sticky tar. The former slaves, four men and two women,
came panting up, carrying long planks, and began to lay them across the tar.
The timber ran out just before the construct; they hurried off for more.
When
planks had been laid all the way, they began to scrape the tar off with shovels
and mattocks so they could climb over. Being unable to help, Tiaan waited where
the tar was firm, working her wasted leg muscles until they hurt.
She
had to be able to walk unaided. The planks were too narrow for her walker and
she was wondering how she would get across when someone hissed, 'What's that?'
The
work stopped. Tap, tap, tap came clearly from inside the construct.
Tiaan
felt a spasm of fear. The Aachim had chased her halfway across Lauralin. If the
ones inside were freed, they would come after her and these unarmed slaves
could not stop them.
'Don't
let —’ Tiaan broke off. She couldn't condemn those inside to suffocation.
'What's
the matter?' called Merryl, who was stripped to the waist and covered in sweat.
It was growing hotter all the time.
'Oh,
nothing.' In her condition, Tiaan was afraid to trust anyone.
She
watched as the tar was scraped off the top of the construct. It took ages, for
it clung to the tools and they had to be cleaned every minute or two. Someone
climbed up, holding the lantern aloft.
"Tunnel's
collapsed further along,' the man announced. 'We'll have to find another way
out.'
'All
the other passages run back in the direction of the fire,' said Merryl.
The
hatch of the construct was forced up, tearing the coating of tar into clinging
strands. A head appeared in the opening. Tiaan edged back into the shadows,
hoping it was some obscure Aachim who had never seen her.
It
was Minis. Her heart began to hammer. She had sworn revenge on him and all the
Aachim kind, but what was the point of that if they were all going to die?
Another
Aachim climbed up beside Minis. Tiaan recognised her too, despite her haggard
look. Tirior had also been in on the betrayal. Minis climbed down onto the
boards and Tirior followed. A third person emerged, a short, stocky young man
with a cap of dark hair that clung to the contours of his skull. Cryl-Nish
Hlar, Nish. Her nemesis. If there was any man in the world she loathed as much
as the Aachim, it was him.
Tiaan
sprang the walker backwards, colliding with the wall. She covered her face,
peering through her fingers at Minis, and tears sprang to her eyes. She had
invested all her foolish, youthful dreams in him, and he had cast her aside.
She had to get away before he saw her. Whirling the walker around in its tracks
she set off the other way, into her personal darkness. Towards the fire.
'Tiaan!'
yelled Merryl.
She
increased her speed, for his cry had given her away.
'Tiaan,'
he yelled, pounding after her.
She
could not move quickly in the gloom and Merryl caught her around the bend.
'Tiaan, what is it?'
'Those
three are my enemies.'
He
took her arm. 'You can't get out that way. Can't you smell the fumes?'
Just
enough light came around the corner, now that her eyes had adjusted, to
illuminate a dark, noxious cloud creeping along the floor. An odd tendril or
two escaped upwards. One caught in the back of her throat and her lungs
contracted.
All
right,' she said hoarsely. 'But don't tell them my back has been repaired.
Please.'
'I'll
say nothing,' said Merryl. 'I know nothing.'
At
the corner she almost ran into a racing Minis. 'Tiaan? Is it truly you?' He
stopped abruptly, staring at the walker. His eyes lifted to her face. 'Tiaan,'
he whispered. 'What happened?'
Her
back was throbbing. She couldn't deal with Minis. All she could do was keep him
at bay with words. 'My back was broken when the construct crashed,1 she said
harshly. After your father attacked me without provocation.'
'I'm
sorry. I tried to stop him . . .'
'Spare
me your lies! I had enough of them in Tirthrax.' She ground the words out, then
went past in silence. Tirior stared at her. Nish gaped.
came panting up, carrying long planks, and began to lay them across the tar.
The timber ran out just before the construct; they hurried off for more.
When
planks had been laid all the way, they began to scrape the tar off with shovels
and mattocks so they could climb over. Being unable to help, Tiaan waited where
the tar was firm, working her wasted leg muscles until they hurt.
She
had to be able to walk unaided. The planks were too narrow for her walker and
she was wondering how she would get across when someone hissed, 'What's that?'
The
work stopped. Tap, tap, tap came clearly from inside the construct.
Tiaan
felt a spasm of fear. The Aachim had chased her halfway across Lauralin. If the
ones inside were freed, they would come after her and these unarmed slaves
could not stop them.
'Don't
let —’ Tiaan broke off. She couldn't condemn those inside to suffocation.
'What's
the matter?' called Merryl, who was stripped to the waist and covered in sweat.
It was growing hotter all the time.
'Oh,
nothing.' In her condition, Tiaan was afraid to trust anyone.
She
watched as the tar was scraped off the top of the construct. It took ages, for
it clung to the tools and they had to be cleaned every minute or two. Someone
climbed up, holding the lantern aloft.
"Tunnel's
collapsed further along,' the man announced. 'We'll have to find another way
out.'
'All
the other passages run back in the direction of the fire,' said Merryl.
The
hatch of the construct was forced up, tearing the coating of tar into clinging
strands. A head appeared in the opening. Tiaan edged back into the shadows,
hoping it was some obscure Aachim who had never seen her.
It
was Minis. Her heart began to hammer. She had sworn revenge on him and all the
Aachim kind, but what was the point of that if they were all going to die?
Another
Aachim climbed up beside Minis. Tiaan recognised her too, despite her haggard
look. Tirior had also been in on the betrayal. Minis climbed down onto the
boards and Tirior followed. A third person emerged, a short, stocky young man
with a cap of dark hair that clung to the contours of his skull. Cryl-Nish
Hlar, Nish. Her nemesis. If there was any man in the world she loathed as much
as the Aachim, it was him.
Tiaan
sprang the walker backwards, colliding with the wall. She covered her face,
peering through her fingers at Minis, and tears sprang to her eyes. She had
invested all her foolish, youthful dreams in him, and he had cast her aside.
She had to get away before he saw her. Whirling the walker around in its tracks
she set off the other way, into her personal darkness. Towards the fire.
'Tiaan!'
yelled Merryl.
She
increased her speed, for his cry had given her away.
'Tiaan,'
he yelled, pounding after her.
She
could not move quickly in the gloom and Merryl caught her around the bend.
'Tiaan, what is it?'
'Those
three are my enemies.'
He
took her arm. 'You can't get out that way. Can't you smell the fumes?'
Just
enough light came around the corner, now that her eyes had adjusted, to
illuminate a dark, noxious cloud creeping along the floor. An odd tendril or
two escaped upwards. One caught in the back of her throat and her lungs
contracted.
All
right,' she said hoarsely. 'But don't tell them my back has been repaired.
Please.'
'I'll
say nothing,' said Merryl. 'I know nothing.'
At
the corner she almost ran into a racing Minis. 'Tiaan? Is it truly you?' He
stopped abruptly, staring at the walker. His eyes lifted to her face. 'Tiaan,'
he whispered. 'What happened?'
Her
back was throbbing. She couldn't deal with Minis. All she could do was keep him
at bay with words. 'My back was broken when the construct crashed,1 she said
harshly. After your father attacked me without provocation.'
'I'm
sorry. I tried to stop him . . .'
'Spare
me your lies! I had enough of them in Tirthrax.' She ground the words out, then
went past in silence. Tirior stared at her. Nish gaped.
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