I learned that very soon, representatives from other tribes would begin arriving at Jael to purchase items from all that the family had produced through the long winter incarceration. When I'd first arrived in Jael, I'd often been woken up at night by what sounded like a rhythmic thumping coming from under the ground. I'd been told that this was the printing press in the cellars of the castle. What was conceived in the high, airy rooms above was committed to paper down in the cellars. Pictures were also framed there. It was the workplace of the screen-printers, the potters, the sculptors. It wasn't just the family who were craftsmen in Jael. Panthera had painted me a picture of a dark forest, which I'd hung on my bedroom wall. Before falling asleep, I liked to stare into its haunting depths where the suggestion of secret life seemed to rustle. I would have liked to give him something in return, but I have never been much of an artist.
The thaw continued. A clear stream ran down the road from the castle; the bare branches of the trees were sprouting sticky buds. One day, Panthera suggested that now all the snow had gone, we should take a walk into the woods together. Kruin was too busy packing his things to accompany us; he was leaving soon. Panthera said he'd teach me how to draw. I didn't like to tell him he'd be wasting his time. We set off early in the morning, on horseback, which was my idea. Spring seemed to be creeping quickly over the land. The ground was damp and lush with new grass. Small, spring flowers were blooming around the trees, and sunlight came down through the high branches as we rode away from Jael. After a mile or so, we veered off the road and cantered up a steep bank of bracken-strewn peat. The colors were marvelous; so vibrant, as if they could only have come from an artist's palette. Panthera led me deep into the trees; these woods were like a second home to him. We dismounted and led our horses through clustering trees that ached with the most acid of greens.
"Let's stop here," Panthera said.
We had come to a fast-running brook, that cut a deep, chuckling channel between banks of mossy sand-stone. Branches dipped longing fingers into the water and the grassy ground seemed wreathed in a faint mist as the sun gently dried it out. We sat upon the bank and our horses began to crop the grass, tearing mouthfuls out by the roots, so sweet it was, so eager their desire for its taste. Panthera gave me a sheet of paper to draw on, but I lacked inspiration.
"Do you think that Astarth really does run Piristil now?" he asked me. It was the first time he had spoken of Fallsend to me since reaching Jael.
"Who knows?" I answered, because I wasn't really bothered.
"Why did he let us get away like that?"
"I don't know. Why do you care, Thea? It's over. Forget it."
"It'll never be over for me."
"OK, I'm sorry. You want a theory? Astarth wanted us to get away, he wanted us to be followed by Jafit, he wanted us to kill Jafit."
"Of course! You must be right, how stupid of me. With Jafit out of the way, Astarth becomes house-owner not whore."
"Seems likely, doesn't it. Although, in Fallsend Astarth could easily have bumped Jafit off and nobody would have raised an eyebrow."
"Don't count on that," Panthera said. "The musenda owners are all pretty close. Honor amongst thieves and all that. I don't think Astarth could have got away with anything too blatant."
"Oh well, so what! I hope he's happier now."
"I wonder if the others are though?" Panthera was concentrating very hard on whatever it was he was drawing. I'd thrown my paper and pencil down onto the grass.
"Look," Panthera said and handed me his sketches. Of course, they were of me.
"Am I really that emaciated?" I asked, rather appalled.
"Not on the outside, no," he replied, taking them back again. He looked thoughtful, put down his pen, and lay back on the soft ground, staring up through the branches above. "Cal, I've decided to accompany you into Elhmen," he said.
At first I made no response, but his look of inquiry was difficult to ignore. "There's no need," I said at length. "I've traveled alone most of the time."
"You don't know the country around here though."
"True, but I can follow instructions. It may be dangerous, Thea; I don't know. I've no idea what's waiting for me there. And I'm sure Ferminfex will not thank me if I take you away from home again so soon. He's worried about you. I don't think he'd like you to get involved with me any further."
"You're wrong!" Panthera argued hotly. "My father would expect me to go with you. After what you did for me, it's the only honorable thing to do.""Honor!" I laughed aloud. "That outmoded concept? Men used to die for honor, didn't they? We must live our own lives, Thea, make our own values. I don't want to endanger you."
"A more sensitive person than I might suspect you were insulting their courage, or indeed ability," Panthera said carefully. "Are you afraid I'll be a hindrance to you?"
"Don't be silly! You don't mean that! I just don't want to involve anyone else in ... well, whatever."
"In what?"
I didn't answer. Panthera sighed and sat up, resting his chin on his knees. "Don't you think it's about time you told me? You've spoken to my father about it, I know." I looked at him for a long time; the light patterns rippling off his face and neck, reflections from the water, his shaded green eyes. Oh Panthera, what I would give to have met you years ago! "Well?" he said.
And I began. It didn't hurt any more. I could speak freely without fear. Of course, I didn't give him all the details, as I'd done with his father. The forest around us seemed utterly silent, the sunlight was very hot. I got a creepy feeling of being watched, but still I told him. When I finished speaking, he rested his chin on his knees once more and gazed at the water. There was a silence I could not break.
Eventually he said, "I didn't think it would be anything like that. I thought you'd committed some kind of crime. I ..." He shook his head.
"I have committed crimes, Thea; that's part of the problem."
"No more than any Har in Jaddayoth, I should think."
"Yes, maybe so, but Immanion isn't in Jaddayoth is it? It's different in Almagabra; very civilized."
"That's not what it sounds like to me. Why can't the Tigron accept it's over? Any normal person would. He must be power mad!" Panthera's ferocity surprised me.
"Stop it!" I said. "You've no right to say that! You don't know anything!"
"It's not over for you either, is it? Look at you defending him. You're both stupid! Oh, what do I care anyway! It's your life!" he picked up his pen and drawing pad once more and scribbled furiously. I took several deep breaths. The silence was electric. I lay back again with my arms above my head and gazed with slitted eyes through the leaves. Trees clung precariously to the stream banks, leaning out over the water. Eventually they will have to fall in. I must have fallen asleep. When Panthera shook me awake, my head was throbbing because I'd been lying face up in the sun for too long. We'd brought food and wine with us, which Panthera was now unpacking from a saddle-bag.
"Are you hungry?" he asked stiffly.
"A bit."
He cleared his throat. "I want to apologize," he said. "No, don't say anything. I suppose you just told your story so well; I got too involved.
You're right; it's none of my business, but I still want to come to Elhmen with you. Can I?"
As if anyone could refuse those eyes! "OK."
He smiled. "Good. We'll start making preparations then."
We drank wine from the bottle. I reflected that I'd be happy remaining in any of the Jaddayoth countries I'd passed through. Ferike would be no exception. Panthera must have been wondering what I was thinking about.
"Look, there's a waterfall upstream," he said. "It's very beautiful. You must see it before we go back."
I stood up and peered through the tunnel of overhanging trees. "Alright; are you coming?"
"No, there are a few more sketches I want to make."
"Another forest painting?"
Panthera wrinkled his nose. "I hope so. I want to make this one really live."
/> Laughing, I ducked between the low branches and began to walk upstream. At that moment, I could not remember a time during the last few years when I'd felt more contented. A shame I would have to leave. In Ferike, there were no pressures of any kind. Not even, if I thought about it, those delightful, most welcome pressures of desire. My mind was utterly at rest. Perhaps that's what brought it on; what happened next. After a while, I could hear the rushing sound that presaged the waterfall. I took off my boots and stepped down into the stream. It rushed around my legs; icy, breath-takingly cold. I stopped to take a drink, and it was like a light, heady wine in my mouth. As I stooped, a blinding light reflected off the water, like sunlight on glass. I looked up quickly.
Ahead of me, through a tunnel of overhanging greenery, shining steadily, a white, powerful radiance reflected off the water. I waded forward, against the strengthening flow. The branches parted before me and I stepped out into an arena of light. The waterfall cascaded into what seemed like a roofless cavern, spilling over a lichened lip of rock. Sunlight fell right into the bowl and the water of the pool bubbled like sparkling wine. I could see glittering droplets hanging in the air, bursting in the air, rainbows of light shimmering around me like insubstantial, ethereal beings. Riotous ferns sprouted from the green, rock walls. A cluster of brightly colored lizards were curled together on a flat stone, taking the sun. Dragonflies skimmed the surface of the water. I was awe-struck. Nothing is so stunning as natural, pure, untainted beauty—beauty such as Pell's once was. I knelt down in the spuming water and let the spray soak me thoroughly. My chest was heavy with an emotion I could put no name to. This place was sacred. It was the home of a god, but the god was not at home. Such moments bring enlightenment. For a brief flash of time, it is possible to understand everything in the world, and in the wake of that realization comes a swelling, bittersweet sadness, that is also the most poignant joy. In that moment, I knew that I could go forward without fear, and face whatever lay in store for me. I thought, "No-one else can direct my life. I am important, but only
to myself and, for that reason, shall take control." It was strength, pure strength. If a time should come when I finally do have to face Pellaz-har-Aralis, Tigron of Immanion, then I will do so without tremor, with a clear mind. I'll tell him that, yes, we had once loved—the memory of it will last forever—but time goes on and life goes on; now I must live my own, which is different from his and always shall be. The scars must be covered with new flesh, comprised of sense and reason, and clear sight. I decided that my future lay in Jaddayoth; nowhere else. Pell will have to listen to me. If some vestige of his former self still remains, he will agree that I am right. I'd convinced myself Pell had become some grim, egocentric tyrant; power-hungry, grasping. Had it been Thiede who'd made that happen? Can't my own heart tell me the truth? Old wounds had to be cleaned before they could heal.
I stood up in the water, looked one last time at the shining cataract, and thought of returning, back the way I'd come, to Panthera, who was lovely and young, who needed healing as much as I did. I should have realized this before.
I turned to follow the flow of the water and fell. ... On my knees with glistening spinnerets of light flashing in my face. The sound of the water had become a roar, the roar of battle, of crowds shouting. "Oh no," I thought; just that. My skin was prickling with the presence of power, my bones aching. The air smelled of ozone and the magical strength of the place was increased a hundred fold. Then I thought, "Remember; you are strong," and stood up again. There was no-one there, only the unearthly crescendo of light and sound. "What do you want?" I cried, without fear. If it was Zack, I could handle it. If it was Gelaming phantoms, I could handle it. Even
if it was a vision of myself, dead and shrouded, I could handle it. It was none of those. I heard a sound, another sound, above the crash of the water. It was like a single note, a voiceless voice. It hurt my eyes, that sound. A glowing bubble of misty light detached itself from the waterfall. It drifted toward me, turning slowly, enveloping my head, my shoulders, my body. I couldn't breathe, but there was no discomfort. I was filled with gold, a golden feeling seeping through the pores of my flesh, my open mouth, my staring eyes. And oh, that feeling, it was the warmest thing on Earth. It was love itself, nurturing, selfless, supportive love. I smiled, held rigid in the arms of that bodiless emotion. There was a voice in my head. It said, "You are my soul"; softly, chiding. What it did not say was, "Would you forget me, deny me?" but I knew those words were there. I gasped. "I love you," and the light contracted about me, squeezing the breath from my lungs. I could smell him, taste him, all around me. A cold wind hit my skin. I opened my eyes and a pulsing ball of light was spinning away from me, up into the white sky. I called him, but it was too late. I could hear birds singing, the water chuckling; he was gone.
In a daze, I splashed back downstream. Panthera looked astounded when I emerged, soaked to the skin, bootless, crawling up over the bank to lie gasping at his feet.
"Cal?" he said.
"Thea, it was him," I gabbled. "Pell was there. He spoke to me. I felt him!"
Panthera gritted his teeth and dragged me further onto the grass. He gazed up the stream toward the hidden waterfall, hands on hip; an aggressive stance.
"He's no fool, is he," Panthera murmured softly. He squatted down beside me and pulled a twig from my wet hair. "He'll not let you go easily. , Is it a fight he wants?"
I was still panting painfully. I could not speak, but whatever Panthera saw in my eyes turned his own to flint.
"A fight it is then!" he decided.
It was not until later that I realized what he meant.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Land of Elhmen
"Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. "
—William Shakespeare, Full fathom five (from The Tempest)
Kruin left Jael just as the deep purple flowers were unfurling along the castle walls. Our farewell was unsentimental. He wished me well and told me not to forget to look him up if I ever found myself in Orligia. He left Jael a comparatively rich har. On top of the reward Ferminfex had given him, he also took several Ferike paintings home with him which were probably worth more than the money.
The night before Panthera and I planned to begin our journey, we had a small, private gathering with Lahela, Ferminfex and Panthera's brothers. Ferminfex wrote a letter of introduction that we could use throughout the journey. Obviously, this would only be effective with hara to whom the family Jael were known, but at least it was some protection.
"It should get you an audience with the Lyris, leader of the Sahale," Ferminfex said. "Although I have never met him personally, Jael has conducted some business with the royal house of Sahen."
"Straight to the top, eh!" I joked.
"Why bother with anything less?" Ferminfex shrugged. "The Lyris is Nahir-Nuri; he, if anybody, should be able to enlighten you."
After the meal, Panthera and his father spread sheets of paper over the table to draw maps and decide which would be the quickest route to Eulalee. Only one gateway was known to hara of other tribes; Kar Tatang, some miles north of the Elhmen capital of Shappa. Lahela watched them introspectively.
"I did try to dissuade Thea from coming with me," I said, in apology.
Lahela smiled at me. "He's doing what he thinks is right. Panthera is a tough little brute, he always has been, but please, don't hurt him, Cal."
"I have no intention ..." I began, blustering.
Lahela raised his hand, shook his head. "I know. Just think; that's all I ask."
We traveled light. The weather was warmer, so there was no need to carry heavy furs. We had been traveling for over a week and now, ahead of us, the sheer mountains of Elhmen soared into a pale, blue sky, their summits mantled with late spring snow, girdled with cloud. Panthera rode ahead of me, his hair flying back, clad in black leather, patterns burnt into the hide. He rode with a grim kind of determination as if it was his des
tiny we were following, not mine. Perhaps it was. Looking back, I know that I was afraid, although at the time, I just thought it was excitement. I was filled with a sense of "approach," which increased as the mountains loomed nearer. My sleep had become fitful; I was so full of energy. I thought it was some kind of climax building up. Perhaps, on the other side of it, I could find some peace, and if that peace meant death itself, I was not afraid to meet and fight it. It is a strange thing, and perhaps common only to Wraeththu-kind, that we expect death whenever we are gripped by spasms of presentiment. From experience, I already knew that this was rarely the case (well, obviously so, otherwise I wouldn't be here to write this!), but it is still something we all seem to dread. I suppose it is some vestige of guilt, left over from the dark times of our arrival in the world. We fear the heavy tread of the dark giant because we have thrown stones at him from afar for so long. Perhaps too it is the curse of the near-immortals; can death be cheated so easily?
The Wraeththu Chronicles Page 97
