The following morning found them back at their starting point. Ullii had knocked off her mask while sleeping and was woken by Nyg-Gu slamming in with her breakfast, leaving the door wide open. Ullii let out a screech, whereupon Nyg-Gu, frightened, slapped her. The seeker went into a screaming fit in which she clawed out her earplugs. By the time Nish, who had heard the screaming from the other side of the manufactory, arrived, Ullii had gone catatonic. Nyg-Gu was shaking her and roaring abuse. Before he could drag the servant out, a hundred workers were crowded around the door, all talking loudly, staring and making rude remarks about the naked madwoman.
‘Get them away from here,’ Nish yelled as Irisis came running up.
‘What are you going to do?’ she said, breathless.
‘I don’t know!’ Pushing the people away from the door, he closed and bolted it. As he stood there in the dark he heard his father’s voice.
‘I’ve had this!’ said Jal-Nish. ‘It’s a damn waste of time. I knew you’d fail.’
‘We haven’t had the chance to show you what we’ve done,’ came a honeyed voice, the one Irisis used to get her way with men. ‘This time tomorrow you’ll be amazed.’
‘Oh, all right!’ he said angrily. ‘But …’
They moved away; Nish did not hear the rest. ‘Ullii,’ he said in the softest voice he was capable of. There was no reply but he could hear her rocking, humming to herself. He went back and forth across the floor until he found the mask. He discovered the earplugs when they crunched underfoot. The racket outside had stopped.
He could make her out now, right in the corner. Nish went forward, slowly but not creeping. He had the feeling that creeping might alarm her. ‘Ullii,’ he whispered. ‘I have your mask. Do you want it?’ He held it out.
She rocked faster than ever. Her eyes were tightly closed.
‘Ullii, here!’ Reaching out with exquisite care, he touched her cheek with the back of one finger.
Faster she rocked. He was amazed she did not topple over. As he touched her, she made a keening noise in her throat. He backed off.
‘Ullii? Can you see me? In your mind’s eye?’
She shook her head. Nish squatted back on his heels, rubbing his jaw. She stiffened. Having not shaved in several days, there was enough soft stubble to make a rasping noise.
‘Can you smell me?’
The keening stopped. Nish was sure he saw a fleeting smile. Maybe that was the key. She’d mentioned his smell earlier.
‘What do I smell like, Ullii?’
Again that smile. ‘Nice!’ she said softly, mimicking his voice. ‘You smell like a kind man – musk and spice, metal and oil.’
He was flattered but knew he’d made a breakthrough. If she judged people by the way they smelt, it might be a way into her confidence. He found that he liked her. He also wanted to see what she looked like in the light. The brief glimpses he’d had were tantalising.
He rubbed the mask over his face, then inside his shirt in sweeping curves. Taking it out again, Nish sniffed it. It had no smell that he could detect.
He extended his arm, mask in hand, toward her face. She smiled, snatched it and brought it to her face, sniffing like a dog. A barely audible sigh escaped. Ullii put the mask over her eyes, gave another sigh, and tried to tie it at the back. The mask fell off. She tried again with the same result.
Ullii whimpered. Nish’s fingers found hers, she drew them to her nose, sniffed deeply, then allowed him to tie on the mask. Her fingers followed every movement of his. When it was done she pushed his hands away, tore off the mask and tied it herself, giving a little chuckle when she succeeded at the first attempt.
Nish sat back on his haunches, wondering what she would do next. Had he made a lot of progress, or none at all? She squatted along the wall, just an arm’s length away. He sensed her alertness, her curiosity, but also the barely suppressed terror of being hurt again. How could he convince her otherwise in time to save himself?
He thought about his own troubles, particularly the threat of being sent to the front-lines. Giving a little whimper, he began to rock back and forth. It was partly feigned, but only partly. The whimper expressed how he felt, alone in his personal darkness.
Ullii turned her head.
He kept rocking, sure she was investigating him with her strange senses. What would Ulli do now? That was all that mattered.
She reached out ever so tentatively, touched his cheek with a fingertip and swiftly withdrew it. He sighed. She went still, her head cocked to one side. Then Ullii rubbed her hands over her face, through her hair and across her breasts and belly. She extended her fingers toward him till they were cupped under his nose.
A tiny miracle. She was offering him her trust, that she had never offered to anyone. He sniffed her fingers. Ullii had barely any smell, for after the mancer’s dungeon she’d developed a compulsion for washing and would do it as much as a dozen times a day. She just smelt pleasant, and faintly creamy. He pressed his nose into the cup of her hand.
Nish sighed, and smiled, and raised his head. She withdrew her hand, brought it back palm outward and urged him away. Taking the hint, he went softly to the door. There was a long way to go but at least they were on the road.
As he lifted the latch, but before the door opened, she said quietly, ‘I will wear your mask, Nish. I will help you find her.’
‘Thank you,’ he whispered back.
In the artisans’ workshop he told Irisis all that had happened, scarcely able to contain his glee. ‘I’ve done it!’ he concluded. ‘She trusts me. She said she would help find Tiaan!’
Irisis was not quite as pleased as he’d expected, and she positively scowled at the sniffing episodes. ‘Like a dog and bitch on heat!’ she snapped. ‘Let’s get to work.’
They began with the goggles, which were as light a pair as Nish could manufacture, large oval lenses framed with wire and filled in all around with beaten silver. The arms hooked around Ulli’s ears like a pair of spectacles.
She fitted them over her eyes, tentatively, walked across the room and back, then whipped them off again. ‘Can’t!’ She rubbed her ears and the bridge of her nose.
The first setback. Nish tucked them under his arm, handing her the earmuffs instead. Putting them on, she adjusted the fit and smiled – the first true smile he’d seen from her, though it fleeted away.
He gave her the clothing. She ran her fingers over the blouse, a high-necked one, and frowned. Ullii pulled it over her head, settled it around her waist, arched her back and screamed.
‘It’s crawling! It’s crawling all over me!’ In a single movement she tore it off, flung it into her water bucket and held it under. She stood up, shuddering and rubbing furiously at her belly, breasts and shoulders.
Irisis flung the door open. ‘What’s the matter?’
Nish took the bucket, goggles and the rest of the clothing and went outside. ‘Well, at least she likes the earmuffs.’ He told her what had happened.
‘I checked everything,’ said Irisis, piqued. ‘All the seams are concealed. There’s not a single thread loose.’
‘If she says it’s crawling,’ said Nish, ‘it must be. Maybe if we talked to the weaver.’
‘Good idea!’ They turned out the gate, past the water cisterns and the slaughterers doing their bloody business, and down to a collection of smaller buildings occupied by craft workers not directly related to the making of clankers.
‘Good morning, master weaver,’ Irisis said, putting her head through the door. ‘Are you busy?’
‘I’m always busy!’ A cadaverous-looking man with one twisted leg, he never smiled. He was untangling a mess of threads in one of the looms. ‘Look at this. Damned prentices; if you put all their brains together it wouldn’t fill the skull of a nit. What do you want?’
‘It’s this spider-silk.’ She explained what had happened.