The Wraeththu Chronicles (132 page)

Panthera watched me for a while before coming out with the inevitable, "Cal?" and touching me warily on the shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" I yelled, shrugging him off. Oh, that felt good! I struggled onwards, one hand on the wall, feeling like about the biggest martyr in the whole of history. Panthera did not speak again. He walked behind me.

We returned to the palace of the Lyris, to pick up our luggage and seeabout finding our way back to Elhmen. The Lyris had just finished his evening audience in the Hall of Hearkening. More time peculiarities courtesy of fire-saucer beast-hound. There was no way the trip could have lasted a whole day. He told lygandil to bring us a meal. Panthera was now touchy about being in the Lyris's presence, probably because he suspected something of what had happened the previous night. We were both anxious to get on our way, I suppose. The Lyris had good news for us about that. It would not be necessary to struggle all the way back to Kar Tatang and from there to Ferike. As Nanine had intimated, there were hundreds of secret entrances to Eulalee. Conveniently, one of them was just a few miles from Clereness. It would be much quicker to travel underground, especially as we'd be going by boat. Eulalee has an extensive canal system. Panthera asked the Lyris if he could arrange for our horses stabled at Kar Tatang to be given to Kachina's family or closest friends. I knew it could not appease Panthera's guilt over the Kachina episode, but I think it at least made him feel a little better. There was a cold and unfriendly politeness between us all the way back to Jael.

Coming of Age

"We have given our hearts away; a sordid boon!"

 
—William Wordsworth, The World

We've been back in Jael a week now. Over the last couple of days, I've sat up here in my room and read and re-read everything I've written. Piristil is no longer real to me. A blessing, perhaps. Sometimes I'm scared that I'm getting dangerously close to being the sort of Cal that Thiede wanted to drag back to Immanion. (See, I'm still not sure about the Cleansing.) Occasionally, I allow myself the luxury of thinking about Pell and about the type of reunion I'd like us to have. The destruction of Almagabran society predominates in these fantasies and it would be me pulling the sole survivor from the wreckage; the Tigron. Then we could resume our wanderings together, ride off into a glorious sunset. I know it's impossible. The chances are, that once in Roselane, I shall merely be given yet another clue to the puzzle, shoved off into the unknown on another journey. Bearing in mind everything else, this seems distinctly plausible. How can I believe, sitting here, that my life has great purpose? I look at my hands; they are scratched from rock clambering, yellow around the first and second fingers on the left hand through chain-smoking. They are not the hands of a hero; no. To be fair to myself, I have started working again; you know, the real work of Wraeththu, flexing the muscles of my strange abilities. Every evening, I've taken to sitting in meditation wih Ferminfex. The visualization's OK, but I can't say I've learned anything dramatic from this battered head of mine. Most of it's memory, but I know that has to be relived until the stings have worked themselves out before I can get on with the heavy stuff. Self-examination. I've never really liked it. Demons with my face. I don't want to be faced with the gravity of existence, because it forces me to become obsessed with the concept of time, aware of how much of it I've wasted. Each moment is terrifying in its brevity, never to be relived again, for better or worse. Perhaps I'll be two hundred years old by the time I see Pell again and we'll both last long enough to say hello before death steps in to say, "That's long enough, you two!" It wouldn't surprise me. Not at all.

The family Jael celebrated themselves silly when we returned. It was all supposed to be nice and friendly, but nothing could breach Panthera's ass-stupid silence, which even caused his doting parents to look askance at him. I've not been alone with him since Sahen. It would seem that our friendship, which was never very close at the best of times, is doomed to wither. For some reason (unspoken) he has decided to take offense at something I've done or said. All of Panthera's actions (and reactions) are premeditated; I've learned that much. He is doubtless furious that I haven't worked out what I've done wrong yet. Ferminfex wants me to stay here in Jael for a couple more weeks before I set off for Roselane. (You see, I am going there.) By then the weather should have wanned up a bit. I haven't yet worked out my route, but it seems fairly certain that either by coincidence or design, it'll pass close to Oomadrah. After all, didn't the fire-hound tell me to tie off all my loose ends? Well, if the Archon of Maudrah is who I think he is, that is definitely a loose end I want snipped off, if not tied. Perhaps it is all circumstantial, just coincidence. The law of averages dictates that Wraxilan should have been killed a hundred times over back in Megalithica; he certainly deserved it. Wraxilan. We all go back to the beginning sometimes, don't we. For Pell, it would be me, but for me it is always the Lion of Oomar. Like a glamorous, brutal father, he influenced my Wraeththu shaping, is perhaps responsible for what I am now. I feared him, I supplicated at his feet. OK, I was sixteen, for God's sake! That's forgivable, isn't it? I want to see him again so he'll know I made it alright (comparatively) without him. It might not be part of the plan— it might be the ultimate self-indulgence—but it's something I have to do. Anyway, it's not going to happen yet. I have Jael to enjoy for a while longer. Now it is evening, and Jael is a magical place of soft shadows and fading spring sunlight. I can smell the dinner cooking; venison in wine. Yes, I feel good at the moment; about myself, about everything. This is probably transitory, and because of that, dangerous, but who cares! Soon, I shall go downstairs. Another evening of routine comforts.

Panthera was late for dinner. Lahela had to send a servant to fetch him from his studio high up in the castle. He came in smeared with paint, indignant at having been disturbed.

"Immerse yourself in work if you want to," his hostling reprimanded him politely, "but one custom I wish to uphold in this house is that we eat together in the evenings. It would be pleasant if you could avoid looking on this as an inconvenience!"

Panthera mumbled an apology and helped himself to food; small portions. He was sitting next to me, but I might as well have been a stranger. I wondered whether he was angry with me or disappointed, or had just decided he did not particularly like me.

"Panthera," I said, "I would like to talk with you after dinner."

"I'm busy. Can't it wait?"

"No."

He looked up from his food with cold eyes. My first instinct was to wince away, but I managed to hold his gaze. He snorted and pushed food around his plate with his fork. "Very well then, but not for long!"

The evenings were still cool in the high towers of Jael. Fires were still lit in the deep grates. Panthera and I went to sit in a comfortable, private sitting room on the third floor. Panthera stalked restlessly around. He found a pack of cards and suggested we play some game or another. I'd had more than enough of games, of any kind.

"Are you joking?" I asked, with pretended horror. "Do you know what those cards are?"

Panthera riffled impatiently through the pack. "Of course. They are divining cards. Nobody has used them for ages. Shall we gamble?"

"You lack respect for the unseen, my pantherine," I said gravely, still joking.

Panthera threw down the cards angrily. "You've changed so much!" he accused me bitterly. "You never used to be such a prig! What's happened to you? I almost prefer the seedy drunkard of our journey from Thaine!"

"You will never be satisfied, obviously. Here is a lesson from life, little cat. You can never alter people's characters to suit yourself."

"Oh, shut up!" He sank moodily to the floor, his back against the sofa arm, staring sulkily into the fire. Spellbound by his loveliness, I experienced those familiar feelings of longing to touch his untidy, black hair, coax desire from his sensual yet passionless mouth, and ease the frown from his autocratic brow. I watched him. He knew it. I picked up the deck of cards and shuffled them. Laying them down on the floor, I cut the pack. "Oh look! How appropriate!"

Panthera could not resist a look, bristling visibly when he saw what lay there. "Ace of Cups, of course. This clearly indicates the next drinking binge you'll embark upon once your shallow mind becomes bored of hidden knowledge," he said, pleased with himself.

"Cut them," I suggested.

He shook his head. "No need. Obviously, I will draw a reversed king and possibly the Devil."

"Is that how you see yourself?"

Panthera raised a sardonic brow. He said nothing. I cut the cards again. "What a coincidence! Two of cups," I said.

"Very clever! The cards have not been used for years. Possibly, the last owner died and left a binding of untruth over the pack. What are you implying anyway?"

I shrugged. "Nothing. It was you that wanted to play a game."

"You're insufferable!" he cried angrily. "No wonder Thiede let you out of the tower! There was a moment's hideous, electric silence during which, I should imagine, Panthera dearly wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Then he felt he had to go on. "You look down on everybody, don't you!"

"Well, I am quite tall."

"Oh, you make me sick! You know what I mean."

"In that case, so do you. I'm surprised you're not cross-eyed!"

Panthera ignored that. "Everyone tries to make you seem so special, don't they! It must have gone to your head over the years. The truth is, you're a selfish and deceitful charlatan. I've always been able to see right through you."

"Oh, I'm flattered! Panthera has spoken and the words of the mighty ones are leveled to dust!"

"Mighty ones!" he spat. "And who do you mean by that? No, don't tell me, it's the Gelaming, isn't it! Those honorable, smarmy trendsetters of our wondrous, blossoming culture. Don't make me laugh!"

"Why ever not? That was the intention of my last few remarks, after all!" I smiled at him engagingly.

Panthera ruminated on this, unsure of whether to laugh with me or not. He was afraid of looking foolish.

"I'm not wrong, Cal," he said.

"Why did you come to Sahen with me then?"

"I told you; honor."

"Ah, so at least I'm worthy of that then."

He sniffed and stared at the fire. "This is getting us nowhere, Cal. I have work to do. What was it you wanted to say to me?"

Not the best of cues, but clearly the only one I'd get that evening. "Just that I'm sorry we've grown so apart."

"Why? We've never been close."

"No, not really, but I don't want things to get any worse. At one time, I thought we got on quite well. Can't we go back to that? What have I done? Have I really changed that much?"

He turned and looked at me thoughtfully. "I wish I could tell you the truth," he said. "I thought you'd guess, but you haven't. Too wrapped up in your own affairs, I suppose. We're really not that much alike, are we?"

"No. I don't suppose we are," I agreed, "but I've learned not to avoid the truth, so tell me."He bowed his head. "I can't. It's no use. You must go from here and complete whatever quest it is you've involved yourself in. I know where it'll end, we both do. I've accepted that ..."

"Panthera . . ." It was obvious what he meant. How could I have been so stupid? But what could I have done about it anyway?

"No," he said. "Don't say anything. I've told you; you've got your reason. Don't say anythng; it's best that way. I'm sorry. If you hadn't asked, I'd never have told you." He scrambled up and struggled from the room. I didn't stop him. I was dazed. Panthera had frozen me out because, dare I say it, he wanted me?

After a while, I went along to my room and lay down fully clothed on the bed. All the curtains were open and I could see a pale, round moon beyond the windows. I was lying there thinking of bodies, all the ones I'd touched, some of them now faceless to me. I'd always relished challenges, the slow, sinuous winding toward seduction of the glacial, beautiful creature who denied me. And there'd been more than a few. With Panthera I had made the decision not to bother, primarily because I respected him. Other reasons would include my obsession with the Tigron and, let's be honest, myself, my apathy, the certainty that seduction of Panthera would inevitably harm him in some way. He was right, wise beyond his years, not to pursue it. Most young hara would have done. It's what they grow up with after all. But Panthera knew I would leave soon; it wasn't just aruna he wanted. I must leave him alone so he could forget me without pain. And yet, much as I tried to dismiss the thought, I wanted to be close to him because nobody ever had been, and he stirred my soul. Between us lurked the specter of Pellaz and, perhaps eventually, the reality. I tried to sleep, but my body ached. I wanted to give my pantherine some of what Nanine and the Lyris had given to me; magic. Real magic, the kind that when it's over you know the world is just the wonderful place your dreams were always telling you. All the shit doesn't matter because your head has just exploded into somebody else with a thousand stars, and they felt so good; like fur, like ice, like flames, like silk, like feathers and, by Aghama, you want to experience that again. That's magic. I couldn't stop thinking about it; so maudlin and most unlike me really. After about an hour of this useless longing, I threw off my clothes and lay in bed, smoking a cigarette. Perhaps I should leave here sooner than Ferminfex suggested. Stubbing out my cigarette in the saucer I'd used that morning, I pulled the covers over my head and furiously tried to get to sleep again.