Part 52 (1/2)

'I would, if you hadn't destroyed them.'

'You know what I mean,' Flydd growled.

'You haven't told me what to do, surr,' piped Zoyl Aarp. Though a big lad, his voice had not yet broken.

'Haven't I? With this reader I will force power back into the node. That will, I hope, create a faint aura. You are to focus on that, for it is the key to the problem of all failed nodes. Begin!'

Irisis heard the faint tinkle of gold and silver foil. The field brightened, though it was not growing stronger. She was just seeing it more clearly.

'Trickle power to me, Oon-Mie.'

Such a simple skill, and vital for an artisan, yet Irisis could not do it. She envied Oon-Mie; perhaps hated her for it at that instant; then the power began to flow and the feeling was gone.

'I can't see anything,' sang out Zoyl. 'Are you sure ?'

'Shut up, boy!' snapped the scrutator. 'We haven't started yet. I'll tell you '

Zoyl whimpered. Irisis cleared her throat and Flydd broke off. The boy being highly strung, a little criticism went a long way.

'A trace more, Oon-Mie.'

So it went on, the scrutator calling for more power, working his unspecified magic, Zoyl Aarp looking, 'Still no aura,' then trying harder next time.

'I can't do much more,' said Oon-Mie after half an hour. Her voice was tight, strained. 'It's getting harder to control the flow.'

'Another step, Oon-Mie,' said Flydd. 'We're not getting anything at all.'

'Maybe there's nothing to get,' Irisis mumbled. 'Or maybe it will take more power than the node has in it. What will happen then?'

'Don't tell me my job! I'm not a complete idiot.'

Oon-Mie gave the scrutator another increment of power. 'Anything?' she gasped.

'Not a thing. Zoyl?'

'Nothing, surr.'

'I can't increase it,' said Oon-Mie. 'With the very greatest respect, I'm at my limit, surr.'

'Again!' roared the scrutator. 'Remember we're all under a death sentence.'

Zoyl choked.

'What do you mean?' cried Oon-Mie.

'The scrutator is saying,' Irisis said hastily, 'that Jal-Nish is hunting us. If we do this right, he can't touch us. But if we fail, we will all fall with Scrutator Flydd.' She put one hand on the lad's shoulder.

'Let's make sure we don't fail!' said Flydd. 'Can I rely on you or not, Zoyl?'

'Yes, surr.' There was a quaver in the lad's voice.

'Dare you try one last time, Oon-Mie?' said Flydd. 'I should point out that I I am the one at most risk.' am the one at most risk.'

'I will try, surr,' she said faintly.

Irisis did not like it. Oon-Mie was her most reliable artisan because she knew her limits and never went beyond them.

'Keep it flowing till I tell you to stop,' said Flydd.

That made Irisis even more uneasy. It was a dangerous escalation of unpredictability.

The power flowed, increased and kept flowing.

'Anything, Aarp?' panted the scrutator.

'No I mean, there was the very faintest aura but it disappeared right away.'

'Keep it going, Oon-Mie.'

Oon-Mie said nothing but Irisis could feel her tension distorting the field. She did not like what she felt.

'More!' cried the scrutator. 'More, Oon-Mie, d.a.m.n it!'

The power went up again. Now there was a definite tremor in it. Drops of sweat ran down Irisis's forehead. 'Surr,' she hissed, 'that's enough.'

'Keep it coming!'

Irisis's foreboding grew. The tremor became a shuddering vibration that would have torn a clanker apart.

Zoyl moaned. 'My head hurts. Stop it. Stop it!'

Irisis reached out to him. 'It's all right, Zoyl. The scrutator will look after us.'

Without warning that vibration swelled to gigantic proportions. Oon-Mie tried to clamp down but it was out of control, feeding back on itself and growing catastrophically stronger.

Oon-Mie gave a gurgling, clotted gasp. Zoyl Aarp fell down, wailing. The glow grew so bright that Irisis could feel it on her skin.

The scrutator was just to her left; she could see the distortion in the field. His breath crackled in his sinuses. Irisis caught a whiff of burning hair. 'Flydd?' He did not answer, nor could he. Power coiled around him like a serpent. Into Into him. If she did not do something, they were all going to die. him. If she did not do something, they were all going to die.

She thrashed around with her arms and one hand touched the reader, which was burning-hot. Wrenching it from his grasp, she slammed it against the wall of the cave, breaking the metal back of the dragonfly. Delicate silver wires tore. A crystal tinkled to the rocky floor.

The flow stopped at once, the glow faded and all she could hear was Zoyl's stifled moans.

'Oon-Mie?' she called.

'I'm all right,' the artisan rasped, coughing up gobs of phlegm the size of oysters.

'Scrutator?'

His tongue made a series of clicks as if he was having trouble moving it. 'I'll live,' he said thickly.