Presently, Wrark Fortuny took his place on a raised dais at the far end of the room. The music which had been playing so softly I'd barely noticed it ceased immediately, and there was an audible sibilance from the room, which quickly lapsed to silence. Fortuny raised his hands, his head, and closed his eyes. He took a deep, deep breath. Exhaled.
"As you are gathered here," he intoned in a ringing voice, "so shield your eyes from the Light as it falls upon you. Keen your welcome for the Son of Brightness, the Breather of Life, the Stern Deliverer of Justice, Semblence of the Aghama on this Blighted Earth; Ariaric, Archon of Oomadrah, known also as the Lion for the Intentness of His Gaze, the Soft Walker of the Deserts, whose Eyes are the Twin Lights of Destiny and have looked upon the Mysteries. As the Spirit of the Aghama resides in Him, so do we recognize the Goddua within the har, and avert our eyes until he gives us leave to see . . ."
Within the room, every chin sank toward every breast. Breath was held as a single breath. Panthera and I exchanged a nervous glance. "Avert your eyes!" Lalasa hissed at us desperately. For the time being, I looked at the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the wide doors onto the corridor outside thrown open. A clarion was sounded; five, sweet, clear notes. Fortuny spoke a blessing and Ariaric, accompanied by his closest friends, came into the room. I had to look up. Had to. It was a vital moment to me,a sweeping clean of the path of time so that two points could meet and blossom in understanding. I did not raise my head; I strained my eyes to see. I was the only one. Ariaric turned and smiled at his friends, who smiled back. He approached his consort Elisyin, whose head was bowed as everyone elses, and kissed him on the cheek. Elisyin raised his head, nodded. He was saying, "I am fine, beloved." I'd known that language myself once. Fortuny, inhaled deeply, as if he could smell their contact. He opened his eyes and Ariaric raised his hand. "Look now upon the Light!" Fortuny cried exhuberantly, and everyone sank as one to their knees. A few outland-ers like Panthera and myself were standing rather self-consciously around the edge of the room. The Archon took a quick look at us. Perhaps he was always afraid of seeing old faces there. He looked me right in the eye, but gave no flicker of recognition. Even so, I knew he had recognized me. I felt his blood run momentarily cold, his heart miss a beat. For a second, we were both back there in the past, knees touching as we squatted in an old warehouse store-room, he with a cut palm, me with a crazy fear. He had been so strong then, but I'd faced my fear. I'd lived it through. I had a son now; somewhere. What of Ariaric? Had he grown too? I was Algomalid, but to his people, the Lion was a god. An incarnation of the Aghama. Impossible. But I could not dispute it... yet. I had been mistaken about his hair, he had not cut it off. Whatever austerities his new role demanded, he was too fond of his mane to lose it. It was braided tight against his head, down his back, showing off the bones of his face and neck, and darker in color than before. Obviously, he'd been working on his inner balance. The aggressive masculinity had been tempered by serenity and grace. I expected his voice would be softer. He said, "Rise, my people," and they did so. His voice was softer, but it carried far. I could feel his power, which may just have been confidence. As Lalasa had said, we would have to see. Every face in that room was shining with pleasure; how they loved him. I just watched. He kept looking at Elisyin and Elisyin would grimace back and I wondered about what jokes they made about these fawning hara when they were alone together. Perhaps they didn't joke at all. For a moment, I was intensely envious. The thought, "That could have been me" sprang instantly to mind, but it was not as potential consort to the Lion that I thought it. No. For perhaps the first time, I found myself thinking, "If I had accepted Thiede's offer, if I had gone with him to Immanion, would there have come a time when I would have met Pell's eyes across a room like this? Would we have smiled together, sharing our secret, savoring it?" It was a far more complicated feeling than that, but difficult to put into words. Panthera put his hand on my arm and brought me back. Perhaps he had guessed what I'd been thinking.
"Is he as you remember him?" he asked me.
I shook my head. "No. Greatly changed . . . maybe."
I knew he would speak to me soon.
The evening wore on, swirling around us. The music became louder, voices higher as more wine was consumed. I kept thinking about the difference between this and life in the city below, and commented upon it to Lalasa.
He smiled. "Not really double standards," he said. "In ancient times, men did not expect to live like gods, neither would they have dared to criticize the way in which their gods conducted themselves. Ariaric is Divinity in Maudrah; his behavior is beyond reproach, similarly the behavior of his court."
"And what exactly is Goddua?" Panthera asked.
"Simple," Lalasa answered. "It is the God and Goddess combined; as are all of us."
Panthera was ready to argue. "God and Goddess cannot be termed as 'he' surely," he said.
"You think it should be changed then?" Lalasa asked. "Should a new term be thought of that is as androgynous as we are?"
I sighed, and let my attention wander. It bored me too much to point out that theirs was a subject that had been argued dry about thirty years ago. Who cares whether we call ourselves he, she or it? Not me. I scanned the faces in the room, but could not see the Lion anywhere. Many hara had drifted outside, spreading themselves throughout Elisyin's apartments. I decided to leave Panthera to it and sidled away. I wanted to explore, and yes, I was looking for Ariaric. Who wouldn't have?
I wandered around the second floor, drink in hand, looking in every room I came across. Nobody spared me a second glance. I passed a mirror, looked into it and thought, "Yes, OK, that'll do." I was rehearsing what I would say to him when I found him. It was all very dramatic. Almost surreal, but absorbing. Eventually, I found myself in empty corridors, without even a servant around. Walking mechanically, I found myself at the foot of a great staircase, that disappeared into a velvet gloom. I walked right up it. Darkness fell about me like a veil and the sounds of merriment seemed very far away. Miles away. Before me, tall, gleaming pillars stood sentinel to a cathedral calm. The ceiling was lost in shadow high above me. This was Ariaric's floor. I shouldn't be here. Perhaps I shouldn't continue, but turn around and go back to Panthera. If I was found here, it could mean unpleasantness, but even as I thought this, I was walking, walking, and the staircase was soon far behind me. Was Phaonica like this, noble, grand and silent? I could sense melancholy, but probably only because I wanted to. Something was leading me, of that I was sure. I let it happen. How could I have known which turnings to take, which stairs to climb? How could I have found my way to the studded door that opened upon the base of a spire? Almost in a trance, I closed the door behind me and began to climb. Round and round and up and up. I could hear the wind whistling its single, mournful note and feel the air become colder. Up and up. Panthera was far, far away from me and I climbed a finger of stone, distanced from all that I knew.
At the top of the curling steps, I came out, breathless, into a room with a black and white tiled floor. Black pillars and curtains; the smell of incense. This was a temple. Before me, I could see an altar supporting only a white, tasselled cloth and a drawn sword. Beyond this, was a statue. Bland of face, one hand raised, the other palm upwards in its lap. The face was a face I knew, a face etched indelibly on my brain; Thiede's. Perfumed smoke blew across its features as it smiled at the room. And kneeling before this altar was a figure robed in crimson. Ariaric, Wraxilan, Lion of Oomar or Oomadrah, what did it matter? I had found him. That was all. He appeared to be deep in meditation, his hair unbound, but ropy with oil. I crept up behind him, cat-footed, unsure of what I would say or do. He raised his head, but did not turn around.
"I did not think you would come," he said. "I hoped you wouldn't."
So these were the first words. Disappointing? What had I expected? Surprise for one thing. Ariaric sighed and got to his feet, his knees cracking. He faced me, rubbing his eyes. "Cold in the marshes," he said, smiling.
"I've seen too many battles, I think. Perhaps I've outgrown them, or is that a euphemism for saying I fear I'm growing older?"
"No-one will know that until some poor har dies of old age," I answered. "All the hara I've know who have died have met, shall we say, untimely ends?" (Flying bone, blood, a scream, a horse's scream. No! I deny this image.)
The Lion of Oomadrah nodded and chuckled to himself. He did not hear my thoughts. "A point well taken, my friend." We looked at each other. He shook his head. "Ah, Cal, we cannot meet as strangers." He held out his arms to me and we embraced as brothers. I felt like weeping. This was not happening at all how I'd planned it. Ariaric grunted affectionately and then held me away from him. "In meetings hearts beat closer," he said.
"In blood," I responded.
"In blood," he added quietly. His hands dropped to his sides. Now he could think of nothing to say.
"Do I take it you were expecting me then?" I asked. Why on earth I hadn't anticipated that, I cannot understand.
"It was a ... possibility," he said guardedly. "Look, we cannot speak here. We'll go somewhere more comfortable. Please." He indicated the door.
"One thing," I said, facing the altar once more. "Why is it that the Archon of Maudrah pays homage to the image of Thiede the Gelaming?"
Ariaric stared at me for a moment. "Ah, he didn't tell you that then!"
"Tell me what?"
"Cal, all hara worship the Aghama don't they? Thiede is the Aghama."
A long time ago, a mutant runaway came alive into the city ... Thiede? Frightened, and dangerous in his fear . . . (Thiede?!) Wretched, helpless, abused mutant freak. Our progenitor. Thiede. Reviled as vermin, revered as a god, full of hate and bitterness at his condition; it had flowered into an insatiable appetite for power. And he had succeeded. He had taken it, bleeding, with his bare hands from the under-nourished, pigeon-chest of mankind. Thiede. Yes, it made sense. By any god that still lived, the megalomaniac that styled himself our deity earned my respect in those moments. Whatever his faults, he had fought against incredible odds and won. Now, presumably, he was laughing. I don't blame him. It's a good joke. I could feel things beginning to tilt into place a little when the Lion told me that. Looking back, I don't think I was altogether surprised. I should have realized Thiede's mystique went beyond mere charisma. Many hara have that. Thiede was the first. He made us happen: Aghama.
"High-ranking hara of most tribes are aware of this now," Ariaric said, looking at the statue.
"Obviously I'm not high-ranking enough," I said. Ariaric looked at me quizzically.
"I hope you don't mean that."
"Of course I don't mean that." I laughed, a forced, harsh sound. "I have no tribe," Ariaric winced.
"Downstairs, please," he said.
So, now it appears that Thiede is truly the guiding force of Wraeththu. A concept that poses more questions as fast as it answers others. How would it affect me? I'd have to think about it.
As we walked together along lofty, paneled corridors toward his suite, Ariaric became formal. He apologized eloquently for the dismissive way in which Panthera and myself had been treated by his staff. "I hope you weren't insulted," he said, "but unfortunately only Fortuny and myself were privy to the information about your journeys in Jaddayoth."
"You're wrong there," I butted in, "there's nothing secret about it. Just about everyone seems to know. They know more than I do, in fact."
The Lion ignored these remarks. "Elisyin did not know," he continued smoothly. "I had hoped to be back in Sykernesse long before you reached Maudrah, but things have dragged on a little in Natawni."
"Trying to make peace were you?"
He smiled benignly at my clumsy sarcasm. "Trying to secure the border actually. Natawni would have the world believe that Maudrah are their wicked persecutors. They prefer to keep quiet about the lightning raids they make upon Maudrah territory, the thieving from Maudrah settlements, the frightening of their inhabitants. Not all Maudrah Hara are warriors, you know. Most are herders, especially in the North." He sighed. "However, I hardly think the differences between Maudrah and Natawni can be solved overnight ..."
"There will always be differences, surely, as long as you insist on trying to make all of Jaddayoth Maudrah," I said. "How can you blame anyone objecting to that? Although you and your court live like kings, it's rather a different story for the hara down in the street, isn't it. Do you know how they live? Have you ever seen? Or is that the province of the Niz and beyond your control?"
"Our people are not unhappy," he answered vaguely. "When the time is right, their society will blossom. Winter-time is necessary, a time of
replenishing. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that most Maudrah came from Megalithica originally, and had to leave it pretty quickly."
"Who decides when it's spring-time then? The Niz?"
"Yes." Such a direct reply surprised me. "Here in Sykernesse, we are privileged; I know that. In Maudrah hara are expiating the sins of the past. You were there, Cal; you should understand. It's a novitiate state; they are learning."
"Your education was rather different, wasn't it?"
He smiled ruefully. "I cannot argue with you, Cal, but you shouldn't really pass opinions on what you don't fully understand, should you. This way . . ."
He assumed I knew a lot more than I did, especially about himself. I wondered if I could find out what he had heard about me without giving my ignorance away. The last time we had met, he'd had me cast out into the cold night of North Megalithican society—if such chaos could be termed as that. He had been a big fish in a small pond. Now, both pond and fish had grown somewhat. He directed me through an enormous, dark doorway and closed it behind us. As I took in the grand opulence of the room, I was still talking, saying things that perhaps should have been kept for later, but I couldn't wait. The main reason I was there was to say them, after all.
"You've apologized for your people treating us with disrespect," I said, "but don't you think that now is the time to apologize for what you did to me in the past? A second-class suite of rooms can't really compare with being ejected into a burnt-out wasteland teeming with blood-hungry psychos, can it!"
Ariaric winced once more. Gracefully. "You have a long memory Cal."
"I've lived with it."
"Have you come all this way just to rake over old coals? The fire has been long cold, surely."
"Maybe, but I suffered first-degree burns from it, so did Zack."
The Lion stared at me thoughtfully for a moment. I wish I hadn't spoken; it had sounded so peevish, even if correct. I went to sit on the floor in front of the fire to escape his eyes. The rooms of a king; it showed. "So here we are," I said, looking fixedly at a green and gold tapestry hanging above the fireplace. "It seems Wraxilan is no more. His slate has been wiped clean so that Ariaric the Lifebreather can take his place. Are they that different?"
Ariaric laughed good-humoredly behind me. I heard the clink of glass.
"By Aghama, I really got to you once, didn't I!"
"Dear me, and there I was thinking the feeling was mutual."
He handed me a crystal glass over my shoulder. I could not feel his warmth; I was too nervous. I drank; a fiery spirit tempered by a cordial of lemon and herbs.
"Cal, I had a lot to learn. I learned it. There is nothing more to it than that. You've come a long way too, haven't you?"
"Have I? I had hoped to surprise you." I was deviating from the subject but he went along with it.
"You did. Satisfied? Even though I'd had word you might show up here, the moment I saw you tonight filled me with ... what? Terror, shock, awe? Maybe all three. It took me back." I know it did. "A long way back. I want you to know that the choice you made then was the right one."
"Oh? Why?" I turned to look at him then.
"Well, after you . . . left the Uigenna, I chose another to host my heirs. We didn't know enough. I wanted a son too quickly. The har died. I'm glad you refused me."
I nodded. "
Yes," I said.
"Did you ever regret your decision?"
I suppose that was brave of him, or completely egotistical. I wavered. I could not
lie. "Sometimes," I said.
That must have satisfied him. He smiled. "Well, it's over now isn't it; all of it. You
want me to apologize for kicking you out of the Uigenna? Are you sure? I'd say it was
probably a blessing."
I raised my glass. "Let's drink to that." We drank for a moment in silence, then I said, "Elisyin is a perfect consort for you." I don't know what made me say it; I prefer not to think.
"I know," Ariaric replied smoothly. "He's given me three sons. All thoroughbreds like himself."
"Three? Oh, as many as the fabled spires, of course! How come only two of them were there tonight? Is the third out accruing more land for his noble sire somewhere?"
"Hardly. He's dead." He smiled gently. "Don't look like that. The earth won't swallow you, however much you try. I'm not offended. How could you have known? We all have our tragedies to live with."
The Wraeththu Chronicles Page 108
