One day, he said to her, ‘When Amelza is through with this… changing thing… will we be friends again?’
Olivia glanced as him askance.
‘It’s all very confusing to me,’ Darq said. ‘She will not speak to me in the way we used to speak. Why’s that? I’m still the same.’
Olivia pursed her lips. She was kneading dough at the old kitchen table. Flour particles drifted in sunlight. ‘Darq,’ she said. ‘It’s hard for her.’
‘I can see that,’ Darq said. ‘But it’s as if I burn her. I don’t care what hara or people think of me, but I do care about what she thinks. It’s like she’s part of me.’
‘Yes,’ said Olivia in a dark sort of tone. She sighed, stopped working. ‘It’s not my place to say certain things, but I can say this: she’s been cursed with the open eyes that will never shut.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ll understand, one day. It’ll happen to you, I’m sure.’ She glanced at him. ‘Well, it should do.’
‘What?’
‘Amelza grew up with you. She looked on you as a girl friend, I think. Now, she sees you differently because she’s a woman and you’re not. Hara can confuse humans like that. Your kind can be desirable to us, and then we don’t know what it is that we desire. It feels either too wrong or too right. But then again, it’s beyond us.’
‘Oh.’ Darq frowned. ‘You mean Ammie feels for me like Zira does for Phade?’ It was no secret, in either the human or harish community, that Zira still entertained his pointless longing.
‘You must never speak to her of it,’ Olivia said. ‘But I decided you should know. It’s why you can’t be close any longer. Humans and hara can never come together in that way, and it’s sad that the heart doesn’t care about that.’
Darq was silent for a moment. ‘I must speak to Phade.’
‘Why?’
‘He told me about Kamagrian. That’s something we could do for Amelza. She can be made quite like a har.’
‘I’ve not heard of that,’ Olivia said. ‘We’ve always known that women can’t be har, ridiculous though that seems.’
‘They can,’ Darq insisted.
Olivia looked dubious concerning that suggestion, so Darq decided it was time to leave. ‘Thank you for telling me, Olivia. I’ll not say anything about what you told me.’
The gods of Wraeththu, known as dehara, had not yet penetrated the farthest corners of the world. The Olopade knew of them, vaguely, but favored their own gods, which were flavored by ancient archetypes, fashioned from the old beliefs of humans. In the late springtime, a great festival was held, which coincided with the first of the summer horse fairs. The Olopade did not interact greatly with other tribes, but their own was far flung, sometimes as few as four hara occupying a hidden farmstead in the mountains. They emerged from their hideaways for the fairs, bringing with them the wind-spirited colts and fillies they had bred in the rarefied air. Other events took place at the fairs, such as magical caste ascensions for those who pursued a spiritual path and who required a Samway hienama for the task. The mountain hara, unlike their tribe-mates in the town, had also begun to breed. Perhaps it was because they had more time, were closer to the land, or simply free from the influence of Phade, who clearly regarded the whole process with distaste. However, as the years had passed, harlings began to appear at the horse fairs with their families. Most recently, it was considered particularly auspicious if feybraihas were celebrated at the first fair, when wild young harlings at the brink of adulthood would be joined with members of Phade’s elite guard, a circumstance that parents looked upon as a privilege and Phade’s hara as a treat, there being no second generation hara in Samway, apart from Darq. Also, during these gatherings, Phade would oversee and judge small matters that required his decision. It was altogether a busy time, and certainly not the best for Darq to approach his guardian over the issue of Amelza.
Over the years, despite his good intentions, Darq had had many run-ins with Phade over differences of opinion. Quite often, Phade made what seemed to Darq to be unnecessary rules and restrictions. He forbade Darq to travel to other settlements, or even to explore the mountains. He didn’t like Darq going out at night, even if he stayed close to home. Although he’d spoken of Darq having harish friends, he discouraged his ward from establishing relationships with outsiders, even if those outsiders were only Olopardic hara from the mountains. Sometimes, the arguments Darq had had with Phade had lasted for days; both were stubborn creatures. On several occasions, Darq had considered running away, but he sensed it would be better to wait until he was adult before attempting this. He could wait. But some things couldn’t wait.
Darq cornered Phade in the yard of his domain, where a few yearlings were being trotted round for his inspection. It was important to Phade that his stock was the best on show at the first fair, so his attention was hardly on what Darq was saying as he reminded his guardian of their conversation concerning the Kamagrian.
‘How do we call these hara?’ Darq wanted to know.
‘I’m not sure,’ Phade replied vaguely. He gestured at one of the grooms. ‘Bring that colt forward, Agante.’
‘How can I find out?’ Darq asked.
Phade went over to inspect the colt’s legs. ‘This one is fine. He must lead the procession.’
‘Phade?’ Darq said.
‘Not now, Darq. It can wait.’
‘Actually, I don’t think it can. Given what I know, I’d say that now is the best time for Amelza to undergo this change, before she’s fully a woman.’
Phade turned to Darq and appraised him with a critical stare. ‘Is your own feybraiha approaching, do you think?’
Darq considered. ‘I don’t think so. But then, how would I know?’
‘I’m sure you’d know,’ Phade said. He shook his head. ‘You look no different to me. I’ll speak to one of the hara from the mountains at the fair, somehar who has a son of his own. He’ll be able to advise us in this matter.’
‘And the matter of Amelza?’
‘I suppose I could communicate with… hara who are more experienced in this regard than I.’
‘Like who?’
‘The Gelaming, I suppose. It must wait, Darq. I’ll send a message as soon as I can.’
This response was not the one that Darq had hoped for. He could tell that Phade wasn’t really interested in Amelza and no doubt regretted his rash words to Darq on the Kamagrian.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ Darq asked, refusing to give in. ‘Could I contact the Gelaming?’
‘No, you could not.’
‘But I’m very good at communicating telepathically, you know that. If you haven’t the time, you could teach me how to do it over long distance and…’
‘Darq, no! I expressly forbid it. The Gelaming are unpredictable and dangerous. They require careful handling. I don’t want them meddling in our affairs.’
‘But…’
‘There’s nothing else to say. Make yourself useful. Help with the horse-breaking. It’ll take your mind off Amelza.’
Darq liked to help with the animals. There was nothing more exhilarating than winning the confidence of a horse, so that it allowed you to ride it. The Olopade did not regard the breaking to saddle as breaking an animal’s spirit. The trick was to convince the horse it wanted to be ridden and that there were advantages to having a harish companion. However, horses were powerful, strong-minded and often disposed to cause injury, so it was rare that Phade had allowed Darq to take part in the more risky early stages of breaking. Darq sensed that Phade had only relented now to shut him up. This was slightly annoying, if not insulting. ‘Thank you,’ Darq said, somewhat stiffly. ‘I’ll do that. But just one more question. Amelza will need to go through what Zira went through, only with one of these Kamagrian hara?’
‘I suppose so,’ Phade said.
‘You can’t do it? You’re sure of that?’
‘No woman has survived inception to Wraeththu, as far as I k
now.’
‘I see.’
Darq went next to Zira, who was in fact waiting for Darq to appear in the schoolroom. ‘You’re late,’ he said.
‘I had to speak to Phade,’ Darq replied. He sat down at his desk and folded his hands on top of it. ‘Zira, tell me about your inception. How did it happen?’
‘Phade gave me his blood,’ Zira said, then hesitated. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘I think I should know. It’s an important part of our history and perhaps one day it will no longer happen, since Wraeththu can have harlings now.’
‘That’s true,’ Zira said. He had a faraway look in his eye, and Darq could tell that Zira had been thinking about what it might be like to have a harling of his own. He was also thinking about Phade again, and had probably never stopped since his inception. The feelings inside Zira were quite alien to Darq. He could not imagine ever having such a hunger or need for one particular har. It seemed like a waste of energy. He could appreciate the pleasures of aruna, but couldn’t say he was impatient to discover them for himself. It would happen when it was meant to happen.
‘So tell me, Zira,’ Darq said insistently. ‘How did Phade give you his blood?’
‘The hienama cut me.’ Zira displayed the long faint scar on his inner right arm. ‘Phade was cut too. The wounds were pressed together for a long time. It made me swoon. It wasn’t pain, but I felt him go into me, his essence. His blood tasted mine and then changed it.’
‘Just that?’ Darq said, surprised.
Zira nodded. ‘Usually, the hienama gives the blood, but Phade wanted to give me his. I thought…’ He pursed his lips.
‘You know why Phade has no chesnari, don’t you?’ Darq said.
Zira glanced at him askance. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The thoughts you have are the thoughts he fears; that’s why. To be chesna with somehar, you have to be totally open with them, give yourself to them, I think.’
‘How do you know? You’re not even adult, Darq.’
Darq shrugged. ‘I’ve talked about it with Amelza and I pick things up. For some reason, Phade is scared of being too close to one har. He’s scared of having harlings. Perhaps he’s still too human, and that’s why he devotes himself to the human community. He feels guilty for being har maybe, or…’
Zira bristled. ‘Darq, shut up! You’ve been told a thousand times.’
‘Don’t listen in, I know,’ said Darq, rolling his eyes. ‘But even a human could read your mind, Zira. I’m only trying to help. Phade likes what he is, the way things are. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be living here. He’s had many opportunities for advancement, which he’s never taken.’
‘You know too much. If Phade found out, he’d be livid.’
Darq shrugged. ‘Sometimes, I’m invisible to him, especially when he’s thinking. In my opinion, you should put aside your desire for him.’
‘Thank you,’ Zira said coldly. ‘I think we should return to your lessons.’
‘There is little left you can teach me.’
‘Hmph,’ said Zira.
Darq did a lot of thinking over the next few days. He wandered around the fields just outside town, where the fair would be held, mulling things over in his mind. Pavilions of flowers had been erected in the fields and effigies of the gods placed on pedestals between them. Hara began to arrive, at first in a trickle, then in a greater stream from the high meadows and valleys. Darq watched them riding into town in wagons and on horseback. He saw a few bare-footed, brown-skinned harlings among them; like him, but not. Darq missed Amelza. He had nothing in common with anyhar, and now his only companion had vanished. They were inextricably linked in some way, like twins.
It became clear to him what he should do, but he still had to think about it. He tried to divine the outcome of his idea, by casting sticks and stones and reading the formations they made. He watched for omens in the sky. All were inconclusive, riddled with hidden variables. Then, on the afternoon before the opening of the fair, a vixen ran across Darq’s path as he walked in the forest. She stopped and stared at him and he stared back. The fox reminded him of Amelza as she’d been before; wild and beautiful, a creature of nature. In that moment, he made up his mind.
He found her at the edge of the camp, in the field next to where the horses would the next day be shown off by proud breeders. Evening was stealing in, bringing with it the special magic of summer. Amelza was wandering around the periphery of the fires, perhaps watching the hara who ate there, the younger ones tumbling around like cubs at play. Darq appraised her from a distance for some moments. She was taller, shapelier, in the way that a human female is shapely. She seemed a creature of enchantment, removed from all that was familiar.
‘Amelza.’ He called to her from the shadows of a grove of oaks. She paused in her wanderings, but did not turn to him. Grief streamed off her, pooling at her feet in a misty cloud.
‘Come to me,’ he said.
Now, she raised her head and spoke across the distance between them. ‘I can’t, Darq. Not any more. ’
‘Don’t you trust me?’ he asked her. ‘Please, come here. I’ve got something to tell you. It’s important.’
She walked across the grass towards him. ‘What is there for me to trust you about?’ She folded her arms, appearing defensive.
‘I don’t want to lose you, Ammie. You’re my only true friend. You have to be made to be like me.’
She shook her head. ‘That can’t happen. You know it. What is it you’re trying to say?’
Darq took a deep breath. ‘I can give you the gift of my kind.’
‘What?’ Now she sounded harsh, impatient, somewhat more back to normal. ‘You’re mad!’
‘No I’m not. I can’t make you har, but I can make you something similar, something more like me. Then we’ll be the same again.’
Amelza shook her head. ‘No, you can’t do that. It would kill me.’
‘I don’t think it would,’ Darq said. ‘I’m different to other hara. I’ve thought long and hard about it. I’ve cast the stones and read the flight of birds. A fox came to me, and I saw in her a you that might come to be. Also, I just feel it will work. Trust me, Ammie, and come to me.’
Amelza narrowed her eyes. He could see himself through her gaze, how she perceived him. She saw him as beautiful, an unattainable creature, unbearable to be near. It confused her because she didn’t know whether she desired the male or the female in him. But then again, why should she care about that? If he’d been female, she could have loved him. But he was har and beyond her. He could tell she wanted desperately to believe he could change her and wondered whether she was dreaming, or whether he was mad. She wondered about the scent of the evening, the essence of pine wafting down from the high passes, the perfume of the night-blooming flowers, and how it made the whole of life seem unreal, yet filled with unguessed potential. She was young, and would no doubt one day forget about him, if she’d only give herself the time, but she believed, in her blossoming, that she would die if she could not be with him. If there was the slightest possibility that this could happen, she should take it. If she should die, well… there would be no more pain.
All these impressions washed over Darq from the simple contact of her gaze. He was aghast at the depth of her feelings; it was worse than what Zira felt for Phade, which in Darq’s opinion was a very bad way to be. He should do what he could to alleviate this pointless suffering. He had no desire to share her feeling, because it seemed utterly without value or purpose, but if it would make his friend happy to be able to touch him intimately, he would allow it. Perhaps it might be interesting.
‘Come, Ammie,’ he said.
They went into the deepwood, which at that time of year was growing so fast you could hear the rustle of it. They approached the moon pool, where once Darq had learned he was part of something. Here, they sat on the grass, holding hands.
‘Before we do this,’ Darq said, ‘you should know the truth.’ He stood up and took o
ff his clothes. He showed her the thing she had always been so curious about; the ouana-lim and soume-lam, the refined genitalia of his kind. He explained he was not yet fully adult, of course, but at least Amelza could now have some idea of what hara were like.
Amelza’s eyes were wide and dark, drinking him in. ‘Yes,’ she said. Simply that.
Darq put his clothes back on. He had with him a knife, which he’d stolen from the kitchen, after making sure its blade was as sharp as it could be. He’d used the whetstone on it. But even so, it isn’t easy to make a cut in flesh, unless you mean to wound or kill.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked.
Amelza appeared dazed. ‘Kiss me first,’ she said. ‘In case it doesn’t work.’
‘I don’t really know how to.’ He observed her expression. ‘Well, all right.’
He put his lips to hers. She was hot, feverish. He couldn’t give her the passion she wanted, even though he could tell she was afraid she was about to die. It just wasn’t in him yet; maybe it never would be for a human. Amelza would die content if she could do so with his taste in her mouth. He believed she wouldn’t die, but even so he kissed her until she broke away from him. Anything to make her happy again.
Amelza knelt beside the pool, with her hair hanging forward and her arms held out, wrists uppermost. She seemed barely in control of her senses. On the way to the glade, Darq had told her what he would do, but he wasn’t sure she’d heard him properly. She trembled as he pressed the blade against her skin and he had to press really hard, and make several attempts, before he cut her. Then he thought he’d cut too deep, because the blood came out, black as ink in the moonlight. He was trembling too as he applied the knife to his own forearm. Is this the right thing to do? He was sure it was. Sure…
He slumped to his knees beside her and pressed their wounds together. It was the most intimate thing he had ever done, more so than the kiss. He could feel the pulse of their hearts, the linking of their essences. Amelza hung heavy and limp against him, her breathing labored. Presently, she began to twitch.
The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence Page 8