The Nemesis Blade (26 page)

“Thank you,
no; I must go. It was good to meet you.”

Dechend bowed.
“We hope to see you again soon.”

Erin bowed
also. “The Senlu have perfect manners. Thank you.”

She
straightened and left, leaving both the Elder and Teighlar staring
at the space she vacated.

Valaris

Quilla exited
trance and then sat for a time in thoughtful pose.

Gradually a
frown creased his smooth brow. It occurred to him the only way to
be certain was to stand before the singing stones in person.

He rose and
began to prepare.

It was a task
he did not relish.

Nearness to
the stones always brought something unexpected.

Spectacular,
master beaver! A dam worthy of mistress beaver!

~ Tattle’s
Blunt Adventures

The Dome

B
elun grit his teeth seeing Sanctuary’s atmosphere
ever closer on his giant monitor.

He steered the
Dome as a ship using the console of lights as his helm; the screen
was his view port.

Six days of
careful arithmetic and even more careful planning brought him to
this point. Sanctuary’s spaceport was given advance warning of the
entry in the event they raised alarm over an unidentified flying
object - funny, yes, only not. The leaders were informed as well;
they seemed less concerned, but then nobody indigenous to Orb knew
much of flying. He, Belun, knew as little.

He nearly bit
through his bottom lip when he saw the first flick of flame against
the Dome, his gaze quickly marking the vessel’s integrity on a
smaller screen. Gods, this was a thing of magic, not a bloody
spacecraft; what was Torrullin thinking?

Then the
unwieldy half-sphere was a-fire.

He went in
fast and at a steep angle, and real fear set in. Not only were the
flames a cause for concern, but the Dome began to shudder as if in
dying throes.

All gods, help
me now!

A giant crunch
burst his eardrums and a massive horizontal tear appeared beyond
the sacred ogives. The Dome was tearing in two.

Belun screamed
through the pain in his head.

Torrullin!

Sanctuary

Torrullin
looked up.

He only
minutes ago returned from Valaris, intending to find a few hours
solace before heading to Grinwallin.

The Dome was
coming down.

It was failing
entry.

In a flash he
was through the flames and at the Centuar’s side. One brief,
encompassing glance gave him the tale.

Belun was
fixated on the screen, but very aware Torrullin was beside him.
Despite pain, he felt a certain release of tension.

“Hold course,”
Torrullin began and then noticed how badly the Centuar’s ears
bled.

Belun, can you
hear me?

A nod.

Hold
course.

Another nod
and teeth ground against each other.

Torrullin
paced back, lifted his hands and murmured. Into the widening tear
there bled fine, white mesh, akin to lace, only stronger. Once the
tear was filled, the mesh began to contract, gradually pulling the
two halves of the Dome closer. It seemed slow and yet the lacy
substance held disaster at bay, and gradually the tear
narrowed.

Belun felt the
vessel respond again, said a thankful prayer and altered the angle
of descent, bringing her into a planet-sized curve. He ignored the
flames on the smaller monitor; Torrullin was with him.

The breech
closed. It was a temporary repair, but it would hold until they
were on the ground. Torrullin lowered his hands and bent his mind
to extinguishing the surrounding fire. Moments later the terrible
heat subsided. Small flames still licked hungrily, but no longer as
threat.

On the giant
monitor Lake Averis was a small, glinting point. A destination that
seemed too tiny for the massive Dome, and yet both men understood
it was merely perception of fear. Belun checked the trajectory,
affected an infinitesimal correction, and pushed down the
lights.

The Dome
responded.

Belun, I will
guide her down from below.

The Centuar
could only nod, and Torrullin was gone.

From the shore
of Lake Averis the Dome was a black dot, a point that grew steadily
in size and appeared to hurtle down at destructive speed.

Torrullin’s
heart hammered, but he trusted Belun and thus waited calmly.

The dot curved
in ever larger and then seemed to slow into suspension.

It took on
colour and moved to a point roughly four sals above the lake and
then it enlarged magnificently.

Torrullin
laughed and spread his hands to create a cushion of warm air under
the lowering Dome. He had no need to guide anything; Belun was
exactly on target.

Two minutes
later it settled onto the water and the Dragon ogive, by some twist
of fate, bumped tranquilly against the island on the lake. The loud
hum ceased and the Dome bobbed as if it had always been there.

Belun stood
within the arch of his ogive, pale and shaking.

Torrullin
retrieved him, laid healing hands against his ears, and then both
were whooping, laughing and crying like wildly excited
teenagers.

The Dome had
come to Sanctuary.

The next day
was the day of meeting.

“Samuel’s death
put a halt to my investigations in Grinwallin.”

Belun now knew
everything. “There are a few hours left before the meeting.”

“Grinwallin
needs more than a few hours. What of the others?” Torrullin
asked.

The Centuar
mentioned that Kaval stopped by and then expanded on Declan and
Prima’s visit. “A man called Sabian. Declan tested him at the
console.”

“Pass?”

“Oh, yes, but
I don’t trust him. He’s too prepared.”

“Caballa and I
speculated he might be Agnimus.”

Belun frowned.
“Sabian may be a plant, but he isn’t Agnimus. There was an
openness, if you know what I mean.”

“Prepared
openness?”

A moment of
silence. “All right - granted.”

“What is
eating you, Belun?”

The Centuar
sighed and sipped at his coffee. Day gave way to night and the
roaring fire barely kept the chill of winter at bay. “He spoke a
prophecy about Assint and Mahler.”

“The horses
become men who were taken before they were ready for hair and
staff.”

“You
knew?”

“It was not
time to retrieve them before, old friend.”

Belun hung his
great head. “Is it now?”

“It will be
soon. The Syllvan granted them leave to return some time ago.”

“Really?”
Shining eyes.

Torrullin
loosed a weary sigh. “They are to retrieve themselves, at a time
when they are needed most. I believe it is soon.”

Belun sucked
at his teeth and then smiled. “I will live in hope, then, and look
forward to having friends returned.”

Torrullin
nodded, but did not say more. He was bone tired. “I am off to get
sleep. For once I know I need it.”

“Yeah,
likewise.”

Soon the villa
was silent.

Lax

Jimini
extricated herself from Ilse’s embrace.

The Laxian was
particularly sensual in the night and she would be lying if she
said she had not enjoyed the encounter. Jimini, a lover of women -
who would have thought?

She looked
down on the sleeping woman. Ilse was pretty - a nasty piece of
work, but decidedly pretty - and sexy. And Ilse was lonely. The
Ymirian rep was a come-to-bed beacon to this woman and Jimini, as
Idori, had not fought the lure too hard.

Jimini slipped
from the bedchamber. It was time to leave; she had what she came
for. As she moved stealthily down the stairs, careful not to
disturb Ilse’s guards, she wondered what would come of the deal
between Lax and Icari Catu. Would Lax kick up a stink over a
reneged deal? Would Catu wreak havoc in the aftermath or would Catu
see an opportunity handed to him on a silver platter?

Who cared?

In silence and
unobserved Jimini left Lax and was thankful in the leaving.

Lax would
never be pleasant.

Lintusillem

Minos handed
Jonas a transcript of his findings, his expression unreadable.

Jonas eagerly
paged through it and then stared up at his brother. “What?” he
managed.

“Based on what
I was given, and also pure gut instinct, that’s it. If I had more
time …”

“Gods, Minos,
do you know what this stuff means?”

“I reckon it’s
not quite kosher, but no, I don’t know and I don’t want to …
okay?”

Jonas heaved a
sigh. “Fine. Thanks for … everything.”

“No
problem.”

“I’ll be back
soon, I promise.”

Minos smiled.
“Do that. We’ll have tea.”

Jonas groaned
and then gripped his brother to him, and left for Sanctuary.

Xen III

Chaim, Fuma and
Amunti heaved sighs of relief when Jimini waltzed in.

The four were
soon in deep discussion.

In the next
room Reel was also relieved. A safe mission and no doubt the
results pertaining to his investigation would be given him later.
He watched darkness fall over Xen. His wife would be back tomorrow;
fortunately his guests would be leaving. He had cleaning up to do,
for his wife was to suspect nothing of his role as informer to
Elixir.

He frowned,
thinking of Erin. She came, asking after Lowen Dalrish. He told her
what he knew and promised to say nothing of her visit to the men
next door.

Was Lowen in
trouble?

Titania

They were out
of time.

The point came
where material needed collation, and each had to concentrate on
what the task demanded of him.

Shenendo
quickly sat with his hands in his hair. Galarth, taking pity on
him, suggested Shenendo type while he worded his own report and
then he would help him in turn. It went smoothly from there.

Ignatius, for
his part, no longer heard the other two; he bent single-mindedly to
his collation.

Sanctuary

Declan returned
from Nemisin’s world two days ago; Sabian did not know what the
result was.

Instead he
still faced Prima’s exhausting regime of questions.

Finally they
left him in peace and he wandered outside, never out of sight,
while Declan and Prima conferred the day before the meeting.

Declan
regarded his mission as a failure, but Prima believed his could be
seen as successful.

All three went
to bed early; Sabian did not know where he was going in the
morning, and neither did Prima or Declan.

Somewhere

Erin sat
hunched on the ground, eyes closed.

From Xen to
Titania to Luvanor - the Academia - to Sanctuary … to here.

Lowen stumbled
upon something in the Dome and that brought her here, and led
ultimately to her disappearance.

Erin bit at
her lip.

The telling
would not be easy.

Not far away
from Erin there was Quilla, although the two were entirely unaware
of each other.

Quilla stared
up at the towering rock over him. Here the stones had long been
quiet, but they were singing now.

He sighed, and
found the resolve to face Torrullin.

Valaris

Caballa asked
for and received permission to instruct the heirs in Valleur
history, those matters of personality and politics always somewhat
absent from Valleur memories.

The three were
seconded to her and she chose the Palace in the Western Isles to
commence a regime of lectures. Initially all three were agreeable,
for anything would suffice to take their minds from Samuel’s death
and funeral, and Torrullin’s subsequent departure, but it was not
long before they balked, Tianoman most of all.

She stood with
her arms akimbo before them. “Less than a month from now one of you
will be Vallorin. These are things you must know.”

“We know
already,” Tianoman muttered.

“I am not
disputing that,” Caballa thundered, “but I sense gaps. You, Tian,
tell me why Miniato broke the sceptre on a rock in a raging
river.”

“It was in
flood?” Tianoman joked, but no one laughed. “All right! The sceptre
was regarded as a crutch, and Miniato had enough.”

“Right.
Why?”

“What do you
mean why?”

“Why had he
enough?”

“Folk were
worshipping the sceptre, not the ruler?”

“Yes,
and?”

Tianoman
shrugged.

“Aha!” Caballa
pounced. “Miniato began to worship the sceptre himself! He
mistrusted his hereditary abilities. The sceptre, after all, spoke
sufficiently of his status. Dare not ever lose that thing, it will
be a disaster!” She paused. “He then had a dream of the sceptre
eating him alive and upon waking saw the staff for what it was -
inanimate and without magic, a crutch. He rid himself of it, and
also rid the Valleur of a dangerous precedence. Did you know
that?”

Tianoman was
suitably cowed.

“He erected a
small obelisk in the centre of the river,” Tristan said. “A
monument to foolishness. By the next moon the Valleur left the
territory. A monument, after all, can become a crutch also.”

Caballa was
pleased. “Excellent.”

Teroux gaped
at his cousin. “I never read that.”

“Oracles,
Teroux,” Tristan grinned.

Teroux pulled
a face. “Oh, right.”

Tianoman
laughed. “Apparently your father wasn’t too fond of the Oracles
either.”