‘They mustn’t have found the first two constructs.’
‘I’d say not.’
They turned back to the metal building and Malien went inside.
‘I’ll wait out here,’ said Tiaan.
‘No, come in.’
‘I feel so guilty,’ Tiaan whispered.
‘Tiaan, you must not. You offered them the chance for survival and they took it willingly, knowing the risk. They’d been thinking about escaping through a gate for years.’
‘But … I made it wrongly. It was my fault.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Vithis told me so.’
‘Vithis sought to blame you for his own failing. I checked your port-all and it was correctly made.’
‘But Vithis said that left-hand and right-hand were different from their world to ours.’
‘They are, and it was known to the ancients, for I checked the records after you left Tirthrax. The failing was not in your port-all, but in the way they matched their end of the gate to yours. Vithis must have tried to correct it after the gate opened but by then it was too late. It lashed the opening gate across known space, and unknown, before finally locking in place at Tirthrax. That’s why Inthis were lost, not through any failing of yours.’
‘I still feel responsible,’ said Tiaan.
‘And no doubt, deep in his heart, so does Vithis. But it was an accident, Tiaan. They took the risk and lost.’
The curving chambers of the building were decorated with such treasures as the Aachim had brought with them. Tiaan marvelled at small tapestries woven from threads of silk and gold, wire sculptures of astonishing complexity, subtle rugs and beautifully decorated pots and implements. Furniture had been made from native stone and salvaged metal. Everything was beautiful and harmonious, though the designs and proportions, even after her time in Tirthrax, struck Tiaan oddly.
They entered room after room. All were empty. ‘This building must have housed many people,’ said Tiaan. ‘But –’
‘As they died, the bodies would have been placed in the mausoleums which they’d already built. All except the last.’
They climbed a set of metal stairs, their feet echoing hollowly. At the top they entered an attic room with open windows looking to the east and west. Though a breeze blew through, it was hot. Malien turned the corner, stopped, then bowed her head.
Seven children lay on bedding on the floor as though asleep, though Tiaan knew that they were dead. Five were girls; two were boys. The oldest looked about thirteen, the youngest five.
‘They’ve not been dead long,’ said Tiaan.
‘No!’ Malien whispered. ‘They met their ends in the last week.’
‘They’re thin, but not starved. How did they live so long?’
‘We particularly cherish our children, Tiaan, for we Aachim, though long-lived, are not fecund like old humans. The adults would have gone without to feed the young ones, in the hope that, somehow, they might be rescued.’
‘And in the end?’
‘When the last adult was dying and all hope lost, the children would have been given a draught from which they would never wake.’
‘How horrible.’ Tiaan glanced at the faces, brushing away tears. ‘They were still alive when we began to survey the sea. If we’d come this way first, instead of leaving it until last, we could have saved them.’
‘If only we had,’ said Malien.
‘It’s a wonder they didn’t try to smooth a path to the salt. It’s only thirty or forty leagues away. Once they got a construct onto smooth salt they could have crossed the sea in a few days.’
‘But if you go the wrong way, this broken country runs for hundreds of leagues. Their explorers may have thought the whole world was like this. In any case, to smooth a hover path across this country would have taken hundreds of Aachim years. They didn’t have the people or the food. Once they crashed here they were doomed, and they must soon have realised it.’
An unpleasant duty was preying on Tiaan’s mind. ‘We should … we must take this news to Vithis,’ said Tiaan, her heart sinking at the thought of what it would do to him.
‘And Minis.’
The farspeaker, which had been silent for days, gurgled and Irisis’s voice came though, shaking with tension. ‘Tiaan, Malien, wherever you are, come to us on the salt below Ashmode. Hurry! The enemy –’
SIXTY-SIX
Several weeks earlier, not long after Kattiloe’s thapter had been dispatched to Tiksi, Flydd and Yggur were called to the farspeaker. Irisis hurried over after them, for she’d recognised the voice.
‘It’s Gilhaelith,’ said the operator, ‘and he says he has a message for you both.’
‘We’re listening,’ grated Yggur. ‘Well, Gilhaelith?’
‘You’ve heard, I assume?’ Gilhaelith’s voice was as clear as if he were in the next room.
‘That the lyrinx have broken off their sieges and are racing to Ashmode? We’re still waiting to hear if it’s an elaborate deception.’
‘It’s not,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘They’re following my orders.’
Yggur choked. ‘What?’
Flydd eased him out of the way. ‘Since we no longer trust anything we hear over a farspeaker, we’ll reserve our judgment on that. What have you done?’
‘I’ve got their sacred relics,’ Gilhaelith said simply. ‘I ordered them to come east – all of them – with the power patterner, or I’d destroy the relics.’
Irisis tried to catch Flydd’s attention. ‘Ask him about Nish,’ she hissed. He waved her to silence.
‘What do you want?’ said Yggur.
‘Revenge,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘They’ve robbed me of everything that mattered. I’m going to do the same to them.’
‘This is absurd,’ said Flydd to Yggur. To Gilhaelith he said, ‘Why would the lyrinx abandon everything they’ve fought for, these past hundred and fifty years, for a few lousy bits and pieces from the tar pits?’
‘It wasn’t Santhenar they were fighting for,’ replied Gilhaelith. ‘Or rather, Santhenar was always secondary. Their most burning desire, which was driving them long before the war, and in fact was the reason they came to Santhenar, was to find these relics. I gambled that they’d give up everything else for them and I’ve been proven right.’
‘Now I know your mind is going,’ scowled Yggur.
‘You’re clever men – look at the evidence. I’ll leave you to work it out on the way to Ashmode.’
‘What’s happening there?’ said Flydd.
‘You’ll find out in due course.’ The farspeaker cut off.
‘He’s made a deal with the lyrinx,’ said Flydd. ‘I’ll bet he’s planning to exchange the relics for the power patterner.’
‘Why does he want it?’ said Yggur.
‘I imagine we’ll find out before too long.’
Irisis was walking backwards and forwards outside the conference tent. They’d gone to Hysse to meet Governor Nisbeth and Grand Commander Orgestre, who seemed to be back in favour, though Irisis couldn’t understand why. Flydd, Yggur, Klarm and Troist had been inside the tent with Nisbeth and Orgestre for hours, discussing something of great moment. The guards would not allow Irisis to go near, which was vexing. It was one of the few councils she had not been admitted to, and she was now desperate to find out if they’d heard anything about Nish.
She was trying to think of a way to get inside when Flydd put his head out through the tent flap. ‘Guard, would you call for –. Ah, Irisis, food and drink for six, quick as you can.’
At any other time the order would have irritated her. Now she seized the opportunity, and shortly came back with a loaded tray and baskets hanging off each arm.
‘No appeasement. Ever!’ snapped General Orgestre as she entered. ‘Nisbeth and I are agreed on that.’
That surprised Irisis, who’d always thought of Nisbeth as soft and kindly, perhaps a little too kindly.
‘Thank you, Irisis.’ Flydd reached for the tray.