by Gav Thorpe
‘If that is revealed to be your choice, I will know it and come to you.’
INTROSPECTION
Rod of Light – The Staff of Asuryan. This rune is one of conjunction, lacking any power or significance on its own, but of the highest potency when cast or seen alongside another. Its appearance colours the reading of any other rune, and characterises wisdom from within. When the Rod of Light comes unbidden to a seer, it signals great change, representing the flame of the Lord of the Heavens that consumes the old and brings rebirth.
On returning to her quarters, Thirianna was greeted by a thrum of recognition from the infinity circuit interface in her main chamber. Placing a palm onto the smooth slate, she allowed her consciousness to touch upon the energies of Alaitoc. Thirianna’s thoughts touched with an after-echo of Aradryan’s presence; he had come to her apartment seeking her.
She detached herself from the infinity circuit while she considered what she should do. Part of her wished for solitude, so that she could think upon the choice presented to her by Alaiteir; the other part of her wanted to lose herself in mundane matters so that she could forget the dilemma for a while and return to it refreshed.
Thirianna decided on the latter course and meshed with the infinity circuit again, seeking the signature of Aradryan. She found him on the Boulevard of Split Moons, not far from the tower where she lived. Through the infinity circuit, she touched upon his thoughts, gently gaining his attention. In a moment they had exchanged feelings of greeting and conciliation and came to an understanding; Aradryan would wait for her amongst the storefronts and arcades and she would join him shortly.
Breaking the link, Thirianna changed her clothes, swapping her robe for a tight bodysuit of glittering purple and silver. She wrapped a light scarf about her neck and shoulders and a wide belt studded with sapphire-like gems about her waist. She pulled several torcs up her arm and finished with a long pair of white gloves and matching boots. She quickly coloured her hair and eyes green to finish the striking look and hung a small waistbag from her belt. Feeling ready to meet Aradryan, she set off for the Boulevard of Split Moons.
She found Aradryan waiting beside a jewellery stall, picking through an assortment of plain gold earrings. He wore a wide-shouldered jacket of dark blue, flared at the hips, fastened by a line of tiny buckles from waist to neck and wrist to elbow. A heavy kilt of subtly blended greens and blacks covered his upper legs, above narrow boots studded with golden buttons. It was a style that had not been seen on Alaitoc for some time, and the sight of her friend caused a moment of nostalgia in Thirianna.
Aradryan looked up at her approach, smiling broadly, and held up a pair of earrings shaped vaguely like two leaping fish.
‘Not really to my taste,’ said Thirianna as they touched hands in greeting.
‘Not for you, for me,’ said Aradryan, nonplussed.
‘I know,’ said Thirianna, laughing softly. She took one of the earrings and held it up to the side of Aradryan’s face. The curve of the jewellery matched well with his features and she nodded. ‘Yes, they would look very good.’
‘Then it is decided,’ said Aradryan, recovering his composure. The steersman signalled his desire to take the jewellery to the stallholder, who nodded his head in appreciation of a choice well made and waved for the pair to continue on their way.
The two of them spoke little as they moved between the stalls and stores, examined gems and scarves, robes and headdresses. Thirianna was grateful for the opportunity to divert her attention away from herself and Aradryan. She enjoyed feeling the textures of cloth and seeing the rainbows of light in the gems, losing herself in every detail. When Aradryan spoke, he raised trivial matters, commenting on the wares on display and those offering them. After a while, Thirianna realised that much of what he said was negative, and though never offensively phrased his words came across as a quiet but constant denigration of Alaitoc.
Eventually Aradryan’s subtle complaints started intruding on Thirianna’s appreciation of the objects on display and she turned to him, letting her irritation show.
‘What is it about life here that chafes so badly that you must constantly gripe and find fault?’ she snapped, taking Aradryan by the arm and guiding him to a small alleyway between two stores where they would not be overheard.
‘I am sorry if I have broadened my view beyond the petty baubles on display here,’ Aradryan replied. He was about to say something else but stopped himself and his expression changed to one of contrition. ‘No, I am genuinely sorry. You say that life here chafes, and I can think of no better word to describe it. It rubs against my spirit, binding my thoughts like a cord around my limbs. Alaitoc is safe, and controlled, and suffocating. It offers comfort and dependability. I no longer desire these things.’
‘So why did you return at all?’ Thirianna asked, feeling guilty for judging her friend so harshly. ‘There must have been a reason to come back.’
Aradryan gave Thirianna a look that she did not recognise; it seemed to be desire mixed with pleading, and a hint of desperation. The look passed quickly and Aradryan glanced away, pretending to flick away an imagined piece of thread from the shoulder of his jacket. When he looked at her again, he showed the studied, expressionless mask that he had worn almost constantly since his return.
‘My memories of Alaitoc were fonder than the reality,’ said Aradryan. ‘Or perhaps the reality has changed to one of which I am less fond.’
‘You speak of Korlandril,’ said Thirianna. The mention of the artist’s name caused a brief flicker of emotion to cross Aradryan’s face; annoyance that turned to shame.
‘And you,’ said Aradryan. He sighed and leaned back against the wall of the alley, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘I do not know my place here any longer.’
‘It will take time, but you will adjust again, and learn anew to find the delight in each moment that passes, and meaning in the things you now find trivial,’ Thirianna assured him. ‘Alaitoc is your home, Aradryan.’
‘Is it?’ he replied. ‘I have little bond to the family left here, and my friends are not those I left behind. Why should I choose to stay here when all of the galaxy is open to me?’
‘Though it would sadden me to see you leave again, I cannot argue against your desires,’ said Thirianna, feeling helpless against the force of Aradryan’s disaffection.
‘Is there some reason I should stay?’ he asked. He directed a look at Thirianna similar to the one he had given her earlier; longing and hopeful. She could not hide her shock when she realised what he wanted to hear from her.
‘I have only my friendship to offer,’ Thirianna said. Aradryan’s disappointment was instant, showing as a furrowed brow and parted lips for a moment before the emotionless mask descended again.
‘Friendship was once enough, but not now,’ said Aradryan, his tone even and quiet. He directed a quick bow of the head to Thirianna, in deference to her feelings, eyes closed out of respect. When he opened them, there was a glimmer of sorrow. ‘It seems that even friendship is not possible with Korlandril. He has grown arrogant, I think, and he has no time for others. Thank you for your candour, Thirianna. I hope I have not caused you undue embarrassment or woe.’
Before Thirianna could reply, Aradryan had stepped out of the alley, quickly striding through the thickening crowd of eldar milling along the Boulevard of Split Moons. Thirianna considered whether to go after him and decided against it. She was certain that she could not offer what Aradryan desired and no other argument would convince him to stay.
It is probably for the best, she told herself. As much as it pained her to think of Aradryan leaving again, his return, and the feelings he had hinted at, had made her life a lot more complicated in a very short space of time. Thirianna was confident that whatever ennui or wanderlust plagued Aradryan, he would overcome it.
The question she had been ignoring returned to her, prompted by the thought that perhaps she could free herself from the uncertainty that surrounded her life. Th
is brief episode had highlighted to her how little control of her situation she had, and that made her feel uneasy. To know something of what would come, to glimpse the possible consequences of these endlessly difficult decisions, was a huge temptation.
The door chime woke her in the early part of the following cycle. She sensed Alaiteir. Quickly slipping on a loose robe of white and silver, she thought open the door and welcomed her unexpected visitor.
‘I apologise for the inconvenience, but I bear news that you will wish to hear,’ said the farseer. ‘I would not normally intervene in such a small matter, but considering the delicate balance of choice on which your life is currently poised I think it wise that you should know that your friend, Aradryan, has set himself aboard the crew of a new ship.’
‘And why does this news bring you to my door at such an inopportune time?’ said Thirianna. She could not remember the dream that had been interrupted but a hollowness lingered inside her, a vague after-memory that disturbed her.
‘The starship is Irdiris,’ said Alaiteir. ‘It is due to slip its moorings before the dawn cycle begins.’
‘So soon?’ said Thirianna. ‘Why such a swift departure?’
‘Why not?’ said the farseer. ‘Your friend is in pain and seeks swift resolution to it. He is acting rashly, but we cannot blame him for that.’
‘If he does not wish to share the courtesy of saying goodbye to me, then perhaps he is not the friend I thought he was,’ said Thirianna, sitting cross-legged on the rug at the centre of the main chamber. She indicated an invitation to Alaiteir to seat himself on one of the low couches but he declined with a raised hand.
‘The Irdiris is no normal vessel,’ said the farseer. ‘She is a void-runner bound for distant stars beyond the reach of the webway. It will be many passes until your friend returns, if he comes back at all.’
‘A ranger ship?’ said Thirianna, one hand moving to her mouth in shock. ‘You think that he chooses to make himself outcast, leaving the Path behind him?’
Alaiteir simply nodded, his eyes never moving from Thirianna.
‘I have to convince him to stay!’ She jumped to her feet and made for the dressing room next door. She hastily dressed herself in the same outfit she had worn earlier in the cycle and hurried from the apartment. She stopped on the landing outside and waited for Alaiteir to join her. Realising that she did not know where the Irdiris was docked, she returned to her quarters and moved towards the infinity circuit terminal.
‘The Bay of Departing Sorrows,’ said Alaiteir from the doorway, just as Thirianna’s hand was about to make contact with the smooth plate. He waved a hand towards the docking balcony behind him. ‘You can take my cloudskiff if you wish to travel swiftly.’
‘I do not understand why you have such an interest in this,’ said Thirianna, hurrying past the farseer. The two-sailed anti-grav vessel hovered alongside the sky quay, its engines gently humming. ‘You have my sincere thanks for passing on this news.’
‘Wait!’ Alaiteir called out as Thirianna nimbly leapt over the side of the cloudskiff. She turned, one hand on the tiller controls. ‘Do you really want Aradryan to stay?’
Thirianna hesitated, and in turn that hesitation gave her a moment’s pause for thought. Were her reasons selfish? She decided that it was in the interests of both herself and Aradryan that he stay, regardless of the difficulties that might cause.
‘I cannot bear to think of him out there in the darkness, adrift from the Path and alone,’ she said, thumbing the grav motors into life via the rune on the tiller handle.
She steered the cloudskiff away from the quayside and down towards the floor of the dome, the hum of its engines becoming a soft purring as she picked up speed. She brought the craft level with one of the many transit routes that stretched from dome to dome, and guided the cloudskiff towards the arched opening.
Glancing back she saw Alaiteir standing with arms crossed at the railing outside her apartment. As she passed into the shadow of the passageway she wondered if she was not being manipulated by the old seer. How could she tell if the decisions she was making were truly her own and not a meaningless dance to some design that favoured Alaiteir?
She dismissed her doubts, realising that such speculation could lead nowhere. She reassured herself that the life of one poet was far below the machinations of the Farseers of Alaitoc and forced herself to believe that Alaiteir was acting out of genuine regard for her, if not outright kindness.
She guided the cloudskiff from dome to dome, cutting across the disc of Alaitoc by the shortest route, passing over the central divide towards the darkward rim. Coming close to the edge of the craftworld, she saw the Bay of Departing Sorrows in the distance: a crescent of quays and docks attached to the darkside rim at a steep tangent. There were three ships moored there, but the Irdiris was easily recognised by its small size and single solar sail. It was little more than an armed yacht, built for speed, efficiency and range, crewed by only a handful of eldar. At the moment its hull was coloured a deep green mottled with black stripes, its sail glowing gold in the light of dying Mirianathir.
Steering the cloudskiff lower, she passed alongside the white hull of a short-range barque, dipping beneath its twin loading ramps along which a procession of egg-like package crates were floating into its hold. Coming around the prow of the barque, Thirianna saw two figures walking up the gantry beside the Irdiris. She recognised the tall, gaunt figure of Aradryan and slowed down, bringing the cloudskiff gently alongside the larger vessel. Stepping down to the quay, she saw Aradryan turning in her direction.
‘Aradryan!’ Her voice disappeared into the depths of the dimly lit hangar.
He stopped, hands on hips. Thirianna broke into a run and reached him as Aradryan’s companion, a female eldar in a tight bodysuit of yellow and blue, shook her head and continued up towards the void-runner.
‘This is madness,’ Thirianna said as she reached her friend. She reached out a hand to his arm but he stepped away, avoiding the contact. Aradryan was dressed in the same severe outfit he had worn on his arrival and his expression was stern.
‘It is freedom,’ he replied, glancing over his shoulder towards the open iris-like door of the starship. He looked back at Thirianna and his expression softened. ‘I did not wish to be parted like this. It is too painful to say goodbye.’
‘It does not have to be this way,’ said Thirianna. ‘Do not leave.’
‘You wish me to stay?’ said Aradryan, one eyebrow raised. ‘Would there be a purpose in remaining on Alaitoc?’
Thirianna had wrestled with the idea on the journey from her apartment, but had resolved no solid argument she could offer. It simply felt wrong that Aradryan should go in this manner, abandoning the structure and protection of the Path for a life as an outcast.
‘There must be more to this than your desire to be with me,’ she said. ‘How can you hate Alaitoc, who has raised and nurtured you and given you so much?’
‘I do not hate her,’ said Aradryan. ‘I am merely bored of her. Perhaps in time my thirst for new vistas and experiences will be sated and I will return. Would you come with me?’
Arguments sprang to Thirianna’s mind, but they seemed trite against the yearning she felt in Aradryan’s spirit. She stepped back, bowing her head.
‘Be safe,’ she said. ‘See the stars and come back to us.’
‘I will, Thirianna,’ Aradryan replied. He strode close to her and laid a hand on each of her shoulders. ‘Take care of Korlandril for me. I sense that he needs a good friend at the moment, if only to save him from himself.’
‘And who is going to save you from yourself?’ Thirianna asked, tears moistening her cheeks. She could not look at Aradryan and kept her gaze on the marble-like floor of the docking pier.
‘Nobody,’ Aradryan said.
Thirianna still did not look up as she felt Aradryan remove his hands and back away. She heard his faint footsteps on the gantry followed by the delicate whisper of the closing doorway.
Thirianna looked up at the last moment, catching a glimpse of the vessel’s swallow tail before it disappeared through the energy barrier and was obscured from sight. She waited for the forcefield to settle, returning to its transparent state. By then, the Irdiris was accelerating swiftly towards the webway gate aft of Alaitoc. It became a shimmer against the stars as its holofield activated, and then it was gone from view.
Thirianna found Alaiteir sitting on the same bench as before. The aging farseer sat with his hands neatly clasped in his lap, watching yellow-feathered sawbeaks duelling over the tumble of rocks at the bottom of the hill.
‘There is a final warning I must give you,’ Alaiteir said as Thirianna sat beside him. She arranged her robe carefully and looked down the slope. ‘Though you may step onto the Path of the Seer like any other part of the Path, and step off again when you feel the time is appropriate, it has the strongest lures of any we might tread.’
‘I resisted the call of Khaine,’ said Thirianna. ‘That is perhaps the most treacherous trap of all.’
‘It is not,’ said Alaiteir. Thirianna detected a subtle note of annoyance in his tone and realised she had spoken out of place. She dipped her head in apology.
‘The call of Khaine is strong but it is a harsh, unsubtle snare,’ the farseer continued, mollified by Thirianna’s contrition. ‘The lure of the Seer is far more potent, for it promises unbounded power. Those of us who tread the Path of the Seer to the fullest extent know the doom to which we walk.’
He held up a hand, silencing another comment from Thirianna before she could make it.