Ian Irvine - Alchymist

He took her hand, without enthusiasm. 'Thank you, Matah Malien. Why have you come, and how did you get here?'

'Come, Harjax, you've been observing us for ages. Tiaan Liise-Mar here, an artisan from the other side of the world has uncovered the secret of flight which has eluded all the mancers of this world, and Aachan, since the death of Rulke. In a short time she converted this construct, abandoned by Vithis in Tirthrax, into a machine that flies.'

'She may have assisted,' Harjax said, "but the mind behind this discovery was yours, Matah, as your hand was at the controls when it set down. What are you up to?'

'The secret of flight will benefit us all, Harjax.'

'Have you brought this thapter as a gift, then?'

'I had in mind to see what progress you'd made before—'

'You think you know better than everyone else,' he said with a sorrowful air, though it seemed just a veneer of manners or custom. These Aachim were angry folk. 'You show us no more loyalty than you did in the past.'

'Stassor is more magnificent than ever,' she observed calmly. 'You've done well for yourselves, without me, as you've made clear many times.'

'For good reason. You don't cleave to your own, Malien.'

'I am Matah,' she reminded him, 'an honour specifically created to free the recipient from such burdens, and permit her to think outside the cube, as it were. Anyway, flight has been discovered, for good or for ill, and you must plan what to do with it.' She glanced at Tiaan. 'Must we quarrel in the yard, forgetting all courtesy to our guest, or will you offer Tiaan her due?'

All this time, the Aachim had given Tiaan not a single glance, but now he turned dark eyes on her, of such singular penetration that Tiaan could not meet his gaze.

'The last time an outsider was admitted to our precincts, it brought about the downfall of a city — beloved Shazmak.'

'And the death of my son,' Malien said pointedly. 'He's gone forever, yet Shazmak endures. We can go back if we choose.'

'To a land infested with lyrinx!'

'They cannot thrive in the high mountains. They are no threat to us, now we have the secret of flight.'

'But they are a threat to the order of this world and we must consider what to do about it. Come inside.'

They followed the seven Aachim down a broad hall into a rectangular room that appeared to be made of glass, though unlike any glass Tiaan had ever seen. The walls glowed like oiled opal, the patterns forever changing.

The Council of Stassor was called the year before last,' said Malien. 'What choices have you made?'

'The situation changes rapidly,' Harjax said, uncomfortable with her directness.

'Meaning you cannot come to a decision. I'm glad you didn't invite me. I could have died of old age before you did anything.'

Harjax grimaced, for to speak so plainly bordered on insult. He indicated a small table around which were distributed a number of oddly shaped chairs, each like a bean opened in the middle and the ends folded out. They sat and refreshments were brought in. Tiaan's chair proved surprisingly comfortable. She took nothing to eat, feeling out of place and unwelcome, but sipped at a mug of clear liquid as thin and clear as water, though more refreshing.

'But when we do reach our decision,' said Harjax, 'it will be the right one. Look what happened before, when we allowed unfettered power to a leader who was not worthy of it.'

'Tensor was a fool, and no one knows that better than I,' said Malien, leaning back. 'I rue every hour that I let him have his way. But that's ancient history. The world that existed when you began your council last year has been forever altered. Should you ever reach your right decision, it will already be irrelevant. And our fellow Aachim, from Aachan—'

'We've met with Vithis's emissaries,' said Harjax. 'We found much to talk about. Much to agree upon.'

'I found much to fear and more to dread,' said Malien. 'Not least the way they abused Tiaan. They forced her to use the amplimet all day and every day for weeks.'

Harjax squirmed in his seat. 'To what purpose?' "To save their fleet of constructs, stalled by the destruction of the node.'

A justifiable end, I would say. And after all,' he gave Tiaan a sideways glance, 'it's not as though she's …'

One of us! Have the decency to speak your prejudice plainly.'

It's not as if old humans are our equals.'

'In some respects they're our superiors, but that's not the point. We're all human.'

That's heresy!'

'And the cause of all our problems. I've spent my life trying to bring the peoples of this world together, and little has come of it.'

'Aye, and at the expense of your own kind,' growled Harjax. 'You might have taken back the Mirror of Aachan, yet you did not. You made alliance with old humans, forfeiting our own interests. And look what that led to.'

Malien looked pointedly around the magnificent room. 'Peace and prosperity for us, while old humans are being crushed on the anvil of war.' 'They are not our kind, Matah.' 'We sprang from them in the distant past.' 'That's a lie!' he cried, and the polite veneer was stripped away. 'Old humans are degenerate, not ancestral. Vithis's Aachim are our kind and we must support them!'

'They are the old kind, full of hate, prejudice and rivalry.' Malien spoke more reasonably than before, as if to throw up the contrast between them. 'They still adhere to clans, Harjax, and they see themselves as better than us. They come to take, not to share. To rule, not to meet as equals. They will grind old humans into the muck and then …' 'Yes?' he said coldly.

'We'll be next. We abandoned the clans before the Clysm, and we're the better for it. Vithis will bring back rivalry and revenge. He wants to make us tribes again, with himself as the chief. He's a barbarian dressed up as a civilised man.'

'I agree,' said an aged man who hitherto had done nothing but sip from a greatly elongated mug. 'Vithis is like Tensor reincarnated, only without the nobility. These Aachim are almost as primitive as old humans. We should be leading them.' 'Thus, the nub of our problem.' The new speaker was a man who seemed little older than Tiaan herself, a dark, handsome fellow with a square jaw and a nose like the prow of a ship. 'We cannot agree on anything. We'll still be arguing when the last old human is eaten. Only when it is too late will we understand what we have lost. Old humans have made this world safe for us, and we owe them our support.'

'Thank you, Bilfis. What would you do, Sulleye?' said Malien to the smallest of the women beside her.

'Old humans have wrought havoc on this world. To build their clankers, and the other powered devices they rely on utterly, they've razed mountains and fed whole forests into their reeking furnaces. These constructs reduce us to their level. They're an abomination we will long regret. We must abandon all such devices, including the nodes, and go back to the ways of the past.'

'How would we maintain Stassor, or any of our cities, without the Art?' said Harjax.

'By intelligence and hard work,' she snapped.

'The lyrinx would overrun this world all the sooner.'

'They rely on the Art more than you think,' said Bilfis. 'Without it they cannot fly, in which case their wings are a hindrance rather than an advantage.'

'Nor could they flesh-form,' said Tiaan.

Every Aachim stared at her, as if a servant had just spoken up in a king's council.

'Just so,' said Malien, smiling at their discomfiture. 'Neither could they use their spying devices. All they would have is their strength and native wit, which is less advantage than you might suppose, without a civilisation to support it.'

Harjax jerked his head at an aide, who took Tiaan by the elbow. 'Would you come with me, please?'

Tiaan shot up in her chair, thinking they meant to do her mischief, but Malien laid a hand on hers. 'Don't be afraid, Tiaan. My people only wish to discuss matters privately. You won't be harmed.'