The Sleeper Sword (16 page)

“You’ll do
fine, son.”

“Of course you
will,” Fay added. “You’re a good leader, Tannil, and you need prove
nothing.”

He sent her a
grin. Like her, he knew it was about feeling worthy. He took his
mother’s hand from his cheek, kissed it and moved away.

“What else,
brother?” Fay prompted. “You know the origin of the threat, don’t
you? You should be shouting it out in warning.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”
Caballa demanded.

“It’s for the
Enchanter’s ears. Only he can know how to proceed.”

Quilla
intruded. “Tannil is right. Torrullin will know the way and the why
of it and speculating will only cause strain and panic.”

“You know,
Quilla?” Caltian demanded.

The birdman
shook his head. He suspected, for he had been too long with the
Enchanter to not know what would call him back.

“Why do we
need a Dalrish?” Kismet asked.

“He is needed
for other reasons,” Tannil said.

It was Quilla
who said it. “Torrullin will want to know what happened to
her.”

“Ah,” Caballa
went.

“Who?” Fay
asked.

“Cat,” Quilla
said. “Catalina Dalrish.”

“And she was?”
Fay raised her eyebrows.

“She who is
never spoken of, never written into the Oracles,” Tannil
muttered.

Quilla added,
“Torrullin would not appreciate me speaking of this, but for your
understanding, she was the Xenian navigator.”

“The one on
the Forbidden Zone mission?” Fay asked. She caught the other’s
faces. They knew this woman or had known her once, even her mother.
“If she was integral to the mission …”

“She was,”
Caltian muttered.

“… then why is
she not in the Oracles?”

Quilla
murmured, “The Enchanter and Cat - well, only he knows if he loved
her or not.”

Fay glanced
inadvertently at her mother - a gesture not lost on Caltian - and
asked, “So?”

“She was
pregnant when he left,” Quilla stated.

“There are
Vallas on Xen?” Fay burst out.

“Cat
miscarried, the pain and sorrow over losing Torrullin nearly
driving her to suicide and she …anyway, he suspected she was with
child. He will need to know what happened.”

“It should be
told him by a Dalrish,” Tannil added.

“Ah.” Fay
echoed Caballa earlier.

“Why was she
left from the tale?” Kismet asked a question that had plagued him
many a time.

“She lost a
Valla,” Caltian said. “And that was her punishment.”

“That’s
cruel!” Fay.

“There were …
circumstances,” Mitrill said.

“Mother?”

“Fay, it’s
Torrullin’s past. Let it go.”

Her daughter
glared. “I’ll ask him!”

Her mother
gave a mirthless smile. “If you dare, do so.”

“Enough!”
Quilla said. “Torrullin is no object to summarily dissect! Let him
be and let Cat’s ghost lie in peace. He will have enough guilt over
this without any of you adding to it.”

The birdman
scowled around the chamber and headed into the garden.

Gradually they
all dispersed, with Caltian and Mitrill the last to go.

“You have to
trust me, Caltian.”

“I need time
to …”

“You need to
see my reaction to him and that is unfair.”

“I’m sorry,”
he said and meant it.

Mitrill nodded
and bit her bottom lip. “I was only a few years older than
Tristamil, still very young when we were married. The love I
thought I had for my father-in-law was a child’s dream and nothing
like the love I finally share with you. Even if he were to declare
undying devotion to me, I’d choose only you and there would be no
hesitation.”

Caltian sighed
and wrapped her in his arms and hoped it was true.

Kismet
materialised before his Vallorin, intruding into that man’s private
chambers.

He thanked his
lucky stars Vania was not about - she could bite far worse than her
husband.

“Kismet?”
Tannil’s tone was enquiring. His heart bumped. “Is it Teroux?”

“No, my Lord.
There’s a human vessel wallowing on the Pentac. There’s no wind to
drive her off and even if there was …”

“Good gods,
Kismet, we don’t despise them so much to leave them to that kind of
fate. Assist them to safety.”

Kismet
vanished.

“Caltian!”
Tannil roared into the corridor.

“Tannil?”
Caltian’s head popped from a doorway further down.

“Kismet aids a
ship off the Pentac. I want to know who is aboard -
unobtrusively.”

“On my way.”
Caltian’s head withdrew.

Tannil sat
heavily in his chair.

What now? What
new surprise?

He rose and
pounded downstairs.

The
Throne-room was deserted.

He paced.

Chapter
18

Ho hum, see
them come

Ho ham, if you
can

Hi ho, greet
them now

Hi he, or leave
be

~ Child’s
rhyme

Kismet
appeared on deck, startling a hyper-tense Larkin and his petrified
crew.

Larkin had one
look at the intruder and released the wheel to him, face tight with
concern. Kismet nodded and took over.

The ship
listed, crawling forward without wind, drawn on by the strength of
the current alone. There were islands on either side and Larkin,
like Kismet, knew the explosive finale to the destructive current
lay ahead.

Kismet gripped
the wheel, feeling how sluggish the vessel was and how the current
below increased.

Byron stomped
on deck, sensing the presence of sorcery. Behind him, Marcus trod
the boards more sedately, hair tamped, face washed, but his
reaction to the Valleur was an instant, bristling suspicion. Samuel
walked past both men and climbed the short ladder to the wheel
deck.

Kismet spared
a moment to look at the three men, sensing authority different to
that of the captain. He saw Samuel and nearly yanked his shoulders
from their sockets. He paled and then forced his attention wholly
to the situation. His hands shook, but he clamped down weakness
with ruthless certainty.

His lips moved
soundlessly and the vessel righted. He spoke more and the ship
trawled forward.

Everyone held
their breaths. The Valleur had appeared to help them, that seemed
obvious, and nobody was about to interfere with his good
intentions.

Larkin headed
for the rail to watch the streaks and Samuel joined him, dividing
his attention between the ocean and the golden man at the helm.
Kismet stood easily, legs braced, and the sun lit his long golden
hair with an otherworldly glow. In dark breeches and a sleeveless
robe he appeared like to a noble pirate of ancient times, at home
in his skin and comfortable in his environment, aware of his
authority.

“Gods, here it
comes,” Larkin whispered in a strained voice.

The streaks of
the cold current parallel for days were splitting into an intricate
web of dispersal, like the delta of a mighty river finding outlet
at the coast. They felt nothing, but had the Valleur not been
aboard there was no doubt the ship would be in serious trouble.

“We’re in the
air,” Samuel breathed, and as he said it the vessel touched the
water once more, feather gentle, and the Pentac was behind
them.

Larkin
released a pent-up breath and approached to the helm and its
temporary pilot.

Kismet smiled
and returned authority.

“Thank you,”
Larkin murmured. “There are no words to describe my relief.”

It took Kismet
a moment to relate to the common tongue and then he said, “The look
in your eyes, friend, is all the thanks I require. Why were you on
the Pentac? Accidental?”

Larkin
grinned. “Accidental? No, were that the case, we’d now be on the
ocean floor. We needed the speed it affords to make up time.”

“It takes a
brave man to attempt it.”

“Or a foolish
one.”

Kismet
inclined his head, smiling again. “Why did you need the time?”

Larkin turned
to point at Samuel. “He knows the reasons. It isn’t my place to
divulge them.”

Kismet took a
deep breath and Larkin noticed how his shoulders stiffened as if
preparing mentally for something. Kismet slowly turned to look
where the captain pointed. Inclining his head to Larkin, Kismet
paced to Samuel, who watched him steadily.

Kismet,
Valleur Elder, nearly stumbled when he met those clear grey
eyes.

“Who are you?”
he asked, keeping his voice pitched low.

Softly, so
that neither Marcus nor Byron would hear - the two now with Larkin
and all three facing their way - Samuel said, “I am not he who you
are thinking of, I assure you.”

Kismet
swallowed.

“Even
incognito, Valleur friend, the one you envision would’ve dealt with
the Pentac and, I suspect, would know you. I swear, I do not know
you.”

Kismet nodded
once, his shoulders relaxing, and he looked over the ocean, over
islands that abruptly meant nothing to him.

“I do have
news of him,” Samuel added.

Kismet jerked
back with full attention.

“I need to
speak with Vallorin Tannil.”

Kismet hissed
through his teeth, an expression of surprise, not aggression. A
short silence ensued, one in which he studied the man carefully.
“Very well. I’ll guide you to harbour.”

Samuel drew
breath, as surprised as the Elder was moments ago. “I thought it
would be difficult to reach the Vallorin.”

Kismet smiled.
“It is usually. I’m an Elder, however, and have the power of
decision.”

Samuel
returned the smile.

“Besides,
Tannil intends to see the Electan in his home this night and the
Electan,” and Kismet glanced over his shoulder at the suspicious
Marcus, “has come to him. It appears we are on the same page.”

“The Electan,
I’m afraid, still reads words somewhat differently,” Samuel
said.

Kismet sighed.
“That is to be expected. Excuse me now while I take us in.” He
returned to the helm and Larkin released without comment.

Marcus
bristled and Byron collared and dragged him to Samuel.

“Well?” Marcus
demanded.

“We’re on our
way to see the Vallorin,” Samuel returned. Inside he was a frenzy
of nerves.

“That was easy
enough,” drawled Byron. “Appears our Valleur friends are not
unaware after all.”

“Well?” Tannil
demanded.

“The Electan,
the First Sorcerer and one other I couldn’t place,” Caltian
replied.

“The Electan?
He came here? Gods, the situation on the continent must be worse
than expected. Where are they now?”

“Kismet is
taking them into harbour.”

Tannil nodded.
“Good. Meet them on the pier, relay my greeting and escort them to
a guesthouse in the city. Gods, Caltian, is it closer than we
think?”

Caltian
sighed. “I dare not speculate, son.”

Tannil snorted
a laugh. “All I do is speculate, wait, hope, pray and it frightens
the daylights out of me.”

“Me, too,”
Caltian whispered and paced backward and vanished.

Chapter
19

I stood at the
water’s edge and sighed. Such beauty, such tranquillity. A
testament to man’s ability to work in harmony with nature. May all
societies be as blessed as this one must be.

~ Nea of
Cèlaver, about a harbour on Excelsior,

a note in her
secret diary

There were
seven islands linked via bridges in the Valla chain.

Valla Island
was easternmost and also the island with the steepest gradient and
it led to the Temple on Lifesource Island.

The
lightbridge of old that connected land and temple on the mainland
was replaced from necessity with a broad light-band to encompass
the perimeter. Only mortals and those wishing to surrender
Immortality could cross this broad expanse. Buthos had not set foot
in the Temple and never would. Quilla was the exception to the
Immortality rule, as was the Enchanter.

From
Lifesource two smaller islands housed largely Valla retainers and
their families. The furthest island, School, was where the young
spent their mornings. Leading from School was a sliver of land,
Splinter, a playground.

In the centre
of this archipelago, lay the largest island in the chain. Danak lay
midway between learning and leadership, a fact not lost upon the
inhabitants. Danak was the name of both island and city and meant,
pointedly,
Exile
. Home to over five thousand before the mass
emigration, only three hundred remained. It gave the city a
deserted appearance and atmosphere.

A natural deep
bay became the island’s harbour, with the aid of sturdy
breakwaters. It faced west and was the city’s greatest attraction.
While Danak was not much larger than Valla, it was until recently
the most populated. Luxan and Etmar to the north were smaller, as
lovely and as deserted now.

Twelve ships
lay at anchor when Kismet steered the human vessel in. Sleek ships
painted in bright colours, unmistakably Valleur, built for pleasure
more than need. The Valleur did not require sailing prowess;
sorcery was their greatest talent. Huge fishing platforms anchored
about the islands where fish were called, not baited or
trawled.

A number of
crewmen were visible aboard the beautiful vessels, and ceased their
labours to stare at the clumsy ship that sailed in with a Valleur
at the helm.

Kismet ignored
the stir and headed adroitly towards a large floating dock. A long
pier stretched from it to the island and was unoccupied but for
gulls.

Larkin stood
ready to relay orders to his crew and one after the other the sails
were furled. Their progress slowed and the ship nudged the
platform, expertly executed. Larkin smiled admiringly at Kismet and
barked at his men to secure. They hastened to obey and she came to
rest with a relieved groan.