Кэтрин Фишер - Sapphique

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The Sequel to the
bestseller INCARCERON
Finn has escaped from the terrible living Prison of Incarceron, but its memory torments him, because his brother Keiro is still inside. Outside, Claudia insists he must be king, but Finn doubts even his own identity. Is he the lost prince Giles? Or are his memories no more than another construct of his imprisonment? And can you be free if your friends are still captive? Can you be free if your world is frozen in time? Can you be free if you don't even know who you are? Inside Incarceron, has the crazy sorcerer Rix really found the Glove of Sapphique, the only man the Prison ever loved. Sapphique, whose image fires Incarceron with the desire to escape its own nature. If Keiro steals the glove, will he bring destruction to the world? Inside. Outside. All seeking freedom. Like Sapphique.

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The Pretender glared up scornfully at Finn. ‘If you’re really not Prison Scum you’d come out,’ he said. ‘And not hide behind a girl.’ Jared said quietly, ‘It seems a shame to have escaped one assassin to be faced with another.’ Caspar nodded. ‘I know. But that’s war.’ Fax lumbered to his feet. ‘Boss?’

‘I think we’ll tie him up: Caspar said, ‘and then I can lead him down. In fact, Fax, once we get to the camp you can keep out of the way: He smiled at Jared. ‘My mother adores me but she’s never had much confidence in me. This will be a chance to show her what I can do. Hold out your hands.’ Jared sighed. He lifted his hands and then a paleness came over him; he staggered, almost fell.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

Caspar grinned at Fax. ‘Nice try, Master...’

‘No. Really. My medication. It’s just in my saddlebag. . He crumpled and sat in the leaves, shakily.

Caspar pulled a face, then waved impatiently and Fax turned to the horse. As soon as the man moved Jared leapt up and ran, haring between the trees, jumping the sprawling roots, but even as his breath grew to an ache he heard the footfalls behind him, heavy and close, and then the growling laugh as he tripped and rolled and slammed up against a tree-trunk.

He scrambled round. Fax stood over him, swinging the axe.

Behind, Caspar grinned with triumph. ‘Oh go on, then, Fax.

One good blow’ The giant raised the blade.

Jared gripped the tree; he felt its smooth trunk under his hands.

Fax moved. He jerked, and his smile became glassy, a fixed rictus that seemed to go through his body, and his arm, and the axe, so that it fell, thudding blade down in the soft earth.

After a frozen pause, eyes wide, he crashed after it.

Jared breathed out, astonished.

An arrow, buried up to its plume, jutted from the man’s back.

Caspar let out a howl of rage and fear. He grabbed at the axe, but a voice from the left said quietly, ‘Drop the weapon, Lord Earl. Now.’

‘Who are you? How dare you …!’ The voice sounded grim. ‘We’re the Steel Wolves, Lord. As you already know.’

27

Once he had crossed the sword-bridge he came to a room with a banquet of fine food spread on a table. He sat down and picked up a piece of bread but the power of the Glove turned it to ashes. He picked up water but the glass shattered. So he travelled on, because he knew now that he was close to the door.

WANDERINGS OF SAPPHIQUE

‘This is my kingdom now.’ The Warden waved at the table.

‘My seat of judgement. And here, my private suite.’ He flung the doors open and walked through. The three Prisoners shoved Rix, Attia and Keiro after him.

Inside, Attia stared.

They were in a small room hung with tapestries. There were windows in the walls, high stained-glass images impossible to see in the dimness, a few hands and faces lit by flamelight from the vast fire in the hearth.

The heat was fierce and welcome. The Warden turned.

‘Please sit.’ There were chairs of carved ebony, their backs formed by pairs of black swans with entwined necks. Heavy beams spread in intricate patterns in the roof; chandeliers splatted wax on the tiled floor. From somewhere nearby the throb of the vibrations echoed.

‘You must be tired after your terrible journey: the Warden said. ‘Bring them food.’ Attia sat. She felt weary and filthy; her hair was matted with the slime of the tunnel. And the Glove! Its claws scratched against her bare skin, but she dared not move it, in case the Warden noticed. His grey eyes were sharp and watchful.

The food, when it came, was a tray of bread and water, dropped down on the ground. Keiro ignored it, but Rix had no scruples; he ate as if he was famished, kneeling and cramming the bread into his mouth. Atria reached down and picked up a crust; she chewed it slowly, but it was dry and hard.

‘Prison fare,’ she said.

‘That is where we are.’ The warden sat, flicking out the tails of his coat.

‘So what happened to your tower?’ Keiro asked.

‘I have many boltholes in the Prison. I use the tower as my library This is my laboratory.’

‘I don’t see any test tubes.’ John Arlex smiled. ‘You will, all too soon. That is if you want to be part of this wretch’s crazy plan.’ Keiro shrugged. ‘I’ve come this far.’

‘So you have.’ The Warden put the tips of his fingers together. ‘The halfman, the dog—slave, and the lunatic: Keiro didn’t show his feelings by a flicker.

‘And do you think you will Escape?’The Warden picked LI the jug and poured himself a goblet of water.

‘No’ Keiro gazed round.

‘Then you’re wise. As you know, you personally cannot leave. Your body contains elements of Incarceron.’

‘Yes. But then, this body the Prison has made itself is completely formed of such elements.’ Keiro leant back, mocking the Warden’s pose, steepling his own fingers. ‘And it fully intends to leave. Once it has the Glove. So I have to assume that there is a power in the Glove itself which makes this possible. And might even make it possible for me.’ The Warden stared at him and he stared back.

Behind them, Rix coughed as he tried to eat and drink at the same time.

‘You’re wasted as a sorcerer’s apprentice: the Warden said quietly. ‘Perhaps you would do better working for me.’ Keiro laughed.

‘Oh, don’t dismiss it so easily. You have the temperament for cruelty, Keiro. The Prison is your environment. Outside will disappoint you.’ Into the silence of their mutual gaze Attia snapped, ‘You must miss your daughter.’ The Warden’s grey eyes slid to her. She had expected some anger, but all he said was, ‘Yes. I do.’ Seeing her surprise he smiled. ‘How little you Inmates understand of me. I needed an heir and yes, I stole Claudia as a baby from this place. Now she and I can never Escape each other. I do miss her. I’m sure she misses me.’ He drank from the goblet, a fastidious sip. ‘We have a twisted Love. A love that is part hate and part admiration and part fear. But love all the same.’ Rix belched. He wiped his mouth with his hand and said, ‘I’m ready now.’

‘Ready?’

‘To face it. Incarceron.’ The Warden laughed. ‘You fool! You have no idea! Don’t you see that you’ve been facing Incarceron every day of your miserable, scavenging, trick-playing life? You breathe Incarceron, you eat and dream and wear Incarceron. It’s the scorn in every eye here, the word in every mouth. There is nowhere you can go to Escape from it.’

‘Unless I die,’ Rix said.

‘Unless you die. And that is easily arranged. But if you have any crazy plan about the Prison taking you with it …’ He shook his head.

‘But you’ll go with it,’ Keiro murmured.

The Warden’s smile was wintry. ‘My daughter needs me.’

‘I don’t understand why you haven’t gone before. You have both the Keys …’ The smile went. John Arlex stood, and he was tall and imposing. ‘Had. You’ll see. When the Prison is ready it will call for us. Until then you stay here. My men will be outside.’ He walked to the door, kicking aside the empty plate. Keiro did not move or look up but his voice carried a cool insolence.

‘You’re just as much a Prisoner here as we are. No difference.’ The Warden stopped, just for a moment. Then he opened the door and let himself out. His back was rigid.

Keiro laughed, softly.

Rix nodded, approving. ‘You tell him, Apprentice.’

‘You’ve killed him.’ Jared straightened from the body and stared at Medlicote. ‘There was no need …’

‘Every need, Master. You would not have survived a blow from that axe. And you have the knowledge we all want.’ The secretary looked strange holding the firelock. His coat was as dusty as ever, his half-moon glasses catching the setting sun. Now he glanced round at the men blindfolding Caspar. ‘I’m sorry, but the Prince too must die. He has seen us.’

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