The Nemesis Blade (49 page)

“He welcomed
you into the fold.”

Caballa licked
her lips and then, “I saw him over Samuel’s dead body. Oh, god, I
am sorry, Tristan.”

Saska, too,
was ashamed. “Me too, Tristan.”

He rose to
sink onto his haunches between the two women.

“I’m fine.
Caballa did see Torrullin over my father’s body, Saska. Whatever
lay between them was wiped out by the grief of that moment. You
cannot hold an easier reconnection with him against her.” He
glanced at Caballa and then spoke to Saska again. “She is not his
wife.”

Saska stared
down at him. “How like him you are.”

A grimace. “So
I hear.”

Caballa’s
fingers reached out to caress his cheek. “You do not have to speak
for me, but I thank you.”

Tristan did
not move, feeling those fingers on his face, and then he put his
hand over them to take them into his own. A moment later he
retreated.

Saska was
wide-eyed.

Caballa
laughed.

Saska glanced
significantly at Tristan, who had turned his back and stared
blindly at the books on the shelves, and then raised her eyebrows
in a question.

Caballa
shrugged.

“They say
women can communicate without words,” came Tristan’s voice, “and do
so without magic. What are you saying to each other in this
silence?”

Saska stared
at his back and then burst out laughing. “Good, Tris, very
good!”

“We are saying
maybe we should let Rose sort you out,” Caballa said.

Tristan
turned, a gleam in his eye. “Rose? Really?”

Saska bit at
her lips to stop another burst of laughter. It was a blatant taunt,
one meant to put a fire under Caballa.

It worked. She
hurtled to her feet. “Shall I send for her, my Lord? Perhaps you
would like a tumble in the grass with your sexy Rose? Perhaps she
would even accommodate you!”

Saska cleared
her throat. “Um, Caballa …”

Tristan strode
forward. “I would not want to be ‘accommodated’, Caballa. That I
can get anywhere.”

She glared at
him. “Poor Rose!”

He looked deep
into her eyes. “Yes, poor Rose, who is no more than a child, and
who brings out protective instincts.”

“And
more!”

Tristan
considered and then, “Yes, and more, but it would be like holding a
helpless kitten over the edge of a cliff and dropping the poor
mite.”

Caballa
swallowed.

Saska stared
up at Tristan, feeling the heat radiating off him. Dear god, he was
more like Torrullin than he even knew. She glanced at Caballa. Was
Caballa falling for the likeness of Torrullin, or had this man
ensnared her?

“Nothing to
say?” Tristan whispered.

Caballa shook
her head.

“I did go to
Rose in the dead of night as you let slip to Torrullin, and do you
know what happened?”

“I don’t want
to know.”

Tristan
smiled. “I was drawn to her and then I realised she was not
interested in me. It is a game to her, all of it. I could be anyone
- a street sweeper, a king - it did not matter. I did not matter.
Now, Caballa, strike me dead with a feather, but no man finds that
attractive for long.” He touched her face. “Do you hear what I am
saying?”

She blinked.
“I hear.”

Tristan moved
away and bowed. “I shall now leave you ladies to … talk.” He
grinned at Saska and left the library.

They heard his
steps across the expanse beyond and then heard them head up the
stairs.

“Goddess,”
Saska breathed. “I nearly jumped him.”

Caballa
rounded on her.

Saska laughed.
“Relax, I have my own problems!”

Caballa
slumped in her seat. “Gods, Saska, I have known him only days and
he has crept past all my defences.”

Saska nodded.
“Torrullin was like that. In fact, he did it in all of five
minutes.”

Caballa gave a
wry smile. “Right.”

Chapter 36

Maturity
sucks.

~ Tattle

Valaris

T
he new day heralded the new month
of Snostirl, third month of winter, and the month instantly lived
up to its name.

By the time
the Palace began to stir, and Torrullin and Tianoman arrived back,
snow fell thick and fast. Within an hour drifts crowded the trees
in the garden and grew before the doors.

Tristan,
coming down bleary-eyed to the dining chamber, remarked, “I have
never known it to snow in the Isles.”

“It’s worse on
the mainland,” Tianoman said around a mouthful. “Even Torrke’s
getting some.”

Teroux,
already at table, remarked with a smirk, “You’re going to shiver in
your little toga at the ceremony.”

“Bugger you,”
Tianoman said good-naturedly.

Tristan
grinned in his direction. “Got your humour back, I see.”

“Yeah.”

Torrullin
said, “We are moving to the Keep this morning, so eat up and gather
your things.”

“Where will we
stay after the coronation?” Teroux asked.

“That would be
your decision.”

“Should the
Vallorin not stay at the Keep?” Tianoman asked.

“Again, the
decision is yours.”

“The Throne’s
there,” Teroux pointed out.

Tianoman
murmured, “The Keep is Torrullin’s.”

Teroux skewed his mouth.
Torrullin,
is it?

“The Keep is
mine,” Torrullin said, helping himself to more juice, “but it is
also for my family. The Throne is there and it makes sense to have
Vallorin and seat together, but no one needs be constrained by the
geography of the Throne. It can be moved and you can live wherever
you feel comfortable.”

“I kind of
like the Keep,” Tianoman said.

Teroux nodded
agreement. When Tristan did not add his preference, the cousins
looked at him.

Tristan stared
into his coffee. “It occurs to me a Vallorin would need to wed
sooner rather than later and hopefully produce strong heirs. If it
were me, I would choose to live in a place without so much, well,
history.”

His cousins
stared at him.

Torrullin
smiled.

“Wed?” Teroux was aghast. “I hadn’t thought of
wed
.”

Torrullin
spluttered into laughter.

Tianoman
glanced worriedly around the table. “I don’t want to get married
yet.”

“Relax,”
Torrullin said with a grin. “There is time enough for that part of
your future.”

“Thank the
gods,” Teroux muttered.

Then the two
women joined them and the conversation moved onto safer topics.

The move to
the Keep was accomplished, and there the Elders nabbed the
heirs.

Caballa and
Saska took the opportunity to go into Menllik to visit the local
seamstress and from there they went to Galilan to visit the
resident jeweller. Big occasions deserved perfect outfits and
accessories. They were not alone in this quest.

Torrullin
commenced a brief round of talks with ambassadors, also went to
Menllik and Galilan, and paid a visit to the Vall Peninsula.

He spoke to
every Elder in private, speaking to them about Valaris, Sanctuary
and Luvanor. Akhavar was also discussed, as was the issue of
resettlement. Valaris was not to be abandoned and Akhavar was to be
settled slowly, so as not to upset the delicate balance of nature
there.

Not once did
he mention a coming journey, or Elianas, and refused to be drawn on
either the subject of which heir he thought best as Vallorin or how
matters stood between him and his wife.

Nobody
mentioned Lowen.

By nightfall
snow lay many feet thick. Also by nightfall Vanar had her list of
potential Elders and presented it to Torrullin in his study. The
list contained eighteen names and he knew most of them.

He crossed two
out, asked about three others and told her to have them ready for
interviews in the morning.

Hosts of
Valleur decorators, caterers and florists swarmed in to prepare the
Keep for Tianoman’s Coming-of-Age.

A temporary
tent city sprang up outside the Dragon doors - the beds for guests
and dignitaries. Those soon started trickling in as well.

The heirs
retreated to their chambers.

Sixteen
potential Elders waited outside Torrullin’s door as the sun rose,
eight of them from Valaris, the rest from Luvanor. Nine were women
and seven were men.

Torrullin
started the process, which Yiddin and Vanar had a part in, and the
questions were penetrating; each potential Elder had to bare his or
her soul.

It took most
of the morning and then the candidates were dismissed for lunch.
Over a meal in the study Torrullin, Yiddin and Vanar conferred, and
eliminated two of the hopefuls. Those two were called in, thanked
and sent home.

The remaining
fourteen were prepared for the swearing-in ceremony that night.

Evening saw
that commence, with the fourteen from Valaris and the fourteen from
Luvanor attending, as well as the heirs, ambassadors, and Saska,
Caballa, and Valleur from both worlds. It was a smaller gathering
than the one expected for the morrow, but the courtyard was
nonetheless crowded.

Torrullin, as
current Vallorin, heard their spoken oaths and then a muted
celebration followed. Tianoman begged off early, anxious over the
next day’s event, and was excused. The fourteen were dispatched to
Akhavar soon after, bid to return for the coronation.

That night, as
all settled into a semblance of silence, Tianoman was sleepless and
found Torrullin equally so.

They spent the
night in conversation.

The day dawned
bright and clear, the sun slanting welcome.

It was a good
omen and Tianoman heaved a sigh.

He was tired
and yet felt prepared for the coming ceremony. Having Torrullin
talk him through the formalities helped more than the promptings of
Elders thus far.

His cousins
were soon with him, forcing him to eat a hearty breakfast, food
laced with many wisdoms gleaned from their ceremonies, and Tianoman
was swiftly full of everything. He was relieved when the manservant
arrived to begin the dressing process, thereby shooing Tristan and
Teroux away.

Dressing
started with a loincloth, a beaded stretch of material designed
specifically to make the wearer ill-at-ease, the thought being that
the penitent would be still during the ceremony … or fidgety, and
fidgety was not good.

Tianoman
instantly understood why his cousins warned of loincloth torture.
After his groin was decently and uncomfortably covered, the
manservant proceeded to linen wrappings. These were bound in a
traditional crisscross design from the arch of each foot, up legs,
thighs, over hips, stomach, chest, until they were tied together
over the shoulders. This wrapping was to aid posture and to give an
inkling of the restraints of maturity; coming of age curbed the
impulse of childhood.

After that was
a short sleeveless robe - the toga Teroux joked about - and a wide
gold cloth wrapped about the waist. Next were leather slippers.
Tianoman slid his feet in, unsmiling, his heart erratic, and sat on
a high stool for the final touch, his hair.

All the Valla
heirs had fair hair, with Teroux’s most golden and Tristan the
lightest. Tianoman’s was somewhere between and he wore it at
shoulder length, they all did.

The valet
started plaiting into tiny spirals, ending every rope with a golden
bead. Then he was done and only the ceremonial dagger was left to
don and leather strips about each wrist. The man stood back to
check his handiwork and pronounced himself pleased.

Tianoman
thanked him and was finally alone.

He was alone
for five minutes, for his cousins burst in, stopped and
whistled.

“Man, he looks
like a pretty boy!” Teroux pronounced.

“Bugger
off.”

Tristan took a
critical turn around him. “You look good. You have the build to
carry this off.”

Tianoman sent
him a grateful look.

“Meaning I
didn’t?” Teroux demanded.

Tristan
laughed and teased, “Teroux, you had a little spare flesh there
about the midriff at this age …” He launched forward. “Let’s see if
you still have it!”

“Go dig a hole
somewhere, Tris!” Teroux howled, fending his cousin off.

“Boys!”

All three
snapped around to see a smiling Torrullin in the doorway. “Or
should I say men? Not when you act like that.”

More laughter
followed and then Torrullin was serious. “Leave him now. Go down
and tell them we begin in fifteen minutes.”

Tristan and
Teroux wished their cousin good luck, and left.

“How are you
feeling?” Torrullin asked, checking Tianoman over.

“Better
now.”

“Good.”

“Whom do I
look like?”

“Your mother.
She was extraordinarily beautiful.”

“Like
Caballa?”

“Yes, like
Caballa.”

Tianoman
nodded and then, “I think Tristan … never mind.”

“Caballa? I
have noticed.”

“Is that all
right with you?”

“Why shouldn’t
it be?”

“Well, we sort
of heard you and Caballa …” The younger man’s voice petered
off.

“A long time
ago, and we are good friends now. Caballa is free to love where she
wants.”

“And Tristan?
Is he free to love where he wants? Am I? Is Teroux?”

Torrullin
grimaced. “The bloodline demands certain standards, but it is my
hope you will fall in love with a woman suitable to be queen
also.”

“Is Caballa
suitable?”

“Tian, now is
not the time. Concentrate on yourself.”

“It helps, you
know, talking of other issues, as if in understanding them I am
better able to judge for the next hour or so.”