The Shades Of Time And Memory Part 5

In the star...

On his terrace in Phaonica, Caeru's behaviour was cool but cordial. He clearly made a point of not sitting too close to Cal, and asked Pellaz for news of Galhea. Pellaz found it fairly easy to play the game and offer up the gossip, but he did not tell his companions anything about the things that concerned him. He felt like an outsider, but strangely, this did not distress him. He could see plainly how disorientated Cal felt being in Immanion and how Caeru could ground him in a way that Pellaz could not. There was really only one Tigron. Pellaz smiled, drank a little wine, and heard himself chatting amicably, but inside he was saying to himself: we were mad to think we could ever have it back, Cal. I died, and what we had died with me. What we have now is a revenant; lurching, damaged and undead. How could we have been so stupid to cling to a dream for so long?

He realised he loved Cal more now than he ever had, but it was not the consuming pa.s.sion of youth that had sustained his dreams over the years. It was not as hot and urgent; it was deeper, more real.

The time came when Pellaz knew he could leave without giving offence. They had gone indoors because the air on the terrace had cooled. He could leave, because it was expected of him. He had made a concession in visiting the Tigrina's apartment and this would be regarded as a first step. He would return to his own rooms, either with Cal or alone, and he would become resentful of being manipulated. He would remember everything that made him angry, and the cycle would begin again. He could see himself walking out of the door, inclining his head in a formal farewell. It would be so easy, and he yearned for it.

'I could do with another drink,' he said. 'Have we exhausted your stocks, Rue?'

'No... I'll see to it.' Caeru left the room in a hurry, clearly surprised.

Pellaz sat down in a chair. He felt light-headed, as if he'd summoned up strong and capricious energy.

'What are you up to?' Cal asked.

'I'm tired,' Pellaz said, 'very tired. I love you and I want what's best for you.'

'What's the matter?' Cal squatted beside Pell's chair. 'You look... odd, and what you just said sounded worryingly final.'

'I'm not going anywhere,' Pellaz said. He reached out and stroked Cal's face. It was still difficult to believe Cal was here in Immanion. It didn't feel real, after so many years of longing and fantasy. But it was one of only two possible conclusions to their pa.s.sion: reunion or death. Who or what had decided upon the happier resolution?

Stop thinking this way, Pellaz told himself.

Caeru came back into the room with wine and paused when he caught sight of Cal by Pell's chair.

'Something's not right with Pell,' Cal said, standing up.

Pellaz said nothing. It was pointless to lie.

'It's me,' Caeru said. 'Isn't it?'

Pellaz closed his eyes briefly. 'No, it isn't. Come here. Stand before me.'

Caeru put down the wine on a table and approached Pellaz warily.

'I want to look at you,' Pellaz said, 'and remember a night in Ferelithia, a long time ago.'

'Don't,' Caeru said, shaking his head.

'I know, it will be difficult. We are so entrenched in our beliefs. Do you really still love me, Rue?'

'You are different tonight. Cal has spoken to you, hasn't he?'

'You know he has. You know what he wants. But it's our decision, Rue. The truth. No masks. You know why I feel the way I do about you?'

'Yes.'

'Has it ever been justified?'

'It just is.' Caeru picked up the wine again and swigged from the bottle. 'Despite that, seeing as you asked, and you never have before, I do still love you.'

Pellaz steepled his fingers beneath his chin, conscious it was a gesture Thiede often used to make. 'You think you do. You're supposed to. It's all part of the Aralisian myth. But only a mad har would still care for me after all I've said and done. Are you mad, Rue?'

'Pell, let's not do this,' Caeru said, 'it's too painful.'

'Is it because of the way I look? Are you simply infatuated with that? It's an explanation, isn't it?'

'Maybe I just have a good memory.'

'How reliable is that? Can you really remember what we said to one another, or what I was like?'

'Yes,' Caeru said. 'I can. You changed my life. I didn't want you to be Tigron. I wanted you to be a normal har. When I found out what you were, it gutted me, made me physically ill. It was a presentiment, because I knew what would follow, yet still I came to find you.'

'Romantic,' Pellaz said, 'tragic. A good story.'

Caeru uttered an angry sound, took another drink. 'Why am I bothering with this? You're just being you, as always.'

'No,' Pellaz said. 'I'm beginning to see, really see.'

'You sound drunk. Go home. Take Cal with you.'

Pellaz stood up and Caeru backed away. 'No,' Pellaz said, 'I want to go back there, to that night in Ferelithia. I have to understand why it happened, why everything after it happened. We have to go back.'

'It's impossible.'

'No, it isn't.' Pellaz turned to Cal. 'Help me here. You understand what I'm saying, don't you?'

'I think we should go further back, to the moment I saw you die,' he said. 'That is impossible.'

Pellaz began to pace around the room. 'I don't know,' he said. He did feel drunk, which was odd because he'd only had a couple of gla.s.ses of wine. He felt he was very close to seeing through an illusion, that at any moment everything around him would shatter and a different place would be revealed. 'I think I'm onto something.' He stopped pacing. 'Cal, you want the three of us to be together, don't you?'

Cal shrugged awkwardly. 'It would be...' He paused and shook his head. 'No, not at the moment. You are being too weird.'

'Well, I think we're supposed to be together,' Pellaz said, 'but we're supposed to go into it blind, without awareness. I'm supposed to regret being with Rue again, as I have all the other times.'

'Other times?' Cal said.

'Yes,' Pellaz replied. 'He's not told you about that, then. It's a sordid little cycle we have, and one that could so easily continue. The whole situation could implode, destroy us, move us on to the next tragedy. But if we approach this union with our eyes open, it might be different. I have to recapture a feeling, change what is.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' Caeru said. 'You're not making sense.'

'It doesn't matter.' Pellaz paused.

There it was: the threshold. He could see it. He had the power to make a choice and he'd stepped outside of himself to do it. Perhaps Thiede had helped, perhaps not. But one thing Pellaz was sure of: for this moment, he was in control. Beyond the threshold, might lie madness or danger, self loathing in the morning, or nothing at all, but at least he could see the possibilities and it was his choice whether to step over that threshold or not. He took a deep breath. 'I'm going to your bedroom, Rue. Join me in a few minutes. Don't say anything. Just be Tigrina, as I will be Tigron. Cal, come to us a short while after that.'

Pellaz didn't wait to hear Caeru's protests, but left the room. He knew the way to the bed chamber because, on many occasions over the years, driven by drink and maudlin sentiment, he had visited his consort there and had cruelly taken aruna with him, only to ignore him for weeks afterwards. He remembered well the bleak bitter mornings of self-recrimination and disgust. He had believed his motive had been to wound and damage, to make sure Caeru never got too comfortable or too happy, but now he realised there had been true desire, released by wine: a secret, unacknowledged yearning to seek the essence of that night when Abrimel had been conceived.

Pellaz paused at the door and had to lean upon the frame for a moment. He never drank alcohol now when he was alone, because when he did, the risk was there. When that happened, and he was drawn to Caeru's door, did it reflect his true feelings or simply an unwise delusion conjured by drink? Whatever the reason, these revelations were shocking. Pellaz felt physically sick, which was almost enough to send him fleeing for his private rooms, but he strengthened his resolve. He had to find out the truth.

The room was decorated in dark crimson and gold, a sensual nest, but Pellaz knew that Caeru invited few hara there. An air of desolation hung amid the motionless drapes and in the aura of the lamps. Pellaz undressed and lay on his back on the bed, staring up at the shadows. He felt driven and sure, mainly because he sensed this wasn't supposed to happen, not in the way he intended it would. He closed his eyes and summoned the past, smelled it, let it envelop his being.

He sensed Caeru come into the room, but did not open his eyes. Perhaps that pressure on the bed wasn't Caeru at all, but an unseen creature that had seeped through from the otherlanes and had followed him home. He focused his thoughts: Ferelithia. Music. The smell of the sea. An open window on the night. He remembered the darkness of Rue's room, the aroma of antic.i.p.ation and desire on the air. What had soured that?

Caeru squatted over Pellaz, ran a hand down his chest. Pellaz could feel his gaze as warm energy. This was Caeru's own moment of choice and decision. He could take some small revenge very easily now, but instead, he uttered a soft sound and lowered himself slowly onto Pell's ouana-lim. They began to move together, Pell's hands on Rue's hips. 'Lie down on me,' Pellaz said.

A jewel that hung around Caeru's neck on a silver chain pressed coldly against Pell's chest. I could have had this at any time, Pellaz thought. There was never any point to anything: how I felt, what I did. It was all worthless. It wasn't even mine. He opened his eyes. 'We were controlled, do you understand?'

'Ssh,' Caeru murmured and kissed Pell's mouth. 'It's all right.'

He didn't understand. All he wanted was the contact, acceptance, harmony. At this moment, he must hardly dare to believe this was happening. 'You feel good, Rue. You always did.'

Caeru stopped moving and buried his face in Pell's hair. His body trembled and presently Pellaz felt Caeru's tears trickling down his neck. This couldn't be cruel. Pellaz couldn't allow that to happen. He saw Cal come into the room, and move to the side of the bed, his head tilted to one side. He appeared amused, if somewhat puzzled.

'We are going to create something bigger than all of us,' Pellaz said softly. 'It might be our strongest defence.'

'Against what?'

'I don't know yet, but I will.'

Cal sat down on the bed, put a hand on the back of Caeru's head, which he had not raised. 'Are you talking of a pearl, a harling?'

'Yes, born of our three beings.'

'Is that possible?'

'We won't know until we try.'

Caeru had gone utterly still.

'Will you do this, Rue?' Pellaz asked. 'Will you host this pearl?'

Caeru's voice was m.u.f.fled by Pell's hair. 'I see darkness,' he said. 'I see fear, and it has a face.'

'I will protect you. Trust me.'

Caeru raised his head. 'I will do this thing,' he said, 'but not to create whatever it is you wish to create. Understand why I will do this thing.'

'I do,' Pellaz said, 'but I can make you no promises. Live fully in this moment. It is real, whatever happens.'

Chapter Five.

The Gelaming enclave of Imbrilim in Megalithica had begun its life as a camp for refugees fleeing Varrish and Uigenna atrocities. Now, it was an expanding town in its own right, the centre of Gelaming power in that country. Following Cal's arrival in Almagabra, Abrimel har Aralis, son of the Tigron, had applied for a position in Imbrilim. Pellaz had granted this request, no doubt without pausing even for a moment to reflect upon his son's possible motives in wanting to leave Immanion. Abrimel wished he didn't care about it, but even after so long, his father's indifference to him still possessed the power to wound deeply. All his life, he had suffered on his hostling's behalf, perhaps the only har alive who knew the extent of Caeru's pain, which he hid beneath the brittle, sniping exterior that prowled the intrigue-soaked salons of Immanion, armed with a razor tongue and a s.h.i.+eld of cold disdain. Abrimel had hated the idea of Calanthe with the same ferocity that Caeru had, and steadfastly refused to accept Cal as part of the family. It was obscene, and Abrimel was astounded that the Hegemony had been so accommodating and had pa.s.sively accepted Thiede's murder, because that was what Abrimel believed had happened. Everyhar knew Cal's history. It was a joke that he had become joint Tigron in Immanion. As for Caeru, Abrimel was disappointed that his hostling had not been more hostile to Cal. Caeru might utter b.i.t.c.hy remarks about the new Tigron, but the fact was they took dinner together nearly every evening, and Abrimel had noticed how Caeru perked up near the hour when Cal was due. The possible scenarios that could blossom from these meetings were too nauseating to consider. Thinking about the whole sorry situation made Abrimel so furious he had to break things around him. There was no way he could remain in Immanion, because, if he did, he knew he'd do something he'd bitterly regret and which would ruin his life.

Now, he had found a kind of peace in Megalithica. In Imbrilim, he had status. He was the representative of the Aralisians on Megalithican soil. He had a job, supervising the collection of data about the various tribes that had established themselves in the country. He saw himself as a historian: facts were calm, beautiful things. He enjoyed writing them down in a neat hand upon clean white pages.

The news came in the evening, at the hour when neither day nor night holds sway, but the soft grey twilight of the veil between the worlds. Abrimel, working alone in his office, accompanied only by his two cats and an especially fine wine from the West Coast, felt the s.h.i.+ver in his flesh when an otherlanes portal opened up beyond the town. He did not raise his head from his work, because arrivals of Almagabran hara were a regular occurrence. It was rare their visits concerned him. But that night, a knock came upon his door and Abrimel had to put down his pen. He lifted a cat from his lap and went to answer the door himself, because none of his staff were at home. He found Velaxis at the threshold and for a moment, his heart was stilled. 'What is it?' he demanded, afraid something had happened to Caeru.

'May I come in, tiahaar?' Velaxis enquired delicately.

Abrimel stood aside. 'Yes, yes, of course. Why are you here?'

'I bring news,' Velaxis answered, stepping into the house. 'Where are your manners, Abrimel? Aren't you at least going to conduct me to a comfortable room and ply me with fine liquor?'

'What news?' Abrimel asked. Velaxis had not visited him in Imbrilim before.

'Caeru carries a pearl. You are to have a brother.'

Abrimel stared at Velaxis for some moments. 'What?'

'You must be pleased. After all, this is a most unlikely event.'

'Who is the father?'

Velaxis laughed. 'Pellaz, of course. Oh, and I believe Calanthe also.'

Abrimel slammed the front door. 'That is not possible.'

'The Aralisians work miracles. I have pondered minutely the mechanics of how they achieved it. It makes me feel quite breathless.'

Abrimel leaned upon the door and closed his eyes for a few seconds. He visualised his hostling and saw him as a young, stupid, gullible, starstruck har, who deserved everything he got. Abrimel, by contrast, felt a thousand years old, a sagacious hermit weighed down by the knowledge of the universe. 'How could you let this happen?' he asked Velaxis. 'You influence him more than any other. How did this happen?'

Velaxis sauntered up the hall. He opened a door, looked in, found a cold dark dining room and closed the door. 'The usual way, I imagine,' he said. 'Where is your sitting room, Bree? Do I have to find it myself?'

Abrimel took Velaxis into his office and grudgingly shared the wine. His mind was a whirl. He could not believe what he'd heard. 'Are you sure about this?' he asked, more than once.

'Absolutely,' Velaxis replied. 'There is no doubt. Rue has been shattered by the experience but not, it has to be said, in an undesirable way. He has suffered a few unpleasant side effects. The details, really, are too gross to relate.'

'One unpleasant side effect being that he and my father are reconciled.'

Velaxis gave him a measured stare. 'There has, inevitably, been some degree of reconciliation. I would have thought you'd be pleased for him.'

'This is Calanthe's doing.'

'Naturally. He has been doing quite a lot. Now a har of his blood will be part of the Aralisian dynasty. It is fortunate you are the first born.'

'It is all irrelevant. I will never be Tigron. Our life-spans will see to that. Or if I am, it will be in some far distant time, and I too shall be very old. I expect one of my great highchildren can look forward to the honour of inheriting Pell's crown, such as it is. A young har should take it.'

'You've been thinking about this, haven't you?'

Abrimel shrugged. 'I thought about it a lot once. It has little meaning to me now.'

Velaxis swirled his wine around in its gla.s.s. He stared into it. 'Perhaps you should think some more.'