Part 69 (2/2)

'Can't they take it across the sea where they're safe from attack?'

'I don't know. Since I speak their language, they're specially careful what they say when I'm around.'

'The lyrinx have defeated us so many times already. Why are they afraid now?'

'Because of the Aachim and their constructs.'

Tiaan felt a s.h.i.+ver of fear. Why did the thought of them frighten her more than the lyrinx did? She was sure that Vithis was still after her.

'The lyrinx worry that Aachim and humans will unite to destroy them. Snizort is vulnerable should they bombard this place with blazing missiles, the tar pits would burn for a hundred years and nothing could extinguish the fires. The lyrinx have a particular terror of fire.'

Tiaan imagined being trapped down here and shuddered. 'So do I.'

'Yet they must complete what they came here to do. That's why your torgnadr is so urgent.'

'What would they have done if I hadn't come?'

'They have a torgnadr here, but it's been in place for years and is rapidly failing. A band of lyrinx was bringing a replacement from across the sea, but something went wrong. The lyrinx carrying the torgnadr fell into the sea from a great height and was killed, and the torgnadr was lost. It was a terrible setback. Then, miraculously, you turned up. With your talent, and the amplimet, it was their chance to make the most powerful torgnadr of all.'

'What are all these torgnadrs for?'

'There's only one yours.'

'But what about all these other patterners?'

'Their torgnadrs have failed, as nearly all do. They are being repatterned into limnadrs, phynadrs, zygnadrs and other minor devices.'

'Mine is the only one?' she said, wide-eyed.

'Yes. In three years of patterning here they've made thousands of minor devices, but only two torgnadrs, and none in the past year. From what I read of their skin-speech, they have the highest hopes for yours. If it's not ready in time, Snizort must fall.'

'And we will surely be burned to death.'

'Alas.'

To save her life she must hope that the torgnadr grew well and swiftly. But if Snizort survived, the human army might not. In that case it was her duty to destroy or sabotage the growing device.

Tutor fell silent. Tiaan grew uncomfortable, wished he would go, and shortly he did. She started crying again.

In the intervals between patterning she slept or sat staring around her, bored out of her wits. Her appet.i.te came back eating was the only thing she had any control over. The torgnadr grew as quickly as a mushroom and with every pa.s.sing hour Tiaan thought more about her duty. After fleeing Kalissin and the horrific result of her unwilling collaboration there, she had vowed she would never aid the lyrinx again. Now here she was, still unwilling, helping them in a way that could be a hundred times worse. Her duty was clear. She must try to destroy the torgnadr.

Yet she could not move while in the patterner, and when they took her out she was carried to another room to sleep. She could not influence the patterner either it took from her what it required and she did not know what that was.

In the next session, Tiaan watched more closely. She saw the patterner reading her and imprinting the growing torgnadr. She saw the ebb and flow of the field, and the brightening of the amplimet as power was drawn through it. It did not take much power but something else must, for the field was fluctuating erratically. The amplimet began blinking furiously, as it had at Tirthrax. Was it speaking to the node again?

What if she were to draw power into the amplimet and try to damage the torgnadr, or the patterner itself? Tiaan tried to, but her talent could not penetrate the mask. The lyrinx had thought of everything. That day, when the mask and the amplimet were removed, she wept the most helpless tears of all.

By now, the growth so filled its bucket that the bulbous head protruded from the top. At night, when the lights were out, it emitted a faint green glow.

The torgnadr disturbed Tiaan. It seemed to be watching her, trying to copy her talent, though she knew that was ridiculous. There was no brain inside it; no intelligence. Ryll had told her that much. It was simply patterned on her ability to sense the fluctuating field and draw power from it. Nonetheless, the sight of it put her on edge.

Tutor came to see her every day. Though Tiaan knew Ryll had sent him, she looked forward to Tutor's visits. He was cheerful, despite his years of slavery, and talked of places far away and times distant: the Great Tales of the Histories, as well as the minor ones. His presence reminded her of her simple life back in the manufactory. How she yearned for it.

She often saw other humans: prisoners who did menial duties like cleaning, carrying and feeding. Tiaan now recognised a dozen, mostly men, defeated soldiers taken prisoner and afterwards kept because they had some value. They rarely spoke and few knew her language. All seemed beaten down by their servitude.

One was coming now, a slender man of middle age with straight white hair and skin as pallid as a mushroom. He had brought food to her several times, spooning the green muck into her mouth but never meeting her eyes. His left shoulder was missing a chunk of muscle, doubtless an old war wound. The arm hung limp.

'h.e.l.lo,' she said. 'My name is Tiaan. What's yours?'

'Not allowed talk,' he muttered in an atrocious accent.

'I'll talk to whoever I want. Hey, come back.'

That was the last she saw of him, or her lunch.

Liett checked the growth and lifted the gla.s.s bucket down. Tiaan was about to remark about her missed lunch but thought better of it. The lyrinx looked particularly ferocious today and Tiaan did not want to get the prisoner into trouble.

Not long afterwards the old lyrinx reappeared, along with his bevy of attendants. The torgnadr was set down next to Tiaan. He adjusted his spectacles, pulled something onto the top of his head that rather resembled Tiaan's jellyfish mask, and frowned. At least, she interpreted it as a frown.

Abruptly he wrenched the mask off and spoke to Ryll in an imperative rasp. Ryll answered, again in submissive posture.

'Jjyikk myrr; priffiy tzzukk!' snarled the old fellow. snarled the old fellow.

Ryll sprang up and lifted Tiaan out, holding her with her legs dangling while the old lyrinx examined them, prodding and poking. He snapped at Ryll, who hefted Tiaan and carried her, dripping muck, along many tunnels before going into a long, narrow room shaped like an amputated finger. He laid her on a central table with a bright light above it, face-down. More probing and prodding went on in the middle of her back. She thought they were probing her legs too, though she could feel nothing down there.

Suddenly the room was empty except for Ryll. 'What's the matter?' she whispered, very afraid.

He looked away.

Tiaan caught at his hand. 'Please, Ryll. I saved your life, remember?'

'And I allowed you to escape from Kalissin. The debt is paid.'

'Not the debt of friends.h.i.+p!'

'What?' he exclaimed.

'We worked together for months, Ryll. I was your prisoner, yet there were times when we were friends, were we not? Or were you just pretending, so as to get what you wanted from me?'

He seemed ... she could not quite say what, perhaps a combination of hurt, embarra.s.sment and revelation. 'You're right. We were were friends.' friends.'

'Then tell me what is going on. Please?'

Again he glanced over his shoulder. 'The torgnadr has a flaw. Old Hyull, Husband of the Matriarch, believes it has developed wrongly because of your broken back.'

Did this mean she was useless to them, except to be eaten? 'What is he going to do?'

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