The Kallanon Scales (22 page)

“Agreed,”
Vannis murmured.

Quilla said,
“You intend to steal a ship from Beacon? When we only recently
repaired relations?”

Torrullin’s
resolve did not waver. “In this instance, the means justifies.
Beacon, if they learn the source, can be made to see it was in
their interest. Now, unless you have an alternative, I suggest we
start planning.”

Nobody had an
alternative.

Shep fretted
in silence, exuding disapproval.

“A new ship
with crystal propulsion,” Matt mulled. “Light, fast, zero traceable
emission. We could get close without being glitched, and if we are,
the ship’s manoeuvrable.” He hesitated there.

“What is it,
Matt?”

“While we
transform the holds into barracks, we should install weaponry. We
may have to shoot our way in and maybe out. I’m not sure how that
flies with you.”

Torrullin
frowned.

Cat jumped in.
“You lot may shoot with your fingertips, but we’d have no defence
and that is unfair. You ask us to risk our necks, but won’t give us
the means to help ourselves?”

“Go, sis.”

“What kind of
weapons?” Taranis asked.

“Missiles,
ship’s cannon, starbursts, sound bombs. If I’m to run the gauntlet,
that is the least we need,” Matt replied.

“Agreed,”
Torrullin said. “Can you organise it?”

“I have
contacts on Xen.” Matt noticed his sister looking at him. “Hey, you
stick your nose in books and charts and I stick mine in everywhere
else.”

“Crikey,” Cat
said, staring at her brother.

Torrullin
said, “Matt, what do you need to acquire weapons?”

Matt sucked at
his teeth. “These characters will do anything for gems.”

Torrullin
glanced at Tymall, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s yours to
do with as you will,” Tymall said.

“You will have
your gems, Matt. Now, what of a crew?”

“Glad you
asked. No problem, enough on Xen desperate for work.”

“How will you
convince them to fly into the Zone? We need people who know what
they are getting into. I do not want a mutiny before we are
halfway. Money?”

“Money won’t
buy us better on Xen III. Cat and I are in because we trust we can
start a new life. Others will come, face any danger, if they can
hope for the same.”

“Valaris?”

“Valaris, my Lord. A small home, a garden, food on the table,
peace, safety, clean air.
I
would take on any danger for that.”

“Indeed, and a
fair trade it is. Offer it to your crew and you have my word it
will be granted them, and yourselves, when this is over.”

“Really?” Cat
whispered. “You’d allow us to stay?” She stood, stared at Torrullin
for long beats, and strode then swiftly from the dining
chamber.

Matt gazed
after her and rose as well. “It’s long been her dream to leave Xen
and she is overwhelmed. Sorry, I must go to her.” The young man
turned and set off after his sister.

“Xen is a
terrible place,” Taranis murmured.

Torrullin
straightened his shoulders. “Quilla, I need you to do
something.”

The birdman threw his hands up. “Do
not
tell me! I am supposed to
bump
into the Beaconites
and find out where those ships will be.”

“Yes,”
Torrullin grinned. “You will be an accessory.”

Quilla shook
his head, muttering, but said no more. Torrullin laughed. For all
Quilla’s posturing, the Q’lin’la was intrigued with this
misadventure.

“Krikian, take
Matt back to Xen, the quick way, and expedite both crew and
weapons. Keep your head down and do not waste time in
sightseeing.”

Krikian’s eyes
lit with challenge.

“Vannis, help
them package the sapphires.” Torrullin glanced around the table.
“We leave Torrke in two days. Enough time for your various affairs,
but watch your backs. We head north to set up at the Tower of
Stairs.”

Vannis
murmured, “A space big enough to land a spaceship in. I applaud
your forethought.”

“Thank you.
Caballa?”

Caballa turned
her eyes and seemed to look at him.

“I need you to
assist Skye in her preparations.”

“Of course, my
Lord.”

Torrullin
stood and stretched. “Tris, Ty, follow me to Camot.”

Morinnes
Training Ground

The training
ground was a level area in the foothills of the Morinnes, safe from
view.

It was now a
well-trampled earth circle.

Between the
hills tents were visible, but no smoke from fires. The war leader
barked at a disparate group of seventy Valleur.

He turned,
furious at the interruption, and paused to control his temper.

Torrullin’s
gaze flicked over the assembly. Camot had them in units of ten and
attempted to instil uniformity. Valleur were individual to the
core. “You need thirty more, I see.”

“Thirty-five, my Lord. Five of these idiots are marching
home
in a moment
!” The latter was roared at the men.

Torrullin
suppressed a smile. “Thirty-three, Camot. I want you to take my
sons under your wing.”

“What?”
Tristamil exploded.

“No way!”
Tymall burst out.

“Quiet! We are
about to commence war and you will know how to handle yourselves.”
He gestured at Camot, who smiled judiciously.

“Attention!”
The brothers looked at each other in confusion and the war leader
gave a theatrical sigh. “I see I have a lot of work to do.”

“Join the
troop, Tris, Ty. Gear will be sent. You are now under Camot’s
command and I expect you to conform to his rules.”

Both murmured
an affirmative and shuffled away.

“I sprang it
on them, Camot, or I would not have got them here, but, unprepared
as they are, make no allowances.” Torrullin watched their
dejection. It pulled at his heart, but they were adults now. “Walk
with me.” The two wandered off.

When they
returned, Camot was ashen.

Torrullin
revealed the full situation and told him to move his troop north in
two days. There they would have additional time for training as
refitting the stolen craft commenced.

Camot would do
as bid, but did not like the odds.

He needed to
fill the complement in a hurry, and nodded distractedly as
Torrullin took his leave.

The Keep

Matt’s eyes
boggled at the wealth of gems. “Wow! I certainly won’t need all of
it, five pouches are sufficient.”

Vannis stuffed
hand-sized, leather pockets.

“It’s enough
to buy him two brand-new, state-of-the-art warships.” Vannis
glanced at Matt, who added, “They take time to build, and he’d wait
a number of years. Does he realise how wealthy he is?”

“This is not
wealth, this buys only things. Torrullin is our true wealth, the
kind that counts most.” Vannis lifted a hand full of sapphires,
letting them tinkle back into the urn. “He never did make money his
master, and therein lays true riches.”

“I see that.
Despite some Xenians possessing excess, they are still stuck under
domes, even if some mimic park-like cities. Valaris is wealthy,
rich beyond measure. Do Valarians realise how blessed they
are?”

“Twenty-six
years ago this planet was ripped apart and we feared it would never
recover. A mere quarter of the population survived. Margus was an
evil man who desired this world’s beauty so much he could not bear
to share it. It wasn’t an easy time. Believe me when I say
Valarians know how blessed they are. Not a day goes by without
someone giving thanks somewhere.”

“True
wealth.”

“You
understand now. Are you sure you will have enough there?”

Matt grinned,
shaking the haul. “Ample!”

“They are pretty, I admit. I had a Throne-room where gems of
all shapes studded the walls, all stones you can imagine. That
could buy us worlds, never mind ships.” He shrugged. “My name
means
exotic creation
and thus I designed my Throne-room accordingly, and what a
gaudy place it was in the end. Gems can be very
tasteless.”

“What happened
to it?”

“If I tell you
and word gets out, Valaris will be inundated with treasure
seekers.”

“Wow. Next
question. How old is Torrullin?”

Vannis
grinned. “So many questions. Give or take, Torrullin is six and a
half.”

“He is six
hundred
…”

“Millennia,
Matt.”

“Wow. Hell. I
don’t think I could handle so much time.”

“It gets to
one.”

“And you?”

“I am fifteen
thousand years old.” Vannis grinned at the Xenian’s disbelief.

“I heard you
were immortal.”

“Reversed it.
A long story, one for another time.”

“Torrullin
chooses not to reverse?”

“He cannot. He
is the Enchanter.” Vannis stated with finality and rose, giving
Matt a hand up. Vannis lugged the urn over to the safe behind the
bookshelves. He spun the dial and pulled the shelves over it.

“Torrullin
will rule forever?” Matt persisted.

“He is already
weary of it. My grandson is a loner, prefers silence and emptiness.
He built this Keep for himself, Saska and the boys, and that was as
much as he needed and was willing to bear. The Keep now is never
silent, always the visitors, dignitaries, petitioners. Torrullin
will abdicate the moment one of his sons secures the bloodline, but
he will be around to prevent Valaris sliding into anarchy.”

“You sound
disappointed that he wants to step down.”

“Concerned. We
are a nation attempting to find security in a universe that until
recently shunned us and we need a strong leader. We have a strong
leader; his sons are not of quite the same strength.”

“He knows this
surely?”

Vannis stared
at the Xenian for a few beats. “He knows.”

“And what of
Tristamil and Tymall?”

“What of
them?” Vannis was good-natured, liking the man enough to answer his
questions.

“Are they
immortal?”

“They have the
option. If they do, they lose claim to the Throne. If both choose
immortality, they must conceive of heirs before they reach for it,
for Immortals cannot have children.”

Matt frowned,
working that out. “There are contradictions in what you
suggest.”

Vannis
grinned. “Of course there is. As far as I know, only the Siric
could multiply as Immortals, their offspring born Immortal. Nobody
knows how that works. I conceived my twin son and daughter before
immortality and Taranis fathered Torrullin before he underwent the
Ritual. Tris and Ty, by the same token, need to father children of
the blood before they may transcend.”

“You skipped
Torrullin.”

“The twins are
the product of immortality. Most rules do not apply to the
Enchanter.”

Matt raised
his brows. “Interesting stuff.”

Vannis
laughed. “Convoluted and confusing!”

The two exited
to go down to the courtyard. Krikian was there, sorting through
ropes and chains to tie the weapons into bundles. Matt paused on
the stairs.

“Vannis, what
is an Enchanter?”

Vannis halted
beside him and both absently watched Krikian lose his cool with the
knotted ropes. “It is complicated, but the essential factor that
sets Torrullin apart is the ability to create. He could have
conjured a spaceship, had he wanted to. It would have worked, too,
but something like that siphons a lot of energy. He cannot afford
to deplete himself at this point.”

“Crikey
Moses,” Matt breathed. “I guess he is as powerful as they say.”

“Yes,” Vannis
muttered and continued down the stairs.

Ten minutes
later Matt and Krikian were ready.

“Matt, I need
you to picture a private place on Xen and hold it in mind.”

“My
apartment,” Matt said, closing his eyes to concentrate.

Krikian
gripped his shoulder, quested for the image and took them to the
world of domes.

Thisseldrum

Before
returning to his cottage in, Taranis transported to his house on
the faraway planet Thisseldrum.

It stood empty
the last twenty-five years, but the house took care of itself,
being technologically aware.

He walked into
stark rooms and it was unchanged. Clean. White. Devoid of
expression and emotion. There were possessions, but the house was
empty and soulless.

While
wandering his gaze fell over the objects meant to define a home,
and found nothing he desired to take to Valaris. He programmed the
house’s availability into the central computer, proceeds to
charity. Let someone else bring life to these walls, make memories
in it.

He retrieved
the large triangular diamond off the floor where it landed years
ago. A priceless gem. The reason he came.

It was pure,
of a kind a crystal propulsion spaceship needed.

Taranis left
without regret.

Luan

Caballa took
Skye to her cottage near the ocean surrounded by tall palms.

It was hot,
hard to breathe, and Luan slept somnolent. The town would stir when
the sun began its downward arc.

Skye took
Caballa’s arm to help her up the front steps and unlocked the front
door. It was cool inside. She led her into a small kitchen and
helped the blind woman sit at the scarred old table, rescued by
Lanto at an auction, and opened the icebox to bring forth two
bottles of fruit juice.

“Tastes like
nectar,” Caballa said after a while.

“Imported
wonders. Torrullin sends them over.”

“He takes good
care of you.”

“I know. I
like you, Caballa.”