Alchymist (27 page)

'Once
you've paid your debt,' she said.

He
frowned. 'What debt is that?'

'I
risked my life, going down into the tar chasm to save yours. According to the
customs of my people, and I think yours as well, you owe me a life. That is
also a matter of honour.’

'And
I pulled you out afterwards.' He was sweating.

'I might
have climbed out anyway,' she lied, 'so you didn't save my life.'

'You're
asking for my life in return?' said Flangers.

'It's
the only coin you have.'

He
thought the matter through, and finally bowed his head. 'It is, as you say, a
matter of honour. My life is in your keeping, and no longer mine to take, until
you should release me.'

She
let out her breath. 'Thank you, Flangers. You won't regret it.'

'I'll
regret it every minute my own honour goes unrequited; he said, 'but I've given
my word and won't go back on it.' He rose, turning towards the stern. 'But of
course, should I ever save your life, the debt is paid, and mine will be in my
keeping again. Honour must be satisfied.'

Irisis
let him go, her troubles only postponed.

'Irisis,
wake up.' Flangers was shaking her by the shoulder. 'There's something going
on.'

'What?'
she mumbled, still half in her dream, for it was the middle of the night.

'Shhh.'
He hauled her out of her blankets. 'The soldiers are set to mutiny. Take this.'
Pressing a knife into her hand, he stood by the door of the cabin.

No
time to look for her boots. She roused Fyn-Mah and Inouye. Inouye took a deep,
quivering breath. Irisis slapped her bandaged hand over the pilot's mouth.

'Don't
scream!' she hissed, 'Or we'll be slaughtered where we stand. Inouye, is there
any way to get out of here without them knowing?'

Inouye
gulped, her breaths coming hard on each other. 'Only by cutting through the
ceiling canvas.'

Irisis
climbed onto a shelf and pushed her knife through the fabric, which gave with a
ripping sound, too loud for comfort.

'What
are they doing, Flangers?' she whispered.

'Getting
up the courage to attack. They're well trained. We can't hope to beat four of
them.'

'I
doubt if they'll attack women,' said Fyn-Mah. 'The prohibition against harming
females of child-bearing age is a strong one. Besides, as perquisitor I have a
certain legitimacy, even after what happened the other day. Whatever they do,
they'll be blamed for it.'

'Desperate
men with nowhere to turn might well slay us all,' said Irisis, 'and worry about
legitimacy afterwards. Can you make a diversion while I cut through the roof?'

Fyn-Mah
did something which, in the gloom, Irisis did not see. Suddenly a man's voice
boomed through the wall. 'Kick the door in, Rulf. I'll take the traitor first
—’

'Why
are you shouting?' shrilled another, so loudly that it hurt her ears.

'I'm
not —’ He broke off.

'Sorcery!'
whispered a third, as loud as steam hissing from a boiler.

Irisis
slashed through the roof and pulled herself up. Flangers followed swiftly. The
soldiers were milling about the door. A stocky man drew his sword with a squeal
like a knife skating across metal. He hesitated for an instant, found courage
and kicked the door off its flimsy hinges. The sound was like thunder in the
still night.

The
soldier sprang through, but came flying out again, juggling his sword, which
was glowing red. He dropped it on the canvas deck. Smoke belched up and someone
kicked it over the side.

The
next man to move gets a bolt in the eye;' said Flangers, showing his crossbow.
Put down your weapons.'

The
soldiers looked up. No one made any move for a long moment. Irisis held her
breath. If he shot one, the others would be on him before he could reload.;
Four against one could only end one way.

'Who's
going to be the first?' said Flangers, pointing his weapon at each in turn.
'You, big man?'

The
dark-faced fellow still clutched his sword. 'I'm prepared to die for my duty,'
he sneered, 'and I'm not afraid of a stinking traitor like you.'

Irisis
could sense Flangers's pain, but he said nothing.

'But
are you afraid of a perquisitor?' said Fyn-Mah from the doorway.

White
smoke was coiling up from the bush where the red-hot sword had landed. As the
leading soldier looked over the side, his weapon drooped.

'Run,'
said Fyn-Mah softly. 'Tell the scrutators I forced you with the Art. It's close
to the truth.'

He
nodded, not looking at her, and slipped over the side. The others followed,
disappearing into the forest.

'Inouye,'
said the perquisitor, 'go to your station and be ready to take the air-floater
up. Irisis, you and Flangers unfasten the tethers.'

'Where
are we going?' said Irisis.

'To
the next place on Flydd's list. I daren't stay here, in case they get their
courage back.'

They
spent more than a week travelling from hideout to hideout, sometimes staying
only long enough to check if Eiryn Muss had left a message, though they did not
see him in that time. On the ninth day after the mutiny, as they drifted over
the latest rendezvous — a dead tree with a fire-scarred, hollow trunk, broken
off about ten spans above the ground — a head appeared at the top. An arm
waved.

Inouye
hovered, Flangers let down the rope ladder and Muss scampered up. 'Go west,' he
said.

'Did
you find the scrutator?' cried Irisis.

'I learned
where he is,' Muss said grimly. 'He was sent to slave in one of the
clanker-hauling teams. Cryl-Nish Hlar was with him, condemned by his own
father.'

'Nish?'
Irisis found her voice had gone squeaky. 'He's alive?'

'For
the moment.'

'You
said was', said Fyn-Mah. 'What's happened?'

'Flydd
escaped six days ago and fled north, beyond the Snizort node, with Nish and
Ullii.'

'We
can assume he's received my message then,' said Irisis. 'We'd better get after
him.'

'Unfortunately,'
said Muss, 'they're pursued by all the might of the scrutators, including no
less than three air-floaters. We can't risk it.'

'So
what do we do?'

'Go
to the rendezvous. Sit tight and wait.'

'Wonderful!'
said Irisis, who hated enforced inaction in any form.

And
there was another problem. The phynadr, which they had risked so much for, and
lost more to recover, was withering daily. They kept it cool and damp in a
wetted sack, but it wasn't enough. Within days, Irisis felt sure, it would be
dead, and all their sacrifice would have been for nothing.

But
at least Nish was alive. She'd thought she was over him long ago, but lately
Irisis had been thinking about him all the time. She would have given anything
to be with him now.

S
EVENT E E N

Gilhaelith
fell swiftly, feet first, so by the time Gyrull could react, he was a hundred
spans below her, hurtling towards the Sea of Thurkad. At this speed it would be
as hard as rock.

She
folded her great wings into the shape of an arrow and dived after him, though
at first she did not seem to be gaining. He looked up at her, then down at the
sea. He could see whitecaps and the fluid streamlines of windblown spume.

She
matched his speed, now more than matched it. Gyrull was gaining, but so was the
sea. He knew what she was trying to do, but how could she do it in time?

She
mouthed something at him, though the sound was whipped away by the wind. What
did she want him to do? Slow down! Gilhaelith spread his legs and drew out his
coat on either side. It flapped wildly, the wind trying to tear it out of his grasp,
but braked his fall a little. Would it be enough?

As
the water came hurtling up, Gyrull flung herself at him, the claws of her
outstretched feet striking him hard in the sides. They went straight through
his coat and shirt, his skin and flesh, and in between his ribs. Gilhaelith
screamed in agony. It felt as if the claws had gone right into his lungs.

She
roared out words of power as the huge wings cracked to slow her plummeting
fall. Something tore in his side; it felt as if the strain was stripping the
ribs from his living flesh. Crack-crack, another tear. The pain was
excruciating. The angled wings broke the free fall into a dive, then into a
steep glide. His fragile brain throbbed from the power she'd used to keep them
aloft.

He
guessed trajectories. They must still hit the sea, and neither would survive
it. Lyrinx were helpless in water, for heir bodies were too heavy to float
Swimming was harder for them than flying, and panic soon pulled them under.
Gilhaelith was a competent swimmer but could not survive these chilly waters to
reach the shore, more than a league away.

Again
his brain sang as she drew more power. The glide shallowed, the roaring waters
rushed closer. She pounded her wings, digging into the salty air. Now they were
just ten spans above the sea, now five, now three, two, one. His feet skimmed
the water, the wings cracked harder and Gyrull lifted a fraction.

But
the matriarch was very tired now. He could feel it in her movements, which were
more sluggish than before, the slower beat of the wings, the droop of her neck.
One claw slipped from between his ribs, leaving him dangling in the path of the
swell. Driven by the wind, it was a good two spans high.

She
tried to climb above it but only succeeded in dragging Gilhaelith through the crest.
It broke over his head, drenching him. She let out a cry; her colours flashed
and faded. He was sure she could not hold him. But Gyrull was not matriarch of
a great and powerful race for nothing. Drawing on her last reserves of
strength, she dug her claws further into his flesh, lifted him free of the
water and slowly began to beat her way up.

The
lyrinx surrounded her in a fluttering, spherical shell, offering their strength
and shepherding her the last league to the shore of Meldorin. She hovered above
a platform of yellow rock, a stone's throw from the water. Gyrull retracted her
claws and Gilhaelith fell heavily, ruddy salt water streaming off him. Misty
rain drifted down from the hills. It was as cool as Taltid had been sweltering.

Flashing
dark browns and reds, colours he could not interpret, Gyrull settled beside
him. He expected her to abuse him for his stupidity, but she bowed her head,
displaying camouflage colours.

'I
beg your indulgence. Tetrarch Gilhaelith,' she said hoarsely, inclining her
head towards him. You startled me, but that is no excuse. The conveying code is
a sacred one and I should not have dropped you under any circumstances What was
it you wished to say to me?'

Gilhaelith
lay on the wet rock, so frightened and dazed that he failed to capitalise on
the advantage. A matter of the greatest moment, and great urgency too. It
concerns the Snizort node that exploded and died to nothing.'

She
tipped her head to one side, studying him with eyes like liquid gold. Her
breast was heaving. 'Go on, pray.'

He
pressed his fingers against the throbbing punctures between his ribs, praying
her claws were clean. 'My knowledge of geomancy, and my studies of many nodes,
tell me that a node cannot simply explode and disappear.' He explained how he
came to know that. 'There must be some residue left behind to balance what has
been lost. That residue, in the wrong hands, could be perilous indeed.'

'Present
your reasoning, if you please, Tetrarch.'

Before
he was finished, he saw, from the look in her eyes and the patterning of her
skin, that she had reached the same conclusion. He had forgotten what a
frightening intellect she had. Indeed, because the lyrinx ate human flesh and
mostly fought with their bare hands, it was easy to underestimate them, to think
of them as savages. That could be a fatal mistake.

'This
residue,' said Gyrull, 'could be a mighty power, in the hands of someone who
knows how to use it.'

'That
is my belief,' said Gilhaelith.

'And
you want it for yourself, of course.'

'I
don't,' he said untruthfully, 'for I've never sought power over others.
Knowledge and understanding are my passions. I would, however, like the
opportunity to learn from this residue.'

'Then
why tell me?'

'As a
token of good faith, to set against my debt.'

Again
that sideways, birdlike glance. 'You hope I'll gain for you what you can't get
by yourself. And when the debt is repaid, what do you ask of me, Tetrarch?'

'My
freedom. And carriage to a place where I may continue my work.'

'We'll
see about that after my searchers return.'

Calling
her lieutenants together, Gyrull spoke rapidly in a low voice. For once she
displayed no skin-speech at all, and the others little more than blushes of
yellow or grey. After a few minutes, three of the strongest lifted off from the
platform and headed back across the sea, in the direction of Snizort.