The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) (48 page)

‘I can’t betray my mistress’s confidences or plans, any more
than you would betray Flydd’s.’

‘Right!’ he snapped. ‘Thanks for reminding me that you can’t
be trusted.’

It was as though he’d slapped her across the face. ‘I can
always be trusted,’ she whispered. ‘My word is everything to me.’

‘You’re not here to protect me at all, are you? You’re here
to control me – you and that cow, Yulla. Well, I’m not taking it.’

All the softness went out of her eyes, and all the warmth.
Persia did not say a word, but walked away across the gently sloping roof, her
jerky steps betraying her agitation. He went after her, caught her by the arm
and she swung around.

‘
Where’s Flydd?
’
he said furiously.

‘He made a portal with his serpent staff and went through to
search for the true fire.’

‘A portal! I didn’t know he could make portals with it. Why
didn’t he tell me?’

She did not reply.

If Flydd had that ability, why hadn’t he used it earlier?
They might have come directly here from Taranta, or the Range of Ruin for that
matter. And if Flydd had known all along – if he could have saved them at
the Range of Ruin but had chosen not to do so – it must prove that he was
up to no good.

What about Yulla? Was she planning to betray them both, or
did she hope to seize the chthonic fire if Flydd came back with it? She was a
master strategist who manipulated people without even thinking about it … and
Persia was her willing acolyte. He scowled at her but she was hunched over, her
shoulders shaking.

The light was growing rapidly now. ‘Time to go,’ Nish said
curtly, and climbed aboard. As Chissmoul lifted off, he sat down with his back
pressed up against the rear of the sleigh-shaped seat and held on to the base
of the frame.

‘It’s not safe there,’ said Persia. ‘You must go inside.’

‘I couldn’t give a damn whether it’s safe or not,’ he
gritted, so furious that he could not contain himself. ‘Go into the pen, where
you belong.’

A spasm passed across her face but Persia did not move. As
his bodyguard, she must remain by his side. She stood behind Chissmoul, holding
onto the back of the bench, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

She stared blindly ahead as the air-sled shot across the
city, her eyes watering in the wind. It passed low and fast over the square
where they had heard the announcement yesterday, and both wisp-watchers swung
to follow their path, as did the heads of the people already swarming there in
the cool of the morning.

No question but that we’ve been seen, Nish thought. This
gamble had better work.

‘Where to?’ said Chissmoul.

‘Fly west, straight as an arrow and at all possible speed,
for the Monastery of the Celestial Flame. Let no one who sees us be in any
doubt about our destination, nor the urgency of our quest.’

 
THIRTY-TWO

From the Great Library, Yggur, Tulitine and Maelys went
to Zile and equipped themselves for their coming journey, then travelled by
portal to the Aachim city of Stassor, which lay hidden within the glacier-woven
mountains several hundred leagues south of Roros.

Maelys stepped out of the portal onto flat ice. She faced a
series of snowy peaks across a broad valley, and an icy wind was blowing. They
had obtained mountain clothing in Zile, but even with her furs pulled tightly
around her it was miserably cold, and the thin air at this altitude was hard to
breathe.

‘Each portal takes more out of me than the one before,’ said
Yggur, swaying on his feet and pressing his forearm across his belly.

Maelys steadied him. ‘I thought the caduceus was doing the
work?’

‘It is, yet I feel as drained as if I had drawn power for
the mighty portal spell from within myself, and that’s strange.’

‘Is your aftersickness getting worse?’

He doubled up, groaning, and Maelys thought he was going to
vomit, but at length he straightened. ‘You could say that. Enough of my
troubles; turn around, look up and see the majesty of Stassor.’

The three of them turned together, and Tulitine said, with a
dry little cough, ‘Now that sight is worth any amount of pain.’

Maelys looked up, and up. Stassor was more astonishing than
she could have imagined, for it was set on a mountain-top that had been planed
off save for four upthrusting peaks framing the bottom corners of a vast white
cube, the city itself.

They were standing outside one of its lower corners and its
walls reflected the surrounding peaks; from a distance Stassor must have
blended into the snowy mountainscape. On closer inspection, the walls shimmered
like oil on water, while colours and patterns within a deeper layer were like
the play of colours in precious opal.

‘This way,’ said Yggur, walking to his left along the
platform, which appeared to be made of compressed ice and extended all along
the base of the city.

They proceeded to the middle of the wall, where the lower
part of the cube’s face was marked with a grid. As they approached, a dark line
divided the grid vertically into two halves, then each grid square separated
and rotated, revealing that they were the front faces of an array of cubes. The
glassy cubes drifted upwards and inwards, creating an opening through which
gushed a current of warm air.

Inside the opening stood a woman, rather taller than Maelys,
with several lingering touches of flame in her thick, silvery hair. Her eyes
were grey-green and her cheeks lined, though she had an air of wisdom about
her, of having lived long and seen much, that Maelys had not encountered
previously.

‘Hello,’ she said, when neither Yggur nor Tulitine spoke.
‘My name is Maelys, but you would never have heard of me. Are you Malien, by
any chance?’

‘I am,’ said Malien, extending her hand. Despite her age,
her grip was almost as firm as Yggur’s and her extraordinarily long fingers
wrapped right around the back of Maelys’s hand. ‘And I know of you.’

‘H-how could you?’ said Maelys.

‘Stassor isn’t at the end of the world. We hear the news
regularly, via skeet. How is my old friend, Nish?’

The pit of Maelys’s stomach dropped sharply. ‘He – he
fell on the Range of Ruin. And Flydd. At least – we’re afraid they were
swept away by a flood …’ With those intense grey-green eyes on her, Maelys
couldn’t think straight.

‘And you sighted their bodies?’ Malien said sharply.

Maelys saw in her mind’s eye the smashed and battered
corpses in the lower clearing, and felt ill all over again. ‘No; we couldn’t
get through the gorge. But I’m sure … how could they –?’

‘I won’t count Nish among the fallen until I have good
evidence that he is. I’ve known him too long for that. And as for Flydd
–’ Malien looked past Maelys towards Yggur and Tulitine. ‘But I am
discourteous, and if my fellow Aachim were here they would justly rebuke me.’

‘Hello, my lady,’ she said to Tulitine. ‘I am Malien, Matah
of the Aachim. The title is an honorary one,’ she explained, ‘but being Matah
frees me from the oppressive rituals and obligations of my people.’

‘Tulitine is my chosen name,’ she said, shivering despite
the mild breeze flowing from within, ‘yet if I were to tell you that my true
name is Liel and my father was Illiel –’

‘I saw Illiel within days of his birth, and held him in my
arms, though not his twin brother. Illiel was a fine scholar, as indeed was his
mother –’ Malien broke off.

‘The Numinator and I are estranged,’ said Tulitine bleakly.

‘The
Numinator
?’
Malien turned to Yggur. ‘No! Yggur, you knew Maigraith. Tell me it is not so.’

‘It is so,’ he said heavily. ‘I saw her just weeks ago, at
the Tower of a Thousand Steps. For nearly two hundred years Maigraith has been
the Numinator, and I fear that her obsession has driven her insane. If we might
go in – Tulitine is unwell.’

‘Come, come,’ said Malien, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry.
Lady, take my hand.’

‘I can manage, thank you,’ said Tulitine.

The moment they passed through the entrance, the cubular
door reassembled itself; Malien led them into a reception area to the right and
sat them down. From there they could see, through the glass walls, the majestic
eastern and southern mountains.

‘I’m sorry for keeping you waiting on the doorstep, Yggur,’
Malien said. ‘The old grow forgetful and neglect their manners.’

‘Since I am far older than you,’ said Yggur, shaking her
hand with both of his, ‘am I to take that as a reference to my own sad
decline?’

‘Not today. Have you come far? Are you hungry?’

‘Starving. We’ve come across the known world in space, but
only a blink in time. We have been at the Great Library. Lilis sends her best
wishes and hopes to see you when she retires.’

‘Dear Lilis,’ said Malien. ‘I still think of her as that
little waif I met back in the Time of the Mirror.’

‘Do you really?’ said Yggur. ‘I can’t say that I do.’

‘I’ll bring food and drink, if you will excuse me.’

‘You have no people here at all?’ Yggur looked surprised.

‘They’ve all gone to Faranda for another of their interminable
conclaves. We Aachim, or, rather, they, can debate a vital matter for years
without ever coming to a decision,’ she said to Maelys, and went out.

After they had dined, and admired the beauties of the
sunset, Malien said, ‘But the Matah is not like her fellow Aachim. To business!
You have come about Stilkeen’s proclamation.’

‘You saw it here, too?’

‘I believe the whole world did so.’

‘We also came to ask if you know anything about chthonic
fire, for Lilis did not,’ said Yggur.

‘Nor I,’ said Malien. ‘Not a whisper, though some of my kin
might.’

He told her about going to Noom and Mistmurk Mountain, and
showed her the two fire samples in the dimensionless boxes.

Malien stared at the fire and said solemnly, ‘Yalkara kept
that secret very well hidden, and little wonder. I cannot but see the grim
irony in her crime, and its outcome. As a mother who has also lost her
children, I feel for her.’

She glanced at the window, which, now darkness had fallen,
reflected the room, and added savagely, ‘But as an Aachim whose world was
stolen and whose ancestors were reduced to slavery, whose beloved Aachan was
destroyed because of the chthonic fire she stole and carelessly set free, I
wish her all the misery in the Three Worlds – and may Stilkeen consume her
after she sees the failure of all her hopes!’

Maelys gasped and shrank back in her seat, clutching at her
taphloid.

‘I have shocked you,’ said Malien, the fierceness fading.
‘But why should we not be bitter? We did nothing to offend the Charon before
they stole our world, and after thousands of years of slavery and suffering at
their hands, to hear that Yalkara’s criminal folly destroyed Aachan is more
than I can bear.’ She turned to Maelys. ‘I know something of your life; you too
have been stripped of all you held dear because of the greed or malice of
another. You must understand.’

‘I would not have when I left home, but half a year has
changed me immeasurably.’ The taphloid was hot now, and vibrating gently
against her chest; Maelys opened her hands to look at it.

‘Where did you get that?’ hissed Malien, rising to her feet.

‘My father gave it to me,’ said Malien, closing her hands
around it protectively.

‘I’m sorry, I did not mean to frighten you. May I see it?’

Maelys did not want to let go of it, but she could hardly
refuse.

Malien studied it carefully, opening and closing its
compartment, running her fingers over its smoothly curved surface and holding
it against her ear. Finally she laid it down on the table between them.

‘Did you know it was of Charon make?’ she said frostily.

‘C-Charon? No!’

‘Then how did you come by it?’

Maelys explained, and added, ‘How can you tell a Charon made
it?’

‘I have the gift of knowing,’ Malien said, but did not
elaborate. ‘And I also know where it came from. It was made by Kandor, the
least of the three Charon who dwelt on Santhenar.’

‘Kandor!’ Yggur cried, pushing himself to his feet.

‘Is something the matter?’

‘I recognised the taphloid the moment I held it in my hand
– yet I would swear I’ve never seen it before.’

‘When you held it in your hand?’ said Malien in a curious
voice.

Yggur told her what he’d heard and felt that day in the
clearing below the Range of Ruin, when he’d taken the taphloid towards the
caduceus. ‘And yet, when I looked down at it, I was surprised to discover how
small it was. I thought it was made by an Aachim.’

‘No, I’m sure Kandor built it, though I cannot say what
for.’

‘It’s surprising Yalkara did not recognise it,’ said Yggur.

‘She would have known it was Charon made but, after all this
time, perhaps it was of no interest to her.’

‘Could any of your people tell me about it?’

‘I expect so, but you’ll have to take it to Faranda. My
Stassor kin are there at the moment, at the city of Blemph, in the mountains
behind Nys.’

‘Then let us go to Blemph,’ said Yggur. ‘We can ask your kin
about chthonic fire at the same time.’ Getting up wearily, he raised the
caduceus.

‘You’ll have to use that outside,’ said Malien. ‘My people
would not want you to employ an unknown Art in their principal city. Besides, I’m
not sure it would work, given all the protections bound around this place.’

They returned to the platform of compressed ice, which lay
outside the protections. Malien showed Yggur where Blemph lay on a map, and
described the city to him, and they took hold of the caduceus.

No portal opened, and there was no sensation of movement at
all, though Yggur groaned and slipped to his knees. ‘It’s not working, though
it hurts as much as if I had made a portal. Malien …?’