He was conveyed down numberless steps, along tunnels that stank of tar, and finally through a series of heavy doors that progressively reduced the smell. His bonds were released, the hood taken off. He blinked at the light of a lantern.
‘What do you want of me?’ he asked politely. Gilhaelith was always polite when he did not know what he was dealing with.
An elderly lyrinx, a female, said, ‘I am Gyrull, Matriarch of Snizort.’
She had a soft voice for a lyrinx, and spoke the language better than most, though her speech was flat, as if she were reciting.
‘Matriarch! Are you the supreme ruler of the lyrinx?’
‘We do not have a supreme ruler, tetrarch. We work collectively to achieve our aims.’
‘How do you know what I am?’ he cried.
‘It was written.’
‘Why do you dwell in such a foul place?’
‘It occupies a vital part of our life-cycle, or Histories as you call them.’
That made no sense. How could Snizort play any part in the lyrinx Histories, except in the most recent times?
‘You understand the earth and the forces that power it, tetrarch,’ she went on. ‘We seek to know more about this place.’
‘What has that to do with me?’
She glanced over his head. Four lyrinx stood behind him, claws extended, alert for any sign of attack.
‘Something was lost in the Great Seep. We would very much like to recover it.’
‘The Great Seep?’
‘The source of the tar at Snizort.’
‘What was lost?’
‘I cannot say.’
‘Big or small?’
‘Big enough.’
Gilhaelith rubbed his blocky jaw, wondering what was really going on. ‘What are the dimensions of the seep?’
Matriarch Gyrull spoke among the other lyrinx. A small female stepped forward. ‘The Great Seep is shaped like this.’ She drew an irregular oval on the floor, with a smaller oval budding off one end. ‘It is one-and-a-quarter of your leagues long, and seven-eighths of a league wide.’
‘And how deep?’
‘We do not know. Perhaps a league; perhaps more.’
‘What was lost, and where?’
The small lyrinx opened her mouth, then closed it again. The Matriarch pulled her back. ‘We cannot tell you that.’
‘No matter,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘Where it was lost is all that matters; and when.’
‘It was lost near the centre, as far as I am able to determine.’ Gyrull indicated a point with one brittle yellow claw. ‘Around here.’
‘How big was it? If it was small, the chances of ever finding it are remote.’
‘Bigger than a village hut.’
‘How long ago?’
Now even the Matriarch looked uneasy. What is it? he thought. They must want it desperately, to have involved an outsider in the search. Gilhaelith was intrigued.
‘We cannot be sure,’ she said at length. ‘Perhaps you can help us. You have the best library in the south-west, we are told.’
Even more puzzling. The lyrinx had come to Santhenar at the time the Way between the Worlds was open, two hundred and seven years ago. The war began in earnest about sixty years later, but the lyrinx had been restricted to Meldorin Island for the first hundred years after their arrival.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘The Histories in my library are mainly of ancient times. How –’
‘It might have been lost as recently as seven thousand years ago, or as long ago as ten thousand. We do not have the Histories of that time. I can tell you no more. We brought you here to find out.’
If what she’d said was true, the lyrinx must have visited Santhenar before. He could scarcely believe it. Some creatures of the void had ended up on Santhenar in the distant past, before the time of the Forbidding. The Histories told that such arrivals had been accidental, the intruders slain. Had the lyrinx previously come to Santhenar thousands of years ago, then gone again? It raised many questions. But why would she lie?
‘Why should I help you? You are the enemy of all humanity.’
‘You traded with us before,’ said the Matriarch, watching him with eyes that reflected the light in twin points. ‘What is different now? We will pay you well, in whatever currency you demand.’ Her eyes held a question.
‘I’ll consider my price.’ It was hard to see how he could get away, weaponless and surrounded by alert guards, but that was not his most pressing concern. He would soon have had to abandon Nyriandiol anyway, but the amplimet was back there, unguarded. He had to have it – he had gone too far along that path to retreat now. He must convince them to take him back.
He was also bothered about Tiaan. Gilhaelith prayed that she had survived the fall. Or would it be better if she had died? No! He missed her. Astonishing. In all his years at Nyriandiol he had never cared about anyone. He had to know what had happened to her. ‘You must take me home first.’
‘Why?’ Yellow and black patterns moved on her skin – suspicion.
‘I haven’t read the very ancient Histories in a hundred years, and I can’t remember them. I must consult my library. Then I will tell you my price.’
They waited for Munnand, the lyrinx who had gone back for Tiaan, but he did not come. The following afternoon they were back in the air, six fliers this time. The Matriarch was one of them, though she took no part in carrying Gilhaelith. Flying into strong headwinds, it took them two days to reach the Burning Mountain. Six days had passed since his abduction. They landed at the point where Tiaan had fallen. There was no sign of her, or her walker, and the rubble showed no tracks. Nyriandiol was unnaturally quiet.
‘We will go to your house,’ Gyrull said.
They found three bodies on the terrace – Gurteys, Fley and a tall man too clawed to identify. The lyrinx lay on the steps, dead. The chalcedony door had been smashed to pieces and more bodies were sprawled further down the hall. The Matriarch bowed her head over Munnand while Gilhaelith checked the bodies of his retainers. All had died of lyrinx wounds.
‘This changes matters,’ he said coldly. Going to the front door he shouted, ‘Tiaan?’ His cry echoed down the hall, but there was no reply.
‘Where’s Tiaan?’ Gilhaelith cried. ‘What have you done with her?’
‘Munnand lies dead,’ said Matriarch Gyrull. The other lyrinx were carrying the body away. ‘He was alone. But there are other signs, if you care to look.’
The door had been broken with hammers. There were metal marks on the stone and the lyrinx would not have done that. Inside, muddy bootprints tracked down the hall. They were unusually long. The Aachim had been here.
‘Tiaan!’ He raced down the swooping outside platform to the lowest level, at dire risk of going over the edge. The lower door had been smashed. The window was a jagged hole. The room was empty, the thapter gone.
‘Vithis has the thapter, and Tiaan!’ He clenched his fists, struggling to moderate his emotions so as to give nothing else away. The thapter did not matter but the amplimet was everything now.
The Matriarch walked around the room. ‘She fought bravely. See these scars in the wall. She must have used some kind of weapon …’
‘My crystal rod,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘She survived the fall, at least.’
‘A pity. We could have used her again. To your library, tetrarch.’
He considered refusing and trying to escape but with six lyrinx watching there was no chance. Better to cooperate than be forced. He had to have a safe place to work and, hopefully, scry out where the amplimet had been taken. He was determined to have it back. Moreover, the scrutators would arrive here within days and the evidence of his treachery was everywhere. Why not let Gyrull take him back to Snizort? They could carry the devices he needed, and once there he could use the power of the node to track down the amplimet. And what a strange node it was – that could only add to his knowledge.