The Nemisin Star (5 page)

Eventually he
stopped. “We need to talk about –”

She stopped
also, interrupting him. “After the meeting, Tris. I think we should
hear what will be revealed there. I think it will have bearing on
how we go forward.”

“Nothing will
change how I feel.”

“But it could
change how you react to how you feel.”

He muttered a
curse.

“You know I’m
right.” She slid her hand into his and tugged him towards the
swelling courtyard. “After, I promise.” Gods, she wished there were
less demands on his time. She wished he was someone other than a
Valla.

In the
Throne-room Torrullin nailed the coffin shut.

Tristamil was
the heir and any relationship between them was doomed.

The Keep

The
Present

The courtyard
was not the best place to have this conversation, but neither could
walk away from it.

The time had
arrived for choices. For truth. With people swirling around them,
gradually less and less, they halted beside the mosaic pool.

Tristamil
said, “I told you it changes nothing.”

“Then you are
fooling yourself. It’s time for me to go back to Luan, to think. I
told you on Atrudis you would be the next Vallorin and we both know
what that implies.”

She stared
into the water and recalled the summer when she was six years old.
Her father brought her for a visit and ended up staying for weeks.
Lanto and Torrullin had a strange connection, a deep compassion and
liking for each other beyond the superficial, and they spent those
weeks talking with Skye, welcome on both laps and in both sets of
arms, treated like a princess by two indulgent men.

Here she
learned to swim under Torrullin’s tutelage and many times he joined
her in the water, laughing all the time. She was half in love with
him that summer and would have done anything to stay with him
forever, as long as Lanto could as well.

The twins
arrived from the White Palace. One look and they replaced their
father in her childish affections. The boys were ten at the time
and appeared worldly to her. Tymall’s brash cockiness entranced,
but she was too shy to speak to him. Instead she befriended the
calmer, more accessible brother. She and Tristamil had been friends
a long time.

“Friends,
Tris,” she said. “We’re friends before all else and that means
everything to me. More than a relationship … heartache … for Aaru’s
sake! We have to be friends and no more, can you not see that?”

“Is it Ty?” he
demanded. “Look at me.”

“Does it
matter?” She looked up and away again. Perhaps it would be better
if he thought that. He would walk and this would go no further. It
would hurt, but it would hurt worse later. “Ty is beyond my
reach.”

“He is beyond
us all. Gods, still Ty?”

She sighed,
knowing she could not lie. She had not the gift. “Ty was, if I’m
honest, a dream I have had since I was a child. Maybe, in letting
the dream go, I let the child go. It’s like saying goodbye to my
father. You know you must, but it hurts and is hard to do.”

“Sometimes,
saying goodbye to the child is a good thing,” Tristamil responded,
also staring into the pool.

“I know
that.”

“It is hard, I
understand that. But,” and now he looked at her, “after that? Am I
to assume our recent rapport is based on long friendship only?
Another child’s dream? Is that what you will cling to when you
decide it is time to be a woman?”

“To be a man!
To foolishly trample everything!”

“What do you
want of me?”

“You see me as
a kid. How does that actually help me, help us? Are
you
not
the one clinging to fantasy?”

“For someone
so reserved you hand it out.” He paused to study her flaming
cheeks. “Mortified? You should be. I never entertained a childhood
fantasy about you other than the one where you were my little
sister, someone to be protected and nurtured.”

She remained
wordless, stricken.

“You saw my
brother as a knight and now you know he was never that. The idiot
deserved none of your hero worship. I saw you as a sister and now
you know that is no longer so. Tymall saw–”

“No.
Please.”

“Tymall saw
you at best as a nuisance, and at worst as someone to trick into
tears. For him little has changed, except in degree. Skye, wake up.
Your hero does not exist.”

“And us? When
did a sister become more?”

“After your
father died we saw little of you. I admit I had other problems and
thought about you only time to time; a lazy brother kind of way,
and then came our Coming-of-Age and there you were in the crowd. My
whole world turned inside out, for I saw
you
for the first
time. I didn’t know it then, but I loved you completely from that
moment, and knew when I saw you look at my brother that I had it
wrong.” Tristamil sighed. “Sweetheart, you know this. You knew
before I did.”

She
nodded.

“I love you as
an adult. I think you lie to yourself when you speak of friendship.
In fact I think you lie about Ty. He is familiar, a shield you are
able to hold up to protect yourself. You saw my brother in my face
a long time ago and that brought about our friendship, and it was
not based on pretence after the first words we spoke. And you saw
my brother in my face on Lucan and …”

“I saw what
Tymall could have been in all that you are.”

“And
transferred your loyalties?”

“It has
nothing to do with loyalty and I didn’t transfer anything.”

“Then you
looked beyond the face … and saw me.”

“Yes.”

“Why the
shield? Why do you need to protect yourself from me?”

“You were
two.”

He reared
back. “What does that mean?”

“The
bloodline. One of you was enough for the future Vallas.”

He was cold.
“Are you that scheming?”

Again she was
stricken. “No! I mean only that now there is no choice for
you.”

“Ty was meant
to be Vallorin; he did have choice either.”

“I hoped you
would be Vallorin!”

Tristamil
pushed his hair away and looked about him. There were people
around, but for the life of him he could not tell who they were.
“Then you got what you wished for, didn’t you?”

“I know.”

He looked at
her again. “It is not your fault.”

“It feels like
it.”

“Life is never
simple and the past cannot be undone. There is you and me in this
heir business, and we can take the pain to experience the joy.
Gods, look at my father! Can you deny the truth in that?”

“Your father
is unique.”

“So am I and
so are you! Or do you run from me? Are you afraid to tell me you
don’t love me the way I love you?”

She shook her
head.

“Good god,
Skye, don’t do this now.” Tristamil’s grey eyes were frantic as he
sensed her withdrawal. “There may be no tomorrow. Please do not
hide now!”

“You will be
Vallorin. It means you will take to wife a trueblood to strengthen
the Valla line. You know this, I know this, everyone knows this,
and especially your father knows this. He told me as much when I
spoke to him about Ty. We have no future. Where would it leave me?
A mistress? I would rather return to Luan today and turn my back on
future torment. I refuse to share you with a wife.”

“Why?”

Skye drew
breath. “Because I love you Tris, but I’ll not be yours to have you
turn from me.”

He smiled and
it was a wonderful thing. The Light infused his entire being. “Then
there will be no Valla heir, Skye. We will have children that
belong only to us and we will turn our backs on the pressures of
this powerful family.”

“Universe, I’m
not asking that!”

“I offer it
freely. I love you.”

“You are not
free to choose.”

“There is one
way in which I can enforce my will. No Immortal will ever again sit
on the Throne.” He denied the offer of immortality on Atrudis, but
would go back on that if it gifted him this woman.

“You
cannot!”

“With you,
Skye; you and me forever.”

Then Torrullin
was with them. He gave no indication of having heard, but Skye was
shocked by his presence, and what was said.

She turned
indecisively, feeling scattered, not knowing how to act and what to
say, and burst between the two men to run indoors.

“You could
have waited a few more minutes,” Tristamil glared.

“I could not.
You were committing yourself unthinkingly.”

“It does not
concern you, father.”

“Wrong. It
does.”

“Who I love is
not your business!”

“Your heart is
your own, but an Immortality Ritual is very much my business. Skye
would not withstand such rigour, and promising her forever could
kill her. You would then have to live with that,
forever
. I
care about her and you, and therefore I stand here and
interfere.”

Tristamil
deflated. “How can we have a future then?”

“You love her
enough.”

“What does
that mean?”

“It means you
love her enough to make up for what she cannot have.”

“Which
is?”

“A husband,
Tris, in you.”

“You are
saying I may not marry her?”

“Not unless a
Valla heir is born to the line.”

Tristamil
glowered.

“If she
requires a piece of parchment to prove your love for her, son,
perhaps it was not meant to be.”

“That is
unfair. She is not meant to be someone’s mistress.”

“You are not
just ‘someone’, and if she cannot see that then she should be
another man’s wife.”

“She is your
goddaughter, for pity’s sake.”

“And I love
her as a daughter and would wish to see both of you happy, but she
is not Valleur.”

“Saska is not
Valleur!”

“Your mother
was.”

Tristamil
retreated, face white. He strode away, exiting through the Dragon
doors into the valley beyond.

Torrullin
watched his son go, filled with sadness.

Mark the
auguries! Curses and Cures!

~Tattle’s Blunt
Adventures

White Palace,
over the scrying bowl

Naming Day,
twenty-six years ago

T
he images came immediately, bright flashes of the
future.

A beautiful
valley. A throne. A blue sword. A dark cloud. A multitude. A
temple. A war. A blue breastplate. Runes on a wall. Kneeling
crowds. The blue sword again.

The bowl
cleared and was still. Torrullin sat back while maintaining contact
with his son. Varied images; it would be difficult to conceive of a
clear future.

“
A
warrior,” Vannis offered. “There will be war in his
future.”

“
Blue is an
important colour in his life. As are crowds. Runes, a temple,
kneeling. A priest of some sort?”

“
I will
agree with that,” Vannis confirmed. “A throne,” he added, “but not
Valleur, and the image was hazy, as if he was leader not ruler, or
it is a spiritual position.”

Torrullin
nodded. “Both warrior and priest?”

“
Agreed.”
That particular paradox had historical precedence.

Torrullin
turned to the assembled, his hand still resting on the baby boy.
Until he was named the contact was not to be broken.

“
His name
is found! I name my son TRISTAMIL! Warrior priest!”

It was a good
name, a strong name. A strong future.

Torrullin
wiped a tear from his son’s face. “Welcome, Tristamil,” he
whispered, his heart full, and broke the contact. The babe lay
still and watched him.

He turned his
attention to his other son to the right of the bowl.

The images for
this baby too were bright and rapid.

The Valleur
Throne in all its splendour. A city of light. A star. A green
sword. There was similarity and that was a good sign. A dark cloud.
The same temple as his brother’s. A scroll. A crown.

The bowl
smoothed over, reflecting only the glowing light of the courtyard.
There was no repeated image, unlike Tristamil’s. What that meant,
only time would tell.

Torrullin and
Vannis again began the process. It seemed obvious this child would
one day be Vallorin.

Vannis cleared
his throat. “Your eventual heir.”

“
Seems that
way, but a city, a star?”

“
Cryptic, I
grant you. Both have obscure images; I have never seen it quite
like this. And this one fights also, like his twin. There is the
temple again, yet for him I do not feel the same priestly
connection.”

“
A warrior,
a builder, maybe the city? Patron of a temple, of his brother’s
spirituality? Vallorin. A man of many guises.”

Taranis leaned
closer and whispered, “Many skills, many paths.”

“
Yes!”
Torrullin flashed a smile at his father. “Potent skills, capable of
changing his environment, or change according to his environs.
Vannis, the Skilful One?”

“
Agreed.”
Vannis slowly nodded. It was his duty to affirm before a name was
broadcast, but he was not entirely certain of this one. Taranis was
right - many paths. That, however, was probably a good thing, for a
Vallorin was multi-facetted. “Yes,” he said again, and meant
it.

Torrullin
raised his gaze to the gathered.

“
His name
is found! I name my son TYMALL! The Skilful One!”

Torrullin
gently gathered Tymall into his arms, his heart aching. A heavy
burden for this one.

“
Welcome,
Tymall,” he whispered.

The Keep

The
Present

Torrullin
climbed the outer stairs past the second storey onto the
battlements.