Geomancer (Well of Echoes), page 24
‘She must have been cold,’ Irisis said as they went out again. ‘In an hour or two she’ll throw it off again.’
That night he went to Irisis’s workshop to see what she had been up to. She was holding a pair of trousers up to the light. They were made of a fine fabric with the faintest blue iridescence that swirled and shimmered as she moved it in the light.
‘And to think I’ve been working,’ he sniffed.
‘And I haven’t?’
‘A bit small for you, I would have thought. Ah, the vanity of the woman!’
‘They’re for Ullii, fool!’ She held them up. ‘What do you think?’
She tossed them to him. They slipped through his fingers as if coated in oil.
‘Careful, Nish!’
‘They’re beautiful!’ He picked them up. They were made of the softest, silkiest fabric he’d ever felt. ‘How did you make them?’
‘Uncle Barkus had some reels of spider-silk in his storeroom. He’d got it for some project or other but never used it. I had the master weaver make cloth from it and I’ve made Ullii two complete sets of clothing. She can wear it next to her skin, and ordinary clothes on top.’
‘Spider-silk?’
‘From the deathwatch spider. It’s the softest thread in the world, but many times stronger than silk. I defy anyone to tear it.’
‘And you think Ullii will wear it?’
‘She’ll have to. She can’t go marching across the mountains in the nuddy.’
‘Who said she would be?’
‘How else are we going to track Tiaan down?’
TWENTY-ONE
The following morning found them back at their starting point. Ullii had knocked off her mask while sleeping and was woken by Nyg-Gu slamming in with her breakfast, leaving the door wide open. Ullii let out a screech, whereupon Nyg-Gu, frightened, slapped her. The seeker went into a screaming fit in which she clawed out her earplugs. By the time Nish, who had heard the screaming from the other side of the manufactory, arrived, Ullii had gone catatonic. Nyg-Gu was shaking her and roaring abuse. Before he could drag the servant out, a hundred workers were crowded around the door, all talking loudly, staring and making rude remarks about the naked madwoman.
‘Get them away from here,’ Nish yelled as Irisis came running up.
‘What are you going to do?’ she said, breathless.
‘I don’t know!’ Pushing the people away from the door, he closed and bolted it. As he stood there in the dark he heard his father’s voice.
‘I’ve had this!’ said Jal-Nish. ‘It’s a damn waste of time. I knew you’d fail.’
‘We haven’t had the chance to show you what we’ve done,’ came a honeyed voice, the one Irisis used to get her way with men. ‘This time tomorrow you’ll be amazed.’
‘Oh, all right!’ he said angrily. ‘But …’
They moved away; Nish did not hear the rest. ‘Ullii,’ he said in the softest voice he was capable of. There was no reply but he could hear her rocking, humming to herself. He went back and forth across the floor until he found the mask. He discovered the earplugs when they crunched underfoot. The racket outside had stopped.
He could make her out now, right in the corner. Nish went forward, slowly but not creeping. He had the feeling that creeping might alarm her. ‘Ullii,’ he whispered. ‘I have your mask. Do you want it?’ He held it out.
She rocked faster than ever. Her eyes were tightly closed.
‘Ullii, here!’ Reaching out with exquisite care, he touched her cheek with the back of one finger.
Faster she rocked. He was amazed she did not topple over. As he touched her, she made a keening noise in her throat. He backed off.
‘Ullii? Can you see me? In your mind’s eye?’
She shook her head. Nish squatted back on his heels, rubbing his jaw. She stiffened. Having not shaved in several days, there was enough soft stubble to make a rasping noise.
‘Can you smell me?’
The keening stopped. Nish was sure he saw a fleeting smile. Maybe that was the key. She’d mentioned his smell earlier.
‘What do I smell like, Ullii?’
Again that smile. ‘Nice!’ she said softly, mimicking his voice. ‘You smell like a kind man – musk and spice, metal and oil.’
He was flattered but knew he’d made a breakthrough. If she judged people by the way they smelt, it might be a way into her confidence. He found that he liked her. He also wanted to see what she looked like in the light. The brief glimpses he’d had were tantalising.
He rubbed the mask over his face, then inside his shirt in sweeping curves. Taking it out again, Nish sniffed it. It had no smell that he could detect.
He extended his arm, mask in hand, toward her face. She smiled, snatched it and brought it to her face, sniffing like a dog. A barely audible sigh escaped. Ullii put the mask over her eyes, gave another sigh, and tried to tie it at the back. The mask fell off. She tried again with the same result.
Ullii whimpered. Nish’s fingers found hers, she drew them to her nose, sniffed deeply, then allowed him to tie on the mask. Her fingers followed every movement of his. When it was done she pushed his hands away, tore off the mask and tied it herself, giving a little chuckle when she succeeded at the first attempt.
Nish sat back on his haunches, wondering what she would do next. Had he made a lot of progress, or none at all? She squatted along the wall, just an arm’s length away. He sensed her alertness, her curiosity, but also the barely suppressed terror of being hurt again. How could he convince her otherwise in time to save himself?
He thought about his own troubles, particularly the threat of being sent to the front-lines. Giving a little whimper, he began to rock back and forth. It was partly feigned, but only partly. The whimper expressed how he felt, alone in his personal darkness.
Ullii turned her head.
He kept rocking, sure she was investigating him with her strange senses. What would Ulli do now? That was all that mattered.
She reached out ever so tentatively, touched his cheek with a fingertip and swiftly withdrew it. He sighed. She went still, her head cocked to one side. Then Ullii rubbed her hands over her face, through her hair and across her breasts and belly. She extended her fingers toward him till they were cupped under his nose.
A tiny miracle. She was offering him her trust, that she had never offered to anyone. He sniffed her fingers. Ullii had barely any smell, for after the mancer’s dungeon she’d developed a compulsion for washing and would do it as much as a dozen times a day. She just smelt pleasant, and faintly creamy. He pressed his nose into the cup of her hand.
Nish sighed, and smiled, and raised his head. She withdrew her hand, brought it back palm outward and urged him away. Taking the hint, he went softly to the door. There was a long way to go but at least they were on the road.
As he lifted the latch, but before the door opened, she said quietly, ‘I will wear your mask, Nish. I will help you find her.’
‘Thank you,’ he whispered back.
In the artisans’ workshop he told Irisis all that had happened, scarcely able to contain his glee. ‘I’ve done it!’ he concluded. ‘She trusts me. She said she would help find Tiaan!’
Irisis was not quite as pleased as he’d expected, and she positively scowled at the sniffing episodes. ‘Like a dog and bitch on heat!’ she snapped. ‘Let’s get to work.’
They began with the goggles, which were as light a pair as Nish could manufacture, large oval lenses framed with wire and filled in all around with beaten silver. The arms hooked around Ulli’s ears like a pair of spectacles.
She fitted them over her eyes, tentatively, walked across the room and back, then whipped them off again. ‘Can’t!’ She rubbed her ears and the bridge of her nose.
The first setback. Nish tucked them under his arm, handing her the earmuffs instead. Putting them on, she adjusted the fit and smiled – the first true smile he’d seen from her, though it fleeted away.
He gave her the clothing. She ran her fingers over the blouse, a high-necked one, and frowned. Ullii pulled it over her head, settled it around her waist, arched her back and screamed.
‘It’s crawling! It’s crawling all over me!’ In a single movement she tore it off, flung it into her water bucket and held it under. She stood up, shuddering and rubbing furiously at her belly, breasts and shoulders.
Irisis flung the door open. ‘What’s the matter?’
Nish took the bucket, goggles and the rest of the clothing and went outside. ‘Well, at least she likes the earmuffs.’ He told her what had happened.
‘I checked everything,’ said Irisis, piqued. ‘All the seams are concealed. There’s not a single thread loose.’
‘If she says it’s crawling,’ said Nish, ‘it must be. Maybe if we talked to the weaver.’
‘Good idea!’ They turned out the gate, past the water cisterns and the slaughterers doing their bloody business, and down to a collection of smaller buildings occupied by craft workers not directly related to the making of clankers.
‘Good morning, master weaver,’ Irisis said, putting her head through the door. ‘Are you busy?’
‘I’m always busy!’ A cadaverous-looking man with one twisted leg, he never smiled. He was untangling a mess of threads in one of the looms. ‘Look at this. Damned prentices; if you put all their brains together it wouldn’t fill the skull of a nit. What do you want?’
‘It’s this spider-silk.’ She explained what had happened.
‘Women!’ he said under his breath, evidently being one of the new breed. ‘Hold on! There was a bit left over.’ Diving into a chest of reels, he pulled one out and wound some of the thread off, testing it with skeletal fingers. Nish thought he looked rather like a spider, the way his fingers worked. ‘Did you wash the cloth first?’ the weaver challenged.
‘No!’ said Irisis. ‘I thought you’d already done that.’
‘Not a bloody washerwoman!’ He glared at her. ‘There’s your answer then. This is raw silk. It’s still got the prints of the spider on it.’
‘How do I get it off?’
‘How would I know? I’ve never used spider-silk before. Nor will again, after the trouble it was to weave.’ Scowling, he banged the loom with his fist. ‘Warm water and mild soap. No lye! Definitely not hot water, or it’ll only fit a mouse afterwards.’
‘Thank you,’ said Irisis.
‘Bah!’ he turned back to the loom, tossing a head like a fluffy skull.
‘Charming fellow,’ said Nish.
‘He’s all right. He does a good job, exactly the way he’s asked. Just doesn’t like women. And with some reason, I understand.’
Nish did not ask why and she did not elaborate. She left the garments at the laundry with many instructions. Nish returned to his workshop, where he replaced the arms of the goggles with a split strap that would buckle over the back of Ullii’s head. The padding he covered with scraps of spider-silk cloth, washed carefully beforehand.
He spent hours in Ullii’s room that afternoon and evening, watching her walking about with the earmuffs and mask on. She tried the goggles several times, but each time took them off after some minutes. Evidently she preferred to see nothing rather than put up with the least discomfort.
Nish kept quiet. He wanted her to get used to him being there. The door was open now, lighting the room, though guards at either end of the corridor kept the curious away.
He liked watching her. Ullii was small but sweetly formed, her compact curves a contrast to Irisis’s elongated form. Her skin, which had never seen the sun, was as soft as a baby’s. As she walked back and forth, unselfconsciously naked, a germ of desire formed.
And why not, he thought. She is a grown woman. Perhaps it would help to cement her trust in me. Irisis need never know. His mind wandered on that delicious track until he realised that Ullii was pacing frantically, radiating anxiety.
Had she sensed the direction of his thoughts? Nish hastily adjusted his trousers and saw a tall figure at the door. He went across. ‘She’s better, though she still has trouble with the goggles.’
Irisis gave him a frosty, up-and-down glare as if she knew what he had been daydreaming about. ‘Her clothes are dry!’ she said curtly.
Nish held out his hand but Irisis brushed past and stalked straight up to Ullii. The seeker backed away until she hit the wall, holding her hands up as if to ward off some horror.
‘It’s crawling!’ she said in a cracked voice.
Irisis looked irritated. Her frustration must soon burst out. That would ruin all the trust built up so far.
‘Stop!’ he hissed. ‘Let me do it.’
Irisis raised her fist. Nish thought she was going to thump him. Well, let her, if that was what it took. It might lower another barrier between him and Ullii. He steeled himself against the blow.
A wild, bubbling hiss came from Ullii’s throat and she went into a crouch, her fingers hooked into claws, glaring through her mask at Irisis.
Irisis took a step backwards, then shrugged and tossed the garments to Nish. ‘I wish I inspired that kind of loyalty.’ She went to the door.
He wondered how to convince Ullii that the clothes were different now. Unbuttoning his shirt, Nish dropped it on the floor. Her face turned his way.
Irisis gave a disgusted snort. ‘I don’t believe this!’
‘Just keep quiet!’ The clothes were too small for Nish, of course. Taking up the spider-silk shirt, he smoothed it across his chest and rubbed it up and down, then pulled it over his head, burying his face in it. It felt sensual, like nothing he had ever worn before.
Tucking the garment under his arm, he did the same with the pants, socks and gloves, then held the shirt out to her. She took it by one finger and thumb, holding it away as if it was crawling with spiders. Slowly she brought it up to her face and sniffed. She sniffed it up and down, across and back, gave a little grunt and touched her face with it, gingerly. It seemed to be all right for she pulled open the neck hole, eased her head through and drew it on. At the level of her breasts she stopped, giving a little shudder of remembrance. She pulled it down and stood frozen, one foot in the air. Nish held his breath. Irisis, by the door, was doing the same.
Ullii gave a little, sensual chuckle that was, to Nish, like his lover blowing in his ear. In a single movement she stepped into the trousers, pulled them up to the waist and leapt high in the air, crying out for joy. She ran around the room skipping and dancing.
Coming up behind Nish, she threw her arms around him and put her hands over his nose. He sniffed her hands, evidently what was expected, for she resumed her dance. She was perfectly dexterous and graceful. Despite the mask, Ullii knew where everything in the room was. She did not once look like tipping over the water bucket or crashing into the walls.
Nish went to the door. ‘Very good,’ said Irisis. ‘This afternoon we begin.’
TWENTY-TWO
Before long, Tiaan found herself at a dead end. She turned back and not far from the entrance to the ninth level crossed a passage that she must have stumbled by yesterday without noticing. Right or left? Going left, she soon encountered another cross-passage. Tiaan stopped, frowning. It would be easy to get lost in here. Returning to the entrance, she looked up the shaft. Hammering echoed down. They must be preparing to come after her.
She hurried back to the first cross-passage, noting the number of steps and wishing she had paper to make a map on. As a prentice artisan she’d often been required to memorise an entire blueprint and recreate it perfectly a week or even a year later. Could she still do it? As she paced, Tiaan began to create a map of the mine in her head. It would not be accurate, since she could only estimate directions, but better than none. Eventually, if she did not starve to death, or her pursuers didn’t find her first, she hoped to locate the long passage Joeyn had mentioned, that led to the other mine.
She moved back and forth, building the map in her mind, a labyrinth of thread-like passages with herself just a speck at the centre. At one point Tiaan realised that she was humming a tune. She felt back in control.
A full day went by, judging by her stomach, before she had mapped the entire level. Maintaining the relationships between wandering adits, shafts and pillars was hard work. Her skills were rusty. She enjoyed testing herself though; the harder the work, the better.
The lower sections were partly flooded. She wished she’d brought along Joeyn’s grappling pole to probe the lifeless water. Without it, all she could do was wade in and hope it did not come up over her shoulders, for her gear was too heavy to swim with.
Most times the water only reached her thighs but it was damnably cold and not doing her boots any good. By the end of the day Tiaan was exhausted and the wet cloth had chafed the insides of her thighs.
She found a place to sleep for the night, took off her clothes and inspected the damage. She was red raw. Imagining what Matron would say to blemishes in such a strategic spot, she burst out laughing. It sounded strange, and more so after the pitch-shifted echoes came back. On edge; maniacal. That was not far off it, either.
Tiaan had been thinking about the glowing crystal all day. It was different from every hedron she’d come across. It had never been shaped, it just was, as it had crystallised half a billion years ago. She wanted it desperately, and that worried her. Could the bond have been established after only using it once? It took all her willpower to leave it in her pack.
That night she again dreamed about the young man, though this time it was different. They were on opposite sides of the room, gazing at each other. He began to run towards her. She ran too. He held out his arms, naked desire on his face. She froze. Her daydreams had always ended with the rescue. The reality of this dream was that he wanted something of her. What was it? Afraid to commit herself, she turned away. He let his arms fall and, with sunken shoulders, stumbled off.
Once Tiaan woke, she recalled the mortifying emotions all too well. Feelings of helplessness, of having no idea what was required of her, flooded her. That was the other reason she had not taken a partner. To share her life with another meant losing the control that she had worked so hard for. Afraid of those unplumbed emotions, she closed her eyes and groaned aloud. Then a thud echoed down the tunnel.
