Sapphique - Incarceron 02 (19 page)

Then nothing but static.

She'd bitten Keiro's hand; now he jerked it away from her mouth and she gasped. 'Look. Look!'

He turned, and saw. The puppet on the end of the row was moving. The strings that worked it were taut from the roof's darkness, and its head was lifting, turning smoothly to look at them.

One lank hand rose and pointed. The jaw clacked.
I told you not to betray me,
it said.

Attia backed, holding the musical box tight, but it gave a broken clank in her hands and the mirror cracked into pieces. She threw it down.

The puppet jerked upright, knock.-kneed, rickety as a skeleton. Its face was some ancient harlequin, the nose hooked and hideous. It wore a striped jester's cap and bells.

Its eyes were red.

'We haven't,' Keiro said rapidly. 'We heard a voice and came to find out what it was. We've got the Glove safe and we're still bringing it to you. I didn't let her tell them about it. You saw that.'

Attia scowled at him. Her mouth was sore where he had clamped his hand over it.

I saw.
The wooden jaw opened and closed, but its voice, with its faint echo, came from nowhere.
You interest me, Prisoner. I could destroy you and yet you defy me.

'What's new?' Keiro's drawl was sarcastic. 'You could destroy us all, any time.' He stepped up to the puppet, his handsome face to its ugliness. 'Or is there some twisted remnant of your programming left? He says, the Sapient out there, that you were made to be a Paradise. We should have had everything. So what went wrong? What did you do, Prison? What turned you into a monster?'

Attia stared at him, appalled.

The puppet raised its hands and feet and danced, a slow, macabre caper.

Men went wrong. Men like you, who seem so bold and are in fact riddled with fears. Crawl back to your horse and ride on my road, Prisoner.

'I'm not afraid of you.'

No? Shall I tell y
ou then, Keiro, the answer to w
hat torments you? It would end the pain for ever, because you'd know.
The puppet's face bobbed mockingly before him.
You'd know how far the circuitry and plastic reaches into your body, how much of you is flesh and blood, how much of you belongs to me.

'I already know.'

Attia was shocked at the whisper his voice had become.
No you don't. None of you know. To find out you must open up your heart, and die. Unless I tell you. Shall I tell you, Keiro?

'No.'

Let me tell you now. Let me end the uncertainty.

Keiro looked up. His eyes were blue and blazing with anger. 'We'll go back to your stinking road. But I swear one day it'll be me doing the tormenting.'
I can see you want to know. Very well. In fact, you are —
The sword slashed. With a yell of fury Keiro sliced through the strings and the puppet collapsed, a heap of splinters and a mask.

Keiro stamped on them; the face cracked under his boot. He raised his face, eyes blazing. 'Do you see that! Having a body will make you vulnerable, Prison-puppet. If you have a body you can die!'

The dark nursery was silent.

Breathing hard, he whirled round and saw Attia's face. He scowled. 'I suppose that stupid grin is because Finn is alive.' 'Not entirely,' she said.

* * *

Claudia ran down the stairs next morning, slipping past the retainers carrying the Queen's breakfast. Probably the Pretender's too, she thought. She glanced up at the Ivory Tower, wondering how he was enjoying his splendour. If he was some farm-boy, it would all be new to him. And yet his manner had been so assured. His hands so smooth!

Quickly, before the doubts came back, she turned into the stables, past the rows of cybersteeds to the real horses at the end.

Jared was adjusting his saddle.

'You haven't got much baggage,' she muttered.

'The Sapient carries all he needs in his heart. Which is from where, Claudia?'

'Martor Sapiens. The Illuminatus. Book One.' She watched Finn lead out his horse, surprised. 'Are you coming too?'

'You suggested it.'

She had forgotten that. It rather annoyed her now; she wanted to see Jared on his way by herself, to say goodbye to him privately. He might be away for days, and the Court would be even more hateful in his absence.

If Finn noticed he said nothing, turning and swinging himself up into the saddle expertly. Riding had come naturally to him, though he had no memory of doing it before the Prison. He waited, while Claudia's horse was saddled and the groom held her foot while she mounted

'Is that outfit in Era?' h
e asked quietly. 'You know very
well it isn't.'

She wore a boy's riding coat and trousers under her skirt. Watching Jared turn his horse she said suddenly, 'Change your plans, Master, don't go. After what happened last night

'I have to go, Claudia.' His voice was strained and low; he rubbed the horse's neck gently. 'Please don't make me feel worse than I do about it.'

She didn't see why. It would mean work on the Portal would pause, just when they were having success. But he was her tutor, and though he rarely exercised it, his authority was real. Besides, she sensed he had his own reasons for going. The Sapienti returned yearly to the Academy; perhaps his superiors had summoned him.

'I'll miss you.'

He looked up, and for a moment she thought there was a desolation in his green eyes. Then he smiled and it was gone. 'And I you, Claudia.'

They rode slowly through the courtyards and quadrangles of the vast palace. Servants drawing water and hauling in waggonloads of kindling stared, their eyes on Finn. It made him ride proudly, trying to look like a prince. Housemaids shaking sheets outside the laundry stopped to watch. At the corner of the scrivener's offices Claudia saw Medlicote come out of the door. As she rode past he bowed, elaborately.

Jared raised an eyebrow. 'That looks meaningful.' 'Leave him to me.'

'I don't like leaving you with that problem, Claudia.'

'They won't try anything, Master. Not if the Pretender is their candidate.'

Jared nodded, the breeze lifting his dark hair. Then he said, 'Finn, what did Attia mean by the Glove?'

Finn shrugged. 'Sapphique made a wager with the Prison once. Some say they played dice, but Gildas had a version where they told riddles. Anyway, the Prison lost.' 'So what happened?' Claudia asked.

'If you were a Prisoner you'd have guessed. Incarceron never loses. It shed the skin from its claw and vanished. But Sapphique took the skin and made a glove and used it to cover his maimed hand. The story says when he put it on he knew all the Prison's secrets.'

'Including the way Out?'

'Presumably.'

'So why did Attia mention it?'

'Why did Keiro try to stop her mentioning it, rather?' Jared's voice was thoughtful. He glanced at Finn. 'Keiro's anger troubles you.'

'I hate him like that.'

'It will pass.'

'I'm more worried about what happened to cut them off.' Claudia glanced at Jared, who nodded. As they reached the cobbled entrance the noise of

the clattering hooves drowned talk. They rode under three gateways and through the vast Barbican with its murder— holes and portcullis. The vaguely medieval arrowslits were not Era, of course, but the Queen thought them picturesque. They had always made the Warden tut with displeasure.

Beyond, the green fields of the Realm stretched out in their morning beauty. Claudia breathed a sigh of relief. She grinned at Finn. 'Let's gallop.'

He nodded. 'Race you up the hill.'

It was a joy to be riding, and free of the Court. She urged the horse on, and the breeze lifted her hair, and the sky was blue and sunlit. On all sides in the golden fields birds sang among the corn; as the lanes divided and narrowed vast hedges rose on each side, the deep tracks hollowed with apparent age. She had no idea how much of this landscape was real — certainly some of the birds, and the hosts of butterflies . . . surely they were real. In truth, if they weren't, she didn't want to know. Why not accept the illusion, just for one day?

The three of them slowed on the top of a small hill and gazed back at the Court. Its towers and pinnacles earned in the sun. Bells were ringing, and the glass roof shone like diamond.

Jared sighed. 'It's strange how beguiling illusion can be.' 'You always told me to beware of it,' Claudia said. 'So you should. As a soci
ety we have lost the ability to
tell the real from the fake. Most of the Court, at least, don't even care which is which. It concerns the Sapienti greatly.'

'Maybe they should enter the Prison,' Finn muttered. 'We never had any trouble.'

Jared glanced at Claudia, and they both thought of the watch, which she wore now, safe in her deepest pocket.

It was two leagues to the fringes of the Forest, and almost midday when they approached it.

The road to this point had been broad and well-used — traffic between the Court and the western villages was steady, and the ruts of wheels had cut deep in the baked mud.

But once under the green canopy the trees gradually closed in, and vast deer-nibbled boughs of mighty oaks gave way to the tangled undergrowth of the wildwood. Branches hung heavily overhead, the sky barely seen through their meshed leaves.

Finally they came to the crossroads and the track that branched off to the Academy. It ran downhill through a green clearing, crossed a stream on a clapperbridge and wound its way up the other side into the wood again.

Jared stopped. 'I'll go on from here alone, Claudia.'

'Master . . .'

'You need to get back. Finn must be there for the investigation.' 'I don't see the point,' Finn growled. 'It's vital. You have n
o memories, so you must impress
them by your personality. By the strength you have, Finn.' Finn gazed at him. 'I don't know I have any, Master.'

'I believe you do.' Jared smiled, calmly. 'Now, I ask you to look after Claudia, while I'm gone.'

Finn raised an eyebrow and Claudia snapped, 'I can look after myself.'

'And you must look after him. I depend on both of you.'

'Don't worry about us, Master.' Claudia leant over and kissed him. He smiled, and turned the horse, but she saw how under his calm there was a tension as if this separation meant more than she knew.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'Sorry?'

'For going.'

She shook her head. 'You'll only be a few days.'

'I did what I could.' His eyes were dark in the forest shadows. 'Remember me kindly, Claudia.'

She suddenly had nothing to say. A chill struck her; she wanted to stop him, to call after him, but he had urged the horse and it was already striding away down the lane.

Only when he had reached the bridge did she stand in the stirrups and yell, 'Write to me!'

'He's too far Firm muttered, but Jared turned and waved his hand.

'His hearing is excellent,' she said, foolishly proud. They watched until the dark horse and its slim rider disappeared under the eaves of the wood. Then Finn sighed.

'Come on. We should get back.'

They rode slowly and silent. Claudia was moody; Finn barely spoke. Neither of them wanted to think about the Pretender, or what decision the Council would come to. Finally Finn looked up. 'It's darker. Isn't it?'

The slants of sunlight that had lit the Forest earlier had gone. Instead clouds had gathered, and the breeze had become a wind, threshing high branches.

'There's no storm ordered. Wednesday's the Queen's archery day.'

'Well, it looks like a storm to me. Maybe it's real weather.'

'There is no real weather, Finn. This is the Realm.'

But in ten minutes rain began. It came as a pattering and was suddenly a torrent, lashing with tremendous noise through the leaves. Claudia thought of Jared and said, 'He'll be soaked?

'So will we!' Finn glanced around. 'Come on. Hurry!'

They galloped. The ground was already soft; the hooves splashed into puddles that spilled over the track. Branches whipped at Claudia's face; her hair flew out across her eyes and plastered itself to her cheek. She shivered, unused to the cold and the wet.