Chimaera (27 page)

‘But the scars carved into his psyche may not?’ said Malien.

‘He won’t be the man he once was,’ said Klarm, not meeting her eye.

What did he mean by that? Nish thought. That Flydd would no longer be a man at all? Just what
had
the torturers done to him? No one would say.

Yggur rose and paced the length of the room, limping badly today. The blisters on his face and arms had disappeared but he was covered with dead, flaking skin. He rubbed at an arm and flakes rose on a current of warm air from the fire. ‘Can we do it without him?’

‘I’m not sure we can,’ said Malien. ‘The plan relied on Flydd’s knowledge of Nennifer, gained from working there for many years.’

‘I dwelt there for a good while,’ said Klarm, ‘and had charge of its security. I know Nennifer as well as any man, so if his plan relied on a flaw in the defences –’

‘We don’t know if it did or not,’ said Yggur. ‘We planned to talk about that on the way, to ensure that there was no chance of the secret being revealed. But Flydd was sure he could get us in.’

‘Fusshte will soon be as strong as Ghorr was,’ said Irisis, ‘and he’s even more cunning and treacherous, but he can’t win the war either. We have no choice, Yggur. The Council must be brought down without delay. If Flydd’s incapable, we’ll have to work out a plan with Klarm.’

‘I can’t say I’d be confident of the outcome without Flydd,’ said Yggur, ‘but I agree we have to try.’

‘When?’ said Klarm.

‘Our equipment and supplies haven’t been touched,’ said Malien. ‘It will only take hours to load them into the thapter and make ready for departure. We could go tomorrow afternoon if you wanted to.’

‘Let’s give Flydd a few days,’ said Yggur. ‘I’ll talk to the healers again. If fortune is on our side, he’ll be on the road to recovery by then.’

‘Fortune is a chancy beast,’ said Klarm. ‘I can’t say I’ve seen many of her smiles this past year.’

In the event, Flydd had emerged from the healers’ coma the day after the meeting and insisted on coming. He stated that he would be ready to go in two days’ time, curtly overrode the healers when they’d protested, and had not spoken a word since. He’d turned away all visitors, even Yggur. There was much speculation about his state of mind and health, though not even Irisis, normally so adept at ferreting out secrets, could glean anything from the healers.

‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this trip,’ Nish said to Irisis the night before they were due to depart. They were checking the supplies yet again. ‘How can he be in any state to go?’

‘He’s a tough old coot,’ said Irisis, who had been unusually quiet lately.

She’d hardly spoken to him since he’d come back from burying Ullii, though Nish often caught her giving him cool, assessing glances. She was much more reserved than previously and he couldn’t fathom why. He’d expected that, after all he’d done to save her and everyone else, she would have been more grateful, and he felt a little hurt.

‘From what I saw on the first day –’ Nish began.

‘I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind,’ snapped Irisis. ‘If Flydd doesn’t want us to know, we should respect his wishes and mind our own business.’ She went out, keeping her back to him the whole time.

Nish stared after her, uncomprehending. Surely, on such a desperate mission, Flydd’s health, mental and physical,
was
their business?

The chief healer, Evee, insisted on accompanying Flydd and no one could dissuade her, which meant that the thapter no longer had room enough to carry everyone. On a long journey it could accommodate fourteen in considerable discomfort but with Flangers and six soldiers, and Klarm and Evee, they were now sixteen. And Evee’s supplies took up a lot of space.

The problem was solved by leaving Fyn-Mah behind to take charge of Fiz Gorgo, and by throwing together a dirigible sled to carry their gear and supplies. It was a small, semi-rigid air-floater with a cabin on the underside, which they planned to tow behind the thapter. It would greatly reduce the thapter’s manoeuvrability as well as slowing it, and was bound to make it cumbersome to take off and land, but they could see no other solution. And because it used the controller from Inouye’s air-floater, she would have no trouble coping.

And all the preparations had to be done in the utmost secrecy. Yggur had taken the precaution of caging up his skeets and sending them on a sea voyage, to be sure that no one could send a message to Nennifer after they’d gone. The name had never been mentioned in front of the soldiers and servants; in fact, the attack itself had never been discussed. As far as everyone in Fiz Gorgo knew, they were simply going on a long trip. Nonetheless, it was impossible to be too careful.

A week after Ghorr’s attack on Fiz Gorgo, on a windy, miserable autumn morning with sleet spitting at them from the west, all was ready. They assembled in the yard, waiting for Xervish Flydd.

They stood there for more than an hour, stamping their feet in a vain attempt to keep them warm, and blowing into their gloves. Finally even Yggur, who had been a model of patience ever since Flydd’s injury had been revealed, was driven to say, ‘Where the devil is the fellow?’

Shortly Flydd appeared, supporting himself on the shoulders of Evee and Fyn-Mah, and walking in a wretched grimacing shuffle. His skin was completely bloodless and with each halting step every muscle in his face shivered as he tried to prevent himself from crying out in agony.

Nish couldn’t bear to see the scrutator, who had once seemed to carry the whole of Santhenar on his scrawny shoulders, reduced to such emotional penury. ‘Surr!’ he cried, and ran across the yard to offer his arm.

As he approached, the scrutator wrenched back some control over himself and with a supreme effort shook off the pain, or at least drew it into himself. He stood up straight as Nish, realising belatedly what a blunder he’d made, stumbled to a halt in front of him. But he and Flydd had been through much together; they’d been comrades in the desperate times after the fall of Snizort, and surely Flydd would understand. Nish tried to make the best of it.

‘Surr,’ he said quietly. ‘May I assist you into the thapter?’

Flydd looked right through him. ‘Did I ask for help, Artificer?’ he ground out. Shaking off Evee’s arm, and then Fyn-Mah’s, he lurched unaided across the black paving stones in an appalling travesty of a careless stride. Every movement of every muscle showed the pain he was enduring, though his face was like stone.

Fyn-Mah cried, ‘Xervish –’ but broke off and put her hands over her face.

Evee let out an almost inaudible cry and ran after him, but he slashed at her with one hand and she fell back, biting her knuckles. She directed a furious glance at Nish. ‘Are you the biggest fool that ever was?’

Nish was beginning to think he was. Flydd had now reached the thapter but he didn’t stop there; he forced himself up the rungs of the ladder. The pride of the man was awesome, though Nish had to avert his eyes as Flydd struggled all the way up. It took him three attempts to get his leg over the side into the hatch, and heaving the second leg in wrenched a cry of anguish out of him, swiftly cut off. Nish thought he saw blood running down Flydd’s ankle, then he disappeared inside as if he’d fallen through the lower hatch.

After a brief hesitation Evee ran after him. The others followed, except for Fyn-Mah. Normally so cool and reserved, she was grinding her knuckles into her eyes. She turned away and walked back inside Fiz Gorgo, closing the door like a silent accusation.

‘That went well,’ observed Irisis as Nish came up to the side of the thapter.

Nish wanted to weep. ‘I was trying to help him.’

She relented and put her arm around his shoulders. ‘You know what a proud man he is, Nish. And you saw what Ghorr did to him. How do you think Flydd must feel, knowing that his friends are talking about his deepest torment and shame?’

‘If it were me, I’d want the support of my friends.’

‘Not if you’d been a scrutator. It’s a solitary profession and you have to hide your feelings. And especially your weaknesses.’

He said no more. They took their places in the thapter. Pilot Inouye stood at the controller of her dirigible, cast off the ballast and the little craft rose gently in the air. Yggur hadn’t wanted anyone inside in case something went wrong, but Inouye was happier that way and it eased the cramped conditions a trifle.

Nish stood with Irisis and Malien in the upper compartment of the thapter, looking out as they lifted off into the scudding cloud. Yggur was on the shooter’s platform at the rear, legs spread, cloak flapping behind him, appearing to relish the icy wind in his face.

Nish didn’t relish anything about the coming journey, though at least the war had gone quiet and there shouldn’t be too many disasters before the spring. The lyrinx didn’t fight in winter unless they had to.

He had enough to worry about. Evee had said that Flydd had been
repaired
, whatever that meant, though clearly he was far from recovered, and must be more hindrance than help on such a dangerous mission.

Nish had also begun to fret about Gilhaelith, the only outsider who knew of the planned attack. Since he’d made a fortune trading with the enemy, Gilhaelith was unlikely to have qualms about betraying them to the Council and, given the way Yggur had treated him from the moment they’d met, Nish wasn’t sure he’d blame him. Nish had doubts about the dwarf as well. Klarm had broken his oath to the Council, so why wouldn’t he break it again? The reward for betraying them would be unimaginable.

‘I overheard the healers talking about Flydd last night,’ Irisis said an hour or two later.

They were now sitting on the top of the thapter with their legs dangling down into the upper compartment. Irisis was swinging her long legs, quite at home there. Nish held on grimly, afraid that a sudden lurch could send them over the side. The thapter was dipping in and out of layers of cloud like wet, clinging fluff, and it was unusually bumpy.

‘Oh?’ Nish said sharply. He let go with one hand to wipe the cold condensation off his brow, then slapped his hand down again as the machine jolted in an updraught.

‘They don’t know what to make of him. He won’t talk. He won’t even look at them. They’re … they’re afraid for his sanity.’

‘Marvellous!’ said Nish. ‘And Flydd didn’t tell Yggur the details of the attack. It’s all in his head … Or
was
.’

‘He had hours of discussions with Malien and Yggur just before Ghorr attacked Fiz Gorgo,’ Irisis said.

‘But they only went through generalities, never the plan in detail. They agreed not to until we were on the way, just to be safe.’

‘Well, I just thought you should know.’

‘I’m glad you told me,’ said Nish. ‘It drives all the other worries right out of my head.’

‘S
o what’s Nennifer like, anyway?’ Nish asked Irisis.

It was late on their third day of travel and the thapter had just settled, as it must each night, onto the most isolated and desolate peak they could find. Only Malien could pilot the craft and she was still so weak that each day’s flying required long hours of recuperation.

She had taken all possible precautions to avoid being seen, flying in cloud wherever possible, and keeping clear of towns and densely inhabited areas, though there was always a chance that someone had spotted them. And if they had been seen, the Council’s unparalleled network of spies and informers would soon hear of it. Even now a skeet or a courier air-floater could be racing towards Nennifer with the news that the thapter had been seen in the sky over the Peaks of Borg.

‘You can’t imagine it,’ Irisis replied, climbing down the side of the thapter onto moss-covered rock. The night’s camp was halfway up an isolated ridge in the middle of the Ramparts of Tacnah, a series of rearing slopes of tilted greywacke, layered against the western edge of the Great Mountains like a leaning stack of cards. The high parts of the Ramparts caught moist breezes from the west and were, consequently, wet and cloud-covered for most of the year. A fine place for hiding, though dank, mosquito-ridden and inhospitable. ‘Nennifer is as hostile a place as anywhere on Santhenar, except the middle of the Dry Sea. It never rains there.’

Flangers and the other soldiers were already fanning out up and down the slope, making sure that there was no habitation nearby, though none had been seen before they settled. Nish watched them go, then moved into a cleft where a boulder bigger than the thapter had split in two. It was marginally sheltered from the wind. ‘Never rains? How can that be?’

A frog croaked from the dark recesses beneath the boulder. Another answered it from not far away. Irisis looked down and smiled.

‘Nennifer lies hidden in an angle between the Great Mountains and the range running down the east coast of Lauralin.’ She squatted down and drew on the mossy rock with a fingertip. ‘There are higher mountains all around and they catch all the moisture. I can’t think why the Council made their home there, save that it’s so isolated that no land attack could possibly succeed. Even in mid-summer there can be frosts, but at this time of year it’s hellish cold.’