Student of Kyme

by Storm Constantine

  Pelfazzarsday, Ardourmoon 21

  I have tried on all my clothes at least three times each, standing before my mirror, eyeing myself critically. I’ve managed to persuade everyhar else in the house to leave me alone for an hour. This has displeased them greatly, and I feel a bit mean, because I know they want to share at least a small part of my big night out. But I need to be alone. I need to be with myself, the self who’s been curled up in my heart these past few months. Also, I think conflicting opinions about what I should wear would be confusing. I’ve eventually opted for a pair of wide loose trousers in dark forest green silk velvet, with a plain black silk top and an embroidered thigh length jacket that matches the trousers. I’ve never worn such costly garments before. It does wonders for the self esteem. My reflection doesn’t look like me. I’ve kept the accessories understated and haven’t done anything too shocking with my hair, despite the collection of jewelled pins, carved spikes and so on that Rayzie found for me. I’ve only brushed it and left it loose. It just touches my shoulders again, now that it’s been cut, and looks thicker. As for cosmetics, I’m still vain enough to think I don’t need them. I’ve simply applied the lightest brush of kohl around my eyes. When I’d finished my preparations, I took one last look at myself in the glass. Well, this is it. I’m about to walk out of my safe hiding place into the social world of Kyme. I have no idea where it will lead, but at least I feel excited about it.

  Aghamasday, Ardourmoon 22

  Well, a lot happened last night; some good, some not so good. I think I’ve made a complete fool of myself – again.

  Once I’d finished getting ready, I went down to Huriel and the others, who were waiting in the sitting room for me. I made a grand entrance, as they expected me to do. Pausing at the threshold, I struck a pose and said, ‘Well, here I am. Will I do?’

  Ystayne laughed loudly, Rayzie grinned and rolled his eyes, and Huriel said, ‘I think you know the answer to that! Here, have a glass of wine before Kess’s carriage arrives. Nervous?’

  I went to take the glass off him and sat down on the edge of the sofa. ‘Yes. Very. I hope I don’t say anything stupid to the wrong har.’

  ‘Just stick by Malakess,’ Huriel said. ‘He won’t abandon you.’

  I drank some wine. ‘He’d better not!’

  Within minutes we heard the sound of horses’ hooves upon the gravel outside the house. A hot wave coursed through me. This was it. I stood up and handed my empty glass to Huriel. He hugged me and kissed my cheek. ‘You look marvellous,’ he said softly. ‘Rejoice in yourself, my dear. This is your time.’

  I kissed him briefly on the lips. ‘Thanks, Huriel, for everything.’

  He squeezed me. ‘Go. Don’t keep him waiting.’

  While my new family stood in the window bay to watch me leave, I went into the hallway alone. I faced the great front door, took a breath, and opened it. Two black horses stood stamping on the drive, harnessed to an elegant black carriage. The driver touched his brow, in a gesture of greeting and appreciation. I inclined my head. Malakess opened the carriage door for me and I went to him.

  The Academy of Kyme lies a couple of miles outside the town, so I had plenty of time to get more anxious and nervous than I already was. Malakess complimented me on my appearance and then made small talk, most of which I didn’t even hear. He was dressed all in black, his long dark red hair loose upon his breast, but for a couple of thin braids on each side. He was wearing kohl too, which made him look very different. His fingers were crammed with glittering rings and I could tell the stones were real gems, not glass. Like me, Malakess had put on for the evening a costume that was more than clothes. Tonight, he was High Codexia and must maintain an image.

  When we were close to the Academy, Malakess leaned forward in his seat towards me. ‘Be wary of any Gelaming,’ he said. ‘They will descend upon you like hawks, and before you know it… well, anything could happen. You could wake up in a bed in Immanion.’

  ‘I hope you’ll protect me,’ I said, rather tersely.

  Malakess smiled. ‘I’ll do my best, but we’re bound to get distracted and separated at times. Try to stay close. I’ll be swamped, but I’ll keep an eye out for you. Use this night to your advantage, Gesaril. Be alert for any opportunities.’

  ‘Such as Gelaming beds?’

  ‘Only if that is your preference.’

  I grimaced. ‘No. Beds of any kind are not my preference at the moment.’

  He said nothing to that, and the silence was slightly uncomfortable. Before I could stop myself, my mouth had blurted, ‘Why did you ask me to come with you?’

  He gazed at me steadily, and for a moment that old ghost swarmed over him. I looked away. ‘Honestly? I am High Codexia. I want the most beautiful har in Kyme to be next to me tonight. You will be my protection too.’

  I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that.

  Every window in the Academy was aflame, it seemed. It is a huge building, hundreds of years old, and was once a stately home. Now it was a college, a local government centre, and a temporary home for important hara who came visiting from afar.

  Carriages clustered in the driveway, guests milled around, while stable hara ran around trying to organise the parking of the vehicles. It was utter chaos. We couldn’t get the carriage anywhere near the main entrance, so the driver dropped us off halfway down the drive. Malakess and I walked together in silence, some feet apart, until the light from the great building fell over us. Then he took one of my hands and hooked it through his elbow. The show had begun.

  ‘This night is very important to you, isn’t it?’ I said.

  Malakess nodded. ‘Yes. We want Kyme to be the repository for all Wraeththu knowledge. We want the Hegemony of Immanion to endorse us officially. We want students from other lands, and support to encourage the arts and learning, both here and afar. The Gelaming consider themselves the only ones capable of, or suitable for, such a task. They want Immanion to be the centre of everything. I have to convince them it’s in their interests to share control.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you have been here at the beginning?’ I asked. ‘You know, when everyhar arrived?’

  He laughed softly. ‘Oh, I have my staff for that. I decided to arrive later. Don’t want to appear too eager or desperate.’

  ‘Your assistant will be there?’

  ‘You mean, Iscane? Yes. He’s in charge. Having a wonderful time issuing orders to the rest of the staff, no doubt.’

  Well, that answered one question I’d pondered: whether this Iscane would resent me taking his place. He had a more important place, or so it seemed.

  Some hara in the driveway recognised Malakess as we strolled up the wide front steps. They bowed and uttered greetings. I was conscious of many curious eyes upon me. Not many high ranking hara in Kyme had seen me before, even if they’d heard of me. They would be wondering who I was and where Malakess had found me. For the first time in months, I felt a flicker of sensuality within me. I wanted to be admired. It amused me to think all these hara would assume I shared Malakess’s bed. He was held in such high esteem I couldn’t help but feel good about being seen with him. I could never have accompanied Ysobi anywhere in public. I had been his secret, kept hidden away. Jassenah hadn’t known everything.

  Furious with myself, I dismissed these thoughts. As Huriel said, this was my time. The past no longer mattered. I lifted my head. Jassenah would never attend an event like this.

  In the hallway, Iscane was clearly in control of the proceedings. He stood at the door, greeting everyhar who arrived, and then announcing who they were in a loud, ringing voice. When it came to us, he raked me with an icy stare. ‘Who is your companion, tiahaar?’ he asked Malakess, keeping his cold eyes on me.

  ‘Gesaril har Shadowvales,’ Malakess replied.

  Iscane announced us and we swept into the entrance hall. Hara in violet and red livery, dispensing drinks and exquisite morsels of food, mingled with the guests. The lighting was subdued and perfumed oil smoke
d in glass burners, filling the air with an herbal scent. The marble tiled floor beneath our feet was scattered with red petals. Everyhar present seemed at least two feet taller than me and oozed charisma and power. My hand had become sweaty against Malakess’s elegant sleeve. Perhaps for this reason, he disengaged me. ‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked.

  I realised it would not be a good idea to get drunk and perhaps disgrace myself, but thought one or two would do no harm. ‘Please.’

  Before Malakess could move the two or three steps to the nearest member of staff, a har swooped down upon him and took him by the arm. ‘Kess! I thought you’d chosen to ignore your own party. Where have you been?’ This har was radiant, confident and – well, what other word can I use? – luscious. He was dressed in a long robe of pale silvery grey fabric, his soft brown hair wound about the kind of fabulous tines that Rayzie had wanted me to wear. I wouldn’t have got away with it.

  ‘Chrysm, how nice,’ Malakess said mildly and kissed the har’s cheek. ‘I’m so pleased you were able to come.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ the har called Chrysm replied. ‘I was intrigued, to be honest. Also, I needed a break from Immanion. You know how it is.’

  Malakess inclined his head. ‘Of course. You must stay for a couple of days if you can. My house is open to you.’

  I didn’t think that Malakess’s house was really fit for a har of this stature, but I supposed Malakess didn’t think he’d accept the invitation anyway.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Chrysm said. He looked at me for the first time. ‘Well! Have you been stealing Gelaming harlings, Kess?’

  ‘No,’ Malakess replied. ‘This is Gesaril har Shadowvales, Sulh born and bred.’ He indicated the har before us. ‘Gesaril, this is Tiahaar Chrysm Luel, Hegemon for the Arts, from Immanion.’

  I bowed my head. ‘Pleased to meet you, tiahaar.’ My first Gelaming. I could appreciate what Malakess meant about them.

  Chrysm glanced about himself. ‘This is an impressive gathering, Kess. Be assured, I am impressed. I hear delegates from the Nagini are here.’

  ‘That is true,’ Malakess said.

  ‘How did you manage it? They’ve rejected all our overtures.’

  Malakess left his mind open to me, and it was difficult not to smile. The Nagini wouldn’t have anything to do with the Gelaming simply because the Almagabrans assumed they were the cream of Wraeththu. The Nagini considered themselves to be equally creamy, if not more so. ‘They are a proud and self contained tribe,’ Malakess said. ‘One of our ether readers was fortunate enough to make contact with one of their hara one evening, and initiated a careful friendship over the ethers. We invited them here because we respect their knowledge and culture. We thought they would like to see our library.’

  ‘If the Nagini are staying here for some time, I might well take you up on your offer,’ Chrysm said.

  I sent a quick mind touch to Malakess. Make him stay at Huriel’s. It was somewhat importunate, I know, but I just did it instinctively. A warm tickle of amusement touched my mind. Malakess understood me perfectly.

  ‘Where are you staying?’ he asked the Gelaming.

  ‘In a quaint hotel in town,’ Chrysm replied. By quaint, I supposed he meant beneath his standards.

  ‘Perhaps Tiahaar Huriel’s manse might be more to your liking,’ Malakess said. ‘It’s said he has the best house in Kyme.’

  ‘Is he here tonight?’

  ‘No, but Gesaril is part of his household.’

  Chrysm laughed. ‘Oh? I thought he was part of yours, or do you share?’

  I was shocked by that remark; it was incredibly rude, I thought, and just another example of how first generation regarded us young pure borns.

  Malakess didn’t respond to it. ‘Do you want a drink, Chrysm? I was just about to get one for Gesaril and myself.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Chrysm said. ‘The red wine please. I tried the white and it’s disgusting.’

  With horror, I watched Malakess move away. What on earth could I say to this thing in front of me?

  ‘I was joking,’ Chrysm said.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘About the sharing. That sounded awful. Forgive me. My mouth runs away with me sometimes and my sense of humour is often questionable.’

  ‘Oh… that’s all right,’ I said. I warmed to him slightly. I suffer from the same trait, after all.

  ‘So, are you studying here in Kyme?’

  I was pleased and relieved the Hegemon thought a morsel like me could be here for such a purpose. ‘Yes. I’m working with tiahaar Huriel. I live in his house.’

  ‘Have you ever been to Immanion?’

  ‘No. This is the first time I’ve left Lyonis, where I was born.’

  Chrysm clasped one of my shoulders. ‘We must remedy that. The next time Malakess comes to Almagabra he must bring you with him. I can tell you’d go down extremely well in Immanion society. You could be Gelaming yourself. I really thought so when I first saw you.’

  ‘Umm, thanks.’ I presumed that was a compliment.

  Malakess returned with the drinks. ‘Shall we move into the main salon, tiahaara?’

  ‘Yes,’ Chrysm said, sniffing the glass Malakess had given him. ‘I’m here with a few others. Nohar stellar, but some interesting types – a couple of artists and writers. I’ll introduce you.’

  In the grand salon, a group of musicians were playing softly. High ranking academy staff were recognisable because they were dressed in robes of office; indigo fabric embroidered with silver thread. I didn’t think many second generation were present and felt somewhat out of place. I was glad few hara spoke to me.

  Chrysm led us over to an alcove where most of his company were conversing together. Gelaming writers and artists are pretty much like what you’d imagine – quite full of themselves, self-appointed geniuses. One of the artists was named Sabarah. He was dressed in exquisitely draped white robes and his hair was almost the same colour, although his eyes were dark. His fingernails were long and unattractively pointed and dug into me when he took hold of my arm to drag me away from our companions. ‘I have to paint you,’ he announced, as if this was the greatest favour the dehara could bestow.

  ‘Okay,’ I responded warily.

  ‘At once. Tomorrow. You have inspired me. I must capture you, before you flit away.’

  I sucked my upper lip, at a loss for words. ‘Mmm.’

  ‘I am utterly serious,’ said Sabarah, eyeing me beadily.

  ‘I’ll sit for you, if you would like me to,’ I said, wondering if that was what Malakess would want me to do.

  ‘I’ll make preliminary sketches. I can return any time to complete the work, or I could have you brought to Immanion.’

  I smiled. ‘Tiahaar, I regret I would not have the time for such a journey.’

  Sabarah raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean? I could have you over and home again within an afternoon. Chrysm will accommodate all my needs, and that includes sedu transport for the models I wish to work with.’

  I had no idea what he was talking about. ‘It’s really up to my guardians,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you should speak to them.’

  ‘We can pay,’ Sabarah said frostily.

  Anxiously, I glanced about, looking for Malakess. He was still engaged in conversation with the Hegemon. I put out a plea in mind touch, and at once Malakess turned and caught my eye. In that moment, something happened. Everything in the room seemed to go out of focus but for Malakess’s eyes. I gulped air, as if I’d surfaced from drowning.

  Malakess excused himself from his companions and came to my side. ‘I’m sorry to drag Gesaril from you,’ he said to the artist, ‘but there are some introductions we have to make. Please excuse us.’

  He took my arm and led me away. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘No. No, I’m not.’

  ‘Damn Gelaming. What did he threaten you with?’

  ‘Painting me.’

  ‘Hmm, oh well, you’re unscathed. Dinner will be served soon. I think we can
talk to somehar else now, don’t you?’

  Suddenly, I was in a daze, confused and befuddled. What had happened? I was introduced to hara whose faces were mere blurs to me, whose voices were like the twittering of birds. I felt hot, sick and yet incredibly elated at the same time.

  Presently, Iscane came into the salon and announced loudly that dinner was ready to be served and would we all please proceed to the dining hall. Malakess took my arm again. ‘You look very hot,’ he said. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, yes, just hot.’

  ‘Don’t let the Gelaming bother you. They were bound to target you. Grow a thick skin, Gesaril. You’re going to need it.’

  Hara were moving past us back into the hall, on the way to the dining area. I felt as if they were swiftly moving shadows and Malakess and I were held in a pool of stillness. ‘They want me to go to Immanion.’

  ‘Not surprising. You will go. I’ll take you sometime. Life doesn’t begin and end for you here in Alba Sulh. You’re destined for bigger things.’

  Unaccountably, tears welled in my eyes. Malakess brushed away the overspill that ran down my cheeks. ‘Hey,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t be overwhelmed. Be an ambassador for your tribe.’ He held my face in his hands and kissed my brow.

  As he drew away from me, I saw Iscane staring at us, his wide-eyed expression that of a riled cat. If he’d had fur, it would be fluffed out. I took a step back. ‘I’m fine… honestly. Let’s go.’

  The dining hall was immense. There were two long tables running down either side of the room, and a high table at top, where of course Malakess held a place of honour. The Nagini had so far deigned not to show themselves, but now made an appearance. Malakess said this was because they wanted to make it clear that they were not in Kyme for the party or to meet Gelaming. They were guests of the Sulh, it was dinner time, so they came to join us for the meal. I have never seen such exotic hara before. Their clothes were very colourful and their dark skins were like creamy coffee. Some wore turbans, while others affected complicated hairstyles. A few wore their hair long and straight, although the partings on their heads were coloured red or gold. Their jewellery was ostentatious, but I thought it looked wonderful. Some had delicate filigree chains attached to nose rings and earrings, and the skin of their hands and arms were painted with complicated patterns, which Malakess told me was henna. They moved softly and graciously like cats, and their eyes were beautifully shaped, what you call almond-shaped, outlined in kohl. They wore jewels stuck upon the centre of their brows and their voices were gentle and melodious, although only a few of them could speak our language. They seemed like dehara, creatures of myth.