Geomancer (Well of Echoes) (32 page)

‘Thank you,’ he whispered back.

In the artisans’ workshop he told Irisis all that had happened, scarcely able to contain his glee. ‘I’ve done it!’ he concluded. ‘She trusts me. She said she would help find Tiaan!’

Irisis was not quite as pleased as he’d expected, and she positively scowled at the sniffing episodes. ‘Like a dog and bitch on heat!’ she snapped. ‘Let’s get to work.’

They began with the goggles, which were as light a pair as Nish could manufacture, large oval lenses framed with wire and filled in all around with beaten silver. The arms hooked around Ulli’s ears like a pair of spectacles.

She fitted them over her eyes, tentatively, walked across the room and back, then whipped them off again. ‘Can’t!’ She rubbed her ears and the bridge of her nose.

The first setback. Nish tucked them under his arm, handing her the earmuffs instead. Putting them on, she adjusted the fit and smiled – the first true smile he’d seen from her, though it fleeted away.

He gave her the clothing. She ran her fingers over the blouse, a high-necked one, and frowned. Ullii pulled it over her head, settled it around her waist, arched her back and screamed.

‘It’s crawling! It’s crawling all over me!’ In a single movement she tore it off, flung it into her water bucket and held it under. She stood up, shuddering and rubbing furiously at her belly, breasts and shoulders.

Irisis flung the door open. ‘What’s the matter?’

Nish took the bucket, goggles and the rest of the clothing and went outside. ‘Well, at least she likes the earmuffs.’ He told her what had happened.

‘I checked everything,’ said Irisis, piqued. ‘All the seams are concealed. There’s not a single thread loose.’

‘If she says it’s crawling,’ said Nish, ‘it must be. Maybe if we talked to the weaver.’

‘Good idea!’ They turned out the gate, past the water cisterns and the slaughterers doing their bloody business, and down to a collection of smaller buildings occupied by craft workers not directly related to the making of clankers.

‘Good morning, master weaver,’ Irisis said, putting her head through the door. ‘Are you busy?’

‘I’m always busy!’ A cadaverous-looking man with one twisted leg, he never smiled. He was untangling a mess of threads in one of the looms. ‘Look at this. Damned prentices; if you put all their brains together it wouldn’t fill the skull of a nit. What do you want?’

‘It’s this spider-silk.’ She explained what had happened.

‘Women!’ he said under his breath, evidently being one of the new breed. ‘Hold on! There was a bit left over.’ Diving into a chest of reels, he pulled one out and wound some of the thread off, testing it with skeletal fingers. Nish thought he looked rather like a spider, the way his fingers worked. ‘Did you wash the cloth first?’ the weaver challenged.

‘No!’ said Irisis. ‘I thought you’d already done that.’

‘Not a bloody washerwoman!’ He glared at her. ‘There’s your answer then. This is raw silk. It’s still got the prints of the spider on it.’

‘How do I get it off?’

‘How would I know? I’ve never used spider-silk before. Nor will again, after the trouble it was to weave.’ Scowling, he banged the loom with his fist. ‘Warm water and mild soap. No lye! Definitely not hot water, or it’ll only fit a mouse afterwards.’

‘Thank you,’ said Irisis.

‘Bah!’ he turned back to the loom, tossing a head like a fluffy skull.

‘Charming fellow,’ said Nish.

‘He’s all right. He does a good job, exactly the way he’s asked. Just doesn’t like women. And with some reason, I understand.’

Nish did not ask why and she did not elaborate. She left the garments at the laundry with many instructions. Nish returned to his workshop, where he replaced the arms of the goggles with a split strap that would buckle over the back of Ullii’s head. The padding he covered with scraps of spider-silk cloth, washed carefully beforehand.

He spent hours in Ullii’s room that afternoon and evening, watching her walking about with the earmuffs and mask on. She tried the goggles several times, but each time took them off after some minutes. Evidently she preferred to see nothing rather than put up with the least discomfort.

Nish kept quiet. He wanted her to get used to him being there. The door was open now, lighting the room, though guards at either end of the corridor kept the curious away.

He liked watching her. Ullii was small but sweetly formed, her compact curves a contrast to Irisis’s elongated form. Her skin, which had never seen the sun, was as soft as a baby’s. As she walked back and forth, unselfconsciously naked, a germ of desire formed.

And why not, he thought. She is a grown woman. Perhaps it would help to cement her trust in me. Irisis need never know. His mind wandered on that delicious track until he realised that Ullii was pacing frantically, radiating anxiety.

Had she sensed the direction of his thoughts? Nish hastily adjusted his trousers and saw a tall figure at the door. He went across. ‘She’s better, though she still has trouble with the goggles.’

Irisis gave him a frosty, up-and-down glare as if she knew what he had been daydreaming about. ‘Her clothes are dry!’ she said curtly.

Nish held out his hand but Irisis brushed past and stalked straight up to Ullii. The seeker backed away until she hit the wall, holding her hands up as if to ward off some horror.

‘It’s crawling!’ she said in a cracked voice.

Irisis looked irritated. Her frustration must soon burst out. That would ruin all the trust built up so far.

‘Stop!’ he hissed. ‘Let me do it.’

Irisis raised her fist. Nish thought she was going to thump him. Well, let her, if that was what it took. It might lower another barrier between him and Ullii. He steeled himself against the blow.

A wild, bubbling hiss came from Ullii’s throat and she went into a crouch, her fingers hooked into claws, glaring through her mask at Irisis.

Irisis took a step backwards, then shrugged and tossed the garments to Nish. ‘I wish I inspired that kind of loyalty.’ She went to the door.

He wondered how to convince Ullii that the clothes were different now. Unbuttoning his shirt, Nish dropped it on the floor. Her face turned his way.

Irisis gave a disgusted snort. ‘I don’t believe this!’

‘Just keep quiet!’ The clothes were too small for Nish, of course. Taking up the spider-silk shirt, he smoothed it across his chest and rubbed it up and down, then pulled it over his head, burying his face in it. It felt sensual, like nothing he had ever worn before.

Tucking the garment under his arm, he did the same with the pants, socks and gloves, then held the shirt out to her. She took it by one finger and thumb, holding it away as if it was crawling with spiders. Slowly she brought it up to her face and sniffed. She sniffed it up and down, across and back, gave a little grunt and touched her face with it, gingerly. It seemed to be all right for she pulled open the neck hole, eased her head through and drew it on. At the level of her breasts she stopped, giving a little shudder of remembrance. She pulled it down and stood frozen, one foot in the air. Nish held his breath. Irisis, by the door, was doing the same.

Ullii gave a little, sensual chuckle that was, to Nish, like his lover blowing in his ear. In a single movement she stepped into the trousers, pulled them up to the waist and leapt high in the air, crying out for joy. She ran around the room skipping and dancing.

Coming up behind Nish, she threw her arms around him and put her hands over his nose. He sniffed her hands, evidently what was expected, for she resumed her dance. She was perfectly dexterous and graceful. Despite the mask, Ullii knew where everything in the room was. She did not once look like tipping over the water bucket or crashing into the walls.

Nish went to the door. ‘Very good,’ said Irisis. ‘This afternoon we begin.’

B
efore long, Tiaan found herself at a dead end. She turned back and not far from the entrance to the ninth level crossed a passage that she must have stumbled by yesterday without noticing. Right or left? Going left, she soon encountered another cross-passage. Tiaan stopped, frowning. It would be easy to get lost in here. Returning to the entrance, she looked up the shaft. Hammering echoed down. They must be preparing to come after her.

She hurried back to the first cross-passage, noting the number of steps and wishing she had paper to make a map on. As a prentice artisan she’d often been required to memorise an entire blueprint and recreate it perfectly a week or even a year later. Could she still do it? As she paced, Tiaan began to create a map of the mine in her head. It would not be accurate, since she could only estimate directions, but better than none. Eventually, if she did not starve to death, or her pursuers didn’t find her first, she hoped to locate the long passage Joeyn had mentioned, that led to the other mine.

She moved back and forth, building the map in her mind, a labyrinth of thread-like passages with herself just a speck at the centre. At one point Tiaan realised that she was humming a tune. She felt back in control.

A full day went by, judging by her stomach, before she had mapped the entire level. Maintaining the relationships between wandering adits, shafts and pillars was hard work. Her skills were rusty. She enjoyed testing herself though; the harder the work, the better.

The lower sections were partly flooded. She wished she’d brought along Joeyn’s grappling pole to probe the lifeless water. Without it, all she could do was wade in and hope it did not come up over her shoulders, for her gear was too heavy to swim with.

Most times the water only reached her thighs but it was damnably cold and not doing her boots any good. By the end of the day Tiaan was exhausted and the wet cloth had chafed the insides of her thighs.

She found a place to sleep for the night, took off her clothes and inspected the damage. She was red raw. Imagining what Matron would say to blemishes in such a strategic spot, she burst out laughing. It sounded strange, and more so after the pitch-shifted echoes came back. On edge; maniacal. That was not far off it, either.

Tiaan had been thinking about the glowing crystal all day. It was different from every hedron she’d come across. It had never been shaped, it just
was
, as it had crystallised half a billion years ago. She wanted it desperately, and that worried her. Could the bond have been established after only using it once? It took all her willpower to leave it in her pack.

That night she again dreamed about the young man, though this time it was different. They were on opposite sides of the room, gazing at each other. He began to run towards her. She ran too. He held out his arms, naked desire on his face. She froze. Her daydreams had always ended with the rescue. The reality of this dream was that he wanted something of her. What was it? Afraid to commit herself, she turned away. He let his arms fall and, with sunken shoulders, stumbled off.

Once Tiaan woke, she recalled the mortifying emotions all too well. Feelings of helplessness, of having no idea what was required of her, flooded her. That was the other reason she had not taken a partner. To share her life with another meant losing the control that she had worked so hard for. Afraid of those unplumbed emotions, she closed her eyes and groaned aloud. Then a thud echoed down the tunnel.

They were after her! Stripping off her dry clothes, Tiaan put back on the wet, which were clammily uncomfortable. With the pack on her back, the coil of rope over her shoulder, the glowing crystal in one hand and a crust in the other, she set off.

Only as she neared the first cross-passage did Tiaan realise that the map of the ninth level had vanished from her mind. She stopped dead, panic rising up from her stomach like bile. How could it have happened? Without that rational part of her controlling the world around, she was no more than an indenture breaker, a non-citizen who had no rights and belonged nowhere.

Thud-thud!
Nearer this time. She stood still, pushing the panic down as she had so often done before a test of her prentice’s skills. Calm yourself. You can do it. This map is simple compared to the blueprints you’ve memorised. Take deep breaths, one after another. Empty your mind of everything else.

Tiaan could not get the map back – she was too tired. Snatches of a soldiers’ marching song drifted up the tunnel. Panic told her to run. She almost gave in to it.

She had to consciously lay out, step by step, what had long ago become automatic. ‘Start from the beginning, girl!’ the old crafter had told her many times. ‘You’re trying to do more than your mind can manage.’

This place could not beat her. Imagining her starting point at the entrance to the ninth level, Tiaan mentally went into the dark and began to make her map anew. She traced a path to the intersection where she now stood. As she passed it, the side passages marked themselves on her map, though only as far as the illumination from the hedron reached.

She walked forward, slowly mapping the labyrinth again, then one time she went through an intersection and the cross-passages of her mental map ran off through the darkness to link up with another tunnel. She refused to think about that, just kept going, and suddenly the map exploded into her mind, entire and complete. At that instant she understood where the long tunnel to the other mine had to be.