Tetrarch

Minis told how Tiaan had appeared out of nowhere, in a construct that did not simply float but flew. 'She must have made it in Tirthrax from three that were wrecked there. She solved in a few weeks the puzzle that has eluded our finest thinkers for two hundred years – the secret of flight. She flew it right at us, Nish, in the middle of six thousand constructs. A hundred thousand armed Aachim opposed her but she did not care. I could see her staring eyes. She burned for revenge. There is no woman like her in all the Three Worlds.'

No, there is not, Nish realised. Tiaan was unique; a genius. 'That does not seem like the Tiaan I knew. She was never foolhardy.'

Minis looked mortified. 'Once again I am shamed. My people attacked her first, without warning or provocation.'

'Are the Aachim so afraid that a hundred thousand fear one?'

'Perhaps we are. We have everything to lose now.'

The scrutators would want to know this news, Nish thought. If only there were a way of getting to them. 'Does Vithis want Tiaan, or just the flier?'

'He wants it so desperately that all our plans have been put on hold until it is found. Flight would give us the world. Ah, if I could just offer that to foster-father…'

'And you want something in return?'

'His respect. He demands that I obey him in all things, but when I do he curses me for being a spineless creature who lacks the courage to make my own life. Nothing I do is good enough. It's eating me alive.'

'My father can be like that too. The war has made people hard.'

'But you are so strong.'

'I'm free of him now.'

'How did you break free, Nish?' Minis asked eagerly. 'What should I do?'

That's what your problem is, thought Nish. 'You have to do it yourself, Minis. No one can tell you how.'

'Vithis is sure that Tiaan's construct was damaged in the attack,' Minis mused, 'and could not have gone very far. He would give anything to find it.'

'What do you mean anything?'

'Whoever were to find it, and deliver it to him, could name their price.'

Nish sat up. 'What if I found it? What if I demanded an alliance against the lyrinx?'

'He would agree,' Minis said without hesitation.

'That would win the war,' Nish ruminated. 'What would I not give for that.'

'Then find the construct!'

'And Tiaan, for you,' said Nish.

'Aye. Foster-father would surely agree to Tiaan then.'

Nish did not reply. He felt sorry for Minis. How could he so delude himself? From what he'd heard, Vithis would never allow him to pair with an old human.

Minis continued, 'Though I am not fool enough to believe that my problems can be solved so easily. My betrayal was too great to ever expect her forgiveness.' His dark eyes met Nish's. 'Yet I still hope for it.'

'I hope you get your heart's desire.' Nish rose, casting anxious glances back at the camp. 'Shall we go? My people must be wondering what has become of me.'

Once again he was being offered the chance of a lifetime, for after Yara and the children were delivered safely he had no given duties. Could he find Tiaan and her construct, where the Aachim had failed? And if he could, should he give it to Vithis? Would it be worth it to win the war? Or would it be better to deliver the construct to his own people?

The risk was that humanity might not be able to duplicate it, whereas the Aachim surely could. And if humanity had it, the Aachim might go to war just to get it, which would make matters far worse.

But if he gave it to Vithis, and he was able to make fliers of all his constructs, the Aachim would be all-powerful. Once the war against the lyrinx was won, he could turn on humanity and take Santhenar for his own. How to decide what to do? The wrong decision might lose the war, and Nish his head. He wished the flier had never been discovered. His mind was whirling, calculating possibilities, scarcely hearing what the Aachim was talking about. Minis shook him by the arm.

'I beg your pardon?' Nish said.

'You have done so much, Nish. If anyone can find Tiaan it is you. Will you take it on?'

'I have had my share of disasters. And of course,' Nish gave a short laugh, 'you must make allowances. I may have exaggerated my tale.'

Minis shrugged. 'Our spies have been busy. I know more about you than you imagine. I also share my father's talent – my late father. He was an excellent judge of a man and, so I believe, am I. I will pin my faith in you.' His eyes showed that faith; a new experience for Nish.

Nish was touched. He liked Minis. For all his awkwardness and his silly ways, there was no artifice about him.

'I'll try,' said Nish, 'once I've delivered Yara and the children safely. That duty -'

'I understand duty. You do not need to explain.' Minis held out his hand and Nish took it. The wrap-around handshake felt strange, but it also felt right.

'How will I find you again?'

'I will find you, my friend.'

Back at the camp, Nish joined Yara, who sat warily with Tyara and Vunio. She held herself erect and her hand was never far from the knife on her belt. Nish sat down. Minis shook Yara's hand, and the hands of the twins, to their giggly amusement.

'I must go,' Minis said. 'I too have my duties and they are pressing.'

He bowed, the other Aachim did too, and they went back to the construct. It whined away. The second machine, which had remained in the trees all this time, followed some distance behind.

'What was that about?' Yara demanded. 'Why did you sneak off with him so I couldn't hear what was going on?'

'I didn't sneak off. He asked to speak to me privately.'

'Why?' she said imperiously. 'What did he have to say that could not be said out in the open?'

'The poor fellow is quite besotted with Tiaan,' said Nish, meeting her eye. 'He hoped I might be able to tell him where she was hiding. '

'And could you?' Yara demanded.

'I did not know her that well,' said Nish. 'She loathes me, as it happens.'

'Why is that?' Yara said sharply.

'I did her a bad turn, I'm ashamed to say. The Nish of those times was a callow, selfish youth. I've grown up since then.'

'Really? In that case, your callowness must have been truly prodigious.'

'I'm sorry if you don't find my service satisfactory. I'm doing my best.'

'I have no doubt you are – but for whom?'

T HIRTY-NINE

'Tell me about this place,' Nish said to Yara the following day.

They were riding side by side through tall forest. The canopy was so high and dense that there was little undergrowth, and it was easy riding, as well as delightfully cool. They frequently had to cross rivers, the only hazard they had faced in days, though all proved to be sluggish and the horses were adept at swimming them.

Yara had not thawed. She still watched him every minute, as if she thought he was leading them into a trap, though that was absurd. She was the only one who knew where they were going. He hated being mistrusted. He liked Meriwen and Liliwen, and felt a bond with them from the attack on the way to Kundizand, but whenever he was near them he felt Yara's eyes on him.

'The Worm Wood is one of the greatest forests of Lauralin,' Yara said, checking ahead and over her shoulder. 'Perhaps the greatest. From here it stretches unbroken a hundred and twenty leagues to the edge of the Great Mountains. It runs south and north for as great a distance, save for the bite out of it which is the fertile land of Borgistry. Even that is closing up at the southern end, near Clew's Top. Many civilisations lie within the forest, and many ruins. The south-western part of the forest, the uncanny Borgis Woods, surround a high range of white rock, the Peaks of Borg. Not many days' ride from here lies an even stranger place, Booreah Ngurle, the famous Burning Mountain. It is the greatest of many volcanoes that run along either side of the Great Chain of Lakes.'

'I've heard of them,' said Nish.

'The lakes are so long and deep they seem to split the world apart. Warde Yallock is the best part of eighty leagues long, but only five wide. The first city in the world was built there, more than ten thousand years ago, before the Histories began. At the other end of the forest lies Parnggi, almost as long and even deeper, it is said. And certainly stranger – it is a dark, wild, haunted place.'