The Echolone Mine (62 page)

Teighlar
glanced at him. “If you do not know, you cannot be told.”

“I’ve heard
that, damn it, but are we not discussing the possibility of
disaster here?”

Caballa
ignored Tristan. “The line is crossed no matter which form, and
thus they chose to go in as themselves, right? They discovered the
line and you told them.”

“I did not
need to tell them, for they were at the point of crossing a bloody
long time ago.”

“Betrayal,”
Caballa whispered.

“Yes. All I
did was put the words to the results of choices made when the line
is perceived, but they knew, or had felt it before, if not the
actual black and white consequences. They are not unified in
choice.”

“They enter as
themselves and bugger consequences.”

Tristan was
furious. “Explain this to me.”

Caballa shook
her head. “Just know we must stop them.”

“Seal the
crucible chamber,” Teighlar murmured to himself.

“That won’t
stop them. They’ll go in somewhere else.”

“Caballa,”
Tristan said.

“I cannot tell
you. Ask Torrullin. I assume he will say nothing, but if anyone
could tell you, it would be him. All right?”

“Fine. Where
is he, Teighlar?”

“No idea.”

“Then where is
Elianas?”

“No clue.”

Tristan
swore.

“We must get
Quilla in,” Caballa said.

“Agreed,”
Teighlar muttered.

Tristan was on
his feet. “Torrullin!”

Everyone came
to a stop. Caballa and Teighlar looked at him in astonishment.

“
Torrullin
!”

The man
himself appeared beside Tristan, his face a mask.

Tristan kicked
the table over. “I want to know what the fuck is going on.”

Torrullin
glanced at Caballa and then his eyes narrowed on Teighlar. “You
will not stop it now. Rather think of ways to protect reality.” He
returned to Tristan. “Come. It is time you know all of it.”

Teighlar
rose.

“Tristan is
the Valla who must know. Sit, make your plans, but don’t bloody
interfere again.” He turned on his heel and stalked out and
Tristan, hardly sparing Caballa a glance, went with him.

“What the
hell
?” Caballa blurted.

Avaelyn

The day was
more advanced on Avaelyn and it was decidedly warmer than
Grinwallin.

Torrullin
arrived with Tristan on the plateau before the dwelling, but before
Tristan could say anything, Torrullin slapped his thigh with a
strange laugh, and then started walking. “Elianas is here.”

“This is your
home? It’s beautiful.”

“Neutral
territory.”

Elianas, when
they got there, waited arms folded on the bridge over the fishpond.
“Quilla was enough intrusion.”

“Out of my
way.”

Elianas
braced. “I said the birdman was enough intrusion.”

“Go for a walk
before I cut your legs off.”

Gods. Tristan
retreated.

Elianas
grinned. “Try it.”

Torrullin
studied him. “That is a high collar you have there.”

Elianas was
unblinking. “Covering my battle scars.”

“No
healing?”

“No.” His gaze
flicked to Torrullin’s shoulder, where he knew well the bite mark
still sat.

“Tristan is
not intruding; he is coming with us into Lethe and must know all of
it.”

Tristan
blinked, but did not say anything.

“Why do we
need him?” Elianas asked after a moment.

“For the same
reason we once called Lowen to the fray.”

“And Declan
and Saska, and look what happened to them.”

“Lethe isn’t
the Path.”

“Protecting
your heritage, are you?”

“And yours,
imbecile.”

“I wonder.”
Elianas stood aside. “Welcome, Tristan Skyler Valla, to the home of
Torrullin Agripson Valla and Elianas Danae.”

Tristan’s
mouth hung open.

Elianas
smiled. “Here it is safe for me to claim my name, the Danae
Halfling beside you, with his beautiful wings, makes it safe.”

Torrullin hit
him in the jaw, snapping his head back.

Tristan felt
as if he had walked into the vipers’ nest.

Elianas
laughed and rubbed his chin. “Another battle scar.”

“Back off,
Elianas.”

“For now. You
should have crossed the line with me, Torrullin. That was the
easier future.”

Torrullin
walked past him. “Too late now.” He carried on walking.

“It is never
too late.”

Torrullin
walked backward. “I hope that keeps you warm at night …
brother.”

Elianas glared
at him and Torrullin laughed. Tristan, filled with foreboding,
followed, and Elianas fell in behind.

Tristan felt
as if he were caught between two titanic forces; he doubted the
Syllvan and Dryads could make him feel this vulnerable.

The sitting
room was exposed to the elements on three sides, the only wall of
amber rock.

The floor
underfoot was highly polished, rich mahogany stone. A patterned rug
matched the colours of the rock, reminding Tristan of Caballa. The
furniture in the chamber was a paler hue of wood, which set the
colours off well, with huge, comfortable cushions in a variety of
shades. A circular mottled stone rested in a depression upon a low
table.

The view,
however, was the real adornment, and was of three dimensions. This
open air sitting area had been precisely designed to incorporate
the stunning, segmented view. On one side the hills climbed into
mountains, in the middle lay an unending stretch of autumn forest,
and on the third side the ocean was deep blue and tranquil. There
was no glass - there was no glass anywhere, he realised - and thus
the sounds and smells of nature added a further dimension to
beauty.

“Fantastic,”
he breathed on entering, forgetting for the moment how vulnerable
he felt.

“Torrullin has
a good eye,” Elianas murmured. “I love this space.”

Torrullin
spared him an enigmatic glance and then gestured for Tristan to
sit, but Tristan was too entranced and wandered to the edge. There
was no rail, but they were not high off level ground here. A jumble
of rocks laid within reach, each crevasse filled with flowers.

“He looks like
you,” Elianas said. “And has the same reaction to beauty.”

Tristan
discovered the two men regarding each other warily.

“Last night at
bedtime you were friends, and today you act like enemies. What
happened?”

Elianas looked
away first and ventured over to the edge. He stared into the
forest. “Restful, don’t you think? It has moods, the forest.”

“Much like
certain people I know,” Torrullin muttered. He wandered as if
unable to sit still.

“Talking about
yourself again,” Elianas murmured and winked at Tristan. Hiding a
grin, he said to Torrullin, “Lethe is dangerous enough without
adding an element to it. Torrullin, for once, think. Tristan is not
trained for realm travel.”

“I think too
much. Taking Tristan with us is an act, not a thought. I am weary
of thinking, particularly in trying to stay ahead of you.”

“This time you
need to think.”

Torrullin
shrugged and halted long enough to meet Tristan’s gaze. “The choice
is yours.”

“I didn’t even
entertain the thought until you mentioned it on the bridge and I
must decide right away?”

Elianas
snorted. “Thought so.”

Torrullin
ignored him to nod once at Tristan.

The younger
man frowned and turned back to the view.

“Torrullin,
it’s not a good idea …”

“Shut up,
Elianas. He can make his own decisions.”

Trust, and now
the respect of allowing him to choose for himself. Torrullin needed
him. “Count me in.”

Torrullin
smiled. “Good.”

Elianas threw
his hands in the air. “I am going to make coffee.” He sent Tristan
an unreadable look and headed to the steps leading into the rest of
the dwelling.

“Bring
something to eat,” Torrullin said, watching him go.

Elianas showed
the finger over his shoulder and disappeared from view.

Tristan
cleared his throat. Like a married couple, that was how it was.
Perhaps the current hostility was a facet of long familiarity.

“It’s
definitely a facet of familiarity,” Torrullin murmured, sitting
with a sigh. “But only a facet. Sit.”

Tristan
complied.

Torrullin
shifted to make space for his sword and then laced his hands behind
his head. “The Danae were the first magicians the Valleur knew
formally, a guild that rose swiftly in strength, talent and
influence. Elianas’ ancestor was the first guild master. Fennen
Danae is the oldest noble known to the Valleur, if you hear the
true history told. Elianas is directly descended from him, the most
powerful Danae ever, and a man of unique nobility. Had the tale
been written correctly, there is a chance you and I would be bowing
to Danae Vallorins, not the Vallas.”

“Gods, that
must peeve him.”

“It does,
yes.”

“Taranis was a
Danae?”

“Danae, as in
race, yes. He did not know, for at the time of his birth the
Valleur of both kinds had been absorbed.”

“How do you
explain the contradiction? Valleur absorbed in one cycle, vanished
in another, and yet Taranis entered. You suggest he was born more
than once.”

Torrullin
stared up at the ceiling. “It is hard to explain even having seen
the cycles, but Taranis was born only once. In each cycle there
were changes, and yet he was born only the once, as most are. Do
they go through a cycle to return to the same point, perhaps
unknowingly? I don’t think so, yet there is change for us who
knowingly return. Maybe the cycles are coils on a spring, and what
we think is the same point is, in fact, separated by the spaces
time creates. Not even Elianas, who has a greater grasp of this,
can answer that question and make complete sense. Some things must
be accepted.”

“Like Chaim
with his transport theories.”

Torrullin
grinned. “He got you, didn’t he? How, my Lord, can we do this
wonderful thing when worlds are so far, far apart? How do ships
manipulate the vast distances to travel space in days when it
should take centuries? How do we think ourselves over the same
distances in the blink of an eye and arrive whole and
tangible?”

Tristan
laughed. “Exactly like that!”

“And your
answer?”

“Magic. I told
him ships can be magic also, for they are built by visionaries.
Poor Chaim, he went away muttering.”

“You are
right, of course. Anything imagined, invented or created from
nothing is magic, even technology. The problems arise when the item
conceived is misused. The magic is forgotten.”

“It’s strange
to me that magic can be forgotten.”

“It happens,
and we forget other important concepts also, often
deliberately.”

“We’re back
with you and Elianas.”

Torrullin
unlaced his hands and sat forward with elbows on knees. His fingers
steepled and he stared at them as he talked. “Profound events were
squashed, some by choice, some by circumstances and yet others by
pure accident, by immense trauma.” He looked up, his eyes silvery.
“Much is now remembered, and that is the hostility you sense.”

“And I need to
know?”

“You need to
understand.”

Gods. “Why
me?”

“You have
Samuel’s Light, that is why. Your Light can glow even in the
darkest places, and we need it.”

Tristan took a
ragged breath. “For Lethe?”

“Lethe is only
the first step.”

“Tristamil’s
Light?”

“Indeed, and
it is stronger in you than it was in your father. You were raised
in it.”

“What do you
expect me to do?”

“Be the line
between us.”

Tristan’s eyes
darkened. “That line again.”

“I aim to tell
you,” Torrullin said. “Usually a sorcerer is expected to discover
it himself, and few do. You are not meant to know unless you find
yourself pitted against an equal power, but I shall break that law
and tell you.” He smiled. “I often break laws.”

“It’s not as
if you are accountable,” Elianas said, and entered bearing a tray
with three mugs, sugar and milk, and a plate of sandwiches. He set
it down and flopped into a chair as far away from Torrullin as
possible.

“There is
always accountability, if only to oneself.”

“Gods,
Torrullin, if that were true, neither of us would have moved a
muscle in the ages past.”

Torrullin
helped himself to a mug and a sandwich. “Thanks.” He raised the
mug.

“Likewise,”
Tristan said. “This morning my breakfast hit the floor when an
earthquake smacked Grinwallin.” He took a sandwich and bit into
it.

“Blame your
likeness for that,” Elianas muttered.

Torrullin ate
without rising to the bait. He took another and chewed through it
slowly.

Elianas shook
his head and took his coffee, drank.

Tristan looked
from one to the other and asked of Elianas, “Do you know why I am
here?”

“I assume to
fill the role of the Goddess of Souls.” Elianas raised his mug
mockingly. “The line, Tristan.”

Torrullin
finished his coffee. “You are confusing him.”

“We confuse
ourselves.”

“Why is
that?”

Elianas leaned
forward and set his mug down. “You need to remember certain issues,
and until you do, you race around bumping into things.”

“Really?”

“Torrullin,
how can you understand why we do what we do to each other if you
refuse to look deeper?”

“Why don’t you
simply tell me?”

“Because,
idiot, then it has no meaning. You must
know
.”

A sage nod.
“Which is why you continually crash into everything.”