The Kallanon Scales (48 page)

“How can you
be that blind? That is not how it was.”

“Father
vanished for months because of her, the Pendulim mission, time he
should have spent in feeling his way through our mother’s
womb.”

“He returned
in time. And he was never infatuated with her. He loved her.”

“You would
protect her? Even now, when she fled like a coward, leaving our
father with pain he denies?”

Tristamil
stared at his twin. He had not realised the enmity was this
entrenched, not until he saw his brother’s face in the crypt.
Tymall would never reconcile with their stepmother.

“You disgust
me. Get your filth away from me. We, brother, have no idea what it
is like to love a woman the way father loves Saska. How dare we sit
in judgement? She left because you would have killed her.”
Tristamil turned his back on his twin and spoke to the chamber at
large. “Is that it? Although I know violence is not the answer, I
will harm my brother. He will not change and I know who I am.”

The voice was
sad. “I have revealed Tymall the instigator. You must view your
pivotal memories.”

“Roll it out!
Let us see the good deeds Tris managed in my shadow!”

Three years
old, when memories of womb became memories of childhood, continuing
into adulthood.

They were in
the dining chamber at the Keep in high chairs staring at a great
birthday cake with three fat candles sparkling, their names on each
side.

Tymall pouted
and in a childish treble asked why Tris’ name was first. It was ten
minutes before the anniversary of their birth and Tristamil
whispered it was because he was the good son.

In the silent
scene, Torrullin’s face whitened and he glanced first at Lycea and
then at Saska. Nobody said anything, the cake was apportioned,
candles extinguished, and placed before the greedy toddlers. They
were thoroughly sticky when ten minutes elapsed. It must have been
the longest ten minutes in the adults’ lives, and all three
stiffened.

Both boys
froze, one chewing, the other reaching for more cake. Memories of
Vannis, Taranis, and Shep Lore talking to Tristamil flooded in.
Memories of Lycea singing to him. Memories of his father. The man’s
overpowering joy, regret for allowing time to pass, sheer love. The
little boy’s face became beatific.

Tymall had the
same memories, but his were for all that going to Tristamil,
leaving him alone, unloved, uncared for, unacknowledged,
unrecognised. For a Valleur babe it was a terrible oversight. Hate.
That was the first emotion.

He glanced at
his sibling, saw the happy face, and achieved the same. Young as he
was, he understood he needed to emulate his twin.

The adults
were relieved, willing to accept duplicity, and did not see the
hurt on Tristamil’s face, as they did not notice the look of
understanding between the brothers.

Tristamil
shrugged. “We knew even then.”

“Yes, but were
you not angry?”

“It was a
sacrifice I knew I had to make.”

“At
three?”

“I had Light,
Ty, although it didn’t have a name that day.”

Tymall cursed.
The voice chuckled. Tymall’s eyes gleamed. “Do you recall the time
the Darak Or held our mother captive in the caves of the
Corridor?”

“We were in
her womb. She was very brave.” Tristamil frowned at his
brother.

Tymall licked
his lips. “Were you as aware of me as I was of you?”

“I was in the
front, looking out. I knew you were with me when mother visited the
Keep to see how building progressed.”

“You loved the
valley.”

“You did not
and kicked against the visit. Mother doubled over and you sent your
venom at me. That was when I knew you.” Tristamil was calm, but
recalled his fright.

Tymall
laughed. “I remember.”

“What about
the caves?”

“She sensed
me, did you know? With you calling to father to save you and her,
she sensed desolation.”

There was
nothing Tristamil could say.

“Unrecognised,
that was me. Father was either making love to Saska or fighting his
archenemy. Then it changed. Someone did know me and recognised me.
When mother slept, he would talk to me. He made me feel welcome, I
was his final legacy, he said. He knew he could not defeat the
Enchanter.”

Tymall stared
from under lowered lids, serene, waiting, a tiny smile of
anticipation wilful at his mouth. Tristamil closed his eyes. He was
cold then, and colour fled his face. Even the voice was quiet.

“Margus?”

Tymall clapped
his hands. “Very good! And do you know what else?”

“There is
more?”

“Indeed, my
weakling brother. When Margus succumbed to our father, he sent his
essence spinning away, and when the Enchanter searched to ensure it
was over, it vanished without a trace and father believed he
triumphed.”

“Gods.”

“It came to
me. Margus came to me and hid in an unrecognised babe. Admittedly,
I forgot until these dumb Dragons foisted that reality shift on
us.”

“What are you
saying?” Tristamil asked, growing ever colder.

“I escaped that alternate
by
accepting that hidden essence, by acknowledging it as Margus once
acknowledged me.”

“Why?” It came
out as a gasp.

“He knew me,
Tris.”

“He used
you.”

“I prefer it
to being a proverbial afterthought.”

“Is he using
you now?”

Tymall
shrugged. “It’s an essence, brother.”

“With
influence.”

“No
doubt.”

“You can
reverse this symbiosis,” Queen Abdiah spoke up.

“It is too
late,” Tymall laughed, studying his twin’s ashen face.

“There is yet
an hour. Think of your father, how much he loved you. He is a
contrary man and cannot turn his emotions off. He loves you,
Tymall. Think how he protected you your entire life, never
revealing you. Your brother did that and more and you spurn him as
well? Does love and protection not mitigate the unfortunate process
of nature that conspired to hide you in the womb? Only Valleur bear
grudges over it. How can you hate where you are loved? You are a
grown man, surely you realise there are no absolutes? You have it
within your power to end it. Why, young lord, do you not?” She
spoke softly, with sincerity, with hope.

“You are
biased.”

“I am, but no
less sincere. Is there nothing to hold onto, Tymall?”

Tristamil held his breath.
For
father, Ty, for yourself.

“My greatest
joy lays in the moment the Darak Or recognised me.”

“You lie,”
Tristamil blurted. “Your joy lay in the unconditional love of our
father.”

“Was it
unconditional?”

Tristamil
threw his hands up. “I surrender. Do what you must. Your Majesty,
is there more?”

“Always there
is more. I am able to harness your memories and instil in them
greater objectivity. The choice is yours whether to continue
examining your past.”

Tymall glanced
at his brother. “I am assuming you wish to see what happened in the
caves.”

“Not
really.”

Tymall lifted
an eyebrow. “I would have no objection.”

Tristamil bit
back a curse. It was true, he wanted to see. “A deal, brother. I
examine that memory, you reveal one I had nothing to do with.”

“Agreed.”
Tymall paced. “Majesty, go back to the Harvest Festival when we
were seventeen.”

Tristamil
frowned. “Galilan?”

Abdiah hummed
a thoughtful sound.

“Galilan, yes.
It was Vannis’ idea we mix with others of our age, be accommodating
and social. Father suggested we enter the foot races.”

“The time you
fell and landed up in hospital?”

“I did not
fall, I was tripped. Shep attended to me and father said he would
return to fetch me in an hour.”

Abdiah sighed.
“Watch.”

Tymall lay on a
bed in Galilan’s hospital. Torrullin refused to heal Tymall because
of the crowds and had Shep patch him.

Tristamil
recalled he did the completion of healing at the Keep late that
night. He also recalled Tymall was uncommonly silent.

Tymall’s ankle
was swollen. He accused a human teenager of deliberately tripping
him and Torrullin would have none of it. It was an accident and
that was that.

Tymall
interrupted the viewing. “Majesty, are you able to raise sound to
this?”

“It expends
energy resources, young lord.”

“Please,”
Tymall said, and had Tristamil cold with dread.

The viewing
continued, and now they could hear.

The hospital
room was silent. He dressed, hopping on his injured leg swearing
foully with each stab of pain. He left and entered the corridor,
and somewhere he heard his father’s voice raised in argument. He
crept closer and found him with Saska in the waiting area. They did
not see him.

This was the
crux of the memory.

“
I’m sorry,
Torrullin, but he should not get away with it!” Saska was
furious.

“
I will not
make a scene before our human leaders. I will deal with it later.”
Torrullin was not in a good mood either.

“
That boy
is being punished right now by his father for daring to trip the
Vallorin’s son!”

“
I shall
speak to him. Leave it!”

She drew
breath. “The day comes when I shall walk away forever. I cannot
live like this, with this constant unfairness. Tymall is not …”

“
Leave him
alone!” Torrullin thundered.

She stared at
her husband. “You refuse to see him and you refuse to see
Tristamil. I’m wondering if your concept of love unconditional
isn’t tainted with absolute selfishness.”

Torrullin drew
a sharp breath and then he slapped her cheek. “How dare you accuse
me?”

She was
horrified. “You would do as your son does, husband? Hit me, torture
me, and perhaps even consider rape?”

He stared at
her, his entire demeanour icing over. “I do not need to rape, wife,
and I am not going to listen to you accuse a son of mine of
thinking such a foul thought. Get from my sight.”

She gave a
strange smile and closed in on him. “Be very careful of what you
wish for. Be very careful of that boy in the hospital bed. Your
sons believe I cannot tell them apart, but I am stating here, to
you, I know every time the identity of the boy who attempts to harm
me. You kill what we share, Torrullin, by refusing to see the
truth.”

Torrullin
stood as if frozen and then he swore once and vanished.

Saska turned
and looked directly towards the place Tymall hid. “I’m going now to
Quilla to remove this memory. Your safety is assured, Tymall.”

Tymall stepped
into the waiting room. “My father knows.”

Saska gave a
harsh laugh. “He knows nothing, have no fear. He has already walled
it off. Your safety is assured.”

The Star
Chamber returned.

Tristamil
whispered, “She knew, she tried and she forced forgetfulness, and
still you hounded her. Why did you not tell me … no, I get it, I
would know how seriously you desired her dead.”

“We had a few
satisfying encounters, never quite got to that point, though.
Still, she left him, and that will do for now.”

Tristamil
rubbed the back of his neck. “He treated her like the enemy.”

Tymall
laughed. “I know!”

“You are a
piece of work.”

“Time now to
view the caves, brother. Or do you not have the stomach? Look at
you, trembling in pity for our dear stepmother.”

Abdiah sighed
and the chamber gave way to the final viewing.

The system of
caves Margus used to hold Lycea captive in the Corridor leapt to
the fore.

Their mother,
stomach rounded in pregnancy, lay on a thin pallet, features barely
visible in the firelight. She was asleep and the bars surrounding
her flickered amber and black as the shadows danced.

Margus hovered
nearby, whispering, but now there was no sound. His angelic
features were alight with anticipation, as if experiencing deep
pleasure. His hands moved as if tracing a rounded belly and he
leaned in as if to kiss the non-existent stomach under his hands
…

The view
winked out.

“He recognised
me, called me son, and told me he was my true father.”

Tristamil
gaped at his twin. “You are lost. Worse, you are dead to me.”

Tymall stared
back at his brother. “So be it.”

Tristamil
twisted away. “Your Majesty, no more, please. May I ask
something?”

“Ask.”
Abdiah’s tone was soft.

“The
swords?”

Queen Abdiah
sighed. “When the hour is done I shall tell you.”

An hour has
minutes and seconds, an hour is also imbued with emotion.

~ Anonymous

Tennet

O
n Urac and Karakan it was deep
night and under cover of that darkness armies mobilised.

On Lucan tiny
shadows flitted among the trees to stop and stare at the enormous
traveller. At their head, Thundor beckoned. He led them aboard and
hoped for the return of the crew. Thundor was taking his people out
of the Forbidden Zone.

The small
Mysor force vacated Plural, recalled to Karakan.

Outside the
Star Chamber, Kallanon paced, willing the hour gone.

Watchers
harked to the Murs and their movements.

Atrudis
Wilderness

On Atrudis,
dawn was near, the heavens beginning to pale.

It was hours
since Torrullin waved aside his cell and Quilla, the diplomatic
one, smoothed over the immediate distress and dismay.