storm (40 page)

            Swift got to his feet, while Azriel said, “What's wrong?”

            “Much as it pains me to admit it, your Gelaming device wasn't at fault,” Cobweb replied.  “The ethers are closed to me too.  The dogs are howling.”

            “I heard that,” Aleeme said, “but sometimes they do just howl.”

            Cobweb fixed Swift with a stare.  “Summon the Watch,” he said again.  “Something isn't right.”

            The night hounds were virtually choking themselves upon their chains trying to break free, until Ithiel ordered them to be loosed.  They streaked out into the night, chasing shadows.  Hara on horseback went after them, only to find nothing amiss.

            While the search was underway, Cobweb stood before the long windows in the sitting room, rubbing his arms for they were cold, despite the fire burning hungrily in the hearth nearby.  He felt powerless, and that was not a comfortable feeling for him.  Something was going on and he had no idea what it was, only that it stank of threat.  When Swift returned to the house to report on his findings, Cobweb said to him, “Summon Seel and Tyson from the town.  Bring them home.  Do it now.”

            Swift did not question his hostling's command.

            It was Cobweb's custom to allow other hara, such as his son, his highson and their militia, to deal with matters of security.  His job was to run the household, to care for others.  But that night, Cobweb found himself thinking of Caeru har Aralis, and what had happened to him in his own home.  He knew that sometimes the ouana-might of the more masculine-aspected hara was of no use in matters of protection.

            Cobweb went to the kitchens and the small room where boots and coats were stored.  He dressed himself, something he had not done for many years.  It reminded him of times long past, fleeting images of a different life, when he had spent more time on horseback than on the ground.  He remembered his life with the Sulh, and the acrid smoke of ruin always on the air.  Humanity was contained now, and the green had crept back with subtle fingers over most of their civilization.  The world breathed more easily, but that night Cobweb's breath was all but stilled in his breast.  He feared history was a tidal wave and it was coming back, hundreds of feet high.

            All the animals were stamping restlessly in their stalls, grunting and snorting.  Cobweb mounted his horse and urged it to gallop out into the night.  A wind had started up, strangely warm.

Snake Jaguar now lived comfortably in the house in the woods, quite near the garden walls: once it had been a lodge to the main house when humans had occupied it.  He was reclusive, which the Parasilians respected.  Sometimes, he turned up at
Forever
seeking company, and on those occasions he was welcomed and indulged, but there was an unspoken rule between them all.  Snake's privacy was not to be intruded upon.  Quite often, Raven and Terez would come to visit him and sometimes the three of them would socialize with the House of Parasiel, but the times when Pellaz visited Snake alone meant the door would be securely locked against others.

            Cobweb knew that Moon visited his father too, and then Azriel and Aleeme would be invited to dinner in the house in the woods, but Moon seemed reluctant to visit
Forever.
  Cobweb knew the reason behind this, but believed that time was a great healer.  Moon must get over his childish crush.  In Cobweb's opinion, Tyson was not chesnari material, not yet.  His ongoing behaviour with Ferany was testament to this: Cobweb had spent many evenings listening patiently to Ferany's heartfelt outpourings of disappointment and complaint.

            Snake spent his time travelling the ethers, seeking any information that might be helpful to his brother.  So far as Cobweb knew, Snake had yet to discover anything of use, and he had carefully sidestepped most of Cobweb's offers of assistance.  They had worked together on a couple of occasions, at
Forever,
but Cobweb could tell that Snake preferred to work alone.  Whatever threat had loomed over Immanion had either sensed Snake's investigation and gone into hiding or else had disappeared.  Cobweb knew that Snake was not unhappy, that he enjoyed the simple life so close to the fecund earth.  In Galhea, Snake had found peace.  Raven was no longer there to care for him, but he did not need such care.  Healers had assuaged the aches in his withered limbs and he was mobile enough to look after a small garden and no domestic chores were beyond him, other than chopping wood.  Cobweb had logs delivered regularly to the little clearing where Snake's house stood.  Cobweb had never visited since the days when he'd supervised its refurbishment.  Now, he had a pressing need.

            Dim light glowed from one of the windows.  Cobweb dismounted and went to knock upon the door.  He knocked several times and then called, “Snake, it's me, Cobweb.  I have to speak with you at once.”

            Cobweb heart movement inside the lodge and presently Snake opened the door.  His expression was guarded, but Cobweb was not deceived.  He could tell that Snake feared this was bad news about Moon, for what else could impel a Parasilian to come riding to his house in the dark?

            “It is not as you fear,” Cobweb said, crossing the threshold.  “Moon is fine, but I must speak with you urgently.”

            Snake nodded silently and indicated for Cobweb to enter the small room, which served as both kitchen and parlour.

            “Have you noticed anything unusual tonight?” Cobweb asked, sitting down in one of the two chairs before the stove.

            Snake limped over with a kettle of water, which he placed on the hot plate.  “I was wrapped up in reading,” he said, and gestured at the pile of books, which he had taken from
Forever's
library last time he'd visited.  “The knowledge of our forebears shouldn't be lost.  There is much wisdom there.”

            Snake was the only har Cobweb knew who referred to humans as forebears.  “The ethers are disturbed,” Cobweb said.  “There's a shiver in the air.  Something smells dank.  Animals are fretful.  I would appreciate you investigating this phenomenon and giving me your opinion on it.”

            “There will always be nights like this,” Snake said.  “You know that.  It is the way of wyrd, when forces move in the world beyond our comprehension.  But they are a part of the world and not to be feared.”

            “This is different,” Cobweb said.  “I know
that.
”

            Snake again nodded without speaking and went slowly to his front door.  Cobweb waited while Snake peered into the night, no doubt extending his senses.  After a while, Cobweb could not resist making tea, because the kettle had begun to boil, and Cobweb's instinct was to do such things.  He was drinking the tea when Snake returned, frowning.

            “You're right,” Snake said.  “Tonight, I was lost in the world of the past, and didn't sense it.”

            “What does it mean?” Cobweb asked.

            Snake shook his head in puzzlement.  “Many things,” he said unhelpfully.

            “In your opinion, is this connected with Phaonica or the Aralisians, anything to do with what Pellaz has experienced?”

            “It's difficult to tell.  There's certainly a taint to the air, and it feels familiar, but it is also shrouded.  Something or somehar is aware of us and our abilities.  We should be vigilant.  It's all we can do.”

            “I don't think that's enough,” Cobweb said.  “I feel it in my bones.  I want to contact Pell about this, but it's impossible.  I'm concerned this is a deliberate attempt to prevent us communicating with Immanion.  The otherlanes are closed to us.”

            “We can work together, you and I, to create a barrier of protection around your domain,” Snake said.  “That's the immediate course of action that suggests itself to me.”

            “We'll do this,” Cobweb said.  “Tomorrow, Swift must send riders to Imbrilim.”  He paused.  “I'm afraid, Snake.  I never feel afraid like this.  Something approaches.”

            Snake was not a har to extend a reassuring hand.  Instead he said, “We will do all in our power to protect ourselves, and what greater power is there in the world than you and I combined?”  He smiled, and then sat down carefully.

            “Shall I send healers tomorrow?” Cobweb asked, expecting a rebuke or a refusal.

            Snake grimaced.  “Yes,” he said.

            “You shouldn't wait,” Cobweb said.  “When the pain returns, you should come to us.  It's senseless to suffer needlessly.”

            “I don't often notice it,” Snake said.  “But when it gets too bad, I come to
Forever. 
Say nothing more.”

            “Let me help you now, before we work.”

            “No,” Snake said.  “Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

            Cobweb knew that Snake did not want to be touched, especially by hara he knew well, other than his immediate family, with whom he was quite affectionate.  Except for them, he tolerated only the hands of the healers.  It was clear to Cobweb that Snake feared being close to hara, mostly because of his disabilities.  Perhaps deeper, less visible, hurts were equally responsible.  But despite whatever demons might cackle deep in Snake's mind, he was a pleasure to work with.  When he and Cobweb sat together and extended their senses, it created a source of power that was easy to manipulate and project.  If Snake's body rejected contact, his mind did not.  The barrier they created took much energy, but once they came back to normal consciousness, Cobweb did not feel depleted.  Snake was all that Cobweb had intuited him to be: a psychic of immense power, who could shape the energy of creation as easily as river clay.  Cobweb could see virtually with his physical eyes the dome of silver-white energy they had conjured into being.  It would take a power of equal force to breach it.

            “The barrier will decay over time,” Snake said.  “We'll have to replenish it for as long as we need to.”

            “I hope the Gelaming will help us,” Cobweb said.  “I'm not content with simple protection.  I want to know what threatens us and why.  We should see its face.”

            “I will go to Pellaz,” Snake said.  “He will hear me.”

            “You can't,” Cobweb said.  “The route is closed.”

            Snake smiled again.  “I will go to him,” he said.  “When out of my body, I can climb the highest, darkest mountain.  I can break through walls of rock.  It will take time perhaps, but I'm confident.  Trust me.”

Cobweb returned to
Forever
to find that the household had retired for the night.  He'd spent more time in Snake's lodge than he'd thought.  Before retiring himself, Cobweb walked through the house, entering every room.  At the windows and thresholds, he drew symbols of protection in the air, and all the time the bones of the house creaked and groaned around him.

            The stairway looked long and dark, the corridor above wreathed in shadow.  Cobweb ran up the stairs, his flesh prickling.  He did not like to feel the house so disturbed.  It should be a safe haven and that night it did not feel safe, despite all the precautions he'd taken.  He went to his room and gratefully opened the door.  Beyond, a dim lamp was lit next to the bed, and a shadowy figure stood in the bay of the window.

            Cobweb was momentarily paralysed.  He remembered the nights when Terzian had come to him in that room, and had stood looking out of the window in just that way, his hands clasped behind his back.