Declan did not bite. “It says on his bier he is from the time of Dancing Suns. What do you know of that time?”
“The time of great changes, that is what it was, therefore the appearance of suns, stars, dancing in the heavens. Galaxies were born then, as was other sentience. Nemisin was at the tail end of great upheavals, but he did not live to see the arising of new races. He often raged against the singular state of the Valleur, but I think he was by far too temperamental to ever share space. The succeeding generations proved thus, yet to a lesser extent had it been Nemisin’s time.” Sabian focused. “Why the interest in him? Agnimus?”
“We know Nemisin was instrumental in Agnimus’ creation.” Again Declan did not bite.
“Well, I know the same as you. Agnimus came to power twenty-five years ago, using Elixir’s son Tymall, and he brought forth draithen to take terror to the people of Valaris and laid siege to Torrke, doing this with the aid of a portable shift between realities. The draithen came from Digilan, where they are known as Mor Feru.”
Declan said, “Agnimus was draithen also. What do you know about that?”
“A symbiosis of darkling and soltakin, body and soul melded into one. A Siric enchantment, I believe. When the draithen died two thousand years back they landed up in Digilan, where they multiplied and that’s where Agnimus found them.”
“You are well informed,” Prima remarked.
“The Academia of Truth tells all, good, bad and the dirty, and Titania is gifted a copy of everything,” Sabian replied. “Darklings are, in a sense, Ancients.”
“Caballa says you would know the precedents,” Declan said.
“To a living Ancient transforming? How would Agnimus have altered to hide in plain sight, is that it?”
Declan nodded. Prima watched intently.
“I have been thinking on it since we left Nemisin’s world. Remember how I said much is fantasy and one needs to negotiate a way through what we think we know? Well, I have reached two conclusions, but I could be wrong.”
Sabian stilled and waited.
“Presently, a guess is better than nothing to launch from,” Declan muttered. “Let’s have it.”
Sabian dipped his head and stood.
“Mind if I pace? Think better that way.”
He stepped away when Declan lifted a hand and began pacing the small sitting area of the cottage, window to window.
“Agnimus is a symbiot, which means he has already undergone changes, and more change cannot frighten him. There would be some pain involved, I think, for I have not read anywhere that a darkling is a shapeshifter, and a soltakin can only manipulate emotions. Now, a glamour is ephemeral, thus change would be greater than a glamour, and the pain would have to be borne. Two likely scenarios come to mind, both based on Ancient lore.” He halted and peered down at Declan. “Are you aware of the Circle of Time?”
“How can I not be?”
Sabian acknowledged that with a nod. “Right. Well, the curve can be manipulated if you are old enough, and Agnimus must be old if Nemisin was the spark. He could, theoretically, go back in time and alter the fates that made him, returning to this time changed. Change your fate, you change yourself.”
Declan lifted his eyebrows. “How would he go back in time?”
“Pure speed or real depth.”
“Explain.”
“If one can travel fast enough one begins to beat the stretch of time, one reaches the future quicker than those slower, and time being a curve, one could travel back up the Circle.”
“Could Agnimus do so?” Prima murmured.
“Doubtful. Huge stress, and perhaps more time to get back to start than he has already lived through. If he chose time to alter himself, I suspect he would have more success with great depth. He chooses a world known as ancient and delves through the rock back to first sediment. There are enchantments able to do so, according to lore, as there are ones that allow exit at sedimentary stage. He emerges in a time far back, beyond sentient memory. He is before anything that created him and thus, in the coming creation, he is already aware. The changes he affects in his creation then meld with that awareness, and he returns through the rock in altered state.”
Declan and Prima stared at each other.
Sabian looked from one to the other. “Have I hit a nerve?”
Declan collected himself and cleared his throat. “You said there were two ways, or was that it?”
Sabian paced away. “The Circle is one way, but there is another. Pure enchantment, specifically Valleur magic, and more specifically, Nemisin’s magic and the Dragon’s.” He swung around. “However, Nemisin’s serious magic is the province of Vallorins only, right? Vallas? I guess Agnimus would not be privy to those enchantments.”
Declan was struck dumb and Prima muttered through clenched teeth, “Not unless Agnimus is part Valla.”
Sabian’s eyes rounded. “He is part Valla?”
Declan swore.
“He is?” Sabian insisted.
“Part darkling, part soltakin, part Drinic, part human and part Valla,” Declan sighed.
Sabian flung back into his seat and sat forward. “Say what?” He slapped his knees. “Then he could use enchantment and rock layering, do you see? One takes him back to his creation and the other allows him greater influence in the form he seeks to use, and, viola! He returns so changed you will never know him.”
Declan rubbed at his eyes. “My task is hopeless.”
Prima stepped forward. “How long would such an altering take?”
Sabian professed ignorance.
“Fine, then which world would give him the layering he needs?” Prima insisted.
“A geologist could tell you that.”
“But you have a theory.”
“It is only a theory.”
“What is it?” Declan demanded.
“Well, would he not go back to the source? Nemisin’s world is ancient by any standard.”
“It fits, Siric,” Prima murmured.
“Too well,” Declan agreed. “And what do they say, Prima? The simplest answer is usually the right one.” He glared at Sabian. “Let us assume he used Nemisin’s world. Saska has been there near the whole twenty-five years; would she not have sensed something?”
“I do not think so. He would be way back in time.”
“And he would have emerged again in this. Surely at the place he entered?”
“Here I admit ignorance. The question is whether he physically delved through strata, or metaphysically? He need not have been near to do the latter and, anyway, that is a big-arsed world.”
Prima’s hand descended onto Declan’s shoulder. “Go back to the lady Saska and probe disturbances she felt over the years. I shall continue here.” He squeezed. “We shall wait for you before moving on.”
The touch was meant to impart confidence, for the Siric was clearly frustrated.
In quandary Declan stood, and then he nodded and vanished.
Prima bent a stern eye on Sabian. “Now we talk about prophecy, Master Historian.”
Grinwallin
ERIN WAS ALSO AN EMPATH.
She could sense others’ feelings and she was able to pick out residue tracks after a person was long gone. It was a gift seldom used, for residues were manifold and frequently led to a state of breakdown.
Charged now with the task of retracing Lowen’s footsteps, she took the time to isolate what she knew of Lowen and insulated herself to tracking only that particular residue.
Lowen was last sighted on Luvanor.
Erin began her search in Grinwallin.
Teighlar sensed her immediately and met her at the foot of the portico steps. “Welcome, lady. May I help you?”
She was astounded by his good looks. No one had ever mentioned it. “My Lord Emperor?”
“I am Teighlar, yes. Who might you be?”
“I am Erin of Elixir’s Kaval.”
Teighlar extended his hand and, when she took it, brought her hand to his
lips. “Welcome, Erin.”
She blushed and withdrew her hand. “Forgive the intrusion, my Lord, but I am charged with retracing Lowen’s last days. I believe she was here.”
“Right to the point; I like it,” Teighlar smiled. “Please, come.”
He headed up the stairs, leaving her to follow. She found him sitting at a table in the shade of vines.
“Sit, Erin. Torrullin has already retraced her movements here. Lowen entered the mountain, went down to the lower caves, returned up here, spoke briefly to me, and left.”
“What happened here isn’t what I seek. I hope for residue to point me backward to the place she was before Grinwallin.”
“Ah. You are an empath?”
“Yes.”
Teighlar gave a smile. “Torrullin has many talents at his disposal now. Lucky.”
There was a story there, she realised. Something between Elixir and this man, but it was not her place to question it. She said, “Varied talents is the reason we function well.” It was gentle criticism.
“I am rebuked. Now how can I help you?”
She liked him. Her eyes crinkled. “As charming as Elixir, I see.”
Teighlar laughed. “Are you flirting with me, lady?”
She laughed also. “I think so.”
“I enjoy honesty in a woman.”
Erin moderated her smile. “Unfortunately I don’t have the luxury of time to further astound you with my, er, honesty.”
Teighlar stared deep into her eyes. “Another time, perhaps.”
Definitely, she thought. “Perhaps.”
Teighlar released the contact. “How can I help?”
She drew breath. “I need the place she came to as she arrived here. I can find the residue, but that will spare the search.”
“Have a word with Elder Dechend. They spoke as she arrived.”
“Good.”
Teighlar sighed. “Now?”
Erin laughed. “If you don’t mind.”
“Pity.” He called a guard over and instructed the man to find Dechend. “Everyone is always so hurried,” he complained. “Why does no one take the time to smell the fresh air anymore?”
“I have noticed how fresh the air is here. Grinwallin is beautiful.”
The Emperor nodded. “Fair of face and heart.”
Erin was about to say more, when the guard returned and, in his wake, Dechend.
The Elder was tall and thin, pale-skinned, his eyes a faded blue, his hair light brown. It was a pleasant face, open, with clean lines. He wore a long robe, sandals on his feet.
“Ah, Dechend, please join us. This is Erin of the Kaval.”
Dechend took her hand and bent over it. The Senlu had better manners than most, clearly. “My lady,” Dechend smiled.
“Pleased to meet you.”
Dechend sat and Teighlar filled him in. Dechend gave a few nods and said, “Lowen arrived via transport directly onto the portico. I was trimming the vine over there …” He pointed to the other side of the long expanse. “… and saw her. We spoke briefly.”
“Where exactly?”
Dechend looked to his Emperor, who waved a hand. The Elder rose and so did Erin.
“My Lord Emperor, another time?” she murmured.
Teighlar smiled lazily. “I look forward to it.”
DECHEND SIGHED, READING the signs. If only Teighlar would take a permanent mistress, if marriage was unlikely. This constant parade of women was not healthy.
He led the way to roughly centre stage of the portico, saying, “Lowen is a logical person and tends to act symmetrically, physical action, that is. She arrived here, centre and at the point of entry into the Great Hall.”
“Are you saying she isn’t logical in other ways?”
Dechend sucked at his teeth. “You are looking for her and my opinion would help?”
Erin nodded. “Indeed, and I won’t say who said what.”
Dechend grinned. No wonder his emperor liked her. “Well, it always seemed to me Lowen is an outer and inner person. Outside she is logical, calm, thoughtful, and acts almost mathematically. Inside she is anything but logical. There instinct and intuition rules, a host of emotions. Sometimes she acted one way, but a look in her eyes and you knew she thought something else entirely.”
“I hear you. The day she came here, how was she?”
“Outwardly calm, but there was fire in those eyes. Scared me a bit, I admit.”
“How so?”
“She asked to see the paintings, said my Lord Elixir sent her. I saw no harm, for Elixir has right in Grinwallin. I suggested a guide, but she said she knew where to go and there was something strange in her eyes. With hindsight I realise she acted alone, told a mistruth, she did not want to encounter the Emperor, and projected calm when she was jittery and hurried within. Scary, like she was two people.”
Erin nodded again. “I have felt that about her. Here, you say?”
“Near as.”
She closed her eyes, her empathic skills taking over. Yes, indeed, a trace of Lowen, and as jittery as Dechend suggested. She moved slightly to the right and the trace strengthened; she frowned in concentration, trying to gain a sense of where Lowen had been before. Sand, hot smells … the blare of a siren, glint of glass … her eyes snapped open.
Xen III. Kora City.
She smiled at Dechend. “I have it.”
The Elder studied her. “I am guessing you will not tell me.”
“Sorry.”
He grinned. “Glad to help. Are you staying for a while?”
“Thank you, no; I must go. It was good to meet you.”
Dechend bowed. “We hope to see you again soon.”
Erin bowed also. “The Senlu have perfect manners. Thank you.”
She straightened and left, leaving both the Elder and Teighlar staring at the space she vacated.
Valaris
QUILLA EXITED TRANCE AND then sat for a time in thoughtful pose.
Gradually a frown creased his smooth brow. It occurred to him the only way to be certain was to stand before the singing stones in person.
He rose and began to prepare.
It was a task he did not relish.
Nearness to the stones always brought something unexpected.
Chapter 18
Spectacular, master beaver! A dam worthy of mistress beaver!
~ Tattle’s Blunt Adventures
The Dome
BELUN GRIT HIS TEETH in seeing Sanctuary’s atmosphere ever closer on his giant monitor.
He steered the Dome as a ship, using the console of lights as his helm; the screen was his view port.
Six days of careful arithmetic and even more careful planning brought him to this point. Sanctuary’s spaceport was given advance warning of the entry in the event they raised alarm over an unidentified flying object - funny, yes, only not. The leaders were informed as well; they seemed less concerned, but then nobody indigenous to Orb knew much of flying. He, Belun, knew as little.
He nearly bit through his bottom lip when he saw the first flick of flame against the Dome, his gaze quickly marking the vessel’s integrity on a smaller screen. Gods, this was a thing of magic, not a bloody spacecraft; what was Torrullin thinking?
Then the unwieldy half-sphere was a-fire.
He went in fast and at a steep angle, and real fear set in. Not only were the flames a cause for concern, but the Dome began to shudder as if in dying throes.
All gods, help me now!
A giant crunch burst his eardrums and a massive horizontal tear appeared beyond the sacred ogives. The Dome was tearing in two.
Belun screamed through the pain in his head.
Torrullin!
Sanctuary
TORRULLIN LOOKED UP.
He only minutes ago returned from Valaris, intending to find a few hours solace before heading to Grinwallin.
The Dome was coming down.
It was failing entry.
In a flash he was through the flames and at the C
entuar’s side. One brief, encompassing glance gave him the tale.
Belun was fixated on the screen, but very aware Torrullin was beside him. Despite pain, he felt a certain release of tension.
“Hold course,” Torrullin said and then noticed how badly the Centuar’s ears bled. Belun, can you hear me?
A nod.
Hold course.
Another nod and teeth ground against each other.
Torrullin paced back, lifted his hands and murmured. Into the widening tear there bled fine, white mesh, akin to lace, only stronger. Once the tear was filled, the mesh began to contract, gradually pulling the two halves of the Dome closer. It seemed slow and yet the lacy substance held disaster at bay, and gradually the tear narrowed.
Belun felt the vessel respond again, said a thankful prayer, and altered the angle of descent, bringing her into a planet-sized curve. He ignored the flames on the smaller monitor; Torrullin was with him.
The breech closed. It was a temporary repair, but it would hold until they were on the ground. Torrullin lowered his hands and bent his mind to extinguishing the surrounding fire. Moments later the terrible heat subsided. Small flames still licked hungrily, but no longer as threat.
On the giant monitor Lake Averis was a small, glinting point. A destination that seemed too tiny for the massive Dome, and yet both men understood it was merely perception of fear. Belun checked the trajectory, affected an infinitesimal correction, and pushed down the lights.
The Dome responded.
Belun, I will guide her down from below.
The Centuar could only nod, and Torrullin was gone.
FROM THE SHORE OF Lake Averis the Dome was a black dot, a point that grew steadily in size and appeared to hurtle down at destructive speed.
Torrullin’s heart hammered, but he trusted Belun and thus waited calmly.
The dot curved in ever larger and then seemed to slow into suspension.
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 19