Ian Irvine - Alchymist

'No news at all?' said Nish. The scrutators prided themselves on their communications; it enabled them to control the world.

'The lyrinx locate our messengers from the air. They've also worked out how to track our skeets and kill them. It's next to impossible to get messages through to garrisons along the Sea of Thurkad. Were you at the battle for Snizort?'

'Yes,' said Nish, 'though not as a soldier. I was held prisoner bv Vithis the Aachim.'

'You two have come a long way on foot, with such injuries.' He was studying Nish as if he suspected something had gone unsaid.

Nish wasn't sure how to proceed. If the general discovered what had really happened, he might clap Nish in the brig and deliver him up to the scrutators. But if Nish lied …

He took a deep breath. 'I must be completely honest with you, surr, no matter what it may cost me. The Snizort node exploded, destroying the field, and after that the battle went terribly wrong, for neither our clankers nor the Aachim's constructs could move.'

'I knew something was amiss,' said Troist, rubbing his lower belly, for he suffered with his bowels. 'Tell me all that has happened.'

Nish related the tale of the desperate battle at Snizort, the failure of the node and the consequent slaughter, the scrutators saving what remained of the army with their airborne mirrors, the underground fire and the abandonment of Snizort by the lyrinx. He hesitated, then told the rest, including Flydd's slavery and his own condemnation by his father, the escape, his folly which had caused the death of Mylii and the loss of Ullii, and his father's mad quest to attack the lyrirrx. 'That's all, surr; he said finally, 'save for a secret to do with the node—'

'I don't want to know any mancers' secrets, lad,' said the general. 'Go on.'

'I've been condemned by my own father, surr, and Scrutator Flydd by the entire Council. We fled for our lives, and now you have us …' Nish could think of no defence, nothing at all. 'You must send me back in chains, I suppose.'

'I have no orders concerning you, Cryl-Nish, and must rely on my judgment. In the past you served me well. I haven't forgotten that.'

Nish blushed to think of his flight from Mira's house with his trousers about his ankles. 'But there was an incident at Morgadis …'

'A misunderstanding on your part, Mira tells me. She was mortified that you fled her home in terror of your life, but I'll leave her to explain when next you meet. She's suffered terribly, my wife's sister, and can be emotional.. 'He grimaced. To Troist, such feelings were a private business. To matters that do concern me. You say that the surviving army is being led into greater peril.’

'My father, Jal-Nish …I don't know how to say it, General Troist, but his injuries have transformed him. He's a bitter man, full of hate and rage. He even condemned me—'

'You told me already.' Troist turned away, his mouth hooked down. 'How any father could do that to a son — the man is surely a monster. And you say Ghorr required it of Jal-Nish, to prove his worth? How can that be? Duty is everything to me, yet such deeds shake my faith in our leaders.'

'After the battle, the lyrinx withdrew south-west from Snizort, towards the Sea of Thurkad/ said Nish. 'My father plans to hunt them down, once he's dragged our clankers to the nearest field, and surely he's done that by now.'

'Where would that be?' Unrolling a canvas chart, Troist spread it on a table.

Nish heard shouting outside, then the rear hatch was jerked up and Flydd appeared in the opening, swaying on his feet. His face was grey-green, his lips blue and he was clearly in great pain. It had not improved his temper. A young woman in a healer's cap clutched at his arm but he pushed her away.

'I'm Scrutator Xervish Flydd!' he rapped. 'You are General Troist?'

'I am,' said Troist, leaping to the hatch. Are you sure you're—'

'Surr, I implore you,' cried the healer, tugging at Flydd's sleeve. He fixed her with a glare of such ferocity that she drew back, twisting her fingers together. 'This is most unwise. You risk—'

'You've done your work, now leave me be!' snapped Flydd. 'The fate of the world hangs upon my stopping Jal-Nish. Your coming is timely, General Troist.' He tried to pull himself up but let out a gasp and fell against the sill of the hatch.

Troist and the healer lifted him in and guided him to a seat. Behind Flydd's back Troist beckoned the healer, a sturdy young woman in her mid-twenties, blonde of hair and blue of eye, with worry lines etched across a broad forehead. She sat in the shadows, looking troubled.

'You didn't think so a few hours ago,' Nish said quietly.

'And I'll make you suffer for disobeying my order,' Flydd snapped. 'Out of the way, boy! The men have work to do.'

Nish moved back next to the healer, feeling empty inside.

'I value Cryl-Nish Hlar's counsel, surr' Troist said evenly. 'He has served me well on more than one occasion.'

'And failed you disastrously on others, no doubt,' said the scrutator curtly. 'To business.'

'If you would take the rear seat for the moment, surr,' said Troist. 'Cryl-Nih was briefing me on the situation at Snizort and I value his account.'

Nish sat up, astonished. It was unheard of for anyone, even a general, to defy a scrutator. Of course, Flydd was now ex-scrutator, but it would be prudent to avoid offending him. What kind of a man was Troist, to stand up for someone who was of no further benefit to him?

'More than you fear the just wrath of the scrutators?' Flydd said menacingly. He was unused to defiance and did not like it.

'I do fear the just wrath of the scrutators, surr/ said Troist, 'as any sane man would. I even fear the wrath of those who are no longer scrutators, should I meet one of them.' His eyes held Flydd's and, though Flydd played the game of staring him down the general did not look away.

'Is there no secret you haven't blabbed, boy?' cried Flydd.

Nish made allowances. The scrutator was in pain and not himself.

'I believe the lad felt he was doing his duty/ Troist put in. 'If you please, surr.' He indicated the seat up the back. 'Cryl-Nish, would you go on?'

Flydd sank onto the bench, wincing. He delivered the healer such a black look that she shrank into the corner.

Nish collected his thoughts. The constructs were being hauled north-west to a node. About here, I'd guess' He pointed The lyrinx fled this way He traced a line on the map with his fingertip, south-west towards the narrowest section of the Sea of Thurkad. "But that was weeks ago. They could be anywhere by now.'

'Only the boldest of men would engage the enemy so close to the sea,' said Troist. 'Reinforcements could fly from Meldorin in less than an hour.’

'Jal-Nish thinks his forces will have the advantage of a demoralised and weakened enemy' said Flydd. 'He doesn't know the lyrihx as I do. They abandoned Snizort because they'd got what they wanted, and they'll be waiting for him.'

'I don't know that country well' said Troist, 'but something nags at me, Scrutator. Why has the Council given Jal-Nish command? He's junior to them all.'

'The scrutators are afraid to lead' said Flydd, 'for none are battle tacticians and they value their own skins too highly. Yet they can't bear to give up control to the generals, so Jal-Nish is the only choice. He's a dangerous man, General Troist, for he truly believes he's better than them all.'

'What does he want?'

'Not gold. Nor knowledge, nor the company of beautiful women. Jal-Nish Hlar desires only one thing — to take over the Council and impose his twisted will on the entire world. He's a driven man.'

Someone rapped on the rear hatch. The healer threw it up and a young aide whispered something in Flydd's ear. Flydd nodded and made to climb out, but a man concealed by cloak and hood pushed forward. He and Flydd spoke in low voices for several minutes, and Nish caught only one phrase. At the node?' the man hissed in surprise, before turning away.