The Wraeththu Chronicles (21 page)

Cal nodded cautiously. Neither one of us wanted to explain too fully about the Irraka yet. It was not inconceivable that the truth could cause a Varr-ish act of retaliation; depending on how Terzian felt about it. Terzian was an unknown quantity to us; we could not guess how he would react. The Irraka were pathetic and we held no sympathy for them, but we did not want to make more trouble for them. Time would see to their disappearance without any assistance from Varr revenge.

We were taken up huge, curving flights of stairs carpetted in dark red, to an enormous suite of rooms approached by white double doors.

"Terzian says for you to make yourselves at home here," Ithiel said, rather perfunctorily.

"Luxury we enjoy in the gilded chambers of the emperor!" Cal remarked sardonically, touching the heavy, floor-length, velvet curtains that bordered the windows. The predominant color was palest green; the carpet was like moss underfoot. Terzian, Ithiel informed us, would grant us an audience after we had rested and eaten. "Where's the bell for room service?" Cal asked him.

Ithiel sucked his breath in heavily, not smiling. "You will find everything you need in here. Food will be brought up to you presently.

"God, where have we found ourselves this time?!" I exclaimed once Ithiel had left the room.

"Nirvana?" Cal rejoined.

I looked out through the window. Below me, lawns and trees glowed emerald and viridian in the light of the dying sun. Rain-clouds of deep gray and purple massed on the western horizon. A great forest crept in toward the east.

"Things never turn out as you expect, do they Cal," I said.

He sighed and collapsed backwards onto the enormous, grass-colored bed. "No. The Varrs are very civilized killers," he replied. "Have I turned out as you expected?"

I looked away from the window, surprised, but he was not smiling. The pupils of his violet eyes were enormous. "Why?" I asked uneasily.

He shrugged. "I don't know ... sometimes it seems..." He went silent, still fixing me with his lazy, cruel eyes.

I went over and sat on the bed beside him. "At first, I didn't know what to expect with you," I said. "Sometimes you frightened me, sometimes. Perhaps you still do. I get the feeling there are some things you will never tell me. But you are . . . Cal, what are you trying to make me say?"

He reached out with one hand and touched my back. "You're too good, Pell. I hope I don't see that pious, little angel knocked out of you."

"I'm glad it was you that found me," I told him, and.he smiled.

That look, the fading light, the fragrant air of Galhea; they are with me for always. I took his perfect face in my hands. Our tired bodies, unwashed, underfed; hip bones sharp enough to bruise. We recaptured some of the magic of Saltrock then. Here we were; another oasis to shelter us in the savage waste of the world. It must have been on both of our minds: luck had been with us when Cobweb's had deserted him back in Phesbe.

As with the Kakkahaar, the Varrs brought us clothes of their own to wear. Black shirts of soft cloth and close-fitting black trousers. Boots of thin leather buckled to half-way up the leg. We were taken to Terzian well after the evening meal. Veiled lamps suffused the carpeted corridors with dim light. Downstairs, we were conducted to an enormous drawing room. Thick curtains shut out the dark. Terzian was alone. He was leaning against a huge, white fireplace, staring into the flames. It was all very self-conscious. He looked up when we were announced and said, "Please, sit down." It was clear he was a Har who was used to obedience and more. He was slim, tall, well-groomed and had the refined elegance of a torturer. It was hard to imagine him in the act of killing, but it was easy to imagine him ordering someone else to do it.

"I want to convey my gratitude for bringing Cobweb back to us," he said in a voice that betrayed no feeling. He asked us our names and where we had come from. Perhaps he had not visited Cobweb yet, or perhaps Cobweb could not talk to him, or he might have done both of these things, but just wanted to hear it from us. We told him anyway. "Will Cobweb be alright?" I asked him.

"Oh yes. Our people know how to deal with the worst of wounds; they have plenty of practice of course. But for you, though, Cobweb might have died." He did not ask about the Irraka or even how we had found Cobweb. I do not think he cared. He offered us sheh, a spirit they distilled themselves. We accepted and found it pleasant enough. "Where are you traveling to?" Terzian asked us. "North," Cal replied. Terzian pulled a face.

"There is not much there," he said. "What there is, is horribly sordid. Tribes have broken up. Some of the splinter groups are like dogs. Men still have strong-holds in the cities. Time is spent there trying to stay alive by killing. But it's not organized enough. The cities should, in my opinion, be flushed out, evacuated by Wraeththu and destroyed. There is nothing there we really need."

What could we say to that?

"What of the Uigenna? I understand they had the balance of power in the north," Cal said.

"The Uigenna?" Terzian uttered a dismissive snort. "Where have you been? They had internal conflict, to say the least. Their leaders fell to murdering each other; very artistically and no doubt spell-bindingly entertaining for the rest of them. Now, they spend their time bickering amongst thcmselves, experimenting colorfully with new poisons and ways to torture men and unpopular hara to death, and have little interest in maintaining order."

"I didn't realize that they ever did. Chaos was more their style," Cal remarked drily, sipping his drink. Terzian gave him a hard look.

"Although the Uigenna do have a reputation for a certain . . . reckless nature, they at least once had some kind of organization. We never have any trouble with them." I could imagine Cal saying: that does not say much for Varrs, but thankfully he kept quiet, allowing himself only a private smile.

"How about the Unneah?" he asked.

"I don't really know," Terzian answered him, moving away from the lire. "They left the northeast cities. Can't say that I blame them. More sheh?"

"Thanks," Cal held out his glass. Mine was still three-quarters full.

"You are lucky," Terzian remarked, looking at me directly for the first lime. "Cobweb gave you a ticket in here. We don't normally tolerate strangers." All of this seemed very rehearsed to me. "However, the hara of Saltrock do command a certain amount of respect. I have never been there."

I hope you never will, I thought.

"Tell me about it," Terzian demanded. We painted a glossier picture than reality, but Saltrock deserved it. Violence had no hold there. It was not a place for Varrs and their like.

"They don't live in the real world," Terzian commented, after a while.

"Perhaps not," I said, thinking of all we had seen on our travels north, "but their way of life is something all Wraeththu should want for the future." Terzian flared his nostrils and looked away from me. I could tell he thought that would be a boring prospect. I wondered what would have happened to me if I had fallen into the clutches of the Varrs for inception. It made me shudder. Varrs lived like men; their culture seemed just like men's. They were living in stolen towns, acting out the lives that had left them.

As we drank more sheh, conversation became easier. Terzian spoke volubly of conditions in the north; the birth-place of Wraeththu. Men had fallen because all the might of their weapons could not fight what was meant to be. Tribes like the Uigenna were strong. Weapons could burn like matchwood under the concentration of their force. They had the ability to fill the minds of men with confusion and fear so that their leaders lost control. Both the Varrs and the Uigenna had Nahir-Nuri in the north. Dangerous, black creatures of heartless ambition. They had little time for tribes of lesser strength, in fact, often regarded them as being as worthless as men.

"We must cull the weak," Terzian declared. Like Cal, he was Pyralisit, unlike Cal, he had bred many sons. "This is not the time for braying and praying in the temples!" he told us vehemently. "We need new blood. Young, pure Wraeththu blood, growing up untainted by man." He stared at us hard. "You have lost some condition on your travels, it would appear.

Later, back in our room, Cal said to me, "Do you want to move on tomorrow?" We looked at each other, honest, and yet not entirely so. I shook my head.

"Not yet, not yet." I walked over to the window to look once more over the sweeping, lush countryside. "I think I like it here, don't you?"

"You just like the comforts!"

"Don't you though?"

Cal sat down on the bed, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at himself in the mirror opposite. "Their culture . . ." His hand touched his throat.

"There is much we could learn here. Maybe I do want the comforts; more than I want to winter in the north anyway."

Cal lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes. He sighed. "Something tells me: 'Move on!' but I don't want to. It's easy to see why Cobweb wanted to come back."

"There's nothing for us in the north, Cal," I said.

"Hold on a moment. This is all presupposing Terzian wants us to stay around. He's said his thank yous; that might be the extent of his gratitude." Cal sat up again.

"You don't really think that," I said, rather sharply. Cal did not ask me to explain what I meant. He knew.

I was not surprised when Terzian invited us to his table for breakfast the following morning. Again, he was alone. After we had sat down, I enquired after Cobweb.

"He'll live," Terzian muttered shortly and dismissed me from his attention.

His attendants brought us eggs, smoked fish and fruit juice served on thin white china. I asked Terzian if he lived alone. He did not answer me for a moment, dabbing his mouth with a starched napkin.

"No, not alone. I have hara that see to my needs." He tried to hide the fact that my question had irritated him. I wanted to ask where Cobweb was but feared his temper. After a while he said, "There is one other."

Cal and I exchanged a furtive glance across the table. The room was very light. Large windows led out to a terrace, closed against the chill, morning air. Black birds stalked across the tiles looking in at us angrily. Terzian lived like a lord; a warrior prince who had realized his fantasies. I could tell he was observing us, covertly, although he said little.

It was not a comfortable meal. I was trying to eat as quietly as possible when someone knocked on the door. Terzian bid them enter. The door opened a little way and a child ran into the room. It scrambled, chuckling, onto Terzian's lap, and I watched the brooding, sullen expression drop from his patrician face. I could understand, then, something of what Cobweb admired in him. "Quietly, little one!" he ordered gently. "We have guests.”

The child turned to look at us with wide, intelligent eyes. He looked about two years old. "This is Cal, and Pell," Terzian told him, smoothing his fine, dark hair. "I'd like you to meet my son," he said to us. "His name is Swift." Not two years old, then; nowhere near that.

" That must be Cobweb's child," I said to Cal.

"My child," Terzian corrected mildly.

"How old is he?" Cal asked.

"Six months.

Cal and I both laughed. Terzian chose to ignore our indiscretion. "I'm sorry," Cal explained. "We don't have much experience of this kind of thing Swift is the first Wraeththu child we've seen." Terzian was not surprised. To him all tribes other than the Varrs were pitifully underdeveloped.

"He is perfect, isn't he," Terzian said to Cal. "This is our future; perfect and whole."

It was suggested that we spend the day sightseeing in Galhea. We were to be treated like tourists then.

"You'll find your baggage in the stable block," Terzian told us. "By all means, bring what you require into the house, but I would prefer it if you left soiled items outside. My staff will launder anything that needs it. You only have to ask." He stood up, lifting Swift in his arms. "Lunch is served lit mid-day here. You are welcome to dine again with me, or in the town, us you prefer." He inclined his head. "Until later then." Swift smiled at us over his shoulder as he walked out.

" My God, what is this place?!" Cal exclaimed, pushing his plate roughly across the table. I stared at the wrinkles he had made in the white tablecloth.

"Two centuries in the past?" I suggested.

He grinned at me. "Two? Two! Three maybe, or three into the future, who knows!" He leaned back in his chair. "I wonder what they use for currency in this town?"

We had hardly touched Cal's stolen money, but both thought it unlikely we could use it here.

During our meal the previous evening, all our Kakkahaar clothes and any that were still wearable from before that, had been taken away by Terzian's staff. An abundance of Varrish garments had been left in their place. I had noticed that none of the Varrs wore jewelery; only those who we learned were the tactfully named progenitors wore their hair long.

"Male and female?" Cal queried with his usual acerbity, as we walked along the wide, manicured avenues of Galhea. It certainly seemed that way. "They are splitting off again," he continued. "Wraeththu combined the sexes, but they are splitting off."

"Is that so bad, so immoral?" I argued. "Wraeththu combined the sexes by favoring the male. There are too many issues unraised, too many uncomfortable questions unanswered ..."