storm by Unknown Page B

heal the rift between you and Pell, I will, but us being together before I've talked to him won't help.  He'll read it all wrong.”
     
                “He won't.  You don't know him.  He expends universal energy into maintaining the belief that I don't exist.  Everyhar knows it.  It'll go down in history.”
     
                “Not in my version of events it won't.”
     
                “Rewrite history, then.  It'll do nothing to help me.”  Caeru rubbed his face.  The tears had stopped.  “How I wish I hadn't come here.”
     
                “It's a bit late for that, isn't it?”
     
                “I meant today, ” Caeru snapped.
     
                Cal laughed, so infectiously that Caeru found himself smiling, even though he didn't want to.  “I promise you: I'll make Pell see sense.”
     
                Caeru reached out and touched Cal's face.  “You're sweet, really, aren't you?  Your optimism is just so sweet.”  He withdrew his hand.  “But totally improbable.  Come to me tonight, Cal, or never come at all.  For once, I want things to be on my terms.”
     
                He pushed Cal aside and left the room, considering that was probably the best parting shot he'd ever delivered.
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Many times, Pellaz broke his journey through the otherlanes to ride upon the back of the world, to feel the road beneath his sedu's hooves, to watch the season flow past.  Over the years since he'd become Tigron in Immanion, he had been prey to depression at regular intervals but what he felt now was deeper and more profound.  He needed to escape the otherlanes to assure himself the world was real and that he wasn't just dreaming it.  He realised he was afraid: the fabric of reality might break apart at any moment and he would be sucked into the place where his spirit had fled a long time ago.  This might all be a dream.  He might still be dying, somewhere.
     
                Usually, Pellaz could find solace at the House of Parasiel in Galhea, where several of his closest friends lived.  But the news he'd had to take to them – or rather the truth after the variety of wild rumours and speculations they'd heard – had not been entirely welcome.  Seel thought he'd gone mad even to entertain the idea of having Cal back in his life and was incandescent with fury over what had happened to Thiede; Cobweb had been mightily offended because Cal had refused to accompany Pell there; Swift had been outraged they hadn't been informed of the details sooner, as he regarded Cal as family, and Tyson – well, it was difficult to read Tyson's reaction because he was Cal's son, and so like his hostling.  His sullenness could hide excitement at the prospect of reunion with his parent or -- given his blood -- murderous impulses.
     
                But perhaps more unsettling than any of the Parasilians' reactions to news of Thiede's fall and Cal's instatement, were the private words Cobweb had had with Pellaz the previous night.  They had walked in the gardens of We Dwell in Forever, a house now as famous as the family who lived within it.  Cobweb was a creature of magic and mystery, more feminine than any har had a right to be, and he possessed the second sight.
     
                As they passed beneath the weeping willows that cast their sorrowful locks upon the surface of the quiet, moon-kissed lake, Cobweb said, "Cal is always somehar else's sword." He reached up to bend a pliable twig around his fingers, twisting and twisting it, although it did not break.
     
                "Tell me what you mean," Pellaz said.  "Whose sword is he now?"
     
                "That of the one who wish to see Thiede dead."
     
                "Are you speaking of the Kamagrian parage, Opalexian?"
     
                Cobweb said nothing.  He went to