leaning her forehead on the cool glass. She wanted to storm and yell at him. What was he thinking of? How would fighting help! It was just the sort of stupid, arrogant thing Keiro would have done.
But he wasn’t Keiro.
And biting her nail, she recognized, deep inside herself, the sickening doubt that had been growing in her mind for two months. That perhaps she had made a terrible mistake. That perhaps he wasn’t Giles either.
12
He opened the window and looked out at the night. ‘The world is an endless loop,’ he said. ‘A Mobius strip, a wheel in which we run.
As you have discovered, who have travelled so far just to find yourself where you started from.’ Sapphique went on stroking the blue cat. So you can’t help me?’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t say that.’
The trackway undulated over the leaden sea.
At first Keiro let the horse gallop, and whooped at the speed and the freedom, but that was dangerous, because the metal trackway was slippery, slushy water washing right over it. The mist hung close, so that Attia felt they were riding through cloud with only glimpses now and then of distant dark shapes, which might have been islands, or hills.
Once, a jagged chasm gaped to one side.
Finally the horse was so weary it could barely run. After nearly three hours Attia came back from drowsiness to realize that the sea was gone. Around them the mist was shredding, to reveal a jungle of spiny cacti and aloes, head high, the great leaves blade-sharp. A path ran straight into it, the plants at each side curled and crisp, smoking blackly, as if Incarceron had drilled this road only minutes ago.
‘It’s not going to let us get lost, is it?’ Keiro muttered.
They dismounted and made an uncomfortable camp in the fringe of the forest. Gazing in, Attia smelt the scorched soil, saw the skeletons of leaves like cobwebs of fine metal.
Though neither of them said anything, she saw Keiro eyeing the undergrowth uneasily, and as if the Prison mocked their fear it put the lights out, abruptly.
There was little left to eat — some dried meat and a cheese that Attia sliced the mould from, and two apples stolen from Rix’s stores for the horse. As she chewed, she said, ‘You’re crazier than Rix He looked at her. ‘Am I?’
‘Keiro, you can’t make deals with Incarceron! It will never let you Escape, and if we bring it the Glove . . .‘
‘Not your problem.’ He threw the apple core away, lay down and wrapped a blanket around him.
‘Of course it is.’ She glared at his back, furiously. ‘Keiro!’ But he didn’t answer, and she had to sit, nursing her anger, until the change in his light breathing told her he was asleep.
They should have taken turns to keep watch. But she was too tired to care, and so they both slept at once, curled in musty blankets while the tethered horse snuffled hungrily.
Attia dreamt of Sapphique. Some time in the night he came out of the forest and sat down next to her, stirring up the glowing ashes of the fire with a long stick, and she rolled over and stared at him. His long dark hair shadowed his face. The high collar of his robe was worn and frayed. He said, ‘The light is going.’
‘What?’
‘Can’t you feel it being used up? Fading away?’ He glanced at her sideways. ‘The light is slipping through our hands.’ She glanced at the hand holding the charred stick. The right forefinger was missing, its stump seamed white with scars.
She whispered, ‘Where is it going, Master?’
‘Into the Prison’s dreams.’ He stirred the fire, and his face was narrow and strained. ‘This is all my fault, Attia. I showed Incarceron that there is a way Out.’
‘Tell me how.’ Her voice was urgent; she shuffled up close to him. ‘How you did it. How you Escaped.’
‘Every Prison has a crack.’
‘What crack?’ He smiled. ‘The tiniest, most secret way. So small the Prison does not even know it exists.’
‘But where is it? And does the Key open it, the Key the Warden has?’
‘The Key unlocks only the Portal.’ She suddenly felt cold with fear, because he replicated before her, a whole line of him like images in a mirror, like the Chain-gang in its manacles of flesh.
She shook her head, bewildered. ‘We have your Glove. Keiro says—’
‘Don’t put your hand into that of a beast.’ His words whispered through the spiny undergrowth. ‘Or you will be made to do its work. Keep my Glove safe for me, Attia.’ The fire crackled. Ashes shifted. He became his own shadow, and was gone.
She must have slept again because it seemed hours later when the clink of metal woke her, and she sat up and saw Keiro saddling the horse. She wanted to tell him about the dream, but it was already hard to remember. Instead she yawned, and stared up at the Prison’s distant ceiling.
After a while she said, ‘Do the lights seem different to you?’ Keiro tugged the girth straps. ‘Different how?’
‘Weaker.’ He glanced at her, then up. For a minute he was still. Then he went on loading the horse. ‘Maybe.’
‘I’m sure they are.’ Incarceron’s lights were always powerful, but now there seemed a faint flicker to them. She said,’lf the Prison is really building a body for itself it must be using enormous reserves of power to do it. Draining energy from its systems. Maybe the Ice Wing isn’t the only wing shut down. We haven’t seen anyone since that creature back there. Where are they all?’ Keiro stood back. ‘Can’t say I care.’
‘You should.’ He shrugged. ‘Rule of the Scum. Care for no one but your brother.’
‘Sister
‘I told you, you’re temporary.’ Later, climbing up behind him on to the horse she said, ‘What happens when we get to wherever Incarceron is taking us? Are you just going to hand over the Glove?’ She felt Keiro’s snort of laughter through his gaudy scarlet jerkin. ‘Watch and learn, Iitt1e dog—slave.’
‘You haven’t got a clue. Keiro, listen to me! We can’t help it do this!’
‘Not even for a way Out?’
‘For you, maybe. But what about the others? What about everyone else?’ Keiro urged the horse to a run. ‘No one in this hell-hole has ever cared for me,’ he said quietly.
‘Finn...’
‘Not even Finn. So why should I care for them? They’re not me, Attia. They don’t exist for me.’ It was useless arguing with him. But as they rode into the dim undergrowth she let herself think of the terror of it, of the Prison shutting down, the lights going off and never coming back on, the cold spreading. Systems would seize up, foodslots shut down. Ice would form quickly and unstoppably, through whole wings, down corridors, over bridges. Chains would become masses of rust. Towns would freeze, the houses cold and deserted, the market stalls collapsed under howling snowdrifts. The air would turn to poison. And the people! There was no way to imagine them, the panic, the fear and loneliness, the trampling savagery such a collapse would unleash, the bloody struggle for survival. It would be the destruction of a world.
The Prison would withdraw its mind, and leave its children to their fate.
Around them, light faded to a green gloom. The path was cindery and silent, the horse’s hooves muffled in the incinerated dust. Attia whispered, ‘Do you believe that the Warden is in here?’
‘If so, things are not going smoothly for my princely brother.’ He sounded preoccupied.
‘If he’s still alive.’
‘I told you, Finn can bluff his way out of anything. Forget him.’ Keiro peered into the gloom. ‘We’ve got our
