The Wraeththu Chronicles

by Storm Constantine

  "I can't think of anywhere else to go," I said bitterly, unwilling to accept those last words.

  "There can't be anywhere, that's why. I'm sure you wouldn't be here if there was. None of us would."

  "I think I've failed Astarth's test. Perhaps I'll be asked to leave anyway."

  Lolotea shrugged. "Hmm, maybe. But if I were you, I'd sit down here for a while, warm up, smoke a few cigarettes, have a few more cups of coffee, then go upstairs and put that right. You're not stupid, are you? Just put it right."

  We smiled at each other; conspirators.

  "Advise me."

  Lolotea smiled into his cup. "Astarth has a way of intimidating people. He looks down on everyone if they give him half a chance. This is the result of a rather large and heavy chip on his shoulder. Don't let him look down on you. Get in the first blow, so to speak. Surprise is the key to success."

  "Hmm, already I feel I've learned more from you than Astarth could ever teach me," I said.

  Lolotea gave another expressive shrug. "That is because I'm not trying to impose authority over you."

  "Is that what Astarth's trying to do then? Just that?"

  "I would think so. Astarth will be jealous of you. You spoke of plans to leave here, plans for the future. That would anger him. He resents ambition in others, mainly because he's too lazy or complacent to do anything himself. Dog in the manger syndrome. Don't you think so?"

  "I can't say," I answered diplomatically, aware that any careless remarks might be repeated as gossip. "I haven't been here long enough to judge anybody's character."

  Lolotea smiled politely. As he suggested, after a few more cups of coffee, I went back upstairs.

  Astarth was tidying his room, something he seems to spend an awful lot of time doing, mainly moving things from one end of the room to the other. He looked up at me with annoyance. Perhaps I'd disturbed some precious, private revery. "Yes, what is it?" he snapped.

  "I've been teaching myself," I answered. Luckily, I was angry. My whole, miserable set of circumstances was making me angry. Astarth's caustic, condescending tone was the final straw. I half threw him across the room. He landed with a clatter amongst some of his precious belongings. That, at least, wiped the hauteur from his face. I do know how to be wild. It is not something I'm proud of and I don't care to remember it most of the time, especially how and where I learnt it. When I'd finished with Astarth, he looked as if he'd just fought off the Hounds of Hell. He lay on the floor, staring up at me, dazed, and not a little frightened. I squatted down and put my face close to his. "Now remember this, my friend. It is something I want you to think about very deeply. One day, while you're still here, working on your back, I shall be back up there amongst the royal houses. Don't doubt it for a second, my darling. I don't know what keepsyou here, and I don't want to, but believe me, I've lived in royal houses, I've been right up there among the angels, and I intend to get there again! Not you, your sarcasm, or your little world of sin is going to stop me. Is that clear? I'm not a whore, Astarth. I never will be. This is just a stepping stone. Got that?"

  Astarth put up his hands. "OK," he said placatingly. It was the beginning of a certain mutual respect between us.

  That evening, instead of staying in Piristil for the evening meal, Lolotea suggested that he and I should go down into Fallsend for a "bite to eat, a skinful of good liquor and a change of scenery." He guessed that my first day in the establishment had been a little harrowing. "No work tonight then?" I enquired.

  Lolotea pulled a face. "Well, just one, as it happens, but I managed to farm it off to Rihana. I thought you needed the company more."

  We trudged down the muddy streets, past the gray and brown stalls selling gray and brown merchandise, to a tavern that Lolotea called "passable." If the food wasn't exactly haute cuisine, at least it felt warm and friendly inside and the ale was decent. Lolotea had kindly lent me the money that I owed the hostel-keeper who had kept my belongings. Knowing the labyrinthine streets of the town as well as he did, we had only had to take a short detour to call in there on the way to the tavern. After we'd finished eating and the pot-har had removed our plates, I emptied the contents of my bag onto the table, to examine what mementos I had left of my past.

  Lolotea picked up a small, jewelled pin and inspected it with interest. "Hmm, this looks Varrish," he said, before he could stop himself.

  "It is," I answered, taking it off him. Terzian had given it to me. Holding it, I could see once more the imposing outline of his house. Forever, feel the warmth of its hearths, smell the sandalwood perfume of its rooms. There was a moment's silence while I relived those memories, all the more painful because of the contrast between what I'd been then and what I'd become. My grief must have been unmistakable. In sympathy, Lolotea broke the first rule of Piristil.

  "I came from Megalithica," he said at last.

  "Me too," I replied in a thick voice, although I knew Lolotea had already guessed that.

  "Look, don't answer this if you don't want to," he ventured, "but are you, were you, a Varr?" I looked up at him, unable to speak. He mistook my silence for something else. "I'm only asking, well, because ... I was Varrish once."

  I smiled. "Yes, I too was a Varr for a time. In Galhea."

  Lolotea rolled his eyes. "Ah, Galhea! The nest of all intrigue! Terzian's stronghold was in Galhea, wasn't it?" This was a rhetorical question of course, but I still nodded. "It was."

  Lolotea laughed nervously. "Oh, it seems stupid, doesn't it. All this secrecy about ourselves!"

  "Not if you happened to be a Varr in Megalithica around about the time 1 left there," I answered.

  "Yes, but what does it matter now? It's over and done with, isn't it?"

  "I suppose so," I agreed cautiously, "but you have to remember that the Varrs had a lot to answer for once. I expect that there are quite a few blood-debts left hanging around, even over here in Thaine. I don't think anyone will forget completely all that happened."

  "Yeah, you're right, but I think most of them in Piristil have worse secrets to hide than they once used to be Varrs!" he said fiercely. "I must admit, I feel quite a sham keeping it quiet really. Look around you. The chances are nearly everyone in Fallsend had some connection with the Varrs at one time. I bet Astarth, for one, has several dark secrets lurking in his past!"

  I agreed readily to that, mostly because I still hadn't forgiven Astarth for trying to humiliate me.

  "I lived north of Galhea," Lolotea continued. "I once saw Terzian when he rode through on his way to Fulminir. What a hero! Everybody was virtually falling down and kissing the ground as he went by!" I laughed at this, visualizing it easily. "Did you ever see him, close to?" Lolotea queried, still tentative. "I mean, living in Galhea and all, I

  suppose you must have, but, well, we often used to wonder what he was really like . . ."

  "I saw him," I said. I hadn't meant to put all that feeling into those words. It wasn't a deliberate clue so that I could show off to Lolotea. I just couldn't deny the feelings inside me.

  "And what about Cobweb, the famous consort, or should I say the famous first consort? Did you ever get to see him too? Is he as beautiful as people say?"

  I made an exclamation, remembering. "Oh yes! You could say that Cobweb and I actually got to cross swords a couple of times!"

  "Really?" Lolotea was not sure whether to believe me or not.

  "I suppose I'm saying too much," I said.

  "No! Not at all. Please go on." He wasn't stupid.

  "It may just be stories. How do you know I'm not making it up?"

  "I'll take that risk. It's entertaining anyway, even if it is bullshit."

  "What do you want to know?"

  "Cal . . ."

  "No, Calanthe," I butted in.

  "Calanthe," he said thoughtfully, staring at me very hard. I could see a certain dawning of realization creeping over his face, but it was too wonderful a coincidence for him to believe at first. He said casually, "Wasn't . . . wasn't Terzian'
s second consort, you know, the one that caused all the trouble in Forever, named Cal? He had yellow hair too, didn't he ... like yours."

  "He was called Cal, yes, among other things," I replied, filled with aweird kind of relief. I wanted him to know. I didn't know why. Lolotea raised his glass at me and smiled.

  "It's not a common name," he said and drank thoughtfully. "Well, I'm not even going to attempt to work out why the consort of Terzian the Varr is working as a kanene in a dead-end pit like Fallsend . . . er, if he is doing so, of course! I thought that all of Terzian's family came under the protection of the Gelaming after Fulminir fell. Terzian's son went over to the Gelaming, didn't he? Swift, wasn't it? As I recall, he came out of it all very well! Some say too well."

  "You don't know the circumstances," I said, defending Swift who certainly deserved it. "He acted in the only way possible. Galhea must be quite a mighty metropolis by this time, I would imagine."

  "I don't know," Lolotea said. "I came over to Thaine before the Gelaming ever really got a hold on Megalithica. It seems we're both old crows together, doesn't it! Maybe one day, I'll tell you my story. If you tell me the rest of yours, of course!"

  "That's a deal!" I said, having no intention of ever doing so. We clinked glasses, laughed, and drank. Now I had a friend. Perhaps things were not as bad as I'd thought.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Body for Sale

  "I have been one acquainted with the night. "

  —Robert Frost, Acquainted with the Night

  1 am Uigenna. I am sixteen years old. The world has gone now, the world that I knew. My family is probably dead. I don't care. I really don't. I tell myself they never liked me. I still don't know if that is true. Seel went to the Unneah. That was because the Ugenna were too wild for him, too ferocious. We meet sometimes, on those crazy borderlands that exist in cities like this. It has changed so much in such a short space of time. I feel like I've lived for a hundred years. There is Wraeththu blood in my veins and I feel like God. Human life means nothing to me. They are so small. I hate them. I have to kill. Every time I kill, I see a mocking, threatening face. Such faces followed me in the past. Such faces drove me to what I have become. They shouted out to me, menacing, vulgar, ugly. But no more. They are dead and those that still live shall die. In the shadows of perpetual night, in the light of dancing flames, I meet a har named Zackala. We intrigue each other in an outlandish courtship. Our nuptial bed is a heap of debris, broken windowframes, wreckage of love. He bites me. We laugh. Pain makes me strong. I live in this place. It is always with me. At night, I do not dream. I just remember. There are no nightmares.

  Lolotea and I returned to Piristil very late. There were several minutes of drunken giggling as we tried to sneak up the creaking stairs.

  Lolotea paused by his door. "You'd better go to Astarth," he said.

  I pulled a sorrowful face. "I suppose I'd better."

  "Goodnight Calanthe." He closed the door on me. Astarth was asleep when I went in. I did not wake him. I curled myself in blankets on the floor and lay staring at the ceiling until I fell asleep.

  The following day, Astarth informed me, with unmistakable relief, that he would be working until the evening. My training session would have to wait until then. At lunch, I took the opportunity to examine in more detail the other occupants of the house. I entertained myself conjecturing whether their eating habits gave any clues as to their personalities. Flounah glared at his food, eyeing it with suspicion and chewing distastefully. Ezhno read a book throughout the meal, shoveling forkfuls into his mouth abstractedly. Both Salandril and Rihana sorted out their food, before eating, into piles of what they liked and what they wouldn't touch. This, of course, was the only fitting behavior for hara whose tribe were reputed to be innately catlike. All of them were of averagely lovely Wraeththu appearance, which to me signified that they must all be villains of one color or another. Astarth sat at the head of the table, moodily ignoring his food and taking only wine. I had been surprised by the quality of the wine, which was excellent. Piristil was a place of contrasts.

  There was a knock at the front door, which we all ignored. It came again. Sighing, Astarth fastidiously wiped his mouth with a napkin and graciously rose from the table. "Orpah!" he yelled unnecessarily as he left the room.

  I had come to realize in a relatively short space of time that the staff of Piristil were inordinately apathetic about many of their duties, answering the door being one of them. Presumably, this was why Jafit had seen fit to caution me about my attitude toward them. Apart from Orpah, there were three others in the house; Wuwa, Tirigan and Jancis, who was the cook. All of them had that half-finished appearance of the unsuccessfully incepted. Relations between the staff and the kanene were not of the warmest kind.

  "You have ruffled Astarth's feathers," Ezhno remarked to me as Orpah put his head around the door and said, "What?" We ignored him. I made no comment on Ezhno's observation. "Don't pull his hair too hard, that's all," he continued mildly. "Astarth is lord of the hearth in this place. He won't like it if you challenge his authority too much."

  "I didn't realize I had," I said, wondering how much Lolotea had been blabbing to the others.

  "Astarth perceives challenges to his authority in all kinds of innocent behavior," Flounah pointed out morbidly. Of them all, he was the most bewitching creature. Pale, attenuated, with smooth black hair like a sheet of silk. His slanted eyes must be the envy of the Kalamah. He is not to be trusted, however.

  On my way upstairs that afternoon, I had my first glimpse of one of Piristil's customers. He was coming out of Jafit's office, accompanied by Jafit himself. I'm not sure what kind of monster I'd been expecting, but from what I could see, the Har looked merely ordinary. No manic eyes, no clawed hands anxious to do business with the flesh of a kanene. I had seen many such hara as warriors in my late consort's army. This har looked no different, dressed in black, scuffed leather, his hair tied behind his head, his eyes tired.

  "Kruin, I'd like you to meet our latest arrival," Jafit said indulgently, as if bestowing a great honor. I bowed appropriately.

  The har named Kruin inclined his head awkwardly and said, "Er . . . hello."

  "Be so good as to summon Rihana," Jafit ordered, so I called "Rihana!" and went

  upstairs to find Lolotea.

  He was in his room and invited me inside. "Comfortable!" I said. .

  "I try. Do you want to go into Fallsend again?"

  I could tell from his voice that he hoped I didn't. "No, I don't think so. What do you usually do to keep entertained when you're not working?"

  "Sleep!"

  "That boring, huh?"

  Lolotea lay down on his bed and stretched and groaned. "Not really. We could be artistic and paint pictures, we could tell each other stories or we could get very drunk."

  "The last of those suggestions seems the most promising," I said.

  "I agree. What do you want, wine or betica?"

  "I've never drunk betica, so I'll have that."

  "You sure?" Lolotea laughed, but sprang off his bed and poured us both a large drink. The liquor was yellow and its taste better left undescribed. However, after half a glass, the mouth is sufficiently numbed not to be alarmed by it. Lolotea flopped down on his bed again. "God, I'll be glad when you get paid, Calanthe! I don't suppose you've got any cigarettes, have you!"

  "No, but you have." I helped myself.

  Lolotea laughed but did not protest. "So, mysterious one, tell me about life in Galhea."

  "Oh, it's not that interesting," I said. Everything that happened to me in Galhea was, naturally, intensely interesting, but I didn't like talking about it.

  Lolotea thought for a moment, stroking the rim of his glass. He looked enchanting and mischievous. "Is Terzian really dead?" he asked, "or is that an indelicate question?"

  He was pleased with himself for being shocking. Kindly, I tried to appear shocked. "Foully indelicate!" I answered. Lolotea raised his eyebrows. "Yes, he's dead ..."
I

  sat down on the bed beside him. "And no, I'm not grieving for him, before you ask. I must admit, I do sort of miss Galhea though. I had a good life there. Besides, I was rich in Galhea, I lived in a grand house; now look at me!"

  "You look just fine to me, Calanthe," Lolotea remarked. I was not sure of his motive in that. He might possess a perspicacity I'd not given him credit for.

  "I'm a survivor," I said.

  "You will need to be here," he answered, although I didn't agree. Piristil, in its way, is just as womblike as Forever had been. No outside world. I would have liked to enlighten Lolotea about just what real survival entailed, but there was little point, and I didn't want to reveal that much about myself. Instead, because I like to turn and turn and trample in a new nest to make it comfortable, I said, "Lolotea, I would like to take aruna with you this afternoon."