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  Hara at work in the fields put their tools to rest as they watched the procession passing by them. They gathered at the end of the driveway, spilling into the valley road. Some ran to the main complex. Soon, mind call or not, Lisia would know he had visitors.

  Cobweb raised his hand to indicate the line should halt – it would take some time for his signal to be relayed to the farthest har. Snake was riding in a wagon further back and Cobweb directed a brief message to him. Wait here.

  A small party of Swift's soldiers had turned up at Galhea while everyhar was preparing to leave. They had been led by Leef Sariel, an old friend of the family. Leef had informed Cobweb that Swift had taken his hara to Imbrilim: The rumours were that the Tigron would soon be amassing an army there. Swift had wanted to rejoin Seel and ride to Fulminir. Cobweb imagined how that must feel to Swift: a replay of a past event. With Ithiel gone, Leef had assumed command of the Galhean militia. He had accompanied Cobweb on his journey.

  Now, Cobweb summoned him, as Leef rode close to him. “Come with me,” he said. “Everyhar else must put.”

  They urged their horses into a canter, throwing up pebbles from the dusty road. The gates ahead stood open – they always did now. Beside the gate stood the same sign that had always greeted the Varr soldiers, who had visited the facility to breed: 'WELCOME AND ATTENTION: No Weapons Beyond This Point'. Lisia had chosen to retain the sign, as it was still his preference to keep Harling Gardens a place of peace, growth and learning.

  Cobweb slowed his mount to a trot and led the way up the driveway past the screening line of trees. There spread before them was a familiar tableau, only now, transformed through the time and effort of a group of hara who had chosen to build dreams on memories of pain. There was the grand main building, two stories of real brick, its arched entrances and windows like giant eyes and mouths. In human times it had been a convent and then, with an extension, a parochial school. Off to the sides, several new outbuildings had been constructed, including a barn, a larger stable, and a dozen cabins used by visitors, each of which had its own flower garden. The entire grounds were covered in blooming shrubs and lush foliage. It was truly a garden.

  Any diminishment Harling Gardens had once suffered in the face of war and abandonment had been completely eclipsed. Lisia had imprinted himself over the past. But always it was there; Cobweb felt it in his bones. The mere fact this land had not been razed and sown with salt indicated that Lisia still had an attachment to his memories. The school and infirmaries that now operated here, established once the original harling residents had been raised and send into the world, could have been built anywhere. But Lisia had chosen to remain in this spot.

  Cobweb slowed his horse to a walk as he and Leef approached the main entrance. Lisia was already standing on the steps, arms folded, his long brown hair tied back, but for the natural blond streak that fell to the side, which lifted slightly in the sweet, flower-scented breeze. As Cobweb had feared, Lisia's face did not register an expression of welcome. He looked suspicious and defensive. Neither did he recognise Cobweb immediately. “Who are you and what do you want?” he snapped.

  “Lis, it's me,” Cobweb said, moving his horse closer to the steps.

  For a moment, Lisia appeared startled. “Cobweb?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to you?” He would be registering Cobweb's changed appearance: the tightly braided hair, the clothes of close-fitting black leather.

  “Galhea has been attacked. I was forced to evacuate the town. I had to come here, bring many of our hara with me. There was nowhere else.” Cobweb dismounted from his horse; he handed the reins to Leef. “Have you heard nothing? You must know the ethers are disturbed.”

  “We haven't heard anything about an attack, but yes, we have noticed the state of the ethers.” Lisia came down the steps and embraced Cobweb rather awkwardly. “They say you have brought an army.”

  “Not that. We are refugees.”

  “Why didn't you contact me?”

  Cobweb risked a smile. “Because I wasn't sure you'd feel able to help us. At Tyson's suggestion, I decided to surprise you.”

  “Shock is a better word,” Lisia said dryly. “How many hara, Cobweb?”

  “Quite a lot. We left the harlings and older humans behind in the forest lodges, and as many able hara and humans to protect them as the lodges could accommodate. I have also sent many to the coastal towns, but couldn't risk everyhar going that way. Harling Gardens is safer.”

  “How many, Cobweb?”

  “A couple of thousand.”

  Lisia put a hand over his mouth, then lowered it. “We can't possibly accommodate so many.”

  “I'm aware of that. We have tents and supplies of our own and, except for relying on a few of your facilities, we plan mainly to stay out in the fields, where the army parties used to stay. We've brought some of our herds with us.”

  “Herds?” Lisia glanced with concern beyond Cobweb's shoulder, as if he'd catch a glimpse of these multitudinous beasts trampling on his precious flower gardens.

  “We have lost many souls, Lis. The attack was devastating. I had no choice but to flee. I am in command of the party.”

  “Where's Swift?” Lisia snapped, his concern for Cobweb's son evident in his tone.

  “Safe. He's with the majority of our forces, in Imbrilim. He plans to ride to Fulminir with the Gelaming. Communication has been difficult. Seel is also in Imbrilim. Ithiel is dead.”

  “Fulminir,” Lisia said, voice cold. Apparently he hadn't heard the rest of what Cobweb had. “Why there?”

  “Ponclast has escaped Gebaddon.”

  “What? And he attacked Galhea?”

  “We presume so. After all, he knows who was responsible for his incarceration.”

  “I see. And now, to escape him – the very har on whose command Harling Gardens was established and who used to visit here – you bring a vast portion of your hara and human population here.”

  “Many have gone elsewhere, Lis. I did what I could. I had no choice.”

  Lisia was silent for a moment, clearly wrestling with inner debate. He took a deep breath. “We are old friends, Cobweb. You know I love you, but I can't put my feelings for you and Parasiel before my own hara. I'm sorry. You can't stay here. You can't bring that danger to our door. My life is dedicated to protecting those under my care. Refresh yourself this night, then move on. That's the way it is.”

  Cobweb regarded this har, who he had known for many years. They had once been so similar, yet now a gulf had opened up between them that was wider than time or distance. “I am acting leader of Parasiel,” he said. “Harling Gardens falls in our territory. I'm sorry too, Lis, but I'm afraid I have to insist we stay.”

  Lisia's lips drew into a thin line and his eyes narrowed. “I don't know you,” he growled. “Do what you see fit, as Varrs have always done with us!” With these words, he swivelled round, marched up the steps and closed the great wooden doors behind him with a resounding thud.

  Cobweb glanced over to Leef, who shrugged. “Shall I give the order to make camp, Cobweb?”

  “Yes, the fields are ready for us in any case and the water may already be turned on.” Cobweb glanced back at the closed door. “I'll give Lisia time to cool off then speak to him again. He has no option but to co-operate.”

  “Kind of ironic, isn't it?” Leef said as Cobweb remounted his horse.

  Cobweb drew up the reins. “Nothing is the same,” he said, and urged the animal back toward the entrance to the Gardens.

  The occupants of the Gardens could not maintain a distance between themselves and the new arrivals for long. This was initially because they were hara who were naturally curious: What could have brought such a large group of hara to set up camp just outside the gates? Once a few of the residents had spoken with the field workers, or had come down to the end of the driveway to see for themselves, they had not been able to keep away, and could not keep from asking questions. The new arrivals were refugees! So
me of them appeared wounded or grieving. Several of the facility's students and visitors had come from Galhea themselves and were deeply concerned, desperate for news of their relatives. Before too long, a group of Lisia's own students were helping the Galheans to make camp.

  Lisia himself kept away, and his immediate staff were also noticeable by their absence. Cobweb smiled to imagine that Lisia had cornered them in a room somewhere, forbidding them to be too helpful. Harling Gardens was a world of its own, a place of harmony and peace, its hara somehow innocent and untouched, despite what were for some troubled pasts. Cobweb appreciated only too well why Lisia feared for them. Should Ponclast shift his attention to this place, its occupants could not easily defend themselves. Students were mainly there to be taught specialised aruna techniques, learn the birth arts and study harlingcare. Many of the residents were hostlings rescued from other breeding facilities in Megalithica that had been closed down after the wars. The Gardens was also home to other war casualties: orphans and shattered veterans of the old Varrish campaigns.

  Once the camp fires were burning and the evening meal was under preparation, Cobweb left the camp and returned to the main building, where Lisia lived in spacious quarters on the top floor. Cobweb could picture the former hostling sitting at his bedroom window, staring out over the grounds, brooding and considering ways to expel the evil that had come to his door.

  Cobweb felt exhausted, his temper sour. He did not want to have to justify himself, explain, cajole. He just wanted to rest. Since he and Snake had discovered an unexpected byproduct of aruna, they'd had no time to further their explorations. There was no doubt Snake's body was healing itself. Every day he grew stronger, and sometimes he walked beside his wagon for hours at a time, exercising muscles long left idle. Cobweb was sure that if they could only repeat what they'd done before, the healing would be swifter, but even though they slept together and were intimate, the circumstances just weren't right to take aruna that one step further.

  It was a phenomenon to be studied, and the one har who was most qualified to discuss it with Cobweb was Lisia. The hostlings at the facility had once been trained to be able to conceive pearls at will. They understood the workings of the inner organs far more than most hara, even though that knowledge had been abused. Surely Lisia would be fascinated by what Cobweb had to tell, and perhaps this subject could be the peace offering. Still, before such discussions could take place, Cobweb would have to soothe Lisia's feelings. He could understand his friend's reaction. It was only natural after all the Varrs had once put him through.

  The hallway of the main building was filled with soft light, which emanated from globes upon the floor set amid foliage plants. The air smelled green and fresh, the only sound that of running water from the ornamental waterfalls half-concealed amid the plants. A place of learning and meditation. This was Lisia's doing, Cobweb knew, for the work had all been done since the facility's liberation. Like the flowers outside, the interior of the building was Lisia's shout to the world about how he had the power to change things, after all. There were no bloody chambers in this place, no surgeons slipping on the slick floors, as a production line of young hara delivered and surrendered the jewels of their bodies. But the ghosts were there, because the past would never really go away. If you stood still for long enough and listened, you would hear them weep.

  Cobweb breathed deep and absorbed the ambience of the hall. Lisia would know he was there. The trick was to know the rules of the game. Was he expected to wait here or seek Lisia out? He went to the library on the second floor, because he and Lisia had spent many hours in that room, on long evenings, drinking strong coffee and discussing plans for the future. It had been the director's library then, a hall of unspeakable records, locked up. The locks had been broken, the doors had hung loose: one night, one of them had fallen to the floor with a crash. In the darkness where they'd sat, Cobweb had been spooked by the long fingers of light coming in from the hall through the gaping doorway. Lisia had stared out of the window, redesigning his life. He had seen what could be and had made it so.

  It seemed a century ago, when Ashmael Aldebaran's Gelaming elite had found this place. It had been part of Parasiel's territory, so Cobweb had become instrumental in its restoration. He had been the nurturer then, the safe one, trusted when everyhar looked askance at Gelaming uniforms. Everything had been so new and raw: Terzian recently dead, Seel lately installed in Forever, Swift becoming an adult too quickly, learning how to frown and worry. Cobweb had thrown himself into helping Lisia, because it had made the transition easier. In lonely hours, he'd remembered his first love for Terzian, the way his heart had clenched like a desperate fist whenever he'd looked upon the har who'd claimed him as his own. Somewhere, in a mouldering file, there might have been information about the sons Terzian had sired in this place, on visits Cobweb had never known about. He'd never searched, didn't want to know. There seemed no point. The harlings were probably long dead.

  For just a moment, as he walked between the looming dark shelves, Cobweb smelled familiar perfumes of the time when Harling Gardens first began to change: the scent of turned earth, of sappy wood, the musty aroma of cracked brick. A time of building, without salt to scour the ground. It was a beautiful spot. Made sense not to raze it.

  Lisia came in soft-footed behind him. “So,” he said.

  Cobweb turned, saw Lisia as a silhouette against the light from the hall, a slight and feminine creature. The doors were of polished oak, repaired now and always open, pinned to the walls with brass hooks. Lisia did not like locked doors. “Well, we need to talk,” Cobweb said.

  Lisia walked past him and sat down on a window seat that was upholstered in green velvet. It had once been bare wood, with splinters. “Why here?”

  “It's safe.”

  “Is it? Will it remain that way?”

  “I think so, yes.” Cobweb sat down beside Lisia, his feet firmly against the floor.

  Lisia was curled up, feet on the cushions, his chin on his knees. “I thought it was all over.” He sighed. “Am I so wrong?”

  “We have to rely on the Gelaming. We have to believe the future of Wraeththu is not Ponclast, and was never meant to be. We have to believe in the greater good.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  Near the end of Cobweb's narrative, a har came into the room, carrying a tray of hot food and drink. Cobweb was grateful. His throat was sore from talking, his stomach growled. The har placed his burden on the window seat, between Lisia and Cobweb, then departed.

  “So much has happened,” Lisia said, pouring coffee from a slender pot into tall cups. “It's another world to me. I'm so sorry about Azriel and Aleeme.” He handed a drink to Cobweb.

  “I trust Cal,” Cobweb said. “If anyhar can release them, he can. He vanquished Thiede, after all.”

  “Yes,” Lisia said. He paused. “I've missed you, Cobweb. We were close once. What happened to that? It seemed for a while, as if we would...”

  “Life intervened,” Cobweb interrupted. He could not mention how eventually Harling Gardens and all who lived there only reminded him of sad memories. He'd kept away and discouraged contact, living in the moment. He could not forget his first impressions of this place, what he'd seen and heard. At the time, for the first few days, he'd walked around with the taste of blood continually in the back of his throat. He'd made himself inspect the birthing rooms; sepia stains between the floor tiles, a metal drain in the middle of them. His heart had almost broken to hear Lisia's history. He'd wanted to restore Lisia's belief in Wraeththu, in aruna, in life. They had become close, yes, but only for a time.

  “It grieves me to see you lonely,” Lisia said, and reached out to touch Cobweb's shoulder. Old memories.

  “I'm not,” Cobweb said, too sharply. He took a breath. “There is something else I'd like to tell you about.”

  Lisia stared at him, eyes round.

  “It's about Snake,” Cobweb said. He paused. He could see from Lisia's expression that
Lisia had always hoped Cobweb would return here one day. He had fantasised about it, but those fantasies had never included a har like Snake.

  “You are chesna with him?” Lisia asked, in a clipped tone.

  “It seems to be going that way,” Cobweb said. “We have discovered something.”

  “Then tell me.”

  The story was painful to Lisia, Cobweb could tell. For that reason, Cobweb left out some of the details, made it sound like an accident, casual aruna that had somehow slipped into being something else.

  “It makes sense,” Lisia said, once the story was out.