Tristan glanced enquiringly at Daisy, who seemed uncertain, so he tapped the man on the arm and gestured back into the previous chamber. Daisy nodded and all four trooped out.
“They are out there; we cannot interrupt,” Tristan murmured. “How does it work here?”
Daisy glared down. “I’m not a farspeaker.”
Tianoman smirked, but said nothing.
Tristan nodded. “Seems to me you are the de facto leader, then, for you are free to come and go, right? I know, no leaders, but you, my man, are vital to this enclave, do you not see that?”
Daisy shrugged, and unbent a little. “I guess.”
“Decidedly,” Tristan smiled.
Daisy drew breath and let it out. “You have two choices before you. Either exercise patience and wait for one to exit trance or ask another to enter the circle.” He inclined his head. “Of course, as a farspeaker, you could yourself enter the circle.”
Tristan shook his head. “We are not privy to the chain and would waste time trying to establish a link.”
“This person you want to find, is he or she a farspeaker?”
“Yes - a she.”
Daisy raised his thin, crooked eyebrows. “Send a direct call.”
Tristan offered a wry smile. “She probably would not acknowledge it, and we do not know where to send to. Directions are endless in uncertainty.”
Daisy gave a sour smile. “A lover?”
Give me patience. “A Valleur seer.”
Daisy’s entire face underwent transformation. A huge smile beamed over his cheeks. “You’re looking for Caballa?”
Excitement among the three Vallas. Teroux said, “Gods, man, you know her?”
Daisy nodded eagerly. “She is a familiar figure, comes and goes, and has for more than two thousand years. She helped our farspeakers to their level of proficiency.” He was then diffident. “She told me there are other talents, and I need not feel less.”
“And she is right,” Tristan said. “When did you last see her?”
Daisy’s eyes went heavenward as he took his mind back. Fingers did some air counting, and he looked back at Tristan. “Twelve days ago? Maybe eleven.”
The Vallas grinned at each other and then, from Tristan, “Do you know where she went?”
The man shook his head.
“Damn,” Tianoman bit out.
“I do know where she lives,” Daisy offered.
All three gaped at him.
Daisy frowned. “There’s no name for the world, but, well, she said it’s the world of the Valleur First Father. You should know where that is, right?”
“Nemisin’s world,” Teroux gasped out.
“It’s sterile!” Tianoman exclaimed.
Daisy’s eyes flicked from one to the other, again with uncertainty, but he said nothing further.
“Nemisin’s world was renewed,” Tristan murmured, “by Lily, the Lady of Life, and Saska. It took five years to coax a shoot of green and then another five for natural precipitation … and then a further ten years of constant vigil before they could call the renewal a lasting success.”
“How do you know?” Teroux questioned.
“I listen with my ears,” Tristan laughed. “Try it sometime; the Elders have interesting snippets from time to time.”
“Caballa would be drawn to it,” Tianoman murmured. “Hell, I want to see it.”
“Apparently Saska lives there also,” Tristan said.
“Saska was less than honest when she told your father she didn’t know where Caballa was,” Tianoman said.
“Caballa no doubt wants it that way,” Teroux said. “Tris, Torrullin probably knows where to find her … and his wife.”
“It occurred to me as well.”
Daisy shared his gaze between the three. “Do you require a farspeaker?”
There was a kind of pondering silence in which Teroux and Tianoman looked to Tristan to figure it out.
He said, “Torrullin knows where Caballa is, but they had some kind of falling-out that prevents him seeking her out in person - right?” Teroux nodded at him. “Caballa knows exactly where Torrullin is, but may never be ready to fix it between them - hmm?” This time Tianoman gave affirmation. “They avoid each other by staying away. It isn’t enough to tell Torrullin where to find her, is it?”
Tristan barged on without awaiting reaction. “I still feel we need to find her, although I’m not sure why. We could go to Nemisin’s world, talk to her there or wait until she puts in an appearance if she isn’t there now, but we’d have the entire Valleur nation at our heels to protect us. Or we could send a call to Nemisin’s world and hope she’s home or try until she is, but will she acknowledge us? We are linked to Torrullin. We could speak of danger, but I think she knows more than we do as to what danger is where and to who, so that won’t work.” Tristan paused. “Daisy, I believe we need the services of one your farspeakers.”
Teroux grinned. Tianoman was silent and expressionless.
Daisy nodded. “Follow me.”
He led them back into the circular chamber, tiptoed them around to the opposite exit and thereafter increased the pace. A number of rooms later, he halted to knock on one of the first side doors they had encountered throughout the warren.
“The sleeping quarters,” he explained. He knocked again and entered. “Wait here,” he bid, and closed the door before they could see what lay beyond.
They waited.
“Empty for such a huge place,” Tianoman remarked as the minutes dragged by.
“Maybe it was used for something else before,” Teroux remarked. “Who would have thought we’d find ourselves here today?”
“Right,” Tianoman muttered.
Caballa, Tristan thought … if she has been looking.
Sanctuary
IGNATIUS OF THE Kaval was a historian, thus the task of deciphering Sanctuary’s past eminently suited him.
He had the nose, the academics and a real and consuming passion for bygone times. He became an immortal eight hundred and some odd years ago, using an arcane Ritual that nearly cost him his life. In fact, it nearly cost twelve their lives, and one, remember his name, had not the strength to survive the rigorous altering.
Of those twelve he was now the last. His homeworld was Phenu and he could not return there and did not want to, for the memories were too painful. He was Kaval and no more. Ignatius was of a kind that did not reverse a decision. Choices and alternatives were, therefore, carefully weighed before decisions were reached, and emotions examined with even greater care. An emotional decision often led to trouble.
He stood on the far side of the spaceport’s concourse, his mind clear and unencumbered as he weighed his immediate options.
A man of above average height, he was unremarkable in other ways. Mousy hair on the long side, faded hazel eyes, skin neither pale nor dark, and dressed in generic pants and shirt. Boots on his feet, a warm overcoat against winter’s chill.
His talents lay in this mind, for Ignatius was a genius.
He blinked against the glare of a weak sun as he stared east. Lake Altar glinted in the distance and he could discern the span of the great bridge to Mariner Island.
The Kaval, twenty-five years back, were tasked with finding and erecting a sanctuary. A place where the dispossessed, the sick, the sick at heart, the desperate, the lonely and the suicidal could come to find rest, peace and a new home. Fugitives from justice came too and were well vetted before permitted entry, as were asylum seekers.
Chaim told of this world, a world average in size, population and wealth, with one massive advantage for the Kaval. It possessed large unchartered territories. Elixir at first demurred, saying territory was not enough, and then Chaim explained other advantages.
A world of average wealth gradually succumbed to lack of resource; growth had stagnated and people progressively sank back into prehistoric mire, still centuries away, but retrogression had begun. They could well use the offworld traffic resulting from a s
anctuary; new talent, new genetic material, imported resources, tourism, and mechanical and technological advances, among others. They could not only use them, but welcomed it. A world and its people desperately needed and desired change.
And they had large unchartered territories.
Elixir was negotiator and secured Lake Altar, Lake Averis and the surrounds, which included part of the coast of Axiom Sea, flatland for the spaceport, and Mariner Island. In return the indigenous people received employment, training, implements, new farming techniques and more viable and sustaining crops, and coin - coin in the form of landing fees, tourism and a growing import-export trade.
The world was called Orb, akin to saying Planet, Circle, Roundland, and when Torrullin suggested renaming it Sanctuary, the suggestion was accepted without qualm.
Chaim’s proposal proved worthy. Now, to Ignatius, it proved formidable challenge.
Orb, now Sanctuary, had little in the way of written record, and what they did have went back no further than ten thousand years. It was as if a new civilisation sprung up out of nothing, knowing certain survival techniques that pulled them from a grunting, fireless existence far quicker than would be expected in a short time. It was a civilisation that sprang from the ashes of an apocalyptic disaster, but there was no record of the event, and no memories or tales were passed down of a previous time.
Ignatius stepped off the concourse and headed for the bridge. How to delve far back successfully, for history to fit theory, prophesy … and threat?
A challenge indeed and one he relished, but a week was not near enough time.
Xen III
DAISY RETURNED EVENTUALLY, and presented to the three Vallas a young woman by the name of Rose.
Tianoman was instantly smitten and gawped like a schoolboy.
Rose was gorgeous. She was tall and lithe, with huge blue eyes and hair the colour of straw bleached in the sun, her cheeks rosy - partly responsible for her name, no doubt - and a smattering of freckles adorned a pert nose. She dimpled at them.
Teroux cleared his throat and took her hand, bending over it. “Rose, my name is Teroux.”
She laughed. “You are like sunshine, Teroux, gold in all ways.”
Teroux cleared his throat again. “This is Tian.”
Tianoman shook her hand gauchely.
“Tian, you are like summer,” Rose smiled.
He blushed and looked away.
Tristan lifted his brows at Daisy, who shrugged as if to say ‘she has this effect on everyone’, and formally extended his hand. “Rose, we are pleased to meet you and pray you will help us. Forgive my cousins for being obvious.”
She took his hand and held on. Rose, clearly, was well aware of her power. “And you are?”
Tristan, older, wiser, was not fooled. “I am Tristan, and we have work to do.”
She watched him with a thoughtful expression. “At the enclave we place our trust in natural, beautiful things, for we require calm to function. This is why I am Rose and he is Daisy. All are named for flowers, understand? Visitors are placed into categories to aid the flowering of a talent, see? Therefore he is like sunshine and he is like summer, but you? Tristan, is it? Tristan, where do you fit in?”
He found he was taken aback. Rose was not merely a pretty face. “Does it matter?” He withdrew his hand from hers.
“It could. Daisy says you need help to contact Caballa and if I am to deal with your cousins, I shall have summer and sunshine supporting me. If, however, I am to deal with you … what do I have?”
“Spring?”
“You are not spring. You are not a season. What does your name mean?”
Sensitive issue. Reluctantly he replied, “Holy One.”
A smile spread across her face, one that entirely lost him his breath. “Ah, of the spirit and spiritual. Between Aaru and earth. You will be the air in which all things flourish. Yes.”
Gods. She had him, just like that. Tristan glanced at his cousins and noted the same mesmerised state. He found his breath. “Will you help us?”
“Of course. Summer, sunshine and air for the rose to open its petals.”
Tianoman groaned.
Daisy gave an evil chuckle, knowing the reason behind it.
Teroux smacked a paralysed Tristan on the arm. “Tris, let’s get to it, for Aaru’s sake.”
Tristan shook himself. Rose spelled trouble. “Indeed. Rose?”
She dimpled again. “Come with me. I think we would break the concentration of the circle if we attempt to join with them. If you are willing, we can reach out to Caballa in a more private place?”
Without awaiting an answer, she veered away from where they would find the circle of farspeakers. Teroux shrugged and set off after her, gripping Tianoman as he passed by, and Tristan turned to Daisy.
“Watch yourselves,” Daisy murmured. “Rose is a true professional, trust that, but she plays games with men.”
Tristan stared at him. “Why did you then bring her to us?”
“Because she’s the best. My Lord,” and it was the first time Daisy deigned to use a title, “she is no whore, our Rose. She’s an attractive but innocent child who, unluckily, saw the power she had over men at a too early age. Watch yourselves, but watch her also, for it’s a game to her, a child playing with living dolls. I’m afraid she will get hurt one day. Please.”
Tristan’s estimation of the insolent Daisy went up a great deal. He found he was in sympathy with the strange man. “I shall contain my cousins, have no fear, and we will complete the task as speedily as possible and leave young Rose to herself.”
“Thank you.” Daisy bowed.
Tristan inclined his head and set off after the others.
“My Lord!” Daisy called out.
Tristan halted.
“She is young, yes, but has longevity, for she isn’t Xenian.”
“Interesting, but why tell me this?”
“It’s not your cousins you should watch, Tristan Skyler Valla, but yourself. You are much like Torrullin, he who is also Elixir.”
As Tristan drew a sharp breath, Daisy gave an enigmatic smile and vanished through the door behind him.
Tristan stared at that closed door for long moments and all he could think was he had trodden on the devil’s tail and when the goddamned devil turned on him, he would probably bloody grin at the thing, and that, he understood, put him close in nature to his contrary grandfather.
Gods, they had to get out of the enclave before he ensnared himself.
Chapter 10
… it’s a shoot of grass … how extraordinary …
~ Tattle
OF THE ANCIENT RACES four remained.
Oldest was Quilla of the Q’lin’la, singular, but his race came through a rift from another universe and was therefore not endemic. Oldest of this universe were the Valleur. Once close to extinction, once beyond this reality for survival, they were again many and regarded universally as the most powerful people. Then there were the Senlu of Luvanor - Grinwallin in particular - and they endured ninety million years of abeyance to arise anew to a new time, a second chance at life. Declan of the Siric, singular, was between the Valleur and Senlu, but his span of years put him second only to Quilla. His race was not the oldest in the universe, but he was second in age.
There was another who held the status of an Ancient and he was likely older than the Siric, but he was not of one race; he was a mixture of messes. His name was Agnimus, part human, part darkling, part Drinic and part Valleur, and Declan was commanded to find this strange and dangerous individual.
Agnimus was the instrument of destruction on Valaris twenty-five years ago. It forced Torrullin to do something so terrible in defence, he turned his back on his homeworld.
In the aftermath Agnimus escaped to places unknown, knowing too much about his past, and the latter made him more dangerous still. That knowledge alone could bite at the Valleur, Valaris, Luvanor, and Torrullin specifically. However, Agnimus made no move or sound in the inter
vening years and no trace of his presence was found, and yet, if a name was put to the source of rumour mongering it had to be Agnimus.
If he was not the source, he would know who was.
Nemisin’s World
DECLAN ALIGHTED ON the ridge once the site of Nemisin’s mountain palace, he who was First Father to the Valleur, first Vallorin and first Enchanter.
This world had long been dead, a world avoided for its killing deserts and extreme heat, and was now made new, a promise Saska, wife to Torrullin and the previous Lady of Life, made to herself.
It was a promise she kept, for herself, for Torrullin, and because she thought it imperative to the manner in which the Valleur were viewed universally. She prevailed upon her successor, the Lady Lily, to bring her renewal talents to bear on a sterile world, and Lily, challenged, achieved a wondrous miracle. Xenian scientists helped, as well as biologists from other worlds, and Nemisin’s world today shone as a green jewel in space.
Declan ambled to the edge of the ridge and peered down.
Once rock, sand and nothingness shimmered in the heat below; now he stared in awe over a vast green plain, grasses waving in benign temperature, and in the distance the tell-tale glint of a broad watercourse. Massive trees dotted the landscape and there were wild animals grazing where before there was no life, not even a microscopic bug. It would never be jungle, this world, not even a forest, but it was so green it hurt, and the wild expanses of glorious silence beckoned a visitor to peace.
Huge mountain ranges were purpled by distance and were no longer hot rocks of sterility; they hosted lakes and waterfall, great birds and scrub a-flower all year. As was the mountain he stood upon. As far as the eye could see there were flowers, low grass and trickles of fresh, clean water. The cries of eagles, falcons, hawks, owls, ospreys and many others sounded far off, and filled the silence with music.
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