The Wraeththu Chronicles

by Storm Constantine

  Immanion was not as near as I imagined, however. Vaysh and I had been riding along the white road for an hour or more before the trees thinned out completely and the fields and farms of Immanion's lands appeared. A faint whiff of the sea blew toward us from the distance.

  "You are nervous," Vaysh observed; a smile, straining to be expressed, hovered at the corners of his mouth.

  "Yes," I sighed. "None of it seemed quite real until now."

  "You were too preoccupied," Vaysh commented acidly. There was a familiar echo in his voice that made me look at him.

  "Why does it bother you?" I asked. "I presume you're referring to Rue?"

  Vaysh's fingers clawed his hair; it was always a gesture that signaled his discomfort. "To be honest with you, Pell," and here he paused, his face twitching with reluctance. I dreaded what he might be about to say. "I think it's because I nurtured you, made you live. You've always wanted to know this; here it is. Thiede materialized your flesh through the power of his will. Exact, precise and perfect. He remembered you well, didn't he? The only differences in you are that your slight imperfections have been smoothed away. Thiede said to me, the day he showed me what he'd created, 'Vaysh, this is your charge. This is Pellaz. He will be your king. He will be your life.' I was angry at first. For so long my home had been with Thiede. Now he was sending me away. I was not good enough for his purposes; now he had you. He was impatient with my bitterness. 'Pellaz must always have you,' he said. 'Your fidelity must be complete.' He did not mean, by that, that we should be close, the kind of close I can see you are thinking of; that was not my place. I was to attend your body like a servant, whilst you needed it, and after that, I was to be your confidante, your friend. After a while, it seemed as if it had been I that had made you. As if you had sprung from within me . . ."

  I could not think of a single, suitable thing to say. That Vaysh had opened up to me like this was enough to stun me to silence, but I knew his revelations deserved a response

  "Vaysh, I. ... Why did you not speak before? I would never have guessed from the way you've . . . behaved."

  His eyes were dark as they stabbed me with reproach. "You know how I am; mostly dead inside. What feelings I have make me uncomfortable. Oh, it's something different with you; it has to be. Thiede's made you so much better than all the rest of us. You are his son—or as good as. Everyone wants you in some way, everyone! And you took that mouthy little roughy-toughie. . . !"

  "Vaysh!" I could not stop myself laughing. His opinion of Rue, though cruel, was not altogether inaccurate.

  he smiled back at me in a thin sort of way. "Yes, I amaze you don't I. Most of the time I'm jealous of you, with all your pompous warmth, goodness and beauty, which in itself is mind-numbingly sickening, but sometimes I'm jealous for you; all that you had with the incomparable Cal, and then with that . . . well, there are no words for that. What on earth possessed you?"

  I felt it would not be a good time to disclose that Rue, for all his unpinned edges, now

  carried my son.

  Vaysh mistook my silence for something else. "I see. Aren't you supposed to be elevated

  above all that now? I'd like to say, 'You could have had me,' but I can't. All that's gone

  now."

  "Why is it, Vaysh?" I asked gently. "What has Thiede done to you?"

  He gave me a sad smile. "Oh, Pellaz. You know. You've suspected haven't you? I'm burnt out. At best, barren and at worst gutted. No, you were not the first . . ."

  My stomach shivered and writhed. There but for the grace of God, or Fortune . . . "I'm glad you told me this," I said. It was inadequate, but I could think of nothing else at the time.

  "I'm sure you are," Vaysh replied bitterly.

  I was beginning to understand the maelstrom of pain, frus tration, panic und helplessness that was the essential Vaysh, but only a little. I was too privileged in my own circumstances to fully comprehend.

  Then it was before us: white walls towering and crystalline, and the city itself; rearing like restless foam of sea-stallions into the cerulean blue of the sky. Towers, pillars and minarets convoluting, spearing, in a purity of grace. Immanion; first city of Wraeththu.

  Vast gates in the walls were paneled with jet. They stood open. There was no guard. When I commented on this. Vaysh gave a dry laugh. Immanion did not need that kind of protection. No one would ever get this close who was not welcome. I wondered if Kate would ever be able to find her way here.

  The streets were peopled by the most elegant and ethereal hara I had ever seen. If a man had ever chanced to find his way here, he would believe he had found the kingdom of heaven and was in the company of angels. A great atmosphere of tranquility calmed my thudding heart. It was hard to imagine the Wraeththu here cheering anyone. We rode into the city on our fine and magical horses, with their curving heads and proud steps, and the hara we met nobly inclined their heads to us as we passed. I'm sure that many of them (if they knew who we were), mistook Vaysh for their king and I for his companion. He looked impressively regal, riding just ahead of me. Immanion is a large city by any standards, but especially so to me as I was at that time. Riding through those evenly spaced wide avenues, I was overawed by the grace and symmetry of the white buildings around me, mystified by the utter calm and fragrance of the air. It seemed that Cal's dream had been based on reality, for surely I now rode along the streets he had once imaginatively described to me. Immanion felt as if it had stood a thousand years, yet, of course, its age was only the minutest fraction of that. How had Thiede done it?

  Near the sea, in the heart of the city, a wooded hill afforded privacy to the half-seen building that rested upon its crown

  Vaysh pointed, "Look Pellaz, forget the huts of Saltrock, the tents of the Kakkahaar, even the human cast-offs of the Varrs; this is your new home." It is not easy to describe. Not easy to do it justice. A list of words presents itself: elegance, space, height, echoes, gold, black, white crystal, silence, music. Terraces and rows of slim pillars. Patios of black and white marble. The palace had a name, as all places of fable should: Phaonica. It had a proud, female ambience. It was easy to turn to Vaysh though, and communicate without even speaking; "I think I shall be very happy here." We rode up the hill and through the fantastic hanging gardens, past the cataracting fountains, the temples whose only function was ornament. Hara tending the grounds, lowered their eyes as we rode by, and made, with their hands, the genuflections of respect. I had come home.

  My staff awaited us. Cordially, without fuss, our horses were led away and Vaysh and I led into Phaonica. Up a snowy crest of steps, between shadowed pillars, along lofty corridors, up more flights of steps. I could not take it all in. It was a fairy-tale place; somber without brooding, shady without darkness. Naturally, the first thing that our attendants wanted to do for us, was to prepare the scented baths that would erase from our bodies the memory of our journey. Vaysh had been allocated a suite of rooms within my own apartments, which included his own bathroom presumably, for we were separated. My two servants were strange, elfin creatures with piebald skin, which may have been tattooed, and thick, black hair. They introduced themselves as Cleis and Attica. I was still gawping with wonder at my surroundings, but they passed no comment on my stupor. My clothes were removed with downcast eyes; fragrant oils poured into the bath-water. All the rooms were simple in design, high-ceilinged and with painted walls. The prevailing colors were dark red, brown and gold. "What have you been told about me?" I asked the har who lathered my hair. He was clearly not sure how to answer.

  "Our lord came to us and told us to make these rooms ready for occupation. He has kept them empty since the palace was built. He said to us, 'Your king is coming; I have chosen him.' That was all." I did not have to ask who their lord was. "Is he here," I asked.

  "We have not seen him," was the careful reply. They dressed me in an elegant costume of black gauze. My hair was crimped with hot irons, but when they asked what cosmetics I preferred, I shook my head.


  "Nothing, thank you." And what food did I desire? Anything, I wasn't bothered. Wine? Yes, anything. I kept getting faint reminders of Mur and Garis. Did I detect just the faintest shade of mockery in their ministrations? None of this felt comfortable. Thiede had said to them, "Make sure you treat him well," and they were doing so, but it was Thiede who gave the orders, that was clear. I felt like a dressed-up doll to he exhibited in a position of prominence. "Ah yes," Thiede would say to his Nahir-Nuri peers, "and this is my latest creation." But I was Nahir-Nuri too, wasn't I? Although I felt no different. It was crucial for me to speak with Thiede as soon as possible, I decided. My role was vague. What must I do now?

  I exercised my powers for the first time and asked Attica and Cleis to leave me alone. It was almost a surprise when they complied, backing, soft-footed from my presence. I spent some time investigating my rooms. There was nothing lacking. I found a bed-chamber which appeared to have been inspired from the pages of myth, two reception rooms, a library well-stocked with an eclectic array of titles (the literature of both Man and Wraeththu), and several other chambers whose function had not yet been ascribed. Glass doors in the outer wall of my bedroom led to a marble terrace which overlooked the sea. I went out there and leaned on the wall. To my left the terrace led to another door in the white walls. It was open. Inside, I could see Vaysh brushing his hair at a mirror. He must have been able to see me in it, but did not turn round as I approached.

  "Do you think Thiede is here?" I asked him and threw myself down on his bed.

  "Don't be inelegant, Pellaz. As for your question, I don't know. But if he isn't, he soon will be." Vaysh's steely defences were securely back in place.

  "You look nice, Vaysh," I said.

  He threw me a look of practiced disdain. "I always look nice," he said

  I was beginning to think more and more as Phade did; suffering an overwhelming desire to break through the ice. Vaysh was unconsciously seductive in his glacial loveliness, but he was also the only familiar face to me in Immanion. I was feeling insecure and needed warmth; Vaysh's manner was tiresome. I could not see why he should want to keep it up after our conversation on the road.

  "I thought you were supposed to be my friend," I teased him. He shook his head, but covered his face with his hair so I could not see him smiling.

  "Remember who you are," he said.

  "And what's that, Vaysh?"

  He looked up at me then and an unspoken thought passed between us. He shrugged. "It has to be faced Pell. This is Thiede's world now. We all just dance to his tune." (Phade had said that.)

  "What if it's not our kind of music?" I asked.

  Vaysh sat next to me. "Don't talk like that, there's no point."

  He was dressed in green again. I put my hand tentatively on his back and the material was warm; which surprised me. He let me stroke him, like cats do when they're in the mood. It was possible to pretend, but I was sensible enough not to push it too far. I couldn't tell if he liked me touching him. "What has Thiede got planned for me?" I asked.

  "You will have to ask him."

  "I intend to. Do you suppose he is watching us now?" Vaysh looked over his shoulder at me.

  "It's best not to think about that, Pell."

  "Make me think of something else then," I said. It slipped out before common-sense could block my throat. Vaysh kept on looking at me, straining his neck, but I still could not tell what he was thinking.

  "I thought you were in mourning," he remarked. Perhaps he was trying to make me feel guilty, or perhaps he just wanted me to say that Cal was no longer important. Whatever the reason, it was pointless after what he knew about Rue.

  "The truth is, Vaysh," I said, "that the time to mourn is sometime in the dead of night, alone, in bed. That's when I think, or get lonely. Nobody will ever take Cal's place, nobody. But don't think me shallow because I want company. I am Har; end of statement." I felt him sigh, through my hand. "I can't help you," he said.

  "I'm not even sure if I want to. Oh Pellaz, I thought I'd got myself in order! What are you trying to do to me?"

  "I don't think you're as cold or unfeeling as you like people to think," I suggested carefully. He did not comment. "Perhaps," I continued, "living with Thiede it was easy to imagine that you were ..." He still did not move away. Every time I said something, I expected him to. I was desperate to bring out the real Vaysh; but my motives were not entirely unselfish. I could sense his confusion and only lay there, projecting all the sensuality Thiede had given me, tormenting him.

  "I don't know," he murmured, his hands clawing each other in his lap. "I don't know ..." I still did not appreciate how deeply he had been scarred. Wriggling around on the bed, I put my head in his lap (his hands flew up to his neck), and stared up through his hair.

  "What color is it, naturally?" I asked, reaching up to put my fingers in it. Vaysh's face was so grave

  "Light colored," he said.

  "The color of light . . ."

  "No, just sort of yellowish, only darker..." Evening light shadowed his face. He stroked my face with his cool, white hands. "No more than this, Pell," he said, in his softest, gravest voice. I closed my eyes and smiled.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On the plans of the Hegemony and shattering ice

  I could not remember where I was at first, waking up alone, opening my eyes to the swaying canopy above my bed. Then I smelled the air, purer than any other I had ever breathed. I had closed all the windows before retiring; someone had been in to open them. For a while I just lay there, staring at the fluttering folds of muslin over my head. My room did not catch the morning sun (an oversight?); outside the terrace was in shadow. I tried to imagine what it would have been like if Cal had been here with me; vividly picturing his cynical amusement. He would never have been comfortable here, not under these circumstances. I realized that when the time came for me to find him again, I would be ashamed to admit what Thiede had made of me. I feared his scorn.

  Attica, or Cleis (I could not tell which, as they both looked the same to me), knocked on my door and entered the room without waiting for my answer. Breakfast awaited me. Would I dress first? I shook my head, leached for a robe to cover my nakedness and walked out ahead of him.

  The table was decorated with flowers. Their incense perfume filled the room. Seating myself at the head of the table, I requested that Vaysh should join me. I was already eating by the time he sat down. As expected, the food was elegant and meticulously prepared, meticulously designed. Vaysh was robed in his favorite green and still sleepy. I had noticed it always took some time for him to wake up properly.

  "Thiede will summon you today, I expect," he said, helping himself to minute portions of the food. I put my hand over his wrist and he looked at it with interest.

  "You no longer stop me touching you, I see," I remarked.

  He managed a bleak smile. "I trust you," he said. "I wonder what Thiede will say to you."

  "I'm wondering what to say to him," I replied bitterly.

  Cleis and Attica brought us coffee in a tall metal pot and cleared away the food before we could help ourselves to more.

  "They appear to be hurrying," Vaysh observed. His meal had only been half-eaten.

  Right on cue, the door swept open and my attendants all but threw themselves to the floor. Thiede, dressed in black and gray wolfskin, strode past them.

  "Good morning Pellaz, Vaysh," he announced. "Ah coffee, good."

  He sat at our table and snapped his fingers. My attendants moved in a blur to fill his outstretched hand with a brimming cup haloed by steam.

  "Do you like your new home, Pellaz?" He looked around him. "I'm pleased with these apartments; they've turned out very well.

  I was silent, remembering all too clearly the last time we had met. It was difficult to equate that kind of Thiede with the one who sat here now though. Less awesome, he appeared to have put aside the trappings of terrible power; no-one could exist comfortably like that all the time. Thiede is very ha
rd to look at directly, because his beauty is so alien and stark. It is easier to look at his nose (aquiline, with delicately flared nostrils, of course), or his amber eyes or his cruel yet smiling mouth, but difficult to take in everything altogether. He is taller than most hara and his flaming red hair looks dyed, which it isn't. From the history books of Man, the nearest people I can compare him to are Salome and Alexander the Great combined in one body, with a dash of the witch Medea and the magician Merlin for good measure. He is deadly, but lovely, a little insane but clever. Shrewd Hara take great pains never to offend him although, mercifully, he rarely takes offense at anything.

  Vaysh stood up and excused himself from our presence. Left alone with me, Thiede stared thoughtfully into my eyes for several harrowing minutes. "I'm very pleased with you," he said.