Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 7

  When a team functions in tandem, it is an effective tool.

  ~ Book of Sages

  Valaris

  FUMA AND AMUNTI commenced the search for the source of the rumours in Galilan, capital city of Valaris.

  The reason for this was the Farmer’s Union conference between Valarian farmers and Beacon Farm’s representatives, among them Kris Westlake.

  They made an appointment with the Electan, the human leader of Valaris, and were shown in as they arrived.

  The governing of Valaris was organised from a grand old building near the river Galilan and was a statement in subdued and beautiful style. The Electan’s office was on the third floor and was simple and inviting in wood and glass, a soft green carpet underfoot. A cottage-style window overlooked the river below.

  The Electan was in middle years, mild-mannered, clever and decisive. He worked well with the council of Elders in ruling Valaris for both Valarian and Valleur. Soon he would rule with a new Vallorin, and it was hoped the status quo would not be significantly altered.

  His name was Isaiah Kronig.

  He rose as Fuma and Amunti were shown in, a quizzical expression on his face. A hand extended in welcome.

  “I do not believe I have had the pleasure before today. I am Isaiah Kronig, but please call me Isaiah.”

  His gaze rested a mite longer on Fuma.

  Dark-skinned men were not unknown on Valaris, but Fuma was the first this Electan had personally encountered.

  Fuma gripped the proffered hand. “I am Fuma of the Deorc and this is Amunti of the Drinic.” Amunti had no clear race name, but evolved on the homeworld of the ancient Drinic; Torrullin declared him as Drinic, it being simply a matter of timing.

  Isaiah’s eyes widened as he shook Amunti’s hand as well. “Kaval?”

  “Indeed,” Amunti responded. “We are on a mission for Elixir.”

  Isaiah paled. “Oh, dear Aaru, do not tell me trouble heads for Valaris again.”

  Fuma smiled. “No, Electan Isaiah. We merely seek your permission to enter the Farmer’s Conference. There is a Beaconite among the delegates we wish to speak with.”

  The Electan offered a puzzled smile. “Farmer’s Conference?”

  Amunti grinned. “An Electan cannot keep track of every meeting. Your farmers meet with Beacon Farm over genetically engineered grain. Vall Peninsula, we believe.”

  “Genetically engineered grain?” Isaiah repeated. “We do not agree with altered substances. Vall, you say?” He pursed his lips and left them to return to his seat behind his desk. “Please, do sit. How do you know this is happening?”

  “The Valla heirs informed their grandfather,” Fuma said, “and he, in turn, informed us.”

  “Ah,” Isaiah murmured, his face clearing. “And Elixir is concerned over genetically interfered grain?”

  Amunti laughed. “Now we know how you feel about it. Others say ‘engineered’, but you say ‘interfered’.”

  Isaiah laughed.

  “We are not here over grain concerns,” Fuma said. “The Beaconite repeated a horrible rumour to the Vallas and we seek to discover the source. However,” he added with a smile, “it will certainly please Elixir to hear Valaris is against genetic tampering.”

  “Yes, well, the farmers appear to think otherwise. I think I will accompany you to this conference to make my views known, quite succinctly.” Then he frowned. “Vall is Valleur territory; you did not need my permission.” He frowned harder. “Are those bloody farmers holding conferences there to escape notice, damn it?”

  “The Valleur would be against it,” Amunti murmured.

  “But Tianoman learns the ropes,” Fuma understood. “Someone pulled the wool for him.”

  “I know I am going north, then,” Isaiah muttered.

  Fuma rose. “We shall be happy to transport you there, Electan.”

  Isaiah stared up at him. “Now?”

  Amunti rose also. “Our mission is of import, and the source we seek may take time to uncover.”

  Isaiah placed his hands flat on his desk and shook his head. “Well, I certainly did not envision this for today.” He pushed himself up. “If you would grant me a moment?” He headed back to the door, there to speak to his young secretary. “Angel, I’ll be unavailable for the rest of the day. Hold my meetings, will you?”

  “Will do!” the young woman sang out.

  Angel? Amunti and Fuma looked at each other.

  “She’s my daughter,” Isaiah murmured. “My little Angel.”

  Fuma inclined his head. “Apologies, Electan.” Amunti simply grinned.

  “Shall we?” Isaiah muttered, and held his hand out. He knew contact enabled magical transport; he had two Valleur on his permanent staff for the very purpose.

  Fuma accepted the hand and took the Electan to the icy Vall Peninsula.

  Amunti followed in their wake.

  THEY MATERIALISED IN the square outside Tianoman’s residence.

  The square was deserted and it was bone-chilling cold.

  “Gods,” Isaiah muttered, not dressed for the temperature.

  He gave Fuma a skewed look. The Deorc was scantily dressed in knee-length pants, an open waistcoat and sandals on his feet and yet the cold appeared to bother him none.

  “I feel it,” Fuma grinned - he was a Mind Delver - “but cold cannot kill an immortal, so why let it bother me?”

  Amunti was swathed as if standing braced on the polar caps. He sent Fuma a look. “Speak for yourself.”

  An Elder had meanwhile seen Isaiah. “Electan?”

  “Ah, that is Sirlasin; he will know where this conference is.” Isaiah headed over, clutching his arms against the cold. “Greetings, my friend.”

  Sirlasin and Isaiah gripped arms Valleur-style.

  “Come inside,” Sirlasin shivered. “Gods, I could do with a stint on Luvanor to get some summer into my bones.” He led the way into the foyer. “Fuma, it has been a while.” The Elder and Deorc gripped arms.

  Fuma introduced Amunti.

  “What can I do for you?” Sirlasin enquired. “If you are hoping to see that young whippersnapper Tianoman - forget it. He, along with his cousins, absconded Valaris this morning.”

  “Why?” Fuma asked.

  “Only they know.”

  “Gods, Sirlasin, Elixir will exact retribution.” Amunti was horrified.

  “Don’t we know it, but they are on Xen III under Peacekeeper protection. Short of causing major scandal, we decided to let them have their way for now. Do you know what they did before they left, and please inform my Lord Torrullin about this - they subverted a sacred site to hide them sneaking off.”

  “That could only be Tianoman,” Fuma murmured.

  Sirlasin sighed. “I know. Torrullin must be told.”

  “He will be. The man has been running interference for Tianoman for years now.”

  Sirlasin paled. “What say you?”

  Fuma swore. He had said too much. “Leave it.”

  “No, no, Deorc. This is something we should know about.”

  “Why? It has not affected you, Tianoman or Valaris. Let it go.”

  Sirlasin dug in and Isaiah felt out of his depth. “The Elders will simply go to him, Fuma.”

  Fuma sighed and then glanced at Amunti, who nodded. “Tymall left certain inheritances for his son.”

  “Nothing came of them,” the Elder frowned.

  “Oh, they came, and Elixir negated. He does so with regularity.”

  “What? Where?”

  “Largely Grinwallin, some on Luvanor, and we have been in here to Valaris incognito from time to time. He hopes to see Tianoman presented to the Throne unencumbered. That is a fortunate young man; he is much loved.”

  “Gods,” Sirlasin said.

  “It is not my place to discuss this. Sirlasin, the three of us need to present ourselves at the Farmer’s Union Conference. Can you help?”

  The Elder stared at the wall as thoughts raced in his head over Tymall’s ploys and then he sho
ok himself as Fuma’s words penetrated. “What bloody farm thing?”

  Isaiah burst out laughing. “Now I do not feel too bad.”

  Amunti grinned.

  “Someone definitely pulled a few strings,” Fuma muttered. “It is not ours to sort, however. You and Isaiah can interfere in that mess. Amunti and I need to speak to Kris Westlake.”

  “The Beaconite? Oh, that conference. You two are here about the rumours, right?”

  Fuma nodded.

  Sirlasin heaved a sigh. “Good. Wait - how do you know?”

  “Elixir called a meeting.”

  “That serious, then.” Sirlasin faced Isaiah. “Genetic grain isn’t for Valaris, not to grow and not to import.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Excellent. I already put a word in earlier, and you are more than welcome to add your voice. Then we shall uncover who gave permission to whom to hold a conference of this nature.”

  Isaiah nodded. “Never trust a Beaconite Marcus Campian used to say.”

  “And the man was on the money,” Sirlasin said. “The meeting is in the Mirror Hall. Go and interfere all you want.”

  The three dematerialised after expressing appreciation.

  Sirlasin shouted for an Elder enclave.

  FROM THE OUTSIDE, Mirror Hall was a sprawling ranch-style building.

  Positioned midway between No Name Lake and the Maze sacred site, it hosted many tourists during the summer season. There were restaurants, coffee shops, curio stalls, restrooms, a chapel, even a medical facility, and there was a conference centre contained within the sprawling affair.

  It was called Mirror Hall, for it had one other curious feature - an internal maze constructed of mirrors that tricked visitors during the season to much hilarity. The mirror maze was not sacred anything, merely a clever and intricate fun park.

  The real Maze, of course, was far harder to complete and was once life threatening to challengers. Today it retained sacred status, without the danger. Hosts visited it every year as well.

  Isaiah marched towards the conference centre, a man on a mission. Fuma and Amunti followed in his wake. He pushed the swing doors wide and interrupted without preamble.

  “My name is Isaiah Kronig and I am here to tell you, never will genetically engineered foodstuffs be permitted on Valaris. This you know already, thus I suggest most sincerely you curtail your discussions to other viable subjects.”

  As he talked he walked up the central aisle and when he reached the podium, he stepped behind it, gesturing the man there away. He faced silent, goggle-eyed delegates.

  “Did anyone not hear me? I am willing to repeat every word.”

  A man rose in the body of the gathering. “Electan, there are clear advantages …”

  “What is your name?”

  “Benny Shampa, sir.”

  “Mr Shampa, I say again, it is not to be. If this is the way you would like to farm, I suggest you seek dispensation from Beacon and go farm there. Understood?”

  The man nodded.

  “Mr Shampa, now I have you in my sights, would you be so kind as to point out the one who saw fit to organise this event?”

  Benny pointed to the man beside Isaiah.

  “Electan, I am Josepp Longwater,” he said.

  “Mr Longwater, please contain this meeting to the natural order of things, and I will see you in my office at nine tomorrow.”

  Mr Longwater merely nodded.

  “Which member from Beacon aided Mr Longwater in this venture?” Isaiah asked.

  “That would be me.” The Beaconite sighed and rose. “Jason Mullar.”

  “Thank you, Mr Mullar. If you would be so kind as to join Mr Longwater in my office tomorrow? Understand a representative of the Valleur council will be with us, as well as your ambassador, sir.”

  Jason Mullar, like to Josepp Longwater, nodded.

  Isaiah smiled. “With that out of the way, there is one further point of business. Mr Kris Westlake, where are you?”

  The Beaconite rose.

  “Mr Westlake, those two gentlemen would like to have a word, if you please.”

  “I haven’t done anything!” Westlake blurted.

  “Relax, sir. It is a mere problem they have and you may be able to assist them. You will not in any way be detained or disadvantaged, I promise you.”

  Kris Westlake stared over his shoulder. One swathed man, one half-naked, both exceedingly strange. Well, a night in the Valla Palace and now a mysterious meeting; he could spin tales back home.

  “I’ll speak with them, Mr Kronig.”

  “Thank you. Now, please continue.”

  Isaiah left the podium and wandered back down the aisle as if he had not a care in the world. He winked at Fuma and Amunti as he passed into the outer space.

  WHILE AMUNTI AND Fuma awaited Westlake, who now dragged his feet, Fuma murmured, “How did he know we wanted Westlake?”

  “I told him while you were staring at the Maze yonder.”

  “He was most effective, wasn’t he?”

  Amunti grinned. “I could think of a few worlds that could use the likes of Isaiah Kronig.”

  Kris Westlake halted before them. The gathering was silent and all eyes were trained on them.

  “Mr Westlake, we are no threat to you,” Fuma said. “We heard you recently spoke to the Vallas and something you said has proven upsetting. We would like to hear it from you, and that is all.”

  Relief flooded into the Beaconite. “No problem. Whatever I know.”

  “Excellent. Shall we find something to drink while we talk?” Fuma offered.

  “Great.”

  All three joined Isaiah and, as the swing doors swung shut, the noise of many voices erupted inside.

  Amunti laughed. “The same worlds over!”

  Isaiah approached. “I need to return to Galilan to do homework on the conference.”

  “I shall call to Sirlasin to return you to your office. Isaiah Kronig, thank you for your help, and well done. You are good for Valaris.”

  Isaiah gave the sweetest smile.

  Fuma stilled a moment and then a harassed looking Sirlasin was there. “All well?” he asked.

  “Put my two dinars in, yes, but now I need a lift home, so to speak,” the Electan murmured.

  Sirlasin nodded, flicked a glance at Westlake, and took Isaiah away.

  “Come, Mr Westlake, the coffee shop is that way,” Amunti prompted.

  “Please, call me Kris …”

  Lintusillem

  JONAS HANDED THE drawing over.

  “He says Luvanor, Sanctuary or Valaris.”

  Minos stared at the layers. “Not Valaris. Wrong layers. Sanctuary, maybe, but I’d wager Luvanor. You say he drew this? It’s damned good.”

  “There is drawing and then there is drawing,” Jonas said. “And now I know the difference.”

  Minos stared at him. “Really?”

  “Hell, yes. How long before we have answers?”

  Minos shrugged. “Six months.”

  Jonas barked a laugh. “You have one week. What can I do to help?”

  His brother looked down on the drawing and then at his books.

  “Start by brewing lots of tea, brother, and I may need you to get samples …”

  Chapter 9

  Farspeaker skills cannot be taught. An adept is born with the talent of hearing ‘voices’ and then trained to listen specifically.

  ~ Steps of the Magical Condition

  Xen III

  IT WAS AKIN TO entering a different world.

  The Peacekeeper Palace was white and silver light, but the farspeaker enclave was a leap back in time. Set in the hills outside Shanghai, it was a low, single storey building. A series of walls surrounded the entire complex. It was much like a low fort from bygone days, the image reinforced by the flying of various pennants.

  Inside light was had from many fires. With at least one roaring in every chamber, the whole was somewhat smoky. Ceilings were low and wood-beamed and, despite t
he flames, it was cold. The floors were flagged, with multi-coloured rugs scattered about. All furniture was of wood, large and functional.

  The major-domo took them out to the hills in an electric vehicle, which had Teroux in rapture - and planning to incorporate it into his stage production - and handed them over to a man with the peculiar name of Daisy.

  After Albert left - it felt more like abandonment - Daisy looked the three Vallas over with insolence.

  Tianoman bristled, and Tristan laid a hand on his cousin’s shoulder, smiling at the man confronting them.

  “We would appreciate it if you could take us to the leader of this facility.”

  The man snorted. “We don’t have a leader.”

  Tristan reminded himself to be patient. “May I then enquire as to whom we should speak to regarding finding someone?”

  “We are not in the business of finding someone.”

  Tianoman bristled again and this time he was not stopped. “Now listen here, flower man, we have leave from your Peacekeeper to use the chain. Either you get your butt and mouth moving or Le Maximillian will hear of it.”

  Daisy flicked another insolent glance. “The Peacekeeper has no authority here.”

  Teroux smacked palms together and stepped forward. “I hope, my good man, you are at least slightly in awe of Elixir?”

  The man’s whole being stilled. “Elixir is revered among all farspeakers.”

  Teroux snapped his fingers. “And he is my grandfather.”

  “Ours, idiot,” Tianoman murmured.

  Tristan held a hand aloft. “We are farspeakers also, Daisy.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Tristan threw his hands in the air. “No, damn it. I am merely saying we are aware of the procedures regarding communication over distance. We would not unduly upset your current links and we do not seek to usurp anything. Our grandfather is a farspeaker, as we are, and all four of us require your help. We know well we cannot simply piggy-back an existing loop.”

  Daisy stared from one to the other. “Follow me.”

  He turned on his heel to stalk through smoky chamber after smoky chamber. The three followed. He finally came to a halt in a circular room. A fireplace burned smokeless in a central pit - that meant it was a magical creation - and six men and two women sat around it, each on a cushion lotus-style. They were of varying age and dress, and all had eyes closed. There was nothing else in the chamber, other than an exit opposite.