Alchymist

He reached for her. She thrust both hands under the covers and he stopped dead.

'I did break my promise, Tiaan, and I've never stopped regretting it. But I was used as much as you were.'

'It's all just words, Minis,' she said, not looking at him. She dared not, for despite all her vows, all her fury, he still moved her. 'Life has taught me that words can mean nothing, or anything' I put my faith in actions, and by yours are you revealed, as are all the Aachim.1

'Please believe me, Tiaan. Don't judge me by the deceits of others. I never lied to you.'

'Prove it!' she hissed, but before Minis could respond she heard Vithis roaring his name. Minis went through the flap without another word.

Tiaan pulled on her clothes and readied herself for her last day. Thyzzea would accompany her, as usual, but there had been no let-up in the Aachim's vigilance. The construct behind her always carried two guards armed with crossbows, as well as a mancer monitoring everything she did with the field, and they never took their eyes off her.

The day went badly, ror Tiaan could not stop thinking about what must happen tomorrow. Halfway though the first trip she lost the fields and the construct thumped into the ground so hard that it jarred her teeth. Behind her, all the others did the same.

'What'ss the matter?' Thyzzea asked anxiously.

'I can't see it,' Tiaan gasped. 'My brain feels like porridge.'

'What's porridge?'

'Never mind.'

Vithis came running from one of the towed constructs and sprang onto the side of her machine. So he was still watching her. 'Is there a problem?'

'I've lost the fields.'

'Minis is behind this, isn't he?'

She did not answer.

'I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again!' Vithis sprang down.

The delay was only a short one, but twice more she lost the fields, and on the second trip three constructs crashed into each other and were damaged so badly that they had to be left behind. Vithis was livid, and with all the delays they did not complete the return journey until sunrise the following day. There were still more than two hundred constructs to move.

Tiaan was so exhausted that she kept sagging against her restraints. Thyzzea carried her back to their tent, where Tiaan lay on her mattress, unable to sleep. Weird images kept flashing through her mind, objects she knew belonged in higher-dimensional space, though she was incapable of comprehending them. Finally, as dinner was being served outside, she drifted into sleep.

She woke to find Vithis sitting by her side. Tiaan started and moved away under the covers.

'Don't be afraid,' he said. 'I'm not that kind of man.'

'I know what kind of man you are. What do you want?'

'Have you remembered anything else about my lost people?'

She thought before answering. Her memories were clear now, though she was not sure what they meant. 'I heard cries. Some seemed to be death cries'She looked him in the eyes. I'm sorry," she said, and was. Her weakness was that she empathised with his grief, despite the way he'd used her. There were cries of agony, as if people were being turned inside out.' He flinched. She went on slowly. 'And people wailing that they were lost. Others calling to one another, as if they were trying to collect together.'

'Lost in the void,' he said, 'but not dead. I'm not sure if that's better or worse.'

'I don't know anything about the void.'

'It's a different kind of reality to ours. Nothing is stable; everything is in flux. Things are possible in the void that cannot be done in the material worlds. The lyrinx flew everywhere there, preying on other creatures and being preyed upon in turn.'

'No wonder they wanted to escape.'

'The void is filled with vicious creatures, and the struggle for existence is more violent than anywhere. No beast can relax for an instant. They must adapt constantly or go to extinction.'

'Your people are clever/ said Tiaan, 'and they have their constructs. They might do well there.'

'It's true that we of Clan lnthis are not easily bowed by adversity. And the void is filled with raw energies, like the fields surrounding nodes on this world, and my own. The constructs might draw on those fields, providing my people with protection and shelter, at least for a while. But even so, I fear they're all gone now, and the hopes of First Clan with them. How could they adapt to the savagery of the void in time?'

The interrogation resumed that night Vithis was there, as well as Tirior, Urien and Luxor. They went over her story repeatedly, trying to learn more about the voices Tiaan heard after she used the amplimet, and the secret of flight that still eluded them.

The night was almost as exhausting as the previous day. It took all her effort to maintain that air of being slightly mad and rather stupid, while having a natural genius for reading the field and working with crystals. She could feel the sweat trickling down her back by the time they finally withdrew to a far corner of the tent.

'I'm not sure I believe her' said Tirior, still speaking in the common tongue — they must want her to know what they were saying about her, and be afraid.

'We'll soon know the truth,' Urien replied. 'About flight, at any rate.'

'What are you up to?' asked Tirior.

'The day she came here, three weeks ago, I dispatched three constructs to Tirthrax. I instructed them to ask Malien how the flying construct came to be built.'

'I knew nothing of this,' Vithis said darkly.

'I sent word to my own people, near Gospett,' said Urien, 'with a captured messenger skeet. If all went well, their constructs could have reached Tirthrax ten days ago. I asked them to send word back the instant they came within flying distance. I hope to hear the truth any day.'

The old woman looked across and caught Tiaan's eye. Urien wanted her to know that she had little time left.

Twenty-eight

Outside, the moon now seemed dazzlingly bright. Nish stumbled past the guards, barely able to see, for his throbbing eyes were dripping. Just what had the tears and the potion done to him? And why all that talk about him serving Jal-Nish? Had his father meant to corrupt him, to make Nish more like himself? Had he? No, Father — whatever you've done to me, I'll fight it with all the will I have. I'll never become like you.

Someone took him by the arm. 'What's the matter?' Xabbier hissed.

Nish swayed on his feet. 'My father—' Better not say anything about the tears. Nish shook his head, but that only made things worse. Coloured auras streamed up from among the soldiers, and in the background he could still hear the faint whine of the tears. 'He's poured a potion down my throat and bespelled me. I don't feel well, Xabbier.'

'Come this way.' Xabbier led him through the rows of tents to one whose flap was folded back, but did not enter. 'Open your mouth.'

'What?'

Xabbier thrust two fingers down Nish's throat and Nish brought up the contents of his stomach. When he'd done heaving, which took quite a while, the soldier wiped Nish's face and led him inside.

Xabbier lit a lantern. 'That's got rid of the bulk of it, though surely not all. I don't know much about the Art, Cryl-Nish, but this I do know. You must fight the spell with all the strength you have. Don't give in or it'll take you.'

Nish shielded his eyes from the light. He tried to speak but could only manage a dry rasp. Xabbier held a pannikin of water to his lips, then fed him a slab of bread torn into pieces.

After wolfing it down, Nish felt better. His vision inverted again but came back to normal. His belly throbbed. He rubbed it and a bubbling belch rumbled up. The sick feeling faded but did not entirely disappear.

He sat up suddenly, seized by an urge so powerful that it burned him. 'Father's calling. I must go to him.'