The Echolone Mine (27 page)

“They retain
that power, at least.”

“Biological,
not magical, a product of immortality.” She squirmed against him.
“You will find yourself in such a place one day and then know what
I mean.”

He nodded, his
chin bumping her head. “But it is an advantage.”

“Thank Aaru,
yes.”

“They found
food on the island?”

“We must
believe so, for it is an interlude island.”

“The body is
resilient, Caballa.”

“Even someone
as tough as Torrullin can’t function long. The body can cope with
no food, but no water?”

“There is
water, and all are immortal.”

“Will there be
water tomorrow? Declan shouldn’t come close to drowning, or Saska,
especially Saska with her gills. They will succumb and Elianas and
Torrullin will suffer.”

“And beyond
that?”

“Squares of
darkness, like dice rolled into a great vacuum. I have tried to
look inside, but they defy sight. I cannot fathom purpose.”

“Do they
enter?”

“There are
four squares and they enter, one to each, but it isn’t by choice. I
don’t see them come out again. It’s dark to me from there.” Caballa
made a despairing sound in her throat and his arm tightened around
her.

“Do you see a
way to get in?”

She craned her
head up. “Don’t even think it. You would be as lost as they
are.”

“Is there a
way?”

In a flurry of
movement she disengaged and stood, setting the seat to swing askew,
and faced him. “Now listen to me. Will you listen?”

He stopped the
crazy motion by setting his feet firmly to the deck. “I will
listen.”

“I know now
where unbalance resides, and it’s always there. We never get to
know it as separate, for we have the opposites sharing, a status
quo we rarely remark upon, but it has a separate place, as balance
does. We and all others dare not enter that place. Tris, immortal
or not, there is only death there - it is unbalance, after all. Not
death that leads to a new journey, not death as a gateway to the
netherworld, but death in unbalance, in nothingness. This is an
eternal suffering we cannot comprehend.” She drew a shaking breath.
“Torrullin and Elianas will survive, but the manner of their
survival is potentially damaging. Saska and Declan - I pray they
make it out. Goddess, hear me, for I beg it.”

“Where is it,
Caballa?” Tristan whispered. “Tell me.”

“You would use
it to find them!”

“Torrullin
would brave anything for me.”

“But you are
not Torrullin!”

He looked
away.

“Tristan, I am
not disparaging you,” Caballa said, “and I do not deny your
talents.” He refused to look at her, and she put her hands on both
sides of his face and forced him to. “They are within the Path of
Shades, my love, where only Elixir dares go, and Elianas, who is
Elixir by another name.”

He
blanched.

She sighed and
released him. Turning, she leaned on the rail, staring out. “True
unbalance resides in the Path. Balance does also, but that it not
where they are.”

He joined her
at the rail. “How?”

“Imagine a
cylinder of water and secured inside is a thin straw, also filled
with liquid. The water in the cylinder is unhealthy, but wouldn’t
kill upon taste. The water inside the straw is poisonous, and the
two don’t mix. An ant trapped inside the straw, he knows a chance
at survival lies beyond the thin membrane, if only he could get to
it.” She closed her eyes. “The cylinder and everything in it is the
Path of Shades and the straw is the unbalance within. Our four
friends are trapped inside the straw.”

Tristan
breathed unevenly.

“The answer
referred to on the Avior door is the answer to breaking out of the
straw and mixing the poison with the rest of it, thereby diffusing
its destructive properties. Balance has already been stirred in,
now unbalance must join the equation to create neutrality.”

“I
understand.” Tristan hung his head.

A long silence
ensued and the day darkened further into evening.

“Is there a
way in?”

Caballa stared
at him.

“Caballa, if
there’s a way in, there is a way out. That is all I want to
know.”

She studied
him. He was lying. “In unbalance there is no entrance and
exit.”

“There has to
be, or your equation cannot work.”

“Then why
ask?”

“Because I
want to sleep tonight!” he burst out, digging his hands into his
hair.

That was
truth, but not all of it. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing,” he
muttered, dropping his hands.

She blinked,
and then she knew. “Gods, no, Tristan, no. Not Digilan. You
cannot.”

He swung to
her. “What is it?”

“It’s a trap!
I had a vision before this happened, before the Time realm, of you
taking Torrullin’s guise to enter Digilan. You want them to believe
you are a Walker and there is a fair man who helps you, but it’s a
trap.”

He stared at
her. “Tian. He’s going to help.”

She drew
breath. “Of course it must be him. Warlock’s son, and now with the
power of the Throne.”

Tristan took
her arm and shook it. “You had better tell me more.” Then he
caressed that arm. “Sorry, that was rough. Let us go inside, let us
talk this through.”

She deflated,
as if her world was coming to an end. “Very well. Call Tian; he
needs to hear this.”

“He is coming
for lunch tomorrow.”

“By then your
mind will be set. Call him now.” She entered the cottage and a
light came on.

Tristan stood
a few minutes longer … and sent the call.

“Is this the
vision the Syllvan told you to check?” he asked, having followed
her in.

“Yes, and I
did. I saw nothing. All visions were gone.”

Caballa moved
into the dining room and switched lamps on. Pools of light fell
over the redone floor, the plain walls and round table. Six chairs
were spaced around it. She pulled one out and sat with her hands
folded on the surface.

“What did you
see before?” Tristan pulled a chair out opposite her and sat.

“Why do you
sit there?”

“Because you
are going to lecture me.”

Her lips
twitched.

“Shouldn’t you
check now to see if it’s changed?”

“I have, as I
walked in. It remains the same. I think I was told to check so we
would know visions had ceased.” She frowned. “Did you call
Tian?”

“Here,”
Tianoman said, entering.

Caballa rose
and bowed. “My Lord Vallorin.”

He smiled at
her. “That still feels strange, especially coming from you. Sit,
Caballa. Tris, we agreed tomorrow. The Beaconites were disappointed
by my abrupt departure.” He pulled a chair out and sat beside his
cousin.

“What did they
want of you?” Tristan sidestepped.

“You will not
believe this. They wanted a dedicated team of Valleur gardeners to
move trees and plants, they said, from affected sites.”

Tristan raised
an eyebrow. “Shows commitment on their part and it’s an excellent
idea.”

“Agreed, and I
will discuss it further with the Elders. Of course, they want us to
share some of the risk also, put up some capital.” Tianoman
grinned. “I hope I wasn’t too rude in my refusal.”

Tristan
grinned.

Tianoman
glanced at Caballa. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, my
Lord.”

“You hardly
ever called my grandfather by his title, and I would you do the
same for me, at least in private.”

She smiled.
“Tian.”

“Better!” Then
Tianoman was serious. “You would not have called had it not been
urgent.” He waited pointedly.

Caballa
glanced at Tristan, who said, “It’s about Digilan.”

“Hmm, and I
thought you would know not to tell anyone,” Tianoman muttered.

“I tried, but
with a seer in the house …” Tristan spread his hands.

“Tian, it’s a
trap,” Caballa said. “I had a vision the night after we found
Samuel, of Tristan in the land of mists, with Mor Feru and Tracloc
in those mists. He was mistaken as a Walker, as Torrullin, and a
fair man stood in the vision, someone Tristan trusts. Torrullin
shared the vision with me and didn’t recognise the fair man.
Perhaps because I saw the man you are now, Tian. The Throne has
altered your signature.”

Tianoman
inclined his head. “Why do you think it’s a trap?”

“It was too
quiet, as if Tristan was to believe there was no danger, as if
someone needed him to enter Digilan. Who that is, I cannot say, but
it is Torrullin who is expected, and Tristan deliberately
misleads.”

Tianoman
glanced at his cousin. “We talked about duping the Syllvan into
thinking you are Torrullin.”

“I know,”
Tristan muttered.

Tianoman
looked again at Caballa. “Who did you think set the trap, on first
viewing?”

She pulled a
face. “Tymall.”

Tianoman shook
his head. “No way.”

“Torrullin
denied it also.”

“He would. You
should have seen them together. Tymall - my father - wouldn’t seek
to harm his father.”

Caballa
sighed. “I believe that now, yes.”

“Do you still
feel another sets a trap for Torrullin? Caballa, I ask you to look
carefully.” Tianoman leaned forward. “Samuel had just been
discovered and emotions were askew. You and Torrullin had reunited,
and you were naturally protective of him. Please check.”

Tristan
frowned, not liking that she was asked to enter a vision, but she
nodded and closed her eyes. He dared not interfere, although he
glared at his cousin. Tianoman did not notice, for he watched
Caballa intently.

Her eyes moved
behind her eyelids and she sat frozen for long minutes, checking as
bid. She opened her eyes and stared first at her hands on the table
before looking up. “The Syllvan were right. It has changed.”

Tristan
stretched his hand over the table and she took it, gripping
hard.

“How to put
this?” She looked at Tristan. “Had I revealed the vision to you at
the time, it would have been akin to revealing a prophecy, giving
you foreknowledge, and you would have put it to the test.”

“Maybe
not.”

“Yes. You are
Valla, and Vallas are ruled by fate and telling. You would want to
see whether I saw true, but you would not have been ready.”

She moved her
free hand in a sweeping motion upon the table, back and forth, as
if wiping at non-existent dust.

“The Syllvan
know of this vision, original and altered. You cannot dupe them,
but if you ask, they will permit entry and aid you in the disguise
of your grandfather.” She forced her hand into stillness. “Back
then it would have been a trap, for the Void hadn’t yet come into
its own. Time was playing tricks, and it was Sabian at your side,
pushing you towards Digilan.”

“Why?”
Tianoman asked.

“Tymall
possessed vital information for his father and Sabian needed
Torrullin to hear it. He was pushing to get the Time realm into
action. Torrullin, of course, entered freely with you, Tian,
thereby negating any trap.”

“But it did
not negate Tristan as Torrullin standing before Digilan.”

“And you are
at his side now.”

“Is it still a
trap?” Tristan asked.

“Not in the
sense of someone pushing, no,” Caballa admitted. “The trap is in
your mind.”

Tianoman
flicked a quick frown, and Tristan asked it, “How?”

“Take on the
guise of a Walker and certain expectations must be met. Digilan
will test you.”

He pulled his
hand from hers and laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back
in his chair to stare up.

“It may not
come to that,” Tianoman murmured. “Not if I go in as guide.”

“You are
Vallorin, Tian!” Caballa blurted. “Digilan will pounce on you,
Warlock’s son or not. You are a bargaining tool such as they could
never again expect in a thousand ages.”

“No one
touches Torrullin.”

“Torrullin is
Elixir, Dragon, Walker, Lifegiver, Destroyer and a host of other
unnamed things. He is also Ancient, original, of Time itself. No
one touches Torrullin, for they fear him. Lumin kindred fear him
and darak fallen fear him as much. Forgive me, but you are not
Torrullin.”

Tristan’s hands came down. “Digilan will think
I
am.”

She leaned forward. “Digilan tests Torrullin every time, and
then retreats when it finds no chink in his armour.
Every
time, Tristan. It
will test you … and then?”

“The trap,
then, is in believing I can be like Torrullin, not merely appear as
him. I see.” Tristan looked away.

Tianoman
pushed up from his chair. “I begin to understand why you called.
You need to change his mind.” She nodded, and he went on. “Has he a
choice? Is a vision seen not a glimpse of the future?”

“Of course,
but it can be altered.”

Tianoman
leaned upon his hands on the table to look intently at her. “But we
do not believe in coincidence, do we? Why is it Tristan has this
thought to find a Tracloc in Digilan at the time our grandfather
most particularly could use one? A thought that matches a vision of
future you already possess? Coincidence, Caballa, or is this how it
is meant to be?”

Tristan
glanced at his cousin. “Gods, Tian, you reason like a
Vallorin.”

He blinked and
grinned. “Thank you.”

“What are you
saying, cousin?”

Tianoman sat
and pondered. “I think, if a Tracloc can help, we go in and get
one. But,” he amended, “first we satisfy ourselves there is a way
to get to Torrullin and the others, and we need be absolutely
certain he needs our help.”

“You heard
what Caballa saw!”

“I did, and
Caballa admits a future can be altered,” Tianoman said reasonably,
“and if anyone is capable of altering things, it is Torrullin. What
may appear dangerous to us, may not be so hard for him to
overcome.”