‘Worthless rubbish! You’ll never find it that way.’
‘What are you talking about, foster-father?’
‘I know what you’re up to. Come down!’ He looked up, directly at the stone behind which Nish was hidden.
How had he known? Nish climbed down, and when he appeared around the side of the tower, Minis paled.
‘What …?’ he said.
‘I know everything, foster-son,’ said Vithis, and embraced him, to Minis’s surprise. ‘You are a dutiful son, Minis. Your loyalty means everything to me; we have only each other. But why did you not tell me what you were planning?’
Minis, clearly, was wondering what his foster-father knew and how much he could safely say. Nish came to his rescue.
‘He did not want to raise false hopes. Minis knows it will be difficult to find the flying construct, even with my help.’
Vithis whirled. ‘I didn’t ask you! Don’t speak unless you are spoken to.
‘You should have told me, foster-son,’ he continued. ‘I could have helped you. It fills me with terror to think of you going out, alone. Were this man an enemy, just a single thrust of his knife and Inthis First Clan would be no more.’
‘I was not alone, foster-father. I had my personal guard, and Tyara and Vunio too.’
‘They are just children!’
‘And so must I remain, foster-father, unless you let me go. You’re suffocating me.’
‘I’m doing what I must to ensure the survival of our clan. I am sterile – you know that. It’s up to you, Minis. Take one of the partners I have chosen for you. Father children for our clan – and for me!’
Minis’s face went blank. ‘I don’t love them, foster-father.’
‘Love has nothing to do with it!’ Vithis roared, but he controlled himself and went on, pleadingly. ‘Why won’t you do your duty, that our clan may live again?’
‘I can’t, foster-father.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just can’t.’
‘Until you do, I shall not give you your freedom.’
Minis stiffened. His eyes darted around – at the trees, the construct, at Nish. He took three deliberate breaths, drew back his shoulders and looked Vithis in the eye.
‘You love me too much, foster-father, and it is killing me! If you won’t let me be free … I shall not live at all.’
Vithis reeled back as if he had been struck. ‘No,’ he whispered.
‘Yes, foster-father, I mean it.’
‘But … what about Inthis?’
‘Our clan is finished. One man cannot bring it back.’
‘You must.’ Vithis held the young man’s gaze and softened his tones. ‘Minis, let us not be foes, for all we have is each other. Give me what I want and I will do the same for you. Is what I ask so much?’
Minis gulped as if the air was a stiff drink. ‘I … I will try, foster-father. It’s hard –’
‘I know it is, my son.’ Vithis smiled. ‘But we grow by attempting that which is difficult, not what is easy.’
‘I understand that, foster-father. I am working hard to help you with your quest – for Tiaan and the flying machine.’
‘I am pleased to hear it.’
‘But might is not the answer. There is virtue in subtlety, especially with Tiaan. That is why I asked my friend Nish for help. He knows this world better than any of us. He knows Tiaan, too. He is brave and strong and clever. If anyone can find her, it will be him.’
Vithis tore a strip of bark off the tree, his fingers shredding it into fibres. ‘He is an untrustworthy villain and his father has an evil reputation.’
‘Nish is an honourable man. Please, foster-father, allow me this. I feel such a failure. I want to do it, for you.’
‘You are my son, my heir. You are no failure.’
‘I am, in my own eyes. I must earn my place like everyone else.’
Vithis stalked across to the construct, laying his hand on the dark metal. It seemed to give him comfort for he turned at once.
‘Very well. On one condition.’
‘What, foster-father?’
‘That when you find her, and the flier, you will do your duty by me and your clan, and father heirs.’
Minis went through another visible struggle, and in the end bowed his head. ‘I will do as you say, foster-father.’
Vithis beamed and clapped him on the back. ‘You have a month to search out this flying construct for me.’
‘Thank you, foster-father.’ Minis took his hand. ‘I know how hard it is to let your only heir go.’
‘You can never know what it is like to be alone in the world,’ said Vithis.
‘I’ve spent my life that way. I’ve never had anyone but you.’
‘That was hard,’ said Vithis, ‘but it is harder yet to have had a clan, and to have seen them die before your eyes, every one!’
Minis looked away. Nish did too. Vithis’s grief was not something he was able to watch.
‘I’ll take good care of myself, foster-father,’ Minis said after a long interval. ‘You’ll have nothing to worry about.’
‘To be a parent is to worry,’ said Vithis. ‘I will be in an agony of terror all the time you are separated from me. And as for you, Cryl-Nish Hlar. Should you raise a finger – nay, even raise your voice against my son, I will hunt you down, even if I have to follow you to the bottom of the Well of Echoes!’
‘He’s finally gone,’ said Minis, as the construct whined away. ‘I thought he never would. And he has given me my way after all.’ He smiled at Nish.
Nish could not smile back. He was no longer a partner with Minis but his servant, perhaps his slave, and if by some chance he did locate Tiaan’s construct, Minis would get the credit. He, Nish, would have nothing to bargain with. Vithis would have no need for alliance with either side. The war with the lyrinx would escalate in violence until neither side had anything left, and Vithis would walk in and make Santhenar his own as he had always intended.
How could he turn this situation around? If he could not, better make sure the Aachim did not find Tiaan or the flying construct. That could be the most deadly game of all, in which case he must try to learn all he could about the Aachim, so that when he fled he would have some intelligence to take back. That thought afforded Nish bitter amusement as he followed Minis, whose construct was hidden in the trees some distance away. Nish’s life kept cycling back to the beginning. It seemed he was to be a prober, the lowest of the spying rank, after all. He let out an involuntary snort.
Minis turned back. ‘Is something the matter, my friend?’
‘I was just thinking how hard this job is going to be,’ Nish said evasively. ‘I’ve no idea where to begin.’
‘We’ve been looking for Tiaan for some time. There are many people we can talk to.’
‘Can you not use your gift, Minis?
‘What gift is that?’
‘Of foretelling.’
‘It is as much a curse as a gift, for it comes only when it wants. I have no control over it. Well, hardly any. There was a time …’ He looked away.
‘What, Minis?’
‘It is not right to say.’
He strode ahead and Nish had to trot to keep up with him. Nish felt a creeping unease. ‘It’s about me, isn’t it? You’ve seen my future. Minis, if you have, you’ve got to tell me.’
‘It doesn’t help, Nish. It never can. That is the failing of foretelling, no matter how much we want otherwise.’
‘Please, Minis.’
‘It’s not you, Nish, but a friend.’
‘Who?
‘I did not see – only the end.’
‘The end?’
‘I’m sorry. I wish I’d never mentioned it.’
‘You have to tell me now. You saw one of my friends die?’
‘Yes,’ said Minis sombrely, ‘but I cannot tell you who, or how, or when. Do not ask me any more about it.’
Nish did not, but it was never far from his mind that day, and every day thereafter. Who could it be? An old friend or a new, or one not yet made?
As they reached the construct, Minis said quietly, ‘Thank you for saying nothing to my father.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Nish said, deep in the future.