The Wraeththu Chronicles (99 page)

After lunch, Astarth excused us both from the company and took me upstairs again. "Take a bath," he said. "The water should be hot now."

"Again?" I protested. One bath a month had been luxury to me for the past couple of years.

"Yes, again," Astarth replied. "I want you thoroughly clean, if you don't mind."

I thought, "Ah, training," and complied without further argument.

Sitting in a deliriously warm bath, soaking in bubbles and steam, I found a package of cigarettes on a reachable table, plus a couple of yellowed but professionally-produced newspapers. I lit a cigarette and lay back to examine one of the papers. It had apparently come from Maudrah. This was obviously the top cockerel in the pecking order of Jaddayoth tribes. I read with interest. It was mostly propaganda stuff; how marvelous the government was, etc. About every five sentences the name of the Archon cropped up. Ariaric, Lord of Oomadrah, first city of Maudrah. If ever an election was held in heaven, this Ariaric would definitely be confident enough to run a campaign against God. From what I read, he certainly seemed powerful enough. There were a couple of muddy photographs, showing an individual whose face held the same expression and air of potential destruction as the blade of an axe. I smiled to myself. Whiffs of Terzian, I thought. Astarth came bustling in.

"What are you doing in here? We haven't got all day!"

"Who is this character?" I asked, dripping soapy water all over the paper.

Astarth took it from my hands and wiped it. "Ah, Ariaric," he said. "I've only been in Maudrah once. I've never actually seen him in the flesh."

"Now there's someone I would like to meet!" I declared with relish, putting my arms behind my head, blowing a series of smoke-rings at the ceiling. "He sounds just my type. Rich and powerful."

"And complete with royal consort," Astarth added sharply. "You certainly have a high opinion of yourself, Calanthe, I'll say that."

"Certainly not. I am perfectly at home in royal houses."

"Yes, well, you're not in a royal house now! You are a lowly kanene, that is all. It might interest you to know that Ariaric's consort Elisyin is a har of the Ferike tribe, whose wit, charm, intelligence and breeding transcends all others. You think you will ever get to Maudrah? Ha!" He laughed coldly. "You think you'll ever get near such hara as the royal family of Ariaric? You are mad, Calanthe. Chances are you'll never see the outside of Thaine!"

"OK, OK, don't distress yourself," I said, rising from the water. Astarth stonily handed me a towel.

Obviously, I had hit a raw spot. It didn't take much to work out what that was. Bitterness. Astarth looked around the four walls of that bathroom as if they were a prison. Perhaps they were.

He stalked coldly back into the bedroom while I dried myself. "Ill-humor!" I thought and expected a cold reception when I rejoined him, some moments later. He was sitting on his bed, pensive in the gray afternoon light. A winsome sight. He looked up and saw me. "Come here," he said, and held out his hand. I took this as an apology for his sharp words. "Well, let's see what you can do, Calanthe." I sat down beside him and he put his arms around me, for a brief second favoring me with the pressure of his bright head upon my shoulder. It was short-lived. The flavor of that afternoon in Piristil shall stay with me forever, I think. The damp air, the sound of rain on the windows, the half-darkness of a gray, hopeless day. Little warmth reached us from the fire. I had never partaken in such a passionless, empty coupling. Aruna should never be like that. Astarth seemed dead to pleasure, his mind buried deep within his head. There was no touching of souls, no sensation of shared thoughts; nothing. Confused. I tried to

change things, to bring us closer. It seemed so long since I had touched another har. I wanted it to be good. Astarth pulled my hair. "What are you doing?" he asked coldly. How those words, delivered so emotionlessly, stung is hard to convey. I had always come alive during aruna. Perhaps it is my outstanding ability. Perhaps that was why I thought I'd make a good kanene. I was wrong. Astarth and his kind are not proficient at aruna, no way. If sex is a machine, then kanene are good mechanics, but there is no way I will call what they do aruna again. It isn't. Now, I'm glad about that.

"It seems you have a lot to learn," Astarth told me resignedly.

"I'm not sure I want to," I replied. He smiled cynically.

"There are two types of pain. Pelcia and chaitra. Now I will teach them to you. Forget what you know. That is no use to you here. No use at all."

Pelcia is a corruption of the word pelki, which means violation. It involves learning how to put up a convincing resistance to the sex act. I must allow myself to be raped. Is that possible? Chaitra, simply, is the same service performed for a client. They want pain, whether delivered or received. That is what they pay for.

"Learn," Astarth said. "They don't know much. There are a hundred ways to deceive, a hundred short-cuts to the desired result. As long as they hear you squeal, they will be content."

I sat up in bed. I actually thought about leaving. Staring out of the window, I could see the depressing vista of Fallsend dropping away into a murky mist. Where could I go next? I had no money, no horse, not even any clothes of my own. It was the closest I had come to despair for a long time. Now, some of Astarth's bitterness when I'd been waffling on about going to Maudrah began to take on deeper meaning. I was trapped in a vicious circle. Unwelcome memories were coming dangerously close to the surface of my mind.

"Astarth, I have to think," I said. "All of this is going to take a little getting used to."

"Of course," he answered unctuously, as if we'd just been discussing a business venture of an entirely dissimilar kind. "Think all you want. I will see you later."

I wandered downstairs, looking for warmth, looking for company, and went into the sitting room that led off the dining room. Only one other person was in there, sitting close to the fire. Once I'd shut the door behind me, cheerfulness invaded the room. "Hi there, come in. Sit down." It was Lolotea. I smiled dimly and sat down in the window seat, my knees up, my chin on my knees, brooding sourly at the yard beyond. "Hey," Lolotea said softly. He came and drew the curtains in front of my face. "Don't sit there. It's cold."

"Is it possible to be warm here?" I asked.

Lolotea didn't reply. He led me to the fireside and poured me a cup of coffee from a pot standing in the grate. He studied me for a moment. "In a week, you'll forget you ever felt like this."

"Like what?"

"Like the expression on your face. Don't worry. You'll get used to it. We all did."

"I can't think of anywhere else to go," I said bitterly, unwilling to accept those last words.

"There can't be anywhere, that's why. I'm sure you wouldn't be here if there was. None of us would."

"I think I've failed Astarth's test. Perhaps I'll be asked to leave anyway."

Lolotea shrugged. "Hmm, maybe. But if I were you, I'd sit down here for a while, warm up, smoke a few cigarettes, have a few more cups of coffee, then go upstairs and put that right. You're not stupid, are you? Just put it right."

We smiled at each other; conspirators.

"Advise me."

Lolotea smiled into his cup. "Astarth has a way of intimidating people. He looks down on everyone if they give him half a chance. This is the result of a rather large and heavy chip on his shoulder. Don't let him look down on you. Get in the first blow, so to speak. Surprise is the key to success."

"Hmm, already I feel I've learned more from you than Astarth could ever teach me," I said.

Lolotea gave another expressive shrug. "That is because I'm not trying to impose authority over you."

"Is that what Astarth's trying to do then? Just that?"

"I would think so. Astarth will be jealous of you. You spoke of plans to leave here, plans for the future. That would anger him. He resents ambition in others, mainly because he's too lazy or complacent to do anything himself. Dog in the manger syndrome. Don't you think so?"

"I can't say," I answered diplomatically, aware that any careless remarks might be repeated as gossip. "I haven't been here long enough to judge anybody's character."

Lolotea smiled politely. As he suggested, after a few more cups of coffee, I went back upstairs.

Astarth was tidying his room, something he seems to spend an awful lot of time doing, mainly moving things from one end of the room to the other. He looked up at me with annoyance. Perhaps I'd disturbed some precious, private revery. "Yes, what is it?" he snapped.

"I've been teaching myself," I answered. Luckily, I was angry. My whole, miserable set of circumstances was making me angry. Astarth's caustic, condescending tone was the final straw. I half threw him across the room. He landed with a clatter amongst some of his precious belongings. That, at least, wiped the hauteur from his face. I do know how to be wild. It is not something I'm proud of and I don't care to remember it most of the time, especially how and where I learnt it. When I'd finished with Astarth, he looked as if he'd just fought off the Hounds of Hell. He lay on the floor, staring up at me, dazed, and not a little frightened. I squatted down and put my face close to his. "Now remember this, my friend. It is something I want you to think about very deeply. One day, while you're still here, working on your back, I shall be back up there amongst the royal houses. Don't doubt it for a second, my darling. I don't know what keepsyou here, and I don't want to, but believe me, I've lived in royal houses, I've been right up there among the angels, and I intend to get there again! Not you, your sarcasm, or your little world of sin is going to stop me. Is that clear? I'm not a whore, Astarth. I never will be. This is just a stepping stone. Got that?"

Astarth put up his hands. "OK," he said placatingly. It was the beginning of a certain mutual respect between us.

That evening, instead of staying in Piristil for the evening meal, Lolotea suggested that he and I should go down into Fallsend for a "bite to eat, a skinful of good liquor and a change of scenery." He guessed that my first day in the establishment had been a little harrowing. "No work tonight then?" I enquired.

Lolotea pulled a face. "Well, just one, as it happens, but I managed to farm it off to Rihana. I thought you needed the company more."

We trudged down the muddy streets, past the gray and brown stalls selling gray and brown merchandise, to a tavern that Lolotea called "passable." If the food wasn't exactly haute cuisine, at least it felt warm and friendly inside and the ale was decent. Lolotea had kindly lent me the money that I owed the hostel-keeper who had kept my belongings. Knowing the labyrinthine streets of the town as well as he did, we had only had to take a short detour to call in there on the way to the tavern. After we'd finished eating and the pot-har had removed our plates, I emptied the contents of my bag onto the table, to examine what mementos I had left of my past.

Lolotea picked up a small, jewelled pin and inspected it with interest. "Hmm, this looks Varrish," he said, before he could stop himself.

"It is," I answered, taking it off him. Terzian had given it to me. Holding it, I could see once more the imposing outline of his house. Forever, feel the warmth of its hearths, smell the sandalwood perfume of its rooms. There was a moment's silence while I relived those memories, all the more painful because of the contrast between what I'd been then and what I'd become. My grief must have been unmistakable. In sympathy, Lolotea broke the first rule of Piristil.

"I came from Megalithica," he said at last.

"Me too," I replied in a thick voice, although I knew Lolotea had already guessed that.

"Look, don't answer this if you don't want to," he ventured, "but are you, were you, a Varr?" I looked up at him, unable to speak. He mistook my silence for something else. "I'm only asking, well, because ... I was Varrish once."

I smiled. "Yes, I too was a Varr for a time. In Galhea."

Lolotea rolled his eyes. "Ah, Galhea! The nest of all intrigue! Terzian's stronghold was in Galhea, wasn't it?" This was a rhetorical question of course, but I still nodded. "It was."

Lolotea laughed nervously. "Oh, it seems stupid, doesn't it. All this secrecy about ourselves!"

"Not if you happened to be a Varr in Megalithica around about the time 1 left there," I answered.

"Yes, but what does it matter now? It's over and done with, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," I agreed cautiously, "but you have to remember that the Varrs had a lot to answer for once. I expect that there are quite a few blood-debts left hanging around, even over here in Thaine. I don't think anyone will forget completely all that happened."

"Yeah, you're right, but I think most of them in Piristil have worse secrets to hide than they once used to be Varrs!" he said fiercely. "I must admit, I feel quite a sham keeping it quiet really. Look around you. The chances are nearly everyone in Fallsend had some connection with the Varrs at one time. I bet Astarth, for one, has several dark secrets lurking in his past!"

I agreed readily to that, mostly because I still hadn't forgiven Astarth for trying to humiliate me.

"I lived north of Galhea," Lolotea continued. "I once saw Terzian when he rode through on his way to Fulminir. What a hero! Everybody was virtually falling down and kissing the ground as he went by!" I laughed at this, visualizing it easily. "Did you ever see him, close to?" Lolotea queried, still tentative. "I mean, living in Galhea and all, I