The Dreamer Stones (75 page)

“Correct.”

“A spirit that
owned a part of Nemisin, first Enchanter.” Agnimus’s voice had sunk
to a whisper.

“Right again.
And once you were made, you facilitated the others to follow. You
were the glue.”

A dry, choked
chuckle. “Speculation.”

“Logic.”

“A stretch of
the imagination.”

Torrullin
smiled and this time amusement touched his eyes. “And vengeful
spirits, fashioned forms and soltakin are not? Come, our entire way
of being is a stretch of the imagination.”

The draithen
sighed and moved away. He wandered the destroyed beauty of the
Palace audience chamber, stopping periodically to stare into the
gloom above.

“Fine,” he
said. “Maybe. But where is your proof and what difference does it
make?”

Torrullin
lounged against the closed doors of the library. He peeked in while
Agnimus wandered and was relieved no books came to harm. “Kinfire
is proof, and it makes a huge difference.”

Agnimus
turned. They were now at opposite sides of the chamber, with the
triple-spaced exit throwing beams of light into the dust. “And what
would that be?”

“If you are
Valla, I have no need to spell it out.” Torrullin pushed away from
the door. “I have somewhere to be.” He headed to the exit.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

“You said I
was not wholly the Dark …” A pause.

“Yes?”
Torrullin turned in the exit. His demeanour was expectant.

“Darklings are
evil by nature, being melded of vengeful sprites. I realise it’s of
Nemisin’s duality, his frustration with power he couldn’t employ,
yet …” He could not continue, but the unasked question hung there -
why am I not wholly dark
?

“You are also
Margus’s brother.”

A long
silence. “Elixir sees all.”

“When Margus
saved your soul, it was a saving, not a grasping. He did it out of
a desire to see you live again, out of pity and out of love. He
intended to return you to tangible form. It didn’t happen, but you
have within you the thread of goodness that comes from an unselfish
act. He loved you and even when all went askew, and after so much
time, the original part that was his brother feels the same.”

Another long
silence. “You cared for him.” There was enlightened surprise in his
tone.

It was
Torrullin’s turn to stretch the silence. “Yes, I cared for the man
inside. I understood how he was driven. I glimpsed once or twice
the man your brother was a long time ago. Under different
circumstances I would have named him friend.” He sighed. “He felt
the same about me. It surprises you?”

“It does.”

A strange
smile. “And you should know there is more when you are surprised by
feelings. Remember nothing is black and white. I must go.”

“I am still
going to do what I came for.”

“Yes, but the
result may prove another surprise.” Giving another enigmatic smile,
Torrullin left.

The draithen
he left there was not the same creature he came to meet, nor ever
would be again.

Agnimus stared
at the vacant space, unmoving, for a long time.

Chapter
Sixty

The surprise
of fresh surroundings engenders insight.

Book of
Sages

Merrix was an
average-sized world in the Robinson Galaxy.

It had no
distinguishing features, being rather flat. Six large landmasses
fit together like a giant jigsaw with strips of ocean dividing
them. The seas were so salty they were sterile, but the planet made
up for the lack of seafood with freshwater variety. Lakes, dams,
rivers great and small, festooned the landscape and gave seemingly
endless bounty.

Offworld
export was top of the range and much sought after. This held true
not only for water produce, but also for crops harvested by a race
of expert farmers, as were their butters, cheeses, preserves and
wines. It was a rich world by any standard, one that Beacon
attempted to annex, with other worlds coming to Merrix’s defence,
but life was wholesome and laidback. Merrix thrived as a pure
communist society, the only model of its kind to work well
anywhere.

Cities were
anathema to the rural mind-set of a prosperous people, with small
towns in the folds of hills and alongside waterways, the latter to
facilitate water transport by barge to the numerous and busy little
spaceports, where large warehouses dwarfed the concourses.
Nightshift and day, for the spaceports were continuously
trafficked.

It was at one
such port that Saska commenced her search for Sinsen. The challenge
engaged her interest.

She bribed the
official behind the counter for a look at the population register.
The search engine she used, seeking Sinsen, spit out a list of over
sixty males between the ages of two and ninety and that on this
continent alone. After examining the print-out and discarding those
under eighteen and those over forty, she was left with seven, the
closest in a nearby hamlet, where she was now headed, map in
hand.

Clouds scudded
before a freshening breeze when she left the port for the river
taxi, a hint of moisture in the air. The river taxi was full and
not just with people. Peacocks in cages took up the centre and at
the front rail were six horses. Baggage and gigantic sacks of
produce and fertilizers created haphazard obstacles, among which
old and young moved, talking and laughing.

Saska took up
position between two of the horses, both mares of a chestnut sheen,
with silky, waving tails. It was quieter there and from her small
island of calm, she studied both the water and the people. The
river was broad and silted. They were not alone on it; barges
passed them heading for the port, and ahead at least nine were
visible.

The people
were humanoid, with six digits to each hand and foot, and were
short, the men below average human male height. They were willowy
and graceful, light on their feet as if they danced to rhythms in
their heads. The women were breast-less, having, like the men, four
small nipples upon their slender chests, and men and women equally
wore bright sarongs and open waistcoats, sandals on their feet. The
women were soft-spoken with high, musical voices, while the men had
gloriously deep tones. Listening to them was to hear harmonies of
intricate song.

Saska smiled,
expecting someone to break out singing. A child began to hum and
before long, the entire barge broke into song.

Their eyebrows
and eyes slanted up at the outer corners, various amber hues that
caught the sun like sparkling gems, and their mouths were
full-lipped and broad, with small pointed ears and thick, lustrous,
black hair, men and women equally long. Elven was the description
that came to mind.

A man watched
her as she watched them and, when their eyes met, he clambered over
bales and baggage to get to her, exposing smooth thighs as his
sarong parted to allow him ease of movement.

Then he
squeezed between the two horses and joined her at the rail, amber
eyes dancing. A smiling mouth asked, “Where are you headed?” He
addressed her in the common tongue.

“Rist,” she
replied, smiling back at him. He was so young, innocent and pretty
she wanted to touch him to make sure he was real.

“We don’t have
many visitors to Rist.”

“You’re from
there?”

“Born there,
will probably die there. I am Liman.” He arched brows
expectantly.

“My name is
Saska, and I’m looking for someone.”

“How novel.
Perhaps I can be of service?”

“Well, I’m not
sure I’m on the right track …” She briefly explained her mission,
which intrigued the young man, for his eyes lit even more. “So,”
she finished, “the Sinsen in Rist may not be the one I seek.”

Liman laughed.
“A mission for love! Well, Saska, the Sinsen in Rist is married and
has two little girls. He adores his wife, and I doubt it’s him. His
wife would bury him alive if he dared!” He laughed again and then
drew it in somewhat when her face fell. “It wasn’t to be that easy,
surely?”

Saska laughed
then. “I guess not.”

Liman glanced
over his shoulder. “It’s holiday season. I’m free of duties at this
time and would love to help you find your Sinsen …” He lowered his
head to look at her eyes from underneath, his still dancing. “May I
help you?”

She burst out
laughing. “I’d love that!”

“Excellent!”
He rubbed his hands together. “Right, where’s the next one on your
list?” He grew serious as she pulled the printout from her pocket
and told him. “Fress is a fishing village, can be rough there. More
men than women - still, a stranger on their shore will be the same
as an outing. Are you not hot in those clothes?”

“Boiling.”

“We’ll stop
off in Rist first then for something cooler,” Liman declared.

Thus it was
Saska entered peaceful and pretty Rist dressed in winter breeches,
tunic and overcoat - the coat slung over her arm - and left in a
green and yellow sarong with sandals upon sun-starved feet. Liman’s
sister offered a bright yellow waistcoat, but she refused to have
her breasts hanging out and settled for a length of green silk tied
around her chest, leaving two long ends trailing behind her as she
walked. She left her clothes with the sister, promising to swap
back on the return journey. Her bluish hair she tied back with a
yellow ribbon.

Liman whistled
appreciatively when she joined him again, causing his sister to
shout at him to behave.

The sun was
high when they clambered aboard the next river taxi, Liman saying
transport was free on Merrix, not to worry. He estimated they would
reach Fress around sunset, and not to worry, every village had a
hospitality house.

Saska studied
the countryside, listening to the young man chatter on about this
type of fruit, as they passed an orchard, and that kind of
vegetable, as they passed recently ploughed land, and so on.

Birds wheeled
overhead with an occasional cry.

Swatting
lazily at flies, she relaxed, resting her chin on her hands as she
hung at the rail. This taxi had less distractions, and with the sun
beating down on her shoulders, she eventually fell asleep, sliding
sideways. She did not feel Liman catch her and could not know he
sat with her head on his shoulder for hours, humming softly.

He awakened
her as the barge bumped against the shore. The sun was low, but
still warm. A cluster of huts fronted the river and in the
distance, a huge lake shimmered gold in the dying light. More
houses followed the shoreline and a fair number of jetties jutted
into the lake. Boats were tied up, many more on the calm water.

Saska sat up
groaning. “I fell asleep?”

“You needed
it, I think,” Liman said, rising to stretch. “You’re somewhat
sunburnt, I’m afraid. We’ll find balm at the hospitality house.” He
held his hand out and drew her to her feet, smiling into her eyes.
“Your skin is pale, very sensitive … very soft.”

Men. She
touched his cheek. “I am very much married, Liman.”

His face fell
and then brightened. “Ah, well, had to try! Come, let’s get ashore
before this old taxi goes on with us aboard.”

Indeed they
were the only two left. Grinning sheepishly at the bargeman, who
grinned back at him, Liman hopped ashore and caught Saska as she
followed.

The bargeman
chuckled and called, “Boy, don’t go getting ideas now!”

Liman laughed
and the barge moved off.

The sun dipped
and vanished and Merrix was bathed in amber and liquid gold. “Wow,
it’s beautiful,” Saska breathed, staring across the river to the
tilled fields on the other side and then lifting her gaze to the
heavens. “One could swim in that.”

“Yes,” Liman
whispered, “Merrix has incomparable sunsets. You should see it
through the rain, every drop is a gem …” He shrugged when Saska
looked at him. “My sister says I’ll never find a wife because I
talk too much.”

“You have a
romantic soul, my new friend; a wife you’ll find, I promise
you.”

Embarrassed,
the young man dipped his head. “Thank you.”

She wanted to
hug him. “Lead on, Liman, before we get caught in the dark.”

The
hospitality house, set apart from both the riverfront hamlet and
the lakeside village, was exactly that - a large double-storey
house that served as a rest centre for guests.

No wonder the
whole area seemed deserted, Saska thought, as she followed her
guide up the path. It was also the local watering hole. Music piped
into the orange-red sky, growing steadily louder as they
approached, a fair number of voices raised in song.

The door was
open as they clambered rickety stairs onto a large wraparound
veranda, and yellow light spilled out along with harmonies. Liman
grinned over his shoulder, and entered. Saska followed, feeling
nervous. Would they consider her an intruder into what may be a
sunset ritual? A friendly people, but as she discovered on numerous
worlds, there were limits to everything.

She must have
stopped and hung back, for Liman’s voice startled her as he bent
close to her ear. “We won’t bite, have no fear, and we welcome
strangers. We may not marry them, but they are nonetheless
welcome.”

Her gaze was
serious as she looked into his eyes - he was of a height with her.
“Don’t marry them, Liman? Then why am I doing this?”

He shrugged,
still with the ever-present smile. “There are exceptions. I merely
state the general feeling.”

“Do any of
Merrix settle elsewhere?”

“It has been
known to happen. Don’t be so serious! There’s a whole houseful of
fun here, let us drink and, well, get drunk, and tomorrow we shall
enquire as to Sinsen, okay?”

Her lips
lifted. “Okay.”

Liman grinned
and preceded her into the common room. A full, noisy, singing,
dancing, drinking, laughing, shouting common room, where the main
colour was a riot of every hue and blue-black hair swung in
abandon. It was hot, but the heat seemed to bother no one. The
music did not cease as she walked in, as she had happen to her in
other common rooms. No, those nearest, seeing her, shouted welcome
in their tongue and before long a drink appeared into her hand and
the crowd enveloped her.