The Nemesis Blade (7 page)

“Emperor of
the Senlu and gifted territory, yes, but not Grinwallin
herself.”

Torrullin
sighed. “Fine, then let me put it this way, Grinwallin is ruled by
Grinwallin, not by me.”

A slow nod.
“That I am able to endure.”

“Yet you will
piss me off about this in the future anyway.”

A grin.
“Probably.”

Torrullin was
silent and then, “I hoped the presence of Lowen would loosen your
tongue. Forgive my blunder.”

Teighlar waved
an airy hand. “Forgive, forget, done. Of course, had you tried it
on anyone else it would have worked, but I have been around too
long not to smell the scuttling rats.”

“Hear the
scuttling rats, idiot. You are mixing metaphors again.”

Teighlar
laughed.

“You need to
talk to me, my friend, about secrets,” Torrullin said. “Please.
Lowen’s very existence is in danger.”

“Where does
your heart really lie, Elixir? You have hurt every woman you have
been involved with, or been hurt by them. Why do you do this to
yourself? Why not enjoy them for a time and then move on?”

“I was not
made that way. Stop trying to divert me.”

“Answer this,
why do you want to save Lowen?”

“Because she
is in danger.”

“Besides that,
and forget the idealistic crap also.”

Torrullin
reached for the wine, drank and then sat on in silence, staring
over the dark continent.

“I am giving
nothing away unless you answer truthfully,” Teighlar muttered next
to him. “We could sit here all night and the stone under our arses
will get cold, and will certainly get real hard.”

Torrullin
snorted, took another pull and passed the bottle back. “I function
because she is somewhere in this universe. Do I love her? Yes. Do I
hate her? Yes. Do I want her? Yes. Do I want to get the hell away
from her? Yes. Why? Because that is how she feels about me.”

He gave a
laugh. “We had two months together before I took on the Dome with
full intent, and then she took her place at the table there. I sent
her on assignments as I did the others, treated her no different,
and that was fine, until the situation on Lax. Gods, she was
assaulted, beaten, nearly raped, imprisoned, tortured, and Elixir
went in all talents to bear. Her assignments after were less
dangerous. It caused friction for the Kaval, but it caused major
upheaval between us. She separated herself from a personal
relationship and forced me to upgrade her missions. Out of spite I
gave her the worst.”

“Dumb.”

“Right. I have
not spoken to her in ten years. All her assignments are relayed
through Jonas.”

“Even more
dumb.”

“I know.”

“And where
does Saska fit in?”

“She
doesn’t.”

“Stupid
idiot,” Teighlar sighed.

“Lowen’s last
assignment should not have brought her to Grinwallin. Why was she
here?”

Teighlar
shrugged. “She asked to see the paintings, I was told.”

“Paintings?”

“She was quite
the artist once, was she not? Perhaps it was curiosity.”

“What fucking
paintings?”

Teighlar
smiled, his teeth a flash of white in the dark. “A secret.”

“
She
knew.”

“No, she
guessed and fooled two of my elders into thinking she knew of their
existence as fact. I learned all this after your visit the other
day, not from Lowen. She spoke to me of the weather and such crap
and I did not see through her ruse. Stupid me.”

“I want to see
the paintings,” Torrullin snapped out.

“I
figured.”

“Well?”

“Not tonight.
Daylight is better.”

“It is dark in
the mountain during daylight, too.”

Teighlar
sighed and rose with a groan, rubbing his behind. “You function
because she is somewhere in this universe, you said. Are you
implying she is no longer?”

“She is beyond
my tracking skills.”

“Gods, to
where? An alternative? Set the Syllvan on it.”

Torrullin rose
as well. “She is lost in Time, my friend. The Syllvan cannot help
her.”

“Holy Mother.
How?”

“Ah, that
would be why I am digging under every stone.”

“Surely you
can retrieve her?”

“I need to
know when. It is a blind search otherwise.”

“How do you
know she is lost to Time?”

“The dream.
Layers of rock.”

“That is a bit
tenuous.”

Torrullin
started climbing upward. “The Syllvan confirmed the connection.
There is no doubt.”

“Gods, then
you really need to see those paintings. I suspect they are almost
as old as the Valleur.”

To communicate
over distance is not unique. Many do so, employing devices of
various invention and size. To communicate in this manner employing
only the mind, while not without precedent, requires specialised
skills.

~ Steps of the
Magical Condition

Xen III

T
ristan, Teroux and Tianoman decided to commence the
search for Caballa on Xen III by conferring with that world’s First
Family, the Dalrish.

The Dalrish
had long been rulers. During the millennia of the domes they ruled,
and still did after the domes were dismantled. A foul world had
risen again, and the Dalrish wrote a large portion of the
history.

They had
connections to the Valleur, and in particular to Torrullin. Le Matt
Dalrish was the pilot who steered a ship stolen from Ceta through
the Forbidden Zone at Torrullin’s behest, and his sister, Catalina
Dalrish, was the navigator on that fateful journey. Along for the
ride as a stowaway was Lowen Dalrish, a child then. Catalina - or
Cat - was Torrullin’s lover for a brief time, but died in the
aftermath of the terrible destruction of Torrke on Valaris, having
miscarried their child.

Le Matt - or
Matt - swore an oath of loyalty to Torrullin and then underwent the
required ten years of sequestered training to take his place amid
Valleur subjects. Upon his return he found Torrullin beyond his
reach in another realm, his sister long buried and his cousin, Le
Moss Mar Dalrish, the new Peacekeeper of a dome-less Xen III. Lowen
had meanwhile grown up to become an accomplished seer.

The Dalrish
sorcerers were born then and were a force in the present, more than
two thousand years later. Cat died, Matt and Moss passed on, but
Lowen chose immortality - for Torrullin. Twenty-five years ago
another Dalrish made connection in the form of a youthful Lucanus -
or Lucan. He inherited Matt’s blood oath to Torrullin and proceeded
to fulfil it, dying in the process far from home and family. The
oath was negated and the Dalrish went on unencumbered, but the
connections would never be severed.

Friendship,
trade and aid continued between Valaris and Xen III, and between
Valleur and Dalrish.

If they knew
of Caballa they would not withhold it from three Valla heirs.

It was late
afternoon, a balmy spring day on the eastern seaboard.

Shanghai
Metrop glittered white in the sunshine and on the rise in the
centre of the massive, bustling city the Peacekeeper Palace shone
brightest white and silver, with mullioned windows and ornate
doors, curiously dainty balconies and extensive, park-like
grounds.

Uniformed
guards stood to attention before gigantic gates. The gates were not
as massive as Grinwallin’s, but were close.

“Hell,”
Tianoman breathed as he looked up at the huge Palace.

“Makes Valaris
seem like a backwater,” Teroux muttered.

Tristan spoke
to the guards. “Would you inform Peacekeeper Le Maximillian that
Tristan Skyler Valla and his two cousins request audience?”

The guards’
eyes widened and one stepped forward. “My lords, I shall lead you
within personally.” He bowed low.

“Thank you,”
Tristan murmured, and the three followed the man through the
gates.

The gravelled
path was wide enough for four carriages to ride abreast and long
enough to field an army. Of course, Xen had no carriages, those
requiring teams of horses; they had the horseless variety -
motorised transport, electrically driven. Xen also possessed no
standing army, but had a roster of call-ups in place to facilitate
basic training. In times of peace there was no army, but if war
came there was a large and trained population to call from.

Landscaped
perfection greeted them. A lake to the left hosted swans, geese and
ducks and a pavilion to the right frequently staged musical
concerts. All Xenians were welcome to those public events, but
securing a seat was hard work and hard competition.

The ornate
entrance to the Palace was open and guarded by four further guards.
They did not move as their colleague led the three guests
inside.

Inside, the
Palace reflected the outside. Everything was light and airy, the
huge spaces friendly and inviting. An intimate sitting area of pale
couches and leafy plants on the left perfectly balanced the huge
audience chamber to the right. The space was unlike others, in that
it was akin to a garden, with tall palms and islands of white
garden tables and chairs. A small potted plant flourished on each
table, and the whole faced a raised dais on which an informal set
of seats took position.

An audience
with the Peacekeeper of Xen was akin to attending a garden
party.

Tristan
smiled. “That’s nice.”

Tianoman and
Teroux could only nod.

“My lords, if
you would make yourselves comfortable,” and the guard gestured to
the more intimate area, “I shall inform the major-domo of your
arrival.”

“Thank you,”
Tristan said and preceded his cousins into the sitting area. He
crossed his legs, waiting with a serene expression. Tianoman and
Teroux sat opposite him.

They did not
wait long. The major-domo, an older man with a pleasant face, came
swiftly in. He bowed low. “My Lords Valla, Maximillian will see you
in his private study.”

He led them up
a curved flight of stairs and preceded them along a wide corridor.
There were paintings on the walls, beautiful landscapes.

“These are
marvellous,” Teroux said. “Do you know who did them?”

The major-domo
glanced over his shoulder. “They are Dalrish, done at one time or
another.”

“Talented
family,” Tianoman murmured.

“A few famous
writers, too, I have heard,” Tristan said.

The major-domo
halted at a set of doors about midway down the corridor. He rapped
once and then opened the doors to stand aside. “Please, my
Lords.”

They entered,
thanking him, and the doors were closed on them. Muffled footsteps
retreated down the corridor.

The first
feature of the chamber was the huge window opposite where a window
should not be, given they were in the heart of the building. It was
otherwise empty, other than the luxurious carpet underfoot.
Intrigued, all three moved to the window.

It looked over
a courtyard, an idyll of fountains, lawns, paths and bowers. Roses
were the main flowers and stately oaks the main feature. They were
one floor up and gazed upon created paradise.

“Awesome,”
Tianoman breathed.

A laugh
sounded behind them and a smiling man entering from the side.
Behind him was the study, a chamber filled with books, desk,
fireplace and armchairs.

“I admit to
gauging people by their reaction to the window and then the
courtyard below. You three passed muster immediately.” He laughed
again and bowed. “I am Le Maximillian Dalrish, Peacekeeper of Xen
III. Welcome.”

“I am Tristan
Skyler Valla, this is my cousin Teroux and this is Tianoman. Thank
you for your kind reception of uninvited guests.”

“The Vallas
will always be welcome here, Tristan. You are Samuel’s son, am I
right?”

Le Maximillian
was about fifty and possessed the dark Dalrish hair, undimmed by
grey, and the bluest eyes any had yet seen in a man’s face. He was
dressed casually in a woven robe, comfortable slippers on his
feet.

“Samuel is my
father, yes.”

“And your
father was Tannil, the Vallorin,” Le Maximillian said to
Teroux.

“Correct,”
Teroux murmured.

“And you are
Tymall’s boy.”

Tianoman gave
a mocking bow. “Unfortunately.”

Le Maximillian
shook his head. “Do not put yourself down, Tianoman. Your father
was an incredible man, and Torrullin, bless him, loved him
well.”

Tianoman
blinked.

“Ah, we know
who and what Tymall was, but you should know he was not all said
about him.” The Peacekeeper’s eyes narrowed. “Forgive my
impertinence, but you should speak to your grandfather about your
father, and not rely on tales alone.”

Tianoman
swallowed and bowed again.

“So much for
that. Please, enter my private domain. Here I hide from the trials
of family.”

Maximillian
stood aside and the three entered the warm, inviting chamber. He
then indicated the armchairs grouped around the fireplace and
offered drinks. They declined and he sat among them.

“What is it I
can do for you?”

“Le Maxi …”
Tristan began.

“Max,
please.”

“Max. We’re
trying to find someone and thought the Dalrish may have
information.”

“Who?”

“Caballa of
the Valleur. She is a seer …”

“We know
Caballa well,” Max smiled. “A great lady. Why do you seek her?”

Teroux
answered. “We believe she could aid Torrullin in some new puzzle he
is involved in.”

“Is he aware
of your quest?”

“No,” Tristan
stated.

Max glanced
among the three and then, “Are the Elders aware of this
search?”

Tianoman
rubbed his chin. “No.”

“Ah. Three
grandsons try to help a grandfather, is that it?”