Alchymist (95 page)

They
eased through the door, tiptoed down a corridor and out into a wider hall that
was also dark, though Irisis could feel a cold wind blowing along it. It was
not far to the outside. They had a chance, though at the expense of leaving all
their friends behind..

'Come
on,' said Flydd. 'I think we're going to make it after all.' Irisis clutched
her sword and followed, but they had not gone more than a dozen steps before
brilliant lights came on before them, and behind.

'Xervish
Flydd,' said a voice that was unpleasantly familiar. 'Irisis Stirm. I'm so
pleased to see you both again.'

It
was Chief Scrutator Ghorr, and he had at least a dozen soldiers with him. She
looked the other way and recognised the malicious face of Scrutator Fusshte,
with as many more troops, all armoured and heavily armed.

'These
are the last,' said Fusshte. 'Let's get the trials underway. The executioners
are impatient.'

Their
hands were bound behind them and they were marched out of the broken doors of
Fiz Gorgo into the bleak yard. The thirty or so prisoners already there, each
with their group of guards, were well separated. Yggur's servants and his few
surviving guards were treated no differently. All were surrounded by four or
five soldiers.

Irisis
struggled all the way, suffering many a kick and a cuff across the face from the
soldiers. It did not deter her. She fought them until the ropes had worn a
collar of skin off each wrist and her raw flesh rasped against the wiry fibres.

'Cut
it out,' said Flydd, who was still beside her. He looked up at the vast
air-dreadnoughts, hanging in the sky around the walls in perfect formation.
Already the attendants were tethering them in place with cables as thick as a
man's arm. 'See what we're facing. They've spent half a year planning this. If
I know Ghorr, he's left nothing to chance.'

'I'm
not giving in,' she gritted. 'I'll never submit to them, Xervish.'

He
shrugged. 'Do as you will. It won't make any difference, either way.'

'What
do you mean?'

'They
made up their minds about us a long time ago. We've got as much time left as
the trial takes, and that's the limit.'

For
all her premonitions of doom, Irisis wasn't prepared for that. 'But surely
they'll take us back to Nennifer. Or Lybing, or other great city, to make a
spectacle of our trial and punishment.'

¦Ghorr
won't risk it, in case any of us has a trick up our sleeves. Their
air-dreadnoughts must contain a thousand people, and that's plenty to witness
the spectacle. Among them will be tale-tellers and chroniclers enough to spread
the word throughout all the lands of Santhenar. There have been too many
humiliations, Irisis. The people are already questioning the scrutators'
authority, so this operation has to be quick, brutal and complete. We must all
die in the most drawn-out and horrible of ways, as a lesson to everyone else. I
wonder what Ghorr's got planned for us?'

'How
can you be so calm?' she said.

'To
be a scrutator is to be impassive to the worst the world, and your fellows, can
throw at you.'

'Impassive!'
she murmured cheekily. 'I've seen the proud, imperious Flydd, the irascible,
the querulous, and occasionally the mean and spiteful side of you, but I'd
never call you impassive.'

'I'm
just a man, with as many faults as any other, and I never claimed differently.
It seems the worst brings out the best in me. Let me assure you, Irisis,' Flydd
gave her the best smile he could manage, 'on the inside I'm quaking. I know
what it's going to be like. I've been in their hands before, remember?'

The
smile did not help. She'd been expecting to die for a year now, and had long
ago inured herself to it. But this was going to be torment, inflicted by people
who had made a science of agony.

'I'm
really scared, Xervish.'

He
rubbed his shoulder against hers, since his hands were tied behind his back and
he could not reach her. 'You shouldbe scared. Take comfort from one thing,
though.'

'What's
that?'

'We're
all in it together, and we'll all be thinking of you, as you will be of us.'

'I
don't see how that's going to make a difference,' she said bitterly. 'Oh, I
suppose it does, in a way. I've suffered alone, and I've suffered with dear
friends, and the latter is preferable.'

'Well,
if that's little comfort,' said Flydd, 'here's something that should be: We'll
all be dead by nightfall.'

'They'll
draw our torment out for days. They like to make their prisoners suffer.'

'They
won't dare, this deep in enemy territory. The air-dreadnoughts are a powerful
force, none more so. And from what we heard earlier, they've got weapons no one
has ever heard of before. But even so, air-dreadnoughts are as vulnerable as
any other kind of air-floater. It only takes one lyrinx to tear the airbags,
after all. In the daytime this fleet might fight off hundreds of flying lyrinx,
but if they attacked in their thousands, enough would get through to bring down
every machine and all the people in them. That would be the end of the Council,
and Ghorr doesn't take chances like that. See how most of the guards up there
have their weapons pointed out and up, rather than down at us.'

She
did not look up. There was no point — to anything.

And
in the night,' Flydd went on, 'he won't dare land, for a handful of flying
lyrinx could destroy all these air-dreadnoughts without being seen. Ghorr must
finish his business with us and be high in the sky before nightfall. The only
way to ensure the safety of such fragile craft is to fly higher than the lyrinx
can reach. This Council will put their safety before anything else. No, it will
all be over by dark, and that's a pity and a tragedy.'

'It's
certainly a tragedy for us,' she said waspishly, 'and a pity we won't be around
to mourn ourselves, since no one else will.'

'I
meant for humanity. This victory spells the death-knell for humankind, and
that's something I've fought my entire life to avoid.'

'Surely
you've got a plan or two up your sleeve, Xervish? You always do. What about
another of those embedded crystals, that you used to escape once before?'

'Sadly,
no. I never thought Ghorr would dare come this deep into Meldorin. And even if
I had a crystal or two, it wouldn't make a jot of difference. See up there?' He
pointed with his elbow.

Each
air-dreadnought held at least one robed mancer, watching the prisoners with a
spyglass. Beside him were cross-bowmen and javelard operators, whose weapons
were trained on them.

'Ghorr
has thought of everything,' said Flydd. 'Even if I could free myself with such
a crystal, they'd shoot me down before I could move a dozen strides. That's why
they've kept us in the middle of the yard, where we can be seen.'

'How
did they find us?' said Irisis. 'I thought Yggur had a protection to hide Fiz
Gorge.’

'I
don't know, but if they can track down mancers from so far away, what else can
they do?'

Irisis
didn't care to speculate. She was still thinking that there had to be a way to
escape.

Flydd
seemed to read her mind. 'Even were I Rulke himself, the greatest mancer that
ever lived, there's no way out of here alive.'

'I
refuse to give up. While there's a breath left in my lungs, I'll fight them.'

'By
all means,' said Flydd. 'If that helps.'

Irisis
looked around the yard. The other prisoners were surrounded by tall, burly
guards so, in most cases, she could not identify who was in the middle. Over in
the corner she made out the tall form of Yggur, tightly bound and his mouth
stopped. He was swaying on his feet; a bloody bandage was wrapped around his
skull. To his left, taller by his frizzled mass of sandy hair, Gilhaelith stood
half a head above the biggest of the guards. Rags were bound across his mouth,
in case he tried to speak mathemancy or any other kind of spell.

'Where's
Malien?' said Irisis, still hoping that one of the company had escaped and
would free them. If anyone had power to break the hold of the scrutators, it
was Malien.

'Don't
get your hopes up,' said Flydd. 'I saw her being carried out, all trussed up
like a chicken. She's over by the southern wall.'

Irisis
made out someone slumped in the shadows, surrounded by at least twenty guards,
and with a crystal-equipped mancer at either end. 'Surely they're not going to
execute Malien?'

'They
wouldn't dare. That would be as good as declaring war on the Aachim. But
they've made sure she can't help us.' Irisis scanned the yard. 'I don't see
Tiaan anywhere.' 'You're clinging to the hope that she's got free and will
single-handedly rescue us in the thapter.' Flydd chuckled mockingly.

'Why
not?' she said, not liking his tone. 'The miracles Tiaan's performed in the
past year, why can't I hope for one more?'

'Because
they have her, too. She's there, strapped to the stretcher.' He nodded towards
the western wall, in whose shadow a group of soldiers clustered around a prone
figure, while a robed healer bent over it. 'Looks like she struggled and one of
the soldiers struck her down. Besides, they've already secured the thapter.
That would have been their first target. And you never know, it might just make
the difference, in the war.'

'If
they can get it to work,' said Irisis. 'Tiaan won't be on the execution list.
They'll be taking good care of her. The soldier who struck her down will be
lucky to keep his head.'

'Then
there's no hope for us, Xervish.' It just drained out of her, turning her in an
instant from hope to despair. Irisis was like that.

'You
can always pray for a miracle. Say a wild storm that drives them off. . .'

'I've
never seen the sky so clear' 'Well, an attack by the lyrinx—'

'We're
surrounded by swamp. They can only attack from the air,' said Irisis. 'The
scrutators' spotters will see them half an hour before they get here. Plenty of
time to take our heads off, in an emergency.'

'Suddenly
you seem determined to establish that we've got no hope,' said Flydd.

'I'm
a realist. I have to know the odds, but you've made me realise that there are
no odds, because our chances are nil.'

'I'm
really sorry about that, Irisis.'

Irisis
took a few steps to her left, trying to identify who was being held by the
soldiers over near the northern wall. Flangers, she thought, but couldn't be
sure. The guards prodded her back to the centre of the circle.

'What's
going to happen now?' They had been standing therefor the best part of an hour
already. Irisis was only clad in indoor clothes and the yard was frigid. At
this time of year, the sun never reached the ground inside the walls, and ice
lingered there from autumn to spring.

Flydd
was shivering too, and his scarred skin was mottled white and blue. He must be
freezing in his sheet.

"They're
preparing a special end for us. The scrutators do love their spectacles.'

They
stood in the cold for hours, though it was some time before they realised just
how extravagant the spectacle was going to be. Artificers and rope-crafters
began by installing mounting rings atop the outside walls of Fiz Gorgo. Heavy
cables were lowered from the moored air-dreadnoughts and fastened to the rings.
Halfway up, thinner cables were stretched horizontally and knotted together to
form a taut network rather like a horizontal spider's web.

Onto
that frame they pulled vast rolls of canvas, extending them to create a
platform, more than a hundred and fifty spans across, in the shape of a
fourteen-sided figure. The platform was a good fifty spans above the ground but
had neither walls nor rails. The canvas was lashed to the network of ropes and
stretched to drum tightness. A small hole remained in the centre, of a size for
a body to be dropped through. The canvas was so taut that a man standing on it
made no depression.

'It's
an aerial colosseum,' said Flydd, sounding genuinely admiring. 'What a clever
idea! The audience, or witnesses, will stand around the outside, while we
prisoners, along with our judges and executioners, will take our positions in
the middle.'

The
platform came together so quickly that the operation must have been practised
many times, back in Nennifer. Well before noon it was complete. The prisoners
were then hauled up in ropework baskets, arms and legs dangling through the
mesh. The guards and scrutators were lifted, dignity intact, in canvas chairs.
Within half an hour all the prisoners had been assembled in the centre of the
platform. The soldiers prevented them from running to the rim, or the central
hole, and leaping to their deaths. The majority of the air-dreadnought crews
and soldiers were lowered to the platform, to stand in arcs surrounding the prisoners.
They were to be the witnesses. The pilots remained at their stations, however,
and many guards at theirs, ever vigilant for signs of the enemy.

Soldiers
were also placed at the bow and stern of each air-dreadnought with great axes,
ready to cut the ropes should an emergency occur. The witnesses would have bare
minutes to run to the walls of Fiz Gorgo before the platform collapsed. Anyone
still on it when that happened would plummet fifty spans to the paved yard.