I shook my head. "I doubt it."
He rubbed his eyes nervously with one hand. "Why?" he said, and the wistfulness was back. "Why, after all this time? Can't you let it be? I've always dreaded this moment; you coming back into his life."
"I'm not. I'm not in his life."
The Tigrina slammed his fist down on the chair-arm. "Shut up! You are! You know you are! You always have been! I just can't understand why it's happening now. It's been so long. Is it the position you want? Is that it?"
"Caeru, I have no choice, really I don't. Whoever's behind all this won't let it be,
and I don't think it's Pell."
Caeru glanced up at me. He looked wretched. "Don't call me by my name," he said
hoarsely. "That's one thing I can prevent. I am Tigrina to you, for as long as I can
be."
"That's not.... Look, I'm not angling to take your place, if that's what you think. I'm probably as confused as you are. I don't know what's going to happen, or where I'll end up."
"You're all that he said you were," Caeru said, unexpectedly. "I had hoped time and longing had blown up your image out of all proportion. It hasn't. When I saw you at table earlier you intrigued me. I actually . . ." He pulled a disgusted face, shook his head. "I asked Ariaric who you were.
'Just an old friend,' he said. 'No-one important.' " He laughed bleakly at the crushing irony in that. "I can understand what... people ... see in you now. I wish I didn't. The image Pell has of you lives. Does that satisfy you? It doesn't mean you've beaten me, far from it. My position in Immanion is unassailable."
"How about your position in Pell's affections?" I couldn't help saying that, because whatever the answer, he was still by Pell's side and I was still the lunatic who'd murdered Orien and had to be kept away. The words struck home. If he hadn't been the Tigrina and groomed for his role, I think Caeru would have physically gone for me then.
"Get out of my sight," he said, softly, looking at the floor. "I'm leaving Sykernesse in the morning," I said. "You won't have to see me again."
"Won't I? I hope you die, I really do. Now get out." A more depressing, pointless interview is difficult to imagine. I found my way, somehow, back to my own room, my head in a whirl. I felt sure Ariaric would be displeased—no, furious—at the embarrassment I'd caused him. His fears had been justified. Yet it was Zobinek's fault really. I don't think I would have made my identity known otherwise, no matter how graphic my fantasies had been. To throw salt on my tender wounds, I surprised Panthera in bed with Lalasa. It was too much to bear. I just threw myself facedown on the coverlet beside them and groaned, much to their displeasure, I'm sure.
"Fuck the world!" I cried, muffled. "Fuck it! Fuck it!"
"Shall I go?" Lalasa whispered.
"No, stay and witness my immortal shame!"
"Cal, you're drunk," Panthera decided wearily.
"I'm not! Just cursed! The Tigrina wishes me dead and I die obligingly!"
"I really think I ought to go," Lalasa said again. Panthera sighed. "OK, I'm sorry about this."
There was silence for ten harrowing minutes after Lalasa had gone until Panthera said, "You ask for it, Cal, you really do."
"Yes, I know. I'm utterly foul. Vermin! Diseased! But I still didn't sleep with Ariaric, Thea, so I don't know why you're angry with me. Or is it just lust for your cousin?"
Panthera sighed heavily again. "I only have one neck, Cal, and I suspect you're going to stamp firmly across its wind-pipe one day. I must be deranged. You want to leave tomorrow?" "Desperately. Are you still with me?" He took my hand, squeezed it. "Surprisingly, yes," he said. Like a coward, I was going to sneak off without saying anything to Ariaric. A note would do; I couldn't face him. But he must have anticipated that because he came to our room in person just after it got light outside. Panthera excused himself and remained locked in the bathroom until the Lion had gone. I tried to apologize, but he didn't want to hear it.
"My fault too," he said. "Wasn't it me that suggested you stay? I didn't think Pell would have told Caeru about you. Stupid, wasn't it. Somehow, nearly everyone seems to know about you now. It was playing with fire. I also intend to beat several pints of blood out of my gormless son."
"Don't be too hard on him; he didn't realize the gravity of the situation," I said. "I hope it won't affect your position in the eyes of the Gelaming though. I feel bad enough about it without that."
He shook his head. "I really don't know. I'll do my best to butter the Tigrina up, profess my ignorance. It may work."
"Anyway, it should help not having me around. We're leaving today."
Ariaric didn't press me to stay. "You're on a hard path at the moment, Cal," he said. "My heart will be with you. We'll all pray things turn out for the best."
"Thank you." I stood up and we embraced. It was hard to let go. "Our reunion started so well. I'm sorry."
He took my face in his hands. "Sssh. Don't say that. It's like I said, hard times. One day, all this'll be over and you'll come back here and we can do it properly. OK?"
I nodded. "You've turned out well, you really have. It gives me hope."
He laughed at that. "Cal, Cal, I worked hard, that's all. We were all kids in Megalithica. It's so long ago. Let it go now. It can't be changed. Just let it go."
"Can I really do that?" Even to me, my voice sounded wistful.
"You can. Don't hoard all that feeling. Release it into something con-structive." He held up his hand. "See this," he said. "It's yours; take it." Even after all this time, the scar was still there. Overcome by emotion, I took it in my hands and kissed it and kissed it. "The blood is long-dried, Cal. You can't take it to Roselane with you. Have this instead." We'd never shared breath. I'd not been worthy of such a caress all those years ago. He gave me strength. I took it eagerly. A true friend is the Lion. He always shall be.
The farewells were nearly done, Sykernesse nearly in the past. But there was one last question. "Wraxilan, what was your part in this? You did have 1 a part didn't you?"
He stood at the door, smiling. "Of course I did. What harm can it do to tell you. Tel-an-Kaa said to me, 'Tell him my name. Tell him about me, that I know him, but before that, make him see himself.' She told me how. I wasn't that clairvoyant."
"Are you beholden to these Kamagrian then that you obey their orders?"
"No. I did it because of the other thing she said, and that was that Wraeththu's future is in your hands, Cal. Simply that. We need you, and we need you desperately. Could I need another reason knowing that?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Journey to Roselane
"Whereat I woke—a twofold bliss:
Waking was one, but next there came
This other: Though I felt, for this,
My heart break, I loved on the same. "
—Robert Browning, Bad Dreams I
From Oomadrah, Panthera and I would travel east to beyond Chane, through a tongue of Garridan territory to Roselane. Our destination was the mountain retreat of Shilalama, high above the world. To speed up our journey, Ariaric kindly offered us the use of one of his private cars, complete with pilot. I was in two minds about accepting this offer. It meant we could be in Roselane within days. Overland, it could take weeks, even months, and that would give me time to think. Eventually, I decided that in my circumstances, time to think would be a bad thing.
We left Sykernesse before most people were even out of bed. It was a misty, chilly morning. I sat moodily in the back of the car, until I could stand Panthera's astute appraisal no longer and curled up, pretending to be asleep. I concentrated on the sigh of the vehicle's mechanisms, the feeling of weightlessness as we drifted slowly over Oomadrah's walls into the true morning, toward the plains of Hool Glasting. A mild humming indicated that the pilot had activated the car's roof. Soon we were cut off from the fresh air and with a shudder the vehicle sprang to life and shot toward the east. This was a much more sophisticated craft than Lourana's. Its speed was
d
etermined but effortless. We planned to spend the night in the Garridan borough of Biting; by mid-day tomorrow, if all went smoothly, I would be in Roselane. It was like facing major surgery. I was apprehensive but could not imagine it was really happening. I was still not sure what to expect, but it seemed like a good idea to seek out the cloisters of the Kamagrian, whom Wrark Fortuny had told me had their headquarters in Shilalama. I felt sick about my encounter with the Tigrina. Bad enough to be considered a gold-digging trouble-maker without having twinges of pity for the owner of those opinions. Just where would the Tigrina stand after all this? How could I tell, when I didn't even know what would happen to me? I curled myself around these uncomfortable thoughts and investigated them thoroughly until our pilot brought his vehicle down to land on the plains below, so that we could eat in the open air and perform whatever duties of nature had become pressing. The day had warmed up; now clearsunlight, shining through small, white clouds, dappled the plains with light and dark. I told Panthera in more detail what had happened the previous night. It didn't seem to matter that the pilot was listening avidly whilst pretending not to. My secrets were no longer that. By whatever means, the news had seeped out in Jaddayoth and spread; my alliance with the Tigron was known and it was expected that upheaval would come of it.
It was dark by the time we reached Biting. Our pilot booked us into an inn whilst Panthera and I stretched our legs around the town. Most of the shops were still open. We laughed at the blatant displays of the toxicolo-gists. An establishment named Foul and Fair exhibited its wares in a well-lit window. 'Ash-wilt for the successful withering of limbs!' one adver-tizement boldly claimed. Yes, we laughed, but our joy was false. The performance progressed toward its final act, when the players might say their farewells and go their separate ways, never to meet again. We returned to the inn and took jugs of ale to our room. Now was the time for remembering.
Panthera talked of Piristil. "I can remember the moment I first saw you," he said. "Even then you smelled of freedom, my freedom. Have I ever thanked you?" We undressed and lay on top of the bed. Voices below; > other lives carrying on oblivious. Panthera closed the window so that we couldn't hear it. "We are near the end, aren't we?" he said.
I sighed heavily. "I suppose we should hope so. Maybe you ought to feel relieved. After this, you can return to Jael and take up your life. You have friends in Maudrah, Gimrah, Elhmen and Sahale now. At least you've gained something from knowing me."
"Will you ever go back do you think? To the Hafeners, Nanine, the Lyris, Sykernesse ... to Jael?"
"I would like to. I hope I can."
Panthera threw himself across me then, squeezing the breath from my lungs. "Oh, Cal, Cal," he said bitterly. "I wanted to fight for you, fight the Gelaming, the Tigron, whoever was there in the shadows. Back in Jael, I thought I could. But it's all too ... big. I have no chance. I cannot lose you because I never really had you. You've given me so much, but if I want to share it, it must be with someone else, not you. That's hard. It's cruel. Why must we suffer? If there's a great power behind all this, why did it let me love you?"
I could feel his tears falling through his hair onto my chest. Part of life is learning to lose, to let go; something I was still learning about myself. "We must accept it, Thea," I said. "Whatever we do comes back threefold, or so they say. For this pain there must be equal sweetness waiting in the future."
"Do you really believe that?"
"I don't know. It's the best I can offer."
He laughed weakly, raised his head. "We must not waste these last hours," he said.
"No, my pantherine, we must not." We shared breath to share our souls' grief and in the communion of our bodies beyond that was a vast sea that was time and the Earth, but that sea had a salty shore and it was the salt of tears.
In the morning, we found that we'd adopted a determined good-humor. It must have come to us in the night; a gift from the angels. The ache of tears had become pleasurable, subdued. Now we went to battle with renewed strength. We left Biting immediately after breakfast. The car whistled through mountain peaks of gray and green and white. Clouds were sometimes beneath us. After some hours, the pilot pointed through the window. "That is Shilalama," he said. "Can you see? In the distance." We peered at the strange, craggy rock towers, catching the light from the morning sun.
"Looks like fungus," Panthera said.
"How long will it take to get there?" I asked.
"Half-an-hour maybe, not long."
Half-an-hour. Panthera and I clasped hands like children. I had to say, "Thea, if you want to go back to Maudrah with the car, I'll understand. Maybe it would be best. . ."
"Shut up, Cal," he said. "Stop playing the martyr. You might need me here."
There was no easy place for the car to land in Shilalama. In some ways it strongly resembled Shappa with its vertical streets and tiny plazas. But where Shappa was gray and smooth, Shilalama was pink and russet and yellow, and rugged. We circled the town a couple of times, flying very low. Hara looked up and waved. Everyone was dressed in pale robes like priests. The pilot was concerned. "This car is too big to land here. I'll have to put you down beyond the walls. Do you want me to wait at all?"
"No. We don't know how long we'll have to stay here," I answered. We were dropped off on top of a cliff, where a brisk wind whipped away our words.
"Down there!" the pilot yelled. "There's a track to the town." We called back our thanks. "Good luck!" he mouthed and then the car was lifting, dipping, heading west, its transparent roof sliding forwards as it increased in speed. Panthera and I watched it until it had vanished in the distance. No going back now. We pushed our way through stiff knee-deep bushes and scrambled down the stony path, hampered with luggage.
The gates to Shilalama were open; no guards to question travelers or stop us entering. "Where do we go?" Panthera asked. It was impossible to tell whether the buildings were houses, inns, shops, temples, or just natural rock formations. Two Hara drifted past, heads lowered, hands in sleeves, humming to themselves. They ignored my inquiry about directions. "Let's just make toward the center," I said.
"What center?" Panthera asked, looking around. "It's such a jumble."
"Just keep walking."
There were few proper streets. Rock buildings seemed to have beenhollowed out or thrown up at random. Any Roselane we came across seemed to be on another plane and unavailable for communication. Where were the waving hara we'd seen from the air? The wind was making such a racket, we couldn't listen out for sounds of activity, but eventually, after an age of aimless walking, we came to a small square where market stalls were set up, and hara of more alert mien were wandering among them. I went to the nearest stall and asked to be directed to the cloisters of the Kamagrian, though how we'd fare following directions in this place, I didn't know. "Just keep going," the stall-holder answered, pointing across the square. "All paths lead to Kalalim."
"Kalalim?"
"Your destination. Pause a while and refresh yourselves first. No charge." He offered us cups of steaming herb tea. Panthera set down his bags and rubbed his shoulders.
Mine were numb. As we drank the tea, I tried to extract information about the Kamagrian.
"Is there any particular way we should behave? Any rituals to observe?"
"Just be your own true selves."
"I see. Do we have to be announced or can we walk right in?"
"There are no locked doors in Shilalama. Have you come far?"
"Very," I said, darkly.
The stall holder smiled. "You are tired travelers. The comfort you seek shall be found in Kalalim."
We thanked him and crossed the square.
Kalalim was unmistakable. The stones of its sheer walls were golden, its crazy towers higher than any other and twisted like cable. Warmth seemed to seep from the very stones, welcome from its open doors and pointed windows. Panthera and I didn't stop to take it in properly, but walked directly up the shallow flight of steps into the golden gloom bey
ond. A har dressed in pale lemon robes stood up when we came into the hallway and put down the book he'd been reading. "Can I be of service?" he inquired.
"I'm looking for a parage of the Kamagrian named Tel-an-Kaa," I answered. "I believe she may be expecting me."
"You have come to the right place." The Roselane went to a desk by the wall and picked up a heavy ledger.
"May I have your names please?"
"Calanthe and Panthera of Jael."
The Roselane nodded. "Ah yes, you are expected." He entered our names on the top of a new page. "Well, I won't keep you waiting. Come with me please."
We followed him down a skylit passage that led to a garden sheltered from the wind. Hara were working among the flower beds. Every one of them looked up and wished us good-day. Rather different to Oomadrah beyond the walls of Sykernesse, I thought with amusement. The Roselane showed us into a pleasant, airy room that overlooked the garden. The only furnishings were cushions and rugs upon the floor, a couple of low tables and a book-case next to the window. A brass censer hung from the ceiling, exuding a strong, aromatic smoke.
The Wraeththu Trilogy Page 111
