The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure (25 page)

For some minutes, Flick surrendered himself to grief. He wept for the tragedy and the senseless waste. He wept for Cal, who was so damaged and for Seel, who had tried hard to escape his beginnings. But tears would not wash away the past. They lanced the infected wound, but could not eradicate its scar.

Flick rubbed his face and scattered damp sand over his fire until it sizzled out. He got to his feet and thanked Aruhani for his aid, bidding him to depart. It was clear, from the feeling in the air, that the dehar had already gone.

Flick went back into the cave, hoping to discuss with Itzama what had happened, but not sure what he would find. From the moment he set foot inside, Flick could tell that Itzama had indeed gone. Their home was no longer a living space, but an empty cavern of stone. It was hard to believe he had ever lived there. Itzama and Flick had been almost like lovers, but now Flick could not mourn Itzama’s disappearance. He had been called to this world and abandoned. It was only right he should be released.

The fabric of the otherworld, in which this site had been caught for over year, was breaking apart like rotten silk, and Flick knew he should, at the very least, be disturbed, but he felt strangely calm and centered. Outside, the night bristled with sentience and power, and a road led to the north west. At the end of it, ancient mills creaked in the breeze and secrets slithered through the shadows. The past came back in a surge like a tidal wave. A year ago was only yesterday, the rest a dream. He had missed something. He must return.

Chapter Fourteen

The settlement had changed within a year. The burned fields were a riot of new growth and in the late autumn were full of unharvested crops. Weeds had spread throughout the little streets and grew upon the roofs of the houses. The landscape looked softer, greened over as it was, as if it was melting back into the earth. There was a sense of wistful melancholy, for all that had gone before and vanished, and as Flick rode Ghost among the buildings, a fine misty rain began to fill the air. On a day like this, Cal had come here. Flick knew the story by heart because Cal had told it to him countless times. If Pellaz had not responded to Cal, or had been somewhere else at the crucial moment, none of what followed would have happened.

Ghost’s hoof beats echoed between the walls of empty dwellings, which seemed to have moved closer together since the last time Flick had seen them. His spine crawled as he passed into the shadows.

The last thing Flick expected was for someone to jump down onto him from an overhanging eave. He didn’t expect to be pushed from his horse, nor to land heavily on his back in the damp dirt with strong thin hands already around his neck and bony knees forced into his chest. All he could see was misty air and the writhing vines of thrashing black hair, hair that was so heavy it could only move in slow motion. It was at this moment that he realised a ghost had come to kill him. His head banged painfully against the ground and when he grabbed hold of the skinny wrists above him, he felt the bones grind beneath the brown skin. ‘Pell, stop!’ he managed to croak. ‘Didn’t I do what you asked? Didn’t I?’

The apparition on top of him let go of his neck and straightened up, tucked its hair behind its ears. ‘Who the fuck are you?’ it snapped, and it wasn’t Pellaz at all, but could only be
of
Pellaz, so therefore a surviving relative.

‘Get off me and I’ll tell you,’ Flick said.

Reluctantly, his assailant got up and stood with folded arms before him or rather over him, because at first Flick was too winded and dizzy to move. ‘Well?’

‘My name is Flick,’ he said. ‘Pell asked me to come here, to find you, to tell you.’

‘Tell me what? My brother is dead. He became one of you and he died. What else is there to say?’

Flick got to his feet. Ghost had run off and now stood staring fearfully some yards away. ‘Pell wanted me to come. He told me he had brothers. I never hoped to find one of you alive.’

‘You didn’t. I’m his sister. Or I was…’

‘You still are,’ Flick said, privately wondering how a female could possibly be as androgynous as her phenomenal brother had been, without the benefit of the changes Pellaz had undergone. ‘He never forgot you. You are Mima, yes?’

‘Yes.’ She sighed heavily, scraped her hands through her hair. ‘You’re too late. I’m the only one left, and not much use to you. You might as well leave.’

‘Can’t we talk? Don’t you want to know what I have to say?’

She was silent for a moment. ‘His friends are always turning up here. Wonder who will be next? I hope it’s Cal, I really do. I hope he finds his way.’

Flick could tell she wanted to settle the score with Cal, but there were few people who didn’t. ‘Who else? How many?’

‘Just one, actually. He’s a Kakkahaar.’

‘A friend of Pell’s.’ Flick wracked his brains for the memory. ‘Lianvis?’

‘No, Ulaume.’

‘Really!’ Flick exclaimed. ‘From what I heard he was hardly a friend.’

‘I know the story,’ Mima said. ‘Ulaume is obsessed with Pell.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe there will be others like him. This place has become a shrine. Ulaume doesn’t think Pell’s really dead. What do you think?’

Flick answered carefully. ‘He was important. There is more to the story than we know. Our story. I’m from Saltrock, where Pell was incepted.’

‘Ulaume’s told me about that place.’

‘Cal returned to Saltrock,’ Flick said. ‘He killed one of my dearest friends, because he blamed him for Pell’s death. The story isn’t over. Everything is still rippling or vibrating or something. I had to come here.’

‘Ulaume is up at the white house,’ Mima said. ‘Perhaps you two should talk.’

Mima kept guard over the settlement because, despite Ulaume’s assurances to the contrary, she feared that one day the Wraeththu who had devastated her home and family would return to finish her off. She wasn’t concerned for herself so much as for Lileem, who she loved passionately. She could tell when someone was Wraeththu or human immediately now. She had perceived a spectral light around Flick and knew it for what it was. She had also realised he’d posed no threat but had attacked him regardless, because even though she’d known they’d end up talking, it helped scratch the nerve of pain inside her to beat him up a little before this happened. She had new strengths and most of them she enjoyed having. She took Ulaume and Lileem for granted because they had become like family, but this new har intrigued her. He looked like a boy, pale-skinned and elfin, with his long hair in braids. Perhaps Ulaume would take aruna with him, because it seemed so important, and the thought of this intrigued Mima even more. Despite her rages and resentments, she had become a precarious part of Wraeththu, forever excluded from its mysteries in some ways, but nevertheless attached and curious. She found she did not want Flick to think of her as a human female, but also felt shy of telling him anything to the contrary. It would sound embarrassing and coarse. Ulaume would have to tell him.

Flick had calmed his pony and now walked with Mima up the hill to the house.

‘This was where the owner of the farm lived,’ she said. ‘Sefton Richards. He’s dead now, but who isn’t?’

‘Did Ulaume save you from the raiders?’ Flick asked.

‘No, I saved myself. Ulaume came later, but not much later. Just as well. They would have done something awful to him, and the harling.’

‘Harling? Ulaume has a child?’

‘Not his own. Lileem is… well, different. You’ll see.’

‘I’ve never seen one, hardly believed it was possible.’

‘Perhaps it isn’t. Maybe you’re not meant to breed.’

‘What do you mean? Is something wrong with the harling?’

‘No, she’s perfect.’

‘Ah…’ Flick smiled to himself. ‘I
see
.’

The harling in question came bounding out of the house as Mima and Flick were putting the pony into one of the empty stables. ‘Mima, Mima,
who’s this
?
’
it demanded. To Flick, the child looked very much like he’d imagined a Wraeththu harling would look: neither male nor female, but something of both. As it should be. It appeared to be around four or five years old, with the somewhat exotic look of the Kakkahaar in the catlike eyes and golden skin.

‘Leelee, this is Flick,’ Mima said, ‘a friend of my brother’s.’ She pulled the harling back against her, who leaned against her legs, staring up at Flick in unconcealed curiosity.

Ulaume had come out of the house and his expression was hostile. ‘A visitor,’ he said, ‘how nice.’

‘Behave,’ Mima said, ‘be friendly. Flick is from Saltrock.’

‘The home of fine upstanding hara,’ Ulaume said. ‘The ones who transformed your brother into a little pillar of piety.’

‘Flick wants to talk to you,’ Mima said, wondering how long it would take for Ulaume’s fur to stop standing on end. He was so much like a cat sometimes. How much ritual spitting and hissing, and occasional swipes would there be, before he settled down to purring and curling up to exchange licks, or whatever it was they did?

‘We don’t get many visitors,’ Mima said to Flick, ‘and look what that has done for some of our manners.’

‘It’s OK,’ Flick said. ‘I don’t care about manners. Could use a drink though.’

‘Come in,’ Ulaume said spitefully and marched back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

‘Lormy is so rude!’ said the harling.

‘It’s territory, kitten,’ Mima said, ‘that’s all it is.’

Destiny had brought Flick to Casa Ricardo and there had been a dysfunctional family waiting there for him. From the minute he stepped into the house, Flick knew there was work to be done and that his fingers were itching to do it. This was not a home. It was makeshift, unkempt and unloved, although it was clear that cursory attempts at comforts had been made. But it was a far cry from the amenities of Saltrock. He had come here to give Mima the information about Pellaz, and this he did at once, but there was more than that. Mima told him about Lileem, while Ulaume remained stubbornly silent on the matter. There were questions that needed answers. Orien had directed Flick to come here. Was it simply to help these people? Flick did not tell any of them about his visions, not at first. He must wait and see. Lileem was perhaps part of the future he had been brought here to witness.

That first night, after dinner, which Flick had cooked for them, Mima said, ‘What are you going to do now, Flick? Where will you go?’

‘I don’t know,’ Flick replied. ‘I need to think about it. I wonder if I might stay here with you for a time.’

Ulaume made a noise of annoyance and left the table. He slammed the kitchen door as he left the house.

‘Don’t mind him,’ Mima said. ‘He’ll come around.’

‘Perhaps I shouldn’t stay,’ Flick said.

‘No,
do
stay!’ Lileem cried. ‘Please, please, please!’

Mima wiped bread around the gravy on her plate, then consumed it with relish. ‘I, for one, look forward to more of this! How about a deal? You cook for us, we let you stay.’

‘Yes!’ Lileem yelled.

‘I’ll more than cook,’ Flick said. ‘Believe me, I’m adept at housekeeping
and
at fixing the plumbing.’

Mima laughed. ‘Wonderful. I’ve decided I like you, Flick from Saltrock.’

He inclined his head. ‘Likewise, Mima Cevarro.’

‘Sorry I beat you up earlier.’

‘Forgiven.’

For some months, the house consumed Flick’s attention. He worked on the water heating system, which was similar to the one Seel had constructed for the house in Saltrock. He repaired the roof and replaced broken windows with glass from the dwellings down the hill. With Lileem’s and Mima’s help, he cleared rooms and reorganised furniture, so that they could have proper bedrooms and a living room, as well as the kitchen. He said that when four individuals lived together, they needed more than one comfortable room, so that they could get away from one another sometimes. This was an offering to Ulaume, although if he realised it he did not show it and certainly wasn’t grateful. They also had a proper dining room, that they had yet to use, but envisaged would be suitable for birthday celebrations and such like.

Flick took Mima and Lileem out into the fields and beyond to round up what remained of the old farm stock: a few goats, sheep and cattle and – most useful of all – a family of burros. Now, they could ride together to neighbouring farms, which were often more than a day’s journey away, to collect samples of surviving crops to plant in their own land, as well as any further stray animals, which they could add to their breeding stock.

Ulaume watched all these activities with the same sour expression he wore while eating Flick’s meals. He would not become involved in them and rarely spoke to Flick directly. Flick knew that Ulaume wished he would leave and that it would be a good idea to try and include Ulaume more in what they were doing. Lileem and Mima constantly praised Flick’s efforts, and this made Ulaume feel superfluous and useless. Flick thought this was a shame, because whatever Ulaume was like, he had brought Lileem to safety and had done what he could to create a home. But Flick’s pride balked at the continued sullen behaviour and he couldn’t bring himself to extend a hand of friendship until Ulaume realised it would be better to thaw than continue to freeze. There was no indication this would happen in the near future.

If it hadn’t been for Mima and Lileem, who Flick grew to love very quickly, he would have moved on from Casa Ricardo. Fortunately, the warmth of the others more than made up for Ulaume’s frigid silences and the stultifying atmosphere he seemed to carry around with him like a bad smell. Flick felt slightly guilty about it, because he knew that Ulaume thought his life had been spoiled. Flick didn’t want to be Ulaume’s enemy, or to cause him hurt in any way, but he couldn’t see how the matter could be put right. He couldn’t be so selfless as to leave the settlement just to please the Kakkahaar.

Each night Flick would go out beneath the stars and perform small rituals to Aruhani, with whom he felt a particular affinity, and occasionally to Lunil. He did this to keep in touch with the dehara. He sought further information, although none was forthcoming. Perhaps he needed Itzama’s potions for that. He had brought some of the fungus with him from the cave, but shrank from using it alone.

One night, Lileem followed him in secret, waited until he’d finished his devotions, then emerged from cover to ask him what he was doing. Flick sensed immediately the burning curiosity within the harling, the hunger for experience and secrets. He told her all he knew and Lileem sat listening, her eyes wide, brimming with new ideas. Occasionally, she would interrupt him to add to his story. ‘Lunil keeps a bird with silver feathers who has three heads. One speaks only the truth, another only lies, while the third speaks in riddles.’