She turned away to cast along the shore for a boat. Tiaan felt sure there must be boats, for the diet in Kalissin normally consisted of fish, frequently fresh. She had to find a boat; the island was too small to hide on. She hurried along the edge of the forest, next to the strand. Even a log would do.

The sun emitted a gloomy, umbrous light that made the lake seem blood-brown. It was, Tiaan thought, the kind of light the afternoon sun would make setting through the reek and fume of a burnt city.

Her calves were aching. She’d lost fitness in Kalissin. Perhaps the lyrinx used lines, or nets, or even, unlikely as it seemed, scooped fish up from the air as a pelican did. She smiled. They would surely not waste the Secret Art that way.

Standing on the shore, she contemplated the sullen waters. Tiaan could swim, though she had not since childhood. She put one finger in the water. It was cold, but not freezing. She figured she could swim as far as she could see – about a hundred spans.

Walking on, she came to a path. Tiaan followed it up through the forest, peering into the dim undergrowth on either side. No boat. She crept along the upper edge of the forest and down the next path to the water again. No boat. What was she going to do?

As she continued along the shore, something small and dark emerged from an open porthole at the very top of the spire and crept into the shadow. The nylatl had been hurt badly by Tiaan’s blast and the impact with the wall. Muscles had been torn, armour broken. Its skin was weeping, the spines burnt to dribbling stumps and one rear limb dragged. The nylatl had an overpowering urge to find a dark space and hibernate for a month, while its body repaired itself.

It could not hide here. Even if it burrowed into the warm earth its enemies would find it. Besides, it had to feed first. It had to find the creature that had so damaged it, and the terrible crystal. It sniffed the air and caught a scent. The nylatl began the painful climb down.

Hungry!

FORTY-SIX

Tiaan started on a piece of dried fish left over from the previous day, that being the only food she had. It softened in her mouth into flakes with a salty, heavily smoked flavour.

Something whooped in the trees on her right – she hoped it was a bird. Wavelets lapped on the shore; dull, oily surges. There was a smell of rotting vegetation. The overcast seemed to have grown more dense and banners of fog now drifted on the lake.

The strong flavour was not pleasant. Tiaan packed away the fish, drank a few mouthfuls of lake water and kept going. Not far along she saw a lyrinx print in damp sand. Whoever made it had been coming from the forest. Following the marks back, she found a faint path.

Tiaan traced it up through the forest, which was unnaturally luxuriant and hard to see in. After many false turns she crossed over a gully and found, at the top of a gentle slope, a beaten track that led toward the spire. From the track they had taken various ways down to the water.

She followed each way one by one, searching in the undergrowth on either side, but without success. About to head down another trail, Tiaan realised that she had been looking in the wrong place. They would keep the boat, or boats, up where the path first branched. Of course they would not leave it on the shore, where a gale might damage it.

The round shape to her right was not a boulder – there were no round boulders here. It turned out to be a circular boat made of leather, if boat it could be called at all. It was exactly like a high-sided bowl, the leather stretched drum-tight over a wooden frame. Something hung down inside, like a soft leather curtain with a drawstring. The craft had a floor of woven cane.

It turned out to be manageably light. A paddle stood against a tree, along with a rolled net. Tiaan tossed both into the boat and began to drag it down the path. It caught on a snag. Afraid of tearing it, she took everything out, lifted the boat above her head and staggered to the water.

By the time she got there Tiaan could not go another step. She put the boat at the edge, dropped her pack in and squatted down, panting. Somewhere above came a snap, like a door closing. Tiaan sprinted back for the paddle. The boat was useless without it.

‘Snggrylkk!’ The cry came from the forest.

A similar cry answered to her left. The lyrinx were out! Grabbing the paddle and the net, she ran. As she reached the beach Tiaan saw a lyrinx pounding around the shore. Another was thudding down the path.

No time to think, no chance of defending herself. Hurling in paddle and net, she ran into the water pushing the boat. It was so light that it skated across the surface. In thigh-deep water she tried to jump inside but bounced off, pushing the boat further out. Tiaan tried again, this time going in head first and striking her cheek on the circular blade of the paddle. The boat tilted right over. She yelped, thinking it was going to capsize, but it righted itself and rolled nearly as far the other way.

Tiaan had never been in a boat before and was not impressed by this one. As she stood up it tried to roll over. Throwing her weight the other way, she managed to keep it upright and, balancing precariously, looked back. Three lyrinx stood at the shore.

They seemed reluctant, then two pushed forward a third, a tall female. They were afraid of the water and poor swimmers, Ryll had said. She hoped they were not fliers. Tiaan reached down with the paddle. The water was about chest-deep on her; only waist-deep for them. Not deep enough.

Digging the paddle into the water, she gave a mighty heave. The boat simply revolved in place. She tried paddling the other way; it merely changed the direction of rotation. Wretched craft!

The lyrinx was getting closer. Probing for the lake bed, Tiaan thrust hard and the boat moved away. The lyrinx pushed forward gingerly, letting out a mewling cry as the water came over her hips. She looked back at her fellows, who urged her on with shouts and hand gestures. Tiaan recognised her now. It was Wyrkoe, who had been appointed to defend Ryll that first day in the spire.

Wyrkoe was only a few spans away, within springing distance had she been on land. She seemed to be finding courage. Her chest inflated, the crest stood up and her skin changed to an iridescent red. Tiaan watched, paddle upraised. The boat slowly drifted.

The lyrinx sprang but fell short and the water went over her head. She came up again, making an awful grating squeal. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape.

The boat had stopped moving. Wyrkoe was little more than a paddle length away. Two steps and she could tear the boat open. She rubbed water out of her eyes and took a deep breath. Tiaan dropped the paddle and, as Wyrkoe leapt, threw the net over her.

The lyrinx slipped, thrashed her arms and became tangled in the net. Again she went under and took a long time to come up. She rose just above the water, striking helplessly at the meshes, only to slip below.

The look of terror on Wyrkoe’s face was awful. If Tiaan could have taken back that cast of the net she would have. Knowing that she had just killed someone almost as human as herself, she poled away.

The other lyrinx splashed out. Tiaan managed to maintain a wavering line into deeper water, where a breeze caught the boat and drifted it south. Safe for the moment, she watched the pair retrieve Wyrkoe and drag her back to shore, where they disentangled her from the net. Wyrkoe did not move. She must have drowned. Tiaan could not come to terms with it.

Shivering in the breeze, she stared at the dark shapes on the shore, allowing the wind to drift her where it would.

An hour later she was squatting loosely with the drawstring fastened about her neck, not exactly warm but protected from the worst of the elements. The boat drifted in and out of banks of mist. The spire of Kalissin had long since disappeared. The snowy shores of the other side of the lake were equally invisible and unknown. For all she knew, Tiaan could have been drifting back toward the island.