Burying the Shadow (47 page)

After a few
moments, I let him go and sat up. He lay there, staring up at me,
his hair spread out around his head. I looked at his chest. The
teeth-marks were livid, but I knew I had not broken the skin.
Neither had I sucked the flesh at all. Why then was the skin within
the indentations bruised and seeping blood?

‘You can still
lie to me if you wish,’ I said, staring him straight in the eye,
‘but never consider me a fool!’

Keea’s eyes
flickered away from mine; such a brief hesitation, but I’d been
waiting for it. ‘I know what I saw, Keea,’ I said firmly. ‘And, do
you know, I don’t think it was a dream. If it
was
a
hallucination, then it was designed specifically for me and
deliberately put into my mind.’

Keea
swallowed, and pulled his shirt back over his shoulders. Slowly, he
sat up, rubbing his chest through the cloth.

‘You
are
part of all this, aren’t you?’ I said. ‘So why the
games?’

Keea opened
and shut his mouth once, shook his head. I realised, with
satisfaction, that I had both frightened him and destroyed his
composure.

‘The Host have
contacted me,’ I said. ‘Now, I have only to interpret the message.’
I leaned over and grabbed Keea’s arm. He made a sound of distress
and flinched away, his hair falling over his face. I dug my fingers
cruelly into his flesh. ‘Why don’t you tell me what the message
means, Keea?’ I shook him roughly. ‘Tell me now or, by Helat, I’ll
beat it out of you!’

‘I am not
involved in the way you think!’ he answered frantically and tried
to pull away from me.

I lessened my grip on
his arm. ‘Well, in that case, perhaps you can explain just
how
you are involved.’

‘You’re
hurting me!’ he said.

I laughed.
‘Boy, believe me, you don’t know the meaning of the word pain.
Soulscapers are healers and we can do wonderful healing things to
all parts of the human body. Strangely enough, some of the
techniques employed can be used most effectively to produce quite a
different result! Now, why not be just a little co-operative,
hmmm?’

‘I can’t
believe you’re treating me like this,’ he said, gazing up at me
winsomely through a veil of hair. I reached out and brushed it
back, cupping his chin in my hand. His cheeks were wet with tears
and I felt a moment’s remorse.

‘I’m sorry,
Keea, but you can hardly blame me. You have deliberately misled me.
For all I know, that might have put me in a very dangerous
position.’

He closed his
eyes and nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said, and then looked at me
imploringly. ‘We will soon be in Sacramante. Then, I might be in a
position to confide in you more readily.’

‘Why there?
Why not here?’ I demanded. ‘What’s the difference?’

‘You’ve seen
what can happen here,’ he said. ‘There are some things it would be
dangerous for you to carry in your head at this time. Believe me,
in my reticence, I am thinking only of your welfare!’

‘I can look
after myself! How dare you patronise me!’

‘I’m not!’ he
cried, and then put his fingers over his eyes, pressing hard into
the sockets. ‘Look, it really
was
an illusion, what you saw
last night, but let’s just say I might have experienced the same
one.’

‘Then you
should have told me that straight away! Who was responsible?’

‘The Host,’ he
said, miserably, ‘the Host.’

‘What?’ I
actually had to laugh. ‘And you were the one mocking me for
believing in them!’

‘I had my
reasons,’ he said stiffly, apparently having recouped some of his
dignity. ‘Please Rayo, don’t interrogate me now. I promise I’ll be
able to tell you everything soon.’

He stood up
and rubbed his arms, looking around him. As yet, there was no sign
of any natives, illusory or otherwise. ‘I think you should eat your
food, he said. ‘Let’s get moving as soon as possible. This place
unnerves me.’

‘Why?’ I
asked, popping some bread into my mouth. I wanted to hear his
reason, perhaps hoping he’d speak the truth.

For a second,
he glanced at me; such a naked glance. It was a direct line of
communication between us. I saw great pain within it. He touched
his throat, the upper part of his chest near the heart. ‘It makes
me ache,’ he said.

Gimel

‘
Easier than air
with air, if spirits embrace, total they mix, union of pure with
pure desiring; not restrained conveyance need as flesh to mix with
flesh, or soul to soul.’

Paradise Lost,
Book VIII

Sammael’s motley
collection of Strangeling vagabonds knew he was leaving them; they
were waiting outside his room when we emerged. There were perhaps a
dozen of them; old and young, male and female; a hag, a boy, a
young man wearing a red scarf, a group of girls clutching each
other, a pair of mature men with lined faces, a few ancients
toothlessly chewing in apprehension. Sammael held out his hands to
them wordlessly. I realised he loved them very much, his little
nation. One of the girls began to cry, and the others took up a
soft crooning. They were not quite like any other humans I had met;
perhaps touched with his difference, contaminated by the
strangeness of his eternal solitude. Lilian was not as cowed by the
occasion as her peers. She bustled through the small gathering and
pointed at me. ‘You cannot go with her!’

‘Don’t
misinterpret events, my dear,’ he said to her, gently. ‘
She
is coming with
me
.’ He drew them all to him, somehow
managing to encompass everyone within his embrace. ‘I am not
leaving you,’ he said. ‘But I have to go outside. My love and my
thoughts will always be with you. Without you, I would have simply
faded into a dusty memory; for this, I cannot express my gratitude
enough. But times change; I have held onto stagnation for too long.
Do not resent this eloim lady. Although she has precipitated the
change, it is an essential thing.’ He backed away. ‘This tower is
yours, for as long as you wish to remain here.’

Tears had
gathered in my eyes. I wondered then if I was doing the right
thing, forcing him back into harsh reality. I had a feeling he
would never return here, and that I, in my impetuosity, would be
responsible for that.

When we came
out of the Tower of Bale into the gusty morning, Sandalphon didn’t
know whether to prostrate himself or flee back to the atelier
courts ahead of us. He was, as he had promised, still sitting on
the tower steps. He must have been virtually frozen into position,
for the wind had a cruel, sharp edge. I will remember forever the
expression on his face when he saw who I had with me. I had emerged
from the doorway first, while Sammael hung back, perhaps a little
nervous of the open space beyond. His people had followed us down
the stairs, and I could see their wild faces looking out, behind
him. Sandalphon must have turned immediately he heard the door
open. His first expression was one of relief, then he looked beyond
me, and his face froze, still harbouring an essence of relief, but
comical because it was mixed with utter incredulity.

‘Ghosts,
beloved,’ Sammael said, stepping out into the daylight. ‘Yes, your
eyes do not deceive you. It has been a long time.’ He bent to touch
Sandalphon’s face, as if he too wondered whether he was seeing a
ghost.

Sandalphon
scrambled to his feet. ‘I expected many results from Gimel’s
action,’ he said, ‘but this was not one of them.’ He looked at me,
as if to ask me if I was aware what I had done, but simply said,
‘How did you persuade him?’

‘I really
don’t know,’ I answered. ‘I really don’t.’

‘Well, how do
I look?’ Sammael said. ‘Doesn’t polite society demand you ask me
how I feel? Then, you should say I look marvellous...’

Sandalphon
looked at me, confused. I shrugged.

‘I remember
when he was born,’ Sammael said to me, taking a lock of
Sandalphon’s hair in his fingers. ‘Not first generation, of course,
but not long afterwards.’ He might have been speaking of a
favourite pet.

‘You are out
in the real world now,’ I reminded him, gently pulling his fingers
away from Sandalphon’s hair. ‘Come back to my house with me.’

I tucked a
hand beneath one of his elbows; he was shivering badly. I nodded
sharply at Sandalphon, who took Sammael’s other arm. Sammael
frowned to himself. ‘A moment, a moment,’ he said, swaying.

‘It is not
that far,’ I said. ‘You will feel better indoors.’

Sammael
nodded, gripped our hands for comfort and, leaving the tower door
open behind us, Sammael’s people watching us go, we set off down
the hill.

Sandalphon did not
speak as we traipsed Sammael through the atelier streets. As I had
thought, open space discomforted our Lord of Light greatly. He was
like an invalid on our arms; weak and trembling, his feet unsure.
His expression was one of bewilderment. How long had it been since
he had walked these streets, if they’d even been here at all last
time he’d been outside? I kept up a soothing narration, telling him
the names of the buildings we passed, and which throngs they
belonged to. Sandalphon simply blinked into the wind, as if he
didn’t want to think about our companion’s identity. However, by
the time we reached my house, Sandalphon had recovered his voice.
He stood in the tiled hall and mentioned the word,
‘Parzupheim.’

I realised I
must have come to share Avirzah’e’s view of these venerable beings,
because an arrow of irritation went right through me. ‘No,
Sandalphon! This is
our
business!’

‘Don’t shout,
Lady Gimel,’ Sammael said. He had sat down in a huge, uncomfortable
ornamental throne, carved from black wood. The only things that sat
in it normally were the coats and cloaks Beth and I discarded,
before Tamaris or Ramiz came to tidy them away. ‘A long time ago, I
myself invested the Parzupheim with temporal power. Soon, I shall
speak to them, but...’ He smiled at Sandalphon. ‘At least give me a
short time to orientate myself.’

‘What are you
going to do?’ Sandalphon asked weakly.

‘Listen to
Gimel Metatronim,’ Sammael replied. ‘And nose around her lovely
house. I
do
like these drapes, Lady Gimel...’ He stood up
slowly, as if it caused him pain, and limped to the door curtains,
fingered them. Then he turned his attention to the table by the
door and looked through the pile of unopened mail lying there. I
glanced at Sandalphon and shrugged. Sammael was like an exotic and
unpredictable wild animal. Now I had got him home, I wasn’t sure
what to do with him. He seemed too big somehow for the house to
contain him comfortably.

‘Will you show
me around?’ he asked.

I nodded.
‘Certainly. Come upstairs with me to my salon.’ He held out his
arm, which I took hold of. Sandalphon reluctantly came to support
his other side. ‘Would you like to refresh yourself?’ I asked. His
face looked horribly blue around the eyes and lips. I thought that
sustenance would be in order as soon as possible.

‘I would like
some wine,’ Sammael said.

‘Wine it is,
then.’

We mounted the
stairs and I called out for Tamaris.

Sandalphon
seemed unsure whether he should leave Sammael alone with me, or
remain as a chaperone. He hovered uncomfortably in the salon as
Sammael prowled the edge of the room, examining a couple of Beth’s
paintings that hung on the wall. Tamaris had informed me that Beth
had not yet returned home; I was not surprised, although I wished
he was there. I wanted to flaunt this victory in his face.

‘My brother
did those,’ I said. ‘That one is a self-portrait.’ Tamaris was
standing in the doorway, looking at Sammael suspiciously. ‘The day
is chill,’ I said to her. ‘Will you mull the wine for us?’

She nodded and
backed from the room, closing the doors in front of her.

‘You like my
brother’s paintings?’ I asked.

Sammael sat
down on one of the sofas. ‘He has an eye for beauty.’

‘Indeed.’

‘I hope I will
meet him.’

‘I expect you
will sometime....’

It was not
easy to converse. We maintained stilted exchanges until Tamaris
returned with the wine. Sammael sniffed appreciatively at the spicy
aroma steaming from the clay goblets.

‘So much to
stimulate the senses,’ he said. I realised that, as well as feeling
dizzy and disorientated, he was also very unsure of himself.
Although he had felt secure enough in his tower to communicate with
me there, he had really forgotten the art of conversation, and his
cool, urbane manner was nothing but reflexive self-defence.

‘I cannot
believe you are here,’ Sandalphon said, lamely.

‘Neither can
I,’ Sammael said. ‘It is a dreamlike circumstance all round. I feel
old and ill.’

‘I think you
should sup,’ I said.

He grimaced.
‘Do I have to?’

Tamaris had
stationed herself on a stool near the door. She did not know who
Sammael was, but was intuitive enough to realise he was someone
very important, and had remained in the room to observe
proceedings, hoping I wouldn’t send her out. ‘Tamaris, would you
mind providing Lord Sammael with a cup of ichor. He is not feeling
too well, and I am sure your invigorating essence will restore
him!’

She nodded and
rose from her seat. Sammael offered her his empty goblet, and she
bit her wrist, turning her back to us as she filled the cup with
blood. Sammael took the cup from her and swallowed its contents in
one draught. He pulled a disagreeable face, as if he’d taken a swig
of noxious medicine. Tamaris looked surprised, and rather
offended.

‘Rinse the cup
and give Lord Sammael another measure of wine,’ I said. She left
the room.

‘You have
upset her,’ I said. ‘She is a dear and loyal dependant of mine, and
I object to her being insulted. Please thank her when she
returns.’