The Nemisin Star (47 page)

Valarians were
ready for war.

Darkness
settled over the land.

I find it
exceedingly strange to see people together ... and behave as a
unit. Most often it is a matter of disunity. What, pray, are we
teaching our children? Values? Really?

~ Ocan of
Beacon, preacher

Torrke

Month of
Dormire

The day and
night of New Moon

“
Y
ou
have to evacuate the Valleur,” Vannis said to Torrullin.

“I have tried
to reason with them.”

“Try harder!
Margus could unleash another plague or worse.”

“The Valleur
will not vanish from the universe. You forget Luvanor.”

“It is not the
same. Send them all there!”

“I presented
to them the choice, something like you did ten thousand years ago,
and some have left.”

“Not
enough!”

“You stood
before your people and told them you would fight to the death and
they fought with you, Vannis, knowing that. I am not asking them to
do the same, but I know they are of like mind. Are you asking me to
deny them their pride? Did you?”

Vannis smacked
the table flat-handed and backed off. “It is not the same. I knew
the majority were safe beyond the Rift.”

“And the
majority of mine are safe on Luvanor. I know how you feel over this
remnant of your son’s people, but they have run too many times to
do so now again. Margus routed them once; their pride will not
permit it again. Surely you see that?”

Vannis passed
a hand over his hair. He had cropped it short in preparation for
battle. Torrullin sipped at his wine. They enjoyed a meal under the
bare branches of the oaks outside the Keep. Lower down a river ran
in full winter spate and the air was bracing, the heavens bright
with that quality of sunlight only coldness could bring forth.
Vannis retrieved his wineglass. Over the rim he watched Torrullin.
His grandson was as taut as a bowstring, yet there was strange calm
about him.

He and Saska
were no longer arguing and yet they did not seem much like husband
and wife. What secret now, one both Saska and Tristamil were privy
to?

Why did
Mitrill tread carefully around her father-in-law? Since the
nuptials two nights ago, she was cautiously neutral in Torrullin’s
presence, other than her show of temper yesterday, and Tristamil
was remarkably tactful. Tristamil was so tactful he had not spoken
to his father since the wedding. Why was that?

“Torrullin,”
he ventured, causing his grandson to sigh. “I do not appreciate
being kept on the outside.”

Torrullin
replaced his glass. “Saska presented to me the freedom to do
whatever is necessary to defeat Margus, in her capacity as the Lady
of Life. Effectively that translates as unqualified permission to
kill and maim, thereby allowing Margus no real power. Anything he
can do, I can do better, and Saska will follow resurrecting the
dead. This she presented to me on Luvanor the night she returned
and nearly tore us apart - has torn us apart. Yet I came to see
this curse as a gift, a useful weapon, and will soon use it. The
only reason I allowed Margus to get away with the plague disaster
is because Saska was not permitted to interfere, but whatever he
springs now will be turned on him tenfold.”

“All
gods.”

“It was a
difficult decision. I now put Saska in the firing line as well, for
Margus has done the math. He knows what the Lady can do - he tried
to take her the night Taranis died. I loathe the idea, but I can
live with it. And I have to accept she was already in the firing
line.” Torrullin shrugged, expressionless, and retrieved his
glass.

“Is that why
you recognised Tris as your heir now? Knowing how your actions will
be perceived?”

“Yes.”

Vannis nodded,
“That explains how you can be tense and calm simultaneously. Why
did you not tell me?”

“It was a
choice I had to make alone.”

“Yes, I see
that. None of it explains Mitrill.”

“Mitrill?”

“The little
girl Rayne dreamed of, the one you wanted to tear Ardosia apart to
find, remember? Yet you are cold towards her and she is wary of
you. Being Dantian’s kin does not explain it, particularly as her
greater claim to the Throne is sundered by her marriage.”

“I was never
afraid for my position.”

“I know, but
that is how it may be perceived.”

“He does not
love her.”

Vannis
frowned. “And that is a reason to withhold common courtesy? Your
son made an excellent match and may grow to love her. He is
certainly enamoured.”

“Perhaps.”

“Are you and
Saska fine now?”

“Fine?”
Torrullin echoed and looked away. “Our marriage is over.”

Silence. “The
last year has been hell.”

“For me it has
never stopped,” Torrullin said. “I have lived in expectancy since
the birth of the twins, every day wondering when I would know and
how I would deal with it. Yes, it has been a bad year, but easier
for me, for I no longer faced uncertainty.”

Vannis drained
his glass. “Waiting can be soul destroying.”

“I will drink
to that.”

“You have to
prevail upon Tris to take Mitrill to safety.”

“Tristamil
does not listen to me where Mitrill is concerned.”

“What are you
not telling me?”

“For pity’s
sake, I am tired. I wish Margus would play his hand so I can be
done.”

Vannis put his
tongue in his cheek and studied the man before him. Torrullin’s
fair hair had grown since that severe cropping before Luvanor and
he caught it at the nape of his neck with a dark leather thong, but
his fringe flopped into his eyes. He constantly brushed it aside,
tucked it behind his ears only to have it fall forward once
more.

He was leaner
than ever, barely taking time to eat, but he was also stronger,
practising with his sword whenever an opportunity presented.

For once he
wore a white shirt, loose and open at the neck, and his feet were
bare. He curled his toes back and forth, unable to sit still for
long. His grey eyes were almost colourless in the sunlight, and
seemed to stare through whatever they encountered, but that was a
trick of the light, for his senses were on high alert, his gaze
watchful. Their recent travels tanned him slightly, causing the
Golden to appear more marked, and it suited him, gifting him the
appearance of rude health.

Most women
professed to prefer tall, dark and handsome men until they met
Torrullin, until fair, tall and beautiful looked upon them as if
they were, at that moment, the most important being in the entire
universe. No one was immune and even Vannis’ beloved Raken had been
speechless - Raken, speechless? - at her first sight of him, as she
often teased him. But recently this man had lost his charisma and
was quick to anger, intolerant, secretive, and who could blame him?
He carried the fates of many.

“I am sorry,
no more questions. We will take the burden of daily detail off
you.”

Torrullin met
his gaze. “I have stepped away already, but I thank you.” He gave a
wry laugh. “And thus isolate myself further.”

“It cannot be
helped.”

Torrullin
changed the subject. He was not comfortable with pity. “Taranis
left a diary.”

A brief
silence. Fine. Let him lead the conversation. “I wondered what
happened to it. I saw him scribbling a few times.”

“I knew
nothing of what went on in others’ lives. I was isolated then; now
I do it deliberately.”

“It is ever
thus with responsibility. I was the same.”

“Did you want
another son, Vannis?”

Vannis said,
“Bloody Taranis.”

“Did you?”

“I wanted
Raken to be happy.”

“Beyond
that.”

Vannis stared
over the valley. “I was frightened over the twins.”

A barked
laugh. “Indeed.”

“I could not
father another child. Relax.”

“Raken could
not conceive.”

“No, the … oh.
Taranis wrote that? She never told me,” Vannis whispered.

“She didn’t
know how.” Torrullin paused. “Taranis also wrote Lycea had a lover.
Did you know about that?”

Again the
silence. “Does it matter now?”

“You knew.
Everyone knew.”

“Torrullin
…”

“Yes, I know.
I was selfish.”

Vannis
grinned. “In some ways.”

“Who was
it?”

“Forget it;
nothing you say will make me reveal that.”

“Therefore I
know him. Was she happy sometimes?”

Vannis looked
him in the eye. “She loved you exclusively, and yes, sometimes she
could be selfish enough to be happy.”

“I should have
paid more attention.”

“How was that
possibly better for her? That road does no one good.”

Torrullin
pursed his lips. “I should have paid more attention to Saska
also.”

“She would
still be the Lady, my boy. That is a destiny, not the result of
circumstance.”

“I guess.”

Vannis said
nothing.

“I wonder if I
am to make the same mistakes again.”

The words were
almost inaudible, and involuntary, for when Vannis looked over at
him, it was to see the silvery eyes that bespoke another reality.
It frightened him. “Torrullin?”

The silver
cleared. “What is the matter?”

Vannis drew a
deep breath and smiled. “Nothing. Just promise me one thing, will
you? Ask when you need help.”

“Thank the
Goddess for you, Vannis. You understand. Yes, I promise, I
promise!”

He threw his
hands up when Vannis pointed a finger at him.

Saska and
Quilla found them bantering under the trees.

The moment
Quilla sat he was serious. “Enchanter, the Darak Or is
sighted.”

Torrullin lost
his smile and leaned over the side of his chair to grip his boots.
“Where?”

“At the
Seven-sided Fountain and the Round Temple. It appears he
investigates the sacred sites and draws folk into casual
conversation, asks questions. Unfortunately those he speaks to come
to realise only afterward they had words with the Darak Or.”

“His pretty
face,” Torrullin muttered. “He always uses his pretty face.” He
pulled his boot-laces tight. “What kind of questions?”

“How many in a
region, who is mayor, have they prepared for the Darak Or, what
manner of defence, how fares the evacuation - for weakness, we
assume.”

“No, finding
out how strong we are this time. If we are prepared, it will pay
him to do something new, something unexpected.”

“He apparently
asks if Valarians are happy to share their world with Valleur,”
Saska said.

Torrullin
straightened; Vannis gave a snort of derision.

Quilla did his
clucking thing, the one that meant he was in two minds about
imparting what he was to say next. “I do not seek to upset you,
Enchanter, but it seems while most are grateful to the Valleur and
see Valaris as historically a Valleur world, others are not so
inclined and are not ashamed to admit it.”

Vannis’ mouth
thinned.

“Valarians
begin to regard me as co-aggressor,” Torrullin stated. Of course
they would. He saw himself as that.

“Not
everywhere,” Saska said.

“It takes only
a handful. And they are not far off the mark.”

“You are
…”

“Saska, it
does not matter.” But it did, for his human blood could never
entirely be subjugated, nor could the human reincarnations that
shaped him in absence of Valleur hosts be denied. He regarded
himself as more Valleur than human, but half of him was, and it
hurt. He rose, stamped his boots into comfort and looked at Quilla.
“Where is he now?”

“Closing in on
Torrke, I suspect.”

“We need cloak
the Temple.”

The birdman
pursed his lips, not liking the suggestion. “The Temple is filled
to capacity, Enchanter. Evacuation will take time, safety even
longer.”

“The Throne
must be taken out of the equation, Quilla. Vannis and I will be as
swift as possible and then you may return your charges to
safety.”

“Just say
when,” Quilla sighed.

Father, Margus
is uncloaking the sites!

My
Lord!
The sites are live without Valleur aid!

The first
sending was from Tristamil, the second from Kismet. Vannis swore,
clearly feeling the sites change state.

Torrullin
cursed aloud. “Quilla, get to the Temple and take the Xenians with
you … and Mitrill, even if you have to knock her senseless. Saska,
evacuate the Keep. Stop dithering, birdman; the sites uncloak!”

Quilla
vanished, and so did Saska.

“Vannis, this
means only one thing.”