The Wraeththu Chronicles (117 page)

The sky was black by the time we saw lights shining in the distance. Kruin said he'd known there was a settlement near here. Lemarath, it was called. All Gimrah settlements are a combination of large farm and small town, proudly independent of each other, savagely competitive concerning their live-stock. As we rode through the snow toward the light, to keep our minds off the numbing cold attacking all extremities, Kruin and Panthera told me about the Gimrah. Originally of Gelaming stock, they had split off from the main tribe to pursue their own breeding programs for their horses. The founding hara had all been employed in Gelaming livery establishments and had constructed for themselves a whole way of life about the animals they nurtured; a whole religion in fact. Almost unique amongst harish kind, who generally worship aspects of the Aghama under various guises and aliases, the Gimrah worship a goddess. This is unusual in that while rejecting all human trappings of sexual division most hara can only countenance revering a super-being of dual sexuality like themselves, or the life-force of the Earth itself, which is predominantly female, but mated to the male aspect of the sun. The Goddess of the Gimrah is naturally equine in form. In worship, all Gimrah hara subvert their masculinity. To the Goddess, they are soume; all procreation must take place by sunlight. On top of this rather eccentric custom, the Gimrah are the only tribe in Jaddayoth who share their territory, even their homes, with humans. When staking their claim on the land, they offered aid, employment and support against less tolerant hara, to the ailing human population. As conservationists, the Gimrah have decreed that all human males must conceive a child or two with females of their own kind at an early age, whereafter they are incepted to Wraeththu. A strangely civilized arrangement. All adult humans in Gimrah are female. The two races exist together in perfect harmony, with the humans content to let the superior race take the upper hand. To the women of Gimrah, hara are not hermaphroditic, but merely other women who have absorbed the male; thus negating the need for them. It was unsettling to live with at first. There are no walls around Gimrah estembles, as their farms are called.

Frozen nearly to death, we threw caution to the winds and knocked on the first door we could find in Lemarath. A medium-sized wooden and stone house that had several larger outbuildings at the back; a barn, stables possibly. A lantern swung, creaking in the wind over the door. All the windows were curtained tight, but we could see light beyond them. The door was opened to us by a human girl-child who had wrapped herself in a thick, woolen shawl. She squinted against the nipping snow-flakes. "Yes, what is it?" she asked, quite impertinently I thought. I was used to surviving humans being subservient. Warmth swirled out into the night from behind her, a tantalizing hint of the comfort to be found within.

"We are travelers from Hadassah," Kruin explained. "We need lodgings for the night. We were hoping you could suggest where we could find some."

The girl looked up the road behind us, wrinkled her nose, pulled her shawl closer around her body and stepped toward us. She extended a thin hand to the nearest horse. "Have you any money, tiahaara? It is a cold, fierce night is it not!"

"We have money," Kruin answered carefully.

"One moment then. You may be able to stay here; I'd better check." She went back into the house and shut the door in our faces. We all exchanged a glance of surprise but Kruin waved his hand briefly and shook his head.

"It is a strange land and we are strangers," he said. It was explanation enough. After only a few moments, the door opened once more.

The girl came out to us, taking all our horses' reins in one hand. "You can go in," she said. "I'll see to your animals. My mother charges three spinners for a night's lodging and a hot meal—each."

Kruin sucked air through his teeth. "Expensive for country fare, isn't it?"

The girl shrugged, leading our horses behind the house. "It is a hard season, tiahaar!"

We went inside the house and found ourselves in a spacious, low-ceilinged kitchen, typical of any well-to-do farmhouse. Kruin went straight over to the roaring fire. Several cats and dogs raised their heads from sleep to look at us suspiciously. Panthera, carrying most of our luggage, threw it onto the floor and slumped in a chair."God, this is so welcome!" he said, in a dazed, chilled-from-the-cold voice.

"No more welcome than your money'll be at this cruel time of year!" A woman had come into the room through a door at the farthest end of it. We all turned quickly. She was drying her hands on her apron; a tall, bony creature, with rather a sour face. She wore thick, woolen trousers and shirt, her hair concealed by a patterned scarf. She took off the apron and hung it over the back of a chair, stretching, rubbing her neck and grimacing. "Not the weather for traveling, tiahaara! Please, sit down. All of you." She gestured toward the table. "Excuse me—we had an emergency down the road. An untimely birth you might say! I'm just about done for, but I think Jasca should have got my meal ready. You're welcome to share it with me." She sauntered over to a huge cooking range and lifted lids off pots. Tempting smells wafted toward our straining noses. "Ah, beef stew is all it is! Travelers are few at this time of year, tiahaara. I've nothing fancier." She , continued to chatter as she set plates and food down before us. "More snow they say, up at the House. More! We spent the last two days digging a road to the south pasture where my neighbor Lizzieman nearly lost her yearlings! Then Clariez has to drop a child on us! By the Goddess she'll give us no rest till spring, I'll wager! Still, new faces are welcome, tiahaara, most welcome."

We learned that, during the summer, the woman (whose name was Cora) earned a substantial part of her living providing lodgings for travelers. Many hara travel south from Hadassah and Natawni for the horse-fairs. The stew was excellent. Cora offered us wine, which she boasted that she had fermented herself from rose petals and tree-sap. It was sparkling and delightfully delicate; I found my eyelids drooping.

Cora must have noticed. "How many rooms will you be wanting?" she asked, in a straight forward manner. There was a moment's silence.

"Can we get back to you on that?" Kruin inquired smoothly.

Cora shrugged, finished her wine and stood up. "Of course. Shout if you need me; I won't be far," she answered and disappeared into another room, shutting the door behind her. A tactful, perceptive creature.

After she'd been gone a few moments, Kruin cleared his throat and said, "Are we all comfortable?" I shrugged and Panthera didn't answer. "I think," Kruin began again, hesitantly, "I think that tonight... we should be together."

"I think not!" Panthera protested with rather too much venom and volume.

Kruin winced. "Suit yourself," he said drily. "Two rooms then, Cal?"

I sighed. "If you like. I'm afraid of dreams when I sleep indoors anyway."

Kruin reached for my hand. "Since Fallsend, I have longed to suggest this many times," he said.

Panthera made a derisive sound and rolled his eyes. "Oh, please!" he cried sarcastically. He is a rigorously unromantic creature.

I must admit it was a pleasure, almost a relief, to experience once more the langourous delights of aruna. Kruin's body had always pleased me, even when he'd been paying Jafit through the nose for the privilege of enjoying mine. Recently my libido had become subdued, which was an alien condition for me. Unlike Kruin, thoughts of closeness had not really crossed my mind since leaving Fallsend; the cold hadn't helped much, of course. Though perhaps the disgusting, debasing humiliations I'd had to endure (and initiate) in Piristil were more to blame, coupled with the violation by Outher. Such things do not exactly quicken the sexual appetite. The time with Lucastril in Jasmina had not been exactly inspiring either. Maybe it also had something to do with the fact that I feared Pell was watching me all the time, but in Cora's house, I felt safe, and curled into Kruin's arms I felt even safer. Now that we were nearer his home country, Kruin was adamant about sticking to his tribal code, which suited me utterly because I was feeling too pathetic and drained to be ouana. Even though we were dog-tired and further exhausted by aruna, neither Kruin nor myself felt much like sleeping. We spent some time gossiping about Panthera, which I felt was a timely change from them talking about me. I was surprised to learn that Kruin was really quite offended that Panthera didn't want to be with us. Knowing Harish nature not to be as straightforward as it's believed to be, I hadn't been offended at all, even quite understanding. I tried to explain to Kruin that Panthera would have to put Piristil a long way behind him before he could think about forming relationships with other hara. Kruin, naturally, did not agree.

"Such wounds should be healed, and healed quickly," he said earnestly. "You know that any har's life is incomplete without aruna; it's our life-blood."

"Not all the time, Kruin," I replied. "In a perfect world, maybe, but occasionally circumstances intrude upon the well-being of our juices, so to speak. Panthera's young. He only needs time. Once he gets home, I'm sure he'll be alright. Someone will fall in love with him and coax him out of his shell."

Kruin was in the mood for debate, but I was too tired to argue further. Tired of the subject probably. Kruin rabbited on happily about the necessity of aruna (warm to the subject because he'd just had a good time) and then realized I wasn't really listening. "Cal, what is wrong with you?" he asked, stroking my face in such a way that it was impossible for me to turn away. "I know you try to hide it, but there is something wrong isn't there. It's to do with the Gelaming, isn't it?"

"You're too inquisitive," I said lightly, closing my eyes.

"It's not just that! I'm concerned for you. You're difficult to like at times, Cal. I don't know why, but I do care, no matter how much you might, wish I didn't. Why don't you trust me?"

I looked at him. "It's not a question of that, Kruin. I think I'd trust you and Thea with my life now; we've helped each other. We're friends, aren't we? That's why I can't open up to either of you. You're my friends.""Can't we help you then? Maybe you're wrong about whatever it is; maybe we can help you."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. He may well have been right. It was as if there was a valve on my throat that wouldn't let the words out. Kruin sighed. "Alright, alright, I'll be quiet. But please remember, it's not that I'm being nosy, OK? If you ever want to talk, well, you know ..."

I smiled at him and touched his sharp, elegant jaw. "Yes, I know, Kruin, Thanks."

He took my hand and kissed it gently. A small gesture of affection that reached my heart. There was a lump in my throat. Kruin gathered me close and I held onto him tightly. "Oh Cal, Cal, don't be scared, don't be miserable," he said, helplessly, not knowing what I needed reassuring about. For a moment, I felt as if I could tell him everything, but the moment was brief. Kruin was not destined to be part of it.

I woke up lying in hay; crying out. Threshing, hysterical, for a second or two, I thought: this is a dream. I'm dreaming again. I was in a high barn and, this time, my movements were unrestricted. I clambered down from the loose bales beneath me, across the dusty hay-strewn floor, to the tall slightly open door. A heavy wooden bar lay across the threshold. Outside across a snow blanketed yard, I could see the back of Cora's house; to the left and right of me were shuttered sheds and loose-boxes. It didn't feel like a dream; not at all. I was freezing, my clothes unfastened as if donned quickly, my feet bare. No lights showed from the house. Glancing behind me into the darkness of the barn, which was bare of everything except shadows and hay, I eased through the door. I must be sleep walking, decided; an uncomfortable thought, but not as distressing as another hallucination. Above me, the sky was brilliant with stars, the air crystal ha Snow had drifted up against the back door of the house. It must have started falling again in the night, although the yard was thickly covered; too thickly. Surely Cora and her household must clear it every day? I began to run, but the house never came any closer. I felt sick. Panic spumed through me on a crest of nausea. I was straining against an invisible wall. Choking on dry breath, I fell onto hands and knees, shaking my head, willing myself to wake up, but it was real. "Cal!" My head jerked up. The silence was stunning. What had I heard? My name? Where had it come from? "No," I answered sensibly and then quietly pleading, "no, no, no." Only stillness all around. I curled my arms around my head, kneeling in the snow, waiting, waiting. A faint, icy breeze lifted my hair. The stillness was pressing in, full of energy. "Show yourself!" My cry was oddly muffled; no echo. Still nothing. I scrambled to my feet which were now burning with the cold. I must cope with this rationally. I must focus my will. I must walk toward the house. I took one step and then another and then a hand grabbed hair from behind, a strong arm was around my neck, pulling me backwards. There was a body; a person clad in leather and musty fur. "Always useless in times of crisis, Cal, always!" This voice against my ear, which recognized at once. I could feel his clouded breath, warm and damp upon my skin. This could not be a dream.

"No, you're not here," I said empathically. And then, to convince myself further, "You can't be!"

He laughed gently, politely. "Oh, forgive me, but I am, Cal. Aren't I always with you? I feel I should be, if only for the sake of memory."

He turned me around to face him. His head was covered by a thick, tasselled scarf, only the eyes showing. His eyes haven't changed, but I remember that once he never had a deep, white scar through the left brow, a permanent frown. He unwound the cloth from his face with one hand. "My faithful one," he said. "Aren't you going to greet me? It's been so long. In meetings hearts beat closer . . . don't they?" Of course, he looked older, leaner and his natural wildness was somehow contained.