‘It’s such a beautiful night.’ Melmeth took Laili’s hand between his own. ‘Come, walk with me in the gardens.’
Laili’s heart quickened; it was such an ordinary thing to do, to walk hand-in-hand with a lover in the moonlight – and yet he had never before asked her to accompany him beyond the confines of her tower room.
‘But if someone should see us?’
‘What will they see? Two moon phantoms haunting the Grove of Blue Terebinth.’
Outside the dark air was deliciously fresh, the grass still wet underfoot. The last high tatters of cloud drifted away and the moon suddenly shone full over the gardens.
And from the moonshadowed Grove of Blue Terebinth a distant shimmer of sound rose to greet the moon.
‘What is that?’ Melmeth stopped, his hand clutching hers.
‘I – I don’t know,’ Laili said in a whisper, head raised, listening.
Down they came, drifting from the moonblue sky like flakes of snow. And the summer night was filled with the beat of their soft wings, their febrile silvered song.
‘Look, Laili!’ Melmeth, delight trembling in his voice, showed her his cupped hands; as he slowly opened them she saw the delicate creature trapped inside, its velvet wings dusted with scented spangles, its dark eyes huge beneath white wisps of antennae.
‘Moths. Moonmoths,’ she said wonderingly.
‘Have you ever seen the like before?’
She nodded.
‘What can have brought them to our shores? Where have they come from?’
‘Ael Lahi …’ The name was just a whisper. A whisper of longing. A sudden aching homesickness.
‘Ael Lahi! They are far from home. Just like you, my Laili—’ He suddenly shook the moth away; it fluttered weakly to the ground as he clapped his hand to his mouth.
‘What is it? Let me see!’
‘It stung me.’
‘Surely not!’ Laughing, she prised his hand from his lips to examine what damage had been done. ‘I can’t even see the—’
‘So sweet on the tongue,’ he said, puzzled, his goldgreen eyes softening.
There was a tiny mark, a puncture-mark, no bigger than the end of a pin below his thumb; even as she looked at it, it closed over, leaving the skin smooth. ‘There’s – nothing here.’
‘The taste. Taste, Laili. Sweeter than dreamweed …’
She drew away from his outstretched hand, from the dust still glimmering on his palm.
‘You must not taste it. Not unless you seek to invoke the Goddess—’
‘You are not in Ael Lahi now, Laili.’
No. And these were not, perhaps, the same moonmoths that had haunted the Sacred Grove, though the adepts had always believed them to be unique. There was something indefinably different about them, something that made her feel uneasy …
Laili gazed out of her window. The moths were everywhere now, in the moonlit gardens, swirling like snow about the tower. Melmeth had not come. Perhaps something she had said last night had displeased him … he had seemed abstracted.
‘Laili!’
The Torella stood in the doorway. Her eyes were huge and dark, swimming with secrets.
‘Sweet child! You’re unhappy. You must have some dust!’ Her steps wavered drunkenly as she crossed the room. A strange scent clung to her hair, her warm breath as she embraced Laili. Laili drew back, shaking her head.
‘But it’s wonderful! I knew you’d be alone tonight. I said to myself, poor little neglected Laili, I must go and cheer her up.’
‘You know where he is?’ Laili seized hold of her hand. ‘Why hasn’t he come?’
‘Ssh,’ she said, pressing one wavering finger to Laili’s lips. ‘He’s the Arkhan. He can do as he pleases.’
‘Who is he with, Sarilla? Is it Clodolë?’
‘Clodolë!’ She began to giggle. ‘He hasn’t bedded her in a year.’
‘Another mistress?’
‘O, is my little protégée jealous? And only a few months ago you wouldn’t let my lord even touch your little finger. Listen, sweeting, my lord has always been … how shall I say …? catholic in his tastes. Sometimes he tires of female company …’
Laili stared at her blankly.
‘Forget him! Take some boskh.’ She opened the stone on her ring, pushing it under Laili’s nose. ‘I almost killed to get this. It cost me a pair of ruby earrings. One taste of this and you’ll forget your heartache.’
The spiced sweetness wreathed upwards from the glittering cavity beneath the ringstone. Just the scent of it evoked the moonblue sands, the silvered sea of Ael Lahi. But Laili could see only Sarilla’s drug-hazed eyes staring enticingly back.
‘No. No thank you.’
‘You’re turning down a glimpse of heaven … Yskhysse. Ecstasy that goes on and on …’
‘People are using the dust? Eating it?’
‘But yes, my dear.’ She fluttered her eyelashes mockingly. ‘What did you imagine they were doing? It really is the most exquisite experience …’ She began to giggle again. ‘Don’t conceive for a moment that my lord hasn’t tried it too. It won’t be long before he invites you to share in his glimpse of heaven … They say it increases a man’s virility sevenfold! My dear – just think!’
It was a warm summer’s night and yet Laili suddenly felt chilled to the bone. The moon’s cold light illuminated the madly skittering mothflight, specks of darkness flitting across her silver face.
And in the stillness came a curious, dry rustling, sere as the fall of withered magnolia petals.
A single moonmoth had strayed into the room, drawn to the pale flame of the lucerna. Laili reached up her hands and caught it as, singed, it dropped towards the heart of the flame.
‘So far from home,’ she murmured, feeling its last shudders beating against her enfolding hands.
Laili tried to settle to sleep … but the silken sheets seemed to stick to her skin in the sultry heat. She kept imagining Melmeth embraced in another’s arms, naked, whispering those endearments she had thought were hers alone …
And her lord’s absence was not the only worry preventing her from sleep.
She lay counting days on her fingers in the darkness. At length she could bear it no longer.
She rose, wrapping a thin gown, purple and gold, embroidered with heartsease petals, about her naked body. Her thick hair was sticky with sweat, she tied it back with an opalescent gauze scarf, one of his first gifts to her. She lit the lucerna, sat at her desk and scribbled down a record of the days that had passed since … since she had last bled.
The waning moonlight faded from the chamber wall. She should have started to bleed two mooncycles ago. But when they first captured her, she had ceased bleeding for several cycles; then, a gap had meant nothing.
Her loose gown gaped open as she wrote. Her breasts were swollen, the translucent veins blue as iris petals. They burned. If her fears were correct she must be at least twelve weeks with child …
And no concubine of Melmeth’s had ever produced a living child, Sarilla had told her so. Clodolë had seen to it. Most miscarried. One died. Clodolë was Arkhys of Ar-Khendye. She would not tolerate any rival.
How long could she keep it a secret?
The Arkhan will see no one else today.’
‘Fhedryn … please—’
‘I can’t make any exceptions – not even for you, Lai Dhar.’ Fhedryn, the Arkhan’s chamberlain, barred Lai’s way with his ebony staff. ‘He’s not to be disturbed. You’ll have to come back tomorrow and wait your turn like the rest of the petitioners.’
Lai went striding angrily away from the audience chamber.
‘Psst! Zhan Razhirrakh!’
A dhamzel was beckoning him to follow her. Plump Lerillys, Clodolë’s favourite and confidante.
Lai glanced about him uneasily, wondering if she truly meant him. There was no one else in sight.
‘Come,’ she called softly. ‘My mistress is awaiting you.’
Clodolë was sitting, one leg curled beneath her, on a cushion-strewn couch, feeding sweetmeats to a snuffling lapdog.
‘Have you missed me, Lai? I’ve missed you,’ she said, smiling up at him.
‘You promised me,’ he said, determined not to be diverted this time. ‘You promised me for news of my sister. You promised me you would speak with the Arkhan. Every time I try to see him, I am sent away.’
She shrugged.
‘You’re so impatient …’
‘He said she would be freed if I won in the arena!’
‘To hear you rant one would suspect something more than a fraternal relationship between you and your beloved Laili … Do I detect a whiff of incest, dearest Lai?’
‘Incest!’ Lai cried. ‘You twist everything around, don’t you, you see the whole world through your own warped vision. I don’t have to stay here listening to your insinuations!’
‘Stop!’ She rose to her feet, the dish of sweetmeats sliding to the floor; the little dog greedily pursued the remaining sweets as they rolled under the couch. ‘How dare you go before I have dismissed you?’
‘I am not your pet lapdog,’ said Lai coldly and made for the door.
She reached the door before him, blocking the way out, arms spread wide.
‘Oh, no! To leave you must first remove me. And if you lay a finger on me, one finger, I shall scream for the tarkhastars on duty. What will Melmeth say when I tell him you tried to force me?’ She tore open the front of her goldgauze gown, the filmy fabric ripping, baring her breasts. Her voice rose hysterically. ‘There. Explain your wav out of that!’
Lai stared, open-mouthed.
Her white breasts were painted with whorls, stars and flowers: indigo, henna and gold.
‘Oh, Melmeth, Lai Dhar was like a madman, he tore off my gown and threw me to the ground in spite of my protests, my tears—’ She flung herself to her knees before him, still strategically blocking his way to the door. Dishevelled hair, tear-flooded eyes, she looked the very picture of ravished virtue.
‘What do you want of me?’ he asked defeatedly.
She smiled.
‘What do you think?’ She swiftly turned the ornate key in the lock. ‘There. Now no one can disturb us.’
She took Lai’s hand and drew him towards the couch. The little dog came cringing out from underneath and slunk off towards its silklined basket.
‘You must learn to be more subtle, Lai. You must play the courtier’s part with a better grace.’
He said nothing, crossing his arms on his chest, still angry with her for her deceits, her play-acting.
‘Be patient. I am sure Melmeth will keep his word …’
‘And meanwhile you twist me around your little finger like a silken thread.’
‘You really are angry with me, aren’t you! How can I sweeten your mood? Wine?’
He shook his head. He wanted to keep a clear mind this time.
‘Why don’t you try one of these.’ She held out an open silver box; a delicious honeyed fragrance wafted out.
‘What are they?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Little sweetmeats. Let’s indulge ourselves.’ She popped one into her mouth. ‘Mmm … they are so good. Try.’ She selected another and held it up to his lips. ‘What’s the matter now? Afraid I’ll poison you?’
Reluctantly he opened his mouth like a child forced to take bitter medicine and let her place the sweetmeat on his tongue.
As he began to chew, the sweetmeat released a luscious sweetness, the almondine savour of wild apricots. He could even see the colour of the apricots as the taste melted in his mouth: soft, fragrant ochre, stained with darker flesh at the heart of the stone …
‘Another?’ She slid another one into his mouth before he could refuse, darker than the dark heart of the rose, scented with subtle driftspice … an all-pervading spice, a stimulating, sensuous spice that set the blood burning …
She slid onto the couch beside him, pressing close to his body. Her perfume was so strong, a shaded spicemarket in the sultry summer’s heat. When she spoke, she seemed to breathe spices over him.
‘Don’t you like what I have done?’
‘The – the flowers?’
‘There are more.’ A low, shuddering laugh, daring him to find them.
Head reeling, he set the glass down. There was something he must remember. A reason he had come. But … what was it? She was undoing the fastenings on his shirt, deft fingers pulling at the lacing of his breeches. Mustn’t forget—
‘Did you see them last night? Did you hear them?’
The room wavered drunkenly before his eyes; dazzle of light, dazzle of ambergold hair.
The moths, Lai. Weren’t they magical? That music …’
‘W–wait.’ His tongue would not work its way around the words. ‘You – saw the moths too?’
‘Better than saw.’ That low laugh again. ‘I was walking in the gardens with Lerillys. And I had such a terrible headache … nothing would relieve it. Then they came fluttering down, settling a while on the tamarisks above our heads. The air was full of the dust from their wings. It was – sweet on the tongue. And when they flew away, the tamarisk leaves were powdered with the dust, sparkling like stardust. Can you imagine it, Lai? So sweet to the taste. And my head had stopped aching, it felt so clear, so clean—’
‘You tasted the dust?’ Lai said thickly.
‘It cured my headache.’
Crimson mouth pouting now, a sulky moue. Indulged, spoilt childwoman; he didn’t know whether to despise or pity her.
‘What was wrong with that? What do you know of these things anyway?’
‘It … could have poisoned you.’ Panic rising inside him. She was disappearing in a dazzle of moonlight, silver aura gilding the gold.
Her voice came to him remotely from within the dazzle.
‘Then by that token you are poisoned too, Lai Dhar. I had my kitchenboy sprinkle some of the dust on the sweets. Good, isn’t it, so very, very good?’
Constellation upon constellation above her head, the painted stars collided, burst, spun about the vaulted ceiling.
‘Do you know … the exquisites are devising names for the drug even now? Moongrains, starsparkle, boskhdust and other such pretty titles … They say it can reveal your most secret desires.’
‘N–no—’
‘Who am I, Lai?’ She was caressing him, kissing him. She tasted of allspice.
He blinked. There was something wrong with his sight. Her face wavered, precious oil spilt in water, rainbow iridescence.
Her hair – soft russet, bright with threads of copper. Thin dusting of freckles on her little nose. Eyes of that same dream-hazed, sentient blue as his own. Laili’s mouth on his own, inflamed, incestuous kisses, Laili’s arms around his body—
‘Clodolë – stop this!’ He forced her hands away.
‘Don’t you like it? But perhaps none of these are anywhere near your most secret desires.’
‘Be yourself! Be you!’
Glimmer of moonsilver … Laili’s likeness dispersed in swirls of night-mist … yet behind her another woman stood in shadow … Slowly She raised Her head until, with sudden recognition, he knew Her. Light streamed from Her in cold rivulets. Her face in its archaic pallor was unendurably beautiful; Her eyes, darker than a moonless night, lit upon him, their expression remote yet tender. Slowly, Her arms opened to him …
And a voice whispered in his head. ‘Isn’t this what you have always desired, Lai, the ultimate union, to be One with the Goddess?’
The moon went out. She had gone.
‘Why did you do that?’ he cried to Clodolë. ‘Why?’
And then the boskh blurred all senses and he no longer knew where he was or greatly cared.
They lay naked on the edge of a great cliff. Below, far below, breakers pounded against the rocks, spray rising in salty clouds.
‘I don’t want this, Clodolë—’
‘You don’t know what you want, do you?’ She shouted back at him over the roar of the waves. ‘But I know what I want!’ She was weeping. ‘I want a child!’
She writhed up to meet him – and in that moment their minds touched, opened, and he saw horrors, oh Goddess, appalling horrors within the secret sealed chambers of her mind, horrors that made him scream for release—
An attic corridor along which he runs, opening door after door only to see in each bare room a bier and on each bier the waxen corpse of a malformed foetus, lying puddled in a mess of blood and afterbirth.
‘Let me out! Let me out of here!’
The walls crumble away.
No release. Still locked within each other, they are falling, falling over the cliff-edge to oblivion—
‘Goddess – help me—’
Mist of saltspray, crash of heaving breakers,
‘We’ll be smashed on the rocks, smashed and broken open—’
They cleave the waves. Down. Powerful sea currents rack his body, the pulse of the deep waters, the enclosing, suffocating darkness—
‘Goddess …’
Beached, he rolls gasping onto his back on the sand …
Clodolë was staring down at him through the golden mermaid-strands of her hair. Her eyes seemed larger than ever, the cloudy dark of deep sea waters.
I thought I was drowning.’ He tried to sit up, only to collapse again – not on damp sand but on the hard boards of the floor. Dull light sullied the walls. The night was ebbing fast.
‘I had no idea the boskh would affect you so … so drastically …’ She was naked. Had he torn her clothes off? Had his fingers left those marks on her soft flesh? The sweet scent from the moist tangle of golden hair between her bruised thighs nauseated him now. He wished she would leave him alone.
‘What – hour is it?’
‘Near dawn.’
He struggled up onto one elbow.
‘You mean we’ve – we’ve been—’
‘Fucking all that time?’ she said crudely. ‘Yes. A whole night. Impressive?’ She seemed upset. ‘Who else could give you that, Lai?’
‘Listen.’ He caught her by the wrist, pulling her close. ‘Don’t ever do that to me again. No more boskh.’
‘I lavish my most precious possession upon you and you complain!’
He began to search around for his clothes.
‘Are you leaving me?’
‘It’s day.’ He went to the window, pulling open the painted shutters.
‘Close them!’ She hissed with pain, pressing her knuckles to her eyes to protect them from the sunlight. ‘Close them, close them!’
Her agony was so palpable, so intense that, shocked, he banged them shut again. In the halflight, she knelt, shuddering in the aftershock.
‘Are you all right? Clodolë!’
‘White needles – in my head—’ She rocked to and fro. ‘A little more … will stop the pain …’ She fumbled blindly with one hand for the silver box.
‘A little more will only make it worse!’
‘P–please—’ She raised her head; her dazzled eyes streamed with tears, a cloudburst.
Pity overcame him. She was not play-acting now. He found the box and took it to her; she stuffed two, three, four sweetmeats into her mouth, chewing till the saliva dribbled out of one corner of her mouth.
‘You’re addicted.’
Brittle-bright notes shimmered in the dawn air. The tarkenhorns were blowing for dawn watch, rousing the city from sleep.
He heard her sigh.
‘Mmm … s’better now … so much better …’
She lay back on the silken cushions, her eyes vague, wandering, fixing on some distant point.
‘Come, Lai … join me …’ One white finger beckoned lazily.
He shook his head. He had to get out, had to get air, fresh air—
The dawnlight pierced his brain like sheet lightning. He grasped at the wall of the tower, teetering on the vertiginous rim, as the morning spun dizzily in front of him.
‘Your most secret desires …’
He had glimpsed Her, in that one fleeting moment of transcendence, as he had once seen Her within the secret silence of the Grove.
And now he had abused the sacred substance, he had used it for his own sensual gratification … and She had withdrawn, leaving him but a drear aftertaste …
A void had opened up within him, a great and desolate emptiness …