She had to have water and the villa was the only place she could get any. It took hours, feeling her way forward in the dark, afraid she would go over the edge without realising it. Finally she was close enough to see the peaked roof. Still no lights. It had to be a trap.
Then she smelled the blood. Had the burst from her crystal killed someone? The stars gave too little light to see. She continued until one foot of the walker struck something yielding. It was the size and shape of a person.
‘Hello?’ she whispered.
No reply.
She went around it. Near the paved yard she again smelled blood. Holding the crystal out at a shallow angle, she pressed the metal strip and swept the beam across and back, just for a second. Gurteys lay dead, her neck broken, a bag of gold and silverware clutched to her chest. Fley was nearby, his fingers crooked towards her – in death as in life. By the front door, a lyrinx lay with its head severed from its body. Oddly, it smelled of tar.
Tiaan stood by the bodies, listening in case there were more lyrinx. She heard no sound. Creeping inside, she was going carefully down the hall when someone cried hoarsely, ‘Who’s there?’
‘Nixx?’ she whispered. She could see more bodies further along.
‘Tiaan?’
She turned into the dark salon. Nixx cowered under a desk. She helped him out. Blood streaked his forehead and left thigh. ‘What’s happened, Nixx?’
‘A lyrinx came looking for you. We managed to kill it but it did a lot of us first. The rest took what they could carry and fled. I can’t say I blame them.’
She lit the lamp by the door. ‘And you?’
‘I am loyal to my master, but what am I to do? I know I’ll never see Gilhaelith again. I must run and try to find a new living. It won’t be easy, at my age.’
She felt for him – her situation was much the same. All she could do was try to complete the repairs and go … where? Borgistry was nearest. She must give the thapter to Scrutator Klarm and throw herself on his mercy – a commodity the scrutators had in short supply at the best of times. Little hope there, but she could not survive on her own.
‘Please stay,’ she said, ‘just until I fix the thapter. It’s nearly done.’
‘I cannot stay.’
‘I beg you – Gilhaelith would expect it. I can’t do it alone.’
He agreed, though with an ill grace, and she began.
Why had the lyrinx come back for her? When it did not return, others would follow. And the biggest unanswered question of all – what had Gilhaelith discovered about broken backs? Was that why he had gone to that secret meeting?
If only she knew where they had taken him …
Tiaan laboured night and day on the thapter. Four days later it was done, though she still had to test it. And even if it worked, what if the amplimet would not take her where she wanted to go?
She was working up behind the binnacle when a faintly bituminous odour reminded her of something. As Gilhaelith had been taken, and again near the dead lyrinx, she had smelled tar. Going to the front terrace, she checked the body of the beast. Its great feet were deeply stained with tar. She hurtled the walker inside. ‘Nixx, Nixx?’
She found him in Gilhaelith’s offices, packing coin into a leather bag. ‘Nixx,’ she cried. ‘I’ve just thought of something.’
‘What?’ He did not look up.
She told him about the tar. He went out to examine the corpse for himself. ‘Looks like it’s been walking in tar for years – the stuff is right into the pores of its skin.’
‘Where could it have come from?’ she asked.
‘Only one location I can think of. Snizort.’
‘Snizort?’
‘A place south of here, famous for its tar pits. It’s in the land of Taltid.’ He indicated it on a map. ‘I’ll go through his ledgers and see what I can discover.’
He came down shortly afterwards, finger holding a ledger open. ‘Gilhaelith purchased several kinds of bituminous spirits from Snizort. He’s made some notes on the place.’
She read them, though they mainly had to do with geography. An arid land, sparsely vegetated, with tar pits and seeps all over the place.
‘Oh well,’ she said, feigning disinterest. ‘He’s lost. I’d better keep going. Could you keep watch for me?’
‘No. I’ve done more than my duty, and I can’t stay a moment longer.’
‘Just for an hour. I’m nearly finished. Please.’
‘Oh, very well, for my master’s sake. Half an hour only.’
Nixx came running in ten minutes later, his jaw working like a nutcracker. ‘Constructs, marm. Lots of them.’
She dropped her wrench, which just missed a fragile glass mechanism. Tiaan reached over to pick it up. ‘How many is lots?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
‘At least fifty.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Approaching the foot of the mountain.’
Fear tickled her throat. ‘How long will they take to get here?’
‘Couple of hours; no more.’
It was not enough; the tests weren’t finished. ‘You’ll have to stall them, Nixx.’
‘Can’t do it, marm. They’ll torture my family if I try. You can’t ask that of me.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Run, as fast as I can.’
‘Where to?’
‘We have a hiding place.’ He hesitated. ‘An overgrown lava tunnel, way down in the forest.’
‘How can I get the thapter out of here?’ She should have asked that question a long time ago.
‘You can’t. We had to remove the window to bring it in.’ He was looking increasingly jumpy.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Go. Save yourself. And thank you, Nixx.’
Offering her a sketchy salute, he ran up the steps. She skittered the walker across to the door and barred it, then raced back to the thapter. There was no time to replace the metal skin sections. She strapped them to the back and got on with the testing. If it did not work the first time, she was finished.
Tiaan was still doing the tests when she heard the echoing whine of constructs coming up the road. Only minutes left. She strapped her walker to the side of the thapter. Pulling herself into its seat, she passed a strap around her, took hold of the trumpet-shaped lever, visualised the field and let the energy flow.
Nothing happened. She tried again with the same result. Had she forgotten something? Yes, the hedron was still in its socket in the walker, and the thapter needed it and the ampliment, to fly. As she climbed out to get it, the Aachim began to smash down the front door.
FORTY-NINE
Nish felt an overwhelming urge to run, but there was nowhere to run to. The horsemen were already melting into the forest. There was just the clearing, Vithis and himself.
‘Get down,’ said Vithis. ‘Send your stolen horse away. You will not be needing it again.’
Nish did so. The horse trotted off.
‘Come here.’ Vithis leapt to the ground.
Nish came to within an arm’s reach of the intimidatingly tall Aachim, who held up his palm. He carried no cane now and the limp was gone. He seemed calmer than before.
‘After your previous behaviour, you dared return to my lands?’
‘These are not your lands. You’re an invader.’
‘Force makes them mine,’ said Vithis, standing close and looking down on Nish. ‘No one has dared oppose me.’
Nish was used to intimidation; his father had done that to him all his life. He had developed a technique to deal with it – he imagined his father failing at what he most wanted. So, what did Vithis most desire, and fear he would never get? A homeland for his people? It gave Nish strength. ‘We will dare, should it be necessary! But we know Aachim to be human too.’