The Nemesis Blade (20 page)

Tristan leaned
forward. “Just a thought. If you cannot trust him, if he does not
trust himself, how would he dare seek out his wife? To hurt her
again?”

“An excellent
point.”

“Besides, it
sounded as if Lowen’s leaving ended nothing.”

A sour smile.
“Stupid Torrullin.”

Tristan sighed
and leaned back. “We don’t really know him.”

“Not anymore,”
she muttered.

“He acted on
the rumour?” Tristan asked. “It ties in with his dream and Kaval
were on Valaris. What is going on, Caballa?”

She told him
what she knew, which was not much. At the end of it she said, “He
needs answers. He needs someone like Lowen to see the future for
him, or the past, but Lowen is the one person he cannot ask, can
he? She needs him as he needs her to help him find her …” She
lapsed into silence and then, in a rush, “He needs me to show him
future and past, damn it.” She scowled at Tristan. “You were
right.”

“I know. What
do you want to do?”

She poured
coffee into her empty mug with a shaking hand. It was cool and
almost tasteless in the standing and yet she threw it down her
throat as if it were a drug, a boost of some kind.

“He is in
Grinwallin and I am not going to interfere there. Teighlar will ask
too many questions. First I want to speak to Teroux and
Tianoman.”

“They are
currently in judgement.”

“How
long?”

“Three, four
more days. Teroux will probably finish first.”

“Fine, then I
will face the Elders, present myself as returned, and accept their
judgment over a lengthy absence, and then it is Teroux and
Tianoman. Thereafter, depending on where Torrullin goes next, I
will offer him my services.”

She sounded
strained, as if forcing words out. Words, once spoken, had to be
acted upon.

“I would like
to accompany you.”

She shook her
head. “You and your cousins must await the Throne now. Find your
future first. You cannot afford to place yourself in danger and you
are not to bring risk to Valaris. Stay, know who will be Vallorin,
and then will you possess true autonomy. Once you have that, every
Elder can stand on his or her head and do bugger all to stop your
choices.”

A reluctant
grin. “I look forward to it.”

She studied
him. “Do you want to be Vallorin?”

He did not
look away. “Sometimes, sometimes not. The truth is I do not know
what I want. Besides, Teroux is the logical choice, by right of
succession.”

“If that were
so, he would be Vallorin already. The Throne will choose.”

“Then it must
be Tian. Why has it waited otherwise?”

“Because
Torrullin commanded it. To that seat Torrullin is Vallorin and thus
Torrullin must summon it, and he chose to grant all three an equal
opportunity. He was not going to revisit Tymall’s sins on Tianoman
and therefore the choice falls after the youngest
Coming-of-Age.”

“What if it
chooses Torrullin? Already Vallorin and still alive - what if it
chooses the status quo?”

“Relax. He
will formally abdicate.”

Tristan was
silent and filled with disquiet, and recalled the dream he had a
year ago. It came to him only once, but he remembered waking up and
gasping for breath and never did go to the Gates for clarification.
He saw a Throne afire, saw it sprout golden arms and saw it draw
Torrullin into a fiery embrace, until the two were one and there
was only fire.

What if the
Throne chose Torrullin, refusing to accept abdication?

Day arrived
slowly and when it did there was barely perceptible difference in
light.

It was
Valaris’ rest day, and would be a dark and gloomy one.

Caballa rose
before dawn to prepare for the Elders.

There would be
Conclave. Atkir returned from Menllik last night and informed her.
He added the three heirs were to attend.

She wondered
now how Tristan felt about that.

He would make
an excellent Vallorin, she thought, although she admitted she could
not decide without having met the other two. And, she further
admitted, his uncanny likeness to Torrullin could be influencing
her.

Tristan
entered. Her gaze swept over him. Her head swam and she felt
faint.

“Caballa?” His
voice was full of concern.

“Tristan?”

A small smile.
“Too much like him again?”

She cleared
her throat and forced a bright smile. “Especially wearing that,
yes.” He donned black clothes for the Conclave, Torrullin’s
signature colour.

“You love
him.” He put it as a statement.

“We all love
him.”

Tristan said
nothing, then, “You should tell him.”

“He knows,”
she whispered. “Another reason I find it hard to face him.” She
looked him over. “Are you trying to emulate him?”

“Today, yes,”
he grinned. “They may go easy on you with me stalking around
looking like this.”

She was
astonished and then burst into laughter. “I like you and I like the
way you think.”

“Good.”

“I hope your
cousins like me.”

“Teroux is a
softy, no problem. Tian is more reserved, difficult to read. Yes, I
know, like Tymall.”

She denied
that. “Tymall wasn’t difficult to read, trust me, but he could
surprise.” She pointed at him. “Forget that. Tianoman must deal
with what his father was, not you.” She drew a breath. “My god -
Samuel. I didn’t ask. Forgive me, Tristan, but how is your father
and … well, I heard about your mother from Saska. I am sorry.”

“Thank you. My
father is … I don’t know how he is. He withdrew to the Skyler farm
and asked for time to find his way.” Tristan turned a troubled face
to the dark window and bit out, “For pity’s sake, when will summer
come again?”

That was
anxiety speaking. “Summer comes as sure as day follows night, and
acceptance will forge a new path through grief. Give him the time
and take it for yourself also.”

Tristan closed
his eyes briefly. “I am fine.”

He was not,
but grief was too personal to interfere with. “You will be. Shall
we brace ourselves now and face the Elders?”

“Ready?”

“No,” she
laughed and held her hand out to him.

Teroux paced
Valla Manor in the Valleur city like a caged animal.

When he
noticed Tristan’s arrival, he snarled out, “That fat-arsed
Beaconite is driving me insane … oh. Caballa. Sorry. Welcome
home.”

She smiled and
bowed her head. “Thank you, Teroux.”

He stared at
her. “Hell, you are beautiful.”

Her smile
slipped and Tristan came to the rescue. “Teroux, put your
testosterone back in its too tiny niche and tell us where the
Elders are gathering.”

“Upstairs, in
the ballroom. Tian is already there.”

“And Rose?
Have you seen her?”

“Vanar has her
sequestered. Hey, once this is over, do you think they will forget
about judgement?”

Tristan
grinned. “No way.”

“Well, at
least I don’t look done in like Tian. He has been at it thirty
hours and has fifty to go. Poor guy.”

Tristan wisely
said nothing. He offered his arm to Caballa. “Ready to face the
music?”

She slipped
her hand through and gripped tight.

“Let us get it
done.”

Valla Manor was
large.

Four
receptions rooms on the ground floor, with massive kitchens beyond,
ten bedrooms on the third storey, each with its own bathroom, and
three sitting rooms, and above that the retainers’ lodgings. A
broad stairway wound up to the ballroom on the second floor where
the real size of the manor became apparent.

It stretched
from left to right across the entire reach of the building, and
from the stairs all the way to the back of the manor where the view
from floor to ceiling windows was breathtaking. More private
entertainment rooms gave off from the ballroom and overlooked the
cobbled circle in front of the manor, where an ornate fountain
functioned even in winter.

The floor was
polished wood, the ceiling in layers and swirls of marble with
recessed lighting. The walls were a marvel - dark green marble
pillars held the weight of the ceiling and upper floors aloft, and
between each was an alcove created by painted murals.

During festive
occasions the space was alive with light and laughter, each of a
different theme and decorated accordingly, but today it was empty
and unlit and would have been deserted if not for the cluster of
fourteen Elders in the centre.

In fact,
Tristan thought, their presence added to the generally lifeless
air.

Valla Manor’s
heart died when Curin did, and Samuel’s absence underscored it
further. Teroux partied downstairs and used a smaller stairway at
the back of the house to reach his bedroom, thereby bypassing this
mausoleum. As Valla Palace remained Tannil’s, thus would Valla
Manor ever be of Curin. She breathed life into this big, old space,
adding her touch to Valleur sparseness.

Teroux touched
his arm. “I miss her, too.” Tristan nodded, smiled quickly at his
cousin, and then led Caballa in.

Vanar and
Yiddin stepped forward, but instead of the expected formality both
embraced her with glad cries.

Teroux and
Tristan glanced at each other in surprise.

“We are
pleased to have you back,” Vanar murmured. “It has been too long.
Come, we have been waiting with anticipation to greet you
again.”

Of the
fourteen, Caballa did not know two - Assari and Atkir - but the
others were friends. Atkir she had already met and Assari
introduced himself loudly, and then they were all talking at
once.

Tristan pulled
Teroux back. “Seems all is well.”

“Prodigal
daughter,” Teroux murmured. “They revered her before and love her
still. No problems.”

“Where is
Tian?”

Teroux looked
around. “He was here. Tian!”

There was no
reply and the two set out to investigate. They found him in one of
the smaller, intimate chambers, fast asleep.

Teroux grinned
as he looked down on the form curled on a sofa. “Thirty hours
catching up on him.”

Tristan
grinned as well. “And what about you?”

“Oh, no
problem. The idiot ambassador is in bed by dark, and that,
unfortunately, means this boring task may take twice as long.”

“What has he
to say?”

“Nothing,
bloody hell. Just rambles on and on …”

Tianoman
opened an eye. “Will you two shut up?”

“Get up,
sleepyhead. It’s Elder Conclave,” Tristan prompted.

“They don’t
need me.” He was asleep again.

Sirlasin found
them there. He frowned down at the sleeping form and then shrugged.
“I guess he needs it. Yiddin wants you.”

Tristan and
Teroux returned to the ballroom where Yiddin gesticulated wildly
before Vanar and Caballa. When he saw them he glanced behind them
and Sirlasin murmured Tianoman was fast asleep.

“Wake him,”
Yiddin said.

“Let him be,”
Tristan said. “We will pass on what he needs to know.”

“Caballa tells
me you mentioned you want to go with her to see Torrullin. Tristan,
it cannot be allowed, not in light of current disturbances.”

Caballa threw
an apologetic glance as he said, “I will agree while no danger
exists on Valaris.”

Vanar stepped
forward. “We ask your complete agreement, please, without
qualification.”

Tristan gave a
lazy smile. “No.”

Teroux stared
at him. Crikey.

“My lord, it
is less than a month …” Selenten began, and was interrupted.

“I know the
stakes, but I would rather withdraw myself from the race if it
comes to that.” Tristan paced forward. “We deal in intuition and
instinct, do we not?” He waited for nods. “Something is brewing and
it involves the man the Throne regards as Vallorin. Hear me out!
Torrullin stays away to protect us, but I say to you some things
cannot be denied and there are certain factors nobody can
adequately protect from. If danger threatens this world again, I do
not care who is Vallorin and I shall go to my grandfather for aid.
I prefer to accompany Caballa …”

“Me, too,”
Teroux murmured.

Tristan drew
breath and then, “Teroux, you and Tian cannot go into danger
again.”

“Bugger that.
I’m not a child …”

“… and neither
am I,” Tristan snapped back. “But I have less trueblood than you
two. I am expendable, don’t you see?”

Teroux opened
his mouth …

… but Caballa
beat him to it. “Torrullin will not have you hurt, Tristan. By god,
expendable?” She paced forward. “You …” She clamped her mouth shut
and sent in private,
You are too much like him. Not only does
that mean your life will be filled with contradiction, but it means
he will protect you most of all. Do not place him in a position
where it would be apparent to your cousins.

He licked dry
lips. “Fine, I promise to remain until after a Vallorin is
crowned.”

Teroux looked
from one to the other, frowned, and then stalked away, throwing
over his shoulder, “Beware of keeping secrets, cousin. You know how
they can be used.”

“Where are you
going?” Yiddin called out. “We are not done here.”

“I am off to
finish my judgement,” Teroux said and vanished down the stairs.

Vanar was
still watching Tristan. “You would withdraw from the race, if it
came to that? How dare you say something so foolish?”

“I dare,
because some things are more important than a crown.”

“And you call
it a race?” Prester murmured. “Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?”

“Is it? Tell
me you haven’t noticed how folk jostle for position and whispers
circulate. Tell me you haven’t noticed how ‘projects’ are suddenly
vital … as in evidence of competency? All fourteen of you are
attentive, watchful, and we react to that, we react to all of it as
we attempt to stand out. It is a race and let no one suggest
otherwise.”