Tetrarch

F IFTY-ONE

The seeker had been escorted to her own room, away down the other end of Nennifer from Irisis's. It was a cold, shabby little place, suited only for the lowest of servants. That did not bother Ullii, for she took no account of her surroundings. It had a door that kept the sound out, and that was all she cared about. It allowed her to take off the earmuffs she wore everywhere. They were as comfortable as human ingenuity could make them, but still irritated her.

Ullii undressed and washed in a bucket of cold water. She rinsed her spider-silk undergarments, carefully spread a clean set on the bed and lay down on them. She could not bear anything else against her skin. Closing her eyes, she retreated to the security of her mental lattice, a matrix in which she tried to fit all the world within range of her strange talent.

Security would not come. Nennifer was not a pleasant place. It had whole floors of mancers, artisans, artificers and other craft workers, all labouring on devices for spying, control, domination or war. They created such aggressive knots in her lattice that Ullii had to build walls around them, for her own sanity.

And now the scrutator was being sent away. Despite the grudge she held against Flydd for forcing her to search for crystal, months ago, Ullii relied on him. He had been a friend, before he was mean to her. He was still her protector and treated her more kindly than anyone ever had, except her beloved Nish. But Nish was lost and now the scrutator was going away. She relied on Irisis too, but Irisis was being held by wicked Scrutator Ghorr, who was surely going to do something dreadful to her. Who would look after Ullii then?

Who had ever looked after her? In all her previous life, only old Mancer Flammas, who had put her in his dungeon and forgotten all about her. She still thought kindly of him for that. In the cool dark she had found peace from the noise, the sight and smell of humanity, not to mention the world that had so tormented her. In his dungeon no one had troubled her. They gave her food and drink, hosed out her cell at intervals, and left her be.

But that had changed one day when she was sixteen. She had disturbed something unpleasant in her lattice, began to scream and Flammas remembered her. Jal-Nish Hlar took her away and the nightmare of the world resumed. He had treated her kindly at first, though only because he wanted to use her talent. She knew what he was really like. She could read the knot he made in her lattice all too clearly.

Ullii's thoughts went back to the years before Flammas's dungeon: that terrible time, beginning just before she was four, when something had woken her hypersensitivity. Life had become such a nightmare that her family, unable to understand what the matter was, or beat it out of her, had cast Ullii out.

She had always avoided thinking about that time. Ullii had blanked it out. Her family had rejected her. And even before that she had been abandoned…

Ullii drifted into sleep, still thinking about her childhood. She had been happy once, when she was young, but a family crisis had swept it away. She did not know what the crisis had been about, only the consequences. It had been just before her fourth birthday. One day her beloved twin brother, Myllii, had been there. The next day he, and her father, had gone. She never saw either of them again. She missed her father, but words could not describe the loss of Myllii. It was like having a limb torn off.

A week later, an irritating inflammation of the skin had covered her whole body. She screamed with the torment, fell ill, sank into a coma and lay near death for a fortnight. Ullii came out of it unable to talk or walk. Everything had to be learned again. Before she recovered, the sensitivity began to appear. She remembered that with jewel-like clarity. It had begun with loud voices. Everyone seemed to be shouting all the time, and the shouting grew louder and louder until it hurt her. Every time someone spoke, she screamed. Her mother beat her, her brothers and sisters and aunts shouted at her, but she only screamed louder.

Then her sense of touch grew monstrously. Her clothes rasped against her sensitised skin and she took to tearing them off. Her mother and aunts beat her for that too, for they could not understand. The beatings made no difference. They were preferable to the coarse fabric against her skin.

Taste was the next sense to swell out of proportion. The pickled fish and smoked meats the family lived on became unbearable to Ullii. She could eat nothing but fruit and raw vegetables, gruel and an occasional piece of raw fish or flavourless baby lamb.

Her sense of smell attacked her. The odour of people, even those who bathed frequently, became revolting. Her family were not frequent bathers; it was not the custom in the cold land they came from. Though she craved to be held, Ullii could not bear to sit on her mother's lap.

Last and worst was sight. First she could not stand to go outside. The bright sun burned her eyes, the light hurt her sensitive skin. Then she could not be in a lighted room. She began to spend the days in the dark under her bed. Her mother and aunts beat her. Ullii screamed and screamed, and would not stop. The whole world was a torment.

She had wept for Myllii and begged her mother to bring him back, but Myllii had been taken far away and no one knew where he was. Ullii went mad with screaming and her mother and aunts, unable to bear it any longer, eventually put her out the door.

Now she dreamed about her brother, not as a child of four but as the young man Myllii must be, nearly eighteen. She saw him in her dreams and he looked just like her, though his colourless hair was shorter, cut straight across just above his ears. He was a hand's breadth taller than she, with broader shoulders and narrower hips, but his beardless face was like her reflection in the mirror.

Myllii, she sighed, knowing it was just a dream. She could never find him, no matter how she had tried. When first she began to develop her lattice, in Flammas's dungeon, it had been in order to search for Myllii. She would have recognised his knot instantly, but had never seen it. Many times since then she had looked for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Perhaps he had no talent, though she could not believe that. Her brother and herself had been like two sides of a coin, equal but opposite. Neither had been complete without the other.

She would not believe he was dead, for if he was, she must die as well. She could not live knowing that he was gone forever. Most likely he was just too far away, beyond reach of her lattice. She could still hope. She could still search.

The lattice had been her comfort for so long that sometimes she forgot it was there. She had not looked deeply into it for days, not since leaving the manufactory in the air-floater. Now, in her dreams, Ullii did.

The lattice here was profoundly different from the one she was used to. It was almost unfamiliar, being dominated by the geomantic forces that had created the enormous mountains all around, and the sunken land to the north. So much in it was strange that it would take days, even weeks, for her to make sense of it all.

And then there was the might and magic of Nennifer itself, a place dedicated to scrutator magic. Everywhere she looked, Ullii saw the dark knots that signified magical artefacts, devices and implements of war, spying and torment, and the differently shaped knots that represented mancers and other practitioners of the Art. They frightened her. Ullii had suffered at the hands of such people before.

In the maze of knots, lines and other markings, Ullii knew it could take days to find Myllii. She began at once. All through that night she sought him in her dreams, and every minute of the following day. That evening she went to bed early. It was easier to look for him asleep than waking.

Myllii?

Ullii, where have you been? I've been looking for you.

I'm lost without you, Myllii. Ah, Myllii, I nearly died when you were taken away from me.

And so did I. I wept for years.

She did not allow herself to speak, just drew comfort from his existence. Time floated. She felt deliriously happy.

Are you like me, Myllii? Can you go out in the sun, unprotected?

Of course. Can't you?

She felt strangely let down. She wanted them to be alike in everything, even suffering. Especially suffering. She told him how much she had suffered.

Ullii, he said. If only I had been there. If…

She lost him. Ullii spent the rest of the night searching the lattice but found no trace of Myllii. Perhaps it had just been a dream. Flydd was delayed and delayed again, though he would not say what the problem was. All Irisis learned was that something was being hastily prepared for him to take to Gospett and it was taking longer than expected to complete.

She was questioned repeatedly about the way she had killed the unnamed mancer on the aqueduct. She had always known that she had done something unusual that day, but not how unusual. With all her other nightmares, she had not spent much time thinking about that one.

'I've gone over it twenty times already,' she said tiredly on the second night. She was walking out the front of Nennifer, along the edge of the pavement with Flydd. 'There's nothing more I can tell them. Why do they keep on about it?'

'Because you did something that has not been done before,' said Flydd, 'and it tips the balance against all mancers. They, we, have always seen ourselves as being at the top of the pile. Not invulnerable, certainly, but well protected. If we can be bested at our Art by a mere artisan, a wretched craft worker, it turns our lives upside down. What if the enemy learned to do what you have done? No querist, perquisitor or even scrutator would be safe.'

'Unlikely, since the lyrinx cannot use our Arts.'

'Should they have learned to, they would certainly want us to think they were still incapable. Besides, the lyrinx are adept at finding new ways of doing things.'

'I still don't see why it's such a problem.'

'The Council must also look to a future when they have won the war and their power may be under challenge. They must protect themselves. That means discovering exactly what you did, then making sure that you can't teach anyone else.'

She spun around to face him. 'What?'

'They're not planning to let you leave here alive, Irisis, though they'll wait till I've gone to do the deed. They can't afford to let you live. Keep walking. They may be watching us.'

'What are you going to do about it?'

'I don't know that I can do anything. As soon as everything is ready, I've got to go. I have no choice in the matter.'

After their escape, and getting her sight back, she had allowed herself to enjoy life from day to day, without thinking about the future. She had thought she was safe, under Flydd's protection. Poor fool.

'They're going to kill me?'

'They may not,' he said conversationally. 'You can't get away. There's only one path out of here and it's heavily guarded. They have a need for artisans and you're one of the best. And they may want to explore your unexpected talent.'

How could he be so casual? 'They must know that a question mark lies over my abilities. As soon as they discover how I overcame the mancer, they'll have no further use for me.'

'Then you must maintain the secret as long as possible.'

'I've already told them everything.'

'But they haven't been able to reproduce it, so they're sure you're keeping something back. Use it.'

'Look what they did to you, when you did that.'

He rubbed a scarred arm. 'Keeping secrets wasn't my failing. It was probing into their secrets.'

She couldn't take any more. 'I don't feel that you're being very helpful, Xervish! I feel that you've abandoned me already.'

'I'm under orders. I have to go to Gospett without delay.'

'You've disobeyed Council orders before.'

'If we lose this battle, we lose the west. You mean a lot to me, Irisis, but as I've told you many times, if it ever came to a choice between you and the greater good, I would make that choice. Now I've been put to it. How can I place you above the fate of the world?'

'You don't have to look so pleased about it,' she said.

'Don't be ridiculous. They're watching me every minute of the day, just waiting for me to make one wrong move. Look, Irisis, I'm -'

'Oh, go away!' she snapped. 'Do your precious duty. I always knew you were a true scrutator.'

Flydd's normally expressionless face changed. His eyes narrowed to dark crescents beneath that overhanging brow. 'And so I am.' With a mocking bow, he turned swiftly away to the bastion of Nennifer.

Irisis continued along the rim. This was the most extraordinary country she had ever been in. Behind Nennifer the mountains marched in ranks as far as she could see, and they were mighty peaks, far greater than the mountains near the manufactory. There was little snow on their steep flanks, though, and the lower slopes of the mountains were brown, arid smears.

Before her, below the escarpment, lay the vast sunken land of Kalithras – the Desolation Sink. It was bounded all around by escarpments like this one, and many rivers ran into it. None ran out, for the land lay below the level of the distant sea. It was as dry a hell-hole as she had seen.

She sat down near the edge, looking over. Her life had to end sometime. And perhaps Flydd was right: there was always the possibility that they would keep her alive. Nennifer must have thousands of workers. After all, she did have other talents. Flydd met Irisis at dinner that night. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'They're spying on me. I can't do anything for you.'

'Thanks.' She took up her bowl and moved to a table on the far side of the room. She thought she saw hurt in his eyes. Too bad. He'd get over it. And her. He was a scrutator after all, a lying, scheming, cheating manipulator who would do anything, and use anyone, to get what he wanted.

Irisis could normally enjoy eating no matter what her mood, and the food at Nennifer was very good, but she soon pushed the bowl away. She could not taste a thing.

Ullii appeared beside her. Irisis had not heard her coming. She never did. The seeker could move like a ghost when she wanted to, which was most of the time.

'Are you unhappy, Irisis?' Ullii said softly, insinuating her head under the taller woman's arm. She liked to get close to her friends and in this awful place, despite the feelings of jealousy that still plagued her, she felt close to Irisis.

Irisis presumed she was forgiven for pressuring Ullii weeks ago. 'I'm afraid, Ullii. The scrutators won't let me leave here alive.'

Ullii drew in her breath sharply, then rubbed her cheek along Irisis's arm. 'What have you done?'

Irisis explained.

'Mancer was an evil woman,' said the seeker.

'You knew her?'

'I read her knot in my lattice.' The tiny hairs on Ullii's arms stirred.

'You can tell a person's character from the way you see them in your lattice?'

'Of course.'

'What do you think of the scrutator. Is he evil too?'

Ullii gave her an ambiguous look and moved to a chair across the table. 'Scrutator was mean to me.'

Presumably she referred to the time Flydd had forced her to find crystals in the mine. Or perhaps when he'd roared at her to bring down the lift. Ullii did not forget an insult, or an injury. She could not strike back but, where she could get away with it, took pleasure in sullen non-cooperation.

'And Ghorr?' said Irisis.

'He is chief scrutator,' said Ullii, as if that was all there was to say. Perhaps it was.

Irisis was finishing her bowl of tea when Ullii hunched down in the chair with just her eyes showing over the edge of the table. What was it now?

Irisis looked around. The chief scrutator was heading towards her.

'Scurry away, little mouse,' he said contemptuously.

Ullii went sideways off the chair and disappeared among the tables.

Irisis looked Ghorr in the eye. She was almost as afraid of him as she had been of Jal-Nish, but she was damned if she was going to show it. 'Yes?' she said with an imperious tilt of her chin.

'You know what I want.'

'We've been through that.'

'Just tell me how you did it and you can go with Flydd tomorrow.'

'I may be just an artisan, Scrutator Ghorr, but I'm no fool. I know I'm not leaving here alive.'

He evinced no surprise. Ghorr seldom showed any reaction, except deliberately. 'As you wish. But there are more lives on offer than the one you've been leading. With a talent like yours, you could become a mancer.' He said it with emphasis, as though it was the pinnacle of everyone's ambition.

'I didn't want to be an artisan,' she said. 'Why would I want to be a mancer?'

'Given the choice between being powerful and powerless, I'm sure you'd make the right decision.'

Irisis knew she should smile and thank him, take what he offered and use it to find a way out for herself. That was the sensible thing. But she just couldn't. She could not ally with a man, and a system, so manifestly corrupt. He wanted to corrupt her too. Besides, they knew her reputation. She had attacked Perquisitor Jal-Nish, disobeyed his lawful orders, killed his mancer in the pursuit of her duty… Her list of crimes was endless and it was perfectly clear that she opposed all that the Council stood for. It was unlikely that they could corrupt her. The offer was a trap.

'Or maybe not,' he said. 'A pity. It would have been easier that way.' Ghorr stood up. 'Come with me, crafter.'

She followed him down the travertine-clad corridor, so long that the other end was just a point. Near the end, he turned into a small, brightly lit room. Each interrogation was held in a different place.

And each ended the same way, with her taunting him and him attacking her with his fists. She was bruised all over, but nowhere visibly. For some reason, Ghorr did not want the Council to know. Irisis would have shown Flydd the marks, had they been on speaking terms.

Afterwards she was taken to another room, several levels down. The door had a simple latch on it, no lock at all.

'Close,' said Ghorr once she was inside.

The door clicked shut and she could not open it. Clever. A crafter with her talents could beat most mechanical locks, but not one based on the Art. However it worked, it was different from anything she had experience with. It did not draw power from the field and she could do nothing about it. Perhaps she should have agreed to do what Ghorr wanted, after all. Some hours later there was a faint tap at the door. 'Irisis?'

It was the scrutator. He had come for her. 'Yes?' she whispered back. 'How did you find me?'

'With great difficulty. I had to leave a simulacrum of myself back in my room, and employ… other scrutator magic to get here unseen. I'm not completely sure that it's worked.'

'Get me out,' she said. 'I can't bear this place.'

'What kind of lock is inside?'

'There is none. Just a simple latch, but it won't lift.'

'I was afraid of that. There's nothing you can remove to open the door?'

'Not without tools. Everything is tightly fixed.'

'And even if you did, I suspect the door still would not open.'

'Ghorr simply said "Close" and went away.'

'Could be any one of a dozen holding or sealing spells,' said Flydd.

'Can't you break it?'

'Depending which spell he used, I might be able to. And then again, I might not. Ghorr is a lot older than I am.'

'He doesn't look it.'

'Rejuvenation is a wonderful thing. He's older, stronger, more powerful…'

'If all you can do is make excuses you might as well clear out now.'

'I'm doing my best, crafter,' he said coldly.

She knew that, but it did not help her mood. Irisis had the urge to destroy what she could not save. 'It isn't good enough, scrutator.'

He did not answer. All was silent. After a minute or two, she began to fear that he had abandoned her.

'Xervish?' she said softly.

Nothing.

'Xervish, I'm… I'm sorry. I can't take this.'

'Just be quiet, will you. I'm trying to work it out.'

'What?' she whispered, relief flooding her. Of course he would not abandon her. They were friends and she had saved his life.

'The holding spell. I think I know what it is.'

'Can you break it?'

'I might be able to. There's a problem, though.'

She waited for him to elaborate. There were some tiny scratchings at the door but nothing else.

'What problem, Xervish?'

'If the spell is broken, it sends an alarm to the person who set the spell. To Ghorr.'

'And you can't break that?'

'Not without alerting him.'

'Then there's nothing you can do.'

'I'd say not.'

'Oh well. You tried.'

'Not much comfort.'

She wanted him gone. If he could do nothing, there was no point him being here, risking himself. She did not want him hanging around just for her sake. 'Off you go then.'

'I -' He seemed disconcerted. 'All right. I'll be on my way.'

'Goodbye.' Just go, dammit.

'I'm sorry, Irisis,' he said softly.

She did not answer. It was, unquestionably, the most despairing night of her life. Irisis did not take too well to bondage or helplessness. Ghorr appeared early in the morning. The clicking of the latch woke her. She felt as if she'd just got to sleep.

He entered the room. It was a room, not a cell. Ghorr was smiling. 'I see you had a visitor during the night.'

'I've no idea what you're talking about,' she said coldly.

'Don't treat me like a fool, Irisis. I haven't got to where I am without knowing everything that goes on, both within my domain and without. I can read when Flydd arrived, what he tried to do and when he left again. It's enough to have him dismissed from the Council and put under a sentence of death.'

'Then why don't you?'

'I've work for him to do first. Work I daren't risk another scrutator on. Come, we must talk some more.'

'I am happy to talk,' she said, 'though I don't think that is what you have in mind at all.'

'What I have in mind, Crafter Irisis, is the employment of certain techniques I have developed, to recover the truth from those who have lost it. Or refuse to give it up.'