Tetrarch (Well of Echoes) (52 page)

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and was. ‘I’m a moody sod. I’ve had rather a difficult few days.’

‘This
is
mancers’ work for the most part, but I still value your thoughts. How would you approach the problem?’

‘I’ve no idea … Tiaan once made an aura reader, to find out what had happened to failed hedrons. I might be able to make something to do that, though …’

‘A node is a far more difficult proposition than a hedron.’

‘And more dangerous. Oon-Mie, Zoyl, listen carefully.’ Collecting her thoughts, Irisis began to describe what they had to make.

‘Hist!’ said the man on watch. ‘Something’s coming!’

‘What is it?’ Flydd said in a low voice.

‘I think … I think it’s a lyrinx.’

‘What’s it doing?’

‘It’s well down and across, walking along a ledge.’

‘What would a lyrinx be doing here?’ Irisis asked.

‘Who knows what they do?’ said the scrutator. ‘Maybe it’s a lookout.’

‘It’s not a good place for a lookout. Over on the next hill would be better.’

‘Maybe it has a nest here?’ came Oon-Mie’s voice. ‘Or it sneaks across to mate …’

‘The lyrinx are not animals,’ Flydd said coldly. ‘They’re as intelligent as we are. Now be quiet. Keep your weapons ready.’

‘It’s disappeared,’ said the sentry.

‘Keep still,’ Flydd advised. ‘We’ll wait and see.’

No one said anything for a long while; then Irisis heard whispering. ‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’ she said waspishly.

‘Nothing’s happened,’ said Flydd. ‘Be patient.’

Finally the lookout spoke. ‘I can see it again. It’s heading back the way it came.’

They watched it move down the long slope, to Irisis’s frustration, before the scrutator took her hand, saying, ‘I think we can take a look now.’

A difficult climb for a blind woman, on a steep path littered with slipping plates of slate. ‘It was just around here,’ said the lookout.

They cast about for ages. ‘Tracks!’ said one of the soldiers.

‘The footmarks seem to have been made by someone stepping in the same places all the time,’ said Flydd. ‘Someone with a lyrinx stride. It’s not the first time it’s been here.’

After hours of searching they located a ledge under which the lyrinx had crouched when it had disappeared from their sight; but apart from a few curled-up scraps that looked like leathery mushroom, they found nothing.

‘Maybe it just wanted a place in the shade to eat its lunch,’ said the sentry.

‘I thought they et people,’ the soldier muttered.

‘They eat anything they can find, just like us,’ said the scrutator. ‘I don’t believe in coincidences. It was here for a reason, and it’s connected with the node failing.’

‘It’s here for the same reason as we are,’ said Irisis. ‘It wants to find out why the node failed, and if it’s remained that way, and how it can use this information to defeat us in the war.’

‘We’d better scout the peaks.’

Flydd divided the group into pairs and sent them out. ‘What about me?’ said Irisis as he prepared to go with them.

‘Stay here. Take another look at that pattern you saw before.’

‘What if the lyrinx comes back?’

‘I imagine it’ll eat you.’

Alone, blind and afraid to move, Irisis spent the day imagining that the beast was silently hunting her. She could smell her fear. Her armpits were drenched with it.

Nothing happened, however, and she could not remain at the highest pitch of terror all day. She would hear the lyrinx coming, anyway, for nothing could move silently on the shale-littered slopes.

Having decided on a course of action, Irisis felt able to go on with her search. She was surprised to find that the field sprang out at once. It had strengthened further. No longer wispy, it was now a chain of misty tongues like a continuous flame, though still in the shape of a figure-eight. It was a long way from being back to normal, and definitely not strong enough to drive something as massive as a clanker, but it
was
there.

By the time the scouts began to straggle back she knew as much as she was capable of learning. The field was coming back. The question was: why? And how? And did it have anything to do with that lyrinx?

T
he construct had its weapon, a kind of spear-thrower, aimed at them. ‘Put up your hands,’ yelled Nish. ‘Nobody move. Mounce?’

‘I’m like a post, surr,’ said the sergeant.

Yara edged her mount closer to Meriwen and Liliwen.

‘Don’t run,’ Nish hissed. ‘You’ll never get away.’

‘I’ll do what I think best for my children,’ she snapped, as if he were to blame.

Nish felt that he was. He should have kept a better lookout – should have been further ahead so the others would have had a chance to escape.

The construct whined forward. The one behind them remained where it was. Its weapon was also ready. The top of the first construct snapped open. An altercation ensued; they could not make out the words, but a young man came down the side, sprang lightly to the ground, moved away from the construct and held out his hands to show that he carried no weapon.

‘Don’t trust him, surr,’ said Mounce. ‘They’re treacherous devils, these Aachim.’

‘I don’t see that we have any choice.’

Nish rode forward, holding out his hands, wondering what they could want. Not until he was close did he recognise the young man as the fellow who had looked so distressed at the meeting.

Nish put out his hand. ‘I am Cryl-Nish Hlar.’

The Aachim put up his own. ‘I know you. Greetings, Marshal Hlar! I am Minis Una Inthis. My friends call me Minis.’

‘Since our meeting I’ve been demoted and am no longer marshal. Mine call me Nish. A dubious contraction, in some parts, but I have become inured to it.’

They gripped hands. The Aachim’s long fingers slipped right around Nish’s hand.

‘I wish to talk to you,’ said Minis, ‘if you will permit it?’

‘In ordinary circumstances I would be happy to,’ said Nish carefully. At any other time he would have seized the opportunity to learn more about the invaders. He was curious about Minis too, and his relationship with Tiaan that appeared to have precipitated their coming to Santhenar. Such a small affair; such vast consequences. But the safety of Yara and the children was paramount. ‘Unfortunately we are hurrying east and cannot –’

‘Just a few minutes,’ said Minis. ‘Please.’

Please?
Minis was a profoundly different man from his offensive foster-father. Nish glanced at Yara, who had put herself between Minis and the children. She gave the faintest inclination of the head.

‘It’s hot here,’ said Nish, ‘and two of my companions are children. Shall we take tea in the shade?’

‘With pleasure,’ said Minis. ‘Though I can offer a cooling draught, if you prefer.’

‘I will speak to my companions.’ He went back to Yara. ‘Minis is the foster-son and heir of Vithis, the Aachim leader. He is also the man whom Tiaan … well, you know the story. I don’t believe he means us harm. He’s very polite and seems anxious to talk to me. We may do some good by speaking with him.’

Yara was watching the Aachim warily. ‘Or it might just be a game before they move against us,’ she hissed. ‘If they try anything, he dies!’ The look in her eye made his blood congeal.

‘Let’s see what he has to say,’ Nish said hastily. ‘Don’t do anything that will make things worse.’

‘How dare you! You led us into this trap.’

‘Then allow me to get us out of it.’ He whirled and rode back.

‘Girls!’ Yara snapped, ‘you will not stray from my side while the strangers are here.’

‘We don’t need to be told, Mother,’ said Liliwen, trying to look as grown up as possible.

Minis waited among the trees with a young man rather shorter and younger than himself, and a woman who might have been Nish’s age, insofar as it was possible to tell with the long-lived Aachim. She was pale of skin but with long straight black hair, and as slender as a reed.

‘My friends, Vunio and Tyara,’ said Minis, introducing the man and the woman in turn. They both looked troubled, like children out without permission.

Nish shook hands uneasily. If this went wrong, Yara would kill him too. He had no doubt that she could.

Minis said, ‘And your own friends …? Or perhaps they are your wife and children?’

‘Neither.’ Nish managed a smile at the thought. ‘I am merely escorting them home. These are troubled times in Santhenar. It is not as safe on the roads as it once was.’

‘Troubled indeed,’ said Minis, ‘and our coming has made it worse.’

‘This war has changed the world forever. Though … it’s all I’ve ever known.’

Vunio opened the basket, which contained a variety of delicacies as well as a box that turned out to be layered with ice. Flasks were set in it. Nish relaxed a little. How could they mean any harm? He had to remind himself that he knew little about them.

‘It is sweltering in our constructs,’ said Minis, ‘so we took a trip up to the mountains and hacked blocks from the snow. Santhenar is a hotter world than our own. The mountains were more to our liking.’

‘And it is yet mid-spring,’ said Nish. ‘These plains are torrid in the summer, I’m told.’

‘You are not from these parts?’ Minis enquired.

‘My home is almost as far west as it is possible to go from here. I also come from a cool place.’

Tyara levered the stopper from the flask and her eyes met Nish’s. They were large, oval and brown as chocolate. Beautiful eyes. ‘Will you take a glass with us?’ she said. ‘It is not strong, but you will find it refreshing.’

Nish tore his gaze away, mindful how easy it could be to give offence. ‘Thank you.’

She poured the wine into a glass. It was a glorious golden colour. He held it up to the evening light, admiring the luminosity. Taking an appreciative sniff, he waited until the other glasses were poured.

‘May I make a toast?’ he said.

‘
Tost
?’ Minis looked puzzled.

Nish explained the word and they all smiled. ‘We would be pleased,’ said Tyara, giving him a dazzling smile.

‘To good food, fine wine, and friendship between all the human kinds,’ said Nish. He raised his glass, watching them carefully.

‘To friendship between worlds,’ said Minis, and the others echoed him.

They seemed genuine. Nish drained his glass; Tyara refilled it, and the others.

‘What happened to Aachan is a tragedy,’ said Nish. ‘The death of a world.’

Minis frowned. ‘We hope … it will not come to
that
. Already we dream of going home, though it is not something I can foresee.’

They spoke of various matters, after which Minis set down his glass. ‘Would you care to take a walk in the forest, my friend?’

Was this a way to separate him from Yara? Well, whatever their intention, there was nothing he could do to change it. His heart beating rapidly, Nish said, ‘I’d be happy to join you. And then we really must be on our way.’

They rose and Minis linked his arm through Nish’s. Nish felt uncomfortable, for men did not do that where he came from; but after all, different worlds, different customs.

‘Our meeting was not an accident,’ Minis said as they strolled among the trees.

‘I did not think so,’ Nish said stiffly.

‘As soon as our scouts reported that you had left the army camp I decided to find you.’

‘Your scouts’ eyes must be keen,’ said Nish. ‘We saw no sign of you.’

‘They
are
keen. I imagine you know what I have come about.’

‘I do not assume,’ said Nish, ‘and would prefer not to guess.’

‘Tiaan Liise-Mar,’ Minis said, and sighed. ‘I treated her monstrously and can never forgive myself.’

Nish made no reply and shortly Minis said, ‘Shall we sit by this tree?’ It was a giant with a massive trunk of smooth white bark. They rested their backs against it. ‘You saw her at Tirthrax, I believe?’

‘Yes,’ said Nish. ‘I had followed her a long way.’

‘Do you know her then?’

‘Of course.’ Nish was surprised that the Aachim did not know that, but then why should he? ‘I worked at the same manufactory as her, for three years.’