Cold with awe and anger she said, "They killed him."
"We don't know that." Jared seemed to come to life all at once. He knelt by the old man, touched neck and wrist, ran the scanner over him.
"They killed him. He knew something about Giles, about the murder. They realized we were coming here!"
"Who could have realized?" He stood quickly, stepped back into the living room.
"Evian knew. My talk with him must have been bugged. Then there's Job. I asked him ..."
"Job's a child."
"He's scared of my father."
"Claudia, I'm scared of your father,"
She looked again at the small figure in the straw, letting her anger loose, clutching her arms around herself, "You can see the marks," she breathed.
Hand marks. Two bruises like the dark traces of thumbs, deep in the mottled flesh.
"Someone big. Very strong."
Jared jerked open the cupboard in the dresser and pulled out plates. "Certainly he didn't fall."
She turned.
He slammed the drawer, went to the chimney, and stared up. Then to her astonishment he climbed on one of the benches and reached into the darkness, groping blindly. Soot fell in showers.
"Master?"
"He lived at Court, Claudia. He must have been literate."
For a moment she didn't understand. Then she turned and gazed hurriedly around, found the bed, tipped the mattress up, tore open the lice-ridden straw.
Outside, a blackbird shrieked and flapped.
Claudia stared. "Are they coming back?"
"Maybe. Keep looking."
But as she moved her foot caught on a board that creaked, and when she knelt and pulled at it, it swung up on a pivot with the ease of constant use.
"Jared!"
It was the old man's store of treasures. A battered purse with some copper coins, a broken necklace with most of the stones pried out, two quills, a fold of parchment, and, carefully hidden right at the bottom, a blue velvet drawstring bag, small as her palm.
Jared took the parchment and riffled through it. "Looks like some sort of testament. I knew he would have written it down! If he'd been taught by Sapienti, it's only ..." He glanced over. She had opened the blue bag. Out of it she slid a small oval of gold, its back engraved with the crowned eagle. She turned it over.
A boy's face looked up at them, his smile shy and direct, his eyes brown.
Claudia smiled back at him, bitter. She looked up at her tutor. "It must be worth a fortune, but he never sold it. He must have loved him very much."
Gently he said, "Are you sure ...?"
"Oh yes, I'm sure. It's Giles."
CHAINED, HAND AND FOOT
15
Sapphique rode out of the Tanglewood and saw the Fortress of Bronze. People were streaming into its walls from all around.
"Come inside," they urged him. "Hurry! Before it attacks!"
He looked around. The world was metal and the sky was metal. The people were ants on the plains of the Prison.
"Have you forgotten he said, "that you are already Inside?"
But they hurried past and said he was deranged.
The storm had raged all night before dying away so abruptly that Finn had been woken at once by the silence. It seemed eerie after the wind, but at least it meant they could move now, before the Prison changed its mind. Keiro had scrambled outside and stretched, groaning with cramp. After a minute his voice had come back, unusually muted. "Look at this."
When Finn had pulled himself up, he had seen that the forest was bare. Every leaf, every thin metallic curl of foliage lay heaped in immense drifts.
The trees had broken out into flower. Copper blossoms, scarlet and gold, glimmered up hill and down dale as far as he could see.
Behind him, Attia had laughed. "It's beautiful."
He had turned, surprised, realizing he saw it only as an obstacle. "Is it?"
"Oh yes. But you ... you're used to color. Coming from Outside"
"You believe me?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes. There's something different about you. You don't fit. And the name you called out in your sleep, this Claudia. You remember her?"
It was what he had told them. He looked up. "Listen, Attia, I need your help. It's just... I need sometimes to be alone. The Key ... it helps the visions. Sometimes I need to be away from Keiro and Gildas. Do you understand?"
She had nodded gravely, her bright eyes fixed on him. "I told you, I'm your servant. Just tell me when, Finn."
He had felt ashamed. Looking at his face, she had said nothing more.
Since then they had hurried through a landscape of jewel-bright color, between plantations of trees that had marched downhill, the forest floor broken and seamed with streams in strange insulated beds, riven with cracks. Insects Finn had never imagined crawled in great drifts of leaves that blocked the path; finding detours around these lost them hours. And high, in the bare branches jackdaws hopped and karked in flocks, following the travelers with beady curiosity till Gildas cursed them and waved a fist at them. Then, silently, they all flew away.
Keiro nodded. "So the Sapienti still have some magic after all."
Breathless, the old man glared at him. "I wish it worked on you."
Keiro grinned at Finn, Finn allowed himself a smile. He felt lighter somehow, and as he trudged after Gildas down the aisles of the wood, he began to sense something that must be like happiness.
The Escape had begun. The Comitatus was far behind; all that life of brutal infighting, of murder and lies and fear was over. Things would be different now. Sapphique would show him the way out.
Stepping over a tangle of root he almost felt like laughing aloud, but instead he put his hand inside his shirt and touched the Key.
He jerked his hand away at once.
It was warm.
He glanced at Keiro, pacing ahead. Then he turned. Attia was where she always walked.
At his heels.
Annoyed, he stopped. "I don't want a slave."
She stopped too. "Whatever you say." Her eyes watched him with that bruised look.
He said, "There's a stream here, I can hear it. Tell the others I'm getting some water."
Without waiting, he strode off the path deep into a thicket of platinum thorns, then crouched among the undergrowth. Umbels of pliant wire rose around him, hollow reeds where microBeetles worked busily.
Hurriedly he took out the Key.
It was a risk. Keiro might come. But it was hot now in his fingers, and there were the familiar small blue lights deep in the crystal. "Claudia?" he whispered anxiously. "Can you hear me?
"Finn! At last!"
Her voice was so loud it made him swallow; he glanced around. "Quiet! Be quick please.
They'll come looking for me."
"Who will?" She sounded fascinated.
"Keiro."
"Who's he?"
"My oathbrother ..."
"All right. Now listen. There's a small finger panel at the base of the Key. It's invisible but the surface is slightly raised. Can you find it?"
His fingers groped, leaving dirty smudges. "No," he said, flustered.
"Try! Do you think he has a different artifact?" The question wasn't for Finn. The other voice answered her, the one he remembered as Jared. "It's almost certainly identical. Finn, use your fingertips. Search the edge, the facets near the edge."