by K S Nikakis
There was a surge of heat and Viv flinched. ‘Sehereden wanted to lein-tryst,’ he said harshly. ‘He traded everything for it, including his life.’
‘I told Sehereden what I’ve just told you, and that Ithreya loved him and carried his child, but he believed I’d have a child with him. He told me it would be different because its seeding would be an act of love, and that I’d be glad of a child, because it’d grow up safe and happy in your sett.’
The heat from the Syld’s skin was like a furnace now, but Viv pressed on. ‘If you’d let me into your compound, I would have said goodbye to him too. I saw how happy he was with Ithreya at the dances.’
The Syld rounded on furiously. ‘You blame me for my lein’s death!?’
Viv shook her head. ‘What Ithreya said is true. Sehereden chose not to lein-tryst with her, and he chose to search for me. He had a choice in everything he did.’
‘Not once he’d seen you!’
‘Have it your own way. If you believe your lein was a maragh boar, so be it. I know you loved him, and that Ithreya loved him, and that I loved him.’ Viv’s voice cracked. ‘He was an easy man to love, your lein. He was the only man I’ve loved. I’m truly sorry for your loss, Syld, and thank you for the offer to aid my journey to Astraal, but it was never going to work.’
She dropped her pack to the ground, removed the fleece jacket, and unbuttoned the lighter jacket underneath. At least her shirt was halter neck, which saved time.
‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.
‘Parting company,’ she said, pushing the jackets into her pack.
His hand fastened on her arm. ‘You’ll stay with me!’
‘No, I effing won’t!’ she retorted, wrenching herself free. ‘Tell me why you’re not trading retsen at the Gothral’s sett, or not back with Fariye at the Scinta-ril. Tell me why you’re really here or I’m gone!’ His eyes blazed but her anger matched his. ‘Tell me!’ There was a long silence and she saw how he sifted possible responses.
‘I came to an understanding with Ithreya.’
Viv blinked. ‘Ithreya?’
‘She’s birthed a girl-child.’
Viv cursed herself. Between dealing with Tahsin’s death and the likes of Orthagh, she’d lost track of when the baby was due. ‘And they’re both well?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Yes.’
‘Thank God,’ she muttered. The Syld’s face was expressionless but his neck muscles roped. ‘The baby’s Sehereden’s, isn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Ithreya will give her to you, if …?’
‘Ithreya’s yet to choose the father, but she wants you safe. It’s what Sehereden wanted too. And the safest place is in my sett.’
‘Then she’ll make you choose-father? Is that the deal?’
‘Ithreya’s yet to choose the father,’ he repeated.
Ithreya had dangled a bait in front of the Syld, he couldn’t refuse. Not only did she offer the chance of another child, but the child of his dead lein. But why? Ithreya had been kind to Viv but this was something else. Maybe she wanted to see the Syld squirm, but Viv had never seen them argue. There’d been none of the animosity between them she’d enjoyed.
‘You should have told me the truth earlier, Syld, if it is the truth. I’d have understood, but we both know it’s impossible for me to live in your sett. I’ll visit though and argue your case with her. You’re a loving and protective father to Fariye, the sort of father I wish I’d had. You’d be doubly loving and protective, if that’s possible, of your lein’s child.’ Viv took a breath. Syatha would be proud of her little speech, though not how grudgingly she’d delivered it. ‘What did Ithreya name Sehereden’s daughter,’ she asked curiously, ‘or is naming the choose-father’s privilege?’
‘Vivreya.’ Viv’s mouth fell open. ‘The name’s not uncommon around the Verra-ril.’ Perhaps not, but Viv shivered.
‘You need to stay with me,’ the Syld repeated. ‘Astraal isn’t a kind city. Put your jacket back on before you freeze.’ He waited while Viv dressed and heaved on her pack, and they went on in silence. He’d have known why she’d undressed but hadn’t alluded to her wings, and she understood why. She’d seen him at his most vulnerable, and he didn’t want to be reminded of it.
It was completely dark by the time they stopped. The land had grown steep with gnarled trees clinging to the slopes to either side, and the Kama-ril reduced to a narrow bed, full of foam and fury.
‘We’ll need wood,’ the Syld said, as he cleared a space for a fire.
Viv dropped her pack and peered about. The slopes were bare, the only windfall probably in the trees upslope. Can you collect some firewood, please, would have been nice, she thought sourly, as she clawed her way up. They’d walked in silence since their chat about Ithreya but she could have made more of an effort too, she conceded, and learned about The Wheel. The Syld knew she came from outside, so she had the chance to fill the gaps in her understanding.
The windfall was thick under the trees, so were the spiders, and there were crumbling bones that looked human. She avoided them, and the spiders, loaded her arms with wood, and picked her back down. She supposed burning people where they fell made sense given the sparse population and a legal system that seemed to consist of payback.
The Syld had set a fire and she headed for the orange glow. He’d pitched a maark too, and sat on boulder in front of it, toasting retsen rounds on a sharpened stick. The fire was well alight and she tossed down her load of windfall in disgust. ‘You didn’t need wood,’ she said. ‘You had oilstone.’
‘Oilstone won’t last the night and if mercats turn up, neither will we.’
He’d positioned other stones around the fire and she sat on one. ‘Caibel said mercats weren’t about any more.’
‘Caibel?’
‘Baraghan’s son.’
‘Baraghan doesn’t have a son.’
‘Caibel’s Baraghan’s son whether he acknowledges him or not. The relationship doesn’t cease to exist because one side ignores it.’
His jaw tightened but there was no sign of anger when he spoke. ‘Mercats roam the higher vals and don’t like fire,’ he said, as he handed her a round of retsen. ‘Honey and cheese there,’ he said, gesturing to one of the stones. ‘Have both. We have a long walk tomorrow. Refill your flask before we leave too. There’s no water for two days.’
‘How far is Astraal?’
‘That depends on the route you choose and whether Enda smiles on you.’
‘So what route will you choose?’ asked Viv, in exasperation.
‘That depends on you.’ He turned, and the fire lit the planes of his face. Rim or Sehereden; he could have been either. ‘How tolerant are you of darkness? Of stone close all about you? Of trusting those who’ve done you harm?’
‘I’ve survived all three.’
‘That route is four days, if Enda smiles on us. Or we can take a route through land like this, which takes double that, if Enda smiles on us.’
‘What if Soaich sticks the boots in?’ asked Viv, licking honey from her fingers.
‘Then no one ever sees us again. You can decide in the morning,’ he added, when she said nothing.
‘If the mercats don’t get us,’ she muttered.
‘We’ll be safe enough in the maark, if we keep the fire high.’
‘I’m sleeping here.’
‘You’re sleeping in the maark. Mercats have taken sleepers in the open before, despite the nearness of flames. You might think me dangerous, elddra, but you’ve not seen a mercat.’
He was angry again and Viv shrugged. She supposed his deal with Ithreya meant he’d be the perfect gentleman, even if he still couldn’t manage her name. And then the zadic burst into the sky with its usual splendor, and Viv forgot her angst.
‘You have no zadics in Moonsun?’ he asked.
‘No, nor in the other folds I’ve visited. I’ve seen the Pool, Cascade, Fire, Cadestone, and Horse zadics here. How many others are there
?’
‘There’s eight zadics in total. You missed Ice, Lirium. and Glimwing when you were absent. Zadics last between forty and forty-five days, depending on Vorash.’
Viv looked at him in confusion. ‘What about the zadic that lasts only a few moments?’
He stiffened, but again his voice betrayed nothing. ‘That’s a Call Zadic. It appears to those who Enda summons to Ourassin, the sacred lake the Astraali renamed Astraal after themselves.’
‘Why did I see it?’
‘Because you’ve been Called.’
‘But why?’
‘The Called don’t speak of what they discover in Astraal,’ he said, and packed the food away. He built the fire until it roared, then rose. ‘Time to sleep,’ he said, and Viv followed him into the maark.
Chapter 23
Despite the elddra’s reluctance to share the intimacy of the maark, she was soon asleep, while he remained wide-eyed. The maark’s oiled cloth muted the zadic’s silver but outside, she’d shimmered like an otherworldly creature, which she was, and one that had stumbled into The Wheel by accident.
It was an accident that had twice saved his daughter’s life, and cost him his lein’s. Heat pulsed through him, exacerbated by her scent, and he ducked out into the chill night air and inhaled deeply. There was no guttural mew of mercats but senglings sounded beyond the next ridge, their calls faint as if, like him, they headed cloudwise. Astraal was the last place he wanted to go but he’d keep his visit brief, then take the elddra back to his sett.
He’d thought that would be easiest of Ithreya’s demands to meet, but he’d been wrong. The elddra had only tolerated him for Fariye’s sake, and the message he’d had Shornon pass on, that Fariye was happy and settled, had seemed confirmed by the elddra’s own sighting. Now she had no reason to tolerate him at all.
And it got worse. Her belief that Fariye no longer needed her, weakened her links to The Wheel, as did Sehereden and Tahsin’s deaths. Baraghan’s descriptions of his travels suggested rifts were easy to use, once you found them, and the elddra’s shift of focus at Tahsin’s pyre, suggested she’d found one there. If her mother wasn’t in Astraal, she might well use it out
And then there was Thrisdane. The sight of him was etched into Ataghan’s memory, as was his tenderness as he’d cradled the elddra. If Thrisdane were her lover, it all but guaranteed she’d leave, now Fariye no longer needed her.
His body’s burn grew unbearable and he wrenched off his jacket, and slashed his arms, and when the sear had dulled enough to breathe, staggered down to the Kama-ril, and washed away the blood. The water rushed into the darkness and he was tempted to let it take him too, but forced himself back to the fire and slumped onto a stone.
His life had been one long fight and this was just another one, but for the most precious prize of all. Some fights required trickery, others strength, but all required an understanding of your adversary. To win Sehereden’s daughter he must meet Ithreya’s demands, but Ithreya wasn’t the enemy, the elddra was. To defeat her, he must counter her strengths and exploit her weaknesses, and he had until the end of Pool Zadic to do it.
Viv crawled out of the maark next morning to be greeted by spits of sleet in her face. ‘Just another day in paradise,’ she muttered. There was no sign of the Syld so she guessed he attended to matters of quarash, which she did too, quickly, keeping an eye out for whatever mercats looked like. She scrambled down to the Kama-ril, washed her hands, and filled her flask.
The sleet was like needles, different to the prick of being watched, and she turned, expecting a mercat to be crouched above. It was the Syld. ‘Not much of an improvement,’ she muttered, as she came up the bank.
He packed away the maark and quenched the fire, and only spoke when he tossed her a cape. ‘You’ll need this,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ said Viv, you surly bastard. The cape was a good fit, and looked new, in fact, as new as the fleece jacket and mittens. She suspected they weren’t from Gothral’s store at all, but traded in Esh-accom. It seemed he was into planning like his elddric mate Baraghan. He strode off and she followed, pleased he wasn’t behind her, despite the risk of mercats slinking in their wake.
The cloud hid the ridge-tops and she strained for sound. Mercats, maragh, the likes of Orthagh, and even Baraghan, who wouldn’t take her desertion philosophically, might all lurk. Her skin continued to prick which told her something watched; she just hoped it were the shrills.
‘You’ll need to make a decision soon,’ the Syld tossed over his shoulder.
‘What?’
‘Whether we take the four-day route or the eight-day one.’
‘You choose.’
‘Shorter is better when Horse Zadic deepens.’
‘Shorter it is,’ said Viv, and wondered if she’d just signed her death warrant. She’d been trapped underground in Hearth Fold and almost drowned in Melbourne’s sewers. Maybe this would be third time lucky for the Grim Reaper. At least pursuers would be less likely to follow, unless they decided a pitch-black tunnel was a grand place for an ambush.
The Syld turned upslope and followed a path more stone than earth, and slippery stone at that. It wound its way up into the clouds and the world became a soft place adrift with streamers of grey. She followed the Syld’s shadowy back until a sheer rockface emerged from the fog and he stopped. ‘How are your climbing skills?’ he asked sardonically.
‘Every thief can climb.’
‘You go first, elddra, in case you miss your footing.’
Viv shook her head. ‘I’ve learned not to have people behind me. I’ll try not to ruin your deal with Ithreya by falling, Syld, but if I do break my neck, don’t burn my body. You can bury it, or if that’s too much trouble, leave it for the mercats.’
His brows lowered as if he were going to argue, but he started to climb and she followed, using the same hand- and toe-holds as him. It wasn’t easy and she hadn’t gone far before she wished she’d taken off the cape. She toiled on through the cloud, in a mesmerizing rhythm, and then his feet disappeared.
‘Almost there, elddra,’ he called down. His hand appeared through the fog and, as he yanked her over the ledge, his jacket sleeve rode up to reveal fresh wounds to his arm. ‘We’ll eat before we start,’ he said, dropping his pack near a crevice in the stone. He handed her retsen and cheese, then took his own food to the far end of the ledge and ate, staring into space.
The cloud was too thick to see above or below; it was like being suspended in the middle of nowhere. Viv sat on her pack and considered him as she ate. Sehereden’s death had triggered his self-mutilation but it was more complicated than that. She’d thought he’d been tanked on something when she’d first met him, but the fold didn’t seem to have drugs. His Angellus blood wasn’t the cause his self-destructiveness either, otherwise Baraghan would be the same. Orthagh was violent, she reminded herself, but he was more your run-of-the-mill thug, whereas the Syld seemed on the verge of breaking apart.
Seeing her angel part emerge in Ezam had been harrowing, but the effects of the mismatch went back earlier than that. She’d had no power over Jimmy Wright being in her life, but she’d chosen Rim. Violence had been inflicted on her for years, and she’d reacted by inflicting it on herself, the final blow being getting into that car, that night, in search of death.
The Syld directed most of his violence outwards. It made him a merciless killer and the champion of tournaments, but rarely a father. For all the tournaments he’d won, he’d gained only a single child, and now he had the chance of a second child, more desired even than Fariye, because it was all he had left of Sehereden. But to have that child, Ithreya had stipulated Viv must live in his sett.
It still didn’t make sense and the crevice added to her unease. The Syld had said four days of total darkness, if things went well. She hoped to God the tunnel didn’t rearrange itself like the Blue Helixai. It would be good if there were a rift inside too, as a nice little insurance policy.
‘Ready, e
lddra?’
Viv grimaced. If she could manage Syld instead of arsehole, he could bloody well make an effort too. ‘If it’s four days in darkness, Syld, it’ll give you plenty of time to practise my name,’ she said, as she heaved on her pack. ‘I’ve got more than one, so feel free to choose the least repugnant. Most people call me Viv, which is short for Violet Iris Vacia, the names of my mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. Violet Iris Vacia is a mouthful but Baraghan used it. Rim called me Vivi, so I prefer you don’t use that.’
‘Because he was your lover?’ he sneered.
‘Because he was a violent arsehole I don’t want reminding of.’
‘Elddra is sufficient,’ he said impatiently.
‘Not any more. Sehereden called me Viv, if that helps your choice. You can think about it as we walk.’
It was pitch black within twenty paces and Viv knew because she counted. Four whole bloody days of this, she thought, as she walked, her hand on the wall as a guide, and with a man who was hardly the life of the party. At least he kept the pace even and spoke now and then, if only to ensure he didn’t lose her.
She refused to respond when he called her elddra, and he finally called her Iris, although it sounded more like Ilris, the way he said it. No one had called her Iris before, but she’d given him the choice, so she couldn’t complain.
‘Tell me about Rim,’ he said, after a while.
‘I’ve told you about him. He was an arsehole.’
‘How long were you with him?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘I’m interested in your life before you came to The Wheel.’
She doubted it. ‘When Sehereden brought me to Esh-accom, he wanted to know about it too, and I wanted to know about The Wheel, so we agreed to trade. He’d ask a question, and I’d ask a question. Do you want to trade?’