The Shades of Time and Memory

by Storm Constantine

  “Generous of you to share that information,” Cal said.

  Ponclast shrugged. “I assumed my allies had taken care it, and gave it no further thought. Unfortunately, even though the lead wolf of the pack was killed, a cub took on his strength and went howling to Immanion. He is of equal stature to you, Cal. It seems to me you might be here now because you know your avenue into Immanion has been closed with iron gates. You are here because there is nowhere else for you to go.”

  Cal's mask was perfect, but Ponclast could perceive that from it leaked a strange dark light. He had not known about the Freyhellan. “I cannot imagine where you got this intelligence,” Cal said coldly. “The Gelaming perceive my absence as indicative of weakness among the Aralisians. This is some propaganda they have put about for your benefit. They know who and what I am. They know I cannot simply be replaced.”

  Ponclast nodded, his face creased in apparent thought. “True, true. However, I have an agent in Imbrilim who told me of it. I wonder how far the Hegemony, or indeed Pellaz, will go to keep up appearances, eh?” Ponclast smiled at his guest and lifted the wine flagon. “Another drink, tiahaar?”

  While Cal was having his meeting with Ponclast, Tyson and Moon were left alone in a dank room just below ground level, which had a small primitive bathroom that was little more than a cupboard. A grid above their heads let in muted light, filtered through a thick tangle of grass. The afternoon sunlight had brought out the perfume of the greenery, and the musty smell of the old building was tinged with this essence of summer. The room was not too uncomfortable. There were four narrow beds in it, and from a cursory inspection, Moon had discovered that the blankets on them, though of course texture, were clean. Water had been left in an old stone urn in the darkest corner of the room, and not long after Cal had been taken away, a Teraghast unlocked the door and brought them a meagre supper of rough bread and rather charred meat. He did not speak as he left the food on the small table that stood against one of the walls, and after he'd done this, he went out and locked the door again.

  Tyson sat with his knees up on one of the beds, tearing up hunks of bread and stuffing them in his mouth. Moon lay on another bed, his arms behind his head, staring at the sunset through the grille. He did not feel hungry. “We're prisoners,” he said.

  “Yep,” Tyson agreed in a clipped tone.

  “I hope Cal works his magic on Ponclast. I don't like being locked up. They could do anything to us.”

  Tyson sighed through his nose. “I wonder whether Cal is simply insane. This was an insane plan.”

  “Which we followed willingly enough.”

  “Well, at least we know Fulminir is being rebuilt. I wonder where Azriel and Aleeme are.”

  “You should try to sense them,” Moon said. “Try to let them know we're here.”

  “Good idea,” Tyson said. He put down the remains of the bread. “We could do it together.” He got up from the bed and went to sit in the middle of the floor.

  Moon stared at him, unsure of what he thought of felt about his suggestion.

  “Come on,” Tyson said. “I won't bite.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Join hands, concentrate. Think you can manage that?”

  “Don't know. I'm not their relative like you are.”

  “Oh, don't be ridiculous. I know you spent enough time in their bed!”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Tyson gazed at Moon for several seconds. “Just what is your problem with me?”

  “No problem,” Moon said, wondering how Tyson could bear to suggest any kind of contact between them after all that happened. Wouldn't it be as painful to him as it would be to Moon? Perhaps Tyson had forgotten that night in the farmhouse. Perhaps it meant nothing to him.

  Moon got up and sat down before Tyson, scraped back his hair. He stared at Tyson's hands, which were held out to him. He found himself thinking of the Sea of Ghosts, the night, the moonlight, a kiss. He couldn't do it.

  Tyson sighed and withdrew his hands. “What is it, Moon? Are you ever going to tell me? Did I do something so bad? I didn't do anything.”

  Ponclast can do with us what he pleases, Moon thought. Who knows what that will be? “The worst thing you did?” he began. “You want to know what that was?”

  “Yes. I'm curious.”

  “If you must know, it was when you stared right at me over Ferany's shoulder while you shared breath with him. You were trying to punish me, and that was unfair.”

  Tyson expelled a short gust of laughter. “What? I've no idea what you mean. When the hell was that?”

  “If you don't remember...” Moon shook his head.

  “You said it was a childish crush,” Tyson said. “I remember our conversation next to the lake at home pretty well.”

  “So do I. You made your choice, fair enough.” Moon paused. “We can't do this. We cannot work together. Search for Azriel and Aleeme yourself.”

  “All right. I will.”

  Moon went back to his bed, turned his face to the wall. His heart was beating too fast. After some minutes, he heard Tyson sigh heavily. “It's no good,” Tyson said. “I can't concentrate. Moon, we have to talk.”

  Moon said nothing. He still felt angry.

  “Right,” Tyson said, “then I'll talk to your back. You're not asleep so you have to listen. We both know what this is all about – the unfinished business. Well, you should know that there wasn't one moment when I didn't think of you – on the journey from your old home, back in Galhea, and for a long time afterwards. But my decision was right. If we'd got together back then, it would have been wrong. And yes, maybe I did want to punish you, just for existing. I went back to Ferany to exorcise you, and that was wrong too. I can't be what he wants me to be. I don't want what he wants. The whole harish family thing turns my stomach. It's not right for me. And here I am, on a lunatic quest, with a hostling I barely know and a har who still sticks a blade in my heart whenever I look at him. I want you, Moon. Does that put a bandage over your pride? Knowing that, can we be civil? You have the upper hand now.”

  Moon felt sick, not least because Tyson had read him so accurately. He turned over and said savagely, “You can't have me now just because it's more convenient.”

  Tyson's expression was very close to the way Cal looked sometimes: bland but calculating. “Who says I expect that? I don't always act on my desires. It's something I've learned. The whole experience was tough on you, I know it was. But I can't unmake it, Moon. Neither do I expect you to come running to me now. I'm aware I probably sacrificed that. So resheathe your claws, pretty cat.”

  “Don't ever call me pretty!” Moon said. “I hate that.” He sat up. “Thank you for being honest.” He paused. “Will you stay with Ferany?”

  Tyson's shoulders slumped. “I shouldn't but...”

  “Convenience?”

  Tyson shrugged.

  “He knows about us,” Moon said. “He warned me off. Did you tell him?”

  “I've never said anything to him about you. He isn't my confidant.”

  “Well, whoever is must have told him. He's a good har. You're not fair to him.”

  “Yeah, he's perfect,” Tyson said. He wrinkled his nose. “It's strange, I just think that... I don't know... we're meant for more than breeding like humans. Too many hara are quick to go down that road now. I wonder if it's a distraction of some kind. Can't put it into words really.”

  “Somehar has to do it, Ty, otherwise we'd die out.”

  “I know. Sort of. But our life spans are so much longer than humans' were. If everyhar kept on reproducing, the whole planet would be covered in a seething mass of Wraeththu, far worse than anything humanity could have achieved.”

  “Valid point,” Moon said, “but I want to understand the drive. I understand what it must be like to want to reach for something higher, to go beyond reality... with somehar you love.”

  Tyson nodded. “I understand that too, but sometimes, I just get the feeli
ng that we've underestimated the potential of aruna, that we earth it too much, and the drive to create new life is somehow missing the point.” He laughed. “Listen to me. I'm as spiritual as a plank. I've never said these things to anyhar before. I've no idea why I've just done so to you.”

  “When did you start thinking this way?” Moon asked.

  Tyson held his gaze. “Oh, around the time I met you.”

  There was a silence, then Moon said, “Are you in love with me, Ty?”

  Tyson paused, pursed his lips. “I think so. I suppose I should say it aloud. I love you.”

  “Then why are we fighting?”

  “Because the potential scares me,” Tyson said. “It's like what happened to Lileem, when she took aruna with Terez. I feel I could lose myself somehow. And the strongest thing is that this is only just becoming clear to me, now, this moment.”

  “We're not that special,” Moon said. “We're no different to any other hara.”

  “No, we're not,” Tyson agreed. “Which is what makes it even more terrifying. Don't you feel it?”

  Moon considered. “No. I don't think I know what you mean. If I was wary of touching you, it was because I wanted it to mean something to you too.” He frowned. “But now you've said what you said... I don't know. I still don't want to.” He laughed. “This is very strange. It's like a nexus point.”

  “You might as well say it,” Tyson said. “Then we can put it in front of us and sit and stare at it while we're locked up in here, and try to figure out a meaning in which we are not mad.”

  “Okay.” Moon took a deep breath. He grimaced. “I can't.”

  “You can.”

  “All right. I love you.”

  “Was that so bad?”

  “Not really. How do we stare at it?”

  “We don't. That was just a joke. I think we simply accept it and see what happens. Do you feel better?”

  Moon nodded. “I think so.”

  “Me too. How weird. We've probably both just had the most intense exchange of our lives, and it was... I don't know...”

  “Casual,” Moon said. “It's probably just us, pride or something.”

  Tyson grinned. “In our position, Cobweb would be tearing out his hair and lamenting, being most dramatic.”

  “Pellaz would probably order somehar else to do it for him. I expect he used to send official messages to Cal.”

  “Yeah, he would have done. I can't imagine Pell having a romantic moment, casual or not!”

  The conversation continued in this light-hearted vein, until Cal returned. Once his escort guard had left them, Cal said, “Why are you sitting in the dark? Our hosts have provided lighting, I understand.”

  “We didn't notice it had got dark,” Tyson said. “How did it go?”

  Cal stood at the table and lit the oil lamp that had been left there for them. “So so. Ponclast is suspicious, which is only natural.”

  “Do we have to stay locked up?” Moon asked.

  “For the time being, yes,” Cal replied. “We must simply be co-operative.”

  “Did you find out anything about Azriel and Aleeme?” Tyson said.

  Cal was staring at the lamp. “Not yet.”

  “Then what did you talk about? You haven't been away for long.”

  “I just tried to win his trust. It'll take time.” Cal joined his companions, who were sitting on the floor. “He's changed, you know. It was quite a shock to see him. Whether Gebaddon did that to him, or something else, he will certainly be a match for Pell now.”

  “Changed how?” Tyson asked.

  Cal pulled a wry face. “Difficult to describe. He's become more than he used to be.” He grinned. “He's become... ponclastic!”

  Moon and Tyson both laughed at this. Moon was aware that he felt light-headed, almost on the verge of hysteria. It would be impossible to sleep that night.

  Cal fixed him with a stare. “So, moonling, what can you tell me about Galdra har Freyhella?”

  “I've never heard of him. Who is it?”

  “Nohar. Ponclast mentioned him, that's all. Are you sure you've not heard anything about him in Immanion?”

  “Absolutely. A lot of hara were arriving from all over the place before I left the city. I got to hear about the most important ones. You know what Immanion's like for gossip.”

  Cal grimaced. “Indeed I do. Well, we can only assume this Freyhellan is not that important, then.” He braced his hands against his knees. “Ponclast assured me he'd move us to better quarters tomorrow. He doesn't trust me enough to let us have free rein here yet, but I've roused his curiosity. This might be a long game. Be prepared for it. We have to become part of Fulminir. It's what we're here for. Believe it. To do otherwise would be dangerous. Make friends. Be open, but not too full of questions. Only the right kind of questions. Understand?”

  “Won't he be scanning us now?” Moon asked.

  “Probably,” Cal replied, “but we have nothing to hide, do we?”

  Moon glanced at Tyson, who smiled at him. “No,” he said. “We don't.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Pellaz har Aralis travelled to Imbrilim at summer's height. This was long past the solstice, deep in the heavy heart of the season, that magical time when the air shimmers with ghosts, and the landscape seems to breathe so loud you can hear it. These were the last days of summer. Soon the leaves would turn and the balmy days would be just a memory. Pellaz couldn't help fearing this might be the path of his life from now on.

  The Gelaming had sent agents to carry out surveillance on Fulminir, but only one had returned alive. With maddened eyes, he told of flickering shadows armed with knives, creatures that moved so fast it was impossible to defend yourself against them. They had covered the survivor's body with cuts, but had let him live. Somehar had to ride home with the news. Since then Swift and Seel Parasiel had moved their forces closer to Fulminir, to observe the citadel and its traffic from a safe distance. So far, they had reported nothing of importance.

  After his attack on Galhea, Ponclast had ceased attacking Parsic settlements. Imbrilim was another matter. Assassins had attacked both humans and hara in the fields outside the town, random raids when they set the fields to burning. However, once sedim arrived in Imbrilim, these attacks ceased, mainly because the sedim were able to predict when they would occur, being sensitive to movement in the otherlanes. They could move as fast as Ponclast's forces and had even taken a captive, who had cut his own throat before the Gelaming could question him.

  At the suggestion of Velaxis Shiraz, Pellaz organised for his household to take up temporary residence in Abrimel's home. Abrimel had agreed to this, and was even present when the party arrived. Looking at him, Pellaz wondered how such a har could ever have sprung from his flesh, or from Caeru's for that matter. Abrimel was a contained and ascetic har, a creature of precise movements and habits. He was icily polite, a stranger. Pellaz considered he might have looked like Abrimel, had he been raised on bread and water by fanatical monks, who scorned life's pleasures.

  “Thank you for accommodating us,” he said to Abrimel.

  “I have plenty of room,” Abrimel replied.

  “You must tell me about your work,” Pellaz said, hoping his son wouldn't take him up on the offer.

  “You'd find it boring,” Abrimel said. “You have far more pressing matters to think about.”

  That first night, communication was received from Shilalama. Pellaz had invited the Roselane to the conclave of tribes, but Opalexian had declined to attend. The Gelaming knew, from Kamagrian who worked in Immanion, that some parazha were actually quite eager to join forces with Wraeththu: not all of them were the spiritual mystics that comprised Opalexian's dream of the ideal Kamagrian community. Many of them, who had travelled widely in the world, felt that the only way to deal with the current threat was to strike back. As more than one parage had said to Gelaming friends, “Hiding in a cell, meditating upon the meaning of life, is pointless if something bursts out of the othe
rlanes and cuts your throat.”

  Opalexian might not have sent a horde of Amazonian warriors to Immanion after the existence of the Kamagrian became common knowledge, but it was clear there was more than a few willing Amazons waiting to take up arms. Now, a message came from Kalalim, Opalexian's palace, which was received by one of the Listeners. The parage, Tel-an-Kaa, a trusted aide of Opalexian, was on her way to Imbrilim. She would offer assistance in whatever way she could.

  “It might not be much,” Vaysh said to Pellaz, “but it's a start. I'd never have thought Opalexian would let any of her parazha near our forces.”