The Sleeper Sword (55 page)

“You don’t
have to do this,” Caltian murmured, keeping pace.

“I do. During
each lifetime I spent time here, particularly as Rayne. Although I
was born on the shores of Ren Lake, this city is more my home than
any other place in the entire universe, even Torrke. I don’t have a
two thousand year gap to place this in the compartment of distance.
Here I am, less than thirty years after Rayne walked these streets.
Intellectually I realise most of what exists now was erected after
the destruction, but the city fathers didn’t change much. After all
this time it appears ancient in much the way it was for Rayne, for
Mason, Shane …”

He halted
there, thinking he was glad that part of the process was over. Just
him now, no more personalities. He chose more silence as they
neared the boundary that marked the wealthy from the middle-class,
an invisible boundary, but distinct in that homes grouped more
closely, gardens appeared to shrink by degrees and the sounds of
habitation became more marked. More laughter and also more
arguments. The glassy tinkle of dinner dishes, doors slamming.

They turned
into a side street and Torrullin halted before a pretty
double-storey home set close to the road.

“Rayne’s
house. My adoptive sister Rees rebuilt it true to the original. She
lived here, got married, had three children and I didn’t see much
of her or her family before I left with Margus. I wonder what
happened to them?”

He turned
away, but the front door opened, spilling light onto the street.
Torrullin paused and then strode away with Caltian following.
Giggles sounded behind them and then the sound of a kiss. A second
later there was the audible sound of indrawn breaths. Some
kiss.

That was not
why Torrullin strode away.

“Enchanter?” a
young man’s voice queried.

Torrullin
stopped and turned. He retraced his steps until he stood with arms
folded in the rectangle of light, staring at Lucan Dalrish.

“Lucan. What
are you doing in that house?”

“The Electan
kindly presented it to me for the duration of my stay in Galilan.
This is a problem? I had the distinct feeling you weren’t ready for
me at the Keep.”

Caltian took
up position in the shadows.

“Who is this?”
Torrullin asked, ignoring the implication of Lucan’s
accusation.

Lucan glanced
at the girl, all blond curls. “This is Dania, a neighbour from
further down. Dania, meet the Enchanter.”

She giggled
and then bobbed. “You’re even better looking than on TV, my Lord,”
she said with a pert lift of an eyebrow.

Torrullin’s
eyes crinkled and he shook his head good-naturedly. “Thank you. Do
you mind going home now so I may speak with Lucan? I’d appreciate
it.”

She glanced at
Lucan, who nodded, and then stood on tiptoe to place a kiss on his
cheek before skipping past Torrullin and then Caltian to vanish
into the darkness.

Lucan watched
her go, turned and went indoors, leaving the door open. Torrullin
pursed his lips and went inside, leaving Caltian to close the door
as he followed more slowly.

Nothing was
familiar inside, if he ignored the shapes formed by walls, and he
was relieved beyond measure. It had an unlived-in look, like a
guesthouse that saw periodic visitors.

“It belongs to
the Electan?” Torrullin asked as he entered the sitting room at the
back of the house, the one that once overlooked Rayne’s mother’s
wondrous garden.

The room had
an antiseptic feel, a few matched armchairs, a square central table
of glass and wood and a number of faded prints on the walls. Not
his mother’s comfortable sitting room or Rees’s family room, thank
Aaru. The garden, lit with solar lights atop simple pillars, was
paved over. A fishpond in the centre reflected the lights and a
single tree threw shade from the back boundary. Not his mother’s
pride and joy, and for that he was most thankful.

“It belongs to
the city, and is used for visiting dignitaries,” Lucan replied, and
grinned. “I guess that makes me a dignitary.”

“It once
belonged to my family,” Torrullin murmured, explaining his
attitude.

“Ah,” went
Lucan, enlightened. “I didn’t know.”

“I doubt
Marcus Campian does either,” Torrullin said and sat with his back
to the garden. It was different, but the mind was a strange
creature.

“Would you
like something to drink?”

“Marcus pumped
us full today, thank you. Sit, Lucan, I’m not going to bite you.”
He glanced at Caltian. “I need to speak in private.”

Caltian
inclined his head. “I’ll return to Torrke. Will you be all
right?”

A twisted
smile. “Just memories, my friend. I’ll survive.”

Caltian nodded
and left, thinking as he did so memories of Galilan were
survivable, but memories of Cat could be a different matter.

“You’re right,
Lucan. I wasn’t ready for you. I still am not, but fate has now
thrown down the gauntlet. Tell me.”

Lucan
grimaced. “I actually envisioned a more appropriate setting, like
among the crypts in the Graveyard. Don’t they say it’s easier to
speak of endings among the dead? Sorry, that was cruel.”

“And true,”
Torrullin said. “And you’re right again; this place is not a
setting anyone would choose. The Graveyard is out of the question.
Let us discover Galilan by night on foot.”

Lucan had a
pleased gleam in his dark eyes. “This is a lovely city, but
Shanghai Metrop is the best in the universe.” As he spoke he headed
out the door.

“Shanghai?”
Torrullin asked as he followed the younger man into the dark of the
city. He flicked a finger over his shoulder to secure the
house.

“The largest
city on Xen, the one Le Moss reclaimed first after the domes came
down. Ah, Enchanter, wide roads, huge palm trees, flowers
everywhere! Happy, prosperous people. I can’t begin to know what it
was like under the domes, but I thank God for being a Dalrish every
day!”

Torrullin
chuckled. The young man had innocent energy; it was uplifting. “The
Dalrish are special, I agree.”

“Because of
Cat?”

“No, Lucan,
because of Matt, Lowen and her father … and, yes, Cat.”

The young man
said nothing. Apology would only make him appear more stupid.

In a while he
said, “We’ve come a long way since those days. After Le Moss
scrapped the domes, he started the Dalrish School of Sorcery with
Matt. The Valleur helped in the early years until we were judged
proficient to instruct others. Matt married, had no less than eight
sons, the dog, and Le Moss wed and fathered one son. Lowen took
them all under her wing and taught them herself. To make a long
story short, within two generations there was a host of Dalrish
sorcerers, men and women, great sorcerers, not mediocre like the
humans here.”

“Valleur
instruction,” Torrullin murmured. They approached the heart of
Galilan, busy despite the late hour.

“Indeed. Today
we assist universe over, like mortal guardians, kind of. Is that
arrogant?”

“Anything
shared without expectation of riches is commendable.”

Lucan nodded.
“Matt died when he was over a century, a respected and loved man.
He is my direct ancestor, actually.”

“He was a good
man, Lucan. The best.”

A smile. “He
loved you too, spoke of you constantly. Do you know he was angry
the night he died? He said he wanted to live long enough to see you
return.”

“I can see
that,” Torrullin laughed.

“He was
crotchety those last years when he realised he wouldn’t stave off
mortality forever.”

“No
Immortality Ritual?”

“The Valleur
never shared and neither was anyone else prepared to part with what
they knew, saying it would come to us if it was meant. I believe
Matt paid a visit to the Sagorin, but they denied him, said it was
too strenuous, and we didn’t want it enough to survive the rigours,
and they were right, I think. Who in their right mind chooses
eternity? I’m sorry! I’m really putting my foot in it tonight.”

A laugh. “I
never claimed to be of right mind, don’t worry.”

Lucan
swallowed and drew breath. “Moss died before Matt and according to
the hereditary succession of the past, by rights Moss’s son should
have taken over his father’s position as Peacekeeper, but it didn’t
happen like that. Xenians were invited to elect the succeeding
Peacekeeper, a system still in place today, and they voted for
Matt. Matt felt he was too old for the responsibility and declined;
it was quite a mess for a while, but the next vote was clear.
Matt’s eldest son became the second Peacekeeper, and despite
expectation Moss’s son was his greatest supporter, and that show of
unity has ensured the Dalrish survival as First Family ever since.
Still, the day may come when another is chosen and the Dalrish will
support him or her as if he or she is one of us. The will of the
people is of the greatest importance, don’t you agree?”

“It’s easy to
say while your family is in power, Lucan, but the day your
alternative scenario is enacted, will the Dalrish accept with
equanimity? Only time will tell, for democracy does not work in
every instance. It can lead to strife, anger, and it can also be
bogged down by bureaucracy. Still, the ideal is sound and we can
hope it works for Xen for millennia to come.”

Somewhat
deflated, Lucan lifted a shoulder. “I suppose.”

“Tell me what
happened to Lowen.” Torrullin’s heart thudded once and then he
ignored it to listen.

“She became a
famous seer. Folk came to her with problems of the heart to
problems of health and she helped them. She was never comfortable
with revealing futures, even ordinary ones, but she gave advice
without getting too specific and was right every time. Her fame
spread so much presidents and queens and the like came to her, and
not only about personal problems, but the profounder kind that
dealt with worlds, its people, the environment, the validity of
laws, such things. She bowed out when the strain became too much.
She left Xen, Enchanter, and no one heard a word further. She was a
mystery then, she is still a mystery today.”

A moment of
silence. Gods. “How old was she when she decided to disappear?”

“In her
thirties. She had her life ahead and she abandoned it.”

“Lowen was
always different,” Torrullin murmured. “She needed to care for the
person she sought to help and no doubt did for every stranger who
came to her. That is an awful responsibility, one like to dying
slowly each day. It’s easier not to care.”

Lucan merely
glanced sideways at his companion, too young to understand, before
continuing. “We never had word of her death, which is a pity, for
we’d honour her last resting place. Ah, well, the vagaries of life
and death, I suppose.”

“You have no
idea,” Torrullin muttered inaudibly. Aloud he said, “Which Dalrish
is Peacekeeper now?”

“My brother,”
Lucan grinned. “You better be polite!”

Torrullin
chuckled, liking the young man. “Watch yourself,” he teased and
asked, “Your brother’s name?”

“Le Hadrin.
He’s fifteen years my senior and there are a number of sisters
between.”

“Hmm, large
families. Extended by now, I take it?”

“Lord, yes.
I’ve lost count, but it’s great and family gatherings are
rowdy.”

“You must be
something like Le Lucan?”

“Lucanus Le
Mar Dalrish!” Lucan said and gave a flourishing bow.

Torrullin
laughed and then spied a coffee shop open on Galilan’s busy main
thoroughfare. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” Lucan
returned, and then frowned. “You’ll be recognised in there.”

“You’ve been
walking with blinkers. I’ve been recognised a while back. Look
behind you.”

Lucan glanced
over his shoulder and then turned his body, walking backwards. A
crowd of fifteen young men and women trailed them at a distance,
whispering and gesturing. Lucan grinned, waved, and faced forward.
“You don’t mind?”

“I do
actually,” Torrullin muttered, “but transparency is the name of the
game.” He crossed the road and entered the coffee shop. After
Lucan, one by one, the crowd entered, claiming tables in silence.
The proprietor was pleased with the custom, then nervous when he
realised the reason for it.

He approached.
“Welcome, Enchanter, we are honoured indeed. May I serve you?”

“Just coffee,
Saswan blend, if you have it.”

The man
nodded. “Yes, my Lord! And for you, sir?”

“The same,
please,” Lucan said. As the man bustled off, he faced Torrullin.
“Surely you don’t want …”

“No, we shall
speak of her elsewhere.”

Lucan was
relieved; he studied the faces around them. Some stared openly,
others tried hard not to be obvious, and a few blatantly ignored
them, the latter either out of prejudice or an attempt to appear
nonchalant. He hoped it was not prejudice. While they waited for
their coffee, he bet against himself how long it would be before
someone gathered sufficient courage to come over - two minutes, he
wagered. No more than five.

Three minutes
later a young woman rose from the neighbouring table. She
approached warily. She was a pace away when Torrullin turned his
head her way, and she froze. His encouraging smile set her at ease.
“My Lord, I don’t mean to intrude, and I’ll leave if …”

“Sit down, my
dear.”

She coloured
and fumbled for a chair- Lucan sprang to her aid. She sent him a
sweet smile, but her attention swiftly returned to the Enchanter.
“Um, we, my friends and I, we saw you and …”

“Why am I in
Galilan when I promised the Valleur would keep to Menllik and
Torrke?”

“Well, yes. I
know you were involved in the Vall crash, but … well, I mean no
offence, we’re merely curious.”

“What is your
name?”

“Kate.”