Peter never joined in our conversations. He was a loner and shunned contact with everyone but Bryony. He was sixteen years old and feared that my father would force him to become har. I couldn't understand his terror, knowing as I did about the shrivelling-up process. "Once, every man who was unhar and under the age of eighteen was incepted by Wraeththu if he was caught," Bryony told me. "Now, they don't seem to bother about it as much. Since hara like you have been born, I suppose. They don't need to steal human children any more."
Her attitude puzzled me. Humans who became har were the fortunate ones, that was clear. Why should her brother be a slave when he could be made har, ageless and beautiful? Bryony could not answer me when I pointed this out. After a while she said, "I'm not saying I agree with Peter, but it's his life, isn't it? Perhaps it's fear of the unknown. . . . Our time is over, we know that. Wraeththu is the only future. If I had the choice, I know what I'd do, but of course, I don't."
One thing I learned from Bryony without her telling me, is that there are really three races upon the Earth, Wraeththu, Man and Woman. I think that out of the three, men are the odd ones out. Manliness is the side within ourselves that causes us most trouble. It is the fire principle, while feminity is the water principle. Water is magic, mystery and passivity. Fire is war, aggression and activity. Marriage of the two principles should produce a perfect, rational being: Wraeththu. Perfect theories are rarely perfect when put into practice, I thought cynically.
High summer unfolded around us. Terzian went away again to visit other Varr settlements in the east, and I arranged for Bryony to become friends with Cobweb, as I thought it would be good for both of them. My hostling had never harbored any particularly strong feeling against humans; he accepted all living creatures as individuals and I felt the girl was similar to him in many ways. He enjoyed sharing his wisdom with her, for she was eager to learn, and also found in her an ally in the house when everyone else had got fed up with being hostile to Cal. Bryony was frightened of Cal. Now, our soirees in the drawing room had expanded to include both of them, which created amusing atmospheres. Cobweb would pretend that Cal wasn't there, which was an art form in itself. Once I overheard Cal say to him, "I should thank you. You have made me well." Cobweb didn't even blink, only turning to speak to Moswell with a smile. Cal caught my eye and smiled ruefully. I disliked the way Cal looked at my hostling. I disliked even more the way Cal would not hate him, because I didn't understand it, and I thought I should have done.
One day, Gahrazel asked me to walk with him in the garden, something we had not done together for some time. He seemed preoccupied or troubled, but I was not as close to him as I had been so he could not speak as freely as once he might. "Peter is going to be incepted," he said. I looked at him aghast.
"What has changed his mind?" I asked. We were both aware of Peter's previous sentiments about becoming har.
"I have talked to him," Gahrazel replied rather frostily.
"I did not notice."
"You don't know everything about me, Swift!" he said.
After this, I tried to observe more carefully the transactions between my friend and Bryony's brother. Why hadn't I noticed before? Both of them nurtured very strong anti-Varr feelings, for different reasons, but it gave them a common ground. Gahrazel didn't care what happened to mankind; he cared only what happened to Gahrazel-kind. Peter was naturally bitter and restless, but since coming to Forever, perhaps he had come to understand more about what Wraeththu was. Perhaps he realized it was really absurd not to become har. However, I thought that Gahrazel's and Peter's encouragement of each other's hatreds was dangerous. They lived in Terzian's house, after all.
When I talked to Bryony about it, she told me that her brother had gradually withdrawn from her. "He is on fire and it is a strange fire that he cannot share with me," she said. "He is like the picture Cobweb showed me on one of his divining cards. Spears falling to earth and their descent is accelerating. He seeks a goal, but I fear for him."
"I didn't notice him becoming friendly with Gahrazel," I said.
"No," she agreed. "The secrecy of that is disquieting."
"You're worried about him," I said.
She smiled a small, sad smile. "As I said before, he has his own life to lead. He is flying away from me. I can do nothing."
So many of the inhabitants of Forever seemed disloyal to Terzian. There was Swithe with his wordy, arm-waving speeches, Gahrazel and Peter, hot in their fervor, and Cal, who didn't care about anything; we were not a large household either. One day, I felt sure, Terzian would stand still for long enough to notice, and then there'd be trouble.
When Terzian came home again, he consented without interest to Peter's inception. Swithe, who had taken charge of the proceedings, asked Cal to donate his blood. Cal laughed when he told me about it, but, I noticed wryly, he had still said yes. It was not the choice I would have made in Swithe's position. Cal was a wonder to me, but because so much of him was beneath the surface to be seen by no-one, I would have been very wary of putting his vital fluids into anyone. I am sure Peter had a worse time than was usual because of it. He fasted for a day before Swithe conducted the inception ceremony in the garden, beneath the canopy of the trees. I thought Cal looked like a white, shimmering spirit. His veins were blue and luminous, the life within them dark and poisonous. We could hear Peter's screams throughout the house for days afterwards.
It took a fortnight for him to recover fully, instead of the usual three days, but at the end of that time, his mutation was successful. Now he had a dash of Cal's weirdness to complement his revolutionary zeal. Gahrazel initiated him into the mysteries of aruna and the first time I saw them afterwards, Peter's eyes were full of prophecies that made me shiver. I saw Fate there, with a sharp knife held against the thread of life. Never again, that I know of, did Peter go to visit his sister in the kitchens.
At the end of the summer, we learned that the Kakkahaar, after some initial reticence, had agreed to combine their strength with the Varrs. High-ranking Kakkahaar would be traveling north for talks with Ponclast and his Nahir-Nuri. Because of its convenient position, Galhea had been chosen as the location for the meeting. Forever was an ideal conference center. Suddenly, the house was full of strange and important hara, and extra staff had to be engaged from Galhea to cope with it. Terzian surprised everybody by promoting Bryony to the position of housekeeper, which she said was to appease his guilt, while I thought it was more because Terzian realized the girl was capable of organizing the household to show him off in the best possible light. All the visitors thought it was a great novelty, as if we had a talking dog, walking on its hind legs, carrying the keys to the house and telling the staff what to do. I know that many of the northerners gave her tips in the form of money or trinkets, which was especially unusual, for the northerners had even less tolerance of humankind than most. Bryony affected an air of competent superiority, and what jealousy she might have aroused among the household staff was dealt with discreetly.
The Kakkahaar rode Arabian steeds. Cobweb and I watched their arrival from my bedroom window. I was intrigued by their strange, swirling clothes and their dark, interesting faces. "Their hair is so long!" Cobweb exclaimed, touching his own with a nervous hand.
Meals were always laid out in the main hall now, although Cobweb and I often ate in the kitchen with the staff. We did not like formality and were also wary of the Kakkahaar. I had been eager to meet them at first, but when their leader, Lianvis, turned his stone desert eyes upon me, I was chilled to the bone. I could see why Terzian was opposed to the alliance. I did not know the name for the darkness that came from their eyes, but I felt it touch me, and the touch was cold.
The Kakkahaar claimed to have had no contact with the Gelaming yet. They had monitored the invaders setting up their headquarters, but had made no overtures toward them, either conciliatory or hostile. No-one seemed quite sure what the Gelaming were
actually doing, but their arrival had certainly caused
a stir, and in more than one way. Reports were coming through that other, weaker tribes and even straggling bands of humans had been slowly, but consistently, making their way to the Gelaming base. Many people, human and hara alike, had very good reason to hate the Varrs in Megalithica, and it was only natural that they should seek the protection of the Gelaming. However, the Varr leaders were not oblivious to the fact that a lot of stragglers eventually become one large unit, all feeling righteous, and vengeful toward the Varrs. Security was increased across Varrish territories and anyone found making their way south was killed without question.
Bryony told me that her own people had been on their way to seek sanctuary with the Gelaming when Ithiel's patrol had intercepted them. Only a few months later and they would have been shot on sight.
Ithiel told me that he didn't think anything would happen until the new year. Preparing a campaign takes time. Our house was never free of strangers nowadays. Sometimes I would come across a strange har wandering round the corridors, lost. If it was a Kakkahaar, I would turn the other way and run.
I don't think anyone was too pleased to learn that we would have Kakkahaar with us for Festival. Most of them had returned south once the weather became colder (including their horrifying leader), but two of them had been elected to stay behind. I felt quite sorry for them because they found the cold so disagreeable, but I could never feel at ease with them. I always got the feeling they could eat you whole, if they had a mind to. Still, nothing could really dampen the mounting feeling of celebration. Snow fell and the garden was transformed into its winter fairyland of frozen marble. The house was fragrant with the smells of spice and cooking; the shelves in the larder were filled with Yarrow's creations.
One day, out of an upstairs window, I saw Leef in the stableyard, laughing with other hara, their breath like smoke on the air. I put on my coat and went down to speak with him. It pleased me that he did not recognize me at first. This meant I must have changed since we had last met. "You are taller," he said. I asked if he would have to go south in the spring and he replied, "I expect so. Nobody seems to know what exactly is going on at the moment."
"I hope you come back," I said, realizing immediately the tactless tone of this remark. Leef smiled, and I liked the way his face changed when he did so.
"I shall be here at the house at Festival," he said. "I've been promoted, that means an automatic invitation to your father's celebrations." "Congratulations," I said, "I shall look forward to seeing you." Leef had a faintly puzzled, amused look in his eye.
"Me too," he said.
Events took a rather dramatic course before then, however. It was a week before Festival; each night the air was crisp with the anticipation of celebrations to come, and all the curtains and corridors seemed alive with the ghosts of songs brought back from other winters, other happiness. My father had invited a few friends up to the house, a social evening, to sample the festive sheh and for hara from the town to meet the Kakkahaar. Everyone was in high spirits; noisy hara tramping through the front door, trailing waiflike consorts, dressed in furs. Cobweb crimped my hair and gave me new clothes to wear. "Quite the dashing young har!" he said and stroked his throat with perfume. He seemed nervous that night, and his smiles were forced.
Downstairs, among the lights and the perfumes, we were all intoxicated by a wild kind of happiness, because deep inside we knew that everything could change in our lives in the near future and our merriment was tinged by a desperate flutter of hysteria. I had not expected Leef to be there, for most of the guests were long-standing friends of Terzian's, but when I saw him standing rather awkwardly in our grand drawing room, I knew that his presence was right and sort of preordained, suiting my teetering euphoric mood. I think I was trying to convince myself to be like Gahrazel was over
Ithiel and perhaps Leef guessed something of what was on my mind, but he was not stupid enough to try and find out.
I asked him to come out with me into the hall to sit on the stairs, and he looked quickly at my father before following me through the door. I said, "He will not mind, you know."
"Who? What?" Leef asked and I replied,
"Terzian; that you're with me. Don't worry about it. He's not that fierce, or that bothered about what I do for that matter."
"If you believe that, which I doubt, you are wrong," Leef remarked, but he let himself relax a little.
We sat down on the stairs, but we were not alone. Hara seemed to be everywhere that night. Leef said, "The atmosphere is strange. I don't feel comfortable."
I thought about this. "Perhaps you are right. I've felt strange all day but I thought it was just me."
We looked at each other and Leef said, "Well!"
I realized I must have changed quite a lot since the first time I had met him. Now he seemed to be nervous with me. Most of his reserve, I felt, could be blamed on who my father was.
"In the spring—" I began
"Yes, in the spring!" Leef interrupted, rather sharply. "Not one of us is free from fear. Thiede has almost won before we even face the Gelaming. He has been cultivating his reputation for years for just this moment."
"What, us two sitting here?"
Leef did not smile. "Everything," he replied. He looked at my hands resting selfconsciously on my knees for several minutes before he dared to take one of them in his own. "Pampered hands," he said. "Aren't you afraid that Thiede will come and make you work for a living?"
"No," I answered. "Does everyone think like you?"
Leef shook his head. "I don't know. I shouldn't be talking to you like this."
"Because of my father, I suppose! Do you really think I ever talk to him properly?"
"Don't you?"
"No, not about real things. We may discuss the condition of the meat at table, or the weather, or horses, but not much else. I think I am just a possession to him; like this house, like my hostling. Can houses or whores have opinions?"
"Swift!" Leef exclaimed, hurriedly scanning the hall to see if anyone had heard me.
"Can you deny that it is true?" I asked.
"Stop this conversation, stop it!" he said in a low but vehement voice. "We must be happy!"
"Alright," I agreed. It must be Cal infecting me, I thought. Perhaps I was becoming more like him, talking as he did. Was it me that had started this conversation? "I want to find out what my father thinks of you," I said and Leef looked at the floor and smiled. He knew what I meant by that.
Someone called my name and then Gahrazel was breathless on the stairs beside me. "Swift!" he said excitedly. "Come back into the drawing room. Now!"
"Why?"
"I think it will happen tonight," he answered mysteriously.
This was a kind of code between us. Ever since Cal's memory had been restored to him, both Gahrazel and I had been anticipating the day when Cal would give himself a shake and lower the defenses he had constructed against my father. It had always seemed inevitable. We could tell that Cal was naturally a sensual creature, and, although I thought that he had grand, if futile, designs on Cobweb, Cal would one day respond to my father's advances. I could not understand what was holding him back now. Terzian had never given up, and sometimes, his subtle, essentially Terzian method of wooing became rather too blatant; through sheer desperation, I think. Everyone knew, yet my father had not become angry. Another puzzle. Being made to look foolish was not a state that Terzian normally accepted gladly.
Leef followed me reluctantly back into the drawing room, with Gahrazel lending the way. I was suddenly angry at Gahrazel's eager curiosity, that all this was so entertaining to him. What was happening was a stately dance that had fallen into disorganization; it was not a joke.
My father was standing by the fire, leaning on the mantelpiece, caressing an empty glass, talking to the Kakkahaar. Cal was listening to Swithe on the other side of the room. Disappointed, I turned to Gahrazel. "I thought you said that—"
"Hush," Gahrazel interrupted, smiling, both hands on my arm. "Just watch t
hem; absorb the atmosphere. You'll see." Still laughing, he sauntered away, no doubt to find a good viewpoint in the room.
"What are you up to?" Leef asked, once more nervously scanning faces.
"Oh, the Big Thing is about to happen," I explained. Leef shook his head.