Alchymist (91 page)

Something
had died in her then — she'd seen it as an abandonment. For months Ullii had
been sure that Nish was dead. When she finally found him again, at Snizort, he
seemed to have forgotten her.

No
matter how much she dwelt upon his previous kindnesses, Ullii kept coming back
to that, and to the deaths of Mylii and Yllii. She blamed Nish for both and it
constantly recharged her rage. She might be little and weak, but there was one
thing she could do — take just retribution for her lost brother and son. It was
all that kept her going.

Finally,
in late autumn, the great battle fleet was ready. Ullii knew Ghorr was building
one, but had no idea what form it would take. She had seen, in her lattice, the
slow creation of all sorts of unpleasant machines and devices of war, but the
testing had taken place in a vast walled yard. Only those who had business
there were admitted through its guarded gates. Everything had been planned to perfection.
An army of clerks had checked the lists and made sure nothing that could
possibly be required was left behind. Another small group of mancers and
officers had been appointed to take every plan apart, to look at all the ways
it could fail, and develop contingency plans for when it did.

Ullii
was asleep when Ghorr came to her door. He flung it open so it crashed back
against the wall, shocking her awake. She cowered under the covers, blocking
her ears. He tore the blankets off.

'It's
time for you to earn your keep, Seeker! Gather your gear.’

She
had been provided with new clothes in Nennifer — half a dozen undersuits of the
neck-to-knee spider-silk that protected her sensitive skin, as well as outer
garments, coats, boots, scarves and hats. His artisans had made her several pairs
of goggles and earmuffs, and all were to hand. Ullii stored all her possessions
in two small packs beside her bed. It provided her with the only security she
had.

A
servant picked the packs up. Ullii snatched them from her and sat on them to
get dressed. Already wearing an under- suit, she pulled on her boots, coat and
hat, and made sure a set of goggles and earmuffs were in the pocket. While
wearing the spider-silk undergarments she could better tolerate life's assaults
on her other senses, though she still could not go out in the bright sunlight
without her goggles. 'Follow me,' said Ghorr.

A
swarm of knots grew in Ullii's lattice, like those made by the controllers of
clankers or air-floaters, though these were much larger. Her stomach formed
knots of its own.

Taking
up her packs, Ullii trotted after Ghorr, up the stairs, along the corridors,
out through the vast double doors and down the broad steps onto the paved area,
as large as a parade ground, that ran from fortress Nennifer to the towering
cliff that fell into the Desolation Sink. She stopped in shock. The paved area
was crammed with monstrous air-floaters, reaching above the topmost storey of
Nennifer, which was five floors and a steep roof above the ground. Each was supported
by no less than five cigar-shaped balloon bags as long as the trunk of a forest
tree. Four were arranged at the corners of a diamond, one each at front and
rear, another out to either side. A fifth, smaller balloon was suspended in the
centre. The vessels slung beneath the balloons were more than twenty spans long
and their side decks were packed with weapons whose design was unknown to her,
though each looked deadly.

The
machines were painted in brilliant reds and yellows, like poisonous reptiles, for
they were intended to be seen and feared. Barbaric designs decorated their
prows — vicious creatures with gnashing teeth and bloodstained tusks, or
devices spitting fire or venom.

There
were sixteen of the air-floaters, and drawn up at the front of each stood a
squad of heavily armed soldiers, in a rank of five by five, with two officers
before them. There were almost as many mancers, artisans, artificers and
servants.

'What
do you think of our air-dreadnoughts?' said Ghorr beside her. 'Aren't they the most
magnificent sight you've ever seen?'

'I
hate them,' she said fiercely, for their auras reeked of violence.

He
smiled patronisingly. 'It doesn't matter what you think, little Ullii. Just
find Flydd and Irisis, and we will have your revenge for you.'

In a
flash she understood just how badly she had blundered. She didn't want revenge,
but retribution, and it had to be with her own hands. Taking that away rendered
it meaningless, vicious.

Ghorr
shouted orders. People ran in all directions, in what appeared to be confusion
but was carefully orchestrated, then she was urged up the ladder into the first
air-dreadnought of the fleet, and ushered inside.

With
a flourish of cornets, Ghorr's machine loosed its tethers.

The
great triple rotors began to tick, then whirr, its nose lifted and it rose into
the sky. She could feel the drain on the field, which manifested itself as a
swirling yellow pattern across her lattice.

The
others followed, one by one, taking care to keep their distance. When all were
in the air they manoeuvred into formation, signalled to each other with flags
and then turned towards the west, to pick up the rest of the scrutators in
Lybing. And then, on to the hunt.

The
journey took days, though it was mostly uneventful, for which Ullii was glad.
Used to shutting the world out, she found the proximity of so many hard,
relentless people unbearable. She could not sleep in the great cabin, as the
racket of chatter, snoring, belching and farting never stopped. On the second
night she climbed onto the roof, found a recess sheltered from the wind and
spent the night there, wrapped in blankets and coat. It was miserably cold but
she was used to that. The air was fresh and the constant wailing of the wind
blurred out the sounds of the fifty people below.

Only
once during that journey did anything of note happen. It was about a week after
they had departed Nennifer — Ullii did not count the days — and the fleet had
just sailed high over the Sea of Thurkad, heading towards Meldorin Island and
the ancient city of Thurkad, whose fall had heralded the loss of the west.

Ullii
was standing at the bow, where the air streaming in her face protected her from
the stink of unwashed humanity, when her keen hearing picked up Ghorr's voice,
just outside the forward cabin door. He was talking to Scrutator Fusshte.

'Are
you still going to give a demonstration?' Fusshte asked. His sibilant tones
always made Ullii shiver, and the way he looked at her was worse.

'When
I find the best target,' said Ghorr. 'I'll send a warning to our enemies not to
take us too lightly.'

'And
to our friends!' Fusshte chuckled nastily.

'Indeed'
said Ghorr. 'There's not a single person on Santhenar who should not know what
I can do, and beware! Fusshte took a step backwards, just managing to control his
alarm. 'Quite,' he said smoothly. 'People have come to doubt the power of the
scrutators. After this, they'll be in no doubt at all.'

Ghorr
called the captain of his personal guard. The man listened carefully, saluted,
then gave orders to his signalman, who began to pull his coloured flags up and
down. After checking the acknowledgment with a spyglass, he reported back to
the captain.

The
air-dreadnought turned slowly. The others followed it, maintaining their
formation, until they were heading directly for the southern section of the
city of Thurkad. Ghorr consulted a plan and gave further orders, which the
signalman relayed.

'Just
there,' he said to the captain, pointing. According to my intelligence, many
lyrinx house themselves in that one.'

They
were now close enough for the largest buildings of Thurkad to be distinguished.
Ghorr's outstretched arm indicated one of a series of tall wooden warehouses,
built on the edge of the wharf city that formed the seaward rim of the city
proper. Lyrinx soared in the air though, as yet, none approached them. This
mighty armada would be the match of hundreds of flying lyrinx, and flew above
the height they could reach.

Artificers
now pulled the cover off a large metal mirror, the best part of two spans
across, and swung it out. But it was more than just a mirror, for it had a
complicated controller apparatus at the back, and an operator to use it. On the
other air-dreadnoughts, similar devices were being moved into position.

More
signals were sent. At the bow, a young woman in a green and grey uniform turned
over a minute-glass. The air-dreadnought floated ponderously towards the
target. The operator made continual adjustments to his mirror, reflecting the
sunlight in a narrow beam across the bay, and then at the wharves ahead. The
beams of the other mirrors followed the first, making a tight cluster of bright
dots.

'Ten,'
called the young woman. A man behind her raised a series of signal flags, one
after another, as she counted down the numbers. 'Five, four, three, two, one.
Now!'

The
signalman swept down his red flag. The mirror operator stood up on his toes,
drew power into the mighty controller crystals and pulled down a lever. The
air-dreadnought shuddered.

Ullii
felt a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach as the field — what was left
of it — tried to tie itself in knots. For an instant the rotors stopped
completely, and there was silence, apart from wind whistling through the ropes
and wires.

The
beams of all sixteen mirrors converged on a single point, the top floor of the
warehouse Ghorr had indicated. Suddenly they were amplified a thousand times by
the power from the controller crystals. The bright spot became incandescent,
burning straight through the tiled roof. The timbers erupted in flames and
within seconds the roof, fifty spans long and twenty wide, was gone.

The
bright spot moved down inside, fire leaping up after it, before smoke belching
from the warehouse blotted it out. A single lyrinx fled out through the roof,
one wing aflame, before wheeling down to smack into the water beside the wharf.

The
smoke sucked back down momentarily; then, in a colossal explosion, the walls of
the warehouse blew out, raining burning debris everywhere and setting fire to
the neighbouring buildings. Burning lyrinx fled through the doors and windows.

'Must
have been an old store of naphtha barrels in there,' Ghorr said with a grim
chuckle. 'But we won't mention that in our reports, eh, Fusshte? Let the world
think we did it all.'

The
mirror operator was standing up in his seat, helmet askew, mouth agape.

'Marvellous,'
said Fusshte in a choked voice. He cast a side-ways glance at Ghorr that told
Ullii a lot. Suddenly, Fusshte was afraid of the chief scrutator.

Ullii
became aware that the pilot was shouting. The rotors were still running
irregularly and there was barely anything left in the field. Down below, a
score of lyrinx tried to take to the air but none could get aloft.

Ghorr,
Fusshte, and the pilot and operator had a hurried conference by the rail. With
all the cheering, Ullii only caught part of it. They were worried by what had
happened to the field.

'That'll
have to be all,' Ghorr said regretfully. 'I'm not going to spoil a brilliant
success by a failure. If there's no power there's no power. It'll look better
if we just sail majestically on. Still, we've given them a shock they'll not
forget.'

They
drifted with the wind and, some leagues west of Thurkad, the operators picked
up another field, though the rotors were still running irregularly. It appeared
the surge of power had damaged something. Ullii was pleased about that. The
ruin wrought by the mirrors had horrified her.

That
night they passed over the mountains of Bannador, and the higher ranges beyond,
which were covered in snow from top to bottom. 'Where do you think they are?'
said Fusshte in the night. 'Shazmak? It lies south of our route.'

'Why
would they go to Shazmak?' said Ghorr. 'They'll be somewhere where they can buy
food, or hunt for it. Isolated towns survive in the north of Meldorin, I'm
told, and on the west coast.'

In
the morning they landed on a grassy plain, where they could see for leagues in
any direction, though four of the air-dreadnoughts remained in the air, on
watch.

'We're
some little way north of the ruins of Chanthed,' said Ghorr, 'where the College
of the Histories stood. The Plains of Folc lie north of us. To the west the
plains run for fifty leagues into the Silbis Drylands. The western mountains
lie beyond that, by the coast. Somewhere there we'll find them.

'Now,'
he went on once the machine had settled on its triple keels, 'it's your turn,
Ullii Find the traitor Flydd. Find Irisis Stirm, who lied to you and abandoned
you. Find Cryl-Nish Hlar, the man who made you pregnant. The one who murdered
your brother and destroyed your helpless baby. And then, lead us to them, so we
can take your revenge for you.'

Ullii
had had much time to dwell on her retribution on the journey here. Since the
attack on Thurkad yesterday she'd thought about little else. Nish had done
those terrible things, and deserved to be punished, but Ghorr was a wicked man,
a brute and a liar. How could it be right to give up her former friends to him?
She could not decide. She wanted to deceive him but did not know how. I won't
give them up, she thought. But Nish does deserve to be punished . ..