‘Reparation must be paid,’ the Matah replied. ‘How did it happen? Did you threaten them?’
‘How could I threaten eleven thousand constructs?’ Tiaan raged. ‘She died because they were afraid. The Aachim are liars and cheats, and as timid as rabbits.’
The Matah tightened her lips. ‘You may call them cowards if you dare, though it sounds like an accident to me. But know this, Tiaan: to impugn our honesty is a mortal insult that every Aachim will fight to avenge.’
‘They callously and deliberately deceived me about their intentions, and about the gate. They said they were just a few thousand. A lie. They said –’
‘I will leave it to them,’ said the Matah hastily. ‘But tell me – have they mastered all the secrets of Rulke’s lost construct? Did the machines fly?’
‘Not that I saw.’ Tiaan dashed her tears away. ‘They just hovered above the floor. Vithis called me an incompetent fool, after all I had done for him. Minis turned his cheek to me, and then they went away.’
‘We can be arrogant,’ said the Matah, ‘but Aachim are rarely rude, unless unbearably provoked. Who were the leaders?’
‘I met three,’ said Tiaan. ‘Tirior of Clan Nataz, Luxor of Clan Izmak, and Vithis. Are you related?’
‘We Aachim of Santhenar broke the clan allegiances long ago. My house was Elienor, named for our most famous ancestor, though it was always the least of the clans. Many of Clan Elienor have red hair, as I did once.’
‘I did see people with red hair,’ said Tiaan.
‘That is good. I would see my lost house again. What of Vithis? Did he name his clan?’ The Matah looked as if she already knew.
‘He named it Inthis – First Clan,’ said Tiaan.
‘Ah, Inthis!’
‘But the gate went wrong and his entire clan was lost in the void, save for Minis. Vithis blamed me. He is a hard, cruel man.’
The Matah’s eyes sparked. ‘Inthis was ever the greatest clan – and in excess, too. We have been led by them more than by any other clan, sometimes to disaster. Tensor was such a man; a great leader driven to folly. Yet he strove for the good of all Aachim, not out of clan rivalry which ever held us back on Aachan. The gate went wrong, you say?’
‘Vithis said I had built the port-all the wrong way around, left-handed instead of right, and that made the gate go awry. But I built it exactly as I was instructed. I still have the image in my mind. I will never be rid of it.’
‘Left-handed?’ said the Matah. ‘I recall something about that, from our Histories. Yes, what is left-handed on Aachan is right-handed here, and that includes crystals that bend a beam of light one way or the other. Handedness cannot be discerned from afar, but the matter was known to the ancients. Vithis should have checked before he instructed you in the making of the gate. Even so, that should not have made it go wrong.’
Tiaan searched for a memory of that terrible day. She had a feeling there was something else, but it would not come. Had she blundered, condemning thousands to death in the void?
‘I’ll take a look at the port-all later,’ said the Matah, shaking her head at some thought. ‘The loss of First Clan is a cataclysm for Vithis and a blow to every clan, for all their rivalry. I fear what will come from it. Did he take the amplimet?’
‘Vithis said it would have been corrupted by the gate, or by me. I think he was afraid of it.’
‘He showed sense, in that at least,’ said the Matah, her mouth down-curling. ‘And then?’
‘Vithis said, “We have a world to make our own,” and they went out the side of the mountain.’
The Matah sat, thinking. ‘Peril hangs over us and only I to stop it. I felt the ripples in the field, even before the mountain shook. I tried to ignore it. Ah, and I was so close. I was on my way.’
Eventually it was Nish who asked the question. ‘Where were you going?’
‘I was on my way to the Well.’
‘The Well?’ he echoed.
‘The Well of life and rebirth. The Well of fate. I was going to The Well of Echoes.’
‘You were going to kill yourself?’ Nish said sneeringly. ‘How pathetic!’
The Matah sprang up, looking, for all her age, rather sprightly. ‘How dare you thrust your twisted values on me, old human! You are not even my species.’
Nish backed away.
Tiaan shivered, for it was freezing. The Matah placed a hand against the wall and the glass slid closed. ‘Alas, I cannot go now. Neither can I be in three places at once.’ She paced across the hemispherical chamber. ‘How came you here?’ She addressed the question to Tiaan.
‘I walked from Itsipitsi,’ Tiaan replied. ‘Before that, I sailed by iceboat upriver from the sea.’
‘And you, artificer?’ said the Matah.
‘By balloon,’ he said proudly. ‘All the way from the manufactory near Tiksi. And it was my idea.’
‘Balloon?’
‘A gasbag ten spans high, filled with hot air from a stove.’
‘Do you still have it?’
‘It lies on the slope of the mountain, directly below us.’
‘Take it back to warn your people.’
‘I sent a skeet the day before yesterday.’
‘It may not get there. Hurry! This is urgent, artificer.’
‘I can’t find the way out.’
Taking a piece of paper from her pocket, the Matah sketched swiftly. ‘This point, here, is the stair behind you.’
‘First I have to gather fuel,’ said Nish. ‘There are no trees where the balloon is hidden, only bushes. And the winds –’
‘I’m sure you’ll find a way. After all, it was your idea. Go at once!’
He did not move. He was still looking for a way to get Tiaan away. ‘But –’
‘Begone!’ roared the Matah, ‘or you shall feel real power.’ She swept her hands together and more of those golden bubbles quivered there.
Nish held his ground. He was brave enough, Tiaan thought grudgingly.
‘Take food from the lower storerooms, should you require it,’ said the Matah.
‘I –’
‘Now!’ She hurled the bubbles at him.
One struck his cheek and a yellow blister swelled there. Nish cried out, dashed the bubble away and bolted down the stairs.
‘And you?’ the Matah said to Ullii. ‘What will you do, little seeker?’
Ullii came to her. The Matah put her fingers around the small woman’s head. A golden nimbus shimmered like a halo, lifting her colourless hair into drifting tendrils.
‘Go, child,’ said the Matah. ‘Follow your mate, and beware.’
‘Nish will never hurt me,’ Ullii said serenely.
The Matah searched her face, then touched her on the shoulder. ‘I pray that you are right, though I fear otherwise.’
Ullii went after Nish. The Matah turned back to Tiaan. ‘What will you do with your life?’
‘I ought to end it, to make up for all the evil I have done.’
‘You know nothing about evil, Tiaan. I pray you never will.’ The Matah held her gaze until Tiaan looked down.
Pressing her palm to the wall, the Matah went outside to stand at the edge of the platform. Tiaan followed, shuddering in the cold. Her bare toes began to ache. The mountain towered above them, for they were barely a third of the way up it. Ahead and to either side stood peaks and glaciers as far as the eye could see, and that was very far in the crystalline air. Below lay a vast ice sheet, breaking away into glaciers all along one side.
‘It’s lovely,’ she sighed.
The Matah glanced at her. ‘I never tire of it. I come here every day that the weather permits. But you are cold.’ Taking the coat from her shoulders, she wrapped Tiaan in it.
Tiaan took it gratefully and shuffled to the edge, looking down on a sheer drop of at least a thousand spans. The great horn of Tirthrax hung directly above her. She had never been this high before, and her lungs strained at the thin air. ‘It would be so easy,’ she said aloud.