"I trust him," Finn said between gritted teeth.
"More fool you."
The men came back. They tugged their prisoners to one side, pushed them through an archway in a wall and up a broad dim staircase that curved to the left.
At the top a great wooden door confronted them; by the light of the two lanterns that guarded it, Finn saw that an enormous eye had been carved deep in the black wood; the eye stared out at him and he thought for a moment that it was alive, that it watched him, that it was the Eye of Incarceron that had studied him curiously all his life.
Then the Crane-man rapped on the wood and the door opened. Finn and Gildas were led inside, a man on each side of them.
The room, if it was a room, was pitch-black.
Finn stopped instantly. He breathed hard, hearing echoes, a strange rustle. His senses warned him of a great emptiness, before him, or perhaps to the side; he was terrified of taking another step in case he plummeted into some unknown depths.
A faint memory stirred in his mind, a whisper of someplace without light, without air. He pulled himself upright. He had to keep alert. The men stepped away, and he felt isolated, seeing nothing, touching no one.
Then, not very far in front of him, a voice spoke.
"We are all criminals here. Is that not so?"
It was a low, quiet question, modulated. He had no idea if the speaker was male or female.
Gildas said immediately, "Not so. I am not a criminal, nor were my forebears. I am Gildas Sapiens, son of Amos, son of Gildas, who entered Incarceron on the Day of Closure."
Silence.
Then, "I did not think any of you were left."
The same voice. Or was it? It came from slightly to the left now; Finn stared in that direction, but saw nothing.
"Neither I nor the boy have stolen from you," Gildas snapped.
"Another of our companions killed the animal. It was a mistake but-"
"Be silent."
Finn gasped. The third voice, identical to the first two, came from the right. There must be three of them. Gildas drew in a breath of annoyance. His very silence was angry.
The central voice said heavily, "We are all criminals here. We are all guilty. Even Sapphique, who Escaped, had to pay the debt to Incarceron. You too will pay the debt in your flesh and with your blood. Both of you."
Perhaps the light was growing, or perhaps Finn"s eyes were adjusting. Because now he could make them out; three shadows seated before him, dressed in robes of black that covered their whole bodies, wearing strange headdresses of black that he realized all at once were wigs. Wigs of raven-dark, straight hair.
The effect was grotesque because the speakers were ancient. He had never seen women so old. Their skin was leathery with wrinkles, their eyes milky white. Each of them had her head lowered; as his foot sc.r.a.ped uneasily he saw how their faces turned to follow the sound, and he realized they were blind.
"Please ..." he muttered.
"There is no appeal. That is the sentence."
He glanced at Gildas.
The Sapient was staring at some objects at the women"s feet. On the steps in front of the first lay a rough wooden spindle, and from it a thread spilled, a fine silvery weave. It coiled and tangled around the feet of the second woman, as if she never moved from the stool where she sat, and hidden in its skein was a measuring stick. The thread, dirty by now and frayed, ran under the chair of the third, to where a sharp pair of shears leaned.
Gildas looked stricken. "I have heard of you," he whispered.
"Then you will know we are the Three Without Mercy, the Implacable Ones. Our justice is blind and deals only in facts. You have stolen from these men, the evidence is presented."
The middle crone tipped her head.
"You agree, my sisters?" One each side, identical voices whispered,
"We agree."
"Then let the punishment for thieves be carried out."
The men came forward, grabbed Gildas, and forced him to his knees. In the dimness Finn saw the outline of a wooden block; the old man"s arms were pulled down and held across it at the wrist.
"No!" he gasped. "Listen to me ..."
"It wasn"t us!"
Finn tried to struggle. "This is wrong!"
The three identical faces seemed deaf as well as blind. The central one raised a thin finger; a knife blade glimmered in the darkness.
"I am a Sapient of the Academy."
Gildas"s voice was raw and terrified. Drops of sweat stood out on his forehead.
"I will not be treated like a thief. You have no right..."
He was held in a rigid grip; one man at his back, another grasping his tied wrists. The knife blade was lifted.