The Nemisin Star (18 page)

Torrullin
pinched the bridge of his nose. “A good man? Maybe, but that is
long gone. I do not want to discuss Margus.”

“Fine, but it
means he has depth. He has no conscience, but something swirls
under the surface. Be careful.” Torrullin did not respond. “What do
you want to do about the Dinor?”

Fingers
drummed on the desk and then stilled. “We remove a few heads only,
say ten, and display them outside the city, but not higher than the
tallest edifice, and as for the rest, we burn them after having
removed personal effects to return to the living. Thus we show we
know their ways, but ask that ours be acknowledged also.”

“Good enough,
I would think.”

“Darian and
Pianote were the first to draw attention to possible sacrilege. I
guess they are the candidates to make this happen. Vannis must not
leave this valley to show respect. I hope they regard that as a
sign that the Vallorin seeks to parley.”

“Vannis as
Vallorin was a necessary subterfuge at the time and could stand you
in good stead now,” Thundor murmured. “You can come and go
easily.”

“I do not give
a crap one way or the other. I just want this done. Vannis stays
put simply because it could draw them out.”

Thundor was
silent, aware of the contrary emotions before him. “My Lord,
reverence of the dead is important.”

“Gods,
Thundor, I know that.”

The Thinnings
held his hands up, tiny palms outward. “All I am saying is this -
the Dinor can be appeased. They will not hurtle into the fray soon,
so take the time to do this properly, and stop worrying.”

Torrullin
glared at him.

Thundor bowed
over his hands. “Perhaps that is my cue to exit.”

“Wait. Because
you cared and listened, we now have the means to end this without
further bloodshed. Revering all the dead in fact helps all parties
heal. Thank you.”

Thundor smiled
and was gone.

It was a
sombre gathering.

Unable to
sleep and ever an early riser, Torrullin called Saska, Tristamil,
Vannis, and Caltian to his study soon after dawn.

Saska seemed
recovered; he had not returned to their suite, napping in the
armchair before the fire after Thundor left. She avoided his eyes
as she entered.

He waved
everyone to a seat. The fire crackled, dispelling the gloom of a
wintry day with its warm glow, but bringing only spurious heat to
the bite in the air.

“I have asked
Quilla to join us. We shall await him.” Torrullin looked around
with a quick frown. Then, remembering, he drew breath. Taranis
would not be coming. He met Saska’s clear gaze then and knew she
thought something similar. They smiled sadly at each other.

“What of
Matt?” Vannis asked, swinging Torrullin’s thoughts. “Matt perfected
the transport ritual. He can no longer hold us back.”

“Has he
now?”

“He has,”
Vannis affirmed. “He should be here, given what he achieved in the
last few days.” Vannis did not say it, but Matt and Taranis were
together recently, and Matt therefore knew Taranis’ last
movements.

“It bodes well
for him,” Torrullin mused.

“Bodes well?”
Saska echoed.

“Training,”
Vannis said. “Transport is complicated, especially for a novice
with no magical genes, even dormant ones, and he did it.”

“Necessity,”
Tristamil murmured.

“And will,”
Torrullin said. “The man has a powerful will.”

“You are going
to train him?” Saska asked.

“He swore an
oath of loyalty. Thus it must be.”

Tristamil
said, “He will never withstand the rigours.”

“Thus it must
be, Tris,” Vannis echoed. “He will be all right with a will like
that.”

“He should be
here. You need him,” Saska said.

Tristamil left
the room, saying, “I’ll go.”

Caltian spoke,
“My Lord? Matt has given an oath of loyalty and now needs to
undergo training; why?”

“A long time
back an esteemed ancestor put forth the idea that if other races
felt they owed the Valleur loyalty, they would prove it by becoming
sorcerers. The ideology was to discourage foreign blood and the
training devised was extreme. As well, for a band of Krish warriors
offered up their loyalty, but were there to assassinate the
Vallorin. They fatally failed the training and thus the law remains
unaltered. If Matt desires subservience to a Valleur - those are
not my words - he must prove his worth and honesty.”

“He is both
now,” Saska said.

“Indeed.”

“How
rigorous?” Caltian asked.

“Worse than
yours,” Torrullin said. “He does not know this and you are not to
inform him. I have delayed a formal swearing ceremony until we are
free of Margus. I do not want him distracted.”

Tristamil
returned with a bleary eyed Matt. He awakened the Xenian from
drunken slumber.

Matt shivered
from the cold. The Keep was draughty at present and not pleasant
when one needed to get from one place to another. Particularly when
using the balcony walk. Torrullin should really consider,
seriously, closing it in.

Torrullin
smiled, picking up on the gripe. “Welcome, Matt,” he said.
“Sit.”

“It’s freezing
out,” Matt complained, taking a seat as near the fire as he could
without scorching himself. The Xenian closed his eyes and put his
face to the flames.

Quilla ambled
in. “I have news.” The birdman sat and then rose moments later, his
attitude distracted. He lifted a finger in a thoughtful gesture.
“Give me a moment to put it straight in my mind; words can be
limiting.” His head nodded apace.

Torrullin
watched him. He could count true friends and family on his fingers
only, and this little creature was top of the list. He trusted
Quilla not only with his life and the lives of those dear to him,
but with his soul.

And, without
him deserving it, Quilla felt the same way about him. Theirs was a
deep connection. Yesterday, at the funeral for Taranis, Quilla said
nothing in commiseration, merely laid a tiny hand against
Torrullin’s cheek. It said everything, for their bond needed no
words.

His thoughts
touched on Taranis. Fire in his bones Taranis. He would miss the
man for a long time.

Quilla watched
him.
Enchanter, come to the Temple after this meeting, for a
little peace.

Torrullin
looked away.
Maybe.

Quilla said,
“After issuing warning to Valarians I made a decision, telling
nobody of my quest. Allow me now the reasoning that led me briefly
offworld.”

Quilla saw him
choose in Linir and absconded soon after.

For good
reason, Torrullin.

I do not
expect you to dance to my tune, but I wish you were watching.
Torrullin did not move a muscle.

I know, and I
shall feel guilty for a long time.

Taranis would
not want that.

Quilla
continued, “Margus is a reincarnate Immortal.”

“We know,”
Saska said.

“I don’t,”
Matt murmured.

“It means he
is able to rebirth, Matt. It means death cannot overcome him long
unless he chooses not to return.”

The Xenian
gaped at the birdman. “That is not good.”

“It means an
ordinary defeat will serve no purpose, gifting merely a period of
peace while he finds his way back. We therefore require
extraordinary means, and I set out to discover exactly that. Bear
with me now. The sorcerous races, like the Valleur, Q’lin’la and
the Siric, believe and adhere to immortality as an unbroken
timeline, a state of continuity. Except in the uniqueness of our
Enchanter, reincarnation - although known as theoretically possible
- is a concept unacceptable to these races. We are not here to
debate those issues however. Now, and I begin to come to my point,
there are mortal races who believe and advocate reincarnation, and
they do so without sorcery. It is religion in some instances and in
others a judgement tool, while for others it is a supernatural
magic that remains always mysterious.”

“Ah,” said
Torrullin.

“Indeed. In
this incredible concept mortals have the upper hand and we can
learn from them.”

“I see,”
Vannis murmured. “Yes.”

“There is a
library on Titania that claims to hold every work published, as
well as those hidden for whatever reason. It is an inspiring place
of epic size and holds billions, some on paper, some on stone,
bark, reed … fantastic! And others are on disc, an electronic
highway that boggles the mind. Titania is a strange but workable
symbiosis of ancient and super modern, and the library is no
exception. Isn’t it amazing how some mortal races have advanced
into super technology while we choose to follow the ancient paths?
Well, yes, no matter, we do have technology of the mind, which is
greater.”

“You went to
Titania,” Saska said.

“I did, but
not specifically to find out about reincarnation - and there was
plenty there - I thought to find which race and where would likely
possess what we seek.”

“What do we
seek, Quilla?” Torrullin asked.

“The way in
and out again without losing time, knowledge, ability and form. The
way to a realm that cannot be escaped from. A way to prevent Margus
returning.”

“Hell’s
bells,” Matt whispered.

“A means to
kill him in the beyond,” Torrullin stated.

“Perhaps,”
Quilla acknowledged.

“What did you
find?” Vannis prompted.

The birdman
shrugged. “I found something about a race that inhabited the Tennet
system.”

“The Senlu?”
Caltian said. “They can help us?”

“No, but this
is interesting. The Senlu appear to have evolved from an older race
known as the Luvans. Hmm? Luvanor? Apparently the Luvans believed
wholly in reincarnation and virtually drove themselves into genetic
extinction and became to all intents an immortal race. Eventually
the time came when new birth could not keep pace with the demand of
re-entering souls. It does not say how, but the Senlu then rose to
the fore from nowhere and rebirth was forbidden.”

“That
is
interesting,” Torrullin murmured. “Do you think Teighlar
would know more?”

“The Emperor
is one of four thousand Senlu who lived ninety million years ago
and the Luvans subverted longer back than that. Given how normal
time is distorted in the realms, I doubt he will know anything
today to aid us.”

“Goddess,
Quilla,” Vannis groaned, but it was an amused mockery. The birdman
adored imparting knowledge, even when his timing was off.
“Interesting aside, you found more on Titania, not of the
Senlu.”

“Naturally, or
I would not be standing here boring you with useless information,”
Quilla snapped. “Have any of you heard of the Cèlaver?”

Saska had.
“It’s not far from Canimer, the fourth planet in the Sylmer solar
system. As a child I used to stare at the stars, particularly the
bright star in the evening sky that was Cèlaver, and wondered if
there were others. I was told there weren’t and after my
Immortality Ritual I admit I went to investigate. I was
disappointed; that world is deserted.”

“It is not
deserted, my dear, nor ever was,” Quilla said and drew breath to
continue.

She
forestalled him. “Cèlaver is a desert planet with a thin
atmosphere. The seasonal melting of the ice-caps isn’t sufficient
to alter that or to sustain life. Maybe it once was habitable, but
not now, and certainly not in the recent past.”

“Not all life
relies on atmosphere, or even oxygen, and not all need sunlight to
thrive. The Cèlaver live
inside
the planet.”

“Impossible.
There is nothing there.”

Vannis
straightened in his seat. “If the Valleur have the means to breathe
poisoned air, breathe underwater and live without sunlight -
admittedly not for extended periods - then others could have
evolved with a superior biology to do so daily.”

Saska glanced
at Torrullin. Once he saved her by immersing her in water; he was
unable to breathe in the depths himself. “You cannot breathe
underwater.”

He remembered.
“The Sylmer that night told me I can, but to date I have not tested
their claim.” The two of them spent much time apart in the
intervening years; the magic of the deep discovered that night had
not again been reached for. “I have breathed foul air, however. I
survived, although I was violently sick after.”

“The air on
Cèlaver is not foul. It contains the compounds of our own
atmosphere, in different proportion,” Quilla said. “There is a
nation below and they know about the mechanisms to rebirth. Perhaps
they even understand it.” He was firm. “Forget the atmosphere and
let us concentrate on what we could find there.”

“You haven’t
paid them a visit?” Vannis murmured.

Quilla blinked
at him, saying, “I returned to the Temple to unravel the
information from Titania.”

“Someone needs
to investigate,” Saska said.

Vannis
groaned. “I am a trueblood. My biology will cope with the
conditions. I will go.”

“You need be
here to pacify the Dinor,” Torrullin said. “I will go.”

Quilla pursed
his lips. “That would not be one of your better ideas, Enchanter.
Margus will follow you.”

Torrullin was
decisive. “We are discussing rebirth here, are we not? I am no
expert, but I assume I would grasp the intricacies faster than any
of you. Trueblood or not, I can handle the atmosphere.”

“And Margus?”
Vannis snapped.

“He won’t know
I have left.” Torrullin sat back, “I need to get offworld soon and
this is something that needs done.”

Saska
muttered, “Seven days and you have had enough?”

“Seven days
ago my father was alive. I need the space.”

She swallowed.
“Of course.”

“I am going
with you,” Tristamil said.