Pelyn stared at him, those dark circles around her eyes giving her gaze a malevolent quality. She licked her dry lips and switched her gaze to the bedside table, which now held a bowl draped with towels. She shook her head and stared at Takaar again. Then she lunged at him. Takaar caught one of her wrists but her free hand slapped him across the face and she kicked at him, tried to bite and scratch him. She was weak, however, and he pushed her back onto the bed, holding her there while she bucked and twisted in fury.
‘Where’s my nectar!’ she shrieked. ‘What have you done with my nectar? Get it now. I paid for it. It’s mine by right.’
‘Pelyn, listen to me. Pelyn.’
‘I. Need. It.’
‘No, you don’t. Not any more.’
She stopped struggling for a moment while his words sank in. Her eyes widened and she screamed so high that Takaar had to release her and cover his ears. She scrambled off the bed and ran to her dresser, dragging open drawers, pulling at doors, throwing the contents about the room while she searched for the edulis Takaar knew she would not find.
He stood in the centre of the room and watched her, hoping her anger would burn out. Her weakened body gave way first and she sagged to the floor next to the connecting door that led to her office. She began to weep, muttering her desire over and over.
Congratulations. You have found the only elf on Calaius further down the path to madness than you.
‘Then it is up to me to bring her back.’
Yes, I’m sure she’d be delighted to achieve your level of sanity.
Takaar shrugged his shoulders as if that might dislodge his tormentor. He crouched by Pelyn but did not attempt to touch her. She was sitting with her back to the door, her legs stretched straight out and her eyes staring ahead. There were fresh beads of sweat on her brow and her whole face twitched as if beset by palsy.
‘Let me help you,’ said Takaar.
Pelyn barked out a bitter laugh and stared straight through him.
‘Your help. Prayers, platitudes and promises. All empty. What I-’ she drew in a shuddering breath ‘- need, you will not give me.’
‘It is a testament to the strength of your spirit that you are not already dead from this poison.’
‘Poison? Typical of the pious who have never tried the sweet nectar and lived the life of a mind without boundaries.’
‘I’ve seen that life, Pelyn. I saw it last night. I wish I could show you how it looked.’
‘Let me show you. I need more. Now.’
Pelyn was getting agitated again. She wiped her hands down her shirt and rubbed at her face. She wrinkled her nose.
‘You need to come back to me. I want Pelyn back. I want the Arch of the Al-Arynaar.’
Pelyn’s stare was so cold.
‘I haven’t seen you in a hundred and fifty years! Not you, and not Auum for fifty. The only one who stood by me was Methian, and even he has gone now. Where were you when it all began to unravel? Where were you when the thread gangs took over the streets and we were too few to turn back the tide?’ Her voice became a whisper. ‘Where were you when I had to sell myself to keep those loyal to me alive?
‘You’re too late, Takaar. Whatever you really want, you won’t find it here. I won’t help you. Not without more nectar.’
‘I will not support your habit to get what I came for. I won’t be complicit in your death.’
Pelyn leaned towards him and the breath that came from her was as rotten as the remaining teeth in her mouth. ‘You already are.’
Oh dear. You really have nothing she wants, do you?
‘Wrong,’ said Takaar. He rose to his feet. Pelyn watched him, a half-smile on her face. ‘How soon before the craving becomes unbearable, I wonder? How long will it take before you are begging me to give you what you need? Will you attack me again or just quiver away in a corner, waiting to prostitute yourself to whoever will supply you?’
Pelyn’s head had dropped to her chest. Her hands were wringing together and she couldn’t keep her legs still against the floor timbers.
‘It’ll be full dawn in an hour,’ said Takaar. ‘That’s your first goal because no one is coming up here until then. They think they have me trapped, you see, and so they won’t risk coming in when I specifically told them not to. And you think you have power over me too. If you say go, then I’ll go, right?’
Pelyn raised her head. ‘Go.’
‘Yet here I remain. Think on this. I will find what I have come for, with or without you. My guess is that I have ten days or so to find it and remove it from the city. That means I have nine and a half days I can spend here with you, keeping you away from that nectar you so want and killing every elf that comes through your doors.’
Pelyn was staring at him again, this time like a cornered animal seeking escape. ‘Why would you do that to me? I thought you loved me.’
‘I do,’ said Takaar and he chuckled at his tormentor’s silence. ‘So I will do whatever I must to free you of this curse. Not just for you, though. Perhaps in ten days you might be recovered enough to hold a blade and lead a defence. You’ll need to be. All those people who rely on you, or thought they could, will need you. And you will be desperate to succeed.’
‘Why?’
Takaar could see Pelyn gradually pushing herself upright against the dividing door.
‘Because I’m being followed. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but it’s become obvious recently. Movements in the trails of magical force, that sort of thing.’ Takaar waved a hand. ‘Nothing I can do about it except take what I came for and try to leave you with some hope. So I need your help.’
Pelyn turned and grabbed the connecting door. She’d pulled it half open before Takaar kicked it shut again and grabbed both her arms at the shoulders, forcing her to face him.
‘And I need that help now.’
‘What? What!’
‘This place is made up of ghettos now, right? You get to take me to the Ixii and Gyalan ghettos, the Orrans and Cefans too. After that I might just let the elf who supplies you live to see the destruction of everything he thought he was building here. Because when they get here, unless you stand against them, it really will be the end. No more Katura. No more edulis. Poor little Pelyn, what will she do then?’
‘Who’s coming? Who’s following you here?’
‘Thousands and thousands of men.’
Chapter 26
The appetite for Calaian rainforest wood is insatiable. No one of any means would consider the use of any other timber. The bloody idiots would probably burn their own houses now if they were fashioned of Greythorne oak.
Reminiscences of an Old Soldier, by Garan, sword master of Ysundeneth (retired)
Garan was sitting in his favourite chair in the western panoramic room, giving him views over Ysundeneth. In decades gone by he’d enjoyed watching the city landscape change; become less elven, more human. Beauty was not something Ystormun appreciated; functionality was everything, and Garan defied anyone to find beauty in Ystormun’s version of functionality though the efficiency of his redesigned Ysundeneth was certainly impressive.
The city was dominated by the imposing warehouse buildings which housed the Sharps. Thousands were crammed into inadequate spaces. That, combined with derisory latrine facilities, rations just above starvation levels and elven herbs in quantities sufficient only to cure mortal illnesses, was Ystormun’s morale-sapping master plan.
It was most effective. The Sharps feared the withholding of food as much as they did the draconian crushing punishments for stepping out of line. The whole city was effectively a prison camp and a storage and shipping facility of huge proportions taking resources and wealth north to Balaia.
Sitting here, on a day that had begun with spectacular lightning storms and torrential rain and was now steaming gently under a hot sun, Garan started to wonder when his mind had begun to change. The gods knew he had plenty of years to look across. He took a sip of a honey drink designed to soothe the sores that ran the length of his gullet.