Read Online Geomancer (Well of Echoes) by Ian Irvine - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ian Irvine
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three days of dawn-to-midnight toil Tiaan had put together a hedron probe, in two parts. The first was a globe constructed of copper wires following longitudes, latitudes and diagonals, on which were set a number of movable beads, like a model of the moons and planets in their orbits. The beads, each different, were made of carefully layered strips of metal, ceramic and glass. The other part was a helm of enamelled silver and copper lacework in delicate filigrees, designed to fit over her head. A series of springy wires went down through her hair, their flattened ends pressing against the sides and back of her head, unnervingly like a wire spider. At the front, a setting the size of a grape was designed to hold a shaped piece of crystal.
Tiaan opened the two halves of the globe and placed one of the failed hedrons inside. Inserting a piece of crystal into the setting on the helm, she put it on her head. The wires were chilly. Closing her eyes, she slid her hands around the globe and pressed her fingers in through the wires until her fingertips touched the faces of the hedron.
At once she sensed something in its heart – a tiny, shifting aura, all fuzzy and smeared out, like a comet’s tail. Her fingers moved the beads one way and then another. The aura was stronger in some positions, almost non-existent in others. Once or twice it disappeared. She tried rotating various wires, then flipping them north to south. That did not help either. Her apparatus was not powerful enough to read the aura, though while viewing it she had the uncomfortable feeling that someone was looking for her. She opened her door but found the workshop empty.
Tiaan examined the small crystal in the helm. It was not a particularly strong one, just the first she’d picked up. She searched through her offcuts but found nothing better, and the basket of waste crystals was empty.
‘Gol?’ She looked around for the sweeper boy. He did not answer. Tiaan found him sleeping in one of the nooks behind the furnaces, his head pillowed on a burlap sack. These hidey-holes had been the favourite haunt of factory kids since the manufactory had been built. She had used this nook herself once or twice, when she was little.
Tiaan looked down at the sleeping boy. He was an angelic-looking lad – olive skin, a cheerful oval face, red lips and a noble brow capped by black curls.
‘Gol!’ She shook him by the shoulders.
He woke slowly, smiling before he opened his eyes, as if from a pleasant dream. When he saw her standing there, his eyes went wide.
‘Artisan Tiaan!’ He fell out of the niche in a comical attempt to look alert and hardworking. ‘What can I do for you?’
With an effort she kept a straight face. Gol was always willing, but his work never came up to expectation. Slapdash as well as lazy, he did not know the difference between a job well done and an entirely inadequate one. A harder master would have beaten that out of him but Tiaan could not bring herself to do it.
‘Where did you put the waste crystals from my workbench?’
‘Around the back of the manufactory,’ he said brightly. ‘On the ash pile. Would you like me to show you?’
‘I told you to put them in the basket in my storeroom!’ she said sharply. ‘If this happens again, Gol, I’ll send you back to your mother.’ As if she could. The poor woman was a halfwit with seven children, none good for anything but lyrinx fodder.
‘I’m sorry!’ He assumed an expression of profound mortification.
Gol’s emotions tended to the extreme. Tiaan wondered if there was a brain in his head at all. ‘Come on! I’m in a hurry!’
They went past the smithies, where a bevy of half-naked lads wielded long-handled hammers. Eiryn Muss leaned against an anvil, ogling the youths and grinning loutishly. A pair of prentices mocked the halfwit behind his back, slouching about with their tongues out, drooling. Tiaan wondered if men like Muss were required to mate.
As she went past the
Tiaan opened the two halves of the globe and placed one of the failed hedrons inside. Inserting a piece of crystal into the setting on the helm, she put it on her head. The wires were chilly. Closing her eyes, she slid her hands around the globe and pressed her fingers in through the wires until her fingertips touched the faces of the hedron.
At once she sensed something in its heart – a tiny, shifting aura, all fuzzy and smeared out, like a comet’s tail. Her fingers moved the beads one way and then another. The aura was stronger in some positions, almost non-existent in others. Once or twice it disappeared. She tried rotating various wires, then flipping them north to south. That did not help either. Her apparatus was not powerful enough to read the aura, though while viewing it she had the uncomfortable feeling that someone was looking for her. She opened her door but found the workshop empty.
Tiaan examined the small crystal in the helm. It was not a particularly strong one, just the first she’d picked up. She searched through her offcuts but found nothing better, and the basket of waste crystals was empty.
‘Gol?’ She looked around for the sweeper boy. He did not answer. Tiaan found him sleeping in one of the nooks behind the furnaces, his head pillowed on a burlap sack. These hidey-holes had been the favourite haunt of factory kids since the manufactory had been built. She had used this nook herself once or twice, when she was little.
Tiaan looked down at the sleeping boy. He was an angelic-looking lad – olive skin, a cheerful oval face, red lips and a noble brow capped by black curls.
‘Gol!’ She shook him by the shoulders.
He woke slowly, smiling before he opened his eyes, as if from a pleasant dream. When he saw her standing there, his eyes went wide.
‘Artisan Tiaan!’ He fell out of the niche in a comical attempt to look alert and hardworking. ‘What can I do for you?’
With an effort she kept a straight face. Gol was always willing, but his work never came up to expectation. Slapdash as well as lazy, he did not know the difference between a job well done and an entirely inadequate one. A harder master would have beaten that out of him but Tiaan could not bring herself to do it.
‘Where did you put the waste crystals from my workbench?’
‘Around the back of the manufactory,’ he said brightly. ‘On the ash pile. Would you like me to show you?’
‘I told you to put them in the basket in my storeroom!’ she said sharply. ‘If this happens again, Gol, I’ll send you back to your mother.’ As if she could. The poor woman was a halfwit with seven children, none good for anything but lyrinx fodder.
‘I’m sorry!’ He assumed an expression of profound mortification.
Gol’s emotions tended to the extreme. Tiaan wondered if there was a brain in his head at all. ‘Come on! I’m in a hurry!’
They went past the smithies, where a bevy of half-naked lads wielded long-handled hammers. Eiryn Muss leaned against an anvil, ogling the youths and grinning loutishly. A pair of prentices mocked the halfwit behind his back, slouching about with their tongues out, drooling. Tiaan wondered if men like Muss were required to mate.
As she went past the
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