The Echolone Mine (44 page)

“But to get
anything from them is another story. I shall have a sniffle.” He
was gone.

Teroux rose
wearily. He would rather be sick with Rose than healthy away from
her.

He transported
back to Mariner Island.

There were
guards on the bridges now, to prevent people leaving, not
entering.

Entry was
guaranteed. Huge notices in the common tongue were placed at each
bridge entrance to warn people they entered at their own risk.

The island was
crowded. Halfway homes were overfilled, the facility itself was
overcrowded, and a sea of tents rose where level land
permitted.

Teroux found
Rose among the sick children, telling them a story to keep their
minds occupied. He waited until she finished and then motioned her
away.

Out in the
corridor he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“No worse, but
some of these kids won’t last long,” she murmured as she leaned
against him.

The sickness
had no outward manifestation other than terrible pallor, and thus
illnesses like plague and smallpox were ruled out. It acted like
poison, as if a chemical overrode oxygen in blood and gradually
shut down vital organs. It was painful and when the screams began
they knew death approached fast. Whole villages succumbed and many
towns and cities lived in fear. Nobody had pinpointed the source,
but it was now widespread. It was, unfortunately, airborne.

Rose said,
“There must be a way to know the ill from the healthy, Teroux. Some
of these kids come in fine and are sick within days. It’s not
fair.”

“They are
working on it.”

They were.
Scientists everywhere laboured to isolate the virus, bacteria,
chemical or whatever the culprit was and, in the meantime, the ill
came to Sanctuary, trusting in Elixir’s place of peace to work a
miracle.

“Did you tell
Quilla about Jimsin?”

“He’s on his
way to Drinic, yes.”

“Let’s hope
Torrullin left a trace. The man should be here.”

Teroux cupped
her face. “If I lost you, I would also remove myself from
society.”

She smiled
sadly. She kissed his cheek and shooed him away. “I’m going to tell
them another story.”

Drinic
Homeworld

Quilla
discovered a huge quarantine camp on Drinic.

The disease
had spread wider than they thought. In fact, as he was about to
enter Impus Town, he had a call from the Dome. Tristan, no doubt,
had now heard how rife the illness was. He temporarily ignored the
call to track a man who left no signature.

He heard from
an old woman about the man who had a heart attack, yes, leaving his
son an orphan, and was pointed to the house. The front door hung
ajar and he gagged on the filth he found inside, his heart going
out to that poor child, as Torrullin’s had.

Quilla stood
in the mess, concentrating hard. Indeed, it had been an
interference, but Torrullin left no trace. He left the terrible
place and headed out of town. At least he knew Torrullin was aware,
and that was good. Give the man enough suffering, like this
mysterious disease … he stopped dead in his tracks.

Give him
something to feel, and you lure Elixir out of hiding.

That was a
terrifying thought.

Was Elianas
causing this to fire Torrullin? To generate the fuel required for
return?

Quilla
transported instantly to the Dome.

The Dome

“… you four go
to Beacon to help with a quarantine facility,” Tristan said as he
walked in, and broke off. “Quilla, where were you?”

The birdman
marched up to the console. “Tristan, send the word out. The
scientists must test for energy deficiency, I think possibly
neurological.”

Tristan looked
to the Kaval. “Do it and then proceed to your duties as listed.
Go.”

They were gone
within a minute.

“Why,
Quilla?”

“It occurs to
me Elianas may be at the source, inadvertently.”

Tristan was
silent a beat. “I see - to get Torrullin moving.”

Quilla held a
finger up. “If Torrullin is aware he is coerced into action, he may
stay away, or Elianas may need him to say in one place. Tristan, he
feels what happens, and has not put in an appearance? He would come
for this. It could be he is curtailed in transport power.”

“Damn. He may
not know it’s Elianas.”

“It may not
be, but it is plausible. Then again, if he is aware Elianas tweaks,
the game of brinkmanship will keep him in place.”

Tristan was
aware of the deeds search. “We must find him, and soon.
Anything?”

“I am
returning to Drinic now to get into their records.”

A lifted brow.
“Hell, good luck.”

“I shall be
throwing my weight around. I shall let you know.”

Drinic
Homeworld

The archives
were situated underground.

Drinic’s main
city, Encor, housed the great facility, and Quilla knew where it
was. He did not bother with permission; he transported in. And
sneezed in the dust he disturbed.

He was himself
disturbed by the state of the archives. Dust lay thick over
everything, there were watermarks along the walls and there was the
smell of decay. Since the revolution, Drinic went backward.

There was no
one inside, no one. It suited him, although it would take longer to
find anything, but it was a horrific statement of neglect also. No
one cared about the old records.

He moved to a
cabinet, which looked as if it could contain an index system. It
was locked, but he sorted it out. It was an index, but in such a
jumble it made no sense. Swearing, he slammed it closed. He started
walking, hoping for a sign that read ‘Deeds’ or some other likely
title.

He was
astonished when he did, in fact, find a section clearly demarcated
as ‘Deeds’. Earlier record keepers were diligent in their work,
thank the gods.

Quilla started
at one side, choosing a methodical search over a random one. He
soon realised the deeds were separated into worlds and it occurred
to him ancient Drinic could be regarded as the universe’s record
keepers, as Titania held knowledge. Titania was maintained,
however; this place was a farce. A world per world system helped
him nothing, of course. There were many worlds and any one could be
the planet Torrullin isolated himself upon.

Fine, Quilla
, he told himself as he
realised how many ancient worlds Drinic had records for,
now it is time to think about this and be
logical. It is not Valaris,
and in fact
Valaris did not feature, being a world too recently settled for
these records,
and it is not Luvanor,
Akhavar or Sanctuary …

He noticed a
thick sheaf for Orb, as Sanctuary was called then. Out of
curiosity, he looked. A drawing was first, old and brittle, yet it
leapt out at him. It was the High King of Orb - owner and ruler of
ancient Orb - and it was, definitely, Teighlar of Grinwallin. If
ever anyone required proof of who exactly Teighlar was, here it
was.

Quilla put it
away, knowing he would say nothing, not trusting Teighlar would not
at some future date institute a claim on Sanctuary.

Think
, he admonished. Torrullin
would regard home as a place from previous times. Akhavar was one
of those, only not. Which other worlds were once Valleur? Many, he
sighed, most settled by humans in later years, and it was
overcrowding Torrullin would definitely avoid. Thus, off-the-track
worlds. Worlds far flung, abandoned and even uninhabitable, and
worlds not discovered by modern society, although known once in the
ancient universe.

He hoped it
was not the latter.

Pilan? No,
Torrullin was not a jungle person. He preferred seasons and
variety.

Quilla came to
a shelf where each folder was a world’s record, not a shelf per
world. Ah, now that was promising. The small worlds, the far flung,
the less known.

Pilan was
there, empty but for a note that stated they were not to be
interfered with. Fortani and Nera were there, but today belonged
with the others and required many folders more than these thin
ones. Fee? It did not ring a bell, and he pulled it out and found
nothing inside. Avaelyn? Now that rang a bell, but he knew the
planet was uninhabited and far … he pulled it out and opened
it.

And stared
down, startled beyond all previous astonishments.

That was where
he would find Torrullin. On Avaelyn.

It seemed
Torrullin not only owned land on Avaelyn; he owned the entire
planet. Torrullin possessed the right to start a civilisation and
rule it according to his whim. Torrullin had more political clout
than anyone dreamed of. Gods.

Quilla lifted
the single sheet in the folder. Torrullin Agripson Valla. There was
his signature and there was the dragon seal, the one from the ring
he always wore and no one ever saw, for it required magic to bring
to sight.

He replaced
the document, closed the file, and left, taking it with him.

Chapter 35

A piece of
paper is not always scrap.

Political
comment

Avaelyn

I
t was summer and this day
epitomised the season.

It was hot,
breathless and still. Torrullin sat with his feet in the rock pond
where a huge oak shed shade enough to cool him, wearing nothing but
a loincloth. Beside him lay papers, ink and quills, but it was too
hot to write. He was in deep thought, however, planning his next
move.

That was where
Quilla found him.

He came to a
halt. Torrullin was too thin, but his unhealthy pallor was tanned
over. He seemed agitated within, yet his body was calm, and that
was a contradiction ever-present in the man.

Quilla, for
the first time in Torrullin’s presence, felt like an intruder. He
felt even more so when those silvery eyes turned on him without
expression.

“You found
me.”

The birdman
approached, waving the folder. He handed it over.

Torrullin
accepted it and looked inside. “Ah, I wondered where I could find a
copy. This, the original, will do. Thank you. Sit.”

“I found it on
Drinic.” Quilla sat, folding his hands in his lap. “Am I
intruding?”

“A few days
you ago you would have been, but not now. I meant to call you
tonight.”

“Has something
changed?”

A wry smile,
and Torrullin set the folder atop his papers, thereby hiding what
he had written. “The only constant is change, is it not? Even here,
in the back of beyond, it comes.”

“Are you all
right?”

“All right?
No, I doubt that.”

“What has
changed?”

“Purpose.
There is an illness out there requiring my attention. And that is
why you came.”

“Not that
alone, but it is a priority, yes.”

“Tell me how
bad it is.”

Quilla
collected his thoughts and then quietly related what he knew.

Torrullin
nodded afterward. “Thus sense is made. I wondered why I should
bother if Sanctuary has the facilities. We need a quarantine world,
and I have chosen a landing site and a place to erect a makeshift
facility.” He eyed the birdman. “I am thinking a Mercy Ship or two,
crystal powered along with a device I invented to aid it to swifter
speed. I was thinking beyond this disease to other ailments.”

Quilla swirled
his tongue around, and then, “You aim to be healer?”

“It seems the
only way to retrieve my transport abilities.”

“I thought you
were curtailed.”

“A void, this
time of my design. In withdrawing Elixir, a hole formed to allow
suffering to concentrate. I am not being altruistic in attempting
to right it; I want this phase to pass. This is akin to the
shadowlands for me. That landing zone will be temporary and no
facility will last more than a year. Elixir will periodically make
his presence known in the future to avoid a repeat of this
situation, but once fixed, Avaelyn closes her skies again.” He
tapped the folder. “You see I have the right.”

Quilla nodded.
He wanted to discuss curtailment, explain he thought it might be
due to Elianas, as this disease could be, but realised Torrullin
was not ready. Torrullin had focused, and it would have to do.

Torrullin drew
his feet from the water and stood. “Come, I have papers you can
take back with you.” He retrieved the folder and his notes and
headed up the curving path into his home.

Quilla
followed and was soon entranced by the beautiful dwelling. Yes,
this was exactly like him. He found Torrullin behind a desk in a
library, a silk robe flung over his nakedness.

“How old is
this place?”

Torrullin
looked up briefly. “I built it in the first backtrack, a few years
before Elianas came.”

That old, dear
god. “It lasted through all the ages?”

“I believe
Elianas might have something to do with it.”

Ah, he was not
so unaware. Quilla looked at the books. “You raided the cottage, I
see.” He pointed at the man’s chest. “And you wear that again.”

Torrullin
touched the Medaillon. “It may aid Elianas.”

Quilla paced
forward and Torrullin created an addition chair. He smiled his
appreciation and sat. “Torrullin, before we get to Mercy Ships and
healing, there is something else I must share with you about
Elianas.”

A blank stare.
“I do not want to discuss him.”

“This comes
from the Syllvan.”

“That is how
you tracked me. Clever. Fine, say what you must.”

Quilla
mentally braced; Torrullin was like a stranger. “Elianas lost his
energy and thus lost himself …”