Apanage Tower was perhaps the least dilapidated in Thannaril. All its floors were still intact and these had been equipped with a few bits of furniture that Geburael and Diablo had filched from the earthly realm: as well as the cushions for seating, there were small tables, even bed rolls for sleeping. The realm was not as barren as it first appeared. Geburael explained there were small mammals and reptiles to hunt for food, as well as a few species of reptilian birds. The plants, though tough and stringy, were plentiful and nourishing. There were no hearths or chimneys in the tower, so fires for cooking and warmth had to be built directly on the floor. Fortunately, the wood from the local hardy shrubs was virtually smokeless, if carefully dried beforehand.
When Diablo served the meal, it looked unappetizing at best. There was no meat, but a stew of dark weeds that tasted bitter. Salt or spices would have made it more palatable, but Diablo had no such condiments to cook with and clearly considered the matter too trivial to amend by fetching some from the earthly realm. Loki forced down the stew, knowing he should keep up his strength.
Geburael had been brought up in this place, Loki realised, suddenly sensing what a lonely harlinghood his surakin must have had. Diablo was hardly lively company, being dour and mostly silent, although it was obvious he had a fierce protective streak concerning his half-brother. Even so, Loki thought that Geburael should really have been brought up in Immanion, among kin more savory and sane. He could not imagine that Pellaz would have been cruel to the harling; after all, Geburael was his high-son. Diablo loathed the Gelaming, with a passion beyond imagining, and Geburael had been indoctrinated into his brother’s beliefs. Now, he sought to indoctrinate Loki in a similar manner, but Loki was aware that could work both ways.
While they ate, Geburael explained how Loki should protect himself from the Thanax. ‘Imagine a shield of cold, and put all your intention into it,’ he said. ‘It’s a kind of camouflage, like the ones that some animals use. There are creatures here that can look like stones and their skins are so tough it’s hardly worth the effort of hunting them. Be like that. Make yourself a tasteless morsel.’
Loki did not look forward to the time he must test this defense. While Geburael talked, as if they had known each other for years, and this was a social visit, Diablo studied Loki with a hard gaze. At first, Loki was intimidated by this, but gradually the feeling mutated into annoyance. He was the heir of Aralis. He would not be regarded this way by such a freak. ‘What do you want of me?’ he asked Diablo, in a haughty tone. He was curious as to what the har’s answer might be.
Diablo gave him a grisly smile. ‘You will decide your own fate,’ he said.
Loki shuddered, and hoped it didn’t show. ‘I find that hard to believe. I was brought here mostly against my will. Did you kill to bring me here?’ He managed to hold Diablo’s gaze after this question, wishing strongly he’d never voiced it.
‘We did what had to be done,’ Diablo said coldly.
‘How much do you know of the Rout of Fulminir?’ Geburael asked, clearly to change the subject.
Loki stirred the mess on his plate with a spoon. ‘I know that following the First Fall of Fulminir, Ponclast har Varr was imprisoned by Thiede in the Forest of Gebaddon for his crimes against harakind. I know that he later broke free with otherworldly assistance, and attempted to reform his tribe and apply himself to regaining control. He tried to rebuild Fulminir, but was vanquished by my hostling… and Galdra har Freyhella. Now he is imprisoned somewhere and his hara have scattered.’
‘That is the surface of the story,’ Diablo said. He put down his plate very carefully and composed himself in a cross-legged position, his long limbs curling up like those of a large spider. ‘The fact is that the Gelaming are the tools of a faction whose representatives in the earthly realm are the sedim. The Gelaming are ignorant, proud and arrogant. They believe these unearthly creatures are simply willing vessels of transportation. They are wrong. All the realms are constantly in flux, for they are resources for higher beings. The earthly realm is under dispute. Its lowly denizens have no awareness of this. They have no need for it. But those of us who do have it, are aware of something else too: it makes no difference to us who has control, because we have no evidence for it in daily life. When a stronger force wishes to take what is theirs, they should not be opposed, because that could cause the destruction of the world. It is in the interest of all living beings on earth that the stronger forces should have their way. The sedim care nothing for Wraeththu; they are simply pawns. The sedim should be removed. Our masters know that Wraeththu have tasted the otherlanes and that the privilege should not be taken from them. Other means will be provided, once the sedim are no more.’
Loki had ridden sedim many times, and anyhar who travels with them forges a strong bond with the creatures. He could not believe that any sedu was this heartless thing that Diablo intimated. ‘Have you ever traveled with a sedu?’ Loki asked.
Diablo pulled a sour face. ‘No. I have no need. Neither would they carry me. I am their enemy.’
Loki said nothing about this, and hoped his pointed silence was noted. He took another mouthful of food, chewed it, conscious of Geburael’s attention upon him. It was clear to Loki that Geburael wanted Diablo to warm to him. The two hara had different agendas, and perhaps Geburael wasn’t as mature and worldly as he liked to project.
‘Are you responsible for the strange portal in Freygard?’ Loki asked Diablo. ‘Is that how Skripi… Geburael… reached me?’
‘That is not ours,’ Diablo replied. ‘It could belong to our allies or to their enemies. Be assured it has some purpose.’
Loki nodded. ‘That’s obvious. Well, now that I’m here, and you have enlightened me with your version of history, what next?’
Diablo flared his nostrils, an expression implying utmost contempt. ‘You wait,’ he snapped. ‘Our masters the Hashmallim will come, for I’ve told them I have you. But when that will be, I don’t know. They can’t be summoned. They simply arrive when it suits them.’
‘Hashmallim,’ Loki said. ‘What are they?’
Diablo smiled. ‘You’ll find out.’ He jerked his head at Geburael. ‘The Aralisian will sleep with you. Don’t let him wander.’ He put down his empty plate. ‘Now go. I don’t want to look at you.’
Loki got to his feet, his food mostly untouched. ‘With pleasure, tiahaar. There is just one thing I would like to say. You don’t have me. I might be here against my will, and I might be your prisoner, but there is more to imprisonment than physical confinement.’
He knew these words were perhaps unwise, given his predicament, but the whole situation made him angry. He sent another silent scream into the ethers. Find me, Cal! Find me!
Diablo did not react as Loki expected. ‘Believe what you will,’ he said. ‘It makes no difference to me.’
Geburael took hold of one of Loki’s arms. ‘Come,’ he said.
Loki pulled away from him. ‘I can follow.’
Geburael led him to a room higher in the tower, which was his own space. Loki felt a twinge of pity as he regarded the wretched attempts that Geburael had made to make the place feel like a home. There were half-hearted efforts at decoration, colored scarves tacked to the walls, rows of candles in a multitude of different holders, small ornaments, some of which appeared to have come from a Nayati. Did Geburael, in his lonely moments, commune with dehara? Loki thought that unlikely. He dreaded to think what Geburael might commune with.
‘I can’t believe you’ve lived here for so long,’ he said. ‘You should have left. You should have come to your family.’
‘I’m with my family,’ Geburael said coldly. ‘What’s left of them. You’re here now. That’s enough.’
‘I think it’s driven you mad, being here.’ Loki sat down on Geburael’s rumpled bedding. ‘You sleep on a floor and eat weeds. You live with a gargoyle and there’s no light here. It’s like the realm of the dead.’
Geburael’s eyes widened. ‘You can mock me, if it give
s you satisfaction. I didn’t have your privileges and neither did Diablo. He was raised on poisoned ground. He’s the way he is because of the mercy of the Aralisians. Did you ever think about that, Loki har Aralis? All those hara exiled in Thiede’s hell? Hara whose only crime was to follow the orders of their leader, as all hara are supposed to do. Was that justice?’
‘They committed crimes,’ Loki said. ‘Their punishment was fitting, because of what they did. They were perverted.’
‘Some of your family’s dearest friends were once Varrs,’ Geburael said. ‘Are the Parasilians perverted? Are the hara who work their fields debauched? The Varrs in Gebaddon were once no different.’
‘Parasiel made its choice,’ Loki said. ‘The Varrs in Gebaddon were Ponclast’s elite. They paid the price.’
Geburael sliced the air with one hand. ‘They had no choice! Ponclast was no better or no worse than the Gelaming. It was simply a struggle for power. You’re blind if you can’t see this.’
Loki laughed harshly. ‘No, you are blind. Don’t you know what happened in Fulminir? Acts of unbelievable vileness. Even erstwhile Varrs will tell you that. You can’t conveniently believe it was all Gelaming propaganda. Take me home, and I’ll arrange it so you can meet some of the survivors. Look into their eyes and then try to believe what Diablo has told you.’
Geburael turned away and shifted some of his candlesticks around. Loki could tell he’d touched the har in some way, perhaps made the first crack in Geburael’s wall of belief. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Geburael said. ‘The struggle for power is no longer between Wraeththu factions. Diablo is right about that. And when you meet the Hashmallim, you’ll look into their eyes and know a different kind of truth.’
‘We’ll see.’ Loki sighed. ‘What do you do to pass the time here?’
Geburael paused. ‘I write stories. I study the books the Hashmallim have given to me. I draw maps of the towers.’
This revelation also conjured a pang of pity in Loki’s breast. He saw an image of Geburael as a very young harling, wandering around the bleak forest of stone, making up stories. This was followed by another, altogether less pleasant image. ‘Who took you through feybraiha?’ Loki asked.
Geburael again paused before replying. ‘I think you know,’ he said.
‘No, I don’t. That time with me could have been your first also.’
‘Well, it wasn’t.’
‘Oh.’ Loki felt nauseous and didn’t know what to say next.
‘It was important to me, what we did,’ Geburael said. ‘It was very important.’
I am really going to throw up, Loki thought. He swallowed. ‘You injured me. What was that all about?’
‘When Diablo… I…’ Geburael closed his eyes briefly. ‘After feybraiha, I was changed. It’s something to do with the taint of Gebaddon. It’s as well you’re told this. During aruna, there are thorns.’
‘What?’ Loki laughed nervously.
Geburael laid a hand on his stomach. ‘Thorns,’ he said. ‘The wounds aren’t bad. They bring pleasure.’
Loki narrowed his eyes. ‘Sounds like something that would have gone down well in Fulminir.’
‘You didn’t complain at the time.’
‘Happily, I have no recollection of the event.’
Geburael smiled grimly. ‘Loki, I’ve watched you for a long time. I know our purpose is to be together. As you noticed, there’s little to do here, but we have each other.’
‘Not in that way we don’t,’ Loki said. ‘It’s not going to happen, I promise you. I can’t take aruna with a har who’s imprisoned me against my will, thorns or no thorns. The matter is non-negotiable. Naturally, I can probably do little to prevent you taking what you want by force, seeing as you have your gargoyle accomplice, but that’s the only way you’ll have me.’
Geburael did not react angrily, as Loki expected. ‘You’re annoyed now,’ he said. ‘I understand that. But you’ll come to me eventually, Loki. You won’t be able to help yourself.’
Loki pulled a face to indicate his revulsion. ‘You overestimate your charms.’
Geburael smiled. ‘How like your hostling you are: Pellaz the Imperious. I know all about him. You should learn to be humble. One day, those words will make a fool of you.’
Loki decided it was pointless to argue. He thought he knew Geburael’s heart: this lonely har, who was desperate for company and physical closeness. He had no sense of right or wrong, because he hadn’t been taught it. In his simple, warped world, he had simply taken what he wanted and would now be confused because Loki wouldn’t play the game. Pathetic really. ‘I want my own tower,’ Loki said.
Chapter Ten
Diablo could hardly refuse Loki’s request, since it was clear that Loki wasn’t going anywhere. Geburael complied because, as Loki had rightly deduced, he was now confused as how to win Loki’s favor. He’d fondly believed that once Loki knew ‘the truth,’ as he saw it, he would share Geburael’s viewpoint. Diablo had not warned him about the most likely consequences of Loki’s abduction, and probably did not care. All Diablo cared about was having Loki in his power.
Loki chose a tower about a hundred yards away from Apanage. It was a narrow, elegant structure, missing only its summit, so that the top storey was open to the sky. Loki liked to sleep up there, in the slumber periods he designated as ‘night’. Before sleep, he would gaze at the immense blackness, with its baleful lightless sun. Somewhere out there, in a different reality, Cal was looking for him. Loki felt closer to Cal when he stared at the sky.
The name of the tower was Ninzini. Loki was surprised how easy it was to discover it, almost as if the very stones were soaked in this single piece of information. On his first night there, he closed his eyes and wondered What is the name of this place? And almost immediately, the tower sang to him in his mind. It was all that was left of its former majesty. Loki often wondered also about the race that had once lived here. Would there come a time when the earthly realm was like this and all of human and harish history but a dim memory in the shattered stones of forgotten temples?
He had to admit that Thanatep did have its attractions. On the second ‘night’ there, it occurred to him: I am in another realm. This is a totally alien place. Few hara have experienced anything like this. From then on, he viewed his new, hopefully temporary, home with a greater respect. He felt sorry for Thannaril; he sensed it brooded mournfully for past ages. Here I am, he told it, as much a victim of Fate as you are. I want you to know I care for you.
Whether Ninzini, or any of the other towers, could understand this, he could not tell, but it made him feel better thinking it.
The entrance to Ninzini was about a third of the way up the tower; steps led to an arched entrance outside. Loki investigated all the levels of the tower, but every circular room was empty. Those who had once occupied them had left nothing behind, or perhaps time had dissolved all evidence of the vanished race.
Geburael and Diablo left Loki alone; Geburael no doubt in the hope that Loki only needed time to come around, and Diablo because he knew Loki could not escape. The only time Loki saw them was when they ate together, since Loki lacked the knowledge of how to procure and prepare food. During these times, they ate mostly in silence.
Loki did consider leaving Thannaril and wandering the world, but he felt that if he did that it might make it more difficult for Cal to find him. He thought it was safer and more sensible to stay put. The Thanax were also a hazard, although he rarely caught sight of them. They tended to avoid the city, although sometimes Loki heard them in the hills, singing strange sad songs. They would make cries like birds or wolves. It seemed as if sometimes something spooked them, because a racket would start up that might last for what felt like nearly an hour, then all would be silent for a long time.
Thanatep was a bizarre yet serene realm. There was little weather to speak of; no rain, no storms. Light breezes lifted the dusty sand from the empty thoroughfares between the buildings and sometimes made music high in the ai
r among the broken tower crowns, but they were rarely strong enough to make Loki feel cold. The mountains around the city were gaunt, jagged and dark. There were no tall trees in the landscape, but many stringy hardy shrubs. Lichens abounded and occasionally delicate ferns sprouted between bricks. There were no rivers, the only natural water came from a few warm pools that sprang from beneath the ground. These were sulfurous, or tainted with a mineral that smelled similar to sulfur, but were not poisonous. Geburael told Loki to use these pools for bathing, since the water from the taps in the towers was precious, and sometimes it dried virtually to a trickle. Neither Geburael nor Diablo knew how the plumbing worked or where the water came from, but presumed there were underground reservoirs that serviced the towers. Loki wondered what other parts of the world were like; at home, different countries had different climates and geography. Thanatep must be the same, and perhaps there were verdant fields somewhere, far away. But then, he told himself, how could any land be verdant beneath the cold, mean eye of that virtually lightless sun?
Loki had no clock other than his inner sense. He slept when he was tired and turned up at Apanage when he smelled the faint aromas of cooking. He measured days in meals and periods of rest. After being in Thannaril for what he assumed was a week, he said in private to Geburael, ‘If I’m to tolerate this hell, at least make it more bearable. You can travel the otherlanes. Get food from home.’
Geburael was surprised by this request, but also clearly pleased, as he saw it as a concession. ‘What do you want?’
‘Salt,’ Loki said. ‘Salt would be good. Can’t you bring other things, like fruit and vegetables?’
‘I’ve never thought about it,’ Geburael said.
‘You should have done. Why make this exile worse than it is?’
‘I’m not in exile; this is my home. The food here is nourishing. You’re too spoiled.’