The Wraeththu Chronicles (142 page)

Journey to Roselane

"Whereat I woke—a twofold bliss:

Waking was one, but next there came

This other: Though I felt, for this,

My heart break, I loved on the same. "

—Robert Browning, Bad Dreams I

From Oomadrah, Panthera and I would travel east to beyond Chane, through a tongue of Garridan territory to Roselane. Our destination was the mountain retreat of Shilalama, high above the world. To speed up our journey, Ariaric kindly offered us the use of one of his private cars, complete with pilot. I was in two minds about accepting this offer. It meant we could be in Roselane within days. Overland, it could take weeks, even months, and that would give me time to think. Eventually, I decided that in my circumstances, time to think would be a bad thing.

We left Sykernesse before most people were even out of bed. It was a misty, chilly morning. I sat moodily in the back of the car, until I could stand Panthera's astute appraisal no longer and curled up, pretending to be asleep. I concentrated on the sigh of the vehicle's mechanisms, the feeling of weightlessness as we drifted slowly over Oomadrah's walls into the true morning, toward the plains of Hool Glasting. A mild humming indicated that the pilot had activated the car's roof. Soon we were cut off from the fresh air and with a shudder the vehicle sprang to life and shot toward the east. This was a much more sophisticated craft than Lourana's. Its speed was

determined but effortless. We planned to spend the night in the Garridan borough of Biting; by mid-day tomorrow, if all went smoothly, I would be in Roselane. It was like facing major surgery. I was apprehensive but could not imagine it was really happening. I was still not sure what to expect, but it seemed like a good idea to seek out the cloisters of the Kamagrian, whom Wrark Fortuny had told me had their headquarters in Shilalama. I felt sick about my encounter with the Tigrina. Bad enough to be considered a gold-digging trouble-maker without having twinges of pity for the owner of those opinions. Just where would the Tigrina stand after all this? How could I tell, when I didn't even know what would happen to me? I curled myself around these uncomfortable thoughts and investigated them thoroughly until our pilot brought his vehicle down to land on the plains below, so that we could eat in the open air and perform whatever duties of nature had become pressing. The day had warmed up; now clearsunlight, shining through small, white clouds, dappled the plains with light and dark. I told Panthera in more detail what had happened the previous night. It didn't seem to matter that the pilot was listening avidly whilst pretending not to. My secrets were no longer that. By whatever means, the news had seeped out in Jaddayoth and spread; my alliance with the Tigron was known and it was expected that upheaval would come of it.

It was dark by the time we reached Biting. Our pilot booked us into an inn whilst Panthera and I stretched our legs around the town. Most of the shops were still open. We laughed at the blatant displays of the toxicolo-gists. An establishment named Foul and Fair exhibited its wares in a well-lit window. 'Ash-wilt for the successful withering of limbs!' one adver-tizement boldly claimed. Yes, we laughed, but our joy was false. The performance progressed toward its final act, when the players might say their farewells and go their separate ways, never to meet again. We returned to the inn and took jugs of ale to our room. Now was the time for remembering.

Panthera talked of Piristil. "I can remember the moment I first saw you," he said. "Even then you smelled of freedom, my freedom. Have I ever thanked you?" We undressed and lay on top of the bed. Voices below; > other lives carrying on oblivious. Panthera closed the window so that we couldn't hear it. "We are near the end, aren't we?" he said.

I sighed heavily. "I suppose we should hope so. Maybe you ought to feel relieved. After this, you can return to Jael and take up your life. You have friends in Maudrah, Gimrah, Elhmen and Sahale now. At least you've gained something from knowing me."

"Will you ever go back do you think? To the Hafeners, Nanine, the Lyris, Sykernesse ... to Jael?"

"I would like to. I hope I can."

Panthera threw himself across me then, squeezing the breath from my lungs. "Oh, Cal, Cal," he said bitterly. "I wanted to fight for you, fight the Gelaming, the Tigron, whoever was there in the shadows. Back in Jael, I thought I could. But it's all too ... big. I have no chance. I cannot lose you because I never really had you. You've given me so much, but if I want to share it, it must be with someone else, not you. That's hard. It's cruel. Why must we suffer? If there's a great power behind all this, why did it let me love you?"

I could feel his tears falling through his hair onto my chest. Part of life is learning to lose, to let go; something I was still learning about myself. "We must accept it, Thea," I said. "Whatever we do comes back threefold, or so they say. For this pain there must be equal sweetness waiting in the future."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know. It's the best I can offer."

He laughed weakly, raised his head. "We must not waste these last hours," he said.

"No, my pantherine, we must not." We shared breath to share our souls' grief and in the communion of our bodies beyond that was a vast sea that was time and the Earth, but that sea had a salty shore and it was the salt of tears.

In the morning, we found that we'd adopted a determined good-humor. It must have come to us in the night; a gift from the angels. The ache of tears had become pleasurable, subdued. Now we went to battle with renewed strength. We left Biting immediately after breakfast. The car whistled through mountain peaks of gray and green and white. Clouds were sometimes beneath us. After some hours, the pilot pointed through the window. "That is Shilalama," he said. "Can you see? In the distance." We peered at the strange, craggy rock towers, catching the light from the morning sun.

"Looks like fungus," Panthera said.

"How long will it take to get there?" I asked.

"Half-an-hour maybe, not long."

Half-an-hour. Panthera and I clasped hands like children. I had to say, "Thea, if you want to go back to Maudrah with the car, I'll understand. Maybe it would be best. . ."

"Shut up, Cal," he said. "Stop playing the martyr. You might need me here."

There was no easy place for the car to land in Shilalama. In some ways it strongly resembled Shappa with its vertical streets and tiny plazas. But where Shappa was gray and smooth, Shilalama was pink and russet and yellow, and rugged. We circled the town a couple of times, flying very low. Hara looked up and waved. Everyone was dressed in pale robes like priests. The pilot was concerned. "This car is too big to land here. I'll have to put you down beyond the walls. Do you want me to wait at all?"

"No. We don't know how long we'll have to stay here," I answered. We were dropped off on top of a cliff, where a brisk wind whipped away our words.

"Down there!" the pilot yelled. "There's a track to the town." We called back our thanks. "Good luck!" he mouthed and then the car was lifting, dipping, heading west, its transparent roof sliding forwards as it increased in speed. Panthera and I watched it until it had vanished in the distance. No going back now. We pushed our way through stiff knee-deep bushes and scrambled down the stony path, hampered with luggage.

The gates to Shilalama were open; no guards to question travelers or stop us entering. "Where do we go?" Panthera asked. It was impossible to tell whether the buildings were houses, inns, shops, temples, or just natural rock formations. Two Hara drifted past, heads lowered, hands in sleeves, humming to themselves. They ignored my inquiry about directions. "Let's just make toward the center," I said.

"What center?" Panthera asked, looking around. "It's such a jumble."

"Just keep walking."

There were few proper streets. Rock buildings seemed to have beenhollowed out or thrown up at random. Any Roselane we came across seemed to be on another plane and unavailable for communication. Where were the waving hara we'd seen from the air? The wind was making such a racket, we couldn't listen out for sounds of activity, but eventually, after an age of aimless walking, we came to a small square where market stalls were set up, and hara of more alert mien were wandering among them. I went to the nearest stall and asked to be directed to the cloisters of the Kamagrian, though how we'd fare following directions in this place, I didn't know. "Just keep going," the stall-holder answered, pointing across the square. "All paths lead to Kalalim."

"Kalalim?"

"Your destination. Pause a while and refresh yourselves first. No charge." He offered us cups of steaming herb tea. Panthera set down his bags and rubbed his shoulders.

Mine were numb. As we drank the tea, I tried to extract information about the Kamagrian.

"Is there any particular way we should behave? Any rituals to observe?"

"Just be your own true selves."

"I see. Do we have to be announced or can we walk right in?"

"There are no locked doors in Shilalama. Have you come far?"

"Very," I said, darkly.

The stall holder smiled. "You are tired travelers. The comfort you seek shall be found in Kalalim."

We thanked him and crossed the square.

Kalalim was unmistakable. The stones of its sheer walls were golden, its crazy towers higher than any other and twisted like cable. Warmth seemed to seep from the very stones, welcome from its open doors and pointed windows. Panthera and I didn't stop to take it in properly, but walked directly up the shallow flight of steps into the golden gloom beyond. A har dressed in pale lemon robes stood up when we came into the hallway and put down the book he'd been reading. "Can I be of service?" he inquired.

"I'm looking for a parage of the Kamagrian named Tel-an-Kaa," I answered. "I believe she may be expecting me."

"You have come to the right place." The Roselane went to a desk by the wall and picked up a heavy ledger.

"May I have your names please?"

"Calanthe and Panthera of Jael."

The Roselane nodded. "Ah yes, you are expected." He entered our names on the top of a new page. "Well, I won't keep you waiting. Come with me please."

We followed him down a skylit passage that led to a garden sheltered from the wind. Hara were working among the flower beds. Every one of them looked up and wished us good-day. Rather different to Oomadrah beyond the walls of Sykernesse, I thought with amusement. The Roselane showed us into a pleasant, airy room that overlooked the garden. The only furnishings were cushions and rugs upon the floor, a couple of low tables and a book-case next to the window. A brass censer hung from the ceiling, exuding a strong, aromatic smoke.

"If you would like to relax, I will tell Tel-an-Kaa you have arrived."

Groaning, I eased my bags off my shoulders, slumping gratefully into the cushions.

Panthera went to look out of the window. "What's going on here?" he asked. "Why should a woman have such a high position in Roselane? Who are the Kamagrian?"

"We can only wait and find out," I answered. "It's probably just a gimmick. I can't see me finding the answers to my problems here somehow. Its unreal. The Roselane seem to have lost touch with the real world. They're incomplete. Perhaps even weak."

"You are quick to judge, Calanthe!" A warm, musical voice. I turned to look at the speaker, started to stand. "No, you can stay where you are. I am Tel-an-Kaa. Perhaps you don't remember me." She came into the light, a yellow-haired waif, very similar to how I remembered her—and that had been quite a long time ago. Either she, or her master, were indeed very adept. To halt the human aging process requires great power.

"I trust your journey was comfortable," she said, as if this was some regular visit of no importance whatsoever.

"Very, thank you," I replied. "The Lion of Oomadrah provided us with transport ..."

"Yes I know." Naturally.

Panthera was staring at her quite rudely; to him she was an anomaly.

"You got here quite quickly," she continued. "Shilalama can be difficult for strangers to negotiate. Ah, refreshment. Thank you." A har came into the room behind her and set a tray down on the nearest table. Wine and cakes. Tel-an-Kaa sat down opposite me and poured the wine. "Won't you join us Panthera? I won't bite!" Such authority in a human was a little disconcerting. Panthera sat down gingerly beside me. I didn't really feel up to drinking wine (my stomach had enough acid to cope with as it was), but was pleasantly surprised to find it mild-flavored, gently sweet. "I expect you've been wondering what this is all about," Tel-an-Kaa said with a smile.

"Now and again," I replied.

She laughed. "All the secrecy, the moving about, it must have been very irritating but necessary all the same. Perhaps you realize this too now."

"I'm not sure I do. I must confess I sometimes wonder whether you've been picking on the right har."

"Oh, we haven't been picking on you! I'm sorry it felt like that. You were in such a mess, Cal. So damaged, so wounded. The healing had to take its course."

"Well, I'm here now," I said. "So what happens next?"

"You must dream."

"Dream?"