For a moment, nothing. A rat ran up the passage, saw her, and slunk around. Then the voice said thoughtfully, "Your idea of Finn is a foolishly romantic one; the lost Prince, the imprisoned hero. You remember a little boy and want it to be him. But even if Finn is really Giles, that was a lifetime away and a world ago and he is not the same now. I have changed him,"

She stared up into the darkness. "No."

"Oh yes. Your father was right. To survive here men descend to the depths of their beings. They become beasts, not caring, not even seeing the pain of others. Finn has stolen, perhaps killed. How can such a man return to a throne, and govern others? How can he ever be trusted again? The Sapienti were wise, but they made a system without release, Claudia. Without forgiveness."

Its voice was chilling her. She didn't want to listen, to be drawn into its persuasive doubts.

She activated the Key, turned into the low passage, and began to run.

Her shoes slithered on the rubble that littered the floor, bones and straw, a dead creature so desiccated, it collapsed as she jumped over it.

"Claudia. Where are you?"

It was all around her, before her, under her.

"Stop. Please. Or I will have to stop you."

She didn't answer. Ducking under an arch, she found three tunnels that met, but the Key was so hot now, it almost scorched her hand, and she plunged into the left-hand tunnel, racing past cell doors that hung open.

The Prison rumbled. The floor rippled, rose up under her like a carpet. She gasped as it flung her up; she landed with a cry, one leg bloodied, but picking herself up, she raced on, because it couldn't be sure where she was, not with the Key.

The world rocked. It tipped from side to side. Darkness closed in, noxious smells seeped from the walls, bats swirled in clouds. She wouldn't scream. Clawing the stones, she pulled herself on, even when the passageway lifted itself up and became a hill, a steep, slippery slope, and all the rubble that lay on it slid down on her.

And then, just as she wanted to let go and slither back, she heard voices.

KEIRO FLEXED his fingers. His face was flushed and his eyes would not meet Finn's. It was Gildas who broke the silence. "So I've been traveling with a halfman."

Keiro ignored him. He looked at Finn, who said, "How long have you known?"

"All my life." His oathbrother's voice was subdued.

"But you. You were the one who hated them most. Despised them ..."

Keiro shook his head in irritation. "Yes. Of course. I hate them. I have more cause to hate them than you. Don't you see that they scare me stiff?" He flung a glance at Attia, then yelled out at the Prison, "And you! I swear if I could ever find your heart, I'd slice it open!"

Finn didn't know how he felt. Keiro was so perfect, all he had ever wanted to be. Handsome, bold, without flaw, alive with that zestful confidence he had always envied.

He was never scared stiff.

"All my sons think that" Incarceron said slyly.

Keiro slumped against the wall. A Are seemed to have gone out of him. He said, "It scares me because I don't know how far it goes." Lifting up his hand, he flexed his finger.

"It looks real, doesn't it? No one can tell. And how do I know how much more of me is like that? Inside me, the organs, the heart. How do I know?" There was a sort of agony in the question, as if it had been asked silently a million times before, as if behind the bravado and arrogance was a fear he had never revealed.

Finn looked around. "The Prison could tell you."

"No. I don't want to know."

"It doesn't matter to me." Finn ignored Gildas's snort and glanced at Attia.

Quietly she said, "So we're all flawed. Even you. I'm sorry."

"Thanks." Keiro was scornful. "The pity of a dog-girl and a Starseer. That really makes me feel better."

"We're only—"

"Save k. I don't need it." He brushed away Finn's outstretched hand and pulled himself upright. "And don't think it changes me. I'm still me."

Gildas limped past. "Well, you get no pity from me. Let's get on."

Keiro stared at his back with a rigidity of hatred that made

Finn move in; his oathbrother snatched up the sword from the floor, but as he took one step after the Sapient, the Prison shivered and shuddered.

Finn grabbed the wall.

When the world stopped moving, the air was thick with dust; it hung like a fog, and there was a ringing in his ears. Gildas was hissing in pain. Attia scrambled over; she pointed through the miasma. "Finn. What's that?"

For a moment he had no idea. Then he saw it was a face. A face that was oddly clean, with bright clever eyes and a tangle of hastily tied hair. A face that was staring at him out of the mists of the past over the tiny flames of candles on a cake that he leaned over and blew out with one exhausting breath.

"Is that you?" she whispered.

He nodded, silent, knowing this was Claudia. 

32

The soldiers came after two hours. Jared had been waiting for them; he had lain on the hard bed in the silent room and listened to the sounds of the Palace through the open casement; the galloping horses far below, the coaches, the scurry, the shouts. It was as if

Claudia had taken a stick to a nest of ants and now they were in a swarming panic, their

Queen injured and their peace gone.

The Queen. As he sat up stiffly and gazed at the men, he hoped he wouldn't have to face her fury.

"Master." The liveried servant seemed embarrassed. "Would you come with us, sir."

Always the Protocol. It saved them from facing the truth. As they led him down the stairs, the guardsmen fell in discreetly behind, their halberds held like staffs of office.

He had already gone through all the emotions. Terror, bluster, despair. Now all that was left was a sort of dull resignation.

Whatever the Warden would do to him had to be borne. Claudia had to have time.

To his surprise they took him past the state rooms, where anxious envoys argued and messengers ran in and out, down to a small room in the east wing. When they ushered him in he saw it was one of the Queen's private drawing-rooms, cluttered with fragile gilt furniture, an elaborate clock on the mantelpiece heaped with cherubs and simpering shepherdesses.

Only the Warden was here.

He was not sitting at a desk, but standing, facing the door. Two armchairs were arranged at easy angles by the hearth, where a great bowl of potpourri sat in the empty fireplace.

It still felt like a trap.

"Master Jared." The Warden indicated one chair with a long finger. "Please sit."

He was glad to. He felt breathless and light-headed.

"A little water." The Warden poured it and brought the goblet over. As he drank from it

Jared felt Claudia's father ... no, not her father ... watching him acutely.

"Thank you."

"You haven't eaten?"

"No ... I suppose ... in all the fuss ..."

"You should take more care of yourself." The voice was hard. "Too many hours working at these forbidden devices."

He waved a hand. Jared saw that the table near the window was covered with pieces of his experiments, the scanners, the imagers, the devices to block alarms. He said nothing. "Of course you understand that all these are illegal." The Warden's eyes were ice-cold. "We have always allowed the Sapienti a certain leeway, but you seem to have been taking great advantage." Then he said, "Where is Claudia, Master?"