Alchymist

S EVENT E E N

Gilhaelith fell swiftly, feet first, so by the time Gyrull could react, he was a hundred spans below her, hurtling towards the Sea of Thurkad. At this speed it would be as hard as rock.

She folded her great wings into the shape of an arrow and dived after him, though at first she did not seem to be gaining. He looked up at her, then down at the sea. He could see whitecaps and the fluid streamlines of windblown spume.

She matched his speed, now more than matched it. Gyrull was gaining, but so was the sea. He knew what she was trying to do, but how could she do it in time?

She mouthed something at him, though the sound was whipped away by the wind. What did she want him to do? Slow down! Gilhaelith spread his legs and drew out his coat on either side. It flapped wildly, the wind trying to tear it out of his grasp, but braked his fall a little. Would it be enough?

As the water came hurtling up, Gyrull flung herself at him, the claws of her outstretched feet striking him hard in the sides. They went straight through his coat and shirt, his skin and flesh, and in between his ribs. Gilhaelith screamed in agony. It felt as if the claws had gone right into his lungs.

She roared out words of power as the huge wings cracked to slow her plummeting fall. Something tore in his side; it felt as if the strain was stripping the ribs from his living flesh. Crack-crack, another tear. The pain was excruciating. The angled wings broke the free fall into a dive, then into a steep glide. His fragile brain throbbed from the power she'd used to keep them aloft.

He guessed trajectories. They must still hit the sea, and neither would survive it. Lyrinx were helpless in water, for heir bodies were too heavy to float Swimming was harder for them than flying, and panic soon pulled them under. Gilhaelith was a competent swimmer but could not survive these chilly waters to reach the shore, more than a league away.

Again his brain sang as she drew more power. The glide shallowed, the roaring waters rushed closer. She pounded her wings, digging into the salty air. Now they were just ten spans above the sea, now five, now three, two, one. His feet skimmed the water, the wings cracked harder and Gyrull lifted a fraction.

But the matriarch was very tired now. He could feel it in her movements, which were more sluggish than before, the slower beat of the wings, the droop of her neck. One claw slipped from between his ribs, leaving him dangling in the path of the swell. Driven by the wind, it was a good two spans high.

She tried to climb above it but only succeeded in dragging Gilhaelith through the crest. It broke over his head, drenching him. She let out a cry; her colours flashed and faded. He was sure she could not hold him. But Gyrull was not matriarch of a great and powerful race for nothing. Drawing on her last reserves of strength, she dug her claws further into his flesh, lifted him free of the water and slowly began to beat her way up.

The lyrinx surrounded her in a fluttering, spherical shell, offering their strength and shepherding her the last league to the shore of Meldorin. She hovered above a platform of yellow rock, a stone's throw from the water. Gyrull retracted her claws and Gilhaelith fell heavily, ruddy salt water streaming off him. Misty rain drifted down from the hills. It was as cool as Taltid had been sweltering.

Flashing dark browns and reds, colours he could not interpret, Gyrull settled beside him. He expected her to abuse him for his stupidity, but she bowed her head, displaying camouflage colours.

'I beg your indulgence. Tetrarch Gilhaelith,' she said hoarsely, inclining her head towards him. You startled me, but that is no excuse. The conveying code is a sacred one and I should not have dropped you under any circumstances What was it you wished to say to me?'

Gilhaelith lay on the wet rock, so frightened and dazed that he failed to capitalise on the advantage. A matter of the greatest moment, and great urgency too. It concerns the Snizort node that exploded and died to nothing.'

She tipped her head to one side, studying him with eyes like liquid gold. Her breast was heaving. 'Go on, pray.'

He pressed his fingers against the throbbing punctures between his ribs, praying her claws were clean. 'My knowledge of geomancy, and my studies of many nodes, tell me that a node cannot simply explode and disappear.' He explained how he came to know that. 'There must be some residue left behind to balance what has been lost. That residue, in the wrong hands, could be perilous indeed.'

'Present your reasoning, if you please, Tetrarch.'

Before he was finished, he saw, from the look in her eyes and the patterning of her skin, that she had reached the same conclusion. He had forgotten what a frightening intellect she had. Indeed, because the lyrinx ate human flesh and mostly fought with their bare hands, it was easy to underestimate them, to think of them as savages. That could be a fatal mistake.

'This residue,' said Gyrull, 'could be a mighty power, in the hands of someone who knows how to use it.'

'That is my belief,' said Gilhaelith.

'And you want it for yourself, of course.'

'I don't,' he said untruthfully, 'for I've never sought power over others. Knowledge and understanding are my passions. I would, however, like the opportunity to learn from this residue.'

'Then why tell me?'

'As a token of good faith, to set against my debt.'

Again that sideways, birdlike glance. 'You hope I'll gain for you what you can't get by yourself. And when the debt is repaid, what do you ask of me, Tetrarch?'

'My freedom. And carriage to a place where I may continue my work.'

'We'll see about that after my searchers return.'

Calling her lieutenants together, Gyrull spoke rapidly in a low voice. For once she displayed no skin-speech at all, and the others little more than blushes of yellow or grey. After a few minutes, three of the strongest lifted off from the platform and headed back across the sea, in the direction of Snizort.

'They go to establish the truth of what you've told us,' she said. 'We'll rest for an hour, then take you to Oellyll.'

'What's Oellyll?' said Gilhaelith.

'A city of ours, the best part of a day's flight from here.'

He felt the familiar panicky tightness in his chest, the difficulty of getting enough air. Once she had him there, it was unlikely she would ever let him go. And, held like a pet in a cage, subject to Gyrull's whims, he must eventually go mad.

After flying through dense cloud that night and all the next day, they arrived at Oellyll on a dark and rainy evening. Gilhaelith had no idea where in Meldorin they were. He was carried blind-folded through caverns lined with cut slabs of carven stone, into a deeper underground that the lyrinx had excavated out of rock. It was warm here, which was pleasant, for he was still saturated with an inner chill.

He learned nothing about Oellyll that night, save that it was ventilated by great bellows up on the surface. Several times he passed through their blasts of air, so strong that they almost tore him from the lyrinx's grasp. He was left in a warm room on a low platform which passed for a bed. It had an open doorway. They had no fear of him escaping for he could not stand up.

He lay on the platform, closed his eyes and did not wake for twenty-four hours, not even while their healers attended his injuries.

Two more days Gilhaelith spent in his room, lying on the platform without strength to raise his head. He had been badly hurt by immersion in the tat His liver troubled him, his head still throbbed, his heart would race for no particular reason and he felt incredibly weak. Walking the few hundred steps to the privy was beyond him. And the movement of those gallstone fragments along his internal ducts proved more excruciating than his most dismal imaginings.

Making matters worse, the food they gave him was a murky sludge the colour of rotting leaves. Reaching over the side of the platform, Gilhaelith dipped a finger in the bowl. The stuff turned out to be vegetable in origin, but quite bland. He pushed it away. The only vegetables he cared for were strongly flavoured ones, such as onions, turnips and radishes. He'd lived on a diet of slugs, pickled organs and other delicacies most of his adult life, and his palate craved exotic and the intense tastes. But if this pulverised goop was all he was going to get, he'd better eat it. He extended bony fingers, scooped up a gob of the green-brown muck, and swallowed. The repulsive blandness reminded him of his miserable childhood and the repressed memories exploded.

An orphan who had been dragged screaming out of his mother's lifeless body, he'd been carried to a far-off land by his loyal nurse, travelling by night and hiding by day. Gilhaelith had never learned why, or who he was, and had long since decided that he did not want to know. It could only cause him more trouble.

He'd never fitted in. Gilhaelith shivered as the distant memories ebbed and flowed. He'd been plagued by illness and stomach upsets as an infant. As a child, learning had been difficult, and if not for the patience of his nurse he'd still be illiterate. Once he'd mastered reading, though, and especially numbers, the whole world had opened up to him.

Then came the greatest tragedy of his life. His nurse fell ill and died, and Gilhaelith ended up in an orphans' home, fed on tasteless gruel and little enough of it. He thrust the bowl away so roughly that mush slopped all over the floor. In the home his stomach had begun to trouble him again and it wasn't until he began to feed on slugs, grubs, fish organs and other exotica that it had settled down.

Gilhaelith had been out of harmony with the world and had to fight it every step of the way, though the world showed him only brutality or indifference. Always an outsider, his feeding habits made him an object of derision and disgust. He was ostracised and bullied, and the only way he could cope was with absolute self-control. Forced to master his feelings and emotions, he had gradually extended that control to everyone around him, and then to everything.

Once grown to manhood, that iron control had helped him to accumulate great wealth, which allowed him to retreat to a place he could control completely. He'd built Nyriandiol so as to be master of his own environment, though he'd discovered that, without perfect understanding of the world, he could never have complete control. Gilhaelith, a man determined to overcome all obstacles, had set out to do just that. And first he had to discover why the world was the way it was. His life's work was born.

He'd become a geomancer and, after a century and more of study, the greatest geomancer of all, but his goal seemed as far off as ever. He still felt threatened – some unpredictable event might still overturn his carefully constructed existence. Then it had: Tiaan had appeared, and her amplimet had opened up all sorts of previously inconceivable possibilities.

But Tiaan had upset his control mechanisms. At first, because of his attraction to her, he'd found that exhilarating. Soon, however, his carefully structured life had fallen into chaos, which he'd found increasingly difficult to handle. Vithis had come, and Klarm. His servants had begun to plot behind his back. Then Gyrull had abducted him and Gilhaelith's hard-won control began to falter. He'd felt like an orphan again. In Snizort he'd allowed his relationship with Tiaan to founder. Gilhaelith regretted it, both for the loss of her friendship, and the loss of an apprentice worthy of him, but at the time there'd been little choice.

Since being trapped in the tar his life had careered out of control. His health grew worse each day, he felt ever more stressed and panicky and there were signs of breakdown that he could not admit to himself. He'd never thought he could be so vulnerable. The panic exploded, choking him.

In an effort to calm himself, he began to recite a list of minerals and their properties. He'd previously found rote exercise to be soothing in times of stress. He'd listed all the properties of quartz and fluorspar and was about to begin on calcite when his mind went completely and unaccountably blank.

Calcite, he thought. Rhombohedral crystals, sometimes prismatic or.., or… Nothing! He could not recall any of the dozens of properties on the list, not even the variety of its colours, only that calcite was mostly white.

He picked another mineral at random, barite. Nothing. Dolomite. Nothing. Sulphur. Nothing. Then, with a horror that could not be described, the entire catalogue of minerals faded from his mind. He'd known the list by heart for a hundred and thirty years, and in that time had never forgotten the smallest detail.

It's just exhaustion, he told himself. You're pushing too hard. Give yourself a chance to recover. He put the failure out of mind, or at least tried to, but the appalling thought kept returning. He hadn't been pushing at all – the recitation had been meant to be a comfort. And from there, only one conclusion was possible. During the escape from Snizort he must have damaged a part of his brain.

Gilhaelith did not try again; he was too afraid. In his long, long life there had been few problems he'd not been able to solve by intellect, geomancy or sheer will. He'd even found a solution to the vexation of human relations – he controlled everyone who came into his life. Those who could not be controlled he simply pushed away. Until Tiaan appeared, emotion had played no part in his existence, or so he liked to think. He was a man governed by pure reason, and if his intellect deserted him, what would he have left?

After a few more days' rest he was mobile again. Gilhaelith was tracing out the familiar journey to the privy for the third time in a few hours, hobbling like an old man, when a lyrinx fell in beside him.

'Would you come this way, please?' she said politely. 'The matriarch wishes to speak with you.'

Her tone gave no indication as to whether Gyrull was pleased or otherwise. He shuffled after her, unable to raise much interest either way. His illness preoccupied him all his waking hours. He had begun to wonder if he would ever recover.

Gyrull was standing at a stone table, an oval slab that rose from the floor on a tapered stalk carved out of the native shale. She was studying a collection of papers but put them aside as he entered.

'My people have come back from Snizort,' she said. 'You were right. There was a residue left behind by the failure of the node.'

'Did they recover it?'

'Unfortunately someone found it first.'

'Who was it?' said Gilhaelith. 'One of the scrutators?'

'It would appear so.'

His idea about the residue at the node-drainer had been an inspired guess. Now that it had been confirmed, Gilhaelith was furiously thinking through the implications. Could the residue have had anything to do with Tiaan's amplimet, its communication with the node and those strange threads it had drawn throughout Snizort? Or had so much power been taken from the node that it had been unable to sustain itself and had collapsed into nothingness – nihilium? Much depended on the answer. And how might it impinge on his life's work, to understand the workings of the world, and control them?

'This residue may give humanity additional confidence,' Gyrull added. 'But then, knowing they have it will benefit us, in a way…'

'How so?' said Gilhaelith.

'Despite their near-defeat at Snizort, the human army is pursuing our Land forces towards the sea. We'll prepare a trap and wipe then out. What do you think of that, Tetrarch?'

'I would be sorry to meat an army' he said, 'whether human or lyrinx.'

'I regret the necessity, but we did not start this war, despite the propaganda of the scrutators. In the early days they rejected every peaceful overture we made. They regard us as abominations, even denying our right to exist. Now that we have the upper hand, and may soon win the war, I won't let the fate of their soldiers stand in the way.'

Gilhaelith was still thinking about the residue. 'SoJ was right about the node.'

'And I keep my bargains. I'll take you wherever you wish, within reason. I can't carry you far into Lauralin, nor to any place that would endanger my own life. Where do you wish to go?'

'I'm not sure,' he said. 'Because of…'

'Your betrayal of the scrutators,' she said helpfully. 'And the Aachim.'

He felt a momentary embarrassment. 'Quite. There are few places in Lauralin where I can live in safety now, unless I dwell in a cave as a hermit. I can't do that – my work is everything to me.' It had been and still was, though the earlier failure had shaken his confidence…

Gilhaelith realised that the matriarch was staring at him. 'I must have my geomantic instruments and be near a node,' he went on, 'preferably a powerful one. I'd prepared a refuge in the far south, but my health isn't good enough to go that far, without servants and loyal guards. Because of my, er, situation, suitable ones may be impossible to find. But…'

'Yes?' she said.

'Were you to give me a safe conduct, and a small number of your human prisoners to provide for my necessities, there's a place in Meldorin which would serve equally well. It's filled with ancient resonances and I could continue my work there.'

'You want me to provide you with servants?' she exclaimed.

'Now you're asking for more than the bargain. Should I agree, what can you offer in return?'

'My aid with problems you may encounter, of a geomantic nature,' said Gilhaelith.

'What makes you think I'm likely to encounter any?'

'I believe you will, as the war progresses. I imagine you may want to further develop your node-drainers, for example.'

'How can I trust a man who has betrayed his own kind in favour of an alien race?' Gyrull said reasonably.

'I'm descended from several human species, not just old humankind, so I don't consider I've betrayed anyone. Besides, you lyrinx are not as alien as you appear. And has not my word always been good?'

'Not always,' she said, 'since you make such a point of it. But it's enough, for the moment. You can't cause too much trouble in Meldorin, I think. Tell me – what is this place you want to go to, filled with ancient resonances?'

'It was called Alcifer, long ago.'

'Alcifer!' Slivers of yellow shone out on her flanks. 'Is that the limit of your needs, or do you demand yet more?'

Her reaction bothered him. 'It can't be more than a few days' flight from here. It was the great city built by Rulke the Charon -'

'Oh, I know all about Alcifer.' Gyrull began to laugh. Lyrinx rarely displayed amusement, but this became a great, sidesplitting guffaw that showed all her hundreds of teeth and made her sides heave like the bellows upstairs. 'Alcifer!'

'Is there some problem?' he said, anxious now. 'You did agree to do this for me…'

'I'm pleased to be able to repay you so easily,' she chuckled 'You could walk there from here. Oellyll is delved into the rock directly beneath Alcifer.'

Eighteen

Ullii was sitting on a rock a pebble's throw away, Staring at Nish, as she had done all morning. She expected something of him and he had disappointed her. What could she want? He liked Ullii and cared about her, but did she really expect him to pick up from where they'd left off, months ago, as though nothing had happened since? It seemed she did – her nature was single-minded, obsessional. Nish could not reciprocate, for his life had been turned inside out and he could not make sense of it. He wished Irisis were here – she understood such things instinctively.

'Let's get moving,' said Flydd.

Nish brushed away the few tracks they had left on the stony ground. Flydd rubbed crushed mustard-bush leaves over their boots and they set off to the north, taking advantage of the cover afforded by vegetation along dry creek beds. It was midday and a sweltering northerly blew in their faces. Nish, who came from a cold and drizzly land, had never experienced such heat. Green, iridescent flies hung about their eyes, noses and mouths, not to mention their wounds and whip marks, and no amount of arm-waving could get rid of them.

'I've swallowed enough flies to make a hearty meal,' he grumbled as they took a hasty break in the early afternoon. 'Where do they come from?' They were sitting under an arch of grey rock, its roof toothed like the mouth of a shark.

'Good eating for maggots, over on the battlefield,' Flydd grunted.

'Can't say the same for us.' Nish was chewing on the stem of a piece of dry grass. It generated a little moisture, which only reminded him how hungry he was. And his boot was coming apart again. He looped another lace through it, knowing it would soon wear through like the others.

Pull your belt in another notch.'

'If I do it'll cut me in half.'

'At least it'll be an end to your infernal griping.'

Nish didn't react – Flydd's carping was almost affectionate these days.

'I'm thirsty,' said Ullii plaintively.

'We'll get water down in that gully, Ullii,' Flydd said. 'It won't be long now.' He treated her far more gently than he did Nish. But then, Ullii never did anything wrong.

The baked earth crunched underfoot as they went out into the sun again. It seemed to grow hotter, and the flies more numerous, with every step. For some reason that Nish could not fathom, they swarmed around Ullii. The little seeker plodded on, not complaining, but in misery.

'Stop for a moment, Ullii.' Flydd tore the bottom off her green smock, knotted the corners into a bag and dropped it over her head. Ullii didn't need to see where she was going.

Several times they saw air-floaters behind them but all were moving around the army camps, or following the lines of clankers being dragged to the north-west. Late in the afternoon, however, one appeared close to the node crater, now two leagues distant. The machine circled it several times, floated upwards, then turned directly towards them.

They were scrambling along the rim of an undulating plateau which afforded a good view but little cover, just scattered mounds of orange boulders, sparse, scrubby undergrowth and occasional small trees twisted into bizarre shapes by the wind. Some distance to their left, a deep ravine cut through a corner of the plateau.

'I don't like it,' said Flydd. The air-floater seemed to be following every twist and turn of their path, as if they had left a trail on the ground. 'How can it track us from that height?'

'What if we were to slip into the ravine?' said Nish.

'Too easy to bottle us up.'

They watched the air-floater in silence. Ten minutes passed. 'It's still tracking us, Nish said anxiously. 'Is there something you haven't been telling mem surr?'

'There are a thousand things I haven't told you!' Flydd exclaimed in vexation. Pulling his tattered trousers up, he felt along his right thigh. With his knife, he made a careful slit that matched the one on the left thigh, and felt inside. After some wincing he withdrew a bloody crystal half the length of his little finger.

Flydd bound the wound with his other sleeve. Limping across to the edge of the ravine, he peered over and tossed the crystal in, underarm. 'I don't know how they could track a charged crystal, but how else could they have followed us?'

'Perhaps they have another seeker/ said Nish, 'and she's sensing some aura it leaves behind.'

Flydd cast him a perceptive glance. 'I hope not. A seeker might locate me, in which case I've wasted my only weapon for nothing. We'll soon find out. Come on.'

Before it grew dark, from a hill only half a league away, they saw the air-floater drop out of the sky into the ravine. 'If they're tracking the crystal, that'll be the end of it; said Flydd. 'We'd better keep going, just in case.'

'I'm at my limit, surr.' Nish felt quite light-headed from hunger. Nothing seemed real any more, and he could hardly think straight. 'My belly feels like a pickled walnut. And my boots are falling to pieces.'

'I thought you'd fixed them.'

'I did, but the leather is worn out.'

'Then you've got a long walk ahead on bleeding feet.'

'Thanks!'

'Sympathy won't get us out of this mess, only sheer bloody-minded toughness. How are you getting on, Ullii?' Flydd was always solicitous of her welfare, though Ullii was nearly as tough' as the old monster himself. Life had taught her to endure. fortunately, the moment the sun had gone down, the flies disappeared. Ullii took off her head-covering and her mask. 'Hungry,' she said softly.

Then we'd better find you something to eat,' said Flydd. 'After all, you're eating for two.'

It was like having a bucket of cold water thrown in his face. Ullii was pregnant? How had that come about? It took Nish a long time to make the link to their lovemaking in the balloon after they had repelled the nylatl. It wasn't that it hadn't mattered to him. It had been a precious moment, but so much had happened since, it seemed like another life. Another him.

That day, he realised, probably marked his delayed transition from youth to adulthood. It seemed so far off; almost like a tale he'd heard about someone else.

'Are you saying that I'm a father?' Nish said, to Flydd rather than to Ullii.

'You will be, in a few months.'

'Why didn't anyone tell me?'

'I assumed you knew.'

'How could I know?' Nish exclaimed. 'I'm not a mind-reader.'

He perched on an angular rock, trying to come to terms with this dramatic, momentous development. He was going to be a father! Nish was so caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that he didn't even look at Ullii, who was watching him anxiously, desperately waiting for some gesture towards her. He gave none, for Nish was still running through the implications. And what would his mother say?

She would not be pleased. Ranii Mhel was a clever, ambitious woman who'd always tried to control her children's lives. Nish could only imagine what she would make of Ullii, who had no family, no money, no education or social graces. As far as Ranii was concerned, it would be the most disastrous match in the history of the world, and she would have no part of it. Ullii would be paid off and sent away with the baby, as far as a ship could take her. Nish would never see her, or his child, again.

And deep down, Nish understood why Ranii would do that. He and Ullii could have no future together, for he could never give her the total, cloying devotion she required. They would tear each other apart, or drive each other mad.

But how could he let her suffer so? Equally important, how could he go through life knowing that his child would never know its father? Plenty of children had lost fathers in the war, but few were abandoned by them. Not his'. Children were infinitely precious. I will not become my father! he thought, and the decision was made.

Nish realised that Ullii was watching him out of the corner of her eye. She must feel exposed, vulnerable, afraid. She was looking for some kind of commitment from him and afraid he would not make one. Afraid that he would not want the child, or her.

On the contrary, Nish was pleased he was going to be a father. After all, everyone was brought up to cherish parenthood, in a world where there were never enough young to replace the people who had died because of the war.

'Oh, Ullii,' he exclaimed, reaching out for her. 'Why didn't you -?'

The blow came from nowhere, knocking him backwards. 'I don't want to have a baby,' Ullii said shrilly. 'And I don't want you!' She fled into the darkness. 'You abandoned me. You never cared about me. I hate you!'

'The balloon carried me away,' Nish cried. 'I couldn't get back.'

He began to run after her but Flydd caught him by the collar. 'It won't do any good. Leave her.'

'How can she blame me?' Nish said, bewildered. 'I was half the world away – I couldn't do anything about it.'

'She needed you but you didn't come back. To Ullii's mind, with her history, that constitutes rejection. And then, in the Aachim camp before the battle, you didn't seem very pleased to see her.'

'I was a prisoner,' said Nish. 'And.., it's hard to show your feelings amongst a crowd of strangers.'

'It's hard to believe you even like her,' said Flydd. 'She's been reaching out to you and you've ignored her.

'I -' Nish hesitated. 'I like Ullii a lot, but…'

'Just as I thought,' Flydd said coolly. 'You want the child but not the mother. Stay here.'

'What was I supposed to do?' said Nish.

'You were supposed to think before you made her pregnant. Some women just want the child and don't care about the father, but Ullii isn't one of them. When she gives, she gives her entire heart, and you've refused it. What is she to make of that, after her tragic life?'

'Can't you make her see sense?' said Nish.

'It would be easier to beat it into your numb cranium.'

'But it's my child too.'

'You took your time about it.' Flydd sighed. 'I'll see what I can do, though it has to be said my credibility with Ullii isn't high either.'

'But…' Nish was confused. How could she not want him? He was the father.

It was a long time before Flydd came back with Ullii, and Nish had plenty of time to fret about what had happened, and fail to understand it. Had she expected an instantaneous declaration of love and commitment? He wasn't like that; he had to think things through and become used to them. It didn't mean he cared any less.

They appeared out of the darkness, right beside him. Ullii could move as silently as a tracker. He could not see her face, so Nish had no idea what kind of mood she was in. Flydd, however, seemed pleased with himself.

'We found a tree in fruit,' he said, pressing a knobbly object, like a bush lemon, into Nish's hand. "Try this. They're rather good.'

Nish broke the skin with his thumbnail. The fruit was soft in places, firm elsewhere, and with the creamy texture of avocado. He peeled the pointed half and bit into it. It had a rich, oily taste, immensely satisfying to a starving man, though a residue clung to the roof of his mouth afterwards. He put the other half in his pocket for later.

'Finish it off' Flydd advised from the darkness.

'I gathered a shirtful.'

Ullii kept her distance and, with Flydd beside her, Nish found no opportunity to talk. They tramped through scrubby bushland then long dry grass before entering a patch of open forest. The moon was rising through the thorny branches sur-rounding a small clearing. It was nearly ten o'clock.

Flydd let out a stifled groan. 'We'll stop for a few hours' sleep. I can't go another ell.'

Nish was surprised the old man had managed to go this distance, with a wound in each leg and his hack a mass of sores. Not daring a fire in case the air-floater was still searching from on high, they felt around on the ground for obstacles before lying down. At least, he and Flydd did. As Nish was working out what to say to Ullii, she disappeared. Perhaps she was curled up in the fork of a tree. There was no point looking, for she could have been anywhere. Tomorrow, he thought. As soon as it's light, we'll sort it all out.

Around midnight, Nish woke with a crick in the back of his neck. The moon cast long shadows across the clearing. He rolled onto his whipped back and had to bite back a groan. Through the trees, in the southern sky, a light flashed and was extinguished, like a silver dagger plunging through black velvet.

'Are you awake, Xervish?' he said softly, touching him on the arm.

'I saw it too.'

'What do you think -'

'I don't want to know,' Flydd murmured, 'but get ready to move.'

'What's the point, if they can find us wherever we go?'

Flydd did not bother to answer. 'Ullii?' he hissed. A small shape detached itself from the trees behind them. She went to Flydd, not to Nish. 'What can you see in your lattice?'

She was as still as the night. The tension in her was palpable. 'Nothing.' she muttered.

There was a long silence. 'I don't believe you, Ullii,' said Flydd.

She walked away into the trees. Nish turned to go after her.

'Leave her, Nish,' said Flydd. 'Something's very wrong. I can feel it.'

They stood together, staring at the field of stars. Nish caught another flash, though this one was the moon catching something high up.

'Was that a night-bird, do you think?' Nish knew it was not, 'It's an air-floater, searching for us, and it hasn't got this close by accident. They must be tracking me, and my only defence is at the bottom of that ravine. Why didn't I think before I threw it away?'

Shortly Nish heard the distinctive whirr of the air-floater's rotor and its silhouette appeared low down in the west.

'Shouldn't we run?' he said.

'It's too late – we can't outrun it. We must make our stand, Nish. Here we survive, or here we fall.'

Here we fall. The air-floater would carry armed, well-fed soldiers. Nish was no warrior and had no weapon. Flydd had only the overseer's knife and the partly unravelled whip. In the dim light Nish looked around for a stick, but all he could find was a sorry, worm-eaten item that would break at the first blow. Just slightly better than nothing, he thought, hefting it above his shoulder.

'I'm beginning to feel something,' Flydd said softly.

'What?'

'There's a weak field here. We must have moved into the influence of another node last evening, though I was too tired to realise it.'

Does that help?'

'It just means I'm not completely defenceless.'

Ullii came drifting through the trees, again going to Flydd. Though it was a warm night, her teeth were chattering. What was the matter with her? She hadn't reacted that way the last time they'd seen an air-floater.

Flydd put am arm around her. 'You can see something in your lattice now can't you Ullia.

She pulled away which was strange. In times of danger she sought out physical contact. See a crystal:

'It's the one in the air-floaters controller, isn't it?

'Yes,' she said, no more than a sigh.

'What else? Can you see any of the people in the air-floater?'

'No' she muttered, in a way that meant, Yes, but I'm not telling you. When piqued, she took pleasure in nurturing her little secrets.

'Of course you can,' Flydd cajoled. 'Surely you can see the pilot? To use the controller, she must have some talent.'

'Hardly any -' Ullii began dismissively.'

He drew her back to him. 'And of course, someone must be directing the air-floater, otherwise they would never have been able to track me. Someone with a considerable talent for the Secret Art. A querist, or perhaps a perquisitor. Maybe even a scrutator!'

She recoiled and tried to get away but Flydd held her firmly. 'Well, Ullii?'

'I can't tell,' she said, struggling furiously. 'I can't see into them. They're hidden.'

'What?' His head jerked up. 'Deliberately hidden? Shielded?'

'Yes.'

'Oh, this is bad. Bad!' Letting her go, Flydd walked across the clearing and back, staring up at the sky. The rotor sound had faded. He took Ullii under his wing again, and this time she did not resist. 'What else, Seeker? Is this person using some kind of device to hunt me down?'

'No.'

'Then how? Is there anyone else on the air-floater with the talent?'

She did not answer.

'There has to be, said Flydd. 'Who is it? Ullii!'

The moon slid between the trees and a single moonbeam touched her face. She looked as if she had just seen her own corpse. Her face was silvery pale, her eyes wide and staring.

'Seeker,' she whispered.

'Another seeker?' Flydd cried.

'Yes…' The word trailed off to oblivion. She stared up at the empty sky.

Flydd took Nish by the arm and drew him across the clearing. 'We've got a problem and I don't know how to solve it.'

'If a seeker is watching you, you can never escape,' said Nish.

'Though I'm wondering if there might not be a way to confuse one. Or even use one against the other.'

'Could be dangerous,' said Nish, 'if Ullii begins to feel sympathetic to her counterpart.'

'Good point. Sometimes I'm glad I've brought you along, Nish.'

Faint praise, but better than nothing. 'How could you confuse a seeker?'

'I can't think.' Flydd went to the other side of the clearing and began tapping his knuckles against the side of a tree. 'If only I had that crystal.'

Ullii was still staring raptly upwards.

'There's no point in trying to find it, I suppose?' said Nish.

"They'd catch us before we got to the ravine.'

'What scrutator powers do you have that could influence the mind of another person?'

Flydd was still tapping. 'I – What's that?'

It was a subtle ticker-tick-tick. 'It's the rotor of the air-floater. They're coming back.'

It sounded as if it was heading right for them, though Nish could not see it.

'Take my knife,' said Flydd. 'I'll be busy with other things. I may have to hypnotise her.'

Thrusting the knife into his belt, Nish said, 'Isn't that a bit lame?'

'Mancery would be like cutting your nails with an axe. It could break her mind. I'd get myself a big stick if I were you.

Nish probed around in the gloom and came up with a better weapon than the wormy branch. The stick, heavy and gnarled on one end, made a fine cudgel, though he'd only get one blow against a swordsman. He moved into the shadows, trying to still his thudding heart.

'Ullii?' called Flydd. 'Come here. I need you for a minute.'

She was standing in the middle of the clearing, staring at the sky.

'Nish?' said Flydd, thinking he was near. 'This is what we're going to do -'

Leaves crackled underfoot and Nish did not catch the rest. He started back towards Flydd, who was an indistinct shape in strips of moonlight and shadow. 'Surr, I didn't hear what you said…' But now Flydd was moving his hands in front of Ullii. Nish caught whispers, soft and sibilant, but could not make out the words.

Suddenly Ullii began to scream. 'No! Get away.' She thrust both hands hard against Flydd's face. His head snapped back and he overbalanced. Wailing, Ullii ran into the trees. Nish hurried across and helped Flydd up.

'Someone must have tried that with her before,' said the scrutator. 'I suppose it was Ghorr, in Nennifer.'

'Or my father,' said Nish.

'As soon as I began, her defences went up.'

'What are we going to do, surr?'

Mistaking the question, Flydd replied, 'I'll have to try stronger measures.' His voice went strange, as if he was choking. 'Though it will be like betraying a friend. I -'

The rotor roared and the air-floater appeared above them, bathed in moonlight, a bladder like a gigantic ovoid football with a boat-shaped compartment suspended beneath it. Soldiers were ranged along the side. At the front a slim figure held an object resembling a stubby spyglass to one eye. The images of machine and men, black and white against the black sky, froze in Nish's inner eye like brushstrokes on paper.

The soldiers moved; it looked as though they were readying crossbows to shoot. With bare seconds to act, Nish did the only thing he could. He hurled his cudgel straight at the rotor.

'No!' hissed Flydd, but it was too late.

The whirling club went true, for once. It flew straight into the wooden rotor, which was not meshed at the back, and smashed it to splinters. Some scythed across the clearing, tearing leaves off the trees and sending up clouds of dust. Others went straight up, tearing through the fabric of the balloon. Floater gas hissed out. The air-floater lifted, hovering for a second before turning over and plunging towards the ground.

'You wretched fool!' cried Flydd. 'If there's a spark when that hits, it'll blow us halfway to Borgistry.'

The air-floater struck hard, hurling soldiers and crew everywhere. There were thuds, snaps, screams. The airbag collapsed. Someone called out in an unnaturally high voice. It was Flydd. What was the matter?

Nish tried to answer but his voice was just as shrill. He waited for the spark that would blow them to pieces, but it did not come.

'Flydd?' he whispered after a minute or two. His voice sounded normal again.

'Here' Flydd said. 'Quiet.'

Someone emerged from the wreckage. It was the slim figure who'd been looking through the spyglass, a young man dressed in white. Long hair streamed down his back like a waterfall of black ink. He disappeared into the shadows.

A pair of soldiers hacked themselves free. One helped out a third soldier, who fell down. A fourth crawled out from under the collapsed gasbag. The first two lunged at Flydd. The fourth soldier came for Nish, limping badly, though his sword cut the air in a professional manner.

The sword flicked out. Nish backpedalled frantically, feeling for his knife. He hit a tree, leapt sideways and almost spitted himself on the soldier's blade, which had anticipated his every move. He slipped on wet leaves and the point crunched into his ribs.

He hurled himself backwards, landing hard in the darkness behind a pair of dose-growing trees. The soldier pushed forwards, feeling with the tip of his weapon to the right of where Nish lay. Nish held his breath.

The sword rustled in the leaves, left and right. Nish tensed. As the soldier moved, one leg was outlined in a sliver of moonbeam. Nish stabbed for the knee. The blade went in, the leg collapsed and the soldier went down.

Nish dared not go for the kill; the man still had the sword. He scuttled away, holding his ribs. Blood was trickling down his side though he felt no pain, so the injury couldn't be that bad.

Peering through the trees, he saw Flydd wrestling with a soldier. The other soldier lay on the ground. Ullii stood by the wreckage, staring into the forest behind the air-floater. The dark-haired man emerged, then froze, staring. She let out a faint cry; he ran at her.

A cloud drifted in front of the moon and Nish lost sight of them. Twigs crackled to his left. He turned slowly, so as not to give away his position. The rustling moved closer. He held his breath, afraid lest even that faint sound should give him away. Nish felt desperately frightened. A civilian with a knife could not hope to defeat a soldier with a sword.

A branch snapped, even closer, and he jumped. A drop of sweat made an itchy trail down his nose. He wasn't game to rub it. A shadow moved just a few steps away. Surely the soldier could smell him from here?

Nish's fist, clenched around the knife, shook. Just keep going, he prayed. He did not want to use the knife – he wanted out of here as fast as possible.

After an agonising wait, the shadow moved on and he lost it in the darkness, though a faint crunch of leaves told him that the soldier was not far away. Nish slid forward, one slow step after another, until he reached the edge of the clearing.

We could hear Ullii making a high-pitched keening sound.

Where was she?

There, close by the air-floater, and she appeared to be struggling with the dark-haired man. Nish could only make tarn out because his clothes were white. Ullii's pale face seemed to be floating in mid-air.

Holding the knife out, Nish tiptoed across the clearing. The man seemed to be wrestling with Ullii, who began to make choking noises. Nish crept closer.

As the moon came out, he threw his arm around the young man's neck and pressed the knife to his back. 'Let her go! Don't move.'

The young man gave a frightened cry, reared backwards and the knife slid into him like a red-hot poker into a block of cheese. He let out a soft sssss, stood up straight and tall, and fell, thumping face-first into the ground.

Ullii threw herself on him, turned him over and tried to lift him. She got him as far as a sitting position before he slumped over again. A silver bracelet glinted on his wrist. A moonbeam caught his glazed eyes. He looked as if he had been dead for a week.

Ullii let out a scream of anguish that froze Nish's blood, and it went on and on. 'Mylii,' she wailed, kissing his face and hands. 'Mylii, come back.'

Nish could only stare at her, the fatal knife hanging from his hand. Mylii?

Flydd came running across, reeking of blood. 'What have you done now?'

'I thought he was trying to choke her,' Nish whispered. 'I tried to stop him but he reared back onto the knife. What is it, Xervish?'

'I hardly dare to think.' Flydd was shaking his head. He squatted beside the seeker, who was frantically trying to rouse the dead man. 'Ullii?'

She did not answer. Ullii began to rock the young man, making a moaning noise in her throat. Flydd conjured ghost light in the palm of his hand and held it out.

Ullii looked up and, momentarily, the two faces were illuminated side by side. Nish's scalp crawled. Apart from the young man's black hair, they were identical.

'Ullii and Mylii, said Flydd in a voice as old as death. How often does that happen?'

'I don't understand; Nish said.

'Twins identical in all respects but their sex.' said Flydd. 'They were separated when she was four, Nish, and the trauma drove Ullii to become the sensitive creature that she is. You've just killed her long-lost brother, Mylii. She's been searching for him all her life.'

Nineteen

Tiaan leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, afraid that she'd not convinced the Aachim. She was a novice at intrigue, while they were experts – especially the cold-eyed Urien.

She was woken by someone at the flap of the tent. It was Thyzzea, with her brother. 'Are you to be my guard again?' said Tiaan, taking comfort from a friendly face. Don't trust, she told herself. Thyzzea is Aachim, too. You have no allies here.

'I am. Vithis is determined to grind my family into the dust.' Thyzzea coloured, as if realising her words could be taken as an insult.

Tiaan politely ignored it. 'What would happen if I escaped?' she asked as Kalle picked her up.

'You would not.' Thyzzea seemed to find the idea amusing.

'I don't suppose so. But, just say I did?'

'Since we are at war, my family and clan would have failed in their duty. We could lose everything, if Vithis so chose.'

It confronted Tiaan with an unexpected problem. No matter how much she told herself not to like Thyzzea, she did. So how could she escape, if Thyzzea and her family would be punished for it?

Kalle carried her through the dark; Tiaan smelt cooking before they reached Thyzzea's tent. A middle-aged woman stood outside, in the light of a glowing globe half-covered in black moths. She was searing meats and vegetables on a metal plate, then stirring them into a bubbling pot. She looked up with the same smile as Thyzzea, though hers was tentative, fretful. She was smaller than her daughter and her hair was red-brown.

'Welcome, Tiaan Liise-Mar' she said. I'm Zea. Switching the ladle to her left hand, she held oat the right. 'What a terrible day. When I think about poor Ghaenis – such a world this is.' Seeing the despairing look on her daughter's face. Zea said, 'Come inside, child. Put it out of mind, just for the moment.'

Tiaan shook hands. 'Are you Thyzzea's mother?'

'And bound to regret it.' Her quiet amusement was reflected in Thyzzea's face. They had the capacity to submerge their pain, these Aachim. 'I'm joking, of course. Thyzzea is a daughter entirely without faults.'

Thyzzea rolled her eyes, but shortly the despair was back. The grief was more than she could cover up.

Tiaan liked Zea instantly. Like her daughter, she seemed so normal. The other Aachim Tiaan had met were remote and wrapped up in their own affairs. 'Dinner smells good,' she said, unable to remember when she'd last had a full meal.

'I hope it isn't too hot for you.' Zea exchanged glances with her daughter.

'After being interrogated by Urien and Vithis, it won't seem hot at all.'

Again that exchange of glances. 'Urien,' said Zea with a little shiver.

Shortly they were sitting in the tent, in surprisingly comfortable metal chairs, with bowls on their laps. Tiaan was about to take the first sip when the flap opened and a man came wearily in. He was of modest stature, trim and well proportioned, but with the same dark-red hair as his son. He looked exhausted, his clothes were torn and muddy, and the front of his shirt was stained with purple blood.

Zea ran to embrace him, her eyes moist. Thyzzea followed, and Kalle clasped his father's hands. The man's gaze swept across the room to Tiaan; he checked for an instant then came on.

'I'm Tiaan' she said, placing her bowl on the floor and putting out her hand. 'I'm sorry – I can't stand up.' He flinched, shot a glance at Zea, then took Tiaan's hand. 'Tiaan, of the flying construct. My name is Yrael. We are your rs, I presume?' I'm afraid so. I'm sorry for the trouble -'

He gave her a genuine smile-. The folk of Clan Elienor recovered quickly. 'Guest right is yours while-ever you are under our roof.'

'But…'

'First Clan will do what they can to bring us down, whether you're here or not. Let's say no more about it. How is the water, Zea?'

'Running low, but there's enough for a hero of the battlefield to wash his face and hands.'

She followed him into the other room, her arm linked through his. Water splashed in a metal bowl and shortly he returned, dressed in clean clothes. He took a bowl, filled it, and they sat in silence while they ate.

After the meal, Zea opened a flask of wine and poured them each a small portion.

'This is our strong wine,' said Thyzzea, sniffing delicately at her goblet. 'For special times and honoured guests.'

Tiaan raised her glass and said, 'To the good fortune of Clan Elienor, wherever it may be.'

'To Clan Elienor,' they echoed, after which Kalle went to his room and his studies.

'If you will excuse me,' said Yrael to Tiaan, 'I must speak to Zea about the war.'

'Would you like to carry me outside?'

'I've nothing to say that an honoured guest may not hear.'

'What is the news?' said Zea. 'There are a thousand rumours, though if there's truth in any of them I've not sorted it out.'

'The lyrinx have gone, apart from the last few still creeping out of hidden tunnels delved deep inside Snizort. Who knows how they survived the cataclysm? The human armies have begun to drag their clankers north-west to the nearest field, using teams of animals, soldiers and slaves. Rumour has it that Scrutator Flydd, with whom we negotiated recently, is now one of the slaves. The old humans fall on each other like dogs.' Glancing at Tiaan, he looked abashed. 'I'm sorry. That was ill-mannered of me.'

'How long will it take for them to haul away all their rattletrap clankers?' asked Zea.

'Many days, though they'll be long gone before we move any of our constructs.'

'Do you think they might help us?'

'Not after Vithis snatched Tiaan from under the scrutators' noses.'

'I had not heard that,' said Zea.

'Did you hear about Ghaenis?' asked Yrael.

'Tiaan and I were there,' Thyzzea cut in. 'It was horrible, Father.'

'Yet I'm told Vithis still presses to use the amplimet,' said Zea. 'What will come of it?'

'Such a dangerous device. Some of the clans,' he named several on his fingertips, 'consider that the crystal should be destroyed, unused. I confess that I think so too.'

'And others want to use it whatever the cost,' said Zea. 'Especially Clan Nataz.'

'That's so. Dissatisfaction is building with Vithis's leadership, particularly among Clans Nataz and Dargau, who have been intriguing for the amplimet since the moment they knew of its existence. Tirior has done everything she could to stymie Vithis's plans, so as to create an opportunity to seize it. Nataz is not displeased at Clan Inthis's fall' He turned to Tiaan as if feeling a need to explain. 'When we came to Santhenar, we should have met your leaders at once, and parleyed for land. There's plenty here for all and we had much to offer humanity. What could the scrutators have done but agree? They could not send us back.'

'Vithis could not humble himself,' said Zea, her eyes contracted to steely points. 'Embittered by misfortunes of his own making, he must seize first and make demands.'

'He hasn't taken any land,' said Tiaan. 'He will once he gets what he really wants,' said Zea. 'Your flying construct. His obsession has cost us dearly and the clans are close to rebellion. Abandoning all our long-laid plans, he brought us to this bloody battlefield in pursuit of your flier.' She laid a hand on her husband's arm. 'Be sure your heroism and sacrifice is appreciated… What is it, Yrael?1

Yrael began to flush in waves of deep red until his face seemed to be on fire. He rose abruptly, to pace the room with jerky steps, head bent. After half a dozen turns he sat down again, meeting Zea's eyes.

'We're not heroes!' he said harshly. 'We weren't allowed to be.'

'What are you saying, Yrael?'

'The clan leaders would not allow us to fight beside our old human allies. They pulled us back time and again. When our allies looked desperately for our aid, it was not there, and they died for it. We are deeply shamed.'

Zea stared at him, her hands over her mouth. 'But you're the leader of Clan Elienor…'

'Not on the battlefield. Our clan was commanded by Vithis and I had no say in the matter.'

'But this is terrible, to have so let down our allies when they needed us. The old humans must be calling us cowards.'

'With reason,' Yrael said heavily.

'So we've lost thousands of young lives, and more injured, for nothing! And our supplies are running low, we'll surely have to abandon our constructs. Once that happens, we'll be beggars in a hostile land.' Zea's voice rose. 'So why are we here, Yrael?'

'That's what I keep asking myself.' Yrael sat with head, bowed. 'We'll have to plunder to survive and the whole of Santhenar will rise up against us.'

Zea made an effort to be the one in control. 'This is a big world and there's land aplenty. In the last year of the war humanity have lost more people than all our population put together. If we deal honourably with them surely they will embrace us.'

'I doubt that, said Yrael, though I agree it's our best course.'

'Clan Dargau urge war against humanity.' said Zea. To strike hard, seize what we need and be ready to hold it.'

'Dargau have always been warmongers.' Yrael contemplated his untouched goblet. 'Though when it comes to the sticking point they prefer to risk the lives of other clans.'

'Rumour tells that the enemy have fled,' said Zea. 'Is that so, Yrael?'

'They've withdrawn but I doubt that they're far away. We're terribly vulnerable, should they attack again.'

He looked afraid and it spread to the others, but Zea said, 'If it comes to that, we'll fight – even if we must fight barehanded. We won't go meekly to our deaths. In the meantime, we must attend to our dead.'

'We begin recovering the bodies in the morning. Luxor is designing a memorial and we'll work together on a protection for it.'

Tiaan could only admire them. Even in such peril, they were driven to honour their fallen. 'Urien warned Vithis against using the amplimet,' she said into the silence. 'But he says there's no other way to save the constructs.'

'He may be right,' Yrael agreed, 'though after today, who would dare?'

'Urien suggested that they force me,' said Tiaan.

'Such dishonour!' said Zea.

'And folly,' added Yrael. 'In ancient times an amplimet almost destroyed our civilisation and undermined our very world.'

'What happened?' asked Tiaan.

'I don't know. It occurred before our clan was founded, and the whole truth has never been revealed,' said Yrael. 'It's said that not even Urien, Matah of Aachim-kind and Keeper of the Secrets, knows all. Some chroniclers say that the Charon found our world because we had used that crystal, and their led to thousands of years of slavery. You should be very afraid of the amplimet, Tiaan.'

Kalle came hurtling in. 'Vithis is coming for Tiaan.' Thyzzea covered her face with her hands.

Tiaan was back in Vithis's tent. It must have been long after midnight. The interrogation had been going on for some time, and the differences between him and Urien were more acute than ever. Urien had rejected his proposal to use the amplimet, whereupon Vithis tried another tack – to employ it to uncover the secret of flight.

'With flight,' said Vithis, pacing back and forth, 'we can recover all that we've lost.'

'Except the lives!' Urien countered. 'I forbid it, Vithis. We must cut our losses, abandon the stranded constructs and go.'

'Flight is the only thing that can save us. I won't give it up.'

'Tiaan doesn't know how to explain what she does,' said Urien. 'We can't indulge you any longer, Vithis.'

'I'm not walking away from a fleet of constructs, carrying my goods on my back like a homeless vagabond.'

'You don't have any choice.'

'I want to put Tiaan at the controller of a construct,' said -Vithis. 'If she truly needs no more than the amplimet, she can make it fly. And if not, she can tow the other constructs to safety.'

'You'll only succeed in destroying her, and probably yourself as well.'

'She's been using it for months, so she doesn't have our vulnerability.'

'It can develop over time,' Urien said ominously.

Tiaan looked from one to the other, fearful of the consequences no matter who prevailed.

'Those who fear the crystal can walk to Gospett,' snapped Vithis. 'I got us into this situation and I will get us out, with our fleet intact. And if I don't, you may elect a new leader. Just give me the chance, Urien.'

Urien stared at him, unblinking, for a very long time. 'Very well,' she said. 'But you may make one attempt only.'

'I'll begin right away,' Vithis said.

Tiaan, afraid as she had never been afraid before, was carried to the nearest construct and strapped into die seat. The night was as black as the pits at Snizort.

Vithis, holding the amplimet between a folded sheet of platinum, slid it into its cavity. Tiaan, find a suitable field and make this construct fly.'

She was going to be exposed as a liar. What was she to do? Tiaan took a deep breath then drew just enough power to lift the construct off the ground. She pretended to strain for more as she drew upwards on the flight knob. The construct did not move, of course, and then the field slipped from her mind. She couldn't concentrate for fear of the amplimet taking charge, as it had done to Ghaenis.

'What are you doing?' said Vithis sharply, as if suspecting her of sabotage.

'This is how I made my thapter fly,' Tiaan lied. She wiped her face and tried again. 'It's not working,' she said in a small voice.

'Try harder!'

'Don't push her,' snapped Urien. 'That kind of talent must be coaxed.'

'I'm sorry.' Vithis bowed to the Matah. 'Zeal overcame my good sense for the moment.'

After pretending to make several more attempts, Tiaan said, 'I can't seem to work the balance correctly. The field isn't oscillating at all.'

'You're not trying,' said Vithis. 'You made Tirior's construct fly in a few minutes.'

'That was different,' Tiaan said, white-faced. 'We were all going to die. My talent just flowed.'

'If you're keeping the secret from us,' Vithis said fiercely, 'I'll make sure you regret it.'

'Threats aren't the answer,' said Urien. 'If she goes the way of Ghaenis, we've got nothing.'

He regained control of himself. 'Will you try again, Tiaan?' Vithis said softly.

Urien had shown Tiaan the way out, though she had to make it convincing. She drew power hard, as much as she could bear safely, then a little more. To her relief, the con-struct's mechanism spun up to a roar. Could she make the field oscillate, to convince them?

She fed power into the field, drew hard, then fed it back even harder. The roar from below rose to a screech, died to nothing and rose again. Suddenly the construct whirled like a top, throwing the Aachim against the side, though Tiaan had not moved the controller.

Vithis let out a muffled curse, Urien a cry of fear. Tiaan could feel her hair standing up, smell the ends beginning to smoulder. Her cheeks grew hot; her vision blurry. She rubbed her eyes. She could just make out Vithis and he wasn't convinced. She had to make him believe, and it had to be done quickly. She could not withstand him much longer.

She forced more power through the controller, then back into the field, then out, then back again, until the field began to go whoomph-whoomph, whoomph-whoomph like a fire driven by a bellows. Even with her eyes open, she could see its patterns beating all around her.

So could Urien, for she cried out in alarm, 'Enough, Vithis. This isn't right.'

'Keep on, Tiaan,' he grated.

The mechanism let out a metallic screech and began to thump itself to pieces. A burning pain flared up Tiaan's middle. She tried to cut off the field but power kept flowing -the amplimet had taken over. She'd gone too far.

She opened her mouth to scream but only steam came out. The burning intensified. Even her eyes felt hot. Tiaan had no idea what to do about it. She could no longer think straight.

Vithis was staring at her in horror. He cried out a warning but his words emerged as a dry croaking, like a frog caught in a forest fire..'

Urien slammed her fist down on the release. The amplimet shot out of its cavity and she fumbled it out of the air in agetwisted fingers, grimacing as though it had burned her. Still holding it, she uttered three words in a guttural tongue. Tiaan's pain eased. Urien hastily wrapped the crystal in the platinum sheet and thrust it into her pocket.

Tiaan fell off her seat, hanging by the belt. As she swooned, Urien's crackling voice came to her.

'You're a bigger fool than I thought, Vithis. Are you satisfied now?'

He was staring at Tiaan as if he expected her to explode in his face. He looked as if he were going to be sick.

Tiaan came to as she was being carried to the healers' tents Vithis and Urien were still arguing.

'You will abandon the search for flight, as of now,' Urien said coldly, 'or I will dismiss Inthis from the Register of the Eleven Clans.'

'Inthis has always been First Clan!' he cried. 'And it was re-chosen just one year -'

'Only because you manipulated the votes,' came Tirior's voice from the other side. 'Inthis is not fit, Urien. Do you know what Vithis really did to my son?'

'Go on,' said Urien in a deadly voice.

'He made it a matter of honour for Ghaenis to use the amplimet, knowing that he was too noble to refuse. Vithis killed him -'

'He begged me for it,' said Vithis, rigidly controlled.

'You didn't have to agree.'

'He convinced me that he had the best chance of anyone, because you had taught him how it was to be used.'

'Tirior?' Urien said sharply. 'Is that so?'

'Ghaenis and I had spoken about it; Tirior said reluctantly.

'I knew it,' said Vithis. 'You put him up to it and now blame me to ease your own guilt.'

'That's a lie! Dismiss him and his clan, Urien. Put them below Clan Elienor.'

'You hypocrite!' Vithis cried furiously. 'And all this after you took Minis, the sole survivor of Inthis First Clan, into Snizort, in defiance of my direct order that he remain in our main camp.'

'So that's what this is all about,' said Tirior. 'Your shabby revenge.'

'Explain your actions, Tirior,' Urien said sharply.

Minis begged me, over and over, to take him with me. I rightly refused but he kept pestering me, and finally used his rank to countermand my order. There are witnesses, not of my clan.'

'I've spoken to them,' said Vithis. 'They say you preyed on his weakness for Tiaan. You took Minis into Snizort hoping he would die there, and Clan Inthis with him. Clan Nataz has always chafed at its inferior status and you'd take any risk to raise it above its station.'

'I brought Minis safely out of Snizort,' said Tirior. 'You killed my son and heir.'

'Tiaan brought Minis out. She saved your life, and his.'

'Enough!' said Urien. 'The clan leaders will determine the rights and wrongs, later. Put your grievances aside. We must find a way out of here.'

'We must, but who dares risk the fate of my son?' said Tirior.

They were walking across uneven ground. Tiaan kept her eyes firmly closed, though brightness on her eyelids indicated that it was morning. It was hard to concentrate on what they were saying, for she hurt inside as if scalding water had been poured down her throat.

'Urien could use it,' said an unknown voice.

The person who was carrying Tiaan stopped dead. Someone let out a shocked cry. Another said, 'How dare you insult the Matah of all the Aachim?'

'I'm sorry,' said the unknown voice. 'I allowed myself to be carried away.'

'No need to apologise,' said Urien. 'The Matah has a duty to her people, as much as they to her. And here is my reply. I might use the amplimet once or twice, and get away with it, but not even I could employ it every day for weeks, as would be required to save our constructs.'

'What if we took it in turns?' said Vithis. 'If our strongest, all volunteers, could iust use it for a few hours each, we could save some of our constructs.'

'Yes, show us the way, Vithis,' Tirior said venomously.

The silence was finally broken by Urien.

'How can I do that and leave my clan undefended?' he said.

'Inthis Last Clan,' sneered Tirior. 'Cowards all!'

'There will be no volunteers,' said Urien, 'for most would die as horribly as Ghaenis did. And there are greater risks…'

'Not here!' cried Tirior.

'We must talk about the other problem I said Urien.

'What problem?' said a dreary voice that Tiaan recognised as Luxor, chief of Clan Izmak.

'The amplimet communicated with the nodes at Snizort, Booreah Ngurle and Tirthrax, where it went close to unbinding the trapped Well of Echoes.'

'So it is like the one that nearly brought down our world in ancient times,' said Luxor heavily. 'I feared as much. It would be better to destroy the amplimet and walk away from our constructs. Even if we abandoned all these here, we still have five thousand near Gospett, and elsewhere. Nothing on Santhenar can match them.'

'The old humans would take apart the abandoned ones,' said Vithis, 'and soon learn to make their own. Where would we be then? And there's another matter. The lyrinx have not gone very far. If they attack in the night, they could wipe us out. We can't risk it.'

'What are we to do?'

'How is Tiaan?' asked Urien.

Tiaan felt the cool hands of a healer on her brow. 'She'll recover,' said an unknown voice, 'though she'll be in much pain when she comes round. You'll get nothing out of her today or tomorrow.'

'Give her the best treatment we have,' Vithis ordered. 'Don't spare our most precious medicines. Tiaan must be ready by dawn the day after tomorrow. She must use the amplimet to tow our constructs to safety.'

It seemed that other Aachim had joined them on their long walk. 'Even if Tiaan were an enemy, this would be a dishonourable act. But she's a hero who saved us from extinction. This is sheer infamy!'

Two more voices, both unknown, objected just as strenuously.

'What do you say, Urien?' said Vithis. Do you still forbid it?'

She did not answer at once. There was silence for several minutes, broken only by the tramping of many feet. 'I have agonised about this all evening and night. I've weighed the arguments. Every choice represents a hazard.'

'And your decision?' said Vithis.

'You may use Tiaan to try and save our constructs, but for no other purpose, and it must be done with great care.'

'I will not put my name to it,' cried Luxor.

'Overruled,' said Urien. 'My position on this amplimet is well known – I hate and fear it – but Vithis has convinced me that we have no choice. We must wield this perilous crystal for our very survival.'

'Then our Syndic must be told of these matters,' said the second unknown voice, 'and given the opportunity to debate -'

'There's no time,' said Urien. 'Vithis, your leadership is suspended. In this emergency, I've no.choice but to rule by decree. We will use Tiaan and deal with the consequences afterwards.'

'How dare you subvert the very founding principles of our Syndic?' cried a new voice, high in outrage.

'The Matah is above the clans, and even the leader,' Urien reminded them. 'In an emergency that threatens our survival, it is my duty.'

That only raised more outrage, until Urien declared in a voice that brooked no disobedience, 'It is done in the name of the Matah. Let anyone challenge it at peril of their life and their clan!'

Silence fell, long and pregnant. Tiaan could hear her heart thumping.

'What if the crystal comes to the second stage of awakening and takes control of her?' said Luxor. 'Should it break out to fulfil its destiny, we won't be able to stop it.'

'From what she's told us.' said Urien, the amplimet is far from ready. We'll salvage all the constructs we can, for as long as her body can take it.'

'We will rue this dishonourable day for as long as our Histories last,' said Luxor.

'How will we write this into our Histories?' said another objector. 'How will we explain it to our children, and their children?'

'History is as it is written,' said Urien. 'It will be recorded thus: Tiaan begged to be allowed to aid us in our extremity, out of her great love for our kind, and recognising that Aachim are the superior species.'

'You would put a lie into the Histories?' said Luxor incredulously.

'Once it's in the Histories, it is truth.'

'Not if everyone knows otherwise.'

'All other Aachim will be kept away from her. How will they know?'

'I know,' muttered Luxor. 'I will make it known.'

'Then you have your own dilemma. Let it be done.'

'What if -?' Luxor began. 'What if the worst comes to pass and the crystal reaches the third stage – full awakening? Would you risk this world, too?'

'We'll stop well short of the node,' said Vithis. 'The amplimet won't be able to get close enough to draw real power.'

'And if it takes over Tiaan?'

'Archers will be standing by in the towed constructs,' said Urien. 'And mancers, alert for any sign that the crystal is overpowering her. If they detect such signs, the archers will be ordered to shoot to kill.'

Even Vithis let out a muffled cry at that. Perhaps he was remembering that Tiaan had saved Minis from a fiery death. It was all Tiaan could do to remain silent as they reached the healers' tent and carried her within.

'It's a shabby way to treat someone who saved all our lives,' said Luxor.

If she knew what a fully woken amplimet would do to her,' said Urien, 'she'd thank us on bended knees.'

Twenty

There was shouting in the night, not far from Thyzzea's tent. Recognising Minis's voice, Tiaan looked out the window flap.

'How dare you abuse her so!' Minis roared, struggling against a number of guards.

Shortly Vithis came running and, after a low-voiced argument, Minis went away with him. Tiaan was pleased to see him go. Whether sincere or not, Minis could do nothing for her.

She was woken before dawn by Thyzzea, who handed her a steaming mug. 'You must be quick, Tiaan. Vithis will soon be here. I brought you clothes, since yours are.., in need of cleaning.' That was a politeness. Tiaan's clothes were no better than tar-stained rags. 'Do you need help to dress?'

'Thank you,' said Tiaan, Taut I'm used to doing it.'

Once Thyzzea had gone, she eased her legs out of bed. Her thigh and calf muscles ached but she had more coordination than before; more strength too. She was able to stand up and take a couple of halting steps, and it felt like a personal triumph.

The red drink practically needed to be eaten with a spoon. It was sweet, with a slightly bitter under-taste that she came to appreciate by the time she had finished, for without it the beverage would have been cloyingly rich.

The clothes fitted well enough. She was dressed and sitting at the table, eating bread and hot sausage, when Vithis burst through the flap of the tent.

'Time to go to work. Bring her, Guard!

Thyzzea put her head through the door of her parents' room, said something and picked Tiaan up. Vithis set off with great strides, so that Thyzzea had to trot to keep up.

'What do you want of me?' Tiaan asked Vithis as they crossed between row after row of silent constructs. She knew, but wanted to hear him say it.

You're going to operate my construct with the amplimet, and tow the other machines to the nearest field. Thyzzea will guard you, and if you attempt to escape, her family will suffer the prescribed penalty.'

At the furthest end of the row, Vithis stopped at a construct that was somewhat larger than most others. Its hatch was open. Aachim ran back and forth, packing gear into it and into a number of other constructs. Each was connected to the first by stout ropes, around which were looped finer cables that ran underneath.

Vithis climbed in. Thyzzea followed, struggling under Tiaan's awkward weight. Vithis handed Tiaan the package, wrapped in platinum, which she unfolded to reveal the amplimet. Again she felt that blind terror, but fought it down. The amplimet offered the only hope of escape for her, too.

'This machine is linked to six others,' said Vithis. 'Once you draw power, they will take enough to rise off the ground and maintain direction, though not to drive themselves. Do nothing hastily. Don't attempt to escape. I'll be with you the whole time, and I have two guards in the following construct, armed with crossbows.'

Tiaan was not planning to escape just yet. First she must be able to walk, even run.

Vithis climbed onto the rear platform, looking back. 'All is ready. Begin, very slowly.'

The nearest node lay not too many leagues to the south. Though small and nondescript, weak and wavering, she could use it. Locking onto its field, she drew power smoothly. The construct rumbled and rose up to hip height. She looked over her shoulder at Vithis, who was shivering with tension. Small wonder.

'All is well,' he said. 'Head directly towards the node. Take it steadily or you'll break the cables.'

She eased the lever and the construct crept forward until the slack of the first tether was taken up The machine shook as the weight of the second construct came on the line. A dull ache tickled across the top of her skull. Tiaan rubbed the spot with her fingers and drew more power.

So it went until all six constructs were underway. After that it was routine, though the work was draining. She headed south towards the node, the construct moving across undulating plains at slightly more than walking pace, in the general direction of Gospett. There was no sign of life. The once plentiful game had been slaughtered to feed the armies.

'Go round in a circle and stop,' called Vithis some hours later. The constructs behind him were signalling. 'They can see the field.'

They were in a circular valley with a rim of low hills on all sides. White quartzite outcropped in lines across the slope, and along the crest. A dry creek, its bed filled with white pebbles, meandered across the floor of the valley. Its path was marked by trees with slate-blue pendulous leaves and hanging purple fruits like curly beans.

'Set up camp here and dig a pit in the creek bed. We'll find good water there.'

Vithis gave orders for the layout of the camp and his people ran to carry them out. The constructs were unhooked, disgorging about a hundred Aachim. The cables were reloaded into Tiaan's construct. The others moved under their own power, making a defensive ring around the camp.

'Head back to the Snizort camp, Tiaan/ said Vithis, smiling. She'd not thought him capable of it. 'Make all the speed you can.' He came down from the turret to stand beside her, leaving a wide gap between them.

Tiaan glanced up at his stern profile and, despite the way he'd treated her, for the first time she felt a trace of empathy. Vithis had lost everything. She could not truly understand his loss, but she could feel it, and it reminded her of something that had been troubling her for a long time. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, afraid he would blame her again.

But surely, in spite of everything he'd done to her, it would e wrong not to tell him. She flipped back and forth as they floated along then, when they were halfway back, it just burst out of her.

'I heard them!' Tiaan said suddenly.

'What?' He roused from his thoughts.

'When the gate opened, in Tirthrax…'

He spun around, staring at her. 'Yes? Yes?'

'I heard a host of people crying out in agony.'

He put his hands on her cheeks, probing her eyes with his own. 'What did you hear?'

'They were lost' she said softly, closing her eyes and immersing herself in the horror of it. 'Lost in the void. It was terrible.'

'You heard,' he said. 'Ah, my clan, my clan!' He began to weep, but dashed the tears away. 'Before I do anything else, my dead must be honoured. I will find them and bring their bodies back, no matter how far I have to go or how long it takes.' He sprang out through the hatch.

When she looked back he was standing in the shooter's turret, legs spread, grim face fixed on the horizon. His cloak streamed out in the wind, lifting his hair, which had changed from black to silver since his coming to Santhenar. Tiaan wished she had not spoken.

Vithis worked Tiaan without respite. For the next trip, ten constructs were linked to hers, and on the one after that, fourteen, and they travelled more quickly. It took the most intense concentration to draw enough power, and keep it flowing smoothly. The amplimet could handle it, though Tiaan was not sure how much more she could take. The inside of her skull felt as if hot channels had been bored through it. Once, using her talent had been pure pleasure and the highest fulfilment she could imagine. No more – now there was just pain and a feeling of being driven beyond her strength. She wasn't a human being, or even a slave. She was just a tool to be used and discarded when it was worn out.

They stopped for lunch in the mid-afternoon, while twenty constructs were linked to her machine On the trip after that, the number was thirty. By the time she had hauled all those to the field, it was long after dark.

There was no break, apart from dinner eaten while they waited for another thirty to be linked up. They kept going all through the night, pulling thirty each time, Vithis driving her mercilessly. Dawn revealed another thirty, ready to be linked up, but Tiaan could do no more.

'My brain is burning.' Unfastening her belt, she slid off the chair onto the metal floor.

Thyzzea and one of the soldiers carried Tiaan out, laying her on the brittle grass. A healer was brought, then Urien appeared and laid her hands on Tiaan's head.

'No harm has been done,' said Urien, 'hut you must take better care of her, Vithis.'

'We've moved only a hundred and forty constructs,' said Vithis. 'At this rate it'll take six weeks.'

'That's a hundred and forty more than was thought possible yesterday, and if you work her to death you'll get no more.'

'In two weeks our supplies will run out, Urien!'

'Surely you understand the risk you're taking?'

All right!' he said. 'But there's got to be a way.'

Tiaan lay in a daze, watching as Vithis held a heated conference with Urien, Tirior, and other Aachim she did not know.

A buzzing started in her ears, and hot flushes began to radiate out from the centre of her head. Tiaan heard sounds like speech but could no longer make out the words. She turned over, shielding her face from the sun.

Thyzzea helped Tiaan to a seat in the shade and the symptoms gradually faded. She was sitting there, sipping at a cool drink, when Vithis and Urien approached.

'How are you feeling?' said Urien.

Tiaan told her. 'You're killing me.'

'We've got to move the constructs faster,' said Vithis. 'Should the lyrinx come back we'll be defenceless.' 'We've faced this problem before,' said Urien. "There may be a way. Your sickness is not from the amount of power you're drawing, Tiaan, but the source!

'I don't understand; said Tiaan.

'You're taking all that power from one small field and the draw is too concentrated; that's why it's damaging you. But if you were to draw from a number of fields at once, spreading the load evenly, you could take as much, or even more, without harm.'

'I've tried it before. As soon as I turn to the new field, I lose track of the old.'

Urien rose, drawing Vithis out of earshot. They had another long, heated argument before heading their separate ways.

'What was that about?' Tiaan asked Thyzzea after they had gone.

'It has to do with forbidden knowledge, and the danger of giving it to you.'

'What forbidden knowledge?'

'I don't know.'

'Suppose that it works,' said Tiaan, 'and the constructs are saved. What then?'

'Better to ask my father that,' said Thyzzea, looking worried. 'But…'

'Yes?'

'How could they ever let you go?'

Twenty-one

Ullii had gone, fleeing into the night. Nish began to run after her but Flydd took hold of his collar. 'You'll only make it worse, if that's possible. She'll come back when she has to – I hope!

'I have to explain,' Nish said desperately. 'I've got to tell her I'm sorry. It was an accident, surr. She'll think I don't care.'

'You'll never find her,' said Flydd. 'No one is better at hiding than Ullii.'

'What if she doesn't come back? What about my child?'

'You'd better pray she does, for all our sakes. And that when she does, you know what to say to her.'

What could he say? I'm sorry I killed your long-lost brother, Ullii. I didn't mean to. It was pointless.

They searched the clearing, using Flydd's ghost light. Both of his opponents were dead, as was the soldier by the air-floater. The one Nish had wounded in the leg had fled, leaving only a few specks of blood on the leaf litter. There were three more bodies in the wrecked air-floater, two soldiers and the pilot, a young woman who looked unharmed but was already growing cold. She had a broken neck.

Nish stood by her, his guts crawling with horror. She had been younger than he was. The young soldier, too. 'How could everything have gone so wrong?' he said softly. 'I tried so hard.'

'I told you I wanted to capture the air-floater,' said Flydd, glaring at Nish like an executioner choosing his next victim.

'I didn't hear your orders, surr. I was coming across to ask you what you'd said-'

'Couldn't you have thought before you threw your cudgel?'

'There was no time. The air-floater was coming down fast, surr, and I knew we couldn't deal with that many soldiers. If they'd landed, they'd have had us. I reacted instinctively.'

Surely it was obvious that I planned to escape in it?'

'No surr, it wasn't. I'm sorry.'

I was going to rendezvous with Irisis and Fyn-Mah, then stop your wretched father before he attacks the lyrinx and destroys another army. Now its fate is out of my hands. All I can do is run like the whipped cur I am.'

Nish hung his head. What a miserable, useless worm he was. He wanted to crawl under a rock and die. The wound in his side was painful but had stopped bleeding, so, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, he didn't mention it.

'Why so few in the air-floater?' said Flydd to himself.

'Perhaps the others got out on the other side of the forest.'

Flydd took no notice. 'Who was directing them? This search must have been led by a querist, at the very least, but there's no sign of one. Unless this seeker was doing it, shielded from us and under their control.'

Nish was sure he knew what Flydd was thinking: that he, Nish, was the most worthless fool who had ever drawn breath. That his father had been right – he was a walking disaster.

'I'll keep going north,' said Flydd. 'Not that I can do anything there, except sweat blood about the war. At least with Mylii dead they won't be able to track me.'

'Do you want me to come too?' Nish asked in a low voice. The way Flydd was talking, Nish was afraid of being left behind.

'Want?' said Flydd. 'Of course I don't want you – though I suppose I've got to have you.' He gave Nish a furious glare, then relented. 'Come on, lad, put it behind you. You clearly didn't know I planned to take the air-floater, and maybe you were right. Six soldiers probably were beyond me. In other circumstances you'd be a hero.'

'But I killed Mylii, surr.'

'A tragic accident that could have happened to anyone. Besides, he reared back onto the knife after you told him to hold still, so you can hardly be blamed for it.'

'I thought he was attacking Ullii' said Nish. 'I was trying to save her, and now he's dead – an innocent man.'

'You were doing your best, so let's say no more, eh? Besides, it remains to be seen whether he was innocent.'

'What do you mean?'

'Was he embracing his sister, or holding her for the soldiers? Did he put his arms around her because he loved her, or because Ghorr ordered him to find her? But enough of this speculation – fit yourself out and gather what food you can, and make it snappy.'

They replaced their rags with clothes from the victims, the least bloodstained garments they could find. Nish's were too big, but he found a pair of boots that were roughly his size, and a hat. In ten minutes they were ready. Pilfered packs contained spare clothing, food for a couple of weeks, water bottles and all the other gear that soldiers carried. Nish had a shiny new sword, unused by the look of it. Flydd had taken the hedron from the air-floater's controller, as well as the chart-maker's spyglass, which had survived the crash.

'Not sure what use this will be,' he said, tossing the crystal in his hand. 'But you never know. Let's go. This place will be swarming with scrutators in a few hours.'

Are we going to the rendezvous?'

'There's no point. By the time we walked all that way, Irisis would be long gone. You can't hide an air-floater in country like this.'

'Where are we going?'

'Into the wilderness.' Flydd smiled grimly, as if at some private joke.

'What about Ullii?' Nish's voice squeaked. 'We can't leave her.'

'There's no way of knowing where she is. If she wants to find us she will, though that's hardly likely now.'

He said it without rancour, but Nish cringed.

It was another sweltering day. They walked all that morning, taking advantage of the cover along creeks, mostly dry, and ridges, whenever they ran in the right direction, which was not often. They saw no sign of Ullii.

In the afternoon, Nish began to flag. The wound in his ribs grew increasingly painful but he could not stop to attend to it. He was continually falling behind and Flydd kept yelling at him to keep up. The scrutator had not mentioned Mylii's death again but Nish ached with guilt.

Flydd seemed to be making for a hill knobbed with round red boulders, one of many in this endless landscape of undulating plains and gentle mounded hills. Nish up-ended his water bottle but the few drops it contained barely wet his tongue. They had crossed half a dozen watercourses in the afternoon, all dry. He sat on a rock, staring at the ground. It was hard to find the will to go on. Every moment of the day he'd regretted his follies; he'd looked everywhere for Ullii but she was gone and his child with her. Why couldn't he have thought before he brought down the air-floater, or held the knife to Mylii's back? Why hadn't he realised Ullii was pregnant? Why, why, why?

The scrutator appeared. 'What's the matter? We can't stop out in the open.'

Nish struggled to his feet. Pain spread from the wound up into his shoulder, and down his hip to the outside of his leg. His feet hurt, too, for the boots were too small and had already rubbed the skin off his toes and heels.

He fell several times on the way up the hill, which was steeper than it had appeared. Flydd, well ahead, did not notice. The next time Nish looked up, the old man had vanished.

Nish slipped on rubble. As he picked himself up, he spied another air-floater on the horizon. They couldn't see him from so far away, but he lay still until it drifted out of sight to the south. He had to crawl the rest of the way up the hill – his feet hurt too much to walk.

He eased between two boulders and saw Flydd sitting in the shade, eating another of those knobbly fruits, licking the skin with the gusto of a child with a piece of honeycomb. The green pulp had oozed all down his front and he hadn't noticed. I just saw an air-floater; Nish croaked.

'It's been there a while. We should be safe from it, unless they've picked Ullii up to track me.'

The cold was spreading across Nish's chest now, but his forehead was dripping with perspiration.

'Is something the matter?' said Flydd..

Nish managed a limp wave with one hand. 'S'orright,' he slurred, holding his side. 'Just a flesh wound.'

'Where?' Flydd unfastened his shirt. 'How did you get this?'

'Soldier in the forest. Stuck me in the ribs. Not serious.' Nish tried to lie down.

Now Flydd was furious. 'I'll be the judge of that. You're a fool, Nish. Why didn't you tell me?'

Nish groaned as the scrutator probed the wound with fingers that seemed deliberately rough.

'This should have been treated last night. Now it's infected. You need a swift boot up the arse!' Flydd proceeded to give Nish one, knocking him down on his face. He leapt up with the empty water bottles and disappeared.

Nish closed his eyes. He deserved no less.

It was dark by the time the scrutator returned. Nish woke from a feverish sleep to find Flydd looming over him.

I didn't want to risk a fire,' he said, the anger gone, 'but we've got to have hot water. That wound must be cleaned out.'

'I didn't think it was that bad,' said Nish, who felt cold all over. 'It didn't bleed much.'

'You've been lucky, but if the infection sets in you'll die of it. And that might not be such a bad thing,' Flydd said cheerfully. 'At least you won't be able to cock up anything else.' At the look on Nish's face, he added, 'I'm joking.'

The scrutator kindled a small fire well under the overhang of a boulder and climbed up to check that it could not be seen from above. 'This'll have to do. I'd have to be really unlucky for that to be spotted. But lately, I have been really unlucky.'

When the water was boiling, Flydd cleaned the wound with rags soaked in scalding water, before making a poultice of herbs beaten into the pulp of one of the knobbly fruits and binding it over the gash. Subsequently he stewed meat and vegetables for dinner.

Though famished, Nish was unable to take more than a few spoonfuls. The scrutator ate the rest, pulled his coat around him and closed his eyes. Nish did too, and slept, until his dreams forced him to wake.

Seven people had died last night and he was responsible for five of them. He hadn't meant to kill anybody, but they were dead nonetheless. It was not an attractive thought. The soldiers might have killed him without a qualm, but he could not feel the same way about their deaths. Mylii had been harmless. Worse still, the pilot of the air-floater had been a female, as most pilots were. He had killed a woman. In a world where the falling population was a disaster, to kill a woman of child-bearing age was the worst crime in the register. He let out a small, squeaking choke.

Flydd rolled over in his coat. 'What is it now?'

'I killed the pilot. A woman. What am I to do, Scrutator?'

'Find a way to atone for it. And you can start by not disturbing my sleep.' Flydd rolled back the other way, snapping the collar about his ears.

Nish kept seeing her face – she had been a pretty little thing. It became a night of horrors. Each time he dozed off he dreamed about the dead, but now all were women with babies in their bellies – his children. Each time, the dreams jerked him awake. Nish stared into the night but their faces were painted on the darkness. And Mylii. For all that it had been an accident, he had killed Ullii's brother and nothing could undo that. It must destroy everything that had ever been between him and Ullii. If only she would come back and he could, at least, explain.

Flydd's poultice proved efficacious, for Nish's wound was better in the morning. It was just as well, as Flydd's left thigh, the one torn open and burned by his first crystal, had become infected. Nish spent the best pan of an hour cleaning and dressing it in the foggy dawn, with the scrutator stoically enduring the pain.

There was no sign of Ullii. They continued north and west in silence. It was like being a slave all over again, only that Nish was pushing himself to the limit of his endurance. He'd hoped that exhausting mind and body might keep the nightmares at bay, but even in his most agonising moments, when the blisters on his feet had burst and he drove himself on raw, weeping flesh, the dead faces were there.

They began before dawn each morning and walked long into the evening. In this flat country they must have been making four or five leagues every exhausting day. Flydd matched Nish stride for stride for the next few days, despite the infection. Nish lost track of time, so long had the days been, and so full of torment.

The scrutator now took them on a westward path, towards the sea, not wanting to get too far from Jal-Nish's army. Outlandish though it was, he still intended to try and stop him. Flydd never gave up, no matter how hopeless things became, and that was a lesson to Nish.

However, when they had wandered more than forty leagues and seen not a soul, one day Flydd began to fall behind. Around dusk, Nish turned to say something to him, only to discover that the scrutator was just a dot on the horizon.

Nish sat down to wait for him, but resting was too pleasant. There was no pain in it. He drove himself back to the ailing figure.

'What's the matter?'

'My leg,' Flydd gritted. 'I can barely lift it.' In a few hours his left thigh had swollen to twice the size of the right, and the wound had become an inflamed, weeping sore.

The dust cloud was moving in a south-westerly direction.

The spyglass resolved it into a large column of soldiers, set to pass a league or two north of him. He made signals with his coat until his eyes were raw, and eventually a small group broke away from the column, heading in his direction.

Nish watched the riders with a feeling of mounting terror. If the army belonged to the scrutators they would torture him publicly, to serve as a lesson to others. For malefactors in every profession or trade, an ironic and appropriate death had been prescribed, and each victim's fate was subsequently written into the Histories, so that all would know that justice had taken its merciless course.

Nish could not forget poor Ky-Ara, the clanker operator who had gone mad with grief at the loss of his machine. He had killed another operator then run renegade with the man's clanker. Flydd had ordered the clanker dismantled before Ky-Ara's eyes and every part of it fed into the furnaces. Ky-Ara had been forced to destroy the controller hedron himself, but instead had called so much power into the crystal that it had burned him from the inside out.

Nish was used to death, in all its forms and horrible finality. He hoped he could face his with dignity intact; he had to, though it would not redeem him. The Histories would describe his folly and inglorious end for as long as they endured. He would be a cautionary tale for the children of the next twenty generations. The only consolation would be that he had done his best.

A horseman trailing a blue banner galloped towards the foot of the hill. Three others followed. Nish waved the coat and trudged down to meet them.

'Did you put out the fire?' Flydd rasped as Nish passed by.

'It's an army. I signalled them and riders will be here shortly.'

'If you're wrong you won't have to worry about the scrutators. I'll kill you myself!'

Nish avoided Flydd's eye and kept going. At the base of the hill he stood on a fallen tree trunk, waving as the soldier with the banner raced up. Nish vaguely recognised the fellow, a pitch-black, good-looking man with a halo of frizzy hair and a nose as hooked as a parrot's beak. What was the name? Tchlrrr, of course. He'd accompanied Nish on that humiliating embassy from General Trout to the Aachim Nish felt his face grow hot at the thought of it.

Tchlrrr grounded his pole. Two soldiers trotted forward, followed by an officer in a cockaded hat, and another pair of soldiers. The uniforms were familiar.

'Who are you?' called the first soldier. 'Why did you signal us?'

Nish took a deep breath. 'I'm Cryl-Nish Hlar. My travelling companion is Scrutator Xervish Flydd, and he is sorely wounded. Without the service of a healer he may die.'

'C-Cryl-Nish Hlar!' stammered the officer in the middle. 'I've often w-wondered what happened to you. Come down.'

Nish practically fell off his rock. The officer was Prandie, one of the lieutenants of General Troist. Nish had saved Troist's twin daughters, Liliwen and Meriwen, from ruffians near Nilkerrand, a hundred and fifty leagues to the north, and subsequently rescued them from a collapsing underground ruin. The army must be Troist's, which meant that, for the moment, he was safe.

'Lieutenant Prandie,' he said. 'I'm so very glad to see you.'

Twenty-two

No questions were asked. The soldiers rigged a litter between their horses to convey a weak but querulous Flydd back to the main force. Nish rode behind Tchlrrr, keeping well out of the scrutator's way, and within the hour they had joined the column. Flydd was placed in a wagon pulled by one of the clankers, and Troist's personal healer called to attend him. Healing was a mancer's Art these days and had advanced rapidly during the war, so Nish had hopes that she could save him.

Nish was taken into another clanker, where he lay on the floor and tried to sleep, though that was hardly possible with the bone-jarring shudder of the machine, and the squeals, rattles and groans of its metal plates against each other. Clankers lived up to their name. However, he did doze, to be shaken awake in the late afternoon. Finding good water, the convoy had stopped for the night.

'General Troist wishes to see you, surr,' said an aide.

Nish got out the rear hatch and looked around, rubbing his eyes and feeling more than a little anxious. Shortly General Troist appeared, a stocky, capable man. His sandy curls were longer than before, and tousled as though he'd been running his hands through them all day. His blue eyes were bloodshot, his uniform the worse for wear, but the soldiers saluted him smartly. Troist drove his troops hard, but not as hard as himself, and he took care of the least of his men before attending to his own needs. They loved him for it.

'It's good to see you again, Cryl-Nish,' Troist said. 'Come this way.'

Nish followed, sweating. True, he had saved Troist and Yara's daughters, twice, but there had also been that unpleasant scene at Morgadis with Yara's sister. Mira, and the fiasco of his embassy to the Aachim camp. Every success was matched by a failure. And no doubt Troist already knew of Flydd's fall, if not Nish's own.

They went up the line to Troist's command clanker, a great twelve-legged mechanical monstrosity the size of a small house, with a catapult and two javelards mounted on the shooter's platform. Nish had never seen one like it. Troist offered him a seat, an oval of slotted metal with an embroidered cover depicting a vase of bluebells, cheerfully but amateurishly sewn. The work of his daughters, no doubt. Troist was a methodical general, but a sentimental father.

'What are you doing here, Cryl-Nish?' Troist asked, holding out a leather flask of ale.

Nish took a careful sip, not sure what to say. The general knew his duty and, if that required him to give Nish up, he must do so whatever his personal feelings. I was sure you'd know all about it,' he said obliquely.

Troist frowned. 'Know what? Tell me straight, Cryl-Nish, I don't have time for foolery.'

So he hadn't heard. Nish saw a chance to save himself, and Flydd, if he could just put things the right way. 'The great battle at Snizort, weeks ago.'

'I knew there was going to be one, but I've not heard how it went. There's been no news from the south in a month, so I brought my army this way to find out.'

'No news at all?' said Nish. The scrutators prided themselves on their communications; it enabled them to control the world.

'The lyrinx locate our messengers from the air. They've also worked out how to track our skeets and kill them. It's next to impossible to get messages through to garrisons along the Sea of Thurkad. Were you at the battle for Snizort?'

'Yes,' said Nish, 'though not as a soldier. I was held prisoner bv Vithis the Aachim.'

'You two have come a long way on foot, with such injuries.' He was studying Nish as if he suspected something had gone unsaid.

Nish wasn't sure how to proceed. If the general discovered what had really happened, he might clap Nish in the brig and deliver him up to the scrutators. But if Nish lied…

He took a deep breath. 'I must be completely honest with you, surr, no matter what it may cost me. The Snizort node exploded, destroying the field, and after that the battle went terribly wrong, for neither our clankers nor the Aachim's constructs could move.'

'I knew something was amiss,' said Troist, rubbing his lower belly, for he suffered with his bowels. 'Tell me all that has happened.'

Nish related the tale of the desperate battle at Snizort, the failure of the node and the consequent slaughter, the scrutators saving what remained of the army with their airborne mirrors, the underground fire and the abandonment of Snizort by the lyrinx. He hesitated, then told the rest, including Flydd's slavery and his own condemnation by his father, the escape, his folly which had caused the death of Mylii and the loss of Ullii, and his father's mad quest to attack the lyrirrx. 'That's all, surr; he said finally, 'save for a secret to do with the node-'

'I don't want to know any mancers' secrets, lad,' said the general. 'Go on.'

'I've been condemned by my own father, surr, and Scrutator Flydd by the entire Council. We fled for our lives, and now you have us…' Nish could think of no defence, nothing at all. 'You must send me back in chains, I suppose.'

'I have no orders concerning you, Cryl-Nish, and must rely on my judgment. In the past you served me well. I haven't forgotten that.'

Nish blushed to think of his flight from Mira's house with his trousers about his ankles. 'But there was an incident at Morgadis…'

'A misunderstanding on your part, Mira tells me. She was mortified that you fled her home in terror of your life, but I'll leave her to explain when next you meet. She's suffered terribly, my wife's sister, and can be emotional.. 'He grimaced. To Troist, such feelings were a private business. To matters that do concern me. You say that the surviving army is being led into greater peril.'

'My father, Jal-Nish… I don't know how to say it, General Troist, but his injuries have transformed him. He's a bitter man, full of hate and rage. He even condemned me-'

'You told me already.' Troist turned away, his mouth hooked down. 'How any father could do that to a son – the man is surely a monster. And you say Ghorr required it of Jal-Nish, to prove his worth? How can that be? Duty is everything to me, yet such deeds shake my faith in our leaders.'

'After the battle, the lyrinx withdrew south-west from Snizort, towards the Sea of Thurkad/ said Nish. 'My father plans to hunt them down, once he's dragged our clankers to the nearest field, and surely he's done that by now.'

'Where would that be?' Unrolling a canvas chart, Troist spread it on a table.

Nish heard shouting outside, then the rear hatch was jerked up and Flydd appeared in the opening, swaying on his feet. His face was grey-green, his lips blue and he was clearly in great pain. It had not improved his temper. A young woman in a healer's cap clutched at his arm but he pushed her away.

'I'm Scrutator Xervish Flydd!' he rapped. 'You are General Troist?'

'I am,' said Troist, leaping to the hatch. Are you sure you're-'

'Surr, I implore you,' cried the healer, tugging at Flydd's sleeve. He fixed her with a glare of such ferocity that she drew back, twisting her fingers together. 'This is most unwise. You risk-'

'You've done your work, now leave me be!' snapped Flydd. 'The fate of the world hangs upon my stopping Jal-Nish. Your coming is timely, General Troist.' He tried to pull himself up but let out a gasp and fell against the sill of the hatch.

Troist and the healer lifted him in and guided him to a seat. Behind Flydd's back Troist beckoned the healer, a sturdy young woman in her mid-twenties, blonde of hair and blue of eye, with worry lines etched across a broad forehead. She sat in the shadows, looking troubled.

'You didn't think so a few hours ago,' Nish said quietly.

'And I'll make you suffer for disobeying my order,' Flydd snapped. 'Out of the way, boy! The men have work to do.'

Nish moved back next to the healer, feeling empty inside.

'I value Cryl-Nish Hlar's counsel, surr' Troist said evenly. 'He has served me well on more than one occasion.'

'And failed you disastrously on others, no doubt,' said the scrutator curtly. 'To business.'

'If you would take the rear seat for the moment, surr,' said Troist. 'Cryl-Nih was briefing me on the situation at Snizort and I value his account.'

Nish sat up, astonished. It was unheard of for anyone, even a general, to defy a scrutator. Of course, Flydd was now ex-scrutator, but it would be prudent to avoid offending him. What kind of a man was Troist, to stand up for someone who was of no further benefit to him?

'More than you fear the just wrath of the scrutators?' Flydd said menacingly. He was unused to defiance and did not like it.

'I do fear the just wrath of the scrutators, surr/ said Troist, 'as any sane man would. I even fear the wrath of those who are no longer scrutators, should I meet one of them.' His eyes held Flydd's and, though Flydd played the game of staring him down the general did not look away.

'Is there no secret you haven't blabbed, boy?' cried Flydd.

Nish made allowances. The scrutator was in pain and not himself.

'I believe the lad felt he was doing his duty/ Troist put in. 'If you please, surr.' He indicated the seat up the back. 'Cryl-Nish, would you go on?'

Flydd sank onto the bench, wincing. He delivered the healer such a black look that she shrank into the corner.

Nish collected his thoughts. The constructs were being hauled north-west to a node. About here, I'd guess' He pointed The lyrinx fled this way He traced a line on the map with his fingertip, south-west towards the narrowest section of the Sea of Thurkad. "But that was weeks ago. They could be anywhere by now.'

'Only the boldest of men would engage the enemy so close to the sea,' said Troist. 'Reinforcements could fly from Meldorin in less than an hour.'

'Jal-Nish thinks his forces will have the advantage of a demoralised and weakened enemy' said Flydd. 'He doesn't know the lyrihx as I do. They abandoned Snizort because they'd got what they wanted, and they'll be waiting for him.'

'I don't know that country well' said Troist, 'but something nags at me, Scrutator. Why has the Council given Jal-Nish command? He's junior to them all.'

'The scrutators are afraid to lead' said Flydd, 'for none are battle tacticians and they value their own skins too highly. Yet they can't bear to give up control to the generals, so Jal-Nish is the only choice. He's a dangerous man, General Troist, for he truly believes he's better than them all.'

'What does he want?'

'Not gold. Nor knowledge, nor the company of beautiful women. Jal-Nish Hlar desires only one thing – to take over the Council and impose his twisted will on the entire world. He's a driven man.'

Someone rapped on the rear hatch. The healer threw it up and a young aide whispered something in Flydd's ear. Flydd nodded and made to climb out, but a man concealed by cloak and hood pushed forward. He and Flydd spoke in low voices for several minutes, and Nish caught only one phrase. At the node?' the man hissed in surprise, before turning away.

'General Troist?' said Flydd.

'Yes?' Troist was puzzled by the interaction.

'That was my personal prober, Eiryn Muss, who's just had urgent news by skeet.'

Nish gaped, for even under his cape the man had not resembled the fat halfwit from the manufactory. 'How did he know you were here?'

Muss's talent for spying, and finding, verges on the miraculous-' said Flydd. He gnawed at a fingernail before going on. Sometimes, beyond the miraculous. His news: Jal-Nish's army left the node some days back, heading for Gumby Marth, a valley east of the coastal town of Gnulp Landing, here. It's preparing to do battle in a few days with a small force of lyrinx, maybe seven thousand. It's a trap, of course.' 'How can you be sure?' said Troist.

'Muss could find no evidence that the rest of the lyrinx have withdrawn across the sea, apart from a small number of fliers, so they must be hidden, to draw Jal-Nish in. And they would number an additional twelve thousand, or more.' 'And Jal-Nish's army?' 'Forty thousand men.'

A man so bold, so forceful and aggressive, might even beat such a force of lyrinx,' said Troist thoughtfully.

'Not on a battlefield of their choosing. If he fights, we'll lose the entire army and a month later the enemy will be dining on the fat burghers of Lybing.' 'How can you be sure?'

'I was there when Jal-Nish addressed the Council, and I know him better than he knows himself. His tactics rest on the enemy being a demoralised rabble, but the lyrinx are leading them into a trap. More than twenty thousand of them got away from Snizort, and that many alone would be the equal of his army. To be sure, Jal-Nish has five thousand clankers, but the country near Gnulp is rugged and rocky, with great swamps to either side. Our machines will be little use there. But that's not my main worry.' 'What is?' said Troist.

As you said, the lyrinx can swiftly bring in reinforcements from Meldorin, by flying and by boat. Whatever position we occupied, they could surround us. The army would be annihilated; humanity could not recover from such a loss.'

Troist walked six paces to the empty operator's seat, head bowed beneath the low roof. He turned back. What do you have in mind? My force might make the difference if I could get there in time.'

'Or it might be lost as well. Flydd said I'd prefer to avoid battle, if that's possible.

'What's your plan, surr?'

"To wrest control of the army from Jal-Nish and retreat back east to safety.'

And then take on the scrutators, Nish guessed.

'How are you going to do that?'

'I won't know until I get there.'

'If you're planning a mancers' duel…' Troist frowned. 'How can you be sure you'll win? He has a reputation for cunning.'

As do I, General.'

'Of course' Troist said hastily. And yet-'

'If you don't think I'm up to it, say so!' snapped Flydd.

'Certainly I do… Er, when you're in health…'

'Then I'll just have to get better in a hurry, won't I?'

'What if the enemy attacks before you're ready? If the main army of the west is lost at Gumby Marth, mine cannot long survive' said Troist. 'Scrutator Flydd, there's no time to wait. We must risk all to save all. We must march to the rescue straight away.'

Troist glanced at Flydd, who was rubbing the bandage on his left thigh. A dark bloodstain, spiralling like a coiled snake, showed through it.

'I suppose we must,' said Flydd.

'Is that an order from the scrutator?'

'It is.'

'Then I will obey it, since I have no official reason to suppose you are scrutator no longer.'

Troist's army had grown both in men and in efficiency since Nish had left it, long months ago. It now numbered thirteen thousand men and more than nine hundred clankers. A powerful force, and seasoned in a number of battles, though seven thousand of the enemy would be its match.

That night after a dinner that sat uncomfortably in Nish's shrunken belly, they stood around the chart table to make plans. Yellow globes glowed to either side.

The general was measuring distances on his map with a pair of silver dividers. 'Presently we're here, around twenty leagues north-west of Snizort, and only a few leagues from the sea. Gumby Marth is some forty leagues south. In good conditions, my clankers can manage ten leagues in daylight, so it'll take us four or five days to get there.'

"Too long.' Flydd lay back in his chair. He was too weak to sit upright for any time, but would not go to his bed. 'What if we travelled through the night?' He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear the general say it, or make excuses.

'We have to sleep sometime, surr, and that's as good as impossible in moving clankers. Travelling part of the night, we might do another league or two, where the country permits us, of course.'

'Of course,' Flydd said sardonically. 'And it does, most of the way from here to the Landing, I believe. It's open plains and gentle hills, easy going for men and clankers alike. The last five or ten leagues are rugged, forested too, but that could be to our advantage.'

'Unfortunately…' Troist hesitated.

Flydd smiled, as if he had been expecting it. 'Yes?'

'We don't have enough clankers to transport thirteen thousand men.'

'Do the numbers.'

'What?' said Troist. 'Oh! We have roughly nine hundred clankers. If each carried ten soldiers, which is their limit, that's only two-thirds of my force.'

'How many are mounted?'

'Another eight hundred and fifty, more or less.'

'The riders should be able to keep up with the clankers.'

'If their mounts don't go lame.'

'Any that go lame, we'll eat,' said Flydd. 'The horses, that is. So all we have to do is cram another soldier inside, and two up on top with the shooter, and we can do it.'

'In theory.' said Troist, though it'll put a big strain on the mechanisms and the operators, not to mention the soldiers.'

'Not as big a strain as facing the lyrinx all by yourself soldier, after they've annihilated Jal Nish's army.'

'If they come upon us instead of Jal-Nish s army, they'll destroy us.'

'I may be able to prevent them finding us,' said Flydd, 'with help from your military mancer I propose to attempt a form of cloaking.'

'Cloakers haven't been a great success with clankers, surr, with all due respect.'

'This spell is greatly improved' said Flydd. 'I learned of it in Nennifer just a few months ago. I think it'll prove satisfactory, for a short time at least.'

'If you say so, surr,' said Troist, 'then I suppose it could be done.' He looked dubious.

Troist was an ambitious man, but an honourable one. He did not want to drive his men or his machines beyond their breaking point, as a headlong march was likely to do. And perhaps he lacked confidence in his ability to fight a full-scale battle. Troist had been a junior officer when the bulk of his army was destroyed by the lyrinx attack on Nilkerrand, and all the senior officers killed. He had built this army from the surviving rabble, scattered across a hundred leagues of country. Troist had done a brilliant job and his soldiers would have followed him anywhere, but he surely worried about his limitations. His skirmishes with the enemy had involved no more than a few hundred soldiers; here he must manage thirteen thousand. If he achieved the impossible, it would make him. Should he fail, he and his army, and Flydd and Nish, would end up in the bellies of the enemy.

Flydd seemed to be weighing the general up. Finally he nodded to himself, 'Then let it be done.'

The fretting healer, who had been sitting in the shadows behind Flydd since dinner, said, 'Surr, such a journey is likely to kill you.'

Flydd swung around in the metal seat. 'What business is that of yours?'

The healer was shocked. 'Surr-'

'What are you doing here anyway, Spying on my secret councils?'

'I'

'I told her to sit there, Scrutator!' Troist said coldly. 'And I'll thank you not to harass my healers, or anyone else under my command.'

'How dare you tell me what I may or may not do!' cried Flydd. 'I could break you to a common soldier for such insolence.'

Troist stood up. Though a compact man, he had to bend his head under the low roof. 'Then break me you must, Scrutator Flydd, for I will defend my healer, as I would any soldier in my army, to the last breath.'

Flydd hauled himself out of the seat, glowering at the general; Troist stood his ground. Nish trembled for what might happen.

Suddenly Flydd let out a great, booming laugh. 'I like you, General Troist. You're my kind of man.' He put out his twisted hand.

After a momentary hesitation, Troist took it, though it was some time before the wary look left his eyes. 'I'll see to the orders,' he said. 'We move in thirty minutes.'

Nish wasn't sure whether to be glad or sorry. He hoped he'd done the right thing this time, but what if it all went wrong and the lyrinx attacked Troist's army instead of Jal-Nish's much larger one? That worry was soon dwarfed by another that had been growing ever since the possibility had first been raised. What would happen when he met his father again? Just the thought made his heart race and his palms sweat.

Twenty-three

Someone was screaming, a long, drawn-out wail of anguish that rasped at Ullii's nerves. Having lost her earmuffs and earplugs long ago, she could do no more than push a finger in each ear. It made no difference – the dreadful wailing penetrated her entire body. It came out of the ground up her legs; down from the sky through her skull; it was everywhere. She ran into the night and the sound followed her.

Ullii burst through thickets, heedless of the brambles tearing through her clothes and scoring her baby-soft skin. She crashed over crumbling embankments, through sandpaper shrubbery and into a boggy wallow where buffalo came down to a creek to drink. She splattered through the muck but the ghastly sound went with her, as if a ghost had thrust its head inside hers and was screaming into her brain.

Ullii slipped in the mud, fell into cool water and, as she went under, the sound cut off. The relief was so miraculous that she lay on the bottom, thinking that she might stay there forever. She felt no urge to breathe; there was no reason to live. Her beloved Mylii was gone, snatched away the instant she'd found him. Killed, murdered by Nish, her lover. He'd done it deliberately, to hurt her. He must have, or he would have come after her and told her how sorry he was. But he wasn't sorry. He didn't care about Mylii, or the baby, or her.

Flydd and Irisis, once her friends, were nearly as bad, hey'd lied to her, used her, and when they didn't want her any longer, they'd simply abandoned her.

Her body's will to live drove Ullii to the surface. She stood op in the shallow water and breathed. The screaming had stopped but the pain was still there, and it was unendurable. Reaching inside herself, Ullii flicked the switch that severed her consciousness. Blessed oblivion.

An hour later she was still standing there, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, feeling nothing.

A memory woke in her and Ullii realised that she was standing in waist-deep water, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her beloved Mylii lay in his blood in the clearing, alone and abandoned.

Ullii had no idea where she was. In that fit of madness and grief she might have run in any direction. She searched the lattice for her brother's knot, which had appeared so miraculously last night, but it was not there. Mylii was dead; his knot had vanished forever and she was lost.

The sense of abandonment grew stronger. Mylii, Mylii, lying on the hard ground all alone. Was there a way to find him? He'd left no trace in the lattice, nor had the other dead at the air-floater. Not even the unfortunate little pilot made a mark now, for death wiped all knots away.

But the air-floater was powered by a controller, and it must still have a working crystal. She sought for it but found nothing – Flydd had taken the crystal with him and he was beyond range. Deeper, further, she sought; there had to be some trace left. At last she picked up a tiny smudge of aura, a chip broken off the controller crystal in the crash. It gave her the direction. Ullii turned that way and started running.

It was only an hour off dawn when she got there. The declining moon slanted across the clearing to light up the canvas of the air-floater from behind. The collapsed airbag was a crumpled rag outlined by black struts and wires. The little pilot lay with her head over the side, her neck bent at an unnatural angle.

Ullii only had eyes for the slim shape lying in the moon-shadow: beloved Mylii. She did not run. Ullii was afraid to approach him too quickly.

Stopping on the far side of the clearing, she stared at her brother Unlike the pilot and the soldiers, who all looked dead, he just appeared to be sleeping. She felt as her sensitive eyes strained to pierce the blackness that she saw his chest rise and fall She tried to make out his features but they blurred into the dark.

She allowed herself to hope that it had just been a horrible nightmare. She did not want to wake him in case it turned out to be real. How could he be dead? Nish was a kind, gentle man who had done so much for her. He would not harm Mylii. It had to be a dreadful mistake, a dream that she had woken from. Or was it? She felt so confused.

Ullii took a slow, fluid step, careful to make no sound. Any noise might wake her brother and everything would turn out wrong. A warm breeze soughed through the treetops, curling round the clearing and tickling the back of her neck, lifting the hair of her nape just as it lifted the dry leaves on the floor of the clearing, sending them whirling like fairy dancers in a circle. It made her smile. Mylii would have loved to see it – he had always been fond of music and dancing.

She took another step, and her brother's prone form seemed to shift, as if moving to a more comfortable position, before settling back into sleep with a little sigh. The gesture was so familiar that it made her heart ache. Tears sprang to Ullii's eyes and suddenly she had to take him in her arms.

Her small feet made barely a sound as she ran. From halfway across the clearing, Ullii called her brother's name Again he seemed to move, then suddenly went still, and with every step she took Mylii grew more rigid. The silver bracelet on his wrist was a manacle fixing him to the earth.

'Mylii!' she cried, but he no longer seemed to be breathing.

She crossed the short distance that separated them and threw herself at him. 'Mylii!'

He did not move. Mylii was as unyielding as a log. Ullii pushed her arms under his back. A bubble burst in his throat and the remaining air sighed out of his lungs. The ground was damp beneath him. His whole back was wet, and when she withdrew her hands and held them up, his congealed blood was black in the moonlight.

'Mylii.' she wailed, picking him up in her arms, holding his body tightly as she rocked hack and forth, back and forth…

A faint ticker-tick-tick roused her this time. It was an air-floater, not far away. Ullii sat up, not so much listening as watching its knot in her lattice. It was roving back and forth across the country south of here, coming steadily closer as if searching. It had come after the wrecked air-floater, and something far more precious – Mylii the seeker.

The machine turned, flying directly towards the clearing. They were coming to take Mylii away. They must not get him. She tried to lift her brother, but he was heavier than he appeared. Ullii had him halfway to her shoulder when a sharp pain in her lower belly reminded her of the baby.

Taking Mylii under the arms, she tried to drag him, but had only gone three steps when the air-floater was overhead. It was bigger than the crashed one, and she could tell that there were scrutators aboard, though in her distress Ullii could not identify them.

'It's down there!' roared a barbed voice. 'Stay well up, Pilot. Captain, your troops must be ready for anything.'

If the scrutators caught her, they would use her in place of Mylii. She had to let her brother go. Gently laying the body down, she crouched beside him for a moment, saying her farewell. Her eye caught a gleam from the bracelet and she tried to unfasten it, as a token of him, but the clasp would not budge. No time to work on it; they were coming. Ullii scuttled into the trees.

The air-floater remained hovering above the clearing while soldiers came down on ropes. They were big, heavily armed, and Ullii was repulsed by the smell of their unwashed bodies. The first three assumed positions at the points of a triangle, crossbows thrust out, while the remainder came to ground inside the triangle. They formed more points and expanded outwards.

Lanterns were unshuttered and directed at the forest. The troops, heavily armoured and helmeted, looked like savage demons. Ullii could not bear to look at them – nor away from them.

Search it." said the captain, pointing to the wreckage of the air-floater. He shouted orders.

Powerful lanterns illuminated the wreckage. Two soldiers headed for it while others moved towards the edges of the clearing. Ullii crept away and, climbing a slender tree, little more than a sapling, took refuge in its canopy. It was so small they would never look for an enemy there. She had to stay close; she could not leave her brother.

The soldiers had set up their lanterns on poles and some began to quarter the clearing while others moved into the forest.

'Here's one,' someone called, bending over the still form of her brother. 'Hey! It's the black-haired seeker. He's dead.'

Dead! As the word echoed through her skull, Ullii almost fell out of the tree. Mylii was dead; she could no longer deny it. The leaves rustled and a man cried out, 'There's someone in the forest!'

The grimly efficient soldiers searched everywhere. They found more bodies: one of the soldiers from the first air-floater, then the dead in the wreckage. Ullii clung desperately to the trunk, fighting down an impulse to scream.

Finally the clearing was secured and the captain called up to the hovering air-floater, 'It's safe. There's no one about. It was just the wind.'

Someone shouted back, 'They're coming down. Stand to attention.'

Ropes whirred through pulleys and a big man in robes was lowered in a suspended chair.

Ullii choked, recognising him now. It was Chief Scrutator Ghorr, and he made a barbed, tangled knot in her lattice. She remembered Ghorr from the visit to Nennifer months ago. He had shown nothing but contempt for her. 'Scurry away, little mouse,' he'd said sneeringly. But subsequently Ullii had done what had never been done in the history of the world. She had used her lattice to get Irisis out of her cell without breaking the spell on the lock or setting off the alarm, and Ghorr's rage had shaken the foundations of Nennifer. Ullii was more afraid of him now, for she knew he wanted that secret even if he had to tear it out of her living body.

The air-floater swung in a gust, causing the rope to sway back and forth like a pendulum. The rotor roared as the terrified pilot tried to regain position but, before she could, Ghorr was dragged through the spiny upper branches, tearing his silken shirt to shreds. Bunches of hard leaves slapped him in the face, releasing a pungent oil that brought tears to his eyes.

'What the devil are you doing, Pilot?' he bellowed. 'Put me down, quick smart, or you'll go to the breeding factory!'

Soldiers ran back and forth, anxiously holding up their lanterns. Ghorr cleared the trees, though his shirt remained hanging from the spines. The pulley-man lowered him precipitously, whereupon two burly men ran to catch him as he swung across the clearing, cursing in a voice as much alarmed as furious.

Ghorr shook them off and wiped away the mortifying tears. His chest proved unexpectedly flabby, while the great belly was held in by a tightly-laced corset. One of the soldiers sniggered. Ghorr spun around furiously but could not identify the miscreant.

'My cloak!' he snapped.

It was tossed down at once. Pulling it around him he stalked off, wounded in dignity, to examine the crashed air-floater.

Two other scrutators came down in the hanging chair, the black-bearded, snake-eyed Fusshte and a cold, dumpy old woman whose name Ullii could not recall, though she remembered her knot in the lattice. She was just as hard and corrupt as the men.

The three scrutators gathered around the air-floater, inspected the dead then came to stand by Mylii. Lanterns flared brightly. One of the soldiers turned the body over.

Stabbed in the back' Ullii heard. See the knife wound here – it went straight into his heart."

Ghorr gestured for silence while he held his hands out, parallel to the ground muttering under his breath as he strained to perform some mancery. Fusshtes black eyes glittered in the lantern light.

'Flydd was here,' said Ghorr after a long interval.

'And he murdered the seeker so they could get away,' murmured Fusshte.

'He may have ordered it,' said the woman, 'but he did not do it. And since Ullii would not have killed her brother, it can only have been that black-hearted villain, Cryl-Nish Hlar.'

Ullii wept silently. It was as if the knife had been twisted in her own heart. Nish must really hate her. But why? She'd done everything he'd asked of her.

After so much trauma, Ullii would have fled,' said Ghorr.

'The body's growing stiff,' said Fusshte. "They're long gone, and without our seeker we'll never find them. We should have killed Flydd while we had him.'

'We'll wait for daylight,' said Ghorr. 'It won't be long now. Then we'll look for tracks. Since we've lost our seeker, we must find Ullii. I'll use her to hunt down Flydd and Cryl-Nish Hlar, and this time they must be executed on the spot.'

'What about the air-floater?' asked Fusshte.

'The artificers say it can be repaired, though it'll need a new rotor and controller crystal. We'll send a team back to fix the damage.'

And the dead?'

'Burn them.'

Ullii clung desperately to her tree as the bodies were dragged into the centre of the clearing like worthless pieces of rubbish. Ghorr crouched by Mylii for a moment, though Ullii could not see what he was doing. He stood up, gestured, and the soldiers piled faggots, branches and logs on top. It was all happening too quickly. She couldn't cope. She hadn't said goodbye to Mylii, taken care of his body, washed him or brushed his hair It was agony to watch, but neither could she cover her eyes.

A burning brand was thrust into the centre. The dry wood blazed up and within minutes the pyre was a mass of flame from one end to the other. The stench of burning flesh made her insides shudder.

The sun rose through the smoke. When the light was strong enough, the soldiers and the two scrutators crisscrossed the forest before picking up Flydd and Nish's tracks, heading north. The vile Fusshte was following another trail, which meandered like an ant walking across a piece of paper. It was the path Ullii had taken in her initial flight, though she did not recognise it. She had no memory of that time, nor ever would have.

The air-floater went after the two scrutators and disappeared from sight. Ullii dared not move, though she was now faint with thirst and hunger. The baby kicked feebly. Some hours later, Fusshte reappeared, tracking back. He began going through the forest in a series of parallel lines, methodically inspecting the ground and the trees. She felt sure he was going to discover her.

Fusshte came closer, studying marks on the bark of a nearby tree, claw gouges from some climbing animal. He turned to the northern sky, cocking his head as if listening for the return of the air-floater. Hearing nothing, he kept to his tracks, this time passing right by her sapling. Ullii prayed that she had left no marks on the bark.

Fortunately the ground was stony here. Ullii did not breathe as he went by, and Fusshte must have thought the sapling too small to bear her, for he did not look up. Soon he disappeared.

The day wore on. The fire died to ash and embers, though a stench of burnt flesh and hair lingered. Ullii remained where she was. Near dusk, the air-floater landed in the clearing. The three scrutators conferred on the ground for some little while, climbed in and it took off, heading south, as the sun plunged below the smoky horizon.

After an hour, when they were tar away. Ullii judged it was safe to come down. The moon had not yet risen but the starlight was more than enough for her eyes. The pyre no longer smoked. The fire had burned itself out.

She circled around the oval patch of ash, marked here and there with elongated humps, the ash-grey residue of the bodies. Something caught her attention, tangled around a white stick a few steps away from the pyre. It was a clump of long black hair, a few dozen strands torn from Mylii's head as they'd dragged him across.

Ullii reached out with a fingertip. The strands were as silky soft as her own hair. As she touched it, the place in her lattice that had once held his knot flared and faded. She shivered, then carefully freed the lock of hair and tied it around her throat.

Returning to the pyre, Ullii went to the place where her twin had been laid, staring at the dimly lit ridge of ash. She could not believe that Mylii was gone – that this was all there was of him.

Stepping into the warm ash, she began to sweep it away from around the ridge with her fingertips. The ash slipped through her fingers but there wasn't a grain in it. Where Mylii's head and body had been, the fire had burned so hot that even the bones had gone.

She flung the ash this way and that, crying for her brother. Then, on a rock not far away, the silver bracelet glinted in the starlight. It must have been pulled from his wrist as they dragged Mylii across. She picked it up, holding it in her cupped hands, and caught the scent of her brother on it. It was all there was left of him.

Cradling the bracelet to her breast, she wept her heart out. There was no longer any doubt that he was dead. Mylii was gone forever and she was all alone in the world.

The moon came up. Ullii was still sitting by the pile of ash, nursing the bracelet, utterly bereft. As the light slanted down into the clearing, her thoughts became increasingly bitter.

Nash must have murdered Mylii to show how much he hated her. Everything he'd done since making her pregnant in the balloon had been designed to hurt her. Nish was a cruel man and must be punished.

The baby kicked, sending a sharp pain through her overstretched bladder. Ullii looked into her lattice and, for the first time, saw the infant's tiny knot. It was beautifully regular and symmetrical, the way Nish's might have looked, if he'd had a talent. Wonderingly, she traced the curves, in and out, over and under, around and back, until she knew them perfectly.

The baby kicked again, and the knot trembled. The child was distressed, for Ullii had not eaten or drunk for a day. Food and drink were not even on her horizon. She was thinking that, though he obviously hated her, Nish had wanted the child.

The contradiction confused her. She stroked the bracelet, breathing in the fading scent of her brother. It was the only thing linking her to Mylii now. Wanting to fix that link, she slipped the bracelet over her hand and snapped down the catch. At first it was loose on her slender wrist, but then the links slithered together and it became so tight she could not slide her little finger underneath.

The baby kicked her bladder, three times in a row, and this time it really hurt. She touched the bracelet for comfort but saw an image of the three scrutators – Ghorr, Fusshte and the evil old woman – standing over her as if she were lying on a table. Ghorr turned to Fusshte, whispering in his ear, then they laughed.

Ullii cried out in horror and the baby began to kick furiously, doubling her over until she was on her hands and knees on the ground. She rolled onto her back, her hands on her belly, which seemed to calm the baby. Lying still, she changed her lattice so the child's knot filled her mind, mentally caressing the surfaces, which were as soft, as silky as her brother's hair. Mylii's face came to her, but as a child, and Ullii lost herself in memories of the time they had been little twins together, the pale and the dark, so perfectly matched.

The complement of each other When they had been perfectly happy.

She could hear their chidish chatter, their happy cries, but a sharp throb low down drove the memories away. 'Mylii' she gasped, clasping the bracelet in panic, but again came that flash of the scrutators.

Come to us, little seeker, mouthed Ghorr. We've work for you.

'Leave me alone,' she said aloud. 'My baby needs me.'

Baby? Ghorr said to the others. She can't have a baby – it'll ruin her precious talent.

She must have dreamed that, for the next instant they were gone, as if she'd only imagined it; then gone completely, her memories of the moment wiped clean.

Mylii wasn't there either, but that awful screaming rang in her ears again. She reached out to the baby's knot, for the screaming seemed to be coming from there. An agonising pain, far worse than the baby's kicks, sheared through her belly. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to protect the baby, but the pain grew until it was like barbed hooks tearing through her.

Ullii made a supreme effort to reach beyond the pain but the barbs ripped through her flesh and she felt a great convulsion inside her, a shearing agony, as if the baby's sharp fingernails were tearing desperately at the walls of her womb. Something burst inside her, then water gushed out between her legs, carrying the baby with it.

'No!' Ullii screamed, falling to her knees and clawing at the ground, but it was too late.

The baby, a little boy no longer than her hand, lay in a puddle, kicking feebly. She picked him up, staring at him in wonder. He was pink and healthy, and so beautiful that she felt a flush of love, but as she nursed him in her hands, the cord stopped pulsing and her stomach contracted again and again to expel the afterbirth. Ullii lifted the baby to her breast.

'Yllii. Your name is Yllii,' she said, as if that could protect him.

She desperately wanted him to live, for it was the only happy link left between her and Nish, the only good memory of their time together, and she loved him so. Yullii gave one feeble suck, a little sigh, but his head fell away from the nipple and blood from his mouth trickled down breast. Ullii tried to blow the breath back into the infant but the pink colour faded steadily from his face. The baby breathed no more. Yllii was dead – her grief for her brother must have killed it, and it was all Nish's fault. He'd taken away everything good in her life.

Ullii felt a terrible, aching loss, but that was replaced by the most bitter fury at what Nish had done to her. A rage that could only be assuaged when he had suffered the way she, and Mylii, and little Yllii had.