The rider came after him. The other fellow would be running for help. When, if if they caught him, they would beat him senseless for this affront, and to give the other prisoners a lesson they would never forget. No one cared about the fate of a conscript. they caught him, they would beat him senseless for this affront, and to give the other prisoners a lesson they would never forget. No one cared about the fate of a conscript.

Splashing into the water, Nish rode up the centre of the stream. Unlikely it would make any difference with his hunter this close behind, but he needed all the help he could get. The man was not yet in sight but Nish could hear him. Breaking away from the stream, he walked the horse into the deep forest. The trees were closer together here, and it was darker; easier to hide, though the ground was moist and he left clear tracks.

After riding for a good while, he turned into another gully and stopped. He could hear nothing. Had he lost the fellow? It did not seem likely. Perhaps he was waiting for Nish to move.

Walking the horse up the other side, Nish wondered at the unnatural silence. There was not a sound to be heard. He continued up the steep slope, the horse's hooves breaking through leaf litter and slipping on clayey yellow loam. Nish felt vulnerable. The horse was panting as it struggled up the slope.

Nish reined in, c.o.c.king his head. Feeling uncomfortable without knowing why, he turned across the slope, and as he did a pair of riders rose up on their stirrups and came at him. Another few steps and he would have walked right between them.

Nish kicked his horse into a run, slipping and sliding across the greasy slope. Pa.s.sing beside a black-trunked tree, so close that his knee struck it a painful blow, he turned sharply on the other side, angling toward the creek. Going around a tilted standing stone shaped like a tooth, he pounded along the edge of the creek. One rider was close behind. Nish caught occasional glimpses of the other, at the top of the slope.

No use trying to get up that way. He shot by a copse of trees as dark and dense as a wall and looked back. The soldier was gaining. Nish turned sharply along the line of trees, splashed across the creek and up the other side, coming out into open woodland, though the forest continued beyond that. He was halfway across when two more horses appeared on the far side. Nish turned away. The pair who had been following him came out of the trees.

His horse was tiring. No matter what he did, they were going to catch him. No, never give up. If he could get between the pairs, he might make it back into the forest again, and then, who knows?

'Go!' he shouted, kicking the horse into a gallop and putting his head down. 'One last effort!' He patted the heaving neck. The horse responded, running like the wind. Nish had never gone so fast. Both pairs of riders turned to cut him off, but their mounts were tired too. He shot between them with not a dozen paces to spare.

Nish shook his fist in their faces, and now they were slowing, falling back. Another trap? He slowed too, wondering what was going on.

Out of the forest came a construct, its weapons at the ready. Out of the frying-pan ... Then Nish saw that the machine bore the same colours that Minis's had. Minis had found him.

With a great sigh of relief, Nish walked his horse forward. 'Minis!' he yelled, waving his arm above his head. 'Minis.'

The top of the construct came open and a tall figure stood up on the platform. It was not Minis.

'h.e.l.lo, Marshal Marshal Cryl-Nish Hlar,' said Vithis. Cryl-Nish Hlar,' said Vithis.

FORTY-TWO.

The following day, when she had been in Nyriandiol for about a month, Tiaan was permitted to sit upright, though she had to be lifted into position and laid down afterwards. Gilhaelith sat with her, and together they redesigned the wheeled chair so she could move it by herself. It was her most pleasant time since Tirthrax. There were moments when she quite forgot Minis, and once, to her shame, even little Haani was not a lead blanket wrapped around her heart.

It took several days to rebuild the chair, but as soon as the wheels were fitted, its inadequacies became apparent, not least that it was useless anywhere where there were steps, or on the stony ground outside.

'This is no good at all.' Gilhaelith was struggling to get it up the single step from her room.

Tiaan moved uncomfortably in the seat, for the brace was pinching her. 'What about a chair that walks, like a clanker with four legs? I'm sure I can design one. I've seen their workings a hundred times, and whatever I've seen, I can remember perfectly.'

He regarded her, thoughtful. 'No wonder you picked up geomancy so easily.'

'What do you mean?'

'That Art is based on the patterns and forces of the natural world. If you can recall and recognise them, you've already taken the first step.'

'And my work as an artisan was the second ...'

'Indeed. Geomancy is unlike all other forms of the Secret Art. Perhaps that is why mancers have, as a rule, struggled to master it. It's alien to their way of thinking. Tell me, how would you move such a walker, Tiaan? I don't see '

'I would build a controller for it, using my hedron to draw power from the field.'

His face lit up. 'I've wondered, sometimes ...' Pushing her under the shade of the vines, he ran into the house, shortly to return with paper and a piece of charcoal.

Tiaan began to sketch, and after various failures settled on something like a miniature clanker, with two thick legs at the front and another two at the back.

'I don't think we can make that here,' Gilhaelith said. 'What if it were more like this?' He sketched a different arrangement.

She ran it forward and back in her mind. 'The legs will catch. But if we were to make it this way ...'

They worked well into the night, and though Gurtey's cabal of servants muttered and scowled outside, it was a good day. Gilhaelith must have enjoyed it too, for he lingered afterwards. He seemed less strange, more complete now that he had revealed a little of himself.

The final design did not resemble a clanker at all. The metal legs were spider-slender and placed at four corners of a hardwood frame, for balance. A seat was mounted on the frame so Tiaan's head would be at her head height when standing. The mechanism to drive the legs, a simplified version of a clanker's innards, would go beneath the seat. Gilhaelith's smiths would build it while Tiaan made the controller, and that was such slow work that the walker would likely be finished first.

She worked in her room, which was hard to endure. Over the past six months Tiaan had grown used to being outside in all weather, but with spies about that was not possible.

At first she could work only in short intervals, for her muscles had lost most of their strength. However, she soon began to make progress. Gilhaelith was generally in his organ chamber, working on an unspecified project. Nyrd the gnomish messenger came and went. Tiaan often saw skeets out her window. On the last day of her first month in Nyriandiol, Gilhaelith took dinner with her in her room.

'The Aachim spies have gone, and Vithis has moved his forces north along both sides of Warde Yallock. They must think the thapter crashed in the wild country there.'

'Why would they think that?'

He simply smiled. 'But of course, that won't get rid of them for long. Sooner or later something will tip them off and they will come in force.' His eyes met hers.

'Can your Art still conceal me?' Her opinion of his powers had risen, as his had of hers.

'Not from a direct search, so we must be ready to flee on short notice.'

'But they'll be watching.'

'We'll go in the thapter, if it's ready. If not, I have another way of escape, though it's not so secure now.'

'You would just abandon Nyriandiol, and all you have here?'

'After betraying Scrutator Klarm, and lying to Vithis, there's no choice.'

'Where will you go?'

He looked away. 'I'll decide when the time comes. In the meantime, there's much to do. Shall we get back to work?'

He knows, she thought, but doesn't trust me enough to say. We think the same way on that, too.

He now began to teach her the foundations of geomancy, though in Tiaan's first week of study that Art was not once mentioned. It was like being back in her days as a prentice artisan.

Gilhaelith started with minerals and crystals. Tiaan had expected to find that easy, having spent most of her life working with crystals of various kinds. On the first morning she discovered that she knew nothing at all. Gilhaelith had hundreds of different minerals in boxes, all nested in the pale, papery bark of the sard tree. One entire room was devoted to them, huge specimens as well as little ones. Tiaan had to learn the name of each mineral, and recognise it no matter how poor or damaged the sample. Some came in a bewildering array of forms which seemed to bear no resemblance to each other, defeating even her visual memory.

At the moment she had before her four samples, all supposed to be of ironstone. One was made of a tangle of small dark plates as iridescent as mica, the second was a round crystal with many facets, the third resembled a dark-brown earth, while the last consisted of many small flat crystals grown together like the petals of a rose.

'I don't understand how they can all be the same,' she said.

Her head was throbbing from the effort of remembering them and their geomantic uses. Ironstone had virtues in healing and could also be transformed into lodestone, though Gilhaelith had not told her how. He bade her take particular note of the rosette form, which had a variety of geomantic uses, some belying its appearance.

'There's too much to learn,' she said wearily.

'Just use your memory. Understanding will come in time.'

But there was never enough time. Each morning began with a recognition test, using hundreds of samples, none of which she had seen before. Gilhaelith expected no less than perfection which, even for Tiaan's visual recall, proved impossible. Subsequently she had to list and describe, from memory, every mineral she had previously been shown. She made many mistakes, which did not please her master.

After only a week, he began her on rocks and ores of every conceivable sort, some identified by form, weight and colour, others because of the minerals they were made up of and the way they were arranged. And rocks, a week later, led to the forces that had formed them at the dawn of time, and all the ways that they had been shaped and changed ever since.

Gilhaelith's instruction now became abstract and harder for her to visualise, much less understand. It suited the contortions of his mind, but not her own. As he plunged deep into the patterns of numbers that crystals made, his deficiencies as a teacher became apparent. When she stumbled over a concept or a principle, he simply repeated what he had said before, more loudly. He could not put himself in the mind of a prentice, or see the right way to teach her what had been so easy for him. Incapable of putting technicalities in simple language, he talked in abstruse jargon. Finally, when he was using numbers to explain the forces that caused volcanoes to erupt, and sometimes explode violently, she snapped.

'I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't understood a thing you've said all morning. Gilhaelith!' Gilhaelith!'

He was staring at her bosom, which had grown over the past month. She had put on weight and knew that it suited her. He did not, she now appreciated, look out of lechery, but simply amazement that she could be shaped so differently from him. She had given up reminding him how rude it was.

Gilhaelith looked away, abashed. 'I'm sorry. You are my first prentice and I'm an indifferent teacher. Would you care to come outside?'

'I'd love to, if it's safe.'

'I have guards around the rim. No spy can come up without being seen. I'll take you down into the crater it may be easier to show than to tell.'

Since Tiaan's controller was not yet ready, she was carried down on the back of a donkey. An uncomfortable journey, it made her back ache within minutes, but she soon forgot about that. Gilhaelith walked beside her, explaining how the lava formed deep in the earth, what force it had taken to blast the crater out, and why its walls had the shape they had. The trip taught her more than she had learned in the previous week.

The sheer cliff below the villa, made of layer upon layer of volcanic rock, looked as if it had been cut with a spade.

'Three hundred years ago, a mighty explosion blasted everything else away,' said Gilhaelith. 'It blocked out the sun for a fortnight and the noise was heard in Tyrkir, hundreds of leagues to the south.'

'And this could happen again?' Tiaan looked around nervously.

'Will happen again, and again.' happen again, and again.'

'Then why risk coming down here?'

'There should be signs for weeks beforehand earth tremblers, geysers. The lake might boil or drain away.'

So much to learn, so little time.

At the bottom they stopped by a hissing spring surrounded with yellow salts. 'The volcano is only sleeping,' Gilhaelith explained. 'The congealed lava is still liquid underneath, and the solid cap nearly as hot as a fire. The rainwater seeps down, boils and is forced up like water from the spout of a kettle.'

'And these coloured crystals?'

'Hot water dissolves minerals from the rocks. After it spurts out and dries up in the heat, crystals form '

'Like salt in a dried-up rockpool on the seash.o.r.e.' Tiaan remembered trips to the sea with her grandmother when she had been little.

'Precisely.'

Further down, the vents were thickly coated with layers of yellow-brown sulphur, the source of much of Gilhaelith's wealth. His workers were hacking it into lumps which they loaded into baskets, some carried on their heads, others on their backs.

They continued to the peculiarly blue waters of the lake. Gilhaelith lifted her off the donkey and to her surprise it felt pleasant in his arms. Setting her down where she could rest against a boulder, he began unpacking a picnic basket. She studied him surrept.i.tiously as he laid food and drink on the cloth, a thick weave patterned with concentric squares in earthy reds, browns and yellows. He still looked awkward but it fitted him better now.

Gilhaelith set down plates, sawed grainy bread into perfect slices and placed two on her plate. He added a handful of a pickled vegetable rather like an olive, white lengths of cheese and slices of cooked gourd, and pa.s.sed it to her. Looking up, he caught her watching him and grinned self-consciously. Tiaan, for the first time, smiled back. In contradiction of his statement about being indifferent to humanity, he seemed to like her. She discovered that she liked him too, in spite of his failings. She could almost almost, almost trust him, though she warned herself not to.

It was a pleasant lunch, as long as she did not look too closely at what he was eating. They just talked about whatever came to mind, and Tiaan was sorry when it was over. It was sweltering, without a trace of breeze. There was not a cloud in the sky and the dark rocks radiated heat.

Gilhaelith packed the basket, then said, 'I'll have a swim before we go up.' Stripping off shirt, boots and socks, he waded into the water and began to flap about on his back, sending gouts of water up from hands and feet and blowing like a whale.

As Tiaan watched, her smile faded. It seemed to grow hotter by the second. Sweat ran down her back. Beneath the straps of the brace her skin itched unbearably. A tear stung her eye. She clenched her hands in her lap and waited.

He came out, still blowing and grinning like a loon, water pouring from his skinny chest. 'That's good. Not too warm, not too cool ' He stooped. 'What's the matter, Tiaan?' and slapped his thigh. A few drops landed on her face. 'I'm a d.a.m.ned fool.'

'I enjoyed watching you swim. It's just that it's so hot ...' She rubbed her eyes and gave him a wan smile. 'It's all right. I was just feeling sorry for myself.'

'I'd carry you out,' he said, 'but '

'I don't mind getting my gown wet,' she said eagerly. 'It'd keep me cool on the way up.'

He took off her boots and carried her into the water. It was the perfect temperature cool enough to be comfortable but not so cool that she could not have stayed in it for hours. The sea near Tiksi, on the few times she had swum in it, had been bone-achingly cold.

Gilhaelith laid her in the water, one hand behind her knees, the other under her back. She floated, weightless and perfectly content. Tiaan splashed water on her face, wiped it off and stared up at the blue sky. It quite took her away from all her troubles.

A droplet on her forehead roused her. 'We'd better go.'

She smacked her cupped hand into the water, splashing him, and laughed. The most extraordinary look crossed his face, like a man trying to climb out through a mask. It tore but re-formed one hundred and fifty years of self-control could not be broken that easily. He looked so stern that Tiaan quailed. No, she thought, there is a human being inside. She swung her arm again and the jet of water caught him right on the bridge of the nose.

Water dripped from his nostrils, hair and chin. He looked so ridiculous that she snorted. He cracked a little, tossing a scoop of water which only dewed her hair. Tiaan attacked him with both hands. Water went everywhere. He splashed her face and this time the mask cracked in two. He whooped. She laughed aloud, going two to his one, until a particularly energetic blow slid her off his arm and she went under. Tiaan did not have time to panic, for he caught her straight away, lifting her out and holding her as if she were a fragile toy.

'Are you all right?'

'Of course,' she said gaily.

'It's late. We'd better go.'

The moment was broken and she was sorry about that, for something had changed between them. They were halfway up the winding track when Tiaan noticed a circling speck, high above. It could have been an eagle but she did not think so. 'Gilhaelith! What do you think that is?'

He stared upwards, shading his eyes with long, knuckly fingers. 'I'd say,' he said slowly, 'that it is a lyrinx.'

'Is it watching us?'

'I think so.'

'Why would a lyrinx be watching Nyriandiol?'

'Sulphur is needed for the war. It would inconvenience humanity if they had to obtain impure stuff from further away.'