The Wraeththu Chronicles

by Storm Constantine

  By the time we had got back to the gate again, it was really dark and well past dinnertime. We heard horse's hooves on the drive, and then Ithiel appeared out of the shadows of the overhanging yew trees, saying, "What on earth have you two been up to? Terzian's had people out looking for you!"

  Naturally, Gahrazel and I were not exactly taken by surprise when we received a thorough scolding, first from Terzian, then further upbraiding from Cobweb. "Don't you realize how vulnerable you are?" Cobweb snapped.

  No, I didn't! I couldn't see what harm could have befallen us within Forever's boundaries. It never crossed my mind that, because of the season, outsiders, enemies, might be drawn to the town, seeking food or shelter.

  "Terzian is very protective toward you, Swift," Cobweb continued. "You are his only heir... at present. He is concerned for Gahrazel's safety as well. Can't you see that anybody could have come in off the fields? Anybody could have been hiding in the trees." He shuddered expressively.

  Terzian decreed that, until lessons resumed in a few days' time, Gahrazel and I must be kept apart. This was humiliating, but inside myself I was once again contented. Nothing, nobody, that wished us ill could cross the magical threshold we had made. I longed to tell Cobweb about it, but knew instinctively that part of the magic was its secrecy.

  More snow fell. Messengers came once again from the north. Now, my father considered me old enough to be included in the conversations at dinner. He said, "It seems the Uigenna have just disposed of yet another of their leaders. Sometimes, I wonder whether they are really quite sane."

  "Are any of us?" Cobweb said drily. "Are we real, even? Do you think it at all unlikely that one day we might waken up in our beds to discover that all of Wraeththu was just a dream?"

  "Well, I certainly do!" I answered hotly, and Terzian laughed, gesturing at me.

  "There you are then," he said. "Did you dream up hosting the pearl that gave us Swift?"

  Cobweb smiled. "No, at least I hope not. If I did, I expect I should wake up, not in my own bed, but in some kind of asylum!"

  "They are all rather insane in the north," Gahrazel said then, in a thoughtful voice. He had been silent for most of the meal. "My father enjoys killing things. Do you know, it is a public spectacle when hostages

  are brought to the citadel. If they're human, some are incepted, made to be Wraeththu, some are just butchered. I saw it, many times. From my room in the tower, I heard it more times than I saw it."

  My father looked at Gahrazel with embarrassment. "You must know that humanity has to be dealt with the most expedient way. Not all of them can be kept by Wraeththu."

  "Oh yes, I am well aware of that. Another thing that I've heard many times. I also know that the humans would kill us all, if they could. Perhaps it is the only way, killing all of them. I can't answer that; I don't know. What I can't understand is why they have to suffer, why their screams are as music to my father's ear. They may be our enemy, but they're not animals."

  Words cannot convey the stunned silence that followed that little speech. I was dumbfounded, not sure whether to believe what I'd heard. How lucky we were that Terzian would never allow such things to happen in Galhea.

  After a while, Cobweb pushed his chair back and stood up. "Well!" he said brightly. "Swift, why don't you ask Swithe if we could all go riding together this afternoon? Look at the sun, the snow; we shouldn't miss it. Soon it will be raining and thawing and unpleasant."

  "Alright," I said, still looking at Terzian, who was discretely observing Gahrazel with speculation.

  Wrapped in furs, kicking up sprays of snow, we galloped our horses to the lake's edge. I looked at my hostling and thought, Gahrazel is right, he is the most beautiful har in the world.

  Swithe pulled his horse to a halt and said, "Just look at this place! How hard it is to imagine we are struggling through a time of fighting, uncertainty."

  "Oh, and are we?" Cobweb asked archly.

  "Terzian keeps Galhea very . . . safe," Swithe replied in an unpleasant tone of voice.

  Cobweb dismounted and walked toward the frozen edge of the water. Brittle, dead reeds rattled in the breeze like bones. I looked at the expression on Swithe's face and realized, Of course, they are . . .

  A revelation that was cut, only half-formed in my head All that followed was simply a flowering of this realization. I had been within the flower; now I could see the sky.

  "Swift, come here!" Gahrazel called and I jumped from my pony's back, running over to him, but reluctant to leave Swithe and Cobweb alone.

  "What is it?"

  "Look!" He poked something with a stick. Something dead. Its beak spread wide in a last obscene denial of death, a bedraggled black bird poked halfway out of the ice. I was chilled.

  "Do you think he's noticed?" I asked numbly.

  "Who? Noticed what?"

  "Cobweb . . . about the crows . . ."

  Gahrazel glanced over to where Cobweb stood staring into the ice, Swithe some distance away, arms folded. "Who knows . . ." he said.

  Gahrazel and I walked back to the others. I felt on edge for some reason, nervous and twitchy. I could hear whistling in my head. Someone was watching me.

  "Let's go back," I said and my voice sounded slow, echoing. Cobweb turned toward me slowly, his lovely, pale face smiling, a reflection of the wild, frozen landscape, his hair lifted by the breeze like wings. He began to speak, then a vague puzzlement came into his eyes; he winced.

  "Cobweb?" I said, cautiously, and it echoed around us: "Cobweb! Cobweb!"

  He shook his head once, as if something had got into his hair. "No . . . ?" he said.

  "What is it?" Swithe asked harshly, still behaving in a way so that Cobweb would know that he'd been hurt.

  "Nothing." Cobweb straightened up and began to walk back to the horses. I wanted to run to him, but my limbs were paralyzed. Above me, livid darkness was crawling across the sky from the south. Gahrazel was staring at me. Some feet away from us, Cobweb dropped to his knees in the snow. I could not move. He screamed. Swithe turned his head.

  "No!" Cobweb slammed his fists into the snow, which flew up in glittering spurts. When Swithe went to him, Cobweb smashed his hands into Swithe's face.

  We all called, "Cobweb!" me softly, Swithe indignantly, Gahrazel wonderingly. Cobweb sprang to his feet and ran to the jostling horses. Not bothering with stirrups, he threw himself over his animal's back and urged it furiously back toward the house. I still could not move. Gahrazel shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted at Forever. Swithe rubbed his chin thoughtfully, putting his foot in his stirrup, remounting his horse. "There's some kind of activity at the house," Gahrazel said.

  I was first back at Forever after Cobweb. Leaving my pony loose in the yard, I ran, slipping, sliding into the house. I could sense the strangeness immediately. The house was outraged, holding its breath. I ran into the hall and I remember thinking, They have let the cold in; it is cold. Everywhere seemed empty, I could not hear anything. The drawing room, my father's study were deserted and the fires were low. I went to the kitchen. All the household staff were in there, talking in low voices. They went quiet when they saw me standing in the doorway. "What's going on?" I demanded. "What's happened?"

  Yarrow spoke. "In your father's room," he said.

  I ran out, up the stairs, stumbling. Of course, the door was closed. I could hear voices inside, speaking quickly. I could not go in.

  Cobweb and I must have been guided by the same instinct. I found him in the conservatory. It was cold in there, colder than it should have been, and I was afraid that it might kill the plants. I put my hand on the radiator and it was hot. I rubbed my hands and shivered. Cobweb was slumped at one of the wrought-iron tables we had in there, elbows on the table, his head in his hands. I went to him, and put my arms around him, resting my chin on the back of his head.

  "Don't kiss me," he said, "not from behind; it's unlucky."

  "Cobweb ..." I began.

  "No," he said, quite emphatical
ly. "No."

  "Tell me, you must tell me!" My voice sounded alien to me, somehow stronger and older. Cobweb raised his head at the imperative tone.

  "Can't you guess?"

  I squatted down beside him and looked into his eyes. A single tear spilled and fell on my hands where they clasped his own in his lap. I knew; there was no way I couldn't have.

  "Oh, Cobweb!" I said, and suddenly it didn't seem as bad as before, when it had been only a threat. This was real. This we could fight. "Tell me." My voice was calm.

  "They found him, somewhere ... I don't know. I don't know! He's here! Who the fuck cares how!" I had not heard my hostling swear in my life before.

  "But he can't be," I insisted. "Gahrazel and I, we protected the house ..."

  "Swift, are you joking?" Cobweb spat sarcastically. He pushed me away and stood up. He laughed. "Destiny!" he said.

  It was later, from Ithiel, that I heard how it happened. I cornered him in the kitchen, long after dinnertime (none of us had eaten), begging food and coffee off Yarrow. Limba was in there, crouched mournfully against the stove. Ithiel started guiltily when he saw me and said, "Oh, Swift." A brief wave of shame washed over me, for I was still troubled by my discovery of the existence of aruna, but I ignored it. "Tell me what's happened," I said. It was one of those rare, magical times when I felt twice my age and others even treated me as if I was. Ithiel sat down again on the edge of the table, nursing a hot drink. I went over to the window and drew the blinds and turned on another lamp. Evidence of confusion was everywhere; unwashed pans in the sink, breadcrumbs on the table. Usually, this room was spotless. The cook was sitting by the stove, drinking a large measure of sheh and absently scratching Limba's back with his foot. "Yarrow?" Ithiel said and he replied, "This is my kitchen. If you want to talk in private, go somewhere else."

  Ithiel inclined his head and ushered me out into the hall.

  "My room," I suggested. "No-one will disturb us there."

  It felt strange, preceding Ithiel up the stairs, feeling him tall behind me, passing hurriedly the closed door to my father's room. The first thing he said was, "Cobweb will need you now." He sat down on the bed and I on the window seat.

  "Not just me," I pointed out and Ithiel looked at his hands and shook his head.

  "No-one can predict what will happen now," he said.

  "Who found him?"

  "A patrol, three hara, south of Galhea. He was lying in the snow. They thought he was dead at first. God, maybe five, ten minutes later and he would have been!" Ithiel looked up at me. "They would have just left him, even finished him off, but one of them had to recognize him. That's when they sent for me."

  "Ithiel," I said. "You needn't have brought him back here. No-one would have known."

  He laughed. "You can't mean that! Three hara did know and is there any har in Galhea who doesn't know what that devil was, what he is? The patrol knew and I couldn't guarantee their silence. If Terzian had ever found out ..." He shook his head and we both pondered the terrible consequences of that.

  "What condition is he in?" I asked. "And why has he come back after all this time?"

  "His condition is poor," Ithiel answered, with a bleak smile. "But I shouldn't raise your hopes too high. As you know, we're a resilient race and difficult to kill. As for why he's come back, well, your guess is as good as mine at the moment. I just think it means trouble, that's all. Terzian's always been obsessed with him and that worries me. It's unnatural." He stood up and looked at the door.

  "How is my father?" I asked and Ithiel rubbed the back of his neck, flexing his spine.

  "Oh, he behaves in his usual cool, contained way, but . . ."

  "Perhaps we should kill him," I interrupted, "kill the devil that calls itself Cal!"

  Ithiel granted in derision. "A thought, I imagine, that will cross more than one person's mind. Anyway, I have to go. I have things to attend to. Our defenses must never slip, must they?"

  He paused at the door, frowning and burrowing in a pocket of his jacket. "Oh, Swift, I meant to show you this," he said. "I found two of them on the gate this morning. Is someone casting spells on us, do you think? I thought I'd better take them down."

  He threw them down on my bed. Two of them, bound in horsehair, blessed with blood. Our talismans.

  After Ithiel had gone, I sat looking at my hands, afraid to look at the talismans. Eventually, I knocked them to the floor without turning my head. A sudden wave of anger made my eyes hot. I thought, I'm not going to skulk in a comer like everyone else! This Cal is just har. How dare he come back into our lives and destroy the harmony of this house? I stood up. Young though I might be, I was not going to let this upset me. I am Terzian's son, I thought, and I shall face this beast with his strength.

  Hesitating at Terzian's door would have made it too difficult. I knocked once, loudly, and walked right in. My father was sitting at his desk, writing. Two hara stood by the bed, fussing over what lay in it. Terzian looked around as I walked in. It was the first time, that I could remember, that he seemed genuinely pleased to see me. Perhaps, because of that, I was more self-assertive than usual with him.

  "Swift," he said. "I was beginning to think I was a pariah in my own house. Has Cobweb sent you?"

  I shook my head.

  "Come here," he said and I went to him. "You've grown up so much lately," he continued. "Perhaps we still treat you too much as a child."

  Oh God, I was thinking, don't get emotional; I couldn't stand it! "What does this

  mean?" I asked clearly.

  "To Cobweb and me? What does it mean?"

  My father bit his lip; not a gesture common to him. "Cobweb is naturally angry," he said.

  "We want to know where we stand," I said stiffly.

  Terzian laughed. "Oh, I see! Cobweb's told you that now Cal has come back, you and he will be cast aside, perhaps even thrown out of the house, hasn't he?"

  I could not answer. Looking at my father's face, I realized that our eviction was probably the least likely thing in the entire world. Terzian touched my shoulder.

  "You are my first-born," he said, and that was reassurance enough. "Swift, a long time ago, when Cal was here before . . . and afterwards, I explained to Cobweb how things were. Cobweb is your hostling and my consort and because of that, my people are fond of him. He belongs here, but if it hadn't been for Cal, well, maybe I would have had

  other hara in the house to give me sons as well. Cobweb's had it easy; I've spoiled him. There is no reason why his life should change now except that he shall have to learn to share his home."

  "And you," I pointed out.

  "Yes, that too," Terzian agreed.

  I thought to myself, Father, you have no heart.

  "Go and look at him, Swift." Terzian stood up and, clamping a firm hand on the back of my neck, half steered, half dragged me over to the bed. I thought, How lucky he has good bones. Starvation has barely marked him.

  "Are you sure it's him?" I asked. "I remember him differently."

  "It's him," my father said shortly.

  Cal's eyes were closed, his head turned to the side. I could see so clearly the long line of his neck, the caress of hair against his cheek, his brow, the dark circles beneath his eyes. I could see his arms, outside the blankets, laid along his sides, smooth as sculpture, his long, sensitive hands. My first impression was unashamedly this: he is made to be touched. I hated him. I remembered a fairy tale that Swithe had once read to me from an old, old book, a man's book, about a magic mirror.

  The beautiful witch queen had asked the mirror, "Who is the most beautiful in the land, magic glass?"

  And the mirror had always replied, "It is you, Oh Queen." Until one day it had clouded and it had seen someone else, more beautiful still. When the witch had asked the mirror, "Who is the fairest in my husband's kingdom?" it had answered her differently and dark poison had flowered in her heart. Someone else, and here it lay, on my father's bed, and yes, more beautiful still. A Wraeththu child of snow
and thorns whom we could not kill, because fairy stories just don't end that way.

  The following morning, Cal was moved from my father's room, ironically, back to the very suite that he had occupied once before, with Pellaz. A circle in time; we begin again. Cobweb would not speak to Terzian, except with his eyes, which radiated contempt and fury disguised as pain, and all gatherings of the household became fraught affairs, where silence could be cut with a knife and knives glinted sharply. Gahrazel and I philosophized endlessly about what all of this meant, the complexities of relationships, the capriciousness of feeling.

  "Is Cal really evil?" Gahrazel asked me.

  I had to admit, "I don't know. We all hate him because he broke my father's heart when he left and yet his staying here was the last thing in the world Cobweb wanted."