Кэтрин Фишер - Incarceron

Jared tried to think, but there was no time. The Warden snapped, "Where's the Key?"

He wanted to lie. To make something up. Instead he kept silent.

"She's taken it with her, hasn't she?"

He didn't answer. The Warden swore. "The whole world thinks Giles is dead. She could have had everything, the Realm, the throne. Did she think I would let Caspar get in her way?"

"You were in the plot?" Jared said slowly.

"Plot! Evian and his naive dreams of a world without Protocol! There has never been a world without Protocol. I would have let the Steel Wolves deal with the Queen and Caspar, and then had them executed, simple. But now she has turned against me."

He was staring blankly across the room. Jared said gently, "The story you told her ... about her mother."

"That was true. But when Helena died the baby was sickly and I knew it would die too.

And what then of my plans? I needed a daughter, Master. And I knew where to get one."

He sat in the armchair opposite. "Incarceron is a failure. A hell. The Wardens have long known that, but there is no remedy, so we keep it secret. I thought I would rescue one soul from that, at least. In the depths of the Prison I found a woman who was so desperate she was willing to part with her newborn girl. I paid well. Her other children survived because of it."

Jared nodded. The Warden's voice had sunk; he seemed to be talking to himself, as if he had justified this endlessly to himself over the years.

"No one realized, except the Queen. That sorceress took one look at the child and knew."

A sudden understanding came to Jared. Fascinated, he said, "Claudia always wondered why you agreed to the plot against Giles. "Was it because the Queen ..." He stopped, not knowing the words, but the Warden nodded without looking up.

"Blackmail, Master Sapient. Her son was to be the one to marry Claudia. If I had not agreed, she taunted me that she would tell Claudia publicly who she was, disgrace her before the whole Realm. I could not have borne that."

For a moment there was a wistful distance in him, a stillness. Then he raised his head and saw Jared's look and his face went cold. "Do not feel sorry for me, Master. That's something I do not need." He stood. "I know she's gone into Incarceron. For this Finn.

There's nothing for you to betray. And she has taken the Key." He laughed bitterly. "It's as well she took it. There's no way out without it."

Suddenly he stalked to the door. "Follow me."

Startled Jared stood, fighting down a shard of fear, but the Warden stepped out into the corridor and waved the guards away impatiently. The men looked at each other.

One said uneasily, "Sir, the Queen has issued orders that we stay with you. For your protection."

The Warden nodded slowly. "My protection. I see. Then please remain here and guard this door after I enter. Allow no one to follow us down."

Before they could argue he had opened a hidden door in the wainscoting and led the way down some dank steps into the cellars. Halfway down, Jared looked back. The men were watching curiously through the slit.

"It appears the Queen suspects me too," the Warden said calmly. He took a lantern from the wall and lit the candle inside it. "We will have to work quickly. The study, as you've no doubt realized, is the same room here as at home. A space halfway between this world and the Prison, a Portal, as the inventor Martor called it."

"Manor's writings are lost," Jared said, hurrying after him.

"I have them. They are classified." His dark figure paced down quickly, holding the lantern high, its shadows flickering down the wall. He glanced back at Jared's astonishment and allowed himself a smile. "You will never see them, Master." Between the casks the darkness lay deep; far above, the guards' voices seemed to whisper in confusion.

At the bronze gate he jabbed the combination in swiftly; the gate shuddered open and as they passed through, Jared felt that odd shiver of displacement he had felt before.

The white room adjusted itself. Everything was exactly as he had left it. He had a sudden pang of anxiety. What was happening to Claudia? Was she safe?

"You sent her through with no idea of the danger." The Warden flicked the control panel out and touched sensors. "Entering the Prison is hazardous, physically and psychologically."

Shelves slid back. The screen lit.

On it, Jared saw a thousand images. They flickered, a checkerboard of tiny squares, of empty rooms, bleak oceans, far towers, dusty corners. He saw a street packed with people, a hideous den of stunted children, a man beating a strange beast, a woman tenderly breastfeeding a baby. Bewildered, he stepped up below the images, watching them flicker, the pain, the hunger, the unlikely friendships, the savage bargainings.

'This is the Prison." The "warden leaned against the desk. "All the images seen by the

Eyes. Its the only way to find Claudia."

Jared felt a terrible misery soak him. In the Academy the Experiment was considered one of the glories of the ancient Sapienti, the noble sacrifice of the world's last reserves of energy to save the unredeemable, the poor, the despised. And it had ended in this.

The Warden watched him, a silhouette against the rippling images. "You see, Master, what only the Warden has ever seen."

"Why didn't... Why weren't we told ...?"

"There is not enough power. They can never be brought back, all those thousands of people. They are lost to us." He took out his watch and gave it to Jared, who took it numbly and then looked down at it. The Warden indicated the silver cube on the chain.

"You are like a god, Jared. You hold Incarceron in your hands."

He felt the pain inside him throb. His hands shook. He wanted to put it down, to step back, step away. The cube was tiny, he had seen it a thousand times on the watch chain and barely noticed it, but now it filled him with awe.

Was it possible it contained the mountains he saw, the forests of silver trees, the cities of ragged people preying on each other's poverty? Sweating, he held it tightly and the

Warden said softly, "Afraid, Jared? It takes strength to see a whole world. Many of my predecessors never dared look. They hid their eyes." A soft bell.

They both looked up. The screen had stopped flashing; as they stared, the pictures started to flick off, and one in the bottom right-hand corner grew, pixel by pixel, until it filled the whole screen.

It was Claudia.

Jared put the watch chain shakily down on the table.

She was talking to the prisoners. He recognized the boy Finn, and the other one, Keiro, who was leaning back against a stone wall, listening. Gildas crouched nearby; Jared saw at once that the old man was hurt, Attia standing next to him.

"Can you speak to them?"

"I can," the Warden said. "But first we listen."

He flicked a switch.

"It tried to stop me finding you," Claudia said. She walked toward him down the gloomy corridor. "You should never have come Inside." Finn felt awed. She was so out of place, bringing a scent of roses and strange fresh air that tantalized him. He felt he wanted to scratch at some itch in his mind; instead he rubbed a hand wearily over his eyes.

"Come back with me now." She held out her hand. "Come quickly!"

"You just wait a minute." Keiro stood. "He goes nowhere without me."

"Or me," Attia muttered.

"All of you can come then. It must be possible." Then her face fell.

Finn said, "What is it?"

Claudia bit her lip. She suddenly realized she had no idea how to do this. There had been no portal on this side, no chair or control panel; she had simply found herself in that empty cell. And she didn't know the way back there, even if the place was important.