The Nemesis Blade (9 page)

Torrullin
found paper, a pencil, and sat at a scribe’s table. Usually the
scribes used quill and ink, but he had no time for niceties. He
placed the paper before him and sat poised with the pencil.

Eyes closed
and, while Jonas watched in amazement, the pencil dipped down to
the paper and commenced a drawing induced without the aid of
physical sight.

Three minutes
later the pencil lifted of its own accord. Torrullin opened his
eyes and looked at the representation. He studied it carefully,
before nodding.

“Colour,” he
muttered.

Frowning, he
moved his finger along layer after layer, then paused. His eyes
closed again and this time, Jonas knew, he attempted to find the
marker. Long, tense moments ticked by and then those eyes opened.
He touched twice and rose, paper in hand.

Passing it
over, he said, “Two markers. Either there is a divergence I am
unaware of at this point or I did not note the real marker too
well. Apologise to your brother, for I ask twice as much of him
now. As to the world? Luvanor, Sanctuary or Valaris.” A grim smile.
“Again, apologies. If I uncover something to point more
specifically, I shall let you have it.”

“Of course, my
Lord.”

Torrullin
nodded and left.

Jonas looked
at the drawing in his hands. It was like looking at the rock
itself. Every shadow was there, every curl and dip in the layering,
every shade and nuance of colour, and two layers instantly caught
the eye. One below the other. He drew breath, rolled the paper and
left Grinwallin.

He understood
now how real and intricate the task was - not only for him, but for
every member of the team.

When a team
functions in tandem, it is an effective tool.

~ Book of
Sages

Valaris

F
uma and Amunti commenced the search for the source of
the rumours in Galilan, capital city of Valaris.

The reason for
this was the Farmer’s Union conference between Valarian farmers and
Beacon Farm’s representatives, among them Kris Westlake.

They made an
appointment with the Electan, the human leader of Valaris, and were
shown in as they arrived.

The governing
of Valaris was organised from a grand old building near the river
Galilan and was a statement in subdued and beautiful style. The
Electan’s office was on the third floor and was simple and inviting
in wood and glass, a soft green carpet underfoot. A cottage-style
window overlooked the river below.

The Electan
was in middle years, mild-mannered, clever and decisive. He worked
well with the council of Elders in ruling Valaris for both Valarian
and Valleur. Soon he would rule with a new Vallorin, and it was
hoped the status quo would not be significantly altered.

His name was
Isaiah Kronig.

He rose as
Fuma and Amunti were shown in, a quizzical expression on his face.
A hand extended in welcome.

“I do not
believe I have had the pleasure before today. I am Isaiah Kronig,
but please call me Isaiah.”

His gaze
rested a mite longer on Fuma.

Black men were
not unknown as visitors on Valaris, but Fuma was the first black
man this Electan had personally encountered.

Fuma gripped
the proffered hand. “I am Fuma of the Deorc and this is Amunti of
the Drinic.” Amunti had no clear race name, but evolved on the
homeworld of the ancient Drinic; Torrullin declared him as Drinic,
it being simply a matter of timing.

Isaiah’s eyes
widened as he shook Amunti’s hand as well. “Kaval?”

“Indeed,”
Amunti responded. “We are on a mission for Elixir.”

Isaiah paled.
“Oh, dear Aaru, do not tell me trouble heads for Valaris
again.”

Fuma smiled.
“No, Electan Isaiah. We merely seek your permission to enter the
Farmer’s Conference. There is a Beaconite among the delegates we
wish to speak with.”

A puzzled
smile. “Farmer’s Conference?”

Amunti
grinned. “An Electan cannot keep track of every meeting. Your
farmers meet with Beacon Farm over genetically engineered grain.
Vall Peninsula, we believe.”

“Genetically
engineered grain?” Isaiah repeated and then, “We do not agree with
altered substances. Vall, you say?” He pursed his lips and left
them to return to his seat behind his desk. “Please, do sit. How do
you know this is happening?”

“The Valla
heirs informed their grandfather,” Fuma said, “and he, in turn,
informed us.”

“Ah,” Isaiah
murmured, his face clearing. “And Elixir is concerned over
genetically interfered grain?”

Amunti
laughed. “Now we know how you feel about it. Others say
‘engineered’, but you say ‘interfered’.”

Isaiah
laughed.

“We are not
here over grain concerns,” Fuma said. “The Beaconite repeated a
horrible rumour to the Vallas and we seek to discover the source.
However,” he added with a smile, “it will certainly please Elixir
to hear Valaris is against genetic tampering.”

“Yes, well,
the farmers appear to think otherwise. I think I will accompany you
to this conference to make my views known, quite succinctly.” Then
he frowned. “Vall is Valleur territory; you did not need my
permission.” He frowned harder. “Are those bloody farmers holding
conferences there to escape notice, damn it?”

“The Valleur
would be against it,” Amunti murmured.

“But Tianoman
learns the ropes,” Fuma understood. “Someone pulled the wool for
him.”

“I know I am
going north, then,” Isaiah muttered.

Fuma rose. “We
shall be happy to transport you there, Electan.”

Isaiah stared
up at him. “Now?”

Amunti rose
also. “Our mission is of import, and the source we seek may take
time to uncover.”

Isaiah placed
his hands flat on his desk and shook his head. “Well, I certainly
did not envision this for today.” He pushed himself up. “If you
would grant me a moment?” He headed back to the door, there to
speak to his young secretary. “Angel, I’ll be unavailable for the
rest of the day. Hold my meetings, will you?”

“Will do!” the
young woman sang out.

Angel? Amunti
and Fuma looked at each other.

“She’s my
daughter,” Isaiah murmured. “My little Angel.”

Fuma inclined
his head. “Apologies, Electan.” Amunti simply grinned.

“Shall we?”
Isaiah muttered and held his hand out. He knew contact enabled
magical transport; he had two Valleur on his permanent staff for
the very purpose.

Fuma took the
hand and took the Electan to the icy Vall Peninsula.

Amunti
followed in their wake.

They
materialised in the square outside Tianoman’s residence.

The square was
deserted and it was bone-chilling cold.

“Gods,” Isaiah
muttered, not dressed for the temperature.

He gave Fuma a
skewed look. The Deorc was scantily dressed in knee-length pants,
an open waistcoat and sandals on his feet and yet the cold appeared
to bother him none.

“I feel it,”
Fuma grinned - he was a Mind Delver - “but cold cannot kill an
Immortal, so why let it bother me?”

Amunti was
swathed as if standing braced on the polar caps. He sent Fuma a
look. “Speak for yourself.”

An Elder had
meanwhile seen Isaiah. “Electan?”

“Ah, that is
Sirlasin; he will know where this conference is.” Isaiah headed
over, clutching his arms against the cold. “Greetings, my friend.”
Sirlasin and Isaiah gripped arms Valleur-style.

“Come inside,”
Sirlasin shivered. “Gods, I could do with a stint on Luvanor to get
some summer into my bones.” He led the way into the foyer. “Fuma,
it has been a while.” The Elder and Deorc gripped arms.

Fuma
introduced Amunti.

“What can I do
for you?” Sirlasin enquired. “If you are hoping to see that young
whippersnapper Tianoman - forget it. He, along with his cousins,
absconded Valaris this morning.”

“Why?” Fuma
asked.

“Only they
know.”

“Gods,
Sirlasin, Elixir will exact retribution.” Amunti was horrified.

“Don’t we know
it, but they are on Xen III under Peacekeeper protection. Short of
causing major scandal, we decided to let them have their way for
now. Do you know what they did before they left, and please inform
my Lord Torrullin about this - they subverted a sacred site to hide
them sneaking off.”

“That could
only be Tianoman,” Fuma murmured.

Sirlasin
sighed. “I know. Torrullin must be told.”

“He will be.
The man has been running interference for Tianoman for years
now.”

Sirlasin
paled. “What say you?”

Fuma swore. He
had said too much. “Leave it.”

“No, no,
Deorc. This is something we should know about.”

“Why? It has
not affected you, Tianoman or Valaris. Let it go.”

Sirlasin dug
in and Isaiah felt out of his depth. “The Elders will simply go to
him, Fuma.”

Fuma sighed
and then glanced at Amunti, who nodded. “Tymall left certain
inheritances for his son.”

“Nothing came
of them,” the Elder frowned.

“Oh, they
came, and Elixir negated. He does so with regularity.”

“What?
Where?”

“Largely
Grinwallin, some on Luvanor, and we have been in here to Valaris
incognito from time to time. He hopes to see Tianoman presented to
the Throne unencumbered. That is a fortunate young man; he is much
loved.”

“Gods,”
Sirlasin said.

“It is not my
place to discuss this. Sirlasin, the three of us need to present
ourselves at the Farmer’s Union Conference. Can you help?”

The Elder
stared at the wall as thoughts raced in his head over Tymall’s
ploys and then he shook himself as Fuma’s words penetrated. “What
bloody farm thing?”

Isaiah burst
out laughing. “Now I do not feel too bad.”

Amunti
grinned.

“Someone
definitely pulled a few strings,” Fuma muttered. “It is not ours to
sort, however. You and Isaiah can interfere in that mess. Amunti
and I need is to speak to Kris Westlake.”

“The
Beaconite? Oh,
that
conference. You two are here about the
rumours, right?”

Fuma
nodded.

Sirlasin
heaved a sigh. “Good. Wait - how do you know?”

“Elixir called
a meeting.”

“That serious,
then.” Sirlasin faced Isaiah. “Genetic grain isn’t for Valaris, not
to grow and not to import.”

“Agreed.”

“Excellent. I
already put a word in earlier, and you are more than welcome to add
your voice. Then we shall uncover who gave permission to whom to
hold a conference of this nature.”

Isaiah nodded.
“Never trust a Beaconite Marcus Campian used to say.”

“And the man
was on the money,” Sirlasin said. “The meeting is in the Mirror
Hall. Go and interfere all you want.”

The three
dematerialised after expressing appreciation.

Sirlasin
shouted for an Elder enclave.

From the
outside, Mirror Hall was a sprawling ranch-style building.

Positioned
midway between No Name Lake and the Maze sacred site, it hosted
many tourists during the summer season. There were restaurants,
coffee shops, curio stalls, restrooms, a chapel, even a medical
facility, and there was a conference centre contained within the
sprawling affair.

It was called
Mirror Hall, for it had one other curious feature - an internal
maze constructed of mirrors that tricked visitors during the season
to much hilarity. The mirror maze was not sacred anything, merely a
clever and intricate fun park.

The real Maze,
of course, was far harder to complete and was once life threatening
to challengers. Today it retained sacred status, without the
danger. Hosts visited it every year as well.

Isaiah marched
towards the conference centre, a man on a mission. Fuma and Amunti
followed in his wake.

He pushed the
swing doors wide and interrupted without preamble.

“My name is
Isaiah Kronig and I am here to tell you, never will genetically
engineered foodstuffs be permitted on Valaris. This you know
already, thus I suggest most sincerely you curtail your discussions
to other viable subjects.”

As he talked
he walked up the central aisle and when he reached the podium,
stepped behind it, gesturing the man there away. He faced silent,
goggle-eyed delegates.

“Did anyone
not hear me? I am willing to repeat every word.”

A man rose in
the body of the gathering. “Electan, there are clear advantages
…”

“What is your
name?”

“Benny Shampa,
sir.”

“Mr Shampa, I
say again, it is not to be. If this is the way you would like to
farm, I suggest you seek dispensation from Beacon and go farm
there. Understood?”

The man
nodded.

“Mr Shampa,
now I have you in my sights, would you be so kind as to point out
the one who saw fit to organise this event?”

Benny pointed
to the man beside Isaiah.

“Electan, I am
Josepp Longwater,” he said.

“Mr Longwater,
please contain this meeting to the natural order of things, and I
will see you in my office at nine tomorrow.”

Mr Longwater
merely nodded.

“Which member
from Beacon aided Mr Longwater in this venture?” Isaiah asked.

Silence, and
then, “That would be me.” The Beaconite sighed and rose. “Jason
Mullar.”

“Thank you, Mr
Mullar. If you would be so kind as to join Mr Longwater in my
office tomorrow? Understand a representative of the Valleur council
will be with us, as well as your ambassador, sir.”

Jason Mullar,
like to Josepp Longwater, nodded.

Isaiah smiled.
“With that out of the way, there is one further point of business.
Mr Kris Westlake, where are you?”

The Beaconite
rose.