Someone came to meet us, A thin, rangy horse galloped toward us along the lake's stony shore. Cal stopped dead. He was smiling.
"Behold exotica, Pell!" he exclaimed, with a grin from ear to ear. He who rode the thin horse skidded it to a halt in front of us. Pebbles flew everywhere. When he leapt from the animal's back, it was in a wild tangle of flying rags, tassels and flying red, yellow and black hair. (Another reality shift shocked me cold as the sexes mingled. Was this creature male or female, or could it be both. . .?!)
"Cal! They signaled it was you!" he cried and, with restrained enthusiasm, they embraced.
In the twilight I could just see his amazing, purposefully tattered clothing and incredible hair. If Cal had ever seemed alien to me, there are no words to describe my first impressions of the second Wraeththu I had ever met. A twinge of despair wriggled through me as I waited, small and silent, while they greeted each other. Fumes rose off the lake like ghosts and the smell was making me feel sick. Cal suddenly remembered me. Partly disentangling himself, he said, with a wave of his arm, "Seel, this is Pell. I abducted him from a peasant farm." (Laughter). Nettled, and feeling this was wildly exaggerated, I moved my head in acknowledgment. Seel assessed me in an instant, fixing a huge, disarming grin across his face. "Welcome to Saltrock," he said in a way that let me know I was irrelevant. We strolled toward the town. Seel linked his arm through Cal's and chattered continuously about things and people I did not know. The horses plodded behind. Seel overwhelmed me. He burned with an undeniable dynamism, eclipsing even Cal's charisma, although he was not as tall. When he noticed I was trailing behind, he decided to make a good impression on Cal. I was swooped upon and wrapped in leather-strapped, metal-studded arms. "You look so tired. It's not far. Lean on me."
It pains me to remember what a bad-tempered wretch I was then. The only thing that kept me from shrugging Seel off with a curse, was that I lacked the guts.
Saltrock was my first true encounter with the Wraeththu way of life. I cannot deny it astounded me. I cannot remember what I was expecting, but Saltrock was a real town, or the beginnings of one. Admittedly the buildings were constructed of a mad variety of materials, with seemingly little organization. Some were quite large and made of solid wood, others little more than thrown-together metal sheeting or mere tents of animal hides. Light was provided by flaming torches that gave off an oily reek, hurricane lamps and thick candles. The inhabitants, creatures as startling as Seel, exuded spirit and energy. Many recognized Cal as we passed among them. Everywhere the drabness and disarray was disguised by gaudy decoration.
Wraeththu boys of bizarre appearance with painted faces strutted through the crazy streets; some were still working into the night. There was a sound of hammering. All carried guns or knives. I once caught a glimpse of a rusting, flashy car sagging in a sheltered corner and a corral with a high fence teeming with restless horses. Nobody looked at me and the atmosphere, though strange, did not feel hostile.
Seel's house was a little way out of the center of Saltrock, set apart from the other buildings. It was an incredible sight; a large wooden, gothic anachronism. Only skilled carpenters could have produced such a thing. The doors were not locked. Seel said to me, as yet unaware of the simplicity of my origins, "Sorry, we have no electricity here yet." Someone, with a crazy, spiked mop of black hair, had taken our horses from us. I had seen the whites of his eyes, like a mad beast, gleaming and the grin he had fleered at me was nothing other than feral.
We went into the house. "Eventually, we'll get some kind of generator," Seel continued conversationally, "but it takes time. We have to steal things bit by bit. We don't have much to barter with as yet."
The entrance hall was fairly bare, but smelled of clean wood. Stairs led to an upper gallery with doors leading off. Three more doors led off the hall. A boy, who looked a little younger than myself, sauntered out from the back of the house, wiping his hands on a cloth. He was very pale, almost white, with an exquisite pixie face. His head was shaved, except for a long black ponytail growing from the top which fell over his shoulder.
"Flick, where's the food? Cal's starving. Get back in the kitchen," Seel ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand. The boy retreated with a shrug.
"Equality, equality," Cal said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, I know, I know. I'm an ill-humoured bastard who should make a living out of slavery," Seel replied with humor. "If he wants to live here, he works. He's lazy as fuck half the time." He ushered us into one of the rooms. "My nest," he said. We dumped what luggage we were carrying in the hall and followed him in.
"Seel, you Sybarite!" Cal exclaimed with a laugh. Silks and tassels hung everywhere. Lights, suspended from the ceiling in bowls of intricately worked oriental metal, threw out a dim, cozy glow. Perfumes smouldered in corners, exuding a silvery smoke.
"Sit down, sit down," Seel urged impatiently. He tried to hide from us that he was proud of his home and pleased that Cal had admired it. Cautiously, I lowered myself into a heap of black and gold cushions. Protesting, a Siamese cat wriggled from underneath me and shot out through the door. Incense burned behind me with a perfume so strong it made my head ache, although the soda-stink still burned my throat.
"I'll get you some refreshment," Seel told us. Moments later, we could hear him arguing with Flick in the kitchen.
Left alone with Cal, I did not know what to say to him. The last half-hour had passed like a dream. I was dazed. Cal looked awkward.
"Well!" he began, with a pitiful attempt at forced heartiness. "Seel has improved this place since I was last here. He was living in a tent then! What do you think of him?"
He did not look at me when he said it and did not see me shrug helplessly. I was thinking, "Oh God, he's wishing he hadn't brought me here," and decided I knew now why he had never touched me. He had been waiting for Seel. I had a lot to learn.
"Seel's the top dog around here," he said. "This place wouldn't exist if it wasn't for him." He stood up and walked around the room, examining things. "God, it's good to be back!"
Seel came back in clutching a bottle in one hand and three long-stemmed glasses in the other. "Champagne, gentlemen?" he queried.
"Seel, how do you get this stuff?" Cal asked him, impressed.
Seel winked at him. "Treachery, corruption and thievery of course, how else?"
He offered me a glass. I had never even heard of champagne and did not like the taste much. It was very difficult not to keep staring at Seel, but he did not seem to mind. He was dressed mostly in thin, torn leather and had the same build as Cal, sleek and fit, and that same shifting male/female ambience. His olive-skinned face was almost inhumanly symmetrical and the almond-shaped eyes were lined with kohl. Inadequacy swamped me. It was inconceivable I could ever feel equal to Wraeththu strangeness, and, as fear prodded me sharply, I wondered: "How did they become so alien?" Presumably, most, if not all, had come from humble origins like mine once. Something other than human blood coursed through their veins now, I concluded. A thought that proved uncannily perceptive.
"Colt and Stringer might call in later," Seel told Cal. "But if you want to crash out somewhere, that's OK."
Cal rubbed his face. "No. I'd like to see them again. Just kick me if I drop off." The wine had got to him. His eyes were half closed.
Seel looked puzzled about something, as if he had only just thought of it. "Cal?" A careful question.
"What?" Cal suddenly looked defensive.
Seel's eyes flickered over me. "I've a feeling you're going to hate this, but what happened to Zack?" It would have taken more than a knife to cut the atmosphere. I cringed in discomfort.
Cal made a strange, hissing noise through his teeth. "Not now, Seel. Not now," he replied, his voice strained and tired. Never had I felt so out of place. I should not be there. Another's place, not mine.
"Hell, I knew I was going to regret that," Seel sighed, smiling ruefully at Cal. He deftly changed the subject, talking with wit and vigor. Saltrock gossi
p. I did not really hear him and neither, I think, did Cal. Zack. I had a feeling he was the one who ended up as raw meat.
Flick brought us food. I was hungry but still shy and only nibbled at what was offered; chunks of meat cooked in herbs, and baked potatoes. Hot, melted butter spiced with garlic dripped over them. I regretted my throat was closed. Seel kept glancing at me. "Flick, go talk with Pell," he said, after a while, and turned back to Cal. Flick threw himself into the cushions beside me. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a tattered T-shirt and looked absurdly graceful. He regarded first my mussed plate and then my flushed face.
"Finish your wine. Come with me," he whispered. "You need some air."
The wine hit my stomach like hot ashes. The room lurched as I stood up and I bumped into things as I followed him across the room. I was grateful to get out although I was convinced Cal would start talking about me as soon as I was gone. Half-drunk, I could not be sure if I was really there. Maybe it was a dream and we were still in the desert. Soon I would wake and Cal would be staring at the stars, dead people in his eyes.
Flick steadied me and led me out into the open air. We were in a kind of courtyard. Low buildings shambled around its edge and the air stung my tongue anew with the faint acridity of soda. Above us the sky was rich, dark blue, vividly studded with stars. The eyes of the dead. Raw meat. Dreams.
To my left the roofs of the buildings were touched with a weak luminescence that rose from the lake. An underground, sulphurous light. My chest was tight with painful, intoxicated misery. Flick hovered like a phantom, watching. I sat down heavily on the sandy ground. I could not contain it. Like a burst abscess my fear and discomfort spurted out of me. I wept and wept, hearing my sobs echo like the cries of a child waking from nightmare. I hated this place. The strangeness, the stench, the outlandishness of the people. They are not people. Something else. I was alone. Cal was a stranger, remote and calculating. I had been a fool to go with him. Why had I not thought of what I was getting into? I could never be one of them, never. I did not trust Cal and was terrified of what might happen to me. Raw meat. Into the soda, into the limepits. Curling up as tight as I could, trembling animal howls shuddered out of me. And then, there were arms around me. Then the warmth of another body, a living thing, dream whispers in my hair. No language I had ever heard. Flick, an unlikely comforter, crooning reassurance.
"Come on, come on, get it all out," he urged, as if I was being sick.
Through my tears, I managed a bleak laugh. It was the first time in my life, however, that I had wept and not felt ashamed. Flick asked me what the matter was.
"Scared," I bleated, and all my fears tumbled out, mostly incomprehensible, even to myself. Flick listened patiently, saying nothing, until I had finished.
"Many feel like this at first," he told me. A wistful smile quivered across his face. "You have given up everything you had, everything you knew. It's bound to feel strange. Look at it like this: you come to the world of Wraeththu as naked and helpless as a human baby. You will learn, gradually, just as babies do. Don't expect everything to happen at once. It takes time and there are reasons for that. The Wraeththu are mostly good people. Here at Saltrock they are; you are safe. They will not harm you, especially as you're with Cal."
I thumped the ground angrily with my hand. "Cal!" I spat bitterly. "Safe? With him? He doesn't even live in this world. I hardly know him. My welfare is nothing to him!"
Flick's face was perplexed. He could not think of anything to say. I thought it was because he presumed Cal and I to be closer than we actually were. "He and Seel are laughing at me!" I announced, hating the petty whine in my voice, but powerless to control it.
"No, they're not!" Flick answered sharply. His eyes looked hurt. "Why should they?" He thought I was an idiot.
"Because . . . because I'm nothing, a peasant. I know nothing, and because I was fool enough to let Cal take me away from home . . . and for what?!" I was so angry I could not keep still. I stood up, unsteadily, to continue my ravings. "Why did he do this? Why did he entice me away with him? I don't understand. I'm no use to him or to anyone here. I have no skill to offer you. Cal won't even listen to my questions half the time, let alone answer them. I want answers! What happens next? Where do I go and how do I live?"
Flick would not shout back at me. "You must trust Cal a little more," he said quietly. "He won't abandon you, if that's what you're frightened of. There's so much you don't know. Ignore the fear, it's nothing. I know Cal better than you. He's sick. He's not himself. Give him time." I shrugged and glowered at the floor. "Look, I can't tell you the things you want to know, Pell. It's not my place to. All I can say is that Cal wouldn't have brought you here unless he was sure you were the right person. You must learn to be patient." Looking at his face the anger went out of me. I knew I had made a fool of myself, and was thankful only Flick had witnessed it. "You OK now?"
"Yes." My voice was a sulky mumble. "I'm sorry."
"Forget it. You're tired. You're wrecked. Moan again tomorrow and I'll break your head." His smile, so genuine, I felt like crying again.
Wraeththu; growing. Something great stirring. My perspective was all wrong. Self-centered
I had to learn, or unlearn, my own importance. Only then, could I begin to see. Only then could Wraeththu touch me.
CHAPTER TWO
The light beneath the door
Self-discipline must be the hardest principle to master. Second is tolerance and then acceptance. That first night at Saltrock, I began my education. Something that Flick had said to me made me face myself; a facet of maturing I might never have encountered at home on the cable farm. Wrapped up in the small bit of the world that our ego experiences, it is easy to lose track of absolute reality, to warp actual events to suit ourselves. Wraeththu have an almost clinically straight view of things; from the very beginning they strive to rid themselves of self-delusion. Once this has been accomplished one's instincts are infallible, the mind is finely honed for survival. The first law of Wraeththu is selflessness. It is true that not many can perfect this in themselves, (as became all too clear later on in my life), but as a personal goal it is very important. When faced with the hostility of enemies however, there is no more ferocious killer than the Wraeththu warrior. Therefore, I think the second law of Wraeththu must be physical perfection. The body must run like a well-tended machine; be as trustworthy as a blade or a bullet.
Colt and Stringer, those people that Seel had mentioned, were as close to these ideals as it is possible to get. At that time I was under the happy delusion that all Wraeththu must be like them. When Flick and I went back into the house, they had already arrived and were speaking in low voices to Cal. I realized something that had gone over my head in the desert. Cal was weary and shaken to the core of his being. Only now, as he relaxed, was it truly apparent. His friends could sense it at once; their whole manner toward him was one of calm and healing. How my sniping temperament must have chafed at his nerves during our journey I could only guess. How lucky I was he had not throttled me! Me: so used to being the center of attention. The beautiful, cherished brother of Mima, the adored, bright son of my doting parents. Now I had to learn that respect had to be earned.
Flick and I sat apart from the others. They barely acknowledged my presence. Flick told me it was because I was Unhar and of no caste.
"What is Unhar?" I asked him.
"You will learn that later," he replied. "I really can't tell you. But I am Har, and my caste is Kaimana. My level is Neoma. Cal and Seel and the others are Ulani; that is a higher caste. I'm not sure, but I think Cal's level is Pyralis, that's second level Ulani. He would be known as Pyralisit. Do you understand?"
"No," I said, "but I'm tired and the wine was strong. Tell me again tomorrow."
Flick laughed in a strange, shy way. "Perhaps," he said. Some moments later, he offered to show me to my room. As we left, no-one bid us goodnight. Cal did not even look up. It annoyed me but I tried to ignore it.
"
I expect you'd like to take a bath first," Flick remarked casually, as he led me upstairs. "Some things we have to do without, but we do have hot, running water here." I was obviously meant to be impressed by this.
My room was palatial compared to what I was used to. Goatskins covered the floor, opalescent lamps glimmered in corners and the bed was enormous. Thick, striped blankets drooped to the floor on either side and swathes of netting formed a nebulous curtain to keep insects away. Luxury indeed!
"The bathroom's over here," Flick instructed, indicating a door on the far side of the room. "There should be towels in there. I'll give you half an hour or so, then I'll bring you some coffee up, OK?" Once he had gone, I just stood in the middle of the room, marvelling
Later, Flick not only brought me coffee, dark as sump oil but with a surprisingly mild flavor, but cigarettes as well. I rarely smoked at home, but this was a luxury not to be foregone. Feeling clean and relaxed I sat on the bed while Flick brushed out my wet and tangled hair. I began to tell him about the cable farm (how fascinating) and afterwards he told me he had come from a city farther north. His family had been quite rich and he had brought a lot of money to Saltrock with him. Seel had put it to good use, he said. (Yes, I thought, looking again around the room.) I wanted to know what had induced Flick to run away from a home that had obviously been so comfortable, to join the Wraeththu and live rough by comparison. His
The Wraeththu Chronicles Page 3
