The Wraeththu Chronicles (64 page)

It was frightening, like going into a dark place full of unknown things. I could feel his strength, the great, beating pinions of his spirit. It was so different. Before, when he took me, I had lived the ultimate of visions, now I was part of his vision. He was an abyss and I was falling, a never-ending fall. When I reached the end, I would fall again. His head was thrown back, one arm pressed across his eyes. He murmured as if in pain, fretfully, then his arm lashed back and hit the pillow. His eyes were blazing, I reared up to escape them, but he caught hold of me, so strong, lifting himself. His mouth found my neck; he wanted blood. I remembered for a fleeting moment what my father had said: "He may swamp you." Of course, Terzian was speaking of this, not Cal as ouana, but the devouring, lashing female side of him, like a python, crushing me. For a moment, we were still, staring at each other. Then it happened. That secret part of me snaked out to ignite his pulsing nerve. He did not cry out, just hissed like a cat, threshing around me. His hands, like claws, tore at my shoulders. He lunged to bite me, snarling and crazed. Almost panicking, I hit his face and he flopped back among the pillows. There was blood around his mouth. "Cal?" I said, tentatively, feeling all my muscles shaking. I felt him laugh around me; he opened his eyes.

"Pure-born, it is different!" he said.

In the morning I felt as if I'd been fighting for my life all night. My shoulders had actually stuck to the sheet with blood. Cal fetched a cloth from my bathroom and bathed my back. "Oh, hell, I'm sorry," he said. "I must have got a bit carried away but it was pretty amazing, wasn't it? So much stronger. God!" He laughed and stood up, throwing the cloth into the air.

"I've decided to become Varr hostling stock," I said. "If being ouana means being torn to bits, I'll opt for submission any day."

"Oh, come on," Cal coaxed. "It's just me! You know how weird I am! Terzian isn't exactly unscarred either."

"You enjoy being weird," I grumbled, wincing as I tried to get out of bed.

"Yes, I have to agree with you there," he said cheerfully. "They'll have finished breakfast, won't they? I'm starving!"

He was gorged on my vitality. I could hardly move.

I walked through the day in a daze. Everyone gave me very strange looks, except for my father, who probably understood. "Takes it out of you, doesn't it?" he said, and I felt he was glad to have someone he could say that to.

A Deception

Swell upon sham

The autonomy of mosquito wings

Embarks on the spoor of a celestial bandit

Erudite killer, more stupid Than peevish, human, monster freaks.

I had not really expected Gahrazel to come and see me before he left, and was therefore very surprised when he shook me awake the following morning. "I thought you were dead!" he said. "You used to be such a light sleeper."

I pushed my hair out of my eyes, still half asleep. "You're here early, Gahrazel."

He walked up and down at the end of my bed and the constant movement, made me feel sick. "Sit down, for God's sake!"

"It's not that early," he said. "Remember, I lead a soldier's life now. Gone is the luxury of lying in bed in the morning." His voice was bitter.

"Is everyone else up?"

"Yes . . . Swift?"

"What? Pass me my clothes, will you?"

He sifted through the pile on the floor and tossed bits of it over to me. "Swift, I've neglected our friendship," he said, not looking at me.

"What's happened to remind you of that?" I asked, pulling on my trousers.

"Oh, nothing . . . Good God, what's happened to your back?"

I wasn't sure whether to feel proud or ashamed. I said nothing.

"Oh, I see," continued Gahrazel, suddenly much more like the har I remembered. "If Ithiel had done that to me, I'd have blacked his eye."

"Oh, would you!" I retorted. "Just think about the fact that Ithiel didn't feel the need to illustrate his passion so emphatically."

"My little Swift!" he cried. "It seems you follow in your father's footsteps as a wielder of power."

"So it does," I agreed.

"I think I shall miss Swift the child," Gahrazel said wistfully.

"I get the feeling you're here for a reason," I said. "You're upset."

"No, no," Gahrazel denied quickly. "Not upset. . . perhaps I am here for a reason, though. I need to talk to you."

"After breakfast," I decided.

"If you like."

We went down the stairs together, laughing, joking, pushing each other around, as we had done so many times before.

"I've just realized how much I've missed you," I said.

"Blame Terzian," Gahrazel said caustically.

He was offered breakfast, but refused, just drinking coffee and messing nervously with the cutlery, always glancing at the door. Terzian had already left the table, and in a strange way I was relieved. There was only Swithe left in the room, pouring over a report my father had given him to read. I could see Terzian's mark of black humor in this, but Swithe just held the papers with distaste, totally ignorant of any intent.

"The Gelaming will annihilate them!" Swithe declared, throwing down the papers.

"That does seem likely," Gahrazel agreed. "But who can know for sure?"

"What do you think?" Swithe asked intently.

Gahrazel would not commit himself. He spread out his hands and shook his head. "I'm not paid to think, just to skin the hides off any Gelaming we might meet."

"You never used to keep your opinions to yourself," I said drily.

Gahrazel shrugged.

After breakfast, I took him up to the long gallery. I knew we would not be disturbed there.

Gahrazel took a slim packet out of a top pocket. "Cigarettes," he said.

"Do you want one?"

"What are they?" I asked, eyeing with interest the slim, white stick he put between his lips.

"Smoke to combat nerves," he said, inhaling deeply.

"Oh, like hemp," I said knowledgeably. It was something I knew about, but I'd never tried it.

"Not really," Gahrazel said. "Do you want one or not?"

I shook my head. "No. You always know more than me, don't you, Gahrazel?" He made me feel young again, too young.

He pulled a face. "Do I? I don't mean to." He smiled at me, and it wasn't totally

without condescension.

"Well then, Gahrazel, what's the matter?"

He sat on the floor, his back to the window, and once again inhaled deeply off his cigarette. "I trust you," he said, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling.

"Should you?"

"I think so." He looked at me intently. "Swift, I hate what your father's done to me."

"What's he done?"

Gahrazel stared at his hands. There was a moment's pause before he spoke. "What he's tried to do. Among other things, make me like him, like my own father. I'm not at all like them, you know." His eyes bored into me, full of words he could not speak.

"I've always known that," I said and squatted down beside him. "But I did think you'd adapted quite well. As we'd seen nothing of you . . ."

Gahrazel made an irritated sound. "Don't be stupid!"

"Don't speak to me like that!" I snapped, stung.

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "Sorry Swift." His voice was mocking.

"What is it then?" I asked, standing up.

He looked up at me and squinted. "I can't stay here."

"I didn't think you would. You're going south again, aren't you?"

"I can't do that either."

"What do you mean?" I asked apprehensively. I suppose I knew already.

"If I tell you . . . you might have to lie to your father later."

I nodded. "Alright, alright, what is it, Gahrazel?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm not going south with Terzian again. I can't! There are so many reasons, Swift... I'm going to the Gelaming. I'm taking Purah with me."

I shut my eyes and turned away from him with a sigh. "God!"

"You'll wish I hadn't told you."

"Your father!"

"I know. I had to tell you, Swift."

"Why?" I demanded. "Why didn't you just go?"

"I think you know the answer. Someone had to know. The chances are ... well, perhaps we'd better not dwell on the possible consequences. I had to tell you, Swift. There was no-one else I could trust."

"When?"

"Ah, well, that's something I think it's better you don't know about, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose so," I agreed. "Gahrazel, do you know what this means ... if you're caught?"

"Oh yes," he said softly. "More than anyone, I know that."

I thought of Leef. Were there many of them, feeling as Gahrazel did now? True Wraeththu perhaps?

"Gahrazel," I said. "You're not alone, are you?"

He looked around quickly, furtively, as if suddenly chilled. "What do you mean?"

"That you're not alone. There are others, aren't there . . . others that perhaps lack the guts at present to . . ."

"If I succeed Swift, it may give others the courage to follow me, yes."

"Oh God!" I pressed my forehead against the long window. Surely my father couldn't be so ignorant of the dissension among his hara. Now I, Terzian's son, had been told. Terzian's son. Forever, my home. I looked down the long gallery, at its beloved, warm, worn, familiar length. "You shouldn't have told me," I said. "I wish you hadn't!"

"Swift!" Gahrazel stood up behind me and put his arms around me. "Remember, I once told you that we'd both know all of this house some day. Maybe I meant more than just the bricks and stone ..."

"Let go of me," I said. He didn't for a moment, but I did not warm to him. He sighed and his arms dropped away from me. I felt cold.

"There's so much you don't know, Swift," he said.

"I don't want to know! Just go, Gahrazel!" I could not look at him.

"Not even 'goodbye,'_Swift?"

"Goodbye, Gahrazel."

"Will you wish me luck?"

"I can't!"

I heard him sigh. "Farewell, my friend," he said.

I listened to him walking away from me, numb to my innermost heart. "Gahrazel," I whispered to the window, watching it mist. "Gahrazel."

It was a turning point in my life. I had to decide where my loyalties lay. If Gahrazel had told me everything, as he should have done, my decision might have been different, but, as he said, I knew so little. One thing I was sure of, if Ponclast's son successfully defected to the Gelaming, there would be many willing, if not eager, to follow him. At that time, I thought the reason was mainly fear of the Gelaming, rather than sympathy with Gelaming ideals. After Gahrazel had left me in the long gallery, I stood for a while thinking about what he had said. I wanted advice from someone I too could trust. I couldn't keep my mouth shut, could I?

I found Cal in the drawing room, lazing like a cat. He was idly tormenting Limba with a rolled-up piece of paper (Limba is trusting, but stupid). I imparted my news with a suitable note of dread in my voice. "Oh, Terzian will kill them," was all he'd say. I made an exasperated noise, annoyed that he was taking this revelation so lightly.

"And if he doesn't find out until it's too late?"

"Do you care?" Cal asked me in a tired voice.

"Care? Oh, of course I don't! Let all my father's hara desert him and run squeaking to the Gelaming! Let them destroy us all. Let them destroy this house!"

Cal smiled indulgently at my outburst. "Oh dear," he said, stretching. "And how many of Terzian's hara are you expecting to make a run for it?"

"Enough," I answered stiffly.

"If you really think it's such a threat, there is nothing to worry about," Cal continued, spreading his arms. "What?"

"Terzian will kill Gahrazel before he gets away."

"Oh!" I shouted in exasperation, turning away from him. Cal came to stand behind me. He put his hands upon my shoulders.

"He will know," he said.

"How?" I demanded angrily.

"How? Well, that is obvious. You will tell him."

"Cal!" I cried, turning round, striking away his hands. He looked surprised for a moment. "How can I do that? I am not even convinced that what Gahrazel is doing is wrong!"

"Wrong for yourself, for us . . ."

"I can't!"

Cal threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, the gray specter of betrayal!" he mocked. I would not speak. "There is only one thing you should think of in a time like this," he continued blandly, "and that is yourself. In the end, there is only you; nothing else matters."

"Cal . . ."

"Master of Galhea one day, perhaps?" He took my face in his hands and I did not resist. I looked into his violet eyes and thought of all the things they must have seen. Was it caught within them forever somewhere? Could I see those things if I looked hard enough? "Learn well the lessons of self-preservation," he said. "Be subtle, my lovely. Be so subtle that you do not even realize yourself what you are doing. Gahrazel. . ." He sucked in his breath and shook his head.