The Sleeper Sword (41 page)

“You were
gone?”

“Long. The
Q’lin’la were on Luvanor.”

Torrullin
nodded, then, “We need another armchair.” An armchair appeared and
he sank into it, closing his eyes.

“You have
grown in talent, Torrullin. No more hands.”

“A gift I
received from my Throne,” Torrullin murmured without opening his
eyes.

Quilla
chuckled and winked at Samuel.

Torrullin
opened one eye and then shut it, having realised what he said.

“
Your
Throne, is it?”

“Leave be,
Quilla.”

“Some things
cannot be run from, my friend.”

Torrullin
straightened. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, “I’m
exhausted. Sleep has been elusive the last ten days and this
morning’s nap served to make it worse. Quilla, don’t taunt me.
Already my temper stretches thin.”

“Tsk,
Enchanter, a sore point?”

“You accuse me
of running. Explain yourself.”

“You know what
I mean.”

“Q’li’qa’mz!”

Quilla laughed
again. “Now I know I am on the right track!” He glanced
conspiratorially at Samuel. “Whenever he gets peeved about
something I have said and done, he resorts to my mouthful of a
name. Revealing, isn’t it?”

Samuel merely
shared his gaze between Quilla and Torrullin and wisely held his
peace.

“Don’t put him
in the middle. Tell it like it is.”

“Fine. You
have reached the point where you can no longer run.”

“Meaning that
is what I have been doing.”

“Yes.”

Torrullin
stared at him. “Look at my eyes, Quilla. Valleur yellow. It was
quite a shock to see them in the mirror earlier. Do you know what
it means?”

“I’m sure you
are going to tell me.”

“It means I
accepted. I became. I overcame. Do not speak to me of running,
Q’li’qa’mz. I stopped when …”

“When you
vanished for two thousand years? Do not insult my
intelligence.”

“That was not
running!”

“No? What
other verb shall we use then?”

Samuel made
himself as inconspicuous as possible.

Torrullin rose
to tower over the diminutive birdman. “Duty, Quilla!”

“Nonsense! And
do not try to intimidate me, stupid man!”

Torrullin
spluttered and burst out laughing. “Gods, in all the universe, in
all realms, you are the only one who can get away with that!” He
flung into his seat, still laughing.

Quilla was not
to be put off. “Duty it was not. I know most of us concurred at the
time with the decision to go beyond with Margus, but it was choice,
not duty, and choice largely based on your personal desires. You
ran when you exited this realm.”

Torrullin said
nothing for a time, ignoring the challenging orbs. Then, “Well, it
backfired on me.”

There was
immediate sympathy. “I thought it might, I’m sorry.”

Silence.

Then, “Where
is she, Quilla?”

A sigh. “I
don’t know.”

Another
silence and Torrullin glanced at Samuel. “How much knowledge did
you grow up with, kinsman?”

“I knew
nothing until ten days ago.”

Torrullin
reflected, “You knew unconsciously or you wouldn’t have
accepted.”

“I know that
now.”

“Tell me what
you know of your heritage.”

“My family
name is Skyler, taken from …”

“Skye. It means
Son of the
Sky
.”

“I didn’t know
that.”

“She knew I
would recognise it, for I called her my daughter of the sky,”
Torrullin murmured. “She was very special to me.”

“Their son,
she named him Tristan.”

Torrullin passed a hand over his face. “
Holy One
. A good name for a son of a
warrior priest. How long did Tristan live?”

“Three hundred
years and his son slightly less. Thereafter the life spans
shortened. My father died at sixty-two, but his death was due to
illness. His father before him lived to one hundred and two, and
his before that reached one hundred and six. Most Skylers live to
beyond a century.”

“Approximately
sixteen generations.”

“Fifteen,
including my son.” Samuel added, “I named him Tristan.”

Torrullin
smiled. “Of course you did. As in the beginning, thus in the
end.”

Quilla
snorted. “Pish, no such thing.”

“I meant the
Skyler exile, Quilla.”

Samuel cleared
his throat. “I wondered what I call myself now … my son’s family
name …” He lapsed into silence.

“You are
Valla, Samuel, but the name Skyler will be with you and your
descendants always. It’s not a marking of difference, but an
acknowledgement of Tristamil’s two lines. You are Samuel Skyler
Valla, and your son is Tristan Skyler Valla, and thus it will go
forth.”

Samuel smiled.
“I like it.”

Torrullin
laughed. “I’m glad.”

“Your father
was human, right? What are you known as?” Samuel dared.

Quilla made a
clucking sound. Dangerous territory. Torrullin surprised him,
however, by considering without rancour. “I am simply Torrullin. I
am of the House of Valla. My father’s name, Agripson, I hold in my
heart.”

Samuel smiled.
“You loved your father.”

“Very
much.”

Quilla looked
away. For Torrullin, Taranis’s death had to be fresh and
painful.

“When did you
learn of the Valla blood?” Torrullin asked of Samuel.

“Ten days
ago.”

“Another
parallel,” Quilla murmured.

“As always,”
Torrullin responded. “Tell me, Samuel.”

“My father
told me on his deathbed, as his father had, and so it has been, all
the way back to Tristan. His mother Skye, well, she told him to
keep his blood a secret, but to ensure the oldest male in each
succeeding generation be made aware. I’m not sure who started the
deathbed scenario, but personally I think it less than
perfect.”

“Morbid,”
Quilla muttered.

“Quiet,
Quilla,” Torrullin said. “How many Valla-Skylers are there
now?”

“My son and
myself. Only one child per generation was born, and always
male.”

As he
suspected on the Plane. “Fifteen generations is not that much, even
accounting for longevity.”

Samuel
grinned. “It seems Skyler males had sons late in life, a child born
shortly before death. Tristan fathered his son ten years before he
passed on, for instance. My own father was told later, fortunately,
and still it proved a terrible burden.” Samuel sighed. “He broke
with the tradition of having a child in old age and wed early, and
thus he spared me until now, a grown man with a son of his own
already.”

“He was a wise
man,” Torrullin said. “Was there difference in him?”

Samuel nodded.
“I always thought he wasn’t like other men, but didn’t understand
why.”

“And your
wife?”

“Her name is
Curin. She knows. Tannil said there was no need to hide this from
her.”

“Tannil is
wise. Unlike me.”

“Huh,” Quilla
snorted.

“Where are
Curin and Tristan now?”

“Tannil said
they could be in danger, and sent them to Luvanor with Vania and
Teroux.”

“Excellent.
Vania is Tannil’s wife?”

“A different
marriage,” Quilla murmured.

Torrullin
frowned at the birdman. “Stop butting in.”

Quilla
smiled.

“Tristan and
Teroux got on well,” Samuel said, longing in his voice.

Torrullin
studied him. This was a father who loved his son and a husband who
loved his wife. “In some convoluted manner they are cousins and
their blood calls to each other. Teroux is four, right? How old is
your son?”

“He is
ten.”

“He will be
good for Teroux.”

“He is a good
boy.”

“You’ll see
him before long.”

Quilla sighed.
“Tymall is really upsetting the applecart.”

Torrullin
turned his way. “Do not speak of him when we are talking about
sons.”

“Huh!”

“Stop it,
Quilla.”

“Enchanter, I
know you want to know Samuel, but you use that to …”

“I’m warning
you.”

“You cannot
run from this.”

Torrullin
stared at him and then, “I do not want to be Vallorin.”

“I know. Like
Vannis before you, once was enough, and I understand that. It has
to be done, however, and maybe the Vallorinship will not depend on
that chair.”

Torrullin ran
a hand through his hair, ruffling it. “The Valleur place great
value on the Throne, you know this. If it repudiates Tannil, he
will be usurped and I shall not do that to him.”

Quilla did not
respond. Sometimes it paid to say not a word.

“I didn’t
realise it would react as it subsequently did. I thought the blast
would drive it into defensive cloaking, which happened, but then
Tannil was to recall it and bring it west.”

“Why do you
think it reacted like it did?” Samuel dared ask.

“I bound
Throne and valley and therein lays my error. While one waited, so
too the other. Tannil may have recalled the Throne to Torrke, but
he could not have moved it … and he could not have sat on it.”

“He knew it
was bound to Torrke,” Quilla said, “and that is why he eventually
left it alone.”

“There was
peace,” Samuel added. “Tannil probably - I’m sorry, the intricacies
escape me.”

Torrullin sent
him a look. “Not for long. And you’re right - during peace the rite
of birth was sufficient.”

“No longer,”
Quilla pointed out.

Torrullin
stared over their heads. “Soon the Valleur will begin seeing us as
two Vallorins, simply because Tannil has no Throne, while I had it.
Time will be immaterial.”

“Your people
do not function amid division, Torrullin.”

“I know.”

“Tell it what
you want, ask it to move on to your heir, but do it without
Tannil’s knowledge.”

“I’ve
considered that.”

“But?”

“It will do as
it pleases and that is cause for concern.”

“It sounds …
alive,” Samuel said.

“It is and I
wonder how furious it is over a two millennia imprisonment.”

“Relax. Vannis
had it below for nine thousand and it emerged unscathed,” Quilla
said.

“That’s not strictly accurate. Firstly, Vannis was
with
it for those nine
thousand and thus it was patient. It tolerated him on the first
recall, but was ecstatic to move to me.”

Quilla lifted
a brow. “Then it may be ecstatic to move to Tannil.”

“Maybe.”

“Do not hide
from this.”

Torrullin
nodded.

“Are you going
to move the Lifesource?” Quilla asked after a time, a hopeful note
in his voice.

Torrullin
raised his head from a study of his hands. “Of course.”

Quilla sighed.
“My mountains, how I missed them!”

“How we cling
to the familiar.”

“It is not
clinging. Places, people and memories are the things that mould us,
and if they are good, our souls know them. They are our Light.”

“Amen,” Samuel
said.

“Were you
happy in your life, Samuel?” Torrullin questioned.

“Yes.”

“And would it
be enough for you when this is over?”

Samuel’s grey
eyes turned distant. “My home, my workbench, my wife, my son,
enough? It was more than I’d hoped for and I consider myself
blessed. I would be doubly blessed if I could return to that.” He
focused. “I am a simple man, my Lord. I would be a happy man in a
hovel as long as I have the love of my wife and son.”

“You are a
fortunate man, Samuel Skyler Valla.”

“Amen,” Quilla
added.

Tannil inhaled
deeply as if preparing for confrontation, and found the three where
he thought to - the Enchanter’s chamber as he privately thought of
it since Quilla told him of the armchairs - and noted the
additional seat.

Quilla was saying, “The Q’lin’la do not answer to the
Guardians. I know that causes Buthos grief, but we adhere to the
older oath. Yes, I know, they need numbers, and I’ll send the
others to aid them against the darklings.
I
am not leaving.”

Torrullin
caught sight of his grandson in the arch. “Tannil, join us.”

Tannil
approached and Quilla gave up his seat. “I must confer with the
Q’lin’la.” The birdman left through the opposite arch, feet barely
making a sound.

Tannil sat.
“It’s midday and the Valleur are ready to transport.”

Torrullin
inclined his head. “Then let us do it.” He moved to rise, but
Tannil held a hand aloft. He sank back.

“I need to
speak to you in private.”

“Samuel, will
you leave us, please? Head for the western portal - it only appears
as if one is lost here.” Samuel left without a word. “What is it,
Tannil?”

“Fay.”

“Ah.”

“I need to explain her, although she won’t thank me for it.
Look at her. She’s beautiful, as Caballa is beautiful, but she has
it worse, for she is Valla also. Fay is short for Fayette -
Great Beauty
- and she
is that. She has had more suitors than a hundred attractive women
put together. Emperor Teighlar asked permission to court her and
she turned the notion down flat, as she has all others. I think the
combination of her beauty and blood is a powerful incentive to
Valleur men, and she could never tell whether they loved her for
herself. Was she to be a decorative addition or did they desire the
power she could bring them - she hates the latter most. She could
do something about her blood and, believe me, she nearly did
something about her beauty. She calls it a curse and if Quilla
hadn’t been in the Temple that day, she would now be severely
disfigured.”

Tannil paused,
but Torrullin looked at his hands and did not respond.