Squatting by the smoky camp fire, she tossed dried beans into the cooking pot. They had been eating bean-and-onion soup for a week and not even her cooking could make it interesting. Irisis had no herbs, spices or oil left. Just beans, onions and water, three times a day, washed down with ginger tea. She'd dug some ginger root that morning in the moist bank of the only rivulet on the island.
There was nothing to do and Irisis was bored out of her mind. Fyn-Mah had withdrawn completely, Pilot Inouye didn't let out a peep and Flangers had taken to going on long walks by himself along the clifftops, which did nothing for Irisis's peace of mind. She would not have been surprised to find him at the bottom one day. Flangers's destruction of the air-floater, and inability to honourably account for it, was corroding his very soul. And Irisis could not talk to Muss about her fears, on the rare occasions he was around. Muss required nothing of anyone, nor gave back any human warmth.
Irisis sometimes felt that she understood the lyrinx better than she did Muss. He gave his reports to Fyn-Mah, fully and completely, and advice when specifically requested, but not a sentence more. Muss recreated himself for each spying role, revealing nothing of the inner man. She had no idea what his hopes or dreams were, or even if he had any. But in any case, having procured a tiny skiff from somewhere, Muss was away most of the time, doing who knew what. It could have been Flydd's work or Muss's own. There was no way of telling.
She'd already taken the controller to pieces twice, rebuilding it to improve the way it drew power. She'd also disassembled the floater-gas generator but, not understanding how it created gas from water, had put it back together the way it had been. Irisis had, however, made one innovation vital to their morale. They could not use any kind of flame on the air-floater, but the floater-gas generator became hot when in use and she'd worked out how to heat water with it, for tea.
At midnight, when everyone else was asleep, she heard the snap of a sail in the wind. Muss had been away five days this time. She was sitting by the fire, making jewellery out of silver wire, as she did every night. Once each new work was complete, she took it apart and used the silver and crystals in a new arrangement. Irisis made jewellery because she had to. She could not sit idly, as Fyn-Mah seemed able to do. Irisis did not like to think too much, for her unpleasant foreboding was growing, day by day. Things were going to get worse before they got better, but they would not get better for her. She had committed enough crimes against the scrutators to be executed a dozen times.
The keel of the skiff grated on pebbles as Muss brought it in shore. Shortly he appeared, face pinched from the cold wind.
'I had news of Flydd and Nish,' said Muss, 'but they've disappeared again.' Shaking his head, he squatted down to warm his hands by the fire. A cold wind came off the water, coiling around into the mouth of the cave and lifting sand into their eyes, not to mention into the stew pot.
Have you eaten?' Irisis asked.
'Not since breakfast time.'
'Did you bring any supplies?' she said hopefully.
'No. What we have will do me.'
She cursed him under her breath. Muss must have been through many towns on his long trip.
He took a bowl of bean-and-onion stew while she made a warming cup to wash it down. He kneaded his back with his fingers. 'A long sail, a hard paddle, and a day and night's walkj before that,' he said without expression.
Irisis chopped a knob of ginger into small pieces. Scraping it into another pot, she filled it with water and sat it on the fire. When it began to boil she stirred it with the blade of her knife and filled two mugs, passing one to the spy.
He sipped the scalding liquid. 'Jal-Nish got his army, and the clankers, to a usable node west of Gospett. They tracked the retreating lyrinx towards Gnulp Landing, some twenty leagues south of here, planning to lure them into a trap, but the enemy disappeared.'
'Where to?'
'It was assumed they'd escaped across the sea to Meldorin.'
'But they hadn't?'
'Some thirty thousand lyrinx were enchanted into a field of limestone pinnacles above the valley of Gumby Marth, where the army lay hidden. It was a perfect ambush.'
Her blood ran cold. 'What happened?'
Muss's face showed nothing. "Three things saved them from annihilation, and all down to your friend Nish.' He explained how Nish had led Troist's army to the relief of Jal-Nish's forces, sounded an alert about the stone-formed lyrinx at the last moment, and led the breakout that had saved the survivors.
Irisis's eyes were glowing by the time he finished. 'I always knew Nish was destined for great things. Where are they now?'
'The army took ship from Gnulp Landing, in two merchant fleets, and both landed safely at Hardlar, near the mouth of the River Libbens in Nihilnor. Flydd and Nish were delayed, sailed into a storm and did not reach Hardlar. The Council of Scrutators has put a price of a thousand gold tells on Flydd's head but only if he can be taken alive.'
A thousand gold tells was an immense fortune. 'Why alive?' said Irisis.
The list of allegations is too long to enumerate, but they add up to treachery of the blackest kind. The scrutators don't like to delegate their justice.'
'I see Jal-Nish's hand in this.' Irisis shivered. She had never experienced such utter loathing as he had directed at her, the last few times they'd met. He would not rest until he had destroyed her.
"Not any more. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your point of view, Jal-Nish was killed in the battle, and eaten.'. She stood up, spilling her tea. 'You're sure of that?'
I've seen the battlefield. He tried to work a great magic against the lyrinx as they attacked. The survivors said he'd lured the enemy into battle for that purpose, to prove his mastery to the Council, but the enemy turned his magic against him and cut his own officers down. It doesn't do to underestimate the lyrinx. The army was routed. About ten thousand got to Gnulp, of the forty that set out from Snizort to pursue the enemy.' He gave the dreadful numbers without regret or compassion.
Thirty thousand dead. Irisis warmed her hands on the mug, then rubbed it over the back of her neck. The chill faded. 'It's hard to believe Jal-Nish is no more. You've no idea how much I wished for it.'
'Anything can happen in battle,' said Muss. 'Though the official story is different.' 'Oh?'
'Xervish Flydd has been accused of murdering him.' 'Can that be possible?'
'No. He was with General Troist, leagues away, when the ambush took place, but the scrutators can make any lie into truth.'
And any truth into a lie,' said Irisis, thinking about the Histories. Do you have any idea where Flydd might be?' 'His ship sailed into the Karama Malama, was driven south by a gale, and there disappeared. He could be anywhere between Fleen Haven and Karints, and there's a hundred leagues of water in between.'
'Or he could be dead,' said Irisis. Nish too. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
'He probably is. I learned yesterday that their ship was wrecked on a reef. A skeet brought the news. A lifeboat got away with the captain and a handful of sailors. Neither Flydd nor Nish was on it. The captain did not think anyone could have survived.' Muss still showed no emotion, though he'd served Flydd for many years.
This time the chill slid all the way down her backbone. Flydd dead? For all their sakes it must not be. And Nish? Yet they were mortal men – they could die, or be killed, as easily as anyone else.
Fyn-Mah shot up in her sleeping pouch, rubbing her eyes. 'Where did this happen?' Her voice went shrill.