The Wraeththu Chronicles (61 page)

Gradually, my advancing maturity began to get uncomfortable. Cobweb noticed it before anyone else; I had said nothing, half hoping it would all go away and I could resume my life peacefully. Blossoming sexuality raged within me like a fast-growing, strangling vine. I had no control over it. My moods swung like a great and sickening pendulum. One moment I was happy to the point of lunatic hysteria, the next plunged into a depression so black, only the thought of death could comfort me. As Swithe had once predicted, unexpected growths of hair seemed to burst from my skin overnight, beneath my arms, between my legs, and in those places the skin was hot and sore. I remembered what Gahrazel had gone through the year before and wondered whether I should talk to him about it, but ever since he had come back from the south, he had been like a stranger to me, no longer the elfin beauty with whom I had shared secrets and childish dreams, but a tall, tanned intruder that looked vaguely like a Gahrazel I had once known. He looked at me with different eyes now and appeared to shun coming into the house.

Cobweb made an ointment for my skin, using some of the herbs that the Kakkahaar had brought. Aihah expressed polite interest in my coming of age and taught me some relaxation exercises to try when I felt too manic. I think Cobweb would have liked the Kakkahaar to have given me some Instruction concerning aruna and its practices, but my father was against it. I never knew for sure whether Cobweb had suggested it, but sensitive as I was at that time, I guessed some of what went on behind my back. As it was, Swithe and Moswell were entrusted with my education, as usual. Cobweb knew that the Kakkahaar could have taught me much more than either of my tutors could ever know.

Swithe was the most informative, which was not surprising as Moswell could never be termed a particularly sensual creature. "You must learn to understand your body in an adult way," Swithe told me. "It can no longer be simply a thing to giggle over in the dark. You must bring your sexuality to the forefront of your being and examine it carefully."

He told me that in humankind, where the sexes had been split into two different kinds, men and women were attracted to each other because of their opposite polarities, the positive aspect of male and the negative aspect of female. "They sought to make themselves whole through the act of copulation," Swithe explained. "We do not possess that confusing, desperate yearning; our desires are centered upon different aspects. As we contain both negative and positive elements within our own bodies, we can express through aruna a fusing of these elements to previously unattainable satisfaction. Men were unaware that through sex they could reach a higher form of consciousness. To us it is virtually commonplace. In the simple act of sharing breath, the minds of two hara can mingle and rise. During aruna, the manifestation of ecstasy can accomplish anything. It creates a living force that may be harnessed and used. If such an effect is desired, we call aruna Grissecon, which is aruna to perform magic. Varrs seldom practice it."

At night, I could rarely sleep. My skin burned, the moon called me with a soft, white voice and I sought the dew-soaked coolness of the shady trees outside. One morning, at breakfast, Cal said to me, "God, you look awful! What's the matter with you?"

Raging irritation made me run from the room, virtually in tears. Behind me, I heard Cal say sarcastically, "Oh dear."

Some time later, he came to my room. Swithe had obviously explained what was going on. His inquisitiveness was part ghoulishness, part concern. "Never was puberty so grim!" he said, pulling a face, which I guessed was supposed to make me laugh. "This must be one of the prices we pay for being so goddam perfect!"

"And what are the others?" I asked.

"One of them's learning, I suppose. A little of it is a dangerous thing, as they say. God, what a wreck you are!"

My face was red, the skin scaly, my eyes puffed and sore. It seemed to hurt me physically if anyone looked at me. Cal was interested in the concept of Feybraiha and what it entailed, but I shrank from explaining.

"So your honorable father selects some worthy har for the purpose of deflowering you," Cal enthused while I cringed with shame. "Who will it be, I wonder."

"Probably Leef," I said, surprised at a strange kind of anger that had crept into my voice. There was no way I could know whom my father would choose.

"And do you like him?"

"He's alright."

"Is that all?" Cal laughed. "How disappointing! I would have thought that for the first time you would have to be with someone who set your head on fire at least!"

"I've heard that soon just about anyone will be able to do that to me!" I said bitterly. I still spent a lot of time resenting the way my body was behaving, sailing happily on in the special life of its own that it was enjoying.

My little brother, Tyson, seemed more aware than most of what I was going through. He looked at me with strange, fearful eyes, bringing me presents in a pitiful, childish attempt to cheer me up. I now had two strips of rag, a pink stone and some of Cobweb's earrings (all mismatched) lined up on my windowsill. When Tyson thought I was particularly downhearted, he would grab hold of my sleeve and drag me over to them, making me touch them. Perhaps Cobweb was indoctrinating him already.

One evening, the event that I had been dreading occurred. At dinner, my father said, "Later, Swift, I want you to come to my study." I went cold from head to toe, unable to eat my food for the hysterical beating of my heart.

He offered me a glass of sheh, diluted by cordial, leaning back against his desk, Master of Galhea, my father, lean, commanding and terrifying. I was insignificance itself, sitting there, looking up at him, glass clutched in my lap, waiting for the fateful pronouncement. Terzian seemed blissfully unaware of my discomfort. "As you know, Swift," he began, "for your Feybraiha, I have to choose someone I think right for the honor of. . ." (here he had the grace to falter) "... well, you've been told about it, haven't you?" He waited for me to nod. "Good, good. Well, I have talked about this with Cobweb and he agrees with my conclusion; it seems obvious to me that the warrior har Leef should be the one." My heart sank; I don't know why. I'd been expecting that hadn't I? Who else was there? My father looked at me strangely. "That was why I had him promoted," he said. "I did hope you'd be pleased about this, Swift."

I shrugged helplessly. My father raised one eyebrow, stroking the edge of his desk with light fingers. "After I heard about your little escapade in Galhea with your young friend Gahrazel, I naturally assumed you had

some interest in Leef..." My squirming was enhanced by savage blushing. "Nothing ever escapes my notice, Swift," my father chided gently.

I was choked by my own silence. Terzian carried on.

"I believe at Festival time and also in the garden some weeks ago, you indulged in some—er, petty frivolities with Leef. Is this so?" He was becoming impatient with my dumb stupidity. "Well?"

I nodded. Yes, it had been Leef. There was no-one else.

"Cobweb thinks you'll be ready in a week or two. Shall we say two weeks? I will arrange everything." And that was it.

Sensing my dismissal, I stood up. I wanted to say to him, "Can't you see that all this isn't just a case of 'being ready in a couple of weeks' for me, us if I was only being fitted for new shoes or something? It's my body! My life!" but he had already turned his back on me, sorting through papers on his desk, and anyway, I was too scared to speak.

"Oh, Swift, on your way out, could you find the Kakkahaar for me? Tell them where I am." He smiled wolfishly at me, but I could see he was already downing by the time he looked back at the desk.

The weight of despair descended like a black cloud once I had closed the door behind me. Why hadn't I said anything? What could I have said? I knew Leef would be pleased and that annoyed me too. I did not dislike him, but I resented being handed over to him on a plate. It made me angry; I wanted something else, something more, but what?

When I delivered my father's message to the Kakkahaar, Aihah paused as he passed me and lifted my face with his hand. "I would like to speak with you later," he said.

"I'll wait for you here then," I answered.

Cobweb was sitting by the fire, on the floor. "It will do you good to listen to Aihah," he said, and by that I knew that they'd been talking about me.

"What is going to happen Cobweb?" I asked, curling into his arms. "It's all taking so long."

"What is? Your Feybraiha? Is your head hurting you again?" He pressed his palm against my cheek.

"No, not that! That's got nothing to do with me, has it! I mean about the Gelaming."

Cobweb sighed. "Oh, that! I don't know, I really don't. Perhaps they are playing with us. Perhaps they really are wary of the Kakkahaar. We can only wait."

"I wish it wasn't happening! What with that hanging over us and what my body's doing to me, sometimes I feel like ... I don't know . . . like running or burying myself. . . Cobweb ..." I clung to him. "If only we could go back!"

"If only!" he agreed.

By the time Aihah came back to us, my head was pounding with the inevitable nightly headache. Just when I felt so exhausted that sleep seem ineluctable, my body would wake up with a host of excruciating symptoms. I would ache and itch and boil inside. That night I wanted to cry and scratch myself raw. Aihah touched my brow. "Come to my room," he said and offered his hand. When I took hold of it, I felt a comforting coolness seep into my arm.

His room smelled alien, as if he had invaded it with his own scent and substance and made it Kakkahaar. I sat on the edge of the bed and he said, "I think you should weep. You want to. There is nothing to be gained by holding it back."

There was no way I could stop myself after that. He busied himself about the room while I lay on his bed and gave myself up to a maelstrom of howling. After a while he shook me gently. "Here, sit up, drink this."

"I feel wretched!" I said, sniffling into the glass.

"Of course you do," he said softly. "Back home we give that drink to our own harlings. It should make you feel a little better." I had never tasted anything so strange. Later, I learned it was a distillation of the putiri plant, whose effects played a rather dramatic part in my life in the future. Aihah was critical of the way I'd been treated. "Here in the north, hara appear to know (or care) so little about Feybraiha. I'm not surprised you're suffering. It is not something you should have to cope with alone. There's a host of things that could be done to ease your discomfort."

"I've forgotten what it's like not to be like this!" I said.

Aihah laughed softly. "You are so distressed," he said. "I don't like to see it. I don't like it at all."

"My father has chosen for me," I blurted, incapable of stemming the fresh tears building up inside my eyes.

"Not a welcome choice?" Aihah suggested.

I shook my head. "Not really. I can't tell. Once I thought..." I looked at him helplessly and he brushed my cheek with his thumb.

"Who is it now then?"

"There is no-one."

Aihah sat down beside me. "Now, you must never lie to yourself, Swift. That is perhaps the worst of Varr mistakes. Be truthful; who is it? Your body knows and it wants that one special flame that only one special person can give you. That is the way of Feybraiha. If not, well, just about anyone would do; like animals or (darkly) men. This will be your first time, Swift, and it is very important. It is something you will carry with you for the rest of your life and because of that, it must be perfect. Now, come on, don't let me sit here and lecture you" (he gave me a little shake) "search your soul and admit it."

"I can't!" I cried. "My head is too full. I can't see anyone. There is no-one!"

"You are afraid. Is your choice perhaps a controversial one?"

"There is no-one!" I was weeping again, my body heaving in great, agonizing spasms. I felt so much grief and I could think of nothing that would relieve it.

"Swift, look at me!" I thought I'd heard Aihah's voice but it had been only in my head. I looked at him. "Into my eyes . . . deep." He put his long-fingered hands upon my face, lightly rubbing the sore spots above my eyes. "Open up to me, Swift. Let your mind go blank . . ."

It was so easy to let go. I had been holding myself together by great effort, now I could relax and the Kakkahaar would be there to catch me if I fell. I acknowledged his unobtrusive presence in my mind. He calmed me and caressed my thoughts, and then, with gentle, painless thrusts, he began to search my feelings. Each soft probing brought a picture to my eyes and it was like dreaming. I could see Forever, huge and black and white like an old photograph. A younger me running through the snow. Gahrazel smiling. Talismans on a gate. Was that Ithiel there? I ran right past him. He looked away from

me. Then I was mouth to mouth with Leef and we were great black birds, spiraling upwards and the trees were lifeless and the nests were empty. I twirled and spun, reaching up for the white, white sky. His face was there. He said, "You are the special one here, I think..." and then I had a glimpse, so quick, so brief, of a shining canopy lit by stars and the eyes of my dreams, my nightmares were there with hair all around them. But it was Cal who pulled me back.

I felt a real cry echo in the room around me and the force of Aihah's mind poured into me, compelling me to calm. "Face it!" he commanded and I sensed his awful, primal power held back. If he wished to he could have unleashed it within me, trusting as I was, joined to him by mind, unleashed it to swallow me whole, but he only ordered, "Face it!" and I did.