by Unknown
Pellaz nodded. “That means she's scared,” he said.
Every day, more hara arrived in Megalithica: the sedim worked without pause to carry both personnel and supplies across the ocean. In addition to these forces, delegations from local tribes began to appear in Imbrilim: Unneah, Megalithican Sulh and Froia, to name but a few. Imbrilim's resources were taxed to their limit by the influx.
“Ponclast won't have a chance,” Ashmael Aldebaran said to Pellaz. “Shadowy, otherlane-travelling assassins or not, the Varrs will be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. I can't see what else he can throw at us. He hadn't had time to prepare.”
“And if that is the case,” Pellaz said, “why hasn't he hidden himself away for some years, to build up his strength? I don't think we should be too confident. He has tricks up his sleeve, I'm sure.”
Two nights before the Gelaming and their allies rode to Fulminir, clouds came in from the east and smothered the stars. Rain fell relentlessly in warm heavy rods, turning any unflagged roads to mud. Pellaz felt restless. He could not eat his evening meal and had his staff turn Velaxis Shiraz away when he came to call. Pellaz went out to the stables, seeking solace in Peridot's silent company. Speak to me, Peridot, he urged, but the sedu only transmitted a sense of understanding. Pellaz rested his face against the sedu's broad brow and listened to the rain, its different cadences. He could not imagine the future. His body ached for an embrace he could not name. He wanted to be held fast. He wanted to be filled: he supposed he wanted Cal. But as anyhar will tell you, when the spirits of summer's deep hang in the air, shrouded in rain, and a wish goes out to the hidden stars, it is often answered.
When somehar came to the stable door, Pellaz sensed him before he heard or saw him. He glanced and saw a tall silhouette against the lamp-lit rain. For just the briefest moment, he thought it was Cal, and his heart clenched, then he realised it was Galdra har Freyhella. Pellaz turned back to Peridot, stroked his long nose. His hand was steady, but his heart and lungs were not. If was as if his breath steamed out of him, seeking the mouth of the Freyhellan, full of questions and the desire for answers. The sedu stamped his back feet.
Galdra came into the stable, fearless as ever. Perhaps he couldn't sense an atmosphere. “We just arrived,” he said. “The journey was something I'll not forget.”
“Your first sedu journey?”
“Yes. Tiahaar Vaysh said you were here. I thought it polite to report in to you personally. Also, I wanted to see you. I am concerned for you.”
Pellaz didn't say anything. If he should ask the Freyhellan to leave him alone, it would only prompt a lengthy conversation he really wasn't capable of having. To say or suggest anything else was, at that point, unthinkable.
“I understand how you must be feeling,” Galdra said, coming closer. “Everyhar is relying on you, expecting some kind of miracle. What do you think you'll do once you reach Fulminir?”
Pellaz smiled grimly. “I have no idea. Any suggestions?”
“I think you should ask your gods, your dehara, for guidance.”
“I do that every day, Galdra. I do it every moment. They are silent on the matter, which is to say my own heart is silent.”
“You will have my strength as a resource,” Galdra said. “Use it as you will.”
“Thank you.” Pellaz drew a breath. “Ashmael will lead our troops, and those of all the other tribes who are with us, but I feel in my guts that might isn't the answer. I'm not even sure what we'll find at Fulminir.”
“Whatever happens,” Galdra said, “it is my intention to be with you.” He put his hand over Pell's on Peridot's nose. Pellaz slid his fingers away and Galdra sighed.
“The potential of the future makes no difference to how I feel,” Pellaz said, but he realised they were just words, they didn't mean anything. He wished Galdra would leave, but he was also glad the Freyhellan had found him.
Perhaps sensing this, and realising he must seize the moment, Galdra put his hands upon Pell's shoulders and pushed him firmly but without roughness to the back of Peridot's stall. The sedu remained motionless, as if asleep: a groan echoed deep in his body.
Pellaz felt the wooden wall against his back. He could smell creosote, mixed with the scent of hay. Then somehow, as if he'd blacked out for a moment, he was sharing breath with Galdra. He couldn't remember who initiated it, or when. It was just happening. His fears for the days ahead marched from his mind like a horde of demons. Galdra flicked them away, one by one. His strength was indeed great: it was comforting to know he'd be around when the final moment came. He pulled away from Pellaz and murmured, “Whatever happens, you are capable of facing it and vanquishing it. Know your own strength, Tigron. Know that this moment of doubt is the lone vigil before the battle. You are what you are.”
“I will face it because I have to,” Pellaz said. “And even if you and a thousand other hara are with me, I feel I must do it alone.”
“Tonight, you do not have to be alone,” Galdra said.
It would be so easy to give in, Pell thought, to be carried away on a tide of desire and oblivion. If that should happen, would all be lost? Always, the superstitious fear that if he took aruna with the Freyhellan it would banish Cal from his life for ever. He was almost angry with himself for feeling that way, because hadn't Cal made his own feelings known by staying away? It was entirely possible there was another Galdra somewhere, somehar saying to Cal that he did not have to be alone. Yet I am stronger than that, Pellaz thought.
It was the most difficult task for Pellaz to draw away from that warm, giving body, but somehow he managed it. Somehow he was standing some feet away at the entrance to Peridot's stall, and Galdra was in shadow. Outside, the rain was still coming down heavily, and everything was shining in the light of the lamps above the stable door. Pellaz walked towards them. His body felt extremely cold, taken away from the fire.
“Pellaz, don't do this again. Don't walk away.”
Pellaz paused at the threshold. He heard Galdra behind him, heard Peridot move restlessly.
“You don't know what's going to happen,” Galdra said. “Neither of us does. We are on the brink of a big change for our kind. It might change us irrevocably. It could mean death.”
For you? Pellaz felt as if the threshold of the stables itself was the horizon for a change.
“Will you deny yourself even at this hour?” Galdra said softly.
Perhaps it was not a denial of the self, but a denial of the other. How many hara must he turn from, hara who cared for him, before he faced the truth? Galdra was right: there were no certainties, and in the face of that, no blame, no guilt.
Pellaz waited for the space of three heartbeats. Then he went back into the stables. He walked past Galdra, making for the wooden ladder that led to the hay loft. He climbed, unable to feel any sensation in his feet or fingers. He walked into the hay, stooping a little, for the ceiling was low up here. Kneeling among the bales, he took off his shirt. Galdra's head appeared at the top of the ladder. Pellaz didn't say anything. He sat down and took off the rest of his clothes, clasped his arms around his raised knees.
Galdra laughed softly, in an uncertain way. “Pellaz, I wish you'd say something.”
Pellaz stared at him. Didn't Galdra understand he couldn't and mustn't speak? His arms pimpled with cold. His jaw ached because he had clenched it. Yet his heart was beating strong and fast.
Galdra took off his wolfskin jacket and sat down beside Pellaz. He rubbed his hands over his face. Pellaz took hold of one of Galdra's hands, pulled him down into the soft scratchy bed. The smell of hay was so familiar in connection with aruna: it had surrounded Pellaz at Saltrock the first time he'd ever lain with another har. It was part of Cal's smell. Pellaz spoke to Aruhani in his mind, dehar of life, aruna and death, let this be for him, for Galdra. Let this be sacred and meant. Let it be healing.
He pushed Galdra onto his back, but Galdra fought him. “No,” he said. “It is meant to be another way. Trust me. There is something I have to gi
ve.”
Like the first time, Pellaz thought. Perhaps Aruhani would not let it happen any other way. Pellaz relaxed and spread himself out like a star. He was beyond har: he was elemental. His eyes were closed. He slid a hand beneath Galdra's loose shirt, felt the skin, hot and dry. He dreaded and craved the moment of union, then it was done, and they were moving together. Nothing else mattered. He was aware of every atom of Galdra inside him, so deep it hurt. And all the while, he could hear the rain hammering on the stable roof, the chatter as it sluiced down the drain pipes, the thousand different songs it inspired throughout the present moment, with no languorous visions to sweep him away. He wanted release, needed it quickly, needed this exquisite exchange to be over, or else it must last for eternity. A long time ago, Orien Farnell had taught Pellaz well in the arts of aruna magic. He knew how to control his body to bring a har to searing climax very quickly. He concentrated on controlling the energy; he built it into a shining spire, and then released it over Imbrilim as a fountain of protective force. In that way, what he did with Galdra was Grissecon, not aruna, and perhaps that justified it in his mind.
Galdra lay on him heavily, panting, and Pellaz stared up at the ceiling. He could see every strand of every tiny spider web up there. He could hear Peridot breathing and the muted noises of other sedim and horses in the stalls below.
After some minutes, Galdra rolled off him and lay beside him, one hand pressed against his eyes. Pellaz leaned over him and pulled down his hand. Distress oozed from the Freyhellan like black steam. Pellaz kissed Galdra's face, many times. The cheeks were wet beneath his lips. He had not meant to cause hurt.
“I wanted you to be with me,” Galdra said at last. “It would have meant so much. I wanted mutual feeling, not sacrifice.”
“I am here,” Pellaz said, the first words he had spoken. “Don't ask for what I cannot give. Some things are sacred to me, and the only har with whom I am soume is Cal. If it felt like sacrifice, it's because it was.”
“I'm sorry,” Galdra said.
“Don't be,” Pellaz said. “It wasn't pelki, Galdra. I complied.”
“I could feel what you were giving me, but it was distanced. It wasn't your heart or your soul, it was your mind.”
“I can give you some of my heart, but not in that way.”
“You will lend it to me, maybe, but it will never be mine.” Galdra reached out and touched Pell's face. “I will take what I can. I might be throwing myself into the fire, to be sent home lifeless, tied to the mast of a flaming ship, but I will take it.”
Pellaz sat up, reached for his clothes. Galdra had not undressed. Naked, Pellaz knew he felt far less vulnerable than the Freyhellan, who he now realised guarded intense need beneath his outer bravado.
“You are leaving now,” Galdra said sadly.
Pellaz stood up, fastened his trousers. “I must. I cannot spend the night with you, Galdra. Too many tongues would be quick to spread the news, and believe me, little goes unnoticed in the household of the Tigron. Vaysh knew you were looking for me.”
“Why should you care what anyhar thinks?”
Pellaz did not answer. “Where are you staying?”
“In the camp that has been allocated to my hara, beyond the town.”
Pellaz grimaced. “Too public. There is an inn called The Silver Eye, on North Ward Street. Take a room there. Disguise yourself somewhat and call yourself Flick Sarestes. I will meet you there tomorrow night at eight.”
“So I will be your dirty secret.”
“Not dirty, Galdra, and not exactly a secret. I just prefer some things to be private between us. I do not require a greedy audience. I hope you understand.”
“And the day after tomorrow, we leave here. And you will travel with your staff.”
“That's the way it must be, yes.”
“And beyond that?”
“I will be at The Silver Eye tomorrow at eight. Be there or not, as you decide.”
Galdra laughed bitterly. “You are adept at this, Pellaz. How did you learn to be so cold?”
“It would take a lifetime to tell you,” Pellaz said. “Climb out of your nest, Galdra. Look around at what's happening. I can't succumb to emotion now. This is all I can give. Take it or not. Your choice.” He finished dressing, ran his fingers through his hair, shedding strands of hay.
“Did it mean nothing to you?” Galdra said.
“It meant something,” Pellaz replied. “I don't yet know what. You wanted this so badly, Galdra. Remember that.”
“You are the most beautiful har that ever lived.”
“There are many beautiful hara. I am one of them, that's all, as are you.”
“And yet you strive to make me see you otherwise. I know what you're trying to do.”
Pellaz managed a bleak laugh. “I would not lie here and mull over such thoughts, if I were you. Go back to your hara. Forget about this until tomorrow.” He meant to leave, but then some shred of compassion bid him kneel at Galdra's side and kiss his brow. “I will take your essence with me, brother wolf. Part of you will be with me through the night.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
Pellaz went out into the rain, which had diminished to a fine misty drizzle. He walked back to the house of his son, so slowly because it felt as if his chest were full of heavy stones. The last of the rain soaked his hair and face. When he went back indoors, nohar would notice the tears.
Pellaz was woken early by Vaysh, who came into his bedroom and opened the curtains wide. “The sun is back, and the sedim have been busy all night. I'm sure there are more of them than there used to be, but it's difficult to tell because they're flashing in and out of the otherlanes like dragonflies. But best of all, you have a visitor you would not have expected in your wildest dreams.”
Pellaz sat up in bed, clasped his knees in an instinctive gesture of defence. “Who?”
“I'm not going to tell you,” Vaysh said. “I want to see your face when you meet him.”
“Vaysh, I command you to tell me, otherwise there will be dire repercussions.”
Vaysh threw himself down onto the bed, apparently in high spirits, a state he only ever displayed in front of Pellaz. If the Tigron should tell anyhar about this side of Vaysh's character, he would not be believed. Vaysh curled against his side. “It will not be a painful meeting, that's all I'll say.” He put one hand flat against Pell's chest. “You smell different. Are you all right?”
Pellaz pulled away from him and got out of bed. “I'm as fine as I can be, under the circumstances. Where am I to meet this surprise visitor?”
“I have arranged a sumptuous breakfast here. Your guests await your presence, downstairs. I was going to ask Abrimel to be present also, but he appears to be missing.” Vaysh got up and selected clean clothes for the Tigron from the wardrobe.
“Guests? You didn't mention there was more than one.” Pellaz allowed Vaysh to help him dress.
“Oh, it's a delegation.” Vaysh pulled Pell's hair from the neck of his shirt. “What's this? Straw? What were you up to last night?”
“It's hay, actually. I was with Peridot for a while, remember? I gave him some fodder.”
“I'd better brush it. If you turn up downstairs like this, it will give the wrong impression. The Tigron should not be out feeding animals, even if they are sedim.”
“The Tigron grew up feeding animals,” Pellaz said lightly. “Don't fuss, Vaysh.”
It took longer to wrench himself away from Vaysh's ministrations that he'd have liked, but eventually Pellaz was able to present himself in the dining room downstairs. He asked Vaysh not to be present, and it took no great empathy to sense Vaysh was far from pleased about that. Pellaz, however, wanted to confront whatever lay before him alone.
Three hara were already sitting at the table, being served fragrant coffee by Cleis. The visitors appeared absurdly out of place in the homely environment, but that was no surprise, because they were Kakkahaar, and their natural habitat was the de
sert. Pellaz recognised only one of them, and he was astounded by the feelings it inspired. At one time, he had scorned the Kakkahaar ways, even though they had helped train him. Now, he experienced the joy of meeting an old friend, somehar who would understand him. He came into the room.
“Tiahaar Lianvis, this is a great, but pleasant, surprise.”
The Kakkahaar leader stood up. He was dressed in flowing sand-coloured robes that draped around his slender body perfectly, like artful dunes. His tawny hair reached nearly to his knees. He bowed. “Pellaz – or is there some title I am expected to greet you by these days?”
Pellaz laughed and went spontaneously to embrace the Kakkahaar. “Don't stand on ceremony. You are partly my maker.”
Lianvis remained unyielding in his hold. “We have heard many things about you.”
