‘He’s a male!’ Liett said scornfully.
‘Females are better for patterning,’ Ryll explained. ‘Only rarely have we found a useful male. If I bring him, will you cooperate?’
‘Yes,’ said Tiaan. For the moment.
Liett resumed her work, whatever that was. Ryll was away a long time. Tiaan resisted the impulse to scream as the jelly slid back and forth across her skin. Small sucker-like objects attached themselves all over, tugging at her skin as the gunk moved in slow swirls.
The door opened. Ryll had Gilhaelith by one arm; he looked frail beside the lyrinx. They came up the row. Tiaan’s heart beat wildly. What had he been going to tell her before the lyrinx captured him?
‘Tiaan!’ Gilhaelith staggered and fell against the patterner. ‘They caught you after all.’
‘I came after you. I’m a fool, aren’t I?’
He touched her cheek. Coming from him, it was more powerful than an embrace. ‘Why didn’t you flee when you had the chance?’
There was no sensible answer to that. ‘What are they doing to you, Gilhaelith?’ she said softly, expecting to hear some story as horrible as her own.
‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘They want me too much.’
‘What for?’
‘They’ve lost something in the Great Seep and I must find it.’
‘Don’t! I know the price of aiding them.’
‘Ah, Tiaan,’ he said, ‘if only you had not come.’
‘You were going to tell me something about my back.’
‘I wish I hadn’t mentioned it,’ he said bitterly. ‘I can’t do anything for you. You’ve given yourself into the hands of the enemy for nothing.’
‘I must know, Gilhaelith.’
‘All right, but it won’t do you any good. Far off, across the sea, dwells a great mancer who has devoted his life to the healing Arts. I thought he might be able to do something for you …’
‘At what price?’
‘Seven years service.’
‘It would have been worth it.’
‘That would depend on what kind of master he was,’ said Ryll from the background, ‘and what sort of service.’
‘It could hardly be worse than what you require of me, for no return,’ she flashed.
‘It could be very much worse.’
‘The matter is irrelevant,’ Gilhaelith interrupted. ‘Neither you nor I will ever be in a position to meet him.’
He was tall enough to look down into the aperture of the patterner and Tiaan saw that he was staring at her bare chest, only partly concealed by the jelly. It made her angry – even at a time like this, he could not see beyond the physical. The longing in Gilhaelith’s eyes was a painful thing to behold. He was practically shaking with desire. Had he really missed her that much?
Then she realised, with utter mortification, that he was not staring at her chest at all. It was the amplimet he wanted, and was determined to have.
Even as Ryll led him away, Gilhaelith kept looking back for it.
FIFTY-FOUR
Ullii woke with a headache and a profound feeling of loss. Somehow the fleeting touch of her brother had made things worse. It had been a touch, she felt sure. It was not just a dream. Ullii trusted her instincts. Myllii was out there somewhere and she was going to be reunited with him.
She wandered the echoing halls of Nennifer wearing her earmuffs, and her earplugs and noseplugs, all day. Her sensitivities seemed particularly acute in this place. No one hindered her. They were not troubled by the ‘little mouse’, as Ghorr so sneeringly referred to her.
Ullii liked the name. Mice knew how to hide and protect their secrets, and the secret of Myllii was one she particularly hugged to herself. Her brother was alive and looking for her. And he had her seeker’s talent. She was glad to know that. She wanted him to be just like her. Lacking her supersensitivity, he did not have the talent as strongly as she did. That pleased her selfish heart; a tiny reward for all she had suffered.
She could not find the scrutator or Irisis, though they were both still in Nennifer. She would have known had they been gone. The thought of Xervish Flydd leaving her in this place filled her with terror, and not only because of the Council, who would use her talent then cast her aside. If she remained here, Ullii knew she would never find her brother. She had searched the lattice as far as it reached, but could see no sign of him. He must be far away, and only Flydd and Irisis could take her there.
As she wandered the corridors that evening, a stone’s throw down the long hall the Council were trooping into their dining room for dinner. She heard Scrutator Halie mention Irisis’s name. The door slammed.
What were they saying about Irisis? Ullii had to know. A thought occurred to her, one that made her quake at her boldness. She was thinking about spying on the Council, a crime certainly punishable by the most hideous torments. She had never done anything like that in her life.
Dare she? She had to know what they were going to do to Irisis. She looked around for a place to hide, and watch. Across the wide hall from their dining room was an open door. Ullii slipped through it. Most of the room was taken up by a long table surrounded by chairs upholstered in crimson leather. Creeping under the table, she took out her earplugs.
Her hearing picked up Ghorr’s voice at once, even through the closed door of the dining room. Unfortunately it picked up every other sound as well. The clatter of cutlery was like the clashing of cymbals. The chatter of the scrutators resembled a squad of soldiers marching across a boardwalk. She could hear every chew, every swallow, every grunt and belch.
Ullii endured the cacophony during the interminable dinner, which consisted of eight courses, some so pungent that she could smell them through her noseplugs. When a servant hurried down the hall with hot napkins, the noise was so loud that Ullii almost wept.
There came a single rap, as of a knife on a table, and everyone fell silent.
‘We have much to discuss,’ echoed Ghorr’s voice clearly. He listed a number of items, most having no interest to Ullii, but at the end, ‘and what to do about the crafter.’
Irisis. Ullii listened intently, though it was a long time before she heard anything of interest. Ghorr was speaking again.
‘The device is finally ready. I will give it to Scrutator Flydd at dawn and he will immediately leave for Snizort.’
The debate went on for another hour before they turned to Irisis. Ullii’s ears were throbbing and her headache was worse than ever.
‘Ah, now we come to Crafter Irisis,’ said Ghorr. ‘Scrutator Flydd went to visit her last night.’
A low comment from someone; Ullii could not make out what was said.
Ghorr chuckled. ‘If Flydd could have broken the spell on the door he would have taken her. There seems no limit to the man’s villainy.’
‘It certainly seems that he cannot be trusted,’ said another. ‘As if we should be in any doubt.’
‘I’ve not trusted him since that incident thirty years ago,’ said Ghorr. ‘I voted that he be put down then, if you recall.’
‘And you were outvoted,’ said Halie, ‘as I recall. The man is a problem, I agree, but that is outweighed by his talent. He has served us well in the years since his … punishment. That he survived it shows his indomitable will. We need him until the war is won. After that –’
‘After could well be too late,’ snapped Ghorr.
‘If we lose the war, as is likely without the use of his talents, it will not matter.’
Several people spoke at once and Ullii could not make out what was said, then Ghorr again, with seeming reluctance. ‘As you say, he is a problem for another time. Irisis is a problem for now. I have finished my interrogation of her.’
‘What did you discover?’ came the voice of black-bearded Fusshte.
‘I don’t think there is any more to learn from her. There is no doubt that she killed the mancer on the aqueduct by manipulating the field. The woman’s body was torn apart by explosive anthracism. I’ve not been able to have our best artisans duplicate it on prisoners, but I was careful not to reveal too much. I’m sure it can be done, though, and that leaves us with a problem.’