The Nemesis Blade (72 page)

The presence
of ghostly dark Valleur about the daily business of life was
sobering as well. All there wished to hear their voices just
once.

Torrullin was
in the lead and chose a narrow street parallel to the main
thoroughfare. Elianas did not join them; no one dared ask where he
was.

They headed
west and, as they left the last cottages behind, Maple appeared. He
fell into step beside Torrullin. “The Syllvan send greeting.”

Torrullin
inclined his head.

“They add they
judged a long time ago and they protected time. Apparently you will
know what that means.”

“I do, thank
you.”

Maple walked a
few paces and then understood Torrullin would not ask. “She
returned to Akhavar.”

“I thought as
much.”

“She said she
will give an answer when you return.”

Torrullin
nodded. “Good.”

Maple
scratched at his head, and then, “I have news from Digilan.”

Torrullin
looked at him for the first time.

“The Syllvan
heard insistent knocking at the portal point, and granted me an
hour. My Lord, Tymall sends words for your ears alone.”

The others
listened in, and Tianoman hastened forward.

Torrullin
said, “Tianoman, if there is something to share, I shall do
so.”

Tristan took
hold of his cousin. “Hold up, Tian.”

Torrullin
lengthened his stride and Maple kept pace. “What news?”

“The five
stones. He says you must rid yourself of them.”

“Why?”
Torrullin sent him a look of astonishment. Tymall was the one who
gave them to him by a convoluted route, and now he sought to alter
the nature of the gift?

“They sing to
the stones everywhere. Soon everyone will know what happens here.
The Warlock told me specifically about the river, the dragon symbol
… even that a dark man kissed you.”

Torrullin
halted.

Maple went on.
“One more thing. The Senlu know about their Emperor and are in
uproar.”

Torrullin
pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dear god. Anything else?”

“I have a few
private words for Tianoman from his father.”

Torrullin
waved him off and stood on the spot, deep in thought.

The rest
closed in as Tianoman and Maple lagged in conversation.

Torrullin
said, “Quilla, Teighlar, wait. The rest of you go on.” He waited
until they were alone and then spoke to Teighlar. “There is trouble
in Grinwallin. The Senlu know.”

Teighlar
paled. “How, by god?”

Torrullin
sighed. “Quilla, hand me the stones.”

The birdman
understood. He fiddled and brought forth the pouch. “An unforeseen
twist.”

“Indeed.”
Torrullin handed it to Teighlar. “That is how they know.”

The Emperor drew it open … and froze. Then, in a voice so
loud the others snapped around up ahead, he roared, “How the
fuck
did you come by
these?”

“They were a
gift.”

“They are
Luvan
! They do
not
belong to you!”

“A Luvan lost
them, another found them and they came to me. Now they carry our
sorry tale to the entire universe. We must be rid of them
immediately.”

Teighlar
pulled the pouch closed and pushed it down the front of his tunic.
“No.”

Torrullin
waited a beat and then, “I could simply have done so without your
knowledge, but I thought you need to know about your people. If
those stones go on broadcasting echoes, there will be more trouble.
At this point we can sweep most of it away with well-chosen words,
but this night we might confront the ancient Valleur. Try and
explain that to a jittery universe and try and calm your people
after Nemisin’s tale is spread about. Teighlar, there are Valleur
and Senlu on Tunin who will make the first move in the name of
righteousness.”

“Fuck, damn,
hell!” Teighlar shouted. Then he was calm. And thoughtful. “Can
Maple take Dechend back to Grinwallin?”

“As soon as
you give the word.”

“Thank you.
Regarding these stones, what if he took them along?”

A smile. “That
works.”

“Good. I take
it you return a lost treasure to Grinwallin out of the goodness of
your heart?” Teighlar lifted an eyebrow.

A laugh. “Out
of the goodness of my heart, yes.”

Teighlar was
serious. “My thanks. As you say, you need not have told me.”

“Do you think
I would do that to a friend?”

A sigh.
“No.”

Maple and
Dechend were summoned and were soon on their way. No explanations
were given to the others, and Teighlar strode onward, his face
expressionless. Peculiar hand movements, however, punctuated his
hidden thoughts.

The team
walked slowly on as well.

“Well, I guess
our Tracloc friend has a few uses,” Quilla murmured.

“And you
thought I was making a mistake,” Torrullin said.

“All right,
all right,” the birdman muttered.

They hiked
on.

The day wore
away and the western road wound around hills and through shallow
valleys.

Maple
returned, spoke a time with Teighlar, but of Elianas there was no
sign.

By nightfall
they entered mountainous country and Torrullin called a halt, and
promptly left them there.

Tristan stared
into the fire, and Caballa left Rose’s side to sit with him.

They had grown
closer over the last days and thus she could ask him what was wrong
and expect a reply. The reply, as suspected, concerned
Torrullin.

“You are now
confronted by the enigma,” Caballa said. “It takes some getting
used to.”

He rested his
head on his knees and arms and looked at her. “Is this how he
is?”

“This is the
man with too much on his mind.”

Tristan
sighed. “I don’t really want to talk about him.”

“You should talk
to
him.”

“He’s
gone.”

“He is up the
slope, over there,” Caballa murmured, pointing unobtrusively behind
them.

“Are you
always aware of him?”

She touched
his cheek. “I am a seer, Tris; I see.”

He nodded.

“Go to him,”
she prompted, and he untangled legs and arms to rise and slip
away.

Torrullin had
a small fire going in the lee of a tumble of great boulders, and
lay on a pallet in a depression.

From below
they could not see him or his fire.

When Tristan
approached he lay with eyes closed, one arm flung over his
forehead. Tristan turned to leave, preferring not to disturb the
sleeping man.

“I am
awake.”

Tristan
paused, debated wisdom in speaking, and then entered the small
circle of light. He sat and stared at his hands.

Torrullin
gathered himself, checked his sword was to hand, and then, “Are you
hungry?”

“I’m fine. Am
I disturbing you?” Tristan looked up.

“Sabian would
disturb me, Teighlar would too at this point, but not my
grandson.”

Tristan made a
face.

Torrullin
watched him from under lowered lids. “You wonder now if I am your
grandfather. How it fits.”

“Yes and no. I
don’t know what to think.”

“I asked
Elianas if Millanu was my mother, for how is it possible? We, even
those of us with too much time, need to know our roots.”

“Not so it
debilitates us, but I guess that is the truth.”

Torrullin
gazed into the small blaze. “Millanu is my mother and Taranis is my
father. How? That is where my circle closes and reopens. If you
want to know how it works, I must disappoint you. However, I was
born to my parents and everything you know of me and the last few
thousand years remain unchanged. I fathered twin sons and I
certainly landed up with you three by a convoluted road. The blood
is here, Tristan; do not doubt that.”

A smile.
“Good.”

“Yes, it is
good. At least something in my life cannot be regretted.”

There was so
much lying behind the statement that Tristan knew he could not ask
about it. Instead he said, “I know you want no questions …”

“Ask.”

Another sigh.
“I don’t know how.”

“And I like
your honesty. How am I an Ancient? Is that it? Well, without
attempting to explain the science of great curves, it’s like this,
I go on from here, on and on, and time feels linear, it always
does, and yet it curves back, and one day I tread where I walked
before. When I get there I discover few are aware of what was and
what will be.” He barked a laugh. “Ignorance is bliss, it really
is.”

“And then you
are born again?”

“I change
state. I was born the once. In the first cycle I underwent the
Immortality Ritual. In this cycle I added to that via reincarnation
- thus a true Immortal. Reincarnation is akin to being born again
…” He paused to smile. “And I wondered how it was possible to have
my birth body returned despite multiple births. Now I know.”

“Why do it
over and over?”

“Mistakes,
regrets, knowledge, arrogance, even ignorance. There is no one
answer.”

“And us? Were
we born in other cycles?”

“No.”
Torrullin drew a breath and came to a decision. “You are not to
repeat this. In the last cycle I saw the Valleur fall into
obscurity, and extinction followed. I was not Vallorin - that was
the sole province of Vannis’ direct male line. Nemis to Dantian and
then Dantian’s son and so forth. There was no Ardosia, no Margus
and no Vannis in hibernation. Valaris was a cosmopolitan world
where Valleur and human lived together and where Taranis and
Millanu safely met, wed and had one son. I was Valla, yes, but
nowhere near in line for the Throne. It did not bother me. I went
on when others passed away, and then saw the Valleur fail.”

Tristan was
wide-eyed.

Torrullin
shrugged. “The Torrullin born to this cycle lost his memory and
thus was I new, and made different choices and that changed
everything.” He sighed and stared into the fire again. “Elianas
knew this, he knew - damn it, he knew.”

Tristan was
silent and then, “May I ask about him?”

“He is out of
bounds.”

Tristan
nodded. After a beat he asked, “Will the same happen to me if I
live long enough?”

“The curve?
Oh, yes.”

“I am not sure
I want that.”

“You know more
than I did at point of Ritual, Tris, and thus you may make the more
knowledgeable choice. If you are uncertain, do not do it.”

“I do not want
to die.”

Torrullin
smiled. “Neither did I. The dilemma. Know that dying is not ending.
There are infinite realms, new roads and new experiences. Had I
known before Ritual I might have chosen differently. As it is, when
I did know I was furious I allowed it to slip me by … and thus, in
arrogance and anger, became a Walker of Realms. I wanted all of it
and am now so fragmented to the mazes of time and realm I am no
longer real. There are hosts of me, many personas. Tristan, do not
do that. Choose wisely. Choose with your head, not your heart.”

“Easier said
than done.”

“Don’t I
know,” Torrullin said.

“Torrullin,
who will be Vallorin?”

A silence, as
an answer was debated. Then, “Tianoman.”

Tristan was
not surprised. “I thought as much.”

“I told your
father when you were a young lad you would be my choice.”

“Really?”

“You have the
heart and the will, yes, but you do not want to be tied down, do
you?” Torrullin murmured.

“No. It isn’t
just the Ritual, however.”

“It is about
freedom. I hope you find it.”

“It doesn’t
exist?”

“Do not listen
to me; I am jaded by time.”

Tristan sighed
and sat on in silence.

“Tristan, you
did not know her when she was blind; she was a whole person then,
never doubting.” He paused when Tristan sent him a masked glance.
“I am not stepping into your territory, and know you have not
stepped into mine.”

Tristan closed
his eyes.

“If she was
sightless now, she would know you with her other senses and there
would be no confusion. However, a few thousand years blind compared
to twenty-six with sight? She appears to cope, and struggles daily.
In her eyes we stand too close for distinction; she must trust her
eyes, she thinks - others do it. Caballa loves me, yes, but it
isn’t like that and never was. Our connection was and is based on
inner sight, and she has not found that connection to you, because
she sees with her eyes. She loves you in the way you hope, and you
need to allow her time to trust herself. I know advice can smother
relationships, yet I think you needed to hear this.” A pause, and
then, “Throw a stone at me now if you want to.”

Tristan
snorted a laugh and picked a stone up. Then he was serious, rolling
it in his hands. “She is much older.”

“And that
matters?”

“It could … to
her.”

“It won’t. She
will live another thousand years or three; is that not time enough
for a relationship?”

A smile. “I
guess.”

“Definitely.
Valleur longevity can be a decided advantage.”

Tristan
laughed.

“I am glad you
came up here,” Torrullin said. “You brought some of my frayed edges
together.”

“And you
mine.”

“Good. When
you go down, will you apologise to Tian for me? I was harsh with
him.”

“He gets it.
Tian toughens up fast and is less prone to sulks. Digilan was good
for him. Knowing one’s roots, right?”

“Thank the
gods Tymall loves his son or Digilan would be a terrible
influence.”

“Teroux is the
one struggling now.”

“I am
aware.”

“Will you talk
to him?”