The Sleeper Sword (58 page)

Mirages hung
enticingly over every open space and caused trees to fade at the
edges. Cicadas droned incessantly, noisy enough to lift the ground
with the resonance. Fortunately they did not. Wildflowers drooped,
birds and animals hid in shadowy enclaves. The air was still and
stifling, the sky a blue-white glare.

Grinwallin’s
stairs shimmered and they climbed, resting often. The Senlu were
markedly absent from the streets. Like the creatures of their world
they sought relief from the heat, although now and again a man or
woman was seen drawing water from one of the many wells. The Senlu
were tall, thin, aesthetically pale, and very fair with a pale
spectrum of eye colour. Their bright, rich garments served to
reveal passionate natures.

Torrullin and
Fay climbed the tiers of Grinwallin slowly and it was more than the
oppressive heat; it was respect. This was a city reborn and it was
the first time Torrullin saw it thus. For ninety million years it
stood the test of time as a ruin, but he never saw it in full
glory.

Long before
they reached the portico to the Great Hall in the mouth of the
mountain, a figure was seen descending.

Teighlar.

The two men
met on the topmost stair of the fourth level, stared at each other
in wonder, and then embraced like brothers. They did not speak, not
then, and Fay realised the bond was deep. They had missed each
other in a manner that went beyond the short time they spent
together.

Teighlar bowed
to Fay. “My Lady, welcome to Grinwallin.”

“Thank you, my
Lord Emperor.”

Teighlar
smiled and glanced at Torrullin. “The long way, Enchanter?”

“My eyes
needed to see what my heart knew.”

“A hot day for
your poor eyes, hmm?” Teighlar turned and led the way up and they
entered the blessed cool of the mountain. Once inside he led them
to a sitting area.

A number of
Senlu were about, most lounging in a half-doze, but others were
engaged in various board games, whispering and laughing together.
They looked up when Teighlar entered with his guests … and silence
fell.

Still silent,
they rose and bowed hands over hearts.

Torrullin came
to a halt and placed his hands upon his chest to bow low. A homage
given and received on both sides.

Teighlar was
clearly pleased, if his smile was anything to go by, but did not
say a word. He waved at his people to continue and bade his guests
sit. A pitcher of water shed drops of moisture onto an ornately
carved stone table, and Fay licked her lips. Teighlar chuckled and
poured. Fay accepted a glass, but Teighlar and Torrullin looked at
each other … and moments later started to laugh.

“I didn’t
realise when I issued my invitation to ride the plains like the
wind it would be two thousand years before you showed your face
here again!” Teighlar said.

“I didn’t
realise such an old man would remember his invite after so long!”
Torrullin retorted.

“Who’s old,
you young pup!” Teighlar laughed. “Ah, Torrullin, it does my heart
glad to see you again.”

“I wanted to
stay that time. I want to stay now.”

Fay looked at
him.

Teighlar
sighed. “How long?”

“Until
tomorrow, no more.”

“Will you
return?”

“I have
learned I can make no long-term promises.”

Teighlar
leaned forward. “Do you need me on Valaris?”

Torrullin knew
what that cost. Teighlar was afraid to leave Senlu territory,
afraid he would turn around to find the return of his people a mere
dream. But Teighlar also felt he owed something.

“I can manage,
thank you.”

“Hmm,”
Teighlar murmured, careful not to show relief. “How can I aid you?
That is why you are here, not so? The safety of Luvanor doesn’t
depend on Grinwallin alone, after all.”

“I need to use
the crucible chamber.”

Teighlar sat
back and exhaled. “No one has been in there since Neolone.”

A frown. “A
dangerous precedent, Teighlar. Senlu magic will stagnate.”

“I’m aware of
that.”

“It’s time to
lay your ghosts to rest, my friend.”

“After you,
Enchanter.”

“Touché …
Enchanter,” Torrullin smiled. “By the way, did you sense me
arrive?”

“Bad grammar,
Torrullin,” Teighlar grinned. “Yes, I did … why do you ask?”

“No reason.”
Torrullin rose, stretched and flexed his fingers.

“You’ve been
fighting,” the Emperor said, watching, seeing the signs. One never
forgot.

Fay felt like
a third wheel. These two men knew each other on an instinctive
level and with a jolt she realised the connection had something to
do with both being enchanters.

Teighlar’s
pale blue eyes flicked to her when Torrullin chose not to respond
to the remark about fighting.

“I am an
Enchanter also, yes, Lady Fay, but I am limited by a horrific past,
and by a reluctance to leave Senlu territory. Here I am an
enchanter; out there I would be useless.”

“You
underestimate yourself,” Torrullin murmured.

“Perhaps, but
I’m well content with my self-imposed limitations,” He smiled as he
stood. “I’ll have someone show you to our guest quarters - choose
in or out the mountain - but, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the
stables.” He raised his brows archly and waited.

“You’re on, my
friend,” Torrullin grinned.

“Sunset?”

“Perfect.”

“Lady
Fay?”

She smiled.
“I’ll just be a spectator, if you don’t mind … although … oh, count
me in.”

“Excellent,”
Teighlar murmured and turned away, gesturing at a group of nearby
Senlu as he strode away.

Moments later
Torrullin and Fay were escorted to a house outside the mountain -
Torrullin’s choice - one level down.

“What’s in the
crucible chamber?” Fay demanded after the Senlu guide left.

“The means to
re-forge your heritage.”

Torrullin
glanced about with evident pleasure. It was hot out, but here the
thick walls shed cool. The house was on two levels, minimally
furnished in lightwood, with bright patterned rugs of geometric
design adorning tiled floors. Window coverings were blinds
vertically striped to match the rugs. He wandered the airy
chambers. Here a palm in earthenware, there a bowl of succulent
fruit. Simple, yet tasteful and extraordinarily restful.

Following him,
blind to her surroundings, her attention on the Enchanter’s back,
she said, “We don’t require a special chamber.”

“We do if we
want it secret.”

He halted
before a large window on the other side of the house facing south.
Tugging the shiny rope, he rolled the blind up. Sunlight, white and
intense, glared in, but he fastened the rope to the hook nearby and
stared with deep concentration over Tunin continent. They were high
above sea level and the view was breathtaking, far-reaching.

“Torrullin,
forget the view. I want to know what to expect.”

“Come here,”
and he gripped her wrist. “Feel this …” and he bent his will to
giving her glimpses of a two thousand year old past.

She saw
Grinwallin as he first discovered it, broken, ruined, empty,
soulless. She saw the blackened, destroyed land of Tunin after Murs
Siric and Mysor laid waste to it. She saw the bloated carcasses of
dead animals, the putrid remains of dead Valleur, and understood.
He had not had the time to see it put to rights, to witness new
life, new growth. He had not witnessed the rebirth of either
Luvanor, reeling under the horrific effects of war, or the glory
that was, is, will be, ever, Grinwallin. His heart and soul and
intellect told him it happened, but his eyes, his physical,
breathing self, needed it confirmed.

“I didn’t
understand.”

He released
her. “Neither did I, until I came. It is beautiful, new, yet old.
There are mysteries here that beg investigation. Perhaps that will
be my task when I retire.”

She wanted to
rise to the bait, but did not. Sparring with him was dangerous -
she might begin to like him. He smiled into her eyes and turned
back to the view.

Fay closed
hers and moved away.

The sun was
decidedly west when a guide came for them.

Dressed in
riding clothes sent by Teighlar, Fay was a different person.
Knee-high boots, soft, pale jodhpurs, a tight short jacket of blue
velvet, and she was both more mature and younger. She braided her
hair and her face had a fresh, scrubbed look, all innocence. She
was lovelier that ever.

Teighlar
clearly knew Torrullin well; he was dressed in black gear, head to
toe. His fair hair was at that irritating stage, not long enough to
tie back and not short enough to stay out of his face. He needed to
tuck it behind his ears often, a very appealing gesture.

Fay smiled to
herself as they followed the Senlu down the levels heading for the
plateau, the enormous stretch of land that could host armies with
room to spare. She doubted Torrullin ever employed his looks to his
advantage, but it worked whether he knew it or not, and that thing
with his hair …

He grinned for
no reason and she mentally kicked herself. Here on Luvanor, he
found it easy to read her.

“Fay, for Aaru’s sake, you may dislike me and …” No, he
thought, not Luvanor as a whole.
Grinwallin opens doors that are closed.

“And?” she
taunted.

“… like me at
the same time,” he sighed.

“Oh, that’s
profound.”

He shook his
head in exasperation and did not speak until they were in sight of
the stables on the northern side of the lowest level, and then only
to ask, “Can you ride?”

She glanced at
him. “What do you think?”

“Stupid
question.”

She snorted,
but refrained from baiting him further, for Teighlar exited the
stables and behind him three grooms led the three most gorgeous
horses she had ever seen.

A black, a
roan and a chestnut, shiny-coated, silky-maned and restlessly
anxious for energetic exercise.

The stables
had the charm of antiquity. Old stones were worn with the march of
time and green moss grew charmingly in the cracks. Built in a
horseshoe, the roof was steeply sloped and covered with peat - dry
and golden now in summer - and there were thirty stalls, all
occupied at one time or another. The horseshoe encompassed
two-thirds of a cobbled oval, on which the hooves of impatient
animals rang hollow.

The three came
from the massive tack room adjacent the stables to amble along a
short cobbled path.

“Choose,”
Teighlar dared Torrullin with an impish grin.

The chestnut
was first in line and Torrullin put his hand out to her. It was a
mare and she snorted, snuffled his hand and then permitted him to
run his hand along her flank. Patting her behind, Torrullin moved
onto the black.

It was a
stallion - naturally, for Teighlar did not like to disappoint - and
again he put his hand out, stroked, before moving on to the
roan.

She was a mare
as well, two hands taller and not entirely tamed. She nearly bit
his fingers when he reached out and shied from his touch.

“This one,” he
murmured and took her reins from the groom.

The man looked
on worriedly, but Teighlar laughed and waved him off. “You do not
disappoint,” he said with evident amusement and pleasure.

Torrullin
smiled. “Neither do you.” He gripped the reins firmly and led her
past the two animals to clear her from the distraction of others
mounting. “What have you named her?”

“Tressir.”

“Blue Wind.
Shall we see, my lovely, if you live up to your name?”

While he
prepared to mount, Teighlar took control of the black and led the
chestnut to Fay. “She’s gentle, generally, but strong … and she can
be very competitive.”

“Like me,” Fay
muttered. “Her name?”

“Lenteli,”
Teighlar smiled. He mounted and leaned over the neck of the
stallion to stroke him. “This is Lassitan.” He clucked and moved
away to give Fay room.

She mounted
with ease and then they sat and watched Torrullin.

He was having
problems. His first attempt had Tressir sidestep him, and now he
stood still, eyeing the horse. She eyed him right back.

Teighlar
grinned and Fay stifled a laugh. Nearby, beyond the low corral
fence, the three grooms watched enthralled and were soon joined by
others.

“Open the
gate,” Teighlar whispered to the nearest groom. “The Enchanter may
need to go rather quickly.”

The man sidled
as rapidly as possible to the double-door gate in the wall on the
far side of the oval. Once he had it open, he hurled himself over
the fence, evidently not trusting Tressir.

“My Lord, is
it wise?” another groom whispered.

“The Enchanter
would want nothing less,” Teighlar murmured. He leaned closer to
Fay. “He says he wants nothing but peace in his life and then what
does he do? He seeks out challenge, the extreme; now what does that
tell you of the man?”

“That he is
lying to himself,” Fay returned, her gaze sharpening.

Torrullin
suddenly vaulted high and came down firmly into the saddle, a blur
of movement that caught the watchers by surprise. It also caught
his mount off-guard. One moment the creature was still eyeballing
her, and the next it had intruded into her personal space.

Neighing
loudly her ire, she ran.

Teighlar burst
out laughing and prodded his stallion into full gallop after the
fleeing horse and her rider.

Fay muttered,
and set off after them more slowly.

Beyond the
gates lay the forest of the northern slope of Grinwallin’s
mountain. A broad path cut through it winding down to the plateau.
Far ahead, Torrullin pounded in a wild ride, with Teighlar chasing
and whooping.