‘Nobly spoken,’ Flydd declared. ‘Where’s Grand Commander Orgestre?’
‘Packing his bags and slipping out the window,’ someone in the crowd said in a low voice. No one laughed.
Flydd scowled. ‘What of your army, Troist?’
‘We’ll form a rearguard to shield the escape, then make our way east by paths suitable for clankers.’ He paused. ‘What a sorry day this is.’
There was another silence. No one wanted to break it.
A very tall man at the back of the room stood up and threw off his hood, and a mass of woolly hair sprang out in all directions. There was a stir around him. It was Gilhaelith. He began to walk up to the front, and such was his presence that no one said a word. He reached the foot of the dais and stopped.
‘How the devil did you get in here?’ said Yggur, rising to his feet. ‘Guards –’
‘Sit down, Yggur,’ Flydd said wearily. ‘Gilhaelith is the one man who might tell us something we don’t know about our enemy.’
‘He betrayed Fiz Gorgo,’ Yggur said savagely, ‘and I won’t have a bar of him.’
‘You imprisoned me for no other reason than that you disliked me,’ said Gilhaelith, almost serenely. Not a trace of his previous bitterness was evident.
‘I imprisoned you for dealing with the enemy.’
‘And I merely did my best to escape.’
‘Which showed Ghorr the way. Without him –’
‘Enough!’ grated Klarm, and they both fell silent. ‘You came to our Council for a reason, Gilhaelith. What is it? Have you anything to offer humanity in its final hours, or are you here as an emissary for your lyrinx masters?’
‘I barely escaped from Alcifer with my life,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘They planned to eat me once they’d finished with me.’
‘How did you escape?’ said Flydd, with an edge to his voice.
‘Your attack with the spores threw them into confusion. I acted with dispatch and was lucky enough to spot an air-floater, which brought me here.’
‘Hmn,’ Flydd said, as if sifting his words for any grains of truth. ‘What do you have to offer us in this emergency?’
‘Information.’
‘In exchange for what?’
‘A place on the Council.’
‘Not in my lifetime,’ said Yggur.
‘You declined to be on it,’ Flydd snapped. ‘You have no say.’ He looked up at Gilhaelith. ‘First you’ll have to convince us to trust you and, considering your history …’
‘Very well,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘I’ll give you this freely, as a token of my good faith. The relics the lyrinx took from the tar pits of Snizort are most precious to them.’
‘We already knew that, but go on,’ said Flydd.
‘They stole me away from Nyriandiol to locate the relics. Indeed, the only reason they built their city underground at Snizort, decades ago, was to find them, and they prolonged the battle for Snizort for a day, at the cost of thousands of lyrinx lives, just so they could get them safely to Alcifer.’
‘Why do they value these relics? What can they possibly mean to the lyrinx?’
‘I don’t know, but the matriarch personally took charge of them when Alcifer was being evacuated. If you can seize the relics, the enemy would bargain with you to get them back.’
‘Where are they now?’ said Flydd.
‘She was trapped with them when part of the underground city collapsed.’
‘And yet the other lyrinx left Oellyll?’ Flydd said doubtfully.
‘The infection was spreading and they dared not stay. But the relics are safe and Gyrull is still alive. It will just take some digging to get them out.’
‘You seem to know an awful lot about it.’
‘Yes,’ said Gilhaelith without elaboration.
‘It’s valuable information,’ said Flydd, ‘though I’m not about to risk an army digging under Alcifer. As soon as the lyrinx discovered we were there, they’d wipe us out. Do you have any information that can help us stave off the enemy? Considering your record, Gilhaelith, nothing else will do.’
Gilhaelith opened his mouth, but closed it again as if he’d thought better of it.
‘Come on, man!’ said Flydd. ‘I know you assisted them to develop a more powerful device than their node-drainers.’
After a long, reluctant hesitation, Gilhaelith said in a low voice, ‘I was forced to it, and this is for the ears of your Council only. They’ve grown a new device which they call a flisnadr, a power patterner. A device for controlling the flow of power from a field, rather than just shutting it off.’
‘Have they now?’ said Flydd. ‘I’ve been thinking along those lines myself. We must talk more about this privately, Gilhaelith.’ He put out his hand. ‘Welcome aboard.’
The evacuation of Borgistry began at once, the people melting into the uncanny Borgis Woods. General Orgestre’s army, the smaller, had gone with them, while Troist’s force remained behind to guard the rear, in case the enemy came on more swiftly than expected. The Council and the governor were relocating to Hysse, a fertile valley surrounded by almost unclimbable ridges, between Parnggi and the Ramparts of Tacnah. Irisis was to go with them, along with Tiaan. Nish was to remain as Troist’s adjutant for the time being, though he regretted it now. There was no saying he’d ever see any of his friends again.
Three days later, Tiaan, Nish and Irisis were standing by Malien’s thapter while the last of the refugees assembled. Nish didn’t know what to say to his friends. He’d rehearsed his farewells a dozen times but couldn’t find any words that fitted such a desperate occasion. Irisis wasn’t saying anything either, and Tiaan just bore the faraway look she’d had since seeing the piles of lyrinx dead.
Nish, recognising several familiar faces in the crowd, waved. It was Troist’s tall horsy wife Yara and the twins, Meriwen and Liliwen, who would be fourteen now. He’d last seen them a year and a half ago at Morgadis. What must they be thinking after being forced to abandon all they’d held dear?
‘How long have we got?’ said Nish, wondering if there was time to say hello and farewell. The Council’s thapter stood inside a ring of clankers, the army camp was packed up, the latrines filled in and everyone was waiting for the order to depart.
No one answered, so Nish went across, a little tentatively. The twins sang out and ran to meet him. Yara didn’t run, but her face lit up at seeing Nish. He shook her hand and embraced the twins, sturdy girls who took after their handsome father. Their wavy hair, the colour of copper wire, hung in plaits halfway down their backs. They were almost identical, though Liliwen had thicker, darker eyebrows.
‘We’re very cross with you,’ said Meriwen. ‘You were supposed to come and see us in Lybing last spring, before the battle.’
‘Extremely cross,’ said Liliwen. ‘We cooked dinner and everything.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Nish. ‘I was called away. You know what it’s –’
‘We think you ran away from Aunty Mira,’ said Meriwen, frowning at him.
‘Because you were too scared,’ said Liliwen.
‘Like you did last time,’ added Meriwen. ‘With your pants –’
‘Girls!’ cried Yara, scandalised. ‘How dare you speak to Cryl-Nish like that. He’s a great hero and he saved your lives. Twice!’
‘It’s a funny kind of hero that runs away from little Aunty Mira,’ sniffed Meriwen, then giggled.
‘With his pants down around his –’ chortled Liliwen.
‘Right!’ said Yara. ‘I’m going to wash both your mouths out, and don’t think you’re too old to get a good whack on the bare backside, either.’
They sobered up instantly. ‘Sorry, Mother,’ they chorused. ‘But please, please let us stay. After all, Nish did save our lives, twice, and we might never see him again.’
‘Don’t flutter your eyelashes at me, young ladies,’ said Yara. ‘Wherever did you learn such tricks? Your father will be horrified when I tell him. Now come away. Mira has something to say to Nish.’