I turned to Cal. I spoke to him. I said, "What are we, Cal? What are we part of?" He did not answer.
After maybe fifteen minutes, Cal stood up. He said he could see their flashlights in the distance and it was safe for us to follow. Luck was on our side. When we reached the camp, sounds of revelry reached us from around a leaping fire by Shasco's vehicles. His men were getting drunk and the witnesses of Lianvis's conjurations, doubtless desperate for a drink themselves, had joined them. As we slipped silently back into the tent, I saw Ulaume standing staring into the fire, a tin cup pressed to his chest. Even in the orange glow I could see his face looked gray.
I still feel that it was by some miracle that Lianvis did not become suspicious of my behavior from that tune on. When, on the following day, Cal and I went to the inner room to spend more time with him on my studies, I could do little more than twitch and mumble at him. Terrible images of a gaping mouth uttering only a heart-rending mewl paraded indelibly across my inner eye. What made it worse was that Lianvis had conducted that ritual for no other reason than sheer, dissipated pleasure. I had thought at first that the whole exercise must have been for Lianvis to gain some kind of extra power, but Cal informed me otherwise. "What we saw was sheer decadence," he said. "Nothing more. Lianvis took life as we take alcohol. The effect is similar, but as you saw," (and here he smiled) "so much stronger!"
Now, facing our charming host every day was a nightmare. Lianvis sat, composed and neat upon the cushions, hut somewhere inside him the rushing wind spirit, star power, still glowed; a hidden, dense-white core. He had trained me well to focus my strengths; there was little time left to spend with the Kakkahaar and I wanted to make that time as short as possible.
I visualized the shining symbols of protection against evil above my head and kept them there. If Lianvis guessed I knew something of his activities, he gave no sign, but knowing his level and his art, I think it virtually impossible that he did not know. It seemed he did begin to accelerate my studies toward their conclusion, but I may have imagined that. Of course, Cal and I had considered leaving the Kakkahaar before my ascension but we did not want to risk making Lianvis suspicious of us. We were afraid of him and it was fear that kept us there beside him.
Two days later he told me that my ascension to Acantha would take place that night. I asked him where and he replied it would be at the ruins some way west of the camp. He watched me sleepily as horror must have thrilled across my face. But that was all. He said, "It may be a good idea for you to ride out there this afternoon. Look at the place. Take Cal with you."
Of course, once we were there, in radiant daylight, there was no sign. The underground corridors smelled old and unused. Flaking cobwebs dangled from the crumbling plaster. Perhaps we took the wrong route down. The vast temple chamber was lit hazily by smoking bars of sun. There was no blood on the floor, no marks at all. Cal and I did not speak, but looked at each other in the gloom. Cal moved into the radiance and looked up through the cracked ceiling. It was a perfect picture. I poked among the rubble; not even a candle had been left behind. Nothing spoke to me there; it was thoroughly cleansed.
I had to fast that day. At sundown, Lianvis put me in a different room. He would come for me at midnight, he said. I lay down on the couch, uncomfortable in the hot, close atmosphere of the tent. My mind was in a daze; my ascension seemed something of an anti-climax now, The pleasure, the pride, the excitement had gone out of it. Kakkahaar's noble Hara were bloody with unhallowed crimes. I knew that what we had witnessed under the ruins was no isolated incident. The memory of it would not leave me and I knew it never would until the desert was behind us. One awful thought, that I could not banish, that made me feel sickened, saturated with sickness, was this: me going with trusting innocence with Cal into the desert. Me leaving my home with a stranger whom only Fate had decreed had not been a Kakkahaar, or something like them. Visions of me smoking, writhing, sizzling in the most unspeakable of agonies kept rising before me. Me, unconsciously flirting with Cal, tempting a possibility I could never have dreamed of.
So, here I lay, still in Lianvis's tent, awaiting the hour of my ascension ceremony. I vowed we would leave as soon as I was rested the next day. Perhaps then the bad thoughts would fade. I threw my arm across my eyes and pressed down hard, making the colors come. I knew that outside, in the real outside that is, far beyond the sand, the rocks, the scrub, the world of men still struggled to maintain their supremacy. I knew that the things that had frightened me so far were mere nothings in comparison with what might await us beyond the solitude of the sand.
Outside, muted voices called mournfully on the night air. The sun, a great, boiling, ruby globe, would be sinking in a haze of colors behind the ruins. Bars of light sneaking in through the cracked vaults of that unholy place would be crimson now, the chamber suffused with bloody light. And later I would go there, later bite my tongue whilst Lianvis stands in that same place; different, calmer forces bowing to his touch.
I turned on my side and curled my knees up to my chest. The room looked tawdry, the air stale beneath its veil of incense. I felt hot and dirty, hungry and anxious to be free to leave. The hours till midnight seemed interminable. I rolled around on the couch, trying to get comfortable and reciting rituals in my head until I hated them.
It was almost dark when I heard the curtains rustle behind me. Someone came in on silent feet, bringing with them a hint of the freshness of the air outside. I rolled over quickly. It could not be Lianvis; it was far too early. A dark figure, barely visible, stood at the side of the couch. All I could see was one pale hand holding the folds of its hooded robe together. I made no sound, but waited. The figure pulled itself up to its full height and gradually unfolded the draperies that swathed it, raising its arms above its head. Pellucid skin glowed like phosphorous in the shadows; yet I still could not make out the face. There was a cloud in my head forbidding recognition. I held out my arms and the strange, silent, pliable visitor curled into them. I found a mouth tumid with desire and I drank from it dark and secret things. All the colors around me were mazarine blue and richest purple; a taste of ink. A burst of starfire. I was ouana, violet and gold, tongued with flame, seeking ingress, conquering and revering. Streams of ice flowed from my heart, meeting fiery air, hissing, swirling, making steam. It may only have been an erotic dream; a temptation, an illusion, or it may have been a living, hungry thing.
I was sleeping when Lianvis came through the curtains. He shook me and smiled at my waking eyes. My mouth was dry, my body slippery with sweat. "Come now," was all he said. I looked. There was no-one on the couch beside me, though my arms felt cold as if only recently emptied. Lianvis watched me sit up, rub my face, reach for my clothes. His secret smile led me out to the desert.
Perhaps if I had known more of the way things really were in the world, I would not have been so desperately anxious to leave the camp of the Kakkahaar. All things in life are merely relative. The evils we had encountered in the desert were extremely bad compared with our time at Saltrock; later events would make our time with Lianvis seem like days of peace, a holiday. Never, there, had I been under direct threat. Things we had seen had been only an education, perhaps a warning. Then I was still afire with the ingenuous idealism that the haven of Saltrock had formed within me.
My ascension to Acantha had concluded when the first predawn gray had diluted the pristine darkness of the desert night. I did not feel as if my body was brimming with new-found power exactly, but what I did feel was an inner kernel of calm and confidence, something that could be called upon, should the need arise. I rode back to the camp with the echoes of ritual ringing in my head; exhausted, but still determined to leave the place that day. Lianvis insisted, I broke my fast with him. He told me he could not see why I was in such a hurry to leave.
"Whatever's waiting out there for you will still be there tomorrow," he said, flinging his arm to the east.
"I don't want to waste time," I told him, lying glibly. "You could r
ise to Pyralis here," he pointed out, avoiding my eyes and picking at the food on his plate.
"No!" I cried, too quickly. "No, I mean, I mean we have to go on.3' Lianvis shrugged. "Your choice, of course. Where do you plan to go?" I looked beyond him, out through the door of the tent. Where? "Oh, Cal will know. Somewhere."
"You would be wise to return to Saltrock, you know," Lianvis said, wiping his hands, slowly. "We are fairly isolated from any trouble here in the desert; it's too far and too inhospitable for us to be a threat to anyone, and Saltrock too, but other places . . ." He drew his breath in sharply and shook his head. "Pellaz, some of the towns north of here are painted with Wraeththu blood. There is hell beyond the boundaries of the wild country."
I could have told him that even before I was har I had not seen the towns and cities of men. My experience did not extend further than pictures in books the priest had shown me. Now I wanted to see. But what I said was, "I do not want to hide forever. There is a world out there and a great war perhaps. Wraeththu will win that war because of the simple fact that they have Fate on their side. Cal and I are going to be part of it . . .
"Why risk your life?!" Lianvis exclaimed. "It would be more sensible to wait a few years at Saltrock. Maybe, by then, things will be a little more . . . resolved."
I did not think he was right, which of course he was, and I was exaggerating slightly about our sense of heroism. Cal and I had no plans at all. He wanted Immanion and I wanted to live a little. We had not even discussed where we wanted to go next yet.
It was late afternoon by the time we were ready to leave. Lianvis equipped us richly with food and water. He had also donated a pack horse to carry it, ignoring our protests. There was a multitude of useful things: rope, salt, a knife sharpener, clothes and a tinder box. I thought Lianvis was just trying to get around us for some reason (and was probably right), but was grateful all the same. I had given him very little in return for the training he had given me, and now he showered us with gifts. A Kakkahaar guide would take us to the edge of the desert.
As we left, Lianvis came to bid us farewell. There was no sign of Ulaume, which surprised me Lianvis said, "You mustn't waste your talents, Pell; try to stay alive until you have matured enough to use them properly."
"I shall certainly try!" I replied. I gathered up Red's reins and he lifted his head, ready to leave. Cal was talking to the guide some feet away. "Oh, one thing, Lianvis," I said quietly, leaning down. "Last night; was it you who sent Ulaume to me?"
Lianvis laughed. "I did not send Ulaume to you," he answered, but his face looked sly. "You never saw Ulaume last night."
I was puzzled. "But his hair . . ."I said.
"No. It was not Ulaume. Farewell Pellaz." He turned quickly in the usual swirl of sandy cloth and strode back into his tent.
As soon as we rode away from the camp my spirits began to lift. The desert, past its cruellest mid-day heat, shone with barbaric splendor. Red and Splice, rested and well-fed, were anxious to please and light on their feet. Lianvis had given us a tent of sturdy black canvas. When we camped for the night, there were whole chickens to eat and pale, yellow wine to hasten our sleep. The Kakkahaar guide had told us that he would leave us at mid-day tomorrow. In less than a day the desert would be behind us, yet it would probably have taken us weeks if we had not had a guide.
As we lay in our tent that night, Cal quizzed me about the previous night's events. His voice sounded strained and he was lying on his back, not touching me.
"I'm sure all the ceremony bit is just decoration," I said. "It's the instruction that's important. That's what raises your level. Look at this!" I materialized a glowing crystal in the air before us. Cal slapped it with his hand and it vanished.
"What is important is common sense, that's all! You are Wraeththu. The power is there anyway. It is in man too, but they ignore it . . ."
"What's the matter with you?" I snapped, leaning over him. His eyes were cold, the darkest violet. He pulled his blanket tighter around his neck.
"Why won't you tell me?" he said. "I have never kept anything from you!"
"What do you mean?" I had an inkling however. He just looked at me and I dropped my eyes. "It is no secret," I said defensively, "I just forgot." His expression did not change. "I feel as if you expect me to apologize."
One side of his mouth twitched in a tentative grin. "Forgot? Oh Pell!"
"It's the truth! It all seemed like a dream anyway. I still don't know if it was real. How did you know?
He raised one eyebrow. "I know; that is all. I can see it around you; something dark." The coldness had left his voice and I lay down, resting my head on his chest through the blanket.
"It was all so strange. I don't even know who it was. I did think it was Ulaume, but I asked Lianvis and he said it wasn't."
Cal said nothing for a while. His hand crept under my hair and stroked the back of my neck. Outside, I heard the Kakkahaar cough in his sleep. "I know who it was," Cal said. Something in his voice scared me. "Don't tell me; don't," I murmured. "Just make me Light again."
CHAPTER SEVEN
They that have fallen . . .
To the east of the desert, a long, straight road winds straight across an unrelenting plain. There are a few farms there; some dealing in livestock, some in grain. We could see smoke rising thinly from their chimneys. The Kakkahaar had said that we should begin to avoid the habitations of men. There were only two of us and men might be tempted to shoot on sight. Cal said we should forget the road and head north. Although that might mean we would risk encountering danger, there would be more of our own kind that way. We still had plenty of supplies and we could travel fairly fast across the plains.
Now we changed direction again, abandoning our journey to the south and heading north once more, away from the arid country toward greener lands. For several days, we did not meet any hara or men, In the distance we could see the land begin to rise. There, the blue of the sky started to mist. Cal taught me how to use a gun. We did not want to waste what ammunition we had, but we shot at small animals, which supplemented our diet. Sometimes I would dream of our being attacked by men, (shadowy creatures with pale, dead faces), and not being able to defend ourselves. I was : not a good shot. Our horses grew sleeker and fatter on the lush grass of the plains. When the wind blew it billowed like a vast, green sea. The first town we came to seemed inhabited only by ghosts. Only litter moved on the empty streets; a makeshift garrison sagged unmanned. Cal left me with the horses under cover and went to investigate. I fretted impatiently while he was gone. Surely it should not take this long. I could see him killed a hundred different ways, mostly shot and shot and shot. He returned an hour later, sauntering back to me, biting an apple. "It's safe," he said, "I think."
I could tell it had not been that long ago that this had been a thriving town. Something had made the people leave. Just the fact that they appeared to have left their vehicles behind (we saw many parked along the streets), made me uneasy. Cal said that wasn't too ominous a sign. Fuel was becoming scarce, after all, I looked inside one of the cars and it appeared long unused, but I was still unsure. Had this place been abandoned or attacked? There were hardly any indications of destruction; what there was could have been caused by neglect. The buildings were for the most part undamaged and we could see nothing of the more grisly remains of conflict; dead Hara or men. Cal showed me the fruit tree where he had picked the apple. It was in the garden of a large, white house. It reminded me of the Richards house back home. "Let's explore," Cal suggested, but I was not very keen. As a child I had often dreamed of big, empty houses, and the dreams had never been pleasant. I think that deserted houses have personalities of their own, and once deserted, resent the intrusion of living things. Cal laughed when I told him about it, but he did not insist on going inside. We walked up the wide, main street, where once a community had bustled, ignorant of their fate. The horses hooves made an alarmingly loud clatter, which echoed all around us. I hoped frantically that the
town was as empty as it appeared. If anyone did still lurk there, I felt sure it was unwise of us to advertise our presence. But no-one came. The town held its breath or slept or dreamed. The empty eyes of the shops, the cafes and houses watched us implacably until the hair stood up on the back of my neck. Once out of the center, we remounted our horses and cantered out through the suburbs
On the very edge of the town, down a sleepy road of middle-sized, family houses, just as our fears were beginning to subside, a single, sharp, arresting sound shattered the air around us. Gunfire. Cal reacted immediately, swinging Splice sharply off the road and crashing into a nearby garden. I kept so close to him our knees were touching. Chewing up an unkempt lawn, we collided to a halt behind a shield of fir-trees. Cal hauled me to the ground. At first we could hear nothing.
"We should have the weapons ready all the time!" Cal hissed, speaking more to himself than to me.
"What now?" I asked, rubbing the rein-burns between my fingers. "Men or hara?" Cal muttered to himself, ignoring my question. "They must have been watching us. Damn! I should have known. It was too quiet. Pell, find out. Help me put out a call."