Alchymist (64 page)

Squatting
by the smoky camp fire, she tossed dried beans into the cooking pot. They had
been eating bean-and-onion soup for a week and not even her cooking could make
it interesting. Irisis had no herbs, spices or oil left. Just beans, onions and
water, three times a day, washed down with ginger tea. She'd dug some ginger
root that morning in the moist bank of the only rivulet on the island.

There
was nothing to do and Irisis was bored out of her mind. Fyn-Mah had withdrawn
completely, Pilot Inouye didn't let out a peep and Flangers had taken to going
on long walks by himself along the clifftops, which did nothing for Irisis's
peace of mind. She would not have been surprised to find him at the bottom one
day. Flangers's destruction of the air-floater, and inability to honourably
account for it, was corroding his very soul. And Irisis could not talk to Muss
about her fears, on the rare occasions he was around. Muss required nothing of
anyone, nor gave back any human warmth.

Irisis
sometimes felt that she understood the lyrinx better than she did Muss. He gave
his reports to Fyn-Mah, fully and completely, and advice when specifically
requested, but not a sentence more. Muss recreated himself for each spying
role, revealing nothing of the inner man. She had no idea what his hopes or
dreams were, or even if he had any. But in any case, having procured a tiny
skiff from somewhere, Muss was away most of the time, doing who knew what. It
could have been Flydd's work or Muss's own. There was no way of telling.

She'd
already taken the controller to pieces twice, rebuilding it to improve the way
it drew power. She'd also disassembled the floater-gas generator but, not
understanding how it created gas from water, had put it back together the way
it had been. Irisis had, however, made one innovation vital to their morale.
They could not use any kind of flame on the air-floater, but the floater-gas
generator became hot when in use and she'd worked out how to heat water with
it, for tea.

At
midnight, when everyone else was asleep, she heard the snap of a sail in the
wind. Muss had been away five days this time. She was sitting by the fire,
making jewellery out of silver wire, as she did every night. Once each new work
was complete, she took it apart and used the silver and crystals in a new
arrangement. Irisis made jewellery because she had to. She could not sit idly,
as Fyn-Mah seemed able to do. Irisis did not like to think too much, for her
unpleasant foreboding was growing, day by day. Things were going to get worse
before they got better, but they would not get better for her. She had
committed enough crimes against the scrutators to be executed a dozen times.

The
keel of the skiff grated on pebbles as Muss brought it in shore. Shortly he
appeared, face pinched from the cold wind.

'I
had news of Flydd and Nish,' said Muss, 'but they've disappeared again.'
Shaking his head, he squatted down to warm his hands by the fire. A cold wind
came off the water, coiling around into the mouth of the cave and lifting sand
into their eyes, not to mention into the stew pot.

Have
you eaten?' Irisis asked.

'Not
since breakfast time.'

'Did
you bring any supplies?' she said hopefully.

'No.
What we have will do me.'

She
cursed him under her breath. Muss must have been through many towns on his long
trip.

He
took a bowl of bean-and-onion stew while she made a warming cup to wash it
down. He kneaded his back with his fingers. 'A long sail, a hard paddle, and a
day and night's walkj before that,' he said without expression.

Irisis
chopped a knob of ginger into small pieces. Scraping it into another pot, she
filled it with water and sat it on the fire. When it began to boil she stirred
it with the blade of her knife and filled two mugs, passing one to the spy.

He
sipped the scalding liquid. 'Jal-Nish got his army, and the clankers, to a
usable node west of Gospett. They tracked the retreating lyrinx towards Gnulp
Landing, some twenty leagues south of here, planning to lure them into a trap,
but the enemy disappeared.'

'Where
to?'

'It
was assumed they'd escaped across the sea to Meldorin.'

'But
they hadn't?'

'Some
thirty thousand lyrinx were enchanted into a field of limestone pinnacles above
the valley of Gumby Marth, where the army lay hidden. It was a perfect ambush.'

Her
blood ran cold. 'What happened?'

Muss's
face showed nothing. "Three things saved them from annihilation, and all
down to your friend Nish.' He explained how Nish had led Troist's army to the
relief of Jal-Nish's forces, sounded an alert about the stone-formed lyrinx at
the last moment, and led the breakout that had saved the survivors.

Irisis's
eyes were glowing by the time he finished. 'I always knew Nish was destined for
great things. Where are they now?'

'The
army took ship from Gnulp Landing, in two merchant fleets, and both landed
safely at Hardlar, near the mouth of the River Libbens in Nihilnor. Flydd and
Nish were delayed, sailed into a storm and did not reach Hardlar. The Council
of Scrutators has put a price of a thousand gold tells on Flydd's head but only
if he can be taken alive.'

A
thousand gold tells was an immense fortune. 'Why alive?' said Irisis.

The
list of allegations is too long to enumerate, but they add up to treachery of
the blackest kind. The scrutators don't like to delegate their justice.'

'I
see Jal-Nish's hand in this.' Irisis shivered. She had never experienced such
utter loathing as he had directed at her, the last few times they'd met. He
would not rest until he had destroyed her.

"Not
any more. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your point of view,
Jal-Nish was killed in the battle, and eaten.' . She stood up, spilling her
tea. 'You're sure of that?'

I've
seen the battlefield. He tried to work a great magic against the lyrinx as they
attacked. The survivors said he'd lured the enemy into battle for that purpose,
to prove his mastery to the Council, but the enemy turned his magic against him
and cut his own officers down. It doesn't do to underestimate the lyrinx. The
army was routed. About ten thousand got to Gnulp, of the forty that set out
from Snizort to pursue the enemy.' He gave the dreadful numbers without regret
or compassion.

Thirty
thousand dead. Irisis warmed her hands on the mug, then rubbed it over the back
of her neck. The chill faded. 'It's hard to believe Jal-Nish is no more. You've
no idea how much I wished for it.'

'Anything
can happen in battle,' said Muss. 'Though the official story is different.'
'Oh?'

'Xervish
Flydd has been accused of murdering him.' 'Can that be possible?'

'No.
He was with General Troist, leagues away, when the ambush took place, but the
scrutators can make any lie into truth.'

And
any truth into a lie,' said Irisis, thinking about the Histories. Do you have
any idea where Flydd might be?' 'His ship sailed into the Karama Malama, was
driven south by a gale, and there disappeared. He could be anywhere between
Fleen Haven and Karints, and there's a hundred leagues of water in between.'

'Or
he could be dead,' said Irisis. Nish too. Tears pricked at the corners of her
eyes.

'He
probably is. I learned yesterday that their ship was wrecked on a reef. A skeet
brought the news. A lifeboat got away with the captain and a handful of
sailors. Neither Flydd nor Nish was on it. The captain did not think anyone
could have survived.' Muss still showed no emotion, though he'd served Flydd
for many years.

This
time the chill slid all the way down her backbone. Flydd dead? For all their
sakes it must not be. And Nish? Yet they were mortal men — they could die, or
be killed, as easily as anyone else.

Fyn-Mah
shot up in her sleeping pouch, rubbing her eyes. 'Where did this happen?' Her
voice went shrill.

'In
the middle of the Karama Malama,' said Muss. 'The ship struck a reef 'There are
a thousand islands in that part of the Sea of Mists,' said Fyn-Mah hopefully.

She'd
served Flydd just as long, but it mattered to her. Irisis wondered if, secretly
and hopelessly, she loved him.

'And
Flydd is a strong swimmer' Fyn-Mah went on. 'There's a chance he's survived.'

A
slim one,' said Muss. A man would soon die of cold in those waters, even at
this time of year.’

'Nish
isn't a strong swimmer' said Irisis.

'Then
he's dead. And Ghorr has sent a fleet to make sure.'

'We
must find them first' said Fyn-Mah.

'That's
a task beyond our powers' said Muss.

Fyn-Mah
began to say something, looked across to where Flangers and Inouye lay
sleeping, and said, 'Come outside.'

Irisis
followed her and Muss in her bare feet across the round pebbles. It felt as if
she were walking on eggs.

The
scrutator is a particularly thorough man' Fyn-Mah said obliquely. 'Since he
first fled the manufactory after being suspended from the Council, he's tried
to anticipate every kind of eventuality.'

I
don't see how he could have anticipated this one' said Irisis.

'Of
course not. But he took steps to ensure that, if lost in desperate
circumstances, or held prisoner in a secret place, he might be found.'

Irisis's
heart began to pound. 'What kind of steps?'

'We
learned a lot from Ullii. About the traces that the Secret Art leaves in its
surroundings. And we've learned about nodes, and flows of power, and crystals
too.'

I'm
surrounded by people who can never get to the point, thought Irisis. Clenching
her toes around a pebble, she tried to be patient, though it was not in her
nature.

'In
short' Fyn-Mah went on, 'the scrutator had a lodestone implanted in his buttock
in case he ended up where there was no field, or his other powers were stripped
from him.'

'I
wouldn't have thought his bum was big enough to hide one' Irisis muttered.

'You'd
know!' Fyn-Mah said spitefully. 'But the stone was quite small.'

'How
is that possible?' For all her work with such materials, Irisis couldn't
imagine how it could work.

'In
ancient times, a mancer called Golias the Mad made a device that had never been
made before or since — a farspeaker — a way of speaking across the distances of
the world. The secret of the device is long lost, but when Flydd was using
Ullii to locate Tiaan and her amplimet, it gave him an idea for tracing the
faint emanations emitted by certain objects. Xervish Flydd is cleverer than you
know. He was, for some years, scrutator supervising all the mancers and artisans
in Nennifer, and they've invented hundreds of devices powered by the Art.'

'I
didn't know that' said Irisis. 'How will you look for it?'

I
carry the complementary crystal, which is tuned to Flydd's lodestone. If he is
still alive, we should be able to find it.'

'What
if he's dead?'

The
stone requires the warmth of the human body to operate. If he's dead, we'll
find no trace of it.'

They
went back to the cave and the firelight. From a lined wooden box no bigger than
a needle case, Fyn-Mah took a grass-green translucent crystal, the length of a
needle and not much thicker. After warming it in her fingers, she set it aside.
Filling a beaten gold bowl with water until it reached the very top, she added
more, drop by drop, until the surface rose minutely above the sides. With a
pair of tweezers, she lowered the crystal to the surface and let it go. It
floated.

'Don't
move. Don't even breathe in this direction,' Fyn-Mah said softly. 'I must now
give it power.'

She
made a fist of one hand, wrapped the other around it and closed her eyes. Muss
sat watching, motionless. Irisis felt her scalp prickle.

A
tendril of steam rose from the water. Outside, the wind rushed by the entrance,
shaking the bushes and making the firelight dance on the walls of the cave. The
crystal sparked on one end then slowly moved, as if embedded in treacle. It
rotated almost a half-turn, went back a little way, turned a quarter-turn, back
again, then stopped.

'He's
alive?' cried Irisis.

'Flydd
lives,' said Fyn-Mah. 'Now all we have to do is find him.'

'It's
pointing a little west of south, into the Karama Malama.'

'That
would seem to cover a large area,' said Irisis.

Fyn-Mah
stood looking down at the quivering needle and a tear formed in one dark eye.

'The
scrutators have a fleet looking for him,' Muss reminded her. 'And
air-floaters.'

Fyn-Mah
pulled her coat around her. 'Then we'd better get moving.'

Before
dawn broke, the air-floater was cruising low over the Karama Malama, which
lived up to its name. It was a cold, windy day, the slaty sea reflecting a
leaden sky. Patches of mist drifted over the surface. The air-floater bucked
and rolled so much that Irisis felt seasick.