The Dreamer Stones (50 page)

Caballa
nodded. She and Krikian left without questions.

“My Lord
…?”

“Kismet. You
heard me well enough.”

The Elder sent
Margus a final glance and then prudently disappeared.

“Samuel, go to
Linir.” The Temple of Stars, even cloaked, was a viable and
functioning building. “Do not do anything and do not speak, not
even to greet someone, understood?”

He effectively
cloaked Samuel also, but if Tymall managed to sense him, Samuel
would be in the place where he was most likely to feel the power
that was his destiny. Only when Samuel had reluctantly vacated did
Torrullin turn to Margus.

“Well, well,
Enchanter,” the man drawled, “you have found your son.”

“Lucan found
him.”

“The boy has
some use then. Why empty the Keep?”

“He won’t come
here, but if he’s watching three things now occupy him. One, where
is Samuel, two, what’s in Galilan, and three, two women in a fight
… hopefully not with teeth and nails.”

Margus grinned
and then, “And you and I, if he’s watching?”

“We appear to
stay put.”

“Ah, and what
are we really going to do?”

“We are going
to put your word to the test.”

Margus’s eyes
glittered.

Agnimus sensed
the human’s presence and did not react to it.

Instead he
watched the Warlock shrug off his sorcerer’s cloak to toss it
carelessly aside. The man had no respect. He did not deserve to
know someone watched, had sniffed him out like the dog he was.

Agnimus
observed the staff hit the potholed floor in another fit of anger
and suffered almost irrational hatred. A Warlock who paid no heed
to the tools of his trade. What a barbarian.

He retreated
further into the shadows before he inadvertently revealed his true
feelings.

Lucan dared
raise his head to peer over the thickly woven thorn bush he chose
as cover.

He was
ice-cold, the sweat of fear drying in the cool breezes of this
northern land, and thanked his God it was an overcast day - no
shadows moving where shadows should be absent to anyone bothering
to look.

Unfortunately,
it was also so quiet that a dry leaf trodden on would reverberate
as loudly as a thunderclap. Lord above, this truly messed with his
luck.

Tymall ceased
ranting.

According to
accounts the man’s father used to do that, rant, become destructive
in anger, so this Warlock was indeed his father’s son, Lucan
thought, though he personally had not experienced such behaviour in
Torrullin.

No, these days
the Enchanter withdrew into silence, a dangerous silence far worse
than ranting. Somewhere Torrullin had learned to curb his temper,
turn it inward, and that was unhealthy. The Plane taught him that,
or that realm he was in recently … or maybe just time.

Concentrate on
Tymall.

The Warlock
was visible through the uncovered window, the panes broken into
blunt shards, but was too distant to distinguish detail. Then,
Jesus, the man came to stand at the window and appeared to look
straight at him.

Lucan froze
and then slowly moved out of line of site, praying. He was under no
illusion regarding his fitness at countering the Warlock.

All was quiet,
like a graveyard, raising the hairs on the Xenian’s skin, but he
dared move again, seeking the small gap in the thorns to watch his
quarry. Finding it, he peered through. View was limited, but he
noticed, while Tymall looked in his general direction, there was a
faraway mien to it. Thank Aaru. Deep in thought, listening to
something distant, reaching out with magical tentacles, or whatever
- he, Lucan, was not the focus of that gaze.

We are on our way, Lucan
, the
Enchanter’s voice flooded his mind and he nearly revealed himself
in his overwhelming relief.

Saska stalked
the private square and had no appreciation for the simplicity that
had created beauty there.

Every stone
underfoot was a delightful, uniform honey-gold, and the single,
gnarled tree growing off-centre, having shed its leaf, was an
artist’s palette of grey and fawn sanded bark, expressive branches
seemingly spread to speak only of peace. Walls, six feet high,
enclosed on three sides, and were of layered green stone creating
silence and a sense of welcome loneliness. The fourth side was a
gentle arch trailing a flexible filigree screen of pure gold to
complete the feeling of privacy.

Beyond the
small space, the Valleur city of Menllik rose on all sides, not as
busy as in the distant past, but once more a living city.

Saska came to
a halt to stare at the only other adornment in the square, a simple
wooden bench weathered and worn by two thousand years of patient
repose, and then she sat, lowering her head into her hands.

Lowen,
watching from within the arch drew a few breaths, courage, and
headed towards the bench, her tread crunching stone. As she sat,
Saska dropped her hands. She glared at Lowen, but when the Xenian
simply stared back, she sighed and softened her gaze.

Perhaps it was
time to unwrap what remained unsaid.

“The fault for
this is mine,” she said.

“We don’t have
to do this,” Lowen responded, her voice unemotional.

“We can’t go on stepping lightly either. It’s stupid -
Torrullin, curse his insight, knows exactly what’s
not
going on, that you
and I are
not
getting along.” Saska uttered the last with a wry shrug. “And
why not air it and do so now? He requires diversion and what we
have to say to each other will no doubt do precisely
that.”

“Hush,” Lowen
gasped, “we can’t alert …”

“Yes, yes,”
Saska muttered.

Silence ensued
neither woman appeared able to break. They sat with a millennia old
accusation between them.

Lowen broke
the comfortless silence. “I was too young to comprehend the
intricacies of relationships, Saska. All I had was the bond with my
father and a man who was his servant and bodyguard - and my
nursemaid, bless him - and Matt, an uncle I didn’t really know yet
and … and …”

“Torrullin.”

“Yes. Men.
What did I know of a woman’s mind? And Torrullin was a hero to me,
as my father was, and I regarded him with those blinkers - what
hurt him, hurt me, even after he left.”

“You saw with
innocence, Lowen, and that’s a good thing. Long years passed as the
Lady furthering life in all its guises before I could acknowledge
how wrong I was.” Saska sighed. “Unfortunately you remind me of a
terrible …”

“It was a
mistake.”

Saska’s eyes were tormented. “Or was I torn with jealousy and
consciously chose blindness? Cat needed
me
, Lowen. The man she loved was
gone and I knew him better than most. Through friendship, unlikely
as it seemed at first, for grief draws one together, she would’ve
been closer to him, able to share memories. Perhaps, had we spoken,
both of us would have found peace, a way forward.”

“You didn’t
know she was pregnant.”

“Yet that is
what you accused me of.”

Lowen frowned,
looked at her laced fingers. “Afterwards, after I’d turned our
words over and over, I came to realise I sought to lash out, to
accuse someone of negligence, someone had to have known and helped
and who better than you? You had motive or so I believed then.”

Saska’s eyes
darkened with memory. She leaned back. “Torrullin and I made our
peace before Torrke was destroyed, but you couldn’t know that. And,
yes, I did know she was with child.”

Lowen’s head
jerked up.

Saska did not
notice, continuing in an emotionless monologue, “I’ll never know
what it’s like to bear a child, not unless I reverse my Immortality
at the Lifesource and I choose not to do that. I’m too selfish to
live with the certainty Torrullin will go on without me. He would,
he’d mourn, he’d miss me, but time is inexorable - he would go on.
Selfish me, no child and no desire to change my fate. That’s me,
selfish, and Tymall saw me clearer than most … and so did you.”

She blinked
back tears. “It was more than his attraction to Cat, and to be fair
to both of them, it began while I was off finding my way to the
Lady of Life. Stupid man, she was mortal and he still took her to
bed, knowing the dangers in that kind of relationship, but I wasn’t
there, I abandoned him, so how can I blame him? Or her? And we,
Torrullin and I, wrestled with that mortal-immortal relationship
once - I guess attraction pays no heed. He assumed he’d outlive her
and it would be over in a brief enough time whether or not we were
together again.”

A sigh. “The relationship was finite from the start, but then
he left first, changed the way of it. Such harm, Lowen, so stupid.
Cat’s pain, her torment in believing him forever lost, proved to me
there was more there than anyone thought. To her
and
to him. When she
weakened, throwing up continually, and everyone thought it was part
of her depression - I was the Lady, I realised she was
pregnant.”

A long, uninterrupted pause and then, “I said nothing,
because I was angry. Like to Lycea, Cat would gift my beloved the
one thing I never will. You confronted me after her death and
accused me of murder, negligence and jealousy. You called me
narrow, selfish and petty, and it was true, but I told
myself
I
was the
injured party and lashed out at a mere child. Forgive me, I was
wrong and have been wrong again now. You don’t deserve my
animosity.”

Saska lapsed
into silence. There was more she could say, she could go on for
hours, but found she had not the strength. After two thousand years
of self-flagellation, she had not the strength. Moreover, the more
she spoke, the less it sounded like truth, as if she protested too
much.

Lowen sat on
in that silence digesting Saska’s confession. Then, “Does Torrullin
know this?”

“No. No! How
can I tell him his child died because I was too selfish to see his
lover’s need for a friend? It would destroy what we have.”

Lowen closed her eyes as a shiver passed through her. What
power she now possessed … and then a horrible thought occurred to
her. “Saska, if Tymall
has
been listening …”

Saska barked a
hollow laugh. “I’ve learned to believe the worst. He heard. If Ty
does say something, my marriage will hit the very bottom and may
never recover.”

“I have that
power also.”

Saska turned
and Lowen met her gaze. “Are you threatening me?”

Was she? “No. Gods, no. But you should tell Torrullin before
his son does. You can couch it in better terms, maybe, be less
honest - I know! What choice do you have? You two will never be
happy while this secret lies in the way, you know that, and I’m
afraid he will read it from me … gods, how do
I
keep it hidden?”

Saska nodded
and looked away. “Forgive me for thinking ill of you again.”

Lowen bit at
her bottom lip and felt sorry for this woman. The first step was
forgiveness, she realised. “Saska …”

“I’ll lose
him, no matter how I dress it up, or down. I’m sorry, but silence
buys me time, although exactly what for I don’t know. Maybe Ty’s
attention was elsewhere, maybe Torrullin never thinks to probe your
mind over this - these are the risks I choose to take.”

Tymall’s eyes
flickered and a triumphant smile lit his features.

These are the risks I choose to take
.
Dear stepmother, how your
confession pleases me.

A sound behind
him caused him to turn from the dismal view of thorn bushes and
unkempt garden.

The darkling
was touching his cloak! “Get away! How dare you!”

The darkling
stepped back.

“Bugger off! I
need to be alone!”

The darkling
stared expressionlessly at him and then swirled away.

Lucan almost
cried out when a hand descended onto his shoulder, clamping his
lips between his teeth just in time.

He turned a
gaze upward, quailing inside.

“Jeez,
Torrullin!” he whispered, nearly falling into the thorny bush.

Behind the
Enchanter there was Margus, the man’s blue gaze riveted to the
cottage and the indistinct form within.

Torrullin put
a finger to his lips and sank to his haunches. After a moment he
tugged the Darak Or down, frowning at him. Only then did he turn
his attention to the rundown habitat. Long, silent minutes passed -
long, silent and extremely tense.

Torrullin.
Give me leave.

Not yet.
Something fits not.

I beg you,
Enchanter. Let me at him.

Torrullin turned to stare at the Darak Or, his expression
unfathomable.
Not yet, Margus. Only a fool
rushes in.

Margus dropped
his gaze and returned to his scrutiny of the cottage.

Lucan. Is he
alone?

Yes. He’s been
screaming and whispering in turn, but only to himself.

Cloaking the sites unnerved him.
Torrullin’s tone was pure steel.
Good. He envisioned the Pillars taking a lot more work to
burn again. He begins to wonder if I have more.

Lucan nodded, feeling relieved he was in Torrullin’s
company.
Can you take him?

Margus turned
his head to look at the Enchanter, as questioning as Lucan. Some
things, he felt, had certainly changed since the flatland, and that
included the Enchanter’s power and his willingness to deal out
retribution upon his son.