Sixty

The months had gone by slowly in the bastion of Nennifer, set in a highland where summer was short and cold, winter long and bitter and, in the shadow of towering mountains on all sides, it had not rained in twenty years. The ground was a barren grit less than the depth of Ullii's thumb, covered in black stones so smooth and shiny they appeared to have been melted in a furnace. Nothing grew there, save in the valleys where moisture from summer snowmelt supported the pastures, gardens and fish ponds that supplied Nennifer. Even the tallest mountains bore little snow, for higher ranges lay in every direction. The utter, uncompromising aridity suited the bleak souls of the scrutators.

Ullii hated Nennifer with all her angry little heart. There was nothing of beauty in the whole vast building, and little kindness either. The people who laboured there, whether mancers, artisans, artificers or common servants, were all of a type — cold, mechanical and closed off from their fellows. In all her time in the scrutators' citadel, Ullii saw no love, little passion save for their grim work, and precious little generosity or selflessness, just a desperate efficiency driven by terror. Everyone lived in fear of their superiors, and they of theirs, all the way up to the scrutators. And even the Council members, those who had not remained in Lybing to direct the war, kept one eye out for their dark and deadly chieftain.

Of all the people in Nennifer, Ullii was the only one who had any kind of freedom. Ghorr had tried to study and school her lattice-twisting talent, to understand how she had done such marvels in her previous escape with Irisis. Despite much labour and cunningly conceived punishments, it had proved an abject failure. Ullii could neither explain nor duplicate what she had previously done in extremis. Finally Ghorr passed the problem to his cleverest mancers and let her be. He had another use for Ullii and could not afford to damage her. Not yet.

He barely spoke to her for months afterwards, for she was too far beneath him to be worthy of his time. Ghorr was busy forging a mighty battle fleet, not to attack the enemy but to hunt Flydd to his refuge, whether in Meldorin or elsewhere, and to expunge him from the earth.

Though she was allowed outside, Ullii seldom went into the barrens. She loved nature in a romantic, idealised way, but there was no nature here, just cold desert. And as the seasons turned towards winter the land grew ever colder, windier and bleaker.

Once, Ullii's life of the mind had been all she'd needed, but the events of the past year had broken that mould. Other realities kept butting in, and other memories. Of Nish making love to her that day in the balloon basket, after she had driven off the nylatl. Of the nylatl attacking him again, after Scrutator Flydd had appeared in the air-floater. And her terror as Nish had blown the creature to bits with the flask of tar spirits, then been carried out of her life on what had been left of the balloon.

Something had died in her then — she'd seen it as an abandonment. For months Ullii had been sure that Nish was dead. When she finally found him again, at Snizort, he seemed to have forgotten her.

No matter how much she dwelt upon his previous kindnesses, Ullii kept coming back to that, and to the deaths of Mylii and Yllii. She blamed Nish for both and it constantly recharged her rage. She might be little and weak, but there was one thing she could do — take just retribution for her lost brother and son. It was all that kept her going.

Finally, in late autumn, the great battle fleet was ready. Ullii knew Ghorr was building one, but had no idea what form it would take. She had seen, in her lattice, the slow creation of all sorts of unpleasant machines and devices of war, but the testing had taken place in a vast walled yard. Only those who had business there were admitted through its guarded gates. Everything had been planned to perfection. An army of clerks had checked the lists and made sure nothing that could possibly be required was left behind. Another small group of mancers and officers had been appointed to take every plan apart, to look at all the ways it could fail, and develop contingency plans for when it did.

Ullii was asleep when Ghorr came to her door. He flung it open so it crashed back against the wall, shocking her awake. She cowered under the covers, blocking her ears. He tore the blankets off.

'It's time for you to earn your keep, Seeker! Gather your gear.’

She had been provided with new clothes in Nennifer — half a dozen undersuits of the neck-to-knee spider-silk that protected her sensitive skin, as well as outer garments, coats, boots, scarves and hats. His artisans had made her several pairs of goggles and earmuffs, and all were to hand. Ullii stored all her possessions in two small packs beside her bed. It provided her with the only security she had.

A servant picked the packs up. Ullii snatched them from her and sat on them to get dressed. Already wearing an under- suit, she pulled on her boots, coat and hat, and made sure a set of goggles and earmuffs were in the pocket. While wearing the spider-silk undergarments she could better tolerate life's assaults on her other senses, though she still could not go out in the bright sunlight without her goggles. 'Follow me,' said Ghorr.

A swarm of knots grew in Ullii's lattice, like those made by the controllers of clankers or air-floaters, though these were much larger. Her stomach formed knots of its own.

Taking up her packs, Ullii trotted after Ghorr, up the stairs, along the corridors, out through the vast double doors and down the broad steps onto the paved area, as large as a parade ground, that ran from fortress Nennifer to the towering cliff that fell into the Desolation Sink. She stopped in shock. The paved area was crammed with monstrous air-floaters, reaching above the topmost storey of Nennifer, which was five floors and a steep roof above the ground. Each was supported by no less than five cigar-shaped balloon bags as long as the trunk of a forest tree. Four were arranged at the corners of a diamond, one each at front and rear, another out to either side. A fifth, smaller balloon was suspended in the centre. The vessels slung beneath the balloons were more than twenty spans long and their side decks were packed with weapons whose design was unknown to her, though each looked deadly.

The machines were painted in brilliant reds and yellows, like poisonous reptiles, for they were intended to be seen and feared. Barbaric designs decorated their prows — vicious creatures with gnashing teeth and bloodstained tusks, or devices spitting fire or venom.

There were sixteen of the air-floaters, and drawn up at the front of each stood a squad of heavily armed soldiers, in a rank of five by five, with two officers before them. There were almost as many mancers, artisans, artificers and servants.

'What do you think of our air-dreadnoughts?' said Ghorr beside her. 'Aren't they the most magnificent sight you've ever seen?'

'I hate them,' she said fiercely, for their auras reeked of violence.

He smiled patronisingly. 'It doesn't matter what you think, little Ullii. Just find Flydd and Irisis, and we will have your revenge for you.'

In a flash she understood just how badly she had blundered. She didn't want revenge, but retribution, and it had to be with her own hands. Taking that away rendered it meaningless, vicious.

Ghorr shouted orders. People ran in all directions, in what appeared to be confusion but was carefully orchestrated, then she was urged up the ladder into the first air-dreadnought of the fleet, and ushered inside.

With a flourish of cornets, Ghorr's machine loosed its tethers.

The great triple rotors began to tick, then whirr, its nose lifted and it rose into the sky. She could feel the drain on the field, which manifested itself as a swirling yellow pattern across her lattice.