storm (55 page)

            “Good.”  Cal got to his feet.  “Come on, I have an intense desire to raid Yarrow's kitchen.  I'm starving.  It must be time for breakfast.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Cobweb did not sleep that night and Ithiel did not come to him.  He stood at a window, right at the top of the house, in a neglected area that pulsed with memories.  He saw the flames shooting into the sky, and the strange blue lights that moved with slow and inexorable purpose around the town.  He could feel in every atom of his body that hara were dying.  They were powerless, and whatever resistance they put up was pointless, just a final act of defiance, before the culling ceased.

            After dawn, Cal returned to
Forever
with Moon.  Tyson and Ferany had got back to the house moments earlier and were sitting with Cobweb in the dining room.

            “Do you see now?” Cal said to Cobweb.  “Do you understand why I advised you to leave?”

            “You can't strike them,” Tyson said.  “They are not harish.  They just took who they wanted and left.”

            “How many casualties?” Cobweb asked.

            “That is still being estimated,” Cal said.  “I would imagine several hundred.”

            “I just thank the Aghama my parents were here at
Forever,
” Ferany said.  He paused, his mouth tight-lipped.  “Our house is gone.  It's a ruin.”

            “They avoided
Forever,
avoided Galhea's heart,” Cal said.  “They are wary of your power, Cobweb, or Snake's, or the pair of you combined.”

            “We have little power left,” Cobweb said.  “Today, we must leave Galhea, as you said.  We'll go to Harling Gardens and trust that Lisia can and will help us.  Where is Ithiel?  He must begin organising our people at once.”

            “I don't know,” Tyson said.

            “Then go and look for him,” Cobweb said.  “Put out a mind call.  Do it now.”

            Tyson went to attend to this task, while Ferany sought out his parents in the guest rooms.

            Moon said to Cobweb, “Do you think Snake will be able to stand this journey?”

            Cobweb sighed.  “I don't know.  He has to.  I wish Pell could send Peridot to carry Snake back to Immanion.  Perhaps I should ask him.”

            “I don't think Snake could manage the otherlanes journey either,” Moon said.  “It wasn't easy.  His condition has deteriorated.  I don't like it.”

            “I know,” Cobweb said.  “I will give him healing myself this morning.”

            “There may not be time,” Cal said.

            “There
is
time,” Cobweb snapped.  “The rest of you get everything ready.  Yarrow and Bryony will help.  You know that.”

            “You are the leader of Parasiel at this moment,” Cal said.  “Everyhar needs to see you.  You should go...”

            “No,” Cobweb said.  “My place is here, with Snake.  He has sacrificed himself for us.  I'll not let him...”  He shook his head.  He didn't want to say the word 'die' in front of Moon.

            At that moment, Bryony came into the room.  Her expression was odd: shocked yet blank.  “You must come,” she said to Cobweb.  “You must come at once.”

            “Why?” Cobweb snapped.

            “Tyson has brought Ithiel here...”  Bryony rubbed her face with both hands.  “Cobweb... Cobweb, he's dead.”

            Cobweb went utterly still.  It was as if another har walked inside his body, took over.  Without saying anything, he followed Bryony to the kitchen.  Tyson stood next to the table, along with two other hara from the town, and the majority of the household staff.  They had laid the body of Ithiel there.  Cobweb swallowed sour saliva: his tongue felt too big in his mouth.  Hara stood aside to let him reach the table.  Nohar said a word.

            Ithiel's face was covered in blood.  His eyes were open, as was his throat: the guard that should have protected it had been ripped away.

            Cobweb looked down at this dead har who had been so big a part of his life for so long, taken always for granted.  Ithiel, the right hand of Parasiel, who had served Terzian, then Swift, with unfailing loyalty and efficiency.  Cobweb could see himself falling upon the body in tears, tearing out his hair, uttering laments.  He could see himself curled in a corner, shuddering with terror, alone.  It would have been so easy to do it, and so comforting.  What did hara expect of him now?  Although he had always been discreet, it was no secret that the har who crept at night to Cobweb's room when he needed company was Ithiel.  They had never been chesna, just friends who'd been comfortable in each other's arms.  Cobweb was not even sure what he felt now.  If anything, it was a crushing sense of inevitability, but something else also, like a door opening.  Strange.  He couldn't work out what it meant.  Everyhar was staring at him; he could tell without glancing up.  The moment he had been dreading had come.  He could never be the same again.

            “Wash his body,” Cobweb said, gesturing at Bryony.  He turned to some of the other house-hara.  “Dig a grave, now, and with haste.  Do this before you prepare to leave.”  He realised he hadn't yet announced to anyhar that they were definitely leaving.  He had relied on Ithiel to do it.

            The house-hara, however, did not question his words.  They left at once.

            “Bryony,” Cobweb said.  “Find what is left of Terzian's ceremonial uniform.  I believe it is in a chest in the first attic.  Dress Ithiel in it when you are done preparing his body.  I will conduct a Ceremony of Passing, but there is something I must attend to first.  Do not disturb me.  I will come to you when I am ready.  Tyson, you and Cal must organise everyhar and human in town to be ready to leave, as soon as possible.  They must take only essential supplies, for a journey of two weeks.  Everything else must be left behind.  We must suppose that one day we can return.”

            “Cobweb...” Tyson said softly, extending a hand.

            Cobweb took a step away from him.  “Tyson, get to work.  There is much to do.”  He leaned down to kiss Ithiel's brow.  “In blood,” he said hoarsely.  “Beloved of Varrs.”  He reached out and closed Ithiel's eyelids.

            Everyhar was silent as Cobweb left the room.  He didn't think, could barely breathe, but made for the stairs and climbed slowly toward Snake's room.  Every step took great effort.  When he opened the door to Snake's room, Snake was lying on the bed, wide awake.  He looked gaunt.

            “Ithiel is dead,” Cobweb said.  His chest felt so tight, he was beginning to feel light-headed.

            Snake struggled into a sitting position.  “I'm sorry...”

            Cobweb raised a hand to silence him.  “We are lucky we lost nohar else from our family and close friends.  Today, we must leave Galhea.  I'll give you healing now.  The journey might not be easy for you.”

            Snake stared at Cobweb for some moments.  “You can't do this.  You must be in shock.”

            “I must do this,” Cobweb said.  “I'll not lose you too.”  He brushed his fingers across his forehead.  “I have a salve I can use.  I'll fetch it.  Undress yourself, Snake.  I'll not be long.”

            Cobweb went to his own room and pawed through the collection of bottles and jars he kept in a cupboard there.  His thinking had become a tunnel with hard stone walls.  He could focus only on what lay immediately ahead.  The most useful of the salves and potions must be packed to take with him on the journey.  At random, he began throwing them on his bed, until he found the one he needed.  He would not look at himself in the mirror as he left the room.

            Snake had stripped to the waist and lay, clearly seething with self-consciousness, on top of his bed.  Cobweb took in the sight of Snake's withered left side, the arm so thin, the dreadful scarring that spread in a formation like ice crystals or fungus tendrils, across his chest.

            “I didn't want you to see this,” Snake said.

            “I have just seen one of my oldest friends lying like cold meat on the kitchen table,” Cobweb said harshly.  “You might be scarred, but you are alive.  That's all I care about.”  He uncapped the jar in his hands and gestured with it toward Snake.  “This will help.  I've used it in conjunction with hands-on healing many times.  An old Sulh recipe, from my homeland.  It's very ancient, from long before Wraeththu times.”

            He sat down on the side of the bed, astounded at how clearly he was able to think.  His feelings were in hiding.  He gouged out a dollop of the salve and rubbed it between his palms.

            “You were Sulh?” Snake said.

            “Yes,” Cobweb replied.  “Lie back and relax.  Be quiet.”

            Snake's body was tense beneath his hands, every muscle bunched up.  Cobweb focused on summoning healing energy.  There were no other considerations. 
Heal yourself,
he told Snake's body.
  Use what I pour into you to do it.

           
Snake uttered a soft grunt and flinched.  If he'd been human, he'd have died years before.  It must take every morsel of his strength to maintain this sputtering machine of flesh, because the scars were not just skin deep.

            The rhythmic movements of Cobweb's hands helped lull him into trance.  He imagined it as being like creating a cat's cradle of glittering strings, the mesh that would reinforce Snake's flesh and essence.  After a while, he turned Snake over, crossed the other side of the bed, and began work on his back.  The shoulder blade felt jagged and fragile beneath its meagre covering of skin.  Cobweb realised Snake was weeping, silently, his face in the pillow.  There was a deep hole between two of his ribs that Cobweb could push a thumb into.

            “Let me do the leg,” he said softly.

            With difficulty, Snake rolled onto his back.  He lacked the strength to take off his trousers but allowed Cobweb to do it, lying with one hand pressed against his eyes.  Cobweb knew then why Snake avoided intimacy with any har.  His ouana-lim had been damaged; it was burned and shrivelled.  He must have been in agony for a long time after the accident.  Cobweb applied salve to Snake's thigh, working it into the skin, while channelling healing energy.  He knew it would take far more than this to do much good.  Perhaps Snake intuited that thought.

            “You should leave me behind,” he said in a cracked voice.  “I've served my purpose.”

            “I won't leave you behind,” Cobweb said.  “Whatever you say will not change that.”

            “I can't be what I want to be,” Snake said, “not to you... not to anyhar.”

            Cobweb knew he must be careful.  He doubted Snake had ever spoken this way to anyhar before.  “You are everything to us,” he said.  “Your sight is the greatest gift.”

            “I should be dead.”  He gestured angrily with his good arm.  “This is not a harish body.  It is like a failed inception.  It is cruel.  Life is agony, yet I also love it.”