They were trying to isolate her. She had expected this; Jared had warned her of it. At

Queen Sia's court they wanted her alone with no one to trust, no one to plot with. But she was having none of that.

Lord Evian had waddled over. "Quite wonderful, my dear." His small eyes enjoyed her figure in the fencing breeches.

"Don't patronize me," she snapped, "waving Alys away, she took the cup and jug and stalked to a bench that stood at the edge of the green lawn. After a moment Evian came after her. She turned on him. "I need to talk to you."

"The house overlooks us," he said quietly. "Anyone can see."

"Then wave your handkerchief and laugh. Or whatever it is spies do."

His fingers closed the snuffbox. "You are angry, Lady Claudia. But not, I think, with me."

That was true. But still she glared at him. "What do you want from me?"

He smiled serenely at the ducks on the lake, the small black moorhens in the rushes. "As yet, nothing. Obviously we will make no move until after the wedding. But then, we will need your help. The Queen must be dealt with first—she is the most dangerous. And then, when you are safely Queen, your husband will meet with some accident..."

She drank the cold water. Upside-down in the cup she saw Jared's tower reflected, the blue sky behind it, the tiny windows in perfect Protocol.

"How do I know this isn't a trap?"

He smiled. "Does the Queen doubt you? She has no reason.

Claudia shrugged. She only met the Queen at festivals. The first rime had been at her betrothal, and that had been years ago. She remembered a slim blond woman in a white dress, sitting on a throne that had seemed to have hundreds of steps up to it, and she had had to climb every one, concentrating, carrying the basket of flowers that was almost as big as she had been.

The Queen's hands, the nails a glossy red.

The cool palm on her forehead.

The words. "How charming, Warden. How sweet."

"You could be recording this," she said. "You could be testing me ... my loyalty."

Evian sighed, a tiny sound. "I assure you ..."

"Assure all you like, it could be true." She dumped the cup and picked up the towel Alys had left, wiping her face with its softness. Then she turned. "What do you know about

Giles's death?"

It startled him. His pale eyes widened slightly. But he was practiced at deception; he answered without giving anything away. "Prince Giles? He fell from his horse."

"Was it an accident? Or was he murdered?"

If he was recording this, she knew she was finished now.

His stubby fingers folded together. "Really, my dear ..."

"Tell me. I need to know. Of all people it concerns me most. Giles was ... we were betrothed. I liked him."

"Yes." Evian looked at her shrewdly. "I see." He seemed uncertain, then, as if he'd made up his mind, he said, "There was something strange about the death."

"I knew it! I told Jared—"

"The Sapient knows about this?" He looked up in alarm. "About me?"

"I would trust Jared with my life."

"Those are the most dangerous people." Evian turned, watching the house. One of the ducks meandered toward him; he gave a flurried wave and it padded away, quacking.

"We never know where the listeners are," he said quietly, staring after it. "That is what the

Havaarna have done to us, Claudia. They have riddled us with fear."

For a moment he seemed almost shaken; then he brushed an invisible crease from his silk suit and said in his changed voice, "Prince Giles rode out that morning without any of his usual attendants. It was a fine spring morning; he was well, in good health, a laughing boy of fifteen years. Two hours later a messenger thundered in on a horse white with sweat; he leaped from it and raced into the hall of the Court, ran up the steps, and threw himself at the Queens feet. I was there, Claudia. I saw her face when they told her of the accident. She is a pale woman, as they all are, but then she was white. If it was an act, it was expert. They brought the boy back on a hastily made bier of boughs, their coats laid over his face. Grown men were weeping."

Impatient, Claudia said, "Go on."

"They laid him in state. Wearing a great gold robe and a tunic of white silk embroidered with the crowned eagle. Thousands filed past him. Women sobbed. Children brought flowers. How beautiful he was, they said. How young."

He watched the house.

"But there was something odd. A man. His name was Bartlett. A man who had looked after the boy from his earliest years. He was old now, retired and feeble. They allowed him in to see the body late one afternoon, when the people had left. They brought him through the pillars and shadows of the Chamber of State and he climbed the steps with difficulty and looked down at Giles.

They thought he would weep and wail and howl with grief. They thought he would tear his clothes with agony. But he didn't."

Evian looked up and she saw his small eyes were shrewd. "He laughed, Claudia. The old man laughed."

AFTER TWO hours walking through the metallic forest the snow began.

Stumbling over a root of copper and out of a daydream, Finn realized it had been falling for some time; it was already coating the leaf-litter with a fine frost. He looked back, his breath smoking.

Gildas was a little way behind, talking to the girl. But where was Keiro?

Finn turned quickly. All morning he had been unable to stop thinking of that voice, the voice from Outside, where the stars were. Claudia. How had she been able to speak to him? He felt the cold lump of the Key inside his shirt; its awkwardness comforted him.

"Where's Keiro?" he said.

Gildas stopped. He planted his staff in the ground and leaned on it. "Scouting ahead.

Didn't you hear him tell you?" Suddenly he strode forward and looked hard at Finn, the blue eyes clear as crystal in his small lined face. "Are you well? Is this a vision coming on you, Finn?"

Tm fine. Sorry to disappoint you." Sickened by the eagerness in the Sapient's voice Finn looked at the girl. "We need to get that chain off you."

She had wrapped it around her like a necklace to stop it swinging. He could see the raw skin under the collar where she had padded it with cloth. She said quietly, "I can manage.

But where are we?"

Turning, he stared over the miles of forest. A wind was rising, the metallic leaves meshing and rustling. Far below, the wood was lost under snow clouds, and high above the roof of the Prison was a distant oppression, its lights misted and faint.

"Sapphique came this way." Gildas sounded tense with excitement. "In this forest he defeated his first doubts, the dark despairs that told him there was no way on. Here he began the climb out."

"But the way leads down," Attia said quietly.

Finn looked at her. Beneath the dirt and hacked hair her face was lit with a strange joy.

"Have you been here before?" he asked.

"No. I was from a small Civicry group back there. We never left the Wing. This is so ... wonderful."

The word made him think of the Maestra, and the chill of guilt struck through him, but

Gildas pushed past and strode on. "It may appear to lead downhill, but if the theory that

Incarceron is underground is true, we must climb eventually. Perhaps beyond the wood."

Appalled, Finn gazed at the forested leagues. How could Incarceron be so vast? He had never imagined it would be like this. Then the girl said, "Is that smoke?"