Tetrarch (Well of Echoes)

by Ian Irvine

  ‘I don’t understand how they can all be the same,’ she said.

  Her head was throbbing from the effort of remembering them and their geomantic uses. Ironstone had virtues in healing and could also be transformed into lodestone, though Gilhaelith had not told her how. He bade her take particular note of the rosette form, which had a variety of geomantic uses, some belying its appearance.

  ‘There’s too much to learn,’ she said wearily.

  ‘Just use your memory. Understanding will come in time.’

  But there was never enough time. Each morning began with a recognition test, using hundreds of samples, none of which she had seen before. Gilhaelith expected no less than perfection which, even for Tiaan’s visual recall, proved impossible. Subsequently she had to list and describe, from memory, every mineral she had previously been shown. She made many mistakes, which did not please her master.

  After only a week, he began her on rocks and ores of every conceivable sort, some identified by form, weight and colour, others because of the minerals they were made up of and the way they were arranged. And rocks, a week later, led to the forces that had formed them at the dawn of time, and all the ways that they had been shaped and changed ever since.

  Gilhaelith’s instruction now became abstract and harder for her to visualise, much less understand. It suited the contortions of his mind, but not her own. As he plunged deep into the patterns of numbers that crystals made, his deficiencies as a teacher became apparent. When she stumbled over a concept or a principle, he simply repeated what he had said before, more loudly. He could not put himself in the mind of a prentice, or see the right way to teach her what had been so easy for him. Incapable of putting technicalities in simple language, he talked in abstruse jargon. Finally, when he was using numbers to explain the forces that caused volcanoes to erupt, and sometimes explode violently, she snapped.

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t understood a thing you’ve said all morning. Gilhaelith!’

  He was staring at her bosom, which had grown over the past month. She had put on weight and knew that it suited her. He did not, she now appreciated, look out of lechery, but simply amazement that she could be shaped so differently from him. She had given up reminding him how rude it was.

  Gilhaelith looked away, abashed. ‘I’m sorry. You are my first prentice and I’m an indifferent teacher. Would you care to come outside?’

  ‘I’d love to, if it’s safe.’

  ‘I have guards around the rim. No spy can come up without being seen. I’ll take you down into the crater – it may be easier to show than to tell.’

  Since Tiaan’s controller was not yet ready, she was carried down on the back of a donkey. An uncomfortable journey, it made her back ache within minutes, but she soon forgot about that. Gilhaelith walked beside her, explaining how the lava formed deep in the earth, what force it had taken to blast the crater out, and why its walls had the shape they had. The trip taught her more than she had learned in the previous week.

  The sheer cliff below the villa, made of layer upon layer of volcanic rock, looked as if it had been cut with a spade.

  ‘Three hundred years ago, a mighty explosion blasted everything else away,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘It blocked out the sun for a fortnight and the noise was heard in Tyrkir, hundreds of leagues to the south.’

  ‘And this could happen again?’ Tiaan looked around nervously.

  ‘Will happen again, and again.’

  ‘Then why risk coming down here?’

  ‘There should be signs for weeks beforehand – earth tremblers, geysers. The lake might boil or drain away.’

  So much to learn, so little time.

  At the bottom they stopped by a hissing spring surrounded with yellow salts. ‘The volcano is only sleeping,’ Gilhaelith explained. ‘The congealed lava is still liquid underneath, and the solid cap nearly as hot as a fire. The rainwater seeps down, boils and is forced up like water from the spout of a kettle.’

  ‘And these coloured crystals?’

  ‘Hot water dissolves minerals from the rocks. After it spurts out and dries up in the heat, crystals form –’

  ‘Like salt in a dried-up rockpool on the seashore.’ Tiaan remembered trips to the sea with her grandmother when she had been little.

  ‘Precisely.’

  Further down, the vents were thickly coated with layers of yellow-brown sulphur, the source of much of Gilhaelith’s wealth. His workers were hacking it into lumps which they loaded into baskets, some carried on their heads, others on their backs.

  They continued to the peculiarly blue waters of the lake. Gilhaelith lifted her off the donkey and to her surprise it felt pleasant in his arms. Setting her down where she could rest against a boulder, he began unpacking a picnic basket. She studied him surreptitiously as he laid food and drink on the cloth, a thick weave patterned with concentric squares in earthy reds, browns and yellows. He still looked awkward but it fitted him better now.

  Gilhaelith set down plates, sawed grainy bread into perfect slices and placed two on her plate. He added a handful of a pickled vegetable rather like an olive, white lengths of cheese and slices of cooked gourd, and passed it to her. Looking up, he caught her watching him and grinned self-consciously. Tiaan, for the first time, smiled back. In contradiction of his statement about being indifferent to humanity, he seemed to like her. She discovered that she liked him too, in spite of his failings. She could almost, almost trust him, though she warned herself not to.

  It was a pleasant lunch, as long as she did not look too closely at what he was eating. They just talked about whatever came to mind, and Tiaan was sorry when it was over. It was sweltering, without a trace of breeze. There was not a cloud in the sky and the dark rocks radiated heat.

  Gilhaelith packed the basket, then said, ‘I’ll have a swim before we go up.’ Stripping off shirt, boots and socks, he waded into the water and began to flap about on his back, sending gouts of water up from hands and feet and blowing like a whale.

  As Tiaan watched, her smile faded. It seemed to grow hotter by the second. Sweat ran down her back. Beneath the straps of the brace her skin itched unbearably. A tear stung her eye. She clenched her hands in her lap and waited.

  He came out, still blowing and grinning like a loon, water pouring from his skinny chest. ‘That’s good. Not too warm, not too cool –’ He stooped. ‘What’s the matter, Tiaan?’ and slapped his thigh. A few drops landed on her face. ‘I’m a damned fool.’

  ‘I enjoyed watching you swim. It’s just that – it’s so hot …’ She rubbed her eyes and gave him a wan smile. ‘It’s all right. I was just feeling sorry for myself.’

  ‘I’d carry you out,’ he said, ‘but –’

  ‘I don’t mind getting my gown wet,’ she said eagerly. ‘It’d keep me cool on the way up.’

  He took off her boots and carried her into the water. It was the perfect temperature – cool enough to be comfortable but not so cool that she could not have stayed in it for hours. The sea near Tiksi, on the few times she had swum in it, had been bone-achingly cold.

  Gilhaelith laid her in the water, one hand behind her knees, the other under her back. She floated, weightless and perfectly content. Tiaan splashed water on her face, wiped it off and stared up at the blue sky. It quite took her away from all her troubles.

  A droplet on her forehead roused her. ‘We’d better go.’

  She smacked her cupped hand into the water, splashing him, and laughed. The most extraordinary look crossed his face, like a man trying to climb out through a mask. It tore but re-formed – one hundred and fifty years of self-control could not be broken that easily. He looked so stern that Tiaan quailed. No, she thought, there is a human being inside. She swung her arm again and the jet of water caught him right on the bridge of the nose.

  Water dripped from his nostrils, hair and chin. He looked so ridiculous that she snorted. He cracked a little, tossing a scoop of water which only dewed her hair. Tiaan att
acked him with both hands. Water went everywhere. He splashed her face and this time the mask cracked in two. He whooped. She laughed aloud, going two to his one, until a particularly energetic blow slid her off his arm and she went under. Tiaan did not have time to panic, for he caught her straight away, lifting her out and holding her as if she were a fragile toy.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said gaily.

  ‘It’s late. We’d better go.’

  The moment was broken and she was sorry about that, for something had changed between them. They were halfway up the winding track when Tiaan noticed a circling speck, high above. It could have been an eagle but she did not think so. ‘Gilhaelith! What do you think that is?’

  He stared upwards, shading his eyes with long, knuckly fingers. ‘I’d say,’ he said slowly, ‘that it is a lyrinx.’

  ‘Is it watching us?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Why would a lyrinx be watching Nyriandiol?’

  ‘Sulphur is needed for the war. It would inconvenience humanity if they had to obtain impure stuff from further away.’

  ‘Will they attack, do you think?’

  ‘I doubt it. Despite the war in Almadin, enemy territory is a long way from here. Even if they took this place they could not hold it, for the scrutators have a mighty army in Borgistry. No, they’re just spying.’

  ‘Could they recognise me from that height?’ she asked anxiously. Since Kalissin, she lived in fear of being used for flesh-forming again.

  ‘Lyrinx sight is not as good as ours in daytime, but best cover yourself in case it comes lower.’ He gave her a scarf to wind around her face.

  The donkey grunted and groaned all the way up. The fractured rock and ash kept sliding beneath its weight. Once, the poor beast lost its footing and would have fallen, had not Gilhaelith steadied it.

  ‘The poor thing,’ said Tiaan. ‘It feels wrong to be on its back, doing nothing while it struggles so hard.’

  ‘It’s earning its keep, as we all must do,’ said Gilhaelith.

  ‘I’m not earning mine!’ she muttered.

  ‘Work hard; master your Art. We’ve little time left.’

  Tiaan had been working hard, but a prentice would have spent years on crystals alone; she’d had a scant week. Even allowing for her experience it was no way to learn the Secret Art, much less master it. But the war, the world, her enemies would not wait.

  Alie and Gurteys stood by the front door, and both frowned when they saw the state of Tiaan’s gown. She ignored their unfriendly glances. Did they think she was trying to take Gilhaelith away from them?

  That night she drove herself harder than usual. She could not bear being dependent. It reminded her of her mother.

  The next day Gilhaelith returned Tiaan to her attic hiding place as a local warlord appeared unannounced. He pretended to be checking on an order of brimstone, but as his eyes darted all around and his army of retainers wandered where they were not supposed to, clumsily questioning Gilhaelith’s servants, it was clear that he was really looking for the thapter, and Tiaan. Whether for himself, or as a paid informant to Vithis, it did not matter. Tiaan shivered all the while he was there.

  Once he had gone the lesser servants, led by Gurteys, stood around talking in low voices, after which they sent a deputation to Gilhaelith. Tiaan was not privy to what was discussed, though afterwards he was unusually silent and distant. She gathered that her presence, and the thapter, threatened everyone.

  As she was wheeling down the hall late that night, something struck her painfully on the left ear. It felt like the handle of a broomstick. By the time she recovered and heaved the chair around, the culprit had disappeared in the darkness.

  She did not call for a servant to help her to bed; Tiaan felt too afraid. Fortunately, when she was resigned to spending the night in her chair, Gilhaelith came by and lifted her into bed. Her arms were not yet strong enough to do it for herself. She resolved to work on that.

  Later, brooding in the darkness, she became aware of an unpleasant smell, like week-old fish. Every time she moved, it grew stronger. Tearing the covers back she dragged herself to the far end. A large and extremely rotten fish had been wedged between the mattress and the end of the bed. Scooping the slimy creature up in one arm, she tossed it out the window. The stench lingered all night.

  The unpleasantness, which had begun with the women, soon spread to the male servants, all except Nixx, Foreman Mihail, and Fley. Most of the servants just shunned her, but Gurteys and her friends subjected her to all kinds of torments, including abandoning her in the privy for hours. Tiaan might have spent all day there had Gilhaelith not come looking for her.

  Gurteys made an excuse, which Gilhaelith accepted. He took no interest in the servants and had no idea what was going on. Tiaan kept her silence. She had never been one to tell tales. Besides, she understood why they were doing it. They were terrified that Vithis would find her hiding here and put the lot of them to the sword.

  Two days later Gilhaelith tightened the last bolt of the walker and tossed his wrench onto the table. ‘It’s done!’

  Tiaan wheeled herself across the tiled basement floor. The walker resembled a four-legged spider and she wasn’t sure she wanted to get inside. It would be like being part of a machine. On the other hand, she would not be quite so helpless.

  She circled away, going round and round the thapter. Its black metal skin was stacked against the far wall, exposing a mess of mechanical innards. It looked as if it would never move again.

  From here, Tiaan could feel the pull of the amplimet, which was back in its cavity. She had not touched it in ages. She occasionally felt twinges of longing for it, though Tiaan was not sure if that was withdrawal. Something had definitely changed since she’d used it in the port-all to create the gate. Not having touched the crystal since she came here, its pull was fading. She would never be free of it but she could, if she so chose, have left it behind. That was just as well since it now belonged to Gilhaelith. She had used her hedron in the controller of the walker.

  She longed to be back in the thapter, to soar carefree through the sky. The freedom of the air meant so much more, now that she lacked mobility on the ground. But she had to learn to walk before she could fly – first the repairs must be completed. Then a way must be found to tame, or at least shackle, the treacherous amplimet.

  Tiaan had devoted much thought and experimentation to finding a replacement for it, but had found no other crystal that would allow her to draw upon the strong force required for flight. For the time being, she was bound to use the amplimet. Tiaan hated being reliant on it, and it bound her to Gilhaelith too, which did not please her. She liked him now, but since he did not trust her, she was not going to trust him. Heaving the wheels so hard that they spun in place, she headed for the walker.

  Shortly, held securely in a webbing of leather and canvas straps, she gripped the controller arm with her right hand and the metal frame with her left. Emptying her mind, Tiaan mentally stroked the hedron into life. The field appeared in her inner eye, here a wavering aurora of pale yellow surrounded by cream, and further off, another wobbling yellow globe. It was rather like a double-yolker egg. Identifying a darker whirlpool, Tiaan caught it as it drifted by, traced a path through ethyric space and tugged gently. Power poured into the crystal and the walker took off with a jerk, its foot pads scraping on the floor. One limb went one way, its mate the other. The legs splayed and it staggered sideways like a crab, tilting from side to side.

  Gilhaelith laughed, which reminded her of her similar experience with the thapter. The wall loomed up. She choked the flow and the walker stalled, canted sideways with its legs unceremoniously spread. Coordinating four legs was harder than she had expected. Tiaan took a deep breath and concentrated, moving one leg at a time, and then the pairs, front and back. They did not want to go the right way, and the back brace, gouging her flesh with every movement, did not help.

  Circling around
the room, she edged up beside Gilhaelith, moved backwards and forwards without getting any closer, and stopped.

  ‘How is it?’ he asked.

  ‘It takes a bit of getting used to.’ She moved it sideways and back, which was no better. ‘I’m either too close or too far away. But at least I’ll be able to work on the thapter.’

  He smiled. ‘I’m glad. You’ll have plenty to do while I’m away.’

  The walker jerked, then froze, one leg in the air, as the field vanished from her mind. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Here, on the top of the mountain, the whole world can see who visits me. Some of my customers don’t like other people knowing their business. And nor do I.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll leave you to your work.’

  Tiaan watched him go. After all this time she still did not know what he wanted of her, or what his real plans were. Maybe the secret business had to do with her. And what if Vithis came back? The servants would not lie for her.

  FORTY-THREE

  Only once Gilhaelith had gone did Tiaan appreciate that she was alone in a fortress full of strangers. And they were strangers, for while he was there she had been able to ignore them. She wished she had taken the trouble to get to know them at the beginning – she might have made a friend or two. Apart from Nixx, Gurteys, her mute husband Fley, Mihail and Alie, she did not know their names. Tiaan supposed that was part of the problem.

  She planned to keep watch on the amplimet while he was away, but could not find it anywhere. Did he not trust it, or her?

  On the first morning, Tiaan became so immersed in the disassembly of an intricate part of the thapter that she did not notice the absence of the servants. After lunch, driven by an urgent need to use the privy, she rang the bell beside the door. It was not answered, even after twenty pulls.