The Wraeththu Chronicles (63 page)

"You are so lucky," she said.

On our way downstairs, I turned to Cobweb. "We are all happy," I said. "For now, maybe," my hostling answered, "so we must enjoy it!" All my father's friends were waiting for us in the Big Room. It was nearly midday and the sun was streaming in through the long windows in great gold bars. Everyone was dressed in finery, everyone was smiling. Red leaves blew along the terrace outside. "Swift, you are beautiful," Ponclast said, taking my hand and sweeping an exaggerated bow. I felt I could never tire of this attention. My childhood had been torn from me. Now I was adult and hara could flirt with me without reproach.

Custom dictated that Terzian perform some kind of ceremony in my honor, although, Varrs being what they are, there was nothing written down to give him any guidelines. I think he made the words up as he went along. I remember him touching my shoulder and saying, "This body blooms, this Wraeththu flower," and before all our guests he joined Cal's hand with mine and told him, "Bring this flower to fruit." Terzian is an accomplished speaker. Even Cal could not bring himself to smile as my father delivered solemn words about deflowering. I was relieved when it was over.

House-hara mingled among the guests dispensing sheh and wine, and many people came to speak with me. I can remember nothing of what was said. At some point I saw Leef standing with a group of friends near the windows. He saw me looking and we both froze and quickly turned away.

The whole day was one of happiness and feasting and dancing. I was floating on air the whole time. All my discomfort had gone. All that was left was a tingling in my skin that was a yearning for the dusk and the time that would follow it. When my father pronounced me Kaimana at lunch, Cal, seated next to me, took my hand and kissed my cheek. (Why was it Leef's eye I had to meet across the table?) My body surged with untapped power, I felt capable of anything.

Gahrazel came to speak to me in the afternoon. "It doesn't seem that long ago that it was my Feybraiha we were celebrating here," he said. "My God, Swift, you've changed since then!"

"It wasn't that long ago and you've changed more than I have," I replied. "When did we last see you? We used to be such friends."

"I know ..." Gahrazel sighed heavily and looked at the floor. When he raised his eyes again, I felt he was trying to tell me something.

"Gahrazel?"

He shook his head and reached for my hand. "It's nothing. Look, I'll come and see you before we go south again, I promise."

"Forever used to be your home."

Gahrazel looked at the room around him, beyond the faces, at the walls. I saw him shiver.

"And how is Purah?" I enquired, but Gahrazel only smiled.

"I'll see you soon," he said. "And good luck for tonight!"

In the evening, after dinner, all the long windows in the Big Room were thrown open to an autumn evening still warm with the memory of summer. Hara wandered out there to dance in the moonlight and the smell of cooking meat drifted in from the remains of Yarrow's ox in the stableyard. I had had to speak with so many hara that day, I had hardly seen anything of Cal. Now, in the dusk, he came toward me and took me out on the terrace.

"Can you believe this, I feel nervous!" he confessed. "It's such a responsibility, what with all these hara here and everything. I hope Terzian doesn't ask you to write out a report for him tomorrow. What if I fall asleep?"

"I think I'm too drunk to be nervous," I replied. "Nothing seems real yet. I want to put my arms around you, but everyone's watching us."

"Feybraiha seems to be a spectator sport, I agree. I expect they'll all cheer if you do."

"I expect so too. Oh, what the hell!"

We embraced. They cheered.

At midnight, my father called us to the middle of the room and delivered another embarrassing speech, which everyone applauded with deafening enthusiasm. When he finished speaking and everyone was toasting my health and fortune, Cobweb came and touched my arm. "I think it's time, Swift," he said. "Come with me. It won't be so noticeable if you and Cal disappear separately."

I followed my hostling up the great, wide stairs to my room. Always, on those stairs, my mind is flooded with memories. That time was no exception. I felt that at the foot of the stairs was my past, a forlorn child looking up, while at the head, my future, as yet unknown, gaped before me.

My room had been strewn with ferns and smelled deep, dark and mysterious. "It's like a forest," I said.

Cobweb took me in his arms. "Dear, dear Swift," he said. "If he hurts you, I will kill him!"

"Will it hurt me then?" I asked, alarmed.

Cobweb shook his head quickly. "No, no. I shouldn't have said that. If it does, it will be a sweet, sweet pain, and short in duration."

He dressed me in white and took the flowers from my hair. I said, "My God, it's real, isn't it!"

Cobweb smiled. "As real as anything can be. Don't be afraid."

He folded back the sheets and I slid between them. The pillows were fragrant with perfume. Cobweb lit a dozen long, white candles and turned off the light. The room became an enchanted place. My heart beat fast and I was deep within the forest.

"It is like a dream," I said.

Cobweb was at the door. "Goodnight, little pearl," he said.

I lay there for what seemed hours, drunk on my own heady turmoil and the rich scent of the room. I tried to rehearse what I would say to Cal when he came in, but none of the conversations had any end that I could imagine. Now it was real; now. Before that moment I could not visualize reaching it, even during the day. I remembered once sitting on the roof with Gahrazel when he had told me about aruna and how I had felt about it then, thinking of Ithiel. Now I was afraid, now I craved its consummation.

Cal knocked on the door before he opened it, probably to give me time to compose myself. "Swift," he whispered. "Are you awake?" I laughed nervously. "I feel ridiculous."

Cal crept stealthily across the room as if wary of others listening outside. "I know what you mean. It's a bit like Grissecon, having everyone there watching us. Hopefully, they're all too engrossed in drinking and dancing again by now."

"Grissecon. . . . Have you ever done that?"

He paused to examine himself in the mirror. "Yes. Once at Saltrock. That was where Pell and I stayed for a while." "Why did you do it?"

"For magic, of course. There was a sort of plague, but it was man-made. Aruna is stronger than anything man can devise. We performed Grissecon to kill the plague."

"Who ... you and Pell?"

"No ... it was someone else." He smiled. "I don't want to talk about that now. You look lovely, Swift."

"Everyone keeps saying that today," I said. "But will they tomorrow? Is it just a temporary thing?"

Cal shook his head. "I could keep on extolling your virtues, but it might make you conceited. Shall we have a drink?

He poured us shell and sat down beside me. We could hear the music from downstairs; the window was open.

"I wonder what will happen when Terzian goes south," I said.

"It's best not to think about that now. You might end up as Master of Galhea sooner than you think."

"God, Cal, that's awful. Don't say that!" I cried, appalled. I hated to think my father was vulnerable, but Cal was probably right.

"At least you'll be here if anything happens," I said.

"And what could I do?" he asked, laughing.

"Not do anything; just be here. I'd feel safer somehow."

He look the glass from my hand. It was empty. I tried to smile.

"Don't be afraid, Swift. Aruna is the most normal, commonplace, easily accomplished thing Wraeththu can do. We spend most of our lives being concerned with it."

He stood up and carelessly pulled off his shirt. His skin was dark, his hair almost white. I looked away and after a while he said, "Oh Swift, can't you hear to look at me?"

"Moswell said it would be indelicate to stare."

"Nonsense, it turns me on. I want you to admire me." I turned my head. His skin was tawny and soft with a sheen like fur. He turned round three limes. "Front and back elevation," he said. "What do you think?"

"Wonderful ... a bit frightening ..."

"You think so? Come here." He held out his hand. I struggled from the hod in a knot of nightshirt. "I don't like that. Take it off," he said and I hesitantly pulled it over my head. "I can't imagine anyone finding a garment like that erotic, but still, concealment is enticing, I suppose." We went to the windowseat and looked out at the garden and it felt wild and magical to be naked. Anyone might have looked up and seen us. Cal put his arm around me, stroking my skin, staring out into the darkness. "The Gelaming might have a price on my head," he said.

"What, because of that Orien?" I asked.

"That Orien!" Cal mocked. "He was a respected shaman, Swift. I have a feeling that Seel. . . that Seel won't rest until I pay for what I've done."

"Who's Seel?" I felt I'd heard of him before.

"He founded Saltrock," Cal explained. "We were good friends once but I doubt if our friendship could weather my murder of Orien." "You were sick, though, weren't you?"

"That is not an excuse, though I wish it was." He pulled me closer against him. "You feel so warm ... I have a feeling, I don't know, I feel as if Seel is ... is coming closer somehow. Sometimes it's as if he's here in this house. I've woken up and smelled him in the room, smelled his perfume,
 
his body. I've seen his eyes.... Oh God, why am I going on like this! It's your Feybraiha."

"It doesn't matter. I like you telling me things, I want you to," I said andOrien. ... He was perhaps the kindest, wisest person I ever met. He was Saltrock's shaman, high priest, whatever . . ."

"If he was that wonderful," I butted in, "why did you kill him?"

"Why indeed!" Cal sighed and pressed his face into my neck. "Why . . . I'll have to go back, Swift, to when Pell and I were in Galhea before. It's not easy. When we left here, all those years ago, we were planning to travel back toward the south. I wanted to find a way to Immanion, the first city of the Gelaming. I knew that was where it was all really happening, where Wraeththu had organized themselves, found order. ... It seemed the logical place to head for. I had no idea where it was. Now I know it's farther than I realized, across the sea, a long way away. Anyway, we had only traveled for a short time, a few weeks maybe, when . . ." For a moment he could not speak. His silence made my chest ache. After a while he swallowed. "I watched him die, Swift, all his life running out of him. I couldn't do anything, just watch. Afterwards, I must have wandered around half crazy. I can't remember.... Somewhere along the way I lost the horses. It was like, like, how can I explain? My body was moving, feeding itself, sleeping, looking after itself in a way, but I was buried deep inside my own head, unaware of what was going on around me. One day I woke up and I was back at Saltrock. I don't know how I got there. They didn't know how to cope with me. I was out of my

head, and when I wasn't I wanted to be. Anything I could get my hands on to escape reality, I shovelled it into myself. Seel must have been at the end of his tether trying to sort me out. It was all because of Zack too, you see. I thought I was being punished for what happened to him. I thought that losing Pell was the divine retribution for my sins. I couldn't face myself. My life was a series of lies, conceit and pride. I was unfit to live, a blight on Wraeththukind. It seemed that everyone I got close to was destroyed in some way. The fruit of my self-hate was the murder of Orien. Perhaps it was the worst thing I could do, and to do it would prove to myself how utterly loathsome I was. I don't know. At the time, I blamed him for Pell's death. Now I can see that was . . . not stupid . . . just wrong."

"Oh, Cal," I said. He looked at my face and his fingers touched my cheek.

"Oh, don't weep for me, Swift," he said. "You see, the worst thing is, I haven't changed. I learned nothing from all that. I'm still selfish. My path is uphill. I don't struggle to climb it, I don't even slip back or seek the easy path. I just sit down where I am and think, 'Oh, to hell with it!' I'm too human; I shouldn't be har. Look at what I've done here. Don't think I'm not aware of it and don't think I don't enjoy it."

"But do you still hate yourself?" I asked.

"Inside myself . . . perhaps." He pulled away from me and lay on his back, with his arms behind his head.

"Swift, I've never spoken to anyone like this, not even Pell. I don't think I ever will again . . ."

"Maybe you had to," I suggested.

"Maybe." He smiled. "This is depressing. Here I am again bringing up reeking stomachfuls of confessions all over you! I am here for a purpose . . ."

He leaned over me and I closed my eyes. Already my body quickened for the feel of him, desire of him.

"No," he said softly, and stroked my stomach with the gentlest possible touch. He pulled me against him and lay back. I looked into his lazy, violet eyes. This is too incredible, I thought. This is too much; it is a dream. So close. His beauty almost withers me. Perhaps I shall be turned to stone . . .

"Swift," he said, "I want you to—" "Hush!" I answered. "I know."