“I cannot go after her ignorant. I need to know who or what I am dealing with or I may be confronted by the source back in time.”
“Without recourse to aid.”
“Lowen could get hurt.”
“What if she is hurting now?”
Torrullin was silent for only a beat. “I do not think so; it is akin to disposing of your ace.”
“Thus this whole fiasco is to draw you in?”
“Or all four of us.”
“I cannot leave here,” Teighlar stated.
“You may not need to. Time can be bridged from anywhere.”
“Or Declan can be my proxy.”
“Maybe.”
“What of your grandsons?” Teighlar asked.
“They are guarded and nothing will be revealed until a Vallorin is chosen or unless danger is imminent.”
“Torrullin, be honest. Who do you expect to find at the root of this?”
“Two; I expect to find two.”
“Oh?” Teighlar was intrigued.
“One being the perpetrator of an ancient crime …”
“Nemisin?”
“Or Neolone, or both. Perhaps separate or already in symbiosis. Of course, redress against them must be halted; we cannot tweak to that degree without altering history.”
“Gods. You are forced to protect this crime.”
“In a sense.”
“And the other?”
Torrullin drew breath. “Whoever instigated Grinwallin. Who made the stones sing?”
He held his face still, for it occurred to him Elianas might be behind all of it. Perhaps the dark man of his visions agitated matters in order to create the means of exit from whichever realm he was in. This he would not share with Teighlar.
“The stones themselves sang,” the Emperor said.
“The stones are a conduit only.”
Teighlar plonked his empty goblet down, the wine turning sour within him. “Only the Valleur were around when Diluvans heard the stones. You suggest a Valleur was the criminal and a Valleur seeks justice. Is that not working against yourself?”
“There have been factions among the Golden throughout our history and there still is. A Valleur can seek justice against a criminal of his own kind as easily as he would against an outsider. However, it may not be Valleur who made the stones sing.”
“Who then?”
“Neolone, maybe. We may find Neolone and Nemisin were not so complete in symbiosis. We may find Neolone was the criminal and Nemisin attempts to right an ancient wrong.”
Teighlar’s mind churned. The more they spoke on this, the more confusing it became.
Torrullin went on. “It could be Q’lin’la caused the singing, or it could be Kallanon in general. This is why we need uncover Grinwallin’s secrets.”
“The city knows?”
“The city has a soul, she was built with blood, she saw life and death in her erection and recycled it as her heart. She knows.”
“Why are the Four needed?”
“A panel of judges?”
“And we are objective?” Teighlar snorted disbelief. “I would desire justice for the Diluvan massacre, Sabian will want to see Nemisin squirm. Quilla could prove level-headed, but not you. You have admitted you will be forced to maintain the status quo. Where lies objectivity?”
“Then it is something else.”
“Doesn’t it piss you off, this uncertainty?”
Torrullin refilled their glasses. “No. I am challenged again.” He leaned back with his glass. “I was hibernating the last ten years, you know that.”
“Longer, and I do know. Have I not tried to put a fire under your arse many times?”
“You, of course, do not require challenge.”
A burst of laughter. “Me? I am quite happy with my lot.”
They grinned at each other and by morning would be turning Grinwallin inside out in their search for Luvan records.
Chapter 30
He comes! Hide!
~ Ornery’s Fairy Tales
Akhavar
PRIMA FOUND SASKA IN the great space that was Nemisin’s Throne-room.
It was midday and the heat was evident even inside the mountain enclave.
“Ah, Prima. You’ve brought news?”
Prima, formal as ever, bowed. “I have, my Lady.”
She gestured him closer. “Is he coming here?”
“Yes, soon.”
She swallowed and her hands visibly shook. She avoided Samuel’s funeral, knowing he would be there, and now he would turn the tables on her. “How soon?”
“My Lord Elixir has gone to Grinwallin. Once he has completed his task there, he will come.”
She nodded. It was an answer and yet it was not an answer. “Has Lowen been found?”
“No, my Lady. We believe she may have disappeared from here.” Prima hoped she would not see how much he pitied her.
“So, he comes for Lowen.” She glared at the Kaval man, while knowing the fault was not his. “She was here, by god?”
Prima bowed again.
“Forgive me. You had better give me the whole sorry tale, if I’m permitted to hear it, that is.” She could not keep the bitterness from her voice.
“I was sent to warn you, my Lady, and thus must tell all.”
Saska gave a nod. “Then let us do so in comfort.”
She led the way from the airy space.
The Dome
QUILLA PACED THE CONFINES of the Dome, muttering.
Eventually Belun lost patience. “Damn, Quilla!”
The tiny figure paused in mid-mutter. “I need to think.”
“Then do it elsewhere.”
“It is freezing outside, Belun.”
“Go to the villa.”
“Sabian is there.”
Belun straightened. He bent over a range of tools and drawings, the beginnings of Dome repair. “What is it with that clown?”
“Sabian is Agnimus.”
Belun dropped a wrench with a clang.
“He is Agnimus in new guise, personality and purpose, and I shall not trust him. Even if the console passed him. He went back in time - no, not like Lowen. He delved and it gifted him the ability to change. Clever bastard.”
“Torrullin trusts him?” Belun demanded.
“I doubt it.”
“Yes, our Torrullin is hard to fathom these days. He’s been hard to get through to for years now.”
Quilla sighed.
“What’s wrong with him, really?”
“You mean besides Lowen? Besides Saska?” Quilla paced closer to peer at Belun’s drawings. “Longevity, maybe?”
“We all have long years behind us, particularly you.”
“And sometimes I withdraw,” Quilla returned. “We all do.”
“Not like Torrullin.”
Quilla shrugged. “I think it may be the Throne; it calls to him continuously.”
“I wonder if it calls to Agnimus.”
“Do not even think it,” Quilla snapped out. “Gods, we do not need that complication also.” He pointed at a drawing. “Belun, that does not look right. This seal requires more magic than physical repair.”
Belun looked down and hissed through his teeth. “I missed that … thanks.” He was soon lost in reconfiguration.
Quilla moved away. Yes, he needed to think, away from Sabian, away from everyone. The Dome was not conducive, for the Centuar’s energy disturbed tranquillity, and yet he did not want to venture far in search of peace. He did not want to be too far from Sabian.
How to handle that one? The man was no angel and yet he passed the console, was therefore not quite the demon he once was. Who was Sabian, really? And what did he want from this? Was it simple immortality for his new guise? Or was there something more profound?
Quilla paced away, this time with minimal movement not to draw Belun’s attention.
Sabian was not the reason he needed to think. No, it lay in the tale of the stones, a tale Torrullin was not read
y to listen to. He had to listen, he had to hear, and the sooner the better.
“Belun?”
The Centuar lifted a frowning countenance. “What now?”
“Are you able to dedicate one of your screens to Sabian?”
Belun thought and then nodded.
“Can you do it now? I need someone to watch him.”
“Declan …”
“No, someone he is unaware of.”
Belun ventured over to the screens near the console. “Fine. I assume this means you’re leaving?”
“I need to speak to Torrullin right away.”
Belun stared over at the birdman. “You know, Quilla, sometimes you’re even more secretive than Torrullin.”
Quilla dimpled. “Thank you.”
Belun rolled his eyes. “Go. I’ll have Sabian in my sights within a minute.”
Quilla grinned and left.
An ogive chimed.
Sanctuary
IT WAS THE TIME before dawn, bone-chilling cold, but Declan could not sleep.
First Torrullin said they - Declan, Sabian and Quilla - would accompany him to Grinwallin, and then changed his mind. It had something to do with what Quilla had not revealed, he suspected. He did not like the void of ignorance it created, as he did not like the fact he played nursemaid - again - to Sabian.
Biting out an oath, he rose from the warmth of his bed. Bugger Sabian; he was going to Grinwallin.
Sabian, it seemed, had the same thought. The man was fully dressed and waiting in the passage.
“Are we off to Grinwallin?”
Declan stared at him. Why not? Why not take him along, when it would mean he was not derelict in his duty.
“Yes,” he said. He looked Sabian over. “I hope you are what you claim you are, my erstwhile enemy, for Luvanor does not permit darak fallen to penetrate the atmosphere.”
Sabian smiled. “Shall we put it to the test?”
The Siric laughed. “Absolutely. Follow my signature.”
A moment later both were gone, and Belun’s dedicated screen beeped warning.
The Dome
THE CENTUAR LOOKED UP, saw Grinwallin growing large in view, and Sabian with Declan.
Nearby he noted the birdman staring at them open-mouthed … and then the screen darkened as the sensors lost track.
He shrugged and returned to his task, working better alone.
It would be light soon and he would have to put up with his well-meaning helpers, Jonas and Erin.
Grinwallin
TORRULLIN SWORE UNDER HIS breath.
He hoped to turn Grinwallin inside out first and here they were. He muttered as much to Teighlar as they climbed the steps to the portico. The sun clambered into the heavens, the day ever warmer.
Teighlar squinted at the three new arrivals. “Who is that with them?”
“Sabian.”
Teighlar came to a dead stop. “Here? He got through?”
“Apparently.”
“Gods, Torrullin, do not trust him.”
Teighlar started climbing again, calling greetings to Quilla and Declan, and both replied sombrely.
When they met, Torrullin lifted a brow.
“We need to talk,” Quilla said.
“I am of no use lolling in the villa,” Declan muttered.
Torrullin glanced at Sabian, who said, “The Siric wanted to come, I assumed I had to.”
Declan did not refute it.
Torrullin spoke introductions for Sabian and Teighlar.
The Senlu Emperor was barely civil. “I know who you are. Beware, Master Historian.”
Sabian gave a smile. “There are larger creatures to cook than Grinwallin, my Lord Emperor. Your fair city is safe from me.”
Teighlar answered with a thin smile. “But are you safe from Grinwallin?”
Torrullin gripped Sabian’s shoulder and manhandled him out of hearing range. “I suggest you watch your mouth.”
“You have no hold over me. Lose the tyrant thing, please.”
Silence ensued, a period in which Torrullin - Elixir - knew he had to show exactly who controlled whom and who had hold over what.
He watched a smile spread over Sabian’s face, and the next instant the fair man gripped his throat.
“Counter!” Torrullin snapped.
Teighlar, although realising how necessary the gesture was, was afraid of how the city would respond. Then, contrarily, while Sabian gulped for air, he thought it might not be a bad situation to know whether the city would do something and what exactly it could do.
Quilla wondered something similar. Declan was not so relaxed. “Sabian, don’t do anything!”
Sabian dropped his hands and willed the silencing spell away. An instant later he grinned again, but Torrullin’s expectant smile caused his blood to run cold.
He jerked around; saw anxiety etched on the Siric’s face, curiosity on the Emperor’s and a kind of anticipation on the Q’lin’la’s.
He clutched at his throat again and this time he was not alone in his dilemma. He noted others suffer a similar fate, including Senlu, but not Elixir.
Torrullin leaned in. “I am a true immortal, ancient one. It means while Grinwallin intensifies the silencing spell, without targeting anyone specific, it cannot affect me.”
Sabian could not answer.
“I feel the lack of air, of course, but so what? It will not kill me; it will, however, kill you.” Torrullin straightened. “At this point I need your - shall we say, status? Thus …” He gazed up at the mountain. “Release the enchantment, please.”
It felt as if nothing could halt death and then blissful fresh air flowed into beleaguered lungs.
Torrullin sketched a bow. “Thank you, fair Grinwallin.”
“Damn it, you did it,” Sabian muttered, although without a hint of attitude.
Teighlar gazed up at the mountain, astonishment written on his face. “She did it, she actually did it.”
“Sabian, I may be many things, but would not unnecessarily cause suffering,” Torrullin murmured and glanced to his left. “There stand three of my dearest friends; I had no call to harm them. Watch your mouth in this place.” He ambled over to Teighlar and said, “She is not very objective, is she? A threat from one is a threat from all.”
Teighlar drew breath. “We must be careful.”
Declan glared at Sabian. “You are a bloody idiot.”
Quilla gave a rueful grin. “Well, now we know.”
Teighlar frowned. “How many times have we not thrown spells here? Remember the attempt on the boys? That was the realm of darak, and she did nothing. Why now?”
Quilla leaned in. “Have you been discussing Grinwallin recently?”
“Yes,” Teighlar frowned.
“She heard.” Quilla pointed a finger at Torrullin. “She listens more than you think.”
“Then she should be more objective,” Teighlar said.
“Omnipotence,” Declan said. “A point to be made?”
“How uncomfortable,” Sabian muttered. “Yes, yes, for me also. I shall be careful.”
Teighlar glanced at him. “Perhaps your presence grates her.”
Sabian glanced up and was unable to mask his disquiet.
Declan laughed.
“Torrullin, we need to talk,” Quilla said. “It cannot wait.”
“Very well. Teighlar must hear it, too.”
Quilla pulled a face.
“The stones, Q’li’qa’mz?” Torrullin prompted.
Teighlar paled. “Not here, for pity’s sake. The chamber of paintings is more fitting.”
“Indeed, and Quilla can see them. Declan, you and Sabian stay here.”
Torrullin did not wait for a response, but headed into the Great Hall with Teighlar behind him and Quilla trailing.
Declan sighed. Nursemaid again.
QUILLA WAS WORDLESS IN his wandering along the walls of the great chamber.
He halted before the painting of Tunian, glanced at Teighlar; he stared ope
n-mouthed at the oil rendition of Torrke; he paused before others, touched some reverently, and said not a word.
Torrullin wandered also, while Teighlar stood head bowed in the centre of the space.
Quilla and Torrullin met up at the far wall. “I understand now,” Quilla said. “He must hear about the stones also.”
“Before we get to it; what do you think of this?”
“It is Luvan?”
“Yes, by royals and priests, and other imagers beyond that.”
“Prophecies, Torrullin.”
“Agreed.”
“Your, um, events are here.”
“I know.”
“And his.”
Torrullin nodded.
“He is a true Ancient, is he?”
Torrullin inclined his head.
“Does he know?”
“He begins to see.”
“Do you? See?”
Torrullin drew breath. “I begin … like him.”
“Good. Then my tale will be easier to accept.”
Torrullin called to Teighlar.
When the man joined them, averting his gaze from the paintings, Quilla said, “What do you know of singing stones? Teighlar?”
The Emperor wandered to the likeness of Tunian. He pointed.
“Tunian, first king of Luvanor, a great man. Had he ruled eternally Luvanor would today be filled with cosmopolitan, clever and confident Luvans, all five continents. He had the gentle touch, the firm tongue and a soul to match. Unfortunately Tunian believed all others were like him and was thus duped by the Brotherhood, an order of magicians and priests …”
Teighlar faced his companions.
“By the third generation the Brotherhood ruled Luvanor, but they did not kill the royals. You see, they knew only royals could hear the stones sing or, more correctly, could decipher the messages. And so it was and Grinwallin was delved and raised. What do I know of singing stones? I know they warned of a cataclysmic inundation on Orb; I know they caused this fair city; I know I have heard them all my life, until recently.”
“Why did it stop?” Quilla asked.
“He came,” Teighlar said, glancing at Torrullin.
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 30