Alchymist (50 page)

'My
cousin, Nythis! Did you see anyone else?'

The
desperate hope in his eyes almost undid her How could she work such a shabby
deception on him? Though Vithis had used her, that did not make it right to
give him hope where there was none. But if she did not, she was doomed.

'I
did see others,' she said faintly, 'though not so clearly as the man. There
were three children . . . No, four, and two young women, both tall and black
haired. Or were there three? It's fading.' She used the commonest images of
Aachim. Hope must do the rest, and make them into his lost loved ones.

'Gia
and Mien, surely,' he said with an exhalation of breath. 'Is that all, Artisan?
Just those few?'

She
screwed up her eyes as if trying to see what was far awav. 'Other constructs
lay in the distance — some were broken, others whole. There may have been more
people; I couldn't see clearly.'

'Where,
Artisan?' He reached for her, as though to shake her, but thought better of it.

An
image from the dream came to her. 'It was no place I've ever seen before.'

'What
did it look like?' he gritted.

Tiaan
had not thought her plan through that far but another memory, or dream, sprang
into her mind. All the land was white. White as snow, though I don't think it
was snow.'

'Ice?'
said Vithis.

'It
could have been ice ... There were no trees, no animals. The sky was so dark it
was almost purple.'

'A
purple sky? There are such places in the void,' said Vithis. 'But it is
endless. They might be anywhere.'

He
twisted his long fingers, then turned to Thyzzea, who stood in the doorway
behind her mother. 'Call Urien; and find Larniz the Mapmaker, at once.'

Thyzzea
glanced at Zea, who nodded. She hurried away. What else, Artisan?' said Vithis.
'You haven't given me enough.’

Tiaan
didn't want to make up anything else. It would be too easy to be trapped by an
inconsistency. She couldn't remember much about the time when the gate had
opened, though she recalled the feelings very well; the cries, the torment, the
loss. Wait; there had been something, just before Vithis had taken control of
the gate. Clan Inthis, panicking, had ignored his pleas to stay back. A host of
constructs had roared up the spiralling path to the gate, and she recalled that
their smooth metal had a bluish tint. None of the constructs she had seen since
had that colour. They were all black.

Tiaan
hesitated. If she was wrong, it would ruin all the work she'd done so far. She
gave a little shudder, opened her eyes and looked Vithis full in the face.

'What
do you remember, Artisan?'

'The
constructs were different to these ones. The metal was blue.'

His
smoky brown eyes lit up. 'Are you sure? Only Clan Inthis knows the secret of
working the blue metal.'

'They
were blue,' she said. 'All of them. That's all I remember.' She closed her eyes
again, as exhausted as if she had not slept at all.

Thyzzea
came running in. 'I've sent word to find the map-maker, Lord Vithis.'

'Where's
Urien? I need her counsel.'

'She
has ridden to the main camp near Gospett.'

He
scowled. 'I knew nothing of this. When did she go?'

'Last
night. She planned to take a construct from Gospett and meet those returning
from Tirthrax. Word came yesterday afternoon that they were on their way, I'm
told.'

Tiaan
went rigid under the covers. She could only hope the seed she had planted in
Vithis would germinate before Urien got back.

'Why
did she conceal this from me?' he said fretfully. 'How far away are they?'

'Near
a place called saludith, south-east of here' said Thyzzea. 'Two days, if they
travel hard'

'How
may I help you, Lord Vithis?' The speaker was an extremely burly man, thick of
arm and leg, with a bald head and a short, dense beard quite as black as coal.

The
artisan has had a vision — at least, I hope it's a vision, and not an
hallucination — about lost First Clan. She saw people in blue metal constructs,
in a barren land that was all white, with a purple sky. Not covered in snow,
but possibly ice. That's all you saw, Tiaan?'

'Yes,'
she said faintly.

Where
could they be, Mapmaker?'

'If
not for the sky I would have said somewhere on this world, in the frigid south,
or the doubtless equally frozen north. But a purple sky? Can it be the void?'

'Surely
you know your trade, Mapmaker!' Vithis said imperiously.

'None
of us has ever ventured into the void, Lord Vithis.'

'Then
consult the archives!'

'Such
records would be from the ancient past. We don't have them.'

'Why
not?'

'Our
libraries had to be left behind on Aachan, including most of what we know about
the void.'

'So
you can't tell where this place is,' Vithis said furiously.

'My
construct is packed with maps and charts, but none are of the void.'

'What
if we had ended up there?'

'We
would have died, with or without my maps. Others may have the information you
are seeking, but I do not.'

'Do
you know anything about seeking out the lost, Mapmaker?'

'I am
not a mancer, Lord Vithis.'

'You're
dismissed. I'll go after Urien. If anyone can find them, she can.' He turned to
the door.

Larniz
followed him out, calling, 'Lord Vithis?'

'What
is it?' Vithis cried. 'I can't wait for any man.' 'It may be more fruitful to
mind-search the artisan—'

Vithis
returned. 'You're right. I must not favour one approach over another. Once I
come back, we will attempt a dream-forcing. Larniz, run and find Minis for me.
I'll put her under his personal guard. I can't trust treacherous Clan Elienor
if I'm not here to watch over them. Tiaan must complete the recovery of the
constructs. When that's done,' he gave Larniz a meaningful look, 'we shall
see.'

Shortly,
Minis appeared and formally took custody of Tiaan. They went straight to work.
The day was hard, and the work slower than before, so by the time exhaustion
put an end to it in the mid-afternoon, Tiaan had only done two trips. Eighty-nine
constructs still remained to be moved. Another day's grace though, by the end
of it, Vithis and Urien would be back.

Minis
had stood in the shooter's turret all day, with another Aachim, and there had
been no chance to talk to him alone, much less implement Tiaan's plan. She had
to gain his cooperation. There was no possibility of escaping without it.

On
the way home Minis got in beside her, but did not speak. Vithis must have
ordered him to keep his distance.

'What
does dream-forcing mean?' Tiaan asked when they were approaching the camp, now
shrunken to barely a few hundred tents. Everyone was gone but the last of Clan
Elienor, Minis and a few of Vifhis's guards. In the distance she could see a
towering pavilion, the temporary monument erected to the Aachim dead.

'It's
a form of truth-reading, whereby knowledge, or secrets, hidden deep in the
subconscious mind can be drawn to the surface . . .'

'Is
it painful?' she asked, imagining what it would be like to have Vithis
rummaging through her mind, not to mention having all the lies she'd told him
exposed.

'Not
physically . . .' He trailed off, looking over the side at the withered grass.

'But
what?' she persisted.

'It
reveals everything, including what has been mercifully forgotten. Nothing can
be held back. Dream-forcing is always traumatic for it can reveal truths hidden
even from oneself. Especially from oneself,' he said softly. 'It's rarely used
— it hurts the forcer just as much, and can drive them insane.'

Can
anyone do it?'

'Only
a handful of us, for it requires a powerful comprehension of the Art.
Foster-father is able to dream-force, though, in your case, he would not.'

She
relaxed. 'Why not?'

'He
desperately wants to know the fate of our clan, so dream-forcing you would be
particularly hazardous for him. I expect Urien will do it, when she returns
tomorrow, but take no comfort from that. She's a hard woman.'

Tiaan
pressed her hands to her head, which was still ringing from the day's
exertions. All the more urgent that she go on with her plan. Minis must come to
her tonight. He lifted her onto the side, looking around for the guard, but the
man had already gone. Minis sprang down, reached up his arms and she slid into
them. He turned in the direction of Thyzzea's tent. Tiaan had to distract him.
She'd have no chance to subvert him there.

As
they passed the large tent house he shared with his foster-father, she made a
gagging sound and sagged in his arms. 'Minis, my head is spinning.'

'It's
not far now.'

'Could
I have a drink of water, please?' she said hoarsely, plucking fretfully at his
sleeve. He carried her to his tent, settling her in a round chair just inside
the door.

'I'll
call the healer. I—'

'No
need,' she said hastily. 'It's from using the amplimet. It happens every
night.'

He
frowned. 'I've never seen you like this before.'

'It
usually comes on after I finish work. I'll be all right in a while.'

He
fetched her a container of water. She drank the lot and had her head on the
edge of the chair. 'The light hurts my eyes. I need to lie down somewhere dark
for a few minutes.'

Again
that troubled look. 'You . . , could go in my chamber.'

'Please,'
she said.

He
picked her up, torn between anxiety and longing. Tiaan hooked one arm around
his neck. She felt bad about using him but there was no alternative.

Minis
laid her on the bed, and the look in his eyes burned her. She turned away, too
exhausted to deal with him. The work took so much out of her. Sleep, and the
crystal dreams that came with it, were the only remedy, but that was not what
she had in mind.

The
room was plain, being just a walled section of a tent, though the fabric was
woven like a costly tapestry. The only furnishings were an intricately
patterned rug on the floor and two carved wooden chests. Both were of the
finest quality and beautifully decorated, and the lids of both were up. The
larger held folded clothes and other personal items. The smaller contained half
a dozen books bound with covers of chased metal, a crystal seeing-globe and
several mechanical devices whose purpose was not readily apparent. Another book
lay on the chair beside the bed. It was also beautiful but, being in the Aachim
script, she could not read it. What must his home have been like; his
foster-father's mansion?

She
felt a pang for their art, craft and civilisation, lost in the volcanic fury
Aachan had become . ..

Tiaan
woke to discover that it was dark outside. She'd slept after all and her
headache was gone. Better get on with it. She looked out. Minis sat at a
folding table, writing in a journal. A candle cast a pool of yellow light in
front of him. He looked young and, for the first time, carefree. Her heart
lurched, but she fought it.

'Minis?'

He
came at once.

'Thank
you,' she said. 'I feel better now.'

He
smiled, though it faded at once, as if he'd caught himself imagining what he
had no right to. 'I'll take you home.’

Could
I.., have something to eat? I'm famished.’

'Of
course. I was about to have my dinner.'

He
brought her a platter on which sat a spherical knob of the spicy red sausage
she'd grown accustomed to eating, as well as sticks of cheese, bread, pickled
vegetables and wine. It was all very fine but she did not take much. Tiaan had
never felt so nervous, not even on that fateful day when the Aachim had come
through the gate and she had first seen Minis in the flesh. How different it
could have been. This cosy domestic scene could have been real. And, Tiaan was
shocked to realise, a part of her still wanted it.

Ashamed
of her fickleness, she reminded herself of little Haani's pointless death, the
crushed chest, the thin arms and legs hanging lifeless. Tiaan rubbed the worn
leather bracelet on her left wrist, the birthday present from Haani. Her
twenty-first birthday felt a thousand years ago.

You
were in on it from the beginning, Minis. Or, if not, you did not have the
courage, when you realised what the clan leaders were doing, to refuse to be a
part of it. Either way you failed me.

She
was not sure how to go about her plan. Tiaan was, by nature, neither cold nor
calculating, but now she had to be. She looked up. Minis's eyes were on her and
it sent a shiver up her spine. She poured a dribble of wine into her cup,
filled his and sipped, holding the cup in both hands. The wine was so beautiful
it was hard not to keep drinking, but that would be fatal. Time passed. She
filled his cup again, his third. Enough to loosen his inhibitions.