storm (66 page)

            “We're not that special,” Moon said.  “We're no different to any other hara.”

            “No, we're not,” Tyson agreed.  “Which is what makes it even more terrifying.  Don't you feel it?”

            Moon considered.  “No.  I don't think I know what you mean.  If I was wary of touching you, it was because I wanted it to mean something to you too.”  He frowned.  “But now you've said what you said... I don't know.  I still don't want to.”  He laughed.  “This is very strange.  It's like a nexus point.”

            “You might as well say it,” Tyson said.  “Then we can put it in front of us and sit and stare at it while we're locked up in here, and try to figure out a meaning in which we are not mad.”

            “Okay.”  Moon took a deep breath.  He grimaced.  “I can't.”

            “You can.”

            “All right.  I love you.”

            “Was that so bad?”

            “Not really.  How do we stare at it?”

            “We don't.  That was just a joke.  I think we simply accept it and see what happens.  Do you feel better?”

            Moon nodded.  “I think so.”

            “Me too.  How weird.  We've probably both just had the most intense exchange of our lives, and it was... I don't know...”

            “Casual,” Moon said.  “It's probably just us, pride or something.”

            Tyson grinned.  “In our position, Cobweb would be tearing out his hair and lamenting, being most dramatic.”

            “Pellaz would probably order somehar else to do it for him.  I expect he used to send official messages to Cal.”

            “Yeah, he would have done.  I can't imagine Pell having a romantic moment, casual or not!”

            The conversation continued in this light-hearted vein, until Cal returned.  Once his escort guard had left them, Cal said, “Why are you sitting in the dark?  Our hosts have provided lighting, I understand.”

            “We didn't notice it had got dark,” Tyson said.  “How did it go?”

            Cal stood at the table and lit the oil lamp that had been left there for them.  “So so.  Ponclast is suspicious, which is only natural.”

            “Do we have to stay locked up?” Moon asked.

            “For the time being, yes,” Cal replied.  “We must simply be co-operative.”

            “Did you find out anything about Azriel and Aleeme?” Tyson said.

            Cal was staring at the lamp.  “Not yet.”

            “Then what
did
you talk about?  You haven't been away for long.”

            “I just tried to win his trust.  It'll take time.”  Cal joined his companions, who were sitting on the floor.  “He's changed, you know.  It was quite a shock to see him.  Whether Gebaddon did that to him, or something else, he will certainly be a match for Pell now.”

            “Changed how?” Tyson asked.

            Cal pulled a wry face.  “Difficult to describe.  He's become more than he used to be.”  He grinned.  “He's become... ponclastic!”

            Moon and Tyson both laughed at this.  Moon was aware that he felt light-headed, almost on the verge of hysteria.  It would be impossible to sleep that night.

            Cal fixed him with a stare.  “So, moonling, what can you tell me about Galdra har Freyhella?”

            “I've never heard of him.  Who is it?”

            “Nohar.  Ponclast mentioned him, that's all.  Are you sure you've not heard anything about him in Immanion?”

            “Absolutely.  A lot of hara were arriving from all over the place before I left the city.  I got to hear about the most important ones.  You know what Immanion's like for gossip.”

            Cal grimaced.  “Indeed I do.  Well, we can only assume this Freyhellan is not that important, then.”  He braced his hands against his knees.  “Ponclast assured me he'd move us to better quarters tomorrow.  He doesn't trust me enough to let us have free rein here yet, but I've roused his curiosity.  This might be a long game.  Be prepared for it.  We have to become part of Fulminir.  It's what we're here for.  Believe it.  To do otherwise would be dangerous.  Make friends.  Be open, but not too full of questions.  Only the right kind of questions.  Understand?”

            “Won't he be scanning us now?” Moon asked.

            “Probably,” Cal replied, “but we have nothing to hide, do we?”

            Moon glanced at Tyson, who smiled at him.  “No,” he said.  “We don't.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Pellaz har Aralis travelled to Imbrilim at summer's height.  This was long past the solstice, deep in the heavy heart of the season, that magical time when the air shimmers with ghosts, and the landscape seems to breathe so loud you can hear it.  These were the last days of summer.  Soon the leaves would turn and the balmy days would be just a memory.  Pellaz couldn't help fearing this might be the path of his life from now on.

            The Gelaming had sent agents to carry out surveillance on Fulminir, but only one had returned alive.  With maddened eyes, he told of flickering shadows armed with knives, creatures that moved so fast it was impossible to defend yourself against them.  They had covered the survivor's body with cuts, but had let him live.  Somehar had to ride home with the news.  Since then Swift and Seel Parasiel had moved their forces closer to Fulminir, to observe the citadel and its traffic from a safe distance.  So far, they had reported nothing of importance.

            After his attack on Galhea, Ponclast had ceased attacking Parsic settlements.  Imbrilim was another matter.  Assassins had attacked both humans and hara in the fields outside the town, random raids when they set the fields to burning.  However, once
sedim
arrived in Imbrilim, these attacks ceased, mainly because the
sedim
were able to predict when they would occur, being sensitive to movement in the otherlanes.  They could move as fast as Ponclast's forces and had even taken a captive, who had cut his own throat before the Gelaming could question him.

At the suggestion of Velaxis Shiraz, Pellaz organised for his household to take up temporary residence in Abrimel's home.  Abrimel had agreed to this, and was even present when the party arrived.  Looking at him, Pellaz wondered how such a har could ever have sprung from his flesh, or from Caeru's for that matter.  Abrimel was a contained and ascetic har, a creature of precise movements and habits.  He was icily polite, a stranger.  Pellaz considered he might have looked like Abrimel, had he been raised on bread and water by fanatical monks, who scorned life's pleasures.

            “Thank you for accommodating us,” he said to Abrimel.

            “I have plenty of room,” Abrimel replied.

            “You must tell me about your work,” Pellaz said, hoping his son wouldn't take him up on the offer.

            “You'd find it boring,” Abrimel said.  “You have far more pressing matters to think about.”

            That first night, communication was received from Shilalama.  Pellaz had invited the Roselane to the conclave of tribes, but Opalexian had declined to attend.  The Gelaming knew, from Kamagrian who worked in Immanion, that some parazha were actually quite eager to join forces with Wraeththu: not all of them were the spiritual mystics that comprised Opalexian's dream of the ideal Kamagrian community.  Many of them, who had travelled widely in the world, felt that the only way to deal with the current threat was to strike back.  As more than one parage had said to Gelaming friends, “Hiding in a cell, meditating upon the meaning of life, is pointless if something bursts out of the otherlanes and cuts your throat.”

            Opalexian might not have sent a horde of Amazonian warriors to Immanion after the existence of the Kamagrian became common knowledge, but it was clear there was more than a few willing Amazons waiting to take up arms.  Now, a message came from Kalalim, Opalexian's palace, which was received by one of the Listeners.  The parage, Tel-an-Kaa, a trusted aide of Opalexian, was on her way to Imbrilim.  She would offer assistance in whatever way she could.

            “It might not be much,” Vaysh said to Pellaz, “but it's a start.  I'd never have thought Opalexian would let any of her parazha near our forces.”

            Pellaz nodded.  “That means she's scared,” he said.

            Every day, more hara arrived in Megalithica: the
sedim
worked without pause to carry both personnel and supplies across the ocean.  In addition to these forces, delegations from local tribes began to appear in Imbrilim: Unneah, Megalithican Sulh and Froia, to name but a few.  Imbrilim's resources were taxed to their limit by the influx.

            “Ponclast won't have a chance,” Ashmael Aldebaran said to Pellaz.  “Shadowy, otherlane-travelling assassins or not, the Varrs will be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.  I can't see what else he can throw at us.  He hadn't had time to prepare.”

            “And if that is the case,” Pellaz said, “why hasn't he hidden himself away for some years, to build up his strength?  I don't think we should be too confident.  He has tricks up his sleeve, I'm sure.”

Two nights before the Gelaming and their allies rode to Fulminir, clouds came in from the east and smothered the stars.  Rain fell relentlessly in warm heavy rods, turning any unflagged roads to mud.  Pellaz felt restless.  He could not eat his evening meal and had his staff turn Velaxis Shiraz away when he came to call.  Pellaz went out to the stables, seeking solace in Peridot's silent company. 
Speak to me, Peridot,
he urged, but the
sedu
only transmitted a sense of understanding.  Pellaz rested his face against the
sedu's
broad brow and listened to the rain, its different cadences.  He could not imagine the future.  His body ached for an embrace he could not name.  He wanted to be held fast.  He wanted to be filled: he supposed he wanted Cal.  But as anyhar will tell you, when the spirits of summer's deep hang in the air, shrouded in rain, and a wish goes out to the hidden stars, it is often answered.

            When somehar came to the stable door, Pellaz sensed him before he heard or saw him.  He glanced and saw a tall silhouette against the lamp-lit rain.  For just the briefest moment, he thought it was Cal, and his heart clenched, then he realised it was Galdra har Freyhella.  Pellaz turned back to Peridot, stroked his long nose.  His hand was steady, but his heart and lungs were not.  If was as if his breath steamed out of him, seeking the mouth of the Freyhellan, full of questions and the desire for answers.  The
sedu
stamped his back feet.

            Galdra came into the stable, fearless as ever.  Perhaps he couldn't sense an atmosphere.  “We just arrived,” he said.  “The journey was something I'll not forget.”

            “Your first
sedu
journey?”