The Nemisin Star (27 page)

Ophuls drew a
breath. “You are a decent man, my Lord, and a great one. Are you
saying it can be done?”

“It can be
done.”

The king’s
face lit from within. “And will it remain after you have gone?”

“It will be
unassailable.”

His Majesty
inhaled deeply and smiled at the scents in his nostrils. “Then let
us be realistic. Without my approval you cannot leave Cèlaver
safely.” Torrullin did not refute that. “Thus, you will have it and
anything else you need.”

“Thank you.
All I need is time with your Priestess and I, in turn, shall honour
my word. Additionally, I give to you my oath that neither my son
nor I shall speak of this world to anyone.”

“Then we have
consensus?”

Torrullin
grinned. “I believe so.”

Ophuls grinned
also. “Then remove this, for I cannot think clearly with such
wonder around me … no, no, wait one minute.” He turned away, his
gaze touching here, there, a memory that would be with him
always.

Eventually,
far longer than the requested minute, he said, “I am ready.”

A smile is
pure magic.

~ Truth

Royal
Apartment

W
hen
they left the chamber Ophuls was a different man.

Anticipation
caused his ascetic face to appear alive and filled with hope, and
it was evident to his daughter.

She looked up
as they entered - the three of them were having coffee and chatting
amicably with Breem’s help - and stood, frowning. “Daddy, are you
all right?”

He kissed her
on her forehead. “You were right Mia, to run to the rescue. These
men are gifts extraordinaire from the stars.” He smiled over her
head at Tristamil, who grinned back. Poor Breem sagged. It was
fine. Lufer could now do nothing to him.

“Yes? I was
right?” Mia questioned.

Her father
chuckled. “Indeed, and don’t push your luck, young lady.”

“I told you
so!” she crowed, not at all cowed, and clapped her hands. “So what
is next?”

“Lian,” Ophuls
said, and for once the name did not leave a sour taste in his
mouth. The Priestess, he thought, was about to meet her match.

“Why?” Mia
cried out.

Before her
father could reply there was a commotion in the corridor and the
two guards were heard shouting denials. The doors burst open and
Lufer strode in, the guards with spears levelled at his back.

“Call them
off, Your Majesty,” Lufer growled.

Ophuls’ mouth
set, but it suited his purpose to have the Protection Master under
his watch, and he gestured at the two. They withdrew with obvious
reluctance- Lufer was not well liked - and did not close the doors,
standing instead a way off. One false move on Lufer’s part and he
would find himself skewered.

“These are
evil men, Majesty!”

Ophuls glared
at his underling. “Where is your respect, Master?”

Lufer realised
he had blundered, and bowed low. “I apologise, my King. In my
defence, I have had a strange night, and am highly concerned as to
your welfare. Please forgive my crude behaviour.”

The king
watched him in silence, disliking the man. “Personal feelings
aside, you are good at what you do, and that is the reason I choose
to forget what happened here.”

Lufer
straightened, wisely saying nothing.

“However, you
will now admit that I am ruler here and do as I bid.”

“You are my
liege, Majesty. I am here to serve you and yours to command.”

“I understand
it is your duty to remonstrate where you think I may be in error,
but not now, not on this day, and not over my two guests.” He
underscored the word ‘guests’ and Lufer blanched. “Guard! Wake the
scribe and have him brought here!”

One of the men
standing watch hastened to obey, sending his companion a confused
glance. The sound of his slapping sandals went down the passage,
past the stairwell and he turned a corner at the far end.

Ophuls bent
his gaze to Lufer once more. “In the interim I require the presence
of the First Priestess. Fetch her here.”

Lufer was
clearly confounded, but he nodded and retreated. His sandals
slapped heavily as he walked away to vanish down the stairs.

“Lordy,” Mia
muttered.

“Daughter,
have breakfast brought in.”

“You are
getting rid of me!”

“No, girl, I
am hungry and I am sure our guests are as well.” Ophuls smiled when
she put her hands to her cheeks in mortification and vanished
through the doors. She disappeared around the same corner the guard
had. “My Mia tends to forget her obligations,” Ophuls murmured
indulgently.

He headed back
into the opulent chamber and the others followed.

The remaining
guard closed the doors of the antechamber.

The scribe
appeared first and was asked to pen safe conduct for Torrullin and
Tristamil, allowing them to go where they pleased and to leave the
confines of Cèlaver underground unhindered.

He blinked and
sat at the table before the window to put ink to paper as bid.
Minutes later Ophuls affixed his seal to the document, with the
scribe as witness, and he was dismissed. Ophuls handed the document
to Torrullin, who secreted it in his tunic. Both Breem and
Tristamil were astonished, both wondering what transpired in the
private meeting.

Mia entered
with a bevy of servants carrying fine silver trays laden with
fruits, breads, jams and cheeses. A covered dish gave off the
appetising aroma of fried bacon and a fine crystal plate held a
host of boiled eggs liberally spiced and herbed. A selection of
teas and coffees followed.

Tristamil’s
mouth watered and Mia handed him an empty plate. The two young
people tucked in with relish. Torrullin chose fruit and tea, while
Breem nibbled at a roll and Ophuls sampled a small portion of
everything.

They were
still busy when one of the guards led Lufer and a young woman in,
and Mia lost her good humour, bristling like a defensive feline.
The cats on the nearby cushion hissed into wakefulness.

“Sit,” Ophuls
commanded. “Help yourself to breakfast.”

The young
woman glared at the cats. “No, thank you.”

Lufer had no
such qualms. He tucked in with gusto, earning him a look of
distaste from Lian as she deigned to seat herself at the table.
Lufer faced the window and thus suffered the glare from outside,
squinting when he raised his head, but Lian, more astute, faced
away and had a clear view of all the protagonists.

Mia rose to
gather her cats into her arms. She took them into the chamber
beyond, closing the door on them. When she returned she threw a
dark glance at Lian, but was ignored.

The First
Priestess wore a simple white robe, a hood draping from her head,
tied about her waist with a silver chain. A silver bracelet adorned
each wrist and her feet were bare. She possessed a serene exterior,
but a pair of fiery hazel eyes belied this. She was a fire cat;
there was no mistaking it.

She used those
eyes then, glancing from one to the other. Her gaze lingered a
moment on Tristamil, who ignored her to eat, and finally rested on
Torrullin. He met her gaze. Her eyes widened, his narrowed.

“I know you,”
she said.

Mia stopped
her fork in mid-air to stare at them and Ophuls leaned back in his
chair, pushing his plate aside.

“You knew me
as Reno,” Torrullin said. It was not a physical recognition, for
both were different in the present; it was a sensing of a known
soul. “I knew you as Talia.”

“Ah. That
time.”

Lufer ceased
eating and stared. Mia was stupefied, Ophuls less so, although he
was amazed by his niece’s recognition. It meant, as his mighty
guest intimated, that souls did leave Cèlaver. Lian returned;
others had not.

Tristamil took
it in his stride and helped himself to a third cup of coffee. Breem
sat next to him, translating inaudibly and holding his untouched
roll tight in a shaking hand.

“That time,”
Torrullin echoed.

“Valaris, if I
remember correctly.”

“Indeed,”
Torrullin murmured.

“Why are you
here? How did you know to come?”

“I need your
help. You trusted me then, Lian. Will you trust me now?”

Mia had other
ideas. “You are rebirthed?” she cried out at Lian. “You cannot be
my cousin; how dare you make my life a nightmare?”

“I am your
cousin, but I am also more.” She looked to Ophuls. “Uncle, please
control her, or I leave now.”

“Mia, you will
remain silent,” Ophuls said and his tone of implacability quieted
her, although she continued to stare at her cousin with something
verging on hatred. The king addressed Torrullin. “It seems you were
right about souls who do not return. Others, it appears, make a
detour … or two.”

Lian frowned.
“I do not need to excuse that.” Her gaze moved back to Torrullin
and away from the smirk on her uncle’s face.

“Not to me,”
Torrullin murmured.

“Did you know
I was here?”

“No, but
knowing you eases the situation. If you recall who I was then, I
believe you understand why I am here now.”

She licked her
lips. “You still seek those answers?”

“More urgently
than ever.”

“Why would I
reveal anything now? I refused then.”

“Then you did
not tell me you were a Priestess in the art.”

“As I recall,
you had certain talents you refused to share.”

Torrullin
inclined his head. “Touché.” His eyes flashed warning.

She glanced at
Lufer, receiving the message loud and clear. “Why has this
knowledge become urgent?”

Torrullin laid
his hands flat on the table. “Because I seek to kill someone and he
is a reincarnate. I do not want him to ever return.”

Shocked
silence ensued.

“I will not
aid you in murderous endeavours!”

“Majesty, I
must insist …” Lufer began, rising.

“Sit!” Ophuls
snapped. “Let us hear the man speak his reasons.”

“What has he
offered you, Uncle?”

“I thought I
heard there was trust between you,” Ophuls said. “Or are you too
fickle even for that?”

Lian paled
until her lips vanished. “How dare you.”

“I dare, for I
am your King. Now, did you trust him once?”

“Once.”

“Do souls not
know each other intrinsically?”

“Time has
passed. Much time.”

Ophuls
breathed out. Much time, dear God. “I would wager that the soul
does not change so much with time, only personality.”

Lian and
Torrullin looked at each other. She inclined her head and thus he
spoke. “Souls change with time.”

“The learning
and growing,” Lian murmured. “It is unavoidable.”

“This gets us
nowhere,” Ophuls said. “I have chosen to trust this man and would
hear his reasons. Whatever you two decide on after is your issue.
Agreed?”

Lian
nodded.

“Sire!”

“Protection
Master, I bid you hold your tongue or you will be removed from my
presence. You are here merely in the event, although I believe
there is slim chance of that.” Lufer nodded reluctantly. Ophuls
gestured to Torrullin. “Please continue.”

“My name is
Torrullin and I am an Enchanter. You know, Lian, what that means
out there; you knew I was a sorcerer then. The man I seek to kill
is one also, but his heart and soul has not a glimmer of lumin. He
is the Darak Or the entire universe lived in fear of not long ago.
I stopped him then, and now he has returned, for he is reincarnate.
I can stop him now, but for how long? I need to put an end to him
in the ethereal realms as well.”

“This Darak Or
poses a danger to us?” Ophuls cleared a dry throat.

Tristamil
rose, his face set. “To all life, Majesty.” He spoke in the Cèlaver
tongue and no one found it surprising, except Breem, who dropped
his roll.

Ophuls glanced
at the young man. “Are you not merely following your father’s
lead?”

Lian twitched.
“Son? How is that possible?”

“The rules
changed for me, Lian, when I became Enchanter,” Torrullin
responded.

“The Darak Or
invaded my twin’s soul, Majesty,” Tristamil went on. “He created a
monster in doing so. Today my brother languishes in prison and the
Darak Or roams my homeworld seeking my blood, my family’s, anyone
close to us. Most of all he seeks to humble my father, render him
powerless, and then he aims to drag him across space and time as a
bound slave while he annihilates and twists everything he sees and
touches. He is vicious, aggressive, evil and angry, and he is
powerful and highly resourceful. Do not underestimate the danger he
poses, for he will move on from Valaris and he will come to Cèlaver
also. Margus must be stopped.”

There was no
doubting him. “I am sorry about your brother,” Ophuls murmured.

Tristamil
sucked at his teeth. “I am not. I desire above all else to kill
him.” He lapsed into silence and sat.

Torrullin
squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“This Darak Or
rebirthed using your other son?” Lian asked.

He looked at
her after flicking Tristamil a glance. “And then separated into his
previous form, yes.”

Lian rose and
rounded the table to sit in an empty chair beside him. She leaned
in to watch his face. “It caught you off-guard.”

“To say the
least.”

“He hurt you
in doing so.”

“It formed
part of his revenge, yes.”

“It is no easy
feat to find your true form,” Lian murmured. “One we certainly have
not attempted. He must be truly powerful.”

“He is.”

“And you,
Torrullin? Whose form do you possess in the present?”

He inhaled,
exhaled. “My original form.”

“Reno was near
in features to you, no doubt deliberately so, but to find true form
after other rebirths? You are powerful also. More so than this
Darak Or.”