The Wraeththu Chronicles (130 page)

"My luggage ..." I said, looking back.

"... will be taken care of. Come along!"

He led me through a door behind the dais into more corridors of dim lit and

smouldering opulence.

I shook my arm free of his hold. "Do you speak for the Lyris all the time?"

He looked puzzled. "No. Forgive me; I haven't introduced myself. I am Iygandil, First Shriever of the Lyris. His second pair of hands and eyes, his second voice, if you like."

"Hello, Iygandil, and will the Lyris speak with me himself, or have you been delegated that honor?" The First Shriever saw no slight in this. "The Lyris himself will speak with you. And remember, it is you who is honored!" He smiled, baring his teeth. "In here, if you will." Another clawed gesture.

The room beyond was nearly in darkness until Iygandil raised his hand and ruby light blossomed from the walls. A sultan's den, fit for a clutch of concubines, I thought.

"I wait here?" I asked, flopping down with passable elegance onto a
 
plump cushion.

Iygandil shook his head, looking worried in case I'd soiled the satin beneath me. "Not yet." He clapped his hands and two hara came into the room, ducking beneath a fringed curtain. Iygandil turned to me. "Get up," he said, napping an impatient hand. I did so. "This is Tatigha and Loolumada, attendants of the Lyris. If you would go with them, Calanthe . . ."

"What for?"

The First Shriever rolled his eyes. "Please, " he stressed. "Am I forced to broach such indelicate matters? Through there is the bathroom. Need I say more?"

"You mean I need a good wash, is that it?"

"Please cooperate. The Lyris will be here shortly."

Sighing, I followed the attendants from the room. Without speaking, they led me past an enormous green pool, which was gently steaming, a wooden tub of bubbling, scented water and ultimately into a white-tiled | room with a slatted wooden floor and benches around its rim.

"What's this?" I asked, standing there, but my words were swept away from me. Standing back, to avoid being splashed, the one named Tatigha turned a handle in the wall and hot, spitting water gushed from a dozen concealed outlets, soaking me in seconds. I spluttered, arms cartwheeling
 
and tried to get out. The Sahale were laughing.

"We'll give you ten minutes. You'll find soap in that green jug over there." No sensuous massaging then. I rubbed my face. Steam rolled around me. My clothes had gone gray, brownish streams were pooling around my feet. I hopped around, and pulled off my clothes. The water in Sahen is incredibly soft, which I realized only after I'd doused myself with the liquid soap. Cursing, I was still trying to rinse it off when Loolumada and Tatigha returned. One of them promptly turned the shower to icy cold, so I was obliged to emerge half-slippery. I stood there shivering as they towelled me down. After this, I was conducted to a hand-basin and presented with a tooth-brush and gritty paste, designed to remove mouth slime. Perfumed powder was provided to blot the last traces of dampness from my skin.

"Much better," Tatigha pronounced, forcing my arms into a long robe. "This way please." I was taken to a room of mirrors where they dried my hair and painted my eyes with black kohl. The image in the mirror reminded me painfully of the har who'd lived and worked in Piristil; I don't think I'll ever be that comfortable wearing cosmetics again. The sweet smell of the powders and colors will always bring a vision of that place back to me. Now I was fit for a king. Water: fire. It was not a difficult deduction. I had a disturbing vision of Iygandil standing there to whisper the sweet nothings into my ear as the body of his lord plunged into me. Was this what I should expect? The Sahale are a strange people.

The Lyris was already waiting for me when his attendants took me back to the luxurious salon. He was reclining on a pile of cushions, sipping from a crystal goblet and smiling at the wall.

Loolumada cleared his throat. "My lord, may I present Calanthe, from the house of

Jael, in Ferike."

The Lyris looked at me. He actually spoke. "Thank you Looma, you may go." He looked

much younger now than I'd thought him to be; olive-skinned too, which seemed odd for

someone who lived underground.

"Won't you sit down?" he said. I perched on the edge of an ornamental chair. He

appraised me. I appraised him. No way would I be the first to speak.

"Well," he said, turning away from me to pour himself more wine. "So you have been sent to me."

"Not exactly," I replied. "Let's just say that I had a message that told me "beneath the mountains of Jaddayoth." Ferminfex of Jael interpreted it as meaning I should come here to Eulalee. For what purpose ... I really don't know . . . fully."

"How unfortunate for you."

"Do you know why?" The question was perhaps a little bold.

He shrugged theatrically. "Do I know why. . . . Only that I have to complete a process that was begun in Elhmen and thereafter that you should be allowed to descend to the deepest caverns, which are my personal domain and known in Sahen as Shere Zaghara. Does that mean anything to you?"

Being coy would waste time. "The first part, yes. I take it I'm supposed to take aruna with you. It happened that way in Elhmen. Yes, I'd worked that much out; why else would you want me so clean? Purged by water, seared by fire. Symbolic. Why? I want answers and if the only way of getting them is to play along with this charade for a while, I will."

The Lyris nodded thoughtfully, unabashed. "The purpose of ritualistic communion is to recondition wasted souls, minds, whatever term you want

to use. Whatever abilities you possess have been neglected, we are informed, and useless for what you have to do."

"Which is?"

He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, caressing the winecup. "We were told only what we needed to know. Elhmen and Sahale are often called upon for this procedure. Yours is far from an isolated case, believe me. Rich fathers from Maudrah, Garridan, even Hadassah, often send their sons here for this refining treatment. It's an education into what can be achieved through concentrating the force of aruna. But clearly, you are not here because your father sent you! Who did?"

"I don't know. Who told you about me?"

His eyes didn't waver from mine. A convincing actor or an honest Har. Did it really matter which? "I received word from Elhmen. Arawn communicated with me. He told me little but did seem to stress that the matter was important. Oh, forgive me! Most remiss of me; here, take a cup of wine."

I did so, although I found it a little too sweet for my taste. "Perhaps you'll find the answers you seek in Shere Zaghara," the Lyris continued.

"Maybe. It seems too easy."

"You'll find an oracle there. However, it won't speak to you until you're ready, until

I've made you ready."

I pulled a face. "Fire," I said, mulling that over toward unpleasant inferences.

"Not trial by it, but refining." The Lyris raised his glass and smiled.

The answer. Was it this close? Was it here in Sahen that I'd learn how to escape the clutches of the Gelaming, their Tigron in particular? (Yes, seems too easy. Scary.) If I was honest, did I really want them, those elusive, provocative, teasing answers? I'd chased them across a continent, and I wasn't convinced I'd cornered them yet. Even if I had, it might be that I'd be happier not getting acquainted with them. It was Ferminfex's pet theory that there was much more to all this than we could guess, and it would take an utter half-wit not to be somewhat frightened of that. In grand schemes small people are often expendable; especially after they've trotted off dutifully and completed their allotted quests. After all, it was not inconceivable that the aruna bit with Nanine and the promise of it with the Lyris was, in actual fact, the Cleansing (fanfare, fanfare) that Thiede had tried to force on me. He'd asked me outright; I'd said no. Was I now being tricked into going through with it? I'd had my own thoughts on what Cleansing would be; nothing like this. Was that a mistake? How could I find out? Visions, messages, proddings and pullings, signs and omens; a clever, intricate game, and here was I, a pawn, puffed up with his own importance, scurrying hither and thither, in the name of seeking answers. How could I be sure there wasn't a cold-blooded intelligence behind all that had happened to me saying, "Yes, this is the moment, soon he'll be ready"? I couldn't. I had the cards in my hand, but I couldn't read them. Throw down the hand on a gamble and I might find myself whisked off to Immanion on a pink cloud, grinning like an idiot, brain dead, scoured, sculpted and garnished, to be served to the Tigron on a silver platter. Powerless. If I still possessed a mind, my power could never equal his. In Pell's presence, my blood would be turned to powder, my brain to stone. Dilemma. Should I stand up now and walk out of Sahen? Would that be foolishness or just a way to save myself? OK, more-superior-than-human brain, work that one out, and let me know the result pretty damn fast.

The Lyris stood up, sauntered to my side. He sighed, crouched down and took my shoulders in his hands. I flinched. I didn't want him that close until I was sure what I wanted to do. "Why are you afraid?" he said. "Are you worried I'll hurt you?"

That simple? No. If only. The har thinks I'm an imbecile. Join the world consciousness, Lyris! "Hurt me?" I laughed, trying to get his hands off me. "No. At least, not in the way you're thinking of."

He didn't stand up, squatting there with his hands resting on his knees. "I'm not sure I understand you, Calanthe."

"OK, I'll explain. Will you answer my questions truthfully?"

"If I can." He was wary though.

"Fine. What I want to know is this. If I go through the process you were talking about, could anyone take advantage of me because of it?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's a kind of Cleansing, isn't it?"

He shrugged, pulled a face, then nodded. "In a way, I suppose so."

"Ah. And if I were Cleansed, might it be possible for hara of great power to impose their will over me?"

"Is that what you're afraid of?" The Lyris stood up, his knees cracking as he did so. "I don't know your circumstances," he said.

"No, you don't, but that shouldn't prevent you answering the question, should it?"

"In my opinion, you should gain strength from the Rituals, not suffer weakness. It is not a process completed for 'power over,' but for 'power from within.' I must say, there's no way I'd be a part of this if I thought it was being used for the wrong reasons."

"I wasn't saying you would, but as you pointed out, you're only told what you need to know."

He nodded, "True, but remember, I know the result of this communion. I've seen it, many times. You haven't. Unfortunately, I have no way of convincing you its effects are entirely beneficial until it's done. A risk you'll have to take ... or avoid. It's up to you."

I stared at him hard. He didn't look like a liar. I know I'm too suspicious but who can blame me? I smiled, drank some sweet wine. "Take me, I'm yours," I said. He smiled too and put down his wine-cup.

"I'm glad you trust me! Now, I have to go to the Hall of Hearkening for a couple of hours. Are you hungry? Wait for me here, I'll get someone to bring some food for you."

"Thanks. Can I see Panthera of Jael?"

"Not yet, no. He's been taken care of, and there's no sinister meaning behind that! Just relax. Completely. Understand?"

I nodded, happy to cause him no further nuisance. After he'd gone, I sat there and thought of Nanine. I'd treated his part in this with a kind of irreverence. I didn't feel like that now. An insidious sense of solemnity was creeping over me. I was looking forward to the next stage. Perhaps I was just feeling horny.

Tatigha and Loolumada brought me food, but I didn't really have much of an appetite. I just needed soothing. The Sahale were sensitive to that. Tatigha began to sing to me, unrecognizable words, the ruby light casting violet shadows in his coiled hair. Loolumada came to kneel behind me, humming the tune beneath his breath. He stroked my neck and shoulders with accomplished fingers. Wallowing in this pampering, I began to feel drowsy, so they led me from the cushions and laid me down upon the floor, still singing, sometimes chuckling, an eerie sound. The light seemed barely light at all, just a slight, steady glow where figures moved as black shadows. I thought I'd been drugged, even while I knew that thought to be false. My body flowed into the carpeted floor. Now I was naked although I couldn't remember being undressed. I was clean and vibrant; floating free, like lying on the deck of a ship sailing on a calm sea. Sun beating down. Hot wood, the creak of hot wood and the breeze is warm. My eyes were closed. A bitter perfume crept into my lungs so I looked about me, too comfortable to move, eyes sliding this way and that. There was Loolumada, holding a candle in a long, pewter stick. I could see his skin, his solemn face. He kneeled, putting the candlestick upon the floor, his spine casting shadows across the flesh of his back. Something was coming back to me; a memory. A feeling. Tatigha was at my shoulders, laying down the flame. I could hear him whispering beneath his breath and I thought clearly, "This is a caste elevation. Of course." A long time since I'd thought of such things. I'd been second level Pyralis ever since I'd left the Unneah, and had allowed my abilities to sink into decline. Most of what I'd learned then was half-forgotten now, mainly because I'd considered it irrelevant to my existence. The huyana Lucastril had started something in Hadassah. I had a feeling this was the end result.