'It must have been her going down!' Nish exclaimed.
'Could have been,' Lex said grudgingly. 'Or someone else.'
'You've got to take me down. At once!'
'Not allowed,' said Lex. 'Got no miner's ticket.'
'I'm ordering you in the querist's name.'
Lex was unmoved. 'Can't do it, even on her authority.'
'Then find someone who can!' Nish snapped.
'Should've been two hundred lashes,' Lex said to his face. 'Obnoxious little turd!' Nonetheless, he ambled over to a board beside the lift and pulled a rope twice, then twice more. A bell rang faintly in the depths. Before too long the upper bell replied and the rope began to move. A basket appeared, and in it a small wizened figure, lethargically winding the handle.
He stopped below the floor with a jerk that made the basket wobble on the cable. 'Wassamatta?'
'Flyn, Artificer Nish-Nash needs to be taken down to the fifth level. He's looking for Joe and Tiaan.'
Nish ground his teeth. He hated that nickname more than anything.
'Is he now?' Flyn made a hawking sound in his throat and spat, the gob landing next to Nish's boot. 'Ain't seen 'em. Take him down to the ninth level, if you like.'
'What's on the ninth level?' Nish asked nervously.
'Water, mostly,' said Lex. 'He's on the querist's business, Flyn.'
The man's face closed, the hostility submerged. 'What about my quota?' he said in a nasal whine.
'I'm sure you'll get a credit from Gi-Had,' Nish said. He did not know if that was true, and did not care either. 'Shall we go?'
'Shall we go?' Flyn mimicked in a sing-song voice. 'Jump in then.'
Nish blanched. The basket was nearly a span below him, and the opening looked tiny compared to the yawning hole of the shaft. If he missed… Not even to save face could he do it.
'Bring it up,' he said, and the quaver in his voice made Flyn snigger. The miner exchanged glances with Lex, who was also grinning. Damn them both, if he ever had power over them. 'Come on. All the way!'
Lex fiddled with a lever as Flyn wound the bucket to the surface. Nish climbed in, hanging grimly onto the rope. 'Hurry up!' he snarled to conceal his unease. 'The querist's business can't wait.'
Flyn winked at Lex, very obviously, then lifted one hand, which held a miner's hammer. He swung it hard and low. Nish flinched, thinking the man was trying to cripple him, but the head whizzed by, knocking the brake right off. The bucket dropped, leaving Nish's stomach halfway up his throat.
He choked, drew a deep breath, and screamed his heart out. In the darkness he could hear Flyn's roars of laughter.
They flashed past lighted openings, one after another, going faster and faster. Nish was steeling himself for the shattering finale when the basket slowed. The fourth level went by, they slowed rapidly and drifted to a stop directly opposite the fifth level. Lex had put the brake on, up top. Nish had been taken in by a trick to terrorise apprentices and unwanted visitors.
A lighted lantern stood in the entrance. Nish gave Flyn a look of purest hatred, which was returned with bland indifference. Miners were a rebellious lot, contemptuous of any authority but their own. If I'm ever perquisitor, he thought, I'll put the curb on them.
Small chance of that. There was a long way to go to avoid the army, much less be reinstated as a lowly prober. Putting his dreams of power and revenge aside, Nish tried to conquer his claustrophobia and failed miserably. 'Where can we find Joeyn?'
Taking up the lantern, Flyn stumped off down the tunnel. He was even shorter than Nish. Most of the miners were small, wiry and old. Nish followed, shuddering at the weight of rock above.
Joeyn was not at the place he usually worked, nor in any of the other tunnels Flyn knew about. Nish studied the crystals in their veins and cavities, wondering how the old miner knew which ones to collect. They all looked the same to him. They ended up searching the entire fifth level, which took many hours and several refillings of Flyn's lantern. There was no trace of Joeyn or Tiaan. Nish could tell that his guide was worried by the time they got back in the basket. Flyn rang the bell and wound them up to the main level.
Even after all this time, Nish was nowhere near conquering his claustrophobia, and it was with the greatest relief that he saw the wheel come into view, and the lighted entrance to the mine. It was morning. They'd searched all night.
A crowd near the entrance headed toward him as the basket stopped.
'No sign of him,' Flyn called.
'Nor in the higher levels,' a young miner said quietly. 'We'd better go down to six.'
Nish climbed onto the edge of the basket, caught his foot, and almost went head first down the shaft. A big man dragged him to safety. Nish's knees would no longer hold him up.
A dozen pairs of boots came toward him, then stopped. He looked up. The querist was there, Overseer Gi-Had, and many others he recognised. They parted and a short, round man came through. Nish's heart almost stopped. How could he have gotten here so quickly? He must have travelled night and day for two weeks.
'Get up!' said Perquisitor Jal-Nish, his father. His voice sounded like the ore-grinding mill in the manufactory.
Nish levered himself to his feet and stood before his father. Jal-Nish was no more than forty, a good-looking man, for all that he had short legs like hams and a belly as round as a ball. He was taller than Nish, the one thing his son could never forgive him for. The perquisitor had a proud, arching nose; a neatly trimmed beard thrust perkily forward from his chin. His dark hair was thick and his eyes had a twinkle for everyone except those he interrogated. He could be a charming man when things were going well, though he had a ruthless streak.
There was no twinkle as he examined his son. No allowances would be made, Nish knew. His father was not that kind of man.
'Well?' said Jal-Nish.
'We've searched the entire fifth level. There's not a trace of her.'
'What about her friend?'
'No sign of Joeyn either.'
Jal-Nish's wide mouth curved down in a bloodless slash. 'You moron, Nish! I'm going to be scrutator one day, and not even your stupidity will stand in my way. It's the front-line for you, son!'
S IXTEEN
Nish was interrogated by Jal-Nish and Fyn-Mah. It was like being whipped all over again, only worse. His father was coldly angry, Fyn-Mah reserved and efficient. Once, though, Nish noticed her staring out the window, clearly thinking about something else. She looked sad. What was it about her?
Later he was questioned together with Irisis, which he found even less comfortable. Twice she lied to his father with a completely straight face, then glared at Nish as if daring him to betray her. Irisis did not seem to care. It was as if she had a death wish.
She had admitted to harassing Tiaan, including planting the page from her journal and stealing her method of blocking the aura of controllers. Irisis flatly denied any of the other crimes with which she had been charged. Was she innocent, or would she, as before, only admit to a crime once it was proven against her? Nish rather suspected that she was guilty, and under interrogation he was forced to reveal that he doubted her. Irisis did not react to that either.
As the interrogation went on, Jal-Nish grew more and more frustrated. 'She must be the spy,' Nish overheard him whisper to Fyn-Mah during a break in the proceedings. 'I've a good mind to put her in the Irons, to be sure.'
He meant a form of torture so hideous that it was rarely used even on the most recalcitrant of prisoners. Nish was shocked. If it came to that, he could not stand by.
'I wouldn't advise it, unless you're certain she's guilty,' said Fyn-Mah. 'Her mother is an old friend of the scrutator.'
'No, no,' Jal-Nish said hurriedly. 'We won't go down that path.'
He kept Nish and Irisis up all night, then sent them to the mine to help with the search. Nish, staggering along behind Fyn in a lather of pain and claustrophobia, did not even think of escaping. One fate worse than the front-line, in this world where everyone had their place, was to become an outlaw with no hope of rehabilitation.