storm (63 page)

            “I still find that hard to believe, given everything that's happened.”

            “Perhaps he served his purpose, and has now moved on.”

            Abrimel shook his head.  “No, Pellaz will never let it lie at that.  If you try to convince me otherwise, you are not the har I think you are.”

            Velaxis regarded him steadily.  “Things are in hand.  We have a new commodity.  Perhaps I should enlighten you concerning Galdra har Freyhella.”

            “Who?”

            “He is a fine har, a born leader.  The Hegemony, in the absence of Cal, is keen to persuade Pellaz to take him as consort, as second Tigron.”

            Abrimel laughed.  “If they attempt that, they are insane.”  He paused.  “Do you really think it will happen?”

            “Cal went to Galhea.  We still don't know where he's been or what he's been up to.  The Hegemony is nervous about him.  They wonder if he is a threat.  They don't trust the Parasilians' judgement.  To them, Cal is still an honorary Varr.”

            “What does my father think?”

            Velaxis shrugged.  “I have no idea.  Pellaz is as close as a sealed oyster.  There have been numerous rumours about the Freyhellan and him, but unconfirmed.  It's my belief he still has Cal in his eyes, but the Freyhellan is persistent.”  He leaned forward in his chair.  “I am concerned for you, Bree.  Please believe me when I tell you I think you should take on more of an official role in your family.  Something disturbs me...”

            “You once said to me that many factions fight for control,” Abrimel said.  “Can you tell me more about that?”

            “Many factions who once fought are now united,” Velaxis replied.  “Think about that, Bree.  Please think hard.”

            Abrimel looked away.  He had a bizarre feeling that Velaxis could look right inside him.

Chapter Thirty-One

Sometimes, there is no reason on earth not to go after what you want: sometimes there are plenty.  Sometimes the consequences of your actions are so small, it's nothing more serious than a drop of rain falling from the end of a leaf into a river.  Nobody cares.  But a single drop becomes part of the whole, it flows on down to the sea.

            Moon knew there was absolutely no reason why he shouldn't just lie down next to Tyson one night and say, “Here I am.”  He could tell from the hot glances that singed his skin like a burning match that Tyson had similar thoughts.  But there was something, something that made it impossible.  The words would turn to stones in his mouth.  They'd tumble out onto the ground with a series of thuds.  In Tyson's presence, with the possibility of intimacy hanging between them like a lascivious ghost, language lost all meaning.  It was senseless yet there it was.  Moon felt he had created something impenetrable back in the farmhouse on their journey south.  This pious sense of denial was unreal.  It didn't even feel like he owned it.

            They rode west, towards the place where once Swift had toppled Ponclast's forces.  Moon asked Cal what would happen when they got there.  Cal smiled in his typical, feline way.  “I am Uigenna,” he said.  “So are you, and so is Ty, partly.”

            Tyson laughed.  “Are you suggesting we simply ride in there, say hello and introduce ourselves?”

            “Got a better idea?” Cal asked.

            “But I look like Pell,” Moon said, frowning.  “Won't Ponclast...?

            “He has never met Pell.”

            “He's met you though, hasn't he?”

            “As part of Terzian's household, yes.  I don't believe I'll have a problem with him.  It's doubtful he hadn't heard about me leaving Immanion.  If that's not the case, he's no worthy foe of the Gelaming's.  He must have intelligence agents at work.”

            “Still brave,” Tyson said.

            “I don't think so,” Cal said.  “In my opinion, Ponclast will believe that the majority of Parsics will welcome the return of the Varrs.  I don't think he'd be too wrong in that either.  He will expect his old allies to come crawling out into the light.”

            “It's still a big risk,” Tyson said.

            Cal shrugged.  “Really?  Why?  You are Terzian's son, I am an erstwhile consort of his.  Moon is the son of Pell's brother who was Uigenna to the core.  I don't think our pedigrees will go against us.”

            “Still...”  Tyson appeared worried.

            “Just watch me at work,” Cal said.  “It'll be fine.  Trust me.”

            “What are we going to do there?” Moon asked.  “Fool Ponclast into trusting us, then try and get Aleeme and Azriel out?”

            “More or less,” Cal replied.  “I need to find out what Ponclast has been up to concerning his dynasty.  We might need to remove rather more than Ty's relatives.”

            “Why are harlings so important to him?” Moon asked.  “Is blood really that strong?”

            “We could debate that for hours,” Cal said, “but all you need to know is that hara will invest for the future in harlings.  That is their strength.  Harlings are banners you can ride behind.  They represent an idea, sovereignty.  The mixing of blood is alchemy.  Thiede talked to me at length about it.”

            Moon could see the sense in this idea.  His imaginings of what aruna would be like with Tyson made him appreciate how love, or intention, could contribute towards creating a special creature.  It could be a physical expression of this intention, a magical working, a spell.

The walls to Fulminir were now only piles of rubble covered by creeping blankets of ivy.  They looked, in fact, like a ring of small hills around the citadel and its outbuildings.  But within them, wooden palisades had been constructed, presumably in haste.  Smoke purled from chimneys into the afternoon sky.  From a distance, the sound of stone striking iron could be heard, just a single insistent beat, like a blacksmith.  Hara were at work in fields around the citadel, and it appeared like any other Wraeththu settlement.  Cattle grazed in a meadow of clover, their tails switching lazily.

            “They do not appear to be on high alert against attack,” Tyson said.  “Do we know for sure that Ponclast has reclaimed Fulminir?  Couldn't these just be ordinary hara who've moved in and made use of the old buildings?”

            “How I wish that were true,” Cal said dryly.  “Our approach has been noted.  Guard your thoughts and your tongue.”

            Moon felt it as a tickle to the skin.  If was as if an invisible wave of energy moved slowly over him from head to toe.  He caught a quick message from Cal:
“Guard yourself!”
  And he did.

            The hara that came to them were thin, sinewy creatures.  Moon could see at once their history in their eyes.  A har looked him over and Moon knew that he'd never basked in the sunlight sure of his own beauty, nor swapped glances in candlelight across a civilised dining table.  He had surely killed with his bare hands.

            “We are here to see Ponclast,” Cal said in a clear, even voice.  “I am an old friend of his.”

            The hara said nothing to this.  The feeling they gave off, like sweat from their skin, was a cocky kind of confidence, but also extreme caution.  They were dangerous because of it.

            There were no formal invitations or gestures of respect.  They indicated that Cal and his companions must follow him, that was all.

           
Was I like them once?
Moon wondered, and found pictures of his childhood coming back to him.  He thought of Hawk, sitting in the parking lot that day, when he'd told Moon about Snake and Silken.  It could have been a lifetime ago.

            It would take a hard har indeed not to be affected by the sights within the wooden barricade around Fulminir.  So much effort had already gone into recreating a settlement, and seeing those hara going about their daily business, hammering nails into wood, clearing out debris, did not give a message of aggression or cruelty.  It spoke of desperate individuals simply trying to survive, to create comforts, a home.  At one time, this place had been attacked as Galhea had been.  Moon could not find it within himself to be scornful or even suspicious.  But then, he had seen nothing.  He'd not even been born when Fulminir's dark secrets had been uncovered.  He remembered the last night in Galhea and framed it deep within his mind.  That was why he was here.  There were captives in this place.

            They were taken to a har named Kyrotates, who held a high position in Ponclast's forces.  He said to Cal, “You were in Galhea recently.”

            Cal nodded.  “Yes.  I went to see how the land lay.”

            “We had reports,” Kyrotates said.  “Some of our hara knew of you.  I want you to tell me now why I shouldn't believe you have come here as a spy.”

            “You can believe what you like, tiahaar.  I am here to speak with Ponclast, not you.  I expect that is what I'm supposed to say.”

            Kyrotates did not smile, even though it was clear Cal was trying to lighten the atmosphere.

            “This is where you say, 'Who do you think you are?' and strike me?” Cal offered.

             Kyrotates exhaled through his nose.  “We know who are you,
tiahaar.
 You are a Tigron of Immanion.”

            “And a Tigron would saunter into Fulminir without fear?” Cal said.

            “If they did, they would either be a fool or think themselves very clever, which amounts to the same thing.  Nohar believes you to be stupid.  Why are you here, Calanthe?”

            “If Ponclast would speak with me, he would see I am sincere.  I am no longer at the side of Pellaz-har-Aralis.  I fled Immanion some time ago.  Ponclast must know this.  Many hara in Almagabra believe I am responsible for the attack on the Tigrina.  For that, Ponclast owes me.”

             Kyrotates laughed coldly at that.

            “At the very least, he must be curious,” Cal said.  “I have brought my son with me, who is also Terzian's son.”  He turned to Moon.  “And this is Moon Jaguar, from the City of Ghosts: a young Uigenna, born to a brother of Tigron Pellaz.”

             Kyrotates remained stony.

            Cal sighed.  “You know, tiahaar, that I was taken captive by the Gelaming while on a mission to find Terzian.  You have no idea of what I was put through, as I have no real idea of the torments you must have suffered.  The fact is that we are all victims of the Gelaming, in one way or another.  This is what binds us.”

            “The Gelaming took you in, make you Tigron.  That is hardly suffering.”

            Now it was Cal's turn to utter a cold laugh.  “You think so?  Please ask Ponclast to speak with me.  You are right, I am not stupid, and I would not insult Ponclast's intelligence by coming here as a spy.”