The Nemesis Blade (3 page)

Tristan took
on the Western Isles, Teroux received the city of Menllik, and
Tianoman, youngest heir, the Vall Peninsula in the north.

By right of
ascension, the male line, Teroux was heir-apparent. His father
Tannil was Vallorin before the current state of limbo. However, the
Throne would decide, for it was more than a golden chair, and its
choice would be based on factors other than the unbroken line.

Teroux
generally forgot about the issue of ascension. He was raised in
awareness of it, but also understood from an early age it might not
be his fate to rule the Valleur. Both Tristan and Tianoman were as
qualified. Of course, it might transpire he would be Vallorin, but
he preferred to deal with it when the time came.

Sitting now
amid his cronies before a blazing fire as the storm raged outside,
he sensed Tristan’s grief. It was more than telepathy, for the
storm leeched that power; it was closeness akin to brotherhood.
Tristan was Teroux’s idol, a man he loved like a brother, respected
as a Valla, and a childhood friend.

The two boys
grew up together under Samuel’s tutelage, close, and that did not
change when Tianoman was old enough to form a threesome of Valla
heirs. Tianoman was not exactly an outsider, but they were wary of
him.

Teroux
listened to his friend Cormarin explain the wonders of a woman’s
breasts, grinning like to the others, but his thoughts were on
Tristan. Tristan lost his mother and then Samuel sequestered
himself. Tears pricked at Teroux’s lids, for he would miss Curin
and so would Tianoman. She was special to all three. She was mother
to all of them. He wondered how Tianoman coped.

His thoughts
turned to Tianoman’s Coming-of-Age. The youngest heir would be
twenty-five in less than a month, and Teroux swallowed hard,
realizing how close change was. Once Tianoman came of age it would
be time to choose a new Vallorin.

Who would it
be? Himself, by virtue of his father, or Tianoman, by virtue of the
legacies left by
his
father, or Tristan, Samuel’s son?
Tristan, who was less trueblood, yet would be the better
Vallorin?

Sipping from
his drink, he hid behind the mask of sociability. The future was
uncertain and he liked it not.

He did not
want to be Vallorin; being Vallorin killed his father.

Twenty-five
years ago, before Tianoman was born, the Vall Peninsula experienced
major upheaval.

First there
was the crash of a Beacon ship, which killed thousands and razed
part of the city, and then came ice sheets to decimate the
survivors. In the aftermath the Vall was declared a disaster zone.
Few remained, and little infrastructure. The spaceport was shut for
five years, and it seemed the northern region would revert to a
cold wasteland.

It would have
happened had it not been for two factors. One, the sacred Valleur
site and, two, it was once Valleur land. As dual rulership of
Valleur and Valarian took over in the void left by the Enchanter
and his son Tymall, and was seen to work, a compromise was
reached.

The Vall
became Valleur territory once more and they were charged with
rebuilding and renewal. It would become one of three Valleur
territories on Valaris, but Valarians now lived there also and thus
it became a dual Valleur-Valarian settlement.

It worked. The
Valleur sacred site spread benign influence, aiding the rebuild;
the Valleur were pleased to do justice to historical land; and the
humans who fled from disaster were satisfied it was safe to return.
In the present it was a mixture of Valleur and human and
offworlders.

It was also
challenging to govern, and Tianoman, at age twenty, acquitted
himself well. Now, almost twenty-five, he was respected as a
leader.

Perhaps the
council of Elders felt it necessary to test him most.

He was, after
all, Tymall’s son.

Tianoman paced
the audience chamber.

The storm
severed communication. It had not trekked this far north, but it
broke the link to Menllik and Valla Island. He needed to confer
with Tristan and Teroux without delay.

He asked his
advisor, Elder Sirlasin, “How long before the storm passes?”

“An hour, two
at most.”

“Will the
Beaconite hold his tongue that long?”

Sirlasin
grinned. “We shall make him, have no fear.”

Tianoman
nodded. “Fine, then we must wait.”

“Will we take
him to Menllik or Valla Island, my lord?”

“My cousins
will come here, Elder.”

Sirlasin
bowed. A blunder. “Of course. I merely thought it might contain the
man more efficiently to remove him from his friends.”

Tianoman
frowned and looked away. “You may be right. After I have spoken to
my cousins I will know what to do. In the meantime keep him under
surveillance.”

Sirlasin bowed
and left the audience chamber.

Tianoman paced
to the massive arched windows and looked onto the square outside.
It was paved in red stone and was usually attractive to visitors,
but now sported winter’s mantle. The trees were bare, the fountain
shut off and it was deserted. Snow would return a measure of
prettiness, but it was so cold on the Vall, almost always, not even
snow descended to the ground here. Ice did.

Gods, he could
do with a warmer climate for a while.

Tianoman
watched Sirlasin scurry across the empty expanse, the man pulling
his overcoat tight, and hoped warmer climes would come soon.
Perhaps after the Throne made its choice.

He could not
now think on it, not yet. Right now he had to decide what to do
about the Beaconite and his rumour spreading tongue.

Samuel would
know, but Samuel had shut himself away over Curin.

Tianoman
swallowed.

He missed
Curin.

Rumour begets
secrets, often off the mark.

~ Awl

Valaris

I
nsistent tapping at his mind awakened Tristan.

He sat up,
having slept longer and deeper than intended. Night approached, and
the storm had either passed on or petered out.

Tristan!

Ah. Tian.
Tianoman had awakened him and sounded urgent.

What is
it?

Are you
sleeping your life away, damn it?

Tristan pulled
a face. Caught in the act, he was.
And what if I am?

Never mind.
Tristan, I have stumbled into a problem and need your counsel.

I am in bed.
Come here, we will talk.

There was
silence on the other end and then,
On my way, but I am not
coming alone. I suggest you get dressed and meet us in the library.
I am asking Teroux to join us also.

Sounds
serious.

It may be.

Fine, I am
getting dressed now.
Tristan severed the link. He stumbled from
his bed, found clothes and boots, washed his face, and headed
down.

In the large
space that was the audience chamber, ballroom, banquet hall -
depending on the occasion - and was once Throne-room, he found
Tianoman engaged in a shouting match with a human.

Sirlasin paced
around the two.

Teroux arrived
with shiny cheeks and eyes and Tristan hastened down the stairs -
Teroux had been at the drink, obviously. Lucky sod.

“… political
nightmare for you!” the human shouted.

“Try it!”
Tianoman shouted back. “Beacon will be on the losing end!”

Beacon? A
Beaconite? What was Tianoman thinking? Tristan hurried over.
Teroux, he noted, came to rest beside Sirlasin and viewed
proceedings with amusement. His cousins acted like children
sometimes; challenging Beacon was no light matter.

Tristan came
to a stop. “Excuse me, may I say something?”

Sirlasin was
relieved. The level-headed Valla.

Tianoman
turned. “Cousin, good of you to join us.” His brown eyes flicked
the other way. “And you, Teroux.”

“Shut it,
Tian, you’re causing a scene,” Teroux said.

Tristan held a
hand aloft before an outburst could follow. “Shall we move to the
library? I am certain our guest could use a drink and the warmth of
a fire.”

He gave the
Beaconite a considering look, and the man bowed, evidently deciding
to put his case in the more even atmosphere on offer.

The four men
preceded Tristan into the library adjoining the audience
chamber.

“Shall I add
something to eat, my lord?” a retainer asked.

Tristan
grinned. “Do that, Exem.” He wiped the grin off, entered with a
serious face and closed the door. “Tian, will you present your
guest?”

“Guest? He is
… oh, fine. This is Kris Westlake, recently arrived on the ship
Circular
.” Tianoman held his temper with difficulty. He was
out manoeuvred and liked it not. “My cousins Tristan and
Teroux.”

Kris Westlake
sketched another bow at Tristan and then one for Teroux. “My lords,
it is an honour.”

“Beacon is
ever welcome,” Teroux said, digging at Tianoman’s behaviour.

“Please take a
seat, Mr Westlake,” Tristan said, sitting himself.

Sirlasin
retreated, taking a perch removed from the gathering. He was
advisor only, not decision-maker, for the Vallas were permitted to
make their mistakes unimpeded; if trouble arose the council would
step in.

“Tris, we have
a problem,” Tianoman said, but sat.

Teroux,
grinning, balanced near him, obviously intending to temper his
hot-headed cousin’s outbursts.

Tristan gazed
at his youngest cousin. Tianoman was hot-headed, yes, but they were
all that way once. Something was definitely wrong for him to lose
his cool before an outsider.

“I hear you,”
he said.

Tianoman
subsided, hearing in that tone trust in his judgement.

“Shall we
allow Mr Westlake to speak first?” Tristan prompted.

“Yes,” Teroux
said. “Mr Westlake, please.”

The Beaconite
was a tall man with unruly brown hair and laughing brown eyes. A
good-looking man, and never had anyone seemed less dangerous.

“My lords,
thank you, and please call me Kris. The Mr Westlake thing makes me
feel old and staid and married, and I’m not close to any one of
those.”

Teroux
laughed, Tristan smiled and Tianoman scowled.

Ignoring
Tianoman, Kris continued, speaking largely to Tristan.

“My partners
and I are of Beacon Farm and we secured the privilege to trade
ideas about a genetically engineered grain with Valaris’ Farmer’s
Union.” Beacon Farm was the agricultural world annexed by Beacon.
“Our papers are in order, if you would like to see them?” Tristan
made a gesture with his hands. “I thank you for your trust, my
lord. We landed two days ago, having travelled with the trade ship
Circular
and took up lodging in the big hostel near the
spaceport on Vall.” He shrugged. “There isn’t much to add, except
to say we are meeting your union tomorrow and we have been, er,
partying until now.”

He shrugged
again and glanced significantly at Tianoman.

Tristan’s grey
eyes followed him there. “Tian?”

“I acknowledge
the man’s credentials, his intentions, and agree he has enjoyed
Vall’s entertainments since arrival. Nothing wrong there, but he
has a loose tongue. Sirlasin can confirm.”

“Now wait a
minute …!” Kris burst out.

“Mr Westlake,
you had a few too many too often,” Tianoman snapped. “You may or
may not be aware of the trouble you caused, I see that now.”

The Beaconite
opened his mouth, closed it. Then, “Yes, well, I do have gaps in my
memory.”

Teroux
spluttered into laughter.

Tianoman
glared his way and spoke to Tristan. “It may be innocent, but this
man said things, and it was heard by others who like nothing better
than to feed the rumour mill.”

“What did he
say?” Tristan murmured.

“He expounded
on the idea the Kaval is a Valleur tool. He implied we, the Vallas,
seek to rule the universe, our grandfather uses the Dome to prepare
our places. The three of us will each receive a kingdom in the
future and Elixir will ensure we hold them.”

There was
silence and then Kris spluttered, “I didn’t say that!”

Teroux spoke,
“You do not remember saying it, but these thoughts are not new to
you, are they?”

“I … well, no.
But many think that; I am not alone in it. Are you aware how many
worlds have entered into truce with the Dome to avoid future
invasion?”

“Invasion?”
Tristan whispered. “You suspect Elixir will invade worlds?”

“I am
repeating what I heard.”

“Invade with
what?” Teroux said. “Are you insane? The Dome has no army.”

“We hear tell
of a world called Sanctuary, and folk say an army is being prepared
there,” Kris said, eyes going from one to the other. He finally
understood why it was he had been nabbed by Sirlasin and brought
before Tianoman.

Both Tianoman
and Teroux were about to shout and even Sirlasin in the background
rose in fury, when Tristan held his hand aloft. As he was about to
speak, there was a knock on the door.

Exem entered
bearing a tray of drinks and behind him a woman bearing all manner
of finger foods. The trays were placed on the low table before the
men and the two left. Nobody looked moved.

Tristan spoke,
“Sanctuary is exactly that, a sanctuary. The Dome is what it has
always been and the Kaval are the new Guardians. There is no army
and our grandfather has no intention of carving out kingdoms for
us. This is the truth and those are the facts. However, rumour has
life, and fuelling it does not make it right or alter hearsay into
truth.”

Kris nodded.
“I will speak of this to all who open their mouths to utter these
rumours.”

Tristan
sighed. “No, say nothing. It will add fuel to the fire. Kris, we
judge you misled, but innocent of wrongdoing. Please, enjoy the
hospitality of Valla Palace this night as a token of our apology
and feel free to meet the Farmer’s Union tomorrow without ill will.
All we ask is that you say nothing of this … situation.
Agreed?”