The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure - By Storm Constantine Page 0,105

from Lileem, wrapped Ulaume in a quick, fierce embrace. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I know what this must be costing you.’

‘Actually, you have no idea,’ he said lightly. ‘It’s a cost I’m willing to pay.’

Over a frugal dinner of salad and water, Flick produced his ideas for the ritual. Mima had already taken Lileem to Terez’s room.

‘I thought that Aruhani should be the focus to start with,’ Flick said, ‘but then decided it should be Miyacala, who is the dehar most associated with inception. We must ask him to guide Terez back into himself, to complete the process that was arrested.’ He glanced at Ulaume. ‘You must use your knowledge to create the elixir.’

‘We should alter our state of consciousness,’ Ulaume said. ‘Usually, Grissecon is an elaborate event, with drummers, shamanic trance, the lot. We shall have to improvise.’

‘I have something we could use,’ Flick said. ‘A fungus that grows in the desert caves. I’ve used it before.’

Ulaume pushed his plate away from him. ‘I’m still hungry, so that should aid the process.’

Flick exhaled a shuddering breath. ‘I’ll prepare it now,’ he said. ‘We should get going.’

He stood abruptly, knocking the table with his hip so that a glass fell over.

‘Calm down,’ Ulaume said. ‘You are a jangle of nerves. You’re making me nervous.’

Flick mixed up a fairly noxious brew and he and Ulaume sat at the table to drink it. Flick was tense and silent and Ulaume was almost amused at how much of a trial this seemed to be for him. On the other hand, it wasn’t very flattering either.

When the drinks were finished, Flick clasped his hands on the tabletop. ‘Is this the reason we’re here?’ he asked. ‘For Terez?’

‘For him, for Lileem, for Mima – who knows? Maybe all three. Maybe there is no reason and everything is coincidence.’

‘You and I meeting here? Coincidence?’

Ulaume sighed through his nose. ‘Let’s go.’

The night was almost too beautiful. Flowering vines that grew up the side of the house released a subtle fragrance and the breeze was warm. Overhead, the sky was encrusted with stars, so thickly that it seemed a thousand new galaxies had been born overnight, or a thousand dehara were trying on new jewels. Ulaume felt powerful and serene. In one sense, he was coming home.

When they reached the falls, Ulaume said, ‘This is where Mima became… well, whatever it is she’s become.’

‘I know,’ Flick said. ‘She has brought me here before.’

‘What are Mima and Lileem?’ Ulaume said. ‘In my tribe, the shamans would strap them down and take a good look.’

‘In your tribe, they expose them in the desert,’ Flick said dryly, then softened. ‘I don’t know what they are. Part of me thinks we should take them somewhere – like to the Gelaming or something – and find out, perhaps find help, while another part thinks they’re safer here in isolation.’

‘Those are my thoughts also,’ Ulaume said.

Flick began to unpack some lanterns he had brought with him in a bag. Each held a candle, which would be protected by glass from the gentle breeze. Flick arranged them in a circle. He placed some on the rocks around the water and hung others in the acacias. In the soft yellow light, he looked young, pure and troubled, and Ulaume felt a thousand years old with a dark history that dragged behind him like a lame hag. ‘You must consecrate me,’ he said abruptly, voicing a thought that had come unbidden to his mind.

Flick glanced at him and frowned. ‘What?’

‘You heard. Surely you know how. Sarocks must consecrate everything.’

‘No, we don’t, but why do you want to do that?’

‘Because it is necessary.’

Flick stared at him for a few moments. ‘In the water,’ he said. ‘Go into the water.’

Ulaume took off his clothes and waded out into the largest pool. The moon was captured there, the water full of its cold white essence. Flick undressed with care and placed his folded clothes in a neat pile next to the untidy heap of garments that Ulaume had left on the bank. His skin was so pale he looked like a moon creature himself. It occurred to Ulaume then that Flick was afraid that this rite might contaminate him in some way. Flick knew the Kakkahaar reputation for dark magic and Ulaume could not reassure him, because he wondered the same thing.

Flick stood before Ulaume in the water, some inches shorter than his companion. He raised his arms to the moon and said, ‘Lunil, dehar of the moon and of