Incarceron (Incarceron, Book 1) Read Free Page A

the clatter of their hooves was huge in the enclosed space. Someone shouted, old Ralph hurried forward; two powdered men in livery leaped from the back of the coach, opened the door, snapped down the steps.
    For a moment the doorway was dark.
    Then his hand grasped the coachwork; his dark hat came out, his shoulders, a boot, black knee breeches.
    John Arlex, Warden of Incarceron, stood upright and flicked dust off himself with his gloves.
    He was a tall, straight man, his beard carefully trimmed, his frockcoat and waistcoat of the finest brocade. It had been six months since she had seen him, but he looked exactly the same. No one of his status need show signs of age, but he didn't even seem to use a skinwand. He looked at her and smiled graciously; his dark hair, tied in the black ribbon, was elegantly silvered.
    "Claudia. How well you look, my dear."
    She stepped forward and dropped a low curtsy, then his hand
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    raised her and she felt the cold kiss. His fingers were always cool and slightly clammy, unpleasant to touch; as if he was aware of it, he usually wore gloves, even in warm weather. She wondered if he thought she had changed. "As do you, Father," she muttered.
    For a moment he remained looking at her, the calm gray gaze hard and clear as ever. Then he turned.
    "Allow me to present our guest. The Queen's Chancellor. Lord Evian."
    The carriage rocked. An extremely fat man unfurled from it, and with him a wave of scent that seemed to roll almost visibly up the steps. Behind her Claudia sensed the servants' collective interest. She felt only dismay.
    The Chancellor wore a blue silk suit with an elaborate ruffle at the neck, so high she wondered how he could breathe. He was certainly red in the face, but his bow was assured and his smile carefully pleasant. "My lady Claudia. The last time I saw you, you were no more than a baby in arms. How delightful to see you again."
    She hadn't expected a visitor. The main guestroom was heaped with the half-sewn train of her wedding dress all over its unmade bed. She'd have to use delaying tactics.
    "The honor is ours," she said. "Perhaps you'd like to come into the parlor. We have cider and newly baked cakes as refreshment after your journey." Well, she hoped they did. Turning, she saw three of the servants had gone and the gaps in the line had
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    closed swiftly behind them. Her father gave her a cool look, then walked up the steps, nodding graciously along the row of faces that curtsied and bobbed and dropped their eyes before him.
    Smiling tightly, Claudia thought fast. Evian was the Queen's man. The witch must have sent him to look the bride over. Well, that was fine by her. She'd been preparing for this for years.
    At the door her father stopped. "No Jared?" he said lightly.
    "I hope he's well?"
    "I think he's working on a very delicate process. He probably hasn't even noticed you've arrived." It was true, but it sounded like an excuse. Annoyed at his wintry smile she led them, her skirts sweeping the bare boards, into the parlor. It was a wood-paneled room dark with a great mahogany sideboard, carved chairs, and a trestle table. She was relieved to see cider jugs and a platter of the cook's honeycakes among a scatter of lavender and rosemary.
    Lord Evian sniffed the sweet scents. "Wonderful," he said. "Even the Court couldn't match the authenticity."
    Probably because most of the Courts backdrop was computer-generated, she thought sweetly, and said, "At the Wardenry, my lord, we pride ourselves that everything is in Era. The house is truly old. It was restored fully after the Years of Rage."
    Her father was silent. He sat in the carved chair at the head of the table and watched gravely as Ralph poured the cider into
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    silver goblets. The old man's hand shook as he lifted the tray. "Welcome home, sir."
    "Good to see you, Ralph. A little more gray about the eyebrows, I think. And your wig fuller, with more powder."
    Ralph bowed. "I'll have it seen to, Warden,