The Wraeththu Chronicles (146 page)

Panthera and I avoid talking about the future. It's too vague, too vacillating to think about. He holds me tightly at night and once I awoke to find him weeping. Silently. I never let him know I saw that. Zack has strong contacts in Immanion. (The dream I'd had of him on the battlefield with Ashmael was uncannily correct, it seems). As well as Kate, Zack too has infiltrated the Gelaming for Opalexian. He's decided we should go directly to Ashmael's residence once we reach the city. I'm not sure if that's a good idea, but I'll have to trust him. He reckons that Ashmael should help me get into Phaonica. But surely, Ashmael's loyalty lies with Thiede and the Tigron? He'll have been fed the same information about me as Pell has. Zack says, "Don't worry. Don't make problems." I can only hope he's right.

Immanion is near. It is nearly dawn, and I've been awake all night. A few minutes ago I was standing on deck, staring at the horizon. Threads of light from the rising sun picked out stars on the spires of a distant city. The jewel of the Gelaming, the Place of Light. It can sense me coming, I know. It understands what I must do to it and I can feel it trembling; half-thrill, half-fear. It is strong; made of stone and hara's will and desires. Made of souls. But it feels me and its open, glowing streets ripple. Transience; made in a moment, destroyed in a moment. Is that what it fears? Pellaz must still be in bed, perhaps writhing in the grip of nightmare. Unspecified terror. I cannot feel him yet, but he is there, encased in glass. We will soon be there. And now, I crouch in my cabin, hugging my knees, listening to Panthera murmer in his sleep. My fingers are cold. I am afraid; trembling. Have I learned enough? I never

wanted to come here, but here I am. I turned my back on the past and found that time is a circle; I'm back there. I think I'm praying, but can only pray to myself. The Goddess and the God are within all of us; that's what they told me in Roselane. A small part or a large part? By Aghama, I hope it's enough.

The Crown

"/ drink him, feel him burn the lungs inside me

With endless evil longings and despair. "

—Baudelaire, Destruction

Immanion shone far beyond my dreams. We docked in the morning, stepping onto a harbour of sparkling mica. It was so clean. Unbelievably, shockingly clean. The brightness made my eyes ache. Fairminia looked tawdry, bobbing alongside the tall, stately craft of the Gelaming, whose colors were white and gold, whose figureheads were of eagles, dragons, plunging horses. From the harbor, tier upon tier of glowing, white buildings reared toward the crown of the city. Here, the coruscating towers of Phaonica, the Tigron's palace, reflected the morning light, visible from any point in the city. Roads were wide, and lined with spreading trees. It was a busy place, but not hectic; alive, but not noisy. Hara moved gracefully; the pace of life was leisurely. Zack led us away from the harbor, heading toward the north of the city. We passed through an open-air market, where food-stuffs from all the Wraeththu countries were available in profusion. Farther on, we crossed an avenue where open-fronted shops displayed their wares upon the street. The effect was unobtrusive. Was this an art-display or a gift center? We saw many other outlanders as we walked northwards; traders, tourists and seafarers. There were also plenty of natives. I felt as if every tall, golden-haired Gelaming we passed could see right into my soul. This caused uncontrollable flinching on my part; probably nobody noticed me at all.

About a mile from the harbor, Zack hailed a swooping hire-car to take us to Thandrello, the borough where Ashmael lived. We skirted Phaonica, high up. I could see figures moving in her tiled courtyards, along her terraces and cloistered walkways. Nervousness made me fearful of looking too closely, but even quick glances assured me of one thing. There was no way the Pellaz I'd once known could ever be comfortable (even convincing) living in a place like that. Why did I still nurture this image of him as he was? Common-sense alone told me not to be so stupid, but I just couldn't visualise him any other way. It was all I knew, all that had kept my love for him alive. God, this situation was a sleeping monster to end all sleeping monsters. The face of the creature was covered; I'd have to wait until it woke up to see whether it was a face I liked. And here I was, having these reckless thoughts, even as I trespassed in his city. I'd been warned, told, about his power; surely he could sense me now, close as I was to him. I felt the burn of an unseen gaze at the back of my neck and acted selfconsciously because of it. Did he watch me? Did he? Did he already know I was there?

We reached Thandrello in half-an-hour, but Ashmael was not at home. This precipitated an ungovernable sense of relief within me, even though I knew it was only delaying the inevitable. Ashmael's house was fairly modest by Immanion standards, but spacious and comfortable. One of his house-hara offered to contact him for us, conducting us to an airy lounge, nearly filled with plants, whose northern wall, overlooking the garden, was all of glass. The furniture was low and stylised; not really the sort of place I'd have expected Ashmael to live in. From what I'd seen of him (admittedly only in dreams) he appeared to be the sort of har who would only be at home in a stable, or under canvas, or in the back-room of an exceedingly seedy inn somewhere. Zack and Panthera sat down; I paced restlessly about the room. "Calm down, Cal," Zack admonished mildly. "You'll be fit for nothing unless you do."

Easy for him to say. I couldn't remember ever having felt so nervy. I wanted to fight. I wanted to get on with my task. I resented waiting. Affecting a cruel indifference to my inner turmoil, Panthera studiously examined the pictures on the walls. Zack picked up a book to read. I was not feeling particularly warm toward either of them. After all, they had nothing to dread, nothing to accomplish. Their minds were calm enough to look at pictures or read; mine could barely work out which way was up.

We'd only been waiting half-an-hour or so when Ashmael arrived home. His staff must have contacted him straight away. When he walked into that room, I recognized him immediately, which felt odd because we'd never actually met before. He smiled at me and said hello—he hadn't a clue who I was—and seemed pleased to see Zack. They spent nearly an hour swapping pleasantries; Zack was clearly being very careful, gently nudging the conversation along to provide him with a cue. I'd always suspected he'd have made a good politician; very good at manipulating things is Zack. As for me, sitting with my back to the window away from the others, I found it hard to keep my eyes off the star among Gelaming that is Ashmael. In my head, I kept replaying the dream (vision?) I'd had of him with Pell. I wanted to see the scar on his shoulder. He barely looked at me. Was I really there? Everything to fear had come so close so quickly. Only moments ago I'd been in Ferike surely? My thoughts tumbled over each other so swiftly, I could barely keep track of them. Conversation in the room washed over my head; I can remember none of it.

Eventually, Zack mentioned that he'd come, as he tactfully put it, on business. "Oh? What kind of business?" Ashmael asked him lightly. He'd obviously guessed we weren't there on a purely social call.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to discuss it with you alone first," Zack replied, not looking at me.

Ashmael shrugged. "As you wish. I have an office in the next room. That private enough

for you?"

Zack nodded, and, excusing themselves to Panthera and I, they left the room.

Silence moved in to take their place. I was still sitting by the window, my "I forehead upon the glass. I could sense Panthera fidgeting. I felt like saying,'' "You still sure you should have come here?" but it would have sounded sour. Panthera couldn't speak. Oh, I was happy to indulge in my own agony; nevertheless, I was not unaware that he was suffering too. After several minutes, he had the courage to say, "We should talk now, Cal. Who knows when we'll get the chance ..."

"No," I interrupted. "There's nothing to say. I'm sorry, but there isn't."

"Are you going to throw your life away then?"

"Thea, be quiet. We can't argue about this. You asked to come here and I believed you when you gave your reason why."

"I love you."

"Thea, don't! You'll only make it worse, for both of us."

If we'd been in a familiar place, he'd have leapt up and stormed from the room. We weren't. He couldn't. So we both fought for breath in that room of thick, heavy air until Zack and Ashmael came back in. It must have been hours.

It was likely Zack'd had some trouble convincing Ashmael he should help me. I wondered how much he'd had to reveal. Quite a lot, I would have thought, at least as much as Zack knew himself. Ashmael was tricksy; you see that at a glance, but he was not stupid. However small the amount of information Zack had been given, I was sure it would be enough for any sane har to realize what had to be done. Was Ashmael sane? Loyalty does strange things to people. I suspected Opalexian had decided the fewer people who knew everything the better. I was alone in this. I'd got to accept that.

The conversation had clearly been heavy-going. Ashmael's face was inscrutably grim (the only possible way to describe it), while Zack looked worn out. Ashmael went directly to open a window because the room was full of cigarette smoke, and then came to stand before me.

"So, you're the famous Cal, are you?" He stared, shook his head, stared again. I stared back. I wanted to say, "Yes, I know the feel of you" and perhaps he saw some of that in my eyes. He looked away eventually. He had reached a decision. "I have just heard the most incredible things about you. Things that are hard to believe. If it's true, then it's my duty to help you. If it's lies then I'm damned forever if I do ..." He picked absently at the leaves of a plant by the window. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to Phaonica," he said. "Thiede will be in his sanctum until nine. I will get you there for eight. By Aghama, I hope I'm making the right decision!" This last part was said fiercely. He looked at Zack.

"I've told you the truth," Zack said, simply, shrugging. "You must know in your heart what is right."

"I've worked for Thiede for many years," Ashmael answered. "This feels like betrayal. I have only your word that it isn't."

"You've worked for your race for many years," I said. "You won't be betraying them, I promise you."

He looked at me coldly. "Damn you for coming here," he said. "Damn you for existing."

"It's not me," I answered, "just the Law. There'd be somebody else if not me."

"Would there?" He shook his head once more. "I wish I could believe that."

I made them uncomfortable in that room. The atmosphere was not exactly congenial, not even when the inevitable refreshments arrived, so more out of consideration for others than a desire for personal well-being, I intimated that I wanted to be alone. Now they could talk about me with abandon. Ashmael had me shown to a bedroom overlooking the avenue at the front of the house. I sat on the floor under the window, and the muted sounds of the city reached me in whispers. I stared at the ceiling, but there were no answers there. I was alone, alone, alone. Never had I felt so conscious of it. Not in Megalithica, not in Thaine; nowhere. The world felt vast beyond me, vast and incomprehensible. I was such a small part. A single particle and yet, within me, the whole. I am looking up at the ceiling and there is a point that I must reach. The sun went down beyond the glass and no-one came to disturb me. I drank the water that Ashmael had provided in a glass flask. It tasted like nectar, soothing my throat and the heat inside my head. The bed looked inviting in the gloom, all honey pine and striped rugs, so I went to lie down on it. Now my capricious mind had decided to go completely blank. Could I go downstairs again? A drink of something a little stronger than water would have been welcome, but I resisted trying to satisfy that craving. The end was merely hours away. I must wait here, find strength; I would need it.

It must have been nearly midnight when Panthera knocked on the door. I suppose I'd been expecting something like that happening. He came right in and said, "I can't let you do this."

This was the last thing I felt capable of dealing with. "Panthera, if I'd known you were going to be this way, I'd have left you in Roselane. There's nothing I can do. For God's sake don't take it so personally!" I didn't want to sound so heartless, but it was the truth. Truth often hurts. Perhaps that's why I used to lie so often. Panthera ignored what I said. "Cal, I've stuck by you through everything; doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does, Thea. You know that! But I have to go through with this. There's no way out. I'm not rejecting you, just moving on. We both knew this would happen."

He seemed caged in a world of his own as, I suppose, I was in mine. I don't think any of my words reached him. "I know there's something you've got to do with Thiede," he said earnestly, "but, for your own good,

can't you just walk away after that? Come back to Ferike. You can't live here, Cal. It's not you. It'll kill you!"

"Kill me!" I jumped off the bed and he backed away instinctively. "What the hell do you know about it? It's me that's the expert on killing, Thea; that's why I'm here."

"Yes." Panthera's voice was soft. I sensed an approaching cruelty and was not disappointed. "I know that. You've been obsessed with it; one killing in particular. He's dead, Cal. Why can't you accept it? The Pell you loved is dead. What lives up there in Phaonica is Tigron. It's power; nothing else. Don't you know that? Or have you just conveniently put off thinking about it?"