Law of the Wolf Tower: The Claidi Journals Book 1 Tanith Lee (books to read now .TXT) 📖

I let him walk into the room.

He glanced round. Bandit – no, Hulta – women’s’ stuff everywhere.

Nemian looked back at me.

‘Did you have a nice evening?’ I asked acidly.

‘Not really. I was looking for you.’

‘I wasn’t so far off.’

‘Perhaps not.’ He paused. He said, ‘I wasn’t playing about today, Claidi. I was trying to find ballooneers. Peshamba used to have balloons for travel. Not any more.’

I nodded. I tried to look polite and vague, but a flaming fierceness, chilly and desperate, seemed all over Nemian, sizzling in the air.

‘Claidi – I know what you think of me.’

‘Do you?’

‘You think I’m a skunk.’

‘What’s a skunk?’

‘Claidi, don’t start that.’ (I felt and must have looked annoyed. I didn’t know what a skunk was.) ‘Claidi, that girl—’

‘Mm? Which girl?’

‘You know which girl. I’m sorry. It just – happened.’

‘Well, lovely,’ I said. I smiled my best congratulatory smile.

Then he really astonished me.

He dropped on one knee in front of me, and seized both my hands.

‘Claidi, don’t play with me. I know I deserve it. But – all this has been so strange for me. I’ve been confused. I didn’t think it through – and now – Claidi, tell me I haven’t lost you.’

He really is beautiful. The snowlight burned on his hair. I trembled, without quite knowing why.

‘Lost me?’ I asked casually. ‘How do you mean?’

‘You will go on with me, to my city on Wide River? I have to know you will – Oh Claidi – Claidi, I’ll lose everything if I lose you. Please forgive my hopeless mindless stupidity. Stay with me. Come with me.’

I swallowed. I couldn’t think what to say. Can you just say No in a case like this?

He was sweating. His eyes – had tears in them.

He wrung my hands like washing and only loosened his grip when I squeaked ‘Ow!’

‘There is a method of transport,’ he said, ‘not a balloon. Precarious, rather. But I’ll look after you. I promise I will, Claidi.’

‘Er. But—’ I faltered. Well, you know, I never claimed to be intelligent.

‘Claidi, in my city, my grandmother is very, very old. Like Jizania. And I have to get back to her. And to my duties there. I’m a prince. My life isn’t entirely my own. You’ll know.’ (He’d forgotten again, I thought, about whether I truly am royal.) ‘And this life of mine, Claidi, frankly isn’t worth anything, if I can’t take you with me. I need you. If only I can make you understand.’

And then he stood up and dropped my hands with absolute snow-cold dignity.

‘It’s your choice, of course. And I don’t deserve anything from you. I’ve been an absolute fool. Shall I go now?’

In the silence then, in the corridor outside, we heard the soft laughter and footfalls of the Hulta women coming back to the room.

At the agreed time, I stood in the snow by the white ball that had been a tree.

Kids were out, throwing snow at each other. The horsetail men and women were charging their zebras up and down. Chimneys I’d never noticed puffed up blue, and there was a smell of hot bread, and bells rang sweetly.

Argul came towards me over the white. It was miraculous, just watching him. I let myself pretend. Just for a minute.

And as he reached me, and saw my face, and his altered, darkened, closed in, I said, ‘I’m sorry, Argul, but I can’t stay.’ He stood there then. Silent. ‘I thought I could, and I wanted to, but now – the situation seems very serious. I have to go on.’

‘With him,’ said Argul. A storm went through the back of his eyes. He shook his head. The storm was gone.

‘As you know,’ I said primly, ‘we’ve travelled together this far, Nemian and I.’

Argul said, ‘He’s an okk.’

I blinked.

‘You don’t like him.’

‘Oh, I love him.’ Argul’s eyes on mine. I had to look down. He said, ‘No, excuse me. You’re the one does that.’

Then he turned and walked away, striding off across the snow, and as he did, something dropped from his hand.

It wasn’t until one of the kids ran over and picked it up, and it sparkled, that I saw it was a ring with a brilliant stone. Had it been for me? Surely … not.

The children ran away with it, after him. They were Peshamban, and very honest, and I think it was a diamond.

MARSHES OF THE MOON

Some time has gone by, before I came back to this book to write any more. We’re at a place called River Jaws, and have to wait a day or something, for something or other. I forget why or what.

The ink pencil ran out, too (I’ve written enough to use up a whole one.) And I’d forgotten to ask Teil for more, so had nothing to write with.

He gave me a sort of pen-thing, his, I suppose, only it doesn’t write quite the same. Which somehow makes writing not so easy.

Or am I only making excuses?

Yes, Claidi, I hear you say, you are.

When he said, I mean Nemian, ‘So you’re still writing in your book,’ I was afraid he’d want to read it. But he doesn’t seem interested. I think he just thinks I like doing it. He called it my Diary. He said lots of ‘ladies’ keep diaries in his city. So it’s fashionable, so it’s all right. Perhaps helps convince him I’m royal.

He’s been attentive. But also he looks – nervous? If he wants me, then maybe that’s all it is. But he doesn’t touch me, now.

I feel sorry for Nemian. I try to be friendly and cheerful, to show him I’m all right, and I like him, and I do try to like him.

I don’t dislike him.

But I can’t feel the way I did. I wish I could.

Why else did I leave Argul and the Hulta? It’s hard to explain. I wanted to stay with the ban—the Family. But it was about what I’d felt before. That I’d kept changing my