Burying the Shadow (37 page)

Beth did not
deny it, but was chivalrous to acknowledge my attempt at
reconciliation. ‘Tonight, there is a private distraction for the
eloim at the Castile,’ he said. ‘May we go together?’

I nodded. We
put our arms around each other briefly and Beth kissed my face.
‘Will you ever smile at me with love again?’ he asked.

The gathering
at the Castile was remarkably well attended, but many of the faces
I had expected to see there were absent. While I had been away from
the city, two Metatronim had taken forced retreat. It was said that
the trouble with Mervantes had sparked a host of terrors in eloim
hearts, and some were not sturdy enough to withstand the
conflagration. Since supping, I myself felt greatly invigorated,
but still wished my father was present, to advise me over more
recent and personal concerns.

Lady Tatriel
was in evidence, surrounded by the usual group of Metatronims. Beth
and I spent a few minutes in their company, in the outer hall of
the Castile. Tatriel had adopted a certain authoritative air during
Metatron’s absence, which I found rather irritating; she clearly
fancied herself as a Metatronim matriarch. It was certainly time
our mother came home from her wanderings; much more delay and she
might find her belongings out on the street! Scanning the faces of
eloim entering the hall, I was alert for an excuse to abandon
Tatriel’s abrasive company.

Fortunately, Yara
Sarim arrived, and I was able to free myself from Tatriel’s circle,
under the cover of inquiring after Hadith. A sizable portion of the
Sarim throng had turned out for the evening, escorted by their
patriarch, Sandalphon. I could not see Hadith among them. I was
worried she might have succumbed in some way, but Yara reassured me
instantly; Hadith was one of the evening’s performers and was
preparing herself elsewhere in the building. She had, apparently,
recovered her composure entirely after the unfortunate incident
with Mervantes. Still, it was no secret that Hadith could not, for
the time being, perform for the public; feelings concerning her
continued to run high among some of the unsupped. Events had
progressed while I’d been away. Yara said that, to a degree, things
had calmed down, but it was an uneasy calmness.

‘The
Judificator might be forced to release Zalero Mervantes and the
woman,’ Yara told me. The Sarim naturally kept a close eye on what
transpired in that direction.

‘That is only
to be expected, I suppose,’ I replied in a commiserating tone.
‘They were only being held in confinement on the flimsiest of
pretexts. I hope they won’t be moved to further indelicacies upon
their release.’

Yara pulled a
face. ‘Seeing the effect their crude mouthings had upon my dear
sister, I must admit I am tempted to take matters into my own
hands! The insufferable arrogance of that man!’

I laid a
restraining hand on her arm. ‘His ichor, undoubtedly, would be
sour. You must trust that Izobella will deal with situation.’

Yara nodded,
sighing.

‘So,’ I said,
brightening and linking my arm through hers. ‘Tell me what is in
store for us tonight! We will be going to the Aurelium Chamber? The
Castile looks so beautiful! The torches are like jewels!’

As I walked with my
friend into the Aurelium, she told me of the entertainment, which
had been arranged for our pleasure. I had left Beth in the company
of Metatronims, but now he had disappeared. Horribly anxious, I
felt for him with my nerve-ends; it had been senseless of me to let
him drift away. Members of the Tartaruchi throng, if not Avirzah’e
himself, would be present at this gathering.

As an almost
hysterical reaction to adversity, the eloim had outdone themselves
in their finery that evening. Walking into the Aurelium was like
immersing myself in a coruscating hoard of remarkable treasures.
Shimmering, sultry velvets hugged bodies that were encrusted with
jewels and precious metals; feathers and beads were wound into
fabulously coiffured hair, and stitched across bodices. I felt
somehow warmed by this brave effort. Some eloim had been paired for
centuries, and had always sought retreat at the same time as their
lovers; I noticed that at least two of these people were there
without their partners that night; their grief-ridden attempt at
conviviality showed plainly.

Yara, smaller
and slighter than her sister Hadith, had sheathed her impossibly
slim body in a soft gown of darkest blue. Her silvery white hair
was dressed with ropes of pearls, and she looked utterly
enchanting. In black and gold, I felt rather morbid and looming
beside her. She tapped my arm with her fan and whispered, ‘Oh look,
Gimel, the Tartaruchis are here.’

I had not
expected otherwise, but my flesh still condensed in chill. I
scanned the group and saw Avirzah’e’s arrogant beauty flaunting
itself beneath a lamp of ruby glass, but mercifully, there was no
sign of Beth among them.

‘Avirzah’e is
in love. Did you know?’ Yara said, with a small laugh, which
indicated she didn’t really believe such an impossible thing.

Her words cast a stone
into the pool of my soul; the ripples they caused were fierce and
shallow, but the knowledge itself sank deep into my spirit and
lodged there in the dark, deep currents; immutable. ‘No,’ I said,
lightly. ‘I must admit this is news to me. And who is the lucky
recipient of the Tartaruch emotion?’

‘Well, nobody
knows.’ Yara said, with relish. ‘Two nights ago, Avirzah’e attended
a soiree at the Sarim court. He was being
most
theatrical,
and read out a remarkably sentimental poem. Between you and I, dear
Gimel, the effort the Mervantes morsel wrote to my sister was more
profound! Anyway, my cousin Haniel later remarked to Avirzah’e that
he looked distracted. She was flirting, of course! Avirzah’e merely
smirked and told her, if he
was
distracted, it was because
he was in love. Personally, I think he was just bored! Haniel
questioned him immediately, but the Tartaruch was vague. “Some
loves,” he said, “are for experiencing not gossiping about.” He
made it sound so sinister, but then, of course
he
would! The
rumour got around, after that. There is naturally great interest in
this unprecedented phenomenon!’

I felt as if
Avirzah’e had spoken those words solely to me. I could see his
face, his laughing eyes! My instinctual reaction was to go and
cause a scene among the Tartaruchis immediately; a course of action
which would be both unproductive and regretted keenly at a later,
calmer hour. I tried to tell myself I was being too subjective;
there was every possibility the Tartaruch had been referring to
some other dalliance (in truth, he was supposed to indulge in many
at a time), but I dreaded he had been speaking of Beth. Yara’s
innocent remark concerning the sinister tone of Avirzah’e’s
declaration conjured other, darker ideas.

These ideas
were to do with the concept of love itself. To humanity this
simple, familiar word kindles images of sexual desire, family
security, harmony among friends. These are all images shared by
eloimkind, expressions of emotion that we have adopted from
humanity, and which provide a satisfying yet ultimately trivial
reward. There is also another expression of love, peculiar to our
kind. It is a remnant of ancient times and, because in the distant
past eloim had attempted to minimise the differences between
humanity and themselves, has been discouraged by eloim elders. The
concept had been bound up in chains of taboo and fear. According to
our legends - and it must be remembered that some legends still
resided as fact in the memories of our oldest kin - it was this
love that had caused our fall, our desolation, while at the same
time being the very thing that elevated us. A paradox. An unwritten
law forbids us to speak of it, and even the thought conjures dark
names, dark times. But I must say this; the expression of love
among eloim can transcend sexuality and flesh; it can transcend
reality itself. Eloim can, when impelled by intensity of feeling,
combine their separate corporeal forms into one entity, which
inspires exceptional sensations, both physical and emotional,
unimagined by any human creature. Not having experienced it myself,
I was ignorant of how this might actually feel, but I was assured
that on this world at least, it was an uncontrollable and dangerous
practice. Physical conjunction of this nature was one of the things
my people had surrendered because they wanted to live on Earth.
Eloim never indulged in it now. Never. For this reason, I had a
feeling it would be a highly attractive concept to Avirzah’e
Tartaruchi. I was sure, as if he’d told me himself, it was this
forbidden thing he had referred to in the House of Sarim.

Comfortable
chairs had been arranged in the Aurelium in front of a small stage.
I sat down among Yara’s relatives, mouthing pleasantries, while
nervously scanning the crowd for Beth. Eventually, I spotted his
bright head nearby, and stood up rather abruptly to call him. Sarim
looked at me quizzically as I struggled with my skirts. I was
unconcerned for my dignity; not for one minute did I intend to let
Beth leave my side again. He waved and smiled when he saw me and
sauntered over, bringing me a crystal tumbler of fortified fruit
cordial, which was both salt and sweet to the taste.

‘Sit down,’ I
told him. He did so, meekly. My heart was fluttering madly as if I
was in the presence of a new lover, of whom I was uncertain. Later,
Beth and I would have to reforge our intimacy; we had been
strangers for too long in that respect. Perhaps my neglect had been
the cause of his transgression with the Tartaruch. Had I been too
wrapped up in my own thoughts and the problems of others recently?
Had I unwittingly estranged my brother through lack of attention? I
put my hand over his own. ‘Do you feel alright?’ I asked him, in a
low voice.

I could tell
he considered making a cutting remark and then thought better of
it. ‘You mustn’t worry,’ he said.

Usually, when
eloim perform for their own kind, they stage pieces of a complex or
ambitious nature. But tonight, the entertainment was whimsical and
unchallenging; a balm to frayed nerves. Hadith sang amusing little
songs, and acted out a small play with a few friends; a silly
romance, full of double meanings and misunderstandings. Though it
was supposed to be humorous, I could not help but notice parallels
in the play with events in my own life. Perhaps I was
over-dramatising the situation. Avirzah’e and Beth had got drunk
one night and, in high spirits, had engaged in a little amusement
of their own. Their act of mutual supping had been stupid and
perhaps impetuous but, if everyone concerned remained objective, it
could be forgotten. The symbolism of what they had done meant
nothing in this world, this life, unless we ourselves empowered it
with meaning. Later, I would tell Beth that we should both pretend
it had never happened. I knew I had the power to draw him back to
me and, in view of Avirzah’e’s careless words to Haniel Sarim, it
was perhaps vital that I did so.

After the
entertainment drew to a close, and the performers had taken their
bows, everyone left their seats and began to mingle once more for
conversation. The Sangariah and his staff moved among the crowds,
speaking briefly with everyone. I wondered whether this was the
true reason for the gathering; a discreet inspection of eloim
morale.

Hadith swept
gloriously through the crowd to embrace me and thank me again for
my compassion during the Mervantes crisis. I was gratified to see
how well she looked. Sandalphon, her father, noticed us together
and came to talk to us. He kissed Hadith’s brow and smiled at me,
murmuring further grateful words. I felt rather embarrassed; there
was no need to thank me. I had only done what anyone would have
done, in my position. Sandalphon is such a gentle soul; I had often
envied Hadith having him as a father. Though his power is as
formidable as Metatron’s, he has a tempering streak of tender
serenity. He and my father had connections that went back a long
way, and he was instrumental in much of Metatron’s business even
now; a quiet yet vigilant presence. Before leaving Sacramante, my
father had urged me that, if I needed help in any way while he was
absent, I should approach Sandalphon for assistance.

While I talked
socially with the Sarim, Beth hovered restlessly at my shoulder; I
could sense he was not completely at ease. As soon as propriety
would allow, I intended to suggest we take our leave of the
gathering and return home. I was anxious to talk with Beth, to
drive the phantoms from our relationship. Then, we could talk about
all I had seen and done in Khalt. We would lie in bed together and
make further plans. Sandalphon, however, showed no sign of wanting
to end our conversation and, because of his rank, I could not
excuse myself until he was ready. People were talking excitedly all
around us; it was difficult to imagine the eloim were suffering any
difficulties at all. Sandalphon was enthusing about a new opera he
was working on. He said he needed Metatron’s advice and looked at
me keenly. I took it to mean that in the absence of my father, I
would do equally well as an advisor.

‘Perhaps I
could call on you soon,’ I said, far from eager to enmesh myself in
operatic details at that moment.

Sandalphon
nodded thoughtfully, sucking his lower lip. It is difficult to
imagine his true age; sometimes he appears to be no more than a
boy. ‘I would appreciate that - as soon as you can,’ he said.

‘I will look
forward to seeing your manuscript.’ I smiled at Hadith who had been
listening to our conversation, adding the occasional affectionate
observation of her own. But she did not smile back. Her eyes
focussed somewhere behind my shoulder, her expression strangely
bleak; it was enough to make me turn round.