Darq dismounted and led Follet forward. There was no sign of life outside the building, but as he drew nearer, he saw there were outbuildings to the far side. One was a stable, and a pony stood looking out of the top half of the door. When it caught sight or scent of Follet, its head went up and its ears pricked. It uttered a whinny; a greeting or a warning. Follet responded with a grunt.
The wolf had climbed the steps to the front door and now stood in front of it, staring back at Darq. In front of the building was a rail, presumably for tethering horses, so Darq tied Follet’s reins to it. He was filled with a wild kind of bravado, almost driven. He ascended the steps and reached down to stroke the wolf’s head. It opened its mouth and its tongue lolled out, as if it was smiling. Darq knocked on the door. There was no response, but he was sure that somehar inside had heard him and was listening. He knocked again. ‘Hello?’ he called.
He did not expect to get an answer, and was considering trying to open the door himself, when it slipped ajar with a creak. He saw part of a face, a dark eye, looking out at him.
‘Hello,’ Darq said again. ‘I’m from Nezreka. Can I come in?’
The door opened wider. ‘You’re early,’ said the har who now stood revealed at the threshold. As Jezinki and Tava-edzen did, he spoke Megalithican like a westerner, with no local accent. He had a strong feminine aspect, which immediately suggested to Darq this was another drudehar of some kind. The har’s hair was loose and dark, hanging to his waist, and he wore a black robe with dark blue embroidery at the hem and cuffs. Around his forehead was a string hung with coins and acorns, and his eyes were lined faintly with kohl. He was pale-skinned and beautiful, exuding an enticing air of magical power; without doubt an adept.
‘Apologies,’ said Darq. He eased himself past this har into the building, following the wolf who clearly regarded this place as home. The room beyond the door was a segment of a circle, narrowing almost to a point, but not quite, suggesting there was an inner chamber. Doors led off to either side, presumably to different segments. The room Darq stood in was a kitchen. The wolf had gone directly to a black iron stove set into the right hand wall of the room and now lay down in front of it to lick his paws.
The dark-haired har closed the door. ‘Well?’ he said.
‘What time was I supposed to come?’ Darq asked.
‘I think in a week’s time.’
Darq shrugged. ‘Oh well, I decided to come now.’ He wondered who he’d been mistaken for and how long this charade could continue before the har realised his mistake and threw Darq out. It was important to make a good impression in that time. He took care to guard his thoughts.
‘You’d better sit down,’ said the har. ‘You don’t know who I am, of course. I am Slinque.’ He indicated a chair next to the stove.
Darq sat down. He wasn’t sure what to say now.
Slinque knelt down before him on a brightly patterned rug and pushed his fingers deep into the wolf’s thick pelt. He observed Darq for some moments, then laughed. ‘It’s quite all right, Darquiel. I know who you are!’
Darq blinked. ‘You were expecting me?’
Slinque nodded. ‘Yes. We should also have expected you early. An oversight.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m a Weaver, as are my brothers Shayd and Stelph. You’ll meet them soon.’
‘A Weaver…. Somehar spoke to me of you.’ Darq glanced down at the animal at his feet. ‘About the wolves.’
‘We know. You wish to take on the wolf. Perhaps you will. Perhaps you already have.’ Slinque stood up. ‘Would you like tea?’
‘Yes… thank you.’
There was a black kettle keeping warm on the stove. Slinque picked up a cloth to lift it. ‘I know why you’re here,’ he said.
‘You do?’ Darq smiled uncertainly. ‘I’m not sure I do.’
Again, Slinque laughed. It was a free, ringing sound, like bells announcing the birth of the sun. He set about pouring Darq a mug of tea and shoveled into it a large spoon of sugar. ‘Here, take this. It’ll warm your spirit.’
Darq accepted the crude pottery mug Slinque offered to him. ‘Thank you.’ The tea was so strong, Darq was sure the spoon could stand up in it. When he sipped it, he tasted wood smoke and cut pine, a strangely resinous tang. It was also very hot and scalded his tongue. ‘Why am I here?’ Darq asked.
‘We’ve been waiting for you,’ said Slinque, ‘from the moment of your birth, terrible though it was.’
‘You know me,’ Darq breathed, and he was filled with both relief and anxiety, which felt very odd.
Slinque sat down opposite him in a chair, and arranged his robes fastidiously over his knees. ‘Yes, we know you. Tava-edzen knows you, much though it pains him. That is, he knows you’re significant to him. We’ve always told him his day would come. He denies it, but part of him mourns all he has lost.’
Darq now felt dizzy. He was so full of questions he didn’t know which to ask first. ‘You’re an oracle,’ he said.
Slinque inclined his head. ‘Yes. That’s one of our functions. All leaders of merit need an oracle, don’t you think?’
‘You’re not Anakhai.’
Slinque shook his head. ‘No. Sulh. In the early days of Megalithica, hara of our tribe were much prized by the Uigenna and the Varrs for our abilities as seers. Many of us found ourselves places close to the phylarchs and archons. My brothers and I came with Tava from the west.’
‘I thought as much.’ Darq couldn’t believe these revelations, so utter and so clear, had been this easy to acquire. ‘Tava-edzen was Varr or Uigenna. Which?’
Slinque rested his chin on one hand. ‘Well, technically all tribes came from the Uigenna. Tava did not survive Megalithica long enough to see that. He was one of the first.’
‘Who was he, Slinque?’
The Sulh was silent for a moment. ‘The name will mean nothing to you. Anyway, it’s his privilege to tell you that. He doesn’t know who you are, by the way, and for now you shouldn’t tell him.’
Darq smiled sourly. ‘He doesn’t speak to me, so it’s not likely. Also, I don’t know myself who I am.’
‘I can tell you.’
‘I know. I sense that. But I’ve been told it’s dangerous for me to know. I think that once I do, all hell will let loose.’
Slinque appeared to be amused. ‘Not here, it won’t.’
‘You want to tell me, don’t you?’
‘And now, after all your wondering, you’re afraid. That’s understandable.’ Slinque leaned forward, put his hands together and pointed at Darq with them. ‘We want what is best for Tava. You’re part of his destiny, and he can be part of yours. You want that.’
‘Don’t tell me who I am,’ Darq said abruptly. ‘It’s not the right time.’ At that moment, he felt it was the last thing he wanted to know. He wasn’t sure why.
‘You’re right,’ said Slinque. ‘I’m glad you’re wise, because you could have been stupid.’ He leaned back again. ‘You’re here for many reasons, but only one of them really concerns us. When the time comes, you’ll help Tava-edzen, because he was displaced. He was meant to be a great leader, but another was envious and betrayed him. We believe that the history of Megalithica would have turned out very differently if this betrayal hadn’t happened. The Uigenna and the Varrs ended up being controlled by hara who had not left their humanity far enough behind. If Tava had still been in control, he would have grown as the Gelaming grew, as the Unneah, the Colurastes, the Sulh and the Kakkahaar grew. His chance was stolen, and the result was… chaos. All hara were beasts in the beginning, well, most of them.’ Slinque gestured with both hands. ‘Tava would have died, but for my brothers and I. We found him. We brought him here. The greatest punishment we bestowed upon his enemy was awareness. We opened his mind, gave him visions of what is and what will be. But still…’ He shrugged. ‘That enemy is still in power. Our punishment advanced him, which is ironic, really. It was meant to destroy him. We underestimated him. It’s interesting to u
s that this seems to be a trait of Wraeththu. The har Ponclast, once reviled as the most evil in the world, was given a similar awareness and now flourishes. His star will rise again, though many would say he doesn’t deserve it. That says something, doesn’t it?’
Darq nodded. ‘Yes, although I don’t know all of what you speak. I’m aware of some of the history, but not all of it. I agree with you about Tava-edzen though. His qualities shine out from him.’
‘He berates himself,’ Slinque said airily. ‘He has too good a memory. But it’s very easy for hara to look back now and be annoyed with themselves for being what they were. The point is that they had to begin that way. We believe hara had to learn to advance themselves. If they’d simply been created perfect, it would have meant nothing. Still, Tava will not listen to us. He looks at his hands and sees blood, in the same way that his enemy does.’ Slinque made another two-handed gesture. ‘Oh, they’re no longer enemies, of course. It means nothing now.’
‘Who is his enemy?’ Darq asked. ‘I know hardly anything, so it won’t hurt to tell me.’
Slinque paused. ‘Very well. He is the archon of Maudrah, Ariaric, the Lion of Oomadrah.’
Darq shrugged. ‘See… Means nothing. I’ve heard of Maudrah, of course.’
‘Strange, isn’t it,’ Slinque said pensively. ‘All that history meant so much, but to a second generation har raised in Anakhai, it means nothing. The names are meaningless. It’s how it should be.’
‘Yet you want Tava-edzen to regain power.’
‘Yes. He was meant to have it, for the good of his kind. He knows this.’
Darq took another mouthful of the strange tea. ‘He had a dream about me coming here.’
‘He did. It is no doubt recorded, and laid alongside the sheaf of papers that comprise the letters he’s never sent to Maudrah.’
‘Perhaps if he had sent them, the archon would have had him killed.’
Slinque laughed. ‘That’s unlikely. Ariaric has a shrine to Tava. He has shrines to many hara he wronged or loved in vain. His memory too is very good. But Tava should not rise again through Ariaric. The Lion shouldn’t be given that privilege, which he would dearly love to have. If Ariaric knew Tava was alive and well, he could partly forgive himself, and personally I don’t think that should be allowed. Not yet. Anyway, Tava should rise by himself, or rather with the support of those who are not part of his history.’
Darq put down his mug on the floor. His lips had become slightly numbed. ‘Then it’s true that I’m destined to be a leader?’ he asked.
Slinque nodded. ‘I’m afraid you can’t avoid it, Darquiel. But it will be contested.’
Darq frowned. ‘By these strange factions I’ve heard about?’
Slinque grimaced. ‘They’re the least of your worries in a worldly sense. No, by your own kin, mostly.’
Darq was surprised by these words. ‘My parents?’ he snapped.
‘No,’ Slinque replied, ‘your brothers.’
Darq put his hands against his face. His skin felt hot. ‘When?’ His voice felt small in his throat.
‘Soon,’ Slinque said. ‘I’m sorry. We’ll help you as much as we can. As you rightly said, all hell might break loose.’
Darq took a shuddering breath. ‘I have three brothers, right?’
Slinque appeared puzzled by the question. ‘No. To my knowledge, only two. Why?’
‘A prophecy I once heard. There are four of you. That’s what I heard.’
Slinque shrugged. ‘Then perhaps there are things that even we know nothing of. But one thing is certain: your brothers have been, and are being, influenced by somehar or something. We haven’t picked up much information on this subject, but can feel the potential for trouble is there. If you agree to help Tava, then we agree to help you.’
Darq shook his head. It was all too much to think about. He remembered something Zu had said, something about hara messing with his development. ‘What of my voice?’ Darq asked.
‘Your voice?’ Slinque frowned.
‘The one who visits me and speaks in my head. He says he is of neither faction. I’m not sure who or what he is, even whether he’s har or not.’
‘I know nothing of that,’ Slinque said, and there was a tone to his words indicating that if he didn’t know about it, it could only be meaningless and unimportant.
At that moment, the door to the house opened and two other hara came into the room, bringing with them the cold. They shook out their hair and stamped the snow from their boots. In appearance, they were almost identical to Slinque.
‘You are here!’ one of them said to Darq.
‘Early!’ said the other.
‘This is Shayd and Stelph,’ Slinque said. ‘My brothers.’ He smiled at his kin. ‘I’ve been giving Darquiel a history lesson.’
‘Have you told him yet?’ Shayd asked.
‘No,’ Slinque replied. ‘Not yet. It isn’t the time.’
Darq stood up. He felt nauseous. He had to get away. ‘I must go,’ he said. ‘I’ll be missed.’ The room appeared to be swaying slightly. He hoped he could cling to his stomach and his consciousness until he got outside. The power of the Weavers seemed to swirl around him, like a century’s worth of spider webs in an old house, caught in a hurricane. Slinque must have put some kind of potion in the tea, but why?
Slinque took hold of one of Darq’s arms. ‘Yes. Go. And think. You’ll return to us when you’re ready.’
Darq tried to stagger towards the door, but his limbs felt restricted.
‘One thing,’ Slinque said. ‘Before you go.’ He pulled Darq to face him, holding onto his shoulders. Darq could feel how powerful the har’s fingers were. They might gouge though flesh if they had a mind to try. ‘You mustn’t confide in your mentor, the Ikutama, about our meeting.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because although he’s loyal to you, and would no doubt die to defend you, he’s still employed by Thiede har Gelaming. If you tell him what you’ve learned, he’ll feel obliged to report it, and it’s not in Tava’s interests for Almagabra to know he’s alive and where he is. Not yet.’
‘I won’t say anything,’ Darq mumbled. He really wanted to get outside, breathe cold air.
‘No, you won’t,’ Slinque agreed. ‘I’ve put a binding on your tongue. Apologies. It was necessary. There’s only one you may speak to, and that is Tava. You’ll do this when the time is right.’
Darq swallowed with difficulty. His mouth was full of the bitter taste of pine. ‘I have to go now.’ He pulled away from Slinque and somehow managed to grope his way outside.
Below the steps, Follet raised his head, ears forward. Darq stumbled to the pony’s side and leaned against him. Follet sighed. Darq looked up at the round house. It was impossible to see what was going on inside. It was very quiet. No har might live there after all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Darq could not remember how he got through the rest of that day. All he could recall was feeling feverish and the phrase repeating in his head: I have brothers. He wished now he had not been so squeamish about asking who his family was. It was odd, most unlike him. He thought perhaps that when he knew, he would be disappointed, even disgusted. At least he could spend the day savagely chopping up meat, which provided some small comfort and outlet for his feelings. Everyhar left him alone. It was as if they knew where he’d been, and now he was off limits. The Weavers had touched him. It could be visible on his face.
When he finished work for the day he returned to Tava-edzen’s house and made his way to the small bedroom he shared with Ookami on the top floor. Ookami, who had been engaged in other tasks in the town, was already there. He roused himself from meditation when Darq entered the room. ‘You look ill,’ Ookami said. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Something’s going to happen,’ Darq said. He threw himself face down on his bed.
Ookami came to stand over him. ‘What makes you think this?’
‘I just know. I feel it. I need to sleep.’
>
‘Is it the voice again?’
‘No. The voice has gone. Please, Ookami. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
‘You must eat.’
‘No. Tomorrow.’
Ookami remained where he was for some seconds, then withdrew. He would perhaps communicate with Thiede now.
There were no significant dreams for Darq that night, nor for the nights that followed. Several times, during the next few days, he considered returning to the round house, but then changed his mind. He felt contaminated somehow. He didn’t think the Weavers had his interests at heart. They were concerned only about Tava-edzen. He also considered talking to Ookami, but as Slinque had warned him, the words stuck in his throat. The Weavers had bound his tongue. As for Tava-edzen, the har was nowhere to be found. Also, Darq wasn’t sure what he could say to the phylarch. He felt that Tava-edzen would think that Darq’s fate was none of his business. In the end, cut off from any other recourse, there was only one thing Darq could do.
A week after his visit to the cliff top, he waited one night for Ookami to fall asleep. Moving himself into a quiet space, he slipped from his bed and dressed. He slid through the silent Drudehall like a ghost and went outside. He went to a high place, but not the one where the round house stood.
It was very cold, and the snow was frozen hard beneath his boots. When he took off his gloves to swing the weighted cord, his fingers pained him with cold. He realised there were tears on his face. He had lost himself entirely. He was alone in a place he barely knew, calling upon the one entity who should not be trusted. The cord sang in the cruel air; an ancient, shamanic sound. Come to me, Darq thought, as loudly as he could.
The movement of his arm became hypnotic. He could not stop. It felt as if his whole essence was being tugged into the whirlpool of air, and he would disappear from this world. Where would he go then?
A hand folded over his own. Warm fingers clasped his frozen ones. ‘Be still, Darq.’
The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence Page 31