storm (65 page)

            “You are in contact with them?”

            “No.  It was made known to me by them, that's all.”

            Ponclast narrowed his eyes.  All that Cal had said made sense to him; his own instrints advised him Cal's words were rooted in truth.  But he also sensed this was not the whole story.  He drew in his breath.  “Do I take it the reason you have not gone to Pellaz with this information is because of the Freyhellan?”

            Cal's face assumed a bland expression.  “No, that is not the reason.”

            Ponclast gestured airily with one hand.  “Strange.  I would have thought it would have annoyed you, the Hegemony organizing for somehar to take your place.”

            “They cannot do that.”

            “They can make a new Tigron, Cal.  You know that.”

            “It will mean nothing.  I have no interest in the Hegemony's schemes.  They lack subtlety.”

            “I've been told he resembles you, this Galdra har Freyhella.  He derives from an interesting tribe.  I considered disabling them, as it was intimated to me they would prove useful to my enemies.  Interestingly, something beat me to it.”

            “Generous of you to share that information,” Cal said.

            Ponclast shrugged.  “I assumed my allies had taken care it, and gave it no further thought.  Unfortunately, even though the lead wolf of the pack was killed, a cub took on his strength and went howling to Immanion.  He is of equal stature to you, Cal.  It seems to me you might be here now because you know your avenue into Immanion has been closed with iron gates.  You are here because there is nowhere else for you to go.”

            Cal's mask was perfect, but Ponclast could perceive that from it leaked a strange dark light.  He had not known about the Freyhellan.  “I cannot imagine where you got this intelligence,” Cal said coldly.  “The Gelaming perceive my absence as indicative of weakness among the Aralisians.  This is some propaganda they have put about for your benefit.  They know who and what I am.  They know I cannot simply be replaced.”

            Ponclast nodded, his face creased in apparent thought.  “True, true.  However, I have an agent in Imbrilim who told me of it.  I wonder how far the Hegemony, or indeed Pellaz, will go to keep up appearances, eh?”  Ponclast smiled at his guest and lifted the wine flagon.  “Another drink, tiahaar?”

While Cal was having his meeting with Ponclast, Tyson and Moon were left alone in a dank room just below ground level, which had a small primitive bathroom that was little more than a cupboard.  A grid above their heads let in muted light, filtered through a thick tangle of grass.  The afternoon sunlight had brought out the perfume of the greenery, and the musty smell of the old building was tinged with this essence of summer.  The room was not too uncomfortable.  There were four narrow beds in it, and from a cursory inspection, Moon had discovered that the blankets on them, though of course texture, were clean.  Water had been left in an old stone urn in the darkest corner of the room, and not long after Cal had been taken away, a Teraghast unlocked the door and brought them a meagre supper of rough bread and rather charred meat.  He did not speak as he left the food on the small table that stood against one of the walls, and after he'd done this, he went out and locked the door again.

            Tyson sat with his knees up on one of the beds, tearing up hunks of bread and stuffing them in his mouth.  Moon lay on another bed, his arms behind his head, staring at the sunset through the grille.  He did not feel hungry.  “We're prisoners,” he said.

            “Yep,” Tyson agreed in a clipped tone.

            “I hope Cal works his magic on Ponclast.  I don't like being locked up.  They could do anything to us.”

            Tyson sighed through his nose.  “I wonder whether Cal is simply insane.  This was an insane plan.”

            “Which we followed willingly enough.”

            “Well, at least we know Fulminir is being rebuilt.  I wonder where Azriel and Aleeme are.”

            “You should try to sense them,” Moon said.  “Try to let them know we're here.”

            “Good idea,” Tyson said.  He put down the remains of the bread.  “We could do it together.”  He got up from the bed and went to sit in the middle of the floor.

            Moon stared at him, unsure of what he thought of felt about his suggestion.

            “Come on,” Tyson said.  “I won't bite.”

            “What do you want to do?”

            “Join hands, concentrate.  Think you can manage that?”

            “Don't know.  I'm not their relative like you are.”

            “Oh, don't be ridiculous.  I know you spent enough time in their bed!”

            “What is
that
supposed to mean?”

            Tyson gazed at Moon for several seconds.  “Just what is your problem with me?”

            “No problem,” Moon said, wondering how Tyson could bear to suggest any kind of contact between them after all that happened.  Wouldn't it be as painful to him as it would be to Moon?  Perhaps Tyson had forgotten that night in the farmhouse.  Perhaps it meant nothing to him.

            Moon got up and sat down before Tyson, scraped back his hair.  He stared at Tyson's hands, which were held out to him.  He found himself thinking of the Sea of Ghosts, the night, the moonlight, a kiss.  He couldn't do it.

            Tyson sighed and withdrew his hands.  “What is it, Moon?  Are you ever going to tell me?  Did I do something so bad?  I didn't do anything.”

           
Ponclast can do with us what he pleases,
Moon thought. 
Who knows what that will be? 
“The worst thing you did?” he began.  “You want to know what that was?”

            “Yes.  I'm curious.”

            “If you must know, it was when you stared right at me over Ferany's shoulder while you shared breath with him.  You were trying to punish me, and that was unfair.”

            Tyson expelled a short gust of laughter.  “What?  I've no idea what you mean.  When the hell was that?”

            “If you don't remember...”  Moon shook his head.

            “You said it was a childish crush,” Tyson said.  “I remember our conversation next to the lake at home pretty well.”

            “So do I.  You made your choice, fair enough.”  Moon paused.  “We can't do this.  We cannot work together.  Search for Azriel and Aleeme yourself.”

            “All right.  I will.”

            Moon went back to his bed, turned his face to the wall.  His heart was beating too fast.  After some minutes, he heard Tyson sigh heavily.  “It's no good,” Tyson said.  “I can't concentrate.  Moon, we have to talk.”

            Moon said nothing.  He still felt angry.

            “Right,” Tyson said, “then I'll talk to your back.  You're not asleep so you have to listen.  We both know what this is all about – the unfinished business.  Well, you should know that there wasn't one moment when I didn't think of you – on the journey from your old home, back in Galhea, and for a long time afterwards.  But my decision was right.  If we'd got together back then, it would have been wrong.  And yes, maybe I did want to punish you, just for existing.  I went back to Ferany to exorcise you, and that was wrong too.  I can't be what he wants me to be.  I don't want what he wants.  The whole harish family thing turns my stomach.  It's not right for me.  And here I am, on a lunatic quest, with a hostling I barely know and a har who still sticks a blade in my heart whenever I look at him.  I want you, Moon.  Does that put a bandage over your pride?  Knowing that, can we be civil?  You have the upper hand now.”

            Moon felt sick, not least because Tyson had read him so accurately.  He turned over and said savagely, “You can't have me now just because it's more convenient.”

            Tyson's expression was very close to the way Cal looked sometimes: bland but calculating.  “Who says I expect that?  I don't always act on my desires.  It's something I've learned.  The whole experience was tough on you, I know it was.  But I can't unmake it, Moon.  Neither do I expect you to come running to me now.  I'm aware I probably sacrificed that.  So resheathe your claws, pretty cat.”

            “Don't
ever
call me pretty!” Moon said.  “I hate that.”  He sat up.  “Thank you for being honest.”  He paused.  “Will you stay with Ferany?”

            Tyson's shoulders slumped.  “I shouldn't but...”

            “Convenience?”

            Tyson shrugged.

            “He knows about us,” Moon said.  “He warned me off.  Did you tell him?”

            “I've never said anything to him about you.  He isn't my confidant.”

            “Well, whoever is must have told him.  He's a good har.  You're not fair to him.”

            “Yeah, he's perfect,” Tyson said.  He wrinkled his nose.  “It's strange, I just think that... I don't know... we're meant for more than breeding like humans.  Too many hara are quick to go down that road now.  I wonder if it's a distraction of some kind.  Can't put it into words really.”

            “Somehar has to do it, Ty, otherwise we'd die out.”

            “I know.  Sort of.  But our life spans are so much longer than humans' were.  If everyhar kept on reproducing, the whole planet would be covered in a seething mass of Wraeththu, far worse than anything humanity could have achieved.”

            “Valid point,” Moon said, “but I want to understand the drive.  I understand what it must be like to want to reach for something higher, to go beyond reality... with somehar you love.”

            Tyson nodded.  “I understand that too, but sometimes, I just get the feeling that we've underestimated the potential of aruna, that we earth it too much, and the drive to create new life is somehow missing the point.”  He laughed.  “Listen to me.  I'm as spiritual as a plank.  I've never said these things to anyhar before.  I've no idea why I've just done so to you.”

            “When did you start thinking this way?” Moon asked.

            Tyson held his gaze.  “Oh, around the time I met you.”

            There was a silence, then Moon said, “Are you in love with me, Ty?”

            Tyson paused, pursed his lips.  “I think so.  I suppose I should say it aloud.  I love you.”

            “Then why are we fighting?”

            “Because the potential scares me,” Tyson said.  “It's like what happened to Lileem, when she took aruna with Terez.  I feel I could lose myself somehow.  And the strongest thing is that this is only just becoming clear to me, now, this moment.”