The Moonshawl: A Wraeththu Mythos Novel (2 page)

‘Where I come from – Jesith – is
famous for its vineyards,’ I said. ‘The aroma of the vine, of the grape, is
very strong. They even make a perfume of it.’

‘I hope you’ve bought samples of
both products with you,’ Rinawne said.

I hadn’t. ‘I regret it didn’t
occur to me to bring any produce with me.’ That is the sort of thing Jass would
have thought of, naturally, as would Zeph, our son. I should have thought of it,
too. Perhaps Jass had even mentioned it to me, but I’d not heard him. That was
not an uncommon happening, as he was fond of telling hara. ‘As the industry has
grown in our town, so has the variety of produce. My chesnari works for the yard.
He’s the manager for our phylarch. I’ll write to him, have him make up a
hamper. I really should have thought of it, as he’ll no doubt remind me!’

Rinawne grinned. ‘Oh, don’t
trouble yourself about it. I was being presumptuous, as Wyva often likes to
remind
me
!’ He grinned. ‘Although I do love presents! It seems we both
have our weaknesses, tiahaar.’ He gestured at one of the sofas, which was upholstered
in faded green and cream tapestry. ‘Please, sit down.’

I did so and he sat opposite me,
leaning back with one arm along the top of the sofa, his legs loosely crossed.
‘So you are here to invent a religion for us,’ he said, still smiling.

‘I wouldn’t put it quite that
way,’ I replied. ‘A community benefits from shared spirituality, and it’s best
if that spirituality can be drawn from the local environment itself. I’m
interested in folklore, in history. The land has many tales to tell.’

‘To be sure,’ Rinawne agreed.

I paused. ‘The keephar of The
Rooting Boar advised me the spirits around here are very strong. Did he mean
anything in particular by that?’

Rinawne inhaled deeply through
his nose, perhaps slightly impatient. ‘Hara want ghosts, they want mysteries.
In your position, I’d do my best to give them.’ He grinned. ‘As you might be
able to tell, I don’t follow faithfully the heritage of my home country. I’m
not the most spiritual of hara.’

‘Not spiritual, and perhaps a
sceptic,’ I said, smiling also, ‘but are there no special... energies to this
area? A sceptic might give me a more accurate opinion than a dazzle-eyed
believer.’

‘Now, here’s the thing,’ said
Rinawne, leaning forward a little. ‘I
wouldn’t
call myself a sceptic
particularly. I’ve my own tales to tell.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘There are...
spots that raise my hair here and there. This is an old land, soaked in blood.
We hara are sensitive to echoes, aren’t we?’

‘Yes,’ I said simply.

Rinawne suddenly became alert,
twisted his body to look out of the window behind us. ‘Ah, here is Wyva,’ he
said. ‘I’ll go and organise us some tea.’

And so he left me, before his
consort and lord of this domain came into the room: Wyva har Wyvachi.  The phylarch
looked at the air in the doorway as if he perceived a shadow passing by, then
he turned to me, smiled. ‘You must be Ysobi.  Thank you for coming here.’

‘My pleasure,’ I replied,
getting to my feet.

Wyva waved a hand at me. ‘No
need for that. Please, sit.’

I did so. Wyva was a slim har of
medium height, with rich brown hair that hung down his back, a swathe of it
drawn away from his face into a band decorated with feathers and what appeared
to be a rabbit’s foot. His face was finely sculpted, and suggested a sensitive
character. I perceived the smallest of weaknesses in the chin, but it could be
overlooked. ‘Tiahaar Rinawne told me you have accommodation for me,’ I said. ‘I’d
like to thank you for that, too.’

Wyva’s smile widened. ‘Well,
you’ll need somewhere to work, won’t you?  And I’m sure the place I’ve chosen will
fascinate you. It’s called Dŵr Alarch, an old tower, built as a folly some
hundreds of years ago. It was renovated late in the human era and used as a
holiday home. In winter and early spring you can see it from here, but the
trees hide it during other seasons. At night, if you light all the lamps, it
can be seen from three counties, or so the story goes.’

‘Then I hope it has ghosts,’ I
said.

Wyva laughed. ‘Oh, plenty of
them! This land does seem to retain them as much as the lichen on the rocks.
There is a wealth of material out there for you to discover.’

‘I can already feel it,’ I said,
and indeed my senses were twitching eagerly, wanting to be immersed in this
magical landscape. I felt it wasn’t going to be difficult constructing a rich
and mystical system for these hara, tuning in to whatever was around me.

Rinawne reappeared, accompanied
by a har bearing a tray laden with things to eat and drink. The vanilla aroma
of freshly-baked cake filled the room and made me hungry. After we’d set about
helping ourselves to these refreshments, Wyva told me of his library. ‘The
volumes here have been collected by my family for many hundreds of years.’

This was an unusual statement,
of course. He was clearly referring to human ancestors as well as harish ones.
I simply nodded, my mouth full of cake.

‘Among them are quite a few titles
concerning local folklore. In fact, an ancestor of mine wrote three of them.
You’re welcome to frequent the library as often as you wish, as if it were your
own. The doors here are never locked. Come and go as you please.’

‘That’s generous of you.’

Wyva made an airy gesture with
one arm. ‘It’s not a problem. But for the most part, I wouldn’t be surprised if
you merely wish to walk in the fields and forests. That is perhaps the true
library of this landscape.’

I nodded. ‘Most certainly, but
other...
people’s
experiences and thoughts are very interesting. I love
folklore and personal accounts. Even if it’s just down to wishful thinking or
hallucination, it produces rich imagery.’

Wyva laughed. ‘You could say
that! There are some very colourful stories.’

‘I’ll show you over to the tower
shortly,’ said Rinawne. ‘We’ll need to take supplies. I thought everything
should be fresh for you.’

‘That’s wonderful, thank you.’

‘Yes, settle in,’ said Wyva,
‘then please join us here for dinner later. We can discuss how you wish to
proceed. If you need volunteers, we can supply them.’

‘Volunteers?’ I was puzzled.

‘Well, for the majhahns you’ll
write,’ Wyva said. ‘Get hara to perform them, get feedback.’

‘Oh, yes... I see.’ I paused,
wondering if now was the right moment to broach what had sprung back to mind,
then pressed on. ‘The keephar at The Boar seemed to think I was being appointed
as your new hienama. Is that in fact what you’re looking for, ultimately?’

Wyva laughed. ‘I think perhaps
that is what hara
hope
for, not necessarily what I had in mind, at least
not with you.’

‘I agree a community benefits
from a spiritual leader,’ I said, ‘and perhaps I can help train one up for you,
but I’m not really in the position to commit myself to staying here in that
role.’

‘I understand,’ Wyva said
amiably. ‘It wasn’t what I asked for. The hara in the town jump to
conclusions.’

Rinawne snorted. ‘Is that what
it is?’

Wyva gave him a sharp glance,
said nothing.

‘I take it you had one before...
a hienama that is?’

I could see Wyva attempted
swiftly to cover a silence. ‘We did, yes – Rey – but he left the post. Hara are
simply feeling the loss of that, mainly because they enjoy the seasonal
celebrations. As you said, I’m sure it wouldn’t be difficult to train somehar
else to take charge of that.’

I realised then that something
had happened here. A shiver went through me, for I was no stranger to
communities being affected by “happenings” concerning hienamas.

We could see Dŵr Alarch long before we reached
it, so the trees didn’t do that good a job at hiding it. The tower was
hexagonal, a dark column atop its hill, surrounded by soaring beeches where
crows roosted. There were many long, arched windows and it was crowned by a
crenellated battlement, over which was a high, domed glass roof. ‘The top floor
is a nayati of sorts,’ Rinawne told me. ‘Wyva had that roof put in around
fifteen years ago, so that whoever lived here could see the stars.’

‘Without going outside,’ I
added. I was leading Hercules, who kept bumping his nose into my back.

Rinawne chuckled. ‘Indeed. It’s
a good room, however.’ Before we entered the tower, Rinawne indicated a stable
where Hercules could be housed. ‘There is a field below you may use if you want
him to roam free.’

Rinawne now led me to the foot
of the tower and removed an enormous black iron key from his coat pocket. Before
applying it to the lock, he held it out for me to see. ‘Isn’t this marvellous?
It should open a door to secrets.’

‘Perhaps it does,’ I said
lightly.

Again, Rinawne laughed and
opened the door. ‘As long as the secrets aren’t mice and damp, I’ll be happy.’
He led the way inside.

The entrance hall, if it could
be called that, was tiny. A door led off to a hidden series of rooms, which
Rinawne told me comprised a laundry, a second toilet, a generator and the
heating arrangements. ‘Most ghosts can be traced to the wheezing of the
boiler,’ he said. ‘Any trouble with it, and we’ll send somehar from the house.
We have a har who is a boiler whisperer; he gets it to obey.’ Rinawne indicated
the stone stairway that curled around the inner wall. ‘First floor is the
kitchen. Shall we inspect?’

We’d brought with us panniers of
supplies and together hauled them upstairs. The steps were steep. There was a
rope affixed to the wall to aid the climb and the air was chill, even though
the day outside was not. The cold seeped from the very walls. Yet the long
windows around every corner dispelled any tendency to gloom the stairwell might
otherwise have held.

I’d been expecting rather austere
accommodation, but was pleasantly surprised when Rinawne opened the heavy
wooden door upon the first room. A breath of warm air came out, scented with
honeysuckle, which must emanate from a shallow brass bowl of dried flowers on
the dresser. The rather dank, chill atmosphere of the stairway disappeared
entirely. The floor was of tawny polished wood, as were the table and chairs,
and the shelves of the large dresser were stacked with crockery. An immense
cooking range dominated one part of the room, and three of the long, arched
windows looked out upon the landscape. I could see a farm we had not passed,
since we’d followed a path through the forest. ‘There you will get your milk,
cheese and eggs,’ Rinawne said, following my gaze. ‘And meat if you want it.
Choose yourself a chicken and it will be delivered, plucked and gutted, to your
door in time for dinner. Have it charged to Wyva’s account.’ He grinned. ‘Let’s
not unpack your stuff yet. Have a look at the rest of the place, then I’ll
leave you to settle in.’

He left the room and bounded up
the stairs two at time. I followed. The next room was the living room, although
Rinawne told me that in his experience people who’d stayed here usually chose
the kitchen as the room in which they spent most time. However, this room was
beautiful to me. The walls were a dark, muted mulberry colour, and the
furniture and ornaments were Oriental in style, also of dark reds and golds.
The floor was a mass of thick patterned rugs, and heavy indigo-coloured drapes
hung at the long windows. ‘This is amazing,’ I said, ‘more than I expected.’

‘Some hara find it a bit much,’
Rinawne said, ‘a bit heavy. It’s not to my taste really.’

‘Well, it’s entirely to mine,’ I
said. ‘I think I’ll be very comfortable here.’

‘Let’s show you the rest, then.’

The next storey housed the
bathroom. This had a floor of black and white tiles and an immense snowy bath
that stood upon gilded, elegantly-clawed feet. The washbasin was similarly huge
and along the walls brass lion heads held in their jaws an array of thick
golden yellow towels. The toilet was more like a throne, as it was surrounded
by a wooden alcove. There were carved arms where I might rest my own. ‘Whoever
built and furnished this place liked luxury,’ I said, running my hand over the
carvings above the toilet; two gargoyles and a griffon posed to gaze down upon
whoever sat there.

‘Luxury or excess,’ Rinawne
said. ‘Most of the place is the same as it’s been for a very long time. Wyva
keeps it cared for.’

‘It must have meant something to
his... family, then.’

Rinawne nodded. ‘Heritage hasn’t
gone away in this part of the world. You don’t find it often, but Wyva’s family
don’t see themselves as that far apart from their earlier human ancestors. They
merely underwent a
change
, then everything carried on as before. Well,
nearly everything. Come, let’s look at the main bedroom.’

As I turned to leave, a shiver
went through me and I looked back quickly. An image went through my head of
clocks, immense clocks. I saw a brief flash before my mind’s eye of this room
and it was not a bathroom. The floor was still of black and white tiles, but it
was mostly empty. I was aware of presences I could not see, or rather could not
focus upon. ‘This wasn’t always just a bathroom,’ I blurted out.

Rinawne came back to me as he’d
already gone partway up the stairs to the next floor. ‘What do you mean?’

I laughed, somewhat shakily.
‘Forgive me, I just had an impression, that’s all. I have a feeling this room
was used... in some way... for ritual.’

‘Really?’ Rinawne didn’t sound
convinced. ‘Well, I suppose you must pick things like that up, although I’d
always believed this place to be only a folly, in every sense. But then it is
very old.’

‘It was probably nothing,’ I
said, mustering what I hoped was a plausible smile. ‘The bedroom, then?’

‘You’ll love it,’ Rinawne said.

And I did. Unlike the living
room, it was a light and airy space, with a wide divan covered in a gold quilt,
beneath which were sheets of a delicate silvery grey. The walls were also of
this dove-like colour and rolled with faint traceries of gold, so that it was
like some kind of rich marble. A frieze of stylised swans ran around the top of
the room. The rugs beneath my feet, laid over a golden wooden floor, were thick
white fleeces. ‘Sumptuous,’ I said, inadequately.