‘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.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Remember the first time we came here, when we ran into the scavengers? I took away a complete controller and used it to design all my flight assemblies. I’m sure I brought the controller with me, so at least we can bring one thapter home. Kimli can fly it.’
‘One lousy thapter,’ said Nish in melancholy tones.
‘Oh, come on. It’s twice what we have now.’
After his glorious daydreams about bringing back fleets of fliers, it took an effort for Nish to see that even one thapter was infinitely better than none. None meant that the past months had been wasted. With none, the war could not be won. With one, added to the one they already had, it was still possible to hope.
They worked all night fitting the controller into the least damaged of the machines close by. It took a team of artificers and artisans, for whoever had smashed the controller had done other damage and they had to take parts from a second construct to fix it. The work was not yet completed when the sun came up. As it lifted above the horizon they heard an approaching, unmistakable whine.
‘It’s a thapter!’ Nish cried. ‘The Aachim have come back. Are you nearly finished?’
‘Not nearly enough,’ came Irisis’s muffled voice from inside.
‘Get your weapons!’ Nish raced for the air-floater, where he’d left his gear. A short sword banged against his hip but he’d be at a disadvantage against a tall Aachim. He reached over the side for his crossbow and pouch of bolts.
The thapter shot out of the north, flying low, banked and circled around them. The soldiers raised their crossbows. ‘Do we shoot?’ called their sergeant.
‘No!’ hissed Klarm. ‘Find out if they’re hostile, first.’
‘Not until I say so,’ Nish yelled.
The thapter banked again. ‘Don’t shoot!’ roared Irisis from on top of her construct. ‘That’s Tiaan.’
Nish shaded his eyes and squinted. ‘How can you tell?’
‘It’s all scratched and battered about the base.’ Irisis waved furiously, pointing to the ground.
The thapter jagged sideways, dropped sharply and came sweeping in to settle on the ground just a few spans away, the blast from underneath whirling dust and crunchy fragments of snow up in their faces.
‘How can Tiaan fly, here? We’ve got the only power storage devices.’
‘With the amplimet she can draw on a distant field,’ Irisis reminded him.
Of course. That’s how she had got them out of the burning underground labyrinth. ‘What are you doing here?’ Nish called.
Tiaan climbed out, followed by Merryl, a hobbling Flangers and another soldier. ‘We had to do a little job nearby,’ said Tiaan. ‘So we thought we’d see how you were going.’
‘Terribly,’ said Nish, rubbing red eyes. He explained.
‘Have you had breakfast?’ Tiaan said abruptly.
‘We haven’t had time,’ he snapped.
‘Neither have I, but I’d appreciate something hot if you can manage it.’
She turned away to the campfire, where a large pot of chard was simmering. Pilot Kattiloe, who had been eyeing Tiaan’s machine enviously since its arrival, offered her a mug of the red brew. Tiaan wrapped her hands around it and stood with her back to the fire, looking down at the dirt. Taking what looked to be half a dried quince from her pocket, she nibbled at one edge. Pilot Chissmoul appeared silently from behind a mound. She kept apart from everyone, but pressed her cheek against the side of the thapter and closed her eyes. Flangers limped over and stood leaning against the thapter. He said something to her. Chissmoul didn’t answer, but she didn’t go away either.