"No, my looks are returning," I replied, somewhat coldly. "It was the journey." "You are angry," Chrysm said, smiling ruefully. "Perhaps that was rude of me."
"Not really."
"Come and talk to me. Is that allowed, Arahal?"
"You are a stupid beast, Chrysm," Arahal replied and walked away from us.
"Can he talk to you like that?" I asked, rather shocked.
"We know each other very, very well," he replied.
"Oh, I see."
"Mmm, I think you do, little Swift. I expect you hate being called that. You're not that little, are you? It's those enormous eyes. You always look so defensive, or defenseless; I'm not sure which."
We went outside and walked in the cool, fragrant air. Because of the dusk and his shining hair, I could imagine Chrysm was Seel quite easily, but tried not to. It seemed impure to, somehow.
"Why doesn't Cedony live in the Hegemony's pavilion?" I asked. “Doesn't he get on with the sumptuous Velaxis or something?"
Chrysm laughed. "No, it's not that! He likes his privacy, I suppose. I take it you are unimpressed with Velaxis."
"He looks down on me."
"No, he doesn't! You are soon to be a mighty ruler, like your father. Why should he look down on you?"
"Oh, please! I'm not so sure about the mighty part or even the ruler, for that matter. Ponclast might take the law into his own hands and kill me."
"Oh, come now, Thiede would never allow that! Anyway, stop being paranoid. In the words of mankind, Velaxis is merely a whore. If he really does try to look down on you, all you have to do is laugh at him. If you linked Ashmael for Velaxis's company for a night and Ashmael said yes, Velaxis would have to agree. Then let him try and look down on you!"
I laughed. "Yes, I know. Sorry. I know I'm being stupid."
"Oh, Swift." Chrysm patted my shoulder and I reached to squeeze his hand.
We leaned upon a fence and I realized I was looking at the field where I had seen Seel exercising that day, which seemed so long ago.
"I once saw Seel here," I said.
"You hardly ever mention him, yet why do I get the feeling he's always on your mind?"
"You are very perceptive, my lord Chrysm."
"Swift, please! This is a forlorn shamble of tents out in the middle of nowhere. What is rank in a place like this?"
"It is part of Heaven."
"Only one part is, I think."
"You look like him."
"I know. But I am not so self-centered as to think I am as desirable as the real thing. Well, not in your case, certainly!"
"Please don't tell anyone," I said, turning to look at him.
"Why are you ashamed?"
"I'm not. It's just ..." I waved my arms helplessly.
"No aspiration is too high."
"You know that isn't true!"
"Mmm. Maybe." He leaned with his back to the fence and spread his arms along it, his hair falling down toward the grass on the other side.
"How old are you?" I asked.
He raised his head. "I don't care. It doesn't matter any more."
"Don't you like having birthdays?"
He laughed. "Birthdays? What are you thinking about, Swift, that you ask these banal questions? Can you say what you are really thinking?"
"No."
He leaned over and took my hands away from my neck where I found I was clutching myself. He put my arms around him, his warm mouth touched my own and it was a taste of light and swords. I pressed myself against him, appreciating the contact. It had been so long since I had touched anyone like this.
"Say what you are really thinking," he said inside my head and I opened up my mind to him and let him see.
"You want me to be Seel," he said, but he wasn't angry, just mildly amused, and I put my hands in his hair and dreamed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Magic Lost
Tears of anger flooded through pores,
Vulgarity stumbled cruelly across the
Tongue of jealous love.
Beyond the boundaries of Imbrilim, cool woodland undulates away toward the north. What magic exists within that tangle of trees is only of the most natural, unobtrusive kind. In the morning I went to walk there, looking up through the gently swaying branches toward a placid sky.
I had woken that morning, plagued by a black depression and numbing confusion. Yesterday, I had been in a good mood, now I was the victim of my own emotions. As I walked, I spoke aloud to my father, imagining him there. Unexpectedly, he was most sympathetic and I could almost feel his hand upon my shoulder. "What do you expect of these people, Swift?" he said. "Do you really think you've been truly accepted by them? Are you of equal rank to them? I once warned you about the Gelaming. Have you forgotten everything I told you? To them, you are merely a Varr; at best a novelty to be used as a pawn, and at worst an object of derision. You should not be here, not really. Don't you know this in your heart of hearts? Even their whores look down on you!" I tried to silence him, to block the scraping words out of my mind, but they would not go away.
"Terzian?" I asked him. "Did you ever find an answer to your problems?" He never replied; it was something I could not even imagine.
I sighed and gazed up at the sky, visualizing freedom and flight, hoping to improve my mood. Now I was the beginning to understand my true nature, the possibilities within me, yet I was still plagued by doubts and teetering confidence. Arahal often upbraided me for this. "You must believe in yourself, Swift!" he would say, but it was difficult. I told myself it would be so much easier if I was still at home among friends. It was too much to cope with, having to come to terms with a new lifestyle, living among strangers, while trying to discipline myself to be calm and tranquil. I was under too much stress. What I felt about Seel only made it worse. Frequently, I wished Cal was still with me; I needed his clear sight to guide me and sometimes I longed to speak with Leef, but something held me back from seeking him out. I condemned myself to solitude.
When I returned to Imbrilim, I could tell immediately that something had happened. The air was full of activity and restrained excitement. I approached the first person I saw and asked them what was going on. The young har was only too eager to tell me. "The Tigrina is here," he said. A shiver of anticipation ran through me. Straight from Immanion, Pell's consort. Would I get to see him?
One project that I'd seen initiated since my arrival in Imbrilim was the beginning of construction for a permanent Gelaming town, some miles to the south of where we were camped. Ashmael said scathingly that the only reason Thiede had ordered it to be built was that he needed an excuse to keep Gelaming personnel in Megalithica and was becoming tired of their impatience over their inactivity. Chrysm argued sanely that a proper town would have to be built because of all the refugees seeking sanctuary in Imbrilim.
There were now too many to be comfortably coped with and it was clear that these people needed to become self-sufficient. Everyone seemed enthusiastic about the plan and labor for the building was not in short supply. Ashmael had taken charge of the operation and sometimes I went over to the site to work with him. I found it all very interesting. I had always thought a town was constructed simply by building a lot of houses and shops in one place, but Ashmael taught me that the precise site was very important, because of drainage, water supply and the fertile land that was needed for cultivation. Architects had been brought over from Immanion. Already I could tell that the new town would be a place of grace and spacious symmetry.
That afternoon, I planned to ride Tulga over to the site so I could speak with Ashmael. Maybe he could dispel some of my doubts. He had a soothing knack of making me feel important. It was there that I received my invitation to the presence of the Tigrina. Moments after I had walked into the low, roomy hut that Ashmael used as an office, a strange har knocked at the open door. I had just said to Ashmael, "I've heard the Tigrina is here," when the stranger interrupted us. He handed Ashmael a white envelope.
"What is this?" A
shmael demanded.
"The Tigrina requests your presence at an informal gathering in the pavilion of the Hegemony this evening, Tiahaar."
"How charming. I live there. I do hope I can make it!"
The messenger inclined his head and turned to leave.
"No, wait!" Ashmael said. "Have you any more of these?"
"Most have already been delivered . .." The messenger faltered, unsure of Ashmael's motive, no doubt familiar with his hectoring manner.
"Have you got one of these things for Swift the Varr?" Ashmael continued. I winced.
The messenger did not know who I was. He said, in a scathing tone, "Why yes, I believe I have! I believe I have one for your dog, Lord Ashmael, as well. Perhaps the two creatures are included in the same invitation, I'll just see ..."
Ashmael snatched the bundle of envelopes the messenger had withdrawn from a shoulderbag. He leafed through them impatiently. "Ah yes, here it is. Take it, Swift, and be sure to tell the dog not to dress for dinner!"
I accepted it and bowed gracefully toward the messenger. "You must tell the Tigrina I accept with pleasure," I said, "but as yet I'm afraid I can't speak for the dog ..."
Ashmael and I both laughed and the messenger hurried away abashed.
"I don't want to go to this," I said.
"Why on earth not? Such an opportunity to pose, my dear!" Ashmael countered. "You must learn to cultivate your vanity, Swift. That's what will make you most convincingly Gelaming!"
I sighed deeply. "I know what they think of me, Ashmael. I'm a Varr; less than a dog!"
Ashmael shrugged and then came to put his arms around me. It is a touch that never fails to electrify, however brief. "Then show them, Swift. Let them think what they like, but we know better, don't we, and whose table will you be sitting at?"
When I got back to my own pavilion late in the afternoon, I found that new clothes were waiting for me in a carefully wrapped parcel at the entrance. Later, Arahal sent hara to attend to my dressing. The results were most pleasing. The sophisticated and elegantly dressed har who faced me in the mirror was my inner self-image expressed in flesh. Once I had not thought that was possible. The clothes, the painted face, the elaborately styled hair; these were a mask behind which I could try to hide my self-consciousness. No-one would see my heart beating quickly.
At sundown, Arahal came to collect me. He too seemed pleased with my appearance. "I am honored to escort you, Tiahaar," he said, and courteously took my arm as we strolled into the evening.
"He has asked specifically to see you," Arahal told me.
"Who, the Tigrina?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
"But why?"
"As Tigrina, he does not have to give his reasons to me, a mere underling. Not that we can't guess at them, of course!" By this, I understood that the Tigrina was not wholly popular among the Gelaming.
The pavilion of the Hegemony was a blaze of colored lights; loud music reached our ears long before we reached it. It seemed packed to capacity with milling hara, all dressed in the most exotic costumes you could imagine. The air was narcotic with perfume. How Cobweb would have loved Terzian to have given parties like this! He would have been in his element, gliding through a throng of social luminaries, being known by all who were worth knowing and lapping up the compliments. Gatherings I had been present at back home now seemed dull by comparison.
I was very nervous about having to speak with the Tigrina, though I said nothing to Arahal, and took it as a bad omen that the first person I saw when we entered the pavilion was Seel. He came straight over to us and pulled a face at Arahal. I was surprised by his vivacity; perhaps he had been drinking. "Arahal, I have been regally stared at!" he said.
Arahal laughed. "Then I hope you're ashamed of yourself!"
"For what?"
"Ah, such innocence! You know damn well for what! Pell's consort, remember!" Seel smiled; such a secretive, sensual smile. I could have wept. Arahal put his hand upon my shoulder. "Seel, would you look after Swift for me for a moment? I shall go and ask his mightiness if he would speak with our Varrish protege before or after the meal."
He walked away so quickly, Seel and I could only stare at each other in mutual dismay. I knew my reasons (which I feared were written all over my face), but I could not understand his. I did not really know why Seel always wanted to avoid me. That he considered me beneath him was obvious, but I suspected he did not like to admit that, even to himself. He made an effort to smile (such radiance!), and we both began to speak at once. I apologized.
"Well, what do you think of Imbrilim?" he asked perfunctorily and gazed over my shoulder, taking a graceful sip of his drink.
I wanted to touch him so much, I had to clench my fists at my sides. I wanted to say to him, "Imbrilim? It's very interesting, isn't it, but of course, I got used to this kind of life in Galhea. Ponclast's people were always coming down from the north; our house was always full. Get me a drink and I'll tell you more ..." but all I came out with was, "Well, I... I think, it's . . . um . . . wonderful." He looked at me then and gave me a caustic smile, leaving me cringing at my own banality. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't; his eyes were hypnotic. Perhaps our eyes locked for just a shade too long. All the time, I was bellowing inside myself for that fabled inner strength, but it appeared to have shot into hiding. I could think of nothing to say. The silence was unbearable and I wanted to sink into the floor. I visualized the thought, One day, wondrous Seel, you shall see me as I really am, and then you won't despise me! It was small compensation, but all that I could cling to.
"Shall I fetch you a drink?" he asked, and I nodded my head, babbling, "Yes. Please. Anything."
It was Chrysm who brought it back for me. "Seel said to give you this," he said with a knowing smile. I grimaced and drank, gratefully. "I enjoyed our walk last evening," Chrysm continued.
"I'm sorry about that," I said.
"For what? You are too hard on yourself. You must learn to handle Seel in the right way. He is only har, you know."
"Only!"
"He doesn't know what he's missing; that's all I've got to say about it. I only wish you'd wanted me to be me and not him!"
"Chrysm, stop it!"
He laughed at my flushed embarrassment. "Well, Swift, have you seen the legendary Tigrina yet?"
"No, not yet."
"You will have to prepare yourself for an interrogation, I fear."
"Interrogation? About what?"
Chrysm touched my arm lightly. "Don't look like that! Not that kind of interrogation. It will be about Cal. Probably his name will not even be mentioned once, but I swear you'll find yourself talking about him endlessly."
"I'm not sure I understand you," I said.
"When was the last time you took aruna with anyone?"
"Why? What has that got to do with it?"
"Nothing at all!"
"You are mocking me!" I thought about walking away from him, but could see no-one else that I knew. My glass was empty.
"Arahal means to keep you chaste." Chrysm held a bottle made of lilac-colored glass and was twisting it between his hands. "Your body is sacred, Swift," he said.
"Yes, it is!" I answered coldly. If I asked him questions, he would tell me the answers; he was trying to without the questions being asked, but at that time, I didn't want to know. I was afraid to or I just didn't care; it was hard to tell.
I was not given a seat on the top table as Ashmael had implied, but was placed next to Arahal on the next one down. The tables were laden with fragrant food, steam rising from roasted birds, their skins scarlet with spices, soaking in a marinade of tart berry juice. There were bowls and bowls of vegetables, aromatic with sprinkled herbs, and salad and baked fruit simmering in a salty sauce. The Gelaming are fond of food; their meals are always exquisite. It was difficult to keep my eyes off the splendid sight of the Tigrina, who sprawled elegantly in his chair like a god, bending his head to listen to what Ashmael, seated next to him, was saying. I had imag
ined the Tigrina to be dark like Pellaz, but his hair was the color of while gold and teased out around his head like an enormous mane, tumbling, over his shoulders like molten waves. I thought he seemed strangely vulnerable in a female sort of way, but Arahal brushed away my observavation. "There is steel beneath that velvet," he said. "There has to be!"
"Have I learned my lessons well, Arahal?" I asked. God knows what made me think of it then.
Arahal raised one eyebrow quizzically. "I haven't taught you all that much yet, but I'm pleased with your progress so far."
"Is there more than one purpose to my training?"
The Wraeththu Chronicles Page 62
