‘Where did you get that?’ I snapped. It was fresh bread, glossy fruit, and cured peppered meat. It had not come from this place, I was sure. It looked too wholesome.
‘Someone has to look after you and, to this end, I am resourceful,’ he replied and then pulled a face. ‘You must get to Sacramante quickly. You need pampering, Rayojini.’
In that instant, he made me conscious of my appearance. I felt gaunt and old and hideous; all this without a mirror before me, other than his eyes. ‘Too late for that,’ I said bitterly.
He laughed. ‘Bathe in self-pity if you must, soulscaper. But I want you healthy and preened.’
‘Why?’ I snatched at the food he had laid out neatly on a flat rock.
He shrugged and smiled innocently. ‘Why? It requires great fortitude to plough through the Sacramantan archives!’
‘I believe you!’ I didn’t. ‘Have you anything to drink?’
‘Fresh,’ he said, offering me a water skin.
I drank long and deep, and then, wiping my mouth, said carelessly, ‘I saw you last night, Keea. In the pool. I saw.’ I didn’t anticipate what response I’d get, but watched him carefully, just in case.
‘Pool? What pool? You must have been dreaming,’ he replied smoothly.
I dug in my pocket and showed him the coin. ‘You must have seen that person at the gate, Keea. I am convinced it was a member of the Host. He gave me this.’
Keea grinned. ‘Don’t be absurd! Anyone you saw at the gates was simply one of the crazy natives! This place is full of old coins!’
‘This is a new Sacramantan coin, Keea.’
He shrugged. ‘Well, it could have been taken from any passing traveller.’
‘That is possible, of course,’ I said, ‘but the strangest thing is that you vanished after I’d been given the coin. Did you go with that man, Keea?’
I was hoping for nervousness on Keea’s part, a quick downward glance from the eyes, a shaky laugh. He merely smiled at me and shook his head slowly. ‘No, Rayo, I didn’t. I didn’t go with anyone. Perhaps I shouldn’t have left you like that. It wasn’t intentional. I thought you were following me. All those prancing lunatics got in the way and when I looked back, you were gone.’
‘Where did you go?’ I persisted, refusing to mirror his smile.
He shrugged. ‘I went off to explore, I told you. These people are crazy but harmless enough. I thought you’d be safe on your own for a while. You’re always telling me how well you can look after yourself! The last thing I expected was that you’d end up taking swigs of noxious substances and start having hallucinations!’
‘I didn’t hallucinate!’
He folded his arms. ‘So what was it you saw?’
I described the man at the city gates in more detail and then - rather reluctantly - told him all that had happened after I’d woken up in the middle of the night. ‘Keea, I saw someone drink your blood!’
‘The same person who gave you the coin?’
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. ‘No! No! I told you, it was someone else.’ I could not mention the name Metatronim.
Keea sighed and sat down beside me. He took hold of my hand. ‘Look Rayo,’ he said. ‘Feel.’ Before I could pull away he guided my hand inside his shirt to his chest. ‘Any wound there?’ he asked. I felt around, weirdly embarrassed. His skin was beautifully warm and smooth.
‘No,’ I said and pulled my hand away.
‘Well, there you are!’ He raised his arms and smiled. ‘A dream, Rayo, a muddle-headed vision.’ He shook his head. ‘This place is getting to you!’
He made it sound so plausible. I didn’t want to believe him, and yet, there was no reason not to. He was right; I had drunk the child’s wine. The walk with my guardian-pursuer, and my consequent encounter with the image of Beth Metatronim, had also seemed weirdly unreal. But the man at the gate couldn’t possibly have been a hallucination; I hadn’t been drunk, or drugged, when I’d seen him.
‘I can only agree with you up to a point, Keea,’ I said. ‘My mind was addled before I drank the wine. Someone is playing with me. Remember the temple painting in the Sink. The feeding. Last night, I saw you - or an image of you - give yourself to a member of the Host. They drank your blood! That has to be significant.’
He laughed, but not as harshly as usual. ‘You thought you saw that! Legends, Rayo. You dream legends!’
His laughter angered me so much, I turned on him and threw him back against the rubble. He cried out and I was gratified by the seed of fear in his eyes.
‘Just another quick look,’ I said, and pulled his shirt down over his shoulders. He tried to beat at me with his hands, push me away, but I was stronger than he was. The skin of his chest was rippled with goose-flesh pimples, his nipples hard and erect, dark against his skin, but there was no sign of injury. The sight entranced me: I could see his ribs straining against his smooth pelt. Such beauty. An image of Beth feeding from Keea flashed across my mind, intensely vivid and detailed. My mouth filled up with sweet fluid and I was overtaken by a wild desire to mimic Metatronim’s actions. A terrible, irresistible compulsion made me lean down and bite Keea hard. He uttered a low, deep moan and arched against me. I had a whole mouthful of his flesh between my teeth, including his nipple I think. It must have hurt him horribly. I don’t know why I did it.
After a few moments, I let him go and sat up. He lay there, staring up at me, his hair spread out around his head. I looked at his chest. The teeth-marks were livid, but I knew I had not broken the skin. Neither had I sucked the flesh at all. Why then was the skin within the indentations bruised and seeping blood?
‘You can still lie to me if you wish,’ I said, staring him straight in the eye, ‘but never consider me a fool!’
Keea’s eyes flickered away from mine; such a brief hesitation, but I’d been waiting for it. ‘I know what I saw, Keea,’ I said firmly. ‘And, do you know, I don’t think it was a dream. If it was a hallucination, then it was designed specifically for me and deliberately put into my mind.’
Keea swallowed, and pulled his shirt back over his shoulders. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing his chest through the cloth.
‘You are part of all this, aren’t you?’ I said. ‘So why the games?’
Keea opened and shut his mouth once, shook his head. I realised, with satisfaction, that I had both frightened him and destroyed his composure.
‘The Host have contacted me,’ I said. ‘Now, I have only to interpret the message.’ I leaned over and grabbed Keea’s arm. He made a sound of distress and flinched away, his hair falling over his face. I dug my fingers cruelly into his flesh. ‘Why don’t you tell me what the message means, Keea?’ I shook him roughly. ‘Tell me now or, by Helat, I’ll beat it out of you!’
‘I am not involved in the way you think!’ he answered frantically and tried to pull away from me.
I lessened my grip on his arm. ‘Well, in that case, perhaps you can explain just how you are involved.’
‘You’re hurting me!’ he said.
I laughed. ‘Boy, believe me, you don’t know the meaning of the word pain. Soulscapers are healers and we can do wonderful healing things to all parts of the human body. Strangely enough, some of the techniques employed can be used most effectively to produce quite a different result! Now, why not be just a little co-operative, hmmm?’
‘I can’t believe you’re treating me like this,’ he said, gazing up at me winsomely through a veil of hair. I reached out and brushed it back, cupping his chin in my hand. His cheeks were wet with tears and I felt a moment’s remorse.
‘I’m sorry, Keea, but you can hardly blame me. You have deliberately misled me. For all I know, that might have put me in a very dangerous position.’
He closed his eyes and nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said, and then looked at me imploringly. ‘We will soon be in Sacramante. Then, I might be in a position to confide in you more readily.’
‘Why there? Why not here?’ I demanded. ‘What’s the differ
ence?’
‘You’ve seen what can happen here,’ he said. ‘There are some things it would be dangerous for you to carry in your head at this time. Believe me, in my reticence, I am thinking only of your welfare!’
‘I can look after myself! How dare you patronise me!’
‘I’m not!’ he cried, and then put his fingers over his eyes, pressing hard into the sockets. ‘Look, it really was an illusion, what you saw last night, but let’s just say I might have experienced the same one.’
‘Then you should have told me that straight away! Who was responsible?’
‘The Host,’ he said, miserably, ‘the Host.’
‘What?’ I actually had to laugh. ‘And you were the one mocking me for believing in them!’
‘I had my reasons,’ he said stiffly, apparently having recouped some of his dignity. ‘Please Rayo, don’t interrogate me now. I promise I’ll be able to tell you everything soon.’
He stood up and rubbed his arms, looking around him. As yet, there was no sign of any natives, illusory or otherwise. ‘I think you should eat your food, he said. ‘Let’s get moving as soon as possible. This place unnerves me.’
‘Why?’ I asked, popping some bread into my mouth. I wanted to hear his reason, perhaps hoping he’d speak the truth.
For a second, he glanced at me; such a naked glance. It was a direct line of communication between us. I saw great pain within it. He touched his throat, the upper part of his chest near the heart. ‘It makes me ache,’ he said.
Section Six
Gimel
‘Easier than air with air, if spirits embrace, total they mix, union of pure with pure desiring; not restrained conveyance need as flesh to mix with flesh, or soul to soul.’
Paradise Lost, Book VIII
Sammael’s motley collection of Strangeling vagabonds knew he was leaving them; they were waiting outside his room when we emerged. There were perhaps a dozen of them; old and young, male and female; a hag, a boy, a young man wearing a red scarf, a group of girls clutching each other, a pair of mature men with lined faces, a few ancients toothlessly chewing in apprehension. Sammael held out his hands to them wordlessly. I realised he loved them very much, his little nation. One of the girls began to cry, and the others took up a soft crooning. They were not quite like any other humans I had met; perhaps touched with his difference, contaminated by the strangeness of his eternal solitude. Lilian was not as cowed by the occasion as her peers. She bustled through the small gathering and pointed at me. ‘You cannot go with her!’
‘Don’t misinterpret events, my dear,’ he said to her, gently. ‘She is coming with me.’ He drew them all to him, somehow managing to encompass everyone within his embrace. ‘I am not leaving you,’ he said. ‘But I have to go outside. My love and my thoughts will always be with you. Without you, I would have simply faded into a dusty memory; for this, I cannot express my gratitude enough. But times change; I have held onto stagnation for too long. Do not resent this eloim lady. Although she has precipitated the change, it is an essential thing.’ He backed away. ‘This tower is yours, for as long as you wish to remain here.’
Tears had gathered in my eyes. I wondered then if I was doing the right thing, forcing him back into harsh reality. I had a feeling he would never return here, and that I, in my impetuosity, would be responsible for that.
When we came out of the Tower of Bale into the gusty morning, Sandalphon didn’t know whether to prostrate himself or flee back to the atelier courts ahead of us. He was, as he had promised, still sitting on the tower steps. He must have been virtually frozen into position, for the wind had a cruel, sharp edge. I will remember forever the expression on his face when he saw who I had with me. I had emerged from the doorway first, while Sammael hung back, perhaps a little nervous of the open space beyond. His people had followed us down the stairs, and I could see their wild faces looking out, behind him. Sandalphon must have turned immediately he heard the door open. His first expression was one of relief, then he looked beyond me, and his face froze, still harbouring an essence of relief, but comical because it was mixed with utter incredulity.
‘Ghosts, beloved,’ Sammael said, stepping out into the daylight. ‘Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. It has been a long time.’ He bent to touch Sandalphon’s face, as if he too wondered whether he was seeing a ghost.
Sandalphon scrambled to his feet. ‘I expected many results from Gimel’s action,’ he said, ‘but this was not one of them.’ He looked at me, as if to ask me if I was aware what I had done, but simply said, ‘How did you persuade him?’
‘I really don’t know,’ I answered. ‘I really don’t.’
‘Well, how do I look?’ Sammael said. ‘Doesn’t polite society demand you ask me how I feel? Then, you should say I look marvellous...’
Sandalphon looked at me, confused. I shrugged.
‘I remember when he was born,’ Sammael said to me, taking a lock of Sandalphon’s hair in his fingers. ‘Not first generation, of course, but not long afterwards.’ He might have been speaking of a favourite pet.
‘You are out in the real world now,’ I reminded him, gently pulling his fingers away from Sandalphon’s hair. ‘Come back to my house with me.’
I tucked a hand beneath one of his elbows; he was shivering badly. I nodded sharply at Sandalphon, who took Sammael’s other arm. Sammael frowned to himself. ‘A moment, a moment,’ he said, swaying.
‘It is not that far,’ I said. ‘You will feel better indoors.’
Sammael nodded, gripped our hands for comfort and, leaving the tower door open behind us, Sammael’s people watching us go, we set off down the hill.
Sandalphon did not speak as we traipsed Sammael through the atelier streets. As I had thought, open space discomforted our Lord of Light greatly. He was like an invalid on our arms; weak and trembling, his feet unsure. His expression was one of bewilderment. How long had it been since he had walked these streets, if they’d even been here at all last time he’d been outside? I kept up a soothing narration, telling him the names of the buildings we passed, and which throngs they belonged to. Sandalphon simply blinked into the wind, as if he didn’t want to think about our companion’s identity. However, by the time we reached my house, Sandalphon had recovered his voice. He stood in the tiled hall and mentioned the word, ‘Parzupheim.’
I realised I must have come to share Avirzah’e’s view of these venerable beings, because an arrow of irritation went right through me. ‘No, Sandalphon! This is our business!’
‘Don’t shout, Lady Gimel,’ Sammael said. He had sat down in a huge, uncomfortable ornamental throne, carved from black wood. The only things that sat in it normally were the coats and cloaks Beth and I discarded, before Tamaris or Ramiz came to tidy them away. ‘A long time ago, I myself invested the Parzupheim with temporal power. Soon, I shall speak to them, but...’ He smiled at Sandalphon. ‘At least give me a short time to orientate myself.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Sandalphon asked weakly.
‘Listen to Gimel Metatronim,’ Sammael replied. ‘And nose around her lovely house. I do like these drapes, Lady Gimel...’ He stood up slowly, as if it caused him pain, and limped to the door curtains, fingered them. Then he turned his attention to the table by the door and looked through the pile of unopened mail lying there. I glanced at Sandalphon and shrugged. Sammael was like an exotic and unpredictable wild animal. Now I had got him home, I wasn’t sure what to do with him. He seemed too big somehow for the house to contain him comfortably.
‘Will you show me around?’ he asked.
I nodded. ‘Certainly. Come upstairs with me to my salon.’ He held out his arm, which I took hold of. Sandalphon reluctantly came to support his other side. ‘Would you like to refresh yourself?’ I asked. His face looked horribly blue around the eyes and lips. I thought that sustenance would be in order as soon as possible.
‘I would like some wine,’ Sammael said.
‘Wine it is, then.’
We mo
unted the stairs and I called out for Tamaris.
Sandalphon seemed unsure whether he should leave Sammael alone with me, or remain as a chaperone. He hovered uncomfortably in the salon as Sammael prowled the edge of the room, examining a couple of Beth’s paintings that hung on the wall. Tamaris had informed me that Beth had not yet returned home; I was not surprised, although I wished he was there. I wanted to flaunt this victory in his face.
‘My brother did those,’ I said. ‘That one is a self-portrait.’ Tamaris was standing in the doorway, looking at Sammael suspiciously. ‘The day is chill,’ I said to her. ‘Will you mull the wine for us?’
She nodded and backed from the room, closing the doors in front of her.
‘You like my brother’s paintings?’ I asked.
Sammael sat down on one of the sofas. ‘He has an eye for beauty.’
‘Indeed.’
‘I hope I will meet him.’
‘I expect you will sometime....’
It was not easy to converse. We maintained stilted exchanges until Tamaris returned with the wine. Sammael sniffed appreciatively at the spicy aroma steaming from the clay goblets.
‘So much to stimulate the senses,’ he said. I realised that, as well as feeling dizzy and disorientated, he was also very unsure of himself. Although he had felt secure enough in his tower to communicate with me there, he had really forgotten the art of conversation, and his cool, urbane manner was nothing but reflexive self-defence.
‘I cannot believe you are here,’ Sandalphon said, lamely.
‘Neither can I,’ Sammael said. ‘It is a dreamlike circumstance all round. I feel old and ill.’
‘I think you should sup,’ I said.
He grimaced. ‘Do I have to?’
Tamaris had stationed herself on a stool near the door. She did not know who Sammael was, but was intuitive enough to realise he was someone very important, and had remained in the room to observe proceedings, hoping I wouldn’t send her out. ‘Tamaris, would you mind providing Lord Sammael with a cup of ichor. He is not feeling too well, and I am sure your invigorating essence will restore him!’
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