by Ian Irvine
'That'll do.' Turning away from the pit, Flydd began to limp towards a hill some half a league to the east.
'Where are we going?' said Nish.
'We can't recover the tears on our own. I've got to find help.'
It took the best part of an hour to reach the hill, which was mounded like a breast and topped with a cliffed nipple of gullied grey stone. Flydd panted his way up, emerging on a patch of flat rock some thirty paces across, bisected by a cleft from which a solitary tree sprouted. They sat in its meagre shade while he got his breath back.
'You'll have noticed that this hill is quite distinctive,' said the scrutator. 'Irisis and Fyn-Mah were to rendezvous here with the air-floater, if they got out of Snizort alive.'
'What were they doing there?'
'None of your business.'
'Did you know you were going to be taken prisoner?'
'Ghorr needed a scapegoat and there was nothing I could do about it without —’ He broke off, staring back towards the node. 'But of course, if Irisis and Fyn-Mah did escape, they would have been here days ago. Spread out. Look for a sign.'
It took the best part of an hour to find it, an ornamental dagger partly embedded in the ground, as if dropped from a height. Rudely scratched on the blade was: Yes, no, 3.
'What can that mean?' said Nish.
'It means Fyn-Mah found what she went into Snizort to find, that she was hunted and had to flee, and that she's gone to the third place I mentioned previously.'
'That being?'
'None of your business.'
Nish sighed. In this mood, Flydd was impossible to deal with. 'Then we have to walk,' he remarked gloomily. Despite its dangers, air-floating was the most pleasant of all means of travelling. 'Is it far away?'
The reply was pure Flydd. 'Further than the people hunting us.'
They were climbing down the cleft when something winked in the sun to the south. 'That's an air-floater!' hissed Nish. 'Could it be Irisis coming back for us?'
Flydd squinted at the object, which was moving low to the ground along a line of trees that marked the course of a creek. 'She wouldn't dare, in daylight.' The machine began to zigzag back and forth as if following something. 'What can they be doing?'
'Dogs!' whispered Ullii. She'd been so quiet since leaving the node crater that Nish had practically forgotten she was there.
'They've found our tracks,' said Flydd.
Nish hefted a knobbly stick. 'We'd better get ready to fight.’
'Stay down! We can't fight that many people.' A leathery tree grew horizontally out of the cleft before bending to, the vertical. Flydd pulled himself up into the curve and peered around the trunk. Nish crouched between two rocks splotched with bright yellow lichen.
The air-floater lifted and ran directly towards the node crater. Flydd groaned, the tortured sound two trees make when rubbed together in a storm. 'Let's pray no one recognises what's down there.'
The machine settled. Nine figures went into the pit: seven people and two dogs. The pilot and one other person could be seen moving about on the air-floater. Nish twisted his fingers, together. After some minutes it lifted, moved over the depression, bucking in the updraught, and drifted down.
'That's a dangerous manoeuvre,' said Flydd. 'If the walls of the gasbag touch something hot, they're dead.'
Time passed. They could see nothing but the top of the airbag. 'What are they doing?' said Nish.
'A really good pilot could bring it down right over the pedestal. Someone could simply pick up the tears.'
'They're taking a long time,' Nish said later.
'Be quiet!'
The air-floater crept out of the crater and hovered in the updraught, its bow pointing at their hiding place. 'Whoever it is,' said Flydd in a curiously flat voice, 'they have the tears.'
The air-floater lurched, turned away and began to drift, low to the ground, towards the army camp in the distance.
'We'd better make sure/ Flydd said.
They scrambled down the gully. 'I dare say the tears are more important than we are,' said Nish hopefully.
'They are, but the scrutators won't give us up, Nish.'
They could see the smoke well before they reached the hole. It was yellow-brown with threads of black, and smelled like burning hair and meat.
'I can't see anything.' Flydd was peering over the edge. 'I'll have to climb down.'
'Do you mind if I stay here?' said Nish. The stench was making him sick.
'Good idea. Keep watch. You too, Ullii. Ullii?'
She was hanging back, holding her noseplugs in. 'This is a terrible place,' she whispered.
'You don't have to come near.' Flydd eased his injured leg over the side.
Nish watched him go down. A surge of greasy brown fumes obscured Flydd as he reached the fourth oval. He bent double, coughing. Nish moved away from the edge. When he returned, after the smoke had thinned, Flydd was not to be seen.
'Is he all right?' he said to Ullii.
She gagged and doubled over, unable to speak. Nish circumnavigated the depression, seeking a better vantage point, but did not find one. After five or ten minutes, Flydd began to labour up again.
Nish helped him out onto the ground. The skin below Flydd's eyes had gone the purple of a day-old bruise and it took him quite a while to focus.
'Are the tears gone?' said Nish.
'Yes.'
'Who could it have been?'
'Ghorr is my guess, though it could have been any of the scrutators. Can you tell, Ullii?'
'No,' she whispered. 'Can't tell anything. Can't see anything.' In times of stress she sometimes lost her lattice.
'But whoever did take it,' said Flydd, 'they've made sure no one will ever know.'
'What do you mean?' said Nish.
'The trench at the bottom is clotted with bodies. Six soldiers and the air-floater's chart-maker. And the dogs. In an hour, the witnesses will be ash.'
All but us,' said Nish. 'And the pilot.'
'He needs her to get back to camp, but as soon as the air-floater lands, she's dead. He'll call it a seizure.'
And the soldiers?'
'He'll say I ambushed them and blasted the soldiers into nothingness with another crystal. No one will be able to prove otherwise.'
'If he knew we were watching, our lives could be measured in minutes, said Nish.
"He knows we've been there,' said Flydd. 'The air-floater tracked us to the node. Once the tears are safely hidden, he'll come after us.'
'Then we'd better get moving. Which way, surr?'
'North.'
They set off, keeping to the lowest ground. Ullii whimpered and moved close to Nish for comfort, though he was too preoccupied to notice. After some minutes she flounced away and took Flydd's hand. Flydd put his arm around her as he walked. She was red in the face and struggling to keep up, which Nish found surprising. When he'd last been with Ullii, she'd climbed the slopes of Tirthrax more easily than he had.
'Was this an accident?' Flydd mused as they rested among a pile of boulders a couple of hours later, 'Or was it planned from the beginning?'
'What do you mean?' said Nish.
'What if the device Ghorr gave me was designed to be faulty, so as to destroy the node and create the tears?'
'How could that be, surr? You told me it was tested, independently.'
'I don't know. Scrutator Klarm would not be easily fooled, but neither can I believe that the destruction of the node, and the creation of the tears, was an accident. But if it was planned, why didn't the perpetrator come to the node straight away?'
'Maybe he was delayed by the battle,' said Nish. 'Or thought that the tears would form at the node-drainer.'
'I hadn't considered that,' Flydd said appreciatively. 'And perhaps, until today, it was too hot to get near, too steamy to see if the tears were there.'
'Then why not put a guard on it?'
'That would announce that there was something special in the crater. Whoever he is, he
wouldn't want anyone to know about the tears.'
'Not even the other scrutators?'
'Especially not the other scrutators …' Flydd toyed with a piece of gravel, deep in thought. 'There's more here than the eye can see, Nish.'
'I don't understand,' said Nish.
'Neither do I, but it bothers me that someone knows far more about the Art than any of us. Why were the tears made?'
"To further one man's ambition.'
'Or one woman's. Four of the scrutators are women, remember? It doesn't do to make assumptions. But what ambition could — ?'
Breaking off, he began to pace, glancing from Nish to a silent Ullii, who sat by herself, arms crossed over her belly, rocking back and forth.
'What is it, surr?'
Flydd jerked his head. Nish rose and followed him. 'Surely you trust Ullii, surr?'
'She doesn't need to know.'
'Do 1?'
'A half-baked mooncalf like you?' Flydd said fiercely. 'Certainly not, but you're all I've got. Breathe a syllable of what I'm about to tell you and you're a dead man.'
There wasn't a trace of levity in his tone. Nish swallowed.
'I'm wondering,' the scrutator went on, 'if this might not be an attempt upon a higher power:
'I didn't know there was a higher power than the scrutators.'
Flydd hesitated, as if having second thoughts. 'It's worth my head to speak about this, and yours, but since we're both outlaws in peril of our lives, and I desperately need a sounding board, I'll make an exception. It's the best kept secret of all. The scrutators make out that they run the world, but the Numinator pulls their strings, and has since the Council was formed.'
'Clawers,' called Ullii. 'Coming fast!'
Her eyes were covered again, her face was turned to the north-west. Nish couldn't see anything, but Ullii did not make mistakes. In a few minutes three specks appeared, flying high, directly towards the fuming node crater, which was now a good two-thirds of a league from their hiding place.
'What can they want?' said Nish.
They've worked out what really happened to the node/ said Flydd, climbing the jumbled boulders to get a better look. 'But they're too late.'
Two lyrinx flew down the fuming hole while a third circled, on watch. Within a minute, the two reappeared, rising high into the sky and flying in widening circles before heading in the direction of the human army.
'They won't find them,' said Flydd. 'The tears will be hidden by now. I wonder what they'll do?'
The lyrinx disappeared into the haze. 'Who is this Numinator?' said Nish.
'If anyone knows, they're not saying. Some scrutators think it stands for "The Numinous One", though anyone who styles himself as a divine power must be supremely arrogant. I can only say this: more than a century ago, soon after the war had become worldwide and the Council of Santhenar, as it then was, was struggling to form a united front against the enemy, the power calling itself the Numinator took command. There was a bitter struggle and many mancers died before the Numinator defeated them. The survivors became the Council of Scrutators. The Numinator, he or she, set down the rules by which the Council was to run the world, but afterwards took no part in day-to-day affairs. From time to time the scrutators have chafed under this regime, and even tried to rebel, but were always taught a brutal lesson.'
'And you were one of them?' asked Nish.
'That was long before my time. My crime was simply to inquire into matters that weren't my business. The scrutators taught me my lesson to avoid being punished themselves. They taught me well.'
Nish digested that. 'So you think the Council deliberately created these tears, so as to take on the Numinator?'
'Not the Council. One individual, who may want to control the Council, first!
'But why now, when the war is going so badly, and division could be fatal?'
'I don't know. It may have been decades in the planning. And there's no saying that the person who created the tears is the one who ended up with them.'
'Are we going to find out?' said Nish.
'Don't be a bloody fool, boy. Look at me!' Xervish Flydd held out his arms. 'See the scars, the warped and twisted bones, the very flesh scraped away. 1 was a handsome man when I was young, Nish, but not after the scrutators had finished with me. I should have died then. They did their best to break me, but were ordered to let me live. I was to be a lesson to the other scrutators, not to pry into what wasn't their business. I've often wished they had killed me; I've not had a day without pain in thirty years. But here I am, a living example. Take heed, Nish. Some secrets are meant to be kept.'
Despite his words, Nish could see the resolve in Flydd's eyes — he was going to find out. And what then?
'So why the breeding factories? Why rewrite the Histories? Why-?'
'Good questions for which there are no answers.'
'But—'
'Come on!' Flydd said roughly. 'As soon as the tears are hidden, he'll be after us. He can't afford to let us live.'
Fourteen
Vithis took charge of Tiaan's amplimet and hedron, wrapping them in sheets of beaten platinum which he folded over carefully before putting the packet in his pocket with a shudder. He passed Tiaan to a young cheerful man, a deep-chested giant with blond curly hair, unusual for an Aachim.
'I'm Ghaenis,' he said to Tiaan as the group raced back to their own lines. 'Don't be afraid. You'll come to no harm while I'm looking after you;
For some odd reason, she knew it was true. She had perfect confidence in Ghaenis, and she'd not felt that with any Aachim before, apart from Malien.
Vithis said no word to Tiaan in the half-hour it took to reach the Aachim war camp, running all the way. As soon as they arrived, Ghaenis set Tiaan down on a metal chair and drew Vithis aside. He began to put a case animatedly, with much arm-waving and gesturing towards the constructs.
Vithis listened with set face. Ghaenis's accent was difficult to follow and Tiaan learned only that it had to do with the amplimet. At the end, Vithis shook his head.
Ghaenis renewed the argument even more passionately but with the same good humour. One hand swept out in the direction of the stalled constructs. The other reached for Vithis as if begging a favour.
'I cannot permit it,' Vithis said tersely. 'It's too dangerous.'
Ghaenis kept on. Vithis paced up and down, head bowed, then finally he nodded. The young man listened carefully while Vithis gave a series of instructions, or warnings, then handed the platinum-wrapped packet to him.
Ghaenis gleefully shook the older man's hands, bowed low and, with a cheery wave to Tiaan, ran to a group of constructs and climbed into the leading one.
Tiaan went on with her exercises, surreptitiously clenching and unclenching her leg muscles. She needed to regain her strength. She had to be able to walk, and no one must know it. She was going to escape, somehow.
The camp was furious with activity. A dozen people vied for Vithis's attention, all urgently. He listened to their messages, frowned and called an attendant. 'Bring her!'
The fellow picked Tiaan up as if she were a child and followed Vithis halfway across the encampment to a large tent. From a good ten paces away, Vithis shouted, 'Come out!' in the Aachim tongue. Malien had taught Tiaan a little of the language in Tirthrax.
A young noblewoman emerged. She was small for an Aachim and, with her reddish hair and pale colouring, strikingly different from the other Aachim here. The attendant set Tiaan on the dusty ground.
'This is Tiaan Liise-Mar, the thief who stole our construct,' said Vithis in the common speech. 'Guard her with your life, Thyssea, or Clan Elienor will answer for it.'
The young woman bowed but, as the grim Aachim stalked away, she made an obscene gesture to his back, then gave Tiaan an impish grin.
Tiaan could not help smiling. 'Hello, Thyssea.' The name sounded strange on her tongue. 'Did I pronounce that right?'
'Well enough, for a human. It's Thyzzea.' She spoke the common speech fluently, thoug
h with a slight nasal intonation.
'I'm sorry. Thyzzea. I tried to say it as Vithis did.'
'Thyssea is an .., uncouth word. He was being deliberately insulting.'
'Why?' said Tiaan.
'Do you know that Clan Inthis is called First Clan?'
'Yes.' Tiaan put her hand over her eyes. She'd been underground for many weeks and, though it was late afternoon, the sun was painfully bright.
'Come into the shade.'
'I can't stand up,' said Tiaan. 'I broke my back.' She wasn't going to reveal that the lyrinx had repaired it — once her legs were strong enough to walk, it would give her a tiny advantage.
Though they were the same size, Thyzzea lifted Tiaan with little apparent effort, carried" her beneath a scrubby tree which had red-tipped thorns growing out of the trunk, and sat her on the withered grass. 'Clan Elienor is, in the eyes of Inthis and some other clans, Last Clan.'
'Why is that?' Tiaan's curiosity was piqued. She was always more sympathetic to the underdog.
'We're different. Most Aachim are tall and dark, but our clan tends to be small and pale skinned, and many of us have red hair. Inthis reckons our blood was corrupted long ago, by a visitor from another world.'
'Was it?'
'I don't know. The elders guard our heritage closely. We're-so disliked because we're not compliant enough. We often disagree with the decisions of the Ten Clans; or Eleven, now that Inthis has rejoined. We are seen as disloyal but, even worse, individualist. It's a great failing.' She smiled as she said it.
'You're not armed, Thyzzea. That seems odd, in a guard.'
'I'm not a guard. I am of noble blood, and my father's heir, Vithis hates my father, so forcing me to do guard duty is an insult to him and all Clan Elienor.'
Tiaan considered that. 'Is Elienor a small clan?'
'It was the smallest on Aachan. But, unlike other clans, we all made the decision to come through the gate, and most of us survived it. Of the twelve Aachim clans, we are now ninth in numbers. There are five thousand of us.'