Burying the Shadow

by Constantine, Storm

  I suppressed an urge to strike him and, without a further word - why should I waste more of my breath? - stood up and walked out of the room. I sensed him leaping up behind me, but I swiftly scurried into the entrance hall, and hissed a quick, ‘Get rid of that lunatic!’ at Terissa.

  She looked up from her ledger in affront, ready to scold me, I think, for my earlier terseness. Fortunately, she understood the expression on my face and nodded. ‘Go upstairs,’ she said.

  I did so. Quickly.

  The lunacy of Salyon Tricante was the last thing I needed at that time, even though my training demanded that I should offer help to any needy individual. Unfortunately, my immediate future required all of my attention, and I could not afford the distraction of a scaping case. I went to my room, and paced about, laughing to myself in the way that can very easily convert into tears. I would have to speak with Gimel now. No! She had attacked me on the road in Khalt. It hadn’t been her. It had. It had. What was pantomime and what was real? Had the entire world shifted on its axis into a wobbling rhythm of sheer madness? How much more of this could I take? Where was Avirzah’e? Where was Keea? Where, for that matter, was I? A knock on the door alarmed me so severely I felt as if I was about to shed my entire skin in one piece.

  Terissa put her nose into the room. ‘He’s gone,’ she said. ‘Are you alright, Rayo?’

  ‘No, I need a drink,’ I replied. ‘Can you bring me one?’

  She nodded. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m expecting other visitors. Let me know immediately if any of them show up.’

  ‘I will.’

  My answer clearly did not satisfy her. I grinned sweetly. ‘I’m sorry I was a bit sharp with you. Things have been a little odd today. It’s a hazard of my profession. Salyon Tricante was a potential client, but…’ I shrugged. ‘His sickness isn’t one I want to cure particularly.’ It was a feeble excuse.

  ‘I’ll bring you some brandy,’ Terissa said, with a knowing, sympathetic smile. I was relieved she didn’t query why I would turn down a commission. She closed the door and I resumed my pacing. What if Keea got here before Avirzah’e did? What then? The next moment I found myself at the top of the stairs yelling down to Terissa to bring me paper and a quill, along with the brandy.

  ‘Wait while I write this,’ I said, when Terissa returned. ‘I need it delivered.’ She tried to peer over my shoulder, so I hunched over the paper and wrote quickly. I am surrounded by fanatics, I scribbled. If this means nothing to you, then I am one of them, and please accept my apologies for this intrusion. If, on the other hand, this does mean something to you, please contact me quickly. I am at The Temple Gate inn.

  I signed it lavishly with my name and slid the paper into the envelope that Terissa had thoughtfully provided. ‘Bring me wax!’ I demanded.

  Once sealed, I wrote the words ‘Gimel Metatronim’ on the front of the envelope, with shaking hands. ‘Take this to the atelier courts,’ I said, thrusting an inordinately generous amount of loose coin I’d had lying on the bedside table into Terissa’s hands. ‘Immediately.’

  Terissa took the envelope with less enthusiasm than she had for the money. ‘I cannot get inside the atelier courts,’ she said. ‘I will have to leave it at the gates.’

  ‘Do whatever you can,’ I said, ‘but hurry. It’s very important, Terissa. I can’t tell you how much.’

  She smiled bravely at my appeal. ‘I’ll take it.’ She put the coins into the pocket of her apron.

  To occupy myself, I began to pack my belongings into my carryback. Best to be prepared for any eventuality. Terissa had brought me a flask of brandy and a glass. After draining the glass at once, I began to swig from the flask. Still no sign of Keea or Avirzah’e. I would go mad if one or the other of them didn’t turn up soon. Perhaps they had met each other. Perhaps one had killed the other. Perhaps they didn’t exist at all and I had hallucinated the whole thing. I finished the brandy and sat on the bed. I would count to five hundred and then go downstairs. If no one had come for me by then, I would… What? What could I do?

  I reached two hundred and seventy-five and there was a knock on my door. For a second, I stared at it in disbelief and then leapt up, ran across the room and yanked the door open. Keea? Avirzah’e? No. One of the inn’s junior maids was standing there gawking at me. ‘What is it?’ I demanded.

  ‘A… a visitor for you, madam,’ she stuttered.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In the salon, Mistress. A woman.’

  ‘Right!’ I ran past her and flung myself down the stairs, causing heads to turn as I stampeded into the salon.

  ‘Where is she?’ I cried.

  People sitting in idle contemplation of newssheets and each other looked up in surprise. Eyebrows were raised. A flurry of murmurs flowed around the room. Gimel was not there. No one was there, that I recognised, and certainly no artisans. I ran back to the serving maid who was still coming down the stairs. I grabbed her roughly. ‘Where is she?’ I demanded, shaking her a little.

  ‘There!’ The girl pointed over my shoulder, her eyes round with fright.

  ‘Where?’

  I turned round. There was no one there. I shook the girl again. ‘Where? Where?’

  ‘She went outside. Out the door. Oh, let me go, Mistress, you’re hurting me!’

  Uttering a heartfelt curse, I dropped the girl like a rag and hurried outside. The alley was full of people milling about. I shoved them violently out of my way, but there was no sign of any recognisable visitor. No sign! Helplessly, I went back into the inn, stomped past the wilting serving-maid, who flinched away from me, and dashed upstairs. In my room, I put on my hat and coat. For a moment, I considered strapping on my carryback, but rejected the idea, and stowed it in a cupboard instead. Then, I ran downstairs and rang the counter bell repeatedly until the innkeeper himself appeared.

  ‘Money,’ I said. ‘I need funds. Urgently.’

  ‘You upset one of my lasses,’ he began, folding his arms. I had a feeling the staff of The Temple Gate were becoming tired of my erratic and eccentric behaviour. I did not care.

  ‘Give me my money!’ I said.

  ‘Are you leaving us, then?’

  ‘No, keep the room ready. My things are there. Just give me a hundred dahli.’ He did not move but stared at me belligerently. I attempted a mollifying smile. ‘I’m sorry. I have important work to attend to. Very important. Life or death. Please, I need the money.’

  The innkeeper sighed, and unfolded his arms. ‘I’ll see what I have out back, then,’ he said and went deliberately slowly through the door behind the counter.

  ‘Hurry!’ I called after him. ‘I’ll be in the bar.’

  I ordered another brandy, hoping to calm my nerves. Why wasn’t alcohol affecting me today? I knew in my guts that something, something, was going to happen soon and I needed to be ready for it.

  The innkeeper brought me a bag of coins, which seemed suspiciously heavy, indicating he had filled it with small change. Not bothering to count it, I tied the bag to my belt. The innkeeper watched me stonily as I struggled to tie a knot with fingers that had suddenly become independent of my nervous system.

  ‘What business do you have with them?’ he asked.

  ‘With who?’ I snapped.

  ‘The artisans.’

  ‘What makes you think I have business with them?’

  ‘Because that woman keeps coming here asking for you.’ he said. ‘She is standing in the hall now. Looks like she’s waiting for you.’

  Without responding, I leapt away from the bar and charged out into the hall, just as the main door was swinging shut. ‘No!’ I cried and yanked it open again. People seemed to surge against me like a tide of imbeciles, but, for a fleeting moment, I caught a glance of a white face, of a tall woman who looked at me above the milling heads. The impression was muddy, as if seen through water, but I was sure it was Gimel. She wore a long purple cloak, with a hood, which was pulled up ove
r her head. She stared at me for only a moment, before turning round and sweeping off down the alley. I did not bother to shout after her. People complained as I pushed them aside, but I paid no attention. I fixed my sights on the tall figure ahead of me; this time, she would not get away.

  Section Eight

  Gimel

  ‘He above the rest in shape and gesture proudly eminent stood like a tower; his form had not yet lost all her original brightness, nor appeared less than Archangel ruined…’

  Paradise Lost, Book I

  After a light lunch of blood and lemon juice, I waited impatiently for Avirzah’e to bring Rayojini to my house. I’d tried on at least a dozen different gowns, consulting Tamaris as to which would be the most appropriate for the occasion. The red was too busy -looking for afternoon wear, but it flattered my figure, and the indigo was too fussy with beads and embroidery.

  ‘Why not go for the black, madam,’ Tamaris said, holding out the folds of crepe.

  ‘Yes, yes, simple… but perhaps a little too sinister?’

  ‘Not if you wear your gold collar with it.’

  ‘Yes, good idea… and a pale gold shadow on my eyelids.’

  Finally, I made my entrance into the salon, where Beth was waiting for me. ‘No word from Avirzah’e?’ I asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

  Beth shook his head. I then spent over an hour pacing up and down, nearly wearing a hole in the carpet. Beth watched me silently from one of the couches. He did not seem as keen to meet Rayojini as I was, and I had a feeling he was only there because Avirzah’e had insisted he should come. His reticence was only to be expected, of course. I had always harboured a greater interest in Rayojini than he had. He barely showed any interest when Tamaris delivered a note that one of the atelier court gatekeepers had been asked to give to me. I opened the envelope with nerveless fingers. It was from Rayojini herself! She sounded rather disturbed, and had she forgotten Avirzah’e was collecting her this afternoon? It was very odd, but oh how wonderful that we were communicating in reality so freely. A letter! The first direct acknowledgement of our connection. I sent Tamaris out to The Temple Gate to find out what was going on, but Avirzah’e turned up before she got back. When he arrived, he was alone.

  ‘She’s gone,’ Avirzah’e said.

  ‘Gone? Where?’ I was confused. In her short letter, Rayojini had asked me to go to her at The Temple Gate, as if she planned to wait for me there. It didn’t make sense. How could she have gone?

  ‘She did not tell anyone where she was going,’ Avirzah’e said. ‘The innkeeper told me she asked for money, and for her room to be kept for her. He said a woman came for her. An artisan.’

  ‘What?’ I went utterly cold. Who else of my people had an interest in Rayojini? “I am surrounded by fanatics,” she had written. Who?

  ‘She spoke of being followed!’ Avirzah’e said, slamming a fist into his other, open palm. ‘I should have paid more attention to that!’

  ‘But who was it?’ I cried. ‘Who?’

  Avirzah’e shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. I wish I had. What are we going to do?’

  ‘We mustn’t panic,’ I said, wanting more than anything to panic. ‘We must sit down together and trust that our combined strength will be able to trace her by projection.’

  Avirzah’e sighed and nodded. ‘Yes, yes, you’re right.’

  ‘Where is Amelakiveh?’ Beth asked. ‘Why wasn’t he with her?’

  The answer to that last question was soon provided. Before we could arrange ourselves to begin the search for Rayojini, an officer of the Judificator arrived at our door, politely requesting either Beth or myself to accompany him to the nearest judicial building. He said he did not want to perturb Metatron unduly, which was why he had come to us first, but something rather worrying had occurred. Intrigued, and suffused with more than a little dread, Beth and myself left Avirzah’e asking himself unanswerable questions in the salon, and accompanied the officer to his headquarters. It transpired that a young man had been found wandering the tourist quarter, in a state of semi-consciousness and great distress. He had been wearing Metatron’s seal ring, and was carrying several of my personal effects, which was how he’d been traced to us.

  ‘We realised it must be a servant of yours,’ the officer said, with some embarrassment. ‘You had better prepare yourself for unpleasantness.’ Beth and I hung onto each other in numb apprehension as we followed the officer to the room where our supposed servant was confined.

  It was Amelakiveh, though barely recognisable as such. When we saw him, we were faced with a stranger in a familiar body, but even the body had somehow shrunk. The face, once so beautiful, was that of a vacant dullard. The skin was sallow, lustreless, the hair lank about the shoulders. He strongly resembled an unfortunate who had been imprudently over-supped. He had soiled himself. It was a dreadful sight. I could not bring myself to go and comfort him. Beth turned away with a sound of disgust.

  We had to confirm to the official that this was indeed a dependant of ours. Though apparently dazed, Amelakiveh could speak. When questioned, his last memory was of preparing himself to become a holy sacrifice in the court of the Kaliph. Since that time, he had simply not existed. Now, he did not know where he was or what had happened to him. He had simply found himself in the middle of the city, with no idea how he had got there. His name, he said, was Tavaro Arezza. He had been reared for the Holy Sacrifice, and could remember the names of all his sacrificial companions from that fateful night when Beth and I had spoken to the Parzupheim. He did not appear to recognise either Beth or myself, and had never even heard of the soulscaper, Rayojini.

  I knew, even before I discussed it with my brother, that the person who, over the last twenty odd years, had lived with us, shared our bed, and carried out work in our name, was not the pathetic creature now before us. This pathetic creature was, indisputably, the rightful owner of its body, but the personality we were familiar with had vacated that body utterly. All that remained was the shreds of an individual whose soul had been partially supped from their body. The Holy Sacrifice involves more than the drinking of blood.

  The implications were enormous, terrible. I felt nauseous; remembering his kiss, the way Kiveh had slipped my father’s ring from my hand. No, not Kiveh, but who?

  ‘I think,’ Beth said, ‘we will find it is the same person who spirited Rayojini away from the inn, don’t you?’

  I gazed at him in horror. ‘Sammael,’ I said. ‘We have to tell Sammael.’

  My Rayojini was in terrible danger, I was sure of it. How could we have been so easily fooled?

  Out of pity, and a sense of responsibility, I told the officials that Tavaro Arezza, or what was left of him, could be taken to our home, where Tamaris and Ramiz would look after him. I doubted whether he had much of a future, but it was the least we could do for him. However, the condition of the Arezza boy was the last thing we could worry about at the present moment. All the way home, Beth and I sat in stony silence in the carriage; both of us, I am sure, mentally whipping ourselves in shame and fury. Rayojini’s quirky little note became tragic in my mind. “I am surrounded by fanatics”. They had taken her! We had commended her into the care of an enemy, an enemy who had been constantly by her side throughout Khalt and the Strangeling. It was unspeakable! How could we have been so blind? The signs had been there all along. No human ever resists the holy sacrifice; we should have known Amelakiveh was no ordinary boy. And I had been the one who’d chosen him from all the other offerings. It was my fault. I did not say these words aloud, but Beth knew my thoughts all the same.

  ‘Don’t blame yourself,’ he said. ‘There was no way either of us could have anticipated this.’

  ‘I feel so soiled,’ I said. I was turning Metatron’s ring in my hands. I could not bear to put it on my finger.

  Beth pulled me against him. ‘Well, it’s only a guess, but I suspect the influence from Elenoen that Sammael told you about now has your little soulscaper in its clutches, d
on’t you?’

  ‘How can you be so callous!’ I said, privately agreeing with him.

  ‘We have to face the worst possibility,’ Beth said, kissing the top of my head. ‘I don’t mean to sound callous.’ He sighed deeply. ‘And to think that disgusting…thing… whatever it is, has been so intimate with us. I feel sick to my bones! And, of course, Metatron is going to be furious when he finds out what we did with Amelakiveh. Oh, what a mess! We should have stayed in Atruriey, Gimel. We should never have come back to Sacramante, after our stay in Taparak. We were happy out there, weren’t we? None of this would have happened. None of it!’

  ‘We are still together,’ I said. ‘Despite everything.’

  Beth sighed. ‘We are not what we were,’ he answered.

  When Beth and I returned to our domain, Metatron was waiting in my salon, brooding in the middle of the room like an impending storm. Avirzah’e was perched on the edge of chair, and looked up at us with wild relief when we walked in. He resembled a miserable hound that had just been severely whipped by strangers and was grieving the lack of a common language to explain its humiliation to its beloved master.

  ‘I cannot strike you!’ Metatron thundered, pointing a rigid, steady finger at Beth and myself. ‘Though I would very much like to! I have spoken at length to Sandalphon today, and he told me many disturbing things. Now I am told some human dreg has been found wandering around Sacramante wearing the Metatronim seal - which was entrusted into your care, Gimel! I hope you can explain yourself.’

  I handed him the ring without speaking, which he sneered at in distaste. ‘Well? Do I get an explanation from you willingly or do I have to order you to give it to me?’

  ‘The boy wearing your seal was a dependant of ours, a human,’ I said. I would be honest with Metatron to a point, but had no intention of divulging exactly how Amelakiveh had come into our possession. ‘We have discovered that his body has been inhabited by an invader’s personality for the last twenty years. We have reason to believe this personality might have come from Elenoen.’ I turned away from my father, unable to face any further questions.