Incarceron (Incarceron, Book 1) (9 page)

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composure; she tugged away from her guards and screamed, "Sim!"

Finn wondered if that was her husband. "Come on," he said to Keiro, and pushed forward.

Seeing them, the crowd moved back.
It's in the way they look at you,
Finn thought bitterly. Knowing that the old man was right made him angry. He came up behind the Maestra and grabbed her arm. "Remember what I said. No harm will come to you. But are you sure they'll bring this thing?"

She glared at him. "They won't hold anything back. Some people know about love."

The jibe stung him. "Maybe I did once."

Jormanric was watching them, his dull eyes barely focused. He jabbed a ringed finger at the bridge and yelled, "Get her ready!"

Keiro pulled the woman's hands behind her and shackled them. Watching, Finn muttered, "Look. I'm sorry."

She held his gaze. "Not as sorry as I am for you."

Keiro smiled archly. Then he looked to Jormanric.

The Winglord heaved himself up and strode to the Chasm edge, glaring out at the Civicry. The greasy chainmesh creaked as he folded his great arms across his chest. "Listen, over there!" he thundered. "You get her back for her weight in treasure. No more, no less. And that means no alloy and no junk."

His words rang in the steaming heat.

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"First, your word there'll be no treachery." The reply was cold with fury.

Jormanric grinned. Ket-juice glistened on his teeth. "You want my word! I haven't kept my word since I was ten and knifed my own brother. You're welcome to it."

The Comitatus sniggered. Behind them, half in shadow, Finn saw Gildas, his face sour.

Silence.

Then, from deep in the shimmering heat haze came a clang and a thud. The Civicry were hauling their treasure across to the Spike. Finn wondered what they had--ore certainly, but Jormanric would be hoping for gold and platinum and most precious of all, micro-circuitry. After all, the Civicry were one of the richest groups in the Wing. That had been the reason for the ambush.

The bridge shuddered. The Maestra grasped the rail to steady herself.

Finn said quietly, "Let's go." He glanced behind himself. Keiro had drawn his sword.

"I'm here, brother."

"Don't let the bitch go till you get every last ounce," Jormanric rasped.

Finn scowled. Pushing the Maestra in front, he began the crossing.

The bridge was a web of woven chainwork; it swung with every step. Twice he slipped, once so hard that the whole

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structure swayed crazily and nearly tipped the three of them into the abyss. Keiro swore; the Maestra's fingers gripping the metal links were white-knuckled.

Finn did not look down. He knew what was below nothing bur blackness and heat that rose and scorched your face, bringing strange drowsy fumes it was unwise to breathe.

As she inched forward, the Maestra's voice came back to him, hard and cold. "If they don't bring ... the crystal? What then?"

"What crystal?" Keiro asked slyly.

Finn said, "Shut up." Ahead in the dimness he could see the Civicry--three men, as agreed, waiting by the weighing platform. He edged up close behind the Maestra. "Don't even try to make a run for it. Jormanric will have twenty weapons trained on you."

"I'm not a fool," she snapped. Then she stepped onto the Spike.

Finn followed, taking a deep breath of relief. It was a mistake. The fumes of the heat haze choked his throat; he coughed.

Keiro pushed past him, sword drawn, and grabbed the woman's arm. "On this."

He shoved her onto the weighing platform. It was a vast aluminum construction, dragged here in pieces and reassembled with immense difficulty for occasions like this, though in all Finn's time with the Comitatus he had never seen it used. Jormanric didn't usually bother with ransoms.

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"Look hard at the marker, friend." Keiro turned silkily to the Civic leader. "Not such a lightweight, is she?" He grinned.

"Perhaps you should have kept her on a stricter diet."

The man was stocky, muffled in a striped coat, bulky with concealed weapons. Ignoring Keiro's taunt he came and glanced at the needle on the rusting dial, exchanging a swift, snatched look with the Maestra. Finn recognized him from the ambush. The one she'd called Sim.

The man gave Finn a filthy glare. Taking no chances, Keiro pulled the Maestra back and held his dagger to her neck. "Now pile it on. And don't try anything."

In the moment before the treasure began to be poured, Finn wiped sweat from his eyes. He swallowed again, trying not to breathe too hard, wishing desperately he had tied something over his mouth and nose. Faint, horribly familiar, the spots of redness began to swim before his eyes. Not now, he thought frantically. Please.

Not now.

Gold was slithering and rattling. Rings, cups, plates, elaborate candlesticks. A bag was upended and silver coins cascaded out, forged probably from the ore smuggled by traders; then a deluge of delicate components robbed from dark and unfrequented parts of the Wing--broken Beetles, Eye-lenses, a Sweeper with its radar mangled.

The needle began to move. Watching it, the Civicry dumped a sack of ket and two small pieces of the precious ebony wood

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that grew somewhere in a stunted forest even Gildas had only-heard rumors of.

Keiro grinned at Finn.

As the red needle edged across, a heap of copper wire and Plastiglas went on, a handful of crystal filaments, a patched helm, and three rusted foils that would certainly snap at the first good blow.

The men worked hurriedly, but it was clear they were running out of goods. The Maestra watched tight-lipped, Keiro's knifepoint whitening the skin under her ear.

Finn's breath was ragged. Prickles of pain sparked behind his eyes. He swallowed and tried to whisper to Keiro, but he had no breath and his oathbrother was watching the last sack--of useless tinware--being placed on the heap.

The needle swung over.

It stopped short.

"More," Keiro said quietly.

"There's nothing more."

Keiro laughed. "You love the coat you're wearing better than her?"

Sim tore the coat off and flung it on. Then, with a glance at the Maestra he tossed his sword and firelock after it. The other two men did the same. They stood empty-handed and each of them watched the needle quiver.

It didn't quite make the mark.

"More," Keiro said.

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"For God's sake!" Sim's voice was harsh. "Just let her go!" Keiro glanced at Finn. "This crystal. Is it there?" Dizzy, he shook his head.

Keiro smiled icily at the men. He pressed the blade; a glistening trickle of dark blood edged it. "Beg, lady."

She was very calm. She said, "They want the crystal, Sim. The one you found in the lost hall."

"Maestra ..."

"Give it to them."

Sim hesitated. It was only for a second, though through his nausea Finn saw it strike the Maestra like a blow. Then the man put his hand into his shirt and pulled out an object that caught a glimmer of light, so that a brief rainbow rippled in his fingers. 'We've found out something," he said. "Something it does ..."

She stopped him with a look. He tossed the crystal slowly down onto the pile.

The needle touched the mark.

At once Keiro shoved the woman away. Sim grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the second bridge. "Run!" he yelled.

Finn crouched. Saliva welled in his throat as he picked up the crystal. Inside it an eagle spread wide wings. It was the same as the mark on his wrist. Finn.

He looked up.

The Maestra had stopped and turned, her face white. "I hope it destroys you."

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"Maestra!" Sim had her arm but she shook him off. Gripping the chains of the second bridge, she faced Finn and spat words at him.

"I curse the crystal, and I curse you."

"There's no time," he said hoarsely. "Just go."

"You've destroyed my trust. My compassion. I thought I could tell truth from lies. Now I'll never dare show kindness to a stranger again. For that I can never forgive you!"

Her hatred scorched him. Then, as she turned away, the bridge lurched.

The abyss swung crazily. In a second of frozen horror the Maestra screamed and he gasped, "No!" staggering one step toward her. Then Keiro had hold of him and was shouting and something was cracking and as if the pain in his head had slowed them down he saw the chains and rivets that held the bridge snapping and jerking out, heard Jormanric's great howl of laughter and knew this was treachery.

The Maestra must have realized too. She stood upright.

She gave him one look, her eyes to his; then she was gone, she and Sim and the others were gone, down and down, and the bridge was a crazy contraption slamming and shedding wrecked ironware in a clattering uproar against the side of the cliff.

Screaming echoes faded.

Crumpling to his knees, Finn stared, appalled. A wave of nausea shuddered through him. He clutched the crystal, and through the roaring in his ears heard Keiro say calmly, "I

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should have guessed the old rogue would do that. And a lump of glass doesn't look much for all your trouble. What is it?"

Then Finn knew, in a second of sour clarity, that he was right, that he must have been born Outside; knew it because he held in his hand the one object that no one in Incarceron for generations had ever seen or would even guess the purpose of, and yet it was familiar to him, he had a word for it, he knew what it was.

It was a key.

Darkness and pain roared up and swallowed him. He fell into Keiro's firm grip.

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UNERGROUND, THE STARS ARE LEGENDS

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8

***

The Years of Rage are ended and nothing can be the same. The war has hollowed the moon and
stilled the tides. We must find a simpler way of life. We must retreat into the past, everyone and
everything, in its place, in order. Freedom is a small price to pay for survival.

---King Endor's Decree

***

Finn felt himself fall for a thousand miles down the abyss before he crashed onto a ledge. Breathless, he raised his head. All around, darkness roared. Beside him, leaning back against the rock, someone was sitting. Finn said instantly,

"The Key ..."

"At your side."

He groped for it in the rubble, felt its smooth heaviness. Then he turned.

A stranger sat there. He was young and had long dark hair. He wore a high-collared coat like a Sapient s, but it was ragged and patched. He pointed to the rock face and said, "Look, inn.

In the rock was a keyhole. Light shone through it. And Finn saw that the rock was a door, tiny and black, and in its transparency stars and galaxies were embedded.

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"This is Time. This is what you must unlock," Sapphique said.

Finn tried to lift the Key, but it was so heavy he needed both hands, and even then it shook in his grasp. "Help me," he gasped.

But the hole was closing, swiftly, and by the time he got the Key steady, there was nothing left but a pinhole of light.

"So many have tried," Sapphique whispered in his ear. "Have died trying,"

***

FOR A second Claudia was stock-still with despair.

Then she moved. She shoved the crystal key into her pocket, used Jared's disc to make a perfect holocopy of it nestled in the black velvet and slammed the drawer shut. Fingers hot with sweat she took out the box prepared just for this emergency and flipped out the ladybugs. They flew, landing on the control panel and the floor. Then she clicked the blue switch on the disc to red, swung, and aimed it at the door.

Three of the laserlights fizzed and died. She slid through the gap they left, flinching from imaginary bolts of weaponry. The grille was a nightmare; the disc chuntered and clicked, and she howled at it in desperation, sure it would break down, run out of power, but slowly a white-hot hole melted in the metal as the atoms scrambled and re-formed.

In seconds she was through it, had the door open, was in the corridor.

It was silent.

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Amazed, she listened. As the study door clicked shut behind her, the panic alarms were sliced off as if they rang in some other world.

The house was peaceful. Doves cooed. And below, she heard voices.

She ran. Up the back stairs, right to the attics, then down a passageway through the servants' garrets to the tiny storeroom at the end; it stank of wormwood and cloves. Diving in she groped hastily for the mechanism that opened the ancient priesthole, her fingernails scraping grime and spiderwebs and then, yes, there! The latch barely wide enough for her thumb.

As she jabbed it, the panel grated; she flung her weight on it, heaved it, swearing, and it shuddered open and she fell in.

Once she had it shut and her back against it, she could breathe.

Before her, the tunnel to Jared's tower ran into darkness.

***

FINN LAY crookedly on his bed.

He lay there a long while, gradually becoming aware of the noises of the Den outside, of someone running, of the clatter of dishes. Finally, groping with his hand, he found that a blanket had been laid carefully over him. His shoulders and neck ached; cold sweat chilled him.

He rolled over and looked up at the filthy ceiling. Echoes of a long scream were ringing in his ears, the tingling of alarms and panicking, flashing lights. For a sickening moment he had