The Dreamer Stones (36 page)

“More than
that, Torrullin. I wouldn’t hurt you, trust that.”

“I trust you,
but is Grinwallin trustworthy?”

“Ah, therein
lays our dilemma, does it not?”

Torrullin
barked a laugh. “When was it ever simple? Where are we to meet? The
crucible?” Teighlar nodded. “Every Valla must attend, including
Curin.”

“What of Fay?”
Saska queried.

“First I need
speak with her.” He glanced at his wife again. “Take me to her
now.”

It was time to
see exactly where Fay’s loyalties lay.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

The unborn are
special. Revere them.

Ancient
Oracles

Fay resided in
an apartment on one of the lower tiers, having requested privacy, a
time to heal.

Her living
space was peaceful and quiet. Situated close to the northern wall,
the view was of towering trees. A private square fronted the
building, a fishpond and pink water lilies sparkling in the sun. On
either side was a herbarium, managed by the landlord.

There were no
neighbours in the immediate vicinity and, as the landlord and his
wife spent their time tending herbs, she was largely alone. It
suited her; deception did not come naturally. She usually said what
was on her mind - to dissemble was therefore alien. Privacy meant
silence.

Fay sat on the
small balcony watching squirrels cavort in the upper branches of a
red maple in full autumn finery. She wondered absently if it was
true squirrels forgot where they stashed their winter supply of
nuts and berries, and were opportunists who followed their noses to
whichever stash was close when hunger bit. She smiled, thinking
there was a sense of community there. Gather and share and all
would survive the winter.

She rubbed her
stomach. A small roundness there now, unnoticeable to the eye, but
there for questing fingers. If all else failed, this she had. The
trees and the life it represented were new again to her. It was
very different from a dead castle on a dead world. She fingered the
ring Tymall put on her finger - it was on a chain about her neck -
and almost hated him. He should have told her about her parents.
Would she have married him?

Her hands
settled back on her stomach. Yes, for this babe, to ensure his
future.

A tread on the
stairway drew her attention. A visitor. She sighed. All she wanted
was to hide here and never speak to anyone again.

“Fay?”
Saska.

“On the
balcony.” Saska came regularly and did not interrogate.

A swish of her
blue gown.

A blackness
behind.

Fay caught it
in her peripheral vision. And went cold.

“Torrullin,”
she said without turning.

“Fay,” he
said, halting nearby. He stared over the trees. “Nice view.”

“Yes. Quiet.
Relaxing.”

“Bleak in
winter.”

“I can do
bleak.”

A silence,
then, “You are with child.”

She drew
breath, while Saska stared at her husband before lowering her gaze
to the woman in the armchair.

“I am with
child, yes.”

“This is why
you were wed. This is why you do not seek annulment. You agreed in
sound mind and body to be his wife.”

“Yes.”

Would Tymall
re-enter Digilan willingly to see this child the last Valla? His
heir? Vallorin?

“A son?”
Torrullin asked.

“A son,” she
echoed.

“Recognised?”

“Completely.”

Perhaps Tymall
would rather have his son continue, create for this new life a
legacy. It was a kind of immortality, and a goal a father could
strive for. Redemption. It was beyond imperative now that the
Vallas went into hiding. The boys, a foil to this child.

On the other
hand, had Tymall strayed so far he was able to kill his wife and
son?

“I should kill
you and the child now.”

“Goddess,
Torrullin!” Saska gasped.

“You couldn’t
do it,” Fay murmured. “You can’t kill Tymall, and he’d deserve
it.”

“Do you
believe that, Fay? That my son deserves death?”

“He killed my
parents.”

“Perhaps your
son deserves death also.”

“Gods!” Saska
cried.

“My son is
innocent,” Fay said.

“Lucky for
him. You are not.”

“What’s the
matter with you?” Saska burst out.

“Fay
deceives,” Torrullin said, and walked out.

Saska’s mouth
opened and closed.

She stared at
her husband’s retreating form, then looked down at Fay, and was
confused.

“It’s all
right, Saska. Can you blame him? It will take time to restore
trust.”

“I’m sorry,
Fay. Tannil’s death hit him hard.”

Fay gasped.
“Tannil?”

“I thought you
were … oh, god, I’m so sorry …”

Fay wailed and
then screamed. “Leave! Just leave!”

Saska paced
back, horrified, paused … and then fled.

Torrullin was
beside the fishpond. “You are not to tell her anything we discussed
today.”

“Torrullin,
she’s …”

“… playing
with us. I just asked Teighlar to place her under guard, and do you
know what he said? He said she already is, she did not fool him for
a minute. That makes two, Saska. Do not trust her. She must not
know of Tristan and Teroux. Dear god, only two to save now. The
Valleur future is in the hands of two boys.”

“She didn’t
know about Tannil.”

For a moment
there was sympathy in his eyes. “Then she hurts. She loved him and
he loved her.”

“Talk to her,
listen to her, maybe …”

“No. I trusted
her once, but also understood there was a possibility Tymall would
get to her. He did. She married him. She’s not evil - yet - but
she’s not entirely innocent of it now. Perhaps she will see the
error in her judgement, but we tell her nothing until we’re certain
that’s the way of it.”

Saska sighed.
“Fine.”

“We must
protect the boys.”

“If she is
deceiving us, then she’ll be suspicious if Curin and the boys
vanish overnight.”

Torrullin
pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. God, more
deception.”

“How did you
know she’s pregnant?”

“She has two
auras, one dark, one light. Come. We need to speak to Curin.”

On the way up
the tiers, Saska asked, “What did you mean about Teighlar not using
Samuel as sacrifice?”

“Balance. Tris
was instrumental in Grinwallin’s second life - Samuel could be
instrumental in the downfall.”

“Surely
not?”

“I don’t
believe it, no, but Teighlar is accustomed to the mirror in
events.”

“And you think
he’d ill-use Samuel?”

“No. He’d like
to, but only in the sense of maintaining balance. It isn’t Samuel
personally he targets.”

“How would
Samuel be sacrificed?”

“In losing to
Tymall.”

“I don’t
understand.”

“Neither does
Teighlar. He may target the Lumin Sword instead. That would be a
worthy gift.”

“I’m still
lost.”

Torrullin
smiled. “I only have a glimmer of what lies ahead at this time,
Saska. I must get to the Sword first. Teighlar loses his so-called
gift of sacrifice and Samuel gets to live.”

“What about
Grinwallin?”

“An enigma. I
don’t think sacrifice of any kind will make one iota of difference,
and therefore have no qualms upsetting Teighlar’s balancing
act.”

“Good.”

Torrullin
grinned.

A few steps
further she asked, “Are you all right?”

“Tannil?”

“Yes.”

Torrullin
lifted a shoulder. “No.”

“Do you want
to talk about it?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s going
to happen to Krikian? His immortality?”

“He will
reverse it at the Lifesource as soon as the opportunity is
there.”

“Does he want
to?” she asked.

Torrullin
glanced down at her. “He has to. Valleur are not Immortals.”

“You are.”

He sent her a
look.

“Yes, okay,
not entirely Valleur,” she amended. “Um…”

“Saska, so
many questions?”

“I have a
thousand more, but beg just one of you.”

“One
more.”

“Where will
this Kaval of yours be based?”

He drew
breath. “The Dome.”

“It’s
destroyed.”

“But not
beyond recall.”

“The Kaval
will be the new Guardians.”

“So it
seems.”

She smiled
again. “I like the thought of it going on. It feels right.”

A beat, two,
and then, “That makes me very happy.”

He drew her
close, and arm in arm they headed to the Valla house.

Teroux slept
under the influence of the enchantment.

Tristan sat
drawing next to his bed and Curin paced in the passage, arguing
with herself.

She halted on
seeing Torrullin. “He’s sleeping.”

“I came to see
you.” He held his hand out. “Come. Saska is brewing tea.”

She took his
hand, glad of the contact. “Tristan, watch him, will you?”

“Will do.”

Torrullin
smiled as he drew her along. “Tristan is a remarkable boy.”

“Thank
you.”

“Something
troubles you.”

“Mostly it’s
the fact a while back this house was bursting at the seams with
family … and now it’s not.”

He said
nothing.

“I’m sorry,”
Curin murmured.

“No need. I
wish it was different, and we could all crowd into the Keep and be
a noisy, huge and happy family.”

“That sounds
nice. Unfortunately Samuel prefers the quiet life.”

Torrullin
laughed. “So do I!”

They entered
the kitchen. Saska was busy with cups and a fragrant aroma filled
the air. “How are you holding up?” she asked of Curin.

“Anxious.
Scared.”

Torrullin sat
at the table and watched his wife pour tea. These homely duties
were rare now. “Curin, we need to talk to you.”

She sat and
folded her hands on the table. “Oh?”

He told her
why it was necessary to take, at the very least, the two boys into
safety, and how it had to be done. Curin, it seemed, was now inured
to these kinds of surprises, for she barely expressed dismay.

“Your
disappearance will arouse suspicion, so we need somehow to stage
your deaths. Suggestions?” he asked.

As Saska
passed the tea around Curin said, “What about Samuel?”

“I hope to
convince him to join you, if not now, then soon.”

“And Fay?”

“She must not
know of this.”

Curin nodded.
“You don’t trust her. I sensed something not quite right there.
Fine. To convince someone of our deaths, it must occur in
character, I think. An accident while we do something in our usual
routine.”

“Agreed.”

She looked at
her hands. “There’s one scenario I play out in my head almost every
day, a potential catastrophe that scares me.” She looked up. “I
don’t know if you could use it, or even stage it, but it’s
certainly plausible.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, around
sunset I usually take the boys down to the stables. Lexie gets a
run around as well. The poor dog misses her territory. The horses
come in then and the boys like to help with brushing and grooming,
they pitch food into the stalls and generally enjoy being around
those magnificent animals. Tristan has ridden since before he could
walk and Teroux is pretty good on that pony of his, but I’m still
paranoid, I can’t help it. I see Teroux crying, a horse spooking,
Tristan trying to help him, and I scream, making it worse … and the
next night the cause of the accident is different, but the result
the same - the boys are hurt.” She was miserable.

“It could
work.”

“There’s a new
arrival in the stables,” Saska said. “Unbroken. It would be
believable if it lost control.”

Torrullin
nodded, eyes on Curin. “There’s danger in this
if
we use it.
For a boy to appear dead, he must get hurt first, understood?”

She blinked,
but nodded.

“Take the boys
down as usual this evening. Leave the rest to me.”

“Are you going
to do it?”

“I’m not sure.
I need weigh real dangers against chance of success. If I decide
the plan is feasible I won’t tell you - that way you’ll be
genuinely off-guard.”

She swallowed.
“Fine.”

“Whatever
happens, you and the boys leave tonight. I’m not taking further
risks.”

Curin was
thoughtful and then, “Tonight may be the last time I see my
husband.”

Torrullin
looked away and did not respond. What was there to say?

Saska rounded
the table and placed a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder.
Curin sat nodding to herself for a time and then rose to leave the
kitchen.

“Personal
Abyss. We all face it.” Torrullin barked a laugh, an angry sound,
and then deliberately drank his tea.

When his cup
was empty, he hurled it viciously across the room, where it smashed
against the wall. Childish, and satisfying. He rose and stood
there, uncertain where to go next.

She did the
only thing she could; the only way open to her in the grey world of
ifs and buts her husband inhabited. A distraction. A need. A gift.
Proof of life, really - hers perhaps more than his. She went to him
quickly before he discerned her intention and warded her away, not
out of anger, she knew, but out of grief, a sense of treachery on
his part, and pulled his head down to hers, kissed him, kissed him
again when he did not attempt to pull away, and yet again when she
felt him respond.

To her relief,
he kissed her, his hands wandering over her.

They were in
the kitchen, within a house in mourning, and not far away one boy
slept an enchanted sleep and another watched diligently over him.
Nearby a woman was distraught. Perhaps this was the final day she
would see her husband. Samuel was so enthralled in purpose he had
not yet awakened to that particular and wrenching truth.