The Nemisin Star (37 page)

“He has been
rather quiet,” Tristamil remarked.

“They are
clearing the caves in the mountains and it is harder than expected
after what Margus did to them. See what he needs and organise it.”
Torrullin studied Tristamil a moment longer, willing to delay the
negotiations if his son needed him, but he did not react.

He made his
way to the courtyard.

“Out, all of
you,” Torrullin commanded as he entered the chamber.

It was clear
that Vannis and a number of Elders, with their unmistakable Golden
features, caused uneasiness among the Dinor.

When a
glowering Vannis made to protest, Torrullin added, “You, too,
Vannis.”

Vannis
stiffened and nodded, leaving with the rest. Soon Vannis would
demand explanations in no uncertain terms.

“Gentlemen,
please sit.” Torrullin walked towards the Throne, but turned to
face the chamber without sitting on it.

There were
nine burly, hairy men before him, their gazes wary. Hands wavered
in the vicinity of their scimitars. They looked at each other in
uncertainty and one stepped forward, waving the others to seats in
a semi-circle before the dais.

“I am Klun the
Hunter, spokesman for the Dinor. Who are you that you have the
authority to send the Vallorin out?”

“Well met, Klun. I am Torrullin and
I
am the Vallorin. Vannis is my
grandfather.”

“You are not
Valleur!”

“I am
half-Valleur, half-human. My father was Taranis, Lord of the
Guardians.”

“Klun, this
could be trickery …”

“Shut up!”
Klun the Hunter snarled at a man behind him. “We know of this
Taranis. Is he not the one who battles evil from the Dome?”

“He said
was
, Klun,” a voice muttered from behind.

“Shut up!”
Klun growled again and turned threateningly to his companions. “I
am to do the talking!” He turned back to the dais. “Was?”

“My father is
dead, murdered due to Margus’ manipulations.”

Klun nodded.
“We have heard from others about this Darak Or and we are ashamed
we permitted him to stir us to war, but there is still this matter
of our oath.”

“We understand
oaths, Klun, and duly acknowledge their worth, but the Valleur are
few now, fewer than the Dinor, and have already suffered much for
previous arrogance. We live on Valaris due to the largesse of the
humans of this world. We are not what we were and we do not seek to
become that again. The universe has moved on and we have with it.”
He paused there.

“Yes,
everything changes with time. Perhaps the Dinor need to as
well.”

“Klun, you
have no authority for that kind of statement!” someone shouted.

“Quiet! Is it
not the truth, then? Huh? Are we not changing ways back home? Or do
we stay in the dark ages for eternity?”

Silence
greeted the burly man’s outburst. No one refuted him.

Klun put his
hands together, and bowed. “Whatever else comes of this meeting,
the Dinor would like to express appreciation for the respect the
Valleur showed our fallen.”

“Huh, where
did he learn such pretty words?” a whisper sounded.

“Shh, idiot.
That is why he speaks for us,” another hissed.

“And you
defile the dead with your nay-saying!” yet another whispered. “Let
Klun speak now.”

Torrullin
listened to all with inward amusement. These were not politicians,
these were ordinary men in an extraordinary situation. He cleared
his throat to draw their attention. “The Valleur revere all dead,
Klun. Knowing that, and knowing the Valleur have moved away from
ancient war-like ways, what would appease the Dinor? How can we
negate your ancient oath?”

The crux of
the matter.

Klun mulled
that and said, “It cannot be negated with words, Vallorin.”

“An apology,
an admission of guilt, accompanied by sizeable reparation?”
Torrullin suggested. He winced inwardly, perhaps he moved too
fast.

“How
sizeable?” someone behind Klun demanded.

Perhaps not so
fast.

“I am going to
remove your tongue, imbecile!” Klun snarled, swinging to glare at
his companions.

“Stuff you,
Klun! Woden said to negotiate a deal! We want to go home - the
harvest is due!”

Torrullin
smiled. Now it would be easy. “I can offer you gems worth a king’s
ransom as physical manifestation of our goodwill, and, further, I
shall have a formal document prepared to display to your people as
proof of our admittance to past wrongdoing. Over this, I offer a
trade agreement, one we may negotiate to the advantage of both our
worlds.”

The gems were
the sapphires Tymall gifted him at his Coming-of-Age ceremony. He
would not miss them.

Klun stroked
his beard. “But is that enough to set aside our oath?”

Not so stupid.
“I swear to all here, if we renege on any deal and if we send a
signal of aggression at any time in the future, we shall assume the
oath is recalled. Immediate delegations will confirm it. That, too,
will be set out clearly in the document.”

“Good enough,”
Klun murmured in evident relief. “How soon will these things be
ready?” The man wanted to go home.

“Good for you,
Klun!” another voice crowed, and Klun gave him the finger without
turning around.

Grinning,
Torrullin stepped off the dais. “The document will be ready in an
hour, along with the gems. The trade agreement will perforce have
to be negotiated with time, but, if you will, I shall send a
delegation to return with you to your homeworld, both human and
Valleur, for all to recognise the sincerity of this new order.”

“Yes!” the
earlier voice shouted.

“Klun, you
forgot something,” another piped in.

Klun glared
over his shoulder. “And what might that be?”

“Woden said
reparations must work both ways.”

Klun stiffened
and faced Torrullin. “We were wrong in attacking your city
unprovoked, oath or not.” The words were dragged from him.

Torrullin
nodded sagely. “The way I see it, Margus was the aggressor; he will
make reparation, trust me. Besides, I believe an advantageous trade
state will more than equalise past errors. If you are willing, I
would we agree both parties are content.”

Klun gripped
him in a bear hug and then released him to kiss him soundly on both
cheeks. “Excellent, Vallorin! May our futures be fruitful!”

“Indeed!”
Torrullin laughed, and clapped his hands. Pretora entered from the
side. “Pretora, please ensure our guests are shown every courtesy
and send Kismet in with pen and paper.”

“As you will,
my Lord Vallorin,” Pretora muttered, and gestured for the Dinor to
follow him, which they did, each one halting first to kiss
Torrullin on both cheeks.

They had an
affinity to battles and raids, but at heart they were men as men
were all over; family, life and land came first.

“Someone put
you through a wringer,” Tristamil remarked when his father returned
to the study.

Torrullin
rubbed both cheeks. “Eighteen bearded kisses.”

“Ah, they
backed down?”

“With relish,
thank Aaru. I think they have enough fighting to do back home …
Phet!”

“Enchanter!”
Phet bounced out from behind Torrullin’s desk mischievously, and
fluttered his wings to signify pleasure. In many ways the tiny
birdman remained a Falcon.

Torrullin
grinned appreciation at the prank and asked, “How are things in the
north?”

“Hard work,
but largely done. We are ferrying in supplies as we speak and Tris
has already dispatched more. Most of it is in the form of tools and
dry food stores. We will be ready. Do you really think it will come
to that again?”

“Margus is too
mercurial to say with certainty.”

“Better safe
than sorry, I agree. Well, whatever happens, he will not get into
the caves this time, I assure you.”

When Margus
first came to Valaris, he used the caves in the Steps of the Meth
Peninsula as his base, installing the Darkling Horde and his
soltakin army there. It was also the first place Torrullin
confronted him, and in his subsequent escape Margus unleashed hate
on the rock itself to contain his enemy. That negative infusion had
to be removed before the caves could be made habitable for
refugees. Those caves was where Dantian, Ardosia’s Vallorin,
died.

“Excellent,”
Torrullin murmured in response to Phet’s claim. He thought back to
that time. For long he had avoided thinking of that particular
past, and now every action brought it out in sharp relief. Gods, he
wanted done with this fiasco.

“Enchanter?”

“Thinking
about the past, my friend. I hope it will not get that bad this
time.”

“We have the
Lady of Life now.”

Torrullin
stilled, but forced himself to say, “Yes, we do.”

Phet eyed him.
“Is there trouble with the Lady? She won’t help?”

Torrullin
nearly swore. “She will help, never fear.”

“What is the
problem?”

“Nothing. I
merely hope it is easier this time.”

Phet nodded.
“I know. It is hard on the Lady.” He sighed theatrically. “Must go.
I wanted to check in and now Quilla will want to pick my brain. He
likes to pick my brain, and there is still much to do.”

“We will not
keep you … Phet?”

The little
birdman paused, about to transport to the Temple. “Enchanter?”

Torrullin ran
both hands through his hair and then clasped them behind his head,
an almost embarrassed gesture on his part. “I wanted to thank you
for all you do, and particularly for your loyalty and love.”

“It has been a
particular pleasure. Is everything all right, Torrullin?”

A wry smile.
“I never seem to express my thanks.”

“I know your
heart, Enchanter, have no fear. It is pretty complicated and crazy,
but I know well when you are grateful, and really, there is no need
for thanks anyway.” Winking at Tristamil, Phet transported out.

Tristamil
shook his head. “If you aim to do this dying quietly, you need to
stop saying goodbye.”

Torrullin put
his hands in his pockets. “You are different.”

“So are
you.”

“Yes, well, I
said goodbye to Saska last night.” Torrullin’s eyes burned bright
before overwhelming sadness crept in.

“I thought as
much. I turned my back on Skye.”

“I thought as
much. Tris, have you …?”

“… slept with
Mitrill? No.” It was the first time he lied directly without his
twin’s instigation.

“Keep it that
way, please.”

Tristamil did
not reply.

Not long after
he stood with Tristamil, Vannis and the Elders beyond the Dragon
doors to greet the Dinor as they left the Keep with gems and
documents.

They would now
go to Menllik and await the delegation that would accompany them to
their homeworld. There they would claim the personal effects of
their fallen to take back to the families of those men. They
promised to say words over the Valleur fallen as well, a mark of
respect from their side. Many had a word of sympathy for Torrullin
over the loss of his father. He bore it stoically.

It appeared an
ancient wrong had been righted. Peace would now reign between Dinor
and Valleur, and both sides would work hard to make it last. That
was a good thing.

It was a point
of Light.

It is easier
to remain anonymous. It is easier to keep talent under wraps. That
way no one can use you. Of course, you will be as nothing.

~ Awl

The Keep

T
orrullin was with Caltian listening
to news from Teighlar when Kismet erupted into the
study.

“Calm down,
Kismet,” Torrullin said when the man stood there hyperventilating.
He hastened from his desk and pushed him into a seat. Kismet was
unable to talk, and made helpless gestures with his hands.
Torrullin glanced at Caltian. “Go and see …”

“No!” Kismet
burst out. “Do not go out there! You must leave here, all of
you!”

Torrullin
sucked at his teeth. “Stay, Caltian. Kismet, look at me.” When the
Elder did so, he lightly touched the man’s forehead. “Relax now,
release your fear.” Colour returned to the ashen face. Caltian and
Torrullin looked at each other. Something was horribly wrong. “Now,
tell me.”

“My Lord, we
heard reports of disease sweeping through the lower reaches of the
valley among those still encamped. Pianote and Darian went to
investigate after the Dinor left. My Lord, they have returned with
the same disease! They are mortally ill! The Dinor did this!”
Kismet jumped up, calm deserting him. “We are all at risk now!”

“Sit!” Torrullin said, and the Elder subsided into his chair.
“The Dinor did
not
do this, and you will put a stop to that rumour immediately.
Now, explain what you know of this disease.”

“Darian says
it is a derivative of the Plague, my Lord.”

Caltian sucked
in a breath and forced himself not to retreat.

“Airborne and
spreading like wildfire.”

Cold crept into Torrullin’s gut.
Healing hands
. “We shall deal with
this.” He thought for a while. “Caltian, come here.” He touched the
man. “You are now immune. Collect a final batch of evacuees and
then you and Krikian remain on Luvanor until you are recalled. No,
wait. Where are you taking people from?”

“Ren Lake, my
Lord.”

“Kismet?”

“No reports of
illness yet.”

“Go, Caltian,
and warn Teighlar to watch for the signs, in case.”

“Yes, Lord
Vallorin.” Caltian bowed. “Will you be all right here?”