Geomancer (Well of Echoes) (50 page)

‘Hurry up, artisan.’ The perquisitor had his head in through the back hatch.

It was now or not at all. Irisis seized on one of those whorls and tried with all her strength to draw power. Nothing happened. Gritting her teeth, she wiped icy perspiration from her brow and tried again. Again nothing.

The perquisitor laughed. How Jal-Nish was enjoying this. ‘You can’t do it. You’re a fraud, Irisis. You’ve always been a fraud. What a cautionary tale this is going to make. I can’t wait to see the faces of the House of Stirm as the story is told.’

‘I
can
do it!’ she ground out. How dare he attack her family! Everyone knew his ancestors were upstarts who had whored and bribed and battered their way to the top. If she could have anthracised him she would have done it on the spot.

She tried again and again, until the sinews in her neck stood out like knotted cords. Irisis bared her teeth; a groan escaped, but not the least trickle of power came though into the controller.

Jal-Nish laughed aloud. Irisis wanted to smash his face in, but that had got her into trouble in the first place. She looked around wildly. The seeker had taken off her goggles and was staring at Irisis with frightening intensity. Strangely, it made the artisan think of scribbled marks on fans.

Closing her eyes, she prepared for one last try. Irisis plunged into a knot of that red mist, but now it was like a knot on a fan. As she hurled herself at it, the knot began to unravel, and then to open up like a rosebud, and a path unfolded inside that was unlike any path she had ever seen before.

Suddenly Irisis saw the way that had been closed to her and pulled so hard that she blacked out for an instant, cracking her head on the side of the clanker.

The clanker did not budge; the controller arms failed to flex in the slightest degree. She had failed. Irisis looked up for the cruel vindication on Jal-Nish’s face.

The perquisitor had his head to one side. ‘What’s that?’

Her head was ringing; she could not tell.

‘I don’t know,’ she heard the querist say.

‘Flywheel spinning,’ said Ullii.

The faintest ticking sound became a whirr, a hum, then a whine as the paired flywheels spun up to full speed. Somehow, incredibly, miraculously, the controller was drawing from the field.

‘You did it!’ cried Nish, hugging and kissing her on the brow. ‘I knew you would.’

‘It is her job,’ Jal-Nish said sourly. ‘I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss about it. Get the others fixed and let’s get after the lyrinx.’

Irisis tuned the other three controllers to the field and instructed their operators on how to get them going. When that was done she went back to her clanker and touched Ullii on the cheek with her fingertips, silent thanks. She had no idea what Ullii had done, or how she had shown her the way, but that did not matter. It was done and she had a temporary reprieve. Nothing else had changed. Irisis knew she could no more do it by herself than before. Her need for the crystal was as urgent as ever.

On the afternoon of the fifth day they caught a glimpse, when the weather cleared briefly, of a cliff-bound plateau not far away. From Ullii’s latest directions, the lyrinx had gone straight toward it. They went carefully thereafter, not moving until dark and travelling though the night. Jal-Nish was working on a plan to take the enemy by surprise. He spent a lot of time with Rustina, the red-haired sergeant of the troop which had joined them at the river. The two squatted by themselves, he talking, she drawing with her knife on the snow. Whatever was decided Jal-Nish kept to himself.

‘No doubt father is planning to spring another triumph on us,’ Nish said sourly to Irisis.

‘He has to keep proving his cleverness …’ She broke off as Jal-Nish approached.

‘What if they have a town there?’ Nish said to his father.

‘Up there? At most it will be a small clan grouping.’

They reached the cliffs some hours before dawn, having veered away from the lyrinx’s path in case a lookout was kept. There was no danger at the moment, for the air was full of blown snow and the top of the plateau could not be seen. They camped in a fold behind a hill, a hiding place if the weather cleared suddenly. Conference was held at the base of the cliff. Everyone was called to it, even Ullii, though she was allowed to watch from the open hatch of the clanker.

‘What do you know of this place?’ the querist asked Arple.

‘I’ve heard of it,’ the sergeant replied, his hand upon the yellow riven rock. Wind had fretted it into little clusters of box shapes, outlined a deeper yellow-brown. ‘People dwelt up there once, shepherds of mountain sheep and goats, but the weather turned cold forty years back and one year there was no summer at all. The flocks starved; the people died or left. Nothing can survive there now.’

‘Except lyrinx!’ Jal-Nish said sourly. ‘And surely they do not eat the rocks. Who among you has been atop? Speak up and you will be rewarded.’

‘I believe Wulley is acquainted with the place, surr,’ said Arple after a long hesitation. ‘Wulley …’

A hard-bitten veteran spoke from the shadows. His voice was as soft as butter and never rose above a whisper. Irisis’s eyes sought him out in the darkness. A heavily muscled man, though with the legs of a dwarf, his face was scored with scars, clan marks. Another went across his throat, which explained the voice. She wondered how he had survived such a wound.

‘I know it from when I were a kiddie, surr. Were a robber band there for a while. Brought terror and ruin to Yellow Nodey, Consummine, Tungstate and a dozen other villages nearby.’

‘I did not know there were any villages up here,’ said Jal-Nish.

‘Aren’t any more. Famine and plague got what the robbers did not, more’n thirty year ago.’

‘What do you know of this plateau, soldier?’

‘Garrihan it’s called, surr, which means tabletop mountain in our dialect. Least, it used to. I’m the only one to speak it now, and when I’m gone …’ He trailed off.

‘What’s on top of Garrihan, Wulley?’ asked Arple.

‘Top is shaped like an egg, surr. The pointy end faces us. It’d be a solid day’s march across, in the snow.’

‘It’s about three leagues long,’ said the querist, who was holding a map up to the light. ‘And two wide. It would take a good force to watch all that edge. It’s flat you say, Wulley?’

‘Pretty much. There’s gentle hills and gullies down the other end. No high places where they could keep watch, though.’

‘Where would they camp if they were up there?’ Jal-Nish asked.

‘Down the round end. In the gullies you can get away from the wind, and there’s water, when it’s not frozen.’

‘Sounds like this end is the best place to go up,’ said Jal-Nish, ‘if the weather stays bad. Show us on the map, soldier.’

Wulley came out, walking like a bear on its hind legs. Irisis pressed closer. Pointing to the eastern side of the round end with a battered, nailless finger, the soldier said, ‘Was a stair here, when the robbers held it. That’ll be guarded, if the beasts haven’t destroyed it. Lyrinx don’t need stairs. Village was here. Winds are perishing anywhere else.’

‘Where would you go up in secret?’ Arple asked.

Without hesitation, Wulley replied, ‘Just here, across the tabletop from the stair, surr. The edge is all broken and there are rocks and boulders. Easy to hide but hard to guard. You can’t see far. Bugger of a climb, though.’

‘We’re ready for that,’ Jal-Nish said smugly. ‘The troop that came with the fourth clanker are all climbers. I’m prepared for every contingency.’

Except my fist in your face, Irisis thought, taking some satisfaction from the damage she’d done. His handsome nose was ruined and every breath wheezed in his sinuses.

Jal-Nish’s news was a surprise, even to Arple, for the new squad had kept to themselves.

‘We’ll move the camp down there, out of sight,’ Jal-Nish continued, ‘and my climbers will come to the base of the cliffs while it’s still dark. Unless the weather clears they’ll go up at first light, make reconnaissance and prepare the way for the rest of the force. By this time tomorrow the lyrinx will be history.’

T
hey arrived in position just as a slate-grey dawn broke. The wind was shrieking but they found a relatively protected north face. Rustina paced back and forth, scanning the cliffs for a suitable place to climb.

‘Here, I think!’ She placed her gloved hand on the layered rock.

A flurry of snow whirled up the gully like a miniature tornado. Irisis watched the white flakes spin. Obsessed with the crystal now, she dreamed about it every night, and in her waking moments fantasised that it would give her back her talent.

The rest of the squad were carrying enormous packs, which they placed at the base of the cliff. Rustina motioned them away. ‘No, over there! Move it well back! If we’re discovered they could wipe us out with a few boulders.’

Soon they were ready. Irisis turned her back to the wind and watched. The first two climbers received their final instructions. Both were like Rustina: tall, lean and long-limbed. They wore clawed, retractable spikes strapped to wrists and boot toes. Each carried an ice axe spiked on one end, and a small pack. A length of rope connected them.

Rustina clapped each on the shoulder and up they went, climbing with surprising swiftness, using crevices Irisis could not see. They looked like four-armed spiders creeping across the stone. Soon they disappeared into the blasting snow.

Jal-Nish stood with his arms folded. Arple was some distance away, as rigid as if on parade. Blown snow had caked in his furrowed upper lip. More than ever it seemed like a second mouth. Rustina strode back and forth, red hair flying, thin lips tight. The minutes ticked into an hour. They heard no sound, not that anything
could
be heard over the wind. The sergeant muttered to herself. Jal-Nish began pacing nervously, casting anxious glances up. Arple still had not moved.

With a squeal of metal on stone something bounced off the rock above him. Landing with another scrape, it pushed off and came down another couple of spans. It was one of the climbers, bounding on a rope. His feet struck the ground.

‘All’s well so far,’ he said, beaming. ‘No sign of them. We’ve set up, up top.’

Jal-Nish came running across. ‘And the weather?’

‘Wonderful!’ The climber gave a fierce grin. His gums were stained bright yellow from chewing nigah leaf, which dulled the senses to cold. Rustina had issued rations of it to her troop, though she did not take any for herself. ‘It’s blowing a gale, surr. Visibility no more than twenty steps.’

‘You saw no tracks, no path?’

‘No, surr!’ By way of emphasis he spat a yellow gob on the snow.

‘And the clankers?’

The climber scratched his head and spoke briefly to Rustina. She nodded.

‘I believe it’s possible, surr.’ They went into a huddle. Irisis did not hear the rest. Soon after they broke up.

‘Get your troops up, sergeant,’ Jal-Nish said. ‘Quick as you can! Put the defences in place and set up the lifts. Arple, send for the camp and the clankers. We’re going to take them up.’

Arple looked dubious but rapped out his orders and a soldier skied off to the camp. Rustina’s troops brought the strapped bundles of rods out from under an overhang. They had been bound to the top of the fourth clanker. Irisis had often wondered what they were for. They also carried bags with pulleys, clamps, coils of rope and other equipment. Rustina went back and forth, carrying loads the equal of the strongest soldiers. She drove herself the hardest of all. Finally, the rest of her squad donned their packs and went up the cliff, using the rope.

Irisis sat on a rock. The troops were well drilled and there was nothing she could do to help. How were they going to get the clankers up there? It seemed like madness, in this gale, especially after the fiasco that had killed Dhirr.

Soon the rope jerked. Rustina signalled back and the troops tied on the bags and bundles of equipment, which were lifted with no more than an occasional clink of metal against the yellow cliff. The rope came back down. The remaining soldiers were hauled up, Rustina last of all.

Jal-Nish stood back, looking anxiously around. They were particularly vulnerable now, if the weather cleared or a scouting party ran into them down here, with Arple the only trained soldier to protect them. Even the eleven above would have trouble with a pair of lyrinx. If there were more, they would be annihilated.

A couple of hours went by before the soldier returned, skis whispering on the snow. The others followed. They gathered around in their ranks, were briefed and hauled up in a rope chair.

Arple went with them to inspect the defences. Shortly the first of the clankers came clunking along, followed by the others. Heavier ropes were taken up, then Artificer Tuniz, anxiously showing her pointed teeth.

Nish wandered across. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Most of the troops are atop,’ Irisis said. ‘They’re setting up a structure to lift the clankers.’

‘They’re mad!’

‘Well, you’d know, being an artificer.’

‘Tuniz is a better one, fortunately.’