Tetrarch (Well of Echoes) (32 page)

‘Slazzhik?’ a lyrinx called, the sound echoing along the tunnel.

‘Glunnra!’ another replied. ‘Tynchurr.’

Running back on tiptoes, she shook Ullii. ‘Wake, seeker! The enemy knows we’re here. We must run.’

Ullii moaned and curled up even tighter. Irisis felt like kicking her. She grabbed the seeker, who lashed out, catching Irisis in the left eye. ‘Stop that!’ she hissed, and when Ullii continued to struggle, Irisis slapped her.

Ullii went rigid, then curled up again. Holding her in her arms, Irisis felt her way up the tunnel. As she neared the hole, or shaft, it was outlined by a glow from beneath. They were coming.

Irisis peered down. The light was still moving; she smelt something like incense. They were burning sticks dipped in tree gum. The hole looked a couple of good steps wide. She would have to jump it, for the rim of stone along the left side was definitely not wide enough to walk on. Irisis checked the roof. No point leaping high and knocking herself out.

Ullii was like a hard little ball, which was not going to make it any easier. Irisis took three long steps backward, ran up to the hole, knew she was not going to make it and baulked at the last instant. She bent over, gasping for breath.

Something appeared at the bottom, the shadow of a beast with wings, and roared. She had to do it this time. Irisis ran, one, two, three. The load in her arms kept shifting and her mind could not calculate how much further, how much higher she had to jump. She stopped, overbalanced and almost fell down the shaft.

She managed to recover, spinning on one foot as she did so, but lost her footing and was forced to drop the seeker. Ullii landed on her bottom, let out an aggrieved howl and fleeted across the tiny ledge of floor. Without looking back, she hared off up the tunnel.

You little cow! Irisis thought as the seeker disappeared. After all I’ve done for you. A dark silhouette was moving up the shaft. No choice now. Jump or die.

She ran backwards, took two deep breaths and ran. As she came near, the creature’s head emerged. The torchlight lit up its face from below: eyes and teeth. Jump high and fast, or you’re dead. She took off, leaping as high as she possibly could. The lyrinx threw up its arm, its claws scraped her ankle, caught on her boot seam and it tried to pull her out of the air. Irisis kicked, connected with its forehead; and then she was over, landing on hands and knees.

The lyrinx roared and threw itself out of the shaft, holding up the torch. The tunnel ran straight for about thirty spans. Irisis fled. When she was nearly to the bend, the light disappeared. All she could see was the silhouette again. The creature had put the torch behind it, so as to hide the way ahead of her.

Slowing to a trot, she put her arms out. Even so, it came as a shock when she ran into the bend. She felt around it and moved forward at a shuffling walk. That would not save her if she encountered another shaft.

Irisis prayed for a narrow pinch that her pursuer could not get through; there had been several like it over on the other side. Here, the tunnel was almost as wide as a road. It took many a turning, and each time she had to go blindly into the dark. Each time the silhouette appeared behind her, it was closer.

She went harder, but it sped up too. There was a stitch in her side. She felt as if she had been running all her life. Suddenly the lyrinx let out an almighty roar that seemed to shake the tunnel. It had a note of triumph. Gravel and grit fell on her head. Something thumped behind her; a lump of roof.

The roar echoed back the other way. Or was another lyrinx ahead? She saw a flickering light, panicked, and when a smaller tunnel loomed up on her left, Irisis turned into it. Unfortunately it was not a tunnel, just a dead end, but in the darkness she could not see that. Irisis ran into the wall.

G
ilhaelith had gone to see Tiaan several times but she always pretended to be asleep. She was hiding something. He had left off questioning her for the moment, for he had much to think about. War now raged in northern Almadin, and that was not far away. The lyrinx had defeated an army and razed a city. Neither the vastness of Worm Wood nor the slopes of the mountain could deter a determined attack. And the amplimet was preying on his mind. He had spent hours each day, watching it and wondering how it had formed. He had not touched it yet – each time he read the numbers they told him to wait.

On the fourth day after the crash, there came a tap on the door and Nyrd the messenger hurried in, his satchel bulging and a leather envelope in one hand. With his pointed nose and chin, elongated ears and skin so thick and wrinkled it could have been a leather suit, Nyrd looked like an oversized gnome.

‘What is it?’ asked Gilhaelith.

‘The war!’ said Nyrd with a quizzical glance. His eyes were as small and black as cherries. ‘Better take a look at this one first.’ He passed over the leather envelope. ‘It just came in by skeet.’

Gilhaelith untied the red cords, withdrawing the wax-sealed packet inside. Noting the origin of the seal, he stiffened. ‘Thank you, Nyrd. I won’t need you until after lunch.’

After Nyrd closed the door on the way out, Gilhaelith broke the seal. The letter was from his factor in Saludith and contained no identifying marks, though it bore the previous day’s date.

Chiarri, not her real name, was one of his most reliable factors. Crushing the letter in his fist, Gilhaelith called for a jug of stout and went to sit on the terrace, a favourite thinking place. He stared down into the crater.

Aachan! That meant a gate, and its opening had something to do with that reverberation of the ethyr he had felt weeks ago. Was this the first strike of a war of the worlds? Why, why had Tiaan brought the flying construct here? But of course, when the pipes had sounded days ago, he’d done his best to draw her here. Whether her coming was due to his efforts, or to sheer chance, here she was and he must deal with her and all her baggage.

How had she stolen the flying construct, and why had she attacked the Aachim so recklessly? The situation was out of control and for the first time in a century Gilhaelith felt afraid. The prize might not be worth the risk. He ran the numbers but this time the pattern was ambiguous, the worst result of all.

The best option would be to take Tiaan back to the site of the crash, put her next to the construct and leave her to die. She was so intimately mixed up with the gate, amplimet and construct that whoever found the construct must come looking for her.

He resolved, reluctantly, to do just that. Gilhaelith was not going to risk his life’s work for a thief and cripple, no matter how haunting the look in her eyes. He’d seen that look before; nothing good ever came out of it.

The amplimet was another matter. The Art and Science of the earth were his life’s work and this crystal could take him to the core that had always eluded him. He would not give it up unless he stood to lose everything. And so he might, if he did not quickly discover why Tiaan had stolen the flying construct. And there lay the problem. Any competent mancer could read the aura given off by the amplimet, inside and outside the construct. If he left the construct where it was but kept the crystal, the first place they would look was here.

It was all or nothing, and whatever his decision, he had better make it quickly. Was the amplimet worth it? If not, the choice was made for him. He went down to the organ to see what he could make of the crystal.

Gilhaelith worked the lever that uncovered the skylight far above, allowing the thin rays of the crescent moon to shine vertically on the bench, the frosty globe of the world and the amplimet which lay on a piece of crumpled black velvet. The crystal glowed strongly but the central spark sometimes fluctuated in intensity. Strange and intriguing.

He reached out with gloved hand, then drew back as one of the larger organ pipes soughed, just on the lower edge of hearing. It was like the murmuring of bees in the far distance – a warning. He’d had that whenever he tried to investigate the amplimet.

It was frustrating. The crystal was powerful
and
sensitive. What wonders might he uncover if he could learn how to use it properly? The little thief could not have employed a fraction of its potential.

Making a sudden decision, he wrapped the amplimet in its velvet and carried it beyond the keyboard to a spot where arrays of organ pipes – some vertical, some slanted and the remainder horizontal – formed a series of fans converging on a single point. At that spot stood a hollow star with eighty-one points, each a matched crystal. Gilhaelith eased the amplimet into the hollow, settled it in place and removed the velvet.

Reaching for a stop on his organ console, he carefully, carefully pulled it out, withdrawing a golden mask from the centre of the star. He held his breath. A nerve throbbed painfully in his stomach. Anything might happen. Or worse, nothing.

The glow from the crystal died down. The spark vanished. At the same time a cloud must have passed in front of the moon, for the silvery beams coming through the skylight disappeared. Frost seemed to settle on everything. When he moved his foot, the floor crackled.

As he eased the lever the last fraction, the frost deepened. Then, with a shrieking, roaring rumble, every pipe of the organ sounded at once, a noise so violent that it tore at his skull. He clapped his hands over his ears but that made no difference. The sounds were inside too. A wooden pipe burst, embedding a dark splinter fingernail-deep in the back of his hand.

Gilhaelith kicked the stop in and the cacophony cut off, though not before more pipes exploded and a metal array sagged as if made of putty. Wrapping his hand in the piece of black velvet, he reached into the star. Gilhaelith would not have been surprised had smoke risen from his fingertips. The crystal was unchanged except, perhaps, a little colder than before. Its glow was subdued.

He did not know what had happened and shuddered to think what other mancers would make of that disturbance to the ethyr. He prayed that no one could tell its origin. The crystal was more potent than he had thought, and more dangerous. Something had transformed it but he could not tell what. He had to have it, though Gilhaelith did not plan to risk his life testing it. That seemed to leave him with only one alternative.

Let’s see what the little thief knew about it. But first, one thing must be done urgently. He called his foreman.

‘Guss, put together a detail, only your most reliable people. Go down to the forest and bring the machine back. Leave no trace of it and keep it covered as it is brought up. Can that be done today?’

The foreman considered, rubbing his shiny forehead. ‘I’ll take twenty men. That should be ample. Not far from the site there’s an ancient lava tube, if you recall, which we’ve previously used as a covered road. We’ll bring it up that way, and the last distance under cover of night. It’ll be in your deepest cellar by midnight.’

‘Swear the men to secrecy, even from their partners.’

‘It’s a little late for that, master. No one has spoken about anything else for days.’

Gilhaelith frowned. People were so ill-disciplined. ‘I’ll speak to them myself. No more talking. The others need not know it’s here. Better still, I’ll send them around the rim. The glanberries are starting to fruit already, are they not?’

‘The winter flowering ones are, on the warmer northern slopes.’

‘Good. I have a fancy for glanberry pie tonight. Oh, and one other thing.’

‘Yes, Gilhaelith?’

‘It might be an idea if you and your men were not around to be questioned for a while.’

‘There’s plenty to do below,’ said the foreman. ‘We’ll work there until you give the word.’