"How far away is it?" she murmured.
"A thousand light-years."
"So what I'm looking at is a thousand years old?"
"Maybe more."
Dazzled, she withdrew her eye from the lens. When she turned to face him, tiny flickers of light blurred her sight,
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played, over his tangle of dark hair, his narrow face and spare figure, the unlaced tunic under his robe.
"He's brought the wedding forward," she said.
Her tutor frowned. "Yes. Of course."
"You knew?"
"I knew the Earl had been expelled from the Academy." He moved into the candlelight and she saw his green eyes catch the glimmer. "They sent me a message this morning. I guessed this might be the result."
Annoyed, she brushed a pile of papers off the couch onto the floor and sat wearily, swinging her feet up. "Well, you were right. We've got two days. Its not going to be enough, is it?"
He came and sat opposite her. "To finalize tests on the device, no."
"You look tired, Jared Sapiens," she said.
"So do you, Claudia Arlexa."
There were shadows under his eyes and his skin was pale. Gently she said, "You should get more sleep."
He shook his head. "While the universe is out there wheeling over me? Impossible, lady."
She knew it was the pain that kept him awake. Now he called the fox cub and it came and jumped on his lap, rubbing and butting his chest and face. Absently he stroked its tawny back.
"Claudia, I've been thinking about your theory. I want you to tell me about how your engagement was arranged."
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"Well, you were here, weren't you?"
He smiled his gentle smile. "It may seem to you as if I've been here forever, but I actually came just after your fifth birthday. The Warden sent to the Academy for the best Sapient available. His daughter's tutor could be nothing less."
Reminded of her father's words, she frowned. Jared looked at her sideways. "Did I say something?"
"Not you." She reached out to the fox but it turned away from her, tucking itself tidily into Jared's arm. So she said sourly, "Well, it depends which engagement you mean. I've had two."
"The first."
"I can't. I was five. I don't remember it."
"But they betrothed you to the King's son. To Giles."
"As you said, the Warden's daughter doesn't get second best." She jumped up and prowled around the observatory, picking up papers restlessly.
His green eyes watched her. "He was a handsome little boy, I remember."
Her back to him, she said, "Yes. Every year after that the Court painter would send a little picture of him. I've got them all in a box. Ten of them. He had dark brown hair and a kind, sturdy face. He would have been a fine man." She turned. "I only really met him once. When we went to his seventh birthday party at Court. I remember a boy sitting on a throne too big for him. They had to put a box for his feet. He had big brown eyes. He was allowed to kiss me on the cheek, and he was so
49
embarrassed." She smiled, remembering. "You know how boys go really red. Well, he went scarlet. All he could mumble was, 'Hello, Claudia Arlexa. I'm Giles.' He gave me a bunch of roses. I kept them till they fell to pieces."
She went to the telescope and sat astride the stool, hitching her dress up to her knees.
The Sapient stroked the cub, watching Claudia adjust the eyepiece and gaze through it. "You liked him."
She shrugged. "You'd never have thought he was the Heir. He was just like any other boy. Yes, I liked him. We could have gotten along."
"But not his brother, the Earl? Not even then?"
Her fingers turned the fine dials. "Oh him! That twisted grin. No, I knew what he was like straightaway. He cheated at chess and tipped the board over if he was losing. He screamed at the servants, and some of the other girls told me things. When my ... when the Warden came home and told me Giles had died so suddenly ... that all the plans would have to be changed, I was furious." She sat up and turned quickly. "What I swore to you then still goes. Master, I can't marry Caspar. I won't marry him. I detest him."
"Calm down, Claudia."
"How can I!" She was on her feet now, pacing. "I feel as though everything's crashed in on me! I thought we'd have time, but a few days! We have to act, Jared. I have to get into the study, even if your machine is untested."
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He nodded. Then he lifted the cub off and dumped it on the floor, ignoring its snarl of dismay. "Come and look at this."
Beside the telescope the monitor nickered. He touched the control and the screen rippled with words in the Sapient tongue of which he had never, for all her pleading, taught her a word. As he scrolled through in a bat whipped through the opened room and vanished back into the night. Claudia glanced around. "We should be careful."
''I'll shut the windows in a moment." Absently Jared stopped the text. "Here." His delicate fingers touched a key and the translation appeared. "Look. This is a fragment of a burned draft of a letter written by the Queen, retrieved and copied by a Sapient spy in the Palace, three years ago. You asked me to find anything that might support your absurd theory--"
"Its not absurd."
"Well, your unlikely theory, then, that Giles's death was--"
"Murder."
"Suspiciously sudden. Anyway, I found this." She almost pushed him aside in her eagerness. "How did you get it?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Secrets of the Wise, Claudia. Let's just say a friend in the Academy went searching in the archives." As he went to the windows she read the text eagerly.
.. As for the arrangement we spoke of before, it is unfortunate, but great changes often require great sacrifices. G has been kept aloof from others since
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his father died; the people's grief will be real but short-lived and we can contain it. It barely needs saying that your part will be beyond value to us. When my son is King I can promise you all I...
She hissed in annoyance. "Is that it?"
"The Queen has always been very careful. We have at least seventeen people in the Palace, but evidence for anything is rare." He slid the last window down, closing out the stars. "That took a lot of finding."
"But it's so clear!" Eagerly she read it again. "I mean ... grief will be real ... When my son is King ..."
As he came over and lit the lamp she looked up at him and her eyes were bright with excitement. "Master, it proves she killed him. She murdered the King's Heir, the last of the Havaarna dynasty, so that his half brother, her own son, could have the throne."
For a moment he was still. Then the flame steadied and he looked up at her. Her heart sank. "You don't think so."
"I thought I taught you better than that, Claudia. Be rigorous in your argument. All this proves is that she intended her son to be King. Not that she did anything about it."
"But this G--"
"Could be anyone with that initial." Remorselessly he stared her down.
"You don't think that! You can't..."
"It's not what I think that matters, Claudia. If you make an
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accusation like this, you need proof so complete, there can be no question of any doubt." He eased himself into a chair and winced. "The Prince died in a fall from his horse. Doctors certified it. His body lay in state in the Great Hall of the Palace for three days. Thousands filed past it. Your own father ..."
"She must have had him killed. She was jealous of him."
"She never showed any sign of that. And the body was cremated. There's no way of telling now." He sighed. "Don't you see how this will look, Claudia? You'll just be a spoiled girl who doesn't like her arranged marriage and is willing to rake up any sort of scandal to get out of it."
She snapped, "I don't care! What--"
He sat up. "Quiet!"
She froze. The fox cub was on its feet, ears pricked. A whisper of draft gusted under the door.
Instantly they both moved
. Claudia was at the window in seconds, darkening the glass; turning, she saw Jared's fingers on the control panel for the sensors and alarms he had fitted on the stairs. Small red lights danced.
"What?" she whispered. "What was it?"
For a moment he didn't answer. Then his voice was low. "Something was there. Tiny. Perhaps an eavesdropping device."
Her heart thudded. "My father?"
"Who knows? Maybe Lord Evian. Maybe Medlicote."
They stood a long time in the dimness, listening. The night was still. Somewhere a distant dog barked. They could hear the
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faint baas of the sheep in the meadow beyond the moat, and an owl, hunting. After a while a rustle in the room told them the cub had curled back up to sleep. The candle guttered and went out. In the silence she said, "I'm going into the study tomorrow. If I can't find out about Giles, at least I can learn something about Incarceron."
"With him in the house ..."
"It's my last chance."
Jared ran long fingers through his untidy hair. "Claudia, you must go. We'll talk about this tomorrow." Then all at once his face was white, his hands flat on the table. He leaned over and breathed hard.
She came around the telescope quietly. "Master?"
"My medication. Please."
She grabbed the candle, shook it back into light and cursed the Era for the hundredth time. "Where ... I can't find it..."
"The blue box. By the astrolabe."
She groped, grabbing pens, papers, books, the box. Inside was the small syringe and the ampules; fitting one on carefully, she brought it to him. "Shall I ...?"
He smiled gently. "No. I can manage."
She brought the lamp closer; he rolled his sleeve up and she saw the innumerable scars around the vein. He made the injection carefully, the microinfuser barely touching the skin, and as he replaced it in the box, his voice was calm and steadier.
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"Thank you, Claudia. And don't look so scared. This condition has been killing me for ten years and it's in no hurry. It will probably take another ten to finish me off."
She couldn't smile. Times like this terrified her. She said, "Shall I send someone ...?"
"No, no. I'll go to bed and sleep." Handing her the candle, he said, "Be careful how you go down the stairs."
She nodded, reluctant, and crossed the room. At the door she stopped and turned. He stood as if he had been waiting for that, closing the box, the dark green of the Sapient coat with its high collar glinting with strange iridescence.
"Master, that letter. Do you know who it was written to?"
He looked up unhappily. "Yes. And it makes it even more urgent that we get into his study."
The candle flickered as she breathed in dismay. "You mean ..."
"I'm afraid so, Claudia. The Queen's letter was addressed to your father."
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5
***
There was a man and his name was Sapphique. Where he came from is a mystery. Some say he was born of the Prison, grown from its stored components. Some say he came from Outside, because he alone of men returned there. Some say he was not a man at all, but a creature from those shining sparks lunatics see in dreams and name the stars. Some say he was a liar and a fool.
Legends of Sapphique
***
"You have to eat something." Finn scowled down at the woman. She sat facing resolutely away from him, her hood over her face.
She didn't say a word.
He dumped the plate and sat on the wooden bench next to her, rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. Around them the noise of the Comitatus at breakfast rang and clattered. It was an hour after Lightson when the doors that were not broken had sprung open with that great crack of sound it had taken him years to grow used to. He looked up at the rafters and saw one of the Prison's Eyes watching curiously; the small red light stared unblinkingly down.
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Finn frowned. No one else took any notice of the Eyes, but he loathed them. Getting up, he turned his back on it. "Come with me," he snapped. "Somewhere quieter."
He walked quickly, not turning to see if she followed. He couldn't wait any longer for Keiro. Keiro had gone to see about their share of the plunder because Keiro always saw to those things. Finn had realized long ago that his oathbrother was almost certainly cheating him, but he could never bring himself to care that much. Now, ducking under an archway, he came out at the top of a wide staircase that curved elegantly down into darkness.
Out here the noise was muted and echoed strangely in the cavernous spaces. A few scrawny slave girls hurried past, looking terrified, as they always did when one of the Comitatus even glanced at them. From the invisible roof vast chains hung in loops like great bridges, each link thicker than a man. In some of them the uber-spiders had nested, creaming the metal with sticky web. Half a desiccated dog hung head-down from one cocoon.
When he turned, the Maestra was there.
He stepped forward, his voice low. "Listen to me. I had to bring you. I don't want to hurt you. But back there, in the transitway, you said something. You said you recognized this."
Dragging back his sleeve, he held his wrist out to her.
She flicked one disdainful glance at it. "I was stupid to feel sorry for you."
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Anger rose in him but he held it down. "I need to know. I have no idea who I am or what this mark means. I don't remember anything. "
Now she did look at him. "You're a cell-born?"
The name annoyed him. "That's what they call it."
She said, "I have heard of them but have never seen one before."
Finn glanced away. Talking about himself disturbed him. But he sensed her interest; it might be his only chance. He sat down on the top step, feeling the cold chipped stone under his hands. Staring out into the dark, he said, "I just woke up. That was all. It was black and silent and my mind was totally empty and I had no idea who or where I was."
He couldn't tell her about the panic, the terrible screaming panic that had surged up and made him beat and bruise himself against the walls of the tiny airless cell.
Couldn't say that he had sobbed himself into a vomiting fit; that he had cowered in the corner shaking for days--the corner of his mind, the corner of the cell, because each was the same and each was empty.
Perhaps she guessed; she came and sat by him, her dress rustling.
"How old were you?"
He shrugged. "How do I know? It was three years ago."
"About fifteen then. Young enough. I've heard some of them are born insane, and already aged. You were lucky."
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The barest sympathy. He caught it despite the harshness of her voice, remembered her concern before the ambush. She was a woman who felt for other people. That was her weakness and he would have to play on it. As Keiro had taught him.
"I was insane, Maestra. Sometimes I still am. You can't imagine how it is to have no past, no idea of your name, where you came from, where you are, what you are. I found I was dressed in a gray overall with a name printed on it, and a number. The name was FINN, the number 0087/2314.I read those numbers over and over. I learned them, scratched them on the stones with sharp fragments, cut them in letters of blood on my arms. I crawled around the floor like an animal, filthy, my hair growing long. Day and night were lights that came on and went off. Food slid in on a tray through the wall; waste went out the same way. Once or twice I made an effort and tried to scrabble through the hole, but it snapped shut too quickly. Most of the time I lay in a sort of stupor. And when I slept, I dreamed terrible dreams."
She was watching him. He sensed she was wondering how much was true. Her hands were strong and capable; she worked hard with them, he could see, but she had reddened the nails too. Quietly he said, "I don't know your name."
My name doesn't matter." She kept her gaze level. "I've heard of these cells. The Sapienti call them the Wombs of Incarceron. In them the Prison creates new people; th
ey emerge as infants or adults, whole, not like the halfmen. But only the young ones survive. The Children of Incarceron."
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"Something survived. I'm not sure it was me." He wanted to tell her about the nightmares of fractured images, the times he woke even now in a panic of forgetfulness, groping for his name, where he was, until Keiro's quiet breathing reassured him. Instead he said, "And there was always the Eye. At first I didn't know what it was, only noticed it in the night, a tiny red point glowing near the ceiling. Slowly I realized it was there all the time, came to imagine it was watching me, that there was no escape from it. I began to think there was an intelligence behind it, curious and cruel. I hated it, squirmed away, curled up with my face against the damp stones not to see it. After a while, though, I couldn't stop glancing around to check it was still there. It became a sort of comfort. I got scared it would go away, couldn't stand the thought of it leaving me. That was when I started to talk to it."
He had not told even Keiro this. Her quietness, her closeness, that smell of soap and comfort, he must have known something like them once, because they drew out his words, hard now, reluctant.
"Have you ever talked to Incarceron, Maestra? In the darkest night when everyone else is asleep? Prayed and whispered to it? Begged it to end the nightmare of nothingness? That's what the cell-born do. Because there is no one else in the world. It is the world."
His voice choked. Careful not to look at him she said, "I have never been that alone. I have a husband. I have children."
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He swallowed, feeling her anger puncture his self-pity. Perhaps she was working on him too. He bit his lip and pushed the hair from his eyes, knowing they were wet and not caring. "Well, you are lucky, Maestra, because I had no one but the Prison, and the Prison has a heart of stone. But gradually I began to understand that it was huge and that I lived inside it, that I was a tiny, lost creature, that it had eaten me. I was its child and it was my father, vast beyond understanding. And when I was sure of that, so sure that I was numb with silence, the door opened."
"So there was a door!" Her voice was edged with sarcasm.
"There was. All the time. It was tiny and it had been invisible in the gray wall. For a long time, hours perhaps, I just watched the rectangle of darkness, fearing what might come in, the faint sounds and smells from beyond. Finally I summoned up the courage to crawl to it and peer out." He knew she was looking at him now. He gripped his hands together and went on steadily. "The only thing outside the door was a tubular white corridor lit from above. It ran straight in either direction, and there were no openings in it, and no end. It narrowed eternally into dimness. I dragged myself up--"