storm (56 page)

            “Count your blessings.  You could be Ithiel.”

            Snake laughed softly.  “That is one thing I could never be.”

            Cobweb wondered if he interpreted correctly the message in those words.  “You could be, if you mean what I think you mean.”  He let his hands lie still just above Snake's knee.

            Snake lowered his hand from his eyes, perhaps searching for mockery in Cobweb's gaze.  “I can't endure pity, nor revulsion, and even in a har who loves me, neither would be far away.”

            Cobweb began to move his hands again, gently.  “That is probably true,” he said.  “I understand.”

            Snake uttered a choked laugh.  He hadn't expected that kind of honesty.

            “The scarring is ugly,” Cobweb said.  “I can understand why you don't want anyhar to see it.  I wouldn't either.”  Yet still he continued to massage the flesh, pouring into it more than simple healing power.

            “It doesn't feel ugly at the moment,” Snake said.  “The salve burns cold.  It feels good.”

            “Then you should have let me get my hands on you before, shouldn't you?”

            “I wasn't sure I could stand it.”

            “Well, now you know you can.”  Cobweb slid the fingers of one hand briefly between Snake's legs.  Snake tensed again, holding his breath.

            Cobweb stood up and went to the small washstand to clean his hands.  He wasn't sure what he was doing or why.  It was like being drunk.

            “Have you given up?” Snake asked.  “You haven't done the lower leg.”

            Cobweb dried his hands, looking at Snake's reflection in the mirror before him.  “No, I haven't given up, but as you said, the salve burns.”

            “But it was good...”

            “Hush,” Cobweb said.  He lay down beside Snake and stroked his face.

            Snake laughed uncertainly.  “Is this what I think it is?”

            “I don't know.  What do you think it is?”  He put his lips against Snake's own.

            Cobweb realised Snake had always known the attraction had been mutual, which was why he'd avoided contact.  He was ashamed of his body, embarrassed about having to explain things.  Such feelings were no longer pertinent.

           
I do not pity you,
Cobweb said in mind touch, deep in the sharing of breath.
  Nor do you revolt me.  I simply want you.  Open yourself to me.

           
For a moment, Snake's body tensed again.  He couldn't believe this was happening because of simple desire. 
Is this because of Ithiel?
he asked. 
Do you need aruna, Cobweb?  Is this your wake for him?

            No...  Yes...  I don't know.
  Cobweb slid his hand down Snake's belly, gently squeezed the ouana-lim, then moved his fingers further down, more invasively.

            Snake pulled away from his mouth, uttering a gasp.

            “Are you hurt here also?” Cobweb murmured.

            Snake shook his head.  “No, it's just been so long.  Don't stop.”

            “Let me undress.”

            “I don't care.”

            Cobweb laughed.  “Please!  Let me go.”

            Galhea was burning and Ithiel was dead.  The future held no certainty, but it seemed to Cobweb as if a small pocket of tranquillity existed in that room.  For a while, nothing else existed.  He didn't care how little time they might have; he intended to take this slow, give Snake as much pleasure as he could.  The whole town could come banging on the door and he would pay no heed.  He sensed what they were doing was important, beyond mere surface bliss.  This was healing on a deeper level, perhaps essential for the journey ahead.  Aruna became trance, the rhythm of tides, or the moon across the sky.  It held within it the essence of eternity and the stair of angels to the stars.  Cobweb realised they had ventured beyond the boundaries of normal aruna.  There was only one possible conclusion, which would not be right.  Snake's body couldn't possibly stand it.

            “We must stop,” he said softly.  “You know that.”

            “No,” Snake said.  “Don't.  It's not what you think.  I can tell.”  With these words he opened the cauldron of creation within him and Cobweb was powerless to end it then.  But what happened was not the conception of a pearl.  Something was conceived, and at a very deep level, it was painful.  Snake's body went rigid.  He could not draw breath.  Cobweb was afraid Snake was dying, but he could not move.  They were paralysed together, while something beyond their control took place.  Cobweb felt as if his ouana-lim was being torn out by the roots.  It was agonizing.  Then it was as if he was spat out of Snake's body.  He leapt up from the bed immediately, expecting blood, more ruin, but there was none.  After a moment, he had to go into the bathroom and vomit.  He'd never felt so strange.

            When he re-emerged, Snake was sitting up on the bed.  “What just happened... it isn't just for making harlings,” he said.  Slowly, he raised his damaged arm, held it steady.  “Look.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

They had come from Jaddayoth, sailing in boats driven by spirit winds, swift as the winds themselves.  They had come from forest-covered Thaine, from the hot baked land of Huldah, from the ancient green island of Alba Sulh.  Representatives from all of Wraeththudom converged on Immanion, with one purpose in mind: destroy the threat from across the ocean.  Many tribes had resisted Thiede's aim to unite them all under the banner of Pellaz-har-Aralis, but as few hara had been unaffected by the trouble in the otherlanes, most were now prepared to overlook their doubts and misgivings.  They realised they were ill equipped to deal with whatever faced them, and hoped that, in Pellaz, Thiede had created a leader who could help them.

            Pellaz took time to meet each representative personally, even if this meant interviewing groups of them at a time.  Already teams of the strongest Listeners were at work on repairing the otherlanes.  It might only days before a sizeable force could travel through them to Megalithica.  But then perhaps the threat was closer to home than that.

            A week after Moon had gone to Galhea, Pell's assistant, Attica, came to the Tigron's office to deliver messages that had been received by Eyra's Listeners.  Usually this job was dealt with by Vaysh, but the Tigron's aide was out of the city, in an advance meeting party for the representatives from Maudrah.

            “The tribe of Freyhella has requested an urgent audience with you,” Attica said.  The ethers were still unreliable.  Sometimes, they were impenetrable for days.

            Pellaz looked up from his work, unable to keep the surprise from his face.  “Freyhella?  Didn't they decline our invitation to the conclave?”

            Attica smiled rather grimly.  He was an unusual-looking har with piebald skin.  “They did.  There's been a development.  A Freyhellan fleet is on its way to Immanion.  It's estimated they'll arrive some time today.”

            “Their leader: Tyr, wasn't it?”

            “Was,” Attica amended.  “The reason Freyhella are now prepared to be cordial is because they have suffered a loss.  The details are indistinct.  Their new leader will speak only to the Hegemony in person.”

            “I see.”  Pellaz frowned.  For a moment, he felt extremely unsafe, a feeling he banished firmly.  “Is there any other news this morning, Attica?”  He could see, from the tight expression on Attica's face, that there was.  “Well, spit it out.  What else?”

            “It is of a personal nature,” Attica said.  “The Listeners have received communication from Galhea.”

            A wave of cold washed through Pell's flesh.  “What?” he snapped.

            “Tiahaar Cobweb has evacuated the town,” Attica said.  “It was attacked.”

            Pellaz stood up, scattering papers as he did so.  “Moon?  Snake?”

            “They are well,” Attica said.  “Tiahaar Snake has been unable to communicate with you, for some reason, which is why the message came through Eyra's office.”

            “Evacuated the town...  Where are they going?”

            “A safe place.  Information was withheld, for obvious reasons, but there was one other piece of news.”  Attica drew a breath.  “Tigron Calanthe turned up in Galhea.”

            Pellaz felt as if the ability to speak was taken from him.  He stared at Attica for some moments.

            “That was all that was said,” Attica said awkwardly.  “I expect Tiahaar Cobweb wishes you to know that the Tigron is safe and well.”

            There were further moments of uncomfortable silence, then Pellaz said in a soft voice, “What time is the Freyhellan fleet due?  Will you inform me when it is sighted?”

            Attica nodded.  “Certainly.”  He paused.  “Would you like the Listeners to try and return a message to the Parsics?”

            “Not at this stage,” Pellaz said, turning his attention to gathering up the scattered papers on his desk.  “I will commune with my brother when he is able.”  He glanced up and attempted a smile.  “I expect Eyra has already attempted to relay this information to Imbrilim.  Tell him he must report to me immediately if more news is received.”

            “I'll go and tell him at once,” Attica said.

            The moment his assistant had left the office, Pellaz went to a quiet room he reserved for meditation and communication and composed himself to contact Snake.  His message was a scream upon the ethers, but it was like trying to peer through fog.  His wordless cry broke up and dispersed into the murk.  He tried also to establish contact with Cobweb, and for the briefest moment was sure he felt the familiar touch of Cobweb's essence, but nothing more than that.  He couldn't bring himself to try and contact Cal.

           
Cal is in Galhea.  Why not here?

            In his gut he knew the answer to that was because Cal did not want to be there.  And that single thought brought back in shining clarity the moment Pellaz first set eyes on Cal.  It brought back memories of Saltrock and first love, like a fist slamming into his mind.  He could taste Cal's body.  He could smell it.

            The news spread throughout Immanion like flames, but only Caeru was brave enough to visit Pellaz.  He said nothing about Cal, for which Pellaz was grateful, but radiated a cautious aura of support.  “I hear the Freyhellans are coming,” he said.  “I visited Freygard once, a long time ago.  My band played there, in fact.”  He sighed.  “Another life!  I thought the Freyhellans were beautiful creatures: hair the colour of flax and sea-tanned skin.  And very magical.  A time in Freygard would inspire the least magically inclined har to take up their training again.  You should go to watch the fleet arrive.  It will be impressive, I'm sure.”