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and it was taking her
eyes some time to adjust. Tunnels began to appear, extending off the path.
There were a dozen, at least, and smoke oozed from several. How could she
possibly tell? It had been dark when she had come down previously, the night
before last.
    'We
went down 741 steps,' she said, counting them aloud. Fyn-Mah did the same and
checked her instrument again. 'There!' She pointed to a runnel near the base of
the pit. 'Take us to that point, Pilot.'
    The
whirring of the rotor died to a gentle tick as they descended into the black
pit. The reek, hanging heavier than air at the bottom, stung their eyes. They
came alongside the tunnel and the soldiers tossed out grappling hooks, pulling
the air-floater up against the steps.
    'We're
going in,' Fyn-Mah said to the captain. 'Bring five of your men. Scrutator
Flydd has ordered me to recover certain . . , items from inside. The remaining
four soldiers will guard the air-floater.'
    The
captain shuffled his feet. He looked about fifteen years old and Irisis felt
sorry for him. 'I have orders to remain at my post.'
    'Those
orders are superseded.' She stared him down. 'This mission is for the good of
the war, soldier, and we can't do it alone.'
    He
regarded his boots, glanced up at her, then nodded. 'So you won't mind giving
your orders in writing.'
    Fyn-Mah
took a small piece of paper from her chest pack, scribbled something on it and
stamped it with her personal seal. The captain read the document and put it in
his wallet.
    'Wait
here,' Fyn-Mah said to Pilot Inouye. 'If there's danger, go up out of range and
keep watch.'
    'What
if you don't come back?'
    'Wait
until dawn. If we haven't returned by then, you are released back to your
master.'
    The
underground had a different feeling from Irisis's previous visit. Then it had
been a vibrant, working city, still occupied by the lyrinx. Now it was a black,
reeking hell where the ceilings had collapsed into heaps of rubble, the floors
into fuming sink-holes and dead lyrinx lay everywhere. Fumes wisped down the
tunnels like black spectres: sudden winds blew hot and cold; and, always in the
distance, was the seething, bubbling crackle of burning tar.
    They
struggled through into a less damaged area, where they sought for the
flesh-formed creature pens for hours without success. Fyn-Mah called out each
turn and intersection as they passed it, Irisis noting them down so they could
find the way out again. The air here was relatively clean, apart from drifting
wisps of fume. Some of the tunnels were still lit by lanterns fuelled with
distilled tar spirit, giving the air an oily tang, but they were guttering now.
    Fyn-Mah
stopped where the tunnel split into four. Consulting directions on a scrap of
paper, she scowled. 'We must've taken a wrong turn. Do you recognise this
place, Irisis?'
    Irisis
shook her head. 'The tunnels all look the same.'
    'You're
not much use, are you?'
    'Ullii
was leading us the other night,' said Irisis. 'It was dark, as I told you.'
    'I
can find my way around in the dark,' said Flangers. 'You get used to that, up
on the shooter's platform. What if I were to take a few soldiers and go that
way?' He pointed to the right. 'You could check the other tunnels.'
    Fyn-Mah
frowned. 'I don't want to split up, but I suppose there's no alternative.
Irisis, take Flangers and him,' she indicated a soldier so young that he had no
trace of beard, 'and go that way. We'll follow this tunnel. If you don't find
anything in half an hour, come back to this point.' She scratched a zigzag mark
into the wall with her sword. 'Don't get lost.'
    'Let's
have a look through this door,' Irisis said to Flangers. They'd searched dozens
of chambers but had found nothing.
    He
gestured over his shoulder to the young soldier, a pink cheeked, frightened lad
called Ivar. Irisis pushed the door open. Inside, in a damp, mist-laden space,
stood three rows of objects that resembled chest-high pumpkins connected by
grey vinelike cords.
    'What
do you suppose