'I'll wake the camp,' Nish said, crawling out.
Oinan caught his leg. 'There'll be a stampede. We'll never get out.'
'I can't let everyone be slaughtered in their beds. How will I find you?'
'Which way, Colm?' cried Oinan.
'Down the gully where the waste runs,' said the boy without hesitation. 'We can get through the fence at the far end, if there are no guards at all.'
'I'll meet you there,' said Nish, 'but if I don't come, go without me.'
He ran down the row to where the great gong hung by the workhouse. Snatching up the mallet, he thumped the gong, one, two, three.
There were cries all over the camp. 'Wake!' he roared. 'Nilkerrand is burning and the enemy is upon us. Wake!' Giving it one last thump, he dropped the mallet. Then, thinking that it was a better weapon than his bare hands, Nish tucked it under his arm.
People were running everywhere, shouting, screaming and crashing into each other. Down the row, one of the hovels was ablaze. As he turned the corner, Nish was swept off his feet by a stampede. Holding his arms over his head, he scrunched up and waited for them to go by.
Once they passed, he crept along the walls of the buildings. A flame leapt up to his left: someone had set fire to a shanty and in its light a mob was attacking the gate. A dark figure went over the top and hurled the bar off. The gate burst open.
Nish kept going. Most of the camp was behind him now. Stumbling along in the dark, he fell off the edge of an embankment, skidded in greasy clay and slid all the way to the bottom. Judging by the putrid smell, he was in the gully. The drain must be just to his right. Well, that saved him looking for it.
He picked his way down. Several others must have had the same idea, for he could see figures further along. Perhaps it was the family. Nish did not call out in case it was not. A vibrating shriek of terror came from behind, then screams from hundreds of massed throats. Was it the enemy? He had to know. Scrambling up the side of the gully, Nish climbed a mound, stood on tiptoes and stared towards the gate, clearly visible in the flames.
People were streaming back, screaming and trampling each other in their desperation to get away. He knew what was behind them but had to see it with his own eyes.
A great shape came over the palisade, landing in front of the flames. The silhouette was unmistakable – a massive body, crested head and leathery wings. A lyrinx. Others stormed through the gate.
Nish could not bear to watch. He hurtled down the gully, splashed through the stinking muck in the bottom and along the other side, running and running despite the agony in his injured leg. He could not ignore it, but it was a reminder of what it would be like to be eaten alive. Nish rounded the corner and the fence stood in front of him. Several of its poles had been torn away. Someone was just going through the gap. He squeezed after them, tearing his shirt.
On the other side he looked around for Colm's family, but they were nowhere to be seen.
T WENTY-ONE
Ullii was down the mine with Irisis, her only friend now that the scrutator had betrayed her and Nish abandoned her, and even Irisis was suspect. True, she had defended Ullii previously, but she had also been Nish's lover. Ullii resented that with all her jealous little heart, and took pleasure in defying Irisis whenever she could get away with it.
Dandri and Peate, the leaders of the two mining teams, were there as well, to make sure artisan or seeker did not wander into unsafe ground, and also because it was their mine and they did not like outsiders poking around in it. They were accompanied by a pair of soldiers armed with heavy crossbows. The loss of the crystals, and the discovery of that secret tunnel, had been a shocking blow. The mine was no longer their haven from the world, but an unknown and threatening place where at any moment they might find a lyrinx behind them.
They were now completing a survey of the seventh level, working in the section below Joeyn's vein. It was a dangerous area, with many sections out of bounds because the roof was too unstable. It had been a frustrating week and Ullii had found no crystal at all.
Please find something, Ullii, Irisis prayed. Anything! I can't bear to tell the scrutator no again. He's afraid. I saw it in his eyes last night.
'I can't see anything.' Ullii was standing against the wall, her arms and hands pressed to the stone. She had been saying that all day.
'All right,' said Irisis tiredly. When had she last had a decent night's sleep? 'Where to now, Dandri?'
The miner held out her map, on which she had marked in red ink all the places Ullii had been. 'We've finished this level. There's nowhere to go but down to the eighth, if the scrutator permits it.'
'I already have his authorisation,' said Irisis.
'We must have it in writing,' Peate interjected, 'since that level was expressly forbidden by the previous overseer.'
He referred to Overseer Gi-Had, her second cousin, who had been slain in that terrible battle up at the ice houses. Irisis could never forget that. Gi-Had had been a decent man, despite the fact that he'd had her flogged. Her back would bear those scars until she died.
Irisis handed Peate his copy of the letter. The miner placed his mark on it and put it in his pocket. 'Then let's make a start.'
'Tired,' said Ullii, whose sentences grew more abbreviated the more weary she became. 'Can't do any more.'
'Please, Ullii,' said Irisis. 'Just for an hour. The scrutator -' She broke off, realising her mistake.
'Lost the lattice,' Ullii said, pleased to refuse her. 'Going home.' It was not long after dark when Irisis returned to the manufactory, but Xervish Flydd had already retired to his room. She could hardly deny him his report on the grounds of lateness, so she went there directly. The door was ajar, as if she was expected. She knocked once and pushed it open.
The room was warm, for a charcoal fire burned in a corner grate. The scrutator was at his table, clothed this time, surrounded by maps and papers. Flydd had a ruler in his hand and was measuring the distance between a series of red marks on the map, then entering figures into a column on a sheet of paper.
Unusually, he laid down his pen as she entered. 'You don't need to tell me,' he said. 'You found nothing.'
'I'm afraid not, surr.'
He leaned back in his chair and put his battered feet on the table. 'Shut the door. Sit down. Would you like a drink?'
'I can't say I'm that fond of parsnip whisky.'
'That's not what I'm offering.' He selected a green glass bottle, carefully wrapped, from one corner of his chest, levered out the bung with a little silver tool and poured a healthy slug into two glasses. 'This is real brandy; one hundred years old.'
They were proper glasses, made of crystal. Irisis's parents had some at home, but she had never seen any in the manufactory. She warmed the glass in her hands and took a careful sniff. It went up her nose and made her gasp.
'What are you celebrating, surr?' she asked after her eyes had stopped watering. Irisis touched her glass to his and took the gentlest of sips. It was splendid stuff, the best she'd ever tasted.
'I drink this at wakes, not weddings.' He tossed half the glass down his throat. 'You think I'm all-powerful, don't you, Irisis?'
'Er, well, I once did, surr.'
'I too have my masters, crafter, and they are less forgiving than I am. And there is another consideration. The higher you climb, the further there is to fall. I can climb no higher, for which I'm glad, though don't tell anyone I said so.'
'You have had a reprimand from the scrutators?'
'You might say that, though the Council won't couch it so bluntly. The letter begins, Be assured, Xervish, that we are not saying we are displeased with you. Of course, that means they are highly displeased. Furious!' He chuckled, which she found odd.