Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 6

A laugh sounded behind them and a smiling man entering from the side. Behind him was the study, a chamber filled with books, desk, fireplace and armchairs.

  “I admit to gauging people by their reaction to the window and then the courtyard below. You three passed muster immediately.” He laughed again and bowed. “I am Le Maximillian Dalrish, Peacekeeper of Xen III. Welcome.”

  “I am Tristan Skyler Valla, this is my cousin Teroux and this is Tianoman. Thank you for your kind reception of uninvited guests.”

  “The Vallas will always be welcome here, Tristan. You are Samuel’s son, am I right?”

  Le Maximillian was about fifty and possessed the dark Dalrish hair, undimmed by grey, and the bluest eyes any had yet seen in a man’s face. He was dressed casually in a woven robe, comfortable slippers on his feet.

  “Samuel is my father, yes.”

  “And your father was Tannil, the Vallorin,” Le Maximillian said to Teroux.

  “Correct,” Teroux murmured.

  “And you are Tymall’s boy.”

  Tianoman gave a mocking bow. “Unfortunately.”

  Le Maximillian shook his head. “Do not put yourself down, Tianoman. Your father was an incredible man, and Torrullin, bless him, loved him well.”

  Tianoman blinked.

  “Ah, we know who and what Tymall was, but you should know he was not all said about him.” The Peacekeeper’s eyes narrowed. “Forgive my impertinence, but you should speak to your grandfather about your father, and not rely on tales alone.”

  Tianoman swallowed and bowed again.

  “So much for that. Please, enter my private domain. Here I hide from the trials of family.”

  Maximillian stood aside and the three entered the warm, inviting chamber. He then indicated the armchairs grouped around the fireplace and offered drinks. They declined and he sat among them.

  “What is it I can do for you?”

  “Le Maxi…” Tristan began.

  “Max, please.”

  “Max. We’re trying to find someone and thought the Dalrish may have information.”

  “Who?”

  “Caballa of the Valleur. She is a seer …”

  “We know Caballa well,” Max smiled. “A great lady. Why do you seek her?”

  Teroux answered. “We believe she could aid Torrullin in some new puzzle he is involved in.”

  “Is he aware of your quest?”

  “No,” Tristan stated.

  Max glanced among the three. “Are the Elders aware of this search?”

  Tianoman rubbed his chin. “No.”

  “Ah. Three grandsons try to help a grandfather, is that it?”

  “That’s about right,” Tristan sighed.

  Max stared into the fire. “As a grandfather myself, I must tell you I think going off without telling anyone is foolhardy, and as Peacekeeper, I must say it is particularly dangerous for you three. There are forces out there that would like nothing better than to hold Torrullin hostage to ransom using the Valla heirs. But as a family man I can do no other than to extend what aid I have.”

  “Thank you,” Tristan murmured.

  Max raised a hand. “You misunderstand. I cannot allow you to bounce around the universe without protection and I will not keep your quest to myself.”

  “I knew this was a bad idea,” Tianoman said.

  “Quiet, Tian,” Teroux muttered.

  Tristan was calm. “We cannot go back to Valaris. We need to find Caballa first.”

  “And I know how stubborn young men are, yes. I shall inform the Elders of your whereabouts, while extending you and them Dalrish protection. You may search for Caballa all you want, but you do it from here.”

  “Max, please …”

  “You three have overlooked something vital,” Max interrupted. “More than one thing actually. First, if I allow you the freedom you obviously grabbed on the sly, I would spark a confrontation with Torrullin. Bad for Xen, worse for me. Second, Caballa is a farspeaker. You do not need to run after her; all you need are other farspeakers. Hmm?”

  He sat back with a satisfied air as the three gaped at him.

  Tianoman snorted. “Tris, we are farspeakers. We could’ve done this from Valaris.”

  Max lifted a brow. “Sounds as if you do not need me.”

  Tristan relaxed in his seat. “It would depend on how far away Caballa is and whether she chooses to answer a summons. We could reach out, true, but how far will that go? Is she within calling distance?”

  “You require a chain,” Max murmured. “One known, one already in place.”

  Tristan smiled at the man. “We do need you.”

  “After Lucan was killed - you know that tale? After, the Dalrish instituted farspeaker training. We dispatched them to suitable positions and in that had the aid of the Kaval. Yes, Tristan, we have known links and it stretches far afield.”

  “Do they answer to the Kaval?” Teroux asked. “Caballa may not return a Kaval summons.”

  “They answer to the Dalrish,” Max replied. He studied the three men. “Feel free to employ the chain from the farspeaker enclave. If Caballa is willing to reply, they will find her, but I do insist your Elders are made aware of your whereabouts.”

  “Agreed,” Tristan murmured. “You two?”

  “No problem, but if the Elders get stroppy, well … Tris, I hate failing, you know that,” Teroux muttered.

  “Relax, the Elders will be fine. Tian?”

  “Agreed.”

  Maximillian smiled, and rose. “I bid you welcome to Xen and hope you enjoy your stay. No thanks required. Now, before I send for a guide to accompany you to the enclave, may I ask how Torrullin is? You say he is engaged in some new puzzle?”

  Tianoman shrugged. “We don’t know what exactly, but it’s got him rattled. Otherwise he is as he always is.”

  “You have seen him recently?”

  “Yesterday on Sanctuary,” Teroux said, rising last from his seat.

  “And Lowen? Did you happen to see her?”

  Tristan glanced at the others. “She wasn’t there.”

  Maximillian sucked at his teeth. “Xen extends her hospitality; I expect the truth in return.”

  “Lowen hasn’t been with Torrullin for ten years,” Tristan said. “I am sorry.”

  Max nodded. “As we suspected.” He gave a wry smile. “That was a match made in hell - it could not last.” He waved a hand. “Ignore me.” He walked to his desk and pushed something there. A moment later the major-domo entered. “Albert, please show our guests to the farspeaker enclave and see to their every need. My Lords Valla, I hope your stay is comfortable and fruitful, and we shall talk again.”

  “We thank you,” Tristan murmured. The three bowed and retreated from the study.

  “Albert,” Maximillian called out, “upon your return, round up my recalcitrant daughter, will you? There is the little matter of a crashed vehicle to discuss.”

  “Yes, sir.” Albert pulled a face and preceded the Vallas into the corridor. As he walked he muttered, “Why me? She won’t listen to me.”

  Lintusillem

  JONAS RETURNED TO his homeworld to commence the search for geological data.

  Lintusillem was a world of rocks, mountains, outcrops, boulders, and hidden, exposed and delved strata. Geologists were more common than cooks, and there were many cooks. People who lived amid rocks loved to eat, or so the saying went. The more exotic, the better.

  Jonas was not a geologist; he was an immortal and once sat with a host of like immortals in ruling their world. That changed when others of his kind began to die in mysterious ways, singly, in pairs, and later in great numbers. He was now the last, answered the summons to join Elixir’s Kaval, and the rule of Lintusillem passed to others - mortals - chosen by a squabbling electorate.

  The world here had certainly changed.

  Although not a geologist, he knew enough to understand what Elixir sought and therefore knew whom to ask, and headed directly to him. His brother. By virtue of the strangeness
of fate, their parents birthed two boys, one mortal, the other immortal, and the latter concept was an enigma. How was it possible for normal people to give life to eternity of living without a Ritual to make it so? Declan, the Siric, himself born immortal, but of immortal parentage, questioned Jonas to exhaustion on the intricacies, and he knew even less of that than he did of geology, or cooking.

  He entered his brother’s house - stone, what else? - and called out, “Minos!”

  There was scuffling beyond the curtained alcove dividing the living area from the workshop. “Jonas? That you?”

  Jonas grinned and pushed the curtain aside. “In the flesh.” Beyond was a table filled with rocks and tools and all around were bins filled with more rocks. “Working, I see.”

  “What else is there?”

  They hugged and looked each other over. There was a time when they looked alike, but now Minos was markedly older. Still, the same curly brown hair was there, rounded green eyes and freckles on reddened skin. Minos just had more lines and was paunchy. And he had taken to wearing spectacles.

  “Glasses, brother?” Jonas teased.

  “Too many hours peering into rocks, I’m afraid. Besides, they lend me a distinguished look,” Minos laughed.

  Jonas snorted and wandered around the table. The variety of rock samples boggled. “All from Lintusillem?”

  “Actually, no. Seems, due to your fame, Lintusillem’s field of expertise has become somewhat known and rocks now pour in from all over.”

  “Fame? Please.”

  “Yeah, bro, big time. But, relax; it’s brushed off on me. I have more work than I’ve had in years and I’m making quite a bit extra now.” Minos laughed. “But I’m so busy I don’t get to spend it!”

  “Are you fine with it?”

  Minos studied his brother. “I am. The question is - are you okay with it?”

  “It has been a contrary ride, many ups, many downs, and immortals paid a high price to the Kaval - kind of bitter-sweet, you know?” Jonas shrugged. “I cannot come back and I do not want to.”

  It was the first time they had seen each other in twenty-five years and they could still converse as if no time had passed. Brothers in every way.

  “What of Elixir?” Minos queried. “We hear tales.”

  “What of him? He is Elixir.”

  “But as a man? How is he to work with?”

  Jonas gave a smile. “It is more a case of work for. We have autonomy, of course, and he is largely absent, and yet none of us quite get used to working without being aware of his presence. I saw him lose it once on Lax - one of the Kaval was hurt bad - and know I would not like to cross him, ever. He is a good man, respected and revered, but there are depths there, real way deep depths.”

  “Loved?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “That’s good, then. Now, Jonas, there’s a purpose to this visit, isn’t there?”

  “Yes. Rocks.”

  Minos burst out laughing. “You came to the right place!”

  Jonas joined in the mirth. “And I get to kill two birds with one stone!”

  Minos slapped the table in appreciation.

  Then Jonas was serious. “I wanted to see you. I have wanted to see you for a long time.”

  Minos stilled. “I know your heart, my brother. I’ve been thinking of you also.”

  Jonas nodded. “I know. I think Elixir gave this assignment to me knowing I could come to you for information. A contrary man, but aware of family. Ah, well.” He self-consciously picked a random sample up. “Rock strata, that is what I’m after.”

  Minos said, “I missed you, too.”

  Jonas looked up and smiled.

  Minos drew breath and let it out. “What exactly about strata?”

  The sample returned to its place and Jonas, Kaval, was all business. “Elixir found himself in the rock and the rock was layered definitively. We seek to know how much time it takes to form those layers and …”

  “What type of layers?”

  “What do you mean, what type?”

  “Jeez, Jonas, I need detail. Colours, thickness, at the very least, and how many layers. Why nail it down like this?”

  “Time. We need to know how far back the place was.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Neither do I, honestly, but the images were like a map, only not a map of place, but of time. We are trying to backtrack to the time those layers were laid down.”

  Minos stared at him. “Like time travel?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Scary shit.”

  Jonas grinned. “Big time!”

  “Okay, bro, but you need to get me detail. First I need the world where this layering took place - each world has done different things over time, get it? Then I need at least a representation of the layers, a drawing of thickness, colours, and I need to know which layer is the marker …”

  “Marker?”

  “Well, the bottom layer could be x years old, the top around y. Between lies millions of years. If you guys try to time travel or seek a specific period, which layers tells what? You say images, right? So, which layer stood out more than others? That’s the marker … if it works that way in the stuff you do.”

  “I will have to ask him.”

  “And, Jonas, this isn’t an exact science. I cannot pin it down to a specific year. All I can give you is a period and that can be a thousand years or many millions. Tell him that when you ask.”

  “Crap.”

  Minos grinned. “Thank the gods I’m my own boss.”

  “Yes, fine, don’t get too clever. I will have to go back to the Dome for this.”

  “Do that. In the meanwhile I’ll commence generic research. Go, go, I need to get to work.”

  Jonas stood a while longer, watching with affection as Minos started pulling massive books from a recessed cupboard somewhere in the dark behind the bins.

  “I will be back soon.”

  Minos flicked a grin. “I know. Go.”

  The Dome

  BELUN WORKED FURIOUSLY.

  In humanoid guise, which he could maintain indefinitely, he paced and bent before the marble slab. Papers lay scattered before him, each with a drawing and major calculus. He had never been asked to take the Dome through atmosphere and the math behind the parameters was incredible. He could not afford the tiniest margin of error.

  When Jonas chimed in he wanted to murder him. “Man, you interrupted me!”

  Jonas came to a standstill and saw what was going on. “I need to find Elixir.”

  “He said one week, idiot.”

  “No, I need detail from him now or I give him zero in a week.”

  Belun slapped his pencil down and stretched long. Then, “He’s in Grinwallin.”

  Jonas nodded. “Is it all right for me to go there?”

  “I don’t see why not. Go; head for the portico.”

  Jonas nodded and left.

  Belun returned to his figures.

  Grinwallin

  NIGHT GREETED JONAS in Grinwallin.

  The Senlu guards bristled at the sight of a stranger and spears levelled. Fortunately Torrullin and Teighlar were at that moment ascending the final tier to the portico.

  “Jonas?” Torrullin called out.

  “I need to speak to you, my Lord.”

  Teighlar made a gesture and the guards retreated. “Kaval?”

  “Yes. Give me a moment.”

  Teighlar shrugged and moved on past the man. Jonas, to his credit, bowed low to the Emperor; Teighlar smiled, nodded and went on.

  “What is it?” Torrullin came to a halt.

  “My Lord, I have conferred with my brother …”

  Torrullin smiled.

  Jonas dipped his head. “Thank you.”

  “What does your brother need?”

  “The world where you encountered the rock, and a drawing of the layers. He said something about thickness and colour. And, he told me he cannot give an exact year, only the period … oh,
and he requires a marker layer.”

  Torrullin raised his brows.

  “I am sorry, my Lord, that is what he said.”

  “I understand his concerns.”

  Jonas subsided, and waited.

  Torrullin rubbed at his temples. “Come with me.”

  He led the way into the Great Hall and headed to the library arch left.

  TEIGHLAR WATCHED THEM go and asked that a light meal be prepared for two - the missing dinner - which they could take with them into the mountain.

  TORRULLIN FOUND PAPER, a pencil, and sat at a scribe’s table. Usually the scribes used quill and ink, but he had no time for niceties. He placed the paper before him and sat poised with the pencil.

  Eyes closed and, while Jonas watched in amazement, the pencil dipped down to the paper and commenced a drawing induced without the aid of physical sight.

  Three minutes later the pencil lifted of its own accord. Torrullin opened his eyes and looked at the representation. He studied it carefully, before nodding.

  “Colour,” he muttered.

  Frowning, he moved his finger along layer after layer, then paused. His eyes closed again and this time, Jonas knew, he attempted to find the marker. Long, tense moments ticked by and then those eyes opened. He touched twice and rose, paper in hand.

  Passing it over, he said, “Two markers. Either there is a divergence I am unaware of at this point or I did not note the real marker too well. Apologise to your brother, for I ask twice as much of him now. As to the world? Luvanor, Sanctuary or Valaris.” A grim smile. “Again, apologies. If I uncover something to point more specifically, I shall let you have it.”

  “Of course, my Lord.”

  Torrullin nodded and left.

  Jonas looked at the drawing in his hands. It was like looking at the rock itself. Every shadow was there, every curl and dip in the layering, every shade and nuance of colour, and two layers instantly caught the eye. One below the other. He drew breath, rolled the paper and left Grinwallin.

  He understood now how real and intricate the task was - not only for him, but for every member of the team.

  Chapter 8