Twilight of the Wolves (5 page)

Azura woke within the temple shivering despite the late summer heat, and stretching, his hand pushed against Raj’s blackfeet. Standing and pulling the blanket that he slept on round him, he watched Raj and Rej sleep as mirror images curled into one
another, their bodies forming a heart. He smiled and watched for the minute that leapt past him, then coughed until Raj woke up and told him to drink some water.

The dualsun heat warmed the bricks and so he sat at the edge of the canal, the air thick, weighing him down. He closed his eyes, lay down on the bricks, hot, and drifted into unconsciousness.

Elrik pushed through the crowd with Willem, I still can’t understand why everything’s so damned big here. The markets, the food, the forest, the lakes, the rivers, the temples, yet the people are so small.

Willem laughed, Says the baby of the Roc!

Smiling, Baby of Roc, giant of cock.

Willem slapped his back and barked, Maybe you can buy one of those children by the port to suck it off for you.

That’s the worst part of this stupid place.

Worse than the reek of shit everywhere?

Worse even than the cats and the gods.

What do you make of the Angels?

They make me feel lighter than air—pushing men and women aside—Out of my way, you beasts, he barked joyfully, Let’s get some more of their poisonous wine!

I feel my teeth rot every time I drink it.

To rot like this forever.

Some paradise.

Paradise like permanent Death.

Laughing and pushing, they stomped to the nearest tavern.

They haggled over positions and prices and settled on agreeable terms for both parties. Azura watched the tall blackman and the lithe redbrown boy disappear into the ruins. Raj asked how he was doing and he told him there was no one today.

No one yesterday, aye?

Aye. He coughed and spit brownish phlegm onto the stone of the ancient temple.

You look like shit, Zur.

Azura wiped the sweat from his brow, It’s the heat.

They looked up at the two suns bleeding into one purple star, Take it easy a few days. Me and Rej will bring you dinner.

I thought you were Rej.

Raj smiled, removed his nosering and put it through his tragus, We’re both Rej.

He nodded, Oh.

A thin black arm wrapped round Azura’s neck and he bent over coughing.

Wha’s wrong wiv im?

Sick, Rej. Boy’s sick and you’re making jokes.

Azura kept coughing until he was in a squat, his lungs raw and rattled, sweat covering his face and neck, saliva dribbling down his chin.

Wha’s he got? Look bad, aye?

Does.

Arcane im then?

You got coin for that?

Rej laughed, took the ring from his eyebrow and put it through his lip on the left side, All’s got’s me rings.

I told him we’d take care of him tonight.

Azura stopped coughing and stood up, blearyeyed, shaky legs, I’m okay. Thanks, but there’s no need.

Wha’s wrong wiv im? Boy’s dying n talking simultaneous like. Come on down, Z. Fix you up, aye? Aye, come on Raj, help out now like. Aye, watch a step. Like a bag of fish, aye? Slippery like and ragged. Been going too much, aye? Tells you like, sleep right, eat right, stay way from old queens wiv purple lips. All sick like they are, aye? Aye, all knows. All knows. Vere now, lie down like. Vere’s your man. Cough it out, aye? Not so bad, not so bad. Raj, water, aye? Vere’s your man. Sleep now and dream no thoughts,
special not that childgoddess, aye? See shore and run in tover way like. Vere now, drink it up. Vere’s your man. Rej, slow, he’s drowning in that cough like.

Malik came home from his stall and kissed his wife, Azura. How was your day, Blackheart?

She leaned back and pushed her pregnancy towards him, Can’t wait to get him out of me. It’s all I can think about with him kicking at me, but at least we agree.

He’ll be a sound boy. Strong like his mother and smart like his father.

How was your day?

Malik sat on the Soarean rug with a grunt and stretched his legs, Felt weak like the heat’s going to melt me away.

Don’t be such a man, Mal. I need you out there making coin. You think your robes came for nothing, that this child won’t cost most of what I’ve saved?

Aye. Big and black and fat, he lay back on the rug and stretched his limbs each in their own direction, Come here, Blackheart. Once more before the babe’s born.

We’ll have all the fun we can once we count the coin you brought, aye?

Malik sighed and laid the moneybox on the rug.

Azura opened it, Where’s the rest of it, her eyes pierced through his face, Where’s the money, Mal? If I find you been to that temple, I’ll string you up by your fecking cock, aye?

Sweating, his heart beating too loud, No, of course not, Z, but it’s not easy out there. I’m not strong like you. It’s no job for a man.

Aye, she kicked him in the chest, knocking him breathless to his back, A man’s only made for sex, Death, and Angels. The lot of you are nothing but trouble, playing with yourself or these fecking gods. She kicked him again, Oh, ah, see what you done, Mal? This baby’s upset now and she’s learnt to kick you through
me, you bastard.

Malik jumped to his feet and helped her to the ground, I’m sorry, dear. I’ll try harder tomorrow.

You better, she winced, her dark features contorting in pain.

Raol stayed low and watched the other boys and girls at work. Their quick hands in empty and out with bits of iron or even copper and silver. Others carried small blades and made careful slashes in the money pouches. As if disconnected from the organism feeding and feeding off of the market, the children slid between the cracks of limbs and bodies, opening holes in spacetime where no holes existed. Studying them, Raol followed them with his eyes, his lips mouthing their movements, his tongue tapping against the back of his teeth, keeping rhythm, organising geometries of the crowd, seeing and predicting the movements of the manybodied beast swarming through the market.

He drifted in, slinking through legs and around bodies, the calamity of commerce above and all round, his vision funnelled on the passage of coin, the glint of iron, copper, or something more. Making slight touches, he passed through the market from one edge to the other, a grand pool of fish eating one another and itself in order to keep swimming, keep floating.

Through the maze of stalls and transient alleys, the stench of the Anthill packed into him and he coughed away the pollutant, the reek of a living in a latrine.

The twenty-one apprentices distributed milk to the children from large jugs while four Arcanes handed out pieces of bread. Raol hopped and climbed up the crude path beaten and broken into the steps, climbing over the many cells, past hissing and hiding cats and rats and pigeons, over and up the walls to the hovel. Yuki smiled at him, Take your sister down to the Masters, aye?

Raol nodded and scooped up Beata, rushing down to the
square where the Arcanes appeared every Redday to feed the orphans and joined the crowd of tiny mouths and skeletal boys and girls, hundreds of them, some half blind or crippled, all hungry, all stinking of the various secretions and excretions readily available.

The redsun rose and began to fall as the bluesun dawned while they waited. Here you are, child, the short morose Garasun apprentice said filling a ladle with milk while the Drache one handed it to Raol. Beata drank it all greedily, and Raol frowned but handed it back. The Drache laughed, There’s enough for you, little one, and poured another ladle full. Raol did not smile but thanked them with a bow and took two handfuls of bread, one for Beata, and sat away from the other orphans.

He watched all the faces, the pokedout eyes, the maimed legs, the missing teeth and tongues, the scarred bodies, the cleaved fingers and ears, the face piercings. Chewing slowly, he watched Beata play with the other little girls, climbing over the apprentices while one of the Arcanes, a frail Vulpen with hollow cheeks and shorn scalp, spoke the words of the Angels to the older children, drawing figures in the ground to teach them to read and recognise symbols. One of the Arcanes played with the children along with the many apprentices. Twilight cast the shadows long in two directions, some of the children drifting to sleep, the Arcanes switching places. Raol listened to them talk amongst themselves.

He’s always with the Angel.

The Vulpen shook his head, He’s selfish. He’s lost in it.

He fell in love.

We’re all in love, but he’s given way to lust and desire.

What’s to be done? Angels do as they please. They give and they take.

But always in proper measure. What is this? This obsession with one another. It’s imbalanced.

Can the Angels even do that?

I don’t know, the Arcane, pale and tall, pulled on his pointed beard, I wouldn’t think so but this doesn’t feel right. I know I’ve long desired to do nothing but be with the Angels, to bask in their Light and shirk my duties. Don’t look at me so, I’m being honest. It’s important to be honest. I may be Arcane, but I’m a man. It is because I’m Arcane that I do not give way to my desires and lust.

I don’t think lust and desire are the same.

True. Lust is selfish.

Isn’t desire?

The Vulpen shook his head, It’s different. Sexual desire’s not about possession, but lust is. To desire isn’t the want to gratify oneself, but to share experience with another. To make both of you closer to perfection.

Exactly.

Well, then what is it with Vreaux?

It’s not for us to say.

He thinks he’s Soarean is the problem, the Drache apprentice spoke, He wants to be a husband to the Angel. I’ve heard the way he talks to the Angel. He wants to leave Luca and go with the Angel.

They grumbled and sighed and the pale one said, It’s absurd to even consider. Even if he wants that, the Angel will not.

They do in Soare.

Do they? What do we even know of Soare? No, the Angels aren’t like us, they don’t desire or long or love. Not in the same way. For them there’s only the Dream. They love us, true, but not the way we love one another. At best they love us as we love dogs.

I’ve never loved a dog like that.

They laughed, their smiles weak.

What about the illness?

Exhaling loudly the tall one cleared his throat, We do what we can. I’ve tried to heal them. It’s not like most sicknesses. There’s no definitive source. Rather it breaks into every fibre and races
down the cords like the strings of an instrument, vibrating and shattering everything in its path. There’s a music to it, dissonant and cacophonous. I’ve never felt or seen or heard anything like it.

So what then?

I don’t know. We try to stop it before it starts.

Quarantine?

The Drache laughed and the Vulpen scowled, Impossible. Perhaps we simply do what we can. We heal, or try to, and we spread clean water. We may need to clear the temple.

Beata drifted from the others and lay down in the dirt. Raol hopped to his feet and scooped her up, bouncing.

Raw, she breathed, I’m hungry.

Raol swallowed and bit back tears, climbing back to the hovel.

Alexander watched the market from above, sitting atop a tavern with a merchant, a thin Garasun woman, blackhair hung over her shoulders and thick purple lips danced when she spoke. Above, an Angel flew between the clouds and drifted in and out of the sunslight, a white speck against the deep indigo of the sky.

I hear there’s a war.

The woman nodded and spoke in accented Rocan, Yes, a war.

Who fights?

They all do. All Vulpe and Drache and Glass. They fight in south. For now.

Isn’t it dangerous to fight in the forest?

They fight for two years now. Dangerous to fight all places. But the wolves not like fire. Trees not like fire.

Who do you think’ll win?

No one wins in war. Already so many dead.

But not in Luca.

Something even worse here. Comes quieter than war but hurts deeper.

Alexander leaned close, What?

Sickness. Blood. You not go to the temple?

He frowned, Which temple? So many gods here I can’t make sense of which is which.

The temple of flesh. All the bought boys sit together and share their love for coin.

The one by the port?

Yes, she sipped from her wine and turned to the market.

The crowd erupted into a song and dance pushing from the center and flowing out, a choreographed dance weaving through the merchants and buyers and peasants and artists, their singing rising together and spreading like a disease, infecting everyone it touched with music and movement. Alexander’s smile burned against the metal of his cheek as he watched Elrik, Frederic, and Willem laughing and clapping, staring at the naked natives, pounding one another on the back, jumping, bellowing. The song rose to a climax and ended, the dancers walked off, dispersed into the crowd as if nothing happened. The applause and shout rang through Luca and Alexander whistled, standing, following one blackskinned woman as she was swept away by the organism breathing life into the market.

What was that, he said.

A show.

Your world is truly one of magic.

She smiled at him, Our world is dying and we are killing it.

Alexander put his hand on hers, We’ll save you, my dear. Just wait.

Malik watched them loiter on the temple steps. Walking back and forth between the docks where the sailors went without shame to the steps and disappeared into the depths of the temple’s shadows, Malik returned to his stall only to flee the women and peer at the naked boys on the steps, his throat tight and his body covered in sweat beneath his robes.

The temple echoed with the coughing of the bought boys. They all shared the great pool at the heart of the temple and avoided the collapsed roof where weather swept in with its winter chill. Those who could not find a buyer for the night grouped and clung together to stay warm until the dawns broke. The blood pooled from their faces, from their anuses, while their friends and lovers and symbolic brothers washed away the sick, the pain, and told them to hold on.