The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence (6 page)

The Freyhellans had sent no welcoming party, which even Loki knew was a little odd, if not rude, and the Gelaming rode into town along the main road, which followed the river. The call of seabirds drifted mournfully through the mist and, as the party approached the walls of Freygard, the sound of water on wood could be heard, and the gristly clunk of hulls rubbing together.  As they drew nearer to the gates, the peaked roofs of Freygard could be glimpsed through the swirling vapor; still and dark and immense. Wooden hex-beasts snarled from the highest eaves, moisture dripping from their bearded chins. Loki could hear voices, the sound of wheels on cobbles, the tock of blacksmiths’ hammers. The warm scent of horse dung mingled with the aroma of the sea. He had a strange feeling inside, as if he’d walked into one of his own dreams. He felt he’d been to this place before. He felt excited, wistful, fearful and ecstatic, all at once.

‘Do they have strong magic here?’ he asked Cal.

Cal glanced over at him. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘I feel strange.’

Cal had no opportunity to respond to that, because the gates of the town opened ahead of them and a delegation of Freyhellans rode forth. Like Cal and Loki, they had pale hair. They rode stocky chestnut horses whose manes and tails were the same pale color as their riders’ hair. Their leader urged his mount ahead of the others, and touched his brow in a gesture of respectful greeting. ‘You are welcome, tiahaara. Allow us to accompany you to the Hall of Assembly.’

Eyra, a thin-faced har who wore his dark hair in multiple braids, had assumed leadership of the Gelaming group. ‘We are happy to oblige,’ he said, and the company rode beneath the arch of the gate.

Cal appeared content to blend into the background, as if he were there simply to observe events. Loki perceived a slight tension in his father. There was history between Freygard and the Aralisians, Loki already knew that, even if he was unaware of the details. Cal had told him about the war, when the tribes of Wraeththu had had to ally against a common threat, but Loki had sensed something else beneath his father’s casual words, a feeling that had smelled like burned meat.

The Hall of Assembly stood upon an immense dais in the center of the town, so that it was approached by a flight of steps on all sides.  Banners on poles surrounded it, hanging limp like seaweed in the damp, motionless air. The building was surrounded by a wide square, and smaller administrative buildings and stables lay behind it. It was in this hall that the archon of the Freyhellans held court.

The great chamber was stuffy, filled as it was with hara clad in musty furs. A huge fire grumbled in a hearth the height of two horses. Smoke-blackened beams arched high overhead, and massive pillars, with twisty carvings, supported the roof. As Loki followed his father inside, he found he was short of breath. He felt light-headed and wondered why. After all, it wasn’t as if he was unused to large gatherings or strange places.

There were so many hara in the room; Loki could see little of what transpired. Cal asked Raven to take care of Loki while business was undertaken. Loki stood by Raven near the back of the crowd, while the Gelaming went to the dais at the end of the room to confer with the Freyhellan councilors. Voices were low; it was a private conversation, not for all present in the room. Raven sighed, perhaps in boredom. ‘I wish somehar had been polite enough to show us to guest quarters before this,’ he said. ‘Then you and I could leave here, do some sight-seeing.’

Loki was straining to catch a glimpse of the Freyhellan archon, but the dais wasn’t that high, and there were too many tall bodies in the way.

‘Maybe we should go anyway,’ Raven said. ‘What do you think?’

Loki smiled up at Raven. He’d always do what adults wanted of him.

They walked down to the beach, past the docks, where the long boats of the Freyhellan warriors and fishing boats of more squat proportions were moored. Pale-haired hara worked on their nets, sitting on upturned lobster pots, with their dogs nearby, which were nosing through seaweed and flotsam. The Freyhellans paid scant attention to the strangers among them, or else delivered the occasional expressionless glance. Loki felt uncomfortable. He sensed they weren’t welcome in this place, in which case, why had they been invited?

Raven ignored the less than companionable emanations from the locals and took Loki down to the shoreline. ‘In this place,’ he said, ‘your huri Mima was thrown from a ship. She and her friends washed up here.’

Loki shivered. ‘It’s such a cold damp place. It doesn’t seem very magical now. Were the hara rude to Mima too?’

Raven laughed softly. ‘I don’t believe so. It was long ago. This is all about politics, Loki. The convoluted web of relations between tribes. The Freyhellans are suspicious of us, because we are powerful.  In situations like these, we are courteous and reserved. We observe local customs. We are patient.’

‘I understand,’ Loki said. He wanted more than anything to be a good ambassador for his tribe.

‘I wasn’t always Gelaming,’ Raven said, ‘so I appreciate how others feel sometimes. It is up to us to allay their fears, to be respectful. Project that intention, and you’ll find that eventually hara warm to you.’

‘I will.’

They walked towards the headland, where the black cliffs were pocked with caves. A few harlings were sitting on the sand outside one of the caves, having built a fire. They were frying shrimp in butter, a battered old skillet placed right on the flames. Raven went up to them, and Loki followed, trying to project respect.

‘Smells good,’ Raven said.

The harlings all stared at Raven, in a manner so outrageously without manners that Loki squirmed in embarrassment for them.

‘We’re visitors,’ Raven said, ‘from the south.’ He hunkered down among them.

One of the harlings reached out and briefly touched one of Raven’s hands.

‘You’re Gelaming,’ said another in a strongly accented voice.

‘Yes,’ Raven said. ‘We are.’

‘Why is your skin painted that way?’

Raven laughed. ‘It isn’t. It’s made that way. It helps me be attuned to strange things. Have you seen any strange things around here?’

One of the harlings poked at the shrimp in the skillet with a charred wooden spoon. The others exchanged glances. Then the one who had first spoken said, ‘They can’t understand you. They don’t speak your language.’

‘How come you do?’

‘My father was from the south. I speak both tongues.’

‘Useful,’ Raven said. ‘So, is there anything you can tell me about what’s going on here?’

‘You mean, like the spirit window?’

‘Yes,’ Raven said, ‘like that. I’d like to see it.’

‘We’re not supposed to go there now. It’s unstable, they said.’

‘Can you tell me where it is?’

Loki could tell, from Raven’s tone and posture, that he had slipped into Hegemony officer mode. He was determined to get some information.

‘You shouldn’t go,’ said the Freyhellan harling. ‘Things can come out of it.’

‘But I have my magical skin to protect me.’

The harling regarded Raven with some scorn. It seemed he believed Raven was mocking him.

‘That was a joke,’ Raven said. ‘But even so, I’m more than capable of protecting myself.’ He reached into a pocket and pulled out a glittering Almagabran coin. ‘You can have this if you show me the spirit window.’

‘All right,’ said the harling, getting to his feet.

‘Thanks.’ Raven helped himself to a shrimp before standing up.

The harling led them along the cliffs to where a path snaked upwards between brittle, salt-bleached shrubs. Raven asked the harling his name and received the short reply: ‘Taldri.’

The Freyhellan ran up the almost vertical path, Raven and Loki struggling to keep up. At the top, Taldri stood with hands on hips to wait for them. ‘It’s back here,’ he said. ‘Not far. It came where the water spout rises.’

The top of the cliffs was a series of slick black platforms, interspersed with puddles. Loki found the surface treacherous. His boots slipped alarmingly. He took Raven’s hand, even though he wanted to appear adult and aloof in front of Taldri. Taking Raven’s support, however, was preferable to losing his dignity in a fall.

The area around the spout hole was covered in tiny limpets; presumably they’d been thrown there by the spout. A grove of gnarled ancient hawthorns huddled nearby, leaning together like malevolent imps, stunted and deformed by salt and wind. Even from a distance, Loki perceived a strange sensation pulsing from that grove.

‘There,’ Taldri said, pointing to the trees. ‘I won’t go in there any more. My friend Eshric found it, and he has been ill ever since. He went too close for too long, I heard.’

‘Thanks.’ Raven flipped the promised coin to Taldri, who caught it deftly.

Taldri hesitated a moment, then said, ‘Be careful.’ He ran off across the black rocks, pale hair flying.

Raven raised his eyebrows at Loki. ‘They should have a guard here if it’s so dangerous. I’ll take a look. Wait here.’

‘Don’t!’ Loki said, unable to contain himself.

‘It’s OK. I won’t go too close.’

Loki edged a little nearer as Raven went into the grove. The small hairs on his skin had started to lift. There was a buzzing sound in his ears.

Presently, Raven called. ‘Come closer, Loki. It’s quite safe.’

Nervously, Loki approached the dark of the trees. He could see Raven limned in a strange violet light. ‘What is it?’ Loki asked.

Raven wheeled round. ‘Loki, get back! Don’t come in here!’

‘But you said…’

Raven came out of the trees. ‘It’s a real phenomenon. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve no idea what it is.’

‘You called me,’ Loki said.

Raven frowned. ‘I didn’t.’

‘I heard you.’

‘Strange,’ Raven said, ‘but perhaps a warning. We should leave.’ He took Loki’s hand again.

‘What does it look like?’ Loki asked, as Raven dragged him swiftly across the slick rocks.

‘A sphere of violet light,’ Raven said, ‘then nothing at all but a feeling, then a sound. It doesn’t belong here.’

They returned to the Hall of Assembly to find that the Freyhellans had become slightly more hospitable. A table had been laid with food and now hara milled about talking. Loki saw Eyra Fiumara conversing with a tall har whose flag of pale hair cascaded down his back. Loki had a strong desire to see his face. It was almost a compulsion. Cal was sitting on the table with his feet on the back of a chair, staring at Eyra’s companion, his face set into a faintly sour expression he was attempting to present as cynical amusement.

‘Who is that with Eyra?’ Loki asked Raven, as they made their way through the crowd towards Cal. ‘Do you know?’

‘That’s Galdra har Freyhella,’ Raven replied. ‘Archon of this tribe.’

Cal noticed his son’s approach and smiled more genuinely.

‘How did it go?’ Raven asked.

‘Well, we’ve endured the airs and graces,’ Cal replied. ‘Later, we’re being given a guided tour.’

‘I took a look at the phenomenon already,’ Raven said. ‘They were right to inform us.’

‘What is it? His Mightiness, Emperor Galdra, informs us it’s some kind of gateway, like an otherlanes portal.’

Raven shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea if it’s that or not. The harlings around here call it a spirit window. They say things can come out of it.’

Cal nodded. ‘We were told that. Shadows. Shadows that stand outside houses, looking in.’

Raven grimaced. ‘Nice.’

‘Definitely spooky. Nothing bad has happened, except to the harling who discovered the thing. He’s been weakened by it. Healing does no good. There’s no evidence the phenomenon is hostile, though. It could be that a sort of alien energy from it affected the harling. It might not have been a deliberate attack.’

‘In your opinion,’ said Raven, ‘is this anything to do with… well, what happened before?’

‘It’s too early to guess,’ Cal said. ‘As others have said before, Wraeththu traveling through the otherlanes
might have had effects we were unaware of, that affect this reality. We have no way of knowing.’

‘And as you are the only har of our acquaintance who can travel the otherlanes without a
sedu
, I guess it’s down to you to investigate this,’ Raven said.

‘I’ll take a look, naturally,’ Cal replied, ‘but even with my experience, I’ll not risk anything stupid. I’ll report this to Thiede.’

‘Maybe we should contact Galhea. It might be worth Snake and Cobweb taking a look too.’

‘That could be a good idea, yes.’ Cal got down from the table. ‘It’s difficult to negotiate here. The Freyhellans hate having to involve us. But this is beyond them.’ Cal sounded irritated by that.

Loki had been stealing covert glances at the Freyhellan leader, but now when he looked over at Eyra, he saw that Galdra was staring back at him. Astonishingly, he was facially very similar to Cal: a chiseled face with wide high cheekbones and a finely drawn mouth. A severe jolt shook Loki’s body. He felt strangely ashamed.

Cal had noticed that Galdra was staring. ‘Keep your eyes to yourself,’ he muttered.

‘Cal,’ Raven said in a warning tone. ‘Was this really a good idea?’

Cal uttered a wordless sound in response.

Galdra turned away, but Loki felt the Freyhellan’s attention was still focused upon him. He felt very uncomfortable. ‘Cal, why did he look at me like that?’

‘You are my son,’ Cal replied lightly, ‘and I am not his favorite har.’ He grinned. ‘Come on, let’s try the local cuisine. I’m starving.’ He guided Loki further down the table.

The Freyhellan leader kept his distance, and eventually a har of the tribe approached the Gelaming, who had gravitated towards one another, in order to conduct them to their accommodation. They were taken to a house reserved for official guests to the town, which was comfortable and spacious. Loki liked the peaked eaves that were covered in carvings of strange mythical beasts from the sea: serpents and merhorses and giant octopi, some of them a meld of several different creatures. Cal said they were put there as protective spirits. Loki could believe there was some kind of life in them; they appeared to stare down disapprovingly at the hara who had been placed beneath their protection.