Incarceron (Incarceron, Book 1) by Catherine Fisher Page B
Authors: Catherine Fisher
Tags: Fiction, Children's Books, Fantasy, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction, Ages 9-12 Fiction, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), Prisoners, Prisons
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watch away. "I've been considering. You won't need a tutor after your marriage, and, besides, there are several
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Sapienti at Court. Perhaps we should allow Jared to return to the Academy."
She wanted to stare at him in horror in the dim mirror, but that would have been what he expected. So she kept her face bright and turned lightly. "As you wish. I'd miss him, of course. And we are in the middle of a fascinating study of the Havaarna Kings. He knows everything there is to be known about them."
His gray eyes watched her closely.
If she said another word her dismay would show and it would decide him. A pigeon fluttered on the tiles outside.
Lord Evian creaked to his feet. "Well, if you do, Warden, I assure you some other family will snap him up. Jared Sapiens is renowned through the Realm. He could name his fee. Poet, philosopher, inventor, genius. You should hold on to him, sir."
Claudia smiled in pleasant agreement but inside she was startled. It was as if the greasy man in the blue silk suit knew what she couldn't say for herself. He smiled back, his small eyes bright.
The Warden's lips were tight. "I'm sure you're right. Shall we go, my lord?"
Claudia dropped a curtsy. As her father followed Evian out and turned to close the double doors, he met her eyes. Then the doors clicked shut.
She sighed in relief. Like a cat eyes a mouse, she thought. But all she said was, "Now, please."
Instantly paneling slid back; maids and men raced out and
71
began removing cups, plates, candelabra, centerpieces, glasses, napkins, kedgeree dishes, fruit bowls. Windows snapped open and burned-out candles relit; the roaring fire in the log-filled hearth vanished without a whiff of charred wood. Dust vaporized; curtains changed color. The air sweetened itself with potpourri.
Leaving them to it, Claudia hurried out. She crossed the hall decorously holding her skirts, then raced up the curved oak staircase and dived through the concealed door on the landing, passing instantly from contrived luxury into the chilly gray corridors of the servants' quarters, bare walls roped with wires and cables and powerpoints, small camera screens and sonic scanners.
The back stairs were stone; she pattered up and opened the quilted door, and stepped out into the luxurious, Era-perfect corridor.
Two steps took her across to her own bedroom.
The maids had already cleaned it. She double-locked the door, flipped on all the security blocks, and crossed to the window.
Green and smooth, the lawns were beautiful in the summer sunshine. The gardener's boy, Job, was wandering about with a sack and a spiked stick, stabbing stray leaves. She couldn't make out the tiny music implant in his ear, but his jerky movements and sudden struts made her grin. Though if the Warden saw him, he'd be sacked.
Turning, she slid back the drawer of her dressing table, took
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out the minicom, and activated it. It flashed on and showed her a distorted echo of her own face, grotesque in curved glass. Startled, she said, "Master?"
A shadow. Two vast fingers and a thumb came down and lifted the alembic away. Then Jared sat down before the hidden receiver.
"I'm here, Claudia."
"Is everything set? They ride out in a few minutes."
His thin face darkened. "I'm concerned about this. The disc may not work. We need trials ..."
"No time! I'm going in today. Right now."
He sighed. She knew he wanted to argue, but despite all their precautions, someone might be listening; it was dangerous to say too much. Instead he murmured, "Please be careful."
"As you've taught me, Master." For a brief second she thought about the Warden's threat against him, but this wasn't the time. "Start now," she said, and cut the link.
Her bedroom was dark mahogany; the great four-poster hung with red velvet, its tester embroidered with the black swan singing. Behind it was what looked like a small garde-robe set into the wall, but as she walked through the illusion it became an en-suite bathroom with
70
Sapienti at Court. Perhaps we should allow Jared to return to the Academy."
She wanted to stare at him in horror in the dim mirror, but that would have been what he expected. So she kept her face bright and turned lightly. "As you wish. I'd miss him, of course. And we are in the middle of a fascinating study of the Havaarna Kings. He knows everything there is to be known about them."
His gray eyes watched her closely.
If she said another word her dismay would show and it would decide him. A pigeon fluttered on the tiles outside.
Lord Evian creaked to his feet. "Well, if you do, Warden, I assure you some other family will snap him up. Jared Sapiens is renowned through the Realm. He could name his fee. Poet, philosopher, inventor, genius. You should hold on to him, sir."
Claudia smiled in pleasant agreement but inside she was startled. It was as if the greasy man in the blue silk suit knew what she couldn't say for herself. He smiled back, his small eyes bright.
The Warden's lips were tight. "I'm sure you're right. Shall we go, my lord?"
Claudia dropped a curtsy. As her father followed Evian out and turned to close the double doors, he met her eyes. Then the doors clicked shut.
She sighed in relief. Like a cat eyes a mouse, she thought. But all she said was, "Now, please."
Instantly paneling slid back; maids and men raced out and
71
began removing cups, plates, candelabra, centerpieces, glasses, napkins, kedgeree dishes, fruit bowls. Windows snapped open and burned-out candles relit; the roaring fire in the log-filled hearth vanished without a whiff of charred wood. Dust vaporized; curtains changed color. The air sweetened itself with potpourri.
Leaving them to it, Claudia hurried out. She crossed the hall decorously holding her skirts, then raced up the curved oak staircase and dived through the concealed door on the landing, passing instantly from contrived luxury into the chilly gray corridors of the servants' quarters, bare walls roped with wires and cables and powerpoints, small camera screens and sonic scanners.
The back stairs were stone; she pattered up and opened the quilted door, and stepped out into the luxurious, Era-perfect corridor.
Two steps took her across to her own bedroom.
The maids had already cleaned it. She double-locked the door, flipped on all the security blocks, and crossed to the window.
Green and smooth, the lawns were beautiful in the summer sunshine. The gardener's boy, Job, was wandering about with a sack and a spiked stick, stabbing stray leaves. She couldn't make out the tiny music implant in his ear, but his jerky movements and sudden struts made her grin. Though if the Warden saw him, he'd be sacked.
Turning, she slid back the drawer of her dressing table, took
72
out the minicom, and activated it. It flashed on and showed her a distorted echo of her own face, grotesque in curved glass. Startled, she said, "Master?"
A shadow. Two vast fingers and a thumb came down and lifted the alembic away. Then Jared sat down before the hidden receiver.
"I'm here, Claudia."
"Is everything set? They ride out in a few minutes."
His thin face darkened. "I'm concerned about this. The disc may not work. We need trials ..."
"No time! I'm going in today. Right now."
He sighed. She knew he wanted to argue, but despite all their precautions, someone might be listening; it was dangerous to say too much. Instead he murmured, "Please be careful."
"As you've taught me, Master." For a brief second she thought about the Warden's threat against him, but this wasn't the time. "Start now," she said, and cut the link.
Her bedroom was dark mahogany; the great four-poster hung with red velvet, its tester embroidered with the black swan singing. Behind it was what looked like a small garde-robe set into the wall, but as she walked through the illusion it became an en-suite bathroom with
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