‘He’s a good man!’
‘And I’m a swine who’ll enjoy seeing him squirm,’ said the chancellor. ‘But a tough swine, just what our country needs. What else do you allege Lady Ricinus said?’
Tali related the conversation she had overheard with Lord and Lady Ricinus through the peephole, and as she spoke, the chancellor’s thin face set in ever grimmer lines. He questioned her about every detail, then leaned back and studied his fingers.
‘The question is, do I believe you?’
Tali felt the blood drain from her face. She had not considered that, either.
‘A despicable Pale,’ he went on, ‘a habitual liar desperate to save herself, might make up false accusations against one of our noblest families. Accusations so incredible that no one could believe them.
‘Should I call Lady Ricinus over and give her the opportunity to defend her house?’ he said after a menacing pause. ‘She’s savage in protecting her own. She would tear your face off with her nails.’
Tali remembered how red her nails had been, and how sharp.
He looked her up and down. ‘You’re terrified, yet you neither defend yourself nor attack House Ricinus. Why not? You must have heard dirt on the lady of that house — everyone else has.’
‘I’ve told you what I overheard,’ said Tali, fighting to keep her voice steady. ‘I don’t smear my enemies’ names.’
‘I put my boot heel through their teeth,’ the chancellor said matter-offactly, ‘and grind them into the muck until they drown in it.’
Again she felt the weight of his regard, as if he were peeling away skin and bone to look inside her head and heart. Nothing could elude him. What was he going to do to her?
‘Extraordinary!’ He withdrew his boots from the table with a small thump. ‘I read much falsehood in you — hardly surprising in one who has lived as a slave — yet not an iota in this matter.’
‘You believe me?’
‘Never trusted House Ricinus. The lord’s a pig, the lady an adder. There’s nothing so foul that she would not do to raise the family higher.’ His eyes met hers. ‘And you’re not going back to warn them.’
Gulp! ‘Why would I?’
‘Because you’re friends with Rixium and Tobry, and if they don’t tell me about the treason, they’ll swing for it.’
‘But Tobry doesn’t know anything about it,’ she cried, caught off-guard.
‘I’ve never liked the man,’ said the chancellor chillingly, as though that were reason enough for Tobry to die. ‘Can’t trust a fellow who believes in nothing.’
‘What are you going to do to Lord and Lady Ricinus?’ said Tali, with a kind of fascinated horror.
Again, that malicious smile. This was not a man she would want to make her enemy.
‘I’ll see their necks settled into the noose, first.’ The chancellor studied Tali’s slender neck in a contemplative way, then called for a large sheet of blank paper, a pencil and a wedge of brown rubber. ‘Draw me a map of Cython. Mark every tunnel and chamber, and its purpose and use, and everything you know of Cython’s defences. Then tell me all about the Cythonians.’
‘I only know the main level of Cython. I’ve never been lower down.’
‘All I ask is what you know. Rannilt has also helped me, and some of the captured enemy will reveal a scrap or two before they die. It should be enough.’
‘Enough for what?’
He rang the bell and the tall redhead Tali had seen earlier appeared. ‘Note down everything she says, Verla.’
Though Tali could envisage any route she had ever taken through Cython, the underground city proved surprisingly difficult to map. After some hours, and many sheets of paper, she was still ending up with rooms and workshops where she knew they could not be.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, when her latest sketch showed the eastern edge of the heatstone mine intersecting the straight line of the main floatillery. ‘The mine should be half a mile this way.’
‘Note it on the map. My cartographers will sort it after we’ve tortured enough of the enemy. Describe the kinds of wall carvings in every area — their art may prove more reliable than signposts.’
‘What are you going to do with all this?’ she said at the end, after Verla had gone as silently as she came, without saying a word the whole time.
‘That’s my business.’ He met her eyes. ‘You have done me mighty service today, and I pay my debts.’ He sent the spectible spinning across the table towards her. ‘It’s yours.’
She caught it before it hit her in the belly and felt it with her fingers. The metal was cold; the mica felt warm to the touch.
‘How is it used?’
‘One puts it across one’s eyes and forehead, then turns the knobs until the emanations of magery come into focus.’
Tali had no idea what it was supposed to show, but she saw nothing save the lustre of the dark mica and the chancellor’s blurred features through it. She slowly turned the knobs. Nothing, nothing, nothing. ‘You said it’s dead.’
‘So my chief magian says. But Hightspall’s magery has dwindled over the centuries and perhaps he lacks the strength to work it.’ Again it felt as though he was peering into her head. ‘It’s said you have a unique gift.’
‘Who told you that?’ she said sharply.
‘One of my rangers caught an eyeless fellow called Wil, a Cythonian seer. Unlike the other prisoners, he was eager to talk. Especially about you.’
‘Mad Wil,’ said Tali. ‘You can’t take any notice — ’
‘Oh, yes I can,’ he said softly, the gleam back in his eyes. ‘A mad seer might see more clearly than all one’s spies and advisors together. Wil said you’re the one, and I believe him, because I’ve also read something rare and wild in you.’
Whatever he really wanted of her, she did not like it. She kept turning the knobs until they would go no further, but saw nothing. ‘What does the one mean?’
‘The one who changes the future, and not to Cython’s advantage. The matriarchs are afraid of Wil’s foreseeing, which they call shillilar.’
She squirmed. Her life was being moved by forces beyond her understanding.
‘Years ago they had dozens of little girls killed, to make sure the one was dead,’ said Tali, shivering. ‘But Wil lied — he told the matriarchs I had black hair and olive skin.’ She raised her head, looked him in the eye. ‘What do you want of me?’
‘If I fail,’ said the chancellor, ‘Hightspall will be swept away. And the war’s going so disastrously you can’t possibly make things worse. Yet if you are the one …’ Tali held her breath, but he shook his head. ‘I must think on it. Wil says he’s been all the way down. What does that mean?’
The sudden change of tack was disconcerting. ‘To the lowest level of Cython?’
‘If you don’t know, don’t guess. What about the Hellish Conduit?’
‘I overheard the master chymister mention it once. He said I’ll have to send down the Hellish Conduit for more.’
‘More what?’
‘Alkoyl.’ Tali told him about the young woman whose leg had been eaten away.
‘Fascinating,’ said the chancellor, ‘though not immediately useful. What’s the Engine?’
‘Cythonians believe that everything in nature comes from the working of a great machine, at the heart of the world, called the Engine.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘If the Engine gets a wobble, the ground shakes. If it overheats, the Vomits erupt …’
‘And?’ he said when she did not go on.
‘They also believe the Engine is fuelled by an unstable cauldron deep in the Earth. And sometimes it blows up. That’s all I know.’
‘It’s said that Lake Fumerous fills the chasm where a fourth Vomit blew itself to pieces.’ He made a dismissing gesture. ‘How goes the spectible?’
She looked down. ‘I’ve turned both knobs as far as they go. Did the chief magian say why it stopped working?’