Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  Rose swayed near the sideboard, hands clutched around the hilt of a knife, the blade plunged into her heart.

  Elianas caught her, moving faster than anyone.

  Her head flopped back. She was dead.

  Torrullin kneeled behind Elianas as he sank down with Rose in his arms. “Let her go. She will fight return. Elianas, she made her choice.”

  Dark eyes swivelled to him. Gently he then laid Rose on the floor and removed the knife. Blood flowed sluggishly from her wound. He dropped the blade, his face twisting.

  “This is not your fault,” Torrullin said.

  “It is mine,” Teroux whispered. His bruised lips wobbled and he clasped Rose to him to sit cradling her. Tears fell onto her as he wept.

  Caballa lowered down before them. “Forgive me for saying this,” she murmured to Torrullin and Elianas, “but Rose was wiser than any of you realise. She did this deliberately, but not to end her suffering. Or not that alone. She did it to take Teroux’s attention away from a goddamn life-altering kiss. A kiss like that would alter me too. She knows, every time he thinks of Elianas’ kiss now, he will also see her dead. It will alter his perceptions.”

  Tristan heard her also. “They say women are far wiser.”

  Caballa smiled at him. She then gazed at Rose in Teroux’s arms. “She was unhappy most of her life. This day was always written into her fate.”

  No one said anything.

  Quietly Tianoman rose and left. When he returned, two men accompanied him. Valleur embalmers. He approached Teroux and hunkered before him.

  “I am truly sorry, Teroux. Let them take her now. When she is prepared, you can spend some final private time with her.”

  A tear-streaked face lifted. Teroux nodded.

  The embalmers took Rose from him and carefully bore her away.

  Tianoman clasped Teroux’s shoulder. “Come. Let me pour you a drink.” He helped his cousin stand and to a chair. Tristan meanwhile poured a stiff whisky and brought it over.

  They sat on either side of Teroux, not saying anything, merely being there for him as the cousins had always been there for each other in the past.

  Torrullin, seeing that solidarity, fetched the whisky and brandy decanters and two extra tumblers and placed it before them.

  “Drink until you pass out. We shall deal with whatever comes up.”

  Teroux did not move, but Tristan shrugged and dragged the brandy to him.

  Tianoman shifted to look at all of them. “Are we united?”

  “Yes, son,” Torrullin murmured and clasped his shoulder briefly. “Drink up. I will send more in, so do not hold back. Just forget for a while. I will tell Aislinn.”

  “What about you? What about all of us living together?”

  “Stop worrying. Caballa will see to a suite for Teroux, and Elianas and I will discuss living arrangements.”

  Teroux sobbed. “I want Rose’s rooms, to see her things.”

  Tianoman nodded distractedly and turned his attention to his cousin.

  IN THE CORRIDOR CABALLA leaned against the wall. “Too many shocks,” she muttered, lifting a hand. “I am fine.”

  “I am going to speak to Aislinn,” Torrullin said, and moved off.

  Elianas watched him go.

  “He will get over it,” Caballa said.

  “I might not,” Elianas said, swinging to her.

  “How so?”

  “I know how he feels, Caballa. It is not easy to deal with.”

  “Are we talking about Teroux or Torrullin now?”

  “Teroux … but I get your point. Teroux feels as I once did and he has my sympathy. What I would like to do is sit him down and tell him there is someone out there for him, help him accept who he is. But, well.”

  “It will be misconstrued.”

  “By whom? Teroux or Torrullin?”

  “Teroux, and I get your point too.” Caballa offered a small grin. “Wish you would kiss me like that.”

  He realised she was joking. “Tristan would try hard to take my head.”

  Caballa laughed. “I know.” Then she was serious. “He worries me.”

  Elianas did not respond.

  “Ah, I am not the only one who has noticed how he changes. Never mind.”

  “What are the suites like?” Elianas asked, changing the subject.

  “Wonderful. Would you like to see?”

  Elianas, after looking over his shoulder to see Torrullin approaching, said, “May as well see what is available.”

  Torrullin caught up to them and they set off.

  Chapter 47

  Silk whispers tales to the skin

  ~ Valeri Valla ~

  Akhavar

  Mountain City

  ONE COULD NOT CALL the mountain city either congested or claustrophobic.

  In ancient days hundreds of thousands Valleur lived in the mountain to escape the heat of Akhavar. Now there were only a few thousand, although numbers increased daily.

  The rock habitat had been designed and excavated with light and air and space in mind. Everything flowed and sunlight poured in from above from many ‘windows’ set into the top of the mountain. Water gurgled in canals all over and plant life was more rife inside than it could be in the heat outside.

  As cities went, it was a glorious place to live.

  Elianas admitted as much, saying his aversion lay in the memories evoked here.

  Beyond the small conference chamber, a broad winding corridor filled with light hosted doors to four suites, and then meandered into an open space where benches awaited alongside a pool. Trees towered upward to throw dapples onto the water and tiny bright birds tweeted and flitted in the foliage.

  Opposite was a set of double doors, open.

  Caballa gestured at it. “That one is yours.”

  “You are choosing?” Torrullin asked.

  “No, but I know already you will choose that one.”

  “Why?” Elianas frowned.

  “Go and look at it,” she laughed.

  The corridor curved downward left of the park-like space, the pool’s overflow along with it, to vanish into a broader canal below. It made the suite private, as the only access was from the corridor they wandered to get to it.

  Right of the open space was a rock wall and high overhead the jagged edges of the mountain’s ridge was just visible. Natural light thus poured in, with direct sunlight at certain times of the day.

  “How is it we do not know this area?” Elianas frowned.

  Torrullin snorted. “I do not know about you, but I steered well clear of Nemisin’s royal abode.”

  “Yes, that explains it.”

  Caballa chuckled and said, “I leave you to it. I want to go back and check on the cousins.” Waving, she left them there.

  “May as well,” Torrullin muttered, and headed left of the pool along a flagged path under branches swaying in the currents from above.

  The suite was an astonishment. Ochre walls were covered in diaphanous silk of colourful design and hue. Rugs spoke of the nomads of deserts elsewhere, silken hangings created walls and alcoves and giant copper urns showcased ferns and leafy plants.

  A great desert tent offering only cool and colour for the senses.

  “Well,” said Elianas, “which mistress did Nemisin spoil here?”

  “Has the feel of a harem, actually,” Torrullin grinned. “I doubt Valeri allowed him past those doors, though. If you ask me, Nemisin never got his rocks off here.”

  “That eases my mind. I would hate to imagine him having sex anywhere.”

  Laughing, Torrullin headed further in, shifting through silk like a wraith in sunlight.

  Upon seeing him like that, Elianas’ heart knocked against his ribs. His breathing grew ragged. Torrullin’s light, the brightness he was, was his nemesis. He followed the trail of scent he left in his wake. It smelled of warm skin and wildflowers dancing in the sunlight.

  Gods.

  Through layer after layer of silk he followed until he entered
a circular space filled almost wall to silken wall with a bed covered in exotic material and colour.

  Torrullin lay sprawled in the centre like a starfish, smiling. His smile vanished when Elianas crawled closer on his knees. “I know that look.”

  Saying not a word, he crept closer until he could claim the man’s mouth, delving into his psyche for the light, for warm summer breezes, for the smell of nature, for the raging fire that lay below.

  When he lifted his mouth Torrullin’s pupils were fully dilated. “And I know that look,” Elianas murmured, and started undressing him, piece by slow piece, hands and mouth exploring every chink of skin exposed to him.

  “Elianas,’ Torrullin groaned.

  “Hush. I know. Give me this, give me the gift of your skin.”

  In answer Torrullin sighed, the kind of sound to signify complete surrender.

  He did not remove his own clothes, other than boots and scabbard, preferring to used only his hands, his lips, his tongue. When Torrullin moved, he gently held him down.

  “Do not move. Hold back on every instinct except feeling with your mind.”

  “You undo me.”

  “I know.” Elianas sank to the man’s navel, sucked and felt his response, a massive erotic shudder entirely contained, so intense he nearly bit into his flesh to have it wash over him. Nibbling downward, he sensed how the internal fires roared into inferno, sweat a fine sheen on the skin now his domain. Torrullin’s arousal was complete. One touch would set him off. He did not touch.

  Crouching over him, careful to make contact with no other part of him, he gripped the man’s wrists and held them above his head with one hand.

  Dilated eyes watched him.

  Now.

  Smacking his free hand upon the Maghdim Medaillon, he claimed Torrullin’s mouth at the same time with the intent to pillage and sunder every remaining defence.

  Torrullin fought then, for the right to claw into him, but he held on. Lifting his hand from the golden coin, he pressed against his ridged abdomen, feeling extraordinary tension there. Torrullin bucked and arched up as if live wires seared into his skin.

  Releasing him, he sat back and watched Torrullin climax without the aid of either his hand or his own.

  It was highly satisfying to witness.

  Utterly spent, Torrullin flopped down, breathing rapidly, his entire body coated in sweat.

  For long minutes he did not move, eyes closed as he fought for a return to normality. Then, “I assume we are taking this suite.”

  “It is already ours.”

  THEY DISCOVERED ROBES in an alcove of shelves and donned them, along with leather sandals.

  Feeling freer than usual, they wandered around the suite. It was one large space, really, cleverly sectioned off with the use of silk drapes, although the bathroom was more private. Imaginative cavities and alcoves formed storage space.

  “Someone furnished this,” Elianas said. “Saska and Lily did not restore ancient curtains along with a world.”

  “It has Caballa’s touch. Her cottage in Menllik, remember?”

  A cottage now vaporised. “Yes.”

  Torrullin fell onto the bed again, kicking sandals off. “I wonder if she created this with us in mind. If so, highly intuitive of her.”

  Elianas lay on his stomach. “She is the seer.”

  “May I come in?” Caballa called out from somewhere beyond the silken veils.

  “Come!” Torrullin hollered.

  Soon she was with them, bearing a tray.

  “Coffee?” Elianas said, sitting up enthusiastically. “Thank the gods.”

  Laughing, she set it down on the bed. “May I?”

  “Sit, please,” Torrullin said.

  Caballa sat, folding her legs in a manner only women knew how to do, and poured coffee for the three of them. “I found some little cakes too.” Gesturing at a covered dish, she added, “The one drawback of the suites in the family side? No bloody way to make something to eat. I get hungry in the middle of the night, you know.”

  Elianas snorted laughter. “After doing what?” He took up a mug and sipped with appreciation.

  She arched a suggestive eyebrow at him, and asked. “So, you like it?” An arm waved expansively.

  Elianas found one of the treats. “We like.”

  She clapped her hands, causing him to grin at her.

  “How are they doing, Caballa?” Torrullin asked, helping himself as well.

  “Teroux is gone, passed out on Rose’s bed. He will sleep for hours. Aislinn laid claim to Tian, but he is probably snoring also. Tristan? He drank a lot, but I don’t know where he is at.”

  Torrullin briefly closed his eyes to focus. “He is in the Dome.”

  “Thank you. Now I can stop worrying.” She sipped at her brew.

  “What is it, Caballa?”

  “Lowen’s funeral is tomorrow. The service will be held at the Cathedral in Shanghai Metrop.”

  Both men groaned.

  She shrugged, having herself an aversion to religious institutions. “Many will be there. I guess Max chose a space large enough to hold them all.”

  Torrullin nodded. “We should all go. The Valla unity thing.”

  She sighed. “I guess.”

  “I will fetch Tris in the morning, don’t worry.”

  “What is happening to him, Torrullin?”

  “The same that began to happen to me the more responsibility I took, Caballa. I had a world to save. Tristan does it for many more. There is guilt and hopelessness, for he cannot be everywhere, and then there is such elation in great success, the euphoria can lead to depression. He merely tries to cope.”

  “That is what I thought.”

  “Give him time.”

  “I will. To move onto something else. The other night …”

  “Let us not talk about Kalgaia yet,” Elianas said.

  “Fine. I guess, now that we will all be living together, I can ask questions when they occur to me.”

  Groaning, Elianas fell back. “Already I miss Avaelyn.”

  Caballa threw a pastry at him.

  Torrullin frowned suddenly. “Where is Sabian?”

  “He returned to Echolone after the event in the Guild Hall.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “He would not tell me, you know that. By the way, you two look good in robes,” Caballa murmured. “You should wear them more often.”

  “No bloody way am I appearing like this in public,” Torrullin said.

  Laughing, she asked, “Why not?”

  “Someone might think he is Tristan and actually be nice to him,” Elianas grinned.

  Caballa laughed harder. “Problem is, Tristan refuses to wear them too!”

  Laughing together, they moved on to other topics, some light-hearted banter, others more serious issues regarding Akhavar and the Valleur. Caballa was a good listener and heard many nuances others remained unaware of.

  In an hour they learned more from her than they had from Tristan, Quilla and Tianoman combined.

  Thinking along those lines, Torrullin focused on the birdman’s whereabouts. He found him on Echolone, no doubt with Sabian. He could not track the master historian, for Sabian had no signature, but the only reason Quilla would be on Echolone was to bend the historian’s ear.

  “What are they up to?” he murmured.

  “Torrullin?” Caballa prompted.

  “Sabian and Quilla,” he said by way of explanation.

  Elianas muttered, “No doubt one or the other will waylay one of us soon. Leave their scheming until then.”

  “Did you hear anything about Alik’s results?” Torrullin asked Caballa.

  “I managed the later hours of the party,” she grinned. “Teighlar was a bit peeved you two did not show, but he knows why. Anyway, she passed with all those honours universities seem to love and is now officially Doctor Alik Diluvan.”

  “She uses ‘Diluvan’ now?” Torrullin exclaimed, astonished.

  “Teighlar got quit
e maudlin about it, but apparently a surname is required for the degree to be recognised. She chose Diluvan instead of Sirdann, thus Diluvan it is.”

  “Diluvan she is indeed,” Elianas said.

  “She has opened a practice on the third tier and intends developing the old granary building into a modern hospital.”

  “She will make it happen, too,” Torrullin smiled. “It will take a while … ah, Tristan is looking for you … and here he is.”

  Tristan shunted hangings aside and stopped. “Oh, sorry, I did not realise this was a … a …”

  “Boudoir?” Caballa laughed.

  He grinned reluctantly. “May I?”

  Elianas shifted up. “Go on.”

  Tristan flung face down into the bed. “Gods, I’m still drunk.”

  “Man, if you puke, I will personally challenge you to a duel,” Elianas muttered.

  Caballa collapsed in laughter against Torrullin, and then she started to weep. Great gusty sobs overcame her and she clutched at him.

  Torrullin drew her near and simply held her.

  Tristan sat up, staring at her. Elianas nudged him and jerked his head significantly. Nodding, Tristan shunted around to Caballa and gently took her from Torrullin. Her sobs increased as she buried her face in his chest.

  Rose, Torrullin mouthed.

  Tristan closed his eyes and cradled her, stroking her hair and whispering words of comfort.

  All gods, what a day it had been.

  Chapter 48

  In a congregation of mourners the dead are alone

  Daisy of the Farspeaker Enclave

  ~ Xen III ~

  Xen III

  Shanghai Metrop

  THE MIGHTY CHURCH summoned the faithful from afar.

  Gleaming white despite the inclement weather, it was an architectural marvel.

  It was also filled to capacity.

  The Dalrish, instantly recognisable by the darkness of their hair, took up a large portion of the available pews, for it was an extended family indeed. Dignitaries from many worlds were in attendance, men and women in varied dress.

  Lowen’s white and gold coffin reposed in splendour up front with glorious flower arrangements adorning it.