He whipped out his sword. Jared turned.

Evian was staggering back, the pink suit smeared with blood. He must have seen he had failed; the Queen was hysterical but not dead, and there was no chance to strike again. At least not at her. Soldiers ran in, their sharp pikes forcing him back in a ring of steel. He stared at Jared without seeing him, at the Warden, at Caspar's pale terror.

"I do this for freedom," he said calmly. "In a world that offers none."

With a swift accuracy he turned the knife and with both hands thrust it into his heart. He crumpled over it, crashed down, juddered a moment and was still. As Jared pushed past the guards and bent over him, he saw death had been almost instant; blood was still slowly welling through the silk cloth.

He gazed down, horrified, at the plump face, the staring eyes.

"Stupid," the Warden said behind him. "And weak." He reached down and hauled Jared up, turning him roughly.

"Are you weak, Master Sapient? I have always thought so. We'll see now if I was tight."

He looked at the guard. "Take the Master to his room and lock him in. Bring me any devices that are there. Post two men outside. He is not to leave, and will receive no visitors."

"Sire." The man bowed.

The Queen had been hustled out and the crowd scattered; all at once the great Chamber seemed empty. The garlands of flowers and orange blossom drifted slightly in the breeze from the open windows. As Jared was led to the door he stepped on spilled petals and sticky sweetmeats; the detritus of a wedding that would never happen.

Just before they pushed him out, he looked back and saw the Warden standing with both hands on the high fireplace, leaning over the empty hearth. His hands were clenched fists on the white marble.

NOTHING HAPPENED but a white light. When Claudia opened her eyes, they stung; her sight was watery, and small dark spots floated there for a minute, dimming the walls of the cell.

It was certainly a cell. It stank. The smell was so strong, she retched and then tried nor to breathe again, the reek of damp and urine and rotting bodies and straw.

The straw was all around her; she was sitting in it, and a flea jumped out of it onto her hand. With a hiss of disgust she jumped up and shook it off, shivering and scratching.

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." 

31

"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."