Prison up as a place to dump all their problems, but there was a definite hope of creating a perfect society. According to this we should have all been serene philosophers long ago. Look here.'
He read aloud, in his rasping voice.
'Everything was prepared for, every eventuality covered. We have nutritious food, free education, medical care better than Outside, now that the Protocol rules there. We have the discipline of the Prison, that invisible being that watches and punishes and rules.
'And yet.
'Things decay. Dissident groups are forming; territory is disputed. Marriages and feuds develop. Already two Sapienti have led their followers away to live in isolation, claiming they fear the murderers and thieves will never change, that a man has been killed, a child attacked. Last week two men came to blows over a woman. The Prison intervened. Since then neither of them has been seen.
'I believe they are dead and that Incarceron has integrated them into its systems.
There was no provision for the death penalty, but the Prison is in charge now. It is thinking for itself'
In the silence Keiro said, 'Did they really think it would work?'
After a moment Gildas turned the page. The whisper was loud in the stillness. 'It seems so. He is not clear about what went wrong. Perhaps some unplanned element entered and tipped the balance, by just a remark, a small act, so that the flaw in their perfect ecosystem gradually grew and destroyed it. Perhaps Incarceron itself malfunctioned, became a tyrant— that certainly happened, but was it cause or effect? And then there's this.'
He pointed out the words as he read them, and Finn, leaning forward, saw that they were underlined, the page grubby, as if someone else had fingered them over and over.
'... or is it that man contains within himself the seeds of evil? That even if he is placed in a paradise perfectly formed for him he will poison it, slowly, with his own jealousies and desires? I fear it may be that we blame the Prison for our own corruption. And I do not except myself, for I too am one who has killed and looked only to my own gain.'
In the vast silent room only motes of dust fell through the slant of light from the roof.
Gildas closed the book. He looked up at Finn and his face was gray. 'We shouldn't stay here,' he said heavily. 'This is a place where dust gathers and doubt enters the heart. We should go, Finn. This is not a refuge. It's a trap.'
A footstep in dust made them look up. Blaize stood on the gallery that circled the skylight, gazing down at them, his hands tight on the rail.
'You need rest,' he said calmly. 'Besides, there is no way down from here. Until I decide to take you.'
CLAUDIA HAD been meticulous; scanners pre-placed in all the cellars, holo-images of herself and Jared sleeping peacefully in their beds, a hefty bribe to the under-steward to learn the duration of the debate, the number of clauses in the marriage treaty, the time it would all take.
Finally she had seen Evian and told him to argue about anything. As long as her father remained in the Great Chamber until well past midnight.
Slipping between the casks and barrels in her dark clothes, she felt like a shadow released from the endless banquet upstairs, the polite banter, the Queen's red-lipped cloying intimacies, the way she clutched at Claudia's hand and held it so tightly, thrilling herself with how they would be so happy, the palaces they would build, the hunts, the dances, the dresses. Caspar had glowered at her, drinking too much wine and escaping as soon as he could to meet some serving girl. And her father, grave and poised in his black frockcoat and gleaming boots, had caught her eye once down the long table, a swift glance between the candles and flowers.
Did he guess she had some plan?
There was no time to fret now. As she ducked under a snag of cobweb she straightened up into a tall figure and nearly screamed with shock.
He grabbed her. 'Sorry, Claudia.'
Jared wore dark clothes too. She glared at him. 'God, you gave me a fright! Have you got everything?'
'Yes.' He was pale, his eyes dark-shadowed.
'Your medication?'
'Everything.' He forced a wan smile. 'Anyone would think I was the pupil here.'
She smiled back, wanting to cheer him. 'It will be all right. We have to look, Master. We have to see Inside.'
He nodded. 'Hurry then.'
She led him through the vaulted halls. Tonight the bricks seemed damper than before, the exhalations of the salted walls a fetid air that clouded their breathing.
The gate seemed higher, and as she came near to it, Claudia saw that the chains were back across, each metal link thicker than her arm. But it was the snails that made her shiver: fat, large creatures, their silvery trails crisscrossing the condensation on the metal as if they had bred down here for centuries.
'Yuck.' She pulled one off; it came away with a soft plop and she threw it down. 'This is it.
He put a combination into the lock.'
The Havaarna eagle spread wide wings. In the globe it held were seven small circular hollows; she was about to touch them when Jared caught her fingers.
'No! If the wrong combination goes in, alarms will go off. Or worse, we may be trapped.
This must be done carefully, Claudia'
He pulled out the small scanner and began, very gently, to take readings and adjust them, crouching among the rusted chains.
Impatient, she went back, checked the cellars, returned.
'Hurry, Master.'
'T can't hurry this.' He was absorbed, his fingers moving gently.
After long minutes she was almost sick with impatience. She took the Key out, looked at it behind his back. 'Do you think ...?'
'Wait, Claudia, lm almost certain of the first number.'
It could take hours. There was a disc on the door; it gleamed greenish bronze, slightly brighter than the surrounding metal. Over his head, she reached out and slid it aside.
A keyhole.
Shaped like the crystal, hexagonal.
