The Wraeththu Chronicles

by Storm Constantine

  "A diamond is multifaceted, surely," Lourana answered, just as pompously, before popping a biscuit into his mouth, munching in relish, while staring with shining eyes at the performance.

  I couldn't watch it. There were too many unpleasant reminders of Piristil within it. Panthera looked positively green. His sickly drink was untouched, developing a thick skin on its surface. Those two hours passed with agonizing slowness.

  The Prefect returned at ten minutes to ten. By that time, the bizarre entertainers had gone. "It is my pleasure to escort you to the palace," he said, savoring the words. An honor for him as well then.

  Sykernesse has three spires. One, it is said, to celebrate the birth of each of Ariaric's sons. The Prefect took us there by public conveyance, a car very similar to Lourana's. We'd left our guide behind us. There was no way the Prefect would let him follow us into the Palace. In a way, I was sorry to say goodbye to him. His knowledge of Maudrah had made us feel safe; now we felt alone. Sykernesse is surrounded by a high, impenetrable wall. Cages upon the wall contain the remains of condemned traitors, or perhaps hara who had accidentally fallen over in the street. I shuddered. What in Agh-ama's name was I doing here?

  Madness. We were the cause of some minor fuss at the Main Gate as we sought entrance. The Prefect argued unintelligibly with the guards. Administration assistants were summoned to indulge in more earnest discussion, scanning forms and lists carried on clipboards. Panthera and I took the liberty of reclining back in the car to smoke. We'd had two cigarettes each by the time the problems were smoothed out. Then the car lifted itself with a sigh and swept grandly inside the shadow of the gates. The Formal Entrance to Sykernesse revealed itself in morning splendor. Wide, white steps, rows of columns, carved doors, heavy banners lifting sluggishly in a faint breeze. Braceleted ravens stalked and flapped and grumbled along marble terraces and velvet lawns. A groom, leading two glossy, enormous horses, excused himself as he crossed our path. The Prefect directed the car's driver to veer toward a smaller side door. The grandness of the front entrance was intended for the Archon and visitinglords alone. The side entrance was still fairly impressive though. We were ushered into a wide, dark passage by a grave and gracious servant and conducted across a polished hall. The Prefect followed us into a formal salon, furnished in deep crimson. I was beginning to doubt whether we would ever get to see the Archon himself. It was doubtful whether Ariaric, or even his staff, ever ventured onto the ground floor other than to leave the palace. The Prefect asked us to sign a document. Rather carelessly, 1 just scrawled my name without reading it. Panthera spent some minutes trying to scan the text, but just signed it and tossed it back at the Prefect in disgust after being unable to decipher the official jargon.

  "Just a formality," the Prefect insisted sweetly, folding it tidily into an oblong. "We like to keep a record of all foreign visitors to Oomadrah. Now, if you would care to take a seat, someone should be along shortly to see to you." He backed from the room, bowing and smiling.

  Panthera made an eloquent sign at the door with his fingers; a rare gesture for him. "Now what?" he asked accusingly. "Cal, we could be well on our way to Roselane now."

  "Don't remind me," I said.

  "Ah, prepared to admit you made a mistake then?" He smiled smugly.

  I shook my head. "No. Let's wait and see, shall we."

  He laughed. "Yes, let's see. You know, I never thought Oomadrah would be like this,

  did you?"

  "No. I didn't think anywhere would be like this nowadays."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Only that life before Wraeththu would have held little pleasure for you, my pantherine." He raised his brows, but we were interrupted. The door burst open and a tawny-haired har, dressed in white, virtually exploded into the room. He looked around quickly, raking a hand through his hair when he saw us sitting apprehensively on the nearest sofa. He smiled, rushed forward.

  "Greetings cousin," he said. "Whichever one of you is my cousin."

  "Lalasa?" Panthera inquired hopefully. He extended his hand which the har took in his own.

  "Ah, Lahela's son; I should have known. Yes, I'm Lalasa. Now, what godforsaken reason brought you to this little nest of vipers?"

  "Of course, the rigors of Maudrah society are somewhat relaxed in Syker-nesse," Lalasa told us, as he poured us coffee. Servants hovered in the background, anxious to be at hand should he need them. I admired the way he was so convincingly oblivious of them. He was a typical Kalamah, I suppose. It was easy to see that he shared Lahela's blood. "We get quite a lot of outlanders here," he continued, "many visitors, many hara presented at court. Elisyin won't have Maudrah restrictions anywhere near his apartments. Even the Niz aren't welcome there, except for Wrark Fortuny, but he's a friend of Ariaric's, so that's different. How long are you planning on staying here? What the hell do you want? I can't believe you've just come to see me."

  "Well, we haven't," I agreed bluntly. "I want to meet Ariaric."

  Lalasa did not gasp, or even change his expression. "That figures," he said, rather enigmatically. "If you're from Megalithica, you can expect to be sent on to Garridan rather swiftly. Our beloved Archon does little to encourage faces from the past to remain here. I guess it embarrasses him or something ... I doubt if he'll kick you out straight away though, and he'll certainly secure a good place for you in Garridan before he does ..."

  "I don't think you understand," I said. "I'm not looking for a permanent position."

  "Aren't you? Forgive this indiscretion, you know, mentioning the terrible word, but a lot of Uigenna have headed this way, thinking that now Ariaric has his own little kingdom, they'll be able to sponge off his good fortune and hard work. We have to be careful."

  "Ah, so it's no secret he was once with the Uigenna then?"

  Lalasa pulled a face. "Oh, please! He never was! You'd best remember that, my friend. Ariaric only left Megalithica because things got a little out of hand over there. He didn't like it."

  "That's the official version?"

  "It is."

  "Do any of the visitors from back home ever get to meet him in the flesh?"

  "Are you kidding?" Lalasa pulled yet another expressive face.

  "No, I'm serious."

  "Well, what do you think? I'm with Elisyin. I get to hear things. No-one with Uigenna blood gets past the first floor, believe me. They might get sent on with a full purse, but he won't see them, not even for old time's sake. If you knew Ariaric before, best not mention it. Understand?"

  "Yes. Unfortunately, I was rather indiscreet with the Prefect. I mentioned I was an old friend of the Lion."

  Lalasa shrugged. "I wouldn't worry too much about that. The fool's an insect, a pen-pusher. He has no influence and no contacts of importance here."

  "If I write a letter to the Archon, will you see that he gets it?"

  "No, not on your life. Write to Elisyin. I'll probably be able to get you onto his floor. He likes having pretty hara about the place and you'll certainly suit requirements there. Just don't mention past alliances. Say Ferminfex sent you to tout for business amongst the idle rich or something. Panthera, can you paint portraits?"

  "I can paint anything," he answered sourly.

  "Good, that's the way in then. All of Elisyin's court are extraordinarily vain. Let's get cracking." He called for paper and a pen. Servants were driven into a panic of activity. Whatever I might have said about Kalamahindolence before, forget it. We were installed in a suite on the second floor within an hour.

  The opulence was exquisitely understated. We had two rooms, plus a bathroom, which was modest by Sykernesse standards, but probably more than we deserved. After all, we were far from official envoys from Ferike. The apartment had an air of impermanence about it, as if all of its previous occupants had never stayed there very long. All the furnishings were terracotta red and brown and cream. Panthera examined an object hung on the wall.

  "What's this?" he asked, pressing various buttons.

  La
lasa snatched it from his hands. "A telephone," he said. "Be careful."

  "A what?" Panthera was only used to thought-transference units; even I was slightly surprised.

  "A primitive form of communication device once used by men," I explained to him. "Well, it looks as if we might be back in the twentieth century, doesn't it!"

  "We're not that far out of it yet," Lalasa remarked. He told us that Elisyin would receive us later in the afternoon. I wasn't convinced that the Lion's consort had any interest in us at all really, but obviously Lalasa had no small degree of influence with him. No doubt he had dropped heavy hints about how grateful he'd be to have his relative from Jael received at court.

  "I don't feel safe here," Panthera decided once Lalasa had left us alone. "It all seems so genteel on the surface, but I feel that it is just on the surface, don't you? I feel as if it would be very easy to, you know, fall out of favor."

  "Ah Thea," I replied, pulling the rank of my experience on him, "when I you've been in as many royal houses as I have, you'll realize they're all the same. Even Jael to a degree. A code of etiquette must be maintained, an elegance supposed to transcend the grubbings of humanity. As a race, you'll find that Wraeththu are suckers for pomp and circumstance; they love playing Olympians. You just have to know how to play the game to survive. It's not that difficult."

  "Hmm, as I recall, when we first met, you were working as a kanene I after having 'grubbed' around the country for some time. Did you forget the rules, Cal, or was it a voluntary choice to opt out?"

  "I always underestimate you," I said.

  "Perhaps you look on me as a child," he replied. "I've found that first generation hara always do have a slightly condescending attitude to those of us who are pure-born, as if we haven't lived.' That's not fair, is it? Can you really say I haven't experienced anything?"

  "I wouldn't dream of it, my dear. All I'm saying is, I've lived with Varrs, I I've lived with Gelaming—even if it was under restraint. I know this scenario. Take away the grand buildings, the luxuries, the clothes and you have the leader's clique of the Uigenna. It's not that different."

  "I hope you're right."

  "So do I."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Sykernesse

  "/ must be satisfied with my heart..."

  —W. B. Yeats, The Circus Animals' Desertion

  I always expect the consorts of Wraeththu leaders to be effeminate, gentle creatures, whose sole purpose is usually for the generation of heirs. Elisyin was an exception to this rule. His hair was hacked short, consciously unkempt, his attitude restless and self-willed. From the moment I first set eyes on him, I could see why he wouldn't have anything to do with the petty restrictions of Maudrah society. First, it would bore him to distraction; second, it would get in the way of more important things. Elisyin liked to be direct. Form and ceremony held no interest, no comfort for him. Ariaric probably adored and slightly feared him. Terzian had once felt that way for Cobweb; perhaps I was being too subjective about Elisyin because of that. Elisyin was not tall, but as graceful and aesthetic as you'd expect from a well-bred Ferike. He did not wear cosmetics except for painting his fingernails deepest indigo. His ears were pierced at least a dozen times by earrings of all shapes and sizes, but he wore no other jewelery. His suite of rooms was sumptuous, but untidy; it did not feel particularly royal.

  Lalasa led us through a gossiping cluster of courtiers to the couch where Elisyin was presiding over a game of cards. Nobody seemed to be taking it very seriously. The consort of the Archon smiled politely at us when were introduced, but it was clear that he had little real interest. Many people, seeking positions in Sykernesse, must be presented to him in this way, so that two more new faces were just too unremarkable for words. Elisyin didn't ask us why we were there; he didn't care. I have to confess that it pricked my pride badly. I wanted to show him how different we were to the sycophants that surrounded him. It angered me that we should appear as such. It would have been madness to consider attempting mind-touch with this elevated Har, but consider it I did. Only the desire to remain "faceless" for a while prevented it. Vanity was still something I had to get under control. Lalasa went to great pains to impress on us how privileged we were, being introduced into such august company. He showed us off to a few of Elisyin's cronies, some of whom actually stirred themselves to take an interest in us. One or two hara mentioned they would like to have their portrait painted. Panthera gritted his teeth, smiled and talked about making preliminary sketches. He considered such things beneath his art, but hid it well. After an eternity of endless chit-chat he came and whispered in my ear; "Roselane!"

  "Soon," I promised. It shut him up but we both knew that wasn't exactly truthful.

  For three days we played the game. For three days, we rose late in the morning, dined like kings, went on tours of Oomadrah with Lalasa, said the right things to the right

  people. In the evenings, we visited the theater, the horse-races, the art galleries, all within Sykernesse itself. All so civilized.

  Panthera was going crazy. "You're wasting time, Cal," he said. "What the hell are you doing here? This is madness. Have you forgotten Elhmen and Sahen so quickly?"

  Oh, I knew he was right. Elhmen seemed a million miles away, Immaii-ion but a dream. The way things were going, it seemed unlikely we would ever get to see Ariaric. Elisyin's people rarely interacted with those of the third floor. We didn't even know if the Archon was in residence or not. On the evening of the third day, I was prepared to admit I'd been wrong about diverting our journey. What had I been expecting? A fiery confrontation with the Lion to show him how much I'd achieved despite having been kicked out of the Uigenna? You see, I couldn't even be sure of my motives any more. Perhaps it was simply pride. I said to Panthera, "Tomorrow we leave," and he had the grace not to say anything. "I told you so" would have been just too obvious. We began to pack our bags and there was a knock at the door. Panthera looked up at me dismayed; presentiment. It was Lalasa. He didn't even notice we were packing.

  "You've got an hour to get ready," he said. "Look your best. Ariaric has returned from the Natawni border and there's going to be a celebration in his honor. Elisyin asked if you'd like to come." (I bet!) "It may be the only chance you'll get, Cal. Make a move—now." He swept out before we could say anything.

  Panthera did not look exactly elated. He stared at me meaningfully, no doubt wishing he'd bullied me into leaving the day before. "Be careful," he said.

  The bulk of Sykerness is four-storied. The ground floor is the domain of the servants and staff, offices and reception rooms for visitors, kitchens and store-rooms. The first floor houses the offices of state, suites for visitors worth more than the ground floor but not high-ranking enough to qualify for a suite on the second or third, conference room, libraries and the living quarters of those hara who administrate that floor. The second floor, as I've already intimated, is the territory of Elisyin, his friends and staff. The third is Ariaric's and the province of the Niz. They alone have access to the towers and spires of Sykernesse, the observatories and private temples. Most of the court, including the Lion's family, reside on the second floor. And it was there that the celebration to welcome the Archon home was held.

  Lalasa took charge of us, ushering us into the right corridors, "Stay by me," he said. "Whatever you do, Cal, don't attempt to speak with Ariaric. He may notice you. He may not. You are in the hands of Fate.

  Tomorrow you may be requested to continue your journey east at once. We shall have to see."

  The gathering was surprisingly informal, held in a large, but low-ceil-inged room, where the colors of palest dove gray and darkest indigo melded to a refined and tasteful effect and the lights were discrete, flattering hara who passed beneath them. Tables were set out at one end of the room, laden with food, but there were few seats. Servants glided silently among the guests, supplying glasses of dry, iced wine, hara mingled, conversing softly, but all eyes kept flicking to the doors. Panthera and I ac
cepted a glass of wine each and then secreted ourselves in a corner to watch the proceedings. My heart was racing. Lalasa hovered close by, keeping an eye on us. Presently, Elisyin made a grand entrance, and we were witness to a mind-boggling display of sycophancy; the court virtually fell to their knees as he passed among them. Elisyin appeared not to notice this. He had an autocratic young Har on each arm, whom Lalasa told us were his sons. At his heels came a tall, robed figure, who kept his hands hidden in his sleeves. That, we were informed, was Wrark Fortuny, High Priest of the Niz. It was the first Niz we had seen since entering Sykernesse. Panthera and I quickly became bored by it all. We were too insignificant for anyone to come and speak to us and we couldn't help scorning everyone's fawning behavior towards Elisyin.

  After half an hour or so, the elite of Ariaric's army made their entrance. More swooning and grovelling on behalf of the court. Panthera rolled his eyes at me. But the best was yet to come.