Darq was astounded at the power of the simple words ‘I’m sorry’. It was like a magic spell. ‘Will you take me to see Olivia?’ he asked. ‘I think I should apologise to her too. I didn’t want to get any of your family into trouble. I just like being outside and… well… can we go to the cottage?’
‘Of course,’ Zira said.
‘I could pick her some flowers,’ Darq offered, ‘or find some branches with red berries on.’ He realised that a bit of coy simpering might also be useful and batted his eyelashes a few times.
Zira responded exactly as Darq wished. ‘That’s a thoughtful idea. She’ll be pleased. Afterwards, we can go into the woods, if you like. We can do today’s lessons there. Perhaps Ma will let Amelza come with us.’
This is amazing, Darq thought. It’s so easy. He giggled as he’d heard human children do when they sought the favor of adults.
Zira ruffled his hair. ‘Perhaps you’re not as freakish as I thought,’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s just that nohar round here really knows how to be with harlings. We’ll just have to learn.’
So will I, Darq thought. He felt he’d made a major breakthrough already.
Chapter Four
Loki har Aralis’ first name would have rested far more comfortably on Darquiel’s shoulders. It was the name of a trickster god, and Loki the harling was anything but a trickster.
He was the half-brother of Darquiel, but did not know it. He lived in the Gelaming city of Immanion with his parents, in the country of Almagabra. As far as Loki was concerned, he had only one other sibling, who nohar talked about. From gossip around the palace Phaonica, Loki had determined that his much older brother, Abrimel, was in prison somewhere, a criminal. His parents wouldn’t speak about it, nor his hura, Caeru, nor his tutors and servants. They would say things like ‘when you’re older’, which was no use at all. Loki was inquisitive and bright, but knew his place. When adults said ‘no’, he complied with their wishes.
He was as unlike Darq as it’s possible to get. Where Darq was literally dark, Loki was fair. He enjoyed the company of others. He was popular among his peers, not least because he was a son of the Tigrons and therefore royal. His father Calanthe took him everywhere with him, whenever it was possible. His hostling – well – that was another matter, but then Pellaz was always busy. ‘Don’t worry,’ Cal said once. ‘I was just like that when I hosted Tyson. Maybe some of us are just cut out to be better fathers than hostlings. He’ll be fine when you grow up.’
Adults, of course, did not normally say such enlightening things to harlings, but Cal was different to all other adults Loki knew. He loved Cal so passionately, it sometimes made him hurt inside. He had nightmares about Cal disappearing, or flying away on a great bird, or being smothered by strange shadowy monsters. Loki would wake weeping from these dreams and run to his father’s rooms. He could always climb into bed beside Cal and whisper his fears, and Cal would sling an arm around him say, ‘No chance. I’ve had my lot of disappearing.’
It was Cal who had given Loki his name, and also who told him what it meant. ‘Isn’t that a… bad name?’ Loki asked; polite but slightly alarmed.
‘No,’ Cal replied. ‘It’s a very strong name. I chose it on purpose. It comes from a country where the gods of the north live.’
‘Can we go there?’
Cal grinned. ‘I think one day we might, yes.’
Loki grew up surrounded by love, and given every privilege a young har could want: his own sedu to ride, his own rooms and attendants, noble-born harlings imported from several realms to be his companions. He never brushed his own hair or cut his own fingernails. He had no idea how food was prepared; it was simply delivered to his table, perfect, whenever he was hungry. The Tigrina, Caeru, doted upon him as if Loki were his own son. Loki had many relations, like his hura Terez in Immanion, and Mima in Jaddayoth, who was Terez and Pell’s sister back from when they’d been human. She wasn’t har, but she was Kamagrian, which was apparently similar. Loki called her his huri, rather than hura, to make the distinction. The Parasilians in Galhea, on the other side of the great ocean, were also part of his extended family. Loki was comfortable within this organism. He was praised and pampered by every har who was a part of it. He was the heir to the throne in Immanion.
You can be sure that Loki would never, under any circumstances, have climbed out of his bedroom window at night and teetered perilously thirty feet above the ground. He liked approval, and did all that he could to get it. A cynical har might say that there was an underlying selfishness in Loki’s manner. Perhaps he learned the game long before it even occurred to Darq there was one to play.
He was always extremely courteous, and the only thing he didn’t like was disrespect — not that many other harlings would dare to show it to him. This rather prim attribute might have originated from Cal’s influence, who often told him he should never ‘take shit’ off anyhar (a delicious secret Loki never told a living soul, because the language was bad), or it might simply have been because it was in his blood, the particular corpuscles that had come from Pellaz, his hostling. Pellaz could wither hara with a glance, and on several occasions Loki had slunk from his hostling’s presence feeling utterly wilted. He noticed very early in life that Pellaz rarely apologised, even when he was wrong about something, and Loki took this to be the way a son of the Tigron should also behave. However, in his view, one should never do anything that requires an apology. Really, it was very simple. Thus it followed that by the age of nearly seven, Loki had never said the words ‘I’m sorry’ and had had no cause to.
The early years of Loki’s life had been full of adventures, of only the safest kind, but devoid of more significant events. He had traveled the otherlanes at only two years of age, held by his father on the front of his saddle. He had visited his relatives in Megalithica, and in Roselane, in Jaddayoth. In fact, one summer, he and Cal had spent three weeks in Jaddayoth. Cal had taken him to wonderful places, like the underground city of Sahen, and the cliff city of Shappa where the narrow streets were nearly vertical. Like all privileged individuals, Loki grew up thinking life was grand, or perhaps he didn’t even consider that. He simply took it all for granted.
Once a week, the Aralis family met together to share a meal. This was on the evening of Solisday. When the weather was fine, which it usually was in Immanion, the fairest of Wraeththu cities, the six of them would sit round a table on Caeru’s terrace, which faced the ocean. Sometimes, there were visitors, such as Parasilian hara from Galhea: Cal’s other son Tyson, or Pell’s brother Snake and his chesnari Cobweb. Occasionally, members of the Hegemony would join them for special occasions like birthdays and festivals.
One Solisday evening, in the height of summer, the Aralisians met as usual to share a meal. Loki, arriving with his father, could tell at once that Pellaz was not in a good mood. He sprawled in his seat, with his feet up on the table, his beautiful features set into a scowl. Loki knew better than to seek approval from his hostling when his face wore that expression. Terez was also already present, and he and his chesnari Raven were usually late arrivals at these gatherings, much to Caeru’s annoyance. Tonight, Raven was not there, however. Loki got the impression Terez had been summoned very quickly. Something must be wrong, he realised.
Loki went at once to the Tigrina and hugged him; gentle Caeru, who was so willowy and fair. That day, Loki had been into the city with his father, who had taken him to a hair stylist, where only the very rich stepped over the threshold. He’d had his hair cut very similar to Cal’s and now felt extremely grown up and handsome. Pellaz cast him a glance and raised an eyebrow. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘you could be brothers.’
‘He looks very like his father,’ Caeru said, a hand hovering just above Loki’s head so as not to ruffle the artful messiness.
‘Doesn’t he just,’ said Pellaz, in a voice that sounded to Loki as if it was full of wasps.
Loki wanted to look exactly like his father, of course, and was warmed by Caeru’s comment. Th
e fact was he had his hostling’s eyes, which were very dark, and also his lips, which were fuller than Cal’s. His skin tone was somewhere between the two of them, darker than Cal but fairer than Pellaz. But his hair was the same shocking white gold as his father’s and he was of a similar build, long and lithe. At nearly seven, Loki looked like a young teenage human. Within a year or so, he would be adult, when feybraiha, the Wraeththu equivalent of puberty, would steal over him. In harlings, the process occurred very quickly, taking weeks rather than years. Like all harlings his age, desperate to be adult and gain some freedom, Loki awaited this magical time impatiently.
‘You look like you’re sitting on a nail,’ Cal said to Pellaz. ‘What’s up?’
Pellaz sighed deeply. ‘Communication from the north,’ he said.
Cal sat down at the table, and Loki sat beside him. ‘The north?’ Cal enquired.
‘Yes.’
‘In what respect?’ Cal helped himself to an apple from a bowl on the table and began to munch it. Loki could tell that his father was now also somewhat tense. He sat very still, hoping that if he became invisible, the adults would talk more frankly in front of him.
‘There have been anomalies in the ethers around Freyhella,’ Pellaz said. ‘The Council in Freygard considered we should be informed.’
‘What kind of anomalies?’ Cal asked.
‘I don’t know. They suggest we send a delegation to see for ourselves.’
Cal raised his eyebrows and stopped chewing. ‘Really!’ he said, after a few moments. ‘Who made contact?’
‘I’ve no idea. The Listeners received a message, that’s all.’
‘Who will you send?’
‘I expect Eyra will see to it. The Listeners and the ethers are his province.’
Cal gestured at Terez. ‘I think our deadly assassin should go.’
‘I am not an assassin,’ Terez said, clearly pleased at being called that. ‘But I’ll go if you want me to, Pell.’
‘Yes, maybe,’ Pellaz said irritably. ‘Be part of the delegation.’
Cal took another bite of his apple and shook his head slowly. ‘Well, after all this time, all this silence… I thought Freygard had dropped off the map.’
‘They must be really concerned to contact Immanion,’ Terez said. ‘I hope to all dehara this doesn’t mean something’s happening again.’
‘We’d have felt it,’ Pellaz said sharply. ‘Snake and Cobweb are always alert. They never rest and never will. If there’s the faintest glimmer of abnormal activity, they’ll sense it, probably long before it happens.’
At that moment, Raven arrived, which meant the conversation ceased for some minutes. Raven was another favorite of Loki’s, mainly because his skin was so black, when you stroked his arm it made the taste of dark chocolate appear in your mouth. He smelled good, like purple berries, aromatic coffee and thick syrup. All in all, he was a delight to the senses. Raven sat down, and Caeru’s servants began to bring out the first course of the meal.
‘Freygard’s been in touch,’ Terez said to Raven. He outlined what Pellaz had told them.
‘And you of course will be heading north now,’ Raven said. He glanced at Pellaz. ‘Shall I go with him?’
‘As you wish,’ Pellaz said. ‘Freygard asked for a delegation. That could be a dozen hara. We’ll meet at Eyra’s office in the morning.’
‘I think I’ll go to Freygard too,’ Cal said.
There was a moment’s silence around the table, then Pellaz said, ‘Why?’
Cal pushed Loki’s shoulder playfully. ‘I think our son should see it.’
‘You can’t be serious,’ Pellaz said.
‘Why not?’
Pellaz blinked at him meaningfully, and Loki sensed a secret.
‘Come on, Pell,’ Cal said in a cajoling tone. ‘Let him see it. Let him smell the air, the sea. He should visit. You know he should. It’s…’ He smiled at Loki. ‘It’s a very magical place. All hara should go at least once in their lives.’
‘I’d really like to go,’ Loki said hopefully.
‘I don’t know,’ Pellaz said, clearly uncomfortable. ‘It might not be a good idea.’
‘Trust me,’ Cal said. ‘It’ll be fine.’
Pellaz nearly choked.
‘Why shouldn’t he go?’ Caeru asked. ‘Think about it, Pell. What happened is ancient history. It’s nothing to do with Loki, and relations should be patched up politically. Cal should go and build bridges.’ Caeru fixed Cal with the hardest stare he could manage. ‘That is what you’ll do, isn’t it?’
Cal displayed the palms of his hands, pulled a rueful face.
Unexpectedly, Pellaz laughed. ‘Yes, you’re right. You should all go.’ He smiled at Loki. ‘You’ll like it. Well, I expect you will. I’ve never been there.’
‘Perhaps you…’ Cal began.
‘Shut up,’ Pellaz said mildly. ‘My presence will do nothing to facilitate any bridge-building, I assure you.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘I do hope you don’t have knives concealed beneath your good intentions, my beloved. Please assure me that is not the case.’
‘My good intentions are laden with flowers,’ Cal said. ‘I’ve never seen Freygard either.’
Later, in Loki’s own rooms, Cal told his son to look upon the trip as work. ‘It won’t be long before you’re sitting in the Hegalion yourself,’ he said. ‘You should develop the diplomat’s forked tongue as soon as you can.’
‘Forked tongue?’ Loki asked dubiously.
Cal laughed. ‘A figure of speech. I think you’ll be an exemplary diplomat.’ He took Loki’s face in both hands and kissed his brow. ‘You’re so grown up. Time has flown by. I can’t believe it.’
Cal’s words made Loki feel insecure somehow. It implied a growing distance, an approaching horizon when the sun would set on gilded days. He hugged Cal fiercely, suddenly having to swallow a lump in his throat.
‘Hey,’ Cal said. ‘What did I say?’
Loki pulled away. ‘I don’t know. It felt like winter coming.’
‘There’s no need to worry. Life will be full of wonders, Loki.’
Loki smiled bravely. ‘Why are we going to Freyhella?’
Cal grimaced. ‘Some time ago, the ethers and the otherlanes went strange. It was part of some trouble we had to deal with. Now, something odd has happened in Freygard, and the hara there want our opinion.’
‘What was the trouble?’
Cal glanced at the ceiling for a moment, skewed his mouth to the side. ‘It’s a long story. Basically, before you were born, the Gelaming were involved in a conflict with some hara who let’s just say didn’t really have the well-being of Wraeththu at heart. We formed an alliance of tribes, and Freyhella was one of the tribes that showed up. They’re fiercely independent, and really didn’t want to ally with us, but…’ Cal shrugged. ‘Anyway, as soon as the conflict was over, they sailed back to Freygard and closed communication. They must be worried now to contact us.’
‘Will we sail to Freygard?’ Loki had never been a long distance on a boat.
‘No. We’ll use sedim as usual. It’d take too long on a boat.’
Loki was disappointed by that. He liked the thought of traveling over the sea.
Two days later, the sedim leapt out of the otherlanes in the hills beyond Freygard’s walls, bearing a delegation of Gelaming. Loki was impressed at once by the majesty of the landscape, even though the cold hit him sharply. Freyhella was shrouded in mist and seemed watchful. There were forested mountains and deep fjords fanged with sharp rocks. This land might be the haunt of dragons and wolves with burning eyes. The air smelled strongly of brine and fish.
Immanion had sent a party of twelve hara, which as well as including members of the Aralisian family, also included the Hegemon Eyra Fiumara, Hegemony Clerk Velaxis Shiraz, and a few guards. Velaxis always unnerved Loki. He was a watchful har, like a sly cat and his abundant hair was the color of untouched snow. He favored winding it with black pearls and usually dressed in clothes of whit
e or black. He was the sort of har who knew everything and everyhar. Loki knew this because Pellaz often said snide things about him. Velaxis was very friendly with Rue, and Loki knew Pellaz thought that was a strategic friendship. It didn’t surprise Loki that Velaxis was part of the group.
The Freyhellans had sent no welcoming party, which even Loki knew was a little odd, if not rude, and the Gelaming rode into town along the main road, which followed the river. The call of seabirds drifted mournfully through the mist and, as the party approached the walls of Freygard, the sound of water on wood could be heard, and the gristly clunk of hulls rubbing together. As they drew nearer to the gates, the peaked roofs of Freygard could be glimpsed through the swirling vapor; still and dark and immense. Wooden hex-beasts snarled from the highest eaves, moisture dripping from their bearded chins. Loki could hear voices, the sound of wheels on cobbles, the tock of blacksmiths’ hammers. The warm scent of horse dung mingled with the aroma of the sea. He had a strange feeling inside, as if he’d walked into one of his own dreams. He felt he’d been to this place before. He felt excited, wistful, fearful and ecstatic, all at once.
‘Do they have strong magic here?’ he asked Cal.
Cal glanced over at him. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘I feel strange.’
Cal had no opportunity to respond to that, because the gates of the town opened ahead of them and a delegation of Freyhellans rode forth. Like Cal and Loki, they had pale hair. They rode stocky chestnut horses whose manes and tails were the same pale color as their riders’ hair. Their leader urged his mount ahead of the others, and touched his brow in a gesture of respectful greeting. ‘You are welcome, tiahaara. Allow us to accompany you to the Hall of Assembly.’
Eyra, a thin-faced har who wore his dark hair in multiple braids, had assumed leadership of the Gelaming group. ‘We are happy to oblige,’ he said, and the company rode beneath the arch of the gate.
Cal appeared content to blend into the background, as if he were there simply to observe events. Loki perceived a slight tension in his father. There was history between Freygard and the Aralisians, Loki already knew that, even if he was unaware of the details. Cal had told him about the war, when the tribes of Wraeththu had had to ally against a common threat, but Loki had sensed something else beneath his father’s casual words, a feeling that had smelled like burned meat.