The Wraeththu Trilogy

by Storm Constantine

  My education continued along these lines. One day I asked, "And what of Man, is he no longer a threat to us?"

  The world is large, Pell," Tharmifex replied, somewhat enigmatically and sighed. "Ah humanity! How convenient it would be to regard them merely as ticks upon the back of Wraeththu!" Sometimes it seemed to me as if the human race had ceased to exist; Thiede never mentioned them.

  "In Megalithica," I said, "we traveled for miles and miles and miles and there were no men there; only green stuff growing back over their towns. What happened to them?"

  "Death's angel assumes many guises," Tharmifex answered mysteriously.

  "Were they all killed by Wraeththu, the other Wraeththu?"

  Tharmifex shrugged. "It happened; they were decimated, but Wraeththu were not entirely responsible. Panic, disease, melancholy; all of these things and many others too, claimed casualties," he said, "but you are mistaken if you think men are beaten. To the east of Almagabra and in the northernmost parts of Megalithica men still have control of their lands. At present, they are still disorganized, demoralized, thoroughly shaken up and afraid, but once they have finished licking their wounds (and they are a remarkably resilient race), they will stand up again and think about reclaiming their world. We must remember what happened when Wraeththu was very young; men ignored us until it was too late and we were too strong. Man's time is over, but I'm afraid he will be loath to agree with that. Do not underestimate mankind, Pell; they are tough and tenacious. We were lucky that they were in such a mess when we came into the world; that gave us a start. Now we must discipline the rogue tribes of Wraeththu; without unity men could inflict enormous damage on us when the time comes."

  Thiede had importuned most of Almagabra's population to assist in the building of Immanion, although Tharmifex did say to me that buildings had once had an unnerving habit of mysteriously appearing one morning in places that had been but rock and rubble the night before.

  "Immanion came into being surprisingly fast," he said. "We had a brilliant architect working for us (not willingly, but his enthusiasm overcame his reserve), a man; I can't remember his name. I recall him saying to me once that the stone that some of the buildings were made of was like nothing he'd ever seen before. He said it looked (quote) 'man-made,' glossy and hard, but like nothing he'd ever worked with. At night it glows with a soft and barely noticeable radiance . . . Thiede's magical city!"

  We laughed, but there was more than a grain of truth in that.

  Thiede, though rigorously tidy in his government of man, was not a tyrant, and he paid his human labor fairly, if not extravagantly. By the time I came to Immanion, the humans had been sent back to their own lands in the north; Thiede did not want them lingering in the city once the bulk of the construction work had been completed.

  Almagabra was effectively shielded by mountains on all sides (apart from the southern sea coast), which the Gelaming guarded zealously. Beyond Almagabra, especially to the east, Tharmifex told me, unrest seethed in an unknown and blasted territory. It was said that dark clouds obscured the sun in those places and that men had become lunatic and raving. What Wraeththu that lived there had submerged themselves in cultures of extreme eccentricity or, it was even suggested, had mutated further from the image of mankind than ever thought possible. Doubtless Thiede knew most of the answers, but as he wanted everyone's attention centerd on the west, he was not forthcoming, and evaded conversation on that topic. The Wraeththu of Megalithica, Varrs and Uigenna especially, posed a more immediate problem; the mysteries of the east would remain veiled for some time yet

  Representatives from the co-operative tribes would be arriving in Immanion in time for my coronation. "They shall see the new beginning," Tharmifex said. I wondered if Seel knew yet who was to be crowned Tigron, and if he didn't, the expression on his face when he saw it was me! He would ask me about Cal and I would ask about Orien. Our meeting was not destined to be a joyous occasion, I felt.

  News kept filtering through to me about Ashmael's pronouncements concerning my competence. The meeting place for the hegemony was a grand building near Phaonica named the Hegalion. Attica told me that once Ashmael had stood up and publicly argued with Thiede, accusing him outright of having me crowned Tigron for his own selfish reasons. "You look down on us all," he had said. "None of us, in your opinion, are fit to lead Wraeththu but yourself!" Thiede, apparently, had taken this outburst with surprising calm. Until I was officially Tigron, I had no legal right to sit with the hegemony. Thiede explained to them, that when given the chance, I would be able to prove my worth easily. The hegemony was divided, but privately; publicly, they had sense enough to stand by Thiede. I confided to him that I feared Ashmael's antagonism would cause too much damage to my reputation before I got the chance to speak up for myself, but he refused to take it seriously.

  "Deep down, they all know I am right," he said. "Even Ashmael, though it would cause him a good deal of pain to admit it!" I was not so optimistic.

  "I have not heard bad of you from anyone but Ashmael," Attica said to me one evening. "It is Thiede that they think is wrong, not you. They do not blame you."

  Only Tharmifex seemed to support me; Chrysm would commit himself to neither side.

  I begged Thiede to let me be present at the next meeting in the Hegalion. "Let them speak with me; let them know me!" I insisted, but he would not agree.

  "By taking our time, by not panicking, we expose their wheedlings for what they are," he said. "You must not present yourself at the Hegalion yet. Ashmael is attempting to force you to do just that, and at the moment, he will only make mincemeat out of you."

  One morning, as I sat scanning the newsheet of the city, a har I did not know was conducted by Attica into my presence. He asked leave to speak with me and I agreed, requesting Attica to bring us refreshment. Orders were beginning to fall easily from my tongue. My visitor would not sit down, but. told me his name was Phylax.

  "Ashmael has sent me," he said.

  "For what purpose?" I asked him.

  He looked uncomfortable, standing there and I wondered if Ashmael had had to force him to

  come.

  "Your presence is requested for dinner this evening," he replied.

  Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it also opens many locked doors. Alter a suitable pause, I agreed to attend. When I told Vaysh about it later, he called me a fool.

  "Ashmael means to humiliate you," he said. "It's too soon."

  Thiede visited me in the afternoon, but I decided against letting him know about Ashmael's invitation. I felt sure he would forbid me to go.

  I expected to walk in on a roomful of Ashmael's cronies, ready for sport Ml my expense, but there was only Ashmael. He lived in a residential area of the city, the home of many high-ranking hara of Immanion. The house was low and spacious, framed by spreading evergreens. Phylax and I had ridden there through the perfumed evening, along the moth-garlanded avenues. Phylax had hardly spoken; I was an unknown quantity to him. He had called for me at sundown to show me the way, but it was clear that I intimidated him.

  Ashmael was like a combination of Terzian and Cal; Terzian's elegance and refinement and Cal's cynical good humor. It is almost too absurd to describe his appearance. He was, as you expect, one of Wraeththu's finest, and very comfortably knew it. He offered me a drink, politeness itself. Phylax sat down by the door.

  "Tharmifex speaks well of you," Ashmael said to me. "I can't see why that should sway your opinion," I answered, and he feigned surprise. "Ashmael, I'm perfectly aware of your feelings toward me and my position. If it's any comfort, I don't think they're entirely unjustified, but you must know yourself why Thiede has done this; you're not stupid."

  He laughed, very quietly. "Well, Pellaz, you do believe in striking the first blow, don't you. But I didn't bring you here, sorry, ask you here, to squabble. Tharmifex has given me the sharp edge of his tongue over my behavior, so, I'm to make amends!"

  That was too glib. I was still suspicious
, but said nothing. We dined on a terrace behind the house, talking mechanically at first, of inconsequential things. Then the wine began to flow more freely and I was given every chance to exercise the wit of my conversation. Phylax sat uneasily at the table, and his edginess, more than anything else warned me that Ashmael might not be as innocent of motives as he appeared. "I look forward to working with you," he said and raised his glass. I smiled. "Ashmael, perhaps I've spent too much of my life looking over my shoulder, but I can't get rid of this sneaky feeling that you're up to something."

  He laughed, perhaps too loudly. "I've done my bit, being pleasant, haven't I?" I did not answer but looked enquiring.

  "Alright, Pellaz, Tigron of Immanion and whatever else," he said, "I'll be straight with you. I don't know yet whether you're a pathetic and squeaking idiot, as I suspect, or an angel of salvation as Thiede would have everyone believe. I didn't like it when Thiede told us about you; petty, I know, but we can't all be perfect. I'm still not sure if I'm right to allow you even one chance to prove yourself, but only time and working with you will reveal your true nature . . ." He poured himself more wine.

  "By that time, Ashmael, it may be too late to get rid of me, if your suspicions prove correct," I pointed out.

  He shrugged and waved his arm at me. "Tharmifex is not a complete fool. If he's willing to give you a chance, so am I. I've had my say, to no avail. So, I'll give in gracefully for now. However, there is one thing I wish to discuss with you . . ." He looked at Phylax, who was virtually writhing on his chair, and turned on him savagely, "Oh, go inside! You know what has to be said, but you don't want to hear me say it, do you!" he raged. "That was harsh," I said, once Phylax had gone. Ashmael leaned forward on the table. I could smell the wine on him and thought he had drunk too much.

  "No, not harsh. He would just prefer some things, things that happened to me before, to

  remain buried."

  "Oh, ... I see." (Was this the reason then for the sudden change of heart?)

  Ashmael looked up at me, resting his chin on his hands. "Yes, you do, don't you! Did he tell you?"

  "Ashmael," I said, "have I got this right? Have you asked me here, your rival, your political opponent and a virtual stranger, to talk about Vaysh?"

  "Well, it's given you something to think about, hasn't it?"

  I dismissed this remark as rhetorical. "Surely you can ask Thiede about this . . . why me?"

  Ashmael sprawled back in his chair and put one foot on the table. "Do you want to listen to this? I am rather drunk."

  "I might as well."

  "Well thank you, Pellaz! It comes as a relief to find that I can come to the Tigron with my problems! It was a shock when I went to your rooms and found Vaysh there. You must know why. Are you chesna with him?" he asked quickly. "Is this rather embarrassing to you?"

  I shook my head. "No, to both questions," I said, and Ashmael shrugged

  "I had to ask. Anyway, I didn't say anything to him other than, 'Where's the master, then?' or something like that. It didn't sink in at first. I remember thinking, 'My God, he looks just like Vaysh!"; it's been some years, you see. Of course, he just shot out of the room as if I was the devil, and I sat down and waited for you . . . not long. Afterwards, I began to think about it and then I mentioned it to Tharmifex. I couldn't say anything to Thiede. What if it hadn't been Vaysh? Thiede would have thought I was cracking up; and it's not a very good time for him to be thinking that, is It!"

  "Tharmifex told you then?"

  "Yes, all that he knew . . . sickening . . . terrible." Ashmael rubbed his face with his hands, drank some more wine. "Whatever you think, whatever you thought, that wasn't the only reason for my asking you here. I hadn't made up my mind whether to mention Vaysh or not until you arrived."

  "And the grape unleashed your tongue?" I suggested.

  Ashmael snorted derisively. "That too, I suppose. Tharmifex has spoken forcefully for you; to me personally and to the hegemony. Thiede would say nothing; that's his way. I suspect he knows the outcome of everything in the world already . . ."

  "Vaysh said you'd come around," I said, to bring him back to the subject.

  "Yes ... about Vaysh," Ashmael's face twitched uncomfortably. "Does he remember me? Is he the same? Should I speak to him?"

  I paused eloquently before answering him. "He does remember you . . ."

  Ashmael looked at me stonily. "You have answered all my questions by that," he said bitterly.

  "You mind is as quick as they said it was," I said, smiling hopefully.

  Ashmael did not smile. "Why shouldn't I speak to him? He was .. . and here's a Wraeththu heresy ... he was mine."

  "I wouldn't advise it; not yet," I said smoothly. "I don't think he could cope with it yet." I realized afterwards that this was ultimately a lie; I don't know why I said it. I should think the truth was, Vaysh really did want Ashmael to speak to him, but I did not.

  "Oh God, Thiede can be a monster, he really can," Ashmael murmured, his eyes shining. "It was an accident," I said.

  This was like being an observer to a situation I could imagine happening about me some day. Then too, people would doubtlessly try to keep Cal away from me. I said, "Ashmael, you said it's been years since . . . how do you feel about Vaysh now?"

  He shrugged. "Feel? I can still smell his blood, even now. He was so beautiful, so alive. Losing him was like losing life. Everyone worshiped him ..." I had gone cold, although the night was warm.

  "But now, how do you feel now?" I insisted.

  "Now?" Ashmael wrinkled his brow. "Now . . . something lives in a body that looks like Vaysh, but is it him? I watched him die and spent a year demented with grief. Now? What can I feel? Vaysh is dead."

  Was this the way it would be then, when Cal found out that I still lived? Would he be angry because all his grief and rage had been misdirected? Would he feel cheated? That night, I tossed and turned in sheets that turned to wet rope against my body. I could not sleep for the thoughts that tormented me. Several times, I was on the point of going to Vaysh, but I did not want to answer the questions he might ask me about Ashmael. My thoughts turned to salt in my eyes. I could see Cal so clearly; time and absence had not blurred the memory of his face. I remembered the times we had sought each other's warmth in the dark, in the dangerous open country and by the stranger's hearth. The velvet texture of his skin, the flame of his violet eyes; all of this was lost to me. There could be no other to touch my soul as he had; no-one. Beauty could make me twitch (and laughter), but in my heart, in the deepest fibers, there was only him. Was I condemning myself foolishly to an eternity of loneliness? It was a possibility, but only if I stopped believing.

  Seel arrived earlier than expected; Thiede brought him to my rooms. Vaysh and I were poring over some ornate and ancient maps in the library. They illustrated where dragons and trolls may be found and it was with amusement we discovered that one of the locations was right by Phade's tower. Gradually and carefully Vaysh and I had developed an easy friendship. Sometimes he was still staunchly unapproachable, but the cruel tormentor of our journey to Immanion had gone. His acid remarks were no longer tinged by hatred. We never spoke of how it had been before.

  Seel had not aged in appearance, but as Wraeththu hardly do, this was not surprising. We began to greet each other as strangers, but then I threw my arms around him and the ice was broken. He still had about him a faint fragrance of soda.

  He laughed and said, "Well, Pell, who could have guessed it would all have come to this?"

  Later that day, over dinner in Thiede's apartments, I asked about Salt-rock.

  "Oh, it is bigger and better now," Seel replied in response to my questions. "I could have done more there, but not much. Thiede has impressed on me strongly how much work there is to be done elsewhere."

  Thiede smiled gently at the cold edge to Seel's voice.

  I waited until the last course was cleared away before asking about Orien. "He was murdered," was all Seel would say. I could tell he
did not want to talk about it, but he had only made me more anxious to know what had happened. He asked me nothing about Cal, but that may have been because Thiede was there.

  Time passed slowly in Immanion; every day was golden. I was invited to gatherings at Tharmifex's house and Dree's; in the latter case I sensed the invitation was wary. Delegates began to arrive from different tribes; they could easily be recognized by the expressions of bewilderment or wonder on their faces. To many hara, the splendor of Immanion seemed but a dream.

  The time came when my coronation was but two days away. After that, talks would begin in earnest and there was a feeling in the air as of a holiday drawing to a close and the party that would mark the last night. Costumiers came to fit my regalia; an outstanding creation of black and azure feathers. My jewelery was made all of turquoise and silver. Seel wandered in to visit me, smoking a black cigarette and leaning against a table to watch the outfitters at work.