The Sleeper Sword (42 page)

“I know she’s
a woman, a mere woman as some men claim, but she is also
intelligent, articulate, brave and loyal. I ask not that you excuse
her deeds, merely understanding. Valla women have always had it
hard. My mother was lucky in coming into her heritage when she met
my father, thus escaping the hounding of marriage proposals or,
worse, the duty imposed on her in a loveless match.”

“My mother
fled her world and found love in a man who knew nothing of her
blood.”

Tannil nodded.
“Then you understand. Fay has not that freedom and chose another
kind. It hasn’t halted suitors, but she is able to hope they see
her before the rest of it. She is my sister and I don’t like to see
her hurt. Please be patient with her.”

Torrullin
looked up. “I tried to do what she has done; I tried to sunder the
Valla blood a long time ago when I hated my mother for the
half-life she bequeathed me. She fell in love with a mortal, she
could not go back, and it left me with a hidden side. I wanted it
gone, to punish her and to throw what I surrendered in my father’s
face when I found him. I failed. I was to be the Enchanter,
naturally I failed. I had no choice.” He sighed. “I think I envy
Fay the gift she gave herself.”

“Now
I
understand.”

“Please don’t
tell her this.”

Tannil said
nothing, but pulled a face.

“That bothers
you? Know this, to make a profound commitment such as revealing
what is deeply hidden to another, one needs to know that other. I
do not know Fay, Tannil.”

“You do not
know me.”

“I feel you,
and there’s the difference.” Torrullin rose, bringing the exchange
to a close. “Shall we go?”

Tannil stood.
There was much he wanted to say, but he thought better of it. The
time would come.

He followed
the receding form.

Larkin, ship’s
master and captain, stood amid a sombre crowd.

He did not
understand what was happening, but knew a moment ago they moved
with restless anticipation. He overslept this morning, awakened by
the joyous shouting of hundreds of the Golden crowding this tiny
strip of land.

Coming down,
he saw the august gathering in the Throne-room, but slipped away
without making his presence known. Outside, he heard tell of the
coming of the Enchanter, and smiled.

Young Samuel
was right on the money then. Good for him. Samuel winked at him as
he slipped past; that young man was now part of the changes to
come.

He joined in
with the festive atmosphere and then noticed how groups left to
return with basic camping gear in what seemed almost a roster
system. As if all had to fetch something, but were loath to desert
the island together. He soon realised they paid homage to the
Enchanter in maintaining a continual presence, but what was
happening?

Where were
they preparing to go, essential tools and all? He asked, but no one
said anything.

Now this eerie
silence.

A man came out
onto the balcony and Larkin gaped, almost dislodging his teeth.

Ah, what a
sight! Fair in colouring and countenance, strong and confident. A
human Golden. The Enchanter.

Larkin found
himself kneeling with hundreds of likewise awed Valleur and tears
slid over his weathered face. He snatched his cap from his head,
but could not bow. He did not want to miss anything. Then - a
moment he would treasure to the end of his days, a moment he would
tell and retell countless times to anyone who would listen, not
caring whether he was believed or not, wanting to share this very
precious moment.

Those incredible eyes turned his way and gazed directly into
his soul.
Larkin
,
a voice sounded in his head,
I thank you
for bringing my kinsman. May you walk in the Light
always.

Larkin sat in
speechless wonder, unable even to think. He saw a corner of the
Enchanter’s lips lift in a half smile and then those eyes released
him.

The old seadog
wiped at his eyes with a trembling hand and bowed.

“Valleur,” his
voice sounded. “Today we return to Valaris proper.” Ah, the reason
for this activity. “… but be warned. We shall be interlopers at
first. Conduct yourselves with the authority of your ancient
lineage and show them who you are by example. Do not anger when
confronted with prejudice. Do not answer aggression with violence.
Ignore taunts and jibes. Do not chase them from your doorstep;
invite them in and with kindness and understanding change their
minds. Do not use sorcery overtly, unless there is danger. It will
be a period of adjustment, for us, for them, but it will be
short-lived, I assure you. They will need us and, Valleur, doubt
not you will need them. This is a great day, but it is also a
sombre time. Many of you here filed past me in those streets you
now return to; now, this moment, we reverse that sorrow to reclaim
what is ours. Go now. Your Vallorin and I shall join you
tonight.”

Larkin gazed
around him.

The crowds
were gone, leaving only a group of women and children under the
palm trees. He rose unsteadily and did not know what to do next. He
looked up to see the Enchanter turn and go inside.

A moment later
Tannil strode out.

“Larkin,” he
said with a smile. “The Enchanter asks where you want to be from
this day forward. Your choice.”

Larkin
swallowed, speechless again. Tannil waited until he found his
voice. “I want to go home, Lord Vallorin, the long way, on my
ship.”

“I thought
you’d say that. Your ship is prepared for the journey and a token
of our thanks is aboard. Enjoy it and thank you, from me
personally, for your selfless assistance to the Valla family. Go in
peace.” Tannil smiled and moved away and then turned back. “Would
you like to walk to Danak, or can you do with a little help
there?”

“It is a long
walk …”

Tannil grinned
and lifted his hand. “Say no more. You are welcome always, friend
Larkin.”

Before Larkin
could draw another breath he was aboard his ship being gaped at by
his crew. He exhaled, scratched at his head and then jammed his cap
in place.

“Well, what
are you waiting for? Time to go home!”

The crew
jumped to obey with broad smiles.

Once out of
the harbour, course set, tales exchanged, Larkin made his way below
deck.

The token of
the Vallorin’s appreciation was many facetted.

Supplies,
bales of cloth, fishing nets, stacks of planed wood, tools, chests
of books and paper, medical equipment, rope, beautiful Valleur
cooking utensils, and much more.

Larkin smiled
as he turned around and around in the hold. No gold. The Vallorin
could never be that tasteless.

Returning to
his cabin he was surprised to find a tiny wooden chest on his chart
cluttered desk. Inside, a delicate silver bracelet, and a note.

Lifting the small card, he read,
We
knew you would take nothing for yourself, but hope you will present
this to your wife, with our thanks
. It was
signed,
Tannil
.

Larkin sat and
stared at the card for a long time. It was only days later, out at
sea, he realised the note was in Valleur, that the Enchanter spoke
Valleur, and he, Larkin, understood every word.

Chapter
42

The wise tell
us home is where one’s heart is. This, I believe, is to still the
longing when one is in an unfamiliar port. Home is home, is it not?
The stone, the earth, the sky above, the rustling tree of our first
steps, of growing up ... of leaving. If one is blessed, one may
return ... if only for a moment.

~ Book of
Sages

The director,
Anton, commandeered the next train leaving Galilan, threatening
everyone and anyone who dared delay it.

He made it to
Menllik with a camera crew before anyone else and was mighty
relieved to find it deserted. He barked orders, found the most
commanding view - an ancient tower perched roughly in the centre of
the city - and set up. A cameraman was dispatched to roam the
streets, with orders to keep a sharp eye on the strange temple
known as Linir. No doubt, there would be action there at some
stage.

They were soon
joined by curious onlookers from the neighbouring farms, although
they did not enter the city itself, keeping to the boundaries in
watchful silence. Anton panned the crowds from above, saw no
aggression and, while violence would make great television, hoped
it would remain that way.

An hour went
by, then two. Was this incredible event to happen? Anton was a
liberal and believed in equality, equal opportunities and such.
Like the majority of Valarians, he slandered the Valleur, but it
was a thing of habit, not mind-set. He did not feel threatened by
them, only intrigued.

This day he
hoped the Electan’s words would bear fruit, despite his initial
outburst. He suspected others felt the same, and the hatred of the
Golden was not as widespread as everyone thought. In fact, watching
the monitor up in the tower, checking footage the roving camera
captured, asking questions at the same time, clever man, it was a
mood of curiosity and expectation, not anger.

A number even
stated directly this was good for Valaris, it was time for old
things, old grudges, to be put aside. A number grumbled, to be
sure, but their voices were small. Nobody seemed frightened, and
that was because of the man who stood behind the Electan that
morning. He was glorious on film, a quiet Adonis, and how can one
be frightened of that?

Movement.

Anton whipped
out direction.

It was Marcus
Campian and the Valleur Elder and they appeared out of nowhere,
like magic.

Anton smiled.
Of course like magic. If they had come, it meant only one thing,
the others would follow soon. Anton whispered into his earpiece,
told the man to get to back to Linir forthwith.

Five minutes.
All the while the crowds around the city swelled as train after
train disgorged more and others rode and walked in from the
outlying areas. It was great footage.

Then … dear
god.

Between one
moment and the next, hundreds of Golden.

Anton did not
have to say anything. A glance at the monitor told him the
appearance had been recorded and his crew were diligently and
professionally engaged in what they did best. He concentrated on
observing, forming impressions for his editorial later.

The Valleur
were silent, each carrying camping gear. There were no children,
although there were a fair number of women. Their faces were
radiant, expressive in their control. It had to be a great day for
a dispossessed people. Then, more came, arriving among those
already there, and the two groups greeted each other as if they
were parted. Their style of dress was different. Valleur from
elsewhere.

The first
arrivals were clad island style - scantily, sandaled. The new
arrivals were dressed warmer, booted. One of those nimbly jumped
the steps to join the Electan and Kismet before the elevation that
was Linir. A dark-haired man.

Anton
concentrated on Marcus Campian. The Electan was pale, but also
resolved, as if this was against his personal wishes, a treaty made
for the good of his people. For the first time Anton wondered what
was a-foot. To upset a status quo this radically something big
brewed … like the lights in the Forest, the pirate ship around
Silas?

There’s a
threat and we need the Valleur. Hasn’t the legends stated the
Enchanter will return to counter new evil?

Marcus stepped
forward. “Welcome home, Valleur. I give you my word you will be
left in peace.” Marcus bowed and retreated.

As one the
Valleur close enough to hear returned the bow.

Anton drew
breath. Wow.

Kismet and
Caltian stepped forward. Kismet spoke. “We’ll be roughing it a few
days, my friends, but this is an adventure I look forward to!”

A roar of
sound.

“Right, down
to basics. The Enchanter and Vallorin will be here tonight. In the
meantime, find a place to lay your heads. Old family properties
will be returned to those who resided here before, and the rest
will be equitably proportioned. For now, start the water flowing
and get the energy source on line. Food and drink will be along
shortly.” Kismet grinned wide. “New tasks, Valleur, some not so
clean, but a pleasure, what say you?”

This time the
acclaim was deafening and extended, and then the Valleur dispersed
into homes and buildings unknown. Others wandered down the paved
ways talking and laughing.

Peaceably
done, without fanfare.

Anton sighed.
Great television.

A new era.

A few remained
to pack and send supplies and essentials to Menllik.

From them
Tannil selected two trusted retainers to pack the Enchanter’s books
in the library for transport to the Keep. He dispatched six men and
six women into the city of Danak, there to gather other essentials
for Menllik, but also to gather items of furniture, utensils and
the rest for Torrke.

The Keep was
back, but empty, and Tannil doubted his grandfather would bother
with even the barest of comforts. His mother, bless her, reminded
him before she left for Luvanor with Caltian.

After relaying
those orders he was confronted by a group of women, and they
requested permission to go direct to the Keep. They were apparently
responsible for its daily running in the past and knew the
Enchanter’s likes and dislikes. They desired to precede him there
to prepare his home for him.

Tannil was not
so sure it was a good idea, for Margus was there, but allowed it,
telling them to ignore the Enchanter’s … guest. He hoped he did the
right thing, and mentioned it to Torrullin later.