Part 63 (1/2)

Ullii appeared beside her. Irisis had not heard her coming. She never did. The seeker could move like a ghost when she wanted to, which was most of the time.

'Are you unhappy, Irisis?' Ullii said softly, insinuating her head under the taller woman's arm. She liked to get close to her friends and in this awful place, despite the feelings of jealousy that still plagued her, she felt close to Irisis.

Irisis presumed she was forgiven for pressuring Ullii weeks ago. 'I'm afraid, Ullii. The scrutators won't let me leave here alive.'

Ullii drew in her breath sharply, then rubbed her cheek along Irisis's arm. 'What have you done?'

Irisis explained.

'Mancer was an evil woman,' said the seeker.

'You knew her?'

'I read her knot in my lattice.' The tiny hairs on Ullii's arms stirred.

'You can tell a person's character from the way you see them in your lattice?'

'Of course.'

'What do you think of the scrutator. Is he evil too?'

Ullii gave her an ambiguous look and moved to a chair across the table. 'Scrutator was mean to me.'

Presumably she referred to the time Flydd had forced her to find crystals in the mine. Or perhaps when he'd roared at her to bring down the lift. Ullii did not forget an insult, or an injury. She could not strike back but, where she could get away with it, took pleasure in sullen non-cooperation.

'And Ghorr?' said Irisis.

'He is chief scrutator,' said Ullii, as if that was all there was to say. Perhaps it was.

Irisis was finis.h.i.+ng her bowl of tea when Ullii hunched down in the chair with just her eyes showing over the edge of the table. What was it now?

Irisis looked around. The chief scrutator was heading towards her.

'Scurry away, little mouse,' he said contemptuously.

Ullii went sideways off the chair and disappeared among the tables.

Irisis looked Ghorr in the eye. She was almost as afraid of him as she had been of Jal-Nish, but she was d.a.m.ned if she was going to show it. 'Yes?' she said with an imperious tilt of her chin.

'You know what I want.'

'We've been through that.'

'Just tell me how you did it and you can go with Flydd tomorrow.'

'I may be just an artisan, Scrutator Ghorr, but I'm no fool. I know I'm not leaving here alive.'

He evinced no surprise. Ghorr seldom showed any reaction, except deliberately. 'As you wish. But there are more lives on offer than the one you've been leading. With a talent like yours, you could become a mancer mancer.' He said it with emphasis, as though it was the pinnacle of everyone's ambition.

'I didn't want to be an artisan,' she said. 'Why would I want to be a mancer?'

'Given the choice between being powerful and powerless, I'm sure you'd make the right decision.'

Irisis knew she should smile and thank him, take what he offered and use it to find a way out for herself. That was the sensible thing. But she just couldn't. She could not ally with a man, and a system, so manifestly corrupt. He wanted to corrupt her too. Besides, they knew her reputation. She had attacked Perquisitor Jal-Nish, disobeyed his lawful orders, killed his mancer in the pursuit of her duty ... Her list of crimes was endless and it was perfectly clear that she opposed all that the Council stood for. It was unlikely that they could corrupt her. The offer was a trap.

'Or maybe not,' he said. 'A pity. It would have been easier that way.' Ghorr stood up. 'Come with me, crafter.'

She followed him down the travertine-clad corridor, so long that the other end was just a point. Near the end, he turned into a small, brightly lit room. Each interrogation was held in a different place.

And each ended the same way, with her taunting him and him attacking her with his fists. She was bruised all over, but nowhere visibly. For some reason, Ghorr did not want the Council to know. Irisis would have shown Flydd the marks, had they been on speaking terms.

Afterwards she was taken to another room, several levels down. The door had a simple latch on it, no lock at all.

'Close,' said Ghorr once she was inside.

The door clicked shut and she could not open it. Clever. A crafter with her talents could beat most mechanical locks, but not one based on the Art. However it worked, it was different from anything she had experience with. It did not draw power from the field and she could do nothing about it. Perhaps she should have agreed to do what Ghorr wanted, after all.

Some hours later there was a faint tap at the door. 'Irisis?'

It was the scrutator. He had come for her. 'Yes?' she whispered back. 'How did you find me?'

'With great difficulty. I had to leave a simulacrum of myself back in my room, and employ ... other scrutator magic to get here unseen. I'm not completely sure that it's worked.'

'Get me out,' she said. 'I can't bear this place.'

'What kind of lock is inside?'

'There is none. Just a simple latch, but it won't lift.'

'I was afraid of that. There's nothing you can remove to open the door?'

'Not without tools. Everything is tightly fixed.'

'And even if you did, I suspect the door still would not open.'

'Ghorr simply said ”Close” and went away.'

'Could be any one of a dozen holding or sealing spells,' said Flydd.

'Can't you break it?'

'Depending which spell he used, I might be able to. And then again, I might not. Ghorr is a lot older than I am.'

'He doesn't look it.'

'Rejuvenation is a wonderful thing. He's older, stronger, more powerful ...'