The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure (44 page)

‘I am here for you,’ said the woman. ‘I am Tel-an-Kaa.’

‘Are you my voices?’

‘One of them.’

‘Great.’ Lileem jumped awkwardly onto the bank and Tel-an-Kaa steadied her. ‘They won’t make my head ache any more, then?’ Lileem asked in a slurred tone. ‘The voices, I mean? Not if you’re here.’

‘No, your head won’t ache. We will go east, for I have wonders to show you.’

‘All of us?’

‘Yes, all of you. You and your guardians.’

Chapter Twenty Five

As if being locked up against his will wasn’t bad enough, Flick found the room he was staying in very oppressive. It was furnished tastefully, and was very comfortable in a physical sense, but there were undercurrents. Flick had to pace around, sure that if he stood still or lay down, something would fold out of the air before him that would send him mad.

The Uigenna had once confined him, and they were supposedly the worst of Wraeththukind, but now the supposed best had done the same thing. Flick did not want to be important to others like this. He just wanted a small comfortable life. The thought of not seeing his companions again was too painful to contemplate. He could only hope, if he was forced to go to Immanion, that he could appeal to the new Pellaz for help. Unfortunately, the only image of Pellaz he could conjure in his mind was of a stern autocratic bully. The har who’d raced with him beside the soda lakes, laughing and horsing around, just wouldn’t come back. That particular har could never have become a king.

Gradually, the sounds in the house faded away as the last of the guests left the premises. Lights were extinguished in the trees outside and Flick could hear the savage wind tearing at the eaves outside his window. He couldn’t sleep, although he felt exhausted. He wondered whether Seel would come to him, but as the night wore on, it was clear that wouldn’t happen. But in the dead hours between night and dawn, he heard the sound of the lock being turned and the door to the room opened.

Flick froze. Was he to be taken away now? A young har came into the room, and he saw that it was Tyson, Cal’s son. Tyson put a finger to his lips and gestured for Flick to follow him. Quickly, sensing this was nothing to do with Seel, Flick complied. He went out into the corridor, his flesh tense against his bones, but there was nohar else there. Following Tyson, he crept towards the stairs. The hall below looked enormous, and a few of the staff were still passing back and forth through it, clearing up after the party. Tyson paused, peering over the banisters. ‘Another way,’ he murmured. ‘Come.’

Flick followed him deep into the heart of the house, a heart so dynamic and present, he was sure he could hear it beating. He sensed that many important things had taken place within these walls. Cal had lived here. How he wished he could hear the story of that time.

Tyson led them to narrow, dimlit corridors, probably the territory of servants, for there was no carpet underfoot. ‘Where are you taking me?’ Flick asked, presuming it was now safe to talk.

‘To your friends,’ Tyson said. ‘Cobweb has arranged it.’

Flick didn’t ask why. He was grateful enough not to question Cobweb’s motives.

Eventually, they descended some perilous twisting stairs, and emerged into a small yard at the side of the house. This was not the main stable yard, but an area where, in good weather, laundry was hung out to dry. A mandala of lines, which vibrated in the wind, crossed it overhead. There were seats and tables near the wall of the house and Flick imagined that in summertime the househara would sit out here to eat their lunch.

The yard was empty, but for the spirits that rode the wind.

Flick shivered. He hadn’t got his coat. ‘Thanks,’ he said to Tyson.

Tyson just nodded gravely. He clearly didn’t think thanks were necessary. After a moment, he said, ‘You knew my hostling.’

‘Yes,’ Flick said. ‘A long time ago.’

‘I can’t remember him,’ said Tyson. ‘The Gelaming took him from us.’

‘I know,’ Flick said. ‘I’m sorry.’ The circumstance of offering sympathy to a harling of Cal’s under these conditions was absolutely surreal. He couldn’t imagine Cal as a parent.

‘My father is dead,’ said Tyson. ‘The Gelaming killed him.’

‘I know.’

‘I wish I could come with you,’ Tyson said. ‘I hate this place. I want to travel, like my hostling did. I want to be free.’

‘Well,’ said Flick awkwardly, ‘when you’re older you can do what you like.’

Tyson sneered. ‘Don’t be stupid. You need powerful friends. If you didn’t have them, you’d still be locked up in that room.’

Flick considered for a moment. ‘Your hostling, Cal, he leads a troubled life, Tyson. There are many different ways to live. His is not the best.’

‘You hate him, like everyhar else does,’ Tyson said with contempt. ‘Hara hate him because he doesn’t come to heel. Swift told me that.’

‘I don’t hate him,’ Flick said. ‘Not any more. Hara tried to use him, but they picked the wrong har. It ended up very badly.’

Tyson nodded glumly and Flick wished that circumstances were different, that he was here for other reasons, that there was no Seel, and that he could spend some time with this troubled soul to try and spread a little balm on his hurts. It was clear that, like Cal, he was full of heat and resentments. Flick’s instinct was to nurture and help. He couldn’t bear to think of Tyson living here every day being punished because of who had given him life. But maybe Tyson, like Cal, only punished himself, and others were helpless outside that nest of pain. The main difference between hostling and son could be that it was not too late to help Tyson, not too late to guide him onto a firm path.

These bleak considerations were curtailed by the arrival of two shadowy figures in the yard. Tyson peered into the dark. ‘They’re here. You have to go.’

The hara crossed the yard by keeping to the walls, away from the meagre light of a lamp that burned above the door to the house. Flick was surprised to see that they were Leef and Chelone. They appeared tense and wary, muffled in long coats with the collars turned up.

‘Come,’ Leef said. ‘We must hurry.’

Impulsively, Flick embraced Tyson and said, ‘I will think of you,’ knowing it would probably mean nothing. The harling was stiff and unyielding in his embrace and did not speak. When Flick let him go, he went directly back into the house.

Chelone led the way through a maze of outhouses, stables and barns to a small road that wound down the hill, on the opposite side of the main driveway. It was lined by tall maples, which were currently being tortured by the gale and stripped of their last bright leaves. Here, another har waited among the trees, holding the bridles of several huge black horses, which were jostling uncomfortably against each other. The wind spooked them, filled as it was with memories and moans.

In silence, the company mounted, the unnamed har leading another four animals. They were about to descend the road, when a voice cried, ‘Halt!’

Leef signalled for quiet and presently a dozen or so cloaked figures emerged from the woods. They held weapons and now these were pointed directly at the group. Flick’s heart fell.

‘Identify yourselves!’

Flick heard Leef sigh. ‘Ithiel, it’s me.’

‘Late to be out riding, Leef.’

Leef dismounted, but Flick and the others didn’t. Perhaps if Leef could divert these hara, they could make a dash for it.

‘Go back to the house,’ Leef said. ‘You haven’t seen this.’

‘The Gelaming have left Galhea,’ said the har Leef had called Ithiel. ‘They had an interesting spectacle to observe tonight, and no doubt are reporting their findings as we speak. Don’t be a fool, Leef. Don’t do this, whoever has given you orders. Ultimately, we all answer to Immanion.’

Flick could tell that Leef was not prepared to concur with this undoubtedly wise suggestion, but before he could say a word, another horse galloped down the road towards them. Its rider brought it to a rearing halt and Flick realised it was Lord Swift himself. His heart, which had sunk low, now felt squashed beneath his feet. There could be no escape now, because Leef would surely not disobey Swift.

‘Predictable,’ Swift said, scanning the group behind Leef with a cold glance. ‘You are following my hostling’s orders, I presume.’

‘Yes,’ said Leef stiffly.

Swift rode nearer to Flick and the others. ‘Come out here,’ he called to Flick. ‘Let me see you.’

Flick urged his horse forward.

Swift fixed him with a stare. ‘You won’t get far. You do know that, don’t you? Our Gelaming guests witnessed what happened, and have returned to Immanion already. Also, it is tiahaar Griselming’s wish for you to go to the city. He might already have contacted the Tigron’s office.’

Flick didn’t know what to say. He was sure there was nothing he could say that would influence events. Whatever was on Swift’s mind, it was already made up.

‘You cannot hide forever,’ Swift said. ‘You are still part of it all, Flick. None of us can escape it.’

‘Maybe I’m not ready yet,’ Flick said. ‘I don’t want to go to Immanion.’

‘No,’ Swift said dryly, and it occurred to Flick that Swift was going to let him go, perhaps because he didn’t want Seel to be alone with the har who had once shared his home.

‘Here,’ Swift said and threw a dark object to Flick, who just managed to catch it. It was a heavy purse, full of coins. ‘Parsic currency, but it might be of use wherever you go. I wish you luck, tiahaar. I fear you’ll need it.’

Flick said nothing.

‘We will have much to answer for,’ Swift said to Leef. ‘Go about your business and return. There may be repercussions.’

‘Does Seel know you are here?’ Leef asked, a rather impertinent question, Flick thought, which indicated just how good a friend Leef must be of the Parsic leader.

‘No,’ Swift replied. ‘I suspected Cobweb would plan something like this after I heard he’d slipped off with the Kakkahaar.’ He looked at Flick. ‘We are not Varrs. We have worked hard to shed that reputation. We are not oppressors. There are things I will not tolerate, as long as I remain lord of this domain.’ He gathered up the reins of his horse, urged it forward and it galloped off, back along the road towards the house.

‘Fur will fly,’ Leef muttered as he remounted his horse.

Ithiel took hold of Leef’s horse’s bridle. ‘We should keep out of these things,’ he said. ‘This will be remembered, Leef. You know that.’

‘We all have loyalties,’ Leef replied. He made a clucking sound to his horse and jerked its head. Ithiel let go of the reins. The horse began to trot away down the road and the others followed.

Flick could feel eyes upon them until the darkness, and a curve in the road, hid them from view.

Chelone and Leef had arranged for a friend of theirs to take ‘Esmeraldarine’ downstream, in the hope that any pursuers from
Forever
would assume they’d headed back west. They would ride through the night to the northeast, because Leef said there was somewhere they could hole up in that direction, somewhere of which Seel would be unaware. Despite surface appearances, it seemed the House of Parasiel was not as idyllic as the hara who paid fealty to it supposed. They were dark undercurrents beneath its smooth domestic facade, and their cause emanated from Immanion in Almagabra.

Strange influences were abroad that night, perhaps a symptom of the season. The wild wind was unnatural. Flick was sure that if he listened carefully, he would hear words he understood in its furious scream. Leef and Chelone took him directly to the meeting place that Cobweb and Tel-an-Kaa had prearranged. Here, the others were waiting, Lileem still very drunk, slumped beneath the oak tree. The chaotic elements made it difficult to take note of Mima’s reaction when she saw Chelone, but Flick imagined she would, at the very least, be surprised he was there. However, much fuss could be made of getting everyone mounted on the horses, especially Lileem, who had to be hoisted aloft by Ulaume, and personal issues could be ignored. The har who had accompanied Leef and Chelone and whose name Flick never learned, gave Flick his heavy coat to wear. Without it, Flick was sure he would have died of exposure.

They rode to a covered bridge west of the town, and once across the river, galloped through the fields towards forested hills in the north east. It was impossible to talk, because even a shouting voice was snatched away by the wind. The Parsic horses seemed to become part of the furious elements. The wind was behind them and they almost flew through the autumn meadows. Flick had never ridden such a magnificent horse in his life. It obeyed his slightest command and galloped so smoothly he could almost have fallen asleep.

Once they reached the trees, Chelone, who was leading, slowed the pace a little, to allow the horses to cool down and recover their strength. Here the thickly clustered ancient pines muted the voice of the wind and the sound of the horses’ hooves on the compressed needles underfoot was muffled. Flick could tell that both Leef and Chelone weren’t happy about the slower pace. The horses wound single file along a narrow deer path, and Leef kept to the rear of the line. Often, Flick noticed, he trotted his horse back along the path a short way and waited for a few moments, as if listening for pursuit.

Eventually Flick had to ask, ‘Will Seel really follow us? Surely, Swift and Cobweb will make sure he doesn’t.’ He couldn’t imagine Seel riding out by himself in pursuit, and surely all other hara in Forever were loyal to Swift and his hostling. Could Seel give orders over Swift’s head?

‘It isn’t pursuit from
Forever
I’m worried about,’ Leef said. ‘Seel has a strong link with Immanion. He might do something rash. And our Gelaming guests clearly made haste to leave tonight.’

‘I don’t understand what’s going on,’ Flick said. ‘Why is the house divided over this? Why is it important?’