Incarceron Part 29

Doors have eyes.

Trees have voices.

Beasts tell lies.

Beware the rain.

Beware the snow.

Beware the man You think you know.

-Songs of Sapphique ***

Finn's voice.

As she pulled on the gauntlet and flexed the foil, his voice whispered again inside her mask. You have to help me Escape....

"En garde, please, Claudia."

The swordmaster was a small gray man who sweated profusely. His sword crossed hers; he gave signals with the tiny precise movements of a skilled fencer.

Automatically she responded, practicing lunges, parries-sixte, septime, octave-as she had done since she was six. There had been something familiar about the boy's voice. Inside the warm darkness of the mask she bit her lip, attacked, took quarte, riposted, hitting the maestro's padded jacket with a satisfying thud.

The accent, the slightly slow vowels. It was how they spoke at Court.

"Feint of straight thrust, disengage, please."

She obeyed, hot now, the glove already softened with sweat, the foil whipping, the small clicks of the familiar exercise comforting, the control of the sword forcing her mind to speed.

You have to help me Escape. Fear. Fear in the whispering, of being overheard, of saying what he said. And the word Escape like a holy thing, forbidden, full of awe.

"Quarte counter quarte, please, Claudia. And keep your hand high."

She took the parries absently, the blades of the foils sliding past her body. Behind the maestro Lord Evian came out of the main door into the courtyard and stood on the steps, taking snuff.

He watched her, elegantly poised. Claudia frowned. She had so much to think about. The fencing lesson was her own escape.

In the house it was chaos; her clothes being packed, the last measurements for the wedding dress, the books she refused to leave behind, the pets she insisted came with her.

And now this.

One thing-Jared would have to carry the Key. It wouldn't be safe in her baggage. They were fighting now. She let all thoughts go, concentrated on the hits, the clicked parries, the bending of the foil as she hit once, again, again.

Until finally he stepped back.

"Very good, my lady. Your point control remains excellent."

Slowly she took off her mask and shook his hand. Close up, he looked older, and a little sad.

"I'll be sorry to lose such a pupil."

Her hand clenched on his.

"Lose?"

He stepped back.

"I... it seems... after your wedding ..."

Claudia restrained her anger. She released his hand and drew herself up.

"After my marriage I will still require your services. Please disregard anything my father has said about this. You will travel with us to the Court."

He smiled, and bowed. His doubt showed; as she turned away and took the cup of water from Alys, she felt the heat of humiliation scorch her face.

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.