Nepopis lived in a single-roomed hut among a tall stand of reeds. It was surprisingly roomy inside. Now the dancer was thoroughly concealed by the customary robe, with only the hood thrown back. He bade me be seated and offered me coffee. It was as if the incident in the Braga's house had never happened. Nepopis was unselfconscious yet reserved. His smile was sincere, but guarded. As I drank, blinking into the steam, he stared at my face. "You carry a burden," he said, and I shrugged, wondering how much he could tell me. "It is not yours to carry," he continued. "You would be advised to cast it aside. The past cannot be undone. Your father is beyond salvation—" I made a noise of exclamation but he raised his hand to silence me. "You must seek the path. You have neglected your training. Ah ...!" He closed his eyes and rubbed them with one hand, throwing back his head, as if seeking a message only he could hear. "There is one ... I see blood and it is old, it is dry and there is a fire that is not the fire of desire; it is something else. There is a cloud that is ... that is ... yes, it is emotion and it is seething. It will have to be ... unmisted. Two of you follow a destiny that is cut so deep. The third ... he is ... he is a follower, he is your follower ... he can be trusted. The time will come . . . beyond Astigi... first, beware the forest of illusion. The illusions are truth, but you will need strength to face them. You will understand the nature of the beast. He is still there ... in the forest . . . echoes ... of... no! In the future, you will see a face that you have known in dreams, and it will be burned upon you; you won't escape it; there will be no escape. You must follow your destiny, you must train because that is the only way. . . . His face. He has almond-shaped eyes and he is wise. He is held in high esteem. He bears the Tigron's mark ..."
Nepopis sighed and bowed his head, silent for a moment before looking up at me. "I have held your seed within me," he said, "and I felt its destiny too. There will be a
child of royal blood . . ." He shook his head. "It is all so unclear, usually I find it easier, but the aether is disturbed ..."
"Can you give me a name?" I asked quickly, feeling the magic settling round me, back into the earth. Nepopis shook his head. "I don't think so. It is guarded. I think they sense me." "They? Is it the Gelaming? Will I meet this person among them?" Nepopis raised his hands. "Enough. Enough. I've told you what I can." He smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be sharp, but times have changed. What is going on out there affects my vision; it disturbs me, it leaves too much unseen." He stood up and went to look out of the doorway. "Swift, come here."
I could not remember having told him my name. At his side, I looked out at a pink and cobalt sky, misting into the fronds of the reedbeds. Dark, winged shapes wheeled on the cooling air.
Nepopis reached for my hand and squeezed it gently. "I have seen your home," he said. "I have seen your hostling and the long, dark gardens. All goes well with them. He is lonely for you, but..." He turned to face me with a smile. "I feel so many hara walk this earth bent double with the direst of destinies! It is a time for it; we live in a time of legends. Man had that time too, you know. I hope ours does not fade ..."
"It won't," I said.
"You were born har."
"Yes. I thought that you too . . ."
He shook his head. "No ... it was a long time ago that I was human, but I am not pure-born. It feels different with you, you feel so different; everything is stronger. It's like a weapon, that strength. Your seed is the color of dawn, did you know that?"
"Yes, I know that."
"It shines with force; I would like to keep some for the sake of its power. I will never use it against you."
If that was a question, my reply was to take him in my arms, bending to taste his liquid breath of dark lagoons and deep waters.
At dawn, Leef came to the door of Nepopis's hut and requested entrance. He said that he and Cal wanted to leave Orense midmorning. I'd only had about an hour's sleep and traveling was the last thing I felt like doing. After several minutes' argument, Leef bad-temperedly agreed that our journey resume the following day. I didn't think that so short a delay could possibly have a dreadful effect on our progress, so I stayed with the dancer of dreams. Cal and Leef could do what they liked for the day; I wanted this time for I knew it would be the last chance I'd get for relaxation for a while. "If only," Nepopis said, "if only this were another time and you did not have to leave. If only that mist wasn't waiting for you. The eyes in that mist have already claimed you as theirs, even though they have not yet seen you, even though they do not know . . ."
I told him he spoke like my hostling, in puzzles. "It is our way," he replied. "We must speak the way we think and we never think in straight lines." He held me in his arms, a dancing snake, supple and strong. "If you had not neglected your art, if you were Ulani as you should be, I would demand that you let me host your seed. But it is not to be. I know it would be pointless to ask you to return some day ..."
"I may do ... you never know."
Nepopis laughed and stroked my face. "Ah, but I do, Swift; I do!"
At dawn, the next day, we loaded our horses once more upon a raft and glided away from the floating pads of Orense. I looked back for as long as I could, until the reed buildings disappeared into a haze. Cal and Leef were surly with me. I think it was
because for so long, it had just been us three together and they were a little put out that I had taken aruna with someone else. Probably, I would have felt the same way if it had been one of them that had been chosen. Not only had I neglected them for two whole nights, but I had held up our journey for an entire day! I apologized for this in a very scathing tone which brought a ghost of a smile to Cal's lips.
It took us two more days to cross the Astigi. Each evening we paused at one of the many floating villages where we were welcomed with food and drink, but no more exotic theruna. Occasionally, most often at dawn and dusk, something strange would cross our path and our Froia guides would elaborate signs of protection upon the air with rippling fingers. Once we nearly got caught in a loop of time, going round in circles that made our heads ache, but the Froia divined the weakest spot and we managed to break through into real time.
"What is most depressing," Cal observed, "is that all this messy, Gelaming hoodoo frolicking is going to get much worse beyond the marsh."
"When I last came here, we wouldn't get much further than Astigi," Leef told me. "We got caught in time weirdness. I only hope we can get through this time."
"Sadly, I think we can be assured of that!" Cal said bitterly.
The Froia helped us unload the horses at the brink of the marsh and Leef gave them as much currency as we had left. We felt that it would no longer be of use to us, so they might as well have it all. We rode away from the water into a liana-hung forest of dampness and haunting calls among the treetops.
"I wonder how long this place has been here?" Cal asked no-one inparticular, and neither Leef nor I could think of a suitable answer. We followed the pull of the strangeness to its heart, and it let us pass.
CHAPTER TWO
Mystical Convulsion, Tender Caress
Bony frame's loathsome degradation,
Eyes seek the mark of wounds.
Palpitating universe fallen unto me,
Membranous skin expands into wilted flowers.
It was like stepping into a dream. As that enchanted wilderness closed its green arms around us, reality faded and absurdity became the only truth. At first, we rode in silence, our horses pushing breast-deep through lush greenery. There was little sound and what sound there was existed high above us. I was lost in reverie, my skin becoming damp, brushed by a vague stream that rose from the soft ground. If I thought hard enough I could still feel Nepopis's slim, dark arms around me. Now that I had left him, his image began to crowd my head. I did not want to go back, but I wanted him here, now, before me on the saddle, pointing the way, unveiling his witchery of wisdom. Suddenly, I could feel flesh against me, fragrance all around me and Nepopis's low voice was in my ears. "The eyes; they are blind
... as yet!"
I thought I was falling asleep and blinked and sound rushed in; squawking, clamoring cacophony, and there was no-one on the saddle before me.
"Swift, are you alright?" Cal's face swam pale, disembodied at the corner of my vision.
"Yes. Yes," I answered, still blinking, swallowing, gulping.
"Be strong, Swift." Leef's voice was low and cautious behind me. He, more than Cal or I, had an idea of what to expect from the forest.
"I shall be afraid to sleep," I said, with a shaky laugh.
"There will be no difference." Cal clicked his tongue and hastened our pace to a trot. The swifter, jolting motion cleared my head a little; the branches of wide-leaved shrubs hissed around us.
We had no way to measure time and time was stretched and condensed in that place. Was it possible that we were not moving forward at all? The air around us became hotter and more humid, strong aromas of dark earth and rotting vegetation filling our heads, clinging to our clothes and hair. It seemed that we had been riding for at least half a day without stopping; we were tired but too scared to rest. We feared that by resting we would enable the forest to claim us completely and we would wander crazed for the rest of our lives. It was an unspoken fear, but I have no doubt that it was shared by each of us.
Half-seen figures flickered on the edge of my vision, half-heard voices whispered urgently in my ear. Grasping at sanity, I remembered calling, "Cal!" and my voice was deep and slurred, slowed down. Cal was ahead of me (we were riding in single file), and he turned on his horse, raising one hand. He did not speak. "Swift!"
My eyelids jerked open. Where am I? The forest was hidden by jets of green steam, spurting with a putrid stench from the rotted ground. I was on my knees. My knees and hands were wet. I was alone. I could not remember what names to call out. Who were they? Had I always traveled alone?" "Swift!"
Louder this time, yet sibilant, like an echo. I tried to see into the viridian gloom, waving shapes that might only be leaves, shivering away into an impenetrable blackness. "Swift!"
I saw him. He was holding broad leaves about him, half concealed. He did not want me to see him. Was he naked? Was that it? I tried to reach for him. Where am I? I tried to speak his name; then I remembered he was dead. He smiled, threw back his head and laughed. "Beloved friend! Do you remember our last meeting? Was I that good?" "Gahrazel."
I lurched to my feet and he backed two paces into the trees. "Back!" he hissed. "I don't want you near me!" His hair was long and curling. He was eight years old. My father's training had not marked him.
"You betrayed me!" His voice was a thin scream, whose anguish and emptiness, both apparent, raised the hair on my head. "No! I said nothing!"
"He told you to! Cal the devil, Cal the devil. . ." His voice, sing-song, trailed away to nothing. His jaw hung slack, his eyes were two black stones. "I didn't say anything!" My voice too had become high, the screech of a black crow, most deceitful of birds.
"You spoke of something, though." Gahrazel's voice had become sly. "To your father. I know about that. I know what you said. Every word. Did you wish that it was true?"
"I wish you had been different. I could not help you." "Not without endangering yourself perhaps ..." "I could not help you."The Gahrazel that was not Gahrazel raised one pale hand to his face. He was weeping; his tears streamed like acid on flesh. "I died . . . they killed me."
"Gahrazel ..." I reached toward him.
"No! No!" The foliage around him was shaking. He pointed at me with quivering fingers. "You! You must hear it!" His words came quickly, their speed increasing all the time.
"Someone must hear it, that it died with me, dear God, that someone should know the truth. You! You! Terzian's brat, his blood, his seed, his damn eyes. His eyes! Steel they are, no laughter, no pity. When he killed me, when he killed me, my God, I saw his eyes, his eyes!" Gahrazel's sobs overtook his ability to speak. He pressed his trembling hands into his eyes.
"My father killed you?" Such a whisper, such a fateful phrase. Gahrazel stopped sniveling to look at me. His ghost tears were dry already.
"Yesssss!" Leaves scratching along the terrace in autumn; that was how he sounded. So dead. "Didn't you know that, Swift? Didn't he brag of that to you?" He laughed cruelly. "Ah, of course, you know nothing, do you? The babes of Forever, wrapped in all that glorious stone. Stolen stone!" He flapped his hands at me. "Now I'll tell you! Now I'll tell you! Your father, Terzian, he is the beast! He ate flesh, drank blood; mine! Ponclast poured the poison into an iron cup. It had to be iron; only iron can hold it. He handed it to Terzian and kissed him and told him to give me the cup. I took it. There was nothing I could do. Only pride left. They would not see me beg for life; I knew it was useless. So I drank it. In one draft. It tasted ... peppery, but not too bad. Only when it hit my stomach, then, you see, it began to work and the moisture in my throat, that helped it too. A cupful of poison and it began to burn. Burn me from inside out. I fell to my knees. The floor was cold. We were way underneath the ground. I was not afraid of death, but I hoped it would be quick. So strange it was, knowing I was dying. So inevitable, there is no fear. I was kneeling there on the floor, waiting to die, not moving much, for the burning was not pain exactly, only I knew that it was killing me, numbness spreading all through me, when my father said, 'Now, Terzian.' Behind me, he clicked his fingers, and hands were upon me, pulling me back. I lay there, my legs melting, and your father, Swift, he took a knife and slit my clothing, pulled it away from me, not smiling, but grave, looking at my eyes. . . . All the excitement of the world was condensed in his body. He opened his trousers, just that, not even naked, and took my melting flesh; he was covered in unguent to protect himself. How lucky I could no longer feel it! Even as he shrieked in orgasm and put his hand through my rotting chest, even as he tore my purple, gasping heart from my chest, I could not feel it. Of course my mind had gone completely, you can understand that. As I died I watched your father eat half of my heart and hand my own father the other. When my spirit left that place, what was left of my body was unrecognizable . . ."
I was lying in the leaf-mold; I had vomited. My body was shaking. "Weep now, Swift," Gahrazel said.
He watched me weep. I thought, No, this cannot be true. This is illusion. This side of Terzian cannot exist. I would have known. Cobweb would have known. No! But even as I thought it, some deep, instinctive part of me knew it was senseless to doubt what I'd heard. Senseless.
After a while, I struggled to rise. Gahrazel was still a pale, insubstantial shape among the wide leaves. "I died . . . they killed me . . ."
"Gahrazel, can I come to you?"
"No!" He retreated further into the trees. I could barely see him; his face, a white oval, that was all. "You must not come to me," he said. "That must not be. Swift?"
"Yes . . . Gahrazel?" My eyes ached with searching for him, my chest, my throat, with grief.
"Did you love me?"
"Once ... I think."
He sighed, a faint breeze that shivered the leaves. "You did not come. 1 asked for you, many times. I died alone ... quite, quite alone." His voice was the sound of a
bell, tolling over bare and shadowy hills, summoning nothing to a devotion that had lost its purpose.
"I'm sorry . . ." How could I have said that? It means nothing. I could imagine him smiling, sadly. "No-one is without sin," I said. "Not one of us. My sins are selfishness, fear and weakness. I was afraid, Gahrazel, not just of blame, but for my home, my people. Yes, I betrayed you; we both know that. I cannot apologize, because the consequences were so ... so ... beyond apology."
"I'll forgive you, forgive you, only say it, say it now, the one thing I can lake with me. Forever. Do you know what to say?"
I knew what to say. I closed my eyes. I summoned it up within me, a maelstrom of feeling, and let it spill from my mouth. "I love you, Gahrazel."
"Do you forgive me?"
"For what?"
"Do you?"
"Yes, yes; I forg
ive you . . ."
All around me the greenness whispered and writhed. Darkness all around. I sank to my
knees.
"Swift!" Hands upon my shoulders, shaking, shaking. I opened my eyes. Tulga beneath
me, half-seen sky above. Cal's anxious face. I shook my head.
"It was nothing. I dreamed."
We came upon a clearing in the forest. Cal said, "I have been here before," and his voice was full of grief. All the ugly, dripping trees had become straight pines. Birds called. We found the damp remains of an old lire in the center of the clearing.
"We are safe here," Leef told us, but he did not sound sure. We dismounted and our horses began to crop the sward, unaffected by the atmosphere. Leef built a fire. I sat beside him, too shaken to move. Cal squatted some distance away from us, his face in his hands. Once timid flames began to leap from the damp tinder, we relaxed a little. The fire was comforting, normal. Leef unpacked food. "Look, we have wine!" he said and held out a green bottle.
The Wraeththu Chronicles Page 57
