Part 34 (1/2)

The lower edge of the chariot hatch crashed into the pedestal, shattering it and toppling the crystal balanced upon its summit. As the craft's momentum carried it onwards, the great jewel flew in through the open hatch, bounced off Herian's p.r.o.ne body and came to rest against the port side of the hull.

Herian's expression turned fearful. 'What are you doing?'

Granger slammed the thrust levers forward. The jewel rolled to the back of the control room and clunked against the rear bulkhead. If the d.a.m.ned thing was acting as a bridge between the entropath's universe and this one, then he had to hope she wouldn't risk its destruction. He spun the lateral control again, slewing the chariot in the direction of the nearest conduit.

'You'll burn us alive! Herian cried.

And the crystal too.

The lash snapped again, and this time a thin slice disappeared from the starboard side of the hull. The blow had cleaved through the edge of the console itself. The chariot stuttered and yawed suddenly to port. Granger wrestled with the controls to bring it back on course. Ahead through the view screens the conduit mouth loomed like a green inferno. Sparks burst from the console under Granger's fingers. Engines screamed. The whole s.h.i.+p began to judder madly.

'Stop,' Herian cried, trying to rise from the floor.

But by then they had reached the portal.

A storm of energy poured into the chariot through the open hatchway, arcing between the bulkheads. Green flames tore across the console. The view screens blazed like suns. Granger cried out as electrical fluids shot through his body. His muscles began to spasm uncontrollably, and for a heartbeat he was aware of nothing but light and agony and the smell of his own burning flesh.

Abruptly, the light vanished.

It was as if someone had thrown a switch. The surrounding inferno simply ceased to be, leaving the view screens dark and the craft flying on through gloom. Granger eased back the throttle levers, slowing their forward momentum. Apart from the hum of their engines, the conduit was silent.

Herian groaned from the floor. 'You've no idea what you just risked.'

Granger halted the flying machine. He stepped past the old man and retrieved the jewel from the rear of the cabin. It had ceased to glow, and he could no longer perceive the alien landscape within its facets. It looked like an ordinary crystal. He wedged it behind one of the view screens and gunned the engines again.

'Let me take it back,' Herian said.

Granger just grunted. He flew the chariot onwards at a much slower pace, threading his way through the conduits and junction spheres until her reached the transmitting station's main entrance. All appeared as dark and desolate as it had at first. He brought the craft's bow gently up against the outer door and then eased the throttles forward. With a shudder and an almighty groan, the door sc.r.a.ped open, and the small vessel moved out into sunlight.

Snowflakes swirled across the view screens and blew in through the open hatch and the gaps in the hull. Granger's hands danced across the controls as he brought the flying machine up and over the building in a slowly rising spiral. He pa.s.sed the white, lace-frill skeleton of the transmitting tower and the great torus upon its summit, where he let the chariot come to a halt. The northern ice fields s.h.i.+mmered like emeralds and diamonds, a jewelled coast ab.u.t.ting the bottle-green waters of the Mare Verdant. Awl lay somewhere to the south-west. He might reach it in a few days, but then what?

The Haurstaf had an entire army at their disposal, while Granger had one half-wrecked little chariot. He didn't know if the craft would even make it that far.

He stood there for a moment, thinking.

'Let me go,' Herian said. He sat on the floor, s.h.i.+vering, with his shoulders slumped in an att.i.tude of defeat. Snow was already gathering on his hair and mail s.h.i.+rt. 'I'm no danger to you. Keep the chariot, let me take the jewel back.'

Granger picked up the jewel and carried it over to the hatch. An icy gale blew around his shoulders. A few yards below him, the toroid gleamed dully under the monochrome sky. Not a single snowflake had adhered to that metal surface.

'What are you doing?' Herian said.

Granger pitched the jewel out of the hatch. It landed in the depression in the centre of the toroid with an almighty clang, clang, rolled one way, and then the other, before finally settling. rolled one way, and then the other, before finally settling.

Herian crawled over, then let out a groan.

'You'll get it back,' Granger said. 'But I want something in return.'

The old man stared after the jewel.

'That sword I picked up,' Granger said. 'The simulacrums . . .'

'What about them?'

'Show me how to use it properly.'

'That's all?' Herian said. 'You want to wield a Replicating Sword?'

Granger grunted. 'That's just the beginning.'

The room looked like a lecture theatre to Ianthe, with wooden seats rising in curved tiers before her. It was empty apart from a panel of four Haurstaf witches. Subtle changes in their expressions told her they were having a discussion, even if she couldn't hear them. Briana Marks glanced at Sister Ulla, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. The remaining two spinsters simply glared down at Ianthe as if they knew the secrets of her soul. They were older than anyone Ianthe had seen before, balanced there like pinnacles of weathered rock.

'Really,' Briana said suddenly. 'This is beyond tiring. Why not let the girl hear what you have to say? I'm not going to go over this twice for her benefit. If the point of psychic warfare is to inflict pain, suffering and death, then she's done exceptionally well.'

Sister Ulla snorted. 'We can't have lawlessness and anarchy within our own ranks.'

Briana looked at the old woman with an expression of incredulity. 'Anarchy? Don't be so dramatic, Ulla. The loss of one brat is not going to make any difference to the world. She was hardly an a.s.set.'

'The parents!' Sister Ulla protested.

'Why on earth would you want to inform them?' would you want to inform them?'

'They'll find out eventually-'

Briana batted a hand at the other woman. 'We have finances set aside to deal with these sorts of problems. Don't bore us all with your peac.o.c.k morality. Her parents ought to be glad she was given an opportunity here in the first place.'

Sister Ulla fluffed out her chest, as if she was going to protest, but then she sank back into her chair.

Briana looked at Ianthe. 'Mara said you turned that girl's brain to paste.'

Ianthe felt her face turn red. She shuffled from one foot to the other. She wanted to say that she hadn't meant it, that it wasn't her fault and if they would let her go home she'd never bother the Haurstaf again. But that wasn't going to happen now. She lowered her head.

Briana laughed suddenly. 'You think so, Ulla?' she said. 'I'd like to see you you do it.' do it.'

'Don't tempt me,' Sister Ulla growled.

n.o.body spoke for several minutes, and it seemed to Ianthe that the witches had fallen back into psychic communication. But then Briana turned to her and said, 'Sister Ulla is of the opinion that you had help. Did you have help, Ianthe?'

Ianthe said nothing.

'If you don't mind,' Briana went on, 'we'd like to examine those eyegla.s.ses of yours.'

'They're just eyegla.s.ses.'

'Then you won't mind-'

'No!' Ianthe cried. 'They don't belong to you.' Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision through the lenses. These old women had no right to ask her to give up her sight, no right at all. All of them except Briana were glaring furiously at her now.

Sister Ulla looked as if she was ready to explode with indignation. 'You'll hand them over now,' she said, 'or I'll come down there and take them from you myself.'

Ianthe spoke through her teeth. 'Try it.'