The Sleeper Sword (18 page)

“Lord
Vallorin, if I may?” Caballa murmured from behind Tannil. “I must
agree with Mr Morave. We don’t have all the facts. The Valleur
believe a man is innocent until otherwise proved, and that man is
being ill-treated at present.”

“Caballa, you
know not the why.”

“I suggest you
make your position clear, my Lord.”

Tannil glared
at her, but she was right. He bit back an oath and asked, “Would a
probe be sufficient to prove this man’s worth?”

“It depends
what we’re trying to find.”

“Nature,
Elder. Good or evil.”

Marcus gave a
horrified gasp.

Caballa
ignored that and said, “It would only be part proof and it should
be done by someone more objective.”

Tannil agreed.
He faced Marcus. “Electan, I think you’re a naturally suspicious
man, which, in your calling, is a necessary trait, but I ask now
that you speak from your heart only, and tell me true what you
think of your travelling companion.”

Marcus glanced
at his childhood friend, who was no help, and turned to study the
unconscious form of Samuel hanging behind them. His sense of fair
play, his compassion, his need for the innate good in all things to
be revealed, beset him. He turned away.

“Samuel is
indeed a good man, Lord Vallorin. I’d stake my life on it.”

“Good for you,
old friend,” Byron murmured.

“Yet you know
he harbours a secret?” Tannil asked.

Marcus nodded.
“Yes, one he says he may reveal only to you. It doesn’t change the
fact he’s a generous spirit.”

Tannil gave a
reluctant nod. He looked about. “Buthos?”

The Siric
pushed his way forward.

“Will you do
the probe?”

Buthos crossed
his arms over his chest. “I don’t like it.”

“Doing a
probe?”

“No, that’s
simple enough. I don’t like this tyrannical behaviour.”

Tannil’s face
was expressionless. “You dare question my methods?”

“I dare
suggest you’re allowing your fears for the future to place you in
this untenable position, Tannil, and I say this first as a friend
and then as leader of another ancient race. I’ll do the probe, but
I want to know why these lengths.”

“He’s the
spitting image of my father,” Tannil whispered.

Again Marcus
gasped.

Buthos gently
lifted Samuel’s bowed, inert head; he carefully studied those
features. “Yes, I see what you mean, but this man is older, paler
and his hair is uniform. If your father has reborn, Tannil, he
wouldn’t be a day older than twenty-five or six, no matter how long
the time between.”

Tannil stared
at Samuel, unspeaking.

“Is it not
perhaps Torrullin you think you see here?” Buthos prompted.

Tannil’s
yellow gaze speared the Siric. “Is that possible?”

Buthos
shrugged. “With the Enchanter involved anything becomes
possible.”

“Is that man
Torrullin, Siric?” Tannil growled. “Be specific.”

“He denies
it,” Kismet murmured from somewhere. “He said he had news of the
Enchanter, but could not be him.”

“Buthos?”
Tannil whispered.

There was a
strange buzz to the silence in the huge chamber. Everyone listened
carefully.

“Highly
unlikely. Torrullin was … is more …”

“That man is
not Torrullin,” Mitrill said. “Not reborn, not in any shape or
form. Nor is he Tristamil. That leaves …”

“Mother,
no!”

“…
Tymall.”

Buthos said as
the entire room drew breath, “Is that it? Is that the reason for
this mistreatment? Do you think this could be Tymall?”

He glanced
from Tannil to Mitrill and then searched for Quilla.

The birdman
approached. He walked past Samuel and his stoic guards and came to
rest beside the Siric. “That is a crazy notion, Lord Vallorin.
Forgive my bluntness, but I think we are scaring rabbits out of the
brush and that can cause only panic.”

“Tannil?”
Mitrill demanded.

Tannil closed
his eyes. Quilla was right. His mother had pre-empted and now he
needed to restore calm. Whether there was truth to his suspicions
about this human or not, the result had to be contained. He opened
his eyes.

“Tannil?”
Mitrill insisted.

“Mother,
quiet. I have allowed my shock at seeing your reactions to this
man’s features sway me from diplomacy, compassion and calm.”

It was not
strictly true, for he instigated the retrieval, but he knew his
mother would not publicly correct him. She would understand. He
noticed a number of retainers nod in sympathy, and that was enough
to still fear if not quell rumours. He squared his shoulders.

“Guards, clear
the chamber.”

The guards
knew that meant themselves and the retainers; they filed out,
leaving only the two holding Samuel. Staff melted away.

“I’ll take
him,” Buthos said, taking Samuel’s weight and waving the last two
guards out. He watched them go, himself pondering the rumour mill,
and faced Tannil. “The same goes for Tymall as for your father, my
friend. This man is physiologically too mature to be either.”

Tannil
sagged.

“Stupid,”
Belun said, “to bandy
that
name about.”

“Blame only
me,” Mitrill said. “I raised it when Tannil sought merely to
contain and discover.”

“Too
publicly,” Belun muttered.

“It was a
mistake,” Tannil growled.

“Yes, and one
we can mend,” Quilla said. “My Lady, if you could subtly have it
confirmed you were distressed at hearing of and then seeing a man
who reminded you of your first husband? That should calm most of
the rumours.”

She huffed,
but agreed.

Marcus spoke,
finding his voice in the drama, “What of young Samuel here? Will
you ignore his plight?”

“Are you
satisfied he is who he appears to be?” Byron asked.

“Who he
appears to be is still a mystery, Mr Morave,” Tannil said, “but
we’re willing to allow him to tell us his truth before other leaps
in judgement occur.”

“Good,” Byron
said.

“He isn’t who
you think he is,” Marcus insisted.

“But he may be
connected,” Mitrill said.

“Wake him,
Buthos,” Tannil said, and all eyes were on Samuel.

Samuel
straightened groggily as Buthos took his hands from his brow and
licked his lips as if desperately thirsty.

Tannil waved a
hand and Quilla brought forth a glass of cold water. Samuel
accepted, squinting to get his bearings. He drank the water in one
pull … and remembered he was seized.

“What’s
happening?” he asked, studying the strange figure a Q’lin’la
presented. “Who are you? Where am I? Why was I taken from my
companions?”

Quilla smiled,
seeing in those grey eyes honesty that could not be manufactured.
“Easy, friend, all will be made clear. Take a breath and allow your
senses to realign.”

Samuel took a
step forward and would have stumbled had not Buthos caught him.
“Slowly, you’re coming out of mind paralysis.”

Samuel stared
at the colourless Siric, gazing curiously upon the wings peeping
over narrow shoulders. “And who are you?”

Buthos
grinned, liking the unobtrusive curiosity and seeing also a
generous spirit. His probe, as he brought the man back, told him
there was not an evil cell in this one. “This is not my court.
First you must greet …”

Samuel had
already noticed Tannil. He straightened and then bowed low. “My
Lord Vallorin, forgive me. I was unaware of your presence.”

Tannil
approached. “You are not at fault, Samuel Skyler. Do you know why
you were brought here?”
Buthos?

A good soul,
Tannil.

A shadow
cleared from the Valleur’s eyes and he awaited Samuel’s considered
reply.

“I assume
because of my similarity to your father.”

Marcus drew
breath and Byron jabbed him.

“Correct, and
I apologise. The shock was overpowering.”

“I am no one
known to you, my Lord.”

Tannil
inclined his head. “We are aware of that now. We needed to err on
the side of caution.”

“Of course,”
Samuel murmured. “I had the same reaction when …” He cursed his big
mouth.

“When?” Tannil
prompted.

Samuel glanced
significantly around.

“You’re in no
position to ask for privacy, human,” Mitrill said.

“Mother,
please. Mr Skyler …”

“Samuel.”

“Samuel, may I
present my mother Mitrill?”

“My Lady,”
Samuel bowed. She inclined her head.

“My sister
Fay. Caltian and Kismet you’ve met and this is Caballa, an Elder in
my court. Beside you is Buthos, the Siric leader, and next to him
is Quilla of the Q’lin’la. The apparition behind you is Belun of
the Centuar. Consider them my team, as my mother puts it, and
they’ll hear anything you reveal in any event. Please speak
freely.”

Samuel
acknowledged each in turn, his glance touching briefly on Marcus,
who was clearly displeased with the way it went and him not the
centre of attention, and on Byron, who sent him a wink of
encouragement.

“You are
preparing.”

Tannil drew a
breath. “How do you mean?”

“Barring you,
my Lord, and your sister, all these others were part of the
Enchanter’s team and when Kismet saw me aboard ship he immediately
thought I was the Enchanter reborn. I’d say you’re expecting him,
therefore you prepare.”

A nerve
twitched in Tannil’s cheek and Byron gripped Marcus hard to prevent
him giving voice to some stupidity.

Slowly Tannil
nodded. His eyes narrowed. “Well, your powers of deduction are …
immense.” Suspicious. “A few days ago we were speculating we
require a human or two to complete this team and, lo, here you
three come a-calling. Very convenient. Answer the ‘when’, Samuel
Skyler.”

“I’ll answer
anything you ask of me, my Lord, but I’m not the authority in this
adventure. Mr Campian speaks for us.”

Marcus drew
himself up, pleased. Byron sent another wink.

Tannil studied
Samuel intently and turned to the Electan. “Mr Campian, why are you
here?”

Marcus
snatched his arm from Byron’s grip. “We come to inform you of
peculiar events on the mainland, incidents that led us to believe
they may pertain to the Valleur.” Marcus could be diplomatic as
well.

Tannil glanced
at Quilla and murmured, “Indeed. The floor is yours.”

“Only your
part, Marcus,” Byron warned. Behind him Belun snorted
amusement.

Marcus scowled
at his friend and then eloquently related what he heard from
various ambassadors to Valaris. The incidents were familiar to the
gathering, he soon noticed. Byron was right - the Valleur were not
as unaware as the shadow speculated. He then proceeded to shock
them with a succinct account of the strange and ghostly pirate ship
around Silas, the frightening lights moving through the Great
Forest and other incidents pertaining to Valaris mainland.

Tannil grew
ever tenser, his attitude one of acute concentration, which was
gratifying, but when Marcus mentioned Moor …

“Moor?
Taranis?” Tannil drew back and stood stiffly in place. “What
happened in Moor?”

Marcus told
him without embellishment, ending with the fact the shadow said the
incidents were designed to bring the players together.

“We
are
manoeuvred into gathering,” Quilla said.

“And it proved
simple for a Dalrish to trace the signatures,” Kismet pondered,
“for they were deliberately left. Of course, the ethereal dome
would be a great shock to Xenians, and thus a Dalrish comes to
Valaris after centuries absent.”

“Indeed,”
Tannil sighed.

“Lucan Dalrish
will be here within the hour,” Belun said.

Byron remained
calm, but his heart hammered. A Dalrish? They were renowned for
their practical sorcery. “After Moor, Samuel came to see us in
Galilan,” he said, drawing attention to the fact the tale was
incomplete, “and Samuel brought with him an equally shocking story.
That, more than what you’ve just heard, is what brought us this
way.”

Tannil faced
Samuel. At last it was time for the human with his father’s face to
speak. “We would hear it now.”

Samuel told
them about the voice in Linir.

Tannil stared.
Caltian swore.

Then Tannil
rocked in disbelieving laughter. “I was headed to Linir tonight to
uncloak it for Nemisin’s Star! How parallel it is!” He sobered.
“Your tale has no beginning, Samuel Skyler. Why were you in Menllik
in the first place?”

Samuel was
reluctant to air it before the gathering. Had he real choice, he
would prefer Tannil alone. “Actually, I went to Torrke. Menllik was
a curiosity afterward.”

“Torrke?”
Tannil strode closer. “Why?”

“His father
passed away,” Byron put in.

“I’m sorry to
hear that, but it doesn’t equate. In your grief you decide to visit
Torrke? Why?”

“Lord Vallorin
…” Samuel began, but Tannil lost his temper.

“Goddess, I’ve
been walking on eggshells for many long days now, barely sleeping
at night! You’re right, we prepare to meet the Enchanter, but more
than that we prepare for battle. We didn’t know the specific day,
date, time, and now you tell me we must be in Linir before
Nemisin’s star is overhead in a temple already uncloaked by a voice
and a shadow? If you want to be believed, if you believe this is
crucial, you had better tell me everything!”

Samuel locked
gazes with the irate Vallorin. “He said to tell you I am the
instrument to the Enchanter; he said you’d know what that
means.”

Tannil gasped
and leaned forward to haul Samuel closer by the tunic. “That could
mean you are the enemy!”

Samuel’s grey
eyes narrowed. “I am not the enemy, Vallorin!” He hefted his hands
- a gentle man pushed too far - and clamped them over Tannil’s.