The Nemesis Blade (10 page)

“Mr Westlake,
those two gentlemen would like to have a word, if you please.”

“I haven’t
done anything!” Westlake blurted.

“Relax, sir.
It is a mere problem they have and you may be able to assist them.
You will not in any way be detained or disadvantaged, I promise
you.”

Kris Westlake
stared over his shoulder. One swathed man, one half-naked, both
exceedingly strange. Well, a night in the Valla Palace and now a
mysterious meeting; he could spin tales back home.

“I’ll speak
with them, Mr Kronig.”

“Thank you.
Now, please continue.”

Isaiah left
the podium and wandered back down the aisle as if he had not a care
in the world. He winked at Fuma and Amunti as he passed into the
outer space.

While Amunti
and Fuma awaited Westlake, who now dragged his feet, Fuma murmured,
“How did he know we wanted Westlake?”

“I told him
while you were staring at the Maze yonder.”

“He was most
effective, wasn’t he?”

Amunti
grinned. “I could think of a few worlds that could use the likes of
Isaiah Kronig.”

Kris Westlake
halted before them. The gathering was silent and all eyes were
trained on them.

“Mr Westlake,
we are no threat to you,” Fuma said. “We heard you recently spoke
to the Vallas and something you said has proven upsetting. We would
like to hear it from you, and that is all.”

Relief flooded
into the Beaconite. “No problem. Whatever I know.”

“Excellent.
Shall we find something to drink while we talk?” Fuma offered.

“Great.”

All three
joined Isaiah and, as the swing doors swung shut, the noise of many
voices erupted inside.

Amunti
laughed. “The same worlds over!”

Isaiah
approached. “I need to return to Galilan to do homework on the
conference.”

“I shall call
to Sirlasin to return you to your office. Isaiah Kronig, thank you
for your help, and well done. You are good for Valaris.”

Isaiah gave
the sweetest smile.

Fuma stilled a
moment and then a harassed looking Sirlasin was there. “All well?”
he asked.

“Put my two
dinars in, yes, but now I need a lift home, so to speak,” the
Electan murmured.

Sirlasin
nodded, flicked a glance at Westlake, and took Isaiah away.

“Come, Mr
Westlake, the coffee shop is that way,” Amunti prompted.

“Please, call
me Kris …”

Lintusillem

Jonas handed
the drawing over.

“He says
Luvanor, Sanctuary or Valaris.”

Minos stared
at the layers. “Not Valaris. Wrong layers. Sanctuary, maybe, but
I’d wager Luvanor. You say he drew this? It’s damned good.”

“There is
drawing and then there is drawing,” Jonas said. “And now I know the
difference.”

Minos stared
at him. “Really?”

“Hell, yes.
How long before we have answers?”

Minos
shrugged. “Six months.”

Jonas barked a
laugh. “You have one week. What can I do to help?”

His brother
looked down on the drawing and then at his books.

“Start by
brewing lots of tea, brother, and I may need you to get samples
…”

Farspeaker
skills cannot be taught. An adept is born with the talent of
hearing ‘voices’ and then trained to listen specifically.

~ Steps of the
Magical Condition

Xen III

I
t was akin to entering a different world.

The
Peacekeeper Palace was white and silver light, but the farspeaker
enclave was a leap back in time. Set in the hills outside Shanghai,
it was a low, single storey building. A series of walls surrounded
the entire complex. It was much like a low fort from bygone days,
the image reinforced by the flying of various pennants.

Inside light
was had from many fires. There was at least one roaring in every
chamber and the whole was somewhat smoky. Ceilings were low and
wood-beamed and, despite the flames, it was cold. The floors were
flagged, with multi-coloured rugs scattered about. All furniture
was of wood, large and functional.

The major-domo
took them out to the hills in an electric vehicle, which had Teroux
in rapture - and planning to incorporate it into his stage
production - and handed them over to a man with the peculiar name
of Daisy.

After Albert
left - it felt more like abandonment - Daisy looked the three
Vallas over with insolence.

Tianoman
bristled and Tristan laid a hand on his cousin’s shoulder and
smiled at the man confronting them.

“We would
appreciate it if you could take us to the leader of this
facility.”

The man
snorted. “We don’t have a leader.”

Tristan
reminded himself to be patient. “May I then enquire as to whom we
should speak to regarding finding someone?”

“We are not in
the business of finding someone.”

Tianoman
bristled again and this time he was not stopped. “Now listen here,
flower man, we have leave from your Peacekeeper to use the chain.
Either you get your butt and mouth moving or Le Maximillian will
hear of it.”

Daisy flicked
another insolent glance. “The Peacekeeper has no authority
here.”

Teroux smacked
palms together and stepped forward. “I hope, my good man, you are
at least slightly in awe of Elixir?”

The man’s
whole being stilled. “Elixir is revered among all farspeakers.”

Teroux snapped
his fingers. “And he is my grandfather.”

“Ours, idiot.”
Tianoman murmured.

Tristan held a
hand aloft. “We are farspeakers also, Daisy.”

“Is that a
threat?”

Tristan threw
his hands in the air. “No, damn it. I am merely saying we are aware
of the procedures regarding communication over distance. We would
not unduly upset your current links and we do not seek to usurp
anything. Our grandfather is a farspeaker, as we are, and all four
of us require your help. We know well we cannot simply piggy-back
an existing loop.”

Daisy stared
from one to the other and then, “Follow me.”

He turned on
his heel to stalk through smoky chamber after smoky chamber. The
three followed. He finally came to a halt in a circular room. A
fireplace burned smokeless in a central pit - that meant it was a
magical creation - and six men and two women sat around it, each on
a cushion lotus-style. They were of varying age and dress, and all
had eyes closed. There was nothing else in the chamber, other than
an exit opposite.

Tristan
glanced enquiringly at Daisy, who seemed uncertain, so he tapped
the man on the arm and gestured back into the previous chamber.
Daisy nodded and all four trooped out.

“They are out
there; we cannot interrupt,” Tristan murmured. “How does it work
here?”

Daisy glared
down and then, “I’m not a farspeaker.”

Tianoman
smirked, but said nothing.

Tristan
nodded. “Seems to me you are the de facto leader, then, for you are
free to come and go, right? I know, no leaders, but you, my man,
are vital to this enclave, do you not see that?”

Daisy
shrugged, and unbent a little. “I guess.”

“Decidedly,”
Tristan smiled.

Daisy drew
breath and let it out. “You have two choices before you. Either
exercise patience and wait for one to exit trance or ask another to
enter the circle.” He inclined his head. “Of course, as a
farspeaker, you could yourself enter the circle.”

Tristan shook
his head. “We are not privy to the chain and would waste time
trying to establish a link.”

“This person
you want to find, is he or she a farspeaker?”

“Yes - a
she.”

Daisy raised
his thin, crooked eyebrows. “Send a direct call.”

A wry smile.
“She probably would not acknowledge it, and we do not know where to
send to. Directions are endless in uncertainty.”

Daisy gave a
sour smile. “A lover?”

Give me
patience.
“A Valleur seer.”

Daisy’s entire
face underwent transformation. A huge smile beamed over his cheeks.
“You’re looking for Caballa?”

Excitement
among the three Vallas. Teroux said, “Gods, man, you know her?”

Daisy nodded
eagerly. “She is a familiar figure, comes and goes, and has for
more than two thousand years. She helped our farspeakers to their
level of proficiency.” He was then diffident. “She told me there
are other talents, and I need not feel less.”

“And she is
right,” Tristan said. “When did you last see her?”

Daisy’s eyes
went heavenward as he took his mind back. Fingers did some air
counting, and he looked back at Tristan. “Twelve days ago? Maybe
eleven.”

The Vallas
grinned at each other and then, from Tristan, “Do you know where
she went?”

The man shook
his head.

“Damn,”
Tianoman bit out.

“I do know
where she lives,” Daisy offered.

All three
gaped at him.

Daisy frowned.
“There’s no name for the world, but, well, she said it’s the world
of the Valleur First Father. You should know where that is,
right?”

“Nemisin’s
world!” Teroux gasped out.

“It’s
sterile!” Tianoman exclaimed.

Daisy’s eyes
flicked from one to the other, again with uncertainty, but he said
nothing further.

“Nemisin’s
world was renewed,” Tristan murmured, “by Lily, the Lady of Life,
and Saska. It took five years to coax a shoot of green and then
another five for natural precipitation … and then a further ten
years of constant vigil before they could call the renewal a
lasting success.”

“How do you
know?” Teroux questioned.

“I listen with
my ears,” Tristan laughed. “Try it sometime; the Elders have
interesting snippets from time to time.”

“Caballa would
be drawn to it,” Tianoman murmured. “Hell,
I
want to see
it.”

“Apparently
Saska lives there also,” Tristan said.

“Saska was
less than honest when she told your father she didn’t know where
Caballa was,” Tianoman said.

“Caballa no
doubt wants it that way,” Teroux said. “Tris, Torrullin probably
knows where to find her … and his wife.”

“It occurred
to me as well.”

Daisy shared
his gaze between the three. “Do you require a farspeaker?”

There was a
kind of pondering silence in which Teroux and Tianoman looked to
Tristan to figure it out.

He said,
“Torrullin knows where Caballa is, but they had some kind of
falling-out that prevents him seeking her out in person - right?”
Teroux nodded at him. “Caballa knows exactly where Torrullin is,
but may never be ready to fix it between them - hmm?” This time
Tianoman gave affirmation. “They avoid each other by staying away.
It isn’t enough to tell Torrullin where to find her, is it?”

Tristan barged
on without awaiting reaction.

“I still feel
we need to find her, although I’m not sure why. We could go to
Nemisin’s world, talk to her there or wait until she puts in an
appearance if she isn’t there now, but we’d have the entire Valleur
nation at our heels to protect us. Or we could send a call to
Nemisin’s world and hope she’s home or try until she is, but will
she acknowledge us? We are linked to Torrullin. We could speak of
danger, but I think she knows more than we do as to what danger is
where and to who, so that won’t work.” Tristan paused. “Daisy, I
believe we need the services of one your farspeakers.”

Teroux
grinned. Tianoman was silent and expressionless.

Daisy nodded.
“Follow me.”

He led them
back into the circular chamber, tiptoed them around to the opposite
exit and then increased the pace. A number of rooms later, he
halted to knock on one of the first side doors they had encountered
throughout the warren.

“The sleeping
quarters,” he explained. He knocked again and entered. “Wait here,”
he bid and closed the door before they could see what lay
beyond.

They
waited.

“Empty for
such a huge place,” Tianoman remarked as the minutes dragged
by.

“Maybe it was
used for something else before,” Teroux remarked. “Who would have
thought we’d find ourselves here today?”

“Right,”
Tianoman muttered.

Caballa
, Tristan thought …
if she has been
looking
.

Sanctuary

Ignatius of the
Kaval was a historian, thus the task of deciphering Sanctuary’s
past eminently suited him.

He had the
nose, the academics and a real and consuming passion for bygone
times. He became an immortal eight hundred and some odd years ago,
using an arcane Ritual that nearly cost him his life. In fact, it
nearly cost twelve their lives, and one, remember his name, had not
the strength to survive the rigorous altering.

Of those
twelve he was now the last. His homeworld was Phenu and he could
not return there and did not want to, for the memories were too
painful. He was Kaval and no more. Ignatius was of a kind that did
not reverse a decision. Choices and alternatives were, therefore,
carefully weighed before decisions were reached, and emotions
examined with even greater care. An emotional decision often led to
trouble.

He stood on
the far side of the spaceport’s concourse, his mind clear and
unencumbered as he weighed his immediate options.

A man of above
average height, he was unremarkable in other ways. Mousy hair on
the long side, faded hazel eyes, skin neither pale nor dark, and
dressed in generic pants and shirt. Boots on his feet, a warm
overcoat against winter’s chill.

His talents
lay in this mind, for Ignatius was a genius.

He blinked
against the glare of a weak sun as he stared east. Lake Altar
glinted in the distance and he could discern the span of the great
bridge to Mariner Island.