“The totals match.”
Nemisin grinned. “Excellent! I am satisfied. Well done again, my boy.” He slapped Elianas’ shoulder and spoke to Tingast. “Take him for a walk; I need to confer with my Elders how to approach Lord Sorcerer.”
Tingast and Elianas bowed at the same time and left. Outside the Throne-room they collapsed against a wall in release and both laughed for the relief of it. Then they carried on walking, talking animatedly.
An hour later they were informed to return to Kalgaia.
Nemisin had arranged a meeting for the following evening with the Lord Sorcerer and would inform them of the result soon after.
Kalgaia
ELIANAS WAS IMPOSSIBLE to live with during the waiting period, and constantly muttered about the calculations spell being exceedingly stupid, and his father growled at him to go out and pest his friends.
Glaring balefully, Elianas slammed out and stayed out until the night of an answer.
Throne-room
TORRULLIN SAUNTERED IN wondering what the latest demand would be.
He was surprised to find only Nemisin and Valeri there, at a simple repast set on a small candlelit table in the niche under the lower vine canopy. Sunset glows suffused the Throne’s chamber in amber.
He approached and bowed, and Nemisin waved him to the third seat as Valeri smiled welcome and poured a goblet of wine. He smiled back; he had no issues with Nemisin’s wife. He sat, raising an eyebrow.
Nemisin laughed. “We can be civilised.”
Torrullin lifted his goblet and sipped. The good stuff; what did they want of him?
“Torrullin, we hear you repaired the fissure to the north,” Valeri murmured.
“The pillars will hold now, yes.” He set his goblet down. “Is there another? If so, we must not wait …”
“No, no, the city is in excellent repair,” Nemisin said. “This is a personal request.”
Personal, was it? Request … truly? Torrullin sat back as Valeri placed fruit on his plate. “I am listening.”
A flicker of irritation in Nemisin’s eyes. He hated being humble, and hated it particularly with Lord Sorcerer. “Do you know Tingast Danae?”
Ah. The man Nemisin thought was Valeri’s lover. “I know of him. I knew his father better.”
“This is about his son, Torrullin,” Valeri said. “The lad has expressed a wish to study with you.”
“No.” Torrullin rose.
“Sit down,” Nemisin snapped. “And hear us out. The lad deserves it.”
Torrullin sat, ignoring wine and fruit. He stared at Nemisin.
“Elianas will wed Cassiopin after she comes of age, and thus will the Lorin and Danae have a greater bond. In the meantime I am hoping, by studying sorcery under your tutelage, we can start forging bonds now to aid togetherness for all in the future. You and I, Torrullin, we are always at each other, and this is a way to negate it. I am asking you to take my future son-in-law under your wing, and we may hope to call truce lasting peace sometime soon. The boy asked, and I denied it at first …”
“Until you saw political ramifications.”
“Yes, but is it so hard to see beyond politics to something better?”
Torrullin lifted his goblet and sipped again. “It would be good to put our frustration with each other away.”
Valeri smiled. “It would be good.”
Torrullin drank some more. “Tell me of the lad, then, but I am not giving an answer now. I have never taught another; I must consider whether I can do so or not.”
Nemisin inclined his head. “Consideration is all we ask. He is fifteen and has successfully passed his testing at the guild.”
“I assume you tested him also,” Torrullin remarked. Poor youngling.
“I did. I was not about to ask this of you if the lad has nothing between the ears.”
“And?”
“Transport, seeking and conjuring are all of high quality. And he spoke a new spell that appears to work extraordinarily well. My Elders are impressed.”
“Oh?”
Valeri laughed and launched into an account of a spell able to manipulate numbers to a desired result, adding how Selassi was ecstatic about his work being made simpler, about not wasting time now, and she soon had Torrullin laughing as well.
He was as impressed. He had attempted something similar, but did not possess the patience with figures to make it work. Clearly the lad knew about loyalty and love also; he created the spell to aid his father.
“I hate numbers,” Nemisin muttered.
For once Torrullin laughed with him. “As do I!”
Nemisin smiled. “Will you consider it?”
“I shall consider it.” Mentally he kicked himself; why had he agreed to do so?
Valeri leaned over and placed her hand on Torrullin’s wrist. “The poor dear is no doubt pacing a hole in his father’s floor in Kalgaia. Please, I do not want to push, but I do not like that a young one is suffering.”
He smiled at her. “By morning, I promise.”
She removed her hand. “Thank you. Now eat.”
He did, and listened to the two of them talk about a shared future, the charm of Elianas, his potential, and at no time did they ring false. Yet he did not trust it. He was certain Nemisin had another motive, but what it was remained securely hidden at this time.
As he listened and dissected, he gave thought to how it would be to have another in the dwelling on Avaelyn. It might not be too terrible to have a young one to pass knowledge on to; it could be lonely sometimes on a world where he was the sole occupant. He preferred privacy and silence, but it could also lead to isolation, and that led to arrogance. These were his people, Lorin and Danae, and they did not deserve the anger arrogance could herald.
Abruptly he said, halting Valeri in mid-flow, “I shall do it.”
They stared at him; he never gave in easily.
“Why?” Valeri whispered.
“Because the youth are the future, because I would like to see it come to pass.”
She smiled. “You have a heart of gold, Torrullin.”
He grinned. “Doubtful.”
“Yes, doubtful,” Nemisin murmured, and held a hand aloft. “No ill intended. I thank you. Elianas will thank you. His father, however, will be a mite heartbroken.”
Torrullin rose. “Thank you for the repast and conversation, but I need get my mind in order for this new undertaking. Ask Tingast to bring his son to Avaelyn in a week. He need bring nothing except clothes.”
They released him and he strode out.
Kalgaia
ELDER SELASSI WAS dispatched to bring the answer in person. He arrived in the sitting area to find Elianas pacing and Tingast sighing for patience.
“Young man.”
Elianas jerked around, eyes wide with hope.
“Lord Sorcerer has agreed.”
Elianas whooped, kissed his father, kissed Selassi and then slammed from the house shouting for his friends.
Selassi laughed and sat. “Such energy.”
Tingast was worried. “He gave answer rather quickly, did he not?”
“I was not privy to the conversation, but I believe he seeks belief in the future. Tingast, this could be the best move while Nemisin is Vallorin.”
“Or the worst,” Tingast muttered.
“Torrullin isn’t the monster he is made out to be, friend. And he is good at what he does. Elianas will certainly learn from him.”
“I know.” He paused. “Why is there enmity between him and Nemisin?”
Selassi leaned forward. “This is between you and me, right? I hear Torrullin claims he conceived of the Throne and Nemisin stole the design. It started then.”
Tingast was aghast. “Did Torrullin want to be Vallorin?”
Selassi sat back with a frown and said, “I sometimes think he is the real Vallorin, but do not mind me. Trust that he will not harm your son.”
“You like him.”
“I do. He is charismatic, and keeps
Nemisin on his toes.”
“Why is that important?”
“Do not get me wrong. Nemisin is good for the Valleur, but Torrullin is our future, the long future.”
“And Elianas could potentially be that too, simply by proximity.” Tingast nodded. “Maybe it is the right move, then.”
“Between Torrullin and Elianas, the Danae have a future,” Selassi murmured.
“I hope so. When must he report, Selassi?”
“One week.”
“One week. Not nearly enough.”
Selassi stood and clasped the man’s shoulder. “Many years lie ahead. I must go.”
Tingast clasped arms with the Elder and was alone soon after.
He wished his wife was alive to help him make sense of his disquiet.
Chapter 29
The drums beat in stone, the violin sighs in water … and wind is song. Listen well.
~ Kalgaia Verse ~
Avaelyn
A WEEK OF ACTIVITY led to this moment of breathlessness.
Tingast and Elianas alighted on the cliffs before Lord Sorcerer’s home, and both were paralysed with amazement. It was incredible. A long building hugged the curve of the mountain and trees threw elongated shadows over mighty rocks. Ledges overlooked pools and ponds, and bridges crossed the same. Flowers flourished as nature intended in every space. There were no windows and doors, and yet it appeared cared for, whole, of a piece. The weather worsened, but did nothing to detract from splendour.
Tingast glanced at his son, wondering whether he heard the music he claimed to hear in dreams.
“It is silent,” Elianas breathed. “Waiting.”
He stepped forward and wandered closer, entranced. From one hand a heavy bag dragged. Clothes, personal items, and books.
They set foot to a bridge leading to an entry that appeared to be the main entrance, and Elianas drew a slow breath. “Harmony.” The path led to an atrium. “Whispers.”
Then the heavens opened and rain hurtled from the sky. Elianas looked up. He did not say anything, but it was clear he heard notes of a song there as well.
Tingast shivered. This son was a stranger to him.
Torrullin was there, bare-footed, a loose pants, a robe thrown over, dark colours. His fair hair was a beacon in the gloom. He smiled and approached, and Elianas froze in position, dark eyes travelling over that fair face.
Lord Sorcerer greeted Tingast first with a firm arm clasp, and then turned his attention to the lad.
All breath left.
Time stopped.
Thunder rang out and a fork of lightning smashed into a bridge nearby. Wood splintered and exploded. All three jerked to it, Tingast with a hand to his heart, and Torrullin laughed aloud, throwing his hands up as if daring the elements to strike at him also.
Elianas stared at him, awed by that fearlessness.
When Torrullin brought his arms down, he reached for Elianas’ in ritual clasp. “Welcome, Elianas.”
The lad could not find words, for he heard something so loud it drowned even thought out. Lord Sorcerer’s blood sang, great and mighty harmonies of universal song, as if his blood was an instrument. When he tightened his hold the rhythm changed, reinforcing the analogy of an instrument … and Elianas was lost in that moment.
Hero worship was born then, and an absolute desire to know everything there was to know about this mysterious man who chose isolation over court politics.
“My Lord Sorcerer,” he managed when his father nudged him.
Torrullin stared into dark eyes. Unfathomable eyes.
“You are hard to read. Good. Great sorcerers must be hard to read.” He released the clasp. “Please call me Torrullin, not Lord Sorcerer. I hate that title.” He moved then to break the spell for the lad, and spoke to his father. “The storm intensifies, Tingast. Speak your greetings now, and move on before it contains you.” He looked up. “Could be days.” He smiled again, and headed indoors, taking Elianas’ heavy bag from him as he did so. “Just follow the smell of venison stew - our supper.”
He nodded once at Tingast and left them to it.
Father and son faced each other. They had already said the words, and thus farewell was touch, a tight embrace, a smile, a sigh, and Tingast was gone.
Elianas swallowed and headed into the dwelling.
A CHAMBER LEFT OF the atrium entrance was given over to him. A bed, a cabinet, a desk and shelves. His bag was there when he was shown in after supper, and Torrullin left him to it, saying they would take a few days first to get to know one another and Elianas was free to roam as he pleased.
They would not have formal lessons; instruction would come with the nuances of life. Whoever was awake first made breakfast, and they would take turns at supper. Day time meals were casual.
Elianas nodded wordlessly. He barely said a word during the meal, and Torrullin spoke nonchalantly about building the dwelling as time allowed, a project of many years still incomplete in some areas.
He unpacked when he was alone. And then sat hard on the bed. How did one understand someone as volatile as Lord Sorcerer?
How was it possible for blood to sing?
Chapter 30
A rush of blood signifies hope.
~ Danae idiom ~
Avaelyn
TORRULLIN WAS AWARE OF the boy’s hero worship, but chose to ignore it in favour of a quick mind.
Elianas, from the beginning, was a sponge for knowledge and nothing daunted him. He was willing to attempt the most outrageous experiments, did so with eyes alight and, because he was open to anything, Torrullin discovered he was prepared to teach. Until then he intended only to achieve the bare minimum.
Elianas Danae thus became Lord Sorcerer’s apprentice in word and deed.
After two months of unstinting give and take, Torrullin suggested he see his father, and that was when the lad surprised him completely for the first time. He refused to have his father return to Avaelyn.
They were wandering down to the cliffs, and Torrullin glanced at him.
Elianas lifted a shoulder. “He doesn’t understand.”
A step, two. “What does he not understand?”
A hand waved vaguely. “This.”
“And what is ‘this’, Elianas?”
The sun flitted in and out from behind clouds, highlighting eyes before again darkening them. A flash of amber as Elianas replied, “The oneness you have achieved here.” His eyes were unreadable an instant later.
Torrullin’s heart thumped once. “Tingast is a clever man.”
“Yes, but he sees in black and white, while here all is shadows and shades.”
They were entering dangerous territory, and the lad was young, too young to voice what sprang to mind. Shadows and shades, gods - how was that possibly oneness?
“Then visit your father in Kalgaia.”
The boy frowned as if he had tasted something off. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Torrullin laughed lightly. “I suggested he come here, remember?” Then he was serious. “He needs his mind set to rest, he needs to see you. He needs to understand I am not a monster.”
They were at the cliff’s edge staring over the ocean. “Why do people think that of you?”
“Because sometimes I am.”
Elianas gazed at him. “I don’t see it. Why would you say that?”
“You are young, and I say it for it is true. One day the Valleur will curse my name.”
Elianas shook his head in denial.
“I have seen things and thus I … tweak,” Torrullin murmured.
He could not explain he had witnessed the Valleur vanish into obscurity, and thus agitated for a new future, here, now, at the start of history again. He could not explain he was a Valla, or reveal he damped kinfire to hide his true identity.
“I set fires for Nemisin, hoping to force him onto a path, and he will not thank me for it. The Valleur will not thank me for it.”
“Why do it then?”
“Because i
t needs doing.”
“Why?”
“Learn first, Elianas, and perhaps one day I shall tell you why. Maybe then you will not judge too harshly.”
“I won’t judge you!”
A smile answered that claim. “Then we work towards an end, don’t we?”
Those dark eyes were unfathomable again. “Fine. Until then.”
Torrullin shivered. It sounded far too adult. Was he changing the lad simply by being with him, and was it fair on this innocent soul? Would he drag Elianas into the mire with him?
“Elianas, be true to yourself.”
Those dark eyes narrowed. “My father said that, and I told him I would do what is right for me. This is right for me. Please don’t push me out because you have notions of what isn’t good for my future.” He swung an arm wide. “I hear music here, Torrullin, every moment of every day, and you know what else? I dreamed of this music for years and I even knew I would hear it on Avaelyn. I am not going to be pushed out, not now, not after fighting so hard.”
Gods. “You are in danger of changing beyond recall if …”
“I don’t care,” Elianas whispered fiercely. “Swear to me we will get to the point when you tell me why.”
Torrullin stared at him. “No.”
“I will make any promise in return.”
“For Aaru’s sake, I do not expect that. Have I pulled you off the path already, by the gods?”
Elianas leaned forward, a lad quivering with all the will and intent of his short years. “I am on the path I chose. I chose. And if you tell me not to come back, I will do it until you give in. I am not fading into obscurity.”
All fucking gods. “I doubt that is your fate.”
An emphatic nod followed. “Right. I’ll go see my father, I’ll tell him what he needs to hear, and then I am coming back. Will I be welcome when I return?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
Torrullin shook his head. It did not pay to argue with youth. “Go pack what you need.”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 157