Geomancer twoe-1

by Ian Irvine

  Pulling the child closer, she shut her eyes. There was some warmth between them, but not enough. Haani’s teeth chattered. If only she’d thought to bring the helm. Tiaan could visualise it now. That was her unique ability, one of the reasons she had done so well as an artisan. She could look at an image any way she chose, rotate it, even turn it upside down. If it was of a working mechanism, like the gears of a clock, she could make it run and see any flaws at once.

  As Tiaan idly rotated the helm in her mind, she felt a tiny pull to the right. She looked that way: the pull now seemed to come from straight ahead. Could the amplimet be calling to the helm, or the other way around? That seemed absurd. She mentally turned the helm and as its crystal came into view it glowed like the amplimet. The glow faded as the helm revolved away.

  Maybe the helm’s crystal was calling to the amplimet, and why not? Both had lain together in that underground cavity for an eternity. The Principle of Association told that the link must be maintained, even though they were separated by time or distance.

  She turned the helm until its crystal faced her and the glow was at its brightest. Tiaan felt that pull again. She took a step towards it, then another. It was still there. Yes! she exulted. It can lead me home.

  It led her somewhere, but after she had been walking for about as long as it had taken to find the child, Haani jerked, let out a wailing cry and the image vanished. By the time Tiaan calmed the child she could not get the helm’s image back. She kept going, hoping she would end up at the fire. A faint hope. In the thickening snow she might miss it by fifty paces and never see it.

  Her shin began to trouble her. It would be worse in the morning, if she lived to see it. She kept going, long past the point where the fire should be. Haani had not run all that far; certainly less than a thousand paces. Tiaan was wondering which direction to go, and how much further she could go on her frozen feet, when she caught a whiff of smoke.

  She turned into the wind, testing the air like a dog. There it was again. She headed that way, tracking the elusive smell. It was sometimes there, sometimes not; now definitely stronger. Tiaan felt like cheering. Stumbling on, in a few minutes she saw, beyond the trees, the light of the fire. Tiaan ran the last distance, laid Haani down next to the coals and pulled her feet out of the sleeves. She expected to see the dull white of frostbite but to her joy the child’s small feet, though deathly cold, were unmarked. She propped them close to the fire.

  Tiaan’s own feet were in worse condition, though at least she had been wearing socks. She put them near the warmth, then dipped a mug of stew each. Haani’s hand came out of the coat and took her mug. The child did not look at her as she sipped. Tiaan did not know if she was angry or afraid. She did not care. Haani was safe. Nothing else mattered.

  Soon the child began to droop. Tiaan put her in the sleeping pouch and got in with her. Haani lay rigidly in her arms. Finally she slept and, to Tiaan’s relief, snuggled up and her cold hand took Tiaan’s.

  It was not the best night’s sleep Tiaan had ever had. Dreams of lyrinx, nightmares about the nylatl, a reproachful, let-down Minis, all were mixed in with Haani’s own fitful nightmares. Once more Haani woke screaming and thrashing, but with Tiaan’s arms around her there was nowhere to go. Soon the child slept soundly.

  In the morning Haani was better, though she still would not speak. There was nothing to be done about that but wait it out.

  Tiaan’s shin was little worse than before, though her muscles were very stiff. They ate a quick breakfast, got back on the river and skied all day, just going steadily. Haani seemed to need the activity – she was always first on her feet and last to sit down. It was all Tiaan could do to keep up with her.

  Thinking about what had happened last night, Tiaan realised that the amplimet had been dull because she was too far from the node of Kalissin and there was no other node nearby. That was why she had been unable to contact Minis. He could still be alive.

  The day passed and two more. It was the easiest skiing Tiaan had ever done – smooth ice covered with a thin layer of snow. They were making excellent progress, as much as seven leagues one day, by her estimate. They often passed villages but did not stop. Haani had no more interest in meeting strangers than Tiaan did. Maybe Haani was shy too. Probably was, living up there all alone.

  Midway through the seventh day, the villages on the shore became more numerous and larger. They began to pass orchards and snow-covered market gardens. Late in the afternoon they reached the outskirts of a sizeable town.

  Suddenly there were people everywhere. Hundreds of children played on the ice. Lines of porters skied to and from the smaller settlement on the other side, carrying huge loads on their backs, or sometimes their heads. Shabby little delivery boys mixed with well-dressed ladies and gentlemen gliding along the foreshores. The ice was their highway, a more convenient one than the frozen, rutted roads.

  They continued until they reached a waterfront that appeared to be the centre of Ghysmel. After diligent enquiry Tiaan located the shipping offices. Going into the first, she asked about passage west down the sea. A tall, blond-haired woman came to the counter.

  ‘You’re in luck. We’ve had a thaw these last few weeks. The Norwhal is leaving tomorrow, and sailing all the way down the Milmillamel to Thryss and Flaha.’

  ‘I don’t know those places,’ Tiaan said. Catching sight of a faded chart on the wall, she picked the name of a destination, since she would undoubtedly be asked. The war had not come this far south so she presumed there would be no restrictions on travel.

  ‘I would like to purchase two tickets to Flaha.’ It was a town on the north side of Milmillamel, a good two hundred leagues away.

  ‘Cabin, hammock or steerage?’ the blond woman asked.

  ‘That would depend on the tariff,’ Tiaan replied carefully.

  The cabins turned out to be reasonably priced, one gold coin and two silver. Tiaan had more than enough, having not yet touched the contents of Joeyn’s belt. The idea of living in a hammock for weeks, in a room with dozens of other people, probably dirty and smelly and prying into her business, could not be countenanced. She’d not shared a room since she became an artisan.

  ‘Cabin, please.’

  The clerk checked the gold and silver with her teeth, weighed it on a small pair of scales, then wrote out a ticket in beautiful handwriting full of swirls and flourishes. ‘Where are you going?’ she asked casually as she worked.

  ‘What? Oh, Tatusti.’ She named a town upstream from Flaha, unwilling to divulge her true destination.

  ‘Tatusti?’ The clerk sounded incredulous.

  ‘The man I am betrothed to is there.’ Tiaan flushed at the sound of those words, often thought about but never before uttered.

  The clerk melted green wax onto the paper and stamped it with a seal.

  ‘Thank you!’ Tiaan took the ticket. ‘What time is the tide tomorrow?’

  ‘No tides in Tallallamel. Where is your home town? You must have come a long way.’

  A common enough question. Tiaan had said ‘Tiksi, over the mountains,’ before she realised.

  The clerk nodded. ‘I thought so, from your speech, We see many travellers here, though few from that land. The Norwhal leaves at nine in the morning. Or ten. Or even eleven if the captain gets drunk again, which she usually does. Best be here at eight, to be certain.’

  Tiaan thanked her, then turned back. ‘Can you name a good inn, not too far away?’

  ‘Go to The Mussel Gatherer, a few hundred steps back toward the town, that way. Ask for Pwym the porter. He’s my little brother and he’ll fix you up nicely.’

  A most courteous young man, he did just that. In under an hour Tiaan and Haani were set up in a small but pleasant room on the third floor, overlooking the waterfront. A metal bath was brought up and filled with buckets of hot water. They scrubbed away the grime of weeks.

  In the evening they went to the markets, purchasing clothes for the journey. Haani looked like a hillbilly child
in her dirty furs. Tiaan bought a needle, strong thread and various other things she might need on the journey, then spent an entirely unnatural amount of silver on a special outfit, the one she planned to wear when she met Minis.

  In the morning they arrived early and were shown to their cabin. It was tiny, airless but clean and neat. The captain had stayed sober, evidently, for the boat unfurled her sails and left on the gong of nine.

  The trip to Flaha took fifteen days. They did not stop for the first week, but after that visited one port after another, sometimes only sailing for half a day before docking again.

  Tiaan and Haani kept to themselves, occasionally walking on the cramped deck, which was cold and windy. Haani was clinging now – she was shy in crowds and would not answer when people spoke to her. Tiaan understood that, though she found it confining.

  On the third day, through a gap in the clouds, she glimpsed a familiar flying shape, just for a second. Was the lyrinx hunting her or was it just a coincidence? She could not think so. After that she kept to their cabin, busying herself in making a new pair of boots to replace Haani’s worn-out ones. Tiaan enjoyed the work, using her artisan’s skills for the first time in ages. It was helping to prepare her fingers for another job, one she planned to begin as soon as the boots were complete.

  Whenever she needed a hand, Haani was there and seemed to know instinctively what to do. Tiaan appreciated that, though she would as soon have done it herself. She was so used to working alone that having to share a room made her feel uncomfortable. Besides, Haani was being helpful because she had been brought up that way. It did not mean the child liked her. Tiaan was sure she did not.

  Haani never asked for anything. She hardly spoke apart from please, thank you, yes and no, and gave the briefest possible response to Tiaan’s increasingly infrequent overtures. Tiaan felt guilty, but more and more she found the child a burden. Perhaps Haani realised that. When the boots were ready she said ‘Thank you!’ but continued wearing the old ones.

  Tiaan’s second job was a gift for Minis, a ring of woven silver and gold made from the precious metal in Joeyn’s belt. First she formed the yellow metal, and the silver, into threads, tapping away with her little hammers for hours. She did not care how arduous the work was, or how long it took, as long as it was ready before she reached the mountain. It left less gold and silver than she would have liked, and that bothered her, for there was a long way to go. But she had to have a betrothal gift, even though every attempt to contact Minis had failed. More and more she felt that her journey was a fool’s errand.

  After the second day Haani grew bored, for there was nothing she could do to help with the ring. Tiaan began to teach the child her letters, using the copy of Nunar’s treatise she had carried all this way. It was hard work. Haani did not see the point of reading and Tiaan discovered that as a teacher she had many inadequacies, not least of them being impatience. Haani proved to be a good listener though, picking up the language quickly. Each time she spoke the common language her accent was better and her command more fluent.

  Accustomed to spending the daylight hours out of doors, the child was practically climbing the walls by the time they pulled up at the wharves of Flaha, a rambling, unattractive town built of grey timber.

  Mount Tirthrax lay north of Flaha, another hundred and fifty leagues away. Tiaan had been prepared to spend what remained of the winter in Flaha, until she learned that, in this surprisingly well-populated land, it was possible to travel up the frozen rivers by iceboat if she left soon. The thaw was not far away.

  ‘You want to go to Itsipitsi?’ her informant asked. It was a good-sized town on the northern end of an extensive lake of the same name, little more than ten leagues from the great mountain. ‘That’s easy! There’s an iceboat every third day, if the weather is good, and the winds usually blow from the south at this time of year. You can do ten leagues a day in good conditions; some days fifteen. But be prepared for a blizzard, and then you might not go anywhere for a week.’

  Blizzards did hit more than once, though not for long. In three weeks they were disembarking in Itsipitsi, a frontier town built of logs chinked with mud. The place was bigger than Tiaan had expected though it had a temporary look. Thousands of prospectors would appear in the thaw to pan the rivers for sapphires and zircons washed down from the mountains, but in the winter there were few people on the dismal, windblown streets.

  Tiaan’s gold was exhausted but she still had silver enough to outfit them for the Great Mountains. Once at Tirthrax, she would be among the Aachim of Santhenar, those who had been brought here as slaves by Rulke the Charon, thousands of years ago, in the search for the Golden Flute. That was one of the Great Tales of the Histories.

  It did not bother Tiaan that she was down to a few threads of silver by the time they were equipped and provisioned. The Aachim would provide. However, she thought of Joeyn every time she went to the belt. Poor Joeyn. His memory still brought tears to her eyes.

  Of course, it would take time to find the Aachim. Tirthrax was enormous. But when she neared the mountain, surely a potent node, the amplimet would light up and she could call her lover. Minis would tell her where to go. If … if he was still alive. If he wasn’t, she would never find the way in. The food would run out and she would be stuck up a mountain, a week from any place where she could get more.

  FIFTY–FOUR

  The range could not be seen from Itsipitsi, which lay in a valley with tall pines all around; however, Tiaan had caught glimpses from the iceboat. Even from this distance the Great Mountains were immense, a snow-and-ice-clad wall stretching from the eastern horizon to the west. Towering over all was the fang of Tirthrax, the highest peak on Santhenar. Highest on any of the Three Worlds, the Histories told. The repository of Tiaan’s dreams for half a year was only days away.

  They left at dawn, skiing upriver on snow-covered ice. The first day was hard work, though the slope was slight. They had done no skiing since Ghysmel and were carrying an enormous quantity of dried rations, enough to do them for three weeks. Tiaan did not go hard, though she wanted to. She dared not risk injury so close to her goal. In truth, she could not wait to turn into her sleeping pouch, for since their arrival in Itsipitsi she had dreamed of her lover every night, and each time more passionately. They had not yet consummated their love, in her dreams, though his caresses had driven her to such heights of ecstasy that Tiaan could think of nothing else.

  The amplimet had been dull ever since she’d left the hut of the three women, its spark visible only in darkness. Now, each night when she unwrapped it the glow was brighter; she could feel its potential growing as they approached Tirthrax. She had tried three times to reach Minis, and sensed that he was there, but could never find him.

  The weather was good; after the first day they made excellent time on the ice. The mountains swelled before them, vaster and more forbidding than Tiaan’s most extravagant imaginings. Rivers of striped ice thrust forth between the peaks, and when the wind turned on the third morning she heard a monumental roaring and crashing. Once the glaciers had debouched onto an ice sheet covering all Mirrilladell, but it was long gone. Now they ended at precipices a thousand spans high, over which chunks of ice the size of hills would crack off and thunder to the plain. Below each icefall lay spreading mounds that waxed and waned with the seasons.

  That afternoon they began to climb. The going now became extremely hard and they had to abandon the skis, which were too heavy to carry. Four days later they camped at the tree line and made a blazing fire, their last. There would be no wood from this point on. Tirthrax towered above them, so high that they had to crane their necks to see the tip, though it was mostly wreathed in cloud.

  Tiaan was in her pouch by the fire the instant she finished her stew. Tomorrow they’d be on the mountain. She clutched the amplimet to her breast, its spark throbbing like her heartbeat. She always dreamed after using it, and having it near must enhance her dreams of Minis.

  Haani was asle
ep. Tiaan could hear her gentle snores. But for Tiaan, neither sleep nor dreams would come. She had held back from using the amplimet, not wanting to arouse false hopes. And also, she was forced to admit to herself, because she wanted to present Minis with her triumph and see his reaction. Resigned to wakefulness, however, she put on the helm and began to work the globe.

  It took a long time to find him. All she could see was smoke and bloody darkness. An hour must have gone by, Tiaan straining until her skull felt to be cracking apart, before finally there came the voice she had not heard for five months.

  Tiaan! Can it be you?

  ‘Yesss!’ She exhaled a vast sigh. ‘It’s me, Minis, my love.’

  I had given you up. We thought you must be dead.

  ‘The amplimet is not strong enough to call you, except near nodes. I could not use it for months.’

  Of course not. I should have realised.

  ‘I’ve had trouble on the road, Minis. Terrible trouble. So many people have died …’

  Then you’ve failed! Ah, Tiaan, they warned me that it was not possible…

  ‘I have not let you down.’

  What do you mean? he said hopelessly.

  She wished she could see his face but the image was cloudy tonight, the voice in her head faint and crackly.

  ‘I’ve done it!’ she exulted. ‘I’ve come five hundred leagues across Santhenar for you, Minis. I’m at the foot of Tirthrax now.’

  Such a current passed through her that it made her black hair stand up on her head. She could sense his reaction in every nerve of her body.

  Oh, Tiaan! She could almost feel the tears welling in his eyes. Tirthrax is the greatest city the Aachim ever built. More than a thousand years they spent carving its chambers into the heart of the mountain. There is no city like it. Show me.

  Forcing her headache away, she got out of the pouch to walk barefoot around the fire and back to where she could see the immense horn of the mountain. There was no cloud. A bloody, mottled moon shone clear and full on its snow-clad flanks, the faces of layered rock, the spire reaching up beyond the air.