The Wraeththu Chronicles (138 page)

"You think it should be changed then?" Lalasa asked. "Should a new term be thought of that is as androgynous as we are?"

I sighed, and let my attention wander. It bored me too much to point out that theirs was a subject that had been argued dry about thirty years ago. Who cares whether we call ourselves he, she or it? Not me. I scanned the faces in the room, but could not see the Lion anywhere. Many hara had drifted outside, spreading themselves throughout Elisyin's apartments. I decided to leave Panthera to it and sidled away. I wanted to explore, and yes, I was looking for Ariaric. Who wouldn't have?

I wandered around the second floor, drink in hand, looking in every room I came across. Nobody spared me a second glance. I passed a mirror, looked into it and thought, "Yes, OK, that'll do." I was rehearsing what I would say to him when I found him. It was all very dramatic. Almost surreal, but absorbing. Eventually, I found myself in empty corridors, without even a servant around. Walking mechanically, I found myself at the foot of a great staircase, that disappeared into a velvet gloom. I walked right up it. Darkness fell about me like a veil and the sounds of merriment seemed very far away. Miles away. Before me, tall, gleaming pillars stood sentinel to a cathedral calm. The ceiling was lost in shadow high above me. This was Ariaric's floor. I shouldn't be here. Perhaps I shouldn't continue, but turn around and go back to Panthera. If I was found here, it could mean unpleasantness, but even as I thought this, I was walking, walking, and the staircase was soon far behind me. Was Phaonica like this, noble, grand and silent? I could sense melancholy, but probably only because I wanted to. Something was leading me, of that I was sure. I let it happen. How could I have known which turnings to take, which stairs to climb? How could I have found my way to the studded door that opened upon the base of a spire? Almost in a trance, I closed the door behind me and began to climb. Round and round and up and up. I could hear the wind whistling its single, mournful note and feel the air become colder. Up and up. Panthera was far, far away from me and I climbed a finger of stone, distanced from all that I knew.

At the top of the curling steps, I came out, breathless, into a room with a black and white tiled floor. Black pillars and curtains; the smell of incense. This was a temple. Before me, I could see an altar supporting only a white, tasselled cloth and a drawn sword. Beyond this, was a statue. Bland of face, one hand raised, the other palm upwards in its lap. The face was a face I knew, a face etched indelibly on my brain; Thiede's. Perfumed smoke blew across its features as it smiled at the room. And kneeling before this altar was a figure robed in crimson. Ariaric, Wraxilan, Lion of Oomar or Oomadrah, what did it matter? I had found him. That was all. He appeared to be deep in meditation, his hair unbound, but ropy with oil. I crept up behind him, cat-footed, unsure of what I would say or do. He raised his head, but did not turn around.

"I did not think you would come," he said. "I hoped you wouldn't."

So these were the first words. Disappointing? What had I expected? Surprise for one thing.
 
Ariaric sighed and got to his feet, his knees cracking. He faced me, rubbing his eyes. "Cold in the marshes," he said, smiling. "I've seen too many battles, I think. Perhaps I've outgrown them, or is that a euphemism for saying I fear I'm growing older?"

"No-one will know that until some poor har dies of old age," I answered. "All the hara I've know who have died have met, shall we say, untimely ends?" (Flying bone, blood, a scream, a horse's scream. No! I deny this image.)

The Lion of Oomadrah nodded and chuckled to himself. He did not hear my thoughts. "A point well taken, my friend." We looked at each other. He shook his head. "Ah, Cal, we cannot meet as strangers." He held out his arms to me and we embraced as brothers. I felt like weeping. This was not happening at all how I'd planned it. Ariaric grunted affectionately and then held me away from him. "In meetings hearts beat closer," he said.

"In blood," I responded.

"In blood," he added quietly. His hands dropped to his sides. Now he could think of nothing to say.

"Do I take it you were expecting me then?" I asked. Why on earth I hadn't anticipated that, I cannot understand.

"It was a ... possibility," he said guardedly. "Look, we cannot speak here. We'll go somewhere more comfortable. Please." He indicated the door.

"One thing," I said, facing the altar once more. "Why is it that the Archon of Maudrah pays homage to the image of Thiede the Gelaming?"

Ariaric stared at me for a moment. "Ah, he didn't tell you that then!"

"Tell me what?"

"Cal, all hara worship the Aghama don't they? Thiede is the Aghama."

A long time ago, a mutant runaway came alive into the city ... Thiede? Frightened, and dangerous in his fear . . . (Thiede?!) Wretched, helpless, abused mutant freak. Our progenitor. Thiede. Reviled as vermin, revered as a god, full of hate and bitterness at his condition; it had flowered into an insatiable appetite for power. And he had succeeded. He had taken it, bleeding, with his bare hands from the under-nourished, pigeon-chest of mankind. Thiede. Yes, it made sense. By any god that still lived, the megalomaniac that styled himself our deity earned my respect in those moments. Whatever his faults, he had fought against incredible odds and won. Now, presumably, he was laughing. I don't blame him. It's a good joke. I could feel things beginning to tilt into place a little when the Lion told me that. Looking back, I don't think I was altogether surprised. I should have realized Thiede's mystique went beyond mere charisma. Many hara have that. Thiede was the first. He made us happen: Aghama.

"High-ranking hara of most tribes are aware of this now," Ariaric said, looking at the statue.

"Obviously I'm not high-ranking enough," I said. Ariaric looked at me quizzically.

"I hope you don't mean that."

"Of course I don't mean that." I laughed, a forced, harsh sound. "I have no tribe," Ariaric winced.

"Downstairs, please," he said.

So, now it appears that Thiede is truly the guiding force of Wraeththu. A concept that poses more questions as fast as it answers others. How would it affect me? I'd have to think about it.

As we walked together along lofty, paneled corridors toward his suite, Ariaric became formal. He apologized eloquently for the dismissive way in which Panthera and myself had been treated by his staff. "I hope you weren't insulted," he said, "but unfortunately only Fortuny and myself were privy to the information about your journeys in Jaddayoth."

"You're wrong there," I butted in, "there's nothing secret about it. Just about everyone seems to know. They know more than I do, in fact."

The Lion ignored these remarks. "Elisyin did not know," he continued smoothly. "I had hoped to be back in Sykernesse long before you reached Maudrah, but things have dragged on a little in Natawni."

"Trying to make peace were you?"

He smiled benignly at my clumsy sarcasm. "Trying to secure the border actually. Natawni would have the world believe that Maudrah are their wicked persecutors. They prefer to keep quiet about the lightning raids they make upon Maudrah territory, the thieving from Maudrah settlements, the frightening of their inhabitants. Not all Maudrah Hara are warriors, you know. Most are herders, especially in the North." He sighed. "However, I hardly think the differences between Maudrah and Natawni can be solved overnight ..."

"There will always be differences, surely, as long as you insist on trying to make all of Jaddayoth Maudrah," I said. "How can you blame anyone objecting to that? Although you and your court live like kings, it's rather a different story for the hara down in the street, isn't it. Do you know how they live? Have you ever seen? Or is that the province of the Niz and beyond your control?"

"Our people are not unhappy," he answered vaguely. "When the time is right, their society will blossom. Winter-time is necessary, a time of

replenishing. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that most Maudrah came from Megalithica originally, and had to leave it pretty quickly."

"Who decides when it's spring-time then? The Niz?"

"Yes." Such a direct reply surprised me. "Here in Sykernesse, we are privileged; I know that. In Maudrah hara are expiating the sins of the past. You were there, Cal; you should understand. It's a novitiate state; they are learning."

"Your education was rather different, wasn't it?"

He smiled ruefully. "I cannot argue with you, Cal, but you shouldn't really pass opinions on what you don't fully understand, should you. This way . . ."

He assumed I knew a lot more than I did, especially about himself. I wondered if I could find out what he had heard about me without giving my ignorance away. The last time we had met, he'd had me cast out into the cold night of North Megalithican society—if such chaos could be termed as that. He had been a big fish in a small pond. Now, both pond and fish had grown somewhat. He directed me through an enormous, dark doorway and closed it behind us. As I took in the grand opulence of the room, I was still talking, saying things that perhaps should have been kept for later, but I couldn't wait. The main reason I was there was to say them, after all.

"You've apologized for your people treating us with disrespect," I said, "but don't you think that now is the time to apologize for what you did to me in the past? A second-class suite of rooms can't really compare with being ejected into a burnt-out wasteland teeming with blood-hungry psychos, can it!"

Ariaric winced once more. Gracefully. "You have a long memory Cal."

"I've lived with it."

"Have you come all this way just to rake over old coals? The fire has been long cold, surely."

"Maybe, but I suffered first-degree burns from it, so did Zack."

The Lion stared at me thoughtfully for a moment. I wish I hadn't spoken; it had sounded so peevish, even if correct. I went to sit on the floor in front of the fire to escape his eyes. The rooms of a king; it showed. "So here we are," I said, looking fixedly at a green and gold tapestry hanging above the fireplace. "It seems Wraxilan is no more. His slate has been wiped clean so that Ariaric the Lifebreather can take his place. Are they that different?"

Ariaric laughed good-humoredly behind me. I heard the clink of glass.

"By Aghama, I really got to you once, didn't I!"

"Dear me, and there I was thinking the feeling was mutual."

He handed me a crystal glass over my shoulder. I could not feel his warmth; I was too nervous. I drank; a fiery spirit tempered by a cordial of lemon and herbs.

"Cal, I had a lot to learn. I learned it. There is nothing more to it than that. You've come a long way too, haven't you?"

"Have I? I had hoped to surprise you." I was deviating from the subject but he went along with it.

"You did. Satisfied? Even though I'd had word you might show up here, the moment I saw you tonight filled me with ... what? Terror, shock, awe? Maybe all three. It took me back." I know it did. "A long way back. I want you to know that the choice you made then was the right one."

"Oh? Why?" I turned to look at him then.

"Well, after you . . . left the Uigenna, I chose another to host my heirs. We didn't know enough. I wanted a son too quickly. The har died. I'm glad you refused me."

I nodded. "Yes," I said.

"Did you ever regret your decision?"

I suppose that was brave of him, or completely egotistical. I wavered. I could not

lie. "Sometimes," I said.

That must have satisfied him. He smiled. "Well, it's over now isn't it; all of it. You

want me to apologize for kicking you out of the Uigenna? Are you sure? I'd say it was

probably a blessing."

I raised my glass. "Let's drink to that." We drank for a moment in silence, then I said, "Elisyin is a perfect consort for you." I don't know what made me say it; I prefer not to think.

"I know," Ariaric replied smoothly. "He's given me three sons. All thoroughbreds like himself."

"Three? Oh, as many as the fabled spires, of course! How come only two of them were there tonight? Is the third out accruing more land for his noble sire somewhere?"

"Hardly. He's dead." He smiled gently. "Don't look like that. The earth won't swallow you, however much you try. I'm not offended. How could you have known? We all have our tragedies to live with."

"Don't we just!"

We looked askance at each other, over the goblet tops, between shuttered lids. We were strangers who thought that we ought to feel like friends. I was still wondering whether Wraxilan had moulted away from the core of Ariaric or had merely been hidden deep inside. The Cal that he'd once known had shed a hundred skins. Could he see that? I said, "I thought I was fighting a battle, but I wasn't, was I. All along, I've been doing the right thing. I was trying so hard not to as well. How depressing."

Ariaric may not have had the faintest idea what I was talking about, but he was too proud to admit it. He smiled only with his mouth and said, "Learning?"

"Is that what they call it? I've certainly suffered; maybe I've learned. Remember the past and how they used to say that no-one should be dragged onto the Path against their will? I feel I've been tricked, not dragged, but the principle is the same."