But I had more to say. "Cobweb knows everything. He knows, Cal. He will have seen it in your mind and he will use it to destroy you. Can't you see that?" That thought must have been in the back of my mind for quite some time; now it seemed blindingly obvious.
"I don't want to talk about this," Cal replied. "Cobweb knows nothing about me."
I rushed forward, tried to take his shoulders in my hands, turn him toward me. His body felt rigid. His eyes were inches from my own and cold as death. I couldn't speak. He smiled.
"Do you see it too, Swift?" he said.
After this, I said to Gahrazel, "How does Cal sleep, do you think? Is he troubled by dreams?"
Gahrazel and I spent a lot of time discussing Cal. "I should imagine he sleeps very well," Gahrazel replied. "I don't think he remembers his dreams."
I watched Cobweb warily. His acceptance of Cal into our household had been too easy, too quick. What was he plotting? I had no doubt he knew a lot about what had happened to Cal and would use it, but carefully. It would have to be in a way that Terzian could not notice or even suspect.
One day in the late spring, one of the ever-vigilant patrols cornered a group of humans south of Galhea, some miles away from the town. No-one knew why they had been there, where they had been going, or why they had forsaken their cover. My father had been summoned to the town after Ithiel's troup had rounded them up. Inevitably, several humans had been killed. Now Terzian would decide the fate of the survivors and supervise their interrogation. Gahrazel and I were delighted. Men! At last, and in Galhea. Gahrazel had seen humans before, of course, but only as flitting shapes in the dark or dead bodies. We were both eager to see living humans. They were some kind of strange animal to us. I knew that, years ago, there had been human slaves in Galhea, but they were no longer around. I could only guess at what had happened to them.
Terzian was approached, first by me and then by Gahrazel, both of us requesting that we might see the captives, but he shook his head. He did not want to be bothered with harlings and our demands annoyed him. He would not give us a proper reason.
Gahrazel said that my father had looked almost guilty when he refused our request. He was so angry at having anyone saying no to him that he devised a plan. "We must sneak out of the house at night," he said, "and go to Galhea ourselves."
At first I protested violently. It would be too dangerous, my father would find out, we would be caught and punished. Gahrazel sneered at my objections and argued with me until I gave in. He was restless and craved adventure and I really wanted to see a human. I tried to imagine what it would be like speaking with one. Would it be astounded by my wisdom? Gahrazel managed to find out that all the humans were kept penned in a fenced enclosure near the soldiers' quarters, where I had never been. This was not too far from Forever and we could walk there within fifteen minutes. Gahrazel planned our adventure down to the finest detail. He charmed, bribed or threatened the guards who would be on duty to let us approach the enclosure. We would be able to get really close.
When the night came, I could not sleep for excitement. Gahrazel waited until he was sure the whole house was asleep before he came to my room. We dressed in dark clothes and clambered down the ivy outside my bedroom window, as we had done many times before. This was the first time I was scared of being caught. I was unsure of my father's reaction. I could equally imagine him being furious or amused; it was impossible to guess his mood.
Running through the dark, I held Gahrazel's hand and the town below me glowed softly with the memory of light.
The guards did not know who we were. I waited while Gahrazel spoke to them. It was not a cold night, but I could see that the humans had built themselves a fire. They were sitting miserably around it, making very little sound, hunched shapes against the flames. The earth looked raw where the stakes of the fence had been punched into it. Behind the enclosure I could see the outlines of the soldiers' buildings against the sky, sounds of merriment and music reaching me from the open windows.
Gahrazel beckoned me over. He was speaking to two tall hara, resplendent in dull leather of deepest black. Gahrazel's voice was low and confident. "Can you get one of them to come over? I've never seen a human close to."
We approached the fence. If only I did not feel so small and nervous. A voice behind me, one of the guards. "Get one to the fence? Do you think they want you looking at them? How do you think we can make them do that?" He was laughing at us.
"Can't you offer them something?" Gahrazel asked indignantly. He hated to be laughed at.
"What, like throwing sugar to a horse?" the other guard joked. "Maybe they'd prefer a few handfuls of hay. Have we any hay?"
I could only think, "They do not know who we are. I must not be afraid." I could not turn round and look at them, but I could feel them behind me, slightly threatening, slightly wild. The one who had first spoken to us walked forward and put his hand in Gahrazel's hair. Gahrazel did not move; I jumped for him. "Share breath with me and I'll offer the rest of my sheh to them. It is said they crave alcohol."
I could tell he didn't think Gahrazel would say yes. But he did not know Gahrazel. My friend, whom I trusted to keep me safe, folded his arms, wrinkled his nose and then said, "Alright."
"Gahrazel!" I squeaked with horror.
He looked at me like a stranger. "Don't panic, Swift," he said and to the guard, "Afterwards, OK?"
I thought, Ah, this is a trick, and partially relaxed.
The guard cheerfully shouted a few insults at the humans by the fire and
then made the offer of the sheh. One of them called back, "What is this?" I had expected human voices to sound completely different to ours, like animals perhaps, but they weren't. It could have been a har calling out.
"Whoever comes to the fence gets the sheh! Two of our citizens want to have a look at you!"
"We are not animals!" an angry voice shouted back, but two of them stood up and came toward the fence. I was almost too scared to look. I was afraid of their difference, but one of the guards laughed and said, "Kids!"
Their appearance was dreadful, but not alien. We could look like that, if we were half starved and filthy, dressed in rags with ragged spirit. I could smell them and it was the stink of stale bodies and wretchedness. They were young, but I could not guess what age or whether they were male or female. (Was the difference apparent on the surface?) Their arms were thin like flesh-covered sticks, hands like paws on the fence. Only their eyes showed any sign of brightness and there I saw the strength of humanity, the instinct to fight until weakness or death prevents it. One of them put its fingers through the slats and said, "Sheh!"
The guard looked at Gahrazel. "They are little more than children," he said, "but probably ten years older than you. This one's a female." He poked through the rails with the butt of his gun. The female did not move but reached toward us with her eyes. Perhaps sheh could ease her misery, perhaps she craved numbness more than anything. For that she would let us make fun of her; us, in our fine clothes, flaunting our clean, well-fed bodies before her poverty. For a moment she looked me in the eye and I was nearly physically sick. For the first time in my life, I felt truly ashamed. We should not be here. I could see myself tearing down the fence. I could see it so clearly, but all I did was lower my eyes.
"Where have you come from?" I heard Gahrazel ask.
"We are from nowhere," she answered in a clear, high voice. "We having nothing; you know this. We are nothing to Varrs!"
"The Gelaming!" the other human, a male, said suddenly and the female turned on him like lightning and pummeled him with her fists.
"Shut up!" she cried. The male backed away, panting.
"They're going to kill us," he said, pointing through the fence with a shaking hand.
"Will you?" the girl asked, pressing her face against the slats. "Are you going to do that?"
"We might!" The guards laughed.
"Oh, we are nothing!" she screeched, shaking the fence.
"Th
e beast will come! The beast will come!" her companion raved madly.
"That's enough!'' One of the guards slapped the fence with his gun. The humans hissed like animals and withdrew a few paces. A bottle of sheh landed in the dirt at their feet. I was surprised that the guard had kept his word. The female leaned down, picked up the bottle and wiped it, strangely fastidious, on her ragged clothes. I found myself against the fence with my mouth open. I said, "Female." She looked at me. "What is your name?" I asked.
She smiled, and nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Bryony." They both turned back to the fire.
"Wait!" I called. Their pale faces stared at me through the darkness, but they would not come back to the fence. I wanted to ask, How much do you hate us? How much? Something foolish. I wanted them to say something bad to me. I wanted to say, "I am different." They walked away. Gahrazel touched me on the shoulder.
"The guards are called Leef and Chelone," he said. "They have more sheh in their rooms, and the guard is changing now. They're going off duty. Come on."
"No, I think we should go back now," I said, uncertainly.
Gahrazel laughed. "Are you joking? Go back alone then! My adventure does not end
here!"
He knew I would not go back alone.
Their rooms were in a house shared by several other hara. A splendid creature, dressed in blue and gold, opened the door to us. His face was heavily painted, jewelery hung heavily from his throat and ears. "Hostling stock," Gahrazel whispered to me confidentially. "Only the best for your father's warriors!"
We were offered sheh in crystal glasses. The painted har served the drinks and then left the room. It was a sumptuous salon, all comforts provided for. I was desperate to get home but too scared to do anything but stay by Gahrazel. Chelone unlaced his leathers and shook the creases from the linen shirt he wore beneath. "I am hot," he said. "Later, I must remove these as well." He stroked his black-clad thigh and Gahrazel laughed. Leef told me to sit down and I balanced myself on the edge of a chair. I felt my presence invaded the room; I was not supposed to be there and the room knew that but the guards did not. Leef asked me how old I was and I told him. He looked over his shoulder at Gahrazel sitting next to Chelone on the couch and back again. "Where do you live?"
"I ... somewhere ..." I shrugged helplessly. At the time I was more afraid of Terzian's wrath than what the soldiers could do to me. All I could imagine was these
strangers telling Terzian what we had done. Shaking with a cold I could not feel, I drank some of the sheh. It was rougher than the drink I was used to. Leef took the cup off me when I winced.
"I think you're too young to be out taking sheh off strange hara," he said.
Why must they always laugh at us? I wondered angrily.
Leef leaned against the wall and stared at me. All my limbs felt enormous. I know the way back, I thought. There is no reason why I should stay here. I know the way back. I will leave Gahrazel. The door seemed a hundred miles away. When I stood up, Leef put his hand on my arm.
Apprehension turned to terror in my heart. I was so young, but would that be important to him? Meat cutting ... I looked at Gahrazel, frantic, but he did not notice. He had his arms round Chelone's neck, his mouth on Chelone's mouth; I felt queasy watching them. Leef s hand slipped under my hair. I froze.
"You're afraid," he said. "Don't be." He tried to pull me against him. I could not resist; he was much stronger than me. With my head against his chest, my body shuddering as he stroked my back, I spoke the only words that could save me, "I am Swift. I am Terzian's son."
Leef hesitated for only a moment before he virtually threw me away from him. "Terzian's son!" His eyes rolled upwards. He laughed. "Do they know where you are?"
"No," I said miserably, close to tears. "No!" I wanted to make the growling noise and run, but snared by shame, I only backed slowly toward the door. Leef watched me speculatively. Then he shook his head and reached for the sheh bottle. My fingers touched the glossy wooden panels of the door and then I was in the hall, running toward the main entrance, and outside, gulping air, hurrying as if the devil's own hounds were on my heels. Someone shouted out as I ran past the humans' enclosure, perhaps one of the other guards stood up, but then there was only cruel laughter and the dark mouth of the avenue that led back to Forever. My mind kept repeating, "What if ... what if . . ." and I growled and growled and growled.
Half a mile up the road, my chest aching, I slowed to a wobbly walk. Damn Gahrazel! I thought furiously. I shall never speak to him again! Never! Some moments later, I heard the pounding of hooves on the gravel behind me and slipped in among the trees at the side of the road. "No-one can see me, no-one," I chanted under my breath and leaned against one of the smooth trunks. Looking up, I stared through the waving branches at the stars and the dark, dark sky. Up there are eyes, I thought and felt the warmth of a tear escape my blinking eyes. Am I safe? Am I? How far is it back to Forever? Do I have to go past anyone? When the horse slowed down and snorted, I dropped to my knees and pressed my face against the tree. Will I die? I thought. Somebody touched my shoulder and I turned and snarled and lashed out with my hands. "Hey!" the shape snapped and I knew it was Leef, that he had followed me, and though I was Terzian's son, I was in the dark, alone and helpless, and if I was dead I could say nothing.
"Don't touch me!" I screeched.
"Don't hit me!" Leef said, laughing. "Stop it! If you are who you say you are, you have nothing to fear, do you?" His voice was not threatening. I stopped striking out.
"That's better," he said. "Now, my lord Terzian will not thank me for letting his beloved son roam the streets of Galhea all alone, will he?" He took my hands in his own. "Come on, I'll escort you home."
"Don't tell him!" I cried, pulling away. "Please don't!"
He laughed again. "It might be dangerous for me not to," he said reasonably. "If this was ever found out . . . well!"
"It won't be!" I pleaded desperately. "Please, it won't be. Just let me go. Go away. Forget you saw me. Please!"
He thought about my fear. "Don't be foolish, get on the horse!" His voice was sharp. When I wouldn't move, he sighed. "Alright, alright, I won't say anything to anybody. Not a soul. Just come with me, please."
He held me in front of him on the saddle and we cantered back along the avenue, all the trees rushing past us in a blur. At the gates of Forever he said, "What possessed you to do this?"
"I only wanted to see the humans," I said. "My father wouldn't let me."
His hand tightened on my waist a little. "Humans, was it! Your friend didn't seem very interested in them. He seemed more interested in Chelone."
"Yes," I agreed quietly.
"I wouldn't go wandering with him at night if I were you," he said. "At least, not for a while . . . God, Terzian! You must be brave!"
"No," I said: "Can I get down now?"
He hesitated a moment and then said, "What a pity. Alright, off you get!" When I stood on the ground, he added, "I'll watch you for a while, OK?"
I nodded, and because I was safe again, I remembered and asked, "The humans, will they be killed?"
"Killed? I doubt it, not yet. We need the labor."
"Labor?"
"A nice way of saying slavery," he said. "But never mind that! Start walking up that drive, now!"
I smiled at him shakily. "Thank you, Leef," I said and slipped between the gates of Forever. Soon the dark limbs of the trees hid him from me. I looked back twice. I could hear the horse snorting and stamping by the gates, but I could not see him.
Next morning, I went early to the kitchen. Yarrow was surprised to see me before breakfast. Our meal was already prepared, waiting to be taken to the dining room. Yarrow was now concentrating on lunch. "Yarrow," I said, walking around his huge, worn table. "How often I've heard you complain you do not have enough staff! Always you complain the house is not kept up as well as it might be." Yarrow looked at me suspiciously, still slicing vegetables at the speed of light.
"And
what is this to you?" he asked.
I shrugged carelessly, watching him. "Oh, nothing really. I was just wondering; I might be concerned for you." I picked up a crisp finger of raw potato and chewed it thoughtfully. "Yarrow?"
"Now what?" He stopped slicing, pushing back his hair, which he always tried to tie back, always unsuccessfully.
"I need you to do something for me." "Do something . . ." Yarrow repeated ominously. "What do you think of humans?" It was one of our cook's privileges that he could virtually say what he liked to any member of the household, even Terzian himself to a certain degree. Cobweb said it was because Yarrow was an artist and the best cook we could ever possibly hope to get. He was young and he sometimes got too drank, but even if our tempers often got sick of him, our stomachs were in love with him. Now he narrowed his green eyes at me and said, "Why?"
"If the opportunity presented itself, would you have them working for you?" I asked carefully.