Burying the Shadow (15 page)

Gimel

‘…
he seemed for
dignity composed and high exploit: but all was false and hollow…
for his thoughts were low, to vice industrious…’

Paradise Lost,
Book II

It will come as no
surprise I’d had severe reservations about working with the
Tartaruch. I was nearly disappointed when things turned out so
well. What possessed him to invite the participation of Beth and
myself, I prefer not to dwell upon. Upon discussion, neither my
brother nor I could accept that Avirzah’e was merely offering us
the hand of friendship; there had to be other motivations. To
refuse would have caused comment among the throngs, of course;
perhaps Avirzah’e attempted nothing but to humiliate us. His humour
was infantile, in that case. We accepted his offer.

He had sent
one of his licky-spits round, a lily-fleshed human boy with the
glassy-eyed stare of the perpetually supped. The missive had been
delivered on a filigree tray, sealed in the Tartaruchi wax -
magenta, still warm - and written in Avirzah’e’s own arrogant hand.
‘Honoured friends,’ he wrote, ‘may I humbly entreat your services
for my recently completed work, ‘The Thorn Path’. A play of two
acts, I can only acknowledge that its performance will be the less
splendid should either of you decline to participate. Gimel, the
lead part was written for you, and only your inventiveness. Beth
can bring the scenery required to life. Should you be interested in
hearing more about this work, I would be delighted to call on you
and discuss it.’

Beth and I read the
message speechlessly; the unctuous words seemed to drip with
Avirzah’e’s innate sarcasm. At the end of his mordant invitation
was the comment, ‘It would be my pleasure if you would replete
yourselves upon this morsel delivering my word.’ An insult. I would
as soon feast upon a discarded apple core. We dismissed the
messenger, and examined the parchment. No trick it seemed, and
yet...

‘Well?’ Beth
asked me, as I put the parchment down upon a table.

I rubbed my
fingers together, conscious of the fact I had touched something
Avirzah’e had held in his hands. ‘I must confess to being
intrigued...’

I glanced at
Beth, and as our eyes met, he said, ‘At least Avirzah’e was the
first to make contact...’

I nodded. ‘It
was just a matter of time.’

‘Dangerous
though. We both know the Tartaruch’s stance on certain
matters.’

‘What has that
to do with work?’

Beth shrugged.
‘Nothing. I hope. This move of Avirzah’e’s might have a political
rather than social motivation, however. He might be interested in
how we are progressing with the soulscaper, perhaps with the
intention of interfering.’

I laughed and
kissed Beth’s cheek. ‘If that is the case, he will be surprised. We
are far more cunning than the Tartaruch, beloved. If he seeks to
deceive us, he is sadly overrating his charms!’

We arranged to
meet Avirzah’e on neutral territory, thereby signifying that,
although we were interested in his offer, he had not wheedled his
way into our lives to the point where we’d have him under our own
roof. There are few public meeting places in the atelier courts,
because most transactions between eloim take place in personal
space, but there are one or two
tavernas
near the outer
walls, where people can pause for a flute of wine should they be
out walking. We met at midday, Avirzah’e sauntering arrogantly to
where Beth and I were already seated, outside the
taverna
,
beneath an awning. ‘He is beautiful,’ Beth said, under his
breath.

‘And so are
we,’ I reminded him. ‘Don’t fall for the glamour, beloved. We need
our wits with us today.’ We did not let Avirzah’e kiss us in
greeting.

He had brought
copious notes with him; ideas for set designs and costumes, an
outline of the play’s plot and various sections of the dialogue
he
presumed I might find intriguing.

I read the
outline and then raised my brows at the Tartaruch prince. ‘I
confess I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted when you
say this part was written with me in mind,’ I said.

Avirzah’e
leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on its back
legs. ‘Gimel, rest assured I do not aim to insult you. I had your
ability, rather than your person, in mind when I wrote the
play.’

I shrugged,
not totally convinced. ‘Well, as you probably already know, the
work is brilliant.’

‘And
contentious,’ Beth added, ‘given recent events.’

‘Not that
recent, Beth,’ Avirzah’e replied. ‘Since vigilance has been stepped
up, the suicides have fallen off. Anyway, the play is not about
that dilemma.’ The fact that Avirzah’e did not bother to query what
Beth meant signified this was a lie. ‘I’m surprised you think I
wrote about the sickness,’ he continued. ‘After all, there isn’t a
single suicide in this work!’

‘Avirzah’e, we
are not stupid!’ I said.

He smiled. ‘I
am aware of that. Why else would I have invited your
participation?’

There was a
moment of tense silence, during which Avirzah’e grinned at us
frankly.

‘You had
better send us the entire manuscript,’ I said.

Avirzah’e had engaged
a director, not deigning to visit the coliseum himself during
rehearsals. That suited me fine, although I suspected it was not
supposed to. Beth created marvellous scenery for the play, again
without any contribution or even approval from the author. Even
though Avirzah’e had denied it, I still suspected my role was
designed to discomfort me. Foolish Tartaruch! I am a professional,
and the part was interesting. Even having me seduce the Kalkydra
puppy did not distress me. It was well known that Caspar had stolen
a lover of mine some ten years back, who had lost no time in
telling Caspar all my virtues; a defection which had left neither
Kalkydra or myself happy, and which still rankled. The bitch who’d
caused the upset had hived off to join a reclusive Nephelin throng
in the mountains of Lansaal. I was not sorry to see her go.

There were
undercurrents in the play that I knew would be criticised by the
Parzupheim and which, when Metatron read the draft, caused ructions
in the family stronghold. Tatriel herself came to call, slinking
into my salon, wagging a talon in my face and drawling, ‘Your
father feels this is unfit for you, dear Gimel. I have to agree.
The play is... contentious.’

‘Convey to the
Metatron that I appreciate his concern for my reputation,’ I
replied, ‘but please impress upon him that I shall invest this part
with enough of my personal mark to render it acceptable in his
eyes. Also, I will not be told which work I can and cannot do.’

Tatriel
nodded, saying in a wry voice. ‘I thought this, and will gladly
convince the Metatron you will transform the role. As for your
latter comment, I feel it should remain within my heart.’ She
patted my arm. ‘Allow me the privilege of being a surrogate dam to
you, dear Gimel. I think I know what’s best.’

I inclined my
head. ‘You are kind, Lady Tatriel.’ My surrogate dam? She was
twenty years my junior.

The rehearsals went
without a hitch, other than a tantrum or two thrown for effect by
the sulky Kalkydra. It was no pleasure kissing him at the end, but
our dedication to our work over-rode personal disgust. The director
was an Elim, a flog-master, who kept us at it until past midnight
some evenings. At these times, I would fall into bed as soon as I
got home, administered by my sweet sibling, who brought me dainty
snacks to sup upon between the sheets; lissom Amelakiveh, who would
offer me his wrist and then his body. We had made him like us in
many ways: a dear pet, quickly, this enterprising boy.

The first
night, of course, had spread its own array of surprises. The
Tartaruch showed himself in my dressing room beneath the stage
before the performance, bringing me a bouquet of night-blooming
roses and a carafe of honeyed wine. Our makeup complete, Hadith
Sarim, Floriel Elim and I - the three most prominent actresses -
were sitting together, quietly conversing, to prepare ourselves for
the coming performance. The room, though well-appointed, had a
distinctly cave-like ambience, which I had always found
uncomfortable. Avirzahe’e’s presence did nothing to dispel my
slight feeling of claustrophobia. I had not seen him in person
since he’d met Beth and myself at the taverna. He kissed my hand,
nipping the skin briefly as he did so. I snatched my hand away. How
dare he presume such closeness! ‘Skittish before the performance,
dear Gimel?’ he asked me.

My colleagues
looked away, but they were smiling, damn them.

Before he
left, Avirzah’e addressed the wardrobe staff, who had come to hover
in the doorway, in order to catch a glimpse of the play’s author.
‘Congratulations. You have made her a hag,’ he said.

He really is
insufferable. Beth, having noticed Avirzah’e marching purposefully
towards my dressing room, had also made an appearance and pushed
his way through the small bustle of wardrobe people, barely able to
contain repressed cries of outrage.

Avirzah’e
gathered him up on the way out. ‘A seat by me, of course,’ he
said.

Because
everyone had seen, Beth had no choice but to go with him.

I shook my
head to regain my composure and addressed all the averted heads.
‘The Tartaruchi scion has a wit about him worthy of a child!’ Then,
I laughed, as if in delight, and the atmosphere relaxed.

The
performance was a triumph, but then there’d never been any doubt of
that. I fairly floated in a daze, lines falling from my lips
without conscious thought. I fed upon the concentrated attention of
my audience, drawing out strands of sustenance like a web. It was
annoying that the Tartaruch would claim as much tribute for the
play’s success as I would. The whole production sizzled with his
personal observations, his discontent, his misplaced spirit of
renewal. I gave them life, I think, but in such a way that no one
could guess his intention. That was my revenge, which I knew he
would notice.

Later, we had
to pay our respects to the patrons. Warmed by their adoration, I
feigned disinterest; it was what they expected, of course, and in
keeping with my public persona. Really, I adore the humans, for all
their weaknesses. They have an immediacy, a vivacity lacking in
eloim-kind; their brutish enthusiasms are endearing.

I was
surprised by the presence of the soulscapers. Doubtless guests of
some patron family, they intruded upon this complicit gathering
like harsh rays. Naturally, precautions are always taken at these
functions; it is taken as fact that unsupped will be present at
times, but I was still unnerved. Beth noticed them first, relaying
to me a mind-line they were passing to each other. In an instant,
my surprise was enriched by alarm. It was our girl, our little
seed! I had been so engrossed preparing for The Thorn Path’s debut;
I had neglected to keep abreast of her development for some months
now. What was she doing there? What immeasurable convolution of
fate had brought her to our city before time? For a moment, I
feared Avirzah’e, or one of his kin, had divined her identity and
was attempting to interfere in some way, perhaps planning to damage
our work in its early stages. After a quick investigation, I
realised this was not so, thankfully. It surprised me that the
soulscapers could communicate in that manner without their special
drugs, however, and made me wonder in what other ways I might have
underestimated them. An enquiry to a nearby patron established the
girl was in Sacramante with her mother, who had a commission with
the Tricantes. It was because of the son, Salyon; he who was
flamed. I doubted whether the soulscaper, however puissant her
ability, could heal him. He had been weak since childhood, prone to
melancholy, and had withered at the first sup, or so I had heard.
One of the Sarim throng had had him; perhaps someone too eager. My
friend Hadith had not touched him, for which she was grateful. A
tainted fruit; he should be allowed to rot in peace. However...

Once we
returned to the courts, I was tempted, in some way, to make myself
known to the girl, but Beth advised against this. ‘There is no
point, Gimel. Let her be. We must wait for the time when she’s
mature enough to take on the role we have created for her. If we
intervene before that time, we could ruin everything.’

Reluctantly, I
had to agree with him, although I longed to visit her in her
maiden’s room at the Carmen Tricante; I longed to speak with her. I
had not observed her for several months, and look what had
happened! I vowed to be more vigilant. How fragile she had
appeared, so breakable, in her borrowed finery and painted child’s
face. It seemed inconceivable she would be strong enough to mature,
in this world of so many perils.

Knowing what we did of
soulscaper training, we hadn’t thought Rayojini would leave the
mountain until she was much older. Perhaps her mother liked company
on the road.

Morning
brought fury to my door in several forms. First, Beth presented
himself in my chamber alone. I welcomed him to my bed and let him
curl up against me. He smelled rather strange. ‘Have you just
supped?’ I asked him.

He shook his
head. ‘No, but I projected myself to the soulscaper last
night.’

‘What?’ I
pushed him away from me angrily. ‘Why? You told me not to contact
her!’

He smiled.
‘Exactly. Told
you
not to. I felt I needed to quicken the
link we have with her.’

‘What did you
do? Did you feed?’

‘No, no. It
was all subjective, as I said. I granted her an experience she will
never forget.’

I was
relieved, realising I would have felt absurdly jealous had Beth
actually tasted the girl.