The yard is enclosed by a concrete wall and foreboding-looking wire loops across the top. We circle the perimeter for a long time before we find a loading dock that leads us to an entrance.
“I thought there would be more security,” Jost notes. He takes a few steps forward so the handlight’s beam travels to the front of the prison.
“Yeah, this place looks dead,” Valery says in a small voice. “Maybe we should turn back.”
“No,” I say firmly. “This place is huge. We won’t know anything until we get inside.”
Valery whimpers her acquiescence. Dante draws a gun from its holster and hands it to Erik. Jost already has one.
“If something happens, the best thing you can do is warp us some safety,” Dante tells me.
The thought stops me cold. Even with practice, I’ve barely been able to control my grasp on Earth’s wild strands. If I choose the wrong one, I could sever one of them. I could bring Alcatraz tumbling down on us.
Dante stops and places a hand on my shoulder. “You can do it, Adelice. You’ll have to.”
We snake through the entrance, looking for a way inside the prison. We’re about to give up when a creak puts us on high alert. No one moves in the group, but as the seconds tick by it seems more likely that we’re dealing with the wind and nothing more. The entrance empties into a small sally port like the ones used in the Icebox safe house. The door on the other side is unlocked. If the Whorl was here, they wouldn’t allow such lax conditions. My heart sinks right as a gunshot whistles by and buffets along the walls behind me. I’m so taken aback that I don’t react until Dante shoves me to the ground, his other arm swinging his gun into position in front of him. The crack of bullets bounces around the large concrete enclosure and I snap to, willing myself to see the wild fabric of the universe. To my surprise it comes into focus easily and I realize we’re not dealing with a vacant, decrepit building. The prison has been reinforced against both nature and time.
The strands of time don’t flash with the inconsistency I’ve grown accustomed to. They aren’t wild, but rigid and set, making them easier to see and harder to manipulate. But it’s amazing what adrenaline can do and I wrench a long, thick strand from its locked position and ruffle it in my hand. The effect is instantaneous, the warp blocking a shot just in time. The bullet ricochets off the strands, skittering across the floor. From a distance I see the guard who’s shooting at us peek out from behind a concrete pillar, confused by what’s happened. It’s the opening we need, and Dante fires around the warped spot, hitting him in the shoulder. The guard’s gun clatters to the floor and he falls back. Alive, but stunned.
Scrambling to our feet, we rush at him. Erik grabs his gun, tucking it into the waistband of his pants.
“Where are the others?” Dante demands, pressing the muzzle of his gun to the wounded man’s temple.
“There are none,” the guard splutters. “Only me.”
“We’ll find them,” Dante threatens.
“Only my family. Please don’t hurt them,” he begs, clutching his bloody shoulder.
“We won’t hurt your family,” I say softly. “I promise. We need to know if there are other guards.”
“No one else is here but the scientist,” he says quickly.
“The scientist?” Dante repeats, daring a glance at me.
“Are you going to kill him?” the guard asks in a tremulous voice.
“We’re going to save him,” I say.
The guard’s eyes dart to each of us, trying to make sense of who we are and why we’ve come. “They don’t keep him here.” He nods to the silent cell block behind him. “He lives in the old warden’s house.”
I’d expected to steal a machine, not stumble upon a scientist tucked away on a prison island.
“If you’re smart,” Dante says, his gun still on the guard, “you’ll get your wife to tend to that wound and then you’ll get off this island. If you come back for us, she’ll be burying you. Do you understand?”
The man groans a yes, clearly torn between his duty and his life.
“I can’t promise they won’t hurt your family if you attack us again, Lucas,” I say, reading the name tag on the guard’s antiquated uniform.
Dante doesn’t lower his gun as the man shuffles toward the exit and I wait, dread pulsing through me, to see if he’ll shoot him. As soon as he gets to the door, Dante calls out and I freeze expectantly. “Lucas, I wouldn’t bother contacting your superiors—not if you want to protect your family. I’d hide if I were you.”
“Where?” Lucas asks in a hopeless tone. “There’s nowhere to hide from them.”
“The Icebox,” Dante answers.
“That’s four hours from here.”
“You better get moving then,” Dante says. “And don’t look back.”
He nods once at us, revulsion and shame mingling in his features.
“Why would they keep a scientist on the island but outside the prison?” I ask. “They have all these cells.”
“Prisoners are happier when they forget they’re in a cage,” Erik reminds me.
“But if he’s not locked up, why doesn’t he leave?” Valery asks in a shaking voice. Her features are pale with fear.
“Look at this rock,” I tell her. “There’s no escaping.” I keep my thoughts about the composition of the prison to myself. If the Guild has artificially altered it, I need to study it more to understand how and why they’ve used such resources, although I have a pretty good idea already. Whatever secrets the Guild keeps here are locked not only on this island but also in time, like the moments I warped to guard my rendezvouses with Jost at the Coventry.
“Actually, it’s a good thing that he’s not locked up,” Dante assures Valery.
She gives him a blank look. I’m not sure I know what he’s getting at either.
“The scientist will have food,” Dante says, making for the exit. “I’m hungry.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
THE WARDEN’S HOUSE LIES BEYOND THE PRISON—far enough to be both convenient to it and secluded from it. Its stone façade sweeps into elegant lines and a tiled roof. Light glows from several of the oversized windows as we make our way to the door. The boys keep their guns raised, and I catch Dante looking back over his shoulder.
We congregate on a worn porch, and I rap on the door. Then we wait, barely breathing, for an answer.
When the door swings open, I can’t stifle my surprise. I know the scientist. He’s the man from the news clipping in the Old Curiosity Shop and from the propaganda film I watched at Kincaid’s estate. Kairos. He’s no older now than he was then. He has the same aging skin and shock of unkempt white hair. His eyes are ancient and tired.
“Company,” he says. His tone is friendly but his voice peaks strangely on the word, highlighting the vowels and making them sound exotic on his tongue. He ignores the guns leveled at his head. “I was making tea. I’ll have to put more water on.”
“Hold it right there,” Dante says.
“My boy,” the scientist says, and I hear the slight shift in his tone—not to anger but rather annoyance—“I’m a man of science, not violence. Keep your guns if you must, but I promise I’m not going to attack you with boiling water.”
I bite against the smile tugging at my lips. No one makes a move to go inside, so I step forward, following him as he shuffles off. Erik is at my side in an instant. He’s lowered his gun, but it’s still in his hand.
“Your friend does not trust me,” the scientist notes.
I blush a little, oddly embarrassed to feel we’ve insulted him with our wariness. It’s a strange reaction given that I know I’m in the presence of the man who’s responsible for creating the first looms and Arras itself.