The Wraeththu Chronicles (82 page)

knew it was Thiede. I tell him he's lying when he says that but he only smiles. Sometimes, he wants to take aruna with me. He admires me as he would admire a well-sculpted statue. That's what I am to him, fleshless, but I can't refuse him. It's sick, isn't it? I think he has become genuinely fond of Wolf. They've given him another name now, one fit for a prince, but he is still Wolf to me. At least that turned out alright. Ah well, I have riches beyond imagination, I live in a palace and don't have to lift a finger if I don't want to. He touches me sometimes ... I should be happy, shouldn't I?"

So many people have said that Pellaz, Tigron of Immanion, is the kindest, most compassionate person they have ever met. He appears perfect. In a way, it is comforting to know that he is not. I listened to Rue's story in silence and I said nothing after he had finished it. Once I would have wept, as I had when I'd heard Cal's sad story, but now I expressed my emotions in a different way. I made love to him, sad Caeru; it was not
 
aruna, but truly the warmth of love, because he needed it so badly, and I, soiled Varr of less than perfect character, knew how to give it.

At dawn, he bid me leave. We parted awkwardly; the magic of the previous evening had gone. Such things were meant to be brief. I wondered if Caeru, Tigrina of Immanion, had got what he'd come seeking for in Imbrilim. I would never know. By noon, his dark pavilion was empty.

The Axiom

Sublimation through the spheres Respect delivered by destiny. Desire, desire with the beast of fire.

For or some days afterwards, I could not keep the Tigrina from my thoughts. He had given me so much more than a mere night of pleasure; he had given me self-respect. Now I felt I could walk among Gelaming and feel equal to them; I felt taller, both spiritually and physically. Arahal noticed the change in me; I could tell by the way he looked at me, yet he chose to say nothing about it. My night with Caeru was never mentioned by anyone in Imbrilim, yet knowing as I did the way news flew around the camp, I was sure everyone must know about it.

During the next few weeks, I devoted myself to caste elevation, and found that in some ways, it was similar to learning to ride a horse. Once the simple techniques have been mastered, the more complicated and difficult parts seem to come naturally. Arahal praised my progress, admittedly with undisguised self-congratulation. "It was hard for those of us that were horn human," he said, "for the powers were not natural to us. We had to learn so much. I have never educated a pure-born har before, but it is obviously easier for you just because you are pure-born."

"Well, Cobweb taught me things right from when I could first speak," I said, feeling it was wrong I should claim all the credit. "We could never speak of it openly, though, for Terzian would not have approved. He wanted his son to grow up to be a warrior like himself, not a secretive witch, which was how he thought of Cobweb. Anyway, he called it all mere superstition."

"A foolishness which I should imagine he is regretting now," Arahal laughed. His smile faded to a frown when he saw my face.

"Where is he?" I asked. There was a moment's pause, and then Arahal shook his head.

"I've already told you; I don't know, Swift. That has nothing to do with me."

I wanted to believe him, for I looked on Arahal as a friend nowadays, hut I knew he was lying.

One day, I woke up and knew I was Ulani. It was an instinctive knowledge. The ceremony seemed merely perfunctory, for it was inside myself that my caste was raised and no words or rituals could reinforce it, but, because of the Gelaming's love of celebration, Ashmael organized a grand affair to mark my ascension. Because my attainment of Ulani meant that now the Gelaming could plan their attack on Ponclast in earnest, the occasion was treated as a great holiday by the whole of Imbrilim. The atmosphere was intoxicating. Although the actual ceremony itself was brief and held in private in the pavilion of the

Hegemony, the rest of the day was devoted to feasting, drinking and dancing. Leef came to congratulate me in icy tones, which annoyed me so much, I was rather peremptory with him. This brought a grim smile to his face as if his worst thoughts about me had been justified. Seel did not appear all day. In the evening, Arahal said to me, "Ashmael will speak with you tomorrow, Swift."

"He speaks to me often," I said lightly, feeling my heartbeat increase.

"He will speak with you, Swift."

"Is it... is it time to know?" I asked. "The other purpose for my being here. Is that it?" Some of my forgotten fears fluttered at the edge of my mind.

"It is time," Arahal confirmed grimly.

That night, I dreamed of the eyes for the first time in ages. I threw; handfuls of dream mist at them, but they never blinked. In the morning, I woke exhausted.

"You are a prince, Swift," Ashmael said to me. I looked in his mirror and; saw him standing behind me, taller, his hands upon my shoulders.

"I am Cobweb," I said and he smiled.

"No, not him; something else."

My skin will never tan, my eyes will always look shadowed; that is Cobweb's legacy, I know that. I shall never be very tall as my father is, and I shall never have his frightening eyes. I am Swift, through and through, nothing more. I am Swift, and I have learned to like myself.

"Megalifhica is ripe for the harvest," Ashmael said, and I waited for him to continue. "We shall take our power with us," he said. "It will be contained in a crystal and it will glow a dark blue-green. It shall be your power."

"Where shall it come from?" I asked.

"Within you."

I turned away from the mirror and saw that Ashmael's eyes were shining with a strange and terrible light, for he knew the meaning behind his words.

"How shall you take Megalithica?" I demanded. "How shall you really take it?"

"What is least attainable is the most desirable," he answered. A typically Gelaming evasive answer; it meant nothing.

"I will never get used to this!" I said.

He followed me across the room of dappled folds and stood with me at the entrance to his pavilion. "It is the truth," he said.

"If it is, speak it plainly. I am Varr, not Gelaming. I don't understand. You play with words!"

"Grissecon," he said.

I turned and backed away swiftly. "Me?" (The other purpose; of course. No wonder they were wary of telling me.)

Ashmael nodded silently.

"No!" I cried, already feeling publicly naked.

"You are inhibited."

"Yes, I am. I've been told that before. I can't do this, Ashmael."

He sighed. "Oh dear! Must we have these problems? This Grissecon is essential. Only two people can do it to make it work and both of you are fighting tooth and nail to avoid it, one way or another. Both of you!" He threw up his hands.

Suddenly, I was cold and my arms were about myself and my flesh was chilled. Oh God, no, I said softly, weak with relief and sick with despair. In an instant so many things had become so clear. Ashmael did not touch me. "You know who it is, don't you," he stated flatly.

I nodded, straightening up, though my arms wouldn't uncurl. "Yes." "It is Thiede's will."

"What an excuse that phrase can be! Everything it seems is Thiede's will. Why, Ashmael? Why not anyone else? I've never performed a Grissecon before."

"It is a focus. Two essences that shall meet, and if Thiede has manipulated fate, it is inevitable; whatever happens."

"Nothing has been coincidental, has it?" I said, remembering something Caeru had said to me. He had known about this, of course. "It's all been planned, hasn't it? Everything!"

Ashmael had the grace to look offended. "Not everything, no." Now I understood completely. Thiede had said, "This shall be," Pellaz had implemented it and there could be no argument. I was to be the one and I was everything to be deplored; Cal's friend, Terzian's son, a Varr. In other words, tainted. My father fed on human flesh and committed pelki against his own kind. His blood ran in my veins. No-one could be sure that such traits did not lie deep within me too. Except Thiede perhaps and Thiede always got his own way.

"When is this to happen?" I asked in a chilled voice that did not seem to belong to me. I was numb, totally without feeling at that moment.

"Oh shortly, shortly," Ashmael answered. "It shall be arranged and you will be informed as soon as we know the details. Swift, I can tell you're upset about this. I must say, you must not feel this way . . ."

"What you mean is, I should not feel at all," I added coldly. "No, that is not what I mean. I can't understand your turmoil. The Grissecon will not be public; they have spared you that. Just look on it as aruna . . . but there is more, I'm afraid."

"More?" I asked in a dull voice. I could sense Ashmael squirming inside. This pleased me as I thought he could say nothing that could make things more unpleasant. I was wrong.

"Thiede wants a child to be made of this union," he said quickly. I must have made a noise, like a screech or something. Ashmael jumped and even started to laugh.

"Can a child come from hate?" I raged.

"No," he said. "Of course not. But what makes you think it's there?" "If it's not hate, it's something worse; indifference." "You are guessing." "No, I'm not! I know!"

"You don't, though! You read too much into things. Chrysm said so." What else had Chrysm told him? I could listen to this no longer. Without a word, I strode out of Ashmael's pavilion and walked back through the camp. It had started to rain; a fine mist. Ashmael did not call me back.

Arahal looked up, surprised, when I walked determinedly into his pavilion, unannounced. He noted my expression with apprehension. "Ashmael's told you then?" he said, standing up.

"Damn you, Arahal!" I said, pointing a shaking finger at him. "Damnyou, all of you! You raise me only to humiliate me. This Grissecon, this person I must share bodies with, share seed with; it's Seel, isn't it?"

Sometime, someone had taken Seel aside and sat him down and told him. He had learned that Cal still lived and where he lived and how he lived, and then he had been told that Terzian's son was being summoned to Imbrilim and that Thiede had decided upon the vessels for the ultimate Grissecon; world power. The force within, blue-green, shining, barely controllable; sex as magic, to wield, to conquer. Seel and Swift, two small parts of a prodigious plan, our bodies connecting like live wires to allow the current to flow. I think he would have just shaken his head at first, in disbelief. He would have been smiling, that slight, wholly luminous smile. Maybe he said, "Terzian's son? A Varr? Are you serious?" And then he would have realized just how serious they were. Then he would have stood up and let the bitter words flow out of him; Terzian, Varrs, Cal; all that was wrong with the world, that was blighted in the world. He might have said, "Do you hold me in such contempt that my body should be used, possessed in this way?" Perhaps it had been Pellaz who had told him. I like to think that it was. His voice would have been soothing. Seel soothed to acceptance until the bitterness was deep inside him and he had nodded his head and agreed, "Alright, if it must be so." (Wouldn't that have struck a chord with Pellaz?) Seel would have thought to himself, I trusted you, Pell, and I could imagine his eyes looking at Pell's back, disillusioned and defeated. Then he must have thought to himself, as comfort, I will never speak to that creature; I will never like him. He is beneath me and it seems I must host his son, but I will never like him. No-one can make me do that!

One day I would have to touch him and his eyes would be veiled like cat's eyes and his head would be held to the side. I never had to be told all these things, no-one ever told me, but I knew them as surely as if Seel had told me himself.

Arahal stood up. He took my shoulders in his hands and shook me slightly. "Stop this; you are hysterical," he said blandly. Yet I made no noise. Perhaps my eyes were hysterical. How could I tell Arahal about my dreams that I'd had for years, the dreams that had been an intimation of the person to come? That person had been Seel; I knew that now. From the moment I first saw him, recognition had woken within me. Now, that one thing toward which I had been unconsciously striving all my life had become, indescribably, something terrible that I wanted to run from. What should have occurred naturally had become contrivance, Thiede's contrivance, and because he had accelerated everything all the harmony had been destroyed. I was numb. Maybe, if it hadn't been for this, Seel would have come to like me. I could have made him like me, but now he was angry and affronted.

Arahal's voice broke through my thoughts. "Swift, be objective, for God's sake!" I looked up quickly, feeling my glance strike his eyes like an arrow. He turned away and poured me wine into a long, thin glass that felt temptingly shatterable when he handed it to me. I drank from it and tasted sourness; Gelaming wine was rarely sour. "You are reacting irrationally," he continued smoothly. "You think you are obsessed with Seel, but that is only the effect of a powerful psychic attack. You were made to feel this way. Time was running out. Now you can stand back and view things calmly."

His words sluiced over me like a stream of melted ice. Made to feel this way? It was laughable. They didn't have to do that. I was obsessed with Seel a long time before the Gelaming had even dreamed of their plans.