“Yes. Yes, you’re right,” Danner agreed quickly. “Dhalvad, are you strong enough to stand now? Come, try. Here, lean on me.”
“Where are you taking me?” Dhal asked.
“To someone who can answer your questions better than I.”
Chapter 17
BY THE TIME THEY HAD WALKED THE LENGTH OF TWO SHORT CORRIDORS and climbed a flight of steps, Dhal’s strength had begun to return.
Danner noticed. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“We haven’t much farther to go, at least for our first stop,” Danner said, steadying Dhal with his hand.
Thura turned at a huge carved stone portal. As they passed through the large doorway, Dhal hesitated, fear and disbelief churning inside. The cavernlike room before him was glowing with green light, its source a giant crystalline boulder that lay in a slightly recessed portion of the floor. The crystal was dark green in some places, lighter green in others. As he watched, he thought he saw a pulsating movement pass through the crystal, like a wave of green-gold light shimmering through water.
He felt Danner pull on his arm. “Come,” he said, leading
Dhal forward. The crystal grew larger and larger as they approached. Unconsciously Dhal pulled back.
“Come, Dhalvad,” Danner coaxed. “The Tamorlee won’t harm you.”
“That is the Tamorlee?” he asked, unable to take his eyes from the shimmering crystal.
Thura had stopped at a scattering of loose rock that lay near the crystal. When Danner and Dhal approached, she turned and spoke to Dhalvad. “You are in awe of the Tamorlee, child. I can see it in your eyes. It is well you should be, for the Tamorlee is like no other that has ever been before… at least to our knowledge.”
Tearing his eyes from the crystal, Dhal looked at the woman. “What is it?”
“It is what you see, a giant, centuries-old crystal.”
“Why does it glow?”
“It is its nature.”
“You speak as if it were alive.”
“It is, in its own way.”
“It’s alive?” Dhal gasped, turning again to the crystal.
“Yes, we believe so,” she answered. “It doesn’t breathe. It doesn’t eat. Yet it changes size, parts of it breaking off so it may increase its dimensions. The process is slow, its growth judged in hundreds of years. The shards at your feet are proof of its growth. The stone you wear in your ring is also a part of the Tamorlee. Every once in a while one of the shards that break and fall off is different. Like the Tamorlee, it glows and shows life. Such a shard is taken, polished, and placed in a protective setting much like the one you wear, though yours is more ornate than any I’ve ever seen before.”
Thura looked intently at him. “It’s an honor to carry one of the fire stones, Dhalvad. They are given only to the wise and very trusted.”
Silently Dhal finished her unspoken thought: And so what are you doing with such a treasure, stranger-child?
Having denied stealing the ring, Dhal refused to deny it a second time. “How often do you find fire stones? Are they common?”
Danner answered. “Some years we find one or two, other years none.”
Dhal looked at the huge crystal and thought of the green glass surface he had seen above him only minutes ago. “The green light that entered the room where I was found, does it come from here?”
Danner nodded. “Yes. From the sun chamber a small portion of the Tamorlee is visible.”
“You said that when I touched my ring to the stone pattern on the floor, I activated the Tamorlee. What did you mean? What happened? Why couldn’t I move?”
“The Tamorlee releases a type of energy we call ‘polu,’ ” Danner started to explain. “It’s a force that can both repel and attract. It’s how we communicate with the crystal.”
“Communicate? You mean talk, as we are now?”
Thura interrupted. “Before we answer any more of our guest’s questions, Danner, I think it would be wise for him to stand before l’Tamorlee and have him tell his story. Let l’Tamorlee judge the truth behind his appearance here. If all is well, his questions will be answered. If not…”
Choosing to ignore the old one’s threat, Dhal looked at the giant crystal once more. “I can understand your discomfort at my unannounced presence and your reluctance to answer my questions. Perhaps it would be best if I just returned from whence I came.”
“No,” both said quickly. “Not before you have spoken to l’Tamorlee,” Thura added.
Dhal frowned, uneasy. “You would have me speak to the crystal?”
“No, Dhalvad,” Danner answered. “L’Tamorlee is our Speaker. He has empathy with the crystal. It is through him we learn from the Tamorlee.”
“By ‘him’ do you mean a Ni?”
“Yes, he is one of us. As a child he was chosen by the crystal. When he dies, another will be chosen.”
“The Tamorlee is a crystal and is also one of the Ni.”
“Yes, and I think I now see your confusion. The Tamorlee is the crystal life form, l’Tamorlee is a Ni. Together they form a working unit. Do you understand now?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Then you will come and speak to l’Tamorlee now?” Danner asked hopefully.
Dhal looked at the crystal once more, his mind seething with questions. How did the fire stones work? Why had his stone brought him to Val-hrodhur?
“Will you come?” Thura prompted, growing impatient.
“Yes, if you will answer one more question.”
Danner and Thura exchanged glances, then Thura nodded. “Ask your question.”
“The Ni named Fantar told me that he was going to the mountains to gift the Tamorlee. And another man from my own world once said he believed the Tamorlee lay in the Mountains of the Lost, north of Port Bhalvar. Is that where I am now?”
“I have never heard of your Port Bhalvar or the Mountains of the Lost,” Thura answered.
Danner shook his head. “Nor I.”
“But the Tamorlee does lie in the mountains?” he pressed.
“It does.”
It was suddenly terribly important for Dhal to know exactly where the Tamorlee lay. “Do these mountains have a name?”
“Cer-an-dargal, the Mountains of Learning.”
Dhal was disappointed. He had never heard of Cer-an-dargal. Surely the Tamorlee was far from his homeland.
“Where are we going?” he asked as he walked beside Danner. They crossed around and behind the crystal, heading for another portal.
“Outside,” Danner replied, “then down to the Learning Arc. We’ll find l’Tamorlee there.”
“Does he have another name?”
“He does,” Danner answered without hesitation. “But it’s only used by those who know him as blood kin. To the rest of us he is l’Tamorlee.” As they passed through the darkened portal and down a short curving tunnel out into the light of late afternoon, Danner continued speaking. “When you are presented to l’Tamorlee, speak the truth at all times. He will know if you do not. It is a gift with him, rare among the People.”
“Is he old?”
“In years, no. In knowledge, yes.”
“You said we would find him in the Learning Arc. Is he a teacher then?”
“Yes, but he is also a student, as are we all. What he learns from the Tamorlee he teaches to us.”
Thura cleared her throat and Danner fell silent. He did not look at Dhalvad again until they began winding their way down a series of stone steps carved out of the cliff.
As they descended, Dhal was able to get a good look at the valley below. He instantly recognized the great aban tree with the triangular building sheltered under its spreading branches. And off to the left of the cliffs lay the lake where he had watched the Ni call a water draak to aid them in filling their fish nets.
It took several minutes to reach the base of the cliff. Beyond lay a beautifully kept garden and a stone path formed of interlocking slabs of
shale. Along the walk, flowers were growing. It was late in the year for such flowers to bloom, he thought, but perhaps here in the valley of the Ni they were protected from the cool mountain winds. It came to him then that if the ring world was real and that if he had somehow, managed to transfer himself to another part of his world, then these mountains could be anywhere on Ver-draak, in another climate where the cool months were shorter or there was no winter at all.
Dhal shook his head. So many questions. He hoped l’Tamorlee would be more cooperative than Thura.
As they approached the front doors of the building known as the Learning Arc, they were met by a group of younglings accompanied by an adult. “One of our classes,” Danner murmured softly.
The children watched curiously as Dhal walked past, their crystal eyes alive with interest, their whispers like wind through tall grass. Just as he reached the open doorway, he paused and turned to look once more at the children.
“Is something wrong, Dhalvad?” Danner asked.
“No,” he answered. “It’s just that I’ve never seen so many Ni all at once.” One of the children, bolder than the rest, lifted his hand and waved. Smiling, Dhal returned the silent greeting.
“What do you mean?” Thura asked, glancing at the children.
“In my part of the world, the Ni have all been killed or driven away. I was the last.”
Thura’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you say your homeland was?”
Dhal looked at Danner. He too was frowning. Dhal sensed a sudden hostility. Why? Rather than answer Thura’s last question, he asked one of his own. “Twice you have referred to me as outlander. What did you mean?”
Thura glanced quickly at Danner, then back at Dhal. “Outlander—the Ral-jennob. Don’t tell us you’ve never heard of the sun travelers. Their history is taught to every Ni child as a lesson in the dangers of becoming overly involved with the outlander’s internal wars. I can’t believe any Ni has gone without such learning, no matter his homeland!”
Dhal shook his head. “I have heard of the sun travelers, but only through stories. My life in the Deep wasn’t touched by them. They were only—”
“The Ral-jennob touch everyone eventually. It is their way,” Thura said. “They came to Lach and they brought their ways with them. They are an aggressive people, a fighting people, and we have learned to walk wide of their path.”
“Do you believe these sun travelers come from another world?” he asked.
“Yes,” Danner said, nodding. “That is what the Tamorlee tells us. It speaks of knowledge of a distant world, one that can be found in the stars at night.”
“There is a legend that the Sarissa came to Ver-draak—I mean Lach—from the stars, but not many believe it. I wonder if they are kin to the sun travelers.”
“What do these Sarissa look like?” Danner asked.
“They are tall and strongly made. Most have dark hair and dark eyes. They are arrogant and greedy, and some of them cruel.”
“And these Sarissa warred on the People?”
Dhal nodded. “Haradan told me that the Sarissa were afraid of the Ni. He said that they tried to use them and when they found out they couldn’t control them, they killed them. Very few escaped.”
“I must admit that your words distress me,” Thura said. “I don’t like the thought of Ni being slaughtered, no matter their homeland. L’Tamorlee will be no less disturbed, I am sure.”
“It sounds to me as if these Sarissa may be blood kin to the Ral-jennob, Thura,” Danner said.
“It’s possible,” Thura agreed. “But we can discuss that later. Come, Dhalvad, it is time you meet l’Tamorlee.”
Chapter 18
MINUTES LATER DHAL FOUND HIMSELF STANDING WITH DANNER in a wide corridor outside l’Tamorlee’s teaching room. Thura had gone inside and closed the door behind her. They waited. Five minutes. Ten.
Finally, Dhal heard the sound of footsteps in the entrance-way. Suddenly two Ni appeared, each wearing over their tunics a curious harness whose straps crossed in front and ran up and over the shoulder. A knife sheath was attached to the harness at the right hip; the hilt of a sword stuck up behind the left shoulder. These were the first armed Ni Dhal had seen among the People, and he knew a moment of panic when they stopped in front of him.
He had been trapped! Gone was his desire to meet the Ni-lach Speaker. All he wanted at that moment was a return to his own world, to sanity and things he could understand. It was then he remembered his ring. There was more than one way out of that building… or so he hoped.
Dhalvad looked at Danner. The old Ni’s eyes were on the floor, his hands clasped in front of him. The two guards stood seven or eight paces away, watching Dhal.
Slowly Dhal brought his right hand around in front of him, tipping his fist up so he could see into the fire stone. It took only a moment to find the glowing crack.
Suddenly a hand fell on top of his and the fire stone was hidden. Dhal looked up. Danner shook his head. “I know what you’re trying to do, Dhalvad, and must refuse you such action. It’s imperative that you speak with l’Tamorlee. I know he can help you.”
Dhal nodded at the two guards. “Are they here to help me too?”
“You are a stranger to us, Dhalvad sar Haradan. It would be unwise for us to admit you into the presence of l’Tamorlee without taking some precautions. Please, don’t feel yourself threatened. You will not be harmed.”
Danner started to say something more but the door behind them opened then, and Thura beckoned them inside. Danner went first. Dhal followed. The guards stayed three or four paces behind him as he crossed a stone floor laid with interlocking, oddly shaped pieces of colored stone. On a slightly raised platform at the far end of the large, circular room sat a Ni-lach. His hair, a much lighter green than any Dhal had ever seen, was worn in two loose braids that reached his lap. Sitting crosslegged on a large, cushioned mat, the Speaker silently watched Dhal’s approach. There were four other Ni standing off to Dhal’s right; he wondered if they had been in the room when Thura entered.
As Dhal stopped before the platform, l’Tamorlee stood and stepped down. For the first time since entering that strange Ni world, Dhal realized that his smaller stature was average among the Green Ones.
For long moments l’Tamorlee didn’t speak, his dark, crystal-gray eyes moving in a careful study of Dhal’s features. When their eyes met, Dhal felt cold sweep through him—for a moment there was a frightening sense of emptiness or unimaginable depths.
He quickly closed his eyes, protecting himself against— against what? Power? Physical harm? No. No, it wasn’t that. It was more a feeling of loss—but loss of what? Of his world? Of self? Dhal shivered, remembering old Gragdar’s accusation that the Ni-lach were soul stealers.
A voice, soft and deep, came to him out of his self-imposed darkness. “Open your eyes, Dhalvad sar Haradan. All is well.”
Slowly he lifted his head, eyes open.
“Why is it that my eyes frighten you?” l’Tamorlee asked. “They are little different from your own.”
Steeling himself, Dhal again locked eyes with the Ni Speaker. Crystal ice… cold… knowing, but now there was a stillness there, a shielding of power that reinforced the spoken words.
“You are among friends, Seeker. There is no need to fear. Do you know who I am?”
Dhal nodded, unable to find his voice.
“Thura has told me what happened in the sun chamber. She spoke of your boldness in touching the Tamorlee. She isn’t sure you knew what you were about. Is this true?”
“I meant no harm to you and yours, sir. If I did wrong in touching the stone pattern, I beg your pardon. I do not wish to be your enemy.”
“The word enemy is a trade word. We do not use it here. Perhaps it would be best if you sit down with me and talk a while. Thura, Danner, please join us.”
As they all took seats on the raised mat, l’Tamorlee looked to the two guards, silently ordering them to another part of the room. They moved to s
tand quietly next to the wall, but their eyes remained fixed on the platform. The four other Ni were asked to sit but were not introduced.
Dhal tried to show a calmness he did not feel. When l’Ta-morlee asked him about his world and how he had come to Val-hrodhur, Dhal found he could not lie. In truth there seemed no reason to: He had nothing to hide.
When Dhal had finished his story, l’Tamorlee shook his head slightly. “You say you are a Healer. That you should be both Seeker and Healer is most amazing.”
“More dangerous than amazing, sir,” Dhal answered. “At least from my point of view. If I hadn’t used my power to heal, I never would have been chased from my home.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” l’Tamorlee said softly. “One never knows.” He looked at Danner and Thura, then back to Dhal. “I grieve for the loss of the Ni in your birthland. I knew them not yet still they were a part of us through the Tamorlee. It’s sad that you don’t know your father’s name, for surely he was a Seeker. But with information you have given me now and the memory impressions the fire stone can give the Tamorlee, perhaps we can learn more about your parents and your homeland. Your accent is different. As a Seeker, your father must have traveled far from Val-hrodhur, perhaps even to the other side of the world. That might account for the accent and your speaking only the trade tongue.”
Dhal nodded. “It’s possible.”
“It’s been a long time since any of the Seekers have returned to us,” l’Tamorlee continued. “Thura believes your coming to be a portent; whether of good or evil will depend upon the knowledge the fire ring carries.”
Dhal suddenly realized the full meaning behind some of Thura’s earlier comments. “The ring carries information?”
“Yes. It is a part of the Tamorlee. It learns from the Seeker, then passes its knowledge back to the Tamorlee, which in turn gives that information to me and through me back to all the Ni-lach. Nothing is ever forgotten, no knowledge ever lost, if it is with the Tamorlee.”
Dhal was stunned by the magnitude of such a network of information and learning. He looked down at his ring, an eerie feeling creeping up on him. While living in the Deep, he had seen certain plants that grew from other plants, parasites unable to live without a host. Was this Tamorlee like those plants, absorbing energy and information through the Ni-lach Seekers?
Where The Ni-Lach Page 16