Wolf Star Rise: The Claidi Journals Book 2 Tanith Lee (i wanna iguana read aloud .TXT) 📖

the jungle. What tree that one was, over there. And that huge moth, and that flower, which had opened on the rock, and smelled of caramel.

All day we’d been in the Star. Now he showed me the stars above.

‘That one’s called the Queen,’ said Venn.

It wasn’t that large or bright, but unusual; it had a violet glow.

Then he said, ‘Ask Yinyay to show you the portraits, from the memory bank.’

‘Whose portraits?’

‘Anyone’s.’

I thought nothing could be further off from mattering.

All the while we were there, walking about, and inside the ship before, I had this ache of tension, knowing any second he’d say, ‘And now I’m going down the cliff.’ He’d say, ‘And now I’m going, Claidi. Good-bye.’

And then, under a tree, the ship-Star gleaming not far off, and the mauve star overhead, he says, ‘I’m going now, Claidi. Good-bye, Claidi.’

I took a breath. I turned to him and held out my hand.

He took my hand.

Then he leaned and kissed my cheek. (The way Shrin kissed him in the village.) His hair brushed my skin.

‘Farewell,’ he formally said. He turned and walked away. At the beginning of the path down the cliff he turned. ‘Claidi!’

I couldn’t answer.

He called to me across the dark, ‘Break the rules!’ And was gone.

How happy I should be. I am. Sort of.

It’s been three days now, just time enough, as we sail-fly, to write everything up, sitting in the sunlight through the three cleared walls, as green blurred ground and blurred, pleated emerald sea flicker, miles and miles below.

Yinyay does everything. Is even all right to talk to. When I want to talk.

I did ask to see some portraits, that first night, when I couldn’t sleep.

Millions of pictures, like paintings, but not quite – passed before me on a kind of stiff sheet that ran up from the floor. Wonderful looking people in fabulous clothes and jewels.

Who were they all? Families of the Towers.

Eventually I did think, and asked to see Jizania from the House. And so I saw Jizania as a young bride, in her wedding dress of gold, with Wasliwa Star, her husband.

Do I wish they were my grandparents?

Well, yes. I’d be crazy not to.

She got more beautiful when she was old, but even so, she had a lot of style as a girl, Jizania Tiger. Her hair was fine and golden, like her dress. Wasliwa was a handsome, impressive black man – nearly seven feet tall! He towered above her in his garments of russet and thunder-blue, his head shaved like polished mahogany. So I wondered if her baldness was a tribute to him, in the House when she was old. (If I am her grandchild, she must have been so old when she had my mother – it doesn’t seem likely.)

I can’t claim they are my grandparents. I don’t know who I am.

There was no portrait of Twilight.

I’ve taken off Argul’s ring.

I feel awful about that. But the ring itself worries me now. Ustareth must have used it to get through the jungles. What powers does it have? And on this Yinyay was hopeless. Didn’t know a thing – of course, thanks to Venn, since helpful memories of Ustareth have been ‘wiped away’.

I keep the diamond in my bag. It lies next to this book, and the new one Yinyay produced for me yesterday, seeing me writing, and how near I was to the end of all the pages.

Which in a way is the oddest thing of all. That my life has now filled it up. This entire book.

And I thought before, after I escaped the City, everything had been sorted out, and I wouldn’t write any more.

Now, I’m glad I have the other book. The new book … ready. (I got Yinyay to check it for Tags. Unnecessary, but I was glad she did.) Perhaps tomorrow I’ll start on it. Describe the journey back. Try to find something interesting to tell you, my poor friend, who I’ve dragged all this great distance.

Yinyay just came and said it’s dinner. (Rather like a mother, in some way. But I never knew my mother, so how can I be sure?)

I shall squeeze this in. There’s no room for more than a few lines.

We’ll reach the land I came from. I’ll find the Hulta. I’ll find Argul. Maybe I’ll see him from the air, even, riding his horse, his black hair flying back like wings, and his fierce face, which I can’t quite remember, raised to meet this falling star.

And once he sees me, too, once our eyes meet, then – then it will be all right. Despite the Towers and the Law, and despite Ustareth who was Zeera. Despite Venn. Argul is my family, all I need. Once our eyes meet, I’ll be home.

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Also by Tanith Lee

Birthgrave

The Birthgrave (1975)

Vazkor, Son of Vazkor (1977) (aka Shadowfire)

Quest for the White Witch (1978)

Novels Of Vis

The Storm Lord (1976)

Anackire (1983)

The White Serpent (1988)

Four-BEE

Don’t Bite the Sun (1976)

Drinking Sapphire Wine (1977)

Silver Metal Lover

The Silver Metal Lover (1981)

Metallic Love (2005)

Tanaquil

Black Unicorn (1989)

Gold Unicorn (1994)

Red Unicorn (1997)

Blood Opera

Dark Dance (1992)

Personal Darkness (1993)

Darkness, I (1994)

Lionwolf

Cast a Bright Shadow (2004)

Here in Cold Hell (2005)

No Flame But Mine (2007)

Other Novels

Volkhavaar (1977)

Electric Forest (1979)

Day by Night (1980)

Lycanthia (1981) (aka The Children of Wolves)

Sung in Shadow (1983)

Days of Grass (1985)

A Heroine of the World (1989)

The Blood of Roses (1990)

Heart-Beast (1992)

Elephantasm (1993)

Eva Fairdeath (1994)

Vivia (1995)

When the Lights Go Out (1995)

Reigning Cats and Dogs (1995)

White as Snow (2000)

L’Amber (2006)

Greyglass (2011)

Collections

Cyrion (1982)

Tamastara (1984) (aka The Indian Nights)

The Gorgon: And Other Beastly Tales (1985)

Women as Demons (1985)

Dreams of Dark and Light (1986)

Forests of the Night (1989)

Nightshades: Thirteen Journeys into Shadow (1993)

Tanith Lee (1947 –