"Yes, behind me." I sighed. "My father needs Cal, Thiede."
Thiede sighed as well, but theatrically and embroidered by waving arm gestures. "Oh God! Must my life continually be plagued by love-sick fools continually bleating that particular demand at me?" he said.
There is little more to say now. The time of upheaval was nearly over. I have to speak of the end of my father's life, for that will truly end the tale. With his ending, there began a kind of peace for me. I had played my greatest part on Thiede's stage. For a while, he would let me rest. Fulminir was deserted, peopled only by winds and dust, her victims succoured, her cruel inhabitants transferred to the shadowy, make-believe land of Gebaddon. For them, the play was over, at least in this world.
Taking Fulminir, of course, was not really the end. Megalithica is a vast country and the Varrs were widespread. Suddenly, what was left of my tribe found that those they had looked on as allies had turned against them, their slaves had the courage to rebel, their own loved ones, sickened by blood-•ihcd and cruelty, broke free and ran to the Gelaming. Of course, many lives were lost. We could not avoid fighting, much as Thiede and his Hegemony hoped we could. Magic is sometimes not enough. Some minds are too far immersed in darkness to recognize light even when it is thrown in their eyes. There are probably a thousand thousand tales to be told of my country at that time; the heroes that rose up, the monsters that were discovered, the legends that were
born. One day, I might go looking for those tales, for even as a child I had longed to write, and as I have said before, Wraeththu ! have not yet had much time for making books of their history.
Seel and I mingled our blood beneath the heavy, shady trees in the gardens of Forever. Thiede's ceremonial blade made the cuts, Thiede's own hand pressed bleeding skin to bleeding skin. He smiled his long-toothed smile and blessed us. Cobweb watched us with wistful eyes, thinking of what might have been. His gaze flicked once to Terzian's window; that was all. My father would not even countenance my blood-tie to Seel. I offered to help him to the chair by the window in his room but he declined with scorn.
Later, I couldn't resist going to see him, brandishing my blood-stained flesh. "Look, father, a different kind of inception!"
He winced away from me. "And we were once accused of emulating men!"
"I pity you. You cannot understand."
He smiled wryly to himself. "Oh, Swift, must I bicker my way to the grave?" His voice was introspective.
I watched him looking at what was left of his body, hidden beneath the bedclothes. Half of me wanted to gather him into my arms as Cobweb had done, half of me didn't care about him at all. There was a few moment's silence, then I said, "Why, Terzian?"
He sighed. "Why . .." Looked up at me, his eyes young, sparkling with shadows of the past. "What particular 'why' do you mean? Is it why didn't I say what the Gelaming wanted to hear or why did I ride south in the first place, or why did I ever become Wraeththu to start with? Or is it the darker 'whys,' those best not spoken, eh?" He smiled and I thought his face was so much as I remembered it, and I recalled how it had sometimes frightened me and sometimes filled me with fire. Of course I have always adored him, always feared his displeasure, always craved his attention, yearned his respect. It was still the same har lying there, only the balance of power had changed.
I said, "No, none of those things. The 'why' I mean is, why are you killing yourself?"
I thought he would wince again, but he didn't. There was silence in the room, deep but not uncomfortable. My arm had begun to throb a little and I sat down on the bed and sucked at the flesh.
"Let me see that," Terzian said. His hands were hot and dry, papery dry. He traced the line of the cut with one finger. "By this mark, you have committed yourself to another har—for life. His welfare is your welfare. You are prepared to uphold each other, whatever happens. It is not a vow to be taken lightly."
"I know that."
"Of course you do, that's not what I'm trying to say. Some vows are made when you are very young, Swift, personal vows that might never be spoken. I cannot go back on promises that I've made to myself, whatever others might think of my beliefs." "Is it that simple?"
He shook his head. "No . . . nothing can ever be that simple, can it? I worked hard for Galhea, Swift, worked hard to make it what it is. Perhaps, in caring so much, I've done things that I shouldn't have. Bad, evil, whatever you want to call it. It was because I've always cared about my people, this town was mine and I didn't want anything or anyone to take it away from me. I thought that whatever I did outside Galhea could never harm it. Maybe I was wrong. I can offer no excuses for my life, Swift, and I don't want forgiveness, but I want you to know that I did care, even if the popular view of me in this house is of a hard-hearted monster!"
I laughed nervously and he squeezed my arm. "I know you've always disapproved of the way I've treated Cobweb," he said. "Will it help you to understand if I tell you that I've always feared him and, because of that fear, envied him? Yes, I've envied him in
other ways too. I know I tried to make him weak, but I could never do that for Cobweb's strength is pure, elemental. If I'd had a little more Cobweb in me, who knows, I might not be lying here now." He sighed and lay back, blinking at the ceiling. "Oh, Swift, I thought I was so strong! I saw defeat as going down in a blaze of glory with a curse on my lips, a curse and a smile. I knew we could never win, of course, that was obvious from the start, but I also knew I could never wait for the Gelaming to come here. Neither could I have done what you did, and joined them. Perhaps I'm not as sensible as you or too vain, I don't know. I travelled south seeking a noble death, I suppose, but what happened . . ."He shook his head upon the pillow, his face twisted with pain as he remembered, as he went back in time.
"No," I said. "Don't say any more! Don't think about it! Let it wait for another time!"
"No! There might not be another time!" he said desperately. "I have to talk to you, Swift! I have to tell someone! It's all inside me, boiling away, I've got to let it out! Does my distress upset you? Is that it?" I felt I should apologize, but could only hang my head.
"They told you about what happened in the forest?" he asked.
"Yes. They were waiting for you, weren't they?"
"Years, Swift, years!" he said, his mind jumping backwards and forwards. "In that place of hell, and then in the towers of Immanion. They pulled me this way and that. All I could say was, 'Why am I so important to you? Just kill me!' but they wanted me with them! They wanted me to confess my sins and seek absolution. But why? What am I to them?"
"They wanted to save your soul," I answered.
Terzian laughed. "Oh, is that it? Is that why they brought my thoughts into form and made me face them? Is that why I watched a thousand deaths a day, and torture and blood and despair? To save my soul?" (But didn't you watch it for real once, father?) "Oh, Swift, let me tell you this. One day they starved me and gave me salt water to drink. They would not let me sleep. I was woken again and again and again. Then I was taken to Pellaz. He's so radiant now. They've made him a god. He had a pool for scrying, in a wonderful cool parlor with plants and birds all around, and lovely hara to bring him all the things he needs. He gave me a crystal flute of wine, ice-cold it was, and he smiled and touched my face. 'Terzian,' he said 'drink the wine. Drink, and look into the pool with me.' I drank. I looked. I saw a room. Forever. Two hara glowing with aruna fire. I had to look away. It was an invasion of something so private . . . even though . . . Pellaz the golden spoke. He said, 'You see, Terzian, already they have forgotten you.' Cobweb and Cal. Together. Of course, I realized it was only an illusion. I laughed at him. They could not break me that way."
I pulled my hand from his hold and stood up, afraid my eyes would give away the truth. That was no illusion, Terzian. "You are letting yourself die," I said. "You still haven't given me a reason!"
"Well then, do you want me to live, Swift?" he asked quietly. There was silence. A silence too long. "There's nothing le
ft for me," he continued. "I have no place in this new world you're all building, no function—"
"That's not true!" I said harshly. "They wanted you, Terzian! It was you they wanted to run Megalithica for them, not me. I was second choice. You would have had Galhea for eternity then and you could have made it bigger and better; nothing would have been denied you. You are a fool! When you say you have no function, that's just a self-indulgent complaint. You were never one for self-pity before, Terzian!"
"Well, maybe I am now!" he answered with equal venom. "Anyway, do you think I wanted to be another kitten chasing bits of wool that Thiede would kindly dangle for me? No thank you. I am my own master—"
"Liar!" I cried. "What about Ponclast?"
"That was different."
"Rubbish!"
"Anyway, you talk as if I had a choice of living or dying. How can I? This is Thiede's doing. He took me apart, he sapped my will to live. Blame him! Your friend Thiede! Or doesn't that suit you?"
It was pointless arguing with him. Neither of us could reach the other over this. We had no common ground. Perhaps he thought that his death would be the final insult for our allying with the Gelaming. That was the truth of it. He was blaming us, me especially, for his death. If he forgave me, he lost his reason for dying.
"I can't let you do this," I said."What makes you think either of us has any control over it?" he responded.
"You, father, you make me think it!" I shouted. I walked out, slammed the door, and leaned upon it on the outside, shivering.
CHAPTER NINE
Elysian Song
The pillar was risen to infinity,
The pyre has cast his throne,
The gates of Heaven have sounded the bell. . .
Calling me back home.
Days passed. Sunlight on the fields, life stirring. People from afar. Nomad tribes were made welcome for the first time upon Galhea's lands. We sought to annihilate the memory of the Varrs and our tribe was given a new name; Parasiel. It is the name of an angel and he is the lord and master of treasures. We have found treasure within ourselves and this name seemed truly apt.
My father hung onto life, though daily he seemed to fade. I visited him every evening but it was hard to talk. Perhaps everything that could be said between us had already been said. It was as if he wanted to linger in this world for as long as possible, in a distressing state, in order to inflict as much pain as he could upon my hostling and myself. Day by day, he released a little more of his life force into infinity. Mengk was with him constantly; another devotee made to suffer. Cobweb behaved like a kind of tortured saint, full of self-recrimination, solicitous to Mengk, calm and understanding with Terzian, unshakable.
Thiede left Galhea to return to Immanion, promising me a summons to Phaonica in the near future as official representative of Parasiel for the forthcoming talks concerning Megalithica's future. Ashmael had returned with Thiede, and Arahal had gone east to take charge of the Gelaming personnel in that area. At the moment, only a handful of Gelaming remained in Galhea. Later, this would change, as their architects and builders and technicians came to get to work on the town, but for a while our lives were our own.
It was not spoken of, but it was clear that we in the house were all just waiting for Terzian to die. Perhaps it sounds harsh to say that, but for myself, I was mainly concerned for Tyson and Azriel, who could not but
be affected by the heaviness in the atmosphere. All conversations seemed to be conducted in whispers; the harlings could not run or shout as harlings should. Outside Forever, my people seemed content to forget that they had ever been Varrs. Ithiel took his orders from me. I was Master of Galhea and Terzian still lived.
One night, a strong wind came up from the south, bringing heavy clouds with it that shook all the trees in the garden, and a faint, acrid smell of burning. Bryony ran around the house closing all the windows, for we expected rain. I had already organized a refurbishment of the upper stories of Forever, for I envisaged a day that the house would be used to its full capacity and too long had those haunted rooms stood untended. Bryony came to us in the sitting room, her face pale. "I don't like the third floor," she said, rubbing her arms. "Something seems to watch you there!" We laughed at her fears.
In the night, with wind lashing at the walls, speaking in a fierce, incomprehensible howl, I was woken up by a sound. A sound within the house, whose echoes had vanished by the time I was awake. Seel groaned when I shook him.
"What was that?" I whispered hoarsely.
"Nothing," he answered, and rolled over, pulling the blankets over his ears.
Nothing. For a while I lay awake in the dark with my arms behind my head, listening. Nothing. Perhaps I had been mistaken. Perhaps a dream ... I began to drift back to sleep, but just as I was slipping under, it came again. Low, booming. I was not mistaken. I was fully awake this time. Not bothering to tell Seel, I scrabbled from the bed, pulling on a robe, and crept to the door.
Outside, the corridor was in darkness. I could hear the wind all around me. Feeling my way to the stairs, I reached to turn on the light. The sound came again; deafening. A great, hollow thundering. The door. Someone demands entrance. Who. . . ? Someone. Three times. I had heard it three times.
Flooded with light, the hall beneath me looked tense and stark, the great front doors dark and solid before me. Why had no-one else woken up? I hesitated only a moment. My hands were upon the doors, pulling them open. Wind rushed into the house like an angry spirit, bringing a train of whirling leaves. My hair was blown up behind me, my robe flapped with life. Breathless, I cautiously narrowed my eyes at the garden beyond. Nothing. There was no-one there. Only the wind howling.
With effort, I pushed the doors closed again and turned the great key in the lock. It should always be locked, I thought. Then the back of my neck began to prickle. My hair began to rise. The hall was too quiet. For a moment, I did not turn round. My heart slowed down to a comfortable pace, I rubbed the back of my neck.
"Swift." A single word. A single sound. A hundred memories flooding in; the past around me. I turned round. He was carrying a canvas bag which he dropped to the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair, which was longer than I remembered, and windswept. He looked very tired.
I said, "Cal," and found my back pressed against the door. There was no way out for me through them, though. "How. . . ? How did you get here?"
"You're afraid!"
"No." I made myself step toward him. He stepped back. "How did you get in here?" I repeated. "How. . . ?"
"No!" He would not let me continue. "I'm here. That's all. That's all you need to know. I've been given time. Not much, but enough for what I have to do." He looked stern, but he couldn't keep it up. His face softened. "Oh, Swift, how I've missed you all."
I found myself smiling. How could I help it? "You're not a ghost? You're sure you're not a ghost?"
He shook his head. "Oh no, no, I'm not. They'll never kill me, Swift. You know that. Now, will you take me to Terzian?"
"Can't we talk first? It's been so long. I want to know what happened to you."
"I'm sorry ..." He shook his head again.
There was so much I wanted to say. I could only stare at him speechless.
"Please, Swift. Now." He lifted his bag.
I led the way upstairs. "Do you get a feeling, walking up here? Does it make you remember?" I asked him.
"Yes," he said quietly.
Two steps from the top, I turned on him. "Oh, Cal, is it bad? Are you alright? Where did they take you? Did they hurt you? Are you safe?"
He almost fell backwards in surprise at my outburst. "Don't ask me questions, Swift, please. I cannot answer them."
"Then let me touch you."
"Alright. For a moment." He held out his arms and I stood on the step above him so that our height was level. He felt cold, but it was only the chill of being out in the wind. His violet gaze was steady. "Take this back to your lover," he said. "My taste." We shared breath, but I c
ould taste only blackness, like a veil. He would show me nothing. "There's not much time," he said.
At the doorway to my father's room, he touched my face and said, "Don't come in with me, Swift."
"There's so much I want to say. Will we see you again?"
He smiled that lazy smile. "Oh, can I come back here? Will I be made welcome in Seel's house?"
I lowered my eyes. I had forgotten that.
Cal laughed softly. "Oh, Swift, don't be ashamed. You are happy and I'm happy for you. Your life will be perfect. You have everything."
"You must come back," I said. "What is done is done, but you are still part of us. Your son is here. For him, you must come back."
"If I can, maybe. Personally, I think Tyson would be better off not knowing about me."
I shook my head. "Never."
"I'll always think of you, Swift, you and your mad hostling. The changeling. I've thought of you all a lot recently."
The Wraeththu Chronicles Page 74