The Wraeththu Chronicles (19 page)

"Do you have water in this building?" I asked once more. The har turned his face away.

"Yes. There is water . . ." He looked at me again. "I despise you! I hate you that you can help me!"

I did not argue. His hopelessness and bitter rage could not be fought. "Hate me all you want, little animal," I said.

Cal brought the water and Spinel sauntered over to see what I was doing. I expected him to complain, but he passed no comment, just watched as I cleaned the wound. This was the first time I had ever put these skills into practice and I was not very quick at it

"The bone is shattered," I remarked, over my shoulder.

"Yes," Spinel confirmed.

"How did it happen?"

"In one of the old factories through town. He fell." Spinel stared into the Har's face without compassion.

"Why have you done nothing for him?!" I demanded angrily. I could not keep my feelings out of my voice.

"That's none of your business." Spinel did not sound offended. He meant simply that. "Anyway, you're helping him now." He went away.

I did what I could. Only time would tell if that was enough. I asked him his name and he replied, "Cobweb, Cobweb, Cobweb!" straining to lift himself up off the rags to shout in my face.

"You're mad to be in this place!" I hissed at him, casting a wary eye about the room for Spinel. "You hate us, you say; I know why! You could be out of this. You could be in a tribe, a real one. This is a shambles!"

Cobweb tried to push me away as I started wiping his face with the wet rag, but I was stronger. "I can't leave. I am Spinel's," he said.

"What?" I could not help laughing. "You are nobody's. You're just yours!"

"You don't understand. You're talking shit," he replied in a dull mumble. "The Varrs left me behind, 'cause I busted my leg. I guess I was still pretty when the Irraka came, so Spinel didn't kill me. Now I have to die to be free and, thank you, thank you, now it seems I'm not dying anymore!"

"I can tell you're not Irraka," I said, His eyes appraised me with weary intelligence.

"Yeah." I offered him what was left of my food and he observed, "Well, if I'm to live, I might as well eat."

"You could starve yourself to death," I pointed out, and he smiled weakly, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Well, maybe life is worth living. Make me stronger and I'll feast on Spinel's guts. He wanted me to host his progeny because my blood is better than theirs, but he's so low-caste he can't, thank God! He wanted me lying here like a crippled brood mare . . ."

I still did not know much about Wraeththu reproduction and was keen to question him, even began to, but he would not listen. How long had he been here, hostile, silent and suffering?

"You're from Saltrock," he gabbled. "I heard them talking. They're fucking stupid, all of them. Stupid and ugly. They ought to be afraid of you, oughtn't they? You fixed my leg, didn't you? Why don't you kill them?"

I smiled and shook my head, looking at his leg. I had cleaned it, bombarded it with my strength and splinted it with wood, but I knew it was far from healed. "Your leg has a better chance of healing now," I said, "but it won't take your weight for a while."

"How long?" I did not know. "How long?" he repeated. "Look, I have a chance now. I can get out of here and find my people." His feverish excitement alarmed me.

"You must eat properly. And exercise the leg." Privately, I thought if Spinel noticed Cobweb's condition was improving, there was no way he could escape. "Why do you want to find your people again?" I asked. "They did abandon you after all." His face curled into gaunt ugliness.

"What do you know?!" he spat at me. "Terzian did not see me fall. None of them did. It was crazy out there; too much smoke. I heard him call me. He didn't know I was there. He thought I'd got out. I heard him call me, but I couldn't answer . . ."

"He never came back though."

"No, no; never." He lay back, grunting with pain as he moved his leg for comfort. Orange, flickering light smoothed the sharpness of his features. It was easy to see beauty had been there once,

"Don't let Spinel know how much you did for my leg, OK?" I nodded slowly. "OK." I stood up. "Good luck, Cobweb," "Luck? Who needs it? I'll bust my way out of here!" ' I went back to Cal feeling heavy with depression. Cal had been out to see our horses. They were stabled in an old store next to the hall. He said our possessions seemed to be intact so far and had brought two of our rugs back up with him. We found a corner as far from the Irraka as possible and tried to get comfortable for the night. The fire had died low; we could hear hara grunting like animals. One of the dogs gnawed on a bone too close for us not to hear the cracking. I thought of Cobweb's leg and pressed my face in Cal's fragrant hair to quell the nausea.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Cal decided. "I've had it with this rabble. The Varrs could not be worse. God, I'd sell my soul for a bath!"

We had not bathed properly since we had left the Kakkahaar, but I knew what he meant. Phesbe made cleanliness seem suddenly more important.

"Go on, argue with me!" he said, but for once I agreed with him completely. "Amazing!" he exclaimed. "What did the shriveled one say? It looked quite intense."

"His name's Cobweb. He's a Varr. Spinel's prisoner, or viciously reluctant concubine! He was planning on dying, only now he's decided on escaping." I laughed bitterly, dreading the guilt about him that I felt sure would haunt my path out of Phesbe.

"So. He's a Varr, is he?" Cal's voice sounded calculating.

"You don't know everything, Cal," I warned.

"There's nothing to know but the fact of his miserable existence and, perhaps, possible usefulness." He propped himself up on his elbow. Faint light from the window spun and glowed in his hair. "We'll have to take him with us," he said.

"What?! No!" I protested. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"And if we don't? And if we meet the Varrs on the way north? Do you suppose they'll ask us in for dinner?"

"Only if they're cannibal," I remarked. "But it's useless. Spinel won't let Cobweb go. He plans to found a dynasty with him."

Cal laughed at me. "You're joking! There's no pearls in his loins and that's a fact." He lay down again, wrapping me in his arms. "Just leave it to me," he said. "Take your cue from me. Tomorrow."

In the grayness of an overcast morning, the room looked even more dreary than it had the day before. We started to gather up our belongings and before long, Spinel came over to see what we were doing. It was morning, yet there was no smell of cooking or even coffee. Nothing but the filthy stink.

"Leaving are you?" Spinel asked us.

"Well yes," Cal confirmed. "We'll take our chances with the Varrs. We can't afford to waste time." He was squatting on the floor, carefully folding the rugs

"I see." Spinel sounded put out. I looked at him hard, pleased to note the trace of weakness in his chin, his small, silver eyes. He stared back at me. "Him with the leg. How did it go?"

Cal would not let me answer. "Oh, it's a shame about that. Too late to do much, or enough
anyway. Sorry." Spinel grunted, looking even more displeased. I realized it was not beyond
him
      
to
        
blame
  
me
       
if
         
Cobweb
          
died.

"He wants to go back to his tribe to die." Cal glanced quickly up at him. This was the test, the bait.

"They left him here." Spinel did not look exactly suspicious but I hoped Cal would not push it too far.

"I know. Pitiful, isn't it. Pell, pass me that bag there, will you. It would be best, Spinel, if you got that har out of here, you know. The poison's in his blood; he may even contaminate others."

Spinel's eyes opened a little wider. He knew nothing about medicine or poisoned blood and was in no position to argue.

"Even if he had lived, his essence would have been tainted," Cal continued smoothly, buckling up the bags.

"Put him outside the town. Maybe the Varrs will find him. Maybe he'll poison them!" He laughed. Cal had lying down to a fine art. Even I was beginning to believe him. "Hmmph!" Spinel grunted and went back to the fire. "They're going to try and stop us," I sang.

Cal stood up and swung one of the bags over his shoulder. "Possibly, possibly. Get the rest of the stuff, Pell. Come on."

Our guns were still packed safely in the bottom of our luggage, but we had tucked our knives into our belts. All the Irraka carried guns, of course. "Now may be the time, Pell, for you to exercise those talents Lianvis has been grooming for you. I won't be able to handle this alone."

"Oh no!" I spoke to his back. He was sauntering over to the group of Irraka huddled round

the fire.

"Right. Thanks for the hospitality," he said to Spinel. "We're leaving now."

"You're mad!" was the reply. "You won't get very far." I sensed a growing alertness in the hunched shapes, but I would not look at them.

"Oh, it's not that much of a risk really. We can handle ourselves," Cal told them. "Like this!"

One arrow of thought reached me: there! Our strengths mingled. Together, we had no difficulty in bringing down a corner of the ceiling. The Irraka jumped like a pack of dogs. The dust settled; a few more pieces dropped from the ragged plaster.

"You see," Cal shrugged. "If the Varrs try anything, we'll turn a few of them inside out. It might dampen their ferocity." He adopted his most dazzling smile. "Think about what we said about Greenling, Spinel. Oh, if you like, we'll dump the crippled Varr outside the town for you."

Spinel only wanted to see us gone. He nodded nervously, his little eyes avoiding Cal's. I went over to where Cobweb lay, watching the show with relish.

"You said you didn't need luck, but you've got it," I said. "Come on, we're taking you out."

Cobweb hid his relief and his gratitude with abuse. "My leg, my fucking ; I can't walk!" "That doesn't matter.

He was so light, I could hoist him over my shoulder easily. Spinel's crew watched us leave with the expression and posture of beaten dogs.

. . . CHOSEN gods of carnage voice, Dictate in etiquette tease . . .

North again. The land began to rise and was cut through by the wide, straight roads of men. We passed by several towns during the next few days; some were still smoking. Only one or two still showed signs of habitation. Cobweb, riding Tenka along with the baggage, was fractious with pain. For the first few days he hardly spoke at all; his face set in a sour expression of discomfort. Under the revealing light of the sun, we could see clearly the sad condition he was in. We had no opportunity to bathe and the filth of Phesbe, still saturating his clothes and body, could have done little to lift his spirits. I attended to his wounded leg each evening and morning, but I knew there was little more I could do. Even the most accomplished healer works better under sterilized conditions. At the very least I needed salt water to clean the wound and although we carried both salt and water, Cal would not let me use any of our drinking supply. Cobweb said we would eventually come to a river, and I hoped his condition would not worsen until we did.

There was no sign of the Varrs, other than the dead towns they had left behind them. Cal had told the Irraka we could deal with the Varrs, but that was just another of his convincing lies. The Irraka had seen us work magic, but the Varrs were a true Wraeththu race, and Cobweb told us they included many Ulani in their ranks. Parlor tricks would not deter them. Cobweb was our only protection. We did not really know if the Varrs were habitually hostile to hara of different tribes, but it was safer to expect the worse. I worried privately if Cobweb's patron would be pleased to see him again. The Varrs did not seem to be a tribe given to displays of compassion, and Cobweb's appearance was far from attractive. It might be that the mighty Terzian would be happier believing him dead.

The river, when we came to it, bore the signs of heavy conflict upon its banks. The dead were only men. If any Wraeththu had been killed, their tribe had either burned or buried the bodies. With typical inconvenience, dead men littered the stream. We would have to ride some way up the bank before the water would be clean. I was still a stranger to the reality of death, and the sight of the empty, staring bodies, sprawled in unnatural distortions disturbed me deeply. It was unbelievable that those clay-like puppets had ever thrilled with the spark of life; perhaps only the day before, thinking, talking, eating and sleeping. To see the dead like that can leave little doubt in even the most skeptical of minds as to the existence of the soul. Once the soul has gone, the flesh looks barely even human.

That night, Cal looked worried for the first time in ages. He watched me as I bathed Cobweb's leg with the long-awaited salt-water.

"Pell," he said. "This land is dying." The sound of his voice more than the words, sent a bitter chill through my stomach.

"What? Why?" I asked quickly. Cobweb had closed his eyes. "A few years ago, we came this way. This was man's land; it was full of them. Now they are all gone," Cal replied.

"Then it is only the men that are dying, not the land," I argued, with relief. He had painted a terrible, dark picture for me with those words.