Student of Kyme

by Constantine, Storm

  ‘The High Codexia intimidates me.’

  ‘All the more reason to do what I ask. You shouldn’t be intimidated. He doesn’t judge you as much as you think.’

  Since I hadn’t even considered Malakess might judge me, this told me he probably did. For some reason, Huriel had set his heart on me becoming acquainted with his mentor. Perhaps he sensed undercurrents of discomfort in the house. Whatever I said, he wouldn’t listen to me. I couldn’t tell him the real reason for my lack of enthusiasm, though.

  So, I had to steel myself for this encounter. I could write fast, and if I kept quiet, Malakess might speak quickly. The whole idea of the High Codexia annoyed me intensely. I couldn’t forgive him for his appearance, because I still thought he had no right to look like that. At least I wouldn’t have to go to his house or his office in the library, since he was coming here to Huriel’s. He spends a lot of time here. It makes me wonder whether his own house isn’t very homely.

  When he arrived, Huriel called me from the kitchen, where I was talking with Ystayne and Rayzie. I’d needed inane chatter to keep the monsters in my head at bay. Dutifully, I went to Huriel’s office, note pad and pen in hand. It couldn’t be that difficult, I kept telling myself, because this is not Ysobi. You must remember that.

  I closed the door to Huriel’s office behind me, sensing the presence of another, even though I didn’t raise my eyes. I sat down before the desk, behind which Malakess loomed invisibly, and said, ‘I’m ready, tiahaar. Please dictate to me. I can write very fast.’

  He dictated to me for over an hour, so that my fingers began to ache. His voice was nothing like Ysobi’s sensual low tones, being quite brittle and formal. What he dictated to me was dry, all about the dissemination of knowledge from human times, and how hara needed to be educated to believe it wasn’t inherently evil. Rayzie would have been so much more suited for this job. Malakess thought that not everything from the old days was bad, and much of it should be salvaged. I couldn’t disagree with that. But he went on to reiterate (to the hara who would read his words and know this fact well, of course) that some tribes have a visceral loathing of anything human, especially their technology and industry. Malakess was trying to propose a middle way, which did not exploit the world or its creatures, but which was forward looking.

  After an hour, he paused. ‘Stop writing,’ he said.

  I did so.

  Malakess sighed. ‘So many hara have said these things before, not least members of the Hegemony in Immanion. Why should I think I can make a difference?’

  I didn’t reply, simply because I didn’t think he expected me to.

  He laughed coldly. ‘I take it you agree with me, then.’

  ‘I have no opinion, tiahaar,’ I said, ‘since I don’t have the experience to judge.’

  ‘But what do you think, Gesaril? You’re second generation. You’re not tainted by preconceptions. Tell me what you think.’

  I shrugged awkwardly, examining the pen in my hands. ‘I don’t know. Everything I’ve heard sounds like a good idea to me, but then I haven’t heard any other har talk this way.’ I paused. ‘Except for my friend, Rayzie, who works here. He’s very interested in anthropology.’ I was glad I could remember the word.

  ‘Are you interested in it?’

  ‘I like to listen to Rayzie,’ I said. ‘Is there still anything you wish me to take down, tiahaar?’

  There was a silence from behind the desk. I wondered if I’d been too rude. I wished he wouldn’t try to talk to me.

  Then he said, ‘Gesaril.’

  I squirmed, but tried not to show it. ‘Yes, tiahaar?’

  ‘Will you look at me?’

  Reluctantly, I raised my eyes for a second, let them get scorched, then lowered my gaze.

  I heard him sigh. ‘Look at me, please. For more than a second.’

  What choice did I have? I looked up and saw Ysobi sitting there. I tried to think there was no similarity, or that what similarity existed was only small. It was like putting pins into my eyes. ‘Yes, tiahaar?’

  ‘I have to say something about this, because it puzzles me. Whenever I run into you, you look at me as if I’m about to torture you to death and then you flee. Have I unwittingly offended you?’

  I’m not prone to blushing, but coloured up at that. ‘No… no tiahaar. Nothing.’

  ‘Then, why? You haven’t looked at me once today since you’ve been here, until I asked you to. Is this some extravagant form of etiquette you were taught at home?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not really. I wish only to be polite.’

  ‘It’s more than that,’ he said. ‘I can sense it. I think you should tell me.’

  ‘I would like to go now, please,’ I said desperately.

  He was silent another moment, during which time I looked away from him, then I heard him say, ‘Yes, go.’

  I fled.

  Later, Huriel came to me. I was sitting on my bed staring at the notes I had written, my heart still staggering and reeling at different moments.

  ‘Would you write out what Malakess dictated to you in a neat hand?’ Huriel asked.

  I nodded. ‘Of course.’

  Huriel sat on my bed and folded his arms, always a sign he felt we needed to talk. Now, I couldn’t even look at him. ‘Gesaril,’ he said. ‘I think we should have a little chat.’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Malakess isn’t pleased,’ he said. ‘Why are you so rude to him?’

  ‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘I don’t mean to be.’

  ‘You’ve obviously taken an instant dislike to him, which I find perplexing. He’s not a har to dislike, Gesaril.’

  ‘I have no opinion about him,’ I said. ‘I don’t know him.’

  Huriel exhaled through his nose. ‘I insist that you tell me what the problem is.’

  In those words were the reminders of how much Huriel had given me, with no cost attached, of any kind. I looked at him then. ‘It’ll sound really stupid. I don’t want to tell you.’

  He displayed his palms. ‘I don’t care how stupid it is, I just want to know.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t guessed. I can’t believe you haven’t guessed.’

  ‘Guessed what?’ He sounded exasperated.

  ‘Malakess looks like Ysobi,’ I said, hating the words, because they really did sound stupid.

  Huriel frowned. ‘Does he?’

  ‘You must know he does!’ I blurted. ‘How can you not see it?’

  He shrugged. ‘Well… I suppose there is a slight resemblance… the hair, the shape…. They are both unusually tall. I don’t know. Is this why you’ve been so rude to him?’

  ‘It’s his eyes,’ I said, realising it for the first time, those piercing, unsettling cobalt eyes, ‘and yes, the hair, the shape.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ murmured Huriel. ‘In that case, you should probably confront the problem. There’s no sense in trying to avoid him. It’s ridiculous. He’s not Ysobi, you know that. Do you desire him?’

  ‘No!’ How could Huriel think that? Rayzie would say it’s because he’s first generation.

  Huriel shifted on the bed. ‘Well, seeing as Malakess is my closest friend as well as my mentor, he deserves an explanation. You must tell him. He’s concerned he’s affronted you in some way.’

  ‘You tell him!’ I said ‘Really, it’s nothing. I know it’s ridiculous. Please… no… don’t tell him. I’ll work with him tomorrow and the day after. I’ll look at him and be nice. I promise.’

  ‘No, Gesaril.’ Huriel was stern. ‘You went through a harrowing experience in Jesith. This is part of the healing process. You must tell Malakess your thoughts. Look him in the face and realise he’s nothing like Ysobi at all. This is for you, not for him.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’d put me through that,’ I said bitterly.

  ‘It’s because I care for you that I can,’ he said gently. ‘Really, Gesaril, Malakess is no ghost. He’s different. You need to see that.’
/>   ‘I love him… Ysobi,’ I said.

  Huriel nodded once. ‘I know.’ He paused. ‘If you wish to speak to me about it, you can, you know. I know Ysobi very well.’

  ‘Then why should you want to listen to me?’

  Huriel gave me a gentle smile. I wanted to trust him. ‘I know you’re not a fool. And it’s sometimes better to get something out in the open rather than keep it locked up inside… don’t you think?’

  I nodded. ‘I really want to hate him, but I can’t. Why is that? When I see his face in my head, I think he’s not even that attractive.’ I put my head in my hands, rubbed my temples hard. ‘Why did he affect me so, Huriel? Why can’t I banish him from my head and my heart? It makes no sense. He abandoned me to the wolves. That’s what it felt like. He made me love him, then he threw me away. How can I love a har like that?’

  I glanced at Huriel and he was inspecting me keenly. I realised I’d said something that had either surprised or angered him. ‘What do you mean exactly?’ he asked crisply.

  ‘You know,’ I said. ‘You know the story.’

  ‘I know that you demanded something from him emotionally, then caused trouble when your… desire… wasn’t reciprocated. Ysobi has a certain effect on hara, especially given the nature of his work. I don’t think he realised what he was doing to you, and in that way I can see you weren’t totally responsible.’

  I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Who told you all that? Him?’

  ‘Perhaps I would like to hear your side of it now.’

  ‘What is there to say? He said so many things to me, and if he didn’t mean them, it makes him a monster. I thought… I was given to believe my feelings were returned. Do you think I would have abased myself like that otherwise? I do have pride, you know.’

  Huriel put his head to one side, stared at me, and I wouldn’t flinch away from his gaze. ‘Looking at you, I can see you are telling the truth as you see it.’

  ‘As I see it?’ I thumped the bed with both hands. ‘It was unmistakeable, even though since then I’ve sometimes questioned my own sanity about it. I wish I could replay my memories for you, like pictures on a wall. That is the cruelty of it all, doubting myself. Do you understand?’

  ‘Tell me everything,’ he said. ‘I want to know.’

  And so I did; all the trivial little details I could remember. The conversations we’d had, when I’d known, in the deepest core of my heart, the subject under discussion was not always what it appeared to be. The hidden language of love; a love so secret, so forbidden, it had be disguised in pictures, in code. Aruna had been part of my training, yes, but in fact Ysobi and I had been more intimate in other ways. The glances that had lingered too long. The knowledge in a har’s eyes. The way my flesh had ignited when he’d stood behind me and the aura of his body had touched mine. His voice. His gaze holding mine. He had stared into my eyes and said these things. I will always be here. I’m not going anywhere. You can say anything to me… anything. We must be honest with each other.

  He had taken my hands in his. He had held me for hours as I’d spilled my heart to him. I’m not who you think I am. I’m not worth it. But still he’d held me, and still we had continued along that treacherous path we’d set our feet upon.

  Black crows in a white sky, flying away. His words.

  As I relived this pain, so vivid because in my mind it wasn’t a memory, it was still happening, I tried to speak as honestly as I could. I tried to be objective. That’s difficult when you’re trying to convince somehar you’re not mad or a liar. Even as I was speaking, a mean little voice inside me was saying, ‘ah, but did it really happen that way?’ I spoke so openly, I forgot who I was speaking to. I wonder if that was a mistake?

  When I ran out of words, Huriel stood up and walked to the window. He stared out of it for some moments, then shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to say. That is a very different account to what I’ve been told.’

  ‘Of course it is. But do you believe me?’

  He came back to me. ‘How can I not when you speak with such rawness? How can I not believe you when I look into your eyes and see your pain? It’s my belief no har can feel as you do and it not be based upon… something.’ He grimaced. ‘Ysobi was one of my most gifted students, and sometimes he scared me with his intensity. Hara are drawn to him, and although he might like to be modest about it, I think he knows only too well what effect he can have, and it’s my belief he uses that for his own advantage, consciously or not. He likes to be liked, to be loved.’ Huriel sighed, and for a brief moment looked wistful.

  I stared at him, shocked, wondering whether Ysobi had exercised his arunic arts on this dry, bookish har.

  Huriel laughed, clearly having picked up my loud, unguarded thoughts. ‘It was part of our training, Gesaril, although perhaps not as great a part as you experienced.’ He patted my shoulder. ‘Whatever happened, it’s done. If he broke your heart, then let it mend. Don’t bring Ysobi here with you. Make your life anew. Part of that is banishing the phantoms. You do understand me, don’t you?’

  I inclined my head. ‘Yes. I understand.’

  ‘I’ve told Malakess what a bright har you are. He knows how highly I regard you. It would please me if you could be comfortable in his presence.’

  I can see the sense in it. Ysobi has no right to be here, nor to possess Malakess in my eyes.

  Later

  I walked through a miserable drizzle to the house of Malakess. It was actually a lot smaller than Huriel’s and nowhere near as interesting. I really can’t say what was on my mind as I trudged up the drive. I wasn’t as nervous or angry as I could have been. Neither did I fear humiliation. It was strange. I told myself the old Gesaril would have made a big drama out of this situation; the new Gesaril would sort out the problem quickly so he didn’t have to brood about it.

  The front door to the house was weathered and the brass knocker, in the shape of a lion’s head, was dull with neglect. An ancient wisteria grew up the side of the house, but it needed pruning and tidying, since it had lots of dead branches within it, and the living bits covered many of the windows. It seemed I’d been right about Malakess’s abode; no wonder he preferred the comforts of Huriel’s house. I banged the knocker three times and imagined the sound reverberating through empty corridors. Would Malakess have furniture? Maybe he only lived in a couple of rooms.

  After only a short wait the door opened. I’d prepared my speech, but then found myself tongue-tied, because it wasn’t Malakess who’d answered my knock. I should have anticipated he’d have staff. After all, he was High Codexia. A young har stood before me, refined of feature with long fairish hair. He peered at me in enquiry, which suggested this household didn’t receive many visitors.

  ‘Good day, tiahaar,’ I began. ‘Is Tiahaar Malakess at home?’

  The har before me frowned a little. ‘He’s very busy. I’m his assistant. Can I take a message?’

  Oh, so he was a guard dog. I inclined my head. ‘Not really. I work for Tiahaar Huriel, and he has asked me to speak to Tiahaar Malakess personally.’

  The har wasn’t convinced, I could tell, but he thought about it for a few seconds, then relented. ‘You’d better come in.’

  I too bowed my head politely and stepped over the threshold. Inside, I could smell roses and the hallway was surprisingly light and airy. A white tiled floor supported a well polished table and a stand by the door for coats. Perhaps Malakess was renovating this house gradually.

  ‘Wait here,’ said the assistant and marched off down a corridor straight ahead. He had the same proprietorial air that Jassenah in Jesith had had; maybe Malakess was his Ysobi. Suddenly, the idea of my confession became infinitely less attractive.

  I didn’t have to wait long. After only a minute or so, the assistant returned. His expression was not at all friendly. ‘He’ll see you. Follow me.’

  I said nothing, but complied with his order. He led me into the house and paused at a door, upon which he knocked with a single knuck
le. It all seemed a bit ridiculous to me, since Malakess knew I was here. A voice came from the room within: ‘Enter!’

  The assistant opened the door, pulled a mordant face at me, and indicated I should obey the words of the great har. ‘Thank you,’ I said, smiling sweetly, and stepped into the room. The door was closed behind me so swiftly, the resulting gust of wind nearly made me stagger.

  This was clearly Malakess’s office. There were book shelves, but they weren’t as crammed as Huriel’s were. The desk was also smaller and suspiciously tidy. I got the impression that Malakess had come here swiftly to meet me, and that the room wasn’t used much usually. He was leaning against the desk, arms folded, a tall lean shape poured perfectly into the room. His hands were amazing. ‘What can I do for you, Gesaril?’ he asked. ‘Huriel has a message for me?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ I replied. ‘He suggested I come and speak to you.’ This was not going to be easy, I could tell. Perhaps I should make an excuse and leave.

  Malakess nodded once. ‘Sit down… please.’ He moved behind the desk and took a seat there. Now this was like a formal interview.

  I sat down on a window seat, which was in fact the only available place, and it was just a fraction too far from the desk for comfort. I might even have to raise my voice a little. This was absurd. ‘Huriel thinks I’ve been disrespectful to you,’ I said, improvising my script wildly, since I now realised I hadn’t a clue what to say.

  Malakess raised his eyebrows. ‘And you’re here to apologise?’

  ‘Yes… I’m sorry.’ There, that had been surprisingly easy.

  ‘So, are you going to tell me now the reason behind your behaviour?’

  Hmm, I wasn’t going to get away that easily after all. I refused to squirm, but steeled myself to look him in the eye. It was like being struck by a small bolt of lightning; those same electric eyes. A small cold part of me suspected Malakess knew exactly what I felt, but was cruel enough to make me say it. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me suffer. ‘It has never been rudeness, but discomfort,’ I said, trying to sound aloof and objective. ‘You remind me of somehar, that’s all. Sometimes, it’s difficult to ignore the jolts of recognition a deceptively familiar face invokes. There’s nothing more to it than that. I never intended to offend you, tiahaar.’