How had she stolen the flying construct, and why had she attacked the Aachim so recklessly? The situation was out of control and for the first time in a century Gilhaelith felt afraid. The prize might not be worth the risk. He ran the numbers but this time the pattern was ambiguous, the worst result of all.
The best option would be to take Tiaan back to the site of the crash, put her next to the construct and leave her to die. She was so intimately mixed up with the gate, amplimet and construct that whoever found the construct must come looking for her.
He resolved, reluctantly, to do just that. Gilhaelith was not going to risk his life’s work for a thief and cripple, no matter how haunting the look in her eyes. He’d seen that look before; nothing good ever came out of it.
The amplimet was another matter. The Art and Science of the earth were his life’s work and this crystal could take him to the core that had always eluded him. He would not give it up unless he stood to lose everything. And so he might, if he did not quickly discover why Tiaan had stolen the flying construct. And there lay the problem. Any competent mancer could read the aura given off by the amplimet, inside and outside the construct. If he left the construct where it was but kept the crystal, the first place they would look was here.
It was all or nothing, and whatever his decision, he had better make it quickly. Was the amplimet worth it? If not, the choice was made for him. He went down to the organ to see what he could make of the crystal.
Gilhaelith worked the lever that uncovered the skylight far above, allowing the thin rays of the crescent moon to shine vertically on the bench, the frosty globe of the world and the amplimet which lay on a piece of crumpled black velvet. The crystal glowed strongly but the central spark sometimes fluctuated in intensity. Strange and intriguing.
He reached out with gloved hand, then drew back as one of the larger organ pipes soughed, just on the lower edge of hearing. It was like the murmuring of bees in the far distance – a warning. He’d had that whenever he tried to investigate the amplimet.
It was frustrating. The crystal was powerful and sensitive. What wonders might he uncover if he could learn how to use it properly? The little thief could not have employed a fraction of its potential.
Making a sudden decision, he wrapped the amplimet in its velvet and carried it beyond the keyboard to a spot where arrays of organ pipes – some vertical, some slanted and the remainder horizontal – formed a series of fans converging on a single point. At that spot stood a hollow star with eighty-one points, each a matched crystal. Gilhaelith eased the amplimet into the hollow, settled it in place and removed the velvet.
Reaching for a stop on his organ console, he carefully, carefully pulled it out, withdrawing a golden mask from the centre of the star. He held his breath. A nerve throbbed painfully in his stomach. Anything might happen. Or worse, nothing.
The glow from the crystal died down. The spark vanished. At the same time a cloud must have passed in front of the moon, for the silvery beams coming through the skylight disappeared. Frost seemed to settle on everything. When he moved his foot, the floor crackled.
As he eased the lever the last fraction, the frost deepened. Then, with a shrieking, roaring rumble, every pipe of the organ sounded at once, a noise so violent that it tore at his skull. He clapped his hands over his ears but that made no difference. The sounds were inside too. A wooden pipe burst, embedding a dark splinter fingernail-deep in the back of his hand.
Gilhaelith kicked the stop in and the cacophony cut off, though not before more pipes exploded and a metal array sagged as if made of putty. Wrapping his hand in the piece of black velvet, he reached into the star. Gilhaelith would not have been surprised had smoke risen from his fingertips. The crystal was unchanged except, perhaps, a little colder than before. Its glow was subdued.
He did not know what had happened and shuddered to think what other mancers would make of that disturbance to the ethyr. He prayed that no one could tell its origin. The crystal was more potent than he had thought, and more dangerous. Something had transformed it but he could not tell what. He had to have it, though Gilhaelith did not plan to risk his life testing it. That seemed to leave him with only one alternative.
Let’s see what the little thief knew about it. But first, one thing must be done urgently. He called his foreman.
‘Guss, put together a detail, only your most reliable people. Go down to the forest and bring the machine back. Leave no trace of it and keep it covered as it is brought up. Can that be done today?’
The foreman considered, rubbing his shiny forehead. ‘I’ll take twenty men. That should be ample. Not far from the site there’s an ancient lava tube, if you recall, which we’ve previously used as a covered road. We’ll bring it up that way, and the last distance under cover of night. It’ll be in your deepest cellar by midnight.’
‘Swear the men to secrecy, even from their partners.’
‘It’s a little late for that, master. No one has spoken about anything else for days.’
Gilhaelith frowned. People were so ill-disciplined. ‘I’ll speak to them myself. No more talking. The others need not know it’s here. Better still, I’ll send them around the rim. The glanberries are starting to fruit already, are they not?’
‘The winter flowering ones are, on the warmer northern slopes.’
‘Good. I have a fancy for glanberry pie tonight. Oh, and one other thing.’
‘Yes, Gilhaelith?’
‘It might be an idea if you and your men were not around to be questioned for a while.’
‘There’s plenty to do below,’ said the foreman. ‘We’ll work there until you give the word.’
‘Very good. Tell the men to stay clear of my best stout.’
The foreman laughed. ‘Every man has his weakness, and I imagine you’re referring to me rather than them. I’ll keep it in mind, though it’ll be a thirsty duty, master.’
His loyalty deserved a reward, though Gilhaelith offered it with a tinge of regret. ‘When you come up, you shall have a barrel of the stuff.’
Gilhaelith spring-stepped to Tiaan’s room. Hitherto she had dodged all his questions. Now he had to know.
Her head rotated as he entered. Her eyes were dull; she did not seem to be interested in anything. Pulling up a chair, he sat down. She resumed staring at the ceiling.
He leaned forward, unfolded the letter from his factor and began to read it. She ignored him until he mentioned Vithis, whereupon her hands fluttered under the covers. She bit down on a gasp. He kept reading. At the end, her eyes turned to him and he saw naked terror there. Just as quickly she hid it.
‘You must tell me everything,’ he said sternly.
‘There’s no point. Just take me down the mountain and leave me by my thapter.’
‘Thapter?’
‘The flying construct.’
‘I am thinking of doing just that.’ He inspected her as dispassionately as he would have done the least of his servants. There was no room for sentiment, not for a thief. ‘Why did you steal the thapter?’
‘I didn’t. It’s mine.’
The claim was nonsensical. ‘Tiaan, Vithis is searching for the thapter, and you, and won’t rest until he has interrogated every witness in the land. I cannot resist him, even if I wanted to. You are a thief who wantonly attacked his camp and tried to kill him. I must give you up.’
‘Please, no!’
‘Then talk to me.’
‘He is a liar who callously betrayed me, and attacked me first. I am not a thief.’