The Wraeththu Chronicles (66 page)

I found myself in the totally unexpected embrace of my father's arms. "I'm very proud of you," he said and kissed my hair. "Don't ever—"

"Terzian!" I interrupted gently. Was there strength in me he did not have?

"You must. . . you must take care of your hostling and little Ty when I'm gone," he said, with difficulty.

"I will, but of course Cal will be here too." My father's arms tightened around me.

"Yes, I know, but. . . Cal is not of our blood, Swift. It's different for him. I leave Forever in your hands. Soon, in a few days ... I shall be gone. You must progress, Swift. Ithiel will help you. He knows. Realize what is important. I have to trust you! You will have to be wise beyond your years."

I understood then just how afraid he was, that he doubted whether he would ever return to us, yet he had to go on. "I hate them!" I cried. "The Gelaming; I hate them!"

"Yes, yes," he murmured. "Hate them, Swift, hate them with all your strength. That is something they have no control over ... perhaps the only thing."

That day I'd learned two important lessons. The first, as I said before, was how to kill. The second, perhaps even more insidious, was how to lie. It didn't matter to Gahrazel which way I chose to betray him, but it did to me. I had not told my father what he'd said, not in words. Gahrazel had been right. I did have to lie to my father, but not in the way he'd thought.

In the morning, Bryony came to the drawing room in response to my summons, smiling and carefree, chattering until I wanted to scream. Obviously, gossip concerning events of the previous day had not yet filtered through to the kitchens. I looked upon this as my first act of responsibilityas Terzian's son. I leaned against the mantelpiece as my father would have done. I began to speak and watched her as all the color and gaiety gradually drained from her face and a look of bewildered anguish came to take its place.

"We can only assume that he knew what he was doing, Bryony," I said. "He must have known the risk . . ." She shook her head and would not speak. Her eyes were dry, but I could see the muscles moving in her jaw. "It was Gahrazel!" I exclaimed. "He did this! It was his idea!" There she sat, small and hunched on the edge of a chair, while I tried to convince her that a terrible act was not terrible. All I wanted to do was shift the blame in her eyes, absolve my people, heap Gahrazel with culpability because he would never be able to speak for himself.

"Is Gahrazel dead too?" she asked at last.

"No. . . . His fate has not been decided yet," I answered.

"No, of course not," she said bitterly.

Once again, Forever held its breath. Terzian carried on making preparations for the trek south, grimly waiting for Ponclast to return. I had word that Gahrazel had asked for me, but I turned my back on him. I felt he had tried to drag me down with him, and wondered if this was because he suspected it had been me who'd betrayed him. Nobody had a good word for him any more. Suddenly, everyone had been suspecting something like this happening for ages, even Swithe. Cal made a half-hearted attack on Swithe one evening over his rather abrupt change of heart, but was not interested enough to pursue it. I could see that Swithe had been thoroughly shaken up by what had happened. It was one thing to moan about Terzian behind his back, but it was something else entirely to stand up and be honest and face Terzian's wrath. Gahrazel was being held captive in Gal-hea. He never set foot in Forever again.

When Ponclast returned, an emergency meeting was held in the house. I saw Ponclast once in the hall. His face was gray; he looked right through me. I felt quite sorry for him. Obviously, both Terzian and Ponclast were aware of the detrimental effect it would have had on their warriors' morale if Gahrazel had got away with his defection. The whole affair was seen as high treason and the punishment would have to fit the crime. Terzian asked me if I would like to be present at the meeting. This was an honor, but I declined. Terzian did not press it. He was still under the impression that my last moments with Gahrazel had been spent aflame with the ecstasy of aruna. It is a sacred act, even to Varrs. "This must be hard for you," he said.

Ithiel had been sent some miles east on some errand or another. I heard my father say to him before he left, "Take the girl with you." I was surprised by this act of understanding. I knew that he looked upon humans with the same amount of respect as he looked upon dogs. I don't think Purah had ever ceased to be human in his eyes, but because Bryony was part of his staff and had proved her worth, she was less human than honorary har. Terzian always looked after the things he valued, or so I thought.

On the evening following the meeting, Leef came to the house to report to my father. Now he had been promoted again, to Ithiel's second in command, and was currently carrying out all Ithiel's duties while he was away. Perhaps his second promotion had been some kind of consolation because he had lost the honor of taking part in my Feybraiha. It seemed likely. We passed each other in the hall as he went to my father's study and he gave me a curt greeting. I suffered a pang of remorse, being only too aware of how once I had led him on to believe I desired him. Still jumpy because of Gahrazel, I decided I'd try to smooth things over between us. Secure in a new sense of power, I summoned one of the house-hara and told him to wait outside Terzian's study until Leef came out. "Take him to the red salon," I said. "And have someone build a fire in there."

It was a room we hardly ever used and all the furniture was uncomfortable in there. It was a room for formality, perhaps not the best that I could have chosen, but I knew there would be no privacy anywhere else and I shrank from asking Leef to go anywhere upstairs with me.

Fortifying myself with several glasses of wine in the kitchen, not even sure why I wanted to see him, I made Leef wait for ten minutes before I went in to him. "Oh, have I kept you waiting?" I asked, pausing at the door, with what I hoped looked like magnificence. Leef smiled uncertainly, standing in the middle of the room, awkward as ever. He never liked being in Forever. He never relaxed there. Now I too had seen a little of the Terzian he knew and feared, so I was more sympathetic.

After a few minutes' stilted conversation, I said, "So, now that you're Ithiel's second, you won't have to go south with my father again, will you?"

"No," he agreed warily. "It was rather a surprise. Unexpected. Ithiel never paid me much attention before." I could see him wondering what I wanted, what he was doing there.

"In a way, it was because of me that you were promoted," I said, hoping to make him think better of me.

"Was it?" he said, wondering whether he should thank me or not. His pride won; he didn't thank me. I offered him some wine, one of Yarrow's best, and he sat down hesitantly in a stiff chair, appraising the room, no doubt thinking how horrible and unfriendly it was. "Why did you want to see me?" he asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. "When we passed each other in the hall, I thought . . . You're cross with me, aren't you!"

"Cross with you? Why should I be?" he asked defensively.

"I'm not teasing you," I said.

"No?"

"No. My Feybraiha ... it was something I had no control over," I said.

"Look!" Leef stood up hurriedly. "I don't want to discuss anything like this with you."

"Don't go! I just want to apologize ..."

"Apologize?" For a moment he relaxed enough to be angry. "For what? Maybe I presumed too much. Hints dropped by you, then by Ithiel. Next, I'm told that circumstances have

changed. I need no explanation other than that! Now, if you don't mind . . ." He put his glass down clumsily on a spindly-legged table that rocked dangerously.

"I didn't know they'd actually asked you!" I exclaimed helplessly.

"They didn't! I made a fool of myself, that's all!" I envisaged how he must have told all his friends. It must have been excruciating for him, even more so, having to be at the house attending the celebrations. "I'm sorry," I said inadequately.

"Is there anything else?" he asked, with the coldest of eyes.

"No . . ."

"Then if you'll excuse me . . ."

He sidled past me as if I would strike out and bite him.

Later, my father summoned me to his study. I was still feeling distressed over the incident with Leef. Terzian looked very tired, his face white, his hair disheveled. It seemed to me that he was in no condition to begin traveling. From his appearance, it looked as if he hadn't slept for a week.

"It's over," he said, as soon as I'd shut the door behind me.

For a moment we just looked at each other. I thought he was upset because he'd been wondering about what it would have been like if it had been me and not Gahrazel. I reached to touch his hand.

"What happened?" I asked.

He closed his eyes and curled his fingers over my own. "Poison," he answered, as if he had a mouthful of it himself. "They . . . they made him drink poison."

"Were you there?"

He nodded. I had never seen him so distressed, but then Gahrazel's death could not have been a pleasant spectacle. Few substances are lethal to Wraeththu. Only the tribe of Uigenna have the art of it and what deadly elixirs they possess are death in its most agonizing, terrible form. Ponclast had obviously considered the bullet or the blade too quick a release for his traitor son.

I went to Cal with my grief. "This has been one of the worst days of my life," I told him.

"It is only the beginning," he replied mercilessly. "Just a foretaste of horrors to come. I know. Life just works that way."

Destiny Callasity gaping through the gashes

At tender, childhood dreams,

Can no longer recognize the fruit

Disfigured on indignant vines.

1 began my training in earnest. Once the Varr armies had headed south once more, amid pomp and sorrow, Ithiel started to teach me how to fight, how to defend myself, how to kill. I applied myself to my studies once more. Aihah, the Kakkahaar, had left me

several books to look through; far from enough for me to gain any great benefit, but at least it gave me something to build on.

Sometimes, Cal would come to my room at night. Sometimes we would only sleep together, needing company, but other times, we would scream and struggle and tear at each other until the dawn. He was voracious and the merest touch of him kindled my responsive frenzy. I knew that it didn't have to be that way, but we needed that rage somehow. We had so much pent-up energy, there was no other way to release it yet. Once, while we were feeding upon each other like vampires, howling like animals, Tyson woke up in the next room and started to cry in terror. For a moment, we were still, staring wide-eyed at each other. Then we began to laugh. I seemed to have changed so much, the sensitivity of my childhood dulled, a new hardness flowering within me.

News rarely reached us from the south. The supernatural mist of the Gelaming seemed to have closed around the Varrs. They had found a way through, but nothing could follow them. Could anything come back out? Once, I tried to communicate with the Kakkahaar, but could not manage it. Either my art was too feeble or the Gelaming's power too strong. Most likely, it was a combination of both. With Cobweb's help, I could achieve the right state of mind, but where there should have been light was only a grey, impenetrable void, and I shrank from that.

Dreams of greater power began once more to prowl through my sleeping mind. Often, Cal would have to shake me awake, alarmed by my muffled cries. Now, I could rarely remember the events I dreamed, even though I longed to. I knew I dreamed of a face that both scared and thrilled me, but I could never recall its appearance on waking. Cal would pull me from sleep and cry, "What is it?" and all I could reply was, "Eyes! Eyes!" Such haunting. It filled me with grief.

At Festival, the household tried to carry on as usual. Cobweb invited Ithiel's hara up to the house and Yarrow began to prepare his customary, sumptuous fare. We got most of what we needed from Galhea, but the other things, more exotic foods and drink, which had once been obtained from farther afield, were no longer available to us. Two days before Festival night, we all gathered branches of evergreen from the gardens and decorated the house. That was when my father's presence was missed most. It was the first time since I had been born that he had not been home for Festival.

We had a small, miserable party in the drawing room, where everyone drank too much and didn't get happy. Leef was there, but he barely looked at me. Bryony sat by the fire and, after her third glass of sheh, began to weep silently. Cobweb went to comfort her and I saw Cal looking at him.

"Do you still think about the ivy?" I asked him.

"Most days," he admitted. I laughed and everyone looked at me.

When everyone had gone home or gone to bed, Cal and I lay beside the fire, sharing our cynicism. Some part of him was strangely distracted.

"He hasn't slept much recently, has he?" he said, unexpectedly. "Haven't you noticed?"

"My hostling, I presume," I answered acidly. "No, he looks tired. He misses Terzian, I suppose, in spite of everything."

"In spite of me, you mean."

"Yes, in spite of you."