"Down the Whispering Well," post 8
Apr. 24th, 2008 09:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneTitle: Down the Whispering Well
This post rating: general
Warnings: drug use
Word Count: 4300
Disclaimer: Ashmael, Vaysh, and the harish world all belong to Storm Constantine; I'm merely playing with great abandon in her sandbox.
Pairings: Vaysh/Ashmael (historic)
Novella summary: Being brought back from the dead doesn't mean happily ever after, especially if you're Vaysh. Life has its costs, and he pays dearly. An exploration of Vaysh's character in the years before and through Pellaz's transformation, and the burdens he endures, because he must.
Post summary: Five years have gone by; a har from southern Megalithica is reborn and is transformed by Thiede's hand as Vaysh was before. Vaysh is commanded to be his guide, confidante, caretaker— and he doesn't have to like it. Continued from post 7, here. This post has a few actual dialogue quotes from Enchantments; I couldn't really avoid it, but I'll be doing so as best I can now that I'm fully integrated into canon. The story has already been eloquently told by the Master and I don't wish to quote her canon verbatim as that's already been done! But I felt it would be really odd to skip this part entirely, so there are a few sippets of canon dialogue in here.
Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
~ from "The Waste Land," T. S. Eliot
* * * * *
He was still drugged, Thiede's newborn, the beautiful etching of love brought to full flower and lying motionless in bed. I'd asked to take care of him alone during this early morning shift of attendance. I knew why I'd done it; I had to draw swords and battle the demon that raged in me. If I didn't, I'd kill him, this Pellaz creature, this re-creation of harish life Thiede had been tending for five years as I'd tended to Thiede. Gently, with hands warmed by angora mittens, I turned him onto his stomach, cradling his head so it was placed sideways on the pillow. There were special oils for his skin, precious salves to make certain any sores were healed. Pellaz was still too thin, but he'd not been out of his glass embryo but for a couple of months. Many times I had wanted to kill him, to smash down his delicate nostrils with a pillow, and simply say his heart had stopped. It wasn't all that improbable; perhaps I, too, had walked daringly on the diaphanous bridge between life and death for weeks and weeks before I'd really come to, before Thiede had…
I brushed out Pellaz's long black hair, thinking idly to having seen his chesnari's rocketing descent to madness years ago through Thiede's eyes. Just as Ashmael had recovered, so would Calanthe. At least Ashmael hadn't gone insane and killed someone. No matter what delusions Cal believed, Pellaz had suffered an accidental death. Feslavit, too. With practised fingers, I rolled Pellaz over so he was face up again, tending to him as though he were a harling, a not yet sentient creature. He was fragile and precious and loathsome. He was an aberration, just like me, and still unable to talk. Hands steady, the mittens gone, I massaged the saffron oil into his chest and biceps. He was such a wiry thing, a true dark butterfly whose wings could snap without much provocation. Attraction and revulsion; I knew him as well as myself, and yet not at all. It was eerie, the similarities between our chesnari, Cal's crazed despair and Ashmael's reported shattering after I'd died. I wanted Pellaz to suffer bitterly, to drink the same vinegar and gall that had been poured down my throat. And yet, I considered him to be the child of my spirit. Feslavit had ministered to my flesh, those years ago, and now I cared for Pellaz.
My heart was bound; years of trailing behind Thiede in body and mind and isolating myself in the fortress and her grounds had sterilised the messy desires and angers I'd felt the first couple of years after I'd been remade. I'd vivisected the pulsing organs of want and craving; my soul had been smothered, cauterised, frozen. Now Thiede was preparing for his sacred union, his grand arunic fire with such an insubstantial body.
I don't know what possessed me, but I undressed and crawled into bed with Pellaz, this charge of mine. I hadn't craved harish contact in years, and even the thought of aruna caused a film of bile to line my throat. I forced away my memories, refused to project forward, only held his bony frame in my arms and serenaded him with a tune that had flowed from my tongue. I found an unexpected eroticism in this illicit act, my ouana-lim growing heavy but not rising, only asserting itself so I was aware of its presence. Pellaz's hair was beautiful, nearly blue-black and fine as corn silk. When I recognised the song I was singing as a lullaby I choked up for a moment. The trickle of emotion seeped away, and then I was clear again. It was a duet Firethorn and Jaffa had sung, one that their fans had loved to hear, a lilting a cappella tune of love and the wind. In a soft voice, I crooned it to him, entangling my fingers in his hair, hoping to carry his brutalised spirit on a breath soft as jasmine.
Four days later, dressed in purple robes of a martyr acolyte, I handed an amethyst phial to two of the househara and offered Pellaz up as a sacrifice to Thiede. Only too soon after the act I was called in. The appalling, horrific stench of charred flesh and smoking blood made my stomach turn and writhe with nausea.
"Don't try to move," I said, wishing anyone else on the staff were here doing this, not me. "Open the window!" I yelled curtly to Kervad, while with the skill of a surgeon I forced a tube down Pellaz's throat so he could breathe.
"Don't move," I repeated, though the blistered, cracking skin that covered his abused body made that impossible. It took every shred of caste energy in me not to run screaming from the room, my head suddenly flooded with memories of how I'd felt. I was again flayed open by the remembrance of crashing cymbals, of every fibre of thought screaming, Die! Let me die!
"I don't ever want to have to do this again," I ground out through a jaw clenched tight with revulsion. Pellaz's eyes rolled back; I panicked, afraid we were already losing him to a second death, but he held tenuously onto the razor-thin cord to life. Kervad reassured me that Pellaz was stable. He did everything but remind me aloud that I had survived the same holocaust, and he'd been there to see it. At last I felt I could leave the room, my body sagging with exhaustion and weight of memory. As though sleepwalking, I went to my room and bolted the door. I knelt in front of my toilet and vomited, my stomach heaving up the coffee I'd drunk; I'd not been able to force anything else down before I was to be called on for that ceremony.
My hands were shaking so violently I almost couldn't get my private bag open, a few crystals of the tiger balm still shining like phosphorescent gems in their tin container. I walked on my knees to a bottle of dauthi on a small bookshelf and drank a couple of burning swallows, which almost caused me to vomit again, but I forced it to stay down. Once my nerves had calmed somewhat, I was able to get my drug ready and I shot it up between my toes. The needle rolled onto the stone hearth with a delicate clatter as I wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my face, rocking like an abandoned child. I was out of my mind with grief and terror, sickened at what Thiede had done a second time, even though I'd known it was coming for years. What it Pellaz didn't survive it? A black stain of misanthropic fury bled from the chewed up screams in my head. If Pellaz died, would Thiede try again? How many burned out, beautiful husks had to walk this earth before he stopped?
The tiger balm had only just pierced me with its fearsome, tranquil claws when I heard the pounding on my door.
"Vaysh! Let me in! Dammit!" Kervad's voice was frayed with worry.
On unsteady legs, I hobbled to the door and pulled back the bolt, composing myself as I did.
"Fuck, you scared me," he said once he saw I stood straight, though doubtless my red eyes and breath that reeked of liquor revealed more accurately my inner chaos.
"I'm far stronger than you take me for," I said frostily, but I melted somewhat under his only too knowing gaze.
"Nobody said you were anything but a pillar of strength," he reminded me, leaning comfortably against the doorjamb. "Nobody here, anyway. I'm sure this has brought back a flood of thoughts about your life before. Look, may I come in?"
"I'd rather you didn't," I said, firmly holding my ground. "I'll be in to care for Pellaz as soon as I wash my face."
"Vaysh, our best healing hara are with him right now. He's swimming in drugs and they did stasis chanting over him. Why don't you let me tuck you in and you get some rest? I know you'll keep vigil with him after that, but you've got to take care of yourself or you'll absolutely fall apart."
He was right. "Well, when you make it all sound so logical…"
I stepped back away from the door and let him in. The drugs I'd injected into myself had finally done their duty and I was nothing like the tragic, sobbing wreck when I'd first fled back to my rooms. Kervad tended to my bed while I took the needle with me into the bathroom to clean it and take care of my other ablutions.
Kervad, too, had been engaged in his caste work and was close to me in strength, an Algomid. With a wave of his hand my candles were lit, the overhead chandelier dimmed, then sputtering out. I crawled gratefully between the crisp sheets, bundled up in a flannel dressing-gown and long stockings made of softest wool and silk. I allowed Kervad to play with my hair for a time, my hands pressed palm to palm under my pillow.
"I could stay," he offered. "Of all nights, you should let me heal you, strengthen you with aruna." My gaze flitted up to him, and he read the answer in my eyes. His response was sorrowful, but understanding. "I had to ask."
"You often do. You're so good to me."
"Yes, but you keep me distant in ways you needn't. I'd never make any demands on your heart."
"Only because you already have your own seat of friendship there and you know no one will topple you from it."
A low chuckle spilled from his full lips. "True enough. Go to sleep, then. Pellaz will be watched carefully until you arrive, and every minute until you determine he's stable enough to leave."
"I simply can't think about that part of it right now."
It felt like pushing closed a steel door, tonnes of weight relentless on my mind, but I couldn't let my anxieties about going to Immanion overwhelm me, not before I'd even left the fortress. It hadn't even been two hours since Thiede had taken his transmogrifying aruna with the har from southern Megalithica— there were literally miles to go and enough potential wars on the road. I couldn't afford to expend energy putting on my emotional armour to battle wraiths occupying my vivid imagination.
"I know. I'll get you in a few hours, bring you some coffee." Kervad kissed my forehead, his luminous green eyes a haven of tenderness. In another lifetime I could have nested in his spirit, but I had devoted myself to Thiede solely in recent years. Until now, that was, when he'd demanded that I turn that attention and care on Pellaz.
"Thank you," I murmured.
Alone in my room, I began shaking again. Kervad had thoughtfully put a small glass with some dauthi on my bedside table. I got up onto my elbow and drank the strong alcohol, relishing its fiery slide down my throat. After placing the glass back down, I huddled under the covers, wishing sleep would come.
* * * * *
"Tomorrow, we shall leave here," I told Pellaz, patting at his legs. His dark, dark eyes followed me and I heard his whimpers, but I had no consolation. There was none for me. At the end of our journey together — assuming he and I both survived it — I would be a cast-off nobody and he would be King of Wraeththu. I wasn't going to coddle him, though the pain in his voice curled in my blood like smoke. He had made an indelible mark on me, the only other har alive who had seen what I had seen, had experienced the obliterating arunic cataclysm with the Aghama. It was everything and nothing, this integral link. Right now I was Alpha and he Omega, and yet, if all went to plan, within a fortnight or three weeks, our roles would be entirely inverted.
I was mulling all of this in my head, the stones of thought so well-tumbled in my brain that they were polished gems. I took a draught of wine, evaluating my hanging clothes, and tried to decide what to take with me. A faint rustle of silk sounded just behind me and I turned. It was Thiede. I gasped in shock, the glass falling to the floor with a melodious crash.
"I would trust him with none other, you know. You're my prince, a keeper in the sanctum of my thoughts."
My heart had leapt into my throat at his sudden proximity; I'd nearly hyperventilated until my pulse slowly ratcheted down. Thiede was far more familiar to me now, and I'd grown accustomed to many of his proclivities and at times disconcertingly normal mannerisms. That said, his appearance could still be shocking.
"I'm sorry to startle you," he said benignly, but not convincingly, "but I have things I must tend to and you need to pack. We've gone over the route, and where the station houses are. You'll need a key to get in, though."
From within a deep pocket in his claret robes, he withdrew a well wrought silver chain with a sturdy, unornamented key, a pentacle dangling alongside it. I forced out my hand to take the key. Turning over the knobbly metal in my hands, I realised I really was going to leave him and this fortress, yet again. I wondered who would take my place at his side.
"Why do you have to send me?" I kicked the glass shards off to the side so I could stand nearer to him. "I thought you had more uses for me here, with you. Once Pellaz has come out of his body's chrysalis—" I paused; it was the most delicate way I had to describe the fundamental change that had assaulted me, "he'll hardly need my guidance. Kervad is an excellent healer; Phade can hardly be turning cartwheels at the prospect of my return. And I'll be of no use in Immanion."
Thiede's talon-like fingers stole through my hair and I teetered between wanting to lean into his touch or to pull away.
"You have a connection with Pell. Yes, Kervad or any of my elite hara here could journey with him. But he needs to walk in your footsteps. You've bonded with him, despite yourself. Don't think it's escaped my notice. It pleases me, a great deal," he purred, drawing his hand down and across my shoulder before striding away to sit gracefully in my chair by the hearth. "Phade's no match for you, and perhaps you still have those companions from Castlegar who live in Ferelithia. No, no one can go except for you, my winter crocus."
"What if he's…" My voice failed until I cleared my throat, and I wrung my hands. "What if he's like me in every way? Don't tell me you'll make me find out by trying to… to be with…"
"No, Vaysh. I wouldn't ask, and I know he will be whole. I only ask that you keep an eye on him once his body has fully resurrected. He, like you, is an exquisite beauty. Unlike you, he's far more impetuous, even brash."
My mind flitted back, somewhat sluggishly, remembering a few of the decidedly unconventional interludes I'd had, but I had to concur that I now preferred to be left alone and had become predictable. I projected a surface that was unbroken and hard, the better to protect the few treasures locked in the darkest recesses of my heart.
"He has a compassionate heart and will be the kind of leader Wraeththu needs. He'll need you, too; he'll chip at your proud defenses. You shall not abandon him, or be cruel to him unnecessarily."
"I can't be his fucking friend!" I exploded. "Not him! He'll be everything I was supposed to be! You're asking me to do the impossible," I said, the words becoming thick and syrupy in my throat.
"I only ask because I know you'll excel. Pellaz must always have you. Your fidelity must be complete."
"But you have my fidelity!" I said, anguish frothing against my ribs in foaming waves.
"Your loyalty is a wider expanse than you're recognising. Enough. You need to ready yourself for your journey. You're the only one to do this," he repeated emphatically, rising and walking to the door that led out to the corridor. "I trust you. You'll not betray that."
I was shaking, trying to cobble together my composure when he turned. "Take Orien's talisman. I trust you to know if and when the right moment comes to give it to him."
In the next breath he was gone. My skin flushed hot, then cold; a panoply of churlish phrases and flights of fancy jumbled in my head. Common sense soared in, saving me from myself. I was the only one. I would adorn myself in the well-oiled leather of my martyrdom and take Pellaz to Immanion. Once safely delivered, I could go… nowhere. I was now bound to Pellaz. Immanion— my throat closed. I'd been so obsessed by Pellaz and his condition, I'd not spared a thought for the one person who might cause me to dissolve into fragmented shards, melting under his shining rays of rejection.
Let him be on campaign in Megalithica, or up in Freyhella, or Sulh, anywhere. Forever, I begged to any deity but Thiede.
* * * * *
Four interminable days of travel after embarking from Thiede's to get to Phade. At least I had Tassia; not that we conversed, really, because we didn't, but she was a comfort nonetheless. Pellaz was strapped onto a horse, but he rode awkwardly, and became weaker and weaker. I'd done the same, I supposed, though I'd undergone that mortifying period tended to by Thiede's hara in a plush bed. The cold was bitter, ceaseless and numbing. I worried about Pellaz constantly; not so much his comfort, since I knew he suffered and I couldn't alleviate that, but that the jostling and unforgiving winds would drive him mad. Our water skeins froze and I had to dash them against trees so I could drink needed water and ensure both Tassia and the other sedu, Peridot, had all they required. I daubed at Pellaz's frozen eyelashes and cracking lips before cautiously letting him drink. I was careful not to let him see the ferocious anxiety I carried, and I also hid the bonds of care which tethered me to him.
The third night I could barely sleep, I was so worried. Pellaz was weaker than ever, and the tiny flames of survival I'd checked for every time I glanced in his face had guttered. I wondered if his unceasing thoughts turned around and around to the unthinkable trauma that had been wrought on him. Without will to live, there remained only my healing spells and I couldn't be at all certain he'd still be alive when we reached Phade's tower. I injected him full of the necessary drugs; there was solace in that. Once I was certain he was unconscious and far, far removed from his corporeal self, I uncovered him and worked oil into the mangled, misshapen form that lay on the bed. I vowed never to tell anyone of my sacrifice for him; I cried silent tears as I thought back to myself and ahead to what was to come. I was essentially alone, and I let the grief loose. Tears made scalding razor tracks down my cheeks even as I bolstered up my emotional defenses. I sang to him; I breathed just above his mouth, trying to fill his shallow lungfulls with visions of light and growing things even when winter, as always, resided in my own heart.
After a heart-stopping cross over a river on a bridge so narrow even Tassia quailed, we made it to Olopade and Phade's personal domain. He knew I was coming, as before, but not why— just as before. We got on similarly as before: barely civil. I was pleased to see Oxnard still in attendance, and many of the hara I'd come to know in the past, but my focus was on Pellaz. I brushed off all but the most pressing questions until I could get a good look at my changeling. I took him to his room, ignoring Phade's uncouth comments about the corpse I'd brought. Pellaz was ashen, his skin rubbery and grotesque, a crazed potter's attempt at a harish body.
Phade insisted on staying in the room as I unwrapped and cleaned my mute, overheated patient. Ghoulishly attentive, Phade attempted to trip me up so I'd reveal something beyond the vaguest of commentary. I was invigourated by his chatter, using it to re-animate my quieted mind after several days spent essentially alone, all while evaluating Pellaz's condition. He would emerge in the next few hours, whole and golden, I felt it. Twisted though the sentiment was, I felt excitement for him. I bathed him tenderly with pine-scented waters, worried at the effect the too-sudden change in temperature was having on him. Phade irritated me until I finally shooed him out, at last able to ease Pellaz into the body-hugging feather bed. After our days on wooden planks with pallets that barely passed for mattresses, this would feel truly like heaven.
Pellaz was safe. This most potentially disastrous part of our journey, at least, would have its happy ending. Tucking him in with practised fingers, I glanced at his eyes, hoping not to find worn, dispirited orbs. He seemed on the cusp of a great sleep, but inhabiting himself. The change could only have been noted by someone attuned to his every nuance in those expressive but nearly dead eyes, and I was that someone.
"Pellaz," I whispered, suffocating my relief, "You will sleep now; it is time. We got here in time."
He'd slipped into unconsciousness but his breathing wasn't laboured, and I took that as a good sign. I decided to treat myself to a blistering hot bath, if I could convince someone to ready enough hot water for one. I walked over to my rooms, quite near to Pellaz, and once in the unadorned stone enclave, was reminded of more reasons why I'd suffered no pangs of loss when I'd left the last time. I wished to avoid Phade if at all possible, which left Oxnard, or another house-hara would hopefully not be abrasive. I'd just opened my door to go in search of some assistance when a har came toward me with a decanter and glass on a serving-tray. I waved him in and asked about the possibility of getting a hot bath.
"We do have running hot water," he said, obviously miffed at my assumption that they didn't. "The fires down in the kitchen have been stoked since you arrived, so you should be able to clean up after your journey. Phade asked that I bring this to you."
"Thank you. Phade has a good memory."
I had my two large saddle bags to sort through, and busied myself at the task until the shuffling of the hara's feet forced me to look up. "If you would, please light a fire in the antechamber, after that I'll no longer be in need of your services."
He seemed only too happy to run off once the fire started to crackle; Phade really had remembered a lot, as I picked up on the note of sage coming from the washing-room. It was going to be a long couple of days; the sooner we were able to leave Olopade, the better. I went to the tub and figured out how to get the hot water to come out, leaving it running while I returned to my rooms and poured myself a full glass of spirits. My hand crept to my chest, feeling for my amulet. My fingers curled around the phoenix, forcefully removed from around my neck and cleaned by Kervad's well-intentioned attention to detail and his care for me. After a deep swallow, I spread the wings of my mind-thought and alerted Thiede to Pellaz's status, and confirmed I would share with him the proper outcome once I saw the reborn king-to-be with my own eyes. Thiede was appreciative, but pre-occupied; I felt as briskly dealt with as I'd treated Phade.
And so it begins, I thought, fanning the bitter flame before savagely stamping it out. This wasn't about me. Never again would it be; all thoughts like that needed to be locked far away and the key melted down. I took my drink into the cramped water closet and treated myself to a bath, washing away my anger as best I could.
"I want to see the whole world."
"No one will stop you! It's yours for the discovering. Just take your gun."
A narrow nose nudging under my ear, thyme and fir scent in his hair. "I want the three of us to go. I'm happy to be the third wheel, and I know you don't mind."
A creeping, slow smile. "I don't."
I banged the back of my head against the porcelain of the tub, trying to beat out the memories of Parallax, doubtless resurrected the closer I got to Immanion and Ashmael. I took deep breaths, using my years of study to imagine myself as a frozen, undisturbed lake. Before the water in the bath turned cold, I'd pushed the painful remembrances away. I stared at the heavy-beamed ceiling, casting inner spells to protect myself from any more ghosts of my past.
This post rating: general
Warnings: drug use
Word Count: 4300
Disclaimer: Ashmael, Vaysh, and the harish world all belong to Storm Constantine; I'm merely playing with great abandon in her sandbox.
Pairings: Vaysh/Ashmael (historic)
Novella summary: Being brought back from the dead doesn't mean happily ever after, especially if you're Vaysh. Life has its costs, and he pays dearly. An exploration of Vaysh's character in the years before and through Pellaz's transformation, and the burdens he endures, because he must.
Post summary: Five years have gone by; a har from southern Megalithica is reborn and is transformed by Thiede's hand as Vaysh was before. Vaysh is commanded to be his guide, confidante, caretaker— and he doesn't have to like it. Continued from post 7, here. This post has a few actual dialogue quotes from Enchantments; I couldn't really avoid it, but I'll be doing so as best I can now that I'm fully integrated into canon. The story has already been eloquently told by the Master and I don't wish to quote her canon verbatim as that's already been done! But I felt it would be really odd to skip this part entirely, so there are a few sippets of canon dialogue in here.
Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
~ from "The Waste Land," T. S. Eliot
* * * * *
He was still drugged, Thiede's newborn, the beautiful etching of love brought to full flower and lying motionless in bed. I'd asked to take care of him alone during this early morning shift of attendance. I knew why I'd done it; I had to draw swords and battle the demon that raged in me. If I didn't, I'd kill him, this Pellaz creature, this re-creation of harish life Thiede had been tending for five years as I'd tended to Thiede. Gently, with hands warmed by angora mittens, I turned him onto his stomach, cradling his head so it was placed sideways on the pillow. There were special oils for his skin, precious salves to make certain any sores were healed. Pellaz was still too thin, but he'd not been out of his glass embryo but for a couple of months. Many times I had wanted to kill him, to smash down his delicate nostrils with a pillow, and simply say his heart had stopped. It wasn't all that improbable; perhaps I, too, had walked daringly on the diaphanous bridge between life and death for weeks and weeks before I'd really come to, before Thiede had…
I brushed out Pellaz's long black hair, thinking idly to having seen his chesnari's rocketing descent to madness years ago through Thiede's eyes. Just as Ashmael had recovered, so would Calanthe. At least Ashmael hadn't gone insane and killed someone. No matter what delusions Cal believed, Pellaz had suffered an accidental death. Feslavit, too. With practised fingers, I rolled Pellaz over so he was face up again, tending to him as though he were a harling, a not yet sentient creature. He was fragile and precious and loathsome. He was an aberration, just like me, and still unable to talk. Hands steady, the mittens gone, I massaged the saffron oil into his chest and biceps. He was such a wiry thing, a true dark butterfly whose wings could snap without much provocation. Attraction and revulsion; I knew him as well as myself, and yet not at all. It was eerie, the similarities between our chesnari, Cal's crazed despair and Ashmael's reported shattering after I'd died. I wanted Pellaz to suffer bitterly, to drink the same vinegar and gall that had been poured down my throat. And yet, I considered him to be the child of my spirit. Feslavit had ministered to my flesh, those years ago, and now I cared for Pellaz.
My heart was bound; years of trailing behind Thiede in body and mind and isolating myself in the fortress and her grounds had sterilised the messy desires and angers I'd felt the first couple of years after I'd been remade. I'd vivisected the pulsing organs of want and craving; my soul had been smothered, cauterised, frozen. Now Thiede was preparing for his sacred union, his grand arunic fire with such an insubstantial body.
I don't know what possessed me, but I undressed and crawled into bed with Pellaz, this charge of mine. I hadn't craved harish contact in years, and even the thought of aruna caused a film of bile to line my throat. I forced away my memories, refused to project forward, only held his bony frame in my arms and serenaded him with a tune that had flowed from my tongue. I found an unexpected eroticism in this illicit act, my ouana-lim growing heavy but not rising, only asserting itself so I was aware of its presence. Pellaz's hair was beautiful, nearly blue-black and fine as corn silk. When I recognised the song I was singing as a lullaby I choked up for a moment. The trickle of emotion seeped away, and then I was clear again. It was a duet Firethorn and Jaffa had sung, one that their fans had loved to hear, a lilting a cappella tune of love and the wind. In a soft voice, I crooned it to him, entangling my fingers in his hair, hoping to carry his brutalised spirit on a breath soft as jasmine.
Four days later, dressed in purple robes of a martyr acolyte, I handed an amethyst phial to two of the househara and offered Pellaz up as a sacrifice to Thiede. Only too soon after the act I was called in. The appalling, horrific stench of charred flesh and smoking blood made my stomach turn and writhe with nausea.
"Don't try to move," I said, wishing anyone else on the staff were here doing this, not me. "Open the window!" I yelled curtly to Kervad, while with the skill of a surgeon I forced a tube down Pellaz's throat so he could breathe.
"Don't move," I repeated, though the blistered, cracking skin that covered his abused body made that impossible. It took every shred of caste energy in me not to run screaming from the room, my head suddenly flooded with memories of how I'd felt. I was again flayed open by the remembrance of crashing cymbals, of every fibre of thought screaming, Die! Let me die!
"I don't ever want to have to do this again," I ground out through a jaw clenched tight with revulsion. Pellaz's eyes rolled back; I panicked, afraid we were already losing him to a second death, but he held tenuously onto the razor-thin cord to life. Kervad reassured me that Pellaz was stable. He did everything but remind me aloud that I had survived the same holocaust, and he'd been there to see it. At last I felt I could leave the room, my body sagging with exhaustion and weight of memory. As though sleepwalking, I went to my room and bolted the door. I knelt in front of my toilet and vomited, my stomach heaving up the coffee I'd drunk; I'd not been able to force anything else down before I was to be called on for that ceremony.
My hands were shaking so violently I almost couldn't get my private bag open, a few crystals of the tiger balm still shining like phosphorescent gems in their tin container. I walked on my knees to a bottle of dauthi on a small bookshelf and drank a couple of burning swallows, which almost caused me to vomit again, but I forced it to stay down. Once my nerves had calmed somewhat, I was able to get my drug ready and I shot it up between my toes. The needle rolled onto the stone hearth with a delicate clatter as I wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my face, rocking like an abandoned child. I was out of my mind with grief and terror, sickened at what Thiede had done a second time, even though I'd known it was coming for years. What it Pellaz didn't survive it? A black stain of misanthropic fury bled from the chewed up screams in my head. If Pellaz died, would Thiede try again? How many burned out, beautiful husks had to walk this earth before he stopped?
The tiger balm had only just pierced me with its fearsome, tranquil claws when I heard the pounding on my door.
"Vaysh! Let me in! Dammit!" Kervad's voice was frayed with worry.
On unsteady legs, I hobbled to the door and pulled back the bolt, composing myself as I did.
"Fuck, you scared me," he said once he saw I stood straight, though doubtless my red eyes and breath that reeked of liquor revealed more accurately my inner chaos.
"I'm far stronger than you take me for," I said frostily, but I melted somewhat under his only too knowing gaze.
"Nobody said you were anything but a pillar of strength," he reminded me, leaning comfortably against the doorjamb. "Nobody here, anyway. I'm sure this has brought back a flood of thoughts about your life before. Look, may I come in?"
"I'd rather you didn't," I said, firmly holding my ground. "I'll be in to care for Pellaz as soon as I wash my face."
"Vaysh, our best healing hara are with him right now. He's swimming in drugs and they did stasis chanting over him. Why don't you let me tuck you in and you get some rest? I know you'll keep vigil with him after that, but you've got to take care of yourself or you'll absolutely fall apart."
He was right. "Well, when you make it all sound so logical…"
I stepped back away from the door and let him in. The drugs I'd injected into myself had finally done their duty and I was nothing like the tragic, sobbing wreck when I'd first fled back to my rooms. Kervad tended to my bed while I took the needle with me into the bathroom to clean it and take care of my other ablutions.
Kervad, too, had been engaged in his caste work and was close to me in strength, an Algomid. With a wave of his hand my candles were lit, the overhead chandelier dimmed, then sputtering out. I crawled gratefully between the crisp sheets, bundled up in a flannel dressing-gown and long stockings made of softest wool and silk. I allowed Kervad to play with my hair for a time, my hands pressed palm to palm under my pillow.
"I could stay," he offered. "Of all nights, you should let me heal you, strengthen you with aruna." My gaze flitted up to him, and he read the answer in my eyes. His response was sorrowful, but understanding. "I had to ask."
"You often do. You're so good to me."
"Yes, but you keep me distant in ways you needn't. I'd never make any demands on your heart."
"Only because you already have your own seat of friendship there and you know no one will topple you from it."
A low chuckle spilled from his full lips. "True enough. Go to sleep, then. Pellaz will be watched carefully until you arrive, and every minute until you determine he's stable enough to leave."
"I simply can't think about that part of it right now."
It felt like pushing closed a steel door, tonnes of weight relentless on my mind, but I couldn't let my anxieties about going to Immanion overwhelm me, not before I'd even left the fortress. It hadn't even been two hours since Thiede had taken his transmogrifying aruna with the har from southern Megalithica— there were literally miles to go and enough potential wars on the road. I couldn't afford to expend energy putting on my emotional armour to battle wraiths occupying my vivid imagination.
"I know. I'll get you in a few hours, bring you some coffee." Kervad kissed my forehead, his luminous green eyes a haven of tenderness. In another lifetime I could have nested in his spirit, but I had devoted myself to Thiede solely in recent years. Until now, that was, when he'd demanded that I turn that attention and care on Pellaz.
"Thank you," I murmured.
Alone in my room, I began shaking again. Kervad had thoughtfully put a small glass with some dauthi on my bedside table. I got up onto my elbow and drank the strong alcohol, relishing its fiery slide down my throat. After placing the glass back down, I huddled under the covers, wishing sleep would come.
* * * * *
"Tomorrow, we shall leave here," I told Pellaz, patting at his legs. His dark, dark eyes followed me and I heard his whimpers, but I had no consolation. There was none for me. At the end of our journey together — assuming he and I both survived it — I would be a cast-off nobody and he would be King of Wraeththu. I wasn't going to coddle him, though the pain in his voice curled in my blood like smoke. He had made an indelible mark on me, the only other har alive who had seen what I had seen, had experienced the obliterating arunic cataclysm with the Aghama. It was everything and nothing, this integral link. Right now I was Alpha and he Omega, and yet, if all went to plan, within a fortnight or three weeks, our roles would be entirely inverted.
I was mulling all of this in my head, the stones of thought so well-tumbled in my brain that they were polished gems. I took a draught of wine, evaluating my hanging clothes, and tried to decide what to take with me. A faint rustle of silk sounded just behind me and I turned. It was Thiede. I gasped in shock, the glass falling to the floor with a melodious crash.
"I would trust him with none other, you know. You're my prince, a keeper in the sanctum of my thoughts."
My heart had leapt into my throat at his sudden proximity; I'd nearly hyperventilated until my pulse slowly ratcheted down. Thiede was far more familiar to me now, and I'd grown accustomed to many of his proclivities and at times disconcertingly normal mannerisms. That said, his appearance could still be shocking.
"I'm sorry to startle you," he said benignly, but not convincingly, "but I have things I must tend to and you need to pack. We've gone over the route, and where the station houses are. You'll need a key to get in, though."
From within a deep pocket in his claret robes, he withdrew a well wrought silver chain with a sturdy, unornamented key, a pentacle dangling alongside it. I forced out my hand to take the key. Turning over the knobbly metal in my hands, I realised I really was going to leave him and this fortress, yet again. I wondered who would take my place at his side.
"Why do you have to send me?" I kicked the glass shards off to the side so I could stand nearer to him. "I thought you had more uses for me here, with you. Once Pellaz has come out of his body's chrysalis—" I paused; it was the most delicate way I had to describe the fundamental change that had assaulted me, "he'll hardly need my guidance. Kervad is an excellent healer; Phade can hardly be turning cartwheels at the prospect of my return. And I'll be of no use in Immanion."
Thiede's talon-like fingers stole through my hair and I teetered between wanting to lean into his touch or to pull away.
"You have a connection with Pell. Yes, Kervad or any of my elite hara here could journey with him. But he needs to walk in your footsteps. You've bonded with him, despite yourself. Don't think it's escaped my notice. It pleases me, a great deal," he purred, drawing his hand down and across my shoulder before striding away to sit gracefully in my chair by the hearth. "Phade's no match for you, and perhaps you still have those companions from Castlegar who live in Ferelithia. No, no one can go except for you, my winter crocus."
"What if he's…" My voice failed until I cleared my throat, and I wrung my hands. "What if he's like me in every way? Don't tell me you'll make me find out by trying to… to be with…"
"No, Vaysh. I wouldn't ask, and I know he will be whole. I only ask that you keep an eye on him once his body has fully resurrected. He, like you, is an exquisite beauty. Unlike you, he's far more impetuous, even brash."
My mind flitted back, somewhat sluggishly, remembering a few of the decidedly unconventional interludes I'd had, but I had to concur that I now preferred to be left alone and had become predictable. I projected a surface that was unbroken and hard, the better to protect the few treasures locked in the darkest recesses of my heart.
"He has a compassionate heart and will be the kind of leader Wraeththu needs. He'll need you, too; he'll chip at your proud defenses. You shall not abandon him, or be cruel to him unnecessarily."
"I can't be his fucking friend!" I exploded. "Not him! He'll be everything I was supposed to be! You're asking me to do the impossible," I said, the words becoming thick and syrupy in my throat.
"I only ask because I know you'll excel. Pellaz must always have you. Your fidelity must be complete."
"But you have my fidelity!" I said, anguish frothing against my ribs in foaming waves.
"Your loyalty is a wider expanse than you're recognising. Enough. You need to ready yourself for your journey. You're the only one to do this," he repeated emphatically, rising and walking to the door that led out to the corridor. "I trust you. You'll not betray that."
I was shaking, trying to cobble together my composure when he turned. "Take Orien's talisman. I trust you to know if and when the right moment comes to give it to him."
In the next breath he was gone. My skin flushed hot, then cold; a panoply of churlish phrases and flights of fancy jumbled in my head. Common sense soared in, saving me from myself. I was the only one. I would adorn myself in the well-oiled leather of my martyrdom and take Pellaz to Immanion. Once safely delivered, I could go… nowhere. I was now bound to Pellaz. Immanion— my throat closed. I'd been so obsessed by Pellaz and his condition, I'd not spared a thought for the one person who might cause me to dissolve into fragmented shards, melting under his shining rays of rejection.
Let him be on campaign in Megalithica, or up in Freyhella, or Sulh, anywhere. Forever, I begged to any deity but Thiede.
* * * * *
Four interminable days of travel after embarking from Thiede's to get to Phade. At least I had Tassia; not that we conversed, really, because we didn't, but she was a comfort nonetheless. Pellaz was strapped onto a horse, but he rode awkwardly, and became weaker and weaker. I'd done the same, I supposed, though I'd undergone that mortifying period tended to by Thiede's hara in a plush bed. The cold was bitter, ceaseless and numbing. I worried about Pellaz constantly; not so much his comfort, since I knew he suffered and I couldn't alleviate that, but that the jostling and unforgiving winds would drive him mad. Our water skeins froze and I had to dash them against trees so I could drink needed water and ensure both Tassia and the other sedu, Peridot, had all they required. I daubed at Pellaz's frozen eyelashes and cracking lips before cautiously letting him drink. I was careful not to let him see the ferocious anxiety I carried, and I also hid the bonds of care which tethered me to him.
The third night I could barely sleep, I was so worried. Pellaz was weaker than ever, and the tiny flames of survival I'd checked for every time I glanced in his face had guttered. I wondered if his unceasing thoughts turned around and around to the unthinkable trauma that had been wrought on him. Without will to live, there remained only my healing spells and I couldn't be at all certain he'd still be alive when we reached Phade's tower. I injected him full of the necessary drugs; there was solace in that. Once I was certain he was unconscious and far, far removed from his corporeal self, I uncovered him and worked oil into the mangled, misshapen form that lay on the bed. I vowed never to tell anyone of my sacrifice for him; I cried silent tears as I thought back to myself and ahead to what was to come. I was essentially alone, and I let the grief loose. Tears made scalding razor tracks down my cheeks even as I bolstered up my emotional defenses. I sang to him; I breathed just above his mouth, trying to fill his shallow lungfulls with visions of light and growing things even when winter, as always, resided in my own heart.
After a heart-stopping cross over a river on a bridge so narrow even Tassia quailed, we made it to Olopade and Phade's personal domain. He knew I was coming, as before, but not why— just as before. We got on similarly as before: barely civil. I was pleased to see Oxnard still in attendance, and many of the hara I'd come to know in the past, but my focus was on Pellaz. I brushed off all but the most pressing questions until I could get a good look at my changeling. I took him to his room, ignoring Phade's uncouth comments about the corpse I'd brought. Pellaz was ashen, his skin rubbery and grotesque, a crazed potter's attempt at a harish body.
Phade insisted on staying in the room as I unwrapped and cleaned my mute, overheated patient. Ghoulishly attentive, Phade attempted to trip me up so I'd reveal something beyond the vaguest of commentary. I was invigourated by his chatter, using it to re-animate my quieted mind after several days spent essentially alone, all while evaluating Pellaz's condition. He would emerge in the next few hours, whole and golden, I felt it. Twisted though the sentiment was, I felt excitement for him. I bathed him tenderly with pine-scented waters, worried at the effect the too-sudden change in temperature was having on him. Phade irritated me until I finally shooed him out, at last able to ease Pellaz into the body-hugging feather bed. After our days on wooden planks with pallets that barely passed for mattresses, this would feel truly like heaven.
Pellaz was safe. This most potentially disastrous part of our journey, at least, would have its happy ending. Tucking him in with practised fingers, I glanced at his eyes, hoping not to find worn, dispirited orbs. He seemed on the cusp of a great sleep, but inhabiting himself. The change could only have been noted by someone attuned to his every nuance in those expressive but nearly dead eyes, and I was that someone.
"Pellaz," I whispered, suffocating my relief, "You will sleep now; it is time. We got here in time."
He'd slipped into unconsciousness but his breathing wasn't laboured, and I took that as a good sign. I decided to treat myself to a blistering hot bath, if I could convince someone to ready enough hot water for one. I walked over to my rooms, quite near to Pellaz, and once in the unadorned stone enclave, was reminded of more reasons why I'd suffered no pangs of loss when I'd left the last time. I wished to avoid Phade if at all possible, which left Oxnard, or another house-hara would hopefully not be abrasive. I'd just opened my door to go in search of some assistance when a har came toward me with a decanter and glass on a serving-tray. I waved him in and asked about the possibility of getting a hot bath.
"We do have running hot water," he said, obviously miffed at my assumption that they didn't. "The fires down in the kitchen have been stoked since you arrived, so you should be able to clean up after your journey. Phade asked that I bring this to you."
"Thank you. Phade has a good memory."
I had my two large saddle bags to sort through, and busied myself at the task until the shuffling of the hara's feet forced me to look up. "If you would, please light a fire in the antechamber, after that I'll no longer be in need of your services."
He seemed only too happy to run off once the fire started to crackle; Phade really had remembered a lot, as I picked up on the note of sage coming from the washing-room. It was going to be a long couple of days; the sooner we were able to leave Olopade, the better. I went to the tub and figured out how to get the hot water to come out, leaving it running while I returned to my rooms and poured myself a full glass of spirits. My hand crept to my chest, feeling for my amulet. My fingers curled around the phoenix, forcefully removed from around my neck and cleaned by Kervad's well-intentioned attention to detail and his care for me. After a deep swallow, I spread the wings of my mind-thought and alerted Thiede to Pellaz's status, and confirmed I would share with him the proper outcome once I saw the reborn king-to-be with my own eyes. Thiede was appreciative, but pre-occupied; I felt as briskly dealt with as I'd treated Phade.
And so it begins, I thought, fanning the bitter flame before savagely stamping it out. This wasn't about me. Never again would it be; all thoughts like that needed to be locked far away and the key melted down. I took my drink into the cramped water closet and treated myself to a bath, washing away my anger as best I could.
"I want to see the whole world."
"No one will stop you! It's yours for the discovering. Just take your gun."
A narrow nose nudging under my ear, thyme and fir scent in his hair. "I want the three of us to go. I'm happy to be the third wheel, and I know you don't mind."
A creeping, slow smile. "I don't."
I banged the back of my head against the porcelain of the tub, trying to beat out the memories of Parallax, doubtless resurrected the closer I got to Immanion and Ashmael. I took deep breaths, using my years of study to imagine myself as a frozen, undisturbed lake. Before the water in the bath turned cold, I'd pushed the painful remembrances away. I stared at the heavy-beamed ceiling, casting inner spells to protect myself from any more ghosts of my past.