The Nemesis Blade (54 page)

“Really?”

“In your
presence I speak only truth.”

Tianoman
eventually fell asleep and Torrullin and Tymall sat on.

Time was an
issue; therefore mundane activities such as sleep could wait. It
was unlikely father and son would see each other again soon. They
set to truth and detail, skirting only the subject of Saska.

Torrullin
revealed much of his personal difficulties over the last
twenty-five years and Tymall also spoke candidly, knowing his
father would not be shocked by the atrocities of Digilan. In a
sense, it was an unburdening.

They also
discussed Tianoman - or Torrullin spoke and Tymall listened - and
Tristan and Teroux, and the forthcoming coronation.

As the
half-light of Digilan broke, Tymall excused himself to contend with
Digilan business.

When he
returned he came bearing fruit and eggs - an inner conservatory -
and proceeded to make breakfast. The smells awakened Tianoman and
the three-way conversation was light and easy at table.

Later Tymall
took Tianoman on a tour while Torrullin caught up on sleep.

The Tracloc put
on a show of horsemanship and staged mock battles, which the
Warlock and his guests attended, as did the depleted Magus
caste.

Tianoman
murmured to Torrullin, “I find it amazing that some things here are
normal.”

“We cling to
certain traditions and standards no matter where we are.”

“This has been
educational.”

Torrullin
smiled. “I doubt it not.”

After the show
they joined the Tracloc in their enclave to enjoy a feast, which
included whole roasted boar and turkeys the size of ostriches. A
potent milky drink brought on a swift state of drunkenness, to
which Tianoman - intrigued - fell afoul.

He was
garbling deliriously by the time Maple hoisted him over one
shoulder and carried him up to the Warlock’s quarters.

“He actually
had a good time,” Tymall grinned. “Who would have thought?”

“The Tracloc
are different.”

“They are. I
sometimes think they do not belong here.”

“I guess even
Digilan requires balance.”

Tymall was
exhausted from lack of sleep and it showed, but he had not yet gone
beyond the intuitive line. “What is on your mind?”

“I have a
suggestion. I am not certain it would be wise.” Torrullin placed
his glass somewhere and leaned back to close his eyes.

“Concerning
Tracloc?”

One eye opened
in amusement. “You always were quick.”

Tymall was not
humoured. “What of them?”

“One Tracloc,
not all of them.”

“Ah, your
friend.”

“He is yours
also.”

“The only
individual in this realm I trust.”

“I thought as
much.”

Tymall leaned
forward. “What about him?”

Torrullin rose
to pace. “This could prove a spectacular mistake.”

Tymall watched
him. “We fix it, if need be.”

Torrullin
swung to a halt. “I would need your word on something. Can I trust
you have learned the meaning of a promise?”

Tymall was not
offended; his past explained the question. “Father, you brought me
my son, as you promised. I would give you my word on whatever you
ask, and stand by it.”

“I accept
that. Swear you will not leave Digilan.”

Tymall rocked
back in his seat, staring up. “What, in the Goddess’ name, are you
planning?”

“First
swear.”

Without
breaking the contact, “I swear not to leave Digilan.” Then he
stood, saying, “I could not endure the sorrow of separation from
your realm again and remain who I am. I cannot go back, I just
can’t.”

“I know.”

“What is your
suggestion, damn it; the tension is killing me.”

“I am thinking
of taking Maple back, to use as a messenger between Digilan and
wherever I am.”

Absolute
silence, and then, “There would be a doorway, a danger we shouldn’t
have to deal with on top of everything else.”

“You
disagree?”

Tymall barked
a laugh. “I want it so much I don’t trust myself to remain
objective.”

“He could
return to tell you who is Vallorin.”

“I know! Damn
it, I know. How?”

Torrullin
paced away. “There won’t be a doorway, for I can negotiate temporal
passage for him via the Syllvan of Reaume. He would travel only at
their behest, and, trust me, if they suspect foul play, he is a
dead man. Not even Digilan will get him back if they pass
judgement.”

Tymall
blinked. “I hear you.”

“Singular
passage. Only he gets through.”

“Can it be
done?”

“The Syllvan
won’t say no to me.”

Tymall paced.
“Any creature in Digilan will leap at this opportunity - he won’t
fight it.” He frowned. “Or would he?”

“We could
ask.”

“Why not
command?”

“He must want
this or the Syllvan will punish him the first time he requests
passage.”

“What of
danger to him elsewhere? This will mean great envy for many,
particularly here.”

“I believe he
is capable of looking after himself, but, to set your mind at rest,
he will be under my protection. Anyone who messes with him, there
or here, deals with Elixir.”

“You have been
thinking on this some, haven’t you?”

“I have. He
gave me his name to use, Ty, and that kind of soul is able to read
nuances. You trust him, I trust him, and the Syllvan will look him
over and likely find trust also. It can be done.”

“Why, then, is
it a potential mistake?”

“Information
passing could prove unhealthy.”

“For?”

“You. What if
Tian is in trouble and you hear of it?”

“Therefore my
promise. You are going on a journey; who will look after Tian’s
affairs?”

“Tian.”

“What if he
isn’t Vallorin?”

“Life goes on.
Do you understand why I am wary of a messenger mechanism?”

“Of course I
do, but if you are gone, how would you use the Tracloc?”

“He comes with
me.”

“The Syllvan
can bridge the time?”

“Yes, once
they know where I am.”

“I would not
then receive news of Tian.”

Torrullin
smiled. “I have been thinking some, remember?”

Tymall’s his
brow cleared. “I see! He will be go-between for you also. You keep
tabs on Valaris at the same time. Maple will travel three
realms.”

“Exactly.”

“Brilliant!”

“Would you
like to get him up here?”

Tymall slapped
his thighs. “You are actually going to do it.”

“If he is
willing.”

“He would be a
fool otherwise.”

The proposal
was laid out and Maple stared at Torrullin. “This is a serious
suggestion?”

“It is.”

“Well?” Tymall
demanded.

The Tracloc
reached up to pull the turban away from his mouth. A well-defined
pair of lips emerged … and smiling white teeth. “I say yes.”

“Excellent!”
Tymall slapped the man’s back.

Torrullin was
more serious. “Tell nobody. Return now to your quarters and gather
your gear, then meet us on the bridge an hour after daylight.”

Maple covered
his mouth. “What of my replacement?”

“I shall name
him. Your absence will be explained, as well as the likelihood of
periodic return.”

Maple rose and
bowed. “On the bridge, then.” He paused. “And thank you.” He
left.

Tymall sighed.
“An hour after daylight?”

“Yes.”

“Not enough.
Not near enough.”

“Ty, come
here. I am gifting you a few hours more energy and then go wake
your son. You and me, we will soon be talking via a
go-between.”

Tymall
accepted the gift. “You are not going to tell him of this
arrangement, are you?”

“Safer all
round if it’s kept between the three of us.”

Tymall headed
for the door, where he paused. “Thank you.”

“It isn’t the
same as seeing you, son, but this way the parting isn’t final.”

A smile. “I
can live with this.”

Only guards
stood at the portcullis and Tymall commanded them to face inward or
he would have their lives.

On the bridge,
with the swirling mists beckoning, were Tymall, Tianoman and
Torrullin.

Maple had
already bowed to the Warlock and put distance between him and the
palace. He waited near the edge of the mist with a small
holdall.

Tianoman’s
eyes were puffy; he cried a great deal during the night. Tymall’s
was stark, pleading for a change in the fates.

Torrullin was
calm. He gripped his son to him, kissed his cheek and stepped
away.

Tymall, in
turn, pulled Tianoman close and held him long without words. “It is
time to go, son.”

Tianoman
looked from one father to another and then Torrullin had a hold of
him. “Come.” Tianoman balked and Tymall swallowed. He touched
Tianoman a final time on his cheek, glanced desperately at
Torrullin, and then strode away without looking back.

“Father!”

Tymall’s
stride broke, but he did not stop. He was soon lost to view.

“Come,”
Torrullin said gently and guided his grandson away.

He wished he
could guide him away from heartache also. He wished he knew how to
ignore his own.

They joined
Maple and soon the mist swallowed them.

Chapter 40

New factors to
add in … the universe sighs with me.

~ Arc,
poet

O
nce back on Valaris and without
leaving the area of their return, Torrullin summoned Quilla from
Luvanor.

The birdman
came without delay.

He eyed the
Tracloc and knew him. He looked Tianoman over; the young man was
suffering.

“You kept your
word.”

“Quilla, take
Maple to the villa and keep him under wraps until I send for
you.”

Quilla glanced
at the Tracloc. “I assume you have good reason.”

“I do. Outfit
him.”

“Are you sure
about this?”

“Quilla.
Yes.”

“Jonas and
Erin are at the villa.”

“Tell them to
move to the Dome. You need cover him one day.”

Quilla
shrugged. He did not like the situation, but he would not argue
yet. “Well, then come - Maple, right?”

Maple bowed.
“And I may call you Quilla?”

“That would be
my name.” He glanced at Tianoman, squinted at Torrullin, and then
the two were gone.

Tianoman
appeared to notice nothing; he seemed lost. He would remember soon
enough and that was dangerous for the young man. Torrullin touched
his arm as if to draw his attention and, in doing so, removed
memory of Maple’s arrival on Valaris. Later, once the Vallorinship
was secure, memory would return. Tianoman would notice the periodic
presence of a Tracloc; he would put two and two together, and
reveal nothing. Tymall had a place in his heart now.

“Tian, let’s
get to the Keep.”

A nod, a
sigh.

Torrullin
stepped close and lifted his chin. “It hurts, but you have in your
memories moments and experiences to treasure.”

“Maybe.”

“Trust
me.”

Tianoman’s
face pulled skew. “I do.” He began to gasp and Torrullin pulled him
close and held him, the comfort of proximity the only tool he had
at this point.

He allowed
Tianoman to sob it out without judgement.

Frantic
preparations were underway, but this time there were serious
undertones, less hilarity and frivolity in both humour of staff and
the tasks they performed.

Flowers made
way for the formal accruements. The hangings from the balcony were
sober, depicting historic scenes. The aisle carpet was laid in
Valla blue from Dragon doors in a straight line to the foot of
where the Throne would arise. The reception room where the Throne
would be was cleared of furniture and adornments and the Valla
emblem displayed on the far wall - a leaping dragon, blue upon
gold.

The mosaic
pool was planked over to afford room for guests and this time there
would be standing room only. The site of the feast was set up east
of the Keep on level ground and massive pavilion tents were raised.
Food and drink arrived, a logistical nightmare, and guests and
dignitaries came in also, a greater dilemma for the Elders. These
guests included heads of state, ambassadors, kings and queens, and
almost every settled world was represented.

Torrullin,
arriving with Tianoman, searched out Tristan and Teroux, sensing
them in his study. They appeared to be hiding, both tense.

He had to do
something to ease their minds.

Valla Manor in
Menllik was fit to burst a roof truss, it was that full, and the
Palace out west would be no better. In fact, there probably was not
a space in Menllik, Galilan or Gasmoor that was not over-filled.
The spaceports were busy and roads and railways choked with
travellers. In a sense, they came for more than a new Vallorin;
they came to see Elixir.

The heirs
would be useless on the morrow and Tianoman, particularly, required
space to recover in.

Tristan,
Teroux, join us are at the Dragon doors.

It was only a
moment and then two fair heads leaned over the balcony wall. A
moment after they hastened down the stairs.

Both men were
welcoming, but Tianoman’s expression bade them swallow smiles.

“We go to
Akhavar until the ceremony commences tomorrow,” Torrullin said.

All three
nodded.

Vanar?

My Lord?

The heirs will
be on Akhavar, with me.

Good. This is
a stressful period.

Agreed. Have
their attire sent over.