The Kallanon Scales (13 page)

You could have
heard worlds fold millions of light-years away.

Torrullin
stepped off the dais, rounded the table and stood before them. They
watched him in trepidation, for it was a truth their father never
did anything in half measures.

“My mother used to say forever is a long time and I
understand today what she meant. Taranis knows this truth, as does
Vannis, the Siric, the Sagorin, the Sylmer, the Q’lin’la and many
other races. I speak of Immortality. I offer you the means to reach
that state.” He grimaced at the light in two pairs of eyes. “You
would accept now. That is why I give a year. Now I add this; Vannis
was the first Immortal Vallorin, but did not rule in that state. I
am the second Immortal Vallorin, and I do rule in this state. I
cannot reverse my immortality, but I also cannot sit on my Throne
forever. That would be tyranny and arrogance.” He stared intently
at them, managing to look both in the eyes simultaneously. “Know
now I shall be the
last
Immortal Vallorin.”

There were
more gasps, a few nods of agreement.

The light in
both pairs of eyes died.

“If you desire
immortality, you renounce the Throne,” Torrullin emphasised. “That
is your ultimate test.”

“You saw me as
Vallorin,” Tymall whispered.

“I saw the
Valleur Throne in your scrying, Tymall. Today I know images have
various interpretations, and thus no longer think that.”

Tymall stared
at him.

“It is a
question of what we desire most,” Tristamil said.

“What happens
if both of us choose Immortality?” Tymall questioned.

“It will be
granted after an heir is born.”

“And if both
desire the Vallorinship?” Tristamil said.

Torrullin gave
a cold smile. “That decision is mine again and I shall make it when
the time is right.” He stepped back. “We are done here! Greet
Tristamil and Tymall as new adults!”

Pretora and
Kismet thumped the dais, exclaiming, “Thrice welcome, Tristamil!
Thrice welcome, Tymall!” The Keep reverberated with cheers and
congratulations.

Both young men clambered onto their chairs to wave, and only
Torrullin realised how forced their smiles were.
Good. They will not lightly make decisions
hereafter.
He glanced at Taranis, who put
an ‘oh, so that is how’ finger to his nose.

Vannis was
enigmatic, Vannis would demand answers soon.

Torrullin
returned to the Throne, where he snapped his fingers. The empty
dishes on the pillars behind the brothers and the two behind the
Throne exploded in showers of gold and silver fireworks, shooting
out high above the crowds, there to hang in twinkling splendour.
The Valleur and other guests clapped in appreciation and even the
brothers shouted. Torrullin snapped his fingers again and each tiny
star exploded into a thousand more. They swirled and danced in
whorls and patterns on high and would remain until he waved them
away later that night.

While everyone
shouted and attention was on the ceiling, Torrullin lowered into
the Throne.

A golden glow
infused the chamber.

Shattering
silence fell.

Pretora
recovered first. He thumped hard at the dais in ecstasy and Kismet
happily followed suit.

“Hail the
Valleur Throne! Hail Lord Vallorin! May the four winds always blow
fair on our Vallorin! May he know peace and prosperity!”

There was
more, but acclaim so thunderous drowned it out. It was surely heard
in the polar region … the southern one.

“
Why are you
sad, little boy?

“
No one
wants to play with me.”

~ Lament

The Keep

T
orrullin stood in the shadows of
the wraparound walk looking into the courtyard.

The revelry
showed no sign of abating. It was wonderful to see the Golden mix
freely with others; he worked hard to lessen their isolationist
ideals and it paid dividends.

He noticed
Tristamil grab a girl around her waist to twirl her onto the dance
floor, and there was Tymall engaged in a drinking contest with
other like-minded idiots. It was obvious the two decided to have
fun, forgetting animosity and trouble for this day and night.

Neither gave a
thought to their mother.

Quilla and
Phet, along with Taranis, vanished to the Lifesource to work on the
map, Taranis not in the mood for a party. Phet was, but for once
Quilla prevailed.

After the
three left he remembered the scrap of paper with galaxy names, but
it could wait until tomorrow. He called a midday meeting, one to
include the Elders. He was not in the mood for revelry either, but
this was for his sons.

Vannis was in
the study pouring over the Oracles, his method of coping, with
Bartholamu and Gren. He should talk to them. He had not the stomach
to do so on this special day.

Shep Lore held
court, telling tall tales. Dear Shep used every opportunity to
inform friends and strangers alike of the wonder of the Enchanter
Vallorin. Torrullin doubted he had enough lifetimes to do what Shep
credited to him.

“Torrullin?”
Skye’s shy voice sounded behind him.

“I thought you
would be sleeping.” She was indistinct in the shadows. “Come, stand
here with me.”

She leaned
over the low wall with him. “I can’t sleep, too much noise.”

“I can fix
that for you.”

“I’m too
awake. Thanks.”

“Look at Shep.
He is like your father, always blabbing.”

“Dad loved to
tell his stories, even if he had only one listener with half an
ear.”

Torrullin
chuckled.

“I get lost in
so many,” she murmured.

“Crowds are
not something I enjoy either.”

They stood in
companionable silence for a time before Skye asked, “Is something
wrong with you?” She picked at her nails.

He laid a hand
on her nervous ones. “You needn’t be afraid of asking.”

She glanced
up, and said, “You are not quite yourself.” Her voice strengthened.
“The twins, it’s like they are having too much fun, see?”

He studied the
boys. She was right, there was indeed a forced quality to their
gaiety.

“Vannis is in
pain; his eyes continually flash into blue. Something is wrong,
isn’t it?”

“You are much
like your father in your concern for others. Mind, at least you are
not like him in looks. You are very pretty.”

“You are
changing the subject.”

“I suppose I
am, but you are still pretty.”

She
muttered.

“Yes, we seem
to have a situation.”

“Will you tell
me?”

He squeezed
her hands. “It will place you in danger. Do not ask that of
me.”

“My father
never shied from danger.”

“He was often
foolish in his bravery also. Lanto was special and I miss him, but
I am not subjecting you to this.”

“You were his
hero, you know.”

Torrullin
smiled. “He could never see my many faults.”

“He saw them.
He said they made you real.”

“He did? Good
to know. Did he mention them?”

Skye laughed.
Only with Torrullin did she feel comfortable, as she had with her
father. “He said your greatest fault was also your greatest gift.
He said you feel too much.”

“Guilty as
charged.”

“But you hide
it more and more.”

“Guilty
again.”

“Why?”

He shrugged.
“Emotion easily discerned can be a tool. I do not like to be
manipulated.”

“I cannot see
anyone manipulating you.”

“It happens,
even to me.”

She leaned
against him, sighing. He was like a father to her, she had known
him her entire life. “What chance do I have then?”

He drew her
close. “Let me worry about that.”

“My hero,” she
laughed and felt him chuckle. “Torrullin, may I ask something
different? Are Valleur permitted to wed us? Humans?”

“Why do you
ask?”

“Just
curious,” she replied, tensing under his arm.

He felt it. “Well, there is precedence, as you know. The
half-Valleur were formed of mixed unions, although admittedly for a
qualifying reason.
I
am not a trueblood, neither are the twins, but those were
extraordinary times. I believe the consensus is to keep the race as
pure as possible. We are few now, Skye; increasing, yes, but few
compared to what was.”

“No
exceptions?”

“I am not
saying that. Do you have your eye on someone special?”

She withdrew
out from under his arm. “That is not what I meant!”

“Yes, it is.
Who is it?”

She looked
away. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know I exist, not in that
way.”

He thought if
the boy was willing, a union between his goddaughter and a Valleur
was not a bad idea. It would bring status to that family and give
Skye the happiness she deserved.

“Skye, tell me
who it is.” He would tactfully sound the boy out without revealing
her.

She stared
into the courtyard. Her voice came as a whisper. “Tymall.”

He drew a
silent breath, not wanting to frighten her. She grew up playing
with the boys when Lanto brought her to the Keep and knew them as
they wanted to be known, masks and all. He could not allow this
innocent girl - a daughter to him - to be hurt by Tymall. Skye was
not Saska. Saska challenged Darak Ors for love. And won.

He had been
silent too long.

“Never mind,”
she said. “I know he will have to wed Valleur, being the heir. My
father explained the bloodline you Valla men treasure.”

He reached a
decision. “I cannot allow the union.” He sensed her disappointment,
but it was wiser to sever it now, before Tymall understood there
was someone he could use. “You would be a perfect wife and
daughter-in-law. It is not you, sweetheart.”

She
waited.

Women, even
shy young women, knew tenacity. “The problem is Tymall. I do not
wish him on any woman.”

She faced him in astonishment. “He is your
son
.”

“Yes, and I hope he never marries.”
Gods, now that is a terrible truth.

“Why?”

“Why do you
think? You cannot repeat this conversation, Skye, do you
understand?”

Her hands rose
to her mouth, hovered there. “Oh lord. Surely not?”

“Tymall knows
darak, and if you value your life, never mind your heart, stay away
from him and do not ever let him see how you feel.”

“It can’t be.
He was always kind to me.”

“A mask, one I
have pulled away. Skye, do you hear me?”

She stared up
at him, studying the shadowy planes on his face. She could not
quite see the expression in his eyes, but she knew he would not
lie, not about this. She blinked once, slowly, and swallowed. “I
won’t say anything and I’ll be careful, but I can’t just …”

“… switch
feelings off? No, that would make you inhuman. You are not that,
sweetheart.” He sighed. “But you wear your heart on your sleeve. Be
careful. Do not let him know that you know him for what he is.”

Her eyes were
wide on him. He pulled her into his arms and held her.

“I am sorry,”
he murmured into her hair.

She disengaged
and fled along the balcony walk. He heard her door click. Would she
know how to hide her new knowledge? Perhaps it was in her best
interest if she left first thing in the morning.

He became
aware then of the figure hugging the wall in the gloom. He
pretended he had not noticed and turned back to view the courtyard,
setting his senses to full alert. What had it heard? He sensed
movement and remained deliberately still.

If it was the
murderer, what better way to smoke him out than by offering himself
as bait? He forced his breathing into normality, swung around when
a hand settled on his arm, one hand reaching for the creature’s
windpipe and …

The woman he
gripped at her privates squealed softly, and he released her.

“Caballa!”
Caballa could stand in the dark and not know it as lightless.

Caballa
laughed and regained her composure, “Apologies, Lord Vallorin. I
should not have sneaked up on you like that.”

Torrullin was
embarrassed. “Are you all right?”

“I am fine and
glad to know you are alert. Not enough, for I overheard your
conversation with young Skye. Have no fear, I shall not repeat it;
it was as I suspected. He carries a darker aura.”

Caballa could
read hearts. The light was indistinct and so was she, but her
beauty was obvious nonetheless. Different from Saska. Saska was a
cool, clear pond on the outside, raging fires within, but Caballa
was warmth on the outside … and he was irritated with himself. What
was he thinking?

Did she sense
it? She put her hand on his arm and tugged. “Come with me,” she
whispered, and led him down the balcony corridor. To his surprise,
he followed. She led him to his chambers without stumbling or
losing her way and he knew she had not been there before. He balked
there, because she would now enter Saska’s domain.

“Is this your
suite?” she asked. She assumed confirmation and opened the door. It
was dark inside and when he moved to light the room, “I do not need
light, my Lord, and you do not want it.”

He stood in
the doorway and she pulled him inside.

She rose up on
tiptoe and placed a hand behind his head, the other resting on his
neck.

Exerting
slight pressure, she pulled him forward. He resisted, but not
enough for her to release him, so she raised her mouth to touch
his. “There is tonight, no tomorrow. I want this and you need
this.”

Did he? He had
not thought of her as desirable before, found in the past he was
not attracted to Valleur women, because they always seemed young,
always lovely, always contented. He needed to fight, to hunt, to
take, to surrender, to lose. He was not ready for a relationship,
even a physical one, and yet he reacted to her despite that,
without sign from her.