Troist gave his last order as a general, that everyone was to be fed from the army’s stores, and the town brought out long-hoarded delicacies from its larders. Tables and trestles were set up, and when the meal was ready the entire town took their seats in the square. It was no feast, but the fare was better than most people had tasted in long years. The mayor fetched barrels from his cellar and ladled wine into jugs.
After the speeches were over, and congratulations and gifts had been accepted from the notables of Ashmode, the companions sat down together for the last time before they went their separate ways. They were twelve now: Yggur opposite Irisis, Flydd opposite Nish, Gilhaelith opposite Tiaan, Merryl opposite Troist, Malien opposite Flangers – who’d walked for a week to rejoin the army after Gilhaelith abandoned him in Tacnah – and Fyn-Mah facing Klarm. Flydd set Golias’s globe on the table in front of them, covered with a cloth. Perhaps he was afraid of losing it as well.
The jugs of wine were distributed. Yggur and Klarm splashed it into the mugs and Yggur rose, raising his drink high. ‘To peace,’ he said.
They stood up and everyone in the square did the same. ‘To peace!’ they roared.
‘To a future without the lyrinx,’ said Yggur. Another roar.
‘Or scrutators!’
The roar dwarfed the others, though Flydd only pretended to drink this time. In the end, he was only a man, and after giving his all for the world, the world had cut him down.
When the toasts were done, Flydd downed half his mug and gagged. ‘Ah, that’s like chewing on an anteater’s tail. I knew I should have sat at the mayor’s table, rather than down here with the rabble.’ He shrugged, sank the rest and poured himself another. He looked along the table. ‘You’ve been a great company, and I’ll cherish our comradeship to the end of my days. But it seems to be drawing to a close. What are your plans, my friends? Irisis?’
Tiaan saw that Nish was gazing at Irisis with a hungry look in his eye, but Irisis was looking anywhere but at him.
‘I never thought I’d survive the war – in fact I was sure I wouldn’t. But now it’s over, I’m going to be a jeweller, of course. It’s what I’ve dreamed about since I was a little girl …’ She looked up at the sky, around the table and down again.
‘And …?’ said Flydd, grinning broadly. The whole table was smiling, apart from Nish, who had an anguished look on his face.
He has no idea, Tiaan thought. Irisis was right; Nish really is the thickest man on Santhenar. Please put him out of his misery.
‘I never dared to love openly, but now I can. Nish is going to be my man, of course.’ Irisis pulled him to her and kissed him on the mouth in front of everyone, and Nish could not restrain his tears this time.
‘What about you, surr?’ Irisis said after a decent interval of congratulations, and more toasts with the truly awful wine.
‘I’ll write the Histories of the war. I want to make sure my version is recorded … you know how it is.’ Flydd glanced at Fyn-Mah and smiled. ‘And then, I think, an honourable retirement. Perhaps a cottage and a garden full of flowers.’
Nish had recovered sufficiently to choke into his wine cup. ‘Retirement and flowers? You?’
Flydd scowled down his battered nose. ‘And why not?’ he snapped, before turning to Tiaan. ‘What will you do now, Artisan?’
‘I’m going home to Tiksi,’ she said. ‘To find my mother.’
‘And then?’
‘I don’t know.’ Tiaan looked slantwise across the table at Nish, who was staring into Irisis’s eyes again. She looked away. ‘I’ll find work somewhere. I don’t suppose the manufactory will need artisans any more, but someone will.’
‘What then?’ Flydd persisted.
She hesitated. ‘I’d like to find a mate, and have children. I never had a proper family, but in spite of Marnie I –’
‘Marnie?’ said Merryl, staring at her. He half-rose from his seat. ‘Marnie who?’
‘Marnie Liise-Mar,’ said Tiaan. She pushed back her chair, and her scalp felt as if it had been rubbed with a chunk of ice.
‘Tiaan?’ he whispered, as if he had never heard the name before. ‘Your name is Liise-Mar?’
‘Yes. Marnie is my mother.’
‘Why did I not know?’ Merryl cried. ‘My daughter – my precious, precious daughter.’
As she stared at his familiar yet entirely new face, a single tear ran down her cheek. ‘Father?’
He walked around the table towards her. She ran and threw herself into his arms, sobbing for sheer joy.
‘All my life I’ve been searching for you, Merryl, Father. I’ve never forgiven Marnie for sending you off to the front-lines to die.’
‘I forgave her many years ago. It was a man’s duty to serve and I didn’t go unwillingly. I often think of her …’
‘But you can’t go back to her after what she did to you?’ she cried.
‘I don’t expect anything of her, after all this time,’ he said. ‘Marnie was young and foolish, and so was I, but I do want to see her again. She was so slim, so beautiful. Rather like you, Tiaan.’
‘She’s fat!’ said Tiaan. ‘Fat but still beautiful.’
‘And I’m aged beyond my years and lack a hand. And my only skill is to speak a language that no one on Santhenar uses. Tell me about her.’
‘I’m the oldest of fifteen children, all with different fathers. All my brothers and sisters are living, the last I heard. All clever and hardworking, too.’
‘Marnie was a very clever woman,’ he said. ‘She just chose not to use it the way other people wanted her to.’
‘Father,’ said Tiaan, and the word sounded strange in her ears. ‘What is your name? I tried to find you in the Tiksi bloodline register but I couldn’t read the writing.’
‘I’m Amante Merrelyn, though I’ve not used my name in twenty years.’
‘Merrelyn,’ said Xervish Flydd. ‘I thought you looked familiar.’
‘Amante,’ she said, rolling the name around on her tongue. ‘Amante.’
‘It’s too grand for the man I am now. Merryl fits me much better.’
‘How come you didn’t know my name?’ said Tiaan.
‘You hadn’t been named when I was sent to the war. I thought about my daughter all the time, and it was hard, without a name.’
‘I never liked using her name. For twenty years I’ve just been Tiaan.’
‘I knew your parents, Merryl,’ said Flydd.
‘They both had a gift for languages,’ said Merryl. ‘More than a gift – a talent bolstered by the Art. They travelled the world with kings and governors, and even scrutators.’
‘They were among the greatest translators of the age,’ said Flydd. ‘A tragedy that they were lost so young.’
‘It was, but at least they passed their talent to me.’
‘Perhaps that’s why you’re the only person ever to master the lyrinx tongue.’
‘It’s not much use to me now,’ said Merryl.
‘You never know,’ said Flydd. ‘By the time you’ve written down all you know about the lyrinx and the war, for the Histories, you’ll be an old man …’ He looked up at the sky. ‘What’s that? Irisis, you’ve got the best eyes here.’
She stood up, shading her eyes with her left hand. ‘It looks like an air-dreadnought, though with three airbags instead of five. A big flat one, and two smaller ones underneath.’
A cloud passed in front of the sun and the breeze bit into Tiaan’s bare arms, reminding her that winter, even this far north, was not far away.
‘I wonder who it could be?’ said Nish.
‘More governors coming to carve up the world, now we’ve won it for them,’ said Flydd, again with that hint of bitterness. ‘The news went out by farspeaker as soon as the lyrinx began to go through the gate. They’ll be going to the conclave on the other side of town.’ He filled his mug again and they took up their cutlery.
But Flydd was wrong. The air-dreadnought came up slowly and began to circle the square. Tiaan laid down her fork. The craft was huge, nearly twice the size of the air-dreadnoughts that had attacked Fiz Gorgo. Its airbags came to triple points at the front and were painted vermilion with threatening jags of black. The suspended vessel had triple rotors at its broad, rectangular stern, each more than two spans across.