by Ian Irvine
Tiaan stood by the bodies, listening in case there were more lyrinx. She heard no sound. Creeping inside, she was going carefully down the hall when someone cried hoarsely, ‘Who’s there?’
‘Nixx?’ she whispered. She could see more bodies further along.
‘Tiaan?’
She turned into the dark salon. Nixx cowered under a desk. She helped him out. Blood streaked his forehead and left thigh. ‘What’s happened, Nixx?’
‘A lyrinx came looking for you. We managed to kill it but it did a lot of us first. The rest took what they could carry and fled. I can’t say I blame them.’
She lit the lamp by the door. ‘And you?’
‘I am loyal to my master, but what am I to do? I know I’ll never see Gilhaelith again. I must run and try to find a new living. It won’t be easy, at my age.’
She felt for him – her situation was much the same. All she could do was try to complete the repairs and go … where? Borgistry was nearest. She must give the thapter to Scrutator Klarm and throw herself on his mercy – a commodity the scrutators had in short supply at the best of times. Little hope there, but she could not survive on her own.
‘Please stay,’ she said, ‘just until I fix the thapter. It’s nearly done.’
‘I cannot stay.’
‘I beg you – Gilhaelith would expect it. I can’t do it alone.’
He agreed, though with an ill grace, and she began.
Why had the lyrinx come back for her? When it did not return, others would follow. And the biggest unanswered question of all – what had Gilhaelith discovered about broken backs? Was that why he had gone to that secret meeting?
If only she knew where they had taken him …
Tiaan laboured night and day on the thapter. Four days later it was done, though she still had to test it. And even if it worked, what if the amplimet would not take her where she wanted to go?
She was working up behind the binnacle when a faintly bituminous odour reminded her of something. As Gilhaelith had been taken, and again near the dead lyrinx, she had smelled tar. Going to the front terrace, she checked the body of the beast. Its great feet were deeply stained with tar. She hurtled the walker inside. ‘Nixx, Nixx?’
She found him in Gilhaelith’s offices, packing coin into a leather bag. ‘Nixx,’ she cried. ‘I’ve just thought of something.’
‘What?’ He did not look up.
She told him about the tar. He went out to examine the corpse for himself. ‘Looks like it’s been walking in tar for years – the stuff is right into the pores of its skin.’
‘Where could it have come from?’ she asked.
‘Only one location I can think of. Snizort.’
‘Snizort?’
‘A place south of here, famous for its tar pits. It’s in the land of Taltid.’ He indicated it on a map. ‘I’ll go through his ledgers and see what I can discover.’
He came down shortly afterwards, finger holding a ledger open. ‘Gilhaelith purchased several kinds of bituminous spirits from Snizort. He’s made some notes on the place.’
She read them, though they mainly had to do with geography. An arid land, sparsely vegetated, with tar pits and seeps all over the place.
‘Oh well,’ she said, feigning disinterest. ‘He’s lost. I’d better keep going. Could you keep watch for me?’
‘No. I’ve done more than my duty, and I can’t stay a moment longer.’
‘Just for an hour. I’m nearly finished. Please.’
‘Oh, very well, for my master’s sake. Half an hour only.’
Nixx came running in ten minutes later, his jaw working like a nutcracker. ‘Constructs, marm. Lots of them.’
She dropped her wrench, which just missed a fragile glass mechanism. Tiaan reached over to pick it up. ‘How many is lots?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
‘At least fifty.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Approaching the foot of the mountain.’
Fear tickled her throat. ‘How long will they take to get here?’
‘Couple of hours; no more.’
It was not enough; the tests weren’t finished. ‘You’ll have to stall them, Nixx.’
‘Can’t do it, marm. They’ll torture my family if I try. You can’t ask that of me.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Run, as fast as I can.’
‘Where to?’
‘We have a hiding place.’ He hesitated. ‘An overgrown lava tunnel, way down in the forest.’
‘How can I get the thapter out of here?’ She should have asked that question a long time ago.
‘You can’t. We had to remove the window to bring it in.’ He was looking increasingly jumpy.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Go. Save yourself. And thank you, Nixx.’
Offering her a sketchy salute, he ran up the steps. She skittered the walker across to the door and barred it, then raced back to the thapter. There was no time to replace the metal skin sections. She strapped them to the back and got on with the testing. If it did not work the first time, she was finished.
Tiaan was still doing the tests when she heard the echoing whine of constructs coming up the road. Only minutes left. She strapped her walker to the side of the thapter. Pulling herself into its seat, she passed a strap around her, took hold of the trumpet-shaped lever, visualised the field and let the energy flow.
Nothing happened. She tried again with the same result. Had she forgotten something? Yes, the hedron was still in its socket in the walker, and the thapter needed it and the ampliment, to fly. As she climbed out to get it, the Aachim began to smash down the front door.
FORTY-NINE
Nish felt an overwhelming urge to run, but there was nowhere to run to. The horsemen were already melting into the forest. There was just the clearing, Vithis and himself.
‘Get down,’ said Vithis. ‘Send your stolen horse away. You will not be needing it again.’
Nish did so. The horse trotted off.
‘Come here.’ Vithis leapt to the ground.
Nish came to within an arm’s reach of the intimidatingly tall Aachim, who held up his palm. He carried no cane now and the limp was gone. He seemed calmer than before.
‘After your previous behaviour, you dared return to my lands?’
‘These are not your lands. You’re an invader.’
‘Force makes them mine,’ said Vithis, standing close and looking down on Nish. ‘No one has dared oppose me.’
Nish was used to intimidation; his father had done that to him all his life. He had developed a technique to deal with it – he imagined his father failing at what he most wanted. So, what did Vithis most desire, and fear he would never get? A homeland for his people? It gave Nish strength. ‘We will dare, should it be necessary! But we know Aachim to be human too.’
‘I would not have thought it from the way you behaved the other day, Marshal Hlar.’
‘I am no marshal,’ said Nish.
‘Indeed! Your speech revealed you to be a most common man.’
‘I merely reflected your own character back at you,’ Nish said coldly. ‘If you do not like what you hear, look into your own soul.’ He was risking his life, but every word the man said was a wrongness and a goad.
Vithis seemed to grow even taller. ‘I could tear you apart with my naked hands.’ He held them out and the impossibly long, curving fingers could have spanned Nish’s throat.
‘It would only carve the bitterness deeper into your heart.’
Vithis whirled and stalked away. Why had he come? Nish had nothing of any use to him. Or was he just looking out for Minis? There were other Aachim in the thapter, and someone behind the javelard in the turret at the back, but it was pointed at the ground. This was between Vithis and him.
‘Why do you seek to corrupt my foster-son?’ said the Aachim from some distance.
How much did Vithis know? Maybe everything. Nish saw no point in lying, though he was not necessarily goi
ng to tell the whole truth either. ‘Minis sought me out,’ said Nish. ‘We talked. I liked him and we both wanted the same thing.’
‘And that was?’ Vithis said dangerously.
‘To prevent a new war, and end this one that has been going on for generations.’
‘We care nothing for your war.’
‘Only barbarians could be indifferent to our suffering.’
Nish expected an explosion but it did not come. The Aachim was looking at him thoughtfully. Maybe his defiance had earned a grudging respect.
‘Your suffering is insignificant compared to our own. We have lost a world; Minis and I have lost our entire clan – all twenty thousand of First Clan.’
‘Why is it called First Clan?’
‘Because civilisation was founded on our hearthstone. We built the first city on Aachan. We invented writing, and the wheel, and were the first to discover the Art. We lifted the other clans up from the dirt.’
Nish wondered if the other clans would agree, and how intense their rivalry really was. Perhaps humanity could make use of that.
‘What about Clan Elienor? I’ve heard that they too have a noble history.’
‘I have nothing to say of Elienor. They are not of the Eleven Clans. Some of us doubt that they are true Aachim at all.’
‘Minis also lost his clan, yet he can still find room in his heart to care about humanity.’
‘All Minis wants is to serve his father and do his duty to clan and kind. No Aachim could desire anything else.’
Nish shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. ‘Of course you’re right. What do I care?’
The Aachim’s fingers went down on Nish’s shoulders, as hard as iron claws. ‘What did my son ask of you?’
‘He felt,’ said Nish, ‘after I had told him my tale, that if anyone could find the flying construct it would be me. Because I know Tiaan well, and because I am courageous and resourceful.’
‘I would have said incompetent yet boastful! What did he plan to do with the flier once he had it?’
‘Give it to his foster-father, of course.’
The fingers relaxed. ‘Minis is a dutiful son. I don’t know enough about you, Cryl-Nish Hlar, though I have made many enquiries. Sit down. Be at ease.’ He signalled to the construct and a man came forth carrying a cloth and a basket.
Nish sat in the shade of a spreading tree and his racing heart slowly steadied. Perhaps Vithis did not mean to harm him after all. Vithis questioned him on every detail of the past months and the dark eyes never left his face. Nish felt as though the man was reading him.
Nish answered truthfully, though not with the same candour as to Mira. Poor, sad Mira. He could not shake that night from his mind. He could not blame her either.
‘Hmn,’ the Aachim said at the end. ‘A fine set of answers! And even if half of them are true, there is something about you, and it agrees with what others have told me. You are resourceful and have a certain rodent-like cunning. I think I will use you after all.’
The word ‘use’ had an unpleasant ring to it. ‘What for?’ Nish’s voice squeaked as he spoke.
Vithis gave him an amused glance. ‘I’m going to take you with me.’
‘As what?’ said Nish. ‘A tame human?’
‘I concede to Minis’s judgment. You know Tiaan better than we ever could. You will help him search for her and the flying construct. Go up.’
Nish climbed the side of the construct, marvelling at the workmanship, so superior to anything he had seen in the manufactory. The unpainted skin of black metal was polished to such a brilliant shine that he could see his face in it. Such elegant curves could never have been shaped in the manufactory. The joins could hardly be seen.
Vithis handed him inside. Nish recognised a kind of controller lever, though nothing like the ones the clankers used. On the binnacle, glass plates glowed and coloured patterns flowed across them. He wondered if they were projections of the field.
‘Go down,’ said Vithis.
Nish descended the ladder, finding at the bottom an open space shaped like the inside of an egg. Benched seats might have accommodated as many as ten occupants, crammed together, though at present the space was empty.
The gentle hum that had been in the background all the time swelled to a whine and the construct accelerated smoothly. Nish sat on one of the benches and closed his eyes. He had survived yet again. Someone must be looking out for him. He did not even have the strength to admire.
He woke having no idea where he had been taken, or what time it was. The construct was stationary, silent. Nish climbed the ladder. Vithis was not at the controller and the hatch was open. The construct rested on the ground in the middle of a copse. Beyond, through the trees, Nish made out a glade in whose centre stood a circular wall of cut stone, tapering toward its broken top – the simplest of towers.
He approached it. The tower must have been very old, since a tree had grown inside it. Its slit entrance had once been blocked with slabs of stone, now scattered on the ground. Nish edged in through the slit. A concentric inner wall followed the outer, inside which was a space a few long strides across, living quarters for the family that had once dwelt here. The trunk of the tree occupied a good fifth of that space, so the structure must have been abandoned for centuries.
Nish climbed the broken inside wall, which formed a series of steps. Peering over the top, he tried to imagine himself here when it was new, looking out in fear for the coming of marauders. Protecting his family.
He could not see much; the forest was too dense. But there might not have been forest here in ancient times. He looked the other way. Vithis and another Aachim stood behind a screen of bushes, as if watching for someone.
Nish became aware that Minis was standing in the clearing, but he had not seen him arrive. Minis crept around the tower. Nish pulled his head low. A dark-haired figure emerged and his heart skipped a beat, thinking it was Tiaan. It was not; the woman’s hair was curly and she was smaller, more stocky. She vanished in the dappled shade, appearing on the other side of the clearing next to Minis.
He spoke rapidly to her. Nish did not catch any of it. The woman handed Minis a small packet, Minis dropped something into her hand, then she fleeted across the clearing and vanished.
Vithis came charging out of the bushes. His guard went the other way but neither managed to catch the flying figure. Minis did not move; his young face showed dismay.
‘What are you doing here?’ Vithis plucked the packet from Minis’s unresisting hand.
Minis made no reply. Vithis ripped open the packet, which contained some papers. He read them, tore them to shreds and scattered them on the ground.
‘Worthless rubbish! You’ll never find it that way.’
‘What are you talking about, foster-father?’
‘I know what you’re up to. Come down!’ He looked up, directly at the stone behind which Nish was hidden.
How had he known? Nish climbed down, and when he appeared around the side of the tower, Minis paled.
‘What …?’ he said.
‘I know everything, foster-son,’ said Vithis, and embraced him, to Minis’s surprise. ‘You are a dutiful son, Minis. Your loyalty means everything to me; we have only each other. But why did you not tell me what you were planning?’
Minis, clearly, was wondering what his foster-father knew and how much he could safely say. Nish came to his rescue.
‘He did not want to raise false hopes. Minis knows it will be difficult to find the flying construct, even with my help.’
Vithis whirled. ‘I didn’t ask you! Don’t speak unless you are spoken to.
‘You should have told me, foster-son,’ he continued. ‘I could have helped you. It fills me with terror to think of you going out, alone. Were this man an enemy, just a single thrust of his knife and Inthis First Clan would be no more.’
‘I was not alone, foster-father. I had my personal guard, and Tyara and Vunio too.’
‘They are just children!�
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‘And so must I remain, foster-father, unless you let me go. You’re suffocating me.’
‘I’m doing what I must to ensure the survival of our clan. I am sterile – you know that. It’s up to you, Minis. Take one of the partners I have chosen for you. Father children for our clan – and for me!’
Minis’s face went blank. ‘I don’t love them, foster-father.’
‘Love has nothing to do with it!’ Vithis roared, but he controlled himself and went on, pleadingly. ‘Why won’t you do your duty, that our clan may live again?’
‘I can’t, foster-father.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just can’t.’
‘Until you do, I shall not give you your freedom.’
Minis stiffened. His eyes darted around – at the trees, the construct, at Nish. He took three deliberate breaths, drew back his shoulders and looked Vithis in the eye.
‘You love me too much, foster-father, and it is killing me! If you won’t let me be free … I shall not live at all.’
Vithis reeled back as if he had been struck. ‘No,’ he whispered.
‘Yes, foster-father, I mean it.’
‘But … what about Inthis?’
‘Our clan is finished. One man cannot bring it back.’
‘You must.’ Vithis held the young man’s gaze and softened his tones. ‘Minis, let us not be foes, for all we have is each other. Give me what I want and I will do the same for you. Is what I ask so much?’
Minis gulped as if the air was a stiff drink. ‘I … I will try, foster-father. It’s hard –’
‘I know it is, my son.’ Vithis smiled. ‘But we grow by attempting that which is difficult, not what is easy.’
‘I understand that, foster-father. I am working hard to help you with your quest – for Tiaan and the flying machine.’
‘I am pleased to hear it.’
‘But might is not the answer. There is virtue in subtlety, especially with Tiaan. That is why I asked my friend Nish for help. He knows this world better than any of us. He knows Tiaan, too. He is brave and strong and clever. If anyone can find her, it will be him.’
