Tetrarch twoe-2

by Ian Irvine

  ‘Is this what the world has come to?’ said the Matah. ‘What happened to the great romance?’

  ‘Romance has nothing to do with mating,’ Nish said loftily. ‘Mating is duty, love mere unruly passion.’

  ‘And you had a passion for Tiaan, or was your lust mere duty? Go on with your tale, Tiaan.’

  Tiaan explained how Joeyn had found that strangely glowing crystal in the mine, one that had seemed to be drawing power from the field all by itself, without ever needing to be woken. And she told how she had fled with it.

  ‘Minis called to me,’ said Tiaan, ‘when I was trapped in a blizzard, dying of cold. He taught me about geomancy, the greatest magic of all.’

  ‘A most foolhardy young man,’ said the Matah. ‘A wonder it did not kill you.’

  ‘He taught me just enough to draw power into the crystal and save my life. The Aachim called it an amplimet and –’

  ‘An amplimet?’ The Matah gripped the edge of the glass.

  Tiaan nodded. ‘In return for my own life, I promised to help the Aachim. They asked me to bring the amplimet here to Tirthrax. After many trials, including being captured by the lyrinx and forced to help them with …’ Her voice cracked. She shuddered. ‘I suffer dreadfully from withdrawal when the crystal is taken away. At least, I used to before the gate was made. Using that weakness, the enemy forced me to channel power for their flesh-forming.’ She told that story, including the tale of the nylatl. ‘Eventually I managed to escape, using the crystal, and brought it here.’

  ‘Here?’ the Matah asked hoarsely.

  ‘Minis told me to give it to your people, but I found Tirthrax abandoned.’

  ‘Not abandoned,’ said the Matah. ‘My people have gone, en masse, north to our other city, Stassor. The war comes ever closer and they are meeting to see what may be done about it. They won’t be back until next year. It is a long and hazardous journey.’

  ‘By the time I arrived,’ Tiaan continued, ‘the Aachim were too weak to do anything with the crystal.’ She glanced at Nish, then away. ‘I had to save them. They told me how to assemble a gate-making device, which I called a port-all. I put the amplimet into the core of it, followed their instructions and created a gate.’

  ‘You made a gate, from here to Aachan?’ cried the old woman. ‘Alone?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tiaan said faintly.

  ‘Where is the port-all now?’

  Tiaan moved close and whispered in the Matah’s ear, watching Nish all the while. ‘It is in the hall by the great glass gong.’

  ‘Ah!’ said the Matah. ‘Continue, if you please.’

  ‘I did all the tests and called Minis. The gate opened but the Aachim began to come through, in constructs.’ She described the sleek metal machines and the way they hovered above the ground.

  ‘I know all about constructs,’ the Matah interrupted. ‘I saw the first one ever built. How many were there?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Tiaan. ‘Thousands, certainly, and each contained ten or fifteen people.’

  ‘There were more than eleven thousand constructs,’ said Nish. ‘I counted the ranks as they passed. They have gone down to the lowlands to wage war against Santhenar. You have betrayed your world, Tiaan.’

  The Matah looked wan. ‘I must sit down.’ She slumped on the floor with her head resting on her knees.

  ‘As I was betrayed,’ said Tiaan bitterly. ‘They must have been planning this invasion for a long time, for such a fleet of constructs would have taken decades to build. They used me and killed little Haani, who never hurt anyone in her life.’ Tears ran down her cheeks. ‘Vithis offered money in exchange!’ She glared at the old woman. ‘That was the grossest insult of all.’

  ‘Reparation must be paid,’ the Matah replied. ‘How did it happen? Did you threaten them?’

  ‘How could I threaten eleven thousand constructs?’ Tiaan raged. ‘She died because they were afraid. The Aachim are liars and cheats, and as timid as rabbits.’

  The Matah tightened her lips. ‘You may call them cowards if you dare, though it sounds like an accident to me. But know this, Tiaan: to impugn our honesty is a mortal insult that every Aachim will fight to avenge.’

  ‘They callously and deliberately deceived me about their intentions, and about the gate. They said they were just a few thousand. A lie. They said –’

  ‘I will leave it to them,’ said the Matah hastily. ‘But tell me – have they mastered all the secrets of Rulke’s lost construct? Did the machines fly?’

  ‘Not that I saw.’ Tiaan dashed her tears away. ‘They just hovered above the floor. Vithis called me an incompetent fool, after all I had done for him. Minis turned his cheek to me, and then they went away.’

  ‘We can be arrogant,’ said the Matah, ‘but Aachim are rarely rude, unless unbearably provoked. Who were the leaders?’

  ‘I met three,’ said Tiaan. ‘Tirior of Clan Nataz, Luxor of Clan Izmak, and Vithis. Are you related?’

  ‘We Aachim of Santhenar broke the clan allegiances long ago. My house was Elienor, named for our most famous ancestor, though it was always the least of the clans. Many of Clan Elienor have red hair, as I did once.’

  ‘I did see people with red hair,’ said Tiaan.

  ‘That is good. I would see my lost house again. What of Vithis? Did he name his clan?’ The Matah looked as if she already knew.

  ‘He named it Inthis – First Clan,’ said Tiaan.

  ‘Ah, Inthis!’

  ‘But the gate went wrong and his entire clan was lost in the void, save for Minis. Vithis blamed me. He is a hard, cruel man.’

  The Matah’s eyes sparked. ‘Inthis was ever the greatest clan – and in excess, too. We have been led by them more than by any other clan, sometimes to disaster. Tensor was such a man; a great leader driven to folly. Yet he strove for the good of all Aachim, not out of clan rivalry which ever held us back on Aachan. The gate went wrong, you say?’

  ‘Vithis said I had built the port-all the wrong way around, left-handed instead of right, and that made the gate go awry. But I built it exactly as I was instructed. I still have the image in my mind. I will never be rid of it.’

  ‘Left-handed?’ said the Matah. ‘I recall something about that, from our Histories. Yes, what is left-handed on Aachan is right-handed here, and that includes crystals that bend a beam of light one way or the other. Handedness cannot be discerned from afar, but the matter was known to the ancients. Vithis should have checked before he instructed you in the making of the gate. Even so, that should not have made it go wrong.’

  Tiaan searched for a memory of that terrible day. She had a feeling there was something else, but it would not come. Had she blundered, condemning thousands to death in the void?

  ‘I’ll take a look at the port-all later,’ said the Matah, shaking her head at some thought. ‘The loss of First Clan is a cataclysm for Vithis and a blow to every clan, for all their rivalry. I fear what will come from it. Did he take the amplimet?’

  ‘Vithis said it would have been corrupted by the gate, or by me. I think he was afraid of it.’

  ‘He showed sense, in that at least,’ said the Matah, her mouth down-curling. ‘And then?’

  ‘Vithis said, “We have a world to make our own,” and they went out the side of the mountain.’

  The Matah sat, thinking. ‘Peril hangs over us and only I to stop it. I felt the ripples in the field, even before the mountain shook. I tried to ignore it. Ah, and I was so close. I was on my way.’

  Eventually it was Nish who asked the question. ‘Where were you going?’

  ‘I was on my way to the Well.’

  ‘The Well?’ he echoed.

  ‘The Well of life and rebirth. The Well of fate. I was going to The Well of Echoes.’

  ‘You were going to kill yourself?’ Nish said sneeringly. ‘How pathetic!’

  The Matah sprang up, looking, for all her age, rather sprightly. ‘How dare you thrust your twisted values on me, old human! You are not even my species.’<
br />
  Nish backed away.

  Tiaan shivered, for it was freezing. The Matah placed a hand against the wall and the glass slid closed. ‘Alas, I cannot go now. Neither can I be in three places at once.’ She paced across the hemispherical chamber. ‘How came you here?’ She addressed the question to Tiaan.

  ‘I walked from Itsipitsi,’ Tiaan replied. ‘Before that, I sailed by iceboat upriver from the sea.’

  ‘And you, artificer?’ said the Matah.

  ‘By balloon,’ he said proudly. ‘All the way from the manufactory near Tiksi. And it was my idea.’

  ‘Balloon?’

  ‘A gasbag ten spans high, filled with hot air from a stove.’

  ‘Do you still have it?’

  ‘It lies on the slope of the mountain, directly below us.’

  ‘Take it back to warn your people.’

  ‘I sent a skeet the day before yesterday.’

  ‘It may not get there. Hurry! This is urgent, artificer.’

  ‘I can’t find the way out.’

  Taking a piece of paper from her pocket, the Matah sketched swiftly. ‘This point, here, is the stair behind you.’

  ‘First I have to gather fuel,’ said Nish. ‘There are no trees where the balloon is hidden, only bushes. And the winds –’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way. After all, it was your idea. Go at once!’

  He did not move. He was still looking for a way to get Tiaan away. ‘But –’

  ‘Begone!’ roared the Matah, ‘or you shall feel real power.’ She swept her hands together and more of those golden bubbles quivered there.

  Nish held his ground. He was brave enough, Tiaan thought grudgingly.

  ‘Take food from the lower storerooms, should you require it,’ said the Matah.

  ‘I –’

  ‘Now!’ She hurled the bubbles at him.

  One struck his cheek and a yellow blister swelled there. Nish cried out, dashed the bubble away and bolted down the stairs.

  ‘And you?’ the Matah said to Ullii. ‘What will you do, little seeker?’

  Ullii came to her. The Matah put her fingers around the small woman’s head. A golden nimbus shimmered like a halo, lifting her colourless hair into drifting tendrils.

  ‘Go, child,’ said the Matah. ‘Follow your mate, and beware.’

  ‘Nish will never hurt me,’ Ullii said serenely.

  The Matah searched her face, then touched her on the shoulder. ‘I pray that you are right, though I fear otherwise.’

  Ullii went after Nish. The Matah turned back to Tiaan. ‘What will you do with your life?’

  ‘I ought to end it, to make up for all the evil I have done.’

  ‘You know nothing about evil, Tiaan. I pray you never will.’ The Matah held her gaze until Tiaan looked down.

  Pressing her palm to the wall, the Matah went outside to stand at the edge of the platform. Tiaan followed, shuddering in the cold. Her bare toes began to ache. The mountain towered above them, for they were barely a third of the way up it. Ahead and to either side stood peaks and glaciers as far as the eye could see, and that was very far in the crystalline air. Below lay a vast ice sheet, breaking away into glaciers all along one side.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she sighed.

  The Matah glanced at her. ‘I never tire of it. I come here every day that the weather permits. But you are cold.’ Taking the coat from her shoulders, she wrapped Tiaan in it.

  Tiaan took it gratefully and shuffled to the edge, looking down on a sheer drop of at least a thousand spans. The great horn of Tirthrax hung directly above her. She had never been this high before, and her lungs strained at the thin air. ‘It would be so easy,’ she said aloud.

  Tiaan expected the Matah to talk her out of it, but she sat on the stone seat, saying nothing. The eyes were penetrating, though Tiaan could read nothing in them.

  ‘Do you not care if I live or die?’ Tiaan asked, trying to provoke a reaction. Why had the Matah saved her from Nish, only to ignore her now?

  ‘I care,’ said the Matah, ‘for I see you have much to offer. But if you really did plan to take your life, and I convinced you not to, you would do it as soon as my back was turned.’ She stared at the ice cap. The wind whistled around the edge of the platform.

  Tiaan regarded her blue, throbbing toes. Better get inside before she got frostbite. She was not going to end it after all.

  ‘I have a great deal to put right.’ Tiaan turned away from the edge.

  ‘I hoped you would think that way,’ said the Matah, ‘since I foresee that you have a part to play in the coming war. Come in out of the cold.’

  Tiaan made no reply, but as the glass closed and they headed down the stair, she was thinking: I will have my revenge on Minis and all his kind. I will bring them down if it takes the rest of my life. Her gaze settled on the grey head below her. The Matah was also Aachim. Must she destroy her as well?

  The Matah waited for her at the bottom. ‘Anything else you’d like to tell me, Tiaan?’

  Tiaan flushed. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t know what’s going on. Why do folk do the things they do?’

  ‘Because they must.’

  ‘I’ve never been able to understand people. Machines are so much easier, and more reliable.’

  ‘That would appear to be your problem.’

  FOUR

  They went down, then up on the other side, to a small set of chambers simply furnished in metal and fabrics as smooth as silk. They ate together. It was plain fare – black grainy bread, preserved meat so hard that the Matah shaved curls from it with a knife, cheese layered with mustard seeds and something yellow that had the crispness and pungency of onion. The meal was settled with a glass each of a sublime green wine.

  The Matah rose. ‘You must excuse me. Thanks to you I have urgent business to attend to.’

  Tiaan quaffed her wine. The fumes went up her nose, her head spun, she had a vague memory of the Matah laying her on a pallet and drawing a cover over her, and that was all.

  When she woke, the sun was streaming in through a glassed porthole high on the western wall. It was mid-afternoon. Tiaan stretched aching limbs and rose. Food had been set out on a stone table and a set of clothes laid over the end of the bed. Nearby was a bathing room. Pressing down the levers for water, she tore off her stained rags – clothes selected so she would look her best for Minis. Tiaan looked back on that morning, only two days ago but a lifetime away, contemptuous of the naïve trembling girl she had been. She had been a girl, though it had been her twenty-first birthday. That person, that life was over.

  With a shudder of disgust, Tiaan hurled her rags into a refuse basket. Taking off the plaited leather bracelet Haani had made for her birthday, she laid it carefully on the bed. It was her most precious possession now. She stood under the warm water, brooding. She despised Minis for his fickleness, his treachery, but most of all because she had loved him with all her passionate heart and he had been too weak to stand up for her. Love was for fools! She would never love again.

  On the way back, she caught sight of herself in a metal mirror mounted on the wall. Tiaan stopped to stare. Mirrors were rare in her part of the world and she had never seen a full-length one.

  Neither tall nor short, Tiaan had a slender yet womanly figure which the matron of the breeding factory had rated well enough. Her skin was her best feature – it was silky smooth and the colour of honey dripping from a comb.

  Pitch-dark hair, cut straight just below her ears, framed a neat oval face whose most striking feature was a pair of almond eyes, so deep-brown that they were almost purple. In better times they’d had a liquid sparkle; now they were fixed in a hard stare. Her mouth, full enough to be called sensuous, was compressed into a ridge that hid most of her remarkably coloured lips, the reddish-purple of blackberry juice.

  Tiaan jerked away from the image. Neither face nor figure had moved Minis in the end. Dressing in the blouse and loose pants the Matah had left, she took enough food and drin
k to satisfy her. There was a kind of bread, or cake, stuffed to bursting with dried fruits, nuts, seeds and candied peel, then sliced so thin that she could see through it. There were roses and other flowers crystallised with solutions of honey. The flavours were so subtle and the creations so delicate that Tiaan could scarcely bear to touch them. There were exotic vegetables, none of which she recognised, preserved in oil as red as cedarwood.

  Having eaten her fill, she was at a loss. Her dreams of revenge were foolish; futile. That armada of constructs must be twenty leagues away by now. Feeling her resolve fading, she went looking for the Matah and eventually found her on the frigid balcony.

  ‘Good afternoon, Tiaan,’ she said, without looking around.

  Tiaan stood there, uncertainly. The Matah patted the stone seat. Tiaan perched uncomfortably on it, for the cold went right through her trousers.

  ‘What will you do now?’ the Matah said softly.

  ‘I must lay Haani to rest.’

  ‘Where is the child?’

  ‘I left her beside a great shaft that plunges down toward the mountain’s heart.’

  ‘What?’ The Matah sprang to her feet. ‘How came you to the Well of Echoes?’

  Tiaan scrambled off the seat. ‘N-Nish hunted me there. I meant no harm.’

  ‘Be calm, child. You could do no harm there, though it might well have harmed you. How did you get into that place? It should not have been possible.’

  Tiaan explained what she had done, and why. Coming up close, the Matah lifted the hedron on its chain but let it fall. She put her palms on Tiaan’s cheeks, thumbs resting on either side of her nose, the long, long fingers wrapped around her head. She stared into Tiaan’s eyes for a good while, then let go, shaking her head.

  ‘There is something about you, Tiaan …’

  ‘What?’ Tiaan said uneasily.

  ‘I cannot say, though it rings alarms. You are in peril. Either that, or you are peril. Come, I will take you to the Well.’

  The Matah dissolved the re-formed cubic barrier with a gesture and they entered the tunnel. Tiaan had forgotten the cold of that place, even worse than outside. The smooth-as-glass walls of the tunnel were networked with feathery patterns of ice crystals. The whole tunnel felt to be breathing cold, for little whooshes of wind would rush past, ruffling her hair, only to turn and blow down the back of her neck.