"I'm not. I put myself at risk to save you. You saw that."

The Maestra shook her head. Then she caught his arm and before he could pull away, pushed the ragged sleeve up.

His dirty skin was bruised but unscarred.

"What happened to the cuts you made?"

"They healed," he said quietly.

She let go of his sleeve in disgust and turned away. "What will happen to me?"

"Jormanric will send a messenger to your people. The ransom will be your weight in treasure."

"And if they won't pay it?"

"Surely they will."

"If they won't?" She turned. "What then?"

Unhappy, he shrugged. "You end up a slave here. Processing the ore, making weapons.

It's dangerous. Little food. He works them to death."

She nodded. Looking straight out into the dark emptiness of the stairway, she took a breath and he saw its mistiness in the cold air. Then she said, "In that case we make a deal. I get them to bring the crystal and you release me. Tonight."

His heart thumped. But he said, "It's not that easy ..."

"It is that easy. Otherwise I give you nothing, Finn Cell-born. Nothing. Ever."

She turned and her dark eyes watched him steadily. "I am the Maestra of my people and will never submit to Scum."

She was brave, he thought, but she had no idea. In less than an hour Jormanric could have her screaming to give him any-thing he wanted. But Finn had seen that too often, and it sickened him.

"They must bring it with the ransom."

"I don't want them to have to. I want you to take me back to where you found me, today, before lockup. Once we get there—"

"I can't." He stood up abruptly. Behind them the clang of the signal bell sent a flock of the sooty doves that infested the Den flapping out into the dark. "They'd skin me alive!"

"Your problem." She smiled sourly. "I'm sure you can invent some story. You're an expert."

"All I've told you is true." Suddenly he needed her to believe him.

She put her face close to him and her eyes were fierce. "Like the hard-luck tale at the ambush?"

Finn stared back. Then he dropped his gaze. "I can't just free you. But I swear, if you get me this crystal, you'll get home safely."

For a moment the silence was icy. She turned her back on him and hugged herself. He knew she was about to tell him. Her voice was grim.

"All right. A while ago my people broke into a deserted hall. It had been bricked up from the inside, maybe for centuries. The air was foul. When we crawled in we found some clothes gone to dust, some jewelry, a skeleton of a man."

"So?" He waited, intent.

She looked at him sidelong. "In his hand was a small cylindrical artifact made of crystal or heavy glass. Inside it is a hologram of an eagle with open wings. In one claw it holds a sphere. Around its neck, like yours, it wears a crown."

For a moment he couldn't speak. Before he could draw breath she said, "You must swear my safety."

He wanted to grab her hand and run with her, now, back to the shaft and climb up and up to the transitway. But he said, "They have to pay the ransom. I can't do anything now if we tried, we'd both be killed. Keiro too."

The Maestra nodded wearily. "It will cost everything we have to make my weight in treasure."

He swallowed. "Then I swear to you—on my life, on Keiro's life—that if they do, no harm will come to you. That I'll make certain the exchange is honest. That's all I can do."

The Maestra drew herself up. "Even if you were once cell-born," she breathed, "you are fast becoming Scum. And you're as much a prisoner here as I am."

Without waiting for his answer, she turned and swept back into the Den. Slowly, Finn rubbed a hand around the back of his neck, feeling the damp of sweat. He realized his body was a knot of tension; he made himself breathe out. Then he froze.

A dark figure was sitting ten steps down the dark stairs, lounging against the balustrade.

Finn scowled. "Don't you trust me?"

"You're a child, Finn. An innocent." Keiro turned a gold coin over thoughtfully between his fingers. Then he said, "Don't swear on my life again."

"I didn't mean ..."

"Didn't you?" With a sudden jerk his oathbrother stood, 66 strode up the steps, and stood face-to-face with him. "Fine. But remember this. You and I are joined by sworn contract. If Jormanric finds out you're double-crossing him in any way, we both end up as the last of his pretty little rings. But I don't intend or die, Finn. And you owe me. I brought you into this warband, when your head was empty and you were stupid with fear." He shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder why I bothered."

Finn swallowed. "You bothered because no one else would put up with your pride, your arrogance, and your thieving ways. You bothered because you saw I would be as reckless as you. And when you take on Jormanric you'll need me at your back."

Keiro raised a sardonic eyebrow. "What makes you think—"

"You will one day. Maybe soon. So help me in this, brother, and I'll help you." He frowned.

"Please. It means a lot to me."

"You're obsessed with this stupid idea that you came from Outside."

"Not stupid. Not to me."

"You and the Sapient. A pair of fools together." When he didn't answer, Keiro laughed harshly. "You were born in Incarceron, Finn. Accept it. No one comes in from Outside. No one Escapes! Incarceron is sealed. We were all born here and we'll all die here. Your mother dumped you and you can't remember her. The bird-scar is just some tribemark.

Forget it."

He wouldn't. He couldn't. He said stubbornly, "I wasn't born here. I can't remember being a child, but I was one. I can't remember how I got here, but I wasn't bred out of some artificial womb of wires and chemicals. And this"—he held up his wrist—"will prove it."

Keiro shrugged. "Sometimes I think you're still out of your head."

Finn scowled. Then he stalked back up the stairs. At the top he had to step over something crouched there in the dark. It looked like Jormanric's dog-slave, straining at the end of its chain to reach a bowl of water that some joker had placed just out of reach.

Finn kicked the bowl nearer and strode on.

The slave's chain clanked.

Through its tangle of hair, its small eyes watched him walk away. 

"That was so delicious!" Lord Evian wiped his plump lips with a white napkin. "You really must let me have the receipt, my dear."

Claudia stopped tapping her nails on the cloth and smiled brightly. "I'll have someone copy it for you, my lord."

Her father was watching from the head of the table, the crumbs of his ascetic breakfast of two dry rolls gathered nearly in a pile on the side of his plate. Like her he had finished at least half an hour ago, but his impatience was hidden with iron control. If he was impatient. She didn't even know.