She did so.
‘Tell me what you see,’ said the scrutator.
‘I don’t see anything at all.’
‘Are you sure? Other artisans have been brought here since the field failed.’
‘Then why don’t you ask them?’ she said.
‘I have. That’s part of the reason I brought you here.’
‘Oh?’
‘You are better at visualising the field than most artisans.’
‘Except Tiaan!’ she snapped.
‘Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself,’ he snapped back. ‘Yes, except Tiaan, if you must. Tiaan is quite exceptional. But then, her heritage …’
She wondered about that as she tried again. There had always been something strange about Tiaan. Putting the distraction out of mind, she focussed on where the field should be. This time she did pick something up, the very faintest wisp rising from not far away.
Emptying her mind, Irisis allowed the wisp to flow by. Another followed it, as tenuous as mist, though with the slightest blue tinge. She traced it down. It seemed to be coming from somewhere deep underground, though it was impossible to determine where – fields were difficult to associate precisely with the structures that generated them, and anyway, she could not see the peaks.
Giving up on that path, Irisis withdrew, visualising the wisps from further away. That was better; they now made a drifting, smeared-out trail and as she shifted viewpoint again she saw another trail of wisps a long way to the left, and a third to the right.
Pulling back as far as she could go, Irisis realised that they were rising in a kind of squashed figure-eight formation, apparently offset from the twin-peaked hill they were sitting on, as if mimicking not the hill itself but some subterranean structure.
‘I think the node is regenerating the field!’ she exclaimed.
‘What?’ said Flydd.
She explained exactly what she had seen.
‘An interesting idea. Nunar herself speculated about such a possibility. Maybe that’s why you can see it now, when previously a hundred mancers and artisans could not. It may have started to regenerate recently.’
‘Or maybe I’m cleverer than they are,’ she said, nettled.
He snorted.
‘So what do we do now?’
‘Investigate the bigger problem. Find out why it failed in the first place.’
‘How do we do that?’
‘Well, you’re the artisan.’
‘And you’re the mancer!’ she said irritably ‘Nodes are the home of forces, and forces are mancers’ work, aren’t they? Artisans aren’t clever enough to work with forces. Only the weak field for us.’
‘There’s no need to be sarcastic. We’ve all got to work together. You’re pulling in the other direction, Irisis.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and was. ‘I’m a moody sod. I’ve had rather a difficult few days.’
‘This is mancers’ work for the most part, but I still value your thoughts. How would you approach the problem?’
‘I’ve no idea … Tiaan once made an aura reader, to find out what had happened to failed hedrons. I might be able to make something to do that, though …’
‘A node is a far more difficult proposition than a hedron.’
‘And more dangerous. Oon-Mie, Zoyl, listen carefully.’ Collecting her thoughts, Irisis began to describe what they had to make.
‘Hist!’ said the man on watch. ‘Something’s coming!’
‘What is it?’ Flydd said in a low voice.
‘I think … I think it’s a lyrinx.’
‘What’s it doing?’
‘It’s well down and across, walking along a ledge.’
‘What would a lyrinx be doing here?’ Irisis asked.
‘Who knows what they do?’ said the scrutator. ‘Maybe it’s a lookout.’
‘It’s not a good place for a lookout. Over on the next hill would be better.’
‘Maybe it has a nest here?’ came Oon-Mie’s voice. ‘Or it sneaks across to mate …’
‘The lyrinx are not animals,’ Flydd said coldly. ‘They’re as intelligent as we are. Now be quiet. Keep your weapons ready.’
‘It’s disappeared,’ said the sentry.
‘Keep still,’ Flydd advised. ‘We’ll wait and see.’
No one said anything for a long while; then Irisis heard whispering. ‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’ she said waspishly.
‘Nothing’s happened,’ said Flydd. ‘Be patient.’
Finally the lookout spoke. ‘I can see it again. It’s heading back the way it came.’
They watched it move down the long slope, to Irisis’s frustration, before the scrutator took her hand, saying, ‘I think we can take a look now.’
A difficult climb for a blind woman, on a steep path littered with slipping plates of slate. ‘It was just around here,’ said the lookout.
They cast about for ages. ‘Tracks!’ said one of the soldiers.
‘The footmarks seem to have been made by someone stepping in the same places all the time,’ said Flydd. ‘Someone with a lyrinx stride. It’s not the first time it’s been here.’
After hours of searching they located a ledge under which the lyrinx had crouched when it had disappeared from their sight; but apart from a few curled-up scraps that looked like leathery mushroom, they found nothing.
‘Maybe it just wanted a place in the shade to eat its lunch,’ said the sentry.
‘I thought they et people,’ the soldier muttered.
‘They eat anything they can find, just like us,’ said the scrutator. ‘I don’t believe in coincidences. It was here for a reason, and it’s connected with the node failing.’
‘It’s here for the same reason as we are,’ said Irisis. ‘It wants to find out why the node failed, and if it’s remained that way, and how it can use this information to defeat us in the war.’
‘We’d better scout the peaks.’
Flydd divided the group into pairs and sent them out. ‘What about me?’ said Irisis as he prepared to go with them.
‘Stay here. Take another look at that pattern you saw before.’
‘What if the lyrinx comes back?’
‘I imagine it’ll eat you.’
Alone, blind and afraid to move, Irisis spent the day imagining that the beast was silently hunting her. She could smell her fear. Her armpits were drenched with it.
Nothing happened, however, and she could not remain at the highest pitch of terror all day. She would hear the lyrinx coming, anyway, for nothing could move silently on the shale-littered slopes.
Having decided on a course of action, Irisis felt able to go on with her search. She was surprised to find that the field sprang out at once. It had strengthened further. No longer wispy, it was now a chain of misty tongues like a continuous flame, though still in the shape of a figure-eight. It was a long way from being back to normal, and definitely not strong enough to drive something as massive as a clanker, but it was there.
By the time the scouts began to straggle back she knew as much as she was capable of learning. The field was coming back. The question was: why? And how? And did it have anything to do with that lyrinx?
PART FOUR SCRUTATOR
THIRTY-EIGHT
The construct had its weapon, a kind of spear-thrower, aimed at them. ‘Put up your hands,’ yelled Nish. ‘Nobody move. Mounce?’
‘I’m like a post, surr,’ said the sergeant.
Yara edged her mount closer to Meriwen and Liliwen.
‘Don’t run,’ Nish hissed. ‘You’ll never get away.’
‘I’ll do what I think best for my children,’ she snapped, as if he were to blame.
Nish felt that he was. He should have kept a better lookout – should have been further ahead so the others would have had a chance to escape.
The construct whined forward. The one behind them remained where it was. Its weapon was also ready. The top of the first construct snapped open. An altercation ensued; they could not make out the words, but a young man came down the side, sprang lightly to the ground, moved away from the construct and held out his hands to show that he carried no weapon.