As he came over and lit the lamp she looked up at him and her eyes were bright with excitement. "Master, it proves she killed him. She murdered the King's Heir, the last of the

Havaarna dynasty, so that his half brother, her own son, could have the throne."

For a moment he was still. Then the flame steadied and he looked up at her. Her heart sank. "You don't think so."

"I thought I taught you better than that, Claudia. Be rigorous in your argument. All this proves is that she intended her son to be King. Not that she did anything about it."

"But this G—"

"Could be anyone with that initial." Remorselessly he stared her down.

"You don't think that! You can't..."

"It's not what I think that matters, Claudia. If you make an accusation like this, you need proof so complete, there can be no question of any doubt."

He eased himself into a chair and winced. "The Prince died in a fall from his horse.

Doctors certified it. His body lay in state in the Great Hall of the Palace for three days.

Thousands filed past it. Your own father ..."

"She must have had him killed. She was jealous of him."

"She never showed any sign of that. And the body was cremated. There's no way of telling now." He sighed. "Don't you see how this will look, Claudia? You'll just be a spoiled girl who doesn't like her arranged marriage and is willing to rake up any sort of scandal to get out of it."

She snapped, "I don't care! What—"

He sat up. "Quiet!"

She froze. The fox cub was on its feet, ears pricked. A whisper of draft gusted under the door.

Instantly they both moved. Claudia was at the window in seconds, darkening the glass; turning, she saw Jared's fingers on the control panel for the sensors and alarms he had fitted on the stairs. Small red lights danced.

"What?" she whispered. "What was it?"

For a moment he didn't answer. Then his voice was low. "Something was there. Tiny.

Perhaps an eavesdropping device."

Her heart thudded. "My father?"

"Who knows? Maybe Lord Evian. Maybe Medlicote."

They stood a long time in the dimness, listening. The night was still. Somewhere a distant dog barked. They could hear the faint baas of the sheep in the meadow beyond the moat, and an owl, hunting. After a while a rustle in the room told them the cub had curled back up to sleep. The candle guttered and went out. In the silence she said, "I'm going into the study tomorrow. If I can't find out about Giles, at least I can learn something about Incarceron."

"With him in the house ..."

"It's my last chance."

Jared ran long fingers through his untidy hair. "Claudia, you must go. We'll talk about this tomorrow." Then all at once his face was white, his hands flat on the table. He leaned over and breathed hard.

She came around the telescope quietly. "Master?"

"My medication. Please."

She grabbed the candle, shook it back into light and cursed the Era for the hundredth time. "Where ... I can't find it..."

"The blue box. By the astrolabe."

She groped, grabbing pens, papers, books, the box. Inside was the small syringe and the ampules; fitting one on carefully, she brought it to him. "Shall I ...?"

He smiled gently. "No. I can manage."

She brought the lamp closer; he rolled his sleeve up and she saw the innumerable scars around the vein. He made the injection carefully, the microinfuser barely touching the skin, and as he replaced it in the box, his voice was calm and steadier.

"Thank you, Claudia. And don't look so scared. This condition has been killing me for ten years and it's in no hurry. It will probably take another ten to finish me off."

She couldn't smile. Times like this terrified her. She said, "Shall I send someone ...?"

"No, no. I'll go to bed and sleep." Handing her the candle, he said, "Be careful how you go down the stairs."

She nodded, reluctant, and crossed the room. At the door she stopped and turned. He stood as if he had been waiting for that, closing the box, the dark green of the Sapient coat with its high collar glinting with strange iridescence.

"Master, that letter. Do you know who it was written to?"

He looked up unhappily. "Yes. And it makes it even more urgent that we get into his study."

The candle flickered as she breathed in dismay. "You mean ..."

"I'm afraid so, Claudia. The Queen's letter was addressed to your father."

"You have to eat something." Finn scowled down at the woman. She sat facing resolutely away from him, her hood over her face.

She didn't say a word.

He dumped the plate and sat on the wooden bench next to her, rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. Around them the noise of the Comitatus at breakfast rang and clattered. It was an hour after Lightson when the doors that were not broken had sprung open with that great crack of sound it had taken him years to grow used to. He looked up at the rafters and saw one of the Prison's Eyes watching curiously; the small red light stared unblinkingly down.

Finn frowned. No one else took any notice of the Eyes, but he loathed them. Getting up, he turned his back on it. "Come with me," he snapped. "Somewhere quieter."

He walked quickly, not turning to see if she followed. He couldn't wait any longer for Keiro.

Keiro had gone to see about their share of the plunder because Keiro always saw to those things. Finn had realized long ago that his oathbrother was almost certainly cheating him, but he could never bring himself to care that much. Now, ducking under an archway, he came out at the top of a wide staircase that curved elegantly down into darkness.

Out here the noise was muted and echoed strangely in the cavernous spaces. A few scrawny slave girls hurried past, looking terrified, as they always did when one of the

Comitatus even glanced at them. From the invisible roof vast chains hung in loops like great bridges, each link thicker than a man. In some of them the uber-spiders had nested, creaming the metal with sticky web. Half a desiccated dog hung head-down from one cocoon.

When he turned, the Maestra was there.

He stepped forward, his voice low. "Listen to me. I had to bring you. I don't want to hurt you. But back there, in the transitway, you said something. You said you recognized this."

Dragging back his sleeve, he held his wrist out to her.

She flicked one disdainful glance at it. "I was stupid to feel sorry for you."

Anger rose in him but he held it down. "I need to know. I have no idea who I am or what this mark means. I don't remember anything. "

Now she did look at him. "You're a cell-born?"

The name annoyed him. "That's what they call it."

She said, "I have heard of them but have never seen one before."

Finn glanced away. Talking about himself disturbed him. But he sensed her interest; it might be his only chance. He sat down on the top step, feeling the cold chipped stone under his hands. Staring out into the dark, he said, "I just woke up. That was all. It was black and silent and my mind was totally empty and I had no idea who or where I was."