He had avoided her since, thinking that his presence could only make things worse. Tiaan had been in good hands. Malien had taken charge of her, bathing and delousing her and spending long days and nights talking to her, working to bring her out of her withdrawal psychosis. It seemed to have worked. Tiaan had been almost her normal reserved self by the time the air-dreadnought returned from Fadd. Nish had seen her laughing and joking with Malien, and once even with Yggur, though whenever Tiaan’s eye fell on Irisis or Nish he knew that she’d forgotten nothing and forgiven even less.
Nish looked away with a mental shrug. What did it matter? They didn’t need to work together.
Malien was so angry that she kept flying all night, only setting down at dawn for a brief rest stop before heading on. Her fury began to wear off during the day and at sunset she set the thapter down on a slaty hilltop in an unknown land. Flangers was out of danger and sleeping, so they left him inside with Evee and Inouye.
‘Let’s talk about the war,’ said Flydd at the campfire that night.
‘I’ve been putting together a plan,’ said Yggur.
‘So have I,’ said Flydd. ‘But let’s hear yours first.’
Nish was a little surprised at Yggur’s forthrightness. When they’d first come to Fiz Gorgo, about six months ago, he’d professed little interest in the war. But of course, the Histories told that Yggur had been a great warlord once.
‘Humanity is still strong, but its people, manufactories and armies are scattered across thousands of leagues and can’t easily be coordinated. But if they could be, we’d be a formidable force and many of the lyrinx’s advantages would evaporate.’
‘Intelligence and communication are the keys to victory,’ said Flydd. ‘To win we have to beat the enemy at both.’
‘The lyrinx avoid war during the winter mating season, and immediately after it,’ said Klarm. ‘So we have till early spring to prepare ourselves for the final phase of the war – just over three months.’
‘And in that time,’ said Yggur, ‘we must do a number of things. First, we must draw together all our allies, near and far.’
‘It would take a month to contact them all by skeet,’ said Klarm, ‘assuming we had enough skeets. And another month before the replies all came in.’
‘With the thapter we can visit them all in weeks …’ said Flydd. He gave Malien an abashed glance, which she did not acknowledge.
‘But the next time you want to consult them it’ll take just as long,’ Yggur said reasonably.
‘And the time after,’ Klarm chimed in. ‘You can’t be tied up as a messenger boy, Flydd. And if something goes wrong with the thapter, or we lose it, or it’s needed elsewhere –’
‘We must have more of them,’ said Yggur, ‘which is my second point. We’ll come back to the first. Are you prepared to share the secret of making thapters with us, Malien?’
After a brief hesitation she said, ‘With some disquiet.’
Yggur bowed his head. ‘Thank you. That raises another problem, of course. We can’t build thapters, or any kind of flying machine more complex than an air-floater, at Fiz Gorgo. We’d need an entire manufactory for that and it would still take years to construct one.’
‘Then the second problem is as insoluble as the first,’ said Klarm. He drained his goblet, which had been half full of a fine wine from the Council’s cellars. One of his crates had contained several small barrels. Klarm lived life to the fullest. ‘Why go back to Fiz Gorgo anyhow? Why not Lybing, for instance?’ Klarm had been the provincial scrutator for Lybing before his leg injury.
‘Lybing doesn’t have manufactories either,’ said Yggur.
‘But it does have skilled workers.’
‘We can bring skilled workers from anywhere,’ said Flydd. ‘In Fiz Gorgo we have an establishment and complete control.’
‘If you’re going to take on the role of head of the Council,’ said Klarm, ‘you need to be seen. Otherwise the generals and governors will seize the chance to intrigue against you. You’ve got to show them you’re just as tough as Ghorr.’
‘In Lybing I’d be pestered constantly by people wanting favours,’ said Flydd, ‘and I’ve no time for it. There’s a war to win.’
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ said Klarm. He sighed, presumably for the fleshly delights of civilised Lybing. ‘Pass the barrel, Flydd. This is thirsty work.’
Flydd rolled it across.
Yggur scowled. He didn’t like indulgence, in any form. ‘Some months ago we recovered parts of a construct abandoned at Snizort, including its flight controller. With Malien’s advice, we ought to be able to make the controllers needed to turn constructs into thapters.’
‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ said Flydd. ‘You’ll take charge of that work, Irisis, and Tiaan can help you. If you require more artisans, we’ll press them from a manufactory.’
‘And the moment the flight controllers are ready,’ said Yggur, ‘we’ll fly to the battlefield at Snizort, put them in the best of the abandoned constructs and fly them back.’
‘But the node exploded,’ said Irisis. ‘There’s not enough field at Snizort to flutter a handkerchief.’
‘Leave that to me,’ said Yggur. ‘I dare say I can think of a way.’
She regarded him dubiously. ‘How many controllers will you need?’
‘As many as twenty, certainly,’ said Yggur. ‘More, if you can make them in time. We’ll need as many thapters as can be made to fly.’
‘So you’ll need to take a small army to Snizort,’ said Klarm. ‘And dozens of trained pilots, though I don’t see how you’re going to train them.’
‘And we’ll need a means of getting them there,’ said Yggur, standing up and circling the fire before sitting down again. ‘The plan is coming together. First we must train artificers to fix those constructs that aren’t too badly damaged, and pilots to fly them. That’s going to take a long time. Meanwhile, we’ll need enough air-floaters to carry everyone to Snizort. Cryl-Nish, you will command this operation.’
‘I don’t see how it can be done in time,’ said Nish.
‘You’ll have to find a way – we’ve got to have the thapters before spring.’
‘It takes time to train people.’
‘It has to be done, Nish, and you’ve got to do it.’
Nish gritted his teeth. ‘If I had a year and a hundred people I couldn’t do it all,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t just wave a magic wand like some people. I have to do real work.’ Irisis squeezed his arm, warningly. Yggur was glaring down his long nose at him. Nish buried his face in his goblet.
‘That’s only the first stage,’ Yggur said coldly, ‘but everything else relies on it. Coming back to my first point, of finding a way to talk to our distant allies and our scattered forces, there’s this.’
Yggur withdrew a glass globe, the size of a grapefruit, from a leather case at his side. He held it up. ‘Some of you may have seen it before. Fusshte stole it from Fiz Gorgo and it was the first treasure I went looking for in Nennifer. It’s one of the few surviving farspeaker globes of Golias the Mad.’ Flydd cleared his throat. Yggur continued. ‘Or if not, it’s closely based on his original. It doesn’t work, unfortunately. The secret was lost with Golias’s death.’
He glanced briefly at Nish. ‘I plan to rediscover Golias’s secret and, once I have, our skilled artisans will craft as many globes as we need. You may give one to each of our allies, Flydd. Such a gift, and the hope of greater ones, will do more to unite us than all the former Council’s threats and punishments.’
‘Many have sought Golias’s secret,’ said Flydd, ‘but none have succeeded.’
‘But they worked as individuals for their own greed or glory, sharing neither their discoveries nor their failures. For us, it’s our very survival. And around this campfire, Flydd, are people whose grasp of the Art is as great as any who have ever lived.’