Chapter sixty-seven

Three-of-nine

 

Fifty steps beyond the archway the narrow corridor opened out into a wide cavernous room, lit diffusely. There was a patch of stronger light in the middle of the room but that faded out rapidly in all directions. Viola stumbled in.  

The snake swayed out of the darkness. ‘Who is there?’ she hissed in Archaic Elven. 

Viola stepped forward. She blinked, trying to focus on this strange unfamiliar being.

‘I am Major Viola Ortiensis of the Imperial Visneorian army – I seek the guardian of the prime that is named ith’

 The naga who could now see her clearly, inhaled deeply and shrank back into her elf form.

‘My lady’ she said, and bowed.

Viola was doubly startled – by the elf’s metamorphosis and by her words.

‘Why do you call me that? I do not understand’

‘I call you that because that is what you are.  Your aura is clear’

There was a brief silence. The strangeness of everything had made Viola lose her words.

‘I am the third of the nine guardians’ the naga declaimed, ‘how may I serve you, lady Viola?’

Dom, who had been some way behind Viola, rushing to catch her up, appeared just behind her. The elf-naga hesitated for a second.

‘But your aura is not so clear, my lord’

The naga bowed very low but very briefly, took two steps backwards and, without any warning, turned back into a serpent.  She threw her coils out around the stranger, with the precision of an expert hoop thrower at a county fair. The coils pulled tight, but not too tight. Dom was merely panting for breath rather than gasping for it. The giant python turned her face towards Viola.

‘Is this being known to you, my lady?’ 

Viola’s heart jumped; there was far too much going on at once. She made desperate waving gestures with her hands up at the level of her chest. 

‘Let him go, please – he’s my friend and helper’

The coils loosened enough to allow Dom to struggle, but not enough so that his struggles would let him to escape. 

‘I see’ said the naga, gravely, ‘it is fitting that you travel with an immortal one...’

‘Immortal?’ Viola asked, her fears growing wild inside her. She turned to Dom, speaking in Visenorian.

‘Are you immortal?’

Dom nodded imperceptibly; he was finding it almost impossible to follow what the naga was saying.

‘Is that what she said? Well, I’m afraid so...’ he whispered, ‘...it comes with the territory’

‘What territory...?’ Viola began, but then stopped herself when she saw the look on Dom’s face.

‘Oh... right’ she said, ‘I didn’t know that...that is... extraordinary’

She turned back to the naga. ‘Is that why he could get through the portal?’ she asked

The naga ignored her; she was clearly more concerned about the possible threat than explaining anything. She flexed her head round so that she could face Dom directly. He swallowed; he could feel the grip of the serpent’s powerful muscle blocks across his entire body.  He had never been so close to death before- all that would be needed was a single squeeze.

‘What manner of creature are you?’ the naga asked, her voice hissing through the damp air. Dom could only understand about half of the words, but he got the gist. He looked up imploringly at Viola.

‘He’s an elf-human hybrid...’ she stopped herself and thought for a moment, ‘Humans are a new sort of creature, brought into being, somehow, in this world, in Skiophos. On occasions the two races inter-mix, and then you get a... hybrid’

‘Can he not speak the tongue?’ the naga asked.

‘Only a little’ answered Viola, ‘but he is learning it’

The naga shook her head. Viola wondered if she could see confusion in her eyes, but it was hard to say anything about her expressions when she was in snake form.

‘How can that be?’ she hissed, ‘there is only one tongue, shared by two peoples’

‘Not now’ said Viola, ‘now there are many tongues among many peoples’

‘But a god, however small, must perforce speak the tongue of the undying’

Viola was uncertain whether to be shocked or to laugh. She studied the naga’s reptilian face very carefully. Even in elf form this creature was hard to read, but it was clear that rge naga was deadly serious. Laughing would clearly not be appropriate.

‘Is that what you think that he is...? Dom isn’t a god’ Viola said, slowly, ‘he really isn’t...’

Dom shot her a puzzled look but kept quiet.

‘Then why is he immortal...?’

‘How do you know that he is immortal?’

‘Because he was he was able to pass through the portal’ Viola felt slightly relieved – at least that answered one question.

 ‘But doesn’t that mean that I am immortal?’ she asked.

The snake-elf looked at her and hissed softly; it was a surprisingly gentle sound. .

‘I have no idea, my lady; I assume so; but that it something that I’d rather think you would know for yourself’

‘She isn’t then’ murmured Dom, slowly catching up with the language. Viola turned towards him, twitching with tension.

‘What?’ she barked. Dom gave her a tight-lipped grin.

‘If you were immortal, you’d know it’ he said, In Visneorian, ‘I promise you’

Viola was trying to locate the threads of the unravelling world. She had so many questions, but an uncertain amount of time.

‘So, if the door filters out mortals and I am mortal, what am I doing here?’

The serpent nodded her head.  

‘There are exceptions to everything, my lady’

Viola could feel a vein in her head throbbing. What on earth was going on?

‘So, why was I allowed through the portal?’ she asked, desperate both to know and to stay ignorant in equal measure.

‘Well’ responded the naga, ‘if you truly are mortal then perhaps it is it because you are on my list’

‘What list?’

‘The list of those who are permitted to venture passed me...’

‘Who’s on the list? Do you let gods though?’

‘Yes, but they are permitted to pass only because the Uchbenoi cannot be denied. However, they are not on my list’

‘If not the gods then who else is on the damn list?’

Once again, Viola wished that the naga were in her elf form and so that she might read her face when she spoke.

‘Just you my lady...’ the naga said, ‘...there are no others’

Viola shuddered. A dreadful apprehension had begun to rise inside her. She had no idea whether the naga knew why she was the one and only name on her list, but right now she was too terrified to ask. Also, she feared that they might talk here for too long and be cut down before anything was resolved.

‘I need to hurry’ she said ‘we have enemies behind us’

The naga opened her coils and slithered away from Dom. The effect was like a scaly thread running off a bobbin. She transformed back into her elf form and stood up straight with her eyes fixed on the dark entrance to her guard chamber. The light seemed to dim slightly.  

‘What enemies?’ she asked

‘Mortal ones...’ Viola’s heart jolted again. How was she to explain all of this? ‘Our deadliest enemies...’

‘Why are they following you?’

Again, Viola blanched, but she felt compelled to tell the truth.

‘I think that they have come to murder you...’

The naga took a step back and pulled her light green cloak around her. She looked uncertain.

‘If they are mortals, then they will be unable to...’she started, but Viola didn’t allow her to finish.

‘They have magic more powerful than the magecraft in this temple. They may well be able to break through the membrane...’

The naga took three steps towards the portal and folded her arms.

‘Have they come to destroy the prime? She asked

Viola had no choice but to nod. The naga’s face, normally olive in complexion, was now pasty pale.

‘And you, my lady? Why are you here?’

Elf, snake-elf and half-elf stood in the quarter light. None of them knew what was going on. Viola searched for words that might help them. Her voice was now soft nearly to the point of silence.

‘I thought I knew why I ventured here. But now that I have arrived I feel daunted and afraid’

‘We all do,’ murmured the naga, ‘but all I am required to do is guard. You, however, must act’

Viola dropped her head and tried to gather together her ragged thoughts. She had led the enemy here, there was no doubting that, and she feared that it was a terrible mistake. But now here was only one thing that could be done – she must continue. She looked up at the third guardian; it was finally time to find out what she guarded.

‘Take me to the prime, then’ she said, at last.  

Chapter sixty-eight

Leaving Amansk

 

There were a series of meeting – formal and informal. The Emperor revealed himself to his half-citizens and there was a ceremony during which Arnon was given the title of ‘governor by lineage’ and the praefecture of Amansk and Angmaroya made into a full province. This had been Marthian’s idea. She had pointed out that what had happened in Ortia might be considered a failure of ‘local politics’ and that, perhaps, empires had to be ruled at a number of different scales. By now Pallatian was fairly convinced of her infallibility – when Emperors change their minds it tends to be on a grand scale – and so he missed the fairly obvious fact that his new advisor now loved the new governor’s family almost as much as her own. This was her gift to them – Arnon could remain as governor and Toby would inherit, and so on, until the blood line failed.

As is the way with these things, once Marthian knew that she was going part of her wanted to stay. Life had been simple and her surrogate family had treated her very well, although right at the beginning there had been periods of intense loneliness, which she had somehow shaken off. Arnon had been delighted to discuss politics with her, Natasha had wrapped her up in a cosy cod-Ethian cocoon of high tea, comfortable living rooms and long nature walks, while Toby had been very gallant, in a rather attractively awkward way. But most of all she was going to miss Lily, who had spent most of her time hanging around her, because she was ‘a bit more interesting than all the dull people in this excruciatingly dull town’. So, she had had a go at being a favourite auntie – something which, as an only child, she had never thought to be. She had been eccentric Auntie M, mad about her garden. For the first time in her life she had just done the things that she wanted to do, and now it had come to an end. In elven terms it had just been a lovely lazy Saturday afternoon.  

 

They came to see her off, but they pretended they were there to give their respects to their re-established liege lord. Arnon and she had agreed to find time to visit each other’s provinces. Lily was cross, because her playmate was going away, but Marthian knew that she would also be gone soon, on to Eth and witchcraft. There were no tears – everyone had convinced themselves that now the two cities would just be a day away on the Emperor’s new fast road, and that they would see each other again soon. Marthian doubted that very much, and, in particular, she sensed that it would be a long time before she saw her new-found niece again.

Then they were away in the coach that Lord Arnon had lent them, with an honour guard of two hundred human Amanskian troops. Marthian had given one friendly wave and then had turned her gaze towards Ortia and a return to duty. She felt guilty that she hadn’t really missed her beautiful white city and that she wasn’t really looking forward to returning. But there was one big consolation – at least she was going back to the one that she loved.   

Once they had passed over the mountains and back into her own province the Emperor began to grill her on everything about Ortia: its recent history, its culture, the Lady, the other eastern provinces, all things she assumed he must already know. She was amused that his response to everything she told him was now one of great concentration and, above all else, praise for her contribution to the defence and rebuilding of the city. Six months ago he could not have been less interested and he had dismissed her with no more than a curt acknowledgement that she ‘had done her duty adequately’. Now she could do no wrong; she was the font of all wisdom. It gave her a perverse pleasure to know that she was probably the first female that had ever impressed him. She had no intention of letting any of this to go to her head, however – she knew all about the properties of pendulums.  

 

***

 

It was a day later when they saw the edges of the army that was now surrounding Ortia. At first Pallatian had assumed that it was Titanius’s troops, but then he had sent some scouts out and they had reported that the soldiers were not travelling under the imperial banner, but instead under the banners of the Grachii, the Neonoi and the Cicerii: whose insignia were the red lion, the white panther, and the brown bear.  The Emperor’s banner, a grey eagle owl on a dark blue background, was only flying over the city. The general imperial banner, a purple eagle, was, of course, flying indiscriminately on both sides.

They found a safe place in the lee of a small hill, still several miles from the city. There were no patrols here – the senatorial army was not expecting any trouble from the north. There were only barbarians up there.

The considered their position.

‘My lord’ said Marthian, ‘I can think of no way to enter the city through the encircling army’

Pallatian frowned at her. Perhaps, after all, his sudden high opinion of her was at risk already. His voice was edged with disappointment.  

‘Do you have no way of entering the city unseen? Visnea has a network of secret tunnels that criss-cross the city and its environs...’

She wracked her brains, trying to remember if her father had mentioned any underground entrances. In her mind’s eye she tried to recall the multitude of maps of underground pipes, sewers and access ways. She simply could not remember.  

‘I don’t know’ she said, shrugging and smiling wanly, ‘but I should...’   

They stood in gloomy silence while she tried to formulate some sort of plan. She knew that the Emperor’s pride would not allow him to turn round, and a direct parley with the enemy would be far too dangerous. The minutes dragged on.  Marthian slipped her hands into the pockets of her cloak, despondently; her fingers brushed against something. She hooked out the paper in idle curiosity. It was a mail paper from Aurelian, sent several days before.

Her mind kept coming back to the idea of a secret entrance – if Visnea had several, wasn’t it likely that Ortia had at least one?  If in doubt, ask she thought to herself. She searched inside her backpack and pulled out a clean sheet of mail paper. She wrote her general a hurried note.  All that they could do then was to wait patiently for a reply. She just hoped that there was someone living in the city who still knew the answers to her questions.

Chapter sixty-nine

The Council Chamber, Neman Forest

 

‘Where is that damn lazy Dai Llewellyn? I need him’

Dai had just staggered into the chamber, but he was determined not to be wrong footed by his old friend or show any surprise at her reappearance.

‘I’m here, mad thorn-woman, and I am ready, as always. Gods know where you’ve come from, though’

She ignored this and pointed out through the gloom

‘What are they?’

Owen, who was still standing close to Jacantha, sniffed the air. He had been intermittently chanting his adail spell, which allowed him to probe the properties of their enemies’ enchantments.

‘I’m not sure – things that were dead and have been reworked; or maybe things that have never been fully alive’

Dai smiled grimly and clenched his fists.

‘Everything fights the same in the end, friend Owen; I can assuredly stop ‘em ’

Owen stood still, uncertain of what to do. Gwyneth pulled him back. ‘Leave them to it’ she whispered, ‘they are very good at this’

Jacantha laughed. In front of her, where the dark trees swayed, reality was tearing; behind it she could see shadowy shapes. It was like a flotilla looming out of a sea fog. She turned to Dai.

‘Slow them all down, then block them. I’ll do the rest’

‘Aye, I surely will’  

Dai stepped forward and began to move his arms so that his hands traced two contrary spirals – the right one clockwise and the left one widdershins. He whispered ‘chorwynt’, and a breeze began to flow through his fingers: right hand upwards and left hand downwards. In the middle the breezes met and began to flow around each other. At first this was easy – they formed an invisible braid in the air. Dai blew gently into the braid and the swirling breeze became unstable – the opposite gusts began to buffet each other and slowly the left hand breeze started to push the right hand one to the side. Dai could feel the whirlwind beginning. He pushed out his hands so that the small tornado that he had created was safely at a distance. Even so, as the breezes swirled into winds, he felt the rush of air keenly against his body. The leaf litter and dust on the floor of the council chamber began to twist in the air. It was nearly time to use the power that he had distilled.

Jacantha, now standing next to him, allowed herself a flicker of a smile. The wind was now strong enough to blow her black hair back from her forehead.  

‘Not bad, Dai’ she said, ‘I’ve seen you make worse’   

He ignored her, but secretly he was delighted to be doing this again – so late in the day and so unexpectedly. Of all the old members of the coven it was he who had missed Jacantha the most. They had fought like this countless times before, and he had had no coven-partner like her since. He knew all about what had happened well enough, but in the moment he was happy not to have to think about it. She was back and they were fighting.   

He stared at the advancing shapes. They looked like flat grey birds or giant bats; they flew in rough formation, but none of them with any visible way to stay aloft. Everything they touched began to wither, but as yet they hadn’t lingered long on anything.   

‘I think they are taints that can move...’ muttered Owen, who continued to chant his adail  ‘...some foul combination of two necromancies – evil witch and evil cloak...’

‘And how can we destroy them?’ asked Jacantha

‘I have no idea...’ whispered Owen, between his chants. He forced his voice a little louder, ‘...brute force might work...’

‘That I can still do’ said Jacantha. She took several steps to the side so that the grey taints were clearly visible beyond the swirling winds. She turned very briefly to the others, ‘you’ll have to mop up any that get through, fellow witches...’

They all started to move back and to fan out behind her. She glared at Owen, who had taken a tentative step backwards.

‘Not you, boy. You need to keep that adail going...’ Owen stopped in his tracks and continued to chant. He could no longer bear to look directly at the incoming beings, but that was no longer necessary for the spell to work.

Gwyneth turned and ordered the non-covener witches and helpers out of the chamber. ‘Go back inside and find places to hide’ she commanded

Dai thrust his hands forward. The vortex rose slightly and then it rushed forward across the chamber and hit the advancing shadows. At first it seemed that the creatures were unaffected and the whirlwind had just broken up into feeble eddies.

‘Dai? What’s happening’ shouted Jacantha, ‘don’t let me down, now, of all times’

‘Wait, you impatient woman!’ he bellowed.

The front row of shadows began to slow; around each one a small twister had formed, just large enough to surround it. The buffeting wind pushed back against the shadows and one by one they ground to a halt.

‘How long will that hold ‘em, Owen?’ asked Dai

‘Just a few tens of seconds’ Owen replied

Jacantha scarcely moved a muscle. She looked out at the immobilised taints and shouted ‘pyros porphuroeis’ at the top of her voice.

A fire sprang up at her feet, as if she had placed kindling there and then ignited it. The fire was weakly purple-coloured, almost insipid in its hue. It lapped the lower half of her body but it had no effect at all. 

‘What is that?’ asked Owen, blurting his request out despite himself.

‘I think you can see what it is boy, well enough. It’s a lilac fire’

‘But what does it do?’

‘It burns off bad magic’ she said, grinning, ‘I’ve been working on it for twenty years...’

The fire sped out across the chamber, flowing over the furniture in the room. Again, it seemed the most feeble of things – no more than indoor pyrotechnics. But then it opened up as it reached the unmoving shadows and created a field of fire; lilac still but now catching on every taint. Where it hit it burned terribly, breaking open the grey crust and releasing a spitting boiling mixture of crimson blood and blue clouds.

‘Back’ shouted John, ‘move back as far as you can’

 The blue clouds curled up and disappeared as soon as they seeped out of the shadows, but the blood spurted into the air, making a thin mist across the chamber. Everyone there knew of the properties of Tlaxacan-tainted blood. They all turned to try to avoid the spray except Jacantha and Dai, who were too engrossed to react. Owen broke free of his chanting and whispered ‘bolera’. A white flash filled the space in front of them and the blood fell against it and then disappeared.

About half of the advancing shadows had been burnt away, but this had only hollowed out the squadron. The remaining enemies were now stretched out across a wide band just in front of the fringing forest. Dai took several steps forward and cast his chorwynt spell again; this time he was able to hold about two-thirds of those that remained. Jacantha strode out into the middle of the chamber and burnt them away.

This still left about twenty shadows that had not been frozen by Dai’s twisters. They congregated in at the sides, too diffusely spread for Jacantha’s tactic to work on them, and now moving much slower. Jacantha twisted round to glare at John. ‘Your turn’ she hissed.

John had been standing watching Jacantha’s lilac fire eat up their foes as a spectator watches a master archer, but now he shook himself to attention. He thought for a split second and then he shouted to the others – ‘do as I do’ and then to the combat witch, ‘Jac, keep the fires burning’.

He moved rapidly sideways, so that the far right flank of the remaining taints was directly in front of him. He pointed his finger into the middle of the flying things and barked out ‘nharo’. A slow, rolling, slug of force followed his pointing finger.  It pushed everything in its path out of the way – the edge of the central oblong table and the chairs grouped round it, and most importantly, the grey taints beyond. Four of them flapped awkwardly backwards and slipped into the lilac blaze. The other witches caught on quickly, and the repeated cry of ‘nharo’ resonated through the chamber.  A wall of force appeared at the coven’s fingertips and slid forward towards the remaining shadows. Everything else that was in the chamber was now moving as well: the table, the chairs, ornaments, several pot plants. Jacantha struggled to keep the lilac fire burning, sweat glistened on her face. All but two of the remaining enemies were pushed slowly but inevitably into the fire. They melted like sweet wrappers on hot coals.     

 Dai had been keeping a close eye on the paths of all of the taints. The two that remained had been too high to be reached by the nharo spell. He lifted his hands into the air, murmuring ‘fferra’ twice. The shadows stopped dead.

‘Quickly, someone!’ he yelled. Gwyneth looked at Kathleen, with the expression that two fielders might have if cricket were played with two hard red balls that might be struck into the sky simultaneously. Kathleen pointed up at one of the shadows ‘mine!’ she shouted. She had been ready to release her spell for some time – a cloud of magical energy, looking uncannily like a swarm of gnats, had gathered around her head.  ‘Anrheithia!’ she said, and the cloud poured up into the sky.  It hit the shadow and covered it. A moment later the creature exploded, showering tainted blood over all the witches. They dropped to the floor and covered their heads. The caustic rain fell like misty drizzle, and everywhere it landed it seared fabric and flesh. Fortunately the spray was very fine by the time it reached the ground, and all it did was raise small weals on exposed flesh, like painful chicken pox.

The one remaining shadow had now flown over their head and was making for the door behind them. Jacantha, now free of the need to keep the lilac fire burning, turned on her heels and made a grabbing motion of it with her hand. She shouted out ‘letha’ and squeezed her fist hard. The shadow taint began to shrink. It became smaller and darker as Jacantha gripped it. Finally it was reduced to a ball, no larger than a conker. It gave out a strange little high pitched screech and then splintered away into nothing. Jacantha stood with her hands on her hips, panting. She seemed unsteady on her feet.  

‘A bit harder than it used to be, eh, woman?’ laughed Dai, staring at the dwindling black sphere.

‘Harder enemies, that’s all. And, you’re not as quick as you were, I’d say, old man’

‘Maybe,  old friend – but when I last looked the years rolled on just the same for you as for me...’

Jacantha said nothing, but now they were both grinning with relief.

The disrupted black network began to blink on and off – now that the shadow taints were gone it seemed that whatever force had been powering the grid was now failing – perhaps it had run out of energy and was just giving up.

In one last death spasm the network had pulled down on the fabric of the hidden space. There was an awful tremor in the air, like a thunder that was far too deep to hear, and a dark line appeared where Owen’s cleared patch had been.

‘It’s all been too much – the space is fraying...’ He looked round desperately for something; his eyes stopped on Myfanwy. ‘I need your coat!’

Myfanwy nodded and began undoing the large dark brown buttons on the front of her newly-fashioned coat. If anything about this concerned her, she gave no indication of it. She stepped out of the patchwork cloak and handed it to Owen. He took one quick look at the tattering space and threw the coat into the air. He shouted, ‘datod’, and the green squares separated from the enchanted stitches. For a moment the patches hung in mid-air but then he began to shift them around, by some process that required no movement from himself. Some fell back and disappeared, but some stuck against the rent. Each time this happened he shouted  ‘gwnia’ and that part of the dark broken line disappeared. In less than a minute the line was gone, all mended, but so was Myfanwy’s new multihued green coat.

She stood naked in her soft leather boots. There was no embarrassment or shame in her expression – she was always proud of herself, and her body was just part of that pride. 

Gwyneth was only momentarily distracted. She barked out instructions.

‘Bron, kill all of the traces. Reset all of the beacons, then scramble our position again. Owen, check that there are no more frays. Myf – go and get some clothes...’

John looked at the ragged remains of his coven. He turned to Jacantha. She was leaning on Dai, her face was pale and she was still quite out of breath.   

‘How many more of those lilac fires could you have cast, Jac?’

John could see the old bravado rise in her chest.

‘As many as you may have needed, of course, Mr President...’

 ‘Good’ he said, softly.

John looked back at the edge of the chamber – the trees there were all now black and smouldering where the shadows had passed. He might never know how close they had come to failing, but he dreaded to think what another wave of the evil shadows might have done. He turned to the twins – his voice was edged with fear.

‘Gwyn, Bron – just make very sure they don’t find us again’

Chapter seventy

The nonahedron at Klethropolis

 

They made for a silo that was as far away as possible from Bea’s witching team. Kath had a vague idea what Hardacre had in mind, but she wasn’t entirely sure. Her dry mouth and sweaty hands told her that whatever it was it was likely to be dangerous.

They fiddled around at the base of the structure, all fingers and thumbs. There was a complex catch which involved two pairs of hands – it wasn’t magical but it was difficult.  Every second that they struggled with it they imagined that Bea and Vala would find them and the game would be up.

Eventually they slipped the catches off and they lifted up the back of the hemispherical silo.  The structure was about twice the height of a reasonably tall elf and it was hinged at the top, so that it took some effort from both of them to push one half hemisphere back so that the contents of the silo were revealed. At first sight what they saw seemed rather disappointing. There was a metal plate on the floor right at the edge of the silo. It had a   recess in it and in front of that was a series of cogs or wheels, twelve in total, fitted into small cavities so that they were half in and half out of the ground. At the end of the wheels was a small lever, protruding only a few inches above the cogs. It all looked strangely familiar.

‘It looks a lot like the Autelephas control panel’ Kath whispered

‘It does, Dr Fielding, it does’ He took off his backpack and pulled out the bundle of blueprints that he had found in the building that they had rested in the night before. He handed them to Kath.

‘Why don’t we see how this works?’

Kath nodded before she even thought about it; her professional curiosity had been awakened. She knelt in front of the controls. Then she took the bundle carefully and undid the ancient string that held the blueprints together. Hardacre sheltered her, so that none of the rather flimsy papers could blow away. For a moment they had both forgotten how close their enemies were.

Kath screwed up her eyes to see what was written on the buff outer folder of the papers. It was in Archaic Elven and said “High Bird”. Neither of them knew what this might be, and so Kath opened the folder. The top sheet, which always seemed to carry the image of the beast designed in the blueprint, had an exquisite sketch of a tall, flightless bird with very long legs and very sharp claws.  

‘That should do’ said Hardacre. Kath narrowed her eyes in confusion, but then it became clear.

‘You want to make one of those...’ she said

He nodded. ‘We’ll make as many as we can....’

‘But how will we?’

‘I’m not really sure – but if anyone can work it out it will be you...’

Kath felt oddly flattered, and that spurred her into action. Flattery is only flattering if you think you deserve it; then it becomes praise, and she had always coveted praise.

She took the sketch from the top of the pile of papers and picked up the sheet underneath. It was translucent and the vague markings on it seem to show nothing. With great care she put the sheet onto the recess – she was unsurprised to find that it fitted exactly. The silo gave a little hum and a green light suddenly shone up from under the recess. Hardacre and Kath nodded at each other – this was exactly the sort of thing that they had expected.

Kath took the next sheet and placed it in the recess. They could see a little more clearly now. There were a series of yellow blobs that snaked up the page, forming a flat line to the right and then curving up to the left. Kath put another sheet on. The blobs were now outlined in black so they were larger and very close to each other.

‘Backbone’ murmured Hardacre. Kath stared at it – in front of her were the vertebrae of the high bird. It almost felt like she could reach forward and touch the shapes. She idly slid her hand into the path of the light and found that she could. She tried to pull a bone out, but as soon as her hand broke the light stream the image disappeared. After that the only way to get it back was to start from scratch. While all of this was happening Hardacre stood tense and watchful, straining to hear anyone approaching.

Kath hurried to place the pages again. They had to go on one at a time, and each one added another layer of the creature: bones, gut, blood system, organs. After she had a bird with half a body she looked up at her companion.

‘Shall I try to find out what these cogs do?’

Hardacre nodded, but also whispered, ‘be very careful’

She put her middle finger on the top of the first wheel. It was possible to spin it either way, and both ways it would click into a slot. There seemed to be no limits to the number of forward and backwards clicks.  Each one changed the nature of the layer that had been added. One click forward on a wheel and an organ changed shape slightly, a click back on another and it changed colour.  It was all baffling – what difference could it make what colour a liver was? Only the final wheel seemed to have a constant function – it changed the size of the structures.

‘I have no idea what...’ spluttered Kath

‘...I know’ said Hardacre, ‘but given that neither of us have any formal qualifications in either anatomy or zoology, only one approach seems to me to make sense.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Put all of the papers down and then make the bird as big as you can...’

 

Kath scrambled to place all of the papers. Eventually they did it together, he handed her the papers one at a time and them she slotted them in. The creature accumulated characteristics sequentially and rapidly: soon there was a small angry looking bird floating in a green sea. Kath spun the wheel and the bird shrank down to a dot.

‘Other way’ muttered Hardacre, with the slightest of twitches.

Kath spun the wheel back slowly. The dot grew to the size of a wren, then a blackbird, a chicken, a buzzard, an eagle, a turkey, an ostrich, and then bigger than any bird they had ever seen. It could not be forced larger than the diameter of the silo, but that was still more than ten feet tall. Without another thought Kath pulled the little lever at the end of the wheels. There was a brief moment when nothing at all happened and then without any warning the bird appeared behind them.      

It was now complete, a vicious-looking flightless bird, with bright red and green plumage. The bird was huge; so large that at first they worried that it would just topple over, but then they noticed that it wasn’t moving. In fact, it was still bathed in a faint green light and it seemed to be suspended in mid-air, its long sharp claws were several inches above the ground.

Kath walked round it, shaking her head softly as she went. She prodded a finger at the feathers on the rump of the bird. They were now solid enough but the bird did not move – it appeared to have no life force in it as yet.

‘Is it going to be of any use?’ she asked

Hardacre frowned. ‘It had better be, Dr Fielding’ he said, ‘it’s the only plan that we have’

Chapter seventy-one

Ith

 

‘Follow me’ said the naga. Viola looked back through the gloom towards the portal. She could still see or hear nothing coming towards them, even with her extraordinary senses. Dom glanced at her uncertainly, but she nodded to indicate that he should follow her.

At the back of the naga’s dark chamber was a wide iron door. The snake-elf picked up a torch and held it in front of the door. The door had an embossed, uncoloured, representation of a winged serpent on it, but they only saw it for a second, before the door swung open to reveal a blank inner surface. The naga beckoned them through.

As they passed through the door they felt a tingle, and there was a brief fuzziness in the air. In front of them was a small sand covered room that looked very like a cave. The walls were rough cut rock and they half expected to see the sea lapping into one corner of the cspace. They were only half disappointed – there was water there and a boat. It seemed that there was a watercourse dug into the rock straight on front of them, and a rowing boat, big enough to take four people at a stretch, pulled up on to the sandy shore. 

‘Is this real?’ asked Dom, struggling with the language.

The naga was untying the boat and gave no answer. He didn’t feel like asking again; he half feared that she hadn’t understood him.

The snake-elf pushed the boat into the water with suspicious ease. It looked to Dom like it was floating a fraction of an inch above the ground – there seemed to be no marks where it had been moved across the sand. ‘Magecraft’ he whispered, but neither of his companions seemed to be listening.

They got into the boat with exaggerated care, first Viola, then the naga, then Dom.  The craft rocked in a strange way, as if it were resting on a cushion of air rather than on water. Dom looked at Viola, but she seemed entirely preoccupied, her eyes staring into the dark tunnel ahead of them.

‘Are you ready, my lady?’ asked the naga. She had no oars and there were no other visible means of propulsion. 

‘I’m ready’ whispered Viola. Dom was beginning to realise that they had half-forgotten that he was with them; the intense companionship of their concentration allowed for no intruders.

The boat glided forward. Dom, who was facing the others’ backs, surreptitiously trailed his fingers in the water. It felt of almost nothing – it looked like a waterway, but it felt like a warm jet of air.

The boat continued down the narrow canal. Within a few minutes they were in complete darkness. ‘Shall I light a torch, my lady?’ asked the naga. Viola said nothing. Dom could not now see either her expression or gesture, but no torch was lit. He was completely in the dark now, not even the back of the snake-elf’s head. He had never felt more uneasy or more out of place. He resolved to keep as quiet as he could.

Any sense of time seemed to drain away in the dark tunnel. No-one spoke, no-one even seemed to be breathing. The air became cold around them; Dom reached for the wall to his right, but either he couldn’t stretch far enough to reach it or that too had disappeared. He wanted to shout out, to make sure that he could still speak, but he was somehow unable to. There was nothing magical that was stopping him; it was just the unbreakable stillness of his companions. 

A sound finally became audible somewhere in front of them at the about the same time as Dom noticed a faint blur of light ahead. At first the noise was just a whisper, right at the edge of detection, but then grew until it clarified into a distant chant. The hairs on the back of Dom’s neck bristled – it was like no sound he had ever heard before.

 

They reached the end of the narrow canal. Out they jumped onto another patch of sand in a large circular room, floored with a mosaic in a green and gold geometric design. The chanting was coming from the centre of the round room.

The middle of the floor held a round red disc, about five feet across. On the disc sat a thing. Viola narrowed her eyes, but she could make no sense of it. It looked like a flower, but its petals resembled the broad tentacles of a cephalopod; a cuttlefish, perhaps, or a squid. Its broad base was green and the tentacle-petals were all various shades of orange, red and pink. It waved its petal-tentacles in the air while somehow it chanted words in a language that she could not understand.

‘Of what nature is this... creature?’ asked Viola quite suddenly, as if she had just come to her senses

‘I am not certain’ replied the serpent-elf, ‘it is the Prime, it is other...’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It is not from here – it was not created, born or made in our worlds’

‘Our worlds?’  

The naga blinked, perhaps out of astonishment, but she did not let any emotions colour her response.

‘The three realms – Helios, Nux and Skiophos; our given lands’

‘Given by...?’

‘The pact between elves and gods that they call the undying peace’

Viola was quite lost and she feared that this might spiral into complete incomprehension. She wasn’t going to allow that. She put her index finger against her lips. ‘Shush’ she said, ‘that doesn’t matter now’  

No-one said anything for a moment. The only sound was the chanting of the Prime. 

‘...en peni enka; bis; en mo korom me; bis, quom quom pen; bis; harun; shalon...’

‘What language is that?’

The naga looked straight up at her.

‘It is not a language –  those are numbers’

‘In what counting system?’

‘I do not know’

 ‘So what are the numbers?’

‘Multiples of nineteen, I believe; endlessly repeated in groups of three...’ 

‘Can it speak?’

‘After a fashion, yes’

‘What fashion?’

The snake-elf turned to the prime and kneeled. Quite unexpectedly, she began to sing, a clear bright song in a high register.

 

‘Be awoken,

Helper of the architects,

Crafted by philosophers,

Speak if you will’

 

The prime stilled its chanting, and retracted its petal-arms, slowly back into its body. All that remained was the stalk, like a single blunt stem of a massive sapling of a horse chestnut, with one sticky bud.

There was no speaking; it was like someone was writing in Viola’s head. In fact it was as if someone had laid a pure white sheet of vellum out in her mind and had started to scribe on it with a slow quill.

‘It will answer in groups of threes’ explained the naga, ‘that’s how its mind works – in triads’

Viola’s own mind was clouded with confusion for a second as she read the mind note: 

Ith is Ith; Ith knows you as number four; Ith has many metadata concerning number four;

She opened her mouth to speak but the naga shook her head. Much to her astonishment, however, she found that she could also ‘write’ on the mental paper; it was a curious feeling. It didn’t hurt but it felt somehow wrong – it made her mind itch; but it was not a physical feeling. It was like a niggle of uncertainty – a mislaid key or a half-forgotten name.

What are you?

The prime Ith; Ith checks the sums; Ith stops the drift

Viola looked round to see if either of the other two were reacting to this.

‘Can you hear this Dom?’ she asked. He grimaced.

‘Something in my head, yes...’ he said, his voice falling off, ‘...it’s rather strange’.

Viola turned back to the Prime, even though there was no need to move in order to communicate with it.

Who made you?

The philosophers made ith; ith was made at the beginning; ith stops the unbalancing

Viola really wished that Hardacre had been able to penetrate the portal. She had no clear idea what she should ask next.

You help to hold the world together, is that what you mean?’

Ith knows the growing errors; Ith calculates the growing errors; Ith corrects the growing errors

Is that what the other primes do?

Ith has no sight of the Primes; Ith is not permitted to know the function of the Primes beyond Ith; Ith knows, though, that there are many threats to wholeness

Why did you say I was number four?

Ith communicated that fact because it was true; your rank saliency is four; the saliency is estimated globally and iteratively

What do you mean by ‘saliency’?

That is the measure of how much metadata is sampled; when saliency is high more data are collected; more data are needed when subjects’ actions are potentially critically consequential.

If Viola understood that fully, then she in no way believed it.

Does this rank include the Uchbenoi in this world? If so, why are they not ranked one to nineteen? They are surely the most important beings...

Ith knows that the Uchbenoi are indeed ranked; Ith has also learned that rankings can change when the array parameters change; Ith can only apply the necessary algorithms

So, if they are not gods, who are those ranked one, two and three?

The Primes petal-tentacles began to push back out of its body. They were all now various shades of red, from pale cerise to deep crimson. Without warning the note paper in her mind disappeared, as rapidly as it had appeared. Viola turned to the naga in fear.

‘What has happened?’

‘You will have to wait another cycle. The Prime cannot stop its calculations for long’

Viola groaned softly; she had so many more questions.

‘How long is a cycle?’

‘Nineteen minutes’ said the naga

‘Of course...’ she sighed, ‘...I should have worked that one out...’