She was silent as she followed the Sapient's dark figure through the stacked barrels, silenced by disappointment and bitter failure. What would Finn think of her now?
How Keiro would laugh in scorn and that girl would smirk. And for herself, a day of freedom left.
At the top of the stairs she stopped Jared with a tug of his sleeve. 'We should go back separately, Master. We shouldn't be seen together.'
He nodded, and in the dark she thought he flushed a little. 'You go first. Take care.'
She didn't move, her voice bleak. 'It's all over, isn't it? Everything's finished. Finn will rot in that place forever.'
Jared leaned back on the pillar and took a deep breath. 'Don't despair, Claudia.
Incarceron is near. I'm sure of that.' He took something out of his pocket, and to her surprise she saw it was the tiny flake of metal from the floor in its plastic wrapping.
'What is that?'
'I have no idea. I'll use the Sapients' tower here and try a few investigations tomorrow.'
'Lucky you.' She turned sourly. 'AH I have to try is my wedding dress.'
She was gone before he could answer, slipping up the stairs into the candlelit corridors, the midnight silences and whispers of the Palace.
Jared turned the tiny scrap between his fingertips.
He pushed back his damp hair and breathed out slowly.
For a moment the strangeness of the room had made him forget the pain. Now it came back, worse, as if to punish him.
FOR HOURS they saw nothing of Blaize. He seemed to vanish, but Finn had no idea where.
'There's a part of this tower we haven't found yet,' Keiro muttered, 'and that's the way out.' He sprawled on the bed looking up at the white ceiling. 'And that guff about the books—-I don't believe a word of it.'
Blaize had laughed off their questions about the Prison records. 'This tower was empty and possibly made only for these books to be stored here,' he had said, passing bread across the table that evening. 'I found the place and liked it, so I moved in. I assure you I have no idea how the images come to be stored here, and neither the time nor inclination to look at them.'
'But you feel safe here,' Gildas muttered.
'I am safe. No one can reach me. I removed all the Eyes, and the Beetles can't get in. Of course, Incarceron has many-ways of watching and I'm certainly under observation, as my images appear in the book like everyone else's. But not at the moment, though, because of the strange power of your Key. At the moment we are all invisible.' He had smiled then, rubbing the scabs on his chin. 'Now, if I had a device like that, I could learn much from it. I suppose you wouldn't consider parting with it?'
'He wants it.' Keiro sat up now, quickly. 'You saw how he looked, when Gildas laughed at him? There was a coldness in his face then, a flicker of something. He wants the Key.'
Finn sat on the floor, knees up. 'He'll never get it.'
'Where is it?'
'Safe, brother.' He tapped his coat.
'Good.' Keiro lounged back. 'And keep your sword with you. This scabby Sapient makes me uneasy. I don't like him.'
'Attia says we're his prisoners.'
'That little bitch.' But Keiro's remark was preoccupied; as Finn watched, he rolled off the bed and stood, snatching a quick look at himself in the faceted window glass. 'But don't fret, brother. Keiro has a plan.'
He tugged his coat on and went out, peering cautiously around the door.
Alone, Finn pulled the Key out and looked at it. Attia was asleep and Gildas was restlessly searching the books, as he seemed to have been doing since they came here.
Quietly Finn closed the door and put his back against it. Then he activated the Key.
It lit quickly.
He saw a chamber strewn with clothes, and there was light there that made his eyes sting
; sunlight through a window. Beyond the circle of the Key was a large, heavy wooden bed, hangings, a wall of carved panels. Then, breathless, Claudia.
'You have to give me more warning! They could have seen you!
'Who?' he asked.
'The maids, the seamstress. For God's sake, Finn!'
She was red-faced, her hair tousled. He realized she was wearing a white dress, the bodice elaborate with pearls and lace. A wedding dress.
For a moment he had no idea what to say. Then she sat next to him, crouched on the rush-strewn floor. 'We failed.
We opened the gate, but it didn't lead to Incarceron, Finn. It was all a stupid mistake. All I found was my father's study.' She sounded disgusted with herself.
'But your father is the Warden,' he said slowly.
'Whatever that means.' She scowled.
He shook his head. 'I wish I could remember you, Claudia. You, Outside, all of it.' He looked up. 'What if I'm not really Giles? That picture ... I don't look like that. I'm not that boy.'
'You were once.' Her voice was stubborn; she squirmed to face him, the silk rustling.
'Look, all I want is not to marry Caspar. Once you're rescued, once you're free, then our engagement ... well, it doesn't have to happen, that's all. Attia was wrong; it's not just about me being selfish.' She smiled wryly. 'Where is she?'
'Asleep. I think.'
'She's fond of you.'
He shrugged. 'We rescued her. She's grateful.'
'Is that what you call it?' She stared ahead at nothing. 'Do people love each other in
Incarceron, Finn?'
'If they do, I haven't seen anything of it.' But then he thought of the Maestra, and felt ashamed. There was an awkward silence. Claudia could hear the maids chattering in the next chamber; could see beyond Finn a small room with a frosty window, through which glimmered a dim, artificial twilight.
And there was a smell. As she realized, she breathed in sharply, so that he looked at her.
A musty, unpleasant smell, metallic and sour, air that was trapped and recycled endlessly.
She scrambled to her knees. 'I can smell the Prison!'
He stared. 'There is no smell. Besides, how—'
'I don't know, but I can!'
She jumped up, ran out of his sight, came back with a tiny glass bottle that she uncorked and sprayed lightly into the sunlight.
Minute drops shimmered in dust.
And Finn cried out, because the smell of it was rich and strong and it sliced into his memory like a knife; he clasped his hands over his mouth and breathed it again and again, closing his eyes, forcing himself to think.
Roses. A garden of yellow roses.
A knife in the cake and he was pushing down, cutting, and it was easy and he was laughing. Crumbs on his fingers. The sweet taste.
'Finn? Finn!' Claudia's voice swayed him back from endless distance. The dryness was in his mouth, the warning prickle crawling in his skin. He shuddered, forced himself to be calm, breathe slower, let the sweat cool his forehead.
She was close to him. 'If you can smell it, the drops must be traveling to you, mustn't they?
Perhaps you can touch me now. Try, Finn.'
Her hand was close. He put his own around it, closed his fingers.
They passed through hers and there was nothing, not a warmth, not a sensation. He sat back, and they were silent.
Finally he said, 'I have to get out of here, Claudia.'
'And you will.' She knelt up, her face fierce. 'I swear to you, I won't give up. If I have to go to my father and
