Nish had to look away to hide his contempt. Minis’s dilemma had been a wrenching one, but Nish would have felt more respect for the man if he’d turned Tiaan in. At least he’d have made a choice, instead of doing nothing and whining about his regrets afterwards.
‘Had it not been for you,’ Nish said, to try to salvage something, ‘none of your people would ever have reached Santhenar. The Aachim would be extinct on your home world. You saved them.’
‘Foster-father does not count that to my advantage.’ Minis clicked away, turned, then said suddenly, ‘Have you seen Tiaan lately?’
‘Not for some time, though we’ve had many adventures together in the past year. We’ve become friends, and I’m as surprised to be saying it as you must be to hear it.’
‘I’m not surprised at all,’ said Minis, and for the first time there was a spark of life in his eyes as he turned back to Nish. ‘How did it come about? Tell me everything.’
Nish related his story from the time he’d last been with Minis, during their escape from burning Snizort, and how Tiaan had saved his life on more than one occasion.
‘She’s a wonderful woman,’ Minis sighed. ‘Tell me, does she have many lovers? I suppose she must.’
Nish resented the question and felt disloyal for answering it, though he did, curtly. ‘As Tiaan is my friend, I wish you hadn’t asked. But since you were … are also my friend, I’ll do you the courtesy of an answer. As far as I know, she has no lovers at all.’
‘Ah.’ Minis looked away. ‘Do you think there’s any chance for a maimed man like me?’
Another question Nish didn’t want to answer. ‘Minis, how can I tell what is in Tiaan’s mind? She keeps her feelings to herself.’
‘Please, Nish. In your heart, do you feel she might ever consider me?’ Minis’s shiny eyes were on him, hope warring with dread.
Nish delayed his response for as long as he could. ‘In all honesty, Minis …’ He searched his former friend’s face. What would be worse: to lie or to tell the truth? It had to be the truth, and in terms Minis couldn’t possibly misunderstand. ‘If she loved you, it wouldn’t matter that you are maimed. But you betrayed her and that must have killed her feelings for you. I’m sorry. I wish you hadn’t asked.’
Minis turned away, trying to compose his ravaged features. ‘I – I suspected as much. Thank you for telling me. In some respects it makes my choice easier.’
Nish didn’t ask what choice. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to get away and never see Minis again. They talked about other matters until the conversation petered out. Minis was returning to his work when the floor shook and there came a rumbling from below.
‘What was that?’ said Nish.
‘The earth trembles here from time to time. We often felt it, when we were putting down the foundations.’
Two Aachim, deep in conversation on a bench across the room, also came to their feet but soon sat down again. Minis stood at the misty slot in the floor, looking down at the Hornrace for a drawn-out moment, before nodding curtly and stumping away on his crutches.
The afternoon dragged, as did the night. Nish was used to being busy all his waking hours but there was nothing to do here. He cadged some paper and spent the following day writing down his experiences with the lyrinx, and all the questions Ryll had asked him. Later he recorded Vithis’s interrogation, just in case he escaped.
To ease the boredom, Nish began to do a sketch of the building, or at least the floors he’d been on, but soon put it away. His rudimentary drawing skills could not do the tower’s wonders justice. He returned to the slot over the Hornrace again and again, staring down at the racing water and marvelling at the power of nature, which could reduce such a staggering work as the Span to insignificance.
Again there came that little shudder, but this time the water, hundreds of spans below, cusped up for an instant before the torrent flattened it out again. Three Aachim walking by stopped to remark upon the tremor, which struck Nish as odd if they occurred all the time.
Someone took him by the arm from behind and a deep male voice said, ‘Come this way, please.’
‘Where are we going?’ said Nish.
‘Vithis would like to see you again.’
‘What about?’
The Aachim didn’t answer. In Vithis’s room, the same spherical one as before, the Aachim left him and closed the door.
‘What’s going on, Cryl-Nish?’ Vithis was deadly cold now.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Then you’re a bigger fool than I take you for. Those two tremblers weren’t like the normal ones we have here.’
‘What do you mean?’ Nish’s voice had gone squeaky.
‘Someone is sending me a warning. Who among your kind hates me the most, Cryl-Nish?’
‘I don’t know that anyone hates you,’ said Nish desperately. Had Vithis finally cracked?
‘One of your great powers is trying to bring me down. Who is it – Flydd? Yggur? Gilhaelith?’
‘Maybe it’s one of your own,’ Nish snapped. He was taking a risk, but knew Vithis couldn’t respect anyone who didn’t stand up to him. He also knew of the longstanding bitterness between Vithis and Tirior of Clan Nataz.
‘I have the full support of my people,’ snarled Vithis, and Nish wondered if his guess had struck the mark. ‘Come on; which one is it?’
‘We’re fighting for our lives, surr. No one has time to think about you.’
‘What about Gilhaelith?’ Vithis said menacingly.
‘I hardly know the man.’
‘He’s a geomancer, is he not?’
‘As I understand it,’ said Nish, ‘he wishes to comprehend the roots of the world and all the secrets that go with it.’ He didn’t see any point in mentioning the theft of the relics.
‘Does he now?’ There was a glint in Vithis’s eye. ‘And should he succeed in that impossible aim, what then?’
‘Gilhaelith seeks knowledge and understanding for its own sake.’ That may have been true once. Nish didn’t have a clue what Gilhaelith wanted now.
‘So pure a motive does not exist,’ said Vithis. ‘In my long life, there’s one thing I can be sure of – once people have tasted real power, there are few who can give it up.’
Nish shrugged. ‘Gilhaelith is an enigma.’
‘Even more dangerous,’ said Vithis. ‘Leave now.’
Nish went.
That night he was lying in bed when the stones of the tower let out a groan like a ghost in torment and the room gave a long, sideways shudder. Nish’s wiry hair stood up. He got out of bed, staring at the roof. The room shook the other way but this time it kept shaking. It felt as if the tower had been set vibrating and each oscillation plucked at the foundations of the Span.
Slowly the vibrations died away and did not resume, but sleep had fled. Nish went barefoot down the stairs, drawn to the slot above the Hornrace. The floor was dark but lights from the lower floors illuminated mist rising up through the slot.
He edged to the brink, fascinated by the torrent yet terrified of it. He went down on his belly and crept forward over the last distance.
‘It compels, doesn’t it?’ said a low voice from the darkness. ‘I come here every night, to think and to dream. To wonder if this will be the night when I take that way out.’
Vithis was sitting up the other end of the slot, his long legs dangling over the edge. The tone of his voice frightened Nish, who came to his feet and began to back away.
‘Stay, Cryl-Nish. I mean no harm to you. Come and sit down.’
Nish did so, as far away as he reasonably could. His heart was thudding.
‘They’re trying to destroy me, you know.’
Mad and paranoid. Nish attempted to speak but nothing came out. He swallowed and tried again. ‘Who?’