Peering through the trees, he saw Flydd wrestling with a soldier. The other soldier lay on the ground. Ullii stood by the wreckage, staring into the forest behind the air-floater. The dark-haired man emerged, then froze, staring. She let out a faint cry; he ran at her.
A cloud drifted in front of the moon and Nish lost sight of them. Twigs crackled to his left. He turned slowly, so as not to give away his position. The rustling moved closer. He held his breath, afraid lest even that faint sound should give him away. Nish felt desperately frightened. A civilian with a knife could not hope to defeat a soldier with a sword.
A branch snapped, even closer, and he jumped. A drop of sweat made an itchy trail down his nose. He wasn't game to rub it. A shadow moved just a few steps away. Surely the soldier could smell him from here?
Nish's fist, clenched around the knife, shook. Just keep going, he prayed. He did not want to use the knife — he wanted out of here as fast as possible.
After an agonising wait, the shadow moved on and he lost it in the darkness, though a faint crunch of leaves told him that the soldier was not far away. Nish slid forward, one slow step after another, until he reached the edge of the clearing.
We could hear Ullii making a high-pitched keening sound.
Where was she?
There, close by the air-floater, and she appeared to be struggling with the dark-haired man. Nish could only make tarn out because his clothes were white. Ullii's pale face seemed to be floating in mid-air.
Holding the knife out, Nish tiptoed across the clearing. The man seemed to be wrestling with Ullii, who began to make choking noises. Nish crept closer.
As the moon came out, he threw his arm around the young man's neck and pressed the knife to his back. 'Let her go! Don't move.'
The young man gave a frightened cry, reared backwards and the knife slid into him like a red-hot poker into a block of cheese. He let out a soft sssss, stood up straight and tall, and fell, thumping face-first into the ground.
Ullii threw herself on him, turned him over and tried to lift him. She got him as far as a sitting position before he slumped over again. A silver bracelet glinted on his wrist. A moonbeam caught his glazed eyes. He looked as if he had been dead for a week.
Ullii let out a scream of anguish that froze Nish's blood, and it went on and on. 'Mylii,' she wailed, kissing his face and hands. 'Mylii, come back.'
Nish could only stare at her, the fatal knife hanging from his hand. Mylii?
Flydd came running across, reeking of blood. 'What have you done now?'
'I thought he was trying to choke her,' Nish whispered. 'I tried to stop him but he reared back onto the knife. What is it, Xervish?'
'I hardly dare to think.' Flydd was shaking his head. He squatted beside the seeker, who was frantically trying to rouse the dead man. 'Ullii?'
She did not answer. Ullii began to rock the young man, making a moaning noise in her throat. Flydd conjured ghost light in the palm of his hand and held it out.
Ullii looked up and, momentarily, the two faces were illuminated side by side. Nish's scalp crawled. Apart from the young man's black hair, they were identical.
'Ullii and Mylii, said Flydd in a voice as old as death. How often does that happen?'
'I don't understand; Nish said.
'Twins identical in all respects but their sex.' said Flydd. 'They were separated when she was four, Nish, and the trauma drove Ullii to become the sensitive creature that she is. You've just killed her long-lost brother, Mylii. She's been searching for him all her life.'
Nineteen
Tiaan leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, afraid that she'd not convinced the Aachim. She was a novice at intrigue, while they were experts — especially the cold-eyed Urien.
She was woken by someone at the flap of the tent. It was Thyzzea, with her brother. 'Are you to be my guard again?' said Tiaan, taking comfort from a friendly face. Don't trust, she told herself. Thyzzea is Aachim, too. You have no allies here.
'I am. Vithis is determined to grind my family into the dust.' Thyzzea coloured, as if realising her words could be taken as an insult.
Tiaan politely ignored it. 'What would happen if I escaped?' she asked as Kalle picked her up.
'You would not.' Thyzzea seemed to find the idea amusing.
'I don't suppose so. But, just say I did?'
'Since we are at war, my family and clan would have failed in their duty. We could lose everything, if Vithis so chose.'
It confronted Tiaan with an unexpected problem. No matter how much she told herself not to like Thyzzea, she did. So how could she escape, if Thyzzea and her family would be punished for it?
Kalle carried her through the dark; Tiaan smelt cooking before they reached Thyzzea's tent. A middle-aged woman stood outside, in the light of a glowing globe half-covered in black moths. She was searing meats and vegetables on a metal plate, then stirring them into a bubbling pot. She looked up with the same smile as Thyzzea, though hers was tentative, fretful. She was smaller than her daughter and her hair was red-brown.
'Welcome, Tiaan Liise-Mar' she said. I'm Zea. Switching the ladle to her left hand, she held oat the right. 'What a terrible day. When I think about poor Ghaenis — such a world this is.' Seeing the despairing look on her daughter's face. Zea said, 'Come inside, child. Put it out of mind, just for the moment.'
Tiaan shook hands. 'Are you Thyzzea's mother?'
'And bound to regret it.' Her quiet amusement was reflected in Thyzzea's face. They had the capacity to submerge their pain, these Aachim. 'I'm joking, of course. Thyzzea is a daughter entirely without faults.'
Thyzzea rolled her eyes, but shortly the despair was back. The grief was more than she could cover up.
Tiaan liked Zea instantly. Like her daughter, she seemed so normal. The other Aachim Tiaan had met were remote and wrapped up in their own affairs. 'Dinner smells good,' she said, unable to remember when she'd last had a full meal.
'I hope it isn't too hot for you.' Zea exchanged glances with her daughter.
'After being interrogated by Urien and Vithis, it won't seem hot at all.'
Again that exchange of glances. 'Urien,' said Zea with a little shiver.
Shortly they were sitting in the tent, in surprisingly comfortable metal chairs, with bowls on their laps. Tiaan was about to take the first sip when the flap opened and a man came wearily in. He was of modest stature, trim and well proportioned, but with the same dark-red hair as his son. He looked exhausted, his clothes were torn and muddy, and the front of his shirt was stained with purple blood.
Zea ran to embrace him, her eyes moist. Thyzzea followed, and Kalle clasped his father's hands. The man's gaze swept across the room to Tiaan; he checked for an instant then came on.
'I'm Tiaan' she said, placing her bowl on the floor and putting out her hand. 'I'm sorry — I can't stand up.' He flinched, shot a glance at Zea, then took Tiaan's hand. 'Tiaan, of the flying construct. My name is Yrael. We are your rs, I presume?' I'm afraid so. I'm sorry for the trouble —’
He gave her a genuine smile-. The folk of Clan Elienor recovered quickly. 'Guest right is yours while-ever you are under our roof.'
'But …'
'First Clan will do what they can to bring us down, whether you're here or not. Let's say no more about it. How is the water, Zea?'
'Running low, but there's enough for a hero of the battlefield to wash his face and hands.'
She followed him into the other room, her arm linked through his. Water splashed in a metal bowl and shortly he returned, dressed in clean clothes. He took a bowl, filled it, and they sat in silence while they ate.