Burying the Shadow (71 page)

In the forest,
there are veils between the trees. Some of them are like dew-beaded
spiders’ webs, some like spun silk of fabulous colours, but others
are torn and stained. This is a soulscape and I am a soulscaper.
The Fear has many forms. Sometimes, it will come blindly to flap
around your head. Sometimes, it is a wave of darkness, or a
shambling monster, or corrosive fog. Sometimes, it is less
threatening than that.

I conjure my
elemental weapons. Are these a sword, a fierce and cleansing wave,
or a spiritual fire? No, it is this: a wooden tub of warm water, a
bar of soap, a pack of needles and a basket of cotton reels. I walk
to the trees and take down the veils, one by one. Some can be
folded neatly, while others have to be washed and repaired by
careful sewing. It takes me a long time, perhaps years, but the
work is hardly strenuous. I work steadily, without sleep or food,
never tiring, never hungry. Sometimes, there are vague, shimmering
shapes among the trees, which sing to me in lovely voices. Music is
my sustenance. There are so many veils! I had no idea the eloim
were so prolific on earth.

Eventually, I
have an enormous yet tidy stack of folded veils, and the forest is
somehow brighter, sunlight coming down through the trees. I stand
upon a narrow, twisting path, which is ribbed by ancient roots and
dotted with tiny, pale flowers. Even though the pathway disappears
from sight between the trees, I can see a doorway at the end of it,
a doorway in the air. I recognise it immediately, for it has the
marks of my own people upon it. It is the portal to the soulscape
of humanity.

I look at the
towering bale of silk and direct a simple command. The soulscape is
malleable. It is no problem for me to change the shape of these
veils so that I can carry them all in my arms.

I walk down
the path, in the filtered sunlight, and come to the door at the end
of it. I put down the veils and open it. Then, I pick them up again
and step through the portal. Beyond it, a landscape stretches out
to a limitless horizon. I see cities, forests, oceans, mountains.
The veils fly out of my arms, high on the wind like flags, or
kites, or butterflies. I watch them go. They fold and twist upon
the air, forming into the shapes of tumbling bodies that fall to
the ground. These forms looked dazed. They pat insubstantial faces
with misty hands, but even as I observe, they are solidifying.
Soulscape creatures emerge from hiding to examine what has come
among them. There are men, women, children, animals, monsters,
sylphs, dragons, gods, goddesses, heroes and tricksters, and many
more than that. Some make angry noises to warn they will not let
strangers take liberties in their territory, while others are
simply curious, stretching forward to sniff and touch. I smile. It
is a beginning, at least. There are new wonders in the soulscape of
my people now.

Without
looking round, I knew that Samikha’il was standing behind me. For
some reason, I did not think I should look at him, although I was
grateful for the pressure of his hand upon my shoulder. I realised
that the rags of my clothes, my skin, were still stained with
Mikha’il’s blood. ‘Your work is done,’ Samikha’il said.

I sighed. ‘It
would seem so. What now?’ I had not imagined that death would have
to be planned, like life.

Samikha’il
squeezed me gently with his fingers. ‘That is up to you. Elenoen is
indebted to you, Rayo, myself especially. And I dislike being in
debt. Therefore I have to offer you a choice.’

‘Choice?
Another one?’ I had had enough of decision-making. Now that my work
was done, I felt very tired. All I wanted to do was lie down upon
the grass of the soulscape and sleep. ‘I am Rayojini,’ I said
wearily. ‘Daughter of Ushas, daughter of a skilled line, and I have
already made my choice. Remember?’

Samikha’il
rested his cheek against my hair, so that his voice whispered close
to my ear. ‘A choice that was made unselfishly, and of your own
free will. And that is why the eloim will repay you. The choice is
simply this: you can return with me to Elenoen and become eloim
yourself or, if you wish, you may return to Earth to finish your
own cycle there. You surrendered your most precious possession -
life - in order to assist me. I want to reward you. Rayojini,
please don’t deny me that. Make your choice!’

I thought
about it in silence, and he did not push me for an answer
immediately. My thinking was augmented by the blissful attention he
paid to my neck and shoulders, nipping kisses that did not draw
blood. He was excited, I think, by the dried blood of Mikha’il’s
that had gummed up my hair and coated my flesh and clothes. He
licked a small patch of my skin clean, tasting himself there. It
suggested that should I elect to stay with him, more intimate
pleasures might be shared. Who could resist such an offer? Then, I
thought of Earth, of my people and my work. I thought of striding
across the plains of Khalt in the autumn sunshine, the colourful,
riotous
zukos
of Sacramante, and the high dreys of Taparak,
my home. I thought of Gimel Metatronim, whom I was yet to meet in
person. I would have so much to tell her now, and surely the eloim
would need the help of an accomplished soulscaper to come to terms
with their new position in the world?

Once, Mikha’il
had left me a Khaltish ka, on a
taverna
table in Sacramante.
It had paid for the passage of the dead, and more. It paid,
apparently, for their return to life.

‘Send me
home,’ I said.

Gimel

This is the dawn of a
new age. We felt the tug, the pull of it, as we travelled east to
the Strangeling. We knew, in our hearts that somehow, somewhere,
Sammael had succeeded. We knew this because suddenly we were filled
with hope and happiness for no reason at all. ‘The sickness is
past!’ I said, ‘The sickness is past!’ Nobody disputed my words;
Beth and Avirzah’e felt it too.

‘And so is our
disguise in this world,’ Beth said.

I took his hands. ‘We
must not be afraid. At least we have a chance now. It is up to us,
all eloim, to make our own future. And we still have human friends
to help us.’

‘It will not
be easy, Gimel,’ Avirzah’e said. ‘Some eloim might resist change,
and many humans will be hostile to us.’

‘I know that,
but I don’t care. The change will be painful, but it is necessary.
At least we are together.’

‘You then,’
Beth said, grinning, ‘can be the one to break the news to
Metatron.’

We found
Rayojini sitting on the steps of a ruined building in Ykhey, close
to where Sammael, Metatron and I had visited the ancients. A group
of humans, native to the Strangeling, appeared from nowhere when we
entered the city, and took hold of our horses’ harness. Ramiz,
driving the carriage, tried to scare them off with a whip, but I
leaned out of the window and told him to leave them alone. They led
us to the soulscaper, telling us they had found her wandering
around the plaza, just after an explosion of light had shattered
the great palace there. All her clothes had been tattered, but
through the rags, they could see that her skin was glowing, so they
concluded she was one of us. Since then, they had been caring for
her, thinking her some kind of unusually dark-coloured eloim
seeress. She had been regularly fed, they assured us, although the
sustenance they had given her had made her sick at first, and she’d
been quite violent with them when they’d offered her the sup.
Consequently, they had filled cups for her and spiced the ichor
with herbs, which she had reluctantly accepted. They had cleaned
her skin, which had been strangely covered in blood, although she
had no wounds, and dressed her in clothes of their own. They had
expected someone to turn up and claim her.

I jumped out
of the carriage and saw the ragged figure sitting on the steps.
Behind her, the palace was utterly destroyed, all its beautiful
carvings pulverised, although Rayojini was resting her feet on a
gilded stone lotus flower, perhaps the only surviving relic. I was
overjoyed to find her there, never believing for one moment during
the journey east that she would be located so easily, if at all.
She looked dishevelled and dazed, and rather incongruous in an
elaborate scarlet gown of stained satin, her long braids loose
around her body. She was wearing woollen fingerless mittens, and a
large battered hat with a wide brim. Her feet were bare. Her skin
was exactly the same colour as some beautiful purple-black beads I
have. She looked, even in her state of disarray, good enough to
eat. I wanted to hug her immediately, but realised I should be
cautious. How much had she learned about Beth and I? Did she resent
us?

‘Rayojini?’ I
said, walking up the steps towards her. She was staring at her feet
and did not look up as I approached. Beth and Avirzah’e lingered
behind me, knowing this moment mine alone. ‘Rayojini, are you
alright?’

She looked up
then, with dark, unfocussed eyes. I was afraid she did not know
me.

‘I am Gimel
Metatronim,’ I said.

She blinked.
‘They’ve gone.’

I sat down
beside her on the steps and took one of her cold mittened hands in
my own. She smelled very strange, as if she was wearing a perfume
of blood, frankincense and myrrh. ‘Sammael?’ I asked her. ‘Did he
reach you in time?’

She smiled and
chuckled a little. ‘Oh yes. Yes. He killed me.’

She must be
hallucinating. I put an arm around her shoulders. It felt so
familiar to do that, yet it was the first time we had ever touched.
‘Rayojini, my brother is here, and Avirzah’e Tartaruchi, who you
met before, remember? We have a carriage. Come back to Sacramante
with us. Tell us what happened, and we can perhaps explain a few
things to you.’

She looked at
me with fierce eyes. ‘I’m not dead!’

I squeezed her
shoulders. ‘Of course not!’ Poor Rayo: what had she gone through? I
wanted to smother her with attention and comforts immediately.

‘They’ve gone
from the catacombs,’ she said. ‘I saw them come up with the dawn
today, like a wind of light. They’ve gone now. They’ve gone to
Samikha’il.’

‘Samikha’il?’

‘Yes. Sammael
and Mikha’il. They are brothers and they are one. I can’t explain,
but I think they are something called Eloat now.

For a moment,
I had to sit in silence beside her; both of us were now dazed
women. So Sammael and Mikha’il had confronted each other again, and
now Sammael was gone. I felt a pang of anger and jealousy that the
traitor Mikha’il could take him from us so easily, but then, I
should have realised what would happen.

‘Samikha’il
did kill me,’ Rayojini said, in a low voice, glancing at me
sidelong. ‘I went to Elenoen, where the eloim came from.’

‘How?’ I
asked, in a breathless whisper.

She shrugged.
‘I can’t explain at the moment. I feel too peculiar.’

‘Oh Rayojini,’
I said, squeezing her shoulder, ‘I don’t know how you got back
here, but I’m glad you did!’

‘These awful
people have been giving me blood to drink,’ she said. ‘They think
I’m eloim and won’t believe me when I say I’m not. It tasted
terrible. It was disgusting. I’m really hungry.’

‘Well, we’ll
get you something to eat, then,’ I said. ‘Come on, stand up. Come
to the carriage.’ She resisted my attempt to lift her to her
feet.

‘Are you Gimel
Metatronim?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘I’ve seen so much of Gimel
recently, but it was never really her.’

‘I really am
Gimel,’ I said. ‘I’m the presumptive little madam who’s interfered
in your life since you were eight. You can hate me for that, if you
like, but I really think you should come to my carriage. It is warm
in there, and I have some fleeces you can wrap up in.’

Rayojini
pulled a face and stood up. Her mind was obviously damaged, but at
least she was alive. Then, she looked at me, as if she’d only just
noticed I was there. ‘Gimel?’ Her voice was small.

‘Yes?’

‘Really
you?’

‘Really
me.’

‘You’re a
bitch!’

‘I know.’

‘I don’t like
being used, unless I know the purpose is a good one!’

‘I know.’

She folded her
arms and looked towards the carriage. ‘Is that Beth down
there?’

‘Yes.’

‘He is
beautiful.’

‘He is.’

‘And so are
you.’ She paused. ‘Is it really,
really
you?’

‘The authentic
version. Still arrogant, but learning fast. Less human than I was,
but perhaps more humane. I don’t know. I’m sorry, Rayojini. This
was never your mess.’

‘No, but it
was my life,’ she said, and made a grumbling sound, holding out her
skirts. ‘Look at this! It’s disgusting! Sort of thing Liviana
Tricante would wear! My clothes are all gone.’

‘We can get
you some more. It doesn’t matter.’

‘I’m not
insane, Gimel Metatronim!’ she said, giving me a fearfully
wonderful glinting stare. ‘Don’t speak to me as if I was.’ She
sighed, shook her head, and then gave me an uncertain smile. ‘Well,
introduce me to your brother, then, even if I do look like the
queen of fools in this stupid dress.’

I had to ask.
‘Are you angry with us, for all we did?’

She shrugged.
‘I suppose I must be, in a way. I don’t know. I’ve seen amazing
things, things that no other person alive has ever seen or ever
will do, I suspect. You wouldn’t believe it. I’m not sure I do yet,
but I have to thank you for that, at least.’

‘I never
wanted to hurt you, Rayojini. That’s the truth. The boy you were
travelling with, Keea, we thought he was our servant. He wasn’t.
I’m sorry about that. I hope he didn’t harm you.’

She shook her
head. ‘No, he didn’t.’ Then, she squinted at me. ‘Do you know who
he was, Gimel?’

‘He was from
Elenoen,’ I said. ‘We guessed that much.’