Student of Kyme

by Storm Constantine

  ‘Why are you here?’ I asked him.

  ‘You know,’ he replied, not looking up from his food. ‘A meeting…’

  ‘I meant here, now. Why?’

  He looked at me then. ‘I want us to be friends.’

  ‘Ah, you mean tidy the past away so you can feel comfortable about it?’

  He grimaced. ‘That is not what I meant. Don’t twist my words.’

  ‘Twist them? That would be hard. They’re twisted enough.’

  ‘No they’re not. That is the truth.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to be friends with me.’

  He was beginning to acquire the dark expression of anger that presages those bursts that occasionally flare out of him. I know he hates that about himself, but he clearly couldn’t help it. ‘Don’t put yourself down…’

  ‘I’m not. What I meant was if some har had said to me, and been with me, in the way I was with you, and I felt nothing for him, I’d run from him like a frightened horse. Yet here you are. You know how I feel, Ysobi. Why sit here and talk about being friends? You’re not stupid, so you must know that’s an impossible request.’

  ‘I thought that time might have healed you,’ he said. ‘I thought you might have forgotten some of it.’

  I laughed sourly. ‘You’re the hienama, not me. Surely you’re wise enough to know that a year is not enough to get over what happened between us. For your information, the love I experienced could not simply be taken down and packed away like Natalia decorations.’

  ‘I was never worth it,’ he said. How he’d always loved to say that. He’d never meant a word of it either. It had been his convenient escape.

  I put down my knife and fork very carefully. I took a deep breath. Then I made a signal to the waiter. When he came to my side, I asked for the bill. Ysobi just stared at me. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘You can see,’ I replied. ‘I won’t play this charade, Yz. I can’t do it. I’m going. By all means stay and finish your meal. You might like to think about why you’re actually here while you’re doing so. But I’m not playing your game. I won’t make you feel better. So here it is: I still love you and always will. I believe you felt something for me but chose to smother it and make me the scapegoat for it all. Now, it is grotesque sitting here talking with you and I want to leave.’ I stood up and put some money on the table. ‘I hope your meeting goes well.’

  Up behind the town there is a place where grey rocks poke out from a hillside over a valley below. After I left the restaurant, I climbed to this place, my mind and heart numb. I sat down on the cool grey stone that seemed to hang in space, not attached to the earth. I stared out across the valley and it was as if the horizon was further away than it ought to be. I felt that if I projected my will, I could make it further away still. I could make the world go on forever. How much do we identify ourselves with what we perceive in the mirrors of others? I am what Ysobi sees me as. I am what I think he sees me as. The two things are not connected at all, yet I am both. In that moment on the stone, a me in one realm of the many realms of reality sat with his head in his hands, fingers clawing through his hair in the cruellest of despair; in another I was weeping so bitterly my heart was drying out, while in this one, I merely sat with my elbows on my knees, my chin resting in my hands, gazing out over the beauty of an Alba Sulh spring, thinking, I will not live in pain.

  This will be the long dark summer of the soul.

  Lunilsday, Windmoon 10

  Ysobi sent me a note. It came in secret, to my workplace, not home. It said this:

  We got off to a bad start. I’m sorry. As I’m going to be here in Kyme for a while, and this is not a big town, not to mention we share friends, we really do need to be civil with one another. Don’t think for one moment I trivialise your feelings. I don’t. I just don’t feel equipped to deal with them. And yes, I am the hienama and should know. What you don’t realise is that what happened was an undoing for both of us. And no matter how much a har like me might like to think he knows himself, there is always a surprise waiting around the corner. Please let us be friends. I’ll do what it takes to accomplish that. Just advise me what you can live with.

  I didn’t know how to respond. I’d thought he’d back off. After work, once I returned home, I lay for hours on my bed devising scripts in my head. Eventually I just penned a quick note saying, I need time. Just leave me be for a few days.

  A note came next day to my workplace. As long as you need…

  By all the dehara, what is happening?

  Aloytsday, Windmoon 12

  I’ve shrunk from writing for a couple of days, and I think that is mainly because part of me feels ashamed. The main problem I have with this situation is that there is nohar to speak to about it. Huriel is obviously out of the question because his loyalties are divided. I know all my new friends would just shrug in utter incomprehension and say, ‘well, either roon him or tell him where to go. What’s the problem?’ In fact, they’d probably think there’s something wrong with me to be so affected by another har, and by a har like Ysobi at that. I could just imagine confiding in Iscane, who would then be beside himself with curiosity to meet this paragon of harishness who has captured my heart – not, let’s be honest, my soul – and then, when faced with the reality he’d probably actually laugh. ‘That is the one?’ he’d say. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  I know, as if they were sitting around me now discussing the matter, that my friends would advise me to forget about Ysobi. They’d say it would be easy. Just turn your heart cold. They would suggest some hedonistic and mind-altering activities to help me forget. But the thought of that makes me feel physically sick. I must do some work. It might help.

  Agavesday, Windmoon 13

  I can’t help feeling that the universe is quite excited at the prospect of finding out how far it can push me. I got back from the library today, fully intent on seeing what Rayzie was up to for the evening. I thought maybe we could go for a ride over the meadows and soak up the ambience of the season. We could drink wine beneath the budding oaks, with tender young moths in our hair and talk about life. This plan was squashed somewhat by the fact that when I put my head round Huriel’s office door, he had Ysobi with him. Ah, this must be the keeping us apart plan at work, I thought bitterly. I muttered a greeting and withdrew but Huriel came after me.

  ‘Gesaril,’ he said, ‘come back.’ He took my hands in his own and adopted an expression of what I took to be concern mixed with some bizarre kind of shy shared humour. I had no idea of how I was expected to interpret that.

  ‘What for?’ I asked. ‘I’m supposed to keep away from him.’

  ‘You should aim to be friends,’ Huriel said. ‘It would be healing for you. You must shift your perspective.’

  Clearly, Ysobi had been at work on him too. I pulled a sour face. ‘Excuse me? Is this a sentence for a crime I’ve committed unwittingly? Are you mad?’

  ‘You have to get past this, lay the ghosts to rest.’

  ‘His ghosts, you mean?’ I pulled my hands from his hold. ‘I don’t think so, Huriel. You do the soothing. You can tell him I’m a delusional fantasist. That seems to work well.’

  ‘Don’t be bitter.’

  I laughed. ‘I suppose you mean well. You do mean well, don’t you, Huriel?’

  Before he could respond I walked away.

  I felt so rattled by this experience, I couldn’t face the thought of anyhar’s company that evening. I would still have my ride, but alone. The only friend I needed was the landscape itself, unblemished and unbiased.

  Huriel has several horses in his stable, and I chose a spirited grey mare for the occasion. She reminded me of the female aspect of the earth, a wild spirit. Her white mane flew in rags over my hands as we raced through the meadows. She bucked a few times, as if to remind me of my place, and how easily she could throw me from the saddle and trample me to death. I’d already been through that, I thought, and then laughed aloud. The sound, as it blew away fr
om me, sounded hollow and somehow sinister. A disembodied laugh on the air that had no humour in it at all. I rode and rode until the night came down. It came right into me. I could ride away, right over the edge of the earth, into a new reality. If the mare galloped fast enough, was that possible?

  I brought my mount to a halt upon a high spur of rock. Below sheep were muddled pale dots amid the meadows. A nightjar called out; some spiteful spirit. I wondered about my Nagini spirit and whether if I willed it, he would come to me. Who was he? One of the second generation hidden away in the academy? Had to be, I suppose. He could even be Harua’s son. I like to think so.

  ‘If you have wisdom for me,’ I said aloud, ‘speak now. You kept my feet on the path and I’m walking it. Will you share the journey with me?’

  The night seemed to hold its breath around me, but there was no answering call, either in reality or through the ethers. I might never know the reason he spoke to me that day, or the night he met me on the road. If he had true interest in my situation, surely the contact would be more direct? It was then I wondered whether he’d been real at all, or perhaps just an avatar of Nagarana, conjured from my mind.

  From the west, clouds were rolling in across the clear sky. I shuddered; the inexorable change of the elements, light follows dark, calm follows storm. Nothing is ever permanent or certain. Perhaps I had done things to myself, through choice. One thing I have learned: love makes us so wilful. But then I can undo those things, take whatever action I need to protect my damaged being. And I will make the truth known. I will not allow Ysobi to make a fool of me. He must confess. I will say his name aloud into a silent room at least once every day to keep it real. There. I have made this decision. So be it. It is sealed now.

  Aghamasday, Ardourmoon 10

  Immanion

  We have reached the point now where I stopped writing. I truly went into my own dark space of the soul, that long unending night and there were no words inside me. Time has passed since then, and only now am I – this new Gesaril – able to record what the previous version experienced. All I can do is tell it how it happened, albeit coloured by my personal feelings, and let others be the judge of it.

  Three days after Ysobi had visited Huriel’s house, I came across him in town. I’d taken pains to avoid areas where I thought I might run into him, thinking that this could only serve my purpose better. I had to make him come to me, and maybe he did. Or maybe it was just coincidence. Whatever the truth of it was, when he called my name across the street, I did not ignore him or walk away.

  ‘Can we be something other than enemies?’ he asked me.

  ‘I don’t know. Can we?’

  ‘I like to think so.’

  ‘What does it matter? You’re returning to Jesith soon.’

  ‘Not that soon.’ He paused. ‘I’ll be staying on for some weeks.’

  I didn’t ask why because I expected I’d get some partial truth or outright lie in response.

  ‘It will be difficult to avoid each other,’ Ysobi said. ‘Kyme isn’t a big place. Can we not just put the past behind us and be friends? I used to enjoy our discussions. I miss them. There’s no reason we can’t find that place again, before everything went sour.’

  ‘All right,’ I said.

  I told myself I would maintain a certain distance in this friendship, but it was as if Ysobi could sense that resolve and took great pains to undo it. Every morning and every evening, he would spend an hour at a certain café I frequented regularly and we fell into the habit of meeting at these times. The Cloven Hoof, it was called; perhaps a bad omen. We talked a lot and mostly it was nothing of consequence but Ysobi released just enough of what I secretly wanted. It was the same as it had always been: a lingering glance of far too many seconds, too long to be accidental, a carefully worded comment or question that could be taken two ways; many little tricks that I fell for because I wanted to believe there was hope. He was clever because if I’d ever confronted him over these things, he could simply have denied them. I knew what he was doing, but I could speak of it to nohar, because I wouldn’t be believed, or worse they would say I was looking for things that weren’t there. But whatever I told myself objectively, I was helplessly in love, while at the same time full of rage, resentment and pain, and a desire to expose him. It was a hideous way to live: an addiction and he the strongest drug.

  The night I’d walked away from him in the restaurant was never mentioned, but then Ysobi was adept at projecting an aura of ‘nothing has happened’. It was easy to fall into the net. I know he wanted to see me all the time, because our unspoken arrangements were somehow sacrosanct. Both of us always turned up, although the reason for our meetings was never broached. I had to make a lot of difficult excuses for these frequent private get togethers, and I expect Ysobi had to do the same. We did not speak of that. All I wanted was for him to tell me that, yes, he had loved me, perhaps still did, even though we could not be together. I wanted him to tell the world this was so, just to clear my name and restore my belief in myself. I wanted to know that I had not nearly died of a broken heart for nothing. I truly believed that if I was patient, all this would eventually come to pass. Of course, I yearned for more than that, but I wasn’t so blind as to think I might get it. I wanted us to be friends of unusual closeness, friends with a bond, but if that was all I could have, there must also be honesty between us. I wanted him to grant me at least some of these requirements, because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself doing what I believed had to be done. I really wanted him to stop me.

  During our conversations, Jassenah and the harling were never mentioned – well, hardly ever. Sometimes, Jass’s name would be used as a weapon. For example, if Ysobi and I were enjoying a particularly intimate chat, where the energy between us was so electric I swear there were sparks in our hair, when I thought that soon he would tell me what he really felt, he would suddenly draw back and start talking about his chesnari. His expression and body posture would become rigid and he would lean away from me. His voice would become clipped, slightly higher in tone. This was always like a punch in the gut, but all I’d do was wobble a little from the impact, smile, and keep talking.

  After one such night, he left in such a cold and taciturn mood I seriously thought it presaged the end of our meetings. I was so shocked and frightened by this, I couldn’t even weep. But as I walked home, numb in mind and body, a faint voice came to my inner ear through the ethers. I love you. I stopped walking and held my breath, my inner senses straining to breaking point. Had I heard that really? Had I? Even the sound of my own blood in my ears was too loud. No other message came. I knew I shouldn’t send one back. It would be too much for him. I would accept the crumb I’d been given. It was poor nourishment.

  Needless to say, the next day, it was not mentioned. Ysobi was in high spirits and kept touching my arm as we talked, but he avoided personal subjects. When we parted on the steps of the café, I jokingly complained he was too tall to hug and that I always had to stand on tiptoe, or else feel like a child.

  He laughed. ‘Stand on the top step.’

  I did so and he stood beneath me at the bottom. Then we embraced, face to face.

  ‘You see?’ he said. ‘That is the way.’

  ‘Is this allowed?’ I asked him, holding him so tightly, yet at the same time feeling it should be me who pulled away.

  He laughed. ‘Of course it’s allowed. Don’t be silly.’

  We said nothing more, just held each other for long moments. And it was me who pulled away. Had he discovered that trick with Jassenah? I hated to think so.

  This toxic situation affected all areas of my life. I couldn’t eat, and the only way I could sleep was to get drunk or to take one of the valerian potions Rayzie kept in the larder. He noticed the stocks declined more rapidly than usual, but said nothing. The supply was always there for me when I needed it. I was listless, interested in nothing. My friends bored me. All I lived for were the hours I spent in Ysobi’s company, hopin
g for a good night, more warmth than distance. Sometimes, he obliged me.

  ‘We will always be friends,’ he said once. ‘No more, no less.’

  ‘I will always love you,’ I replied.

  He smiled at me, such tenderness. ‘I love you as a friend.’

  Then when he left me, he would kiss me on the lips, two seconds too long. He would hold me for two seconds too long. And leave me aching, trembling, sick with longing.

  Inevitably, Iscane got wind of these meetings and asked me to meet him for a drink one evening. I agreed reluctantly, hoping I could escape his company in time to meet Ysobi. We met in an inn close to where Iscane lived. He bought me a drink and sat with folded arms, observing me speculatively. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Are you going to tell who the mysterious har is with whom you’re spending all your time?’

  I barely flinched. ‘My old teacher,’ I told him.

  ‘Ysobi har Jesith,’ Iscane said.

  I nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he is the reason you hardly socialise anymore?’

  I gave Iscane a stare. ‘I do socialise. What do you mean?’

  He held my stare. ‘Well, hara have noticed that you leave any gatherings at the same time every night and that a certain hour is off limits. It’s the same for breakfast. You never join our gatherings for that now. You’re only ever half with us, as if you’re just waiting for the time when you can leave. You’re withdrawing from us, Ges. And I have to ask: is it worth it?’

  Naturally, these remarks kindled anger within me, but I fought to contain it. ‘I enjoy talking with him. Sometimes, it’s good to share interesting conversation rather than gossip and trivia.’