Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 5

  He muttered and came over. A hand settled on her cheek and he frowned. “Warmer.”

  She did so, and he nodded. His fingers rested there a few moments longer than was necessary.

  “Do you love her, my Lord?”

  He stiffened. “I do not want to discuss it. And it is Torrullin.”

  “Sorry. Torrullin, yes. But I’m thinking, you’re reacting to Jimini, not Lowen, and the Emperor will know the difference.”

  “There is nothing normal in my relationship with Lowen, and he knows that. No matter how I act towards you, it would be in character.”

  “Hell, how unsettling.”

  A mirthless smile erupted. “There you have it. Part of the attraction. Now, are you ready?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her heart fluttering.

  “It will be evening in Grinwallin, a good time to catch him unguarded.”

  “Is he not your friend?”

  “My dearest friend. But Teighlar can keep secrets better than anyone I know, and we need to discover whether any of them aids us.”

  “He’d tell Lowen?”

  “No, but if he knows something he thinks she already knows, he may let it slip. Come, let us surprise the Senlu Emperor.”

  Grinwallin

  TEIGHLAR RETURNED FROM a jaunt on his new favourite horse when Torrullin and Jimini arrived.

  In the act of unsaddling the mare, he paused. Torrullin had come. Good; he needed to build some bridges there. And … who was that? No signature, but it could not fool him. Why was this … ah, masked. Torrullin masked her. Why?

  Intrigued, he asked the groom to finish with his horse and hastened up to the Great Hall.

  The sight of Lowen arrested him.

  Torrullin masked Lowen?

  He put a smile on and went to embrace her. “Lowen, it is good to see you. You gave Torrullin quite a scare.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Torrullin excuse himself from the Senlu Elder Dechend.

  “I was pretty scared myself,” Lowen murmured, smiling back at him as he released her.

  “Where did you get to?”

  “Not far, as it turns out … it was more a case of …”

  “Teighlar, I hear you were out riding. Damn, I should’ve come earlier,” Torrullin interrupted, giving Lowen a warning look.

  Teighlar glanced from one to the other. “I smell a tale. Allow me to wash the horse off me and then join me for dinner.”

  “Great, it feels as if I haven’t eaten in years,” Lowen grinned.

  A smile quirked the Senlu’s mouth. “You always could eat like a horse.” He laughed lightly and glanced at Torrullin. “It is a good night; shall we eat outside?”

  “Perfect - what’s the matter with you? You are acting all formal,” Torrullin muttered.

  “And I don’t eat like a horse,” Lowen added, winking at the Emperor.

  Teighlar laughed. “I shall be back now. Dechend, two extra places for dinner, and set the table outside.”

  The Emperor strode away and Torrullin took Lowen’s arm and led her out onto the portico.

  THE SUN HAD ALREADY set and most of the amber hues were faded, but Tunin lay in splendour before their eyes.

  “It’s beautiful,” Jimini whispered.

  “Yes, and Lowen knows that. And she can eat like a horse when she is hungry. Do not flirt with him, it will make him suspicious.”

  “He’s already suspicious.”

  “I know … damn it.”

  The sounds of cutlery and crockery behind them brought on silence. They stood together watching as night descended over Tunin and Grinwallin.

  Senlu colourful lanterns lit and the city took on a festive air; the aromas of many meals floated out into the sweet night air. Teighlar was right; it was a good night. Warm, breathless.

  Grinwallin on the edge of summer.

  TEIGHLAR EXITED SOUNDLESSLY and watched the two of them.

  Together, yet apart. In that there was nothing strange, yet the divide seemed more strained than usual, but Torrullin and Lowen defied analysing.

  “Come,” he called, taking a seat at the table nearby.

  Other tables had appeared on the portico; many Senlu decided to eat al fresco this night. Laughter, talk, porcelain and pewter clashed harmoniously.

  Torrullin and Lowen took a seat.

  Wine was poured for them.

  “Torrullin, I do not understand you. Why do you not put a ring on her finger? That way you can keep her leashed.”

  Torrullin went white. “What did you say?”

  Lowen hooded her blue eyes.

  Teighlar lifted his glass. “Marry her, damn it.”

  Torrullin surged to his feet in fury.

  Teighlar laughed and then was deadly serious. “Do you take me for a fool, Elixir? I can smell a shapeshifter a mile off.”

  Torrullin sat hard and put his head in his hands. “Jimini, leave us. Go to the villa.”

  Jimini, as Lowen, rose and left quickly.

  “Why do you find it necessary to dupe me?” Teighlar demanded. “Unless you are pandering to fantasy here?”

  Torrullin flew across the table and fingers curled into Teighlar’s tunic. Senlu guards rushed over, but Teighlar shouted, “Leave us!”

  They retreated, but did not go away.

  “Why are you goading me?” Torrullin hissed.

  He released his hold, stood up from the table wiping spilt wine from his chest.

  Teighlar rose. “Bring another bottle,” he demanded of his staff, without removing his gaze from Torrullin.

  When it was given to him, he gripped bottle and friend, and frogmarched them down the stairs and continued the frenzied pace until they reached the great stairway off the plain.

  Going halfway down, leaving Torrullin to follow, he sat on a step, uncorked the wine and swigged. When Torrullin joined him, he passed the bottle and watched as Torrullin drank.

  “Why?”

  Torrullin drank again, passed the bottle back. “You keep secrets too well.”

  Silence and then, “Sleep with the shapeshifter, for god’s sake, and release the tension in you.”

  “I am not going to sleep with the guise of Lowen … shut up.”

  “Then do so with the one under.”

  “She is Kaval. Leave it, will you?”

  “What are you up to, my friend?”

  “I have no bloody idea.”

  “I have to apologise to you, for what I said a few days ago.”

  “Not necessary.” Torrullin frowned.

  “A gilded cage, is Grinwallin, and sometimes it can be claustrophobic. Yet I am able to endure it, until you say something that causes me to remember you are lord and master of Grinwallin, not I.”

  “That is not true,” Torrullin murmured, head bowed.

  A gilded cage, indeed, and Teighlar had no idea how true it was.

  “Oh, true. I knew the night when the soul of this city spoke to you.”

  “You have it wrong.”

  “Do I?”

  “I am bound to Grinwallin, Teighlar, as I am to Torrke. It isn’t quite the same as sovereignty. You are Emperor here.”

  “Emperor of the Senlu and gifted territory, yes, but not Grinwallin herself.”

  Torrullin sighed. “Fine, then let me put it this way. Grinwallin is ruled by Grinwallin, not by me.”

  A slow nod. “That I am able to endure.”

  “Yet you will piss me off about this in the future anyway.”

  A grin. “Probably.”

  “I hoped the presence of Lowen would loosen your tongue. Forgive my blunder.”

  Teighlar waved an airy hand. “Forgive, forget, done. Of course, had you tried it on anyone else it would have worked, but I have been around too long not to smell the scuttling rats.”

  “Hear the scuttling rats, idiot. You are mixing metaphors again.”

  Teighlar laughed.

  “You need to talk to me, my friend, about secrets,” Torrullin said. “Please. Lowen’s very existence is in
danger.”

  “Where does your heart truly lie, Elixir? You have hurt every woman you have been involved with, or been hurt by them. Why do you do this to yourself? Why not enjoy them for a time and then move on?”

  “I was not made that way. Stop trying to divert me.”

  “Answer this, why do you want to save Lowen?”

  “Because she is in danger.”

  “Besides that, and forget the idealistic crap also.”

  Torrullin reached for the wine, drank, and then sat on in silence, staring over the dark continent.

  “I am giving nothing away unless you answer truthfully,” Teighlar muttered next to him. “We could sit here all night and the stone under our arses will get cold, and will certainly get real hard.”

  Torrullin snorted, took another pull and passed the bottle back. “I function because she is somewhere in this universe. Do I love her? Yes. Do I hate her? Yes. Do I want her? Yes. Do I want to get the hell away from her? Yes. Why? Because that is how she feels about me.”

  He gave a laugh. “We had two months together before I took on the Dome with full intent, and then she took her place at the table there. I sent her on assignments as I did the others, treated her no different, and that was fine, until the situation on Lax.

  “Gods, she was assaulted, beaten, nearly raped, imprisoned, tortured, and Elixir went in all talents to bear. Her assignments after were less dangerous. It caused friction for the Kaval, but it caused major upheaval between us. She separated herself from a personal relationship and forced me to upgrade her missions. Out of spite I gave her the worst.”

  “Dumb.”

  “Right. I have not spoken to her in ten years. All her assignments are relayed through Jonas.”

  “Even more dumb.”

  “I know.”

  “And where does Saska fit in?”

  “She doesn’t.”

  “Stupid idiot,” Teighlar sighed.

  “Lowen’s last assignment should not have brought her to Grinwallin. Why was she here?”

  Teighlar shrugged. “She asked to see the paintings, I was told.”

  “Paintings?”

  “She was quite the artist once, was she not? Perhaps it was curiosity.”

  “What fucking paintings?”

  Teighlar smiled, his teeth a flash of white in the dark. “A secret.”

  “She knew.”

  “No, she guessed and fooled two of my elders into thinking she knew of their existence as fact. I learned all this after your visit the other day, not from Lowen. She spoke to me of the weather and such nonsense and I did not see through her ruse. Stupid me.”

  “I want to see the paintings,” Torrullin snapped out.

  “I figured.”

  “Well?”

  “Not tonight. Daylight is better.”

  “It is dark in the mountain during daylight, too.”

  Teighlar sighed and rose with a groan, rubbing his behind. “You function because she is somewhere in this universe, you said. Are you implying she is no longer?”

  “She is beyond my tracking skills.”

  “Gods, to where? An alternative? Set the Syllvan on it.”

  Torrullin rose as well. “She is lost in Time, my friend. The Syllvan cannot help her.”

  “Holy Mother. How?”

  “Ah, that would be why I am digging under every stone.”

  “Surely you can retrieve her?”

  “I need to know the when. It is a blind search otherwise.”

  “How do you know she is lost to Time?”

  “The dream. Layers of rock.”

  “That is a bit tenuous.”

  Torrullin climbed upward. “The Syllvan confirmed the connection. There is no doubt.”

  “Gods, then you really need to see those paintings. I suspect they are almost as old as the Valleur.”

  Chapter 7

  To communicate over distance is not unique. Many do so, employing devices of various invention and size. To communicate in this manner employing only the mind, while not without precedent, requires specialised skills.

  ~ Steps of the Magical Condition

  Xen III

  TRISTAN, TEROUX AND Tianoman decided to commence the search for Caballa on Xen III by conferring with that world’s First Family, the Dalrish.

  The Dalrish had long been rulers. During the millennia of the domes they ruled, and still did after the domes were dismantled. A foul world had risen new again, and the Dalrish wrote a large portion of the history.

  They had connections to the Valleur, and in particular to Torrullin. Le Matt Dalrish was the pilot who steered a ship stolen from Ceta through the Forbidden Zone at Torrullin’s behest, and his sister, Catalina Dalrish, was the navigator on that fateful journey. Along for the ride as a stowaway was Lowen Dalrish, a child then. Catalina - or Cat - was Torrullin’s lover for a brief time, but died in the aftermath of the terrible destruction of Torrke on Valaris, having miscarried their child.

  Le Matt - or Matt - swore an oath of loyalty to Torrullin and then underwent the required ten years of sequestered training to take his place amid Valleur subjects. Upon his return he found Torrullin beyond his reach in another realm, his sister long buried and his cousin, Le Moss Mar Dalrish, the new Peacekeeper of a dome-less Xen III. Lowen had meanwhile grown up to become an accomplished seer.

  The Dalrish sorcerers were born then and were a force in the present, more than two thousand years later. Cat died, Matt and Moss passed on, but Lowen chose immortality - for Torrullin.

  Twenty-five years ago another Dalrish made connection in the form of a youthful Lucanus - or Lucan. He inherited Matt’s blood oath to Torrullin and proceeded to fulfil it, dying in the process far from home and family. The oath was negated and the Dalrish went on unencumbered, but the connections would never be severed.

  Friendship, trade and aid continued between Valaris and Xen III, and between Valleur and Dalrish.

  If they knew of Caballa they would not withhold it from three Valla heirs.

  IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON, a balmy spring day on the eastern seaboard.

  Shanghai Metrop glittered white in the sunshine and, on the rise in the centre of the massive, bustling city, the Peacekeeper Palace shone brightest white and silver, with mullioned windows and ornate doors, curiously dainty balconies and extensive, park-like grounds.

  Uniformed guards stood to attention before gigantic gates. The gates were not as massive as Grinwallin’s, but were close.

  “Hell,” Tianoman breathed as he looked up at the huge Palace.

  “Makes Valaris seem like a backwater,” Teroux muttered.

  Tristan spoke to the guards. “Would you inform Peacekeeper Le Maximillian that Tristan Skyler Valla and his two cousins request audience?”

  The guards’ eyes widened and one stepped forward. “My lords, I shall lead you within personally.” He bowed low.

  “Thank you,” Tristan murmured, and the three followed the man through the gates.

  The gravelled path was wide enough for four carriages to ride abreast and long enough to field an army. Of course, Xen had no carriages, those requiring teams of horses; they had the horseless variety - motorised transport, electrically driven. Xen also possessed no standing army, but had a roster of call-ups in place to facilitate basic training. In times of peace there was no army, but if war came there was a large and trained population to call from.

  Landscaped perfection greeted them. A lake to the left hosted swans, geese and ducks and a pavilion to the right frequently staged musical concerts. All Xenians were welcome to those public events, but securing a seat was hard work and hard competition.

  The ornate entrance to the Palace was open and guarded by four further guards. They did not move as their colleague led the three guests inside.

  Inside, the Palace reflected the outside. Everything was light and airy, the huge spaces friendly and inviting. An intimate sitting area of pale couches and leafy plants on the left perfectly balanced the huge audience
chamber to the right. The space was unlike others, in that it was akin to a garden, with tall palms and islands of white garden tables and chairs. A small potted plant flourished on each table, and the whole faced a raised dais on which an informal set of seats took position.

  An audience with the Peacekeeper of Xen was akin to attending a garden party.

  Tristan smiled. “That’s nice.”

  Tianoman and Teroux could only nod.

  “My lords, if you would make yourselves comfortable,” and the guard gestured to the more intimate area, “I shall inform the major-domo of your arrival.”

  “Thank you,” Tristan said and preceded his cousins into the sitting area. He crossed his legs, waiting with a serene expression. Tianoman and Teroux sat opposite him.

  They did not wait long. The major-domo, an older man with a pleasant face, came swiftly in. “My Lords Valla, Maximillian will see you in his private study.”

  He led them up a curved flight of stairs and preceded them along a wide corridor. There were paintings on the walls, beautiful landscapes.

  “These are marvellous,” Teroux said. “Do you know who did them?”

  The major-domo glanced over his shoulder. “They are Dalrish, done at one time or another.”

  “Talented family,” Tianoman murmured.

  “A few famous writers, too, I have heard,” Tristan said.

  The major-domo halted at a set of doors about midway down the corridor. He rapped once and then opened the doors to stand aside. “Please, my Lords.”

  They entered, thanking him, and the doors were closed on them. Muffled footsteps retreated down the corridor.

  The first feature of the chamber was the huge window opposite where a window should not be, given they were in the heart of the building. It was otherwise empty, other than the luxurious carpet underfoot. Intrigued, all three moved to the window.

  It overlooked a courtyard, an idyll of fountains, lawns, paths and bowers. Roses were the main flowers and stately oaks the main feature. They were one floor up and gazed upon created paradise.

  “Awesome,” Tianoman breathed.