Burying the Shadow (16 page)

‘She’ll think
it was a dream,’ Beth said casually. ‘I was careful.’

‘I still think
it was most rude of you to do this alone,’ I said, ‘especially
after what you said to me about leaving her be.’

‘Gimel,
Gimel,’ Beth soothed, stroking my hair. ‘There are just some things
I have to do alone; you know that. It is a complex thread we weave.
Anyway, you will find it easier to
influence
her now. Now
she has seen us, touched me, we can only be more real to her. The
guardian-pursuers, such as we are, have been called from
sleep.’

Although I
agreed with much of what he said, I was still annoyed with him.
Beth has this wayward streak, which sometimes prompts him to act
independently and rather wilfully. Being, as he is, such a sensual
creature, I realised he needed to establish himself with Rayojini
in his own way. I hoped she had not been too unnerved by the
experience but, as Beth is a gentle lover, I was sure he’d been
kind to her.

After I’d
dressed, and Tamaris had brought me a hot drink of bloodied milk, a
servitor had arrived, from the family stronghold. Metatron had
summoned me. Cursing, I ordered Tamaris to organise transport for
me. I had wanted to spend the day refining my part; after the first
performance, there were one or two details that I thought needed
attention. Now, Metatron would undoubtedly keep me waiting around
at the stronghold all day.

I was not
incorrect in my assumptions. Upon my arrival at the family home, I
was shown into one of the music rooms, where an aunt played me a
few tunes on her harmonium. Patient at first, my forbearance
eventually wore out, and I was forced to interrupt my aunt’s
recital in order to demand where Metatron was. At that point, he
sailed into the room, trailing the usual clutch of lesser
relatives, who arranged themselves on the available seating like
courtesans, or a flock of carrion birds, and watched me
carefully.

‘Am I to be
given a public audience then?’ I enquired; an improper remark, but
I was really quite exasperated.

‘Forgive me,
honoured daughter,’ Metatron replied, with a bow, ‘but I was under
the impression you are far from eager to be alone with me
nowadays.’

I was aghast
he could speak to me like that in front of others, and could not
think of a suitable response. ‘I have been summoned here for a
reason?’

He smiled at
my lack of wit. ‘Naturally. I only summon you under the most
pressing circumstances.’

‘Circumstances
of which I am unaware. Please, enlighten me.’

Informally, he
sat down beside me, and I steeled myself not to flinch away.
‘Gimel, I respect your strength, and your good sense,’ he said,
‘but I really must protest, in the most emphatic terms, about this
business you have involved yourself in.’

‘And which
business is this?’

He was still
smiling. ‘The Tartaruchi abomination.’

‘Abomination?
I understood the news-sheet reviews were rather complimentary this
morning.’

‘Don’t be
facetious.’

‘Metatron, you
made your displeasure known to me before rehearsals started, and
Lady Tatriel delivered my response. I cannot understand why you
have left it until now to pursue the matter, if it causes you such
concern.’

‘It is not
just the play.’ His smile had faded. I had a horrible suspicion the
time for games was over; he looked very serious, and not at all
mocking.

‘What is it
then?’

He sighed.
‘Gimel, it’s Beth I worry for. He is still very dear to me, as you
are too, but he does not have your... constitution.’

‘I would be
grateful if you’d get to the point, Metatron.’

‘Avirzah’e
Tartaruchi,’ he said, the name laden with meaning. ‘Gimel, as you
know, at the direction of the Parzupheim, I maintain a watch over
the deeper currents of our society. There are signs that the
Tartaruch is... acting unwisely.’

‘You refer, of
course, to the content of the play. It’s harmless enough. I made
sure of that.’

‘I’m sure you
did. But his activities extend beyond play writing. Far
beyond.’

I lowered my
voice. ‘Are you sure we should be discussing this here?’

He glanced at
our relatives, all of whom appeared to be ignoring our
conversation, which must have meant they were listening intently.
‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I will send them away, if you do not
object to our being alone together.’

I made a dismissive
gesture, keeping remarks about being able to look after myself
unvoiced.

Metatron
cleared the room, the relatives looking distinctly crestfallen as
they departed.

‘Well?’ I
said.

‘You remember
the throng-gathering when you returned from Taparak?’

I nodded.

‘Cast your
mind back to Avirzah’e’s little speech upon that occasion. I will
be blunt, Gimel; I suspect he has taken matters into his own
hands.’

I could not
repress the laugh that came instinctively in response. ‘Metatron, I
cannot believe what you have just said! Avirzah’e is a dandy, a
libertine. He is not a dark-monger; it would require too much
effort.’

‘I am saddened
he deludes you so easily,’ Metatron replied, without taking
offence. ‘Look at him, Gimel! He will not be disciplined, and many
of his kind support him. Remember his words in the Castile when you
reported to the Parzupheim. I suspect that the younger element of
Tartaruchi are now taking matters into their own hands.’

‘What evidence
do you have?’

‘Very little.
They cover their tracks well, and I doubt whether their activities
will become overt for some time to come.’

‘What
activities?’

‘The old way,
Gimel, the old way.’

I was stunned.
‘You’re not suggesting they...’

The words just
would not come. I could not even bear to think of the ‘old way’ yet
alone speak of it, not just because of natural distaste, but
because of actions of my own in the past, for which I was still
ashamed.

‘Yes. Someone
is contravening the honourable codem which forbids the taking of
sustenance from unwilling victims,’ Metatron said, voicing what I
could not bring myself to say.

A painful twinge of
guilt wriggled through me, which I dreaded might be evident on my
face. For a moment, I wondered whether Metatron had guessed the
methods Beth and I had resorted to in Lansaal. ‘I still want to
know what evidence you have to support this!’ I said, averting my
eyes from Metatron’s gaze. Was it possible he had summoned me here
to confront me with what he knew about my treatment of the
soulscapers? I was so frightened, I could barely breathe.

Metatron
merely shrugged. ‘The patrons, as you know, monitor events abroad.
Something, which we have foolishly thought to be a disease or a
hysterical condition of humans, is increasing in incidence. I
refer, of course, to the condition they refer to as the Holy
Death.’

There was no
hint in his manner that he was about to accuse me. Relaxing a
little, I frowned in perplexity. ‘I am unfamiliar with that term.’
In retrospect, I knew very little of human society beyond
Sacramante.

Metatron did
not expand on his remark at first. ‘We are not the only ones
concerned about the sickness among the eloim. Our patrons are also
trying to investigate what might be causing it, and have instructed
their agents to be more vigilant. The activities of these agents
were confined to Bochanegra to begin with - no one imagined the
cause of the sickness would be discovered outside the country. Then
a female agent travelling in Khalt picked up rumours concerning the
increase in these Holy Deaths and, acting on impulse, decided to
investigate the phenomenon. To her surprise, she met with great
resistance from the natives, who view the Holy Deaths as sacred and
resent interference from outsiders. She reported back to the
Kaliph’s office, which then conveyed the information to the
Parzupheim. The victims of this particular form of death appear
drained of blood; it is the only clue we have to go on, but quite a
damning one.’ He sighed. ‘Too long we have hidden away here in the
atelier courts. It seems these Holy Deaths have been occurring for
many years, but we have ignored them. It is our duty to investigate
all irregular events beyond Sacramante, but instead we hide behind
our art and our patrons.’

For a moment,
I had the ridiculous impression his thoughts were heading in a
similar direction as Avirzah’e’s. Surely not! ‘But why do you think
the Tartaruchis might be responsible?’ I asked. ‘There are many
eloim living beyond Bochanegra. Couldn’t one of those throngs have
gone rogue?’

‘That is a
possibility; one which we shall also be examining, but I find it
hard to believe that those throngs, who are so paranoid about their
own safety, would risk such behaviour. And Avirzah’e did condemn
himself with his own words when you returned from Lansaal. He did
not take kindly to being silenced either. My instincts tell me he
is planning something and it seems more than coincidence we find
unwilling sup victims lying dead in Khalt when Avirzah’e made it
known how strongly he believed we should revert to such
violation.’

‘Have you
confronted him with this suspicion?’ I asked. It was difficult to
imagine how Avirzah’e might react to such accusation, but a picture
of his face, convulsed with sneering laughter, sprang to my
mind.

‘Not yet.
Tartaruchi is a powerful throng and I am loath to offend Tartarus
outright. If I manage to gather enough incontrovertible evidence
the Tartaruchi Lord will be unable to voice official complaint, so
I will have to be patient.’

I sighed
deeply. The knowledge my father had passed to me had crushed any
euphoria I had felt at the success of my performance the previous
evening. Until then, I had believed that the selection, and
continued observation, of Rayojini would be more than an adequate
contribution on my part towards the solving of the eloim’s
dilemmas. Now, it was clear that the sickness was not our only
problem, and that my father would not allow me to remain ignorant
of it. Was it the penance fate had placed upon me for the murders I
had committed in Lansaal?

‘I am sorry to
have distressed you,’ Metatron said, obviously noticing how my
spirits had fallen, ‘but it is important that you know all these
things. Forget what I have said, on a conscious level, but be aware
of it within. Be vigilant. Take care of your brother. I fear that,
in years to come, Avirzah’e will attempt to intrude upon your plans
with the soulscaper. Be alert for an approach. You, I have no fear,
will be able to repel it, but Beth... It pains me to admit this,
but he has... weaknesses. Thus, he will be your weakness. Remember
this, Gimel. Remember it well.’

‘What are you
going to do?’ My voice sounded very small. At that moment, I wanted
to curl into his arms, feel his strength around me. He knew that,
and kept his distance, knowing also that I would regret such
behaviour later.

‘Do? For now,
nothing, except to observe and collect information. The time may
yet come for the Harkasites to be awoken and released.’

‘No!’ I put my
hands over my ears.

‘Yes,’
Metatron replied softly. ‘Many things from the past are buried, or
kept hidden, the Harkasites among them, and I know their power can
be ungovernable, but the way events are developing, I might have no
choice but to use them.’

‘Please, I
pray you, do not make me hear this!’ I cried.

The Harkasites
hailed from an earlier age, when we had needed warriors to protect
us. They were dark creatures, unpredictable, almost like beasts.
Lord Sammael, who had long been absent from our society, had
initiated their creation in a time of great need when, in the past,
humanity had turned on us and driven us into hiding. The eloim had
been grateful, once they’d felt secure enough in their environment,
to retire the Harkasites to retreat slumber, but perhaps there’d
always been a fear that, one day, the warriors would have be
recalled from sleep. I did not know where they reposed - only
Metatron and the Parzupheim knew that - but it made my skin crawl
to think they might be nearby, hidden somewhere in the atelier
courts. Whispered legends suggested the Harkasites, when pursuing a
particular directive, were unconcerned whether the victims of their
investigations were eloim or human. And those whom they
interrogated
were
victims; I had little doubt of that. These
were things I never thought about normally. I was upset, almost
angry, that Metatron felt he had to share this information with me,
making me face such uncomfortable images.

‘Gimel, I
trust you,’ he said, apparently divining my thoughts. ‘As you know,
if I had my way, you would administer this House at my side.’

I lowered my
hands. ‘You flatter me, Metatron, but I am unsure whether I am
worthy of your regard. What you have told me frightens me very
much.’

‘I would be
uneasy if it didn’t,’ he said, and briefly touched my hands, where
they were knotted in my lap. ‘Now, I have told you. Later, we might
need to speak of this again, but for now, do me the honour of
sharing a light sup with me.’ He grinned at me, quite boyishly. ‘I
have the best. It will be a treat.’

I gulped;
never had I felt less like supping. ‘I have... work... at home,’ I
said.

‘It can wait.
You work hard enough. Do I have to command my daughter to spend the
day with me?’

I looked at
him helplessly. ‘No, my lord, you do not.’

He stood and
offered me his arm. ‘You were really very good last night, my
dear.’

‘Oh, thank
you. I must admit I did not see you there.’

‘I did not
stay for the reception. Yes, very good. However, there are one or
two points I feel need criticism....’

Together, we
walked into the hall.