The Wraeththu Trilogy

by Storm Constantine

"You're still a wonder of the world Pell, and still to me that absurd little urchin who trailed after Cal into Saltrock burning with ignorance."

  I could not move my head to look at him. "I had hoped you'd bring Flick with you," I said.

  "Did you?" His voice was bitter and I jerked my head, to a chorus of complaints from

  pin-studded mouths.

  I feared the worst. "Is he ... alright?"

  "I don't know!" Seel stubbed the cigarette out angrily in an empty wineglass.

  "Don't know? What do you mean? Did you quarrel?"

  Seel took a deep breath and something about his expression angered me deep inside. "Pell, there's something you should know, but I didn't want to tell you before the coronation ...

  I was silent for a moment and then said, "Why?" Presentiment rattled my brains; I could feel the cold creeping in toward me. I knew already whom it would concern.

  "Send these peacocks away, Pell," Seel requested, "It's now or never."

  The outfitters looked at him with displeasure, but silently gathered up their things. I changed back into a loose robe and told them to come back later.

  "Sit down," Seel said. He knew where I kept my liquor and went to the cabinet. "Drink this." It was a generous measure.

  "Seel, what's all this about?" I asked, fighting my body's urge to start shaking. His face told me enough.

  "God, where to begin?" He threw up his arms and walked to the window and back again. "Cal came back to Saltrock," he said. If I could have shrunk back into the chair, let the chair swallow me, I would. If I could have blocked my ears ... and yet, of course, I wanted to know. "He would say nothing except that you were dead," Seel continued, still pacing. "We all tried to do what we could for him; he had lost far too much weight and spent most of his time out of his head; drink, drags, whatever. I know grief has to work itself out. I was as supportive as possible. Flick took it very hard. He's very fond of you and it scared him to see Cal like that. One night, Orien was around, and to try and comfort Cal, he said that he thought you were involved in something none of us could understand. The fool! Cal's face went very strange. He just looked at Orien as if he'd said he'd killed you himself. He did not shout, his voice went very low. He said, 'What do you know about it, Orien?' By this time, Orien was regretting what he'd said; perhaps it hadn't sounded the way it was meant to. He shook his head and tried to mumble his way out of it. That was when Cal went wild. He grabbed hold of Orien and pushed him up against the wall. He was babbling that he'd had enough of witches and savagery. He blamed Orien for what had happened to you, in very graphic terms, and ... Thiede. Well, he was right about that! Flick and I managed to pull Cal away, and then he appeared to calm down. When Orien had gone home, Cal apolo­gized to me, but he said that he knew something had happened at your Harhune that had marked you somehow, and that Orien and Thiede were responsible. He asked me if I knew anything about it and I said no. Well, I didn't. We all had our suspicions at the time but.... Anyway, I think Cal believed me, although he did look at me hard for a few minutes. He looked at me and he told me that he loved you. Loved you ... I felt terrible; his eyes were. ... He was so, so haunted. I have never seen anything like that and I didn't know what to do, how to handle it. Cal said he wanted to be alone that night, so I was with Flick. We heard nothing. Next morning, we woke up and Cal was gone. Next morning he was gone and Orien was dead; hanging half-gutted from the roof of the Nayati ..."

  At some point I had buried my face in my hands. I cried, "It was me that did that!"

  Seel squatted down beside me and pressed me to him. "No, it was not you. Some kind of craziness did that. The same kind of craziness that made men kill; obsession."

  "Yet he called it love . . ."

  "It was obsession; obsession and sickness. Perhaps he's never been truly well . . . since Zack . . ."I knew that was not true.

  "Flick. . . ?" I said; dreading further revelations.

  Seel sighed and stood up, rubbing his arms. "Flick . . . well, for a few days, he was just so quiet, listless, like there was nothing left inside him. I tried to make it better, say things. . . but there was so much to do. He left me a letter when he left Saltrock; it was a very nice letter, but he still went. I was left to clear up the mess. Everyone looked so wild and scared; things like that just don't happen at Saltrock. But then they started to forget, life goes on . . ."

  I could feel the warmth of Orien's talisman against my skin. I should have known he was dead. I should have known it

  "Seel," I said, "I'm cold ..."

  We embraced and he said nice things to me to make me weep. It took some time. "I didn't want to tell you," Seel said, "and yet I did; so much!"

  My tears were silent and I said, "You hate him . . ." Seel's arms tightened around me.

  When Vaysh came in and found us like that, he thought it was something different at first. Then I stepped back and Seel turned away. Vaysh saw my face and I saw the fear come into his. I said, "Tell Vaysh, Seel, tell him for me," and went away to my bedroom. I could hear Seel's voice begin again, but not the words. My curtains shivered in a slight warm breeze, the day outside was golden. I lay back on the bed and put my arms behind my

  The aftermath of grief and weeping is almost sensual in its piquancy. Win (Is composed themselves in my head. I could hear birds outside, singing on the terrace, see the pools of light beginning to edge toward my room. The day was black.

  CHAPTER TEN

  He began it all. .

  Even when we think we are safest, we never are. Darknesses are everywhere. Both Vaysh and myself had become the victims of cruel shocks since reaching Immanion. We spent the following two days getting helplessly drunk together, licking each other's wounds by intoxicated ramblings. "You must put it behind you Pell," Vaysh advised, "there is nothing more you can do." Nothing more? Banish my fury, the fury I thought I felt, and the seething frustration? Some part of me kept saying, "This is not right; this is not Cal."

  It had crossed my mind that it might just be another of Thiede's games. What better way to drive all thoughts of Cal from my mind? But commonsense told me that no-one could have acted as well as the way Seel would have had to. Could he really have acted out so convinc­ingly telling me that the har I loved had butchered the mentor and friend of my early Wraeththu days? Thiede was capable of such an obscenity, but I was sure Seel was not. The worst thing was, although I lamented and cursed the cruelties of Fate, scored by misery, some deep part of me was never touched. That part watched dispassionately, a core of cool rationality. It waited for the surface pain to pass; at night I could feel it lurking somewhere in my heart and it appalled me. On the morning of my coronation, I turned aside the measure of hot liquor that Vaysh offered me. Two days had purged me. My tolerance, my trust and my eternal hope had been battered numb, but some deep and healing well of strength overflowed within me and kept me sane, kept me safe.

  They dressed me in the morning; the ceremony would begin at noon. Vaysh and I looked at each other and our eyes were full of granite exhilaration. We shared dark secrets but the terrible things we knew only fed our strength. There was a strained, tense atmosphere in the apartments that day, voices sounded muffled, as if on the eve of a great battle. Within us was the knowledge; we had both been singled out for greatness, Vaysh and I, and the harvest of the greatness had been emotional flaying. Yet neither of us blamed Thiede. He controlled us, bonded us to loyalty; now we had nothing, now we had everything; now we had nothing. It was endless.

  We went out into the sunlight and for the briefest moment, the shade of Saltrock blurred my eyes and the solemn, soaring temple up ahead became the wooden-roofed Nayati and the angels that lined Immanion's streets became the cheerful and scarred pioneers of another town. Vaysh sat by me in the splendid open carriage that was drawn by eight silver horses. He was the colors of alabaster, verdigris and rich henna, and among the feathers at my side, he held my hand.

  Among the echoing columns, silvered by floating incense, I spoke before th
e hegemony of Immanion and the priests and the most exalted citizens, the sacred oaths that would bind me to them for evermore. Thiede's eyes, full of satisfaction and pride, watched me with ophidian constancy. He must have known what Seel had told me, yet there was no sign. He trusted me to be strong and indifferent. I was Tigron and I was changing. He would say to me, "You must listen to your wisdom now, Pellaz. See what the world really is and how we must cut out the dark and rotting places." He could never be termed benevolent, Thiede my holy father, but he knew what the Great Rightnesses were and no petty compassion would stand in his way of realizing them. From below, among the little Hara that toiled and scrabbled and tried to understand what they were, I had stepped up to stand beside him, to take my place upon the dais of knowledge and of Power. Wretchedness and fear were no longer equal to me. Tranquility smoothed my cares. I had lived and died and resurrected; resurrected to immeasurable power. I could no longer be patient with the twitterings of passion and pain.

  When the last words had been spoken, the last thurible cast above my head, Thiede came toward me and took my face in his hands. I did not tremble when I felt his breath upon me; I was equal to it. "I have brought you through pain," his voice echoed in my mind. "Give me back some of the life I quickened."

  It had not been planned, I was sure of that. Silence thickened among the congregation, yet I could feel their eyes upon me. I was heavy with silver and turquoise; feathers folded around us like wings.

  The altar of inception, in that most sacrosanct of Wraeththu temples, is tasselled with gold. Power was red behind his eyes and his red, red hair fell into my mouth and eyes. "Pellaz, my jewel," he said, with a voice he had never used with me before. As with all Wraeththu temples, the place of inception could be veiled.

  Tumbling, black muslin shot with sparks, pooled to the floor, and it seemed we were alone. Tharmifex stood within the curtains. He looked at us once and we looked back with frightening unity. He twitched the curtains aside and stepped through. I climbed up onto the table and stripped the feathers from me. The Chosen One. He came to me and his heat was just har, nothing more. I cried out once, but not with pain. His eyes never left my own; he wanted to read everything there. When the moment came, it shocked me like electricity, switching on, opening up to a greater current. His flame hair crackled with static dust and I could see his face, so vulnerable in ecstasy. A god trapped in the anemone folds of aquatic soume. I could control him and make him writhe, and I did.

  There was great feasting that day. The streets of Immanion were alive with celebration and so packed with hara; many had come from afar for the occasion. Thiede and I led the way back to Phaonica. Chrysm came up to me and embraced me.

  "A coronation sanctified by aruna!" he exclaimed. "Will this become a custom?”

  Now, it seemed, Immanion's reservations about me had been thoroughly quelled. I basked unashamedly in the admiration. This was my home, these were my people; for once everyone seemed happy.

  Once evening had folded into dark, Thiede took me to his chamber of office. I was feeling dizzy with happiness and more than a little drunk.

  "Pell," he began, "you might think it is too soon to discuss this matter, but it is important, especially as we may all be called away from Immanion in I lie near future to deal with potentially dangerous concerns."

  I listened, still smiling. Thiede pushed me back into a chair and leaned on his desk in front of me. "Pell, you must know that as Tigron, we must he selective as to who shall host your heirs. Had you thought of that?"

  I shrugged. "I can see that, even if I hadn't thought about it."

  "You know, of course, that often hara are committed enough to each oilier to become chesna . . .?"

  I could not keep the edge from my voice. "I think you could say I am aware of that.

  Thiede nodded and tapped his lips with steepled fingers. "You need a partner, who is mostly soume, at least publicly, who shall host your seed. This har will also have to be trusted with domestic government in our absence, that is, government within our own lands."

  I laughed. "What you are suggesting, Thiede, sounds almost like a marriage!"

  Thiede did not laugh. "I suppose in a way, it could be seen as that. You need a consort, and you shall be united in blood at the temple to show our people that you are of one mind."

  "Who?" I demanded.

  "I haven't decided yet."

  Anger shouldered aside the effects of alcohol. I could feel myself burning. It was not just that Thiede, as usual, was organizing my life for me; I was becoming used to that. It was that he expected me to commit myself in blood to another. I knew I could not do it; such a union would be a lie.

  "Are we men then now?!" I stormed, "that we have to marry amongst ourselves?"

  Thiede flapped his hands at me. "Pellaz, calm down, calm down. What I'm suggesting is not a stifling fidelity which might be alien to you. This is merely a political arrangement."'

  "But it's barbaric!" I cried. "I can't believe I'm hearing this!" I stood up. "And how many concubines will I be allowed? Is there a harem quarter in Phaonica?"

  "Oh don't get emotional, Pellaz!" Thiede said impatiently. "Tomorrow, you will see the sense in what I say. There is no reason why you should not do this."

  I read the challenge in his eyes immediately. Maybe I should have kept | quiet. "Oh, I see. This is a test is it? Am I over Cal? Is that it?" Thiede said nothing. "It really bothers you, doesn't it," I said bitterly.

  "Pellaz, he is not worthy of you. I should have stopped that relationship a long time ago, and would have done, if I'd guessed how deep your feelings ran. Don't you remember what I once said to you about how dangerous such feelings are? You must have seen within him all the time the possibility of.... He was Uigenna once; the fruits of that inception can never be truly eradicated."

  "Why did you have to say this today?" I asked, but all I felt was anger, not pain. Thiede was not oblivious of that.

  "I know, perhaps I should have waited, but I had hoped that this discussion would not become an argument about Cal."

  "Thiede!" I cried. "That is bullshit!"

  He twitched a corner of his mouth and walked to behind my chair. I sat down again.

  "What if it was Vaysh?" he said slyly. "Would you be so angry then?" "Thiede," I said in a patient voice. "We both know that it cannot be Vaysh."

  "Yes, most unfortunate."

  "But even if it could be, I would still say no. I can't. If you cannot understand that, I'm sorry. I will let you choose a consort for me to host my sons, and I will gladly hand over the reins of power to that har should I need to, but I will not, certainly and most definitely not, mix my blood with his in a vow of any kind involving spiritual communion. And that is my last word!"

  He let me walk to the door. "Pellaz, all that I have given you; it could all be so easily taken away ...

  I turned with my hand on the door handle. He had spoken so quietly I was not sure if I had

  heard it.

  "Thiede," I said in a weary voice and shook my head, "are you incapable of compromise?"

  He looked seriously at the ceiling in a comic display of deep thinking, then back to me. "Compromise? Are you joking?" He laughed. "Oh, Pell, get out of here. We've reached a stalement for now, that's clear. We'll talk again some other time. Tomorrow."

  I went back to the party, but my heart was no longer in it. Cal's ghost had intruded once again. I could almost see him, standing in a corner of the room, among the tall ornamental plants, smiling, his hair matted with blood. But whose blood; mine or Orien's? I wanted him out of my head; that time was the closest I ever came to really hating him. He'd thought he'd had a murderer at his mercy. Did he feel elation as he tore Orien's life from him? (One for you, Pell.) Orien, no murderer, who had nurtured the seeds of my wisdom and kept my past in trust for me. My hand wandered unconsciously to the talisman. Cal, you fool! You blind, stupid fool! They thought he was mad, but I knew better. I had looked through the door with him beneath the Kak
kahaar sands, and seen Lianvis take life for power. We had seen that and we both knew, knew what lurked in the shadows of Wraeththu consciousness. Because of that, he would kill for me.

  Back in my apartments, sounds of merriment still reached me through the open windows. I was feeling mellow and sad, but in a hazy, wistful sort of way. I was not unhappy. I went out onto the terrace to stretch against the cool, diamond-studded night. Tomorrow.... Something was over now, but I couldn't explain exactly what. The music sounded mournful below me. The gardens were in darkness, but thronged with rustlings and muted laughter. I looked along the terrace. Vaysh's window-door was open and a low light burned inside the room.

  He was lying on the bed, half conscious. Two empty bottles stood upon the table where the light glowed. Nothing was knocked over. I went over and sat down beside him. "Vaysh." I shook him and he made a sound. "Vaysh." His eyes opened and I could see the redness. "Pell, get out of here," he said.

  "No, no." I took him in my arms and he wept anew. Vaysh was soume, more so than any other har I had ever met. The female was strong in him. He seemed made to be my consort, yet Thiede had scoured him barren; such justice.