The Wraeththu Chronicles (68 page)

"Greetings, son of Terzian," she said and her voice was low and clear.

I motioned for Ithiel to leave us and he shut the door behind him. Now we were in another world, contained and silent. "What is it you wish to say to me?" I asked.

She grimaced. "Please, sit down. Would you like wine?"

I sat beside her and she handed me a long-stemmed glass.

"I was sent to find you," she said.

"By whom?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "We are not fond of this land, but we were persuaded by the fact that Terzian and his executioners would not be here . . ."

"Who sent you?"

"I regret I cannot answer you. I bring news."

"Of my father?" I asked quickly, noting my voice rise uncontrollably in timbre."It may not be welcome ..."

"Not. . . is he . . . ?"

She shook her head before I could speak the word. "Not that. He went into the mist."

"I know that!" (Was that all she had to tell me?)

"Of course. They may have taken him, Swift. I don't know. It would be so easy for them, so exquisitely easy. He just went right to them, didn't he?"

"The Gelaming!"

She reached to touch my face with one small, white, childlike hand, and I thought, This must all be a dream. I shall wake up in a minute.

"You must not wait here for them, Swift," she said.

I looked into her eyes, which were hesitant and grave. She was old-young, as Wraeththu are old-young. She was tired and she was powerful.

"Tel-an-Kaa, you must come to my house," I said.

Tel-an-Kaa: a name of power, a sound of mystery. I never found out how old she was or her origins, or even how she had formed her band of wanderers. Perhaps it did not interest her to tell me, perhaps she only guarded the shroud of her enchantment. She was naturally wary of going with us alone to Forever, but adopted a pose of being too polite to suggest that any of her people should accompany us. Out of courtesy, I invited five of them to make up her party. "We rarely have guests now," I told her. "Our cook is one of the best in the country and he will be pleased to be able to show off his art again." Ithiel and I had arrived on horseback, and as it would have appeared improper for her to walk beside us (none of the Zigane horses were exactly

what you'd call riding stock), Ithiel ordered some of his hara to bring a cart. Once more I reflected upon the indefinable quality of the pythoness that demanded respect. Even Ithiel felt it and he had never admitted to a great love of humankind.

On the way back to the house, I trotted my horse beside her. "Why is it that you have sought me out?" I asked.

She smiled her careful, cat's smile. "Oh, but I have already said, I had a message."

"Someone has paid you well then?" I suggested, but she would not answer. I caught Ithiel's eye and could see that he was sharing my suspicions. Varrs are the most feared of Wraeththu in Megalithica, yet this outlandish gypsy queen had wandered insouciantly into our lands, without precaution or defense. It was uncanny. Perhaps more uncanny was the way in which we treated her. Was it just my influence? Because of Bryony, women fascinated me for their mercurial minds and their unpredictable disposition, but I would never have imagined that I would come to treat a human with such deference.

Tel-an-Kaa appraised my home with a critical eye. She bowed before Cobweb and said, "Your name is known to us," which, as she had anticipated, pleased him greatly.

Yarrow prepared us a sumptuous lunch, which the Zigane consumed with undisguised enthusiasm. "It is some time since I have eaten as well," Tel-an-Kaa confided to Cobweb. She resisted all attempts by our household to draw her out about the message she carried for me, light-heartedly mocking all serious questions. Cal watched her steadily and I could tell that she was conscious of his dislike.

"You are lucky our noble lord is absent," he said to her. "Only Swift is against the slaughter of strangers. Perhaps you owe your life to him."

Only when Cal spoke to her did the Pythoness look uncomfortable. "We would not be here if Terzian had not been away," she said. "His leaving is the sole reason for us being here."

"Oh?" Cal said archly. "And perhaps you'd like to expand on that sole reason . . . ?"

"What I have to say is for Terzian's son alone," she replied, but she did not touch her food again after that.

After lunch, I took her to the conservatory, where it was warm and private. Bryony brought us wine and honey cakes. I could see that she was not impressed with Tel-an-Kaa either, but that was probably just Bryony being female and territorial.

"I am surprised to see a woman in this house," the Pythoness remarked. I decided not to answer her. Perhaps she was here to gather information about us. I resolved to reveal as little as possible.

"I think, perhaps, you had better tell me the real reason for your being here," I said. "You spoke obliquely of my father being taken by the Gelaming, but I doubt if you can produce proof of that. You spoke of messages, while telling me nothing. If you think I am unlike my father in some ways, you are right, but my patience is not limitless. If I decide you are a danger to us, I will not hesitate to order your extinction."

She inclined her head graciously. "But of course! I respect your position, Swift. In your shoes I would think likewise. I admit I have walked into your home with only a handful of vague hints and rather too much bravado, but I too have to be cautious. You are spoken well of and we expected to feel safe coming here, but I could not be entirely sure. You are Terzian's son after all and I am convinced his blood is thicker than most."

I smiled, relaxing enough to sit down.

"Well then, why do you want to see me?"

"Why?" Her eyes swerved away from mine with the grace of flight. "You will be annoyed when I say that some things I cannot tell you . . ."

She looked surprised at my laughter. "Oh, I have grown up with that sentence ringing through my head!" I explained. "Throughout my life I have had to put up with hidden things. That you should say it now seems only natural."

"It is true. I cannot tell you who sent me. My master would remain anonymous," she said. Her fingers idly traced patterns in the wrought-iron table at her side; the honey cakes were untouched. "In the south . . . there is a great strangeness in the south. Magic, conflicting magic has warped the land. Time and space have been injured. It is true that your father wentstraight to the Gelaming. Although the desert tribe, the Kakkahaar, breached the Gelaming's defenses, the Gelaming still had the power to choose where that breach should be. ... Through my master, Swift, they have asked for you. They have no love of war, no desire for pain. Through you, pure-born as you are, they hope to unite the northern tribes—"

"Wait!" I interrupted quickly. "I can never speak for any people other than my own, here in Galhea. It is true that I too have no love of war, and I would like to see peace restored to our lands, but the hara further north have never seen me. They have probably never even heard of me. How can I speak for them? They are Varrs. In Galhea, our way of life has maybe made us soft, but I can assure you, that is not the case in Ponclast's domain. The har who can cold-bloodedly order the murder of his own son will not listen to me. I can do nothing!"

She nodded thoughtfully. "You are right. Perhaps that is not exactly what I meant ..."

I stood up. "Have the Gelaming sent you, Pythoness?" I demanded. "Is this their way of defeating us? Are you here to worm your way into Galhea's heart and set poison there?"

"No," she replied, unruffled. "I told you; my master sent me. Let us say that, in this matter, he adheres to neither side. As for the Gelaming's motives, I am not qualified to say . . ."

"You must agree," I told her, "that this all seems highly suspicious. Only a fool would trust you. Only a fool would ride south into what is literally the unknown, because you suggest it."

She rubbed her forehead. "Yes, I suppose so ... I realize I have to convince you. I would be held in contempt if I could not succeed."

"Convince me then."

She looked up at me wearily, leaning on her hand. "Convince you? How? All I have to say is that you must ride south and trust in Fate. Perhaps your father's life depends on it ... perhaps. In your heart, you must know you are irresistibly drawn to what is waiting for you. Your dreams will have been forewarning you for quite some time, I think. Remember them now. Do you sense danger? You don't, do you! You think you ought to, but you can't. You are strong, Swift, strong and good. I can see that for myself. Galhea seems like yours now. It seems like a place untouched by the horror beyond its fields. I speak from experience. It would astound you."

"It seems you know me," I said, wondering.

"I feel I do," she replied. "Give me your hand."

Her female flesh felt no different from mine, yet we were worlds apart.

"See this," she said stroking my palm. "This is the line of destiny. It cuts deep; so straight, so true. Heart and head without blemish. The line of head is separate from the line of life; this symbolizes your intellect, your early development. You are passionate, but not governed by your passions. The only difficulty is ... now."

"Now!" I exclaimed.

"An artistic hand," she said, thinking aloud.

"Is it really possible," I said softly, "what the Gelaming believe, human and hara sharing this world; the concept of harmony? Is it really possible?"

The Pythoness pulled a wry face. "They do not doubt it," she said, "but if it is possible, it will be sanctified by blood."

"Fighting is a dream to me," I said. "I have only heard of it. I have never seen death . . ."

"You will," she answered. "Long ago, I have heard, maybe in a saner, more aquatic age, when a temple was built, it demanded a life. Perhaps the temple that the Gelaming seek to build is so great, so beyond our grasp, only a thousand lives will make it live; I don't know. I'm only a poor girl after all."

We both laughed and I took her hand. "I do believe you," I said.

"Your instincts have not failed you," she replied.

So, my destiny would lead me at last to the south and the wild magic that lay there. In my heart, I was afraid that I could never be ready to face whatever might be waiting for me, yet I heeded the call, like my father had done before me, perhaps. Would I find him there? He had been gone for so long without us hearing news that it was as if he had already died. Perhaps he had. Would we have known? Could Cobweb's intuition penetrate the barrier that kept him from us?

After my talk with the Pythoness in the conservatory, my mind was already made up. Hadn't my hostling known this would happen? It was Fate, and there could be no other way. Even so, I was nervous of telling anyone. I anticipated their scorn, their amazement, their anger.

In the evening, we ate out on the lawns, the smoky aroma of cooking meat drifting around us, the light of torches eating at the sky. I could smell the vitality of spring in the air. It was a smell of something rushing in, a focusing, and great excitement. Something was waiting for me. Now I turned toward it and the pull was stronger. I wore a fur coat draped around my shoulders, but could not eat. Two of Tel-an-Kaa's troupe were musicians, and soon the darkness was alive with the fairy music of their strange echoing strings, the rhythmic mumble of a speaking drum. Shapes swayed in the leaping light of the torches, hissing fat spat down onto the glow beneath the meat and I could hear laughter. It was as if I was somewhere else, looking through a window at the lawns of Forever. Fighting disorientation, I walked toward the lake.

There is nowhere on this earth so eerie, so haunted or so beautiful as that spot in my father's garden. Moonlight touched the uneven surface of the lake, around me tall cypress trees nodded their lofty heads in a slight breeze and I could see the flicker of white that was the summerhouse between the branches. I had not been there since that time when Cal and Cobweb had been there. When I tried to open the door, it was stuck, but eventually, in a sigh of flaking paint, it gave in to my demands and squealed open. I sat down on the lip of the lily bowl. Pale light fell in through the glass across the tiled floor. My heart was heavy. I was grieved and exultant at the same time. (Is that possible?) No-one could tell me exactly what Fate had in store for me. Would I go to my death?

I reached down, under the rim of the stone bowl, searching for the tap that would turn on the fountain. I shivered as webs brushed my skin. Resisting, as the door had done, the fountain tap gradually turned and life spurted into the ancient mechanisms. With a shudder and a few abortive bursts, water finally shot upwards out of the stone animal's mouth, turning its scaly flanks dark with moisture. I watched it. Everything

was black and white, or gray. I listened to the water sounds. I dipped my fingers in the pool.

When I heard the door to the summerhouse scrape open, I looked up, thinking it would be Cal, or Cobweb. Only they knew me well enough to know where to find me. Instinct guided the three of us in scented circles around each other. But it was neither of them. I saw Leef standing there and knew immediately that this was just another intrinsic rightness of the whole situation. Leef and I had had our differences in the past, it is true, but circumstances, even roles, had changed in Galhea. Maintaining a worn-out atmosphere of resentment and bitterness was something none of us had time for any longer. I smiled and said, "Come in, come in."