‘I tried too hard. I knew I was the best, for I had been doing tricks since I could walk. But I wanted it too much, and I was too anxious. I could feel the talent, deep down somewhere, but I just could reach it. I began to think that I never would, and that was that. The harder I tried the further the talent receded. I lost it that day and never found it again. It taught me a good lesson,’ she ended bitterly. ‘Don’t give yourself, and don’t care too much. About anything!’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Nish. ‘What did you lose?’
‘The ability to tap the field. I can see it as well as anyone. I can visualise how to draw power from it, and the precise sub-ethyric path it must take. But when I try, nothing happens.’
‘What did you do?’
‘The only thing a pretty little girl could do. I burst into tears. Mother yelled at uncle and there was a huge fuss, everyone blaming everyone else. My father gave me a special gift. Mother put the hedron in my hands and did a trick with it, saying it was me. She froze the flowers in the vase so hard that when she tapped them they shattered like glass. The adults clapped, my cousins scowled, my big sister punched me when no one was looking, and everyone went home. I learned two good lessons that day. To use my beauty, and to lie! My family would not hear the truth so I kept lying. I even learned to fool my mother. It wasn’t hard; she wanted to be fooled.
‘I got by here easily enough. It was easy to trick Uncle Barkus, and I was so good with my hands that no one considered I was incapable of drawing power. Lying and cheating served me well, as a workshop girl, then as a prentice. Once I became an artisan it was even easier. I had the other artisans and prentices do the work I could not, under the guise of teaching them their craft. I have a rare talent for teaching, born out of desperation. When that fails, I fly into a rage, or use my womanhood. I hate myself, Nish, but I can’t go back. I live in terror that I’ll be exposed.’
Nish put his arms around her but she pulled away.
‘The examiner seduced me at my eleventh-year examination,’ she continued. ‘I allowed him to; I could see no other way to avoid discovery. At the examination when I was sixteen, I seduced the examiner for the same reason. I did it subtly though. I used my wiles to give the impression of vast ability, and a family destiny, tempered by a charming smallness of confidence.
‘When all other avenues failed I was not afraid to humble myself. I would go to the crafter, or the examiner, and explain what it was I did not understand, or what I could not solve. I was quite brilliant at leading them through it step by step, with my bosom heaving and tears of frustration quivering on my lashes, so they thought they were drawing my knowledge out of me. I know it all, as well as Tiaan does, but I just can’t do it!
‘It worked perfectly until Uncle Barkus died, leaving me and Tiaan as the senior artisans, and not much in terms of experience between us. A problem came up that I could not solve. I tried to work Tiaan the way I had manipulated uncle, but she was too smart and too impatient. She simply told me what to do and waited for me to do it. I had the most agonising moment of humiliation, sitting there with the hedron in my hands and her staring at me expectantly. Of course I could not do it. I thanked her, made my face into a mask, and fled.
‘Fortunately she went to see her mother and was snowed in for a week. By the time she returned I’d taught another artisan to do what I could not do myself. I never approached Tiaan again. She did not ask how I solved the problem, though I knew she hadn’t forgotten. I was sure she suspected my incompetence and I’ve hated her ever since. That’s why I had to get rid of her. I knew she would expose me, eventually. Horrible, aren’t I?’
‘How would you have survived as crafter?’ said Nish.
‘It would have been easy.’ A smile crept into her voice. ‘I’d have hired artisans with the skills I lacked, ones I could control. People who did not ask questions; who were creative but lacked ambition. I can manage people, and I know exactly what’s required. I just can’t do it.’
‘Why not do that with the seeker?’
‘Tracking the Secret Art is a new problem and it needs a brilliant, creative mind. I have no idea how to solve it and the other artisans won’t either. If Tiaan was here I would simply turn it over to her …’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘Ironic, isn’t it?’
He did not reply. She blew out the lamp. He drifted into sleep, Irisis back to her despair. Why had she confessed? Nish was as much an opportunist as she was. He would denounce her to gain credit for himself. There was only one way out. She eased her feet to the floor, trying not to disturb him.
‘Where are you going, Irisis?’
‘Nowhere. For the rest of my life!’
His groping hand caught her wrist. Irisis jerked away but he did not let go, so her heave pulled him out of the bed. His head struck the corner of the cupboard and Nish let out a shriek.
Footsteps came running down the corridor. The door was thrust open. A lantern dazzled her eyes. She made out the portly figure of Jal-Nish. Other faces appeared.
‘What’s going on here?’ snapped the perquisitor. ‘What have you done to my son?’ He seized her arm.
Nish rubbed his head. A trickle of blood seeped from under the bandage on his throat. She held her breath, waiting for him to betray her. She had no doubt that he would, for Irisis judged other people by her own standards. Nish was out for what he could get and she was in his way.
‘Well?’ raged Jal-Nish. ‘Move, woman! Let me get to him.’
Nish got to his feet, shakily, and subsided on the edge of the bed. He gave Irisis an ambiguous glance. She steeled herself.
‘I can solve my own problems, thank you, father.’
‘You can’t!’ Jal-Nish said curtly. ‘That’s increasingly evident.’
Nish supported himself on the cupboard. Looking his father in the eye, he hardened his downy jaw. ‘It was just a lovers’ tiff and I don’t need you to sort it out. Get out of my life, father!’
Jal-Nish looked as if he had been struck across the face. It was the first time any of his children defied him. Then he nodded, reached down and hauled Irisis to her feet. ‘Get back to your workshop. Time’s wasting.’
‘She stays!’ Nish snapped.
Irisis looked from one to the other. What was Nish up to?
‘We are working together on your problem,’ Nish said.
‘It has nothing to do with you, Cryl-Nish,’ said Jal-Nish.
‘I am an artificer. I know how to make things; I know how to talk to people; I know many languages. Together Irisis and I will learn how to communicate with the seeker and solve your problem, father.’
The perquisitor’s face became unreadable. He frowned, nodded and withdrew, pulling the door shut. Nish lit the lamp with trembling hands, but had to sit down. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat.
Irisis did not move. ‘Why did you say that?’
‘What did you expect me to do?’
‘To tell him the truth,’ she said simply. ‘Let’s not delude each other, Cryl-Nish. I’m not a nice person and neither are you.’
‘Maybe so but if there’s one lesson from my childhood I did take to heart, it’s loyalty to my family, and my friends!’
Irisis choked, and tried to muffle it with her hand. Friendship had played little part in her life. Her dealings had always been ‘use more than you are being used’. Friendship was a weakness other people were afflicted with. She had never understood it.