Ian Irvine - Geomancer

The clanker thudded up the hill, turning onto the Tiksi road. The gates of the manufactory dangled from their hinges. There was more damage inside, as well as head-high drifts of snow, but no tracks.

‘Looks like it happened some time ago,’ said Tuniz. ‘That drift didn’t get here in a day.’

They went down the central walkway, weapons at the ready. Irisis, hobbling past the cold furnaces, peered in and shook her head. ‘They must have been out for at least a week.’

‘And they’ll be the very devil to get back into operation,’ said Tuniz. ‘This one has a load of iron set hard in the bottom. How are we going to get that out?’

They found no one, nor any great signs of violence inside. There were no bodies and the place had not been sacked or looted, though all the crystal was gone from the artisans’ workshops. Sitting in a courtyard out the back, where a meagre sun just managed to top the wall, they ate a dismal lunch.

‘It looks as if the place was attacked and everyone fled,’ said Nish. ‘Though all the lyrinx came for was the crystal.’

‘Or to put the place out of action,’ said Fyn-Mah, composed again.

‘I suppose you’re in charge here now,’ said Irisis to the querist.

‘I suppose I am. And I’m loath to abandon this place, since it’s the best mine and the best manufactory in this area, but we can’t stay here without a guard. We’ll head down to Tiksi, where I dare say we’ll find our workers and miners. I’ll see what’s happened and seek advice from the scrutator, if I can commandeer a skeet. And there,’ she lowered her voice, ‘we’ll have to do something about our operator.’

‘I don’t know that there’s any proof …’ Nish began. He looked up to see Ky-Ara hurrying out.

‘No proof is needed to put him where he can do no more harm!’ Fyn-Mah said savagely.

They were getting up when they heard the clanker rattling down the track.

‘What’s he doing?’ Fyn-Mah shouted.

Nish ran to the front gate. The machine was already out of sight. ‘He’s gone renegade,’ Irisis said, clacking towards him on her crutches. She began to laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ said Nish. ‘Now we’ve got to walk down to Tiksi.’

‘How else could this bloody fiasco of an expedition end?’ she snorted and, tucking the crutches under her arms, set off down the hill.

They went by the mine and the village. Both had been evacuated. The weather being good, they continued down the mountain and reached the gates of Tiksi at dusk. There they found scenes of confusion and chaos. Spikes were being installed on top of the city walls and a massive new gate constructed outside the old one.

‘That won’t keep lyrinx out for long,’ said Tuniz after they had gone through. She turned to stare at the stonework with a professional’s eye.

‘I don’t suppose it will.’ Nish plodded apathetically beside her. After so long on the road, all he wanted was a hot bath. He planned to lie in it until his skin peeled off, then go to bed and not get up for a week.

Irisis was not laughing now. The crutches had taken the skin off under her arms and every step brought a gasp.

Nish saw his father settled into bed at an inn and called a healer to attend him. Jal-Nish was docile after the weeks of sedation, but Nish gave the appropriate warnings. He found a quiet room for Ullii, who remained closed off, advised the maid how to treat her, and attended to a dozen other urgent matters. Fyn-Mah had gone to see the master of the city.

Finally, around midnight, he had just taken his clothes off and was putting one grimy foot in the bathwater, which was barely lukewarm, when someone pounded on the door with a spear butt.

‘Cryl-Nish Hlar! Cryl-Nish Hlar!’

‘Yes!’ he snapped.

‘You are called to attend the master.’

‘I’m in the bath. I’ll be out directly.’

‘He said you were to come immediately !’

Nish cursed the man under his breath. ‘It will take a few minutes to get dressed.’

‘Make it quick!’

Nish gave himself a quick scrub with a cloth, removing the surface grime. Whatever the urgency, appearances were important. He found clothes in his pack which, though not clean, were better than the ones he had on. Before he was ready the soldier began pounding on the door again. Nish was hurried through the streets and up the steps of the master’s mansion. There he was ushered into a small room crowded with people. He recognised many faces from the manufactory, including Foreman Gryste and, surprisingly, Muss the halfwit. Irisis and Fyn-Mah were there too, as well as the master of the city and a small, thin man Nish had never seen before. He sat at the end of the table and even the master seemed in awe of him.

‘Cryl-Nish Hlar!’ announced the aide, and the small man turned a pair of mild black eyes on him. They were shaded in deep sockets by eyebrows that formed an unbroken black band across the bridge of the man’s nose.

‘About time!’ he snapped. ‘Where have you been, Artificer Cryl-Nish?’

‘I had to settle my father, surr. He is Perquisitor Jal-Nish …’

‘I know your damned father! Sit down! Querist Fyn-Mah has given me an outline of this disaster. Four clankers lost, and forty soldiers, for absolutely no gain. Such incompetence I cannot comprehend. I’ve a good mind to send the whole blasted lot of you to the front-line.’

An audible shiver passed through the room. He let the sentence hang in the air while he glared at each of them in turn. Nish tried to meet his gaze but had to look away. This was a man very much used to dominating others. He had an exceptionally thin and angular face that looked to have had all the meat pared from it, leaving mere bone, skin and sinew. His cheeks were sucked in so far that Nish could see the outline of his teeth. A straggle of beard on the chin emphasised its spade-like quality.

‘Humpf! Useless lot.’ His eye fell on Nish again, who was seated next to Irisis. ‘Especially you pair! What was that fuss all about?’

Neither said anything, since they had no idea what the question meant.

‘Fornication! That’s what! I blame you two for the whole sorry mess.’ The man sighed. ‘In the meantime, there’s work to be done. It’s a tragedy Tiaan is lost to us. A double tragedy that the curious crystal is gone as well. And to cap it all, your clanker operator’s run off with his machine. Who the hell was running the show?’

No one spoke. Fyn-Mah looked stricken. ‘I was, surr, after the perquisitor was injured. I take full resp …’

‘Humpfh! I sent Jal-Nish. The responsibility is mine. Don’t suppose the fellow will get far, anyway. Now, how do we get out of this mess?’

Again no one spoke.

‘You lot don’t have a quile of initiative between you!’ He twirled his whiskers around a finger and pressed the coil in through his lips, sucking on the strands. ‘We can’t give up the manufactory. We won’t be intimidated. It goes back into operation as soon as possible. And the mine. But I need an overseer.’ He considered, sucking furiously.

A chair scraped halfway down Nish’s row. A big, barrel-chested man stood up. ‘I would like to put …’

‘Sit down, Foreman Gryste,’ said the thin man. ‘Artificer Tuniz, you have come out of the excursion with some credit. You will be overseer. I shall give you two weeks to get the manufactory operating again, and then I want a clanker from it every fortnight.’

Gryste rocked back on his chair, dismayed, then angry.

‘It can’t be done!’ said Tuniz flatly.

‘I can do it, surr,’ said Gryste.

‘Good! See you are the best foreman the manufactory has ever had or I’ll have your head. Overseer Tuniz, find a way! You will have the support you need.’