The Dreamer Stones (40 page)

It was a wake,
without drunken hilarity. It was a time to recall the man that was
Tannil and, naturally, the boy that was Teroux. Teroux’s youth made
memories sparse, and Tristan and Curin were unknown to the Valleur
of Valaris except as family to Samuel.

In truth, it
was a wake for a passed Vallorin. His madness in the end was
referred to only in passing and that without shame or
embarrassment, for the Valleur preferred to bring the man they knew
and loved to their thoughts while understanding what drove him over
the edge.

Thus they
smiled, laughed and cried over the memories of other times. Krikian
was proud of them and proud again to be among them.

He was
home.

It was after
midnight, lanterns subdued over the four biers, when Torrullin
returned to the Keep.

With him came
Vannis.

In the
interval between them and then Declan, Belun, Lowen and Quilla, an
awed silence reigned.

Krikian stood
first. A tired group of Valleur held the vigil, waiting for the
Enchanter, and they followed Krikian’s example, all gaping at
Vannis.

Torrullin held
a hand up and headed directly to Tannil’s bier. His slow and
deliberate movement drew their attention from the golden beauty of
a long-missed friend, grandfather to the man approaching a passed
Vallorin, who was a grandfather himself.

Vannis’
changeable eyes were blue and he trailed after Torrullin, shifting
the cloak higher to cover his chest as well. It was disrespectful
of the dead to stand naked before them.

The next four
appeared, hanging back when they noted what was happening. Lowen’s
appearance drew gasps of amazement, but she ignored them, her eyes
on the Enchanter’s rigid back. Quilla’s bright eyes moved from her
to Torrullin, then back again, and he sighed.

As Torrullin
halted at the head of Tannil’s bier, Saska arrived. She headed
purposefully towards her husband and again Quilla sighed. Going
where angels fear to tread, but then, perhaps she alone among many
had that right. And Vannis.

Vannis. Quilla
could not quite believe the man had achieved this and knew to wait
until Torrullin needed him most. He watched him, naked, golden
shoulders, long hair. What must it be like to be Vannis? A
beautiful man, loved, trusted, and confident, powerful? Vannis had
a different power to Torrullin; Vannis’ real power lay in his
larger-than-life personality, the hugeness of his heart, the depths
of his love. When he walked into a room, life walked in with
him.

Quilla smiled.
He was glad Vannis had come.

It was a
tableau, and into that frozen action came the last two players.
Caballa and Kismet. They joined Krikian, who gave them a sombre
greeting.

Attention
focused on the three figures beside Tannil’s mortal remains.

Torrullin
raised his hand and it was rock-steady.

He grasped the
thin, diaphanous silk and pulled it aside. It dropped unheeded to
the ground. Tannil appeared asleep. Almost one could imagine the
gentle rise and fall of rhythmic breathing. His golden hair lay in
silky ropes over his shoulders, there was a blush upon his cheeks
and his fingers entwined upon his chest. An embroidered gown of
burnt amber clothed him, with his feet shod in simple velvet
slippers; it added to the appearance of sleep.

Vannis stared
into that face intently. It could be him, the resemblance was that
close. He glanced at Torrullin. This death must hurt deep, this man
was close to himself - Tannil may be linked to a departed
grandfather in Torrullin’s mind.

Torrullin
stared at those closed eyes as if willing them to open.

Saska leaned
closer, put a hand out …

“Do not touch
him.”

She snatched
her hand back at his uncompromising tone.

Lowen paled.
In his words she heard his intention. She stepped forward, throwing
off Quilla’s quick hand, and hurried forward to smack aside the
hand Torrullin raised over Tannil’s face.

“You can’t
raise the dead, Torrullin.” She pulled him around. “Look at me!
This is beyond you.”

“Perhaps I can
do this - at least for him.”

A communal
intake of breaths, even from Saska. Especially from her, for the
once Lady of Life knew what it took to bring back the dead.

“Torrullin, no,” she said, and marvelled that she could be
calm. “You
may
not.”

“His soul is
gone, Torrullin,” Vannis said. “He cannot return.”

“I need to
try.”

“Well, I’ll
not argue you may have the gift,” Vannis said in a reasonable tone
as Lowen and Torrullin glared at each other, with Saska watching
them, a frown creasing her forehead, “but to start now would be a
serious mistake.”

Torrullin
severed his eye lock with Lowen. “How so?”

“Untried,
grandson, and unpractised. You may botch it. Oh, glare at me all
you like. I see you loved this man and you feel you let him down,
and that’s normal. We feel like that in the losing of someone dear,
but who are you to deny him his second chance out there beyond the
rims of what we see and know? Especially you, Torrullin, knowing
what you do of Reaume. Tannil has moved on.”

“I can track
him.”

“Dear gods,
why would you want to? Leave him be, let him go.”

Torrullin
looked down on Tannil. Peaceful, that was the word. Was he being
selfish? Yes, absolutely.

He nodded.
“Yes, it would be a disservice to alter his outward path.”

There were
collective sighs of relief.

“Perhaps he is
fortunate in being free of all this,” Torrullin added. Quite a few,
he noted, nodded over that. “Free of me,” he said in an undertone.
He drew breath and spoke aloud. “Interment will commence at first
light.” He turned to Vannis.

“Clothes?”
Vannis said.

“I’ll see to
that,” Saska murmured.

“I’ll be in my
study,” Torrullin muttered. He began walking away, paused on the
first step up to the balcony walk. “Lowen, a word, please.”

He climbed
without looking back.

A minute, two.
Lowen entered the study, paused. “It’s different.”

“Time passes,”
he said, leaning against his desk facing the door.

“You should’ve
spoken to them.”

“Who? The
loyally vigilant watching over a dead man? Please.”

“They didn’t
kill him.”

“Oh, they did,
if only by default. This is not why I want to speak to you.”

She dared
enter further. She was dressed in breeches and tunic, shades of
blue and grey, a blending, but if she intended camouflage she
failed. Like Saska, her eyes were too visible.

“I do not like
that you take me on publicly.”

Her head moved
his way and then she snorted a laugh. “I don’t bloody care.”

“Lowen, damn
it.”

“Torrullin, I
really don’t give a crap as to your public persona, hear me? You
were about to make a huge mistake and I couldn’t stand by and allow
it.”

A beat, two.
“How did you know my intention?”

“I was there.
The warning was explicit.”

“It was no
warning.”

“It was. Don’t
be stubborn.”

A silence and
then, “Make peace with Saska, for both your sakes.”

“Ah, the real
reason.”

“Will you
heed?”

“For my sake
or hers? No, I don’t think so.”

“Lowen …”

She stared at
him. “For you, however, I’ll try.”

Cold, cold,
cold. He looked away. “Thank you.”

She laughed,
not a particularly pleasant sound. “Coward.”

Turning on her
heel, she left him gaping after her.

Saska watched
Lowen turn the corner onto the balcony and glanced at Vannis.

“Not quite the
homecoming I had in mind, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not home,
Saska, merely visiting.”

“When will you
tell him?”

“After he has
laid Tannil to rest, I think. He looks like me, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, as
Samuel does to Tris, and there’s another likeness. Samuel’s son
Tristan is the image of Torrullin.”

“Really? How
does he feel about the boy?”

“As you
already guess,” Saska sighed. “Come, let us find you something to
wear. Tannil’s, I think, unless you prefer Torrullin’s black?”

A rueful
smile. “Tannil’s will do.”

She glanced at
him again, up, hesitated. “Do you mind transporting over there?”
She pointed past the study to Tannil’s suite.

“Afraid of
passing that door, Saska? Is it Lowen you’re worried about? Would
you like me to delve?”

“And then? Not
only don’t I want to waste your time on that, but, come, Vannis,
your loyalty lies with him. You won’t tell me, just as you didn’t
say anything about Lycea and Cat. Leave it, we’ll find our way. You
concentrate on what you came for. Now, clothes?”

“Right behind
you.”

They vanished
to the upper level and entered Tannil’s suite.

Half hour
later Vannis found Torrullin paging through a book, bent intently
over it.

A single
conjured globe squatted under his left hand, the only light in the
study, his fingers throwing oblong shadows about the space.

Vannis stood
in the doorway and gazed. “You know, you upset the whole
applecart.”

Torrullin
looked up and there was only welcome in his eyes. “What are you on
about?”

“When have you
last rested?” Vannis said, entering. “Put that book away, for
Aaru’s sake. That tired and it will tell you nothing.”

Torrullin
laughed and closed it. “As critical as ever.”

“Raken keeps me on my toes.” Vannis sank into a chair before
the desk and pulled the book closer. Peering at the title in the
semi-dark, he read, “
Alchemy of the
Ancients
… pish, this is human. What did
they ever learn of note about alchemy?”

“More than you know. Xen is a prime example,” Torrullin
grinned, leaning back and lacing his hands behind his head. “Gods,
I
am
tired.”

“Xen
worked?”

“The domes
came down. A healed and pure world.”

“Excellent. I
take it back - maybe they’re not so stupid.”

“I see your
time beyond has furthered your, er, prejudice.”

“No, no, not
prejudice, just impatience with so-called works of so-called magic
…”

“Hmm,
prejudice,” Torrullin murmured. “What was that about an
applecart?”

“Mine. I had
it all mapped out, until you entered my life. How different it
turned out for me, how much we went through. I wouldn’t change a
thing.”

“No?”

“No. Even
Raken dying when she did prepared her for that realm - it was
meant. We are together now in a manner we could never have
been.”

“You’re not
staying.” The bantering tone had vanished.

“No, son, I’m
not staying.”

Hands came
from behind a head to cover a face.

“Torrullin, I
don’t think you feel guilt over my death - the choice was mine. I
want you to know all is well with me; I’m happy where I am with my
firebrand woman. Don’t think I need eternal bliss before I’m able
to be content and at peace. There is no guilt, not from you, not
from me.”

Torrullin’s
hands dropped away. A glimmer of a smile. “There is no guilt on my
part.”

“Good. Of
course, I came for selfish reasons also. I needed to know how you
fare. I miss you.”

“Every day,
Vannis. I look over my shoulder to tell you something … it’s good
to see you, even if time is short.”

“You’re going
to be fine,” Vannis smiled.

Torrullin
returned it. “Maybe.”

“So.” Vannis
tapped the book. “What are you looking for?”

“Elixir.”

“Ah, yes, I
heard a rumour to that effect.”

A disbelieving
snort. “A rumour!”

Vannis
laughed. “Come on, let us find something to eat …”

After the
Graveyard ceremony attended by the entire Valleur nation on
Valaris, as well as many hundreds from Luvanor and a fair
scattering of humans and offworlders, and after the four biers were
placed in the same crypt prepared for Vania, Mitrill and Caltian,
Torrullin summoned Caballa and Kismet to attend him.

The eulogies,
speeches and expressions of condolence were behind them now, and
guests and mourners headed back to the Keep, dispersing to the
opposite rise. Most would stay to hear a new Vallorin declared or a
regent instituted.

It was a good
day in the valley. Lonesome clouds scudded across blue sky. The
three stood on the path with few folk left to interrupt.

“Forgive me,”
Torrullin said when everyone had passed.

Kismet’s
strong face dissolved into tears. “My Lord, we ask forgiveness, not
you!”

Caballa
nodded, her eyes huge in an effort to maintain composure.

“No, Kismet.
Had I been present, I may have made the same decision. You spared
me that. I am humbled by the Elders’ strength in this - it cannot
have been easy. Of course, had I been there, I may have prevented
Tannil’s state of deterioration in the first instance; ultimately I
find the blame for this terrible deed at my door and knocking
loudly. I lashed out at you purely because you were close when the
news broke. I beg you to forgive me for that.”

“There is
nothing to forgive, my Lord,” Kismet murmured.

“Caballa?”

“My Lord,
Kismet is right. You need not our forgiveness.”

“Yet I seek
it.”

“Then I am
honoured to extend it freely, my Lord.”

“As am I,”
Kismet said.

Torrullin
studied them and added, “You must find a way to forgive
yourselves.”

Kismet’s face
twisted. “How? I hate what I did, how do I ever move away from
it?”