Tetrarch (Well of Echoes) Read online

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Tiaan said anxiously, yet glad Malien was taking charge.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Malien stepped back, eyeing the constructs. ‘I wonder if these might be repaired …’

  ‘Are you a mechanician too?’ Tiaan cast anxious glances at the entrance.

  Malien smiled thinly. ‘The least among my people, though I am not entirely without talent.’ She cocked an eye at the construct which was smashed at the front. ‘This one does not seem to be badly damaged.’ She gave Tiaan a long, assessing glance. ‘Maybe later.’ Malien headed for the entrance.

  Among the tumbled columns and heaps of rubble and ice, they looked down. Just below, the glacier had gouged out the side of the mountain in a curving scar, forming a surface like a road, though the broken, up-jutting slate would be difficult to walk on. Beyond ran a river of blue ice a good league across, scarred with crevasses large enough to swallow whole villages. The glacier, the fastest in the world, could be heard plucking and grinding at its bed. Every so often a crevasse would crack open, the sound echoing across the valley. How would they ever find Nish in this wilderness of rock and ice?

  Malien began to climb down. ‘Are you coming, Tiaan?’

  ‘He’s probably floated away in his balloon already,’ she said miserably.

  ‘He’d have to gather fuel first and that could take days.’ Malien picked her way down the side of the mountain as if she knew exactly where she was going.

  ‘Can you sense the amplimet?’

  ‘I wish I could.’ Malien looked more at ease now. ‘He said the balloon was directly below us and the only fuel was bushes, so it must lie above the tree line. It can’t be more than a few hours down the slope, and a gasbag ten spans high will be visible from a long way. We’ll find him.’

  They rested every half-hour. The downhill walking was unexpectedly tiring. On their second stop, as Tiaan was sipping from her flask, there came a monumental crash that shook the rock beneath her. She dropped the flask and scrambled for it as the water gurgled out.

  ‘What was that?’ The start of an avalanche, she imagined.

  ‘Icefall,’ said Malien. ‘The glacier runs over a precipice. See, just there. Every so often, the overhanging ice breaks off and falls a thousand spans to the plain.’

  They continued, more warily now, though the jumbled rocks here provided plenty of cover. Shortly Malien stopped. ‘Ah, this is hard on my old knees. Creep up onto that rock, Tiaan, and see if you can see anything.’

  As Tiaan put her head over the top she saw a black, swelling mushroom, not a third of a league below. ‘It’s just down there,’ she hissed.

  Malien climbed up beside her. ‘Ingenious design.’ She shaded her eyes as she stared at the balloon. ‘It looks nearly inflated. We’d better hurry.’

  They had not gone far when Tiaan felt a pang in her right temple, a stabbing pain that disappeared as quickly as it had come. She let out a gasp.

  Malien stopped at once. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Just a headache. It’s gone now.’

  ‘Take some more water,’ Malien advised.

  Tiaan took another few sips, though she knew dehydration was not the problem. The pang reminded her of something she had put out of mind a long time ago and did not want to think of now.

  A little further on, Malien crouched down between the boulders. ‘I don’t like this,’ she muttered.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘We’re being watched.’

  Tiaan scanned the sky. ‘I can’t see a thing.’

  ‘I can. Come, quickly! There are three of them, and since they’re flying …’ Malien pointed high in the western sky, where Tiaan now discerned a speck, and then two more.

  ‘Lyrinx!’

  FIVE

  Nish slammed his way down the stairs, so angry that he dared not speak, lest he take out his frustrations on Ullii. One minute he had succeeded against all the odds and made up for his previous follies. The next he had lost and was good for nothing but to be sent to the front-lines in the hopeless war against the lyrinx. Nish was a proud and ambitious young man who took failure hard.

  At the bottom he waited for Ullii. The little seeker moved confidently, despite the mask. Nish never ceased to marvel at her agility. It would be easy to fall off, which would be fatal, but she made not a single misstep.

  ‘You are sad, Nish,’ she said as she reached the floor, not even out of breath.

  Another wonder: how someone who took no exercise could be fitter than he. Nish’s heart was still pounding. ‘What am I going to say to the scrutator, Ullii? He’ll have my head for this.’

  ‘No one could fight the Matah, Nish.’

  Ullii could see the Secret Art in all its forms, as knots in a lattice she created in her mind. It was her special talent, one that made her worth a thousand of him. ‘You were very friendly to her,’ he said harshly, and immediately regretted it. He moderated his tone. ‘What did you see, Ullii?’

  ‘Matah is old. She is wise and kind, but sad too. She has lost a whole world.’

  That was food for thought, though not what he was looking for. ‘What kind of knot does she have, Ullii? Is she a powerful mancer?’

  ‘Matah is very strong, but she did not use her strength against you. Be careful, Nish.’

  ‘Ha!’ He headed down the next set of stairs, which were made of alabaster. Nish was no coward, but he knew which battles to fight and which to keep away from.

  At the bottom of the next set of stairs, as Nish was consulting his map, Ullii said, ‘I can see Tiaan’s crystal.’

  He dropped the map, just managing to catch it before it fluttered through the hole to the next level. He’d assumed that the Aachim would have taken the amplimet. ‘You mean it’s still here?’

  ‘I can see it.’

  She meant in her lattice. Of course she could; she had tracked it all this way from the manufactory. And Tiaan too – Ullii had found her after Tiaan had been missing for months. ‘Where is it? Quick, before they think of it.’

  Using the map, it took less than an hour to regain the level where the gate had been made. Nish looked around him. They were in an oval chamber, so large that a good-sized town could have been built inside it, with doors and subsidiary chambers everywhere.

  ‘Over there.’ Ullii pointed.

  Nish ran, looking over his shoulder all the way. There had been too many failures; too many disappointments. Inside the room he was confronted by a strange-looking machine, all glass and crystal, ceramic and wires, ghostly in the dim light. He roved around, trying to make sense of it. Nish did not know what the amplimet looked like. He had never seen it, and the port-all contained dozens of crystals.

  ‘Ullii?’ he shouted. The sound echoed back and forth for ages. That made him afraid, too.

  She came creeping through the door as though trying not to attract attention. Her life was avoiding people. Ullii looked troubled, as if expecting him to yell at her again.

  ‘I can’t find the amplimet,’ he said softly.

  She walked up to the port-all, reached out and took the crystal from a soapstone basket. Nish was amazed that it could be so easy.

  She held it in her hand, gazing curiously at it. The amplimet resembled other hedrons Nish had seen in the manufactory, except for one small detail: it glowed.

  ‘It’s different now.’ Ullii turned it over in her hand.

  Alarm choked him up. ‘What do you mean? Is it damaged? Ruined?’

  ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘It’s just as strong, but it has a different knot.’

  ‘What can you tell about it?’

  She put her hand over the mask as if to block out the least glimmer of light. ‘It is as old as time. It is dreaming at the core of the world.’

  Ullii’s pronouncements sometimes bordered on the mystical and he could make no sense of this one. Further questioning proved useless. She could not put what she sensed into words. It did not matter. He had the amplimet, more important than Tiaan now. I
f he got it back to the manufactory, that would make up for everything.

  He reached for it. Snap! It was as if a spiky ball had embedded itself in his palm and was gouging its way through. He wrenched his hand away and the amplimet went flying through the air. ‘No!’ he cried as it fell toward the stone floor.

  Unerringly, Ullii snatched it out of the air.

  ‘I think you’d better carry it,’ Nish said. It felt as if the amplimet had rejected him.

  She packed it in her little chest pack and fastened up the straps.

  Casting a last look behind him, Nish said, ‘Come on.’ They hurried out of Tirthrax.

  After some hours of scrambling down the mountain, Nish realised that Ullii was no longer behind him. He called her name but she did not answer.

  He set down his pack, rubbing the palm of his hand. The pain still lingered and the centre of his palm had gone white in the shape of a spiky star. ‘Ullii!’ he roared, and knew that could only make things worse. If she was close by, the racket would make her retreat into herself and he might get nothing out of her for hours. Retracing his path, he found her fifty paces up the slope, huddled under a rock. She did not look up as he approached.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ He squatted beside her. She did not answer and he had to give her his hand to sniff before she would rouse. Whenever she was distressed, the smell of him seemed to comfort her. He did not understand that either.

  ‘Tired,’ she whispered. ‘Feet hurt.’

  She had thrown off her boots and socks, and her feet were resting on a patch of snow. The little toes, as small as a child’s, were red and one heel had a large blister. He clicked his tongue in vexation.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nish,’ she wailed. ‘I tried really hard.’

  Ullii never lied or exaggerated, and was so sensitive that walking in those boots must have been agony. There was no possibility of her wearing them again. Nor could she go any distance in bare feet. It was too cold.

  ‘Climb onto my shoulders, Ullii. I’ll carry you.’ She probably would not like that either but there was no choice.

  She did so willingly enough, and once up there she smiled. ‘I can smell you, Nish.’ Lifting the blindfold, she peered down the front of his shirt.

  ‘Whatever makes you happy,’ he muttered. She was no heavier than a ten-year-old but even that was a hefty burden to carry down the mountain.

  By the time they reached the balloon, whose basket was wedged between two boulders, he was drenched in sweat and Ullii’s smile was broader than ever. Setting her down in the weak sun, he lay beside her.

  ‘I love you, Nish,’ she said.

  Had Nish been standing up, he would have fallen over. All he could do was gape. Ullii never made remarks like that. What did she expect of him? He could hardly reciprocate. He liked Ullii, cared for her, and many a night had lain awake burning with desire for her sweet little body, but he could never, except perhaps to get that desire fulfilled, have said that he loved her.

  Taking her hand, he drew it to his lips. She shivered and her eyelashes fluttered. He could have screamed with frustration. Why now, when he could do nothing about it? To hide his confusion, he climbed up to look at the balloon, ignoring her little whimper. Tonight, he thought. When everything is prepared.

  The gasbag was flaccid, though being formed around a series of struts and stretched wires, it maintained its shape. The air inside had gone cold and he would have to burn the brazier for at least half a day to lift off. First he must gather fuel, for all he had was a large flask of distilled tar spirits. It was useful for burning wet wood but could not be used by itself in the brazier, or the explosion would have blown balloon and boulders back up to Tirthrax.

  There was little fuel here, just scrubby heath and a few patches of grass. If he filled the basket with the stuff, it would barely lift the balloon. No time to waste. He headed for the nearest patch of vegetation.

  By the middle of the afternoon, Nish had gathered a great mound of shrubbery. As he’d expected, it burned quickly, generating plenty of ash but little heat. After an hour the balloon was almost as flaccid as when he had started. Already he had exhausted the closest supplies of fuel. What if the witch-woman (as he thought of the Matah) was already on her way?

  Forcing down panic, he considered other options. The rocks were hung with feathery strands of lichen. Perhaps if he tied that into bales and soaked it in tar spirits? Nish began collecting the material but soon gave the idea away. It took an hour to gather a small bag of lichen and it weighed nothing. There could be no heat in it either.

  By then the sun was going down. The sky was clear; the night would be cold and they would need a fire; more precious fuel wasted. He trudged off for another armload of scrub.

  On his return Nish could not find Ullii anywhere. He felt like screaming, but did the sensible thing and lit the fire before he went looking for her. She was not far away, just down the slope at their original campsite. Ullii had discarded her mask in the evening and was drawing on a slab of sand-coloured rock with a black lump of pencil-stone.

  ‘I wish you’d told me where you were going,’ he said irritably.

  For once she did not cringe. ‘I knew where you were.’ She gave him such a sweet smile that it was impossible to be angry with her.

  ‘Come up. It’s time for dinner.’

  He followed, admiring her figure. Nish prepared dinner, a gruel made of mashed and boiled grains for her, since she could not bear any kind of strong flavour, and much the same for him but with hot spices and smoked meat added.

  Nish ate his dinner moodily. If he began the instant it was light, he might just manage to collect enough fuel by darkness, and that was not good enough. The witch-woman might have discovered that the crystal was gone. She could stop him with a single flaming arrow, for the tar-sealed silk would burn like a torch.

  By the time he had cleaned up, Ullii was asleep and Nish knew better than to disturb her. He spent a frustrated, agonising night, punctuated by trips to replenish the brazier, and before dawn gave up hope of sleep.

  The day crawled by. Nish set Ullii to keep lookout for Tiaan and the Matah. Each time he returned with his burden of fuel, the brazier was out. By lunchtime the balloon had begun to fill but it was a long way from lifting off. Ullii sat beneath the boulder, still scribbling with her pencil-stone. The patterns made no sense at all. He was gnawing on a lump of smoked meat when the seeker gave a whimper and curled up.

  ‘Ullii?’ he whispered. ‘What’s the matter? Is it the witch-woman?’

  She did not answer, which meant it was a major distress. He felt for his knife, though it was useless against the likes of the Matah. Climbing the rope ladder to the brazier, Nish scanned the surroundings. He saw nothing in any direction. Nothing moved but a white eagle soaring on the updraught above the icefall. Its beak was bright yellow.

  When he reached the ground, Ullii had partly unfolded. He tried to discover what had scared her but she was unable to articulate it. ‘Hooks and claws,’ she said over and over again, referring to something seen in her lattice. He tried to put it out of mind.

  Nish was about to go for another load when he noticed the lump of pencil-stone in her hand. The manufactory sometimes burned it in the furnaces. ‘Where did you get that, Ullii?’

  ‘Up mountain,’ she said in a barely audible voice, still suffering.

  He took her hand. ‘Is it far? Can you show me?’

  ‘Not far.’

  After a short climb they reached a steep face where the dark and light rock stood on end, dipping back into the mountain like layers in a cake. At head height the soft rock had weathered away, leaving an elongated cavity the width of Nish’s hips. Several lumps of black, shiny pencil-stone were stuck to the overlying slate. Inside, the cavity was half full of chunks the size of his fist.

  Nish climbed in and began to scoop them into his bag. To his amazement, Ullii joined in with the work, and soon the bag was bulging. ‘Beautiful fuel,’ he said, laughing for joy. />
  Back at the balloon, he stuffed the brazier, packed lichen all around and carefully poured in half a cup of tar spirits. The pencil-stone would need a hot fire to burn. He flew down the ladder, afraid he had used too much spirits. Nothing happened for a couple of minutes, then with a whoomph the fuel went up and flames roared out the top of the flue.

  ‘More!’ They raced up the slope, filling another bag each. The balloon was starting to swell visibly as they returned, though they would need more fuel to take them any distance.

  He had come back with a third load and was topping up the brazier when Ullii choked and dropped her bag, spilling pencil-stone across the ground. ‘What is it?’ he called.

  The little seeker looked as if she was having a fit. Her teeth were bared, her eyes staring. She tried to tell him something but managed only incoherent squeaks.

  The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He scanned the mountain and immediately saw two figures, only minutes away. One was the Aachim witch-woman, the other Tiaan. As he ran down the ladder, something broke the air in the west. Three winged shapes, too big and bulky to be eagles or even skeets. They were lyrinx, and heading directly for the balloon.

  He fled down the ladder, frantically undoing the ropes, though the balloon was not quite full enough to rise. Moreover, the basket had jammed between the rocks in its fall and would have to be worked free.

  Nish hurled in his bag of pencil-stone, the packs and what remained of Ullii’s load. ‘Ullii!’ he yelled. ‘There’s no time. We’ve got to go.’

  She made not a sound. He lugged her up, thrust his knife in his belt, decanted half a mug of tar spirits and scampered up the ladder. Lifting the lid off the brazier, he tossed the liquid in. It exploded in his face; Nish felt his hair frizzing. Slamming the lid, he leapt onto the nearest boulder and gave the basket a heave. It did not budge. It was jammed tight. Despair coiled around his heart. Not only was he going to lose the crystal but probably his life as well.