‘Spear Irisis!’ roared Ghorr from above. ‘Don’t let her get away.’
‘Jump!’ yelled Flydd.
Irisis went across in a great leap that took her over the rail, to slam into the canvas wall of the cabin.
Flydd pushed her to one side, threw his arm up and fire roared forth, perilously close to the airbag and its explosive contents. Irisis did not see what happened on the clifftop, for the air-floater gave a mighty lurch, shot away from the cliff and up. As they rose above the edge, soldiers came running across the paved area with spears and crossbows, but by then it was too late. The air-floater was swiftly rising out of range.
Irisis sketched Ghorr an ironic salute, then had to go inside and sit down. Her knees folded up as she reached the bench. Ullii was underneath, in her favourite corner, rolled into an armadillo-like ball.
‘I don’t know what you just did,’ Flydd began, ‘but –’
‘I didn’t do anything, Xervish. Ullii did it. With her lattice.’
‘But …’ Flydd stared at the motionless seeker, ‘that’s not possible.’
‘I know, but she got me out of my cell without breaking Ghorr’s spell.’
‘Or setting off the alarm,’ said Flydd, bemused. ‘And now this. How was it possible?’
Had Irisis not been so exhausted, she would have laughed at his expression. ‘You’ll have to ask her yourself, but don’t expect to make anything of it. She did it under duress. I forced her, to save her brother.’
‘Ah, her brother.’
‘You know about Myllii?’
‘Of course. As soon as Ullii’s talent became apparent, the scrutators went looking for him.’
‘And did they find him?’
‘I don’t know. I was out of favour by then. But if they haven’t, they’ll spare no effort after this.’
‘And to get Ullii back too.’
‘Indeed. They’ll put our little seeker to very good use if they get their hands on her.’
The flight took six days. They curved west then south around the edge of the Great Mountains, since the air-floater could not rise high enough to pass above them. They floated over the plains and braided outwash streams flowing from a hundred glaciers; then, leaving the mountains behind, drifted south-west across the rift valley with its Great Chain of Lakes and its lines of volcanoes. Beyond, they passed south of a smoking Booreah Ngurle. The Great North Road was on their left, running across the downs of Borgistry. The southern section of the Worm Wood curved round in front of them, taking many hours to pass below, before finally they were over the undulating grasslands and scrub of Taltid.
The pilot took them across the fuming pits of Snizort at a great height while the scrutator looked down with his spyglass. Navigator Nivulee stood beside him with her own, preparing a map for later use.
‘Precisely where is the node here?’ asked Irisis.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Should I wake Ullii and ask her to look for it?’
‘Let her sleep. When we’ve seen enough we’ll go on to Gospett, which is about twenty leagues south of here, over the River Zort and the Westway. The perquisitor there will tell us what we need to know.’
The pilot came running. ‘Lyrinx taking to the air, surr.’
Flydd focussed his spyglass. ‘So they are. Go higher than they can fly. Head for Gospett.’
They were there in a couple of hours. Gospett turned out to be a walled town built of brown stone and orange brick, heavily fortified against attack by lyrinx. Wicked-looking javelards were mounted along the walls, and others set in tall towers clustered inside. The surrounding land was cultivated, though there were signs that more distant holdings had been abandoned.
‘How long can Gospett last, with Snizort so near?’ said Irisis.
No one bothered to answer.
The air-floater landed in the main street of the town, much to the excitement of a group of children playing a game with a ball made of bound rags. They gathered around in their hundreds until the scrutator came down the ladder and called for someone to take them to the perquisitor’s house, whereupon they melted away. Except one, a boy with a twisted leg, not able to dart off like the others.
Flydd grabbed him by the collar. ‘What’s your name, boy?’ he said in the common speech of the south-west.
‘Nudl,’ said the boy.
‘Noodle? Funny name for a boy.’
‘That’th what I’m called, thurr.’
‘Well, Noodle, I need someone to show me to the perquisitor’s house. Can you do that?’
‘No, thurr,’ said the boy.
‘Why the blazes not? Surely you know where it is.’ Flydd’s continuous eyebrow crumpled up like wet twine.
‘Too thcared, thurr.’
‘You’re afraid of the perquisitor? Why?’
Nudl hesitated. ‘Boys put me up to it, thurr.’
‘Put you up to what? You’re like a limpet, boy.’
‘Thank you, thurr. Throwing thtoneth on perquithitor’th roof, thurr. But one mithed and went through the window. Threatened me –’
‘Yes, yes, I understand! Well, Noodle, I am a scrutator and you know what that means?’
‘You eat children, thurr.’
‘I don’t eat children, Noodle, though I’m bloody well prepared to make an exception, just this once. Take me to the perquisitor’s house, right away!’
They were there in ten minutes. The house was a relic of better times, a spacious place of orange brick with a high brick fence all around. Wide verandas sheltered all sides but the south. The perquisitor answered the door. She was a small, slight woman, black of hair and with eyes the same colour. Her skin was palest amber, her features delicately proportioned, her manner reserved.
‘Well, well, well,’ said Flydd. ‘This is a pleasant surprise, Fyn-Mah.’
Fyn-Mah smiled, which was rare for her. ‘It’s good to see you, scrutator. And you, crafter.’ She nodded curtly to Irisis, for they disliked each other. ‘Let’s sit on the porch. It’s cooler. I presume, from the Council despatches case in your hand, that you are scrutator again?’
Bowing, he passed it to her. ‘Indeed I am. What are you doing here? And a perquisitor, no less.’
‘You can hardly act surprised, surr, since you recommended my promotion.’
‘These days any recommendation of mine is a dubious one. I didn’t know you’d been sent west, though I’m very pleased to see you.’
‘I’ve always had a special interest in the enemy flesh-forming art,’ said Fyn-Mah. ‘There are more flesh-formers at Snizort than anywhere in Lauralin, and their work is well –’
‘So I understand. You can brief me about that in private. You may also be interested in what we’ve got to say.’
‘I’m glad you’ve come,’ Fyn-Mah said, ‘and I hope it’s good news. In my last report –’
‘I was briefed before we left Nennifer. Let’s see what can be done.’
‘Whatever is done,’ said Fyn-Mah, ‘were well that it be done quickly. The lyrinx are readying for war. The final assault.’
‘We’ll also talk about that later.’
‘There’s someone else you’ll be pleased to see, surr.’ Fyn-Mah called down the hall. ‘And you too, Irisis.’
A man came up. Middle-aged and slim, he was dressed in brown homespun leggings and shirt, and grey sandals. Dark hair, cut short, stuck up all over his head. He had a chiselled jaw, prominent cheekbones and a gleam in his grey eyes.
The man put out his hand. ‘Scrutator. Irisis.’ He sat in an empty chair.
Irisis noticed Flydd inspecting the fellow surreptitiously. She was sure she had never seen him before. Ullii came trailing along the path, where she had been communing with the flowers. She wore her goggles and earmuffs. The man stood up. ‘Hello, we haven’t met. You must be Ullii.’
Now how had he known that?
Ullii extended her little hand. ‘Hello, Mr Muss.’
There was a long silence, then Flydd’s laughter came like a thunderclap. ‘Oh, well done. Eiryn Muss, the best prober in the business. That’s the first time anyone’s disguise has fooled me.’ He shook the fellow’s hand again. ‘Ullii, what a marvel you are.’