Free Chimaera by Ian Irvine Page B

her since we took Flydd.’
    ‘And you didn’t think to check?’ Ghorr’s voice became shrill.
    ‘She was in
your
custody, Chief Scrutator,’ Fusshte snarled. ‘She’s your little pet. She must be with him.’
    ‘Of course she is, but we know how to deal with Ullii,’ Ghorr said. ‘Where’s Scrutator T’Lisp?’
    ‘Up on her air-dreadnought.’
    ‘Get her down here right away.’
    Nish abandoned his spark-making as hopeless and began sawing at a cross-stay, not that it would make any difference.
    No difference at all. His blunt knife made barely any impression on the tough fibres. It would take minutes to cut through, and minutes he didn’t have. As soon as one of the soldiers thought to look underneath the deck, they’d be seen. Sharpshooters could pick them off with crossbows from the ground or through holes cut in the deck, or the mancers destroy them in any number of hideous ways.
    Ullii was still about ten spans away when the canvas creaked above Nish, as if someone was creeping across it. He readied the crossbow, knowing that it could make no difference if he shot one soldier, or even ten.
    ‘There’s a funny smell over here,’ yelled a soldier from near one of the knots Ullii had soaked. ‘Like lamp spirit.’
    Nish couldn’t breathe. A hand appeared over the edge, clutching at the melon-sized knot. It was a long time before the other hand appeared beside it. Perhaps the soldier was afraid of heights.
    The soldier’s head appeared, bald patch first, looking the other way. Nish readied the bow then froze, hoping vainly that he might not be seen in the gloom, or that the soldier might be careless.
    The head turned towards Nish, upside down and red-faced. He did not appear to see him. Nish breathed out, but unfortunately Ullii moved.
    Nish fired, but not in time to prevent the soldier’s triumphant cry.
    ‘He’s down here, surr, underneath the deck. And the seek –’

E IGHT

    T he bolt struck him in the throat, the soldier lost his grip and fell, head-first, as dead as a stone, the naphtha-soaked tail fluttering at his throat like a necktie. But the alarm had already been raised.
    An exultant Ghorr shouted, ‘Captain, call your men back. T’Lisp?’
    There came a mutter that Nish could not decipher, just as Ullii reached him. Then came the scratchy, old woman’s voice that sent Ullii crawling into his arms. Nish hooked his way further from the edge and began to reload the crossbow.
    ‘What is your will, Chief Scrutator?’ the old woman said breathlessly.
    ‘The seeker is underneath the canvas and I want her,
unharmed
. Use the bracelet and compel her to you, Scrutator T’Lisp. If you can bring the artificer as well, all the better.’
    ‘At once, Chief Scrutator.’
    ‘What are we going to do?’ whispered Nish.
    Ullii scrunched herself tighter in his arms, whimpering.
    ‘Come on, we’ve got to get further from the edge.’
    They crept in. Nish clamped on securely, eased himself out of Ullii’s grip and tied her trailing safety line to the stay rope. He had just gone back to striking sparks when Ullii’s eyes rolled up.
    ‘No,’ she said in a choked whisper. ‘I won’t.’
    ‘It’s T’Lisp, Ullii, and she murdered our son. Don’t give in to her.’
    He took her hand but it just lay limply in his. Ullii didn’t seem to be there at all. Then all at once her grip grew tight and she jerked him towards her, her eyes now focussed and feral.
    ‘You’ve got to fight her, Ullii.’
    She went for Nish as if it was he who was trying to possess her, clawing, scratching and biting. He fought her off, then slapped her across the cheek.
    She put up one hand, staring at him. ‘Nish, I’m sorry …’ Her eyes crossed and she went for him again.
    He pushed her away, harder this time. Ullii lost her grip and fell until she reached the limit of her safety line. The harness pulled tight around her chest and the shock broke her free of T’Lisp’s compulsion. She hung on the line, slowly