Кэтрин Фишер - Incarceron

So this was Incarceron.

It was just as she'd expected.

The cell was stone-walled and the stones were carved with ancient names and dates, filmed with milky lichens and a fur of algae. Above, the groined vault was lost in darkness.

There was one window, high in the wall, but it seemed to be covered. Nothing else. But the cell door was open.

Claudia took another breath, trying not to cough. The cell was silent, a heavy, oppressive silence that was cold and clammy. A listening silence. And in the corner of the cell, she saw an Eye. A small red Eye that watched her impassively.

She felt normal. No tingling or sickness. She looked at herself, her hands clutching the

Key. Was she really so minute? Or was any notion of size relative—was this normality and the Realm outside a place of giants?

She crossed to the door. It had not been locked for a long time. Chains hung from it, but they were corroded into a mass with rust, and the hinges were eaten away so that the door hung at an angle. She ducked under it, into the passageway.

It was stone-flagged and filthy, and k stretched into darkness.

She looked at the Key, operated the imager. "Finn?" she whispered. Nothing happened.

Only, far off down the corridor, something hummed. A low-pitched whine, like a machine being activated. She flicked the Key off hastily, her heart thudding. "Is that you?"

Nothing.

She took two steps, then stopped. The sound came again, just ahead, a soft, oddly questing sound. She saw a red Eye open, turn slowly through a half circle, then stop and swivel back toward her. She kept very still.

390

"I see you," a voice said softly. "I recognize you." Not Finns. Not anyone she knew.

"I never forget any of my children. But you haven't been here for a while. I'm not sure I understand that."

Claudia wiped her cheek with a grimy hand. "Who are you? I can't see you."

"Yes you can. You're standing on me, breathing me."

She stepped back, staring down, but there was only the stone floor, the darkness.

The red Eye watched her. She breathed a sickening breath. "You're the Prison."

"I am." It sounded fascinated. "And you are the Wardens daughter."

She couldn't speak. Jared had said it was an intelligence, but she hadn't realized it would be like this.

"Shall we help each other, Claudia Arlexa?" The voice was calm and had a slight echo.

"You are looking for Finn and his friends. Isn't that right?"

"Yes." Should she have said that?

"I will lead you to them."

"The Key will do that."

"Don't use the Key. It interferes with my systems."

Was she mistaken, or had that been hurried, almost annoyed? She began to walk on slowly, into the dark corridor. "I see. And what do you want in return?"

A sound. It could have been a sigh, or a soft laugh. "Not a question I have been asked before. I want you to tell me what is Outside. Sapphique promised faithfully that he would come back and tell me, but he never has. Your father does not speak of it. I begin to wonder, in my heart of hearts, if there even is an

Outside, or whether Sapphique passed only into death and you live in a place here I am unable to detect. I have a billion Eyes and senses, and yet I cannot see out. It is not only the inmates who dream of Escape, Claudia. But then, how can I escape from myself?"

She came to a corner. The passageway forked in two, both dark and dripping, and identical. She frowned and held the Key tightly. "I don't know. It's pretty much what I'm trying to do. All right. Take me to Finn. And as we go I'll tell you what's Outside."

Lights flickered on ahead. "This way." She paused. "You do really know where they are?

This isn't a trick?"

Silence. Then, "Oh Claudia. How angry your father will be with you. When he finds out."

"It's changed." Keiro looked intently at the Key. "The colors." Finn lifted the crystal into a glimmer of light. The red lights were humming, flickering into a muted rainbow. The Key seemed warmer in his hand.

"Maybe she's Inside."

"Then why doesn't she talk to us?"

Ahead, Gildas turned, a limping shadow in the darkness. "Is this the way? Finn?"

He had no idea. The wreckage of the ship was far behind; the cube had become a funnel, narrowing as they hurried into it, the sides and roof closing in, becoming black faceted stone, the familiar obsidian glint of walls.

"Keep close to me," he muttered. "We don't know how far the protective field goes."

Gildas barely heard. Since he had spoken to Jared the feverish possession of his quest had come over him again; anxiously he limped ahead, examining faint scratches on the walls, muttering to himself. He seemed to ignore his injuries, but Finn guessed they were more serious than he let on.

"The old fool's losing it," Keiro muttered in disgust. He turned. "And then there's her."

Attia hung back. She seemed to be walking deliberately slowly; in the shadows she seemed deep in thought.

"That was some stunt she pulled." Keiro walked on. He gave a sharp glance at Finn. "A real blow under the belt."

Finn nodded. Claudia had gone so still. Like someone stabbed with a deep wound keeps still, so as not to feel the pain.

"But," Keiro said, "it means there's a way out. So we can get out too."

"You're heartless. You only ever think about yourself."

"And you, brother." His oathbrother glanced around, alert. "If there is an Outside and you're some sort of king out there, then I'm guarding you like gold. Prince Keiro sounds good to me."

"I'm not sure I can do that... be that."

"You can. It's all pretense. You're a master of lies, Finn." Keiro looked at him sidelong.

"You'll be a natural."

For a moment they shared a look. Then Finn said, "Can you hear something?"

A murmur. It drifted down the corridor, a gust of soft voices. Keiro drew his sword. Attia closed up. "What is it?"

"Something ahead." Keiro listened intently, but the sound did not come again. Standing still, one hand against the wall, Gildas whispered, "Maybe it's Claudia. She's found us."

"Then she was very quick about it." Keiro walked on softly. "Stay together. Finn, go at the back, and keep the Key safe."

Gildas snorted but took his place between them.

It was a voice. It was speaking somewhere ahead, and as they crept toward it, the passageway became cluttered; great chains lay across it, manacles and shackles, scattered heaps of tools, a broken Beetle on its back. They passed small cells, some with the doors locked, and through the grille in one Finn saw a tiny dark room with rats clambering over an empty plate, a filthy pile of rags in one corner that might have been a body. Everything was still. He felt that this was a place forgotten even by its makers, a corner of itself even Incarceron had overlooked for centuries. Had it been somewhere like this that the Maestra's people had found the Key, with the desiccated bones of the man who had made it, or stolen it?

Stepping around a great pillar he realized he was beginning to forget her. Already it seemed so long ago, and yet the clatter of the bridge, her single look, were still inside him, waiting for him to sleep, to think he was safe. And her pity.

Attia grabbed him; he realized he had been walking past them.

"Stay awake, brother." Keiro's hiss was fierce. Heart thudding, he tried to clear his head.

The prickling in his face subsided. He took deep breaths.

"All right?" Gildas whispered.

He nodded. The fit had nearly crept up on him. It made him feel sick.