The Wraeththu Chronicles (133 page)

And eventually I slept. I know this because, when I sensed somebody come into the room, I thought I was dreaming. Then I realized I wasn't and I was reaching for a knife or a gun beneath my pillow which could not possibly be there. I held my breath, waiting. Someone crept toward me, my back was turned to the door. In a moment, I would turn and have somebody's throat between my hands. But first I wait. Weight on my bed, the covers lifted. I almost laughed. This was not threatening, oh no. I let my saved breath out in one, long hiss. He slithered into my bed, cold and shivering. He curled his arms around me and pressed himself hesitantly against my back.

"Cal, Cal, don't be asleep. Talk to me."

I recognized his smell, his slenderness and took one of his hands in my own. He gripped it hard. We didn't say anything at all. For a while, we lay like that, and it wasn't calculated when I turned to face him. I just did it. In the moonlight, I could see he was weeping silently, his face all wet, like he didn't really want to be there, but couldn't help himself. I understood that. Our first kiss was fumbling, like children, breath visions fleeting and undecipherable. He had never been touched before except in violation. He had never given love. His skin, perfumed with the earth smell of cinnamon, was like cat-skin, furred yet smooth. I wanted to pounce, plunder that lithe pliancy; only some vestige of good sense held me back. I had to speak, because they were necessary words; even though he knew I was thinking them anyway.

"Thea, I understand what you're giving me. I really do. Don't get hurt because of this, will you. Promise me that, you won't get all churned-up and grieving. In the future ..."

"Hush," he said. "I'm not a child. I know what I'm doing; all of it." Nearly all of it. He smiled. "I don't want you to show me anything. It must be done my way."

No, he was not a child, but he was afraid. I knew that because the caressing went on for far too long. I was starting to think he wouldn't dare and I'd have to indulge in my original desire of conquest. I held him close, burying my nose in his wonderful

hair, trying so desperately to feel passive to him, not frightening, not engulfing, just receptive, yearning. He stroked my skin, fascinated by it, because it was not a skin covering cruel desires to break and tear.

"You are scarred," he said. "Your flesh is soft yet you are hard beneath, I know it, like iron under moss in the forest. I thought you used bleach on your hair because your eyes and brows are so dark. You have cynical eyebrows, Cal. They always look so disdainful; they know everything and they love it when all the other poor fools don't."

"Just my eyebrows, Thea?"

He laughed. "Started off that way. I got side-tracked into the rest of you. I've wanted to touch you for a long time, you know. And so many people were doing it, all so experienced. I couldn't get near you. So many people have touched you, haven't they."

"My body, yes, but not often my mind."

He nestled against me, his head on my chest. "If we could just hold each other forever, the bad things will go away," he said. "I think I must love you, Cal, even though it's senseless and sort of self-destructive too. You belong to him, you always will." He sighed.

"We don't know what's going to happen," I said, rather untruthfully.

"No, we don't." There was strength in those words.

We shared breath again; I let him move against me. Clearly, his re-sponses weren't damaged at all. I wriggled us around until I was under him, wondering what else I could do to help without being obvious. There was no need. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he just found his way inside me and let nature do the rest. The time was right. Everything was fine. He was nothing like I'd anticipated, not timorous, but powerful, vigorous, dominant. I'd have to sort that out later. At the moment of orgasm, he screeched like a wild beast in pain right in my ear, drowning any responding cry I might have made myself. I thought he'd hurt himself, but he only laughed at my concern. Could I have met my match? Calanthe is renowned across Megali-thica and beyond for his savage, skillful aruna. Usually, it was me doing the gouging and chewing. I was quite alarmed.

Panthera said to me "Cal, I want to see Roselane," and lying there in his arms, feeling battered but lazy, it seemed like the only course of action.

That night it was decided. We may have been wrong, but if we were, it was because our hearts were taking control of our minds. Panthera would accompany me to Roselane, and beyond. We would take responsibility for the consequences, whatever they were.

Morla

"If I think of a King at nightfall."

 
—T. S. Eliot, Little Gliding

In spring, the steppelands of Maudrah are a glistening, undulating ocean of waving, feathered grasses. This can even be seen from the sea, as a faint and distant glimmering, like sheets of silk hung across the horizon. We'd had to choose the quickest route to Roselane, which was over water from the Ferike port of Saphrax, east across the Sea of Shadows, grazing the southernmost tip of the Thwean region of Jaddayoth. From there it was north into the Sea of Arel, passing the summer ports of

Gaspard and Oriole, to Chane. After that, the journey would be continued over land, through Garridan to Roselane. At no point would our travels take us even within spitting distance of Oomadrah. I could not bear to leave my notes behind me in Jael, perhaps because I feared I would never go back there. Many times, I've sat upon the deck of this Ferike vessel, with my back to the coast of Maudrah and read through them. So many pages, and yet so little said really. I have spoken of my first client in Piristil, but to read what I wrote of it does not convey the disgust I felt or—no matter how hard I fought it—the shame. Neither can Elhmen and Sahen live as brilliantly, as vibrantly on paper as I experienced them in reality, nor does the time I first held Panthera in my arms convey the actuality of that moment. I suppose it is impossible. It happened. I lived it. Here the grass is glowing with light across a shard of sparkling sea. Can you picture it? Panthera and I are not blind to the possible consequences of our relationship. It may be doomed to ephemerality; it may not. We have no way of knowing. Because he does not read this, I can say that I do not love him—not in the same way as I did (do?) Pell. It is different, but no less genuine a feeling because of that. What we have we shall enjoy.

Ferminfex has no contacts in the land of Roselane, but has given us another letter of introduction all the same. This ship is named the Auric Wing, a merchant vessel, heading for the Emunah ports now that the ice has melted. The sea of Arel is impassable in winter. Yesterday, we stopped at the Maudrah port of Pelagrie on the tip of Thwean and I had my first glimpse of Maudrah society. Glimpse it was as well. Our Captain, Asvak, advised us not to go ashore, although the other two passengers ignored this. We are not sure whether they are Maudrah themselves or not, as they are surly and don't seem willing to make conversation with us. Panthera and I take our meals with Asvak, while they dine in their cabin alone. We were carrying several paintings which were to be picked up by some Maudrah family in Pelagrie, so the pause in our journey was only short. Panthera and I stood leaning upon the rails of the ship, gazing at the town. On the docks, black-haired hara, stripped to the waist, were heaving barrels and crates on board other vessels, taciturn as our fellow passengers. Asvak came to join us, smoking a long, curiously curled pipe. He gestured at the Maudrah with it. "Happy souls, aren't they!"

I looked beyond the docks toward the gaunt, gray buildings of the town itself. "Is the paw of the Lion that heavy then?" I asked lightly.

Our Captain made a disparaging noise. "Not heavy, perhaps, but it has an eye on the end of each pad! See them?" He pointed toward a group of Hara dressed in black, watching the workers. They were standing back from the proceedings, but clearly had a supervisory role. "They are the Aditi," Asvak continued. "The eyes and hands of the Niz."

"Niz?" I queried, "is that another name for the Lion?"

Asvak laughed drily, taking another draw on his pipe. Panthera squinted in distaste through a cloud of acrid smoke.

"No, far from it, or perhaps... well, judge for yourself. The Niz are the priest figures in Maudrah and to be honest no-one can say whether Lord Ariaric controls them, or vice versa. If you take my advice, you'll take great pains to keep out of their way."

"We don't intend to spend much time in Maudrah," Panthera said, looking hard at me.

"Is Oomadrah far from here?" I asked casually.

Asvak narrowed his eyes so that he could think better. "Quite some way, although once we reach the Sea of Arel, we'll be closer."

"Have you ever been there?"Here, Asvak pulled a forlorn face. "Yes. Can't say I enjoyed that visit too much either. Luckily, I was with a har of Maudrah origin who prevented me from making any noticeable mistakes."

"What do you mean, mistakes?"

Asvak laughed and patted me on the shoulder. "Don't ask! Believe me, even drawing breath in the wrong way is a mistake in Maudrah. Now, if you'll excuse me, tiahaara . . ."

Asvak's footsteps hadn't even died away before Panthera launched into the attack. "We can't go there, Cal!"

"Go where?" I asked lightly. Panthera is sometimes annoyingly perceptive. I'd told him about Wraxilan some time ago, and had wondered then whether I'd regret it later.

"To Oomadrah, of course! Do you think I'm stupid? I think you are! Not only is it dangerous, but a waste of time! Are you trying to delay reaching Roselane on purpose?" (That was snide.)

"Oh, be quiet!" I said impatiently. "I've got my own voice of conscience, thank you! Just remember, I was told in Sahen to tie up all loose ends."

"I can't see how Ariaric or Wraxilan or whatever he calls himself can be one of them, Cal," Panthera said with dogged determination. "It's just your curiosity. You should let well alone. Haven't you enough on your plate already?"

"Oh," I replied drily, ignoring most of what he'd said, "and don't I get a say in what I consider to be my own loose ends?" Panthera pulled an. exasperated face. "Look Thea," I continued bravely, "Wraxilan was my beginning; he's never let me forget that." Have I ever let myself forget it? "Perhaps I want to see where his destiny led him. It may be that I can learn from it." (How I'd come to dread those times when Panthera looked at me as if I was stupid.)

"OK, let's just imagine we do go there," he said, as if seriously considering such a suggestion. "Would you care to explain to me how we'd get to actually see him. He is Archon, remember; not just anyone can walk in and demand an audience."

"Don't be silly, Thea! We carry a letter of introduction from your father headed 'To whom it may concern' ..."

"You are foolish beyond words or indeed comprehension!" Panthera declared as if it was written in stone. "We wouldn't survive five minutes in Oomadrah. We don't know the customs, we don't know the law. This ship can take us straight to Chane. We could be in Roselane within two weeks. Why can't you chase phantoms in Oomadrah after that?"

I could not say that, after Roselane, there was always the possibility I'd no longer be able to take independent action. For if I did, Panthera would first accuse me of acute pessimism and then chew it over privately and worry. I opted for an easier way out. "Because I trust my instincts and my instincts want me to go there now, that's why. There must be hara who can be hired as guides, interpreters, whatever, to take us there. I'll ask Asvak about it."

Panthera nodded sourly. "Oh yes, and supposing we are successful in meeting the Lion. What are you going to say to him, Cal? Have you thought of that? Do you think he'll be pleased to see you? Will he even recognize you after all this time?"

"Oh, he'll recognize me, I have no doubts about that! As for the other questions, I really don't know, but I'll have worked something out by the time we get there."

"It's decided then, is it? We're going to Oomadrah?"

I reached to touch his face. "Panthera, I must be honest with you; I decided that quite some time ago. Of course, you don't have to come with me ..."

My sultry Panthera smiled then, and the sourness dropped from his eyes in an instant. "Oh Cal, as you said, I'm just an extension of the voice of your conscience. You must be asked these things. I'm not afraid of Maudrah. As a matter of fact, though I was loath to admit it, there is a distant relative of mine there, on my hostling's side. I

believe he is employed in the royal house itself. Even if he agrees to see us, we'll need our wits about us though, and an efficient guide."

This was more than I could have hoped for, but I wasn't going to let my feelings show. "Can Asvak drop us off somewhere convenient do you think?" I asked coolly.

"Well, we can ask him to take us to Morla, although this ship would probably have called there anyway. We'll need the luck of the Aghama on our side for that; let's hope he's listening."

"Quite," I said.

Late afternoon, as the tide was turning, we set sail once more. It was a glorious day and the ensuing sunset was breath-taking. Asvak had a couple of his crew members set out a table on deck for the evening meal and brought out a bottle of his finest wine. A gentle breeze carried a smell of grass from the distant shore, which complemented the exquisite aroma of spiced meat, if not Asvak's rather overpowering perfume. Halfway through the main course, I mentioned that Panthera and I had decided to go to Morla instead of Chane. This was met with silence. Asvak was obviously suspicious of our motives. It was not an unreasonable misgiving. After all, he had to trade in Maudrah and didn't want to risk incurring the displeasure of the Niz. It was not inconceivable that ferrying dissidents of any kind to Maudrah would be regarded unfavourably. Luckily, Panthera managed to persuade him otherwise (his charm, when he deigns to use it, is humbling, to say the least). He told Asvak about the relative in Oomadrah.