‘I am Tiaan,’ she shouted back. Her own voice sounded shrill, and timid. ‘I made the device that brought you here to safety.’
‘Awry!’ he roared.
Tiaan took an involuntary step backwards.
‘You made the zyxibule awry. You changed left for right. Everything is the mirror of its true order. Because of your stupidity, many of our number are lost in the void.’ He choked back a sob. ‘You utter fool. My clan has been wiped out.’
Horror shivered through her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, recalling the cries, the wails, the agony numbered ten thousand times. ‘I’m dreadfully sorry. I made it exactly as was shown me!’
‘You insult the memory of our dead. Dare not to make excuses for your incompetence!’
Tiaan caught her breath. ‘I followed your instructions exactly. If left hand and right hand are different on your world, why did you not tell me?’
‘You should have checked!’ He was as bitter as venom.
She felt like a prentice before an angry master, but here there were twenty-four thousand of them. ‘I called, as I was instructed. You did not answer, as you promised. Besides, you knew how the gate was before you left Aachan. I heard you say so. You snatched it out of my control to benefit your own clan. You made it go wrong.’
‘How dare you challenge me! I am Vithis of Clan Inthis, First Clan of Aachan! Bow down when you speak to me. Do humans lack all respect for their betters?’
She bit back her angry words. The man was out of his mind with grief. She hoped the other Aachim were not all like him. She was not going to bow, though.
‘Where is Minis, my lover?’
‘Lover?’ he said incredulously. ‘Move out of my way.’
‘I have saved your people,’ she said, ‘at no little cost to myself and my own kind. Many of us died that you might live, and you show no gratitude. Is this the kind of people you are? I would speak to Minis.’
Another man, shorter and older, eased the first out of the way. ‘We are indeed grateful, Tiaan,’ said Luxor.
Tirior stood beside him. Luxor’s hair was iron-grey. Tirior’s was as black as Tiaan’s, but curly, and her face was darker.
‘I am Luxor,’ said the man, ‘of Clan Izmak.’
‘And I, Tirior of Clan Nataz,’ the woman said. ‘We are clan leaders of the Aachim, on this excursion second only to Vithis. Do not take his bitter words to heart, Tiaan. He has just seen his clan extinguished – every child, every woman, every man. Please allow for his anguish.’
Tiaan bowed her head.
‘Ask what reward you will,’ said Luxor, ‘and we will gladly pay it.’
‘I ask for no reward,’ Tiaan said. ‘I did not aid you in hope of gain.’ Apart from Minis.
‘Nobly spoken,’ said Tirior. ‘You have done the Aachim a service that we will never forget. May we see the amplimet, Tiaan? Such a thing none of us have ever set eyes on.’
Did they plan to take it from her? They were armed for war and she could not stop them. Besides, she wanted to build bridges, not raise barriers.
‘It’s back there, in the room with the hole in the wall.’ She pointed.
‘Leave it!’ growled Vithis. ‘It is corrupted now and no use to anyone.’
‘But …’ said Tirior.
‘Remember the accursed Mirror of Aachan!’ he raged. ‘This crystal will prove just as treacherous if ever we touch it.’
‘I did so want to see it,’ Tirior said wistfully. ‘I have made a study of such things.’
‘We must move swiftly!’ Vithis rapped out. ‘While we have the advantage.’
‘But this is Tirthrax!’ cried Tirior. ‘It is the greatest city we ever made. My clan ancestors built this place.’
‘They were enemies of First Clan!’ snapped Vithis.
‘That is a long time ago,’ said Tirior. ‘Most of our people are now dying on Aachan. Others have been lost in the void. We are all that remain of our kind and we cannot afford division. I have to see the city and learn why it has been abandoned.’
‘There is no time! The mancers of this world must be shuddering at the power liberated here. Already they will be mobilising their forces. What if they are looking for us now? As leader of the Eleven Clans,’ he choked back a cry of anguish, ‘I say we go at once.’
‘Very well,’ said Tirior, ‘but we will deal honourably with Tiaan first. Minis, come up.’
A young man climbed onto the platform of the central construct, the others drawing back to give him room. Tiaan feasted her eyes on him. Minis was tall, but not too tall; well built, though not extravagantly so. His dark hair fell in waves about his ears. His cheeks were thinner than she remembered, but his brow just as noble, his lips as ripe.
‘Minis!’ Tiaan called. ‘I came as I promised. I have travelled halfway across the world to bring you here.’ She threw out her arms to him.
He stared at her unmoving, as if he had no idea who she was. Tiaan went cold inside. But perhaps he was too reserved to show it before so many people.
‘Minis. You said that you cared for me.’ She dared not use the word ‘love’, not now. ‘I have a gift for you.’ Feeling in her scrip she drew the ring out. Running forward until she was just a few spans from the construct, she held it up. ‘Minis, I made this ring with my own hands.’
She fell silent. It was a beautiful thing, but greater beauty lay all around, in the constructs and in Tirthrax. Everything the Aachim made was beautiful. She felt her own artisan’s skills were meagre, her ring a rustic token that would embarrass him.
Minis smiled and put out his own arms. His fingers were remarkably long, an Aachim characteristic. The pupils of his eyes were oval.
‘Tiaan, my love,’ he cried, his voice as ringing as Vithis’s, but warmer. ‘For a minute I did not recognise you. Indeed I promised, and I keep my promises.’
‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense!’ cried Vithis, pushing through. ‘Look what a shabby little wretch she is. This is not what I raised you for, foster-son. You are my sole heir now and I cannot allow it. Toss her a bag of platinum and be done with her.’
‘But Vithis, foster-father – ’
‘We were slaves on our own world for thousands of years, foster-son. No sooner did we gain our freedom than our world died on us. History has used us ill. Never more will we be slaves! My clan died that we might stand here today, and if we are to take this world we cannot afford to lose anyone. Especially not you, Minis! You are all I have left. Together we must create Clan Inthis anew.’
Minis’s extended fingers, which had touched the ring, drew back.
Tiaan’s hand fell to her side. She could think of nothing to say. Had she given her all to be treated so badly?
‘Tiaan!’ cried Minis. ‘We’re not like that. Please believe me, Tiaan.’ He tried to get down but Vithis held him back.
‘Don’t grovel, boy. We are Aachim and we have a world to make our own.’
‘Please foster-father.’
Vithis tossed a bag to the floor. It clinked as it landed. ‘A bag of platinum for your service, Tiaan.’
‘Damn you!’ she raged. ‘You can’t buy me.’
Minis had scrambled down the side of the construct and hung there, one foot on the rung, the other in the air. ‘Tiaan –’
‘Come back, boy,’ grated Vithis. ‘Put one foot on the floor and you are Aachim no longer.’
‘But foster-father. Honour –’
‘Honour demands that you stand by your own. We cannot do without anyone, but especially not you.’
Minis hesitated, and for the first time she realised that he was not strong at all. He wanted to please everybody.
‘We’re outnumbered a thousand to one,’ Vithis said softly, ‘We need you, Minis.’
Minis hung on the rung, his face anguished. Tiaan prayed. Surely he could not refuse her after all she’d done, and suffered, for him. Their eyes met. There was such terrible yearning in his. He did love her, she knew it. He must!