Ian Irvine - Tetrarch

What were they saying about Irisis? Ullii had to know. A thought occurred to her, one that made her quake at her boldness. She was thinking about spying on the Council, a crime certainly punishable by the most hideous torments. She had never done anything like that in her life.

Dare she? She had to know what they were going to do to Irisis. She looked around for a place to hide, and watch. Across the wide hall from their dining room was an open door. Ullii slipped through it. Most of the room was taken up by a long table surrounded by chairs upholstered in crimson leather. Creeping under the table, she took out her earplugs.

Her hearing picked up Ghorr’s voice at once, even through the closed door of the dining room. Unfortunately it picked up every other sound as well. The clatter of cutlery was like the clashing of cymbals. The chatter of the scrutators resembled a squad of soldiers marching across a boardwalk. She could hear every chew, every swallow, every grunt and belch.

Ullii endured the cacophony during the interminable dinner, which consisted of eight courses, some so pungent that she could smell them through her noseplugs. When a servant hurried down the hall with hot napkins, the noise was so loud that Ullii almost wept.

There came a single rap, as of a knife on a table, and everyone fell silent.

‘We have much to discuss,’ echoed Ghorr’s voice clearly. He listed a number of items, most having no interest to Ullii, but at the end, ‘and what to do about the crafter.’

Irisis . Ullii listened intently, though it was a long time before she heard anything of interest. Ghorr was speaking again.

‘The device is finally ready. I will give it to Scrutator Flydd at dawn and he will immediately leave for Snizort.’

The debate went on for another hour before they turned to Irisis. Ullii’s ears were throbbing and her headache was worse than ever.

‘Ah, now we come to Crafter Irisis,’ said Ghorr. ‘Scrutator Flydd went to visit her last night.’

A low comment from someone; Ullii could not make out what was said.

Ghorr chuckled. ‘If Flydd could have broken the spell on the door he would have taken her. There seems no limit to the man’s villainy.’

‘It certainly seems that he cannot be trusted,’ said another. ‘As if we should be in any doubt.’

‘I’ve not trusted him since that incident thirty years ago,’ said Ghorr. ‘I voted that he be put down then, if you recall.’

‘And you were outvoted,’ said Halie, ‘as I recall. The man is a problem, I agree, but that is outweighed by his talent. He has served us well in the years since his … punishment. That he survived it shows his indomitable will. We need him until the war is won. After that –’

‘After could well be too late,’ snapped Ghorr.

‘If we lose the war, as is likely without the use of his talents, it will not matter.’

Several people spoke at once and Ullii could not make out what was said, then Ghorr again, with seeming reluctance. ‘As you say, he is a problem for another time. Irisis is a problem for now. I have finished my interrogation of her.’

‘What did you discover?’ came the voice of black-bearded Fusshte.

‘I don’t think there is any more to learn from her. There is no doubt that she killed the mancer on the aqueduct by manipulating the field. The woman’s body was torn apart by explosive anthracism. I’ve not been able to have our best artisans duplicate it on prisoners, but I was careful not to reveal too much. I’m sure it can be done, though, and that leaves us with a problem.’

‘One that’s already out in the open,’ said Halie.

‘Only Irisis knows, and Flydd, Jal-Nish and us. The soldier witnesses can be discounted. Flydd won’t spread it around; it threatens him as much as it does us. Jal-Nish likewise. That only leaves Irisis.’

‘And the seeker,’ said Fusshte in a tone that sent chills up Ullii’s back.

‘That squeaking little mouse,’ sneered Ghorr. ‘She can barely dress herself without bursting into tears. Spare me, Fusshte.’

‘Besides,’ said Halie, ‘we plan to use Ullii later on.’

‘Irisis must die,’ said Ghorr. ‘She’s too much of a risk. But not tonight. I’ll wait till Flydd is safely away. He might become uncooperative, otherwise.’

‘A pity,’ said Fusshte. ‘The woman is a great beauty, and of child-bearing age. And quite a lover, too, I’m told.’ He gave a lascivious snort.

‘Beauty is everywhere,’ said Ghorr coldly, ‘if that is all that you require. Irisis must die. Agreed?’

The scrutators voted. Most agreed. Several did not, Halie among them.

‘Tomorrow,’ said Ghorr. ‘After he’s gone. Keep an extra watch on him tonight. No, lock him in. I wouldn’t put it past Flydd to try again.’

Chairs were thrust back all at once, creating such a racket that Ullii had to push in her earplugs. She heard nothing else. She crouched under the table until they were all gone, making sure by the smell of each. Her heart was thumping. Irisis was going to be murdered.

Ullii flooded with memories of all the times the crafter had treated her kindly, most notably when she’d knocked down Jal-Nish after he had struck Ullii. That had been one of the greatest moments of her life: she’d realised she had found a true friend. Since then, Irisis had sometimes treated her unkindly in little ways, but that no longer counted.

Ullii wanted to help her friend, though she would not have dared had it not been for Myllii. She was too selfish – she had to be – and too afraid. She’d always been helpless. What could she do, if even the scrutator could not save Irisis?

The seeker spent another hour or two under the table. It was as good a place as any to agonise. Dare she try? She dared not. She dared. She dared not. As she was sitting there, a mouse emerged from a crack between wall and floor and scurried along the line of chairs, snapping up crumbs and other morsels fallen from the table. There was not much; the room had not been used since breakfast. Ullii smiled and felt in her pocket, where she had a piece of bread. She did not like large meals, preferring to snack through the day.

Breaking a corner off, she flicked it across the floor. The mouse skittered away, then came creeping back and swallowed the morsel before fleeing again. She flicked another piece of bread, not so far. This time the mouse did not run. She rolled out her hand, containing a larger morsel.

The mouse was more wary this time. It sniffed the air as it watched her with little pink eyes. She approved of its caution. Its whiskers twitching, it ran forward, grabbed the piece of bread and ducked behind the leg of a chair.

Very slowly she put out her hand with a length of crust held between two fingers. Ullii had often watched mice in her dungeon cell, and grown friendly with them. This one was young. An older mouse would have been more careful.

She consulted her lattice but of course the mouse did not appear in it. Animals rarely did. Only lyrinx – not that she thought of them as animals, the nylatl, and those flesh-formed monsters in the ice houses.

Claws dug into her fingers, painfully. Ullii had to restrain herself. The mouse had climbed onto her hand and was nibbling at the crust, trying to get it out from between her fingers with its front paws. She held on for a moment, then let it go. The mouse took the morsel in its mouth, swallowed, and sat back on its haunches, staring at her. Its long snout twitched.

What do you want, little mouse? More bread? Then you’ll have to trust me. She slowly raised her hand until the mouse was level with her face. Its back legs tensed but it did not spring off. She twitched her nose. It twitched back. It must like her. ‘I have some bread in my pocket,’ she said softly. ‘Would you like it?’