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."
What did they think he was! He scrabbled, his hands sore.
"Finn!" Keiro's murmur was right behind him. He jumped up, shoving the Key back, gasped, "For God's sake! Can't I take a drink in peace?"
His brother's hand shoved him back down into the leaf drift. "Get down and shut up.
We've got visitors."
CLAUDIA SAT back on her heels and swore with frustration. "He's gone! Why is he gone?"
Jared went to the window and gazed out at the utter chaos in the courtyard. "It's just as well. The Warden is coming up the steps."
"Did you hear the way he sounded? Again, it was so ... panicky."
"I know how he feels." Jared tugged a small pad from the pocket of his riding coat and thrust it at her. "This is the full draft of the old man's testament. Read it while we travel."
Doors slamming. Voices outside. Her father's. Caspar's.
"Delete it straight afterward, Claudia. I have a copy."
"We should do something. About the body."
"We weren't there, remember?"
He barely had the words out before the door opened. Claudia calmly slipped the pad down her dress.
"My dear." Her father came in and stood before her. She stood up to meet him. He wore his usual black frockcoat, the scarf at his neck silkily expensive, his boots the finest leather. But today he wore a small white flower in his buttonhole, as if to mark the occasion, and that was so unlike him she stared at it in surprise.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
She nodded. She was wearing a dark blue traveling dress and cloak, with a special pocket sewn into it for the Key.
"A great morning for the House of Arlex, Claudia. The beginning of a new life for you, for us all." His hair with its streak of silver was tied severely back, his eyes dark with satisfaction. He pulled on his gloves before he took her hand. She looked at him without smiling, and the old dead man in the straw was in her mind, his eyes open.
She smiled and dropped a curtsy. "I'm ready, sir."
He nodded. "I always knew you would be. I always knew you'd never let me down."
Like my mother did? she wondered acidly. But she said nothing, and her father gave
Jared the briefest nod and led her out. They swept into the great hall, over the lavenderstrewn floor, down between the rows of fascinated servants, the Warden of Incarceron and his proud daughter, setting out for the marriage that would make her a queen. And on a signal from Ralph the staff cheered and applauded and threw sweet irises underfoot; they rang tiny silver bells in honor of the wedding they would never see.
Jared walked behind, a satchel of books under one arm. He shook hands with the servants, and the maids moped over him, pushing tiny packets of sweetmeats at him, promising to keep the tower safe, not to touch any of his precious instruments, feed the fox cub and the birds.
As Claudia took her seat in the coach and looked back, she felt a rueful lump in the back of her throat. They would all miss Jared, his gentle ways, his fragile good looks, his willingness to dose their coughing children and advise their wayward sons. None of them seemed at all sorry to see her go.
But then whose fault was that? She had played the game. She was the mistress, the
Warden's daughter.
Cold as ice. Hard as nails.
She raised her head and smiled across at Alys. "Four days' traveling. I intend to ride for at least half of it."
Her nurse frowned. "I doubt the Earl will. And he'll probably want you to sit in his coach for some of the time."