The Silent Tempest (Book 2) (40 page)

Brigid nodded, “I saw them fighting the
other krytek too. It took several from the other groves just to bring down one
of them.”

“It started moving as soon as I did.
There was no delay. It was as if it wasn’t reacting, it was simply acting in
time with my own attack,” he observed quietly.

“How could they do that?” she asked
intently.

Tyrion shook his head, “I don’t know.”
But
I will damn sure find out.

The She’Har returned the next morning,
less than twenty-four hours after the attack of the previous day.

Five lore-wardens came, one from each of
the five groves: Listrius, representing the Illeniel Grove; Thillmarius, for
the Prathion Grove; Goldin, for the Centyr Grove; Taymar, for the Gaelyn Grove;
and Mareltus, for the Mordan Grove. Lyralliantha walked amidst them, carrying
a large wooden case.

They had no escort or entourage, no guards
or other accompaniment. It was a peculiarity of their race. Where a human
representative might have required protection, the She’Har simply didn’t
bother. Their children, even the lore-wardens, were simply not that
important. They could replace their children, only the trees, the elders,
deserved real protection.

Tyrion met them in front of the main
house, and every person living in the community they now called Albamarl, stood
with him.

“I see you’ve returned without your
soldiers,” he told them curtly.

Lyralliantha advanced toward him,
presenting the case, while Listrius spoke, “The five groves have come to
agreement.”

“What have you decided?” asked Tyrion.

“Your race is sentient, aware, and
deserving of respect. Our actions in the past have been harmful to you. From
this time forward, humankind will be treated with the same regard that the five
groves show to each other, and you will be considered a part of the Illeniel
Grove—assuming you agree to this accord,” said Listrius formally.

Together Listrius and Lyralliantha opened
the case, displaying the black tablet within. Tyrion might have thought it was
made of stone, but his magesight showed him the fine almost invisible grain of
the Eilen’tyral that it was made from. The tablet was densely inscribed with
the hexagonal symbols of Erollith. Being written on a flat tablet, the accord
was written using only two of the six axes, the past objective moving toward
the future objective. It was a more practical form of writing than the usual
six axes, three dimensional, sculpture-like documents.

“Where’s the rest of it?” asked Tyrion
after glancing at it briefly.

Listrius’ brows went up momentarily. The
She’Har hadn’t expected the human to be so familiar with their written
language. “This document contains all the practical information, but we are
indeed constructing a more formal document that will contain the personal and
subjective elements for posterity.”

“I’ll need a day to peruse this before I
put my signature on it,” responded Tyrion. “I will also want to see the final
complete document when it is finished.”

“That may not be for some months,”
Listrius informed him.

“I will still want to see it,” said Tyrion
brusquely. “To ensure the accuracy of the additional information, even if it
isn’t functionally relevant.”

The She’Har left shortly after that
exchange, and Tyrion retreated into his bedroom with the She’Har tablet.
Lyralliantha went with him. She no longer seemed irritated, but Kate gave her
a look of sympathy anyway. It was obvious to her that Lyralliantha needed some
support before her ordeal in a few days, but Tyrion was too preoccupied with
his own concerns to notice.

Kate left the two of them alone, hoping he
would take the hint.

“Read this part for me,” said Tyrion,
pointing at part of the text.

“All humans currently kept by the She’Har
will be released,” she recited dutifully. “You should have been able to read
that,” she admonished him.

“I just wanted to make sure I understood
it properly,” he replied. “I sometimes miss certain nuances. Does that mean
they intend to release all the people in the slave camps?”

Lyralliantha nodded.

He chewed his lip, “That won’t do.”

“I thought that part would please you.”

“What do you think will happen if they
release tens of thousands of psychotic mages?” he asked. “They outnumber the
entire population of Colne and Lincoln, and they have no inkling of how to act
in a civilized society. The ‘normal’ human population will be overrun,
tortured, abused, and most likely enslaved.”

“Will they not obey you?” she replied.

“Without collars they won’t obey anyone.
Even I couldn’t hope to control so many with nothing more than intimidation.”

“How would you change it then?”

“Your people created this problem,” he
told her. “They’ll have to keep the slave cities running. Even if they were
civilized, there’s no way for me to feed a population of that size. The
She’Har will have to continue supporting them.”

“Then nothing will have changed,” she
noted.

“We’ll build a city, here,” he explained.
“I’ll make a tour of the slave cities every year and select some of the
inhabitants to be released and allowed to relocate. Over time we can build and
handle more of them. In the meantime, the She’Har will have to insure that
their slave populations don’t grow—no breeding, no more child pens.”

“How long will this take?”

“Longer than my life I’d imagine,” he
replied, pursing his lips. “Some of them will probably die before we get to
them.

Something in her expression caught his
eye.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her.
“You look like someone stole your dog.”

“It is of no importance.”

Remembering what Kate had told him the day
before, he spoke again, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I was upset, and my words
were rude. Are you worried about taking the loshti?”

She nodded, “In part. I am more concerned
for what will happen to you while I am away.”

“I will still be here when you return,” he
said reassuringly. “Let the future take care of itself.”

Lyralliantha laughed, “But that is the
duty of the Ill…” She stopped suddenly.

“The duty of the Illeniels?” he said,
finishing her sentence and turning it into a question. “What does that mean?”

“It is just a saying,” she replied
stiffly. “My grove is known for being more concerned with the future than the
others.”

“No, you said ‘duty’, and that implies
more than just a generalization,” he argued. “What did you mean?”

“It is not something I am permitted to
speak of,” she confessed, dropping her pretense.

Tyrion’s mind was quick, and several
things fell into place at once. “The battle yesterday, the way the Illeniel
krytek fought—how did they avoid so many attacks?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

“It’s the Illeniel gift isn’t it?” His
eyes bored into her.

Lyralliantha nodded but didn’t speak.

“And the other groves know about it?”

She nodded once more.

“But you can’t tell me. That doesn’t make
much sense considering we are about to join the Illeniel Grove, according to
this treaty,” he responded.

“Let us talk of something else, my Love,”
she answered.

Frustrated, he growled but when she leaned
forward to kiss him he relaxed.
No point in spoiling the evening over it,
he
thought.
Besides, I’ve figured out more of their secrets than she
realizes.
Smiling inwardly, he kissed her again, rising to his feet, and
lifting her into his arms before tossing her onto the bed.

“Oh!” she cried, startled.

He stalked forward, the look of a hunter
on his face. “Don’t try to escape,” he told her in mock seriousness.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said slyly.

***

Three days later the amended treaty was
signed, and the first accord between humanity and the She’Har became official.
It was a solemn occasion that should perhaps, have been celebrated with great
fanfare and ceremony, but the small community of Albamarl contented themselves
with merely having a larger than usual dinner. The She’Har representatives
remained long enough to hear Tyrion play on his cittern but returned to their
groves soon after that.

All in all it was a rather anticlimactic
event, despite its importance in the history of both mankind and the She’Har.

Lyralliantha was due to take the loshti
the next day, so Kate left her and Tyrion alone that evening, electing to sleep
in the other bedroom with Layla.

In the wee hours of the morning, though,
Tyrion rose, leaving Lyralliantha to sleep alone. It was still dark when he
entered the dormitory and went to one particular door. Knocking, he found Emma
awake and waiting for him. She was dressed, and Ryan sat beside her on the
bed.

“Are you ready?” he asked, even though the
answer was obvious.

“Yes, Father,” they replied together.

Leaving the dormitory, the three of them
went to one of the undamaged storage buildings. Inside, they descended a set
of stairs into a dark room filled with musty smells and cool earth—a root
cellar built to keep food. Moving to the back wall, they stood together in a
small ring.

“Don’t let her go too deep,” he cautioned
Ryan.

“I should be fine, Father,” remarked
Emma. “Just make sure I follow the right course.” After a few seconds her
eyes grew distant, and the earthen wall in front of them opened to reveal a
dark passage.

The three of them entered, and the soil
closed behind them. The tunnel only extended for thirty feet ahead, but as
they walked it moved with them, opening before them and filling in to the
rear. It went deeper as they walked, and Tyrion kept his magesight tuned to
the earth above them, marking their way.

“More to the left here,” he told Ryan,
giving yet another command to his son who was holding Emma’s hand as they
walked. Ryan silently relayed the information to his sister, and the tunnel
began to meander more to the left, giving a wide berth to one of the massive
roots of the god-trees.

“You’re sure they won’t detect us?” asked
Ryan for the tenth time.

“No,” said Tyrion, “but you don’t feel
anything happening do you?”

Ryan shook his head. Whatever Emma was
doing, it seemed undetectable. The earth moved as if of its own accord.

“She’s clever,” complimented Tyrion. “I
don’t think anyone outside of us could feel the empty space where we are now.”

“I feel it,” said Ryan.

“Because we’re in it,” responded Tyrion.
“I can hear the earth talking to her. She, or it, is saying that there’s
nothing here, nothing but more earth. I think if we were above ground we’d not
even know it was here.

“I hope so,” said his son.

They traveled that way for another hour,
moving slowly, avoiding the great roots of the trees of the Illeniel Grove,
until at last Tyrion called for them to halt, “This is it.”

Ryan squeezed Emma’s hand, speaking to her
mind to mind; after a minute she blinked, emerging from her trance-like state.
Tyrion moved to his other side and took Ryan’s left hand in his own. “Focus
your attention above us,” he told them. “Be ready.”

Emma’s eyes glazed over once more, and
Tyrion’s face took on a similar expression. It was harder for him, for the
voice he sought was farther away, muted by the heavy layer of earth above him.
He found it nonetheless, and soon his mind was drifting with the wind.

In Lyralliantha’s bower, far above them, a
heavy dark-skinned fruit hung from a branch above her sleeping pallet. In
appearance it was much like the calmuth that were to be found everywhere, but
it was denser and its color different. A sudden breeze struck the branch.

It wasn’t a wind strong enough to damage
the branch, but within it was a thinner blast of air, moving much faster and
with a razor thin edge. It neatly severed the stem holding the purplish fruit
in place, and it began to fall.

Another gust caught the fruit and buoyed
it for a moment, sending it gently falling to one side, so that rather than
falling on the bed, it sailed out of the bower and fell toward the distant
earth below. It picked up speed for a few seconds before the air began to
behave strangely once more, blowing directly beneath it, slowing its descent.
When it finally touched the ground it was so softly that it hardly made a
sound.

The earth received it gratefully, and the
dark soil swallowed it, leaving no trace of where the fruit had momentarily
lain. The loshti was gone.

In the dark cavern below, the fruit
emerged from the earth to fall neatly into Tyrion’s waiting hands. Pulling a
heavy wool bag next to him open, he removed a strangely carved wooden box. It
had a hinged lid that he deftly opened. Inside, it was lined with velvet.

Placing the loshti within, he closed the
box once more and with a tiny effort of will activated the stasis enchantment
carved into the wood. Time stopped inside, trapping the loshti in an eternally
still moment.

An hour and a half later, he climbed
quietly back into his bed, careful not to disturb Lyralliantha’s sleeping
form. Tyrion lay in the bed, considering his recent actions. He had sent Emma
and Ryan back to their beds before storing the loshti. No one but he would be
able to find it, ensconced as it was in a deep secret place within the earth.