Irisis entered, and the young man. His musky aroma unsettled her. They left the door open, flooding her with so many sensations that Ullii was helpless. Their feet thundered toward her; nothing could block the sound out.
Irisis bent over, her breath whooshing in and out, her heart like a great drum being pounded. Was Irisis going to torture her?
Irisis pounced, grabbing Ullii around the waist and lifting her easily. The seeker flailed her legs, letting out a shrill squeal, but could not take her hands away from her eyes to defend herself. The iron grip, the rough fabric pressed against her skin, were unbearable.
Irisis spoke to the man in booming notes that smashed together in Ullii’s mind. She had spoken softly before. Why did she want to hurt, now? The man answered, less loud, but Ullii could not make out what he was saying either. He was not kind after all.
Turning Ullii’s head to one side, Irisis said something in an urgent whisper. It sounded like ‘Now!’
Ullii felt an uncomfortable, hot feeling in her ear. Awful crackles, booms and bubbles reverberated through her head. Whatever was in her ear slowly cooled until she could not feel it at all. She felt dizzy. Where was up? Where down? She tried to claw the stuff out of her ear. Irisis held her hands. The sensations built up in her brain, echoing back and forth, feeding on themselves. It was the worst feeling of all, for it cut off the lattice – the only place she had ever been able to escape to.
Without warning, Irisis turned her over while the man poured the hot substance in her other ear. More crackles and booms as the stuff cooled, then for the first time in her life Ullii experienced absolute, blissful silence. It was so unprecedented that she stopped screaming and hung limply from Irisis’s arm with her hands over her eyes, exploring the sensation.
The man closed the door and unshuttered a lantern so it cast a faint light on the far wall. Irisis put Ullii down on her feet, holding her in an unbreakable grip. Ullii did not move. She no longer felt the desperate urge to curl up and rock. She stared at the pair through the cracks between her fingers, wondering.
‘Now what?’ said the man.
Ullii read his lips and turned to face him. Irisis must have spoken though Ullii did not see it.
‘My name is Cryl-Nish!’ said the man. ‘You can call me Nish, if you like.’ He was resigned to the nickname now.
‘Nisssshh!’ she whispered.
He reached out one hand, as she had done when he lay swooned on the floor. She did not withdraw. He grazed her hair with a fingertip, stroking down its length. The back of his hand came to her cheek, touching it gently. It felt rough, but kindly. A strange feeling, kindness. Something silky hung from his fingers. He stroked them up her face; the silk came with it. He put his hands over her hands. Aah, the smell of him; the touch! She drew her hands out. Her eyelashes fluttered against the palms of his hands. She felt that she might trust him after all, this unknown, nice-smelling man.
‘You smell good, Nish.’
His fingers urged the silk up over her eyes. She allowed him to. The light seeping between his fingers was cut off. Glorious, absolute dark descended. Ullii, wondering, allowed him to tie the mask at the back of her head. Nish stroked her face with his fingertips then backed away. Irisis let go too.
Instinctively, Ullii bent down to go into her crouch, but discovered that she did not need it. There was no light, no sound, no feeling but her feet on the floor and the touch of the mask over her eyes. The sensations that for the whole of her life had flooded her were gone.
The lattice was so much clearer now. The knots, she felt, would be so much easier to untangle. Her brain could think what she chose. Ullii sat down on the floor. A tear formed in one eye, then the other. Soon she was weeping floods for what she had never dared hope. The war in her mind was over. She was free of her prison at last.
Nish and Irisis stood watching, not saying a word. Ullii wept for a long time, then drooped, tilting forward until her forehead touched her hands, which rested on the floor. And in that strange position, bottom in the air, completely naked, she slept.
Nish went to cover Ullii with her clothes but Irisis shook her head. ‘Come outside. She’s used to sleeping like that, strange as it seems. We’ll come back later.’
Irisis closed the door and they went down to the refectory. ‘Hungry work!’ said Nish, selecting a bowl of lemon tea and another of pickled kumquats.
‘That was a brilliant idea, to fill her ears with wax. How did you think of it?’
‘I’m amazed no one else has. Lots of workers here wear goggles or earmuffs or gloves. It wasn’t until I was upside down over the cliff, with my bum hanging out and you leering at it, that I realised what she needed.’
‘It’s not my leers you need to worry about,’ she said cheerfully. ‘You should have seen the looks Muss was giving you.’
‘More than looks, as he was getting me down,’ Nish said sourly. ‘He felt me up something severe. You might have stopped him!’
‘I was holding the pole,’ she said.
‘So was he!’
Irisis burst out laughing. ‘Maybe that will teach you to mend your ways and treat the unfortunate more kindly. You know, I wonder about Muss.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Something he said. I don’t think he’s as stupid as he seems.’
‘He couldn’t be.’
‘Still, I’m going to keep an eye on him.’
‘You can’t think he’s the spy?’ She did not answer, so he went on, ‘We’d better make something more permanent for Ullii.’
That took a day. It was simple work for an artificer to design and make a pair of lightweight goggles that completely covered her eyes. He had the glassblower tint glass until it was almost black and cut two round plates from it to fit the frames. Nish tested the goggles by looking at the sun, which became the faintest glowing disc. Every part that would touch her skin he padded with silk. He also made a pair of padded muffs to go over her ears, in case the wax irritated her.
Irisis was also busy, though she did not say what she was doing. Nish was conscious that the time was fleeting by, and of the sentence they both were under.
They checked on Ullii every few hours. She slept for most of the day. Later they found her walking back and forth talking to herself, wearing her silk shirt but not the trousers.
‘She must have been cold,’ Irisis said as they went out again. ‘In an hour or two she’ll throw it off again.’
That night he went to Irisis’s workshop to see what she had been up to. She was holding a pair of trousers up to the light. They were made of a fine fabric with the faintest blue iridescence that swirled and shimmered as she moved it in the light.
‘And to think I’ve been working,’ he sniffed.
‘And I haven’t?’
‘A bit small for you, I would have thought. Ah, the vanity of the woman!’
‘They’re for Ullii, fool!’ She held them up. ‘What do you think?’
She tossed them to him. They slipped through his fingers as if coated in oil.
‘Careful, Nish!’
‘They’re beautiful!’ He picked them up. They were made of the softest, silkiest fabric he’d ever felt. ‘How did you make them?’
‘Uncle Barkus had some reels of spider-silk in his storeroom. He’d got it for some project or other but never used it. I had the master weaver make cloth from it and I’ve made Ullii two complete sets of clothing. She can wear it next to her skin, and ordinary clothes on top.’
‘Spider-silk?’
‘From the deathwatch spider. It’s the softest thread in the world, but many times stronger than silk. I defy anyone to tear it.’
‘And you think Ullii will wear it?’
‘She’ll have to. She can’t go marching across the mountains in the nuddy.’
‘Who said she would be?’
‘How else are we going to track Tiaan down?’
TWENTY-ONE