by Unknown
“That is satisfactory. One thing I must ask. Is there any danger to me, or my hara, from what attacked Diablo? If so, you must warn me of it, protect me.”
“It will not come for you here. It did what it wanted to do.”
“I see.” Ponclast paused for a few moments, while the child stood passively before him. “Are you aware that the Tigron's son came to me? He assisted Diablo after he fell from the spirit paths.”
“We have no interest in that. It is your affair. Use him as you see fit.”
“I would appreciate your opinion. He carries the Tigron's blood, which presumably is of interest to you, seeing as you were keen to possess the pearl. I have wondered whether it might be of use to create a pearl myself with this har. It is, after all, one of the things I do most effectively, and Abrimel har Aralis is of far better stock than my poor ruined Varrs.”
The child's strange blind-looking eyes widened. He could see he had pricked her interest. For some moments, she was silent, and Ponclast received the strong impression she was communicating with some other being. Eventually, she said, “We are told it would be pointless for you to do such a thing without the higher energy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hara use this energy, but you do not. You use something else.”
“I don't understand you. Speak in terms I know.”
“Learn to love,” said the child. “Do not attempt to call us again.” She vanished.
Learn to love? Ponclast snorted at the idea. He knew very well how to love. He loved all his hara and believed it was this emotion that had helped keep them alive in Gebaddon. He could not, however, love a Gelaming, not in that way, but perhaps the blue child hadn't meant that. She had spoken of passion.
I remember that, Ponclast thought wistfully. But what am I now to inspire passion in a harish breast?
He sat and pondered for a while, recalling how just for a moment he had looked upon Abrimel with desire, only to be rewarded with an expression of revulsion in the Gelaming's horrified stare. How to change that? Presently, Ponclast came to a decision. He sent out a mindcall to Diablo who came running at once.
“Diablo, my sweet, can you take me to the place where you found Abrimel har Aralis?”
Diablo narrowed his enormous eyes. “No. I cannot transport our hara from Gebaddon. I have tried to. There are limitations place upon my abilities.”
Ponclast was somewhat astounded his son had been conducting his own experiments in private. “You should have told me this before,” he said. “But I'll overlook this secrecy for now. Bring Abrimel to me.”
“At once.”
Diablo did not exaggerate. He vanished before Ponclast could even draw breath to speak further.
The last time Ponclast had seen Abrimel, they had parted with the understanding that Abrimel would provide information as and when the Teraghasts needed it. Ponclast had felt strangely soiled by his brief union with the Tigron's son. Possibly, this was because when he'd lain against that perfect body, he'd been reminded too painfully of his own condition, and that of his hara. He had decided not to see Abrimel again and that Diablo must deal with the Gelaming when necessary. Now, that decision had to be revised. He must proceed with caution. Even though Fulminir was no doubt as much of a ruin as Ponclast thought himself to be, the disaffected son of the Tigron might well be tempted by the offer of becoming the consort of the har who would rebuild it. He could help destroy the Gelaming, and his ignorant parents, who had no idea what danger their indifference might have put them in. That is the way, Ponclast thought. He would appeal to Abrimel's bitterness and resentment. He would be sympathetic. He would remember the art of seduction.
Chapter Twenty-One
It began with a communication breakdown. Cobweb was naturally suspicious of Gelaming technology and never used the psycaller device in Forever to contact Immanion. If he needed to speak to Pellaz, he would walk the Tigron's dreams. Swift was generally the only har who used the psycaller, and in truth it had gathered a layer of dust, somewhere beneath a pile of papers in Swift's office.
But one particular evening, late in the spring of ai-cara 32, Cobweb asked his son to send a message to Phaonica. His instincts urged him to do it, although at the time he voiced the request, it seemed merely mundane: invite the Tigron to Galhea for the summer solstice. He could bring Moon and Raven, because Snake would no doubt like to see them.
Swift went to do this at once, but his efforts to use the psycaller came to nothing. He returned to the sitting room, where Cobweb was conversing with Azriel and Aleeme, and said, “It's strange. I can't get through.”
Cobweb experienced a brief but telling chill throughout his flesh. “I will attend to it,” he said, his words imbued with the unspoken message that Gelaming devices were unreliable and suspect. “We have the natural ability to communicate over distance, so we might as well use it.”
“Not that much distance,” Aleeme said.
Cobweb did not respond. He went directly to his room, drew the drapes over the windows and lit three candles. He composed himself cross-legged on the floor and closed his eyes. Drawing in deep breaths, he was for a moment gripped by a bizarre thought: he would change. He would have to become something different.
Dismissing this to analyse later, Cobweb descended into trance. For him, it was as simple as diving smoothly into a deep dark pool: he caused barely a ripple. He swam through the ethers, as was his usual practice, to discern any nuances or messages that might float there for him to pick up. But that night, he found not the familiar mindscape he knew, but an unknown and impassable territory. The ethers were disturbed. It was as if they had been ravaged by a mighty storm of energy so that all the usual channels were blocked or hidden.
Shaken, Cobweb brought himself back to normal consciousness. Instinctively, he went to the window and threw open the drapes. He peered through the darkness, searching for he knew not what. The night was calm, the air breathless. Perhaps it was too still out there for comfort. He could see himself reflected in the window: a slender har, shawled in dark hair, his loose trousers and shirt glowing pale in the dark. He looked at himself and, for a stultifying moment, saw a human woman looking back. That was what Terzian had made of him, this virtual 'she'. He felt she might be about to die.
Some of the curtain hooks ripped from their rings as Cobweb fiercely closed the drapes once more. His entire being was filled with terrible foreboding. Too long have we hidden, he thought. Too long have we gazed into painted mirrors.
Around him, the house felt uneasy and skittish, its timbers groaning, its pipes shuddering. Outside, the night hounds began to bay all at once, an ululating cry rising and falling in alarm. Cobweb ran down to where members of his family still sat together. They looked up in surprise as he burst into the room, for Cobweb was a har who usually moved slowly and with grace. “Summon the Watch, Swift,” Cobweb snapped. “Have Ithiel check the gardens.”
Swift got to his feet, while Azriel said, “What's wrong?”
“Much as it pains me to admit it, your Gelaming device wasn't at fault,” Cobweb replied. “The ethers are closed to me too. The dogs are howling.”
“I heard that,” Aleeme said, “but sometimes they do just howl.”
Cobweb fixed Swift with a stare. “Summon the Watch,” he said again. “Something isn't right.”
The night hounds were virtually choking themselves upon their chains trying to break free, until Ithiel ordered them to be loosed. They streaked out into the night, chasing shadows. Hara on horseback went after them, only to find nothing amiss.
While the search was underway, Cobweb stood before the long windows in the sitting room, rubbing his arms for they were cold, despite the fire burning hungrily in the hearth nearby. He felt powerless, and that was not a comfortable feeling for him. Something was going on and he had no idea what it was, only that it stank of threat. When Swift returned to the house to report on his findings, Cobweb said to him, “Summon Seel and Tyson from the town. Bring th
em home. Do it now.”
Swift did not question his hostling's command.
It was Cobweb's custom to allow other hara, such as his son, his highson and their militia, to deal with matters of security. His job was to run the household, to care for others. But that night, Cobweb found himself thinking of Caeru har Aralis, and what had happened to him in his own home. He knew that sometimes the ouana-might of the more masculine-aspected hara was of no use in matters of protection.
Cobweb went to the kitchens and the small room where boots and coats were stored. He dressed himself, something he had not done for many years. It reminded him of times long past, fleeting images of a different life, when he had spent more time on horseback than on the ground. He remembered his life with the Sulh, and the acrid smoke of ruin always on the air. Humanity was contained now, and the green had crept back with subtle fingers over most of their civilization. The world breathed more easily, but that night Cobweb's breath was all but stilled in his breast. He feared history was a tidal wave and it was coming back, hundreds of feet high.
All the animals were stamping restlessly in their stalls, grunting and snorting. Cobweb mounted his horse and urged it to gallop out into the night. A wind had started up, strangely warm.
Snake Jaguar now lived comfortably in the house in the woods, quite near the garden walls: once it had been a lodge to the main house when humans had occupied it. He was reclusive, which the Parasilians respected. Sometimes, he turned up at Forever seeking company, and on those occasions he was welcomed and indulged, but there was an unspoken rule between them all. Snake's privacy was not to be intruded upon. Quite often, Raven and Terez would come to visit him and sometimes the three of them would socialize with the House of Parasiel, but the times when Pellaz visited Snake alone meant the door would be securely locked against others.
Cobweb knew that Moon visited his father too, and then Azriel and Aleeme would be invited to dinner in the house in the woods, but Moon seemed reluctant to visit Forever. Cobweb knew the reason behind this, but believed that time was a great healer. Moon must get over his childish crush. In Cobweb's opinion, Tyson was not chesnari material, not yet. His ongoing behaviour with Ferany was testament to this: Cobweb had spent many evenings listening patiently to Ferany's heartfelt outpourings of disappointment and complaint.
Snake spent his time travelling the ethers, seeking any information that might be helpful to his brother. So far as Cobweb knew, Snake had yet to discover anything of use, and he had carefully sidestepped most of Cobweb's offers of assistance. They had worked together on a couple of occasions, at Forever, but Cobweb could tell that Snake preferred to work alone. Whatever threat had loomed over Immanion had either sensed Snake's investigation and gone into hiding or else had disappeared. Cobweb knew that Snake was not unhappy, that he enjoyed the simple life so close to the fecund earth. In Galhea, Snake had found peace. Raven was no longer there to care for him, but he did not need such care. Healers had assuaged the aches in his withered limbs and he was mobile enough to look after a small garden and no domestic chores were beyond him, other than chopping wood. Cobweb had logs delivered regularly to the little clearing where Snake's house stood. Cobweb had never visited since the days when he'd supervised its refurbishment. Now, he had a pressing need.
Dim light glowed from one of the windows. Cobweb dismounted and went to knock upon the door. He knocked several times and then called, “Snake, it's me, Cobweb. I have to speak with you at once.”
Cobweb heart movement inside the lodge and presently Snake opened the door. His expression was guarded, but Cobweb was not deceived. He could tell that Snake feared this was bad news about Moon, for what else could impel a Parasilian to come riding to his house in the dark?
“It is not as you fear,” Cobweb said, crossing the threshold. “Moon is fine, but I must speak with you urgently.”
Snake nodded silently and indicated for Cobweb to enter the small room, which served as both kitchen and parlour.
“Have you noticed anything unusual tonight?” Cobweb asked, sitting down in one of the two chairs before the stove.
Snake limped over with a kettle of water, which he placed on the hot plate. “I was wrapped up in reading,” he said, and gestured at the pile of books, which he had taken from Forever's library last time he'd visited. “The knowledge of our forebears shouldn't be lost. There is much wisdom there.”
Snake was the only har Cobweb knew who referred to humans as forebears. “The ethers are disturbed,” Cobweb said. “There's a shiver in the air. Something smells dank. Animals are fretful. I would appreciate you investigating this phenomenon and giving me your opinion on it.”
“There will always be nights like this,” Snake said. “You know that. It is the way of wyrd, when forces move in the world beyond our comprehension. But they are a part of the world and not to be feared.”
“This is different,” Cobweb said. “I know that.”
Snake again nodded without speaking and went slowly to his front door. Cobweb waited while Snake peered into the night, no doubt extending his senses. After a while, Cobweb could not resist making tea, because the kettle had begun to boil, and Cobweb's instinct was to do such things. He was drinking the tea when Snake returned, frowning.
“You're right,” Snake said. “Tonight, I was lost in the world of the past, and didn't sense it.”
“What does it mean?” Cobweb asked.
Snake shook his head in puzzlement. “Many things,” he said unhelpfully.
“In your opinion, is this connected with Phaonica or the Aralisians, anything to do with what Pellaz has experienced?”
“It's difficult to tell. There's certainly a taint to the air, and it feels familiar, but it is also shrouded. Something or somehar is aware of us and our abilities. We should be vigilant. It's all we can do.”
“I don't think that's enough,” Cobweb said. “I feel it in my bones. I want to contact Pell about this, but it's impossible. I'm concerned this is a deliberate attempt to prevent us communicating with Immanion. The otherlanes are closed to us.”
“We can work together, you and I, to create a barrier of protection around your domain,” Snake said. “That's the immediate course of action that suggests itself to me.”
“We'll do this,” Cobweb said. “Tomorrow, Swift must send riders to Imbrilim.” He paused. “I'm afraid, Snake. I never feel afraid like this. Something approaches.”
Snake was not a har to extend a reassuring hand. Instead he said, “We will do all in our power to protect ourselves, and what greater power is there in the world than you and I combined?” He smiled, and then sat down carefully.
“Shall I send healers tomorrow?” Cobweb asked, expecting a rebuke or a refusal.
Snake grimaced. “Yes,” he said.
“You shouldn't wait,” Cobweb said. “When the pain returns, you should come to us. It's senseless to suffer needlessly.”
“I don't often notice it,” Snake said. “But when it gets too bad, I come to Forever. Say nothing more.”
“Let me help you now, before we work.”
“No,” Snake said. “Tomorrow will be soon enough.”
Cobweb knew that Snake did not want to be touched, especially by hara he knew well, other than his immediate family, with whom he was quite affectionate. Except for them, he tolerated only the hands of the healers. It was clear to Cobweb that Snake feared being close to hara, mostly because of his disabilities. Perhaps deeper, less visible, hurts were equally responsible. But despite whatever demons might cackle deep in Snake's mind, he was a pleasure to work with. When he and Cobweb sat together and extended their senses, it created a source of power that was easy to manipulate and project. If Snake's body rejected contact, his mind did not. The barrier they created took much energy, but once they came back to normal consciousness, Cobweb did not feel depleted. Snake was all that Cobweb had intuited him to be: a psychic of immense power, who could shape the energy of creation as easily as river clay. Cobweb could see v
irtually with his physical eyes the dome of silver-white energy they had conjured into being. It would take a power of equal force to breach it.
“The barrier will decay over time,” Snake said. “We'll have to replenish it for as long as we need to.”
“I hope the Gelaming will help us,” Cobweb said. “I'm not content with simple protection. I want to know what threatens us and why. We should see its face.”
“I will go to Pellaz,” Snake said. “He will hear me.”
“You can't,” Cobweb said. “The route is closed.”
Snake smiled again. “I will go to him,” he said. “When out of my body, I can climb the highest, darkest mountain. I can break through walls of rock. It will take time perhaps, but I'm confident. Trust me.”
Cobweb returned to Forever to find that the household had retired for the night. He'd spent more time in Snake's lodge than he'd thought. Before retiring himself, Cobweb walked through the house, entering every room. At the windows and thresholds, he drew symbols of protection in the air, and all the time the bones of the house creaked and groaned around him.
