The Wraeththu Chronicles

by Storm Constantine

"What do you mean?"

  1 shrugged, but didn't continue. I could feel Arahal looking at me, wondering. I could feel the words trembling on the tip of his tongue. He curbed himself.

  "There is more than one purpose," he said.

  Some time after we had finished eating, when I had relaxed enough to forget why I was there, the Tigrina sent someone to bring me into his august presence. Luckily, I had drunk enough by then not to feel too intimidated. Ashmael winked at me as I sat down. Close to, the Tigrina was an electrifying sight, his strong perfume was overpowering. He was dressed all in clinging black, with black jewels at his throat and in his ears and hair. His fingernails were incredibly long, lacquered to a sheen of lustrous jet and set with diamonds. Never had I seen a throat so long and curving and slim, or shoulders of such sculpted, precise proportions. Caeru was a vision and he knew it.

  As I had expected, he spoke in a cool, measured voice. "So, you are Terzian's son," he said. I smiled weakly. "You have traveled a long way to reach us."

  "It seems that way," I said.

  "The Tigron has spoken of you. I have heard about the time Pellaz spent in Galhea. Of course, you would have been just a baby then." There was no mistaking the hardness in his tone. He turned away from me. "Ashmael has been telling me of the plans they have for your future. . . . How privileged you are, Swift the Varr!"

  Ashmael smiled fiercely at him. There was a moment's uncomfortable silence, during which the Tigrina sighed four times. I counted, unable to look away from him. I wondered what it would be like to be in his position;so high. Everyone knew who he was; his clothes, his jewelery were the best, His smallest whim must be gratified. He looked at me with dark blue eyes, "Did you travel here alone?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "No, there were three of us."

  The Tigrina gazed over my shoulder at the crowd beyond us. "Oh, and where are your friends now? You must point them out to me. I find Varrs most fascinating."

  I looked beseechingly at Ashmael, unsure of how to answer this request,] but Ashmael would not help me, hiding his smile in a goblet of wine and scanning the room carelessly.

  "There are only two of us left in Imbrilim, my lord," I said. "Leef and myself. The other has gone. I don't know where."

  "I see." He snapped his fingers in the air, and Velaxis, who had beer hovering behind Ashmael's chair, swooped to his side. "More wine!" the Tigrina ordered. "Be quick about it!" He turned his glacial attention once more upon me. "Now, tell me about your home," he said.

  He listened to me for about twenty minutes. During that time, I consumed two goblets of wine. At the end of this time, Caeru raised his hand and silenced me in mid-sentence.

  "That's enough," he said, and turned to Ashmael. "Have one of your people bring the Varr to my pavilion later." I sensed dismissal and stood up. The Tigrina smiled at me, but his eyes were still cold. He raised his glittering glass. "Until later, son of Terzian."

  "Well?" Arahal demanded, when I was sitting next to him once more.

  "The Tigrina wishes to speak with me later on," I said woefully.

  Arahal made an irritated sound. "Oh no," he murmured.

  I leaned over and drank from Arahal's goblet, which he fastidiously took from my hand. The linen tablecloth was strewn with crumbs and ringed with stains. "You are concerned for me," I said flatly.

  Arahal smiled. "Yes . . . but I suppose you will have to gratify his curiosity. Do you understand why he wants to see you?"

  "Because of Cal?"

  "Not just that. Caeru knows why you are here and he will misbehave by trying to interfere with your progress. I don't suppose it will matter that much, though. Just don't give too much of yourself."

  "I don't like that warning, Arahal!"

  "My only fear is that you will forget it," he said, and toasted my health with a smile.

  Way past midnight, when everyone was talking more loudly than ever and the musicians were playing with more abandon, I asked Arahal, "About the other purpose of my being here; what is it?"

  He pulled a face. "Do you believe in destiny?"

  "I'm not sure what I believe in any more."

  "Hmm . . . well, it's something to do with that. The inevitable; what must be. Imagine a focus of two points in time; a focus of two lives at that point. Often, important things can be gained from such events."

  "You never answer me properly, do you?" I complained.

  "Well, you must realize that enlightenment for you might change things. We have to be cautious."

  "Is something going to happen soon?"

  "Something will happen tonight," he answered evasively.

  The Tigrina retired fairly early by Gelaming standards. Half an hour or so after he had left the party, Velaxis slunk over to where I was sitting, announcing rather bitterly that he was to escort me to the Tigrina's pavilion. Neither of us spoke as we walked through the cool night air. Moths fluttered blindly. There was a damp smell of grass. Some of the other tents were still glowing with subdued light; soft laughter and voices; shadows against the cloth. I was not nervous; I had some idea of what was to come. Both Arahal and Chrysm had hinted at it.

  It was only a minute or so's walk from the pavilion of the Hegemony to that of the Tigrina and for all that time I was thinking about Seel. Since that first embarrassing exchange, when Arahal had left us together, Seel had managed to avoid me entirely. Perhaps I was reading too much into his behavior, after all, there had been so many hara there, most of whom were probably known to him.

  The Tigrina's pavilion was constructed of sparkling midnight-blue cloth and adorned with silver tassels that hung motionless in the still air. A single torch glowed blue-white at the entrance. Within, the only light came from a cluster of tall, black candles in silver clasps. Light reflected from spilled jewels, silken cloth and metal. The Tigrina was ready for us, carefully reposing upon a mass of dark, shiny pillows. He was alone, looking up when Velaxis and I eased through the door curtains and dismissing Velaxis with an imperious wave of his hand. Affronted, Velaxis swept out without speaking.

  I wondered what had been going through this gilded creature's mind as he waited for me, what plans he had prepared. I could not tell whether it was through design or unease that he did not speak, but I watched entranced as Caeru slowly removed his heavy jewelery in silence. He laid the glistening stones down carefully upon a low table at his side, where they rattled into an untidy, treasure-chest heap. He stretched his neck and rubbed it languorously. I could see the scar of his inception on his arm. Arahal had told me the Tigrina bleached his skin with the juice of lemons. I could believe that; he was as white and luminous as pearl. I think he hoped I was afraid, but that was not the effect he was having on me. It was a kind of morbid fascination that kept me staring at him.

  He offered me coffee, which I accepted, and poured me some himself from a tall, awkward pot, which had been steaming on the table. "I expect you're wondering why I've asked you here," he said, which I found to bea very predictable question. Perhaps this, more than anything, proclaimed that he was not truly Gelaming.

  "I should imagine it's because you want to ask me about Cal," I said. The Tigrina smothered his surprise. What did he think I'd say? I found it annoying that he expected me to be so utterly in awe of him, because I knew that Ashmael and the others were not. Did he really think that they wouldn't have spoken to me about him, and that their opinions, no matter how surreptitiously implied, would not rub off on me? I was not overly fond of Velaxis, but I had not liked the Tigrina's insulting attitude toward him. Ashmael, whom I respected intensely, never treated anyone like that, no matter how much lower in rank they were than him.

  "You are just repeating what you've been told, of course," Caeru said suddenly. I was alarmed, thinking he'd read my mind, but he was still talking about Cal.

  "Isn't it true then?"

  "Already, it seems, Ashmael has taught you how to be disrespectful," he said.

  I wanted to reply, "Doesn't respect have to be earned?" but rea
lized this would be going too far. No matter what the Gelaming might think of him, he was still the Tigrina, and commanded respect simply for that.

  "I don't mean to sound disrespectful," I said.

  He smiled and leaned back among the cushions. The shoulder of his garment dropped away slightly, revealing more of that skin which was so perfect and pale. "Can't you understand my fascination?" he asked. I smiled to myself, amused by the ambiguity of that remark, which I'm sure was unintentional.

  "Yes. I understand."

  "Good.. . . You look nervous, Swift the Varr, sitting hunched like that on the edge of your chair." (I wasn't.)

  "What have they told you about me?"

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing at all?" He forced a laugh, throwing back his head, exposing that throat which seemed to have 'bite me' written all over it.

  "A little, then," I conceded. "But I would prefer you to tell me about yourself. If you fear you've been misrepresented . . . ?"

  His mouth dropped open in amazement. "How bold you are! How very Varr! Do you really want to know?"

  "Yes."

  "How unusual! Very well, sit here beside me and I shall tell you."

  I stood up and removed Arahal's brushed leather jacket that I'd slung about my shoulders as protection against the cool, dew-laden air outside. The Tigrina watched me with interest. How I've changed, I thought. What Caeru doesn't realize is that this person here with him is as much a stranger to me as to him. I sank down beside him and he leaned away from me a little, as if uncomfortable having anyone so close. He tried to appear brittle and aloof, but now I could see the saddened, bitter creature that he really was. His eyes could not hide it.

  "What do you want to know?" he asked.

  I honestly think he was regretting having asked me to join him. This Interview was not progressing the way he'd planned, although it was fairly obvious that some kind of seduction had been intended. I'd learned how to decipher Arahal's riddles enough by now to have gathered that.

  "Tell me where you live."

  "In Immanion. Phaonica, the Tigron's palace. It is on a hill. It can be seen from any point in the city."

  "Do you like it there?"

  "It's very beautiful. It is always warm."

  "Mow many servants do you have?"

  "I don't know. A lot. I don't know them all."

  "You don't know their names?"

  "No. Should I?" He sounded defensive. I suppose he hated his servants. Perhaps they despised him.

  "Describe your bedroom."

  "It ... it is large."

  "Black and silver?"

  He laughed nervously. "Yes. I like those colors. The moon and darkness."

  I leaned toward him and he backed away an inch or two. "What do you see from your window, Tigrina?"

  "The lights of the city and beyond them, the sea. It is always moving. I look at it at night."

  "Is the sea black and silver?"

  "Sometimes."

  My lips touched his neck. He was so tense, he could barely keep from quivering, but he did not stop me.

  "Do you sleep alone, Tigrina, in that big, black room?"

  "What?"

  "Do you sleep alone?" I raised my head. There was hardly any space between us. His eyes darted everywhere but into mine. "Do you?"

  He closed his eyes, long lashes against his cheek. "That question was impertinent. Why did you ask it?" I could smell his surrender, a smell like cut grass. I had asked the question that perhaps he had always wanted someone to ask, because then he could answer.

  "Alone, Tigrina? Are you . . . ?"

  "Yes," he said. "Yes. Yes."

  There was only the slightest of resistance as I pulled him against me. I brushed his lips with my own and he opened his mouth, straining toward me. I raised my head and smiled at him so gently. I took his chin in my hand and pushed it back. He curled his fingers round my wrist, apprehensive. "Isn't this what you want?" I asked, and put my teeth against his white throat, and bit down, hard.

  His body arched against me, but he made no sound. I did not draw blood, but there were marks in his flesh when I raised my head again "Varrs do that kind of thing," I said. "You must have heard; we are barbarians." He laughed and I held him tight against me.

  "I will ask now," he said. "I will ask about Cal ..."

  "He has gone and I don't know where," I replied. Caeru stiffened in my arms. He said nothing. "One thing I do know, that I am sure of, is that either the Tigron or Thiede is responsible for his disappearance."

  "Are you fond of this Cal?"

  I lifted his head. "It can't be helped. He just has that effect on people. He makes them love him."

  "I know!"

  "Such bitterness!"

  "Such bitterness," he agreed wistfully. "I would like to meet him."

  "Would you?"

  "Yes. Really. He can't take anything from me. I am Tigrina; Thiede made me so. That can't be taken away, and I have nothing else." He did not sound self-pitying, only fatalistic. Cal would have found him irresistible.

  He took my head in his hands and offered me his breath, which I drank from fiercely. He was panting as we parted. "We are similar," he said. "Pariahs in the Gelaming camp."

  "Not I!" I exclaimed vehemently. "I will not let them think of me that way!"

  Caeru smiled. "No ... I can taste your father in you. “

  "I hope not!"

  He frowned and shook his head. "By that, I don't mean ... bad things, just strength and power. It is forming within you."

  "More so during the last few minutes," I said lightly.

  He smiled once more and put his fingers lightly on my chest. "Have you met Seel yet?"

  The sound of that name went through me like a javelin. "Why?" I was too abrupt. Caeru nodded and smiled wryly to himself. "Yes, I can tell you have. He is close to Pell."

  "I know."

  His hand slid under my shirt. "Do you think I've brought you here for just this purpose, to touch you?"

  I shrugged, but said nothing. "Well, if you do, you are right, but it is more than that. I'm offering you a kind of protection. They have kept other hara away from you, haven't they? Nothing is coincidental, nothing!" he cried. "You are in thrall, Swift, but you don't even realize it! I know these people. I know what their magic can do. You have a strong will and you shall be angry when you find out how they've manipulated you! Your innermost feelings are nothing to Ilium!"

  His fervor alarmed me and I put my hand over his mouth. "Hush!" I did not believe him at all. He made a muffled noise and tried to pull my hand away.

  "I am not a fool," I said, releasing him.

  "You are!" he insisted, but he knew I would not listen.

  "No. Forget me; I want to talk about you. You are soume-har. I want to fill you."

  "I am Tigrina. You are insolent!" (Some vestige of pride perhaps?)

  "Then why are you smiling?"

  He shook his head, sighed, and lay back. "Very well, Swift the Varr . . ."

  "Is that an invitation?"

  He laughed, for the first time honestly, without control. "Invitation? No, no; it is a command!"

  For a second, some sober part of me was aghast. This being, this whole and shining being, was Pell's; he had done this once. The Tigron of Immanion had done this, held this in his arms, and I was just Swift, who until recently had entertained very few grand ideas. When had I changed? When? I remember thinking, Why couldn't it have been like this with Seel? What is it about him that weakens me so much? Tonight, with Caeru, I have said all the right things at the right time; I have been powerful. Is it just the wine that's made me so bold? Why, why, why, couldn't I have been like this with Seel?

  As we writhed together, in a haze of sweat and tangled limbs, Caeru said, "You will need this knowledge." I did learn a lot from him. I learned how to prolong the pleasure until it becomes pleasure no longer and the final release is like dying and almost like pain. "One day you will think of me with gratitude," he said, and part of me c
ould sense that time to come; formless and vague, a tantalizing presentiment.

  Afterwards, I would not let him sleep. "Now is the time," I said.

  "The time for what?" he asked drowsily.

  "To tell me about yourself. I want to give you something in return. I want to give you my ears."

  He smiled lazily. "You have given me enough . . ."

  "No, Caeru. Tell me. Tell me how it happened, how you became Tigrina, why it happened and what went wrong."

  He put his arms across his eyes. "Do not call me Caeru. That is what they call me. It is the name that I was born with, it is true, but my friends have always called me Rue." He sighed. "Rue for sadness, who barely exists any more. Rue was happy; Caeru is not. Caeru is a slave, because Rue made a grave mistake ..."