‘I wouldn’t, if I were you.’

‘Why not?’ she asked testily.

‘I told you – the amplimet is deadly. And the people who built this construct had not seen one in four thousand years. Whatever crystal they used, it was nowhere near as powerful. The mechanism might burn out, or blow apart. Or melt the construct, and you and me, into puddles. If you must try such a dangerous experiment, do it with a lesser crystal.’

Tiaan could see the sense in that. ‘I’ve got an ordinary hedron. Should I try that?’

‘If you must; only know that anything you do here is a risk.’

‘Why?’

‘The Tirthrax node is one of the greatest in the world, and working so close to it may have unexpected effects. And then there is the Well …’

‘What about it?’

Malien hesitated, as if reluctant to speak of it at all. ‘It has a somewhat … uneasy balance with the node. I would not want to upset that.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘These are Aachim secrets, not for outsiders’ ears.’

‘How do you expect me to fix the construct if I don’t know what’s going on?’

‘Very well! There are some things I can tell you, but you must promise to keep them secret.’

‘Of course,’ said Tiaan.

‘The Well of Echoes has been captured but not tamed. Improper use of power might change it in an unpredictable way, or even allow it to break free! We are always careful with the Art here, and so must you be.’ She turned away abruptly, ending the conversation.

That raised a dozen questions but Tiaan knew better than to ask them. She took her hand off the amplimet. The more Malien told her, the less she understood.

Putting it away, she weighed her hedron in her hand. Her jaw was clenched tight. Tiaan tried to relax. Reaching down, ever so carefully, she lowered the crystal into the cup, then whipped her hand out of the way.

Nothing happened. She looked up at Malien questioningly. ‘What should I have expected?’

‘I don’t know.’

Tiaan was about to take it out when Malien said, ‘No, leave it there. Something else may be required.’

‘What?’ Tiaan cried in frustration.

‘Leave it until tomorrow. Things always seem better after a good night’s sleep.’

‘I like to keep going until I can’t do any more.’

Malien’s gaze was penetrating. ‘I wonder about you, Tiaan.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Tiaan uncomfortably.

‘What do you enjoy, apart from work?’

Tiaan did not understand the question. ‘I love my work.’

‘And I mine, but it is not all of me. What are you hiding from?’

‘I’m not hiding from anything,’ she yelled, turning away. ‘It’s why I’m such a good artisan; because I work harder than everyone.’

‘How old are you? No, you’ve already told me. You were twenty-one the day the gate opened.’

Tiaan hurled her wrench onto the floor. ‘So?’

‘Do you know my age?’

‘You look about sixty, but Aachim age slowly. And I know you were alive at the time of the Mirror. So I would guess, 250?’

‘I’m 385, a hundred years more than I ever expected to live, and I’ve a good few years in me yet, if I don’t take the Well. I’ve lived eighteen of your lives, Tiaan, and learned a thing or two. You can’t work all the hours of the day, and you can’t cover up other failings by staying at your bench day and night. You have to live!’

‘My mother used to say that.’

‘If you won’t listen to me, take her advice. Go to bed early and get up in the morning, refreshed. What is hard now will seem easy then. It may come to you in your dreams.’

Tiaan dreaded her dreams these days, though as she headed up the stairs she muttered, ‘I’m glad you’re not my mother.’

She had not thought of Marnie in ages. What would she be doing now? Tiaan could almost see her on the great bed, gorging herself and pulling her latest lover down on her enormous, fleshy expanses. Her mother did nothing but live.

‘I’m worried the lyrinx will come,’ she said as they reached the top. ‘This is the greatest opportunity of my life and I don’t want to miss out on it.’

‘I’m worried too,’ said Malien. ‘I think I’ll go to my eyrie for a while. I need to think.’

‘What is it? There’s something else on your mind, isn’t there?’

After a long hesitation, Malien said, ‘I’ve been keeping a close eye on the Well. It seems to be unfreezing.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The Well is a dynamic object, like an energy whirlwind. It wants to run free, but that freedom would come at the expense of everything in the natural world that is fixed – rocks, forests, life of any kind! Tamed as it is, it’s a treasure. Set free within the plane of the world, it spells ruin for every solid thing it touches. It has been frozen in place ever since we came to Tirthrax, but now it appears to be thawing. Should it thaw completely, I would be hard pressed to hold it.’

‘Why is it thawing?’

‘I don’t know. Have you noticed anything different about the amplimet lately?’

‘No. You warned me against using it.’ She passed it over.

Malien studied it. ‘I don’t see anything, but keep an eye on it, and tell me if anything unusual happens.’

‘Do you expect it to?’

‘I don’t know. The thawing may have nothing to do with the amplimet. It might be due to the gate opening, or all the power the fleet of constructs took from the node.’

‘But you’re worried?’

‘I’m very worried.’

EIGHT

The tear was two-thirds of the way down the balloon but the air still gushed out. The balloon fell, not quite like a stone, but fast enough to be frightening. The lyrinx did not wait to make sure of them, but turned back toward Tiaan and the witch-woman.

Nish wondered what it would feel like to be splattered across the rocks. He hoped the pain would not last long. Ullii whimpered and tried to climb into her basket.

‘That won’t do any good. Come here.’ Nish took her in his arms.

Ullii pressed herself against him as if she was trying to get inside his skin. He hugged her tightly. The tearing wind had carried them a few leagues west of Tirthrax and down over the precipice. They were now dropping towards one of the spreading mounds below an icefall. The ice would be as hard as stone.

A sudden whirling updraught caught the balloon, driving them past the ice mound in the direction of a moraine of boulders, then beyond it toward an island in a frozen outwash river. Nish was sure they were going to smash right through the ice. However, the wind pushed them towards the forest covering the centre of the island.

The trees loomed up, tall conifers rather like fir trees, though the needles were blue. The balloon was not completely deflated but as soon as they hit the trees, a branch would tear the side right out.

Nish felt quite calm about dying. He had done his best; however, as with so many other people in this war, circumstances had been against him. His only regret was that his family would never know what had happened. Their Histories would just say ‘disappeared in Mirrilladell.’

The balloon was falling directly towards one of the larger trees of the forest. They were going to hit the top, full on. ‘Hang on!’ he said uselessly to Ullii.

She clung to him. Nish gripped the sides of the basket. The base struck the top of the tree, snapping it off, and the broken trunk thrust up through the bottom of the basket like a magic beanstalk. Blue needles and pieces of shredded bark and cane whirled like snowflakes. The basket kept going down, stripping off the small upper limbs until it slammed into a pair of solid branches. The tree swayed across the sky, went creak-crack and Nish thought it was going to snap again. It moved back and forth a few times then stopped. They had, somehow, survived.

The stripped trunk had thrust up beside the brazier and gone some distance into the open neck of the balloon. The tree now appeared to have a black mushroom sprouting from its top. The last of the air rushed out and the balloon went flaccid, bent in the middle where its supporting wires had warped out of shape.