Alchymist

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.'

Sixty-three

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.