Chimaera (89 page)

Irisis tried to catch Flydd’s attention. ‘Ask him about Nish,’ she hissed. He waved her to silence.

‘What do you want?’ said Yggur.

‘Revenge,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘They’ve robbed me of everything that mattered. I’m going to do the same to them.’

‘This is absurd,’ said Flydd to Yggur. To Gilhaelith he said, ‘Why would the lyrinx abandon everything they’ve fought for, these past hundred and fifty years, for a few lousy bits and pieces from the tar pits?’

‘It wasn’t Santhenar they were fighting for,’ replied Gilhaelith. ‘Or rather, Santhenar was always secondary. Their most burning desire, which was driving them long before the war, and in fact was the reason they came to Santhenar, was to find these relics. I gambled that they’d give up everything else for them and I’ve been proven right.’

‘Now I know your mind is going,’ scowled Yggur.

‘You’re clever men – look at the evidence. I’ll leave you to work it out on the way to Ashmode.’

‘What’s happening there?’ said Flydd.

‘You’ll find out in due course.’ The farspeaker cut off.

‘He’s made a deal with the lyrinx,’ said Flydd. ‘I’ll bet he’s planning to exchange the relics for the power patterner.’

‘Why does
he
want it?’ said Yggur.

‘I imagine we’ll find out before too long.’

Irisis was walking backwards and forwards outside the conference tent. They’d gone to Hysse to meet Governor Nisbeth and Grand Commander Orgestre, who seemed to be back in favour, though Irisis couldn’t understand why. Flydd, Yggur, Klarm and Troist had been inside the tent with Nisbeth and Orgestre for hours, discussing something of great moment. The guards would not allow Irisis to go near, which was vexing. It was one of the few councils she had not been admitted to, and she was now desperate to find out if they’d heard anything about Nish.

She was trying to think of a way to get inside when Flydd put his head out through the tent flap. ‘Guard, would you call for –. Ah, Irisis, food and drink for six, quick as you can.’

At any other time the order would have irritated her. Now she seized the opportunity, and shortly came back with a loaded tray and baskets hanging off each arm.

‘No appeasement. Ever!’ snapped General Orgestre as she entered. ‘Nisbeth and I are agreed on that.’

That surprised Irisis, who’d always thought of Nisbeth as soft and kindly, perhaps a little too kindly.

‘Thank you, Irisis.’ Flydd reached for the tray.

She sidestepped him, set down the tray and the baskets, then went around the table handing out plates, which she filled with the best available from Flydd’s private stores. Irisis slid another platter into the middle, poured drinks, bowed low and retreated to the other side of the tent. There she squatted, head bowed, like the meanest of servants.

‘That will be all,’ said Flydd.

Irisis pretended she hadn’t heard.

Yggur chuckled. ‘Nice try, Irisis, but you make a poor serving maid, for all your skill at aping one. Subservience isn’t in your nature.’

She stood up and went for the flap. Irisis hadn’t expected it to work but was disappointed nonetheless.

‘Oh, let her stay!’ Troist said irritably. ‘Irisis has proven herself. Now can we get on?’

Irisis took a seat at the far end of the table and a morsel of smoked fish from the central platter, and tried to look inconspicuous in case they changed their minds.

‘We still have disagreement on two issues,’ said Flydd. ‘What to do about Gilhaelith, and how we can possibly defend ourselves against such overwhelming numbers of the enemy.’

‘I’ve always mistrusted the scoundrel,’ said Yggur. ‘Gilhaelith may not be actively aiding the enemy at this moment, but he’s got a long history of it.’

‘His only loyalty is to himself,’ said Klarm. ‘And ever has been.’

‘It’s got to be a complex double-cross,’ said Yggur. ‘A way of putting us all into the enemy’s hands, in repayment of a deal he’s made with them.’

‘Whatever he’s up to, let’s capitalise on the opportunity he’s given us,’ said Troist. ‘Assuming our farspeakers can be believed.’

‘What do you have in mind?’ said Yggur.

No one spoke. Irisis studied the troubled faces around the table. In the past few weeks the shape of the war had changed so dramatically, and so often, that no one had come to terms with it. Not even Flydd seemed to have a plan.

‘We go to the exchange under a flag of truce,’ said Grand Commander Orgestre. ‘We use Flydd’s field controller to stop the lyrinx from flying or using the Art, then attack with our massed forces and drive them over the cliffs.’

‘Where did this sudden reckless streak come from, Grand Commander?’ said Flydd. ‘Just last spring you were preaching withdrawal.’

‘I didn’t know about all your secret weapons then. They’ve shifted the balance our way.’

‘Meaning once you got a whiff of victory you couldn’t keep your snout out of the trough,’ Klarm muttered.

Troist directed a furious glare at the dwarf, who met it blandly. ‘I won’t countenance dishonouring a truce flag, Orgestre,’ said Troist. ‘Besides, their troops can march from the east in the time we can reinforce my army with yours. We’ll be lucky to put eighty thousand into the field, while they’ll have a quarter of a million, at least.’

‘Anyway, I need Tiaan’s completed node map before I can use my field controller at full strength,’ said Flydd.

‘
If
she returns,’ said Yggur. ‘Which we can’t rely on. We’ve not heard from her since she left.’

‘Farspeakers aren’t reliable out in the Dry Sea, and she’s only been gone five days,’ said Flydd. ‘She’ll be back when she’s done.’

‘That could be two more weeks,’ said Yggur.

‘The lyrinx infantry won’t be here for three,’ said Troist, ‘and it’ll take nearly as long to bring our scattered forces to Ashmode. Besides, the field controller isn’t going to even out such long odds,
if it works
.’

‘The field controller works, even without Tiaan’s final map, said Flydd. ‘I’ve already tested it. I should be able to cut off the fields where the lyrinx are camped. They won’t be able to fly.’

‘They’ll still be able to fight two of us at a time,’ Klarm said dryly. ‘And what if a vital node fails on you? They’re becoming more unreliable every day.’

‘With the field controller, no individual node is vital,’ said Flydd. ‘That’s the beauty of it. So, Governor, gentlemen, the pieces are drawing together. The final confrontation is going to be held between Ashmode and the Hornrace. But what kind of confrontation will it be? Do we move our armies into place, or not?’

‘If that’s where the enemy are,’ said Klarm, ‘we have to challenge them, whatever their numbers. But we’d better camp where it suits us best and them least, Generals. And make sure we’ve got somewhere to retreat to.’

‘If you can’t put forward a simple plan, I will!’ said Orgestre, whose purple cheeks were growing ever more congested. ‘The Dry Sea is their worst nightmare. I say we drive them down onto it and let them die of thirst.’

‘A
wet
sea is their worst nightmare,’ Flydd pointed out. ‘A dry one is just solid land to fight on. Anyway, considering how greatly they outnumber us, we won’t be able to force them anywhere.’

‘I know you have a weapon they can’t resist,’ said Orgestre slyly.

‘Is that so, Flydd?’ said Yggur. ‘Why haven’t I heard of this before?’

‘The artificers have only just perfected it,’ said Flydd, clearly annoyed that the secret had come out before he was ready to announce it.

‘I don’t see why you invite me to your councils if you’re going to keep me in the dark.’ Yggur looked angrier than Irisis had seen him in a long time.

‘Secrecy is an old habit,’ said Flydd.

‘What’s the weapon?’

‘It’s based on the effect Tiaan saw in Alcifer when she shouted into her farspeaker. I’ve found a way to make the mind-shock a hundred times stronger.’

‘If you can get a thousand made in the next three weeks,’ said Orgestre, ‘and fly them up to me at Ashmode, I’ll end this war within a week.’

‘Really?’ said Flydd. ‘I might just take you up on that, Grand Commander. Our manufactories should be able to make five hundred. They’re not difficult to put together once you know how.’

Orgestre bore the smile of a man who’d gained twice what he was hoping for. ‘That’ll do. I’ll fence the beasts around with them, you can cut off their Arts with the field controller, and then we drive the lot of them over the Grey Cliffs onto the Dry Sea.’

‘I don’t trust miracle weapons,’ said Troist.

‘It’s not, General,’ said Flydd. ‘You did the early tests.’

Orgestre threw back his chair and thumped the table, making the plates and cups rattle. ‘Enough talking! It’s time to act and we’ve got to do it
now
. We’ll not be safe while a single breeding pair of lyrinx remain alive. If they survive the cliffs, we herd them into a circle on the salt and slaughter them. We’ve got to kill every male, every female and every child. Exterminate the lot!’

There was a long, shocked silence. ‘I’d prefer to reach some accommodation –’ said Flydd.

‘You’ve failed to come up with a plan, so listen to mine,’ Orgestre ground out. ‘We end the war my way
now
, or sooner or later they’ll end us.’

‘Nisbeth?’ said Flydd. ‘Does Grand Commander Orgestre have your support?’

‘I don’t see any other choice,’ the governor said. ‘If he succeeds, we’ve saved Borgistry. If he doesn’t, how are we worse off?’

‘Whatever the cost, we pay it and get on with our lives,’ said Orgestre. ‘It’s the only way, believe me. Your votes, if you please. Right hand for their annihilation, left for our capitulation, since we don’t have anything in between.’

Orgestre and Nisbeth raised their right hands at once, and Klarm shortly after. Troist put up his left hand, as did Yggur. Flydd didn’t raise either.

‘Well, Flydd?’ said Orgestre. ‘It comes down to you, as usual. What’s your vote?’

‘I’ve already come to regret using the fungus against them,’ said Flydd. ‘To annihilate an entire species is a terrible crime against nature, and in the future I know we’ll rue it. But if we don’t, the war will go on and in the end we must lose it.’

‘I won’t be a party to it,’ said Yggur. ‘I’ve lived long enough to know that this is the
worst
solution you could come up with. It’ll lead to more war, and more killing, not less.’ His frosty eyes met Flydd’s across the table. ‘And I won’t work with you again if you support it, Flydd.’

Flydd bowed his head. ‘I hear your wisdom, Yggur, and you may be right, in the long run.’ He looked around the group, breathing heavily. ‘But truly, for our present survival, I can see no other way.’ He raised his right hand.

Yggur thrust back his seat and walked out without a word.

‘Then let it be done,’ said Orgestre with savage glee.

Y
ggur did not leave them, though he travelled with Troist’s army after that as they marched for Ashmode, and refused to have anything to do with Flydd. Klarm and Flydd tried to persuade him otherwise but he wouldn’t relent.

‘I can see the disaster coming and I’m not going to add to it,’ he said when Flydd called on him one final time. ‘I can’t imagine how I thought the fungus would be the answer.’

‘Then what would you do differently?’ Flydd said furiously.

‘I don’t know, but genocide is not the solution.’

‘If you can’t suggest an alternative, better to keep your thoughts to yourself.’

‘Don’t use scrutator logic on me, Flydd. The only reason the war ever came to this stage is that the Council slew all those who spoke against it.’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Flydd, deadly cold now.

‘You’re not the only one to have dug through the rubble of Nennifer, Scrutator. I went looking for the origins of this most pointless of all wars. Back in the early days, the forerunners of the Council executed all those who warned about going to war against the lyrinx. Their warnings of unending war have come true to the letter. The Council wanted war before ever the enemy did, and silenced everyone who spoke against it.’

Flydd considered that, then said, ‘If you’re so opposed to Orgestre’s solution, what are you doing here?’

‘There may yet be a chance to save you from your folly.’

Kattiloe’s thapter returned from Tiksi ten days after it had left, confirming that the lyrinx had indeed abandoned the fields of war and were streaming west. Everyone knew it by then, however, for the bulk of the fliers had already reached Ashmode and were searching everywhere for Gilhaelith, as was everyone else.

An increasingly stressed and irritable Flydd had spent two and a half weeks looking for the geomancer, who hadn’t gone to Ashmode at all. Gilhaelith wasn’t that much of a fool. He’d headed that way after seizing the relics, but once out of sight he’d set down by the City of the Bargemen and ordered Flangers and the other soldiers out. He’d recruited new guards and servants and flown away, in darkness, to an inconspicuous ravine forty leagues away along the southern rim of the Dry Sea from Ashmode.

There he’d hidden in the Golden Terraces, an ancient village honeycombed into a layer of yellow chalk between two sets of the Grey Cliffs above the empty sea. The Golden Terraces had been abandoned when the Sea of Perion dried up two thousand years ago, and since then had only been inhabited by bats. Gilhaelith planned to hide there until the lyrinx had assembled their armies at Ashmode, and would have succeeded but for an unfortunate accident.