Ian Irvine - Alchymist

They scrambled over the side, to congregate at the base of the steps. As he turned to inspect the machine, the light fell full on him. He was no giant, but tall and well proportioned -broad in the chest, slim hipped and with long, muscular legs. He had a long, weathered face, frost-grey eyes and dark hair, worn long, that was streaked with silver at the temples. He wore a grey shirt, grey trousers and pale grey boots. His greatcoat was as black as the flagstones.

Climbing onto the sloping deck, he inspected the structure, the controller, the torn airbag and, last of all, the floater-gas generator. As he climbed down, Irisis noted that he moved stiffly, as if an old injury troubled him.

'Very well,' he said. 'You may stay until the morning. At first light you will repair your contraption and remove yourselves.' He went up the steps, turning before he went through the entrance. 'Bring that device to me.' He pointed to the floater-gas generator.

'At once,' said Flydd, motioning to Irisis and Flangers. 'Would you like to see the controller too?'

'I am familiar with its type,' said the man, and disappeared through the doorway.

They gathered their gear. 'You'd better bring the contents of the larder,' said Flydd. 'He doesn't seem a very hospitable fellow.'

Muss collected the food, including the great haunch of venison. Nish and Flangers carried the floater-gas generator, and little Inouye came behind with her controller. It was her lover, her friend, her family, and the bond with it was the only thing that kept her going.

Irisis picked up her bag and followed. Fiz Gorgo was a grim place, strongly built but undecorated. There were no tapestries on the walls, no rugs in the hall. What furniture it had was of the plainest construction. The hall was high and wide, the rooms large, square and barren of ornament save for time-worn patterns etched into the stone. And it was quite as cold as the manufactory where she had spent her working life.

Halfway down the long hall, the man stood by an open door. 'You may stay here. There is a stove. Water may be drawn from the small cistern out by your infernal contraption. Good evening!' He nodded formally.

They filed past, Irisis last, which gave her the chance to gain a better look at the fellow. He appeared to be in hale middle age.

He caught her gaze and turned, inspecting her from head to toe. Irisis was a tall woman but he was almost a head taller. She looked him boldly in the eye as she went past and knew that his gaze lingered. There was a strange, almost wistful look in his eye. Then he was gone.

Flydd chuckled. 'You'll do no good with that one.'

'I have no intention of doing good, as you so charmingly put it.' she said frostily.

'Who is he?' said Muss, who had been silent for a long time.

'Oh, come now,' said Flydd. 'You're telling me that you, my best spy, don't know?'

Muss looked vexed. 'I've not done any work across the sea.'

'Surely you know your Histories, man?'

'But…'

Nish spoke from behind. 'He, surely, is Lord Yggur, a great mancer who comes into several tales, including the Tale of the Mirror. I thought he was dead long ago.'

'So did everyone,' said Flydd. 'He disappeared at the end of that tale, some two hundred years ago, and has not been seen since. Everyone thought he was dead. Well, almost everyone.'

'Why did he come back to this miserable place?' said Irisis. 'He might have dwelt anywhere on Santhenar.'

'I dare say he likes it here,' Flydd remarked. 'But who knows where he has been? For all we know he could have travelled seven times around the known world, and the unknown. In his day, he had the best —’

'A day long past,' said Nish. 'As I recall it, his courage failed him in the Tale of the Mirror.'

'I'd watch my tongue if I were you,' Flydd said coldly. 'He may be listening to our every word. Besides, he was a great man once, and deserves your respect.'

Nish glanced around uncomfortably.

Irisis packed kindling into the stove, shrugging Fiz Gorgo and Lord Yggur away. 'I've been looking forward to this dinner for a long time.'

She had been thinking and dreaming about food for weeks. Among her many skills Irisis was a brilliant cook, and in times past she'd cooked for herself, and friends, when she could no longer bear the muck provided by the manufactory. Since leaving there last spring she'd had few meals worth thinking about, and most of those had been with Flydd in Gospett. In the past month the food had been horrible, and there had been little enough of it. In Jibstorn she had spent a fortune buying the best of everything. Tonight was going to be a meal to remember.

'How much longer are you planning to torment us?' said Nish, several hours later. The smells arising from the stove were glorious. Even Flangers, deeply withdrawn since she'd forced him to remit his life to her, had a gleam in his eye.

Irisis smiled inwardly. Food always served, if there'd been lack of it for long enough. 'Not long now. Why don't you set up the trestle?'

By the time that was done, dinner was ready. She gave one of her sauces a gentle stir. A shadow drifted down the hall, hesitated for a second outside the door, then went on. A minute later it came past again, glanced across to the stove and continued. Irisis pretended not to notice.

She served up the platters, and no one seemed to notice that an extra one contained some of the choicest portions. While everyone was sitting down, she took up the platter and slipped out the door. Irisis could not have said why, only that she was curious about the master of Fiz Gorgo.

It did not take long to find him, for Yggur sat at a big table in a room at the far end of the hall. He was reading and did not look up as she approached. The floater-gas generator sat on the table beside him, in pieces. There was a faint smell of liquorice in the air, and several slices of peeled root on a dish.

Irisis stood in front of the table, feeling more than a little foolish.

'What do you want?' he growled, still with his head in the book.

'I thought you might be hungry, Lord Yggur.'

At the sound of her voice his head snapped up and the book fell shut. 'Ah, the artisan,' he said. 'I am no lord, and outside this place I don't go by the name Yggur. The past is dead and I prefer it to stay that way.'

'You called me artisan. How do you know me, surr?'

'"He may be listening to our every word,"' he quoted. 'I know everything that goes on in my own realm. I presume your scrutator has sent you to cozen me?'

Irisis blushed, which she found embarrassing. 'Since you've overheard everything we said, surr, you would know I'm going against his direct orders. It's just that, well, you were so kind as to provide us with a roof for the night, and I wished to repay you in what small way I could.'

His lips twitched and Irisis felt as though he could read her mind, the bad as well as the good. In truth, she had no idea why she had done it, though it was not attraction to Yggur. She'd chosen her man and had no interest in any other.

'Very well. Put it on the table. Your own dinner will be getting cold.'

She bowed and turned to the door, feeling his eyes boring into her back and resisting the urge to run away. A disturbing man. And then, sitting down at the trestle with the others, she ate the entire glorious meal without tasting a thing.

They slept the sleep of the truly exhausted that night, and not even Flydd noticed when Yggur slipped into their chamber in the pre-dawn hours. Conjuring ghost light with his fingers, he inspected each in turn. His gaze lingered longest on three: the scrutator, Nish and Irisis. As he turned to go, Yggur almost stumbled over the little pilot, who lay by herself in her sleeping pouch, tossing and groaning. Bending down, he placed the glowing light to her temples, left and right. She rolled over onto her side and slept soundly, and Yggur withdrew.