The Moonshawl: A Wraeththu Mythos Novel (8 page)

I sat down opposite his chair
and he too reclaimed his seat.

‘Is your work going well?’ he
asked me.

‘Very well, thank you. This is
an inspiring landscape. I’ll have an arojhahn ready for Cuttingtide and hope
everyhar will be willing volunteers for it.’

‘Oh, they will. But surely you
must begin preparations soon? You should speak to Selyf, the keephar here,
about what feast should be prepared, or perhaps that is the job of my family?’

I hesitated. ‘Well, I hadn’t
been thinking of anything that grand. Is that what Wyva expects?’

‘These hara are desperate for
celebrations,’ Gen said, grinning. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. Perhaps
I’m desperate for celebration as much as any.’

‘The – er – catering side of
things I took to be somehar else’s responsibility,’ I said. ‘I just come up
with the ideas, the words...’

Gen made a calming gesture.
‘You’re quite right. But you should speak to Wyva about it. He’s as eager as
all of us to begin our yearly round.’

I looked at Gen for some moments
before speaking. ‘I have to ask but... when your previous hienama left his
post, why didn’t Wyva simply continue the celebrations as they’d been before? I
imagine Rey had arojhahns he used every year and majhahns for all other rites
of passage? In my experience, in the absence of a hienama, the phylarch
generally takes on the tasks of chesna-bonds, naming rituals and leading
seasonal festivals.’

Gen too waited before replying.
‘Let’s just say that Rey told Wyva he must not.’

‘What? Why?’ My words came out
too hastily and sounded abrupt. ‘I’m sorry, that was rude of me. It’s just...
surprising.’

‘No, I know how it sounds. It’s
difficult to explain.’

As many things seem to be in
this place
. I took a breath. ‘You don’t need to explain, it’s none of my
business. I’m here to do a job and I’ll do it.’

Our wine had arrived, and Selyf poured
it into our glasses. Despite waiting upon us, it was clear he was a prominent individual
within the community, simply from the unmistakeable aura of authority that
oozed from him. Unlike the proprietor of The Rooting Boar, he wasn’t typical of
the keephar kind, being somewhat ascetic of feature. I wondered if once he’d
had an entirely different occupation. While he filled our glasses, with
deliberate slowness and continual dabbing of a napkin against the wine flask, there
was a silence between Gen and me. Selyf said, ‘Tonight, we serve venison with
roast vegetables, tiahaara. Is this to your liking?’

‘That will be fine,’ Gen said.

Selyf inclined his head regally
and departed.

Gen smiled at me with an
apologetic expression. ‘I get the feeling that all us Wyvachi do is cause
problems for you. I heard Wyva had forbidden you from using certain legends in
your work. It must seem as if our family is secretive and obstructive.’

‘I’m sure you have your
reasons,’ I said dryly, taking a sip of my drink.

‘We’ve sorely annoyed you, Ysobi.’

I shook my head, putting down
the glass. ‘Perhaps I’m just too curious. I wasn’t sent here to solve
mysteries, merely to help you.’

‘There are few hara who can resist
a mystery.’

Then don’t mention it if you
don’t want me looking into it.
I laughed softly. ‘Maybe so.’ I waited for a
moment. ‘Strangely enough, I came upon another mystery today, in the Llwybr
Llwynog.’

‘Oh?’ Gen raised his eyebrows.

‘I thought I’d stumbled across a
dehar, a most unusual har, who clearly thought highly of himself. He was riding
a great grey horse with an unusually plaited mane decorated with bright
medallions, and he would not speak to me. Blocked my path.’

Gen sighed. ‘Whitemanes,’ he said.

‘I thought as much.’

‘From the description of the
horse that sounds like Nytethorne Whitemane. Did he have hair braided into five
plaits?’

‘Yes. A striking creature.’

Gen grimaced. ‘That’s him. He’s
a prominent member of their household. The Whitemanes live upon our land but
prefer to believe it is theirs, yet it’s us who maintain it all, and they who
benefit. You won’t catch a Whitemane with his sleeves rolled up, working the
fields at harvest, although Wyva is there every season. The Whitemanes are aloof,
and unfortunately hara believe the image they’ve cultivated and see the
Whitemanes as spiritual, mystical.’

‘I can appreciate how this must
grate on your family.’

Gen nodded. ‘Yes. Wyva insists we
must maintain our dignity and continue polite relations with the Whitemanes, but
there’s no love between our families. Whitemanes refuse to see themselves as
Wyvachi. Nothing too serious, though. I’d call it a social dysfunction, if
anything.’

I didn’t believe that. Pondering
what I’d heard, I thought this was even more of a reason why Wyva should have
taken on hienama duties after Rey absconded. I was puzzled as to why he hadn’t.
Lacking a spiritual leader, it wasn’t surprising the local hara would turn to
those who fulfilled that role for them. What hold had Rey had over Wyva to
forbid him to take on his enemies in this way? Gen was right; few hara could
resist a mystery and me less than most.

Selyf brought our meal to us
himself and for a few minutes we ate in silence. Soft, moving light from tall,
narrow candles in pewter sticks fell over us. Perhaps those candlesticks had
stood in this room for hundreds of years. Who else had dined here over the
centuries? I would quite happily have drifted off into a meditation to try and
find out, but then pulled myself back to the present moment. I must make the
most of this opportunity to interrogate Gen, yet not press him too hard so that
defensive shutters came down. I was struggling with how to open a new
conversation, but then Gen provided this for me. ‘You’re happy with Dŵr
Alarch?’ he asked.

I nodded, dabbed my mouth with a
napkin. ‘Who couldn’t be? It’s an amazing building. Did Rey live there before?’

Gen ran the fingers of one hand
through his dark hair, which was loose about his shoulders. ‘Yes, it’s
traditionally the accommodation of the hienama.’

‘Was Rey with you for a long
time?’

Gen nodded. ‘Yes, quite a long
time. Maybe fifteen years.’

‘Oh! It’s strange he decided to
leave you after all that time. How long has he been gone?’

Gen shrugged. ‘Six, eight months
maybe.’

I paused, took a drink, aware I
mustn’t fire questions at Gen too briskly. ‘I’m surprised nohar tried to
dissuade him from leaving.’

Gen ducked his head to the side,
twisted his mouth. ‘Oh, we
tried
. He and Wyva argued about it at first.
Wyva didn’t want to lose our hienama. But Rey is a strange creature. I wasn’t
surprised by what he did.’

I lowered my eyes, concentrated
on cutting a piece of meat on my plate. ‘Do you still see him?’

Gen didn’t pause. ‘No. He went
off into the mountains and hasn’t yet come back. There isn’t a mystery there,
Ysobi...’

I looked up, said nothing.

Gen took a breath. ‘Rey is...
Rey
.
He was never at home in a community, although he did his best. I’m sure he’s
happier now. He’s first generation.’

‘Oh.’ I let the word hang
darkly, with all its implications of instability, weakness and perhaps madness.

We ate again in silence for a
minute. Then I said, ‘Rinawne gave me a tour of the house yesterday. He showed
me its most haunted room.’

Gen raised his brows. ‘And which
room was this?’

‘The breakfast room.’

Gen laughed. ‘It isn’t.’

I returned his smile. ‘Isn’t
haunted or isn’t the
most
haunted?’

Gen made a careless gesture. ‘The
old place is probably crawling with ghosts and walking memories for those with
the inclination to pick up such things, but no room more than any other.’ He
shook his head. ‘Rinawne
does
like to tell a story – it’s a trait of
many Erini hara. What did he tell you?’

‘That he saw some apparition
pointing at him the first time he ate in the room and that he spat at it in
front of your entire family and nohar said a thing.’

Again Gen laughed. ‘I recall
that episode. He did spit, but there was no mention of ghosts, and the spitting
was more symbolic than actual, if you get my meaning. You can imagine what we all
thought, though – some strange Erini custom for eating at a new table or
something. He was a wild young thing when he came here. We learned to expect
anything!’ He put his head to one side. ‘I feel I should say something to you.’

‘What?’

‘About Rinawne.’

Momentarily, my flesh chilled.
‘What about him?’

‘Well, like I said, he’s fond of
telling stories – the harlings around here love him for it – but don’t take
everything he says as the literal truth. He rewrites reality sometimes to fit
his own view of the world. He
embellishes
. This makes the stories more
exciting, but remember – they will mostly just be stories. That’s why you
should be careful what you use of them in your work. The embellishment
occasionally upsets hara.’

‘When the stories are about themselves?’

Gen studied me, a half smile on
his face. ‘That’s not what I meant exactly. The area... Well, I shall put it
bluntly. When hara first appeared in these lands, whether they came from flying
machines in the sky, across the sea, or were somehow just spontaneously
created, as they were in Megalithica, there was great conflict between them and
the human communities.’

‘Wasn’t there everywhere?’

‘Yes, but here the people were
already fairly tribal. With the breakdown in human society, the population here
had closed ranks, drawn close, protecting each other from human threats, never
mind anything else. When Wraeththu came, son was pitched against father and
grand-father, nephew against uncle; it was an ugly time.’

I put down my knife and fork,
folded my hands beneath my chin. Now I would
have
to be careful. ‘Gen,
where I come from... Jesith... I’ve lived there a long time, and to this day
know little about how the community was formed or who lived there before. No
doubt there was horror in the history – how could it be avoided? But the hara
in Jesith don’t...
dwell
on or in the past. They live for the present
moment, nurturing the land, benefiting from its bounties. That is life to them,
not ancient conflicts. From what I’ve seen, that’s the situation throughout
Alba Sulh – well, the parts I’ve visited. Why is it so different here?’

Gen dropped his gaze from mine.
He seemed sorrowful, wistful. ‘I don’t know.’

I reached out and touched one of
his hands. ‘Perhaps what Gwyllion and the Wyvachi need is to let go of that
past.’

Gen uttered a laugh that was
more like a cough. ‘How can we, when we
live
in it? We live in that
house, upon this land, where it all happened.’ He raised his eyes to me again.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be speaking to you like this. We shouldn’t broach this
subject. It’s our burden, not yours.’

I opened my mouth to speak but
he lifted a hand to silence me.

‘No, you’re right. The hara here
should move on, and maybe you can help with that. But don’t think of my family
in that respect; they are locked into the past. To try and prise that lock free
would...’ He held my gaze for a moment, his eyes wide, not held in his usual
slightly narrow, tricksy expression. ‘I’ve said more than I should. Rinawne
doesn’t understand. He’s an outsider, though much loved, of course. He doesn’t
mind his tongue and he could say anything to you. I’m asking you now not to
encourage him, or to believe all he says. He knows nothing. He makes
assumptions that are very... colourful.’

‘I’m not here to rake over your
family’s past,’ I said gently. ‘Neither can I force any of you to abandon it.
You will find your own way, in time, I’m sure.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, in time.’

I picked up my knife and fork
again. ‘And believe me, I already have Rinawne’s measure.’

Gen laughed, brightened. ‘Please
don’t imagine I think badly of him. He’s good for us. He just has his ways.’

I took a mouthful of food,
swallowed it before continuing. ‘All I’m concerned about is not treading on
toes, which makes my work a little more difficult. But I’ve already decided to
avoid the bloodier aspects of the yearly round. Such things can be implied but
not emphasised. From what I’ve heard, and the feelings I get, it seems to me a
lighter atmosphere needs introducing. Celebration of what is good about life.’

Gen frowned a little. ‘Death is
a part of the cycle, though.’

‘Of course, but that doesn’t
mean it should be the main focus.’ I cut some more meat, and spoke before
eating it. ‘The turning of the seasons, the movement from light to dark and how
that affects our environment; that is what is important. How it affects us
too.’

Gen again fell silent and I
continued my meal. I could almost hear his thought:
But we are trapped in
the darkest days of winter.

He had taken off his trickster
mask and laid it on the table. Had he meant to reveal his true self? I was
quite sure he’d intended the meeting to be full of pleasurable flirting, not
this. I could tell he was also afraid he’d said too much and this would get
back to Wyva. ‘Gen,’ I said, ‘this conversation we’ve had will remain between
us. I appreciate you trying to explain the situation to me, but it’s really
none of my business. I know now what to avoid and how my work should progress.
You’ve helped me.’

He looked relieved. ‘I’m glad of
that at least. I feel I’ve spoiled our meal.’

‘Not at all. Thank you for inviting
me here. The food is excellent.’

Gen poured me more wine. ‘So
tell me of Jesith, and what normal harish communities are like.’

I laughed. ‘I don’t think any
harish community can be
normal
and Jesith has had its dramas too, but
it’s a good place to live. Sinnar, our phylarch, is in a way like Wyva –
dedicated to the community and the land. He’s a fair leader and well liked. We
have good relations with all communities nearby and often celebrate together at
the major festivals.’