Alchymist (63 page)

Firstly,
the variety of nodes and fields was greater than he'd ever imagined. He'd
always thought that there had to be an underlying pattern — that nodes weren't
just random concentrations of power — but he'd never been able to work out what
it might be. If only he could, he knew it would form an important part of the
puzzle.

Secondly,
Tiaan's amplimet was, inexplicably, awake and able to communicate in some
fashion with nodes. In Snizort it had drawn a network of filaments throughout
the city and pulses had flowed along them. That implied some kind of purpose,
if not necessarily intelligence, which was incomprehensible. It was, after all,
just a lump of crystal. It had also drawn a filament to him and he must beware
the amplimet in future.

Gilhaelith
shrugged away the fear. He had always been supremely self-confident and his
recent problems had not completely undermined that. He was still a great
geomancer. Should the crystal reappear, he would control it, not it him! And, perhaps,
if he could reproduce those filaments, he could learn to control a node as
well.

Thirdly,
he'd gleaned that the lyrinx, on the closed-off eleventh level of Oellyll, were
working on a new and powerful artefact. The war was escalating into a magical
weapons race between humans, Aachim and lyrinx, with every new development
requiring more power. Eventually it must drain the nodes past the point of no
return. What then? Inexplicable things had already happened when nodes had been
stripped of their fields. A whole squadron of clankers had once van-i ished
into nothingness. Another time, the fragments of a hundred machines, and the
people inside them, had been strewn across forty leagues of countryside, and
for weeks after there had been green sunsets. What if that kind of catastrophe
occurred worldwide? He could not allow it to happen.

Fourthly,
a node could be completely destroyed, though that left a residue of unknown
nature but disturbing potential. The residue from the Snizort node was now in
the hands of the scrutators, assuming that Gyrull had told the truth. What
would they do with it? And had the amplimet anything to do with the node's
destruction?

Fifthly,
there was some undiscovered potential about Alcifer, and it was more than just
the remarkable node here. Whatever lay sleeping, it might just prove to be the
last part of the puzzle.

Gilhaelith
felt sure there was a way of putting these disparate discoveries together, to
reach the understanding that he so craved, but his exhausted brain rebelled.
Where the mind failed, it was his policy to put the hands to work. The great
and perilous experiment required him to recreate his geomantic globe,
incorporating all he'd learned about the world so far.

The
pattern of nodes and fields was just the surface expression of tensions between
the great forces that moved and shaped the world. If he could model them on his
geomantic globe, he might uncover these ultimate forces. As the small is to the
great, he thought — another of the key principles of the Art. But of course,
his globe would have to be perfect, and he already knew of errors in it. There
was much work to be done.

He
turned to the globe, a glass-surfaced sphere half a span across, slowly
rotating on its cushion of air above an ebony pedestal. It was so bitterly cold
that moisture from the air formed wisps of vapour, drawn out to streaky clouds
by its motion. Beneath the glass, so detailed that it looked like Santhenar
seen from the surface of the moon, was his model of the world. The light
reflected from its restless oceans, its glittering ice caps, and even the
minute threads that represented great rivers.

With
a gesture, Gilhaelith attempted to still the globe, as he'd done so many times
before. It was the most trivial of magics, but nothing happened. He tried
again, with the same result. Panicky fear clutched at his heart and momentarily
he found it difficult to breathe. What had he done wrong? He couldn't think.
The process, once intuitive, was lost to him.

He
laboriously reconstructed it using pure logic and tried once more. It worked this
time. Points of light sparkled here and there on the glass — representations of
the most powerful nodes. Taking up a hand lens the size of a frying-pan, he inspected
the surface. It had not been harmed by its long journey, but he frowned and
plucked at his lower lip. Though he'd made the globe from the best maps in the
world, he now knew Meldorin was inaccurate in some important details.

Therefore
other lands could also contain errors, while those parts of the globe known
only from ancient adventurers' maps might be completely wrong.

No
wonder he'd never been able to discover how the world worked. Two-thirds of his
globe was based on charts that could have been made up, and he couldn't see how
to remedy that. No, there was one possibility, though it would put him in such
deep debt that he might never escape it. But then, if the globe worked, it
offered another way out of here.

'What
progress do you have to report?' Gyrull asked Ryll a few days later.

 'The
work goes slowly,' he replied. 'A flisnadr is much more difficult to pattern
than our torgnadrs, and we only made a handful of them in years of labour. The
human slaves we use in the patterners are not strong enough — they keep dying, ruining
all our work. And also,' Ryll looked around, in case they were being overheard
by other lyrinx, 'I'm unhappy about. . , the morality of it.' He used the word
uncomfortably, as if, applied to the enemy, it was a new concept for him.

'You
surprise me,' Gyrull said ambiguously. 'I begin to wonder if you've also been
corrupted by association with the human, Tiaan.'

'She
made me realise that humankind are not so different. And then, what you
discovered in the Great Seep . . .'

'It's
always on my mind.' She scratched a scaly armpit. 'The war will be over within
a year. We must prepare for the peace now, though —’

'Not
all of us want to change,' he said perceptively. 'We've had too much of it, and
it's uncomfortable. The way we are is a refuge. Take that away, what do we have
left? And yet. . .'

'Go
on,' she said.

'It's
not enough to be the greatest and most successful martial species of all, for
in our hearts our people know that they're destroying a great and glorious
culture, and replacing it with a desert. We know because we've lost our own
civilisation, and the best among us lament it. Our ordinary folk just have a
feeling that their victories are hollow, their very lives and purposes
meaningless. For thousands of years they've been warriors but, once the victory
comes, we won't need warriors any more. What will they do then? They don't know
anything else. They don't want anything else.

'So
now,' he went on, 'some of us are asking what this war was for. It is no longer
mere survival — it's now existence.'

'Indeed,
though that's a debate for another time. Let's talk about your patterning. I've
the impression that you're thinking along new lines.'

'It
was Liett's idea,' he said over-generously. 'To link a dozen patterners, each
with its human inside. Each contributing, in its own way, to the flisnadr we're
trying to create.'

'I
don't see how it can work,' said Gyrull.

Pink
speckles flushed his chest and throat, as if he took her words as a criticism,
but he quickly skin-changed to the brilliant blue of resolution. 'We also have
doubts, but first let me tell you about the advantages. If Liett's idea works
it will give us a stronger and more robust flisnadr. A weak human must result
in a feeble device, if she survives at all, and many don't. This way, we need
not pattern any human to their limit, which gives us a better chance of
success.'

Gyrull
was pleased by the idea, and the forceful way he presented it, though she
foresaw difficulties with his plan. 'How can the individual patterners be
linked, and how are the different efforts coordinated? It's never been done
before.'

'In the
past year,' said Ryll, 'we've done many things that had never been done before.
I — I have an idea,' he said, now hesitantly. 'I'm not sure you're going to
like it.'

Allow
me to decide that for myself!' she said peremptorily.

Again
the blue of resolution and she smiled to see it. Ryll was developing well.

'Do
you recall the behaviour of Tiaan's amplimet in Snizort, just before the end?'
said Ryll. 'It appeared to be communicating, via threads of force, with the
node.'

'I
do. Continue!'

'I
thought we might... I don't know . . .'

'Use
the amplimet, and perhaps Tiaan too, to link the patterners together?'

'Yes'
he said quietly. 'It's against our creed, but. . .'

'We've
used her and her crystal before. It was not an unqualified success.'

'The
torgnadrs we made by patterning Tiaan never reached their potential,' Ryll
agreed. 'What happened to them?'

'One
failed in Snizort and had to be destroyed. The other burned in the fires.'
Gyrull rubbed her chin. 'I think I know what the problem was, and how to solve
it, but Tiaan is far away. Do you propose to make a foray after her?'

'Not
if there's any other way,' he said. 'And there may be. Remember how she came to
Snizort, even though crippled, to find the tetrarch? Tiaan's weakness is
excessive compassion; she cares about people even when they don't reciprocate.
She even felt for me, an alien and her enemy. If we were to make it known that
the tetrarch was here, I believe she'd find a way to come after him.'

'She
might,' mused Gyrull, 'if she gets the opportunity, but we can't rely on it.
And this amplimet is a perilous device we may not be able to control it. We
must have an alternative plan.' She strode up and down, her armour flashing in
waves of colour — mauves to reds to purples — as she thought. 'We might link
the patterners another way. The tetrarch's geomantic globe offers certain
possibilities. It might, if carefully formed, and used at a certain place
within Alcifer, be made to serve.'

'How
so?' said Ryll curiously.

'Alcifer's
original purpose was never fulfilled. The city sleeps, but it is still
powerful.' 'I don't understand.'

'How
could you — you don't know the place. Leave it to me. I've been spying on the
tetrarch. He's begun to rebuild his geo-mantic globe and already realises it
has a number of flaws.' How do you know?'

'I
studied it carefully in Snizort, and I've been feeding him information since
then, to make him aware of errors in it. He will come to me for assistance — he
has no other option. Were I to provide him with certain knowledge, and he to
mould the globe according to it, if taken to a particular place in Alcifer it
might just be what you need.'

'I
don't know what you're talking about,' said Ryll.

'No
matter — I was just thinking aloud. We'll go over it later. In the meantime,
I'll assist you in the design of the new patterners, so they can be linked.
Once that's done you must begin patterning the flisnadr, but don't take it
beyond the juvenile stage. Leave it in stasis until the geomantic globe is
ready. I'll spread a rumour in Lauralin that the tetrarch has fled to Alcifer.
If Tiaan does come, we'll be waiting for her. If she doesn't, I'll send a force
to snatch her from the Aachim. Between her amplimet and Gilhaelith's globe,
we'll create a perfect flisnadr And then let the humans beware!' she concluded
fiercely.

I — I
would like to put one condition,' he said, diffident at first but finishing
forcefully.

Gyrull
looked taken aback, but replied, 'One who would lead must learn how to be
strong. What is your condition?'

'I
would have Tiaan treated with due respect, and given her freedom afterwards.'

She
inclined her head, watching him with her penetrating eyes. 'I applaud your
nobility of spirit, though to be freed by us will rouse suspicion in the eyes
of her own people. And what of Gilhaelith? Do you feel compassion for him too?'

'He's
a danger to the whole world; said Ryll.

'Yes,
he's a brilliant, blind fool. He cannot see what others will do with his work,
if it succeeds. It would give them power undreamed of, power that, if misused,
could sterilise Santhenar for all forms of life. We must prevent that, or turn
it to our own purposes. So, Ryll, what are we going to do about Gilhaelith?'

'Once
we've no further use for him, he can go to the slaughtering pens.'

Irisis
was sitting by herself, slicing onions as she watched the sun go down from the
mouth of the cave they'd been living in for well over a month. The ragged slot
was etched into a pebblestone cliff on the seaward edge of a barren island in
the Sea of Thurkad, half a league off the coast of Lauralin. It was the safest
refuge Muss had been able to find — hidden from all but a direct pass by
Ghorr's remaining air-floaters, which was unlikely here; and, being surrounded
by water, it was even less likely to be visited by the enemy. It was, however,
exposed to the chilly south-westerlies, which intensified every day as the
season turned. Winter was still months off, but every morning it felt a little
closer.