The Nemesis Blade (6 page)

Names set one
free. With startling insight Tristan realised how true it was, and
how true it would prove for The Valla. His was a pedestal of titles
and expectations - even suspicion - and the titles of family added
to that. Calling him by his name would release the pressure.

Tristan
smiled. Yes, understanding certainly helped.

He understood
something else also.

The other two
fell silent, seeing in his expression a different resolve.

“What have you
thought of?” Teroux asked.

“The three of
us together must find someone,” Tristan murmured.

“Who? Lowen?”
Tianoman queried. “He wouldn’t thank us, I think?” His voice was
uncertain and the statement ended as a question.

“No, not
Lowen,” Teroux said. “Saska.”

Tristan shook
his head. “Caballa.”

Astonished
silence greeted that.

“A remarkable
seer, a personal friend and an Elder.” Tristan faced his cousins
with resolution. “She helped him in the past; she could help him
now.”

“You think he
needs help?” Tianoman said.

“I know he
needs help,” Tristan said, and paced forward to sit with them,
leaning forward. “Listen, this is what we need do …”

By nightfall
they put the first plan of action into motion.

Tristan let it
be known he would join his father for a week on their family farm
and was not to be disturbed. The council of Elders concurred,
sympathising with him in his grief.

Teroux long
expressed a wish to enact a play on the stage and let it be known
he would be at the Academia of Truth on Luvanor for a few days to
research the stores of ancient plays in the archives there. He
hoped to announce the forthcoming production at Tianoman’s
Coming-of-Age. The Elders raised brows, but did not attempt to
dissuade him.

Tianoman was
harder. He was not considered an adult and was therefore not
permitted full freedom of decision, and he had not expressed
personal hobbies that could now be used as a smokescreen. His known
talent lay in chasing the ladies … and, laughing so hard they were
doubled over, the three cousins decided to use it.

Tianoman and
Teroux put on a show in Menllik, one which had Tianoman hiding
behind his cousin from an over ambitious lady and an irate father,
and the Elders were horrified. Teroux suggested his cousin
accompany him to Luvanor until the proverbial settled. A relieved
council gave indecently swift permission.

All three had
motive to absent from their duties, but leaving to locations other
than those specified would arouse suspicion and they would be
brought back.

Until a
Vallorin was chosen, not one was free to move around.

By morning the
second plan of action went into motion.

They required
a diversion sufficiently riveting to hold the Elders’ attention,
and in that inattention all three would abscond to Luvanor, Teroux
and Tianoman enveloping Tristan in their signature. They would not,
however, go to the Academia and would barely touch earth there
before moving on. They could be followed, but it was hoped absence
was adequately prepared for.

Fire was a
good diversion, but did not feel right. Natural disasters were
great, but none were in the offing and causing one was
irresponsible. A fight was not good enough and using offworlders to
spark a political incident would be stupid.

Tianoman found
the perfect diversion, one which had Tristan and Teroux burying
wariness before he could see it. He suggested the collapse of a
sacred site, and knew how to do so. It would wholly engage the
Elders … hell, it would engage all Valleur.

After a moment
of shock Tristan and Teroux agreed.

In the morning
the Three Gates started acting strangely. They decided to use the
Gates because they were islands and nobody would be injured. How he
did it the others did not question and, when it happened, they were
forced to turn their backs on the result.

They went to
Luvanor, touching earth in the Wilderness, and then went
elsewhere.

The Elders
were unaware.

Do not attempt
to inhabit another’s skin.

~ Book of
Sages

Sanctuary

J
imini was a shapeshifter.

It meant she
could take on the guise of another that included voice, tone and
personality. She could take on forms of the imagination, including
animals, useful in frightening off intruders in her past. Humanoid
guises she could maintain for extended periods without it sapping
much energy, but imaginative guises were briefly held. It had to do
with biology, she once explained to the Kaval. As she was of the
human form, with generally common organs and brain function,
shifting into another shape was akin to a glamour.

Torrullin
decided she was vital to his ferreting expedition and asked her to
take on Lowen’s appearance for their meeting with Teighlar.

He did not
enjoy having to fool his friend, but hoped to shock a reaction from
the Senlu.

Jimini could
not duplicate Lowen’s aura and Teighlar had a nose like a
bloodhound when it came to etheric signatures. Torrullin would
therefore mask her and explain it away as precaution against threat
to Lowen’s life. Jimini stood before him in his bedchamber on
Sanctuary wearing Lowen’s discarded clothes. It was uncanny and he
had to force reaction for the immortal underneath the guise, not to
the form she represented.

“Perfect,” he
managed.

“Are you all
right, my Lord?”

Lowen’s voice.
Lowen’s incredible blue eyes, her dark, silky hair. “It is a shock,
I admit. I will be fine. Now, Jimini, I am Torrullin to Lowen, not
‘my Lord’. She uses that only when she seeks to … well, never mind.
Stick to Torrullin.”

“I won’t fail,
I promise.”

He studied at
her a moment longer, feeling the terrible desire for the Xenian
seer churn in his gut, and then forced himself to turn away.

“Torrullin, I
…” Her voice petered off.

He folded away
clothes. “Something wrong?”

“Um … no.” She
went to the full mirror.

Jimini, as
herself, was an attractive woman with chestnut hair and eyes, a
rounder figure than Lowen, and shorter. She seemed human, until one
touched her. There the parallel ended, for Jimini had a cold,
clammy and hairless skin, almost white in its pastiness. Her heart,
soul and mind, however, were no different from that of a
hot-blooded woman, and she adored Elixir … as a woman. She stared
at herself, saw what he saw, wondered, and pushed the notion
aside.

“What is it,
Jimini?”

“Just
checking,” she said brightly. “A thought, however, I’m not sure how
warm I should make her skin.”

He muttered
and came over. A hand settled on her cheek and he frowned.
“Warmer.”

She did so and
he nodded. His fingers rested there a few moments longer than was
necessary.

“Do you love
her, my Lord?”

He stiffened.
“I do not want to discuss it. And it is Torrullin.”

“Sorry.
Torrullin, yes. But I’m thinking, you’re reacting to Jimini, not
Lowen, and the Emperor will know the difference.”

“There is
nothing normal in my relationship with Lowen, and he knows that. No
matter how I act towards you, it would be in character.”

“Hell, how
unsettling.”

A mirthless
smile. “There you have it. Part of the attraction. Now, are you
ready?”

“Yes,” she
whispered, her heart fluttering.

“It will be
evening in Grinwallin, a good time to catch him unguarded.”

“Is he not
your friend?”

“My dearest
friend. But Teighlar can keep secrets better than anyone I know,
and we need to discover whether any of them aids us.”

“He’d tell
Lowen?”

“No, but if he
knows something he thinks she already knows, he may let it slip.
Come, let us surprise the Senlu Emperor.”

Grinwallin

Teighlar
returned from a jaunt on his new favourite horse when Torrullin and
Jimini arrived.

In the act of
unsaddling the mare, he paused. Torrullin had come. Good; he needed
to build some bridges there. And … who was that? No signature, but
it could not fool him. Why was this … ah, masked. Torrullin masked
her. Why?

Intrigued, he
asked the groom to finish with his horse and hastened up to the
Great Hall.

The sight of
Lowen arrested him.

Torrullin
masked Lowen?

He put a smile
on and went to embrace her. “Lowen, it is good to see you. You gave
Torrullin quite a scare.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed
Torrullin excuse himself from the Senlu Elder Dechend.

“I was pretty
scared myself,” Lowen murmured, smiling back at him as he released
her.

“Where did you
get to?”

“Not far, as
it turns out … it was more a case of …”

“Teighlar, I
hear you were out riding. Damn, I should’ve come earlier,”
Torrullin interrupted, giving Lowen a warning look.

Teighlar
glanced from one to the other. “I smell a tale. Allow me to wash
the horse off me and then join me for dinner.”

“Great, it
feels as if I haven’t eaten in years,” Lowen grinned.

A smile
quirked the Senlu’s mouth. “You always could eat like a horse.” He
laughed lightly and glanced at Torrullin. “It is a good night;
shall we eat outside?”

“Perfect -
what’s the matter with you? You are acting all formal,” Torrullin
muttered.

“And I don’t
eat like a horse,” Lowen added, winking at the Emperor.

Teighlar
laughed. “I shall be back now. Dechend, two extra places for
dinner, and set the table outside.”

The Emperor
strode away and Torrullin took Lowen’s arm and led her out onto the
portico.

The sun had
already set and most of the amber hues were faded, but Tunin lay in
splendour before their eyes.

“It’s
beautiful,” Jimini whispered.

“Yes, and
Lowen knows that. And she can eat like a horse when she is hungry.
Do not flirt with him, it will make him suspicious.”

“He’s already
suspicious.”

“I know … damn
it.”

The sounds of
cutlery and crockery behind them brought on silence. They stood
together watching as night descended over Tunin and Grinwallin.

Senlu
colourful lanterns lit and the city took on a festive air; the
aromas of many meals floated out into the sweet night air. Teighlar
was right; it was a good night. Warm, breathless.

Grinwallin on
the edge of summer.

Teighlar exited
soundlessly and watched the two of them.

Together, yet
apart. In that there was nothing strange, yet the divide seemed
more strained than usual, but Torrullin and Lowen defied
analysing.

“Come,” he
called, taking a seat at the table nearby.

Other tables
had appeared on the portico; many Senlu decided to eat al fresco
this night. Laughter, talk, porcelain and pewter clashed
harmoniously.

Torrullin and
Lowen took a seat.

Wine was
poured for them.

“Torrullin, I
do not understand you. Why do you not put a ring on her finger?
That way you can keep her leashed.”

Torrullin went
white. “What did you say?”

Lowen hooded
her blue eyes.

Teighlar
lifted his glass. “Marry her, damn it.”

Torrullin
surged to his feet in fury.

Teighlar
laughed and then was deadly serious. “Do you take me for a fool,
Elixir? I can smell a shapeshifter a mile off.”

Torrullin sat
hard and put his head in his hands. “Jimini, leave us. Go to the
villa.”

Jimini, as
Lowen, rose and left quickly.

“Why do you
find it necessary to dupe me?” Teighlar demanded. “Unless you are
pandering to fantasy here?”

Torrullin flew
across the table and fingers curled into Teighlar’s tunic. Senlu
guards rushed over, but Teighlar shouted, “Leave us!”

They
retreated, but did not go away.

“Why are you
goading me?” Torrullin hissed. He released his hold, stood up from
the table wiping spilt wine from his chest.

Teighlar rose.
“Bring another bottle,” he demanded of his staff, without taking
his eyes from Torrullin.

When it was
given to him, he gripped bottle and friend, and frogmarched them
down the stairs and continued the frenzied pace until they reached
the great stairway off the plain. Going halfway down, leaving
Torrullin to follow, he sat on a step, uncorked the wine and
swigged. When Torrullin joined him, he passed the bottle and
watched as Torrullin drank.

“Why?”

Torrullin
drank again, passed the bottle back. “You keep secrets too
well.”

Silence and
then, “Sleep with the shapeshifter, for god’s sake, and release the
tension in you.”

“I am not
going to sleep with the guise of Lowen … shut up.”

“Then do so
with the one under.”

“She is Kaval.
Leave it, will you?”

“What are you
up to, my friend?”

“I have no
bloody idea.”

“I have to
apologise to you, for what I said a few days ago.”

“Not
necessary.” Torrullin frowned.

“A gilded
cage, is Grinwallin, and sometimes it can be claustrophobic. Yet I
am able to endure it, until you say something that causes me to
remember you are lord and master of Grinwallin, not I.”

“That is not
true,” Torrullin murmured, head bowed. A gilded cage, indeed, and
Teighlar had no idea how true it was.

“Oh, true. I
knew the night when the soul of this city spoke to you.”

“You have it
wrong.”

“Do I?”

“I am bound to
Grinwallin, Teighlar, as I am to Torrke. It isn’t quite the same as
sovereignty. You are Emperor here.”