‘I saw several with that affliction,’ said Merryl thoughtfully. ‘They were in such torment that they sloughed their outer skin, though that was as agonising as if the layers of our skin were peeled away.’
‘The less said about that the better,’ said Flydd, rubbing his upper thigh.
Merryl gave him a puzzled look. ‘Sometimes grit gets in between the armour and the inner skin, which is irritating to them. But this inflammation was much worse.’
‘Do you know what caused it?’ said Flydd. ‘Was it the tar?’
‘I believe it was a mould, or fungus.’
‘Do they often get this kind of complaint?’
‘I never saw it before, in all my time with them. It may have come from one of the relics they found in the tar.’
‘Thank you,’ said Yggur. ‘That’s most interesting.’
PART FOUR
GEOMANTIC GLOBE
FORTY-FIVE
Nish breathed a sigh as the last air-floater lifted. They were finally on their way to Snizort. Though the expedition was well behind schedule, no one could have done it more quickly, and what they’d achieved was nothing short of miraculous. All the pilots had flown Malien’s thapter, though few more than twice. That was his biggest worry, apart from the state of the abandoned constructs. He was afraid they would be too damaged to repair.
They arrived over the battlefield just before dawn. Everything had been rehearsed. The four air-floaters would fly low across the site as soon as it was light, while Nish and the other artificers identified those constructs in the best condition. The pilots and artificers would go to work and three air-floaters would wait on the ground. The fourth would take a wandering path over the battlefield, to raise the alarm if the enemy appeared. Snizort seemed to be abandoned but Nish wasn’t taking any unnecessary risks. There were too many necessary ones.
‘How long have we been working towards this day?’ he said, leaning on the rope rail of Inouye’s air-floater. The east was growing light, though there were still some minutes until sunrise.
‘It’s two months since we got back from Nennifer,’ said Irisis.
‘I never thought we’d get this far.’
‘Nor did I. But then, I try not to expect anything. Saves disappointment.’
‘How many constructs were abandoned here, do you recall?’
‘Tiaan said about five hundred.’
‘And how many of those could have been repaired,’ Nish wondered, ‘if the node hadn’t been destroyed?’
‘I wouldn’t have a clue.’
‘Imagine if we could bring a hundred thapters back,’ he said dreamily.
‘That would certainly be a marvel,’ she said dryly, ‘since you’ve only managed to train thirty pilots.’
He came back to reality. ‘True; but just imagine the look on Yggur’s face.’
‘If we manage to recover three he’ll be over the moon.’
The sun slid over the horizon like a jelly across a greased tray. The battlefield consisted of a series of hummocks, their tips just touched by light, surrounded by seas of shadow. ‘Not much snow left,’ said Nish.
‘It’s been windy in these parts.’ Klarm came up beside them and rested his forearms on the lower rail. He had a small bound volume in one hand.
‘Have you been here recently?’ Nish said carefully. Klarm did not talk about his spying missions.
‘Not in more than a month.’
‘But we wouldn’t expect to run into the enemy?’ They’d been over this before but Nish felt in need of reassurance.
‘Lyrinx could be anywhere,’ grunted Klarm, ‘though they haven’t reoccupied Snizort. The area is a wasteland, the tar’s still burning underground and the native people fled long ago. There’s been no sign of the scavengers here either.’
The light was advancing swiftly now and Nish began to distinguish the bones of the wrecked machines. Most were clankers, but scattered among them, particularly on the western side of the battlefield, he made out the distinctive smooth curves of constructs.
‘Over there,’ Klarm called to Inouye. ‘Some ten constructs were abandoned close together, formed into a group.’
The air-floater drifted westward. ‘I don’t see them,’ said the pilot. It was the first time she’d spoken in ages. Inouye went about her work in silent, tragic despair, and it wrenched Nish’s heart. Separation from her children and her man was eating her alive.
‘Just to the left of that little hill,’ said Klarm.
Inouye took them over the hill, then circled around it.
‘You must be mistaken,’ said Irisis. ‘I can only see three.’
‘I kept careful records,’ said Klarm, consulting his book, ‘because the constructs weren’t badly damaged.’
‘Well, there’s only three now. Maybe Vithis came back and dragged them away. Could you go a little lower, Inouye?’
The air-floater came down to within ten spans of the ground. ‘I can’t see any tracks,’ said Nish.
‘The surface snow has been blown away.’
‘Constructs are very heavy. If they’d been hauled off, you’d expect to see drag marks.’
Inouye hovered over the site. ‘They have been taken,’ said Irisis. ‘Look, you can see depressions where they were lying.’
‘They must have flown –’ Nish began furiously. ‘Oh no!’ He clutched at her arm as a chill ran down his spine. ‘They’ve flown. Vithis converted them to thapters and flew them away.’
‘Or hovered them.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Klarm. ‘The only thapter my spies have sighted near the Hornrace was Malien’s.’
‘What if Malien’s people have been here?’ said Irisis slowly. ‘They already know how to build thapters, so it’d be no trouble to fix these ones. In fact, that’s probably what’s happened.’
‘How many have gone?’ Nish choked. ‘Please, let it only be these seven.’
They rotored back and forth across the battlefield. ‘There’s another depression,’ said Klarm, pointing. ‘It contained four constructs a month ago.’
‘And two more have gone from the south of it,’ Irisis called.
As they went back and forth, and the count rose, Nish fell deeper into depression. ‘How many is it now?’ he asked drearily as they completed the last run.
‘Thirty-one,’ said Irisis.
Despair. ‘I’ll bet they’ve taken every construct that could possibly be repaired.’
They spent all day trudging through the remnants of rust-coloured snow, checking the constructs one by one. There was not a single usable machine among them. The controllers had been broken with a hammer.
Nish studied the innards of the last machine, grim-faced. ‘There’s no chance that our pilots could fly it with one of your controllers?’
Irisis shook her head. ‘Ours are just designed to fit into theirs. If we’d had to make new controllers from scratch, we’d still be working on the first one.’
‘What am I going to say to Yggur and Flydd?’
Night fell. Nish set up camp and sent an air-floater home with the bad news. He was too depressed to eat and the trainee pilots, highly strung as were all operators, had taken it hard. Many were in tears, including one of the best, pretty little Kattiloe with the dozens of blonde plaits. Sturdy, dark-eyed Chissmoul, too shy to speak about her distress, had simply walked off into the night. The artificers and their prentices were of a more phlegmatic disposition. Glad of the opportunity to employ their talents on real machines, they were pulling one of the constructs apart in the firelight.
Nish felt like screaming at them, but resisted. Let them have their moment. Let them hone their useless skills.
‘We might as well go home.’ Funny how he could think of forbidding Fiz Gorgo as home.
‘The air-floater pilots need their rest,’ said Irisis. ‘They flew all night, Nish.’
‘In the morning then. At first light.’
Irisis prodded the fire. ‘I’ve been thinking. This might not be an absolute disaster yet.’