Irisis was nearly there. Tiaan began to struggle furiously, to kick and scream. Irisis reached out and caught her by the coat, dragging Tiaan and Nish to her. She tried to pull down Tiaan’s arm but it was as straight and hard as a metal rod. Tiaan belaboured Irisis with her other hand, stabbing at her face with stiff fingers. One blow caught Irisis in the eye and she gasped and had to let go.
Tiaan tried to wriggle free. She slipped in Nish’s grasp and in desperation he butted his head at the inside of her elbow. Her arm folded, the amplimet fell from her numb fingers and Irisis scooped it out of mid-air, thrust it into the platinum box and slammed the lid down.
The tension, and the impossibilities, cut off abruptly. All the lights went out in Nennifer as the Art that sustained it failed. Tiaan’s knees collapsed and she subsided gently on the rubble, wailing as if her heart was broken. The moon shone down through the dome onto the still, silent figures in the centre and the ring of ward-mancers crumpled around the periphery. Everyone was waiting for something to happen.
‘Now what?’ said Nish, hanging onto Irisis to prevent himself from falling.
‘The ward-mancers are free to use power without risking instant annihilation. Fusshte too. They’ll try to get the box.’
‘Take it!’ shouted Fusshte.
Nish prepared for the hopeless defence, but the fifteen ward-mancers came to their shaky knees and began to crawl away.
‘What are you doing?’ screamed Fusshte. ‘Attack them. Kill them and bring the box to me.’
The ward-mancers took no notice. They kept on crawling towards the door, head to tail like a line of caterpillars on a branch.
‘He asked too much of them,’ said Irisis. ‘They’ve broken. We’ve got a chance. Come on.’
Before he could move, Scrutator Fusshte stood up on the sill of the embrasure, a rope in his hands, preparing to slide down. Nish watched helplessly. He couldn’t fight scrutator magic and, with the amplimet at the third stage, he dared not open the box.
Fusshte had one leg over the side when a bloody, wild-eyed Flydd hurled himself through the door. He stopped there and Fusshte did too, staring at him. The crawling ward-mancers froze.
Flydd hobbled across the chamber and extended his hand. After a long hesitation, Irisis put the platinum box in it and Flydd raised his arm, holding the box high. Fusshte’s eyes followed it but he did not move.
‘We’ve been enemies since the day you bribed Ghorr to admit you to the Council,’ Flydd said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. ‘Oh yes, I know all about that, and before I’ve finished with you the whole world will know your other dirty secrets, Fusshte. You schemed, bribed, lied and slaughtered your way to power. I might even have forgiven you that, had you used your talents to help win the war, but you were happy for the war to go on forever. It kept your kind in power and you used that power to be rid of anyone who threatened you. Especially me.’
Fusshte said not a word, nor did his eyes leave the platinum box.
‘You condemned me to be flayed alive,’ Flydd went on, ‘you and Ghorr. You laughed at my agony and sneered when the torturers cut my manhood away. But a man can still be a man without his male parts, as a man can have them and be no true man at all. I swore I’d bring you down for that alone, no matter what it cost me, to show that I was more a man than you.’
Fusshte made no reply. The ward-mancers began coming to their feet. He gestured frantically at them but one by one they folded their arms and stood there in a line.
‘Here is the amplimet you so craved, Fusshte.’ Flydd shook the platinum box. ‘I challenge you for it – man against man. None of these witnesses will interfere.’
Beside Nish, Irisis drew in a sharp breath. Nish’s heart began to pound. Fusshte’s snake eyes glittered. His bony hands tightened on the rail of the turret and he leaned over, dark tongue darting through his lips. He was surely planning some treacherous attack that Flydd wouldn’t anticipate.
Nish glanced at Flydd, a small, battered and bloody old man who was practically collapsing with weariness. Yet Flydd would not give in and he used that iron will to drive himself upright. His eyes never left his enemy’s and his stare never faltered. Nish could hardly breathe as the moment was drawn out to its snapping point.
Fusshte moved blindingly fast, bringing his concealed hand up and hurling a dagger. It caught the light as it flashed across the room and Nish was sure it was going to plunge into Flydd’s right eye.
Flydd tilted his head to the left, the dagger skimmed his ear and embedded itself in the wall. Fusshte reached down for another weapon but Flydd flipped open the platinum box and the flickering glow of the amplimet lit up the room. Holding the box in front of him, Flydd reached in, plucked the crystal out and raised his fist. It glowed blood-red.
‘Xervish!’ cried Irisis. ‘Put it back. It’ll anthracise you.’
Flydd did not hesitate. How can he dare, Nish thought. Isn’t he afraid? Surely he can’t hope to hold the amplimet back by himself?
Flydd’s fist began to pulse, pink to blood-dark. The strain showed in the muscles of his face – would he control the crystal or would it turn him to reeking char?
No one moved. Fusshte’s tongue flickered across his lips again. A minute passed. Two. Three.
Flydd’s arm trembled; his body jerked, and suddenly Fusshte had a crossbow in his hand and was drawing a bead on Flydd’s forehead. Nish looked for something to throw but couldn’t find anything save chunks of charcoal.
‘Surr!’ Nish cried. ‘Get out of the way.’
Fusshte wound the cranks and the bow creaked as it bent. His finger moved for the lock lever.
Before he could fire, Flydd roared, ‘You’re mine, Fusshte. Mine!’ He thrust his arm high and strained until the tendons in his neck stood out.
Fusshte had his finger on the lever but before he could release it the wire of the crossbow glowed red and sagged away.
The amplimet flared and faded. Steam burst from Flydd’s nostrils. He strained again, his fist rock-steady though his arm had the faintest tremor. Flydd grunted, groaned, steam or smoke burst from his mouth and for a moment it looked as if his fist was dripping blood.
‘You’re mine!’ he cried, rising up on tiptoes. ‘Mine. Back, I say – all the way back.’
The crystal flared to coruscating brilliance, Nish gasped, and then the glow went out completely.
Flydd staggered and nearly fell, but recovered and extended his hand towards Fusshte, the amplimet pointing from his fingers. The central spark wasn’t blinking at all. ‘Mine!’ he roared.
Fusshte dropped the useless crossbow as if it had grown too hot to hold. His black-rimmed mouth gaped open and a mewling cry of terror issued forth. He threw himself backwards into the turret, which shook free and began to slide down the column until it crashed into the dais.
Flydd slipped the dull crystal back into its box and softly closed the lid. He headed for the turret, staggering in his weariness. Nish and Irisis followed warily, but when they peered in Fusshte and Halie were gone.
Flydd closed his eyes and pounded the sides of the turret in his anguish.
‘I expected more of Fusshte,’ said Nish, ‘after the way he faced down Ghorr at Fiz Gorgo.’
‘The chief scrutatorship was within his sights, back then,’ said Irisis. ‘But Flydd’s towering attack on the amplimet has crushed Fusshte’s hopes forever. He can’t hope to match the strength Flydd has just displayed, and the ward-mancers have repudiated him. If Fusshte can’t command their loyalty, all he can do is run.’
Shortly, Nish picked out his spidery shadow, high on a rope ladder that ran up the other side of the column. Fusshte was too high to attack and soon disappeared into the darkness. Halie, the other surviving scrutator, was close behind him.
‘They can’t get far,’ said Nish, leaning back against Irisis. ‘It’s over.’
‘That was the bravest, most reckless deed I ever saw,’ Irisis said to Flydd. ‘You could have –’