Tetrarch

S IXTY-ONE

Several nights after the scrutator's visit, Nish was lying in his tent, listening to a gentle rain pattering on the canvas, when a signal whistle piped. He did not move. The Aachim were constantly signalling to each other. It did not concern him. The brief hope he'd felt when the scrutator appeared was gone. He was still a prisoner, a pawn in a global struggle. His great plans had failed through no fault of his own.

There seemed to be a lot of activity outside, including the whine of hundreds of constructs. Something was going on. He was just slipping back to sleep when Minis crashed through the opening of the tent. 'Nish! Get up!'

'What's the matter?'

'We march to war against the lyrinx.'

Nish sat up. At last! 'How did this come about?'

'Last night your scrutator agreed to all our demands.'

Nish was shocked. For Flydd to capitulate, after that bitter scene with Vithis, humanity's position must have been hopeless. How Vithis must be crowing.

'Including giving up Tiaan?'

'Yes. Apparently your seeker has located her underground, within the eastern quarter of Snizort.' Minis began to unfasten the manacles.

'And Vithis has agreed to free me?'

'A long hesitation. 'Not exactly, though I'm sure if he thought about it…'

'What is he going to do in return?' Nish was wondering what he could make out of the situation.

'Attack Snizort.'

'If the lyrinx learn he is after Tiaan,' Nish said carefully, 'and surely they must, it will not go well for her.'

Minis faded to white. 'What do you mean?'

'They will kill her, rather than allow anyone to gain the secret of flight.'

Minis pressed his head into his hands and shook it violently. In times of stress he was given to exaggerated gestures. 'We must save her, Nish.'

'I'm sure Vithis will be careful. Tiaan is no good to him dead.'

Minis's face cracked. Hurling himself across the tent, he wrung Nish's hands. 'Please, Nish. I'm desperate.'

Nish reached for his boots. 'What do you expect me to do?'

'Help me get her out of Snizort.'

The man was such a fool. 'Minis, Snizort is the most carefully guarded fortress in this land. There are twenty-five thousand lyrinx there. It can't be done.'

'I love Tiaan,' Minis said simply. 'I know that now. Foster-father has brought me dozens of partners, all of noble Aachim blood, but none mean anything to me. I look at them and I see Tiaan, only Tiaan. I must find a way, Nish.'

'Vithis has ordered you to take no risks. Would you defy his direct order?'

'To save her life I would do anything.' Savage eyes glared out of that young, blanched face. 'I'll hide her away; bargain with foster-father for her.' Minis tried to look implacable but did not succeed.

Nish sighed. Even if they could rescue her, Minis had not considered the most important part of the equation – how Tiaan would react. Whether Minis found her, or Vithis did, he did not want to be there. By dawn, half of the constructs were gone, and more moved out that morning. The battle was set to begin as soon as they were in position.

The camp was now just a skeleton of its former self. More than four thousand of Vithis's six thousand constructs had gone to Snizort, plus two thousand more from the other fleets. Vithis had accompanied them after many exhortations to his foster-son to take care of himself. The remaining five thousand constructs protected women, children and those too old to go to war. If necessary they would be evacuated to safety in the east.

The Aachim camp was a model of military organisation and no one could move without being checked off a dozen lists. Minis, the only other survivor of Clan Inthis, was not permitted to go near the battlefield. He had promised faithfully that he would not, but planned to break that promise as soon as he was able. The opportunity did not come for days.

On the third night of the siege, Minis and Nish slipped away under cover of a wild thunderstorm, heading for the human headquarters east of Snizort. Nish stood beside the tall Aachim as they floated across the undulating land the following morning. It was summer now and a dry one. The grass was bent and brown; most of the creeks carried no more than a trickle, even after last night's storm. The land was empty. The people who once dwelt here had fled long ago and their mud and thatch huts were crumbling.

Minis consulted a map. 'Your scrutator, and his command post, are here.' He indicated a flyspeck just east of Snizort.

They were moving quickly now and their passage left a furrow in the dry grass. Nish was looking back at it when Minis said, 'I see smoke.'

Smudges of black were rising beyond the hill. 'That's burning tar, not grass. Perhaps they've set fire to Snizort.'

Minis looked around wildly. The construct veered towards a cluster of boulders fallen from a flat-topped hill.

'Look out!' Nish yelled.

Minis jerked the controller and the construct lurched the other way.

'I've heard there's nearly as much tar outside Snizort as in,' Nish said hastily. 'Maybe the enemy set fire to it to make the battle more difficult.'

They approached the battlefield, which formed a ring around Snizort. Minis took the construct to the top of another of those flat-topped hills. The belching black fumes rose from half a dozen places outside the walls. Vicious struggles were going on all over, though from here it was not possible to tell who had the upper hand. The ground shook from the pounding of mighty catapult balls, many of them tar-coated and blazing.

Nish could imagine what it must be like down there – the dust turning to bloody mud, the shrieks of the dying, and those who could not die quickly enough. 'What is your plan?' Nish asked.

'I was hoping you could advise me. You're so resourceful, Nish.'

'But Minis, I don't know anything about Snizort. This is the first time I've seen the place.'

'What are we going to do?' Minis said miserably.

Nish knew what he'd like to do. Run, as far and fast as he could. 'I haven't a clue.'

'I know you can think of a way. I'm relying on you.'

'Well, you shouldn't!' Nish snapped. 'Look how strong the walls are.'

'Please, Nish. You're all I have.'

Nish looked over the side. He did want to do something, if only because the son of the most powerful man on Santhenar was begging him. If he could remain in Minis's favour, one day that could be worth the world to him. 'Let's go and talk to the scrutator, if he's not too busy to see us. Which he surely is.'

Minis headed for the army headquarters, on a higher hill closer to Snizort. They passed through five sets of guards but none hindered the son of Vithis. Unfortunately the scrutator was not at the command tent. He had left in the air-floater earlier that morning.

Nish, walking around the edge of the hill by himself, noticed a pair of officers staring – there was a war on yet he wore no uniform. They began to move toward him. He hurried back to the construct, afraid of being conscripted.

'Come on,' Nish said. 'You'll do no good here.'

They spent the day circling Snizort, well out of catapult range, and at sunset a despairing Minis turned the construct back toward the Aachim camp.

'Let's try the scrutator again,' said Nish.

'You've just missed him,' said Fyn-Mah as the construct pulled up. The air-floater was whirring away to the south.

Minis began to gasp and tear at his hair. Falling to his knees, he reached out to the sky with both arms. His pupils dilated until only the whites of his eyes could be seen. 'I can see the future, Nish, and it's black and red. Blood-red!'

'What is it, Minis?' Was he seeing Nish's future, or his friend's death?

'A great bursting!' His staring eyes fixed on Nish.

'What do you mean?'

His eyes rolled up into his head, Minis went stiff and without a sound toppled backwards onto the dry grass, where he lay like a slab of petrified wood.

Fyn-Mah came running back with a bucket of water, which she flung in his face. 'Best cure for hysteria,' she said.

With a gurgling sound, a bubble formed in Minis's mouth. Forcing his jaws open, it squeezed out and drifted away. A rumbling belch followed, Minis's heels drummed on the ground and he opened his eyes. He shuddered, blinked and his eyes rolled down to their normal position. He gave Nish a wan smile. 'It has to do with them.'

'Them?'

The air-floater was now just a speck in the south. 'Your friends – Flydd, the crafter and the seeker. And Snizort.'

'Is that where they've gone?' Nish asked Fyn-Mah.

The perquisitor seemed moved by the young man's distress. 'We believe that the lyrinx have a node-drainer there. Flydd is trying to destroy it.'

It looked as if Minis was going to have another fit. 'What about Tiaan?'

No one said anything.

'I'll go after her, by myself,' said Minis. 'if you don't have the courage to help me.'

'You'd better tell your father, Minis,' said Nish.

'Ha!' said Minis wildly. 'He would be pleased to see Tiaan dead. The only person I trust is Tirior, but…'

'What?'

'She's always sneered at my foretellings.'

Nish was fed up with Minis's frailties. 'Are you so afraid that it'll stop you saving the woman you love?'

Tirior was in her tent, reading a despatch. 'It's our first message from Stassor,' she said to Minis, before she was asked. 'At last.'

'Why has it taken so long?' Nish wondered.

'Stassor lies among mountains too rugged for our constructs. Our messengers had to seek it out on foot. The city proved… difficult to find.'

'What do the Stassor Aachim say?'

She did not answer. Tirior put the paper aside with a heavy sigh. 'What have you come for, Minis?'

He told her.

She rolled her eyes. 'Your foretellings are no more accurate than tossing a coin.'

'Only when I've allowed my head to rule my heart!' he said angrily. 'When others have tried to force me.'

'Very well! Tell me exactly what you saw.'

'A great, blood-red bursting!' he exclaimed. 'Even before I heard that Scrutator Flydd had gone to block the node-drainer -'

'What?' Tirior leapt to her feet, scattering papers across the floor of the tent. She gripped Minis by the arm. 'Where did you hear this?'

'At the human-army command tent. Perquisitor Fyn-Mah told us,' said Nish. 'What's the matter?'

Tirior sat down and put her head in her hands. 'When the node-drainer is blocked, it will be like blocking the end of a hose but pumping as hard as ever. Something must give.'

'And when it does?' asked Nish.

'A great bursting,' said Tirior. 'It could take half of Snizort with it.'

'Tiaan will be killed,' wept Minis.

'And the secret of her flying construct lost. And that's not the worst that can happen,' said Tirior.

'What is?' said Nish, but she did not reply.

'We must save Tiaan.' Tears were streaming down Minis's cheeks. 'We must, Tirior. Please.'

'We must try,' she said, 'though I do not see how we can.'

Tirior sent urgent messages to Vithis but received no reply. 'He's right across the battlefield, and sore pressed,' said the messenger. 'I couldn't get through to him.'

'I don't like this at all,' said Tirior.

'Please, Tirior,' begged Minis.

'Be quiet!' She was smoothing down a scroll with her long fingers. The end curled up; she smoothed it down again. 'If I go in, I probably won't come out again. But who among us would have a better chance?'

She inspected Nish dispassionately. 'I must go, whatever the consequences. Nish, you may come with me, if you dare. I'd sooner not risk one of my own. And, after all, you bear some responsibility for this situation.'

'How do you work that out?' said Nish.

'Your scrutator has gone in to commit this insane act. Minis, you will stay behind to advise your father what I have done. I would not have him accuse my clan of wilfully risking his only heir.'

'I must come,' Minis cried. 'You cannot leave me behind.'

Tirior smoothed her scroll again, and for an instant a secret smile played on her full lips. Nish noted it, and wondered. Tirior, it seemed, would not be displeased to see the end of First Clan. But was there more to it? He could almost see her manipulating Minis. What else had she done? Could she have made the gate go wrong? Did the clans hate each other that much?

'If you insist, I cannot prevent it. But you must state, in front of two witnesses not of my clan, that you have rejected my advice. And what your intention is.'

Witnesses were called. Tirior formally told Minis that she would not take him into Snizort. Minis just as formally insisted that he was going, and that because of his rank she could not refuse him. The witnesses recorded the statements and took them away, and again there came that satisfied smile.

'We will take my construct,' said Tirior. 'It is… more suited to the task.'

'Why is that?' Nish asked, ever curious.

'It's… well, you will see.'

The construct, barely half the size of Minis's, made hardly any noise. Even inside, Nish could scarcely hear it. As Tirior touched the controller, a panel in front of them, that Nish had thought was solid metal, became transparent. Outside he could see the lights of battle, a blaze off to their left and others to the right.

Tirior turned a coin-sized dial. The front of the machine, visible see through the transparent panel, faded from sight. Even the reflections of the flames disappeared. Nish gaped.

'I use it on… covert missions,' she said.

'So you're a spy! Just like I was, once.'

'If you like.' Her distaste for the word was evident.

'Are you planning to drive through the front gate?'

'The concealment is not that perfect. It serves on a dark night, as long as the lyrinx don't come too close, but it can still be seen in bright light.'

'What are you going to do?' said Nish.

'Take your cue from Minis, who just listens,' she snapped. 'I have spent much time circling Snizort, watching what the enemy do. I know their secret places.'

They slid through the dark, between patches of stunted trees and clusters of boulders, for more than an hour. They seemed to be heading away from Snizort. Finally Tirior drew up some distance from a boulder-topped hill.

'The lyrinx have a number of secret tunnels out of Snizort and we have surely not found them all. This exit is more than a league from the walls.' She stopped, looking out. 'Keep watch on the hilltop.' Tirior put a spiralling metal cap on her head and stared at the shifting patterns on the green glass.

Nish could see nothing but a group of pale boulders, some considerably larger than the construct, between which grew twisted trees. Beside him, Minis was as tense as wire. The scene did not change in the next hour, though the noise of battle, a dull roar in the background, grew louder.

'That'll be our assault on the far side,' she whispered.

'I don't -'

'Shh!' She punched him on the shoulder.

A lyrinx appeared between the boulders as if it had materialised from the air. Another one followed, carrying something between it and a third. They slipped across the open space into the trees.

'Minis?' Tirior said.

Minis had his ear to a funnel-shaped implement. 'They're heading away to the south-west. There were only those three.'

'Can you hear them with that?' Nish asked.

'I can feel their footsteps.'

They waited. Tirior was watching the movement of lines upon the glass.

'What is it?' said Nish.

'They have sentinels – of a sort I'm not sure how to deal with.'

'Sentinels?'

'Patterned devices that sense the aura of the Art and set off an alarm. They never sleep; never fail. Nothing of the Art can get past them.'

Nish asked no more questions.

'Minis?' said Tirior, 'would you go below and bring up the packet on the bench?'

He did so. She handed it to Nish. 'A chance to prove yourself. See that smaller rock, the seventh in from the left-hand side, low down?'

'Er… The round one that's narrower underneath?'

'Yes. It's a sentinel. Go up onto the hill and approach it from above, quietly. Unwrap the package before you get there. It contains a net lined with gold foil. Be careful you don't tear it. Slip the net over the sentinel from above and pull it all the way to the ground, leaving no gaps. Then crush this with your fingers and push it under.' She pressed something like a small egg into his hand. 'When I signal, bring back the net and the foil. We may need to use it again.'

'Why me?'

'You bear no trace of the Art.'

'What if there are lyrinx sentries?'

'They'll eat you and I'll have to find another way, which will vex me. Get moving.'

The unpleasant part was, he felt sure she was telling the truth. Nish crept across the dry grass, which crackled alarmingly. His passage was even noisier as he moved up the hill, for the ground was littered with crunchy bark and dry sticks. The piled boulders above would make a perfect place for an ambush.

As he reached the lowest boulder a whiff of something came to him – something strongly, muskily animal. Lyrinx. He froze against the rock, head cocked to one side. A breeze stirred the treetops; just a whisper. There was no other sound. The creature, or creatures, could be anywhere. They could probably smell him. And he was unarmed.

But Minis had said they were all gone. He must just be smelling the scent left behind, or from the hole they'd come out of. He waited another minute but heard and smelt nothing more.

Tirior would be getting impatient. Nish had one foot in the air when something thumped onto one of the higher boulders further around the hill. It was definitely a lyrinx – he heard the squeal of its claws against the rock.

Another joined it, followed by three more thumps. Nish did not dare to breathe. Even the most cursory search must find him. There was a mutter in the lyrinx tongue and the unmistakable flap of leather wings unfolding. Thup-thup, thup-thup. A lyrinx passed across the sky, and another beside it. They were carrying something between them, suspended in a net. It looked like a long box.

They disappeared into the dark. After a moment's silence the others moved out, one by one. All wore bulky packs. They looked around, then headed down the hill, going west.

Nish counted to five hundred, and even then felt anxious. He had no way to tell if more were coming but the risk had to be taken. He went up among the boulders, unfolded the net carefully and crept toward the sentinel. It looked very rock-like. He studied it closely. It was a rock – he was looking at the wrong one.

He found the sentinel. Holding out the net, he tiptoed towards it, whipped the net over and pressed it down. The sentinel did not move, of course. It was not alive, strictly speaking.

Taking the other object from his pocket, he crushed it in his fingers. A nauseating stench wisped out, like the rottenest of rotten eggs, and something slimy clung to his fingers. Nish thrust the mess under the net and held it down. He wiped his fingers repeatedly but could not get rid of the smell.

What now? Tirior was supposed to signal. He climbed onto a rock, looking in the direction of the hidden construct. Nothing. He got down again. The sentinel seemed to be collapsing. Nish was watching it, wondering what to do, when he was seized by the arm. He struggled desperately to get free.

'It's me, Minis,' Minis hissed. 'Why are you waiting here? Come on.'

'I thought you said they were all gone,' Nish grumbled as they went back to the construct.

'I thought they were. Hurry up.'

The construct moved forward until it was between the boulders. Tirior handed Nish what appeared to be a wire helmet. 'Put this on.'

'What is it?'

'Something to stop your little brain melting.'

'I -' He could never tell if she was serious. He put it on.

'Come on,' said Minis.

Nish climbed out after him. 'What are we supposed to be doing?'

'Don't talk! Grab the other side and lift.'

Nish took hold of what looked like solid rock and heaved. It was not rock either and tilted back to reveal a dark cavity.

'Hold it open.'

The little construct, slightly more visible than before, edged forward. Minis thrust his funnel inside the entrance and signalled to Tirior. She stood up, held something elongated to her shoulder and pointed it down the hole. An amber glow spiralled around its length and shot underground. Minis checked again with the funnel. He waved. The construct tilted over the edge and slid down. They followed.

A breeze drifted past, carrying the scent of crushed leaves. The false rock came down over Nish's head, shutting out the light. All was black for an instant, then a light-glass came on at the front of the construct. They clambered inside and the construct moved down the narrow tunnel at walking pace. Shortly they encountered the bodies of two lyrinx by a sentry post.

'If you can kill them so easily,' said Nish, 'why don't you use these weapons in the war?'

'It was not easy,' said a blanched Tirior. 'I will suffer for days, and no one else can use it at all.'

'How did you find this tunnel?' Nish asked.

'Not by flapping my mouth at every opportunity. Minis, go to the firing position.'

Minis jacked up the rear turret, where a pair of devices used compressed springs to fire various kinds of projectiles. He armed both weapons.

'Nish, put your ear to the funnel. Call if you hear anything.'

Nish heard an amplified whine, a ticker-tick-tick, but no thumping footsteps. The tunnel wound around as if following weaknesses in the rock, then ran flat and straight for a few minutes before diving steeply and coiling around several times. At this lower level, water was seeping through the roof, making puddles on the floor.

They slid around a corner of yellow rock. Ahead was a second guard post with two lyrinx by it. They had not heard or seen the construct. In the funnel Nish heard pfft. The lyrinx in the middle of the tunnel fell, transfixed through the heart. The other hurled himself for the guard post but a spear went through his back, dropping him short. Minis was out of his turret before Nish could blink and killed the struggling creature with a sword blow to the neck.

'Good work,' said Tirior, even paler. 'I don't think it got off a warning. Did you hear anything, Nish?'

'No,' he said, though he'd lifted his ear from the funnel at the first shot.

They continued. The tunnel now ran straight and level. Tirior checked a lodestone. 'We're going in the right direction, at least.'

After half an hour of low-speed movement Nish caught a whiff of bitumen. The tunnel plunged again, levelled out and the walls suddenly became black. The sandstone here was impregnated with tar.

'How do they stand it?' said Nish. The smell was unpleasantly strong.

'I don't know. Few creatures could survive in such a place.'

'I wonder what brought them here?'

'Perhaps a special kind of node,' said Minis.

'How are you going to find the node-drainer?'

'I don't think that will be difficult,' Tirior said dryly.

They passed back into clean sandstone, though not for long. The layers of yellow stone became black-streaked, then banded with tar, and finally completely black. Ebony droplets beaded the walls. From here on they had to go more slowly, for the walls narrowed and sometimes curved in at the sides, as if they were oozing in.

'It's a wonder we haven't run into more of the enemy,' said Nish.

'Everyone who can fight would be outside, and the others have probably evacuated.'

They crept around a corner. 'It can't be far now.' Tirior studied the lines dancing on the grey plate behind her controller. 'I -'

The construct stopped suddenly. Tirior jiggled her controller. Nothing happened. 'What's going on? I can't see any field at all. Minis, can you feel anything?'

'No, but we're getting closer. I can almost see the place in my mind's eye, as I saw it in my foretelling.'

'The scrutator must have blocked the node-drainer,' said Nish.

She shook her head. 'That would not affect us. Constructs don't use the weak field. That's why Flydd was so desperate for our support. There's something -'

'What?'

'I don't know, that's the problem. It's… a strangeness, and I don't like it.' The whine resumed. 'It's back.'

'But for how long?'

Tirior drove the construct through the winding tunnels as fast as was humanly possible. Skidding around a corner, she found a sharp, bulging bend straight ahead. Somehow she got through with no more than a scrape against the sides. They slid around another bend into a cavern that opened out around them. Tirior stopped.

'What is that?' said Nish.

The cavern was full of black mist. It took a long time to make out what she was pointing at. It seemed to be a tar fountain in the middle of the floor, a low, bubbling efflorescence about knee high.

'We can go round it,' Nish said.

'There shouldn't be anything like this here,' said Tirior with a worried frown. She consulted the green glass. 'The tar seeps should be a long way away.'

'Maybe they've oozed this way.'

'Not that quickly.' She edged the construct forward. 'See the footprints. They appear to go right through it. This fountain has only just arisen.'

They went around it, but across the far side were struck by floating globules of tar that rolled down the outside of the transparent panel, leaving black trails.

'I didn't know tar floated in air,' Nish said.

'It doesn't!' Tirior muttered, grim-faced.

'What's going on?'

'We've entered the strangeness of the node-drainer. The power it's taking from the field has to end up somewhere, and where it does, reality is… suspended.'

'We'd better hurry,' said Nish.

'We'll be too late!' Minis cried. 'Quickly, Tirior.'

'I don't dare go any faster.'

'You're going slower all the time!'

'The field we use is weak here.'

'Shouldn't it be getting stronger as we approach the node?' said Nish.

'Constructs don't use node fields. They draw on local stress-fields which are stronger on Aachan but, unfortunately, weaker here. I'm drawing all the power I can but it's barely enough to keep us moving.'

Minis was frantic. 'Something's gone wrong, hasn't it, Tirior?'

'Terribly. The stress-field is fading by the minute.'

'Perhaps the node-drainer is draining all the fields,' said Nish.

'I don't see how it could!' she said through clenched teeth. Tirior jerked the controller. The construct lurched forward, stopped, lurched again, and then the whine cut off and it fell, the base smacking against the floor.

'I don't like the sound of that,' said Tirior, picking herself up. 'We didn't crash, we splatted.'

She threw back the hatch and they climbed onto the edge. The air stank of tar. Nish jumped down.

'No!' Tirior yelled.

Too late. His feet went right through the floor. 'Aah.' He sank to his knees in black, oozing tar.

Cursing him, Tirior reached down. Nish took her hand. She tried to pull him out. He did not budge.

'Give me a hand,' she shouted at Minis, who had his hands over his face and was rocking on the rim. 'Minis, now!'

Catching Nish under the arms, Minis strained, and slowly Nish's feet emerged from the tar.

'You bloody fool!' Tirior handed him her knife. 'Scrape it off. Remove your boots and trousers before you come inside.'

Nish set to work. Tirior went down the hatch and soon that familiar whine returned. 'The field's back,' she said over the edge. 'At least, part of it. Let's see if we can get ourselves out.'

The whine rose in pitch, until the construct shuddered and pulled free. They continued through the strangeness, which was stranger than ever. The walls oozed and bulged. Layers of soft tar flowed down them, and across, and sometimes up. Clots of tar drifted in the air; hot tar dripped onto the closed hatch.

'How close are we?' Nish yelled.

'There's no need to shout,' she said. 'Another few minutes and we should be there.'

'To Tiaan?' said Nish.

'No, to the node-drainer.'

Minis spun around. 'But, Tirior…'

'We've got to stop the scrutator first, Minis.'

'It seems awfully hot in here,' said Nish, mopping his brow. 'It wasn't hot before.'

Something burst through the wall in a spray of sparks. The tunnel vibrated visibly, then the side wall pushed in until it reached the construct. Further ahead, the walls were almost together.

'We can't get through,' said Nish. 'We're going to be -'

A shockwave passed through them. Up ahead the tunnel touched, then peeled apart with a grotesque squelch. The whine disappeared; again the construct splatted to the floor. This time Tirior could not get it up.

'We're stuck,' she said. 'The field is gone.'

They stared at one another. Nish could feel his claustrophobia, never far away when underground, rising like a skyrocket. 'Got to get out,' he gasped.

'We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot, if the floor is solid enough.'

'But without the construct we're -'

'I know!' she snapped, 'but we can't carry it.'

'Was that the node-drainer going?' Nish whispered.

She laughed scornfully.

'Then there may still be time.' He put his leg over the side, searching for a patch of floor solid enough to stand on.

Tirior dragged him back. 'Look out!'

A great bulge had developed in the roof, like a wagonload of molasses hanging above him. He threw himself backwards. Tirior slammed the hatch and tightened the clamps. There was an interminable wait before the bulge came down with an oozing splat. It surged across the clear screen; then, with a thump, the rest followed, the level of tar rising until it covered the screen completely.

'We're buried,' said Nish. 'We'll never get out.'