The Kallanon Scales (19 page)

Two Town would
never be a city again, but it grew into a spaceport of inns and
taverns. There was a bank, a supply store, and a host of smaller
concerns catering to guests.

When
Torrullin, Vannis and Krikian arrived, two ships were on the
concourse - a small vessel from Beacon and a larger one from
Pleses.

They entered
the comfortable lounge. It was empty of visitors, but two women
worked behind a counter in a central island. There was a
communications room to the left, with a young man relaxing before
an array of buttons, headphones draping. It was basic in universal
terms, but modern for Valaris.

Range was ship
to shore, further communication bounced, as Krikian did to reach
the astronomer they now expected. Krikian made his way to the
comms-room to have a word and returned to relay the Xenian craft
was ten minutes out.

Behind him,
the man had his headphones firmly in place. The two women at their
workstation also concentrated, industrious.

Torrullin sent
Krikian out for coffee and sandwiches, and he and Vannis sat on in
silence. Concrete shimmered in the heat. Birds retreated to shadier
areas.

“We are not
talking, Torrullin.”

Torrullin’s
gaze wandered over the décor. Comfortable armchairs, round coffee
tables, cool, grey tiles. Landscapes on the walls. Palms in wicker.
Welcoming, but he wondered whether so many visitors were good for
Valaris. He looked at Vannis, noting Krikian enter with a tray
through the swing-doors.

“I am
worn-out.”

Vannis nodded,
accepting a mug as Krikian presented it.

Moments later
the building shook, glass rattling in frames, and an ear-splitting
whine filled the air. It sounded like the end of the world and the
concourse darkened dramatically as the shadow of a huge ship came
overhead.

The whine was
mercifully short-lived, for the craft was down in short order. The
women reached for files. The engines shut down and a ramp lowered.
It was an old cargo ship, of uniform dark blue, covered in strange
silver markings.

It came to
rest on a gantry lowered from the ship’s bowels and was the
traditional triangular shape, with a bloated central oval in which
portals shone as they caught the sunshine. Near the nose of the
craft, a bubble rose and figures moved within.

This
particular ship was a familiar sight, ferrying in guests and cargo
from Xen III and other worlds. She was a trader known as the Blue
Domian Nine, affectionately known as the Blue Dom.

Figures
hurried down the ramp and Krikian rose to make his way into the
heat. The smell of hot fuel permeated the air.

Xenians were
human, but pale of skin due to their domed existence. They reddened
swiftly under Valaris’ summer sun and thus most ran for the cool of
the lounge. The place erupted in noise and relieved laughter -
always laughter when a ship made it to ground - and men and women
made their way to the island.

These were
passengers, for the crew took longer to exit. Torrullin watched
Krikian greet a young woman on the concourse. Tall, with a
long-legged stride. He could discern no features in the shadow of a
cap. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved white top, comfortable
rubber-soled boots.

She greeted
Krikian as an old friend would, leaning in to peck him on the
cheek, and linked her arm through his as they made their way
towards the lounge. The crew bailed out to first inspect then to
lock down before following with much arm waving.

It was ten
days from Xen on a cargo ship - four for the sleeker variety - but
ship life was stifling and Valaris paradise. The crew competed hard
for a berth and now they could enjoy sunshine and fresh water under
an open sky.

Torrullin and
Vannis rose when Krikian approached with his companion. She removed
her cap, shaking out shoulder-length hair. It was almost black, and
dead straight, a wispy fringe obscured a high forehead.

She tucked her
hair behind her ears and extended her hand to Torrullin. He took it
and looked into the darkest eyes he had ever seen, unreadable. Her
clasp was firm and cool. She smiled and released his hand to extend
to Vannis.

“Hello, my
name is Catalina, but everyone calls me Cat.” Her voice was
musical, accented.

“Pleased to
meet you, Cat. I am Torrullin and this is Vannis.” He motioned for
her to sit.

“Well met,
Cat,” Vannis grinned. He noticed a tightness around Krikian’s mouth
and realised the Valleur was attracted to this woman.

“Funny names
you have, so Latin.” Cat smiled. “God, this is comfort, ship chairs
really test one.”

“Your journey
was smooth?” Torrullin asked.

“Nothing
untoward. Are you all so formal?”

Vannis
chuckled, liking her.

“Krikian told
me you require my services, but I’m not sure how much help I can
be. I need specifics and I’m not familiar with all charts.” Her
dark eyes flicked from Torrullin to Vannis, paused there to study
him, and returned to Torrullin. Vannis nearly choked at the look on
Krikian’s face. “I have to know what you are looking for.”

Torrullin was
serious. “Are you in a hurry? Plans of any kind?”

“Sunshine,
swimming, hiking, rolling in the grass. Anything and everything I
can do outdoors while we’re grounded. And no, I’m not in a hurry,
we’re down for five days.”

“I prefer to
discuss our business in private. Are you able to accompany us?”

Cat frowned
and her pale face stilled. “Where to? How long? And if I agree I
would really prefer to bring someone.”

“Feel free to
bring whomever you need. We are going to Torrke, maybe an hour, a
day; it depends on how much you are able to assist us.”

Vannis did not
like it. It would put the Xenian woman in danger. Krikian sighed
inaudibly.

“Torrke?”

“Torrullin’s
Keep.”

Her face animated. “Really? Krik told me how gorgeous the
valley is! Oh,
Torrullin
… you are the Vallorin!” She bit her
lip.

“Guilty. Will
you come?”

She stared at
him and was uncertain. “Now?”

“When you are
ready.”

She rose
decisively. “I’ll meet you here in fifteen minutes, okay?” She
grinned and turned, shouting as she did so, “Matt! Where are you?”
She strode away to push through the throng at the central
island.

“Well,” Vannis drawled, slapping Krikian on the shoulder.
“Some lady you befriended! Not that I can hear you actually say the
word
gorgeous
!”
Vannis burst out laughing at the Valleur’s stiff posture. “Relax,
Krikian, I am sure our Vallorin will not forget he is a married
man!”

Krikian was
mortified.

“Vannis, stop
that,” Torrullin muttered, eyes on Cat’s form. He saw her grab a
young man, whisper intently into his ear and drag him towards the
door. Both glanced over before heading to the ship. “Krikian, do
you know this Matt?”

“Her brother,
my Lord.”

“What does he
do?”

“He is a
pilot. Can fly virtually anything.”

“Interesting.”
He followed the two’s progress as they headed up the ramp. The
young man was dark-haired and tall. “Who is older?”

“Matt, by
three years.”

“How long have
you known them?”

“I met Matt
five years ago, but Cat recently. Six months, I would say.”

“Do you trust
them?”

“I believe so,
although we never touched on anything controversial.”

Torrullin
nodded and was silent.

The Xenians
left the ship each hefting a rucksack. Well, an astronomer and a
pilot when they needed to get to the Forbidden Zone by ship. Fate
played right into their hands. Torrullin turned to Krikian. “Are
any of the two married?”

Krikian was
unhappy, for he could see where it led. He was also very aware of
the stakes. “I think they have only each other.”

So,
Vannis mused,
single, unencumbered, with skills we need. How
fateful of the gods.
He glanced at
Torrullin, but his grandson was deep in thought again, absently
stroking his chest. “Torrullin.”

A moment, and
then Torrullin looked at him. “I know the danger, Vannis, but I
also know we have little choice.”

“You should
tell them before we go to Torrke.”

“No. I must
take their choices away. We need them.”

Krikian closed
his eyes.

The two
presented themselves. Krikian and Matt gripped hands.

“This is my
brother Matt,” Cat said.

His eyes were
as dark as his sister’s and he was broad of shoulder, taller, fit.
He wore jeans and boots; a cut-off T-shirt completed the
ensemble.

“Pleased to meet you, Matt,” Torrullin said. He noticed the
young man’s watchful manner.
He has more
control than his sister does. He will function under
pressure.

“And you, Lord
Vallorin.” Matt dipped his head. “Well met, Lord Vannis.”

They headed to
a copse of trees at the edge of the concourse and once under its
shady branches, Vannis said, “Forgive the cloak and dagger, but we
shall transport from here. Sorcery frightens some.” And witnesses
were less.

“Especially
Xenians?” Matt grinned.

“Xenians
included,” Vannis laughed. He held his hand out to Cat, who took it
without hesitation. Krikian gripped Matt’s arm and the five of them
vanished.

Cat’s squeal
of delight hung over the concourse.

The Keep

They reappeared
in the courtyard.

“Neat,” Cat
murmured. “You must teach me that, Krik.”

“Cat, control
yourself,” Matt muttered.

Torrullin
strode into the Throne-room. “Krikian, gather everyone in the
dining chamber, including Gren. Vannis, will you show our guests to
the west suite? Ten minutes.” He entered into the gloom of
indoors.

The Xenians
were entranced. The Keep was spectacular. The suite Vannis left
them in was wonderful. The view from their outside balcony was
magnificent.

“Fantastic,”
Cat breathed to her brother. “God, I’d like to live on this
world.”

“Yeah, it’s
great, but control that mouth of yours. These are dangerous
people.”

“Come on, they
are friendly.”

“Yep, and Xen’s Peacekeeper can be friendly too, the idiot.
Torrullin is Vallorin, Cat, of a race of sorcerers. That makes him
number one sorcerer - the Enchanter. Think of the stories we’ve
heard, okay, and know right now they are all true. Do
not
underestimate them,
not even Krikian.”

He stared at
his sister, trying to instil sense into her, and then caught sight
of himself in a mirror.

“Crap, I look
like a bloody tramp.” He began rummaging in his rucksack.

Sometimes they
come in pairs.

~ Tattle

The Keep

T
hey met everyone in the dining
chamber, and Taranis said to enjoy the small feast.

The variety of
races did not surprise the Xenians in the least; they were
accustomed to all kinds.

Torrullin
entered, seemingly irritated. “The twins will be here shortly,” he
said as he sat at the head of the table. “Late as usual.”

That was why
he seemed out of sorts, Cat thought. Not because everyone started
eating without him.

Torrullin
glanced at them sandwiched between Krikian and Vannis. “Have you
met everyone?”

They nodded
and continued eating when no one seemed fazed. It was good fare,
chicken, vegetables, potatoes, spicy gravy, and fruit on the side,
a light white wine. It deserved attention.

Torrullin took
a glass of wine. He drummed fingers on the table. “Quilla, where is
Phet?”

“A call from
Gasmoor, a multiple drowning.”

“We can start,
surely?” Taranis said.

“I need to
seal the room. Taranis, whatever happened to Belun?”

“You know
Belun, needs to keep busy. With the Dome out, he sought handiwork
elsewhere. Last I heard he investigated the Pilan system. Do you
need him aboard?”

The Centuar,
of whom Belun was leader, numbered three after Margus’ reign of
terror. “Better not.”

“Belun will
probably come a-galloping once he gets a whiff of this hay,”
Taranis laughed.

Gren
spluttered. “Hates to be left out of the corral, does our
Centuar.”

Torrullin
smiled absently and stood. “Tris! Ty! Now!”

“’Tris, Ty’?”
Cat murmured to her brother.

“His sons,”
Matt returned.

The twins
entered and Torrullin waved over the room. The sealing.

“We watched
Camot choose his troops,” Tristamil said.

Both boys
glanced at the newcomers. She studied them frankly. It amazed her
that father and sons seemed more like brothers than a generation
apart.

Torrullin
gestured for the twins to sit, which they did, dragging platters
closer.

“How fares
Camot?”

“Good,” Tymall
replied, his mouth full. “Fifty he is satisfied with and culling
from the hundreds who came flocking.”

“I told him to
keep it under wraps.”

“They sniffed
it out. You know what the Valleur are like.”

“Far too ready
for war, that is what,” Vannis muttered.

Matt glanced
at Cat. Troops? Sealing the chamber? Far too ready for war?

Krikian
whispered, “You are among the good guys here.”

Good guys
implied there were bad ones also. Cat gestured at Matt, silently
telling him they should walk away.

“Matt.”
Torrullin’s voice intruded and the Xenians’ dark eyes swivelled to
the head of the table. “I believe you are a pilot.”