‘What?’ Flick’s voice was a squeak. ‘How? Why?’
‘It’s what I’m here to find out,’ Cal said. ‘This is the end of the path.’
It didn’t feel real, Pell being dead. It wasn’t real. Flick couldn’t believe what he’d heard, sure that he’d have felt it in the fibre of his being if it were true. But something had happened. Something. ‘Come to Seel,’ Flick said. ‘I’ll take you.’
‘I know the way,’ Cal said. ‘You know I do.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Flick said, but they were just words.
‘Everyhar will be,’ Cal said.
Flick smiled nervously and clambered back on to his pony. He fought an urge to hurry. It was clear that Cal’s horse was at the end of its strength, as was its rider. Cal looked as if he’d fought a battle and lost. He should be dripping blood. Flick had a water bottle with him, containing a small measure of warm stale liquid. This he offered to Cal, who declined it.
‘What happened?’ Flick asked, fully prepared for Cal not to answer him, because he was used to his questions being ignored. ‘Where did it happen?’
‘Near Galhea,’ Cal said. ‘Pell was shot there. I had to burn…’
‘No,’ Flick said. ‘This can’t be true. It can’t.’
‘Then please tell me it isn’t and be right,’ Cal said, dead-pan.
That was when Flick realised it must be true after all. His friend was dead. ‘No,’ he said again. ‘It can’t be.’
‘It is,’ Cal said. ‘A mark was put on him, and it was seen, recognised. Just a nobody. A human. But they might as well have been a god.’
‘But… but how?’
Flick wanted to say, well, weren’t you there to protect him? Didn’t he have Kakkahaar magic behind him?
‘I want to know, Cal said. ‘It is my only purpose now. It’s why I’m here.’
‘You think Orien can help?’
Cal was silent, his face grim. He thought Orien could help all right.
‘Things have changed,’ Flick said. ‘Orien had a strange turn. He hardly comes out now. He won’t speak to me.’
Cal still did not speak. If he’d been damaged before, he was clearly ruined now. Flick was anxious to turn this casualty over to Seel. ‘Perhaps that’s when it happened,’ he said, thinking aloud.
Cal glanced at him.
‘When Orien had his turn. Perhaps that was when Pell died. A week or so before the winter solstice?’
Cal closed his eyes briefly. It seemed he’d lost the ability to speak.
‘I think Orien saw it,’ Flick said. ‘He saw death that night.’
Seel was not yet home when they reached the house. Flick told Cal to go on inside while he saw to the horses, making sure Cal’s animal was given a full meal and clean water. He spent some time grooming the dusty coat, while the horse munched hay slowly. Flick didn’t want to go inside, not yet. He felt numb, yet light-headed. Was this grief or shock or both? Pell’s dead. They were just words. They didn’t mean anything. It still didn’t seem real. Cal’s horse sighed and shuddered. It was too thin, its eyes dull. It seemed without hope, eating because instinct made it do so, not because it wanted to live.
Cal was sitting at the kitchen table when Flick eventually steeled himself to go into the house. He had taken off his cloak, revealing an emaciated body from which his clothes hung loosely. His face, though still striking, looked like a grimy skull that somehar had dug up. He had clearly been rooting around the pantry, because he was drinking wine from the bottle. His hands did not shake. They looked strangely strong against the green glass, strong and tanned, the fingers long.
‘Are you hungry?’ Flick asked.
‘No.’ Cal took a drink. ‘Where is he?’
‘Oh… out and about. He’ll be home soon, or do you want me to go and look for him?’
‘I mean the other one.’
‘In his house I expect,’ Flick said. ‘Do you want me to take you there?’
Cal shook his head, grimaced. ‘I want a bath.’
‘Good, yes,’ Flick said. ‘I’ll see to it.’ He was relieved to leave the room. After he’d run the bath, he’d go and find Seel. He couldn’t cope with this.
Up in the bathroom, Flick sat on the edge of the bath and splashed one hand through the chugging water. His heart was beating too fast. His head was somehar else’s. The house was too quiet around him, and the air felt dank. He sensed a presence behind him and jumped in alarm. Cal loomed at the threshold, still clutching the bottle. He was a hideous lich, who had disappeared from the kitchen and manifested here spontaneously without a sound. Flick shuddered. He thought about Cal in the bath and about holding his head under the water. Perhaps that would be a mercy. ‘Nearly ready,’ he said. ‘I’ll go find Seel.’
‘Yes, do,’ Cal said. He put down the bottle and clawed off his clothes. Beneath them, his body was a skeleton barely covered by skin.
Flick swallowed with difficulty. They would need healers: an army of them.
Seel was in the Nayati, Saltrock’s temple. He appeared to be studying a joist, but Flick wondered whether he’d been praying. The cold glance that Seel shot towards him made him speak bluntly. ‘Cal’s here,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Cal’s here. He’s at the house. He says that Pell is dead.’
Seel stared at Flick with a burning gaze for some seconds. Then, without speaking, he ran from the Nayati in the direction of home. Flick was left alone. The air smelled of wood and pitch and dust. Many hara had been incepted here, Pell among them. It was a place of sacrifice and transformation. It was a place of truth. But nothing lived there, even though it was supposed to be the home of the Aghama, Wraeththu’s god. Flick sat down on the floor and thought, I promised Pell I’d find his family, didn’t I? I never did. Do I find them now to tell them he’s dead?
There seemed no point. Pell had been dead to them for a long time.
For the rest of the day and the night that followed, Seel kept Cal in his room and didn’t come out. Flick could hear Seel’s voice, speaking softly, a sound that sifted down like dust through the layers of the otherwise silent house. Flick couldn’t hear the words, and eventually everything went quiet. He thought of Seel lying on his bed, holding Cal in his arms, his eyes full of pain. He thought maybe he should go to Orien’s house and shout through the door, tell him what had happened, but ultimately did nothing. No hara came to the house, perhaps because none of them had seen Flick taking Cal there. But the town outside was as hushed as the house. Flick realised that there was no need to go to Orien and tell him Cal was here because he would already know. He’d seen Pell’s death and hadn’t wanted to mention it, because Seel would have held himself responsible. It made sense now. Orien had spoken of his own death because it was easier. He’d made it up, anything to stop Seel’s questions. Was Cal’s arrival the beginning of making things better? It had to be. The climax had come and only healing could follow.
Cal and Seel appeared at breakfast together, which Flick had already prepared. He hadn’t gone to bed, but had slept a couple of hours before dawn on the sofa in the parlour. Cal looked better today, somehow sleeker, more filled out. Seel had no doubt spent the entire night creating this effect, filling Cal with the essence of his love. There was an understanding between them that Flick could feel against his skin. He could reach out and pinch it, if he wanted to. It was clear that Seel thought everything was going to be all right now. He had Cal back, minus Pell, and had the power to heal him. There could be no grand destiny for a dead har, so it was all over. They could begin again. Seel was modestly cheerful, while Cal looked like a romantic, grief-stricken lover who was finding solace and comfort in the arms of friends. They kept touching each other, small touches, an intimate language. Seel did not look at Flick once.
Why does he despise me? Flick wondered. He put ham and eggs down on the table.
‘So much is clear now,’ Seel said. ‘Orien foretold Pell’s death. He saw it.’
‘It’s more th
an that,’ Cal said.
Seel frowned. ‘How can it be?’
‘Because Pell had a destiny. It shouldn’t have just ended like that. I want to know why it happened, and how. Are you telling me Thiede incepted Pell just to let him die? I don’t think so. It doesn’t make sense.’
It didn’t to Flick either, who said nothing.
‘Perhaps he was a sacrifice,’ Seel said carefully.
Cal stared at him with a bone-crunching gaze.
Seel shrugged awkwardly. ‘It could be an explanation.’
‘Perhaps that’s what Orien knows,’ Flick said, unable to keep silent any longer. ‘Perhaps that’s what made him keep quiet.’
‘I want to know what he knows,’ Cal said. ‘He can’t keep quiet any longer.’ His even-voiced confidence was somehow unnerving.
Seel went out after breakfast to try and persuade Orien to come to the house. Flick was worried that Cal would hang around, underfoot and causing discomfort, while he attended to his daily chores, but fortunately Cal decided to go and look up old friends in the town. His behaviour bordered on normal and it was easy to believe that his healing had begun.
Mid-afternoon, Seel turned up accompanied by Orien. He must have spent around six hours persuading Orien to meet Cal. Seel was obviously concerned Orien might not wait around too long, so went back out immediately to track Cal down.
Orien sat at the kitchen table. He didn’t look ill, dazed or even haunted, just a little uncomfortable. Flick made him some coffee and said, ‘Why have you been hiding away like this?’ It had been always easier to ask Orien questions than to ask Seel. Flick wished now that he’d been more persistent at Orien’s door.
‘I needed to think,’ Orien said, a reasonable answer.
‘For so long? What about?’
‘I was looking for answers,’ Orien said, ‘in the ethers.’
‘Did you find any?’
Orien shook his head.
‘Was Pell supposed to die?’ Flick asked.
Orien flicked a glance at him and for the briefest moment he appeared furtive. ‘How can I answer that? Perhaps we were all wrong. Perhaps it was random fate. Perhaps that is the lesson we have to learn. None of us are safe, not even those we believe have a great destiny. In legends, heroes survive against all odds to make a difference, but what if that is the greatest lie, and a chance accident can wipe out the hero who can save the world? Were we looking for that special har, all of us? Had we all, unconsciously, invested something in Pell, just so that we’d eventually have to face that we are ultimately responsible for ourselves?’
‘You’ve been thinking a lot,’ Flick said.
‘My questions created only more questions,’ Orien said. ‘Now I have to face Cal and I really don’t have the stomach for it.’
‘You don’t feel sorry for him, do you.’ It was a statement rather than a question.
Orien’s mouth was grim. ‘Another lesson,’ he said. ‘Perhaps the hardest of all.’
Flick wondered how Cal would react when he came face to face with Orien. Would he go mad and attack him, or would he be insulting? Flick could not imagine it being easy, whatever happened, and he felt so nervous he cleaned the kitchen three times before he heard footsteps in the corridor outside.
Seel and Cal came in, both talking at once, and it appeared they’d opted for an attitude of insincere cheer. Orien stood up and greeted Cal, who nodded to him. They regarded each other politely in the way that hara who mutually despise each other do, when they don’t want others present to witness any unpleasantness.
Cal sat down and lit a cigarette. After a while, Orien sat down again too. It was clear he had prepared himself for a difficult interview; he was going to play it Cal’s way, whatever that might entail. Flick suspected that a small part of Cal was enjoying this. Seel was obviously nervous too, because he busied himself with making drinks rather than asking Flick to do it. Orien didn’t say anything and for some minutes, neither did Cal. He smoked his cigarette, apparently taking great sensual pleasure from each draw. At the sink, Seel broke a cup and Flick jumped in his seat. It sounded like a gunshot. The sharp report appeared to act as a prompt. Cal rubbed his face and said, ‘You know what I want to hear.’
‘Tell me,’ Orien said.
‘What was going on? What did Thiede tell you?’
‘Very little,’ Orien said, ‘and that’s the truth. I admit I summoned him.’
‘Why?’
‘Thiede was on the lookout for individuals of an unusual nature, boys arriving for inception who had special qualities. He didn’t say why.’
‘Didn’t you question his motives? Didn’t it occur to you they might be sinister?’
‘No. Why should it? I’ve known Thiede a long time, and it made sense to me that he would want high calibre hara with the Gelaming. I thought he was merely recruiting such hara, and I have no reason to believe otherwise now.’
‘So, you’re saying that Pell’s death was an accident?’
‘Yes. I can think of no reason why it wasn’t – and believe me, I have been thinking long and hard over these last few weeks.’
‘You were surprised, though, weren’t you, when you realised he was dead. Why?’
‘I presumed Thiede would protect him, that’s all. As I said to Flick earlier, I think I invested a lot in Pell myself. I thought he was destined to make a mark. It didn’t seem right that he should die, but now I wonder whether that was what we were supposed to learn from his death: there can be no miracles or heroes. We have to forge our own way.’
‘I don’t believe you. There’s more. I can smell it.’
Orien scraped tendrils of hair back from his face. ‘Cal, you were in love with Pell. You are looking for meaning in the senseless tragedy of his death, but I think you have to face there may be none.’
Flick shifted in his seat. He was remembering the words Orien had spoken on the night he’d fallen into trance: ‘It’s done.’ Much as he’d prefer not to, he had to agree with Cal. There was more.
Seel came to the table with steaming mugs of coffee on a tray. He placed it down carefully and said, ‘You knew he was dead that night, Orien, yet you did not tell us. Why?’
Flick thought that this was a pointless question, because it was so easy to concoct a credible response. It would pain him to hear Orien’s predictable reply, so decided to voice it for him. ‘He was thinking of you,’ Flick said to Seel. ‘He didn’t want you to feel responsible.’
Orien cast Flick a grateful glance, and Flick wondered why he’d decided to conspire in that way. He could easily have let Orien say the obvious then have challenged it.
‘You should have told me,’ Seel said. ‘As you should have told me all you’ve just said. It wasn’t some great secret. How could it have mattered if I knew?’
‘That Thiede was using your precious Saltrock as a recruiting ground for Gelaming?’ Cal said. ‘Are you comfortable with that, plus the fact that one of your closest friends was involved in it?’
Orien displayed his hands. ‘Those were my thoughts.’ He leaned forward. ‘Seel, I’m not even going to try to justify what I did. In a sense, I did betray our friendship, but Thiede and I have known each other longer, and he asked me to keep what I knew to myself. I made a promise, so I had no choice but to honour it.’ He clasped his hands beneath his chin. ‘The fact is, we have all lost a dear friend, and that is a shock. The circumstances surrounding Pell’s inception are irrelevant. The two facts are not connected.’
Flick watched Cal’s face as he lit another cigarette, his eyes never straying from Orien. Did Cal believe what he’d heard? Flick realised he wanted Cal to believe, because even if it wasn’t true, they couldn’t do anything. It was over. It had to be.
Before Cal could say anything, Seel said, ‘And is it still going on, this recruitment?’
Orien shook his head. ‘Thiede has not contacted me since Pell’s inception.’
‘Why should he?’ Cal said. ‘He got what he wanted, didn’t
he?’
‘I’m sure that is not the reason,’ Orien said. ‘Thiede is involved in many schemes to help consolidate Wraeththu. No doubt I’ll hear from him, should he need my help in the future.’
‘Didn’t you think to try and contact him after you had the vision of Pell’s death?’ Seel snapped. ‘You must have done!’
Orien inclined his head. ‘I did. Of course I did. But there was no response.’
‘You must be annoyed he’s cut you out of the web,’ Cal said conversationally.
‘I’m not involved in Thiede’s plans,’ Orien said. ‘I don’t expect to be.’
Flick thought it was as if Orien was on trial. He sat there with dignity, answering the prosecution questions in a clear manner. But he didn’t have to go through this. He could get up and walk out. In a way, he was right: Cal was trying to find meaning in a senseless tragedy. Was that why he was being so accommodating, even though he disliked Cal?
‘You should have told me all this,’ Seel said. ‘I wonder whether you ever would have done if Cal hadn’t come back.’
Orien shrugged. ‘I was coming to my own conclusions, meditating alone. Cal’s arrival merely precipitated events, that’s all.’
‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’ Cal said, and Flick thought this was perhaps the most important question. It was a nexus point.
‘No,’ Orien said. ‘I don’t think so.’
Cal almost looked sad. He sighed and shook his head. ‘Your choice,’ he said, ‘and as you pointed out we have to take responsibility for ourselves, our actions and reactions – and their consequences.’
Orien’s expression was wary. ‘I’m not your enemy, Cal. I’m sorry for your loss, but I can’t help you find that meaning you so desperately need. The only thing I can suggest is that you seek Thiede out yourself, and put these questions to him. Perhaps that would put your mind at rest.’
Cal smiled. ‘Then, by all means feel free to summon him for me.’
Orien laughed uncertainly. ‘You must know I don’t have the power to do that.’
‘Oh, you do sometimes, Orien. We all know that.’