~ Tattle ~
Grinwallin
TORRULLIN APPEARED IN the stable complex, knowing Teighlar would do nothing to frighten his beloved horses.
Two mares were corralled and a hand mucked in the shadows of the closest building, but generally the place was deserted.
Teighlar came forth.
No. Alexander came forth.
“The cavalry units have laid claim to most of them,” Alexander said, striding closer. This man was more a soldier than Teighlar. His bearing was controlled and he was ever watchful.
“Pity,” Torrullin murmured. “A good gallop may have cleared some cobwebs.”
Blue eyes latched onto him and then looked away. “I miss my rides too,” he admitted, and the faintest thread of Teighlar was present.
“The mares?” Torrullin gestured.
A beat, two, three, of silence and then Alexander murmured, “Why not?” Raising his voice, he called, “Bring saddles!”
The stable hand dropped his pitchfork and hastened to obey. As he got to work, Torrullin studied the Diluvan High King.
“I think you must have been formidable as a ruler in ancient times.”
“Oh?” He did not look at Torrullin.
“A man with the will to rule, to grow a structured society, to care for his people.”
“Your point?”
“Not much feeling in there. You did what needed doing, but did so with tight control even over your own emotions.”
“I would have failed if I allowed myself to weep at every loss.”
Torrullin noticed the groom had moved to the second mare. “I agree. I am aware how much a ruler needs to suck up. Subjects require a firm hand, not a snivelling emotional wreck.”
Alexander finally looked at him. “But?”
“Even the strictest ruler makes place for a partner, whether wife or mistress, for love. That is his balance. Did you, Alexander? Did you love? Or was your iron fist all there was to you?”
The groom approached then with two sets of reins. Accepting and thanking the man, Alexander passed one set to Torrullin. He clambered into his saddle, staring at the gate in the wall ahead.
Torrullin made himself comfortable in his, and flicked the reins, leading the way to the forest.
After a few moments he heard the clip-clop of a horse following him, and smiled to himself. The man was furious, but he had clearly missed riding.
“I imagined my people,” Alexander said as he drew abreast where the path widened under the trees. “Loving someone imagined did not fill me with security.”
Torrullin glanced at an uncompromising profile. “Love begins in the imagination, my friend.”
A cheek twitched.
The path angled down to the great plain and they took it at a slow pace, Torrullin recalling some mad dashes along this path on some crazy horses.
Even the craziest beast would have been stymied into a walk by what awaited on the plateau before the great stairs. Drawing a breath, Torrullin reined in his mount.
Alexander halted beside him, wordless.
Soldiers, tents, horses, weapons.
Noise, smell.
Torrullin cast his gaze wider. Below the cliff, more of the same, and beyond was the Luvanese host.
“We are friends!” Torrullin blurted. “Good god, none of this is necessary!”
Blue eyes fixed on him, but Alexander said not a word.
“Was I not the one who spoke your true name to set you free? For Teighlar to know Alexander? Did you think then I pushed you into this? No, you knew a friend was speaking to you. We push each other, but none of it was brinkmanship or fucking showmanship. I wanted you to know yourself and I never thought it could sunder a friendship. I still do not think it will. Gods, man, what is this?”
A sweeping gesture followed.
“Teighlar, to all intents, was your vassal. It was time to prove otherwise.”
“Vassal?” Torrullin echoed in shock.
Silence had now fallen over the gathered. They could not hear words, but all had noticed the two men.
“Torrullin the liege lord of Grinwallin,” Alexander murmured, “and Teighlar his vassal.”
Breath exploded from Torrullin. “Are you bloody insane? Teighlar is my friend and nothing else matters.”
“It matters to me.”
Keeping calm in order to maintain appearances for the soldiers, Torrullin asked, “What does Alik think of this?”
Blink. “Alik?”
Oh. Alexander no longer recalled Teighlar’s emotional life.
“Your daughter.”
Blink. “I only ever had sons here. What is this?”
Torrullin reached out and laid fingers on the man’s forearm. To his credit, Alexander did not shrug it off, although he twitched again .
“You had sons, yes, until Teighlar ended the line of kings when he sang the last of his blood to their deaths. Teighlar of the present, however, has a daughter he loves very much, and Alik will not particularly like what has now happened to her father.”
Alexander did shrug that touch off then, but did not otherwise respond.
“Alik,” and Torrullin used her name deliberately to personalise it for the man, “loves her father. Alik would be most disappointed with this uncompromising man beside me.”
Rapid blinking ensued. “Where is she?”
“I suspect under guard in her home in the city.”
More rapid blinking followed. “Did I harm her, Torrullin?”
That was Teighlar, every word torn from his heart. Torrullin reached out again and lightly squeezed the man’s arm. “You would never harm her, have no fear.”
Teighlar swallowed. A tear ran over one cheek. “How did this happen?”
“We have all been manipulated, my friend.”
“Can we fix it?”
Torrullin smiled and noticed how the nearest soldiers suddenly relaxed and grinned at each other. “We can fix it.”
“At the conclave I had the clearest impression you were all for war and brinkmanship, and yet here you are horrified by the reality of it.”
Torrullin nodded. “I too was manipulated, but recently uncovered facts pertinent to my past. It changes us, I think, knowing too much, but in the end the more we know the more informed our future choices are.”
Nudging his horse closer to the stairs, Teighlar dismounted there and climbed up to around midway. Turning, he lifted one arm, fingers splayed.
“Stand down, Senlu! Lord Torrullin and I have agreed to an utter ceasing of hostilities!”
A great cheer lifted and the activity on the plateau was soon frenetic.
Torrullin climbed up to him. Throwing his voice, he shouted, “Valleur, return to your homes! We are at peace!”
From afar, a great roar of sound erupted.
“Grinwallin chose not to get involved,” Teighlar murmured. “I admit I am relieved, but also surprised.”
“Grinwallin harks to the status quo we asked for in the void. This time. Next time she may not be as forgiving.”
Teighlar nodded. “I need to see Alik. Will you stay for supper?”
Torrullin grinned. “You have no idea how hungry I am. I am staying for supper indeed.”
“You are a good friend, Torrullin.”
A back slap. “You have pulled me from scrapes, too!”
Laughing together then, they headed back to their horses.
By nightfall, not a soldier remained to bear arms.
THE ATMOSPHERE IN THE Great Hall was one of celebration that night.
Many Senlu smiled Torrullin’s way wherever he went, and he knew he had again entered their psyche as a saviour. Torrullin, the one who came and ended a war within minutes of his arrival. He prayed Teighlar would not take it in as fresh proof of Elixir’s mastery.
The Emperor addressed that same issue as they sat down to their meal near one of the hearths in the Hall.
“My people regard you as a deliverer. Alexander does not like it, but I admit to being
happy I have a friend who is able to make this stubborn man see the light.”
Torrullin nodded, lifting a goblet of Senlu red. “Where is Alexander now?”
“With me. I begin to understand your contrariness from a more direct perspective. Before I thought it was the duality of Enchanters that caused it, and now I see it is the demands of time itself and what it has engendered into those of us so terribly long lived. We are different people at different times and then a day comes when we need to meld all those personalities into a workable being. Hard. Makes one … contrary.”
“Very,” Torrullin laughed, setting his wine down to lean over his loaded plate. Vegetables steaming, freshly baked bread, slivers of turkey and spicy gravy. His stomach growled.
“Eat!” Teighlar chuckled. “Where were you for you to be this hungry?”
Torrullin shared the gist of their latest journey between mouthfuls. “The food! All gods, I realise now I love food, but also that I am really fussy.”
Teighlar nodded slowly, his attention on what Torrullin had revealed. “Rivalen is technically an Ancient Valleur.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Is he an albino?”
Torrullin licked his fingers and lifted his goblet again. “I find the term highly derogatory, but no, he is something else. Rivalen is the product of a curse, and the curse is the result of an evil deed. His mother did not deliberately curse him and he was, before birth, entirely innocent. Had he been recognised despite the manner of conception, it may have worked out differently for him. Alas.”
“Alas indeed,” Teighlar sighed, sipping his wine.
“Elianas renamed his sword.”
The Emperor smiled. “Good. Too much of this Eurue nonsense floating around. What did he call it?”
“Kilathen.”
Teighlar lifted an eyebrow. “My Valleur is not that good.”
“Eternity.”
“A good name.”
“It is. How is Alik?”
“Anxiously awaiting her results,” Teighlar laughed. He leaned forward. “Are we all right, you and me?”
Torrullin extended his goblet. “Just do not get lovey-dovey on me and we are fine.”
Laughing from his belly, Teighlar smacked his goblet in toast and called out, “We need more wine here!”
Laughter floated through the Great Hall and Senlu everywhere smiled like idiots.
LATER THEY LOUNGED TOGETHER on the roof space of the Valla home in the city.
The air possessed a chill, but the peace blanketing Grinwallin made even utter cold worth braving. Sitting with a goblet of brandy each, they relaxed in a hanging seat.
“Where to next?”
Torrullin sighed. “There is the situation between Xen and Beacon.”
“Leave that one to me. I shall have words with my ambassadors to both worlds and they will be commanded to bring the warmongers to a table.”
Torrullin nodded. “Excellent. I admit to relief. Beacon’s new president may be open-minded, but now appears too easily led. I may want to rip his nose off.”
Teighlar snorted laughter. “Not Max’s?”
Max was Xen III’s Peacekeeper. “Max is not the aggressor.”
“Hmm, you may find even the most peace loving man is suddenly all for war.”
“You may be right. Better then that you deal with it.”
“Because you are not usually peace loving and would thus be the wrong negotiator?”
Torrullin grinned. “I guess.”
“How will you live on your backwater world when there is only peace, Torrullin? How does a man of action lay down his weapons?”
“Backwater world, is that so?”
Teighlar shrugged.
“You misread me, my friend. I am happiest when there is only peace around me.”
Teighlar snorted. “And how long has it surrounded you? A month, two at most, at a given time? What happens when that stretches into years?”
Torrullin swallowed his brandy, clearly irritated.
Teighlar grunted a laugh. “If you think Elianas will be enough distraction from the silence in your spaces out there, you are mistaken.”
“You underestimate that man’s ability to create havoc.”
A new belly laugh erupted. “No doubt!”
Finding the brandy urn at their feet, Torrullin poured more. “Still, I hear you, and I assume the answer will be there when enough of your inaction scenario has played out.”
“Come talk to me then. When you vanished for two thousand years, leaving us in a time of only peace, I discovered the reality of inaction.”
Torrullin eyed him. “What did you do?”
“No, no, ask me when you need distraction.”
“A hint, by all gods.”
Teighlar choked on his laughter. “Man, it concerns you, doesn’t it? Do not worry; I shall distract you.”
Torrullin grinned. “When does Alik receive her results?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Just as well we ended this war, then.”
“How so?”
“How can you throw a party if there is a war on, Emperor?”
Teighlar smiled. “You think she will pass?”
“I know she will.”
Teighlar laughed. “Yes, me too. And yes, I intend throwing a party - already have Dechend working on it in secret.”
Torrullin lifted his goblet. “And we shall be here to congratulate the new doctor.”
“As long as you keep it to words,” Teighlar said. “Kiss her, and I promise to smack you.”
Torrullin doubled over laughing.
When he straightened wiping streaming eyes, Teighlar murmured, “I missed this, my friend. Thank you for making me see the light.”
Chapter 36
When something is before you and you cannot see it, it is more than blindness. It is denial. It is stubbornness. It is also stupidity.
~ Tattle to his scribe ~
Akhavar
ELIANAS CHOSE THE SMALL space where they spoke with Sabian previously to appear in. He did not desire that anyone marked his presence. Anonymity was no longer his, not after the conclave. He missed his anonymity.
The space, however, was not as unoccupied as he had hoped.
Sabian looked up from a massive book open on his knees as he arrived. “Ah, you need privacy also.”
Elianas eyed him. “Why do you need it?”
“My actions in conclave have made me visible,” Sabian muttered. “Suddenly everyone wants to know about the Master Historian able to wade into a confrontation between mighty personalities and emerge from it unscathed.”
Elianas grinned. “Feels like crap, right?”
“I hate eyes watching me.”
“As do I,” Elianas laughed. “What are you reading?”
“That Dani? Freman? When they started rattling sabres in Grinwallin he asked permission to return to Balconaru. The Gravediggers had been in and the city was thus safe. Without Rivalen’s influence, it is also again accessible. I saw him as he prepared to return there with his daughter and we got to talking.”
“He intends living there with Urial?” Elianas frowned.
“Folk from the countryside were already entering when we arrived. Balconaru will be inhabited soon enough.”
“Ah, and you went with him, why?”
Sabian tapped the book. “A library of note, that is why. Some of it had burned, but most of it survived. When I heard there were books I may never have seen …” He spread his hands, grinning.
Elianas smiled. “Titania claims to have a copy every book.”
“Do you know how difficult it is to find something there? Balconaru’s library is new to me because the works there are accessible without a massive database search.”
“True. And that one?”
Sabian laughed. “Legends, my friend. Many of those strange tales we had no idea existed.” He tapped the book again. “The Lorin tale, the Eurue myth, even a story about Adagin the Ferryman. I have only no
w started reading, but I am transported.”
Elianas hunkered before him, eyeing the book as if it was a snake.
The fair man blinked blue eyes at him. “If I find something pertinent, I shall inform you.”
Nodding, Elianas rose again. Inhaling and exhaling, he muttered, “Time to calm things here.”
“You are to be the peacemaker? Ha.”
“What does that mean?”
“Elianas, you are the subject of contention.”
A frown appeared. “Then why would Tristan suggest it?”
Sabian shrugged. “Perhaps he is wiser than I am. Perhaps having you lay rumours to rest in person will allay fears.”
“Or perhaps our bloody Dome leader is forcing me into the limelight. Whatever, this appears to be my task.”
“Good luck!” Sabian called out as Elianas reluctantly left the anonymity of the small space.
UNHURRIED, ELIANAS ENTERED the more inhabited region of Akhavar’s mountain enclave.
Cities and towns gradually evolved on the plains here and beyond as Valleur and others raised new settlements. Some of those had names already. The most populated city, however, remained the ancient Valleur warren in the mountains.
How many occasions had he not wandered these ways in ancient times, often to escape Nemisin’s attentions, sometimes attempting to avoid Cassiopin, his wife, and many times in search of Tingast, his father, or Valeri, Nemisin’s wife?
He recalled chasing his young daughters along these halls, as he remembered running errands as a lad for the Elders.
Now, having recently heard Jacastu and Genoa’s names again, Nemisin’s sons came to mind. There were the two Valla boys when he too was growing up; Genoa and Kirin. They played together on occasion, but those were rare. While not friends exactly, never did he feel uncomfortable in their presence. He actually spent more time playing with their younger sister, Cassiopin.
Then Valeri died giving birth to Jacastu, and Nemisin was heartbroken. That was a strange time. His own father - Tingast - was gone, he studied with the Lord Sorcerer, his marriage to Cassiopin approached, and Nemisin was a man of shadow, watching everything and everyone in his grief and rage. Jacastu, while not ignored as the youngest Valla, suffered in the lacklustre attention his father bestowed upon him.
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 220