Кэтрин Фишер - Incarceron

"I cook it because I had to." She clutched her hands together. "You kept it from me. You never told me."

He stopped and looked at her. He had smoothed his hair back now, and his gaze was as calm and considering as ever. "About what?"

She stood up slowly, and faced him. "About Giles," she said.

She had expected astonishment, a moment's startled silence. But he was not at all surprised. She knew, with sudden certainty, that he had been waiting for that name, that by saying it she had fallen into some trap.

He said, "Giles is dead."

"No he isn't." The jewels around her neck tickled; with a sudden fury, she tugged them off and flung them on the floor, then folded her arms and all the pent-up words burst out of her.

"His death was faked. You and the Queen faked it. Giles is in Incarceron, locked away.

You took his memory so he doesn't even know who he is. How could you do that?" She kicked a footstool aside; it fell and rolled. "I can understand why she did it, why she wanted her useless son to be King, but you! I was already engaged to Giles. Your precious plan would have worked out anyway. Why did you do that to us?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Us?"

"Don't I count? Didn't the fact that I would end up with Caspar mean anything to you? Did you ever think about me?" She was trembling. All the anger of her life was coming out, frustration for all the times he had driven away and left her for months, had smiled down at her and not touched her.

He rubbed his stubbly beard with thumb and forefinger. "I did think of you." His voice was quiet. "It was obvious you liked Giles. But he was a stubborn boy, too kind, too honorable.

Caspar is a fool and will make a poor King. You will be able to rule him far more effectively."

"That's not the reason you did it."

He looked away. She saw his fingers tapping on the fireplace. He picked up a dainty china figurine and examined it, then put it down. "You're right."

He was silent ; she wanted him to speak so much, she could have screamed. It seemed an age before he went back to the chair and sat and said calmly, "I'm afraid the real reason is a secret you will never learn from me."

Seeing her astonishment, he raised his hand. "I know you despise me, Claudia. I'm sure you and your Sapient think me a monster. But you are my daughter and I have always acted in your interests. Besides, Giles's imprisonment was the Queen's plan, not mine.

She forced me to agree."

She snorted in scorn. "Forced! She has power over you!"

He whipped his head up and hissed, "Yes. And so do you."

For a second the venom in his voice stung her. "Me?"

His hands were fists on the wooden armrests. He said, "Let it go, Claudia. Let it be. Don't ask, because the answer may destroy you. That's all I'm going to say." He stood, tall and dark, and his voice was bleak. "Now, about the Key. Nothing you have done with it has escaped me. I know about your search for Bartlett, about your communication with

Incarceron. I know about this Prisoner you believe is Giles."

She stared in amazement and he laughed his dry laugh. "There are a thousand million

Prisoners in Incarceron, Claudia, and you believe you've found the right one? Time and space are different there. This boy could be anyone."

"He has a birthmark."

"Does he now! Let me tell you something about the Prison." His voice cruel now, he came up to her and stared down at her. "It's a closed system. Nothing enters. Nothing leaves.

When Prisoners die their atoms are reused, their skin, their organs. They are made from each other. Repaired, recycled, and when the organic tissues are not available, they are patched with metal and plastic. Finn's eagle means nothing. It may not even be his. The memories he thinks he sees may not be his."

Horrified, she wanted to stop him, but no words would come. "The boy is a thief and a liar." He went on, remorseless. "One of a gang of cutthroats that preyed on others. I suppose he's told you that?"

"Yes," she snapped.

"How very honest. Has he told you that in order to get his copy of the Key an innocent woman was thrown to her death down a precipice? After he had promised her she was safe?"

She was silent.

"No," he said. "I thought not." He stood back. "I want all this nonsense to cease. I want the

Key. Now." She shook her head.

"Now, Claudia."

"I haven't got it," she whispered.

"Then Jared—"

"Leave Jared out of this!"

He caught hold of her. His hand was cold and he gripped her wrist like iron. "I want the

Key or you will regret defying me."

She tried to shake him off, but he held tight. She glared at him through her tumbling hair.

"You can't hurt me. I'm all you've got to make your plan work and you know it!"

For a moment they stared at each other. Then he nodded, and let her go. A white circle of bloodless skin looped her wrist like the mark of a manacle.

"I can't hurt you," he said hoarsely.

Her eyes widened.

"But there is this Finn. And there is Jared."

She stepped back. She was shaking, her back cold with sweat. For a moment they looked at each other. Then, not trusting herself to speak, she turned and ran to the door, but his words caught her there and she had to hear them.

"There is no way out of the Prison. Bring me the Key, Claudia."

She slammed the door behind her. A passing servant stared in surprise. In the mirror opposite Claudia saw why; her reflection showed a tousled, red-faced creature, scowling with unhappiness. She wanted to howl with rage. Instead she walked to her room and closed the door, and threw herself on the bed.

She thumped the pillow and buried her head in it, curling up small, arms hugging her body. Her mind was a maze of confusion, but as she moved, paper crinkled on the pillow and she raised her head and saw the note pinned there. It was from Jared. I need to see you. I've discovered something incredible.

As soon as she'd read it, it dissolved to ash.

She couldn't even smile.

PERCHED IN the rigging of the ship, Finn held on tight, seeing far below lakes of sulfurous yellow liquid, viscous and evil-smelling. On the landscape slopes, animals grazed, odd gawky creatures from here, the herd splitting and fleeing in terror as the shadow of the ship fell on them. Beyond were more lakes, small scrubby bushes the only things that grew near them, and away to the right a desert stretched as far as he could see into the shadows.

They had been sailing for hours. Gildas had steered first, at random, high and steady until he had yelled irritably for someone to relieve him and Finn had taken a turn, feeling the strangeness of the craft below, its buffeting by drafts and breezes. Above him the sails had flapped; the winds catching and sloughing the white canvas. Twice he had sailed the ship through cloud. The second time the temperature had dropped alarmingly and by the time they had emerged from the tingling grayness, the wheel and deck around him had been frosted with needles of ice that fell and clattered on the boards.

Attia had brought him water. "Plenty of this," she'd said, "but no food."

"What, nothing?"

"No."

"What did he live on?"

"There's only some scraps Gildas has." As he'd drunk, she'd taken the wheel, her small hands on the thick spokes. She'd said, "He told me about the ring."

Finn wiped his mouth.

"It was too much to do for me. I owe you even more now."

He'd felt proud and grumpy both at once; he'd taken the wheel back and said, "We stick together. Besides, I didn't think it would work."

"I'm amazed Keiro gave it."

Finn shrugged. She was watching closely. But then she had looked into the sky. "Look at this! This is so wonderful. All my life I lived in a little dark tunnel lined with shanties and now all this space ..."