Cobweb shrugged. "Faces from the past are always with us. They follow you too, Cal."
"Is it Seel?"
"You are obsessed with that. Too much is hidden from me; I cannot say."
Silence settled around them like dust. They were both staring at the floor deep in thought and then their heads rose like snakes, their eyes met.
"I don't like this room," Cal said, rubbing his arms. "It is cold."
Cobweb tried to stand and faltered, his body trembling, shivering, his breath misting. Cal lifted him up, trying to gather, control, the sprawling, shuddering limbs. Cobweb appeared to have sunk into a trance. His head lolled over Cal's arm; his eyes were open, but blank. Cal held him reverently, gazing with undisguised tenderness into his empty face. They did not know they were being watched.
I heard them leave the room. The light went out and I was left in darkness, conscious only of the wind-sounds beating at the house, windows rattling. Gahrazel was in this place, poisoned and bitter. I shuddered and ran quickly to the door.
I didn't think I'd be able to sleep. What were Cal and Cobweb doing? I )id they share aruna or anger and bitter words? I surprised myself by waking up and realizing that half my thoughts had been dreams.
Cobweb came to my room soon after. I had never seen him so radiant, but it was under the surface. Superficially, he was nervous and harried. He didn't know how to tell me, yet he felt he had to. I made it easier for him.
"So, what happened with you and Cal then?"
Cobweb grimaced at me and then came to sit next to me on the bed, plucking restlessly at the covers. It was hard to believe that we were not the same age, harder still to believe that he was my hostling. He shook his head and said, "Oh, Swift!"
I touched his face. "Jealousy and desire are not the most comfortable of friends," I said.
Cobweb smiled ruefully. "It must always have been there, of course. Strange, I don't often deceive myself, only other people. Now I remember I am not only soume, but ouana too. Perhaps I have woken up, perhaps some part of me shall die."
"We've had enough talk of death!" I remarked sharply.
Cobweb stood up and shook out his hair. "Strange that someone else should find me real," he said.
Later, Cal told me about Cobweb's visions. I could see how much he thought of my hostling by the fact that he would not speak of anything else that had happened between them. "It seems that one day we'll be heading south together," he said, corroding a certain dreaminess with cheer. "I wonder when."
"We must enjoy this Festival," I said dubiously. "It may be our last."
Cal laughed when I said that. It was just the kind of thing he liked to hear.
It took some months for something to happen, however. Spring was approaching and our lives had lapsed into a regular, if tentative routine. I thought that my brother should begin his education far sooner than I had done and spoke to Moswell about it. Tyson might not be allowed a proper childhood. His would certainly be nothing like mine had been, whatever happened. I used to think that, but for the threat of the Gelaming, we could have been truly happy at that time. There seemed to be no hatred in the 1 house any more. All the disruptive spirits had left it. But we all knew how
temporary this contentment might be. My father had been gone for so long and we had had no word from him, not even rumor. It was as if the Varrs had simply vanished into the mist, as if they had never been.
It all crept up on us stealthily. I, and Ithiel too, had expected messengers, torn and wounded, galloping madly, riding north to bring us news. But it was nothing like that.
One evening, Ithiel came to me while I sat in my father's study. I liked to spend time in there, for it seemed to bring me closer to Terzian. Also, | I found it interesting to read through his notes and books. I learned much about how he ran Galhea and how he had organized his war-torn people when they had first arrived there. Already the days were getting longer and the house was full of sunset, sleepy and relaxed. I was sipping coffee, feet up on the desk, gazing out at the garden. One thing that I had initiated since my father's departure was that intruders were not to be shot on sight as Terzian had once ordered. I gave the excuse that more could be learned by interrogating strangers than by butchering them, but the truth was that indiscriminate killing appalled me. Perhaps it was because I always imagined being in that situation myself. Anyway we had no other way of getting news.
It seemed I'd had to change so much and in a short space of time. Galhea needed my father; he was not there. I was all they could have, the only son. Daily, I would go to the administration office my father used in Galhea and listen to his people's problems. I was not a trader or a farmer and had complained to Ithiel that he was surely far better equipped to deal with the people's queries and settle their disputes than I. Ithiel only smiled and patted me on the shoulder. "Trader, farmer, you certainly aren't," he said. "But you are fair, Swift. That's what they need. You are Terzian's son and I shall help you as much as you want me to, but it must be your mouth they hear the words from, not mine." Help me he did. It was obvious why Terzian relied on him so much.
Now Ithiel came into the study and smiled, amused at my unselfconscious imitation of my father.
"Intruders have been found in the forest," he said. "They were making for Galhea . . ."
"Human or hara?" I asked.
"Well, both actually," he replied. "A band of wanderers, like gypsies. They call themselves Zigane, which I understand means gypsy anyway. Tribeless people banded together. Their leader is a woman . . . she is what they call a pythoness, a sorceress and . . ." He looked uncomfortable. "Swift, she has asked to see you."
"By name?"
He nodded. "Her name is Tel-an-Kaa."
"How strange," I said, more to myself. "You had better find out what she wants of me, and who sent her!"
Tel-an-Kaa, the pythoness, would not speak to anyone but me. To Ithiel, she would only keep repeating that her message was for Terzian's son alone; when I sent Swithe to her, she would not even acknowledge his presence. Something about the Zigane commanded respect. They had hara among them; Ithiel's soldiers were loath to use aggression against them; it was a superstitious fear, more than anything. I held my ground for three days and at the end of that time, sent Ithiel to the pythoness with word that I would visit her at midday.
The Zigane were indeed gypsies, or at least had modeled themselves upon gypsy appearance. They had set up a camp in the middle of the town, already selling trinkets and cloth to the Varrs. They lived in gaudy, decorated caravans and affected a matching mode of attire. We were told they worshiped snakes and that the pythoness could scry in reptile tongue.
It was not easy to tell the humans and hara apart. Both races were lean, tanned and sinewy, their clothes entirely similar. Ithiel conducted me to Tel-an-Kaa's caravan. It looked no larger than the rest, although it was bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. I ducked into the perfumed gloom of the interior and had my first glimpse of her. She was sitting on the edge of a couch, like a girl, her velvet gown worn and shabby, long, pale hair falling over her shoulders like rags, yet I could tell in an instant that I was looking at a queen. Her small face was serenity and splendor, half smiling, full of secrets. It is in the blood, true royalty. Perhaps we recognized that feature in each other.
"Greetings, son of Terzian," she said and her voice was low and clear.
I motioned for Ithiel to leave us and he shut the door behind him. Now we were in another world, contained and silent. "What is it you wish to say to me?" I asked.
She grimaced. "Please, sit down. Would you like wine?"
I sat beside her and she handed me a long-stemmed glass.
"I was sent to find you," she said.
"By whom?"
She smiled, shaking her head. "We are not fond of this land, but we were persuaded by the fact that Terzian and his executioners would not be here . . ."
"Who sent you?"
"I regret I cannot answer you. I bring new
s."
"Of my father?" I asked quickly, noting my voice rise uncontrollably in timbre."It may not be welcome ..."
"Not. . . is he . . . ?"
She shook her head before I could speak the word. "Not that. He went into the mist."
"I know that!" (Was that all she had to tell me?)
"Of course. They may have taken him, Swift. I don't know. It would be so easy for them, so exquisitely easy. He just went right to them, didn't he?"
"The Gelaming!"
She reached to touch my face with one small, white, childlike hand, and I thought, This must all be a dream. I shall wake up in a minute.
"You must not wait here for them, Swift," she said.
I looked into her eyes, which were hesitant and grave. She was old-young, as Wraeththu are old-young. She was tired and she was powerful.
"Tel-an-Kaa, you must come to my house," I said.
Tel-an-Kaa: a name of power, a sound of mystery. I never found out how old she was or her origins, or even how she had formed her band of wanderers. Perhaps it did not interest her to tell me, perhaps she only guarded the shroud of her enchantment. She was naturally wary of going with us alone to Forever, but adopted a pose of being too polite to suggest that any of her people should accompany us. Out of courtesy, I invited five of them to make up her party. "We rarely have guests now," I told her. "Our cook is one of the best in the country and he will be pleased to be able to show off his art again." Ithiel and I had arrived on horseback, and as it would have appeared improper for her to walk beside us (none of the Zigane horses were exactly
what you'd call riding stock), Ithiel ordered some of his hara to bring a cart. Once more I reflected upon the indefinable quality of the pythoness that demanded respect. Even Ithiel felt it and he had never admitted to a great love of humankind.
On the way back to the house, I trotted my horse beside her. "Why is it that you have sought me out?" I asked.
She smiled her careful, cat's smile. "Oh, but I have already said, I had a message."
"Someone has paid you well then?" I suggested, but she would not answer. I caught Ithiel's eye and could see that he was sharing my suspicions. Varrs are the most feared of Wraeththu in Megalithica, yet this outlandish gypsy queen had wandered insouciantly into our lands, without precaution or defense. It was uncanny. Perhaps more uncanny was the way in which we treated her. Was it just my influence? Because of Bryony, women fascinated me for their mercurial minds and their unpredictable disposition, but I would never have imagined that I would come to treat a human with such deference.
Tel-an-Kaa appraised my home with a critical eye. She bowed before Cobweb and said, "Your name is known to us," which, as she had anticipated, pleased him greatly.
Yarrow prepared us a sumptuous lunch, which the Zigane consumed with undisguised enthusiasm. "It is some time since I have eaten as well," Tel-an-Kaa confided to Cobweb. She resisted all attempts by our household to draw her out about the message she carried for me, light-heartedly mocking all serious questions. Cal watched her steadily and I could tell that she was conscious of his dislike.
"You are lucky our noble lord is absent," he said to her. "Only Swift is against the slaughter of strangers. Perhaps you owe your life to him."
Only when Cal spoke to her did the Pythoness look uncomfortable. "We would not be here if Terzian had not been away," she said. "His leaving is the sole reason for us being here."
"Oh?" Cal said archly. "And perhaps you'd like to expand on that sole reason . . . ?"
"What I have to say is for Terzian's son alone," she replied, but she did not touch her food again after that.
After lunch, I took her to the conservatory, where it was warm and private. Bryony brought us wine and honey cakes. I could see that she was not impressed with Tel-an-Kaa either, but that was probably just Bryony being female and territorial.
"I am surprised to see a woman in this house," the Pythoness remarked. I decided not to answer her. Perhaps she was here to gather information about us. I resolved to reveal as little as possible.
"I think, perhaps, you had better tell me the real reason for your being here," I said. "You spoke obliquely of my father being taken by the Gelaming, but I doubt if you can produce proof of that. You spoke of messages, while telling me nothing. If you think I am unlike my father in some ways, you are right, but my patience is not limitless. If I decide you are a danger to us, I will not hesitate to order your extinction."
She inclined her head graciously. "But of course! I respect your position, Swift. In your shoes I would think likewise. I admit I have walked into your home with only a handful of vague hints and rather too much bravado, but I too have to be cautious. You are spoken well of and we expected to feel safe coming here, but I could not be entirely sure. You are Terzian's son after all and I am convinced his blood is thicker than most."
I smiled, relaxing enough to sit down.
"Well then, why do you want to see me?"
"Why?" Her eyes swerved away from mine with the grace of flight. "You will be annoyed when I say that some things I cannot tell you . . ."
She looked surprised at my laughter. "Oh, I have grown up with that sentence ringing through my head!" I explained. "Throughout my life I have had to put up with hidden things. That you should say it now seems only natural."
"It is true. I cannot tell you who sent me. My master would remain anonymous," she said. Her fingers idly traced patterns in the wrought-iron table at her side; the honey cakes were untouched. "In the south . . . there is a great strangeness in the south. Magic, conflicting magic has warped the land. Time and space have been injured. It is true that your father wentstraight to the Gelaming. Although the desert tribe, the Kakkahaar, breached the Gelaming's defenses, the Gelaming still had the power to choose where that breach should be. ... Through my master, Swift, they have asked for you. They have no love of war, no desire for pain. Through you, pure-born as you are, they hope to unite the northern tribes—"
"Wait!" I interrupted quickly. "I can never speak for any people other than my own, here in Galhea. It is true that I too have no love of war, and I would like to see peace restored to our lands, but the hara further north have never seen me. They have probably never even heard of me. How can I speak for them? They are Varrs. In Galhea, our way of life has maybe made us soft, but I can assure you, that is not the case in Ponclast's domain. The har who can cold-bloodedly order the murder of his own son will not listen to me. I can do nothing!"
She nodded thoughtfully. "You are right. Perhaps that is not exactly what I meant ..."
I stood up. "Have the Gelaming sent you, Pythoness?" I demanded. "Is this their way of defeating us? Are you here to worm your way into Galhea's heart and set poison there?"
"No," she replied, unruffled. "I told you; my master sent me. Let us say that, in this matter, he adheres to neither side. As for the Gelaming's motives, I am not qualified to say . . ."
"You must agree," I told her, "that this all seems highly suspicious. Only a fool would trust you. Only a fool would ride south into what is literally the unknown, because you suggest it."
She rubbed her forehead. "Yes, I suppose so ... I realize I have to convince you. I would be held in contempt if I could not succeed."
"Convince me then."
She looked up at me wearily, leaning on her hand. "Convince you? How? All I have to say is that you must ride south and trust in Fate. Perhaps your father's life depends on it ... perhaps. In your heart, you must know you are irresistibly drawn to what is waiting for you. Your dreams will have been forewarning you for quite some time, I think. Remember them now. Do you sense danger? You don't, do you! You think you ought to, but you can't. You are strong, Swift, strong and good. I can see that for myself. Galhea seems like yours now. It seems like a place untouched by the horror beyond its fields. I speak from experience. It would astound you."
"It seems you know me," I said, wondering.
"I feel I do," she replied. "Give me your hand."
>
Her female flesh felt no different from mine, yet we were worlds apart.
"See this," she said stroking my palm. "This is the line of destiny. It cuts deep; so straight, so true. Heart and head without blemish. The line of head is separate from the line of life; this symbolizes your intellect, your early development. You are passionate, but not governed by your passions. The only difficulty is ... now."
"Now!" I exclaimed.
"An artistic hand," she said, thinking aloud.
"Is it really possible," I said softly, "what the Gelaming believe, human and hara sharing this world; the concept of harmony? Is it really possible?"
The Pythoness pulled a wry face. "They do not doubt it," she said, "but if it is possible, it will be sanctified by blood."
"Fighting is a dream to me," I said. "I have only heard of it. I have never seen death . . ."