Alchymist (55 page)

'You
know what I mean, Xervish.'

'I
have no idea what you're on about. Speak plainly, Nish, or not at all.'

Nish's
mouth snapped closed. Was Flydd just being perverse, or was he trying to tell
Nish something? To have confidence in himself? He pulled his horse away,
cantered around in a circle and pulled up beside him again. Taking a deep
breath, he said, 'I want to help you, surr. To bring down the Council of
Scrutators and create a new order that truly serves the people of Santhenar.
And then, to defeat the enemy.'

Flydd
pulled up his nag. The sun shone on his cheek, outlining every gouge and scar,
every hump and hollow from the scrutators' torment. 'Anything else you want to
achieve this afternoon?'

'That's
all, surr.'

Flydd
considered him for a long time. 'You realise that what you have just uttered is
treason of the direst complexion. Should the Council take you, and surely they
will, they'll make you suffer far longer, and more horribly, than ever they
made me.'

Nish
knew it, and dreaded it. And, to be realistic, they probably would take him.
They had the resources of a world to fight their enemies. All Nish had was his
wits. 'If we lack the courage to oppose tyranny, surr, we don't deserve
freedom.'

The
scrutator regarded him, head to one side. 'Well spoken, lad. Had you made this
offer at any time before your deeds of yesterday, I would have refused you.
Willingness is not enough. But you've gone through the furnace and come out again,
reforged. We'll oppose these vicious tyrants and overthrow them or, more
likely, die in the attempt.'

He
held out his hand. Nish took it. Flydd groped for the silver flask in his
saddlebags and tossed it to Nish. Popping the cap, Nish raised the flask high.
'To victory!' he said, over-dramatically. He took a healthy swig and almost
fell off his horse.

Flydd
snatched the flask, which was spilling its precious contents everywhere. 'And
to the scrutators' chief torturer -may we spend little time in her company.'
Draining the flask, he kicked his horse into a gallop.

That
was not the end of the fighting, though it was not on the same scale as before.
The lyrinx attacked every night, shooting from a distance with captured
javelards and catapults. The troops became used to building defensive camps,
with their clankers on the outside and rows of bonfires all around. It kept
them alive, but they took losses, and every day their supplies dwindled.

'We
can't last much longer' said Troist, on the third night after the battle.
Travel had been painfully slow, for the field was still depleted and they had
not reached a better one. They were camped just half a day's march from Gnulp
Landing, once a rich fishing and trading city, but these days an outpost brutally
exposed to enemy raids.

'How
many are we now?' asked Nish. More soldiers had joined them on the way,
survivors from the other side of the river, who had lost everything.

Twelve
thousand of my army,' said Troist, 'plus another eleven thousand of Jal-Nish's,
though many are injured. I dare say more stragglers will come in. Were we able
to go back we might find most of them. And we have the best part of two
thousand clankers, though some are in poor condition. A sizeable force, though
considering . . .' He looked away into the night.

Considering
Jal-Nish started with forty thousand soldiers, Nish thought. And only weeks
before that, when the battle for Snizort began, sixty thousand. A disaster
indeed, no matter how much damage had been done to the enemy.

'But
we've only a week's supplies,' said the scrutator, 'and even that will require
a good bit of eking.'

'What
are your orders, surr?' said Troist. 'If you require us to stand and fight,
we'll do it, though in the end we must all die.'

'The
loss of one army is going to be disastrous for morale' said Flydd. "To
lose two would be catastrophic. We must survive to fight again, and show our
people that we can still win.'

'We
did far better than expected against so many,' said Nish. 'These lyrinx were
not much more formidable than men. Previously, one lyrinx was the equal of two
or three of our troops. Why the difference? Is it because they were stone-formed.’

'I don't
know,' said Flydd.

And
your orders, surr?' Troist persisted.

'I
see no choice but to head for Gnulp and beg them to take us in,' said the
scrutator.

'My
thought too,' Troist replied, 'but even if they do, it only postpones the
problem.'

'Why
wouldn't they?' asked Nish. 'Where would they be without the army to protect
them?'

'The
master of the city might ask what good an army is if it can't even protect
itself? He might say it's bringing trouble that they didn't have before.'

'Either
we die outside the gates,' said Troist, 'or within.'

'I'll
go to Gnulp,' said Flydd, 'and meet with the master in the morning. Be sure
you're camped by the gates at dawn, General. It'll make it harder to refuse us.
Nish,, come with me.'

They
rode for several hours on a road illuminated by the moon, stopping just around
the corner from the city gates. They could smell the salt sea and hear waves
bursting over the breakwaters.

I
hope you've got some kind of plan,' said Nish.

'For
once, I haven't. Let's climb the hill and get an idea of the layout.'

Don't
you know this place?' Nish was surprised. 'I thought you'd been everywhere in
the world.'

I've
been many places, but Gnulp Landing isn't one of them.'

They
rode up a winding path to the crest of a steep hill armoured with flat, slanting
black outcrops like the serrations down the spine of a chacalot, the
water-dwelling reptile that even the lyrinx feared. At the top stood a ruined
watch-tower, its black stones coated with lichen that shone like silver mancing
glyphs in the moonlight.

Don't
they keep the watch here?' said Nish. Look up,' said the scrutator.

In
the light and shadow of the moon, the city was bleakly menacing. A double wall
ran around it, thick and high, inside which stood three guard towers, tall
enough to defend the wall but not close enough to be attacked readily from it.
The defences were massive and designed with lyrinx in mind. Every flat surface
was covered in long metal spikes, protection against attack from the air. The
harbour was formed by two breakwaters curving into the racing waters of the Sea
of Thurkad. Inside that oval, wharves and jetties had been built out from the
shore, and all were occupied. Nish counted a hundred and fifty ships at anchor.

How
have they survived so long, so close to the enemy?' he wondered.

By
exploiting the lyrinx's fear of water. The city is easily defended from the
shore, and the air, and the lyrinx are not going to attack from the water side.
Perhaps they've decided that there are easier targets. Wait here — I think I'll
go in alone, after all.'

The
master of the city took them in grudgingly. Twenty-three thousand men would be
a tremendous strain on his stores but he dared not incur the wrath of the
scrutators, much less a man leading such a powerful army.

Despite
the overcrowded barracks and indifferent food, Nish enjoyed the first few days
in Gnulp Landing. It was a relief not to have the grinding squeal of the
clankers in his ears; not to wear armour and weapons day and night. He even
managed to put Ullii and Mylii, and all the dead, out of his mind for a while.
He'd used his initiative, pushed himself to the very limit of his abilities,
and had succeeded. He felt good about himself for once.

The
lyrinx attacked on the second night and the following nights, and every day the
master of the city grew colder.

'I
curse the day I opened the gates to you, Scrutator Flydd,'1 he said on the
fifth morning. 'Your soldiers are eating their heads off and my precious stores
are dwindling. Were I not an honourable man, I would put you out tomorrow.'

His
dark eyes had the lustre of a toad's; Nish imagined him spitting poison at
them.

'But
of course, you are an honourable man,' Flydd said smoothly, 'and the Council of
Scrutators appreciates that. Be certain of their generosity to those who demonstrate
their loyalty.' His eyes flicked sideways at Nish. Never trust a man who makes
a point of his honour, he seemed to be saying.

Nish
did not trust the master an ell. A man who counted the cost of everything and
valued nothing that he could not price, Nish had met many like him in his days
as a merchant's scribe. The master couldn't work out how Flydd fitted into the
scheme of things. He must have heard about his fall, yet here he was at the
head of an army, which obeyed him as if he were its rightful commander. But
should the Council confirm Flydd's dismissal, as in time they must, the master
would put them out of the gates in an instant.

'The
scrutators begrudge every copper grint' said the master. 'I'm feeding your
troops out of my own pocket, Scrutator, and it's not bottomless. Another week
will bank-rupt me, and we have a hard winter ahead of us. After today, you'll
get nothing until I see your gold.'

'You'll
get your due,' said Flydd with another significant glance at Nish. He rose. And
now I must attend to another pressing problem. We'll talk further on this
matter.'

'We
will indeed,' hissed the master.

'Bloody
old hypocrite,' Flydd said when the door had closed behind them. 'It's not his
food we're eating, nor is he paying for it though he's already doubled the
price of meat and grain from his storehouses. He's gouging every grint out of
the people and blaming us.'

'What
are you going to do?' 'Go down to the waterfront. I've an idea.'

Nish
waited outside while Flydd spoke to one sea captain, then another. After the
second visit the scrutator emerged, smiling. 'I think it may work after all.'

'What?'

I'm
going to hire an armada to get us out of here.' There's twenty thousand of us!
More.' I'm sending the clankers back east to Lybing, packed with soldiers and
the injured. If we can put a hundred on each boat, the hundred and fifty boats
in port will be enough to carry the remainder.' 'Some are only fishing boats.'
'And others are traders that can sail all the way to Crandor and the North
Seas. It's the only way, Nish.' 'Where do you plan to go?'

'Into
the Karama Malama, then south-east to Hardlar. The lyrinx seldom strike that
far south. From there we'll march north to Borgistry.' 'The Karama Malama is a
dangerous sea, isn't it?'

'It
can be, in the stormy season.'

'Isn't
that right now?'

'Er,
yes. But it's not as dangerous as staying here.'

'I
dare say the master will be pleased.'

'He'll
be furious, which will please me.'

'Furious?
Why?'

'He
wants our gold more than he wants rid of us, and nothing could give me more
pleasure than to deprive him of it. The sea captains think the same. They've
all been robbed by him, at one time or another.'

'So
they'll be happy to take us?'

'Delighted,
though they'll charge the best part of Jal-Nish's war chest to do so. They know
desperate men when they see them.'

'When
are we going?'

'We
load in the morning, as soon as it's light. It'll take two days. Better get
ready. You're in charge.'

'Me?'

'Yes,
you.'

As if
they knew what was being planned, the lyrinx attacked from the air that night,
dropping rocks on the storehouses and granaries near the port. The defenders
were ready, driving the enemy off with a hail of arrows. The next time they
attacked, half an hour later, the lyrinx kept higher, The missiles had further
to fall and did greater damage, but not a single lyrinx fell.

Nish
was at the docks well before dawn, with his list of squads and the vessels they
were to embark upon. No one was to move before Flydd gave the word. The
clankers, bearing their load of soldiers and injured men, were going to leave
at dawn and head east. Twenty leagues inland they would be out of danger, now
that Snizort was no more.

A
windstorm had come up in the night, with spitting rain and wild gusts that
would have made it difficult for the lyrinx to stay aloft. Nish hoped it would
abate during the day; it would mean hard sailing for the small vessels and
there was little shelter in the narrow waterway.

A
messenger came running in. 'Go!' he said, and that was all.

Nish
felt a vibration in his head, nearly two thousand clankers drawing on the field
at once. The vaguely dizzy, sick feeling faded though it did not pass
completely. He supposed it had something to do with touching the tears, all
those days ago, and it reminded Nish of his father. For all that the man had
become a monster, Nish grieved for his loss. Still, it was for the best.
Jal-Nish's suffering was over now.

All
day he spent at the waterfront with his lists and schedules, making sure the
squads were loaded onto the right vessels. Not until a good half of them had
embarked, around two in the afternoon, did any word come from the scrutator. It
was the same messenger, and he said the same word again, 'Go!'