The Wraeththu Chronicles (102 page)

"Thank you for your faith in me," I said. We drank to that.

The summons came next evening. Following Astarth's advice, I consumed an entire bottle of betica in the space of just over an hour. Rihana, Salandril and Lolotea watched me carefully as I did so. None of them felt capable of remarking on it. I was thinking about the few times I'd spoken with Jafit. Of course, I'd studied him keenly on all occasions, but I still couldn't work out what kind of reception I would get from him. He treated his kanene indulgently, like favored pets. He stroked their hair and pinched their limbs. They did not dislike him. I had learnt, though, that he could deal harshly with anyone who did not perform their duties properly. He always carefully examined any complaints received from the clients, although he didn't believe that the customer was always right. Lolotea said that Jafit could always tell

when you were lying to him. Pickled in betica, but able to control movements and voice through years of experience of being in that state, I went to Jafit's office.

There, he offered me another drink and said, "If I appear to insult you, I don't want you to take it personally, but I suppose you know what to expect by now, don't you?"

I grinned at him helplessly.

"Take me upstairs," he said.

In my room, he sat down and looked at the table, where I saw a bottle of wine had been left opened next to two glasses. The cork lay beside the bottle. I offered him a drink, which he accepted. When I did not pour myself one, he said, "Please, join me, Calanthe," and I had to force down yet another measure of alcohol. I was dressed in a black lace robe that Lolotea had given me. It was virtually transparent. A wide, soft leather belt hung with net and chains swathed my hips. Jafit stared at me with approval. He asked me to undress, which I did.

"You have a warrior's body," he said.

"I've lived rough for a while," I admitted.

"I expect you want to be left alone now, huh?"

"What?" He didn't look at me. It was part of the performance."Yes," I said with convincing bitterness. "I want to be left alone."

"Why, is no-one good enough for you?" he asked and I looked at him sharply. His eyes warned me to silence before I spoke.

I smiled to myself, tapping the table with idle fingers. "No, as a matter of fact, they're not," I agreed.

Jafit nodded appreciatively and for a brief time, we smiled together. "You're just filth," he said.

"You think so?"

"I'm going to show you just how much I think so." I decided to scream. Jafit nearly laughed. Then he lunged at me. He didn't really hurt me, just pushed me around a little. We ended up on the bed, me struggling, him trying not to laugh at my amateurish lamentations and then, half-way through, forgot what we were supposed to be doing and started enjoying ourselves. I remember saying, "Why Jafit, you're not so much of a rat as I thought!"

"We all just try to make a living Calanthe," he answered, "but you're no kanene, that's for sure. What the hell are you doing here?"

I shrugged. "Being employed by you, I hope."

He shook his head. "Alright. I'm not sure what I can do with you yet, but you're beautiful enough to be given a chance. Just don't fuck up, that's all! Piristil's clientele can be very pernickety." "I'll try," I said, meaning it, surprisingly.

In the morning, Jafit stayed with me for breakfast. I still thought he looked mean. He is dark-skinned and wears his black hair short. I bet he too had rather a colorful history. He dipped hot, buttered muffins in his coffee, and said, "You're going to be bored a lot of the time, I think."

"Oh, I've decided to write my life story," I answered airily.

"Really! As your employer, I think I shall have to demand that you show me every thing you write."

"And what makes you think my life story is worth reading?"

"Last night," he answered. "Your veiled mind. I'm curious about what's going on in there."

"Mmm, well, talking of veils, Jafit, why are you here? Is it just that you've always wanted to be a pimp? Have your realized your life's ambition here in Piristil?"

He laughed good humoredly. "Why are any of us here? It's a bolt-hole isn't it? I hope you're not going to record any of this conversation for posterity."

"Not if you'd rather I didn't," I lied.

"The Gelaming want to ask me a few questions . . ." he said darkly, which was all he had to say.

I nodded to show my understanding. "Ah well, come to think of it, I suppose Fallsend is quite a charming place to retire in," I said.

It is late in the day when the summons comes. A young har stumbles in through the broken door, tripping over the rubble; bricks, cloth, bones. Zack and I are eating dogmeat that we have roasted in the fire. Our companions hurl gentle obscenities at the newcomer. His face reddens. He says, "The Lion sent me." That shuts us all up. We are all thinking, "Have I transgressed at all? Have I?" It is rare that Wraxilan bothers with any har save his own elite.

"Which of you is Cal?" asks the messenger in a brave voice. He is one of Wraxilan's body-servants. We both envy and despise him.

"What do you want with him?" I ask.

"A message ..."

"I'll take it!" Zack springs up and snatches the rolled missive from the young har's hand. The messenger protests, but Zack just pushes him aside. He unrolls the note.

"But it is for the yellow-haired alone!" squeals the messenger.

"What does it say?" I ask, my body heavy with dread.

Zack makes a sneering, angry sound and throws the note to me.

"What does it say?" our companions ask, all leaning forward. I stand up.

"That easy, is it?" Zack asks coldly. "He calls, you go. That easy?"

I am silent. I have been summoned, that's all, but I am silent. I buckle on my belt, which carries my knives and darts. Zack picks up a bone from the floor. "See this?" He says. "Dog-meat! Ha!" he throws the bone into the fire, where it sizzles for a while. We stare at each other.

"See you later," I say, and walk away. There is no sound from those sprawled around the fire, but I am quite sure, once I am out of earshot, they will begin to talk.

The Lion of Oomar has made his headquarters inside an old supermarket. I have never thought it a good choice, but apparently the liquor shelves were well stocked when his company moved in. A warehouse and storerooms at the back are the private living quarters of the elite. I am shown within. The Lion is there with a bunch of .sleek hara, all sitting round afire. They are laughing together. Wraxilan does not look up when I approach, but he knows I'm there, alright. He says, "Take him to the inner room," and the har who is my guide, grabs hold of my arm and drags me off. It is most unnecessary. I am locked in an unlit cell. I sit down on the floor to wait. He is not

that cruel. He comes very soon. He comes in alone and sits with his back against the wall opposite me.

"I am glad you came," he says, as if I'd had a choice. I say nothing. He is magnificent, in the way that all conquering heroes are magnificent; intimidating, confident, strong. "Give me your knife," he says and I comply. It is not my best blade, however. Wraxilan makes a small cut in his palm, holds out his hand to show me. "See this, Cal," he says. "This is yours."

"My blade? My wound?"

"No; your blood. Here, take it." Warily, I put my hand in his. He squeezes it. "Outside, the shamen are waiting. The ritual will not take long."

"Hey!" I pull my hand away, hug it to my chest. "What are you talking about? What ritual?"

"Don't be afraid, Cal. Don't you remember? I marked you a long, long time ago. The Nahir-Nuri of the north were here some days ago. They arepleased with my progress. Soon, I shall have my caste level raised again. You know what that means? Soon, I may activate the real magic, the one we 're not that sure about yet. Can we conceive new life within our own bodies? That will be the test, won't it! If we're wrong, then we might as well give up and leave what's left of the world to Mankind. It is the test, Cal. I need a vessel. The best. I need a consort. The best. I need you."

During this speech, I have backed right up against the wall, trying to push my body through solid concrete. I have never felt such fear. I know he means what he says. The Lion always means what he says. True magic. No-one has achieved it yet. If it is possible at all, it may kill me. We know so little. We have never been women. These things are mysteries to us. Trial and error. We may be wrong.

"Come on now," Wraxilan says in a reasonable voice. He stands up and wipes his hands on his chest. "Cal, come on!"

"No. "It is such a small sound. I don't think Wraxilan believes he has heard it at first.

"What?!"

My voice becomes stronger. "I said no, Wraxilan. " I too stand up.

"Do you know what you are saying? I am your leader, Cal. You can't just say no! I've decided your future. "

"No, you haven't. " I back toward the door, still nursing the hand that has touched his blood, as if it were me that had been cut.

"Don't you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes. I understand."

"Then ..."

"/don't want to do it."

"I could have you killed."

"I know. "For some reason there are tears in my eyes. We fight like men, we weep like women. "I know. "

I reach the door. There is a brief, electric silence. He can now give the order if he wants to. He can shout, "Kill him!" but he doesn't. He says, "If you will not agree to this, you know you must leave, don't you."

Banishment, in these times, is not as trivial as it sounds. It is important, very important, to have the protection of a strong tribe behind you. Life is a gamble, dangerous, deadly. I nod my head. I understand.

"It is your choice," he says in a soft, venomous voice. If he could have said different words, if he could have . . . but no. We are Wraeththu. All that lies dead in the world of men. I walk away. By the time I reach Zack and the others, I am weeping openly. I am afraid of the Outside. I tell Zack we have to leave. He says nothing, but gathers up our belongings. Within an hour, Wraxilan's guards have burst into the ruin that is our home.

"To the perimeter, you!" one of them snarls at me and swipes me across the shoulder with the barrel of his gun. Zack puts his arm around me. We walk away and the guards follow us to the edge of the safe zone. "No Uigenna will take you in," they say. "Get going! Now!" They fire at our feet. Humiliated, we have to trot away. No Uigenna. We are unthrist; tribeless. We go to Seel,

of course. The Unneah know more of the ways of peace than the Uigenna. It is not that bad. Sometimes at night, I think of the Lion. I see his face. One day, when I am older, I might recognize that expression as being the one of hurt, of rejection, but not for a long while yet. Throughout my life, this scenario shall be replayed several times. In Terzian I loved the Lion. An exorcism? Maybe, but it is not over yet. . .

Discovery of the Big Cat

"And in the idle darkness comes the bite Of all the burning serpents of remorse; Dreams seethe, and fretful infelicities Are swarming in my overburdened soul. "

—Maurice Bearing (from the Russian of A. Pushkin) Remembrance

1 have been writing now for over a week. I find it cleansing, refreshing; it is good for me. Perhaps I have grown stronger because now I am facing the biggest, blackest door in my mind and am prepared to open it a little. I must continue to heal myself by facing the past. Lolotea thinks he has discovered my secret and that it is Galhea and all that happened there, but Ihe truth is my real secrets come from a time way before I'd ever heard of Terzian. The biggest of them remains yet undiscovered, unspoken. Once, in Galhea, Cobweb, who is a true mystic, had a vision. He spoke these words; "I shall be left alone and there will be a time of glass, like shattering, like shards of light, and the past shall come back like a shimmering veil... I shall be left alone, but not for long . . ." At the time, I thought he uttered those words for himself, but now I know better. It was spoken for me.

Once Jafit knew about my desire to write in my spare time, he presented me with utensils for the task. The pen has my name on it; how sweet. I think he must have had a glowing report about me from my first customer. It was luck rather than effort. He was yet another refugee from Megalithica. He asked me to twist his neck. I barely paused before obliging. Jafit obviously considers it safer to use me for chaitra rather than pelcia. Perhaps he guesses my inability to accept pain gladly. Part of me dreads that I may come to actually like it, like Astarth. I didn't tell the har I'd once lived with Terzian, although his name was mentioned. Terzian's name is always mentioned when speaking of Megalithica, even after all this time. Terzian was good to me. I must take care not to abuse his memory.

Last night, I was woken up by a terrible noise in the house. By the time I'd sat up in bed, it had faded away. I was still and silent, straining to hear more, wondering if it had just been part of a dream. Lolotea's room is next to mine. I thought about banging on the wall. Had he heard it too? But perhaps it was just another of the kanene entertaining a client. Although Jafit prefers most of them to be kicked out