The Nemesis Blade (25 page)

“Such as?”
Declan demanded.

“Well, folk
have connected him to the creation of darklings, an impulsive act
we all battled until Elixir finished them off recently. He also
conceived of enchantments that would horrify folk now. I have read
only Vallorins are privy to them.”

Declan did not
bite. “It says on his bier he is from the time of Dancing Suns.
What do you know of that time?”

“The time of
great changes, that is what it was, therefore the appearance of
suns, stars, dancing in the heavens. Galaxies were born then, as
was other sentience. Nemisin was at the tail end of great
upheavals, but he did not live to see the arising of new races. He
often raged against the singular state of the Valleur, but I think
he was by far too temperamental to ever share space. The succeeding
generations proved thus, yet to a lesser extent had it been
Nemisin’s time.” Sabian focused. “Why the interest in him?
Agnimus?”

“We know
Nemisin was instrumental in Agnimus’ creation.” Again Declan did
not bite.

“Well, I know
the same as you. Agnimus came to power twenty-five years ago, using
Elixir’s son Tymall, and he brought forth draithen to take terror
to the people of Valaris and laid siege to Torrke, doing this with
the aid of a portable shift between realities. The draithen came
from Digilan, where they are known as Mor Feru.”

Declan said,
“Agnimus was draithen also. What do you know about that?”

“A symbiosis
of darkling and soltakin, body and soul melded into one. A Siric
enchantment, I believe. When the draithen died two thousand years
back they landed up in Digilan, where they multiplied and that’s
where Agnimus found them.”

“You are well
informed,” Prima remarked.

“The Academia
of Truth tells all, good, bad and the dirty, and Titania is gifted
a copy of everything,” Sabian replied. “Darklings are, in a sense,
Ancients.”

“Caballa says
you would know the precedents,” Declan said.

“To a living
Ancient transforming? How would Agnimus have altered to hide in
plain sight, is that it?”

Declan nodded.
Prima watched intently.

“I have been
thinking on it since we left Nemisin’s world. Remember how I said
much is fantasy and one needs to negotiate a way through what we
think we know? Well, I have reached two conclusions, but I could be
wrong.”

Sabian stilled
and waited.

“Presently, a
guess is better than nothing to launch from,” Declan muttered.
“Let’s have it.”

Sabian dipped
his head and stood.

“Mind if I
pace? Think better that way.” He stepped away when Declan lifted a
hand and began pacing the small sitting area of the cottage, window
to window. “Agnimus is a symbiot, which means he has already
undergone changes, and more change cannot frighten him. There would
be some pain involved, I think, for I have not read anywhere that a
darkling is a shapeshifter, and a soltakin can only manipulate
emotions. Now, a glamour is ephemeral, thus change would be greater
than a glamour, and the pain would have to be borne. Two likely
scenarios come to mind, both based on Ancient lore.” He halted and
peered down at Declan. “Are you aware of the Circle of Time?”

“How can I not
be?”

Sabian
acknowledged that with a nod. “Right. Well, the curve can be
manipulated if you are old enough, and Agnimus must be old if
Nemisin was the spark. He could, theoretically, go back in time and
alter the fates that made him, returning to this time changed.
Change your fate, you change yourself.”

Declan lifted
his eyebrows. “How would he go back in time?”

“Pure speed or
real depth.”

“Explain.”

“If one can
travel fast enough one begins to beat the stretch of time, one
reaches the future quicker than those slower, and time being a
curve, one could travel back up the Circle.”

“Could Agnimus
do so?” Prima murmured.

“Doubtful.
Huge stress, and perhaps more time to get back to start than he has
already lived through. If he chose time to alter himself, I suspect
he would have more success with great depth. He chooses a world
known as ancient and delves through the rock back to first
sediment. There are enchantments able to do so, according to lore,
as there are ones that allow exit at sedimentary stage. He emerges
in a time far back, beyond sentient memory. He is before anything
that created him and thus, in the coming creation, he is already
aware. The changes he affects in his creation then meld with that
awareness, and he returns through the rock in altered state.”

Declan and
Prima stared at each other.

Sabian looked
from one to the other. “Have I hit a nerve?”

Declan
collected himself and cleared his throat. “You said there were two
ways, or was that it?”

Sabian paced
away. “The Circle is one way, but there is another. Pure
enchantment, specifically Valleur magic, and more specifically,
Nemisin’s magic and the Dragon’s.” He swung around. “However,
Nemisin’s serious magic is the province of Vallorins only, right?
Vallas? I guess Agnimus would not be privy to those
enchantments.”

Declan was
struck dumb and Prima muttered through clenched teeth, “Not unless
Agnimus is part Valla.”

Sabian’s eyes
rounded. “He is part Valla?”

Declan
swore.

“He is?”
Sabian insisted.

“Part
darkling, part soltakin, part Drinic, part human and part Valla,”
Declan sighed.

Sabian flung
back into his seat and sat forward. “Say what?” He slapped his
knees. “Then he could use enchantment and rock layering, do you
see? One takes him back to his creation and the other allows him
greater influence in the form he seeks to use, and, viola! He
returns so changed you will never know him.”

Declan rubbed
at his eyes. “My task is hopeless.”

Prima stepped
forward. “How long would such an altering take?”

Sabian
professed ignorance.

“Fine, then
which world would give him the layering he needs?” Prima
insisted.

“A geologist
could tell you that.”

“But you have
a theory.”

“It is only a
theory.”

“What is it?”
Declan demanded.

“Well, would
he not go back to the source? Nemisin’s world is ancient by any
standard.”

“It fits,
Siric,” Prima murmured.

“Too well,”
Declan agreed. “And what do they say, Prima? The simplest answer is
usually the right one.” He glared at Sabian. “Let us assume he used
Nemisin’s world. Saska has been there near the whole twenty-five
years; would she not have sensed something?”

“I do not
think so. He would be way back in time.”

“And he would
have emerged again in this. Surely at the place he entered?”

“Here I admit
ignorance. The question is whether he physically delved through
strata, or metaphysically? He need not have been near to do the
latter and, anyway, that is a big-arsed world.”

Prima’s hand
descended onto Declan’s shoulder. “Go back to the lady Saska and
probe disturbances she felt over the years. I shall continue here.”
He squeezed. “We shall wait for you before moving on.”

The touch was
meant to impart confidence, for the Siric was clearly
frustrated.

In quandary
Declan stood, and then he nodded and vanished.

Prima bent a
stern eye on Sabian.

“Now we talk
about prophecy, Master Historian.”

Grinwallin

Erin was also
an empath.

She could
sense others’ feelings and she could pick out residue tracks after
a person was long gone. It was a gift seldom used, for residues
were manifold and frequently led to a state of breakdown.

Charged now
with the task of retracing Lowen’s footsteps she took the time to
isolate what she knew of Lowen and insulated herself to tracking
only that particular residue.

Lowen was last
sighted on Luvanor.

Erin began her
search in Grinwallin.

Teighlar
sensed her immediately and met her at the foot of the portico
steps. “Welcome, lady. May I help you?”

She was
astounded by his good looks. No one had ever mentioned it. “My Lord
Emperor?”

“I am
Teighlar, yes. Who might you be?”

“I am Erin of
Elixir’s Kaval.”

Teighlar
extended his hand and when she took it brought her hand to his
lips. “Welcome, Erin.”

She blushed
and withdrew her hand. “Forgive the intrusion, my Lord, but I am
charged with retracing Lowen’s last days. I believe she was
here.”

“Right to the
point; I like it,” Teighlar smiled. “Please, come.”

He headed up
the stairs, leaving her to follow. She found him sitting at a table
in the shade of vines.

“Sit, Erin.
Torrullin has already retraced her movements here. Lowen entered
the mountain, went down to the lower caves, returned up here, spoke
briefly to me, and left.”

“What happened
here isn’t what I seek. I hope for residue to point me backward to
the place she was before Grinwallin.”

“Ah. You are
an empath?”

“Yes.”

Teighlar gave
a smile. “Torrullin has many talents at his disposal now.
Lucky.”

There was a
story there, she realised. Something between Elixir and this man,
but it was not her place to question it. She said, “Varied talents
is the reason we function well.” It was gentle criticism.

“I am rebuked.
Now how can I help you?”

She liked him.
Her eyes crinkled. “As charming as Elixir, I see.”

Teighlar
laughed. “Are you flirting with me, lady?”

She laughed
also. “I think so.”

“I enjoy
honesty in a woman.”

Erin moderated
her smile. “Unfortunately I don’t have the luxury of time to
further astound you with my, er, honesty.”

Teighlar
stared deep into her eyes. “Another time, perhaps.”

Definitely,
she thought. “Perhaps.”

Teighlar
released the contact. “How can I help?”

She drew
breath. “I need the place she came to as she arrived here. I could
find the residue, but that would spare the search.”

“Have a word
with my Elder Dechend. They spoke as she arrived.”

“Good.”

Teighlar
sighed. “Now?”

Erin laughed.
“If you don’t mind.”

“Pity.” He
called a guard over and instructed the man to find Dechend.
“Everyone is always so hurried,” he complained. “Why does no one
take the time to smell the fresh air anymore?”

“I
have
noticed how fresh the air is here. Grinwallin is beautiful.”

The Emperor
nodded. “Fair of face and heart.”

Erin was about
to say more, when the guard returned, and in his wake Dechend.

The Elder was
tall and thin, pale-skinned, his eyes a faded blue, his hair light
brown. It was a pleasant face, open, with clean lines. He wore a
long robe, sandals on his feet.

“Ah, Dechend,
please join us. This is Erin of the Kaval.”

Dechend took
her hand and bent over it. The Senlu had better manners than most,
clearly. “My lady,” Dechend smiled.

“Pleased to
meet you.”

Dechend sat
and Teighlar filled him in. Dechend gave a few nods and said,
“Lowen arrived via transport directly onto the portico. I was
trimming the vine over there …” He pointed to the other side of the
long expanse. “… and saw her. We spoke briefly.”

“Where
exactly?”

Dechend looked
to his Emperor, who waved a hand. The Elder rose and so did
Erin.

“My Lord
Emperor, another time?” she murmured.

Teighlar
smiled lazily. “I look forward to it.”

Dechend
sighed, reading the signs. If only Teighlar would take a permanent
mistress, if marriage was unlikely. This constant parade of women
was not healthy.

He led the way
to roughly centre stage of the portico, saying, “Lowen is a logical
person and tends to do things symmetrically, physical action, that
is. She arrived here, centre and at the point of entry into the
Great Hall.”

“Are you
saying she isn’t logical in other ways?”

Dechend sucked
at his teeth and then, “You are looking for her and my opinion
would help?”

Erin nodded.
“Indeed, and I won’t say who said what.”

Dechend
grinned. No wonder his emperor liked her. “Well, it always seemed
to me Lowen is an outer and inner person. Outside she is logical,
calm, thoughtful, and acts almost mathematically. Inside she is
anything but logical. There instinct and intuition rules, a host of
emotions. Sometimes she did one thing, but a look in her eyes and
you knew she thought something else entirely.”

“I hear you.
The day she came here, how was she?”

“Outwardly
calm, but there was fire in those eyes. Scared me a bit, I
admit.”

“How so?”

“She asked to
see the paintings, said my Lord Elixir sent her. I saw no harm, for
Elixir has right in Grinwallin. I suggested a guide, but she said
she knew where to go and there was something strange in her eyes.
With hindsight I realise she acted alone, told a mistruth, she did
not want to encounter the Emperor and projected calm when she was
jittery and hurried within. Scary, like she was two people.”

Erin nodded
again. “I have felt that about her. Here, you say?”

“Near as.”

She closed her
eyes, her empathic skills taking over. Yes, indeed, a trace of
Lowen, and as jittery as Dechend suggested. She moved slightly to
the right and the trace strengthened; she frowned in concentration,
trying to gain a sense of where Lowen had been before. Sand, hot
smells … the blare of a siren, glint of glass … her eyes snapped
open.

Xen III. Kora
City. She smiled at Dechend. “I have it.”

The Elder
studied her. “I am guessing you will not tell me.”

“Sorry.”

He grinned.
“Glad to help. Are you staying for a while?”