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  “What!”

  “An enemy has cut the child from Caeru's belly. It intends to deliver the harling to a foul master, who will devour it. You must intercept this agent very soon, and it will be difficult for you, because I cannot provide you with a sedu.”

  “That is impossible, not difficult.”

  “Not at all. I can teach you how to do this, now. But there are dangers.”

  “Why can't you do it?”

  “Because I cannot risk making my presence felt in the ethers. I need you, Cal, we all need you. You were sent to Immanion before you were ready. We did not need to fight. I never needed to fight you.”

  “It was torture, not fighting.”

  “Yes. I tortured you. I saw in you the thing I feared, but now I realise you are the sword to combat the source of that fear. It was inevitable you should share its taste and flavour. When I chose Pellaz, a higher power chose you to be his protector. My mistake was that I did not see it. I should have brought you to Immanion the moment Pellaz died. You should have been there from the beginning with Seel and the others. Imagine a world where that happened, Cal. Imagine it carefully.”

  Cal grimaced. “I don't want to. Because it didn't happen. You can't change the past.”

  “No, none of us can do that. You have been through fire, Cal. You are the strongest blade, forged in madness and hatred, refined through trial and experience. You walked through the fire, and emerged from it, relatively intact. Hara do not realise what you are, what you've achieved.” Thiede paused. “Enough of this litany. There is work to do. Your son...”

  “What of Caeru?”

  “He lives,” Thiede said. “If I'd acted more swiftly, I could have prevented what happened to him, but the information came too late. You cannot concern yourself with him. Devote yourself entirely to taking the pearl from the one who stole it. Remember how you felt, as you came to my inner sanctum on the night we fought in Immanion. That is how you must be now.”

  “No, for the time being, his safest course is to remain in Immanion.”

  “He will think...”

  “We both know what he will think. Do not dwell upon it. Focus upon what must be done now.”

  “And if I succeed this talk, what next?”

  Thiede gestured languidly. “You finish the training Opalexian started for you. You learn how to be of use when the time comes and mighty forces reveal themselves in the realm of earth. Wraeththu have always believed themselves to be the stuff of angels, haven't they? Well, consider this. The fall from heaven never ended, Cal. The battle continues. But what we have to consider, as lowly beings, is whether light is good and dark is evil. Always a puzzle, eh?”

  “The war of angels.” Cal laughed. “What are you saying?”

  “That sometimes truth can be wrapped up in a myth or a fairy story. You will learn.”

  Cal considered. “This feels right,” he said, certain. “I am right to be here.”

  Thiede smiled. “I am glad to hear it. It is strange, but of all hara you probably have the most reason to loathe me, yet you do not. I have never sensed hate in you, not like in Seel Griselming, for example.”

  “I'm happy to adore whatever Seel hates,” Cal said.

  Thiede regarded him wryly. “You should get over that. It could be used against you.”

  Cal gestured emphatically with both hands. “All the time I've been in Immanion, I've yearned for something, felt there was something I should be doing. Is this it?”

  “I hope so.”

  “I thought you'd be sure.”

  “We should never be that. I made that mistake once too often.”

  “I am ready,” Cal said. “Show me.”

  Calanthe har Aralis had disappeared from Immanion and nearly everyhar in the city had their own thoughts on that. Phaonica had tried to keep private the details of the attack on Caeru, but they leaked out anyway. Some thought Cal had been killed, his body hidden. Others believed he had reverted to type and had attacked Caeru in a moment of insanity, before fleeing the city, in the same way he'd once fled Saltrock after murdering the shaman, Orien Farnell. The ability to kill was in his blood, after all: tainted Uigenna blood.

  Nohar had thought the Aralisians could be so vulnerable in their own home, which was why security had been relatively lax. This was amended immediately, and investigations ensued into who or what had perpetrated the attack. There were no clues. Nothing unusual had been noticed that night and nohar knew from where the message summoning Caeru's staff to a fake meeting had come, other than that it had been composed on Security Office stationary. It all pointed to an inside job, and every member of the palace staff was subjected to rigorous interrogation.

  While this was being conducted, Davitri Bilasso directed his best psychic agents to search for Cal's signature in the otherlanes, but there was no trail to follow. Trackers scoured the countryside, and spied slid like oil through the back streets of surrounding towns and villages, seeking clues. Nohar found anything. It was as if Cal had disappeared completely, as if he'd never been in Immanion. Did this signify guilt or something else?

  Pellaz didn't know what he thought. As far as the issue with Cal was concerned, he was emotionally numb and could think in terms only of solving the mystery, of revealing the threat that hung over his family. He mourned the loss of the pearl, far more deeply than he thought was possible. It had represented so much, and its conception was an event that could never be replicated. The dream had shattered. He told himself he'd been right all along. His relationship with Cal had ended in a soup of mud and blood somewhere in Megalithica over thirty years ago. Everything since had been a fantasy, a wish, a delusion. They were not meant to find happiness together. Several times, Pellaz had attempted to establish mind contact with Cal, but there was no hint of his presence in the world. It was as if he had never existed.

  Pellaz summoned his brother Terez and together they rode out of Phaonica's stableyard on powerful white sedim. Halfway down the palace drive, they opened a portal to the otherlanes and flashed out of earthly reality, leaving behind them only a lingering rumble of thunder and a smell of ozone. Nohar who witnessed that departure was in any doubt that the Tigron was in the mood for a fight.

  Chapter Nine

  It was evening in Galhea when the sedim leapt back to the world, out of a thundercloud and a ring of lightning. They crashed down onto a road outside the town and without pause galloped directly towards the house called We Dwell in Forever, with ice flying from their manes and steam purling from their necks.

  Prior to this arrival, and ignorant of this advent, Tyson Parasiel had experienced a presentiment. Tyson was not a har naturally given to psychic episodes. He, like his hostling before him, had mostly neglected spiritual training and lived very much in the world of the empirical senses. He'd gone to lie down on his bed, late in the afternoon, because he'd spent most of the previous night getting drunk with friends, and Swift, his half brother, had made him work all day. He'd anticipated being able to get an early night to recover but Cobweb had told him there would be guests for dinner and that he must be present. Tyson, stiff-necked with dread, knew he'd have to catch a few hours' sleep before enduring the company of others. He rarely felt comfortable with any hara but those who were his friends among the Parsic military and the staff who worked on the family estate. Cobweb would not reveal who the guests would be, but Tyson supposed they would be Gelaming and probably from Immanion.

  News of the attack on Caeru and of Cal's disappearance had already been sent to Galhea. No doubt that the Gelaming believed Cal would flee back to Forever, as he had done many years before, after his murder of Orien Farnell in Saltrock. Cynically, Tyson knew this was most unlikely. However much Cal might be redeemed and repaired, Tyson knew his hostling wanted to avoid him. As a harling, he'd harboured romantic notions about Cal, and had envied his adventurous life, but as an adult, he guessed that Cal was mostly like himself and somewhat scornful of cozy domestic arrangements. He wasn't resentful that his ho
stling ignored him. He had no interest in meeting Cal now, because in some ways he didn't want to shatter the illusions of childhood and he was wise enough to realize his early fantasies could not have been based on reality.

  He'd once dreamed of roaming the world with Cal, having all sorts of wild and improbable experiences, and sometimes, even now, that old restlessness stole over him, but for the most part he was content to feed off Swift's generosity and live the life of a rich har in luxury. He had a chesnari of sorts, a har called Ferany, who lived in the town. Tyson knew that Ferany believed that one day he and Tyson would take the bond of blood and then Ferany would move into Forever and a series of harlings would follow. Tyson allowed Ferany to persist with this dream unmolested. He still wasn't sure himself whether it would ever come to pass or not. What else was there to do? There had been talk recently of Tyson going to Immanion, but he'd not been enthusiastic about the idea. If he'd been younger, then maybe. All he'd been able to envision was being a rustic har from the sticks who wouldn't fit in, and whose reluctant hostling with regard him with distant expressions of pain.

  However, recent developments had effectively closed that avenue of possibility, so a life with Ferany appeared ever more likely, however mundane. Ferany was an exotic har, who was unusual because he veered neither towards masculine nor feminine aspect, as most Galhean hara tended to do, however good their intentions to be utterly balanced. This was undoubtedly a remnant of being Varrs, as the Parsics had been known when Tyson's father Terzian was alive and intent on conquest. Terzian had actively suppressed his feminine side, yet had encouraged it in others, such as Cobweb, who had hosted harlings. It might also be because Galhea had a human community, one time slaves, now free citizens, who lived in their own areas, but whose separate genders perhaps subtly influenced the way hara lived. Ferany, a more modern creature, was truly androgynous and Tyson knew that some of the human residents of Galhea found him creepy because of that. It was perhaps what all hara were supposed to be like and what the Galheans considered to be freakish might simply be a vision of the future. Ferany did not approve of some of Tyson's excesses, but held his tongue, probably because he cherished being close to the highest-ranking family in the community and – who knows – he might have harboured ambitions to move to Immanion one day, where the hara were much more like him. He got on very well with Cobweb, which sometimes unsettled Tyson greatly. Tyson loved Cobweb as a hostling, because he'd brought Tyson up when Cal couldn't be bothered with the responsibility of parenting, but Tyson was still wary of Cobweb's inner sight.

  As he slept, Tyson dreamed of leaving home. He sailed on a great red ship, over an ocean comprised entirely of shifting black sand. The sand moved like waves, and sprays of granules blew up over the side of the ship, stinging Tyson's hands and face. He gazed towards a distant horizon, where a city of gold hung in the sky. The dream was pleasant, somehow soothing, and Tyson was sorry to be woken from it. Somehar stood at the end of his bed and leaned over to shake one of his feet. “Tyson, it's time to wake up.”

  Tyson didn't open his eyes at first, but pressed the fingers of one hand against them. He could still taste sour liquor in his throat. He groaned. “In a minute.”

  Again, the har shook his foot and said, “Tyson, it's time to wake up.”

  Tyson opened his eyes, raised his upper body and supported himself on his elbows. A wave of cold shock coursed through him because he saw himself standing at the end of the bed. A tall har with white gold hair and dark violet eyes. He said, “What?”

  The har leaned over the end of the bed, shook his foot and said, “Tyson, it's time to wake up.”

  It was then that Tyson realised he wasn't looking at himself at all, but at his hostling. Cal had returned to Galhea after all. “What are you doing here?” Tyson demanded.

  Once again, the har at the end of the bed shook his foot and repeated the words he'd spoken before. At that point, Tyson knew the har before him wasn't real. The shock of this caused him to draw up his feet and hug his knees. He couldn't speak. At once, the vision of Cal expanded, grew huge, until his head was pressed against the ceiling, his arms splayed out around his head like the branches of a tree. “Wake up!” he said, and vanished.

  At that moment, the door to the room opened and Cobweb put his head round it to say, “Ty, have a bath, clean yourself up. Downstairs in half an hour.”

  Tyson opened his eyes. He'd been asleep. He'd been dreaming. He called Cobweb's name to stop him from leaving.

  “What is it?” Cobweb asked.

  “I dreamed of Cal,” Tyson said. “He was here.”

  “Hardly surprising,” Cobweb said dryly. “Get ready, Ty. You must be present tonight.”

  No message had been sent from Immanion to warn the House of Parasiel that the Tigron would be visiting them, but Cobweb rarely needed advance warning of anything, in any case. He always just knew. Tyson could tell that Pellaz har Aralis was disappointed that Cobweb had foreseen his visit. He had hoped to storm in by surprise. As it was, he found that a sumptuous dinner had been prepared for him and rooms made ready. Cobweb had made sure the entire family was present: Swift and Seel, their son Azriel and his chesnari Aleeme, who was the son of Flick and Ulaume Sarestes in Shilalama, and had moved to Galhea some years before. The head housekeeper, a Kamagrian parage name Bryony, who had once been a human servant of the Parasilians, was also present, to supervise with a steely Cobweb-trained eye the serving of dinner, so that Cobweb was free to pay full attention to any subtle nuances in conversation around him. It was clear that, for whatever reason, Cobweb wanted the House of Parasiel to present a united front to the Tigron.

  Tyson was relieved to see that Pellaz had brought Terez with him, because of all Gelaming he had met, Tyson liked Terez best. He was not as arrogant as most of them were. In appearance, Terez was very similar to his brother – olive-skinned and black-haired – although Terez was taller and his features were more severe. He seemed older than Pellaz, although he was a couple of years younger. He wore his long hair in a braid down his back, plaited so tightly it was almost savage, whereas Pellaz affected a less rigid appearance, at least with friends. His hair fell in unruly bangs over his forehead, while the rest of it tumbled over his shoulders and down to his waist. They got in the way constantly while he was eating. Over drinks before dinner, the Tigron recounted in detail all that had happened in Immanion.

  "We can only suppose Cal has been abducted," he said. " Or perhaps he was also attacked." He shook his head. "We are frustrated. There are no clues. Not even our most clear-sighted seers can see anything."

  "Perhaps Cal was the one who attacked the Tigrina," Tyson offered, anticipating the icy response.

  Pellaz fixed him with a stare. "Rue is most emphatic that is not the case."

  For a moment, Tyson fantasized about being in Immanion, feeling utterly disenchanted, disorientated and fed up, surrounded by haughty, preening Gelaming. He could imagine very easily it could drive a har to murder.

  "Cal didn't attack Rue," Pellaz said, perhaps prying into Tyson's mind. He turned away and resumed his conversation with others present.

  Cast, as usual, to the sidelines of the social gathering, Tyson reflected that Pellaz felt uncomfortable around him, for the same reason Seel always had. Both Pellaz and Seel had been jealous of Terzian, because he'd had a relationship with Cal that neither of them had ever had. Simple as that. Not that they'd ever admit it. When they looked at Tyson, they saw Cal taking aruna with Terzian. He was living proof of it. All through his childhood, when Seel had looked at him in a certain sour way, Tyson had imagined being a spark of life in the cauldron of creation, being made by two Hara lost in bliss. Even a har who hadn't to rained very much could project a thought like that. It was the psychic equivalent of throwing stones and had helped to assuage the bitterness Tyson had sometimes felt when Azriel had received better treatment than he had. It wasn't Azriel's fault. He was aware of it and embarrassed about it, but from the moment of Azriel's birth, Seel h
ad made sure his and Swift's son supplanted Tyson in the family hierarchy. If Tyson had been older at the time, that wouldn't have happened, but those years had been chaotic, with so many changes. Cobweb, usually the power in the house, had been stretched out of shape by it all and Seel had breezed in to mould things to his liking.

  Now, Tyson wondered how soon he could make an escape from the party. It was clear that Pellaz wanted to speak to Cobweb alone, because the actual point of his visit was not revealed before or during dinner. There was much to discuss, of course, as everyhar present had their own theory as to the motive for the attack on Caeru. Uigenna assassins. Human rebels. Shadowy unknown hara from unknown tribes who resented the way the yawning extended their empire. Tyson could tell that Pellaz was holding onto his feelings, if not his entire being, with the greatest of effort. He almost felt sorry for the Tigron, for the first time ever. Everyhar would consider that Cal had done this terrible thing, and perhaps Pellaz feared it too, but was straining to deny it, to find alternative answers. And that must be why he was it here in Galhea: to question Cobweb the seer in the hope that Cobweb would provide him with an explanation he could bear.