“As opposed to a dream? More than a vision? Yes, I am sure.”
Prima nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
“Tell me if this is possible.”
He swung off the bed and found a robe to put over his nightshirt. “Take me to the place.”
They did that, but there was nothing. No echo, no laughter, certainly no presence. In fact, it felt emptier than before.
“Well?” Saska demanded. “You are Kaval, you do things out of the ordinary. Tell me if I imagined this.”
“Do you think you did?”
“No! But the alternative is … scary.”
“Absolutely,” Prima muttered. “Maybe we should call him.”
She did not want to do so. Saska stared at the abandoned space. “You know, Prima, there was something in the way the presence said that bit about the sun shining on Akhavar again.”
“Meaning?”
There was anxiety on her face. “The sun will not shine here again unless Torrullin comes.”
“Is that what it said?”
“That is how it feels. Almost as if …”
“… proof of presence?”
She nodded. “I think so.” Her fingers clenched together. Aaru, how many times had she not heard Torrullin claim the sentiency of the Throne? What did the damn thing want so badly, it took on form?
“And you want to test it, before calling to my Lord Elixir?” Prima frowned.
Saska gave an uncertain gesture. “I would hate to call unnecessarily.” Coward, she berated herself, but it would gift a few hours more to prepare for Torrullin.
“Agreed,” Prima nodded. “And if the sun does shine in the morning?”
“Then we pull it apart, maybe enlist Caballa’s aid.”
Prima inclined his head. “There is no way I am able to get back to sleep now.”
She laughed, liking the man. His presence served to soothe some of her rampant fear. “Same. Shall we rustle up coffee and await the dawn?”
Prima followed her out, dread snaking in his gut. He wondered what lay in store for Elixir in this new twist.
He also wondered who pulled the strings.
Chapter 32
Rock and stone and flint and sliver, the tangible aspects of time.
~ A geologist’s belief
Grinwallin
QUILLA PACED AWAY, Torrullin’s demand echoing in his ears.
He halted before the painting of Torrke, the magical valley belonging to Torrullin. He pointed at it.
“Teighlar, this is Torrullin’s home. Did you know this?”
“He mentioned it.”
“Do you think it beautiful?”
Torrullin swore, but Teighlar said, “He no doubt seeks to make a point. Yes, Quilla, it is beautiful.”
“Just beautiful?” Quilla asked, gazing at the painting.
Teighlar glanced at Torrullin and wandered closer. He stood alongside the birdman and gave it attention. “It has an untamed feeling, unpredictable in nature.”
“Yes, that is it exactly,” Quilla murmured. “My point is, these works have captured emotions also. Amazing, considering no Luvan ever visited Valaris.”
Torrullin growled out, “Gods, will you get to the stones?”
Quilla gazed at him. “I am doing so. Come, let us study this painting …” and he veered left, walking swiftly away. He stopped eventually and pointedly waited on the two men.
“He has good recall,” Teighlar murmured. “Already he knows the position of each painting.”
“Huh,” was all Torrullin said.
They stood behind the tiny form and gazed on the painting in question. It was of rocks.
“What do you see?” Quilla asked.
“Grinwallin grey,” Teighlar said.
Torrullin sighed. “Torrke’s boulders.”
Quilla smiled. “Akhavar’s purple mountain stone. Sanctuary’s river rocks.”
They stared at each other.
“Are you suggesting another link?” This from Teighlar.
“No, I am saying stone is generic. A stone is a stone anywhere.”
“Geologists would disagree,” Torrullin frowned.
“Indeed, but we are not geologists. We see stone as stone and we hear stone as stone.”
“Your point?” Teighlar said.
Torrullin laughed. “If we listen well, any stone will give us the tale.”
Quilla gave a beatific smile. “Yes. You see, my friend Teighlar, my Lord Elixir here tasked this birdman with finding out about singing stones. I returned to the Lifesource Temple to open myself to the songs - Q’lin’la are well versed in Song, as you know. Well, I heard many songs, many tales, and then was forced to narrow the input to what we seek. Imagine my surprise when I realised any rock would tell us, anywhere, anytime, and then I was further amazed to discover once I knew that I no longer required the conduit they are.”
“There are no singing stones?” Teighlar appeared upset by the thought.
“No, no, there are. We can bypass them, that is what I am saying. We do not need to find the stone, the song and we do not require the blood. Listen, and we hear.”
“What do we hear?” Torrullin asked.
“We hear the echoes, my friend. They are inside us.”
Teighlar shook his head. “Grinwallin was built because stones sang.”
“Grinwallin was built because she already existed, Emperor. Look again at this painting. It is stone and it could be any stone. There is no emotion in this work; it merely is. Grinwallin is like that.”
Torrullin and Teighlar watched Quilla intently.
“Perhaps you doubt what I say, which is understandable. Grinwallin has given every indication of a beating heart; she proved her wakefulness to us earlier, did she not? How dare I claim she is of emotionless, generic stone, stones the Luvan royals heard, hearing her speak of her building. Yes?”
Both men nodded, both feeling like children before a lecturing parent.
“Who heard first, Teighlar?”
“Khunrath, the secret royal.”
“Khunrath heard the stones because he had a tradition of hearing inside him, but what he heard was the echoes of a previous time. He heard and envisioned a city already built and chose to make it real. Do you see now?”
Torrullin swirled his tongue in his mouth, saying nothing, but Teighlar frowned, saying, “No, I do not see.”
“In previous time this fair city was architecturally conceived, and creating in the imagination is as good as creating, period. Grinwallin had been conceived; Khunrath simply built it.”
“That begs the question, who was the architect?”
Quilla glanced at Torrullin, who said, “Nemisin.”
Teighlar spluttered and then was silent. Long minutes passed. “Or you?”
Torrullin bent over, hands on knees, taking deep breaths. “All I know is, now I know exactly where the Luvan records are.” His breathing was unsteady.
Quilla chose to hold his pose in the ensuing silence, bright eyes flicking from one to the other.
Torrullin found his equilibrium and rose to face the Senlu Emperor.
“The records are in a chasm,” Teighlar said at last. “Unreachable.”
“I know. The Final Abyss. Grinwallin’s other name.”
Teighlar’s eyelids flickered, but otherwise he did not react, saying only, “And you know about abysses.”
“I do, yes.”
“Therefore you can reach.”
“I believe so.”
Teighlar’s face took on a pinched look. “Are you also the architect of an ancient crime, Torrullin? Did you strike at the Diluvans for daring to come to this world where you conceived of the Eternal City?”
Torrullin then assumed the still stance Quilla knew well, the one that bespoke his defences rising to isolate him. His heart bled for the man.
“Surely I would have struck the Luvans also, for daring to come here?”
“I follow your reasoning, but someone had to build G
rinwallin.”
“Teighlar, how can I know any of this?”
The Emperor pointed a finger. “By going back for Lowen. She knows. And, you know what else? I think you took her away, as you must find her.”
Torrullin closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he looked at Quilla. “What tale speaks of this dilemma?”
The birdman sighed. “The stones tell of a chasm, Torrullin, here, where all truths begin. The chasm is the opposite entrance of another doorway found in another city in the mountain.”
Torrullin bowed his head. “Akhavar.”
“Yes,” Quilla said. He touched Torrullin on the arm. “Come, this painting tells more.”
He led the way to a point opposite the painting of stones. In this artwork was a tunnel of rock, with light playing in patterns over the stratified stone. It appeared as if the light flickered, beckoning; the emotion Quilla previously referred to.
“The tunnel between two doorways. It travels far, in imagination, in physical distance, and in time. We must walk this path, my friend. You, me, Teighlar …” He glanced at the Emperor, knowing his refusal to leave Grinwallin. “It does not take you away from the city; it takes you further into its embrace … her embrace.” He glanced at Torrullin. “Sabian must go also.”
“Lowen entered on Akhavar - the opposite doorway,” Torrullin understood. “She is in the tunnel.”
Quilla nodded. “As Erin said in the Dome - you will know the entrance when it is before you.”
“Should we not enter from there?”
“The journey begins here, for all of us, and especially for you, Teighlar.”
The Senlu stared hard at the painting. “All truths? Including redress for an ancient crime?”
“Or a way to accept, yes,” Quilla murmured. “And freedom.”
“Why freedom?”
“A way to separate from Grinwallin, High King,” Torrullin said. “Your freedom. Your choice returned.”
Teighlar paled. “And for you? Freedom?”
“Or a way to accept.”
Teighlar laughed. “My god, will you look at the pair of us.”
A smile came and went for Torrullin. “I need you with me on this. No matter what we find, I am not your enemy.”
Teighlar swallowed his laughter as abruptly as it came. “We are friends, yes.”
Quilla was all business. “Declan will come, naturally. We must put the Dome on alert …”
Torrullin’s attention snapped to him. “Why?”
“There is no telling how long we could be removed from this time. A day, a thousand years? Yes, it is realm travel, the realm of Time, and it has not the same rules of this realm of the present. The Kaval must be prepared to cope with long absence.”
Teighlar muttered, “Grinwallin must be prepared as well.”
Torrullin paced away. “I thought we could go now.”
“Do not be so eager,” Teighlar said.
“We cannot,” Quilla said. “For one, a Vallorin must be chosen first or your people will crumble in uncertainty.”
“A Vallorin must be chosen forthwith. Tianoman is close enough to his Age ceremony.”
Quilla nodded. “Agreed.”
“How long must Lowen wait?” Torrullin cried out. How long before he had real answers?
“She is safe.”
“How can you know?”
“She is in a place of truth, my friend. Where is the danger?”
Both Teighlar and Torrullin gave disbelieving snorts, and Teighlar said it, “Truth is painful, birdman, did you not know?”
“Lowen is strong. Now, Torrullin, do you know where the chasm entrance is?”
“Yes, and so does Teighlar.”
“Then that is our starting point.” Quilla focused on the Emperor. “Do what you feel must be done here, as we shall. We meet up soon again.”
“How soon?”
“How long before a Vallorin is chosen, Torrullin?”
Elixir ran both hands through his hair. “A week.”
“Let us put a ten day preparation period to this.” Quilla drew breath and added, “Are we agreed this is the path forward?” He pointed at the tunnel.
Neither man answered. Which was, in itself, the only way to respond. Teighlar strode out of the chamber.
After his leaving, Torrullin said, “There is no dark man in these images.”
Quilla knew of Torrullin’s visions and dreams of a dark man, although Torrullin had never shared any of it with him. Saska spoke of it, and once Caballa let it slip.
He dared to say, “Perhaps the master manipulator is able to remain unseen.”
“You have no idea what you just said. You are fishing.”
Quilla threw his small hands up. Sometimes one needed to take risks, but sometimes they bit back.
“Do not call him the master manipulator,” Torrullin snapped and strode out.
Leaving Quilla to imprint the artworks into memory; he had the distinct feeling they would need to refer to the images in the tunnel between worlds and spaces and time.
He wished dearly for a mysterious dark man in even one of the paintings, something to work with, anything.
Akhavar
PRIMA WAS MORE APPREHENSIVE than Saska, and she thought she would die of anxiety.
The two paced the ledge glancing often to the east where the sun would rise. The heavens were clear, star-filled, slowly greying, and both were glad of it. A clear sky meant they would know whether the sun came … or not.
“I almost wish there were masses of clouds,” Saska said in the pre-dawn stillness.
“Likewise,” Prima muttered.
Granted then, they were not that pleased with the clear night sky.
Gradually the grey intensified and pacing ceased. Eyes glued to the eastern horizon. Birds began to sing, waking to a new day, and upon the plains the first stirrings of animals, patterns of behaviour as ancient as time. A flock of wild geese came winging past the ledge heading for one of the shallow lakes to the south and a number of flamingos followed after. The clear honking of geese usually heralded the sun.
A minute passed, two, and the sky lightened. The stars could no longer maintain brightness.
“Any moment now,” Prima said, feeling the coming of day within, an instinct that proved man was a mammal always, warm-blooded, a sun seeker.
Saska knew the threshold was crossed. She was intimate with Akhavar’s cycles; the sun was not coming, not this day.
Fearing she had it wrong, hoping so, she waited a while longer before saying anything.
Then she could wait no longer. She pointed. “There, Prima, that is where it should be and already the rays should be upon this ledge.”
“It is not coming?” he whispered.
“It’s not coming.”
Prima slumped inward. By god.
Saska took a deep breath and released. “Akhavar cannot stay in darkness long; we must make decisions. We need Caballa.”
“She has a task.”
“This is more important.”
“We should send for him.”
She continued staring into the east. “Not yet. I need Caballa’s input.”
He understood. “Yes. Send the call.”
Chapter 33
Can you live without sun, stranger?
Can you live in it, friend?
~ Cèlaver Sage
Valaris
TEROUX LEANED OVER TO his cousin. “Tris, you’re being obvious.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Caballa, idiot. She knows you’re watching her.”
“So? I want to know when she makes a decision.”
“Please, I’m no fool.”
Tristan gave his cousin an irritated look. “Piss off, will you?”
Teroux laughed. “I was right! And here I thought you were into the delectable Rose!”
“Gods, will you keep it down?” Tristan threw his napkin on the table and rose from the midday meal. He strode to the windows; outsid
e the sky lowered ominously. Teroux’s laughter followed him.
Teroux transferred his gaze to Caballa. He noted, with a jolt of surprise, she tracked Tristan with her eyes and tried to appear nonchalant. Well, well, well. Because he studied her instead of his cousin, he was the first to see her reaction to an outside communication.
She stilled, listened, and paled. Gasped.
Before she could say anything, another communication was transmitted and she stared vacantly at Tristan as she listened.
Tristan was in front of her when she focused.
At that moment Fuma and Amunti burst in … and stopped.
“Elixir made contact, Caballa?” Fuma inquired.
She nodded and had eyes only for Tristan. “Tian’s Coming-of-Age has been brought forward, as has the choosing of a Vallorin.”
Teroux was out of his chair. “Say what?”
“To when?” Tristan’s heart beat wildly.
“Three days to Tian’s ceremony, a further three to the other,” she whispered. She stared up at him. “I don’t know why, only that Torrullin has commanded it. I need to confer with Vanar and Yiddin, and you must speak to Tian. Fuma and Amunti are to remain with you. Tristan, this is important; don’t go adventuring, hear?”
Teroux was beside Tristan, wide-eyed. “What’s going on?”
“My Lord Elixir has not elaborated,” Fuma supplied.
“The Dome is on alert again,” Amunti murmured. “The Kaval gather.”
Fuma glared at his companion. “Big mouth.” He ignored Amunti then. “We are to stay here, gathering or not.”
“Fuma, surely he can’t recall Chaim from the Lax confrontation?”
“Gods, Amunti! Of course not!” Fuma was furious.
Caballa spoke. “Tristan, Teroux, find Tian, talk to him and prepare yourselves. The next few days will be hectic, especially once the Elders begin the formalities of pre-coronation.”
“Gods,” Teroux muttered, and somehow found a seat. He sat with his head lowered into his hands.
Fuma sent him a sympathetic look.
“I must go,” Caballa murmured.
Tristan took her arm and led her over to the window. “What of the other communication?”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 32