The Nemesis Blade (15 page)

Caballa gave
an inner sigh. It seemed she would be pulled back into the fold and
soon she would have to face Torrullin.

Putting on a
welcoming smile she said, “Please join us, Prima. We have enough
stew left to feed ten more Siric.”

Prima’s nose
twitched. He was hungry, he realised, and then a gurgling stomach
betrayed him much as it had betrayed Declan.

Everyone
laughed when he said, “I guess that’s a yes.”

As he tucked
in ignoring a grinning Declan, he was introduced to the women and
three men and he, too, lingered over Sabian.

When Saska
entered a while later he nearly splattered his food on the floor in
his haste to bow to her. She smiled at him and told him to go on
eating, joining everyone at the huge table.

Half an hour
later the dishes were cleared, stomachs settled and only Saska,
Caballa, Prima and Declan remained at table.

Hands curled
around hot coffee mugs.

Saska spoke
first. “Declan is after Agnimus; what are you seeking, Prima?”

“Foretellings.
Three kingdom prophecies with like armies clashing.”

She lifted a
brow. “Because of the rumours?”

“Yes, my
Lady.”

“Please, it’s
Saska.” She glanced at Caballa. “I wonder if we should get Sabian
in on this.”

“Why?” Declan
asked.

“He’s a
historian and well informed, and the other day he spoke about
prophecies.”

Caballa said,
“He had an interesting point. He said folk regard tellings as
voided now Elixir has taken us beyond prophecy, the future is
written as we live it.” She gave a sad smile. “We do think that,
don’t we? As if Torrullin has superseded the past. Well, it may be
true, but there are unfulfilled tellings and Sabian’s point was
they remain largely because they don’t mention Elixir. He may know
of a few to aid you, Prima.”

“And I want to
hear his views on Ancients,” Declan muttered and glanced at his
colleague. “Should we get him in? Saves repetition.”

“Do you trust
him, Siric?”

“I do not know
him, but sense no threat.”

Prima shifted
his gaze to Saska. “Do you trust him?”

“I believe
so.”

Caballa added,
“He is a great addition to this little community. We watch all who
come and sense only good intentions.”

Prima studied
Caballa next. “Have you no tellings of three kingdoms?”

“I do.”

“Why do we
need Sabian?”

“Because he
possesses broader knowledge and could read between the lines. He
can also confirm what I say,” Caballa responded.

Prima nodded.
“Very well.”

Declan got to
his feet. “Let me; I need to stretch my legs.” He left the
kitchen.

Prima glanced
around. “Nice. Homely.” He focused on Saska. “My Lady, you have
achieved greatness here.”

“Thank you,
but I had help.”

Prima inclined
his head to Caballa. “We know, and thank you also.” He drew breath
to add, “We should speak in more formal surroundings. This comfort
lulls the senses.”

“You speak of
Sabian,” Saska murmured.

“He is an
unknown quality, and we should be cautious.”

Caballa said,
“The Throne-room. Sitting where Nemisin held court is pretty
formal.”

Prima smiled.
“Excellent.” He stood and stretched. “Where is that Siric?”

It was summer -
the dry season - and the days were long.

The sun drew
interesting patterns in the Throne-room as it filtered through the
creepers, and would continue to do so for a few hours more. The
Throne-room was not so much formal as steeped in antiquity, and all
felt it as they entered.

Sabian’s eyes
were wide as he gazed around. “I have not been in this part before.
Amazing.”

Prima gazed
about him as if he was in the presence of royalty. “Is it all right
to be here?”

Caballa and
Saska glanced at each other and Saska said, “We still feel it, but
it’s fine. We won’t be interrupted here.”

Declan picked
up on something else. “Is there another entrance?”

Saska nodded.
“Quite a few. This isn’t a stronghold; it’s a place to live.”

Sabian gave a
grin. “I came through the lower tunnel, Declan, with Igor. The poor
man nearly gave out on the stairs there.”

Declan held a
pacifying hand up. “Just checking.”

Sabian’s grin
widened. “I have decided you lot must be suspicious in your line of
work to do as you do, so I am not going to take offence. No, I
cannot transport, but Igor can. I told him I heard of this world
and he brought us. We did not expect to find anyone here.”

Prima frowned
at Declan. “What of this Igor?”

Caballa spoke
for the old man. “Igor owed someone money on Lax and after they
took all he owned in payment and found it wasn’t enough, they were
to take his life also. Thanks to Sabian, Igor gets to see sunshine
a few years more.”

Prima had one
last question. “What were you doing on Lax?”

Sabian
grimaced. “Looking for a scroll.”

Saska snorted
in surprise.

Sabian bowed
in her direction. “My Lady, Titania has a list of missing works
either stolen or never acquired. A while back I placed myself at
the library’s disposal, kind of a bloodhound. They pay me a
pittance, I find the missing books and scrolls and in return I am
allowed access to Titania’s database.”

“Why didn’t
you tell us?” Caballa asked.

The man
shrugged. “It is not easy to admit you are a kind of lowlife.”

“To good
purpose, surely?” Saska said.

“Yes, but
still a lowlife to most folks, especially when I need to steal
books that were stolen. Folk get riled.”

“Too bad, I
say.”

Sabian bowed
again. “I thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“Which
scroll?” Prima demanded.

“The life
cycle of the Blue Carrion monkey,” Sabian laughed. “Nothing earth
shattering.”

Declan raised
a finger. “Wait. Titania curtails usage of the database?”

“Naturally.
Certain materials will ever be sensitive.”

“I wonder if
Torrullin knows,” the Siric mused.

“Elixir, I
believe, has complete access.”

“When were you
last on Titania?” Prima asked.

“A few months
back. Since then I have been hopping ships and eventually landed up
on Lax following a lead.” Sabian sighed. “Happy?”

“I am done,
yes,” Prima said.

Declan paced
away. “Sabian, I will give you a brief overview of our mission for
you to understand subsequent questions.”

Sabian waited
and Prima said nothing and that signified agreement.

Declan told of
a missing Kaval member suspected drawn back into time; he told of
rumours and explained their tasks.

Silence came
and all looked at Sabian. He took a breath and let it out.

“Well, that is
quite something. Time and prophecy, the two are linked always.” He
gazed at Prima first. “I have a mind like a sponge; I remember
everything I read, hear and see, thus do not be surprised when I
start quoting at you. Every word and punctuation mark is mine to
recall.”

Prima rubbed
his hands together. “Excellent.”

Saska and
Declan laughed. Caballa studied the man with a frown.

“Declan, I do
not know much of Agnimus other than what was forwarded to Titania
from the Valleur Academia of Luvanor. But as to the Ancients - I
could bend your ears for years.”

“Excellent,”
Declan echoed Prima.

“A warning,
much known of Ancients is supposition and also confusing. You will
need steer through fantasy and fact and could still be wrong.”

“I need to be
specific, then,” the Siric muttered.

“As far as
specifics can be applied.”

“Right,”
Declan sighed, pacing away. “Prima, go first. I need to gather my
thoughts.”

The tall Kaval
man lowered to the polished floor and Sabian did likewise, sitting
close without being intrusive. Saska and Caballa sank down, while
Declan continued pacing within hearing range.

“Let us
begin,” Prima murmured.

Drinic
Homeworld

Portals,
shifts, doorways, rifts, rents, flaws, entrances, breaches, one and
the same in intent and meaning.

A gateway
between two places, whether of city, world, reality, universe,
death or time.

There were
varied ways of employing such gateways. Physical entrance of the
usual kind, accidentally, magically, death itself, reincarnation,
induced trance and even force.

Erin had to
find one single answer to a massive riddle.

She commenced
her search on the Drinic Homeworld.

The Drinic
were once Afterlife fanatics, and constructed portable doorways
between realms to investigate what lay beyond. This took on extreme
importance twenty-five years ago when Agnimus used the knowledge to
open a portal to Digilan and brought forth a million draithen to
destroy Torrullin and Torrke on Valaris, and then brought through a
further million. The draithen were dealt with, the first wave by
Torrullin - the reason he stayed away from Valaris - and the second
wave by Tracloc, a caste of trackers sent by Tymall from
Digilan.

Agnimus
escaped. Agnimus was an Ancient, and Agnimus also knew of doorways
and times long passed beyond memory. His knowledge of portals was
Drinic in origin and while the old Drinic no longer existed, it was
a good place for Erin to start.

Drinic
Homeworld was a pastoral land, a race of farmers. Wholesome.
Amunti, Drinic by virtue of association with the Homeworld, was
once a farmer.

Erin smiled as
she arrived. Ahead lay patchwork fields and flowering hedges. Smoke
rose lazily from stone chimneys and the farmhouses were pretty and
appeared well maintained. A river ran somnolently through the
countryside and hills were green with spring growth. Horses neighed
in paddocks and cows wandered placidly, stopping to tear off sweet
grass every few steps.

She could live
like that, she thought, had not her life taken unexpected turns.
She was what was called by some a priestess, others a witch, and
yet others, shaman, muse, augur, prophetess, and a host of other
titles, none of which described her.

A peaceful way
of life would not bring her peace.

She headed
along the decline to the nearest farmhouse. Amunti’s mother lived
there, now an old woman and regarded as an expert in portals.

Amunti should
have been given this task, for he was closest to the intricacies,
but Amunti was mortally afraid of knowing too much of what lay
beyond. An Immortal who was mortally afraid, Erin mused with only a
little amusement; she knew how that felt. Amunti’s mother believed
her son dead; it was the only way a son protected a mother when
Drinic Immortals started dying twenty-five years ago. His
manufactured death meant he could not be used against her.

It was a
terrible time in the history of this world.

She would not
reveal any of that. Erin drew breath as she lifted a hand to knock
on a beautiful antique door and then released it explosively as the
door pulled inward and an old woman stood there with accusation in
her eyes.

“What do you
want here?”

“Old mother, I
…”

“I am not your
mother, girl. Call me Amdel and nothing else.”

Erin cleared
her throat. A hard case, this one. “Amdel, my name is Erin and I
hoped to speak with you about portals between …”

“I know what
portals are for,” Amdel snapped, her eyes suspicious now. “Why
should I tell you anything? And how do you know of me?”

“I am an
Immortal and Amunti told me about you,” Erin said, preferring to
speak the truth as far as she could take it.

A long, hard
silence ensued Erin dared not break. Then, “My son is alive, isn’t
he?”

Now, Erin
could not tell an outright lie. She could skirt the truth, but only
by omission, and faced with a direct question … “Yes, he is.”

Amdel’s face
underwent transformation. “He did it to protect me, I thought so.
My poor, dear boy. Are you friend to him?”

Erin gave a
genuine smile. “Yes, I am.” And that was the whole truth.

Amdel nodded.
“You speak truth, I hear it. So, Erin, friend of Amunti, come in
and we will talk, and not just about portals.” She stood aside and
allowed Erin to pass.

The door
closed, shutting out sunlight.

Nemisin’s
World

Prima was about
to put his first question to Sabian when Saska’s dismayed cry
arrested him.

Caballa’s head
snapped back.

Declan knelt
before her. He studied the Valleur seer a moment and then, “She is
in contact with farspeakers. Unexpected and strong.”

Caballa
reverted to normal position, but went on sitting with eyes closed.
A minute later she shook her head as if exasperated, and opened her
eyes. “What now?”

“Caballa?”
Saska prompted.

“The Xenian
speaker chain.”

Declan
frowned. “Trouble on Xen?”

“Nothing like
that. Gods, do you people always think the worst first?” Caballa
muttered. “Apparently the Valla heirs are at the enclave on Xen.
They want to talk to me.”

“They aren’t
on Valaris? Torrullin will have a heart attack,” Declan said.

“Why do they
want to speak with you?” Prima asked.

She shook her
head.

“Ask,” Prima
snapped.

Caballa glared
at him and then her gaze flicked over Declan, Sabian, and settled
on Saska. “I am not ready.”

“You are being
pulled in, Caballa,” Saska sighed.

“I don’t know
if I can face him. Twenty-five years should be long enough, but is
it?”

“The heirs are
not Torrullin,” Prima said. “Ask what is going on. They may be in
danger.”

Her eyes
closed and long minutes passed. She returned along the chain to
Rose and on Xen Rose passed communication to Tristan, who then
included his two cousins.