How they did it he had no idea, but in seconds Keiro had tumbled into the wildly rocking basket; Gildas hauled after him. Attia leaped, pausing only for a moment, and then Finn let himself drop, his mind so black with relief that he fell without fear, and didn't feel himself land, until a welcome silence exploded into Keiro's yell in his ear. "Get off me, Finn!"

He struggled up. Attia was bending over him, concerned. "Are you all right?"

"... Yes."

He wasn't, he knew, but he leaned past her to the edge and he looked over, giddy with the swaying, the icy wind.

They were out of the Cave, above the plain, miles above the City. It lay like a toy on the plain, and from this height they could see the scorch marks and the fumaroles around it, as if the land itself was the skin of the Beast that rumbled beneath, fuming with wrath.

Clouds wisped across, vapors of metallic yellow, a rainbow.

Finn felt Gildas grab him, the old man's voice delirious with joy, snatched away by the wind. "Look up, boy! Sec! There are Sapienti still, with power!"

He twisted his head. And saw, as the silver ship spiraled upward, a tower so narrow and impossibly high that it seemed like a needle balanced upright on a cloud, its top glimmering with light. He felt his breath frost and condense on the rail, crack and splinter, each ice shard polarized by the tower, each crystal aligned as if by a magnet. Gasping in the thin air, he gripped the old man's arm, shaking with cold and fear, not daring to look down again, seeing only the minure landing place at the needle's tip grow bigger, the slowly revolving globe at its apex.

And yet, high as they were, above them for miles and miles, the night of Incarceron extended into the freezing sky.

THE HAMMERING woke Jared in a cold sweat of fear.

For a moment he had no idea what it was, and then he heard her whisper, "Jared!

Quickly, it's me!"

He sat up and stumbled over, tugging the scanner off the frame, fumbling for the latch. As soon as he lifted it, the door flew open, almost hitting him in the face; then Claudia was inside, breathless and dust-smeared, a filthy shawl around her silk dress.

"What is it?" he gasped. "Claudia, has he found out? Does he know we have the Key?"

"No. No." She had no breath; she plumped down on the bed and bent double, clutching her side.

"Then what?"

She raised her hand, making him wait; after a moment, when she could speak and looked up, he saw her face was lit with triumph.

He stepped back, suddenly wary. "What have you done, Claudia?"

Her smile was bitter. "What I've longed to do for years. I've found the door to his secret.

The entrance to Incarceron." 

Finn carefully touched one of the spheres. It showed him his own face, swollen grotesquely in delicate lilac glass. Behind him he saw Attia come through the archway and stare around.

""What is this?" She stood amazed among the bubbles that hung from the ceiling, and he saw how clean she was this morning, her hair scrubbed, the new clothes making her seem younger than ever.

"His laboratory. Look in here."

Some of the spheres contained whole landscapes. In one, a colony of small golden-furred creatures slumbered peacefully or dug in sandy hillocks. Atria spread her hands on it, flat on the glass. "It feels warm."

He nodded. "Did you sleep?"

"A bit. I kept waking up because it was so quiet. You?"

He nodded, not wanting to say that his exhaustion had made him fall onto the small white bed and sleep at once, without even undressing. Though when he had woken this morning, he had found that someone had wrapped the blankets around him, and laid clean clothes on the chair in the bare white room. Had it been Keiro?

"Did you see the man on the ship? Gildas thinks he's a Sapient."

She shook her head. "Not without the facemask. And all he said last night was 'Take those rooms and we'll talk in the morning.'" She glanced over. "It was brave, going back for Keiro."

They were silent for a while. He came around and stood next to her, and as they watched the animals scratch and roll, they became aware that beyond this globe was a whole chamber of glass worlds, aqua-green and gold and pale blue, each hanging from a fine chain, some tinier than a fist, others vast as halls, where birds flew, or fish swam, or billions of insects clouded and swarmed.

"It's as if he's made cages for them all," she said quietly. "I hope he hasn't got one for us."

Then, catching the sudden jerk of his reflection, "What is it? Finn?"

"Nothing." His hands left hot smears on the sphere as he leaned on it.

"You saw something." Attia's eyes were wide. "Was it the stars, Finn? Are there really millions of them? Do they gather and sing in the darkness?"

Stupidly, he didn't want to disappoint her. He said, "I saw ... I saw a lake in front of a great building. It was night. Lanterns were floating on the water, little paper lanterns each with a candle inside so they looked blue and green and scarlet. There were boats on the lake and I was in one of them." He rubbed his face. "I was there, Attia. I was leaning over the side and tried to touch my reflection in the water, and yes, there were stars. And they were angry because my sleeve got wet."

"The stars?" She came closer.

"No. The people."

"What people? Who were they, Finn?" He tried. There was a scent. A shadow.

"A woman," he said. "She was angry."

It hurt. Remembering hurt. It triggered flashes of light; he closed his eyes against them, sweating, his mouth dry.

"Don't." Anxious, she reached out to him, the welts red on her wrists where the chains had chafed the skin. "Don't upset yourself."

He rubbed his face with his sleeve and the room was still with a quiet he had not known since the cell where he had been born. Awkwardly he muttered, "Is Keiro still asleep?"

"Oh him!" She scowled. "Who cares?" He watched her wander between the spheres.

"You can't dislike him that much. You stuck with him in the City."

She was silent, so he said, "How did you manage to follow us?"

"It wasn't easy" She tightened her lips. "We heard rumors about the Tribute, so he said we should steal a flamethrower. I was the one who had to cause a diversion so he could get it. Not that I got any thanks."

Finn laughed. "That's Keiro. He never thanks anyone." Splaying his hands on the sphere, he leaned his forehead on it and the reptiles inside stared back impassively. "I knew he'd come. Gildas said no, but Keiro would never betray me."

She made no answer but he became aware that her silence was charged with an odd tension; when he looked up, she was watching him with something like anger. It burst out of her abruptly. "You're so wrong, Finn! Can't you see what he's like? He would have left you easily, just taken the Key and gone and not even cared!"