Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) (46 page)

“Mist?” Aurata said, approaching as if she didn’t know whether to strike him or hug him. “For pity’s sake! What is wrong with you?”

“Rufus attacked him,” Stevie pointed out. Aurata took no notice.

Mist pushed his hair off his face. “If you don’t already know, it’s a hellish long list. But you must remember the first and worst thing he did, Aurata. I don’t know where you’ve been, or what you know. Our memories get messed up. But tell me you remember Azantios, at least.”

She breathed in and out and spoke softly. “It was such a long time ago.”

“No amount of time can make it right.”

“I didn’t say it was right. But it is ancient history.”

Mist laughed: a hollow sound. Aurata came to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He felt Stevie move away, a draft filling her place. Instead, slanting golden eyes unseen for eons looked into his. Aurata’s voice was warm silk, soothing. “Mistangamesh. My beloved brother. This is momentous; the first time we three have met since Azantios fell. I know why you’re angry, but please, beautiful Mist, let it go. Let’s not fight on this amazing day.”

“Aurata.” He could barely speak. He bent his head to rest on her hair.

“It’s all right,” she murmured, embracing him.

“I had no idea you were here.”

“No one told you? This is my house, dearest.”

*   *   *

Stevie settled next to Mist on the leather seating, close but not quite touching. She felt him trembling like a spent racehorse. She’d no idea what to say, dared not imagine his turmoil. But what if he had succeeded in killing Rufus? That could only have made things worse.

Rufus sat on the far side of the room, his face flushed pink. He started up, as if to approach them, but Mist put out a hand and said, “Keep him away from me.”

“Mist?” said Rufus. His voice was hoarse. “Come on, have another go. I knew you’d come back to me one day—if only to take revenge. I deserve it—but have you forgotten that you gave Adam’s life to save my unworthy skin, not so long ago?” He laughed roughly. “Of course you’re angry. So am I—because how
dare
you wait until I’d finally finished weeping and written you out of my life and ‘moved on,’ as they say, to make your reappearance? You bastard. Have you any conception of how much I hate you? Yet still I’d rather you strangled me until doomsday than ever left me again.”

“It would be my pleasure,” said Mist. “And you’d enjoy it; you’re that perverse. You haven’t changed.”

“You know nothing.”

Mist looked away. “‘How was your rebirth, Mist?’” he said sardonically. “A nightmare, thank you. Yet all you thought about, Rufe, was that you’re
so important
that someone else would go to the trouble of impersonating me in order to distress you? That says it all.”

“Enough!” said Aurata. “You two will stay on opposite sides of the room until you’ve both calmed down.” Standing in the center of the huge room, she took complete and effortless command. “We should celebrate. We three, together again after all this time—and all you can do is fight? Desist. Let’s celebrate peace and new beginnings.”

Stevie dared not meet Aurata’s eyes, or Rufus’s. She was too afraid of being recognized. The idea made her feel like a specimen in a jar. Part of her was still Fela: strong in her own habitat, but vulnerable among the Felynx, like a gazelle among lions. She realized then that she hadn’t seen her
fylgia
since they’d escaped from Albin. Her silver pard was gone: she could only think that it had stayed in the Otherworld, and without it she felt bereft.

Staying quiet and calm was the only strength she had now.

Aurata paced around as she spoke. She had an earthy energy that made Stevie think of Frances Manifold in her younger days. Aurata had always been charismatic, Stevie remembered; almost too intense, serene in public but sometimes, in private, disturbingly restless. Always the one in charge of any situation.

“Mist, I know why you’re angry. Rufus told me.”

“His version,” said Mist.

“No,” Rufus leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I told the truth. That I’m an appalling troublemaker and waste of space. I was past caring, so why would I keep anything back? Yet Aurata forgave me.”

“Well, I can’t,” Mist said softly.

“You must, my dear,” Aurata said. “I know it will take time, but fate has drawn us together for greater reasons than to squabble like teenagers. We can make a new start.”

“Even after Azantios?”

“Even that. When Rufus and I found each other—none of it mattered anymore. Yes, huge mistakes were made, but the past can’t be changed. All that matters is love, and I saw that it’s time to walk away from the human world, and to begin the future. The fact you’re here, Mist, proves it’s meant to be.”

“But how long have you been here?” Mist asked. He sat back, as if sinking into gradual acceptance.

“Oh, I’ve owned this place for years. I gathered some Aetherial friends around me, as you see. And I’ve traveled a lot. I’ve been learning about the Earth, all the better to understand the Spiral.”

Rufus said, “Yes, you should see how busy she’s been! She has a doctorate in nearly every science there is. And what have you and I done? Frittered away our time in pleasure.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mist replied. “I’ve tried to help humans. Your main occupation was sabotaging my efforts.”

Aurata pursed her lips at him. “This isn’t a competition to see who’s done the most good or harm. Everything I’ve achieved has been aimed at the renaissance of the Felynx.”

She stopped, moistening her lips, as if aware she was close to saying too much in front of Stevie. Without a word, Mist stood up and went to lean against the window, staring out at the ruby landscape beyond. Aurata went to his side. They stood there with their arms about each other’s waists. Was Mist weeping? Stevie couldn’t tell. A few uncomfortable moments passed in which she, Rufus and Oliver sat without saying a word.

She stiffened inside. Aurata spoke of love, and there was Mist hugging her … but wasn’t it Oliver who’d taken Daniel, and who’d presumably then sent Slahvin, in his predatory guise, to steal the triptych and the carved disk? None of that was loving.

“Anyway.” Aurata turned to face the room again. “When Rufus and I found each other, we knew it was time to come home. We had a long journey, and only arrived a few days ago. So … I’m trying to explain that you’re safe, Mist. You’re among friends.”

“Aurata,” he said, subdued. “This is a great shock. You’re the last person I expected to find.”

She gave a wide smile, full of humor. “You thought Rufus had created a villain’s lair here, and you’d burst in like James Bond? No, it’s simply my home. Yours too, now. So will you make peace with your brother?” When he didn’t answer, she added, “Take awhile to gather your thoughts. We’ve all the time in the world.”

No, we haven’t
, thought Stevie. She bit her lip; she couldn’t stop thinking of Albin holding her friends in his subzero coils.

“There’s every luxury here. Treat the place as your home. We’ll make bedrooms ready for you. And Rufus will be patient until you’re ready to see him. Won’t you, Rufe?”

Rufus looked up with an expression that put Stevie in mind of Humphrey the spaniel gazing up at Frances: pure, melting adoration. “Only for you, goddess. Since you ask so sweetly, only for you.”

Stevie sat forward, addressing Aurata but not meeting her gaze, in case she saw a remnant of Fela in her eyes. She asked simply, “Please may I see Daniel now?”

Aurata came to her, caressed her arms and kissed her cheek. She was so lovely; the Fela-part of Stevie resonated to her irresistible warmth. She couldn’t help recalling that they’d shared a bed sometimes … so very long ago that the memory seemed unreal, yet was still strong enough to stir a flush of embarrassment.

“Yes, of course you can.” Her reply was cheerful. “Oliver? Please take Stephanie to the studio. I’d like to see Mist alone.”

*   *   *

“Touch the water,” said Aurata. “What do you notice?”

Mist put his hand in the stream and said, “It’s warm.”

She’d brought him down by a steep precarious path into the bottom of the canyon. All was russet-orange, barren and beautiful, with tall wind-sculpted pinnacles. The layered walls were so steep he couldn’t see the house from here.

“You know where we are.”

“I don’t recognize it, yet it feels familiar.”

“We’re where Azantios used to be. I know.” She smiled at his skeptical expression. “It’s changed, of course. Ice ages, floods and winds have been at work. Jigsaw Canyon is the tail end of what we used to call Fire Valley. And don’t forget that the Dusklands were very strong here in those days, creating a landscape and climate that was all our own.”

“The city’s gone, though. What’s the point in coming back?”

“Because it was our home. Because it’s a boundary place. I need a site that’s geologically active. It doesn’t need to be as obvious as the San Andreas Fault or Yellowstone. This part of the States is full of hot springs, which means the Earth’s crust is thin and full of faults. That’s why the water’s warm.”

“Er … yes.” Mist was thinking of the red buddhas and Stevie.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing. Well, we saw some unusual thermal springs on our way, with bulbous red geysers like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, you stopped at that crummy motel?” Aurata laughed. “Did you know that the red buddhas are only a hundred years old? Someone tried to drill wells to tap the hot water. The result was that all this mineral-rich water exploded to the surface and gradually deposited the minerals into those extraordinary shapes. What’s so amazing about the Earth is not just its great age but its
youth
. Did you know there are hills in Iceland only six months old? Volcanic activity is reshaping the world as we speak!”

“So you’re a geologist.”

“Seismologist and volcanologist too. The disciplines go hand in hand. I actually found Rufus in the middle of an earthquake, which seemed wonderfully appropriate.”

“After Azantios,” he said quietly, “I tried and tried to find you.”

Aurata breathed out. “Ah, my dear, I was dead. Elemental, rather. I was trying to save the Felixatus, but I failed. Veropardus managed to salvage much of it. I came back eventually, but too late to find him or you, so I began a new existence, drifting between Earth and Otherworld, as we do. I found a special house in Venice—ask Rufus—where I worked for years to weave a web that would call any surviving Felynx to me. Mist, I called and called and it’s taken you
how
many hundreds of years to hear me?”

He caught his breath, remembering nightmares of Aurata trapped in a strange decaying building, crying out for him to find her. “I had dreams…”

“And ignored them?” She groaned in exasperation. “What wretched use was that? Well, only two Felynx responded in any case. Eventually I found Vero—Oliver, rather—and what can I say? He’s always worshipped me, bless him. He’s my right-hand man and most loyal companion. Later, Slahvin appeared too. He was no more than Vero’s servant in the old days, but Azantios changed him into a being of highly unusual powers.”

“Slahvin’s a monster, Aurata,” Mist said darkly.

She shrugged. “A useful one, and loyal to me. We made the Venice house a sanctuary for the few remaining fragments of our civilization, until I found this place.”

Mist had a dozen questions, but chose one on which she seemed most focused.

“What is it about boundary places?”

“Ah, continental plates, fault lines in the Earth.” She tipped back her head, her eyes liquid gold. “What were we deprived of, in Azantios? Knowledge of the Spiral. Ways into the Spiral. Our birthright was kept secret.”

“Only to stop us precipitating a war against Malikala of Naamon, so I understand.”

“As if we were children, to need such protection! By the way, I knew long before Rufus found out.”

“You did? You kept that quiet. You made a very good job of faking astonishment when he broke the news to you.”

She smiled. “Well, I could manage to guard a secret. Some matters need a delicacy of touch that Rufus entirely lacks. But the point is, knowing we were sealed away from the Otherworld, and later discovering there were barriers to keep the realms apart—that’s what sparked my passion. Did you realize that the boundary places on Earth are where human civilizations flourished? The huge forces between plates created wonders. Mountain ranges, obviously, but so much more. Molten rock and superheated water created caverns full of gigantic crystals. Seams of copper and precious metals. Underground rivers that could be tapped for agriculture. And I believe these fault lines can be prised apart like clam shells to create new ways into the Otherworld.”

Mist laughed in surprise. “Why would you want that?”

“Why wouldn’t we want greater access to our home realm? Free and open access, as we will it? Because we were denied it in the past, that’s why.”

“But we have it now.”

“No, we don’t. Your journey here wasn’t easy, was it? All we have is a system that other Aetherials left us, basically a sort of Berlin Wall with rabbit holes. I want to make changes. Open borders. Isn’t it about time?”

She stood with her feet apart, arms folded, gazing up at the deepening blue sky. The canyon filled up with violet shadow.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” said Mist. “Can you actually, physically do this? Create portals at will?”

“Absolutely. I’ve worked on the calculations for years, and everything’s coming together for the great event. That’s why my followers are with me. You asked why we’re here, Mist. We intend to reassemble the Felixatus, to mend what was broken, and to create a new home by dissolving the barriers. A new civilization, the Aurym Felynx. We all want the same thing. Even Rufus. Which is why I dearly hope you can make peace with him, and help me. Your girlfriend too. You must tell me about her another time, but she seems lovely.”

Mist was trying to gauge Aurata as reasonable and trustworthy—or not. She sounded matter-of-fact, her words measured. He said, “If you’ve tamed Rufus, you deserve a medal.”

Aurata gave a subtle smile. “That was the easy bit.”