The Wraeththu Chronicles (115 page)

"Please wait here," instructed our veiled guide. "The hour approaches, but you are free to refresh yourself before the time." He gestured toward flagons of wine standing on a broad shelf near the fire; already well explored by the other hara in the room, I suspected. Outher and his cronies went directly to help themselves and our guide left the room, closing the door behind him. Kruin, Panthera and myself sat down on a bench by the wall.

"Well Kruin, you're the expert on Hadassah customs; what's going to happen next?" I asked, hoping it was not going to be some dull, spiritual flaying. I'd had more than enough of that kind of thing.

Kruin smiled, showing nearly all his teeth. "Ah, you'll have to wait and see," he said smugly. "I won't spoil the surprise by telling you!" He slapped his thighs, smacked his lips together and went to fetch us some of the wine, which was red and tart, but warming. Panthera grimaced and put his cup down on the floor, where it remained untouched. Across the room, Outher kept on delivering hostile glances. It is not pleasant to look into the eyes of someone who wants to take your life. All your

instincts cry, "Flee! For fuck's sake, flee!" I sat there uncomfortably and tried to ignore him.

In a short while, the chime of a bell echoed through the room. What light there was began to dim; unnerving because the lamps were powered by burning oil, not electricity. Everyone stopped whispering and stood up, put down their wine-cups, straightened their clothes and their spines. I could almost sense every har in that room holding his breath; the atmosphere was full of suspense. The bell sounded again and I turned toward the direction it came from. The wall on that side of the room was curtained from ceiling to floor, and now that curtain was wrinkling back and upwards, revealing another room beyond suffused by an orange glow. Veiled figures stood in the gloom. "What now?" I hissed at Kruin. He laughed softly, put a finger to his lips and pushed me forward. One by one, as if bewitched, the hara in our side of the room began to walk slowly forward, toward the vacillating forms of the huyana. Slim arms emerged from floating robes to draw them further into the chambers beyond. I couldn't remember moving, but suddenly I found myself across the room and face to face with a creature, whose face was unseen, but whose overpowering scent of wood-musk made me feel lightheaded. He put his hand on my arm to draw me away. I glanced behind me, looking for Kruin and Panthera, but they had disappeared. I did not like the idea of us being split up.

"Have no fear," my chosen huyana murmured. "Within these walls, you are safe. You are all safe."

That sent a little shiver through my skin. The huyana seemed to speak with more than casual knowledge. I narrowed my eyes at him, but I could not see through the veil. I could not see whether he was smiling. We drifted away from the other hara and he took me into a simple chamber, deep in the heart of the temple. Glowing glass globes on the floor provided light. A large wall painting of the Aghama's axe symbol was the only decoration. There was no bed, but a number of animal skins were scattered around the floor, some stuffed to form cushions. Against the far wall was a low, wooden stool. The huyana sat me down on it and kneeled before me with lowered head. "I am Lucastril," he said.

Totally ignorant of what was required of me, I answered, "Hello Lucastril. I'm Calanthe."

"You are Cal," he said and put up his hands to remove his veil. I was half afraid there'd be a face I recognized beneath. His cheekbones and eyelids were painted with gold, the forehead tattooed, his hair drawn up into a coil. Only the strength of his throat and jaw betrayed his harness. It could have been a human female kneeling there. In some hara, the female is very strong. My heart was hammering in my chest. It wasn't fear exactly, just a kind of presentiment. I had an awful feeling that the reins of control had just been snatched from my hands again. It is the sort of feeling that makes you want to look up at the sky and shudder; deeply.

Lucastril took my hands in his own. "We had been told of your coming," he said earnestly, leaning forward.

I snatched my hands away, roughly. "Gelaming!" I hissed and it was in me to reach for his throat. I didn't. "You know nothing about me!" Both outbursts (as my inner desires, no doubt) were met with amused patience.

"It is beyond my powers to absolve you, Cal," Lucastril said, with some regret.

I stood up and went for the door. "It's my life!" I shouted. "Mine! You can all keep your meddling, psionic hands off me! Good-day to you, Lucastril!"

He stood up and pulled me back, with strength that shouldn't have surprised me at all, but which did. "Don't go," he said. "You are here for a purpose. This is just the beginning and, because of that, important.

Important, do you hear?" This slim, little creature shook me by the shoulders.

"What do you mean?" I asked. He would not let go of me, perhaps afraid I'd make another run for it and succeed.

"Listen. Listen and learn. We've been told you record everything, all that happens to you. Learn from that."

Another icy shudder, suppressed. Who gave these hara their information? Arahal? The Tigron? "And what am I here to learn, Lucastril? Who told you I was coming? What do you know?"

He shut his eyes, lowered his head, shook it. "I can't tell you."

"Can't? Surely that should be 'won't,' tiahaar!"

He shook his head again. "No. Just let me do what I'm instructed to do. It is for your benefit."

"I doubt that." I let him take me to the cushions however. I let him push me down. "What am I to learn then?"

"The first thing," he said. "The first of many."

"Will it take long?"

"That is up to you."

"Well?"

"My art," he said. "Allow me to demonstrate." He stood away from me and sinuously cast off his robes.

Then he kneeled at my feet and began to unlace my boots.

"One moment," I said and he looked up.

"You will not leave here until we have taken aruna together; that is the law."

I shrugged. "Very well. I don't know what results you're expecting though."

He smiled, kneeled against me and took my face in his hands. We shared breath until he broke away.

"You have taught yourself well how to guard your mind," he said.

"Even from interfering little mystics like yourself," I agreed.

"There is much darkness."

"Not really. I don't think so."

"You are lying or you are wrong; no matter. This is the first step on a great and golden staircase. Who knows what lies at the top? Let me lead you a little of the way up."

I thought that Lucastril's job was simply to needle my mind during the ecstasy of aruna; either to extract information or implant feelings there. Now I'm not so sure. I knew he was doing something, but I was helpless to resist, physically, thinking that knowledge was resistance enough. For a moment, I remembered Terzian, and what Gelaming mercy had done to him, how his body and mind had been shattered by the strength of their will alone. Was that to be my fate too if I did not comply with them? Terzian had resisted them with all his might, and he had died for it. Not a warrior's death, as he deserved, but a slow, lingering, quenching of the flame, terminal illness. I couldn't stand that. I'd rather die ... or comply? So, I let Lucastril happily invade my mind under the cover of invading my body. I could feel a strange sensation of

stretching, flickering currents scraping my spine. I'm convinced that Lucastril was the first link in a chain of events destined to change my life. I also believe he was truly unaware of what part his small service would perform in the whole. My mind was a rusty, neglected machine. It had to be cleaned and oiled. Soon it would be reachable in every way. There was only one possible end to all this prepara tion. Only one. My life is not my own. Am I strengthening his power by repeating that?

After our bodies had parted and Lucastril was curled up against my side, I lay awake in the darkness. There was a high-pitched whistle in my head. My whole being was thrumming; an instrument plucked by an invisible, yet potent, hand. I could trust no-one. How was I to know that Panthera, or even Kruin, was not part of some huge, elaborate Gelaming scheme? Lying there in the musky, hairy darkness, it seemed like the whole world was closing in on me. I was floundering in a shoreless sea, trying to find ground beneath my feet, searching the horizon for land, finding none. My friends could not help me; I was alone. Even if Panthera and Kruin were not part of some immense Gelaming scheme, I could not risk involving them. I did not want to involve them; I could not speak of my past to anyone. It hurt too much. It made me feel ashamed. Was I afraid, that if I opened up, my confessions would be met with revulsion? Then a hot, sour tide turned my uncomfortable shame to anger. Yes, I had done all those things, but hadn't it really been Pell's fault? It had! Surely, he had made me what I was now. You see, in the depths of my self-indulgent wallowing, I had managed conveniently to blot out the entire time I'd lived with the Uigenna. Why do I still love him? I thought. Why? There's nothing left to even like anymore. He is Thiede's lapdog; arrogant, egotistical, condescending. It was because of knowing Pell that I'd risen from being just an average kind of har to being a huge kind of scapegoat villain. Just from knowing him. It all seemed so long ago. I could see his face before me, as I'd first known him, laughing, shining with innocence, utterly enchanting. Not a king; just Pell. How I wished that he'd stayed dead to me. Why had I ever had to find out? Now there is a monster clothed in Pell's flesh that follows me like a curse. Does some remnant of the old Pell still exist, yearning for the past? Is that it? Pell has the vast power of the Gelaming empire behind him now. He can have anything he wants, yet he still cannot face me in the flesh. Perhaps, like me, he is afraid of being consumed. I feel that should I ever let the gates of Immanion close behind me, I will be as good as dead. Pellaz would wither me. He could not be the same, yet too similar not to affect me. We would be unable to speak. It would be hell. It is something that, deep inside, in spite of everything, I still want more than anything.

In the morning, Lucastril woke me up from a disturbing dream of caves and ghost-lights. He stroked my face as I twisted and whimpered like a child, half-asleep in his arms.

"The first message will come soon," he said. "I have cleared the way as best I can. Wait for it."

"I don't want to hear it," I said. "Can't you understand that? I'm a prisoner. The world is vast and I wander in it like a gypsy, yet I'm a prisoner. Of the past." Tears spilled from my eyes; I couldn't stop them. They were hot with anger, not sadness; the culmination of my confused agonizing in the night. Soon I must go out there again, scurry haphazardlyaround, go where they pushed me. Perhaps I would have been wiser to stay in Piristil. At least there I'd owned a spurious kind of safety. Lucastril helped me dress. I felt dizzy; weak yet, at the same time, full of untapped strength. My head was whirling.

"You may eat here with your friends before you leave," Lucastril said. I took some of the money Arahal had given me and threw it on the floor. Lucastril picked it up and handed it back to me. "There's no need for this," he said. "We have already been paid."

"Keep it!" I said that more savagely than was necessary. Lucastril took the purse from my hand and put the money back inside. "Don't be stupid. You may need it."

I stuffed the purse into my trouser pocket and followed him to the dining-hall. Some of the previous night's sinners, cheerfully cleansed, were still there, eating and

talking, but I was relieved to see that Outher's party appeared to have gone. Panthera and Kruin were sitting alone at a table in the corner. I stood in the doorway watching them, not quite sure if I wanted to go over. Perhaps I should just leave Jasminia on my own. After all, I was in Jaddayoth now. I had Arahal's money and could find work for myself in somewhere like Gimrah for a while. Perhaps I should just go where Fate led me. It looked to me as if Kruin and Panthera would not welcome my presence anyway. Their heads were close together; they were talking earnestly. I could guess the subject of their conversation. Hesitating, I was just about to turn and leave the place, when Panthera looked up and saw me. He smiled and waved and all my plans disappeared in a puff of weakness. I went over to them.

"Are you OK?" Panthera asked. "Your face is still a bit of a mess." I sat down. "I'm fine, just fine!" There was a pot of coffee on the table, nearly empty. I took Kruin's drained cup and half-filled it. Kruin handed me a roll of bread and some cured meat, inspecting me silently.

"So, where to now then?" I asked. It hurt to eat, but my stomach was aching from hunger.

"You sure you're up to traveling?" Kruin inquired. "You look terrible.

It should be safe now to stay here in Jasminia for a day or two if you like."

I looked quickly at Panthera who appeared to be carrying no external signs of our struggle with Mojags. "I told you, I'm fine! For God's sake, let's get moving. I'm sure Panthera is anxious to get home."

Panthera smiled wanly. "Anxious yes, but a couple of days won't make
  
much difference. It'll only slow us down if you're not up to it." "Oh, please! It's just a few bruises. It's nothing!" Kruin shrugged. "Very well, if you're sure . . ." He brightened up, his responsibilities absolved. "Anyway, how did you two get on last night? Civilized method of punishment, isn't it? No wonder the Hadassah are so fond of fighting!"