“Where did you get that?”
“You,” Caballa grinned. “I am a farspeaker too.”
Tristan was not amused. “What are you saying about Rose?”
“Vanar wants her in Menllik under Elder protection and I believe that is best.”
“Rose?”
She shrugged. “Whatever you decide.”
“You could stay here.”
“No,” Caballa said.
Tristan mulled it over. “Fine. Menllik. At least Teroux will be thrilled.”
“I suggest you have her taken now, before you and I talk on other matters.”
Tristan loosed a snort of displeasure, but held his hand out. “Atkir potters around somewhere. I will have him transport you out, Rose. Vanar has probably already made arrangements for your stay.”
She nodded unhappily, took his hand and went with him.
He was not gone long; Atkir had been nearby.
Caballa watched him assume his seat again, marvelling anew how much like Torrullin he was in appearance, and said, “Tell me of his dreaming.”
“He didn’t actually say. The feeling is mine.”
She nodded. “How does he seem?”
“I don’t really know him, do I?”
“Tristan, you are neither stupid nor blind. You formed an impression.”
“Answer me first; did he know you were on Nemisin’s world?”
She did not flinch. “Yes.”
“And Saska?”
“Yes.”
“Why does he not …”
“I told him I would return when ready … me, myself, not anyone else. He continues to respect that.”
“What happened between you two?”
“It’s not like that; it is more complicated.”
“Won’t you tell me?”
Her hands clasped in her lap. “Why do you need to know?”
“Maybe I want to understand him.”
“Not likely. All you’ll understand is me … if I tell you.”
He smiled. “Then it’s up to you.”
She stood and approached the window. “The destruction of many Valleur, at his hand, twenty-five years ago caused me to doubt his goodness. I realise he had little choice, but what of the next time choices were absent? Will he again lift his hand against his own, without discriminating?”
“Are you saying you do not trust him?”
She did not reply, no longer sure of her reasons.
“He left Valaris, Caballa, to prevent anything like to that event reoccurring.”
A lift of one shoulder. “Which means he does not trust himself.”
Tristan was silent and then, “You have to face him sometime.”
“I know.” She paced back to halt beside him. “You look like him.” She lifted a finger, touched his cheek, and then dropped it to return to her seat, and Tristan understood.
Caballa loved Torrullin. Perhaps it was more than a lack of trust that kept her away; perhaps it was fear of her feelings.
“He seems distracted,” he said into the silence, “and confused. These are symptoms of dreaming and he acted almost irrationally, started talking like someone who could not keep pace with his thoughts. He mentioned rock and time - dream symbols, I suspect.”
“And the Kaval are commanded to act on that dream. For Lowen.”
“She left him a long time ago,” Tristan murmured. “How are you sure she really is missing?”
Caballa stared at him. “How long ago?”
“Ten years.”
“He would not wait ten years. She is missing. Gods, ten years? And Saska continues to wait? He won’t divorce her, he will not let her go, he does nothing but play this waiting game. What is the matter with him?”
Tristan leaned forward. “Just a thought. If you cannot trust him, if he does not trust himself, how would he dare seek out his wife? To hurt her again?”
“An excellent point.”
“Besides, it sounded as if Lowen’s leaving ended nothing.”
A sour smile. “Stupid Torrullin.”
Tristan sighed and leaned back. “We don’t really know him.”
“Not anymore,” she muttered.
“He acted on the rumour?” Tristan asked. “It ties in with his dream, and Kaval were on Valaris. What is going on, Caballa?”
She told him what she knew, which was not much. At the end of it she said, “He needs answers. He needs someone like Lowen to see the future for him, or the past, but Lowen is the one person he cannot ask, can he? She needs him as he needs her to help him find her …” She lapsed into silence and then, in a rush, “He needs me to show him future and past, damn it.” She scowled at Tristan. “You were right.”
“I know. What do you want to do?”
She poured coffee into her empty mug with a shaking hand. It was cool and almost tasteless in the standing and yet she threw it down her throat as if it were a drug, a boost of some kind.
“He is in Grinwallin and I am not going to interfere there. Teighlar will ask too many questions. First I want to speak to Teroux and Tianoman.”
“They are currently in judgement.”
“How long?”
“Three, four more days. Teroux will probably finish first.”
“Fine, then I will face the Elders, present myself as returned, and accept their judgment over a lengthy absence, and then it is Teroux and Tianoman. Thereafter, depending on where Torrullin goes next, I will offer him my services.”
She sounded strained, as if forcing words out. Words, once spoken, had to be acted upon.
“I would like to accompany you.”
She shook her head. “You and your cousins must await the Throne now. Find your future first. You cannot afford to place yourself in danger and you are not to bring risk to Valaris. Stay, know who will be Vallorin, and then will you possess true autonomy. Once you have that, every Elder can stand on his or her head and do bugger all to stop your choices.”
A reluctant grin. “I look forward to it.”
She studied him. “Do you want to be Vallorin?”
He did not look away. “Sometimes, sometimes not. The truth is I do not know what I want. Besides, Teroux is the logical choice, by right of succession.”
“If that were so, he would be Vallorin already. The Throne will choose.”
“Then it must be Tian. Why has it waited otherwise?”
“Because Torrullin commanded it. To that seat Torrullin is Vallorin and thus Torrullin must summon it, and he chose to grant all three an equal opportunity. He was not going to revisit Tymall’s sins on Tianoman and therefore the choice falls after the youngest Coming-of-Age.”
“What if it chooses Torrullin? Already Vallorin and still alive - what if it chooses the status quo?”
“Relax. He will formally abdicate.”
Tristan was silent and filled with disquiet, and recalled the dream he had a year ago. It came to him only once, but he remembered waking up gasping for breath and never did go to the Gates for clarification. He saw a Throne afire, saw it sprout golden arms and saw it draw Torrullin into a fiery embrace, until the two were one and there was only fire.
What if the Throne chose Torrullin, refusing to accept abdication?
DAY ARRIVED SLOWLY AND when it did there was barely perceptible difference in light. It was Valaris’ rest day, and would be a dark and gloomy one.
Caballa rose before dawn to prepare for the Elders.
There would be Conclave. Atkir returned from Menllik last night and informed her. He added the three heirs were to attend.
She wondered now how Tristan felt about that.
He would make an excellent Vallorin, she thought, although she admitted she could not decide without having met the other two. And, she further admitted, his uncanny likeness to Torrullin could be influencing her.
Tristan entered. Her gaze swept over him. Her head swam and she felt faint.
“Caballa?” His voice was full of concern.
“Tristan?”
/>
He gave a small smile. “Too much like him again?”
She cleared her throat and forced a bright smile. “Especially wearing that, yes.”
He donned black clothes for the Conclave, Torrullin’s signature colour.
“You love him.” He put it as a statement.
“We all love him.”
Tristan said nothing for a beat, then added, “You should tell him.”
“He knows,” she whispered. “Another reason I find it hard to face him.” She looked him over. “Are you trying to emulate him?”
“Today, yes,” he grinned. “They may go easy on you with me stalking around looking like this.”
She was astonished and then burst into laughter. “I like you and I like the way you think.”
“Good.”
“I hope your cousins like me.”
“Teroux is a softy, no problem. Tian is more reserved, difficult to read. Yes, I know, like Tymall.”
She denied that. “Tymall wasn’t difficult to read, trust me, but he could surprise.” She pointed at him. “Forget that. Tianoman must deal with what his father was, not you.” She drew a breath. “My god - Samuel. I didn’t ask. Forgive me, Tristan, but how is your father and … well, I heard about your mother from Saska. I am sorry.”
“Thank you. My father is … I don’t know how he is. He withdrew to the Skyler farm and asked for time to find his way.” Tristan turned a troubled face to the dark window and bit out, “For pity’s sake, when will summer come again?”
That was anxiety speaking. “Summer comes as sure as day follows night, and acceptance will forge a new path through grief. Give him the time and take it for yourself also.”
Tristan closed his eyes briefly. “I am fine.”
He was not, but grief was too personal to interfere with. “You will be. Shall we brace ourselves now and face the Elders?”
“Ready?”
“No,” she laughed, and held her hand out to him.
Menllik
TEROUX PACED VALLA MANOR in the Valleur city like a caged animal.
When he noticed Tristan’s arrival, he snarled out, “That fat-arsed Beaconite is driving me insane … oh. Caballa. Sorry. Welcome home.”
She smiled and bowed her head. “Thank you, Teroux.”
He stared at her. “Hell, you are beautiful.”
Her smile slipped and Tristan came to the rescue. “Teroux, put your testosterone back in its too tiny niche and tell us where the Elders are gathering.”
“Upstairs, in the ballroom. Tian is already there.”
“And Rose? Have you seen her?”
“Vanar has her sequestered. Hey, once this is over, do you think they will forget about judgement?”
Tristan grinned. “No way.”
“Well, at least I don’t look done in like Tian. He has been at it thirty hours and has fifty to go. Poor guy.”
Tristan wisely said nothing. He offered his arm to Caballa. “Ready to face the music?”
She slipped her hand through and gripped tight.
“Let us get it done.”
VALLA MANOR WAS LARGE.
Four receptions rooms on the ground floor, with massive kitchens beyond, ten bedrooms on the third storey, each with its own bathroom, and three sitting rooms, and above that the retainers’ lodgings. A broad stairway wound up to the ballroom on the second floor where the real size of the manor became apparent.
It stretched from left to right across the entire reach of the building, and from the stairs all the way to the back of the manor where the view from floor to ceiling windows was breathtaking. More private entertainment rooms gave off from the ballroom and overlooked the cobbled circle in front of the manor, where an ornate fountain functioned even in winter.
The floor was polished wood, the ceiling in layers and swirls of marble with recessed lighting. The walls were a marvel - dark green marble pillars held the weight of the ceiling and upper floors aloft, and between each was an alcove created by painted murals.
During festive occasions the space was alive with light and laughter, each of a different theme and decorated accordingly, but today it was empty and unlit, and would have been deserted if not for the cluster of fourteen Elders in the centre.
In fact, Tristan thought, their presence added to the generally lifeless air.
Valla Manor’s heart died when Curin did, and Samuel’s absence underscored it further. Teroux partied downstairs and used a smaller stairway at the back of the house to reach his bedroom, thereby bypassing this mausoleum. As Valla Palace remained Tannil’s, thus would Valla Manor ever be of Curin. She breathed life into this big, old space, adding her touch to Valleur sparseness.
Teroux touched his arm. “I miss her, too.”
Tristan nodded, smiled quickly at his cousin, and then led Caballa in.
Vanar and Yiddin stepped forward, but instead of the expected formality both embraced her with glad cries.
Teroux and Tristan glanced at each other in surprise.
“We are pleased to have you back,” Vanar murmured. “It has been too long. Come, we have been waiting with anticipation to greet you again.”
Of the fourteen, Caballa did not know two - Assari and Atkir - but the others were friends. Atkir she had already met and Assari introduced himself loudly, and then they were all talking at once.
Tristan pulled Teroux back. “Seems all is well.”
“Prodigal daughter,” Teroux murmured. “They revered her before and love her still. No problems.”
“Where is Tian?”
Teroux looked around. “He was here. Tian!”
There was no reply and the two set out to investigate. They found him in one of the smaller, intimate chambers, fast asleep.
Teroux grinned as he looked down on the form curled on a sofa. “Thirty hours catching up on him.”
Tristan grinned as well. “And what about you?”
“Oh, no problem. The idiot ambassador is in bed by dark, and that, unfortunately, means this boring task may take twice as long.”
“What has he to say?”
“Nothing, bloody hell. Just rambles on and on …”
Tianoman opened an eye. “Will you two shut up?”
“Get up, sleepyhead. It’s Elder Conclave,” Tristan prompted.
“They don’t need me.” He was asleep again.
Sirlasin found them there. He frowned down at the sleeping form and then shrugged. “I guess he needs it. Yiddin wants you.”
Tristan and Teroux returned to the ballroom where Yiddin gesticulated wildly before Vanar and Caballa. When he saw them, he glanced behind them, and Sirlasin murmured Tianoman was fast asleep.
“Wake him,” Yiddin said.
“Let him be,” Tristan said. “We will pass on what he needs to know.”
“Caballa tells me you mentioned you want to go with her to see Torrullin. Tristan, it cannot be allowed, not in light of current disturbances.”
Caballa threw an apologetic glance as he said, “I will agree while no danger exists on Valaris.”
Vanar stepped forward. “We ask your complete agreement, please, without qualification.”
Tristan gave a lazy smile. “No.”
Teroux stared at him. Crikey.
“My lord, it is less than a month …” Selenten began, and was interrupted.
“I know the stakes, but I would rather withdraw myself from the race if it comes to that.” Tristan paced forward. “We deal in intuition and instinct, do we not?” He waited for nods. “Something is brewing and it involves the man the Throne regards as Vallorin. Hear me out! Torrullin stays away to protect us, but I say to you some things cannot be denied and there are certain factors nobody can adequately protect from. If danger threatens this world again, I do not care who is Vallorin and I shall go to my grandfather for aid. I prefer to accompany Caballa …”
“Me, too,” Teroux murmured.
Tristan drew breath. “Teroux, you and Tian cannot go into danger again.”
> “Bugger that. I’m not a child …”
“… and neither am I,” Tristan snapped back. “But I have less trueblood than you two. I am expendable, don’t you see?”
Teroux opened his mouth …
… but Caballa beat him to it. “Torrullin will not have you hurt, Tristan. By god, expendable?” She paced forward. “You …” She clamped her mouth shut and sent in private, You are too much like him. Not only does that mean your life will be filled with contradiction, but it means he will protect you most of all. Do not place him in a position where it would be apparent to your cousins.
He licked dry lips. “Fine, I promise to remain until after a Vallorin is crowned.”
Teroux looked from one to the other, frowned, and then strode away, throwing over his shoulder, “Beware of keeping secrets, cousin. You know how they can be used.”
“Where are you going?” Yiddin called out. “We are not done here.”
“I am off to finish my judgement,” Teroux said, and vanished down the stairs.
Vanar was still watching Tristan. “You would withdraw from the race, if it came to that? How dare you say something so foolish?”
“I dare, because some matters are more important than a crown.”
“And you call it a race?” Prester murmured. “Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?”
“Is it? Tell me you haven’t noticed how folk jostle for position and whispers circulate. Tell me you haven’t noticed how ‘projects’ are suddenly vital, as in evidence of competency? All fourteen of you are attentive, watchful, and we react to that, we react to all of it as we attempt to stand out. It is a race and let no one suggest otherwise.”
“And you partake,” Vanar pointed out. “Or are you above it?”
“I am as guilty as my cousins, but in the last few days I have realised the Valleur as a nation will not falter if I bow out.”
“Do you not want to rule, Tristan?” Rissoni questioned.
A rueful shrug. “I don’t know how I feel, and that’s the truth.”
Caballa faced the Elders.
“Leave him. A promise is made and that is good enough. Now, as to reinstating me as Elder …” She shook her head. “I thank you for the honour, yet feel I am needed elsewhere and for something different. Besides, since Kismet passed on …” She swallowed and then added in a whisper, “He was a dear friend and we worked as a team. Without him I would not function well as Elder.” Gracefully she bowed before Vanar and Yiddin. “I hope you may forgive my reluctance.”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 15
