The Sleeper Sword (66 page)

In those
hectic moments nobody thought to look at the Enchanter. No one saw
the wry twist to his mouth.

Torrullin
approached Quilla, Belun and Declan. “I must leave for a time.
Please help him come to terms with this.”

Quilla knew
the night would be spent in oaths being renewed, a stream of elated
Valleur passing before the Throne, speaking new loyalty to a
Vallorin now in every way. He merely nodded; Torrullin would not
want to see that. He knew why.

He mentioned
something else. “Your eyes are grey.”

A moment of
absolute stillness. And then a sigh. And nothing more.

“Where are you
going?” Declan asked.

“There is
something only I can do. No, Declan, it is private.”

“Tannil will
ask after you,” Declan murmured.

Another wry
twist of his mouth. “Only in passing.”

Enchanter, you
asked your Throne to do this, did you not?

Torrullin
turned those grey eyes on the birdman.
I did what is right for
my people, Q’li’qa’mz. I would be a poor Vallorin now and, Goddess
knows, I would not want to rule forever.

Quilla nodded,
his suspicions confirmed.
Thus it is still your Throne.

Yes.

Into eternity.
You have power over all future Vallorins from this day forward. It
will do your bidding. A dangerous power, my friend.

Yes.

That is why
you will eventually leave.

I don’t want
to get into this now.

Did you ask
that your eyes revert?

No. The circle
closes, Quilla.

Quilla
gasped.

Yes,
Q’li’qa’mz, I begin to know.

Tannil started
to speak, Vallorin now in truth. Torrullin glanced over his
shoulder and then looked away.

Watch him for
me, will you?

Of course,
my friend.
There was a universe of sadness in the birdman.
Aloud he said, “When will you be back?”

“Be at ease, I
won’t be long.”

He gave
another wry smile and unobtrusively slipped away.

Chapter
59

There was Glen
and there was Glory, a man and a woman so enamoured of each other
they could not see how they hurt others. Glen, you see, was
betrothed to another, and Glory was her best friend.

~ From
Glory
Days
, a Beaconite novel

“Someone new
has come,” Margus murmured to Saska, the two trying to angle their
gazes down through the narrow apertures to see what brought on the
commotion below.

Darklings
swirled in agitation, some flicking arms in the air and others
gesticulating wildly.

“Whoever it
is, the darklings don’t like it one bit.”

“Maybe we can
use it.” Margus had healed and filled out due to the forced
inactivity, but it suited him. He appeared more mature.

“Maybe,” Saska
echoed. She, too, had rounded a little. She had been in captivity
for almost four months and exercise was striding the outer
perimeter of their chamber, with a few daily stretching
routines.

Tymall treated
her well enough, if one ignored the baiting.

Healthy meals
were sent up with regularity, fresh bedding and clothes. During a
recent cold spell a brazier was brought up, but removed once the
weather returned to normal.

He ignored
Margus for the most part, merely looking him over with disgust -
the Darak Or having maintained the pretence at idiocy - but acceded
to her request for an extra bed and clothes to dress her guest, as
she euphemistically called him. Tymall loved to taunt her with
having to put up with the raving lunatic, but she bit back with a
rejoinder about the Darak Or being saner than her captor, a comment
that angered Tymall every time without fail.

They
accomplished the trick with the Medaillon, causing it to glow
slightly, and Tymall was fooled - the look of satisfaction he left
with that day sent Saska and Margus into a paroxysm of giggles
after. They were embarked on a dangerous game of deceit, but
figured no war was one-sided or without casualty or danger.

“They’re going
inside,” Saska murmured. “Did you see anything?”

“Someone
swathed in a dark cloak.”

“Small, like a
woman?” Saska speculated, leaning against the wall.

“Maybe. Now
who would that be?”

“Someone close
to Torrullin?”

Margus
chuckled and moved away from the apertures. “Beware that green-eyed
devil, my Lady. Think. Did it not appear as if the visit was of
free will? I saw no evidence of captivity.”

Saska slumped
and sat at the table. Idly picking a pear from the bowl, she turned
the fruit over in her hands. “Who would come of her own
choice?”

“You forget he
is his father’s son. Good looking and powerful and under that evil
lurks the same charm. If he were to exert himself for one minute he
would have the universe under his spell.” Margus shrugged. “We are
fortunate he has not come to the conclusion, for then we would be
in real trouble.”

Fay wrinkled
her nose.

The huge
castle was clean, but the smell given off by a concentration of
darklings was insidious and pervaded the walls. They were
everywhere in the huge chambers and the long dark corridors.
Outside, inside, there was no escaping them and, worse, no
privacy.

She had not
expected them.

Rationally she
realised there would be guards, but emotionally she thought they
would be out of sight and of another kind. She was disgusted,
furious at herself for not making the connection to this intimate
lifestyle they shared with Tymall, and she was frightened. She
heard darklings were generally stupid, given to no flights of fancy
or brilliance, but her every action would be watched.

Her freedom
was severely curtailed.

He watched her
with a quizzical expression on his face. “What did you expect, Fay?
A beautiful palace with white-skinned servants? Pretty little black
slaves to pander to your every desire?”

“I’m sorry,
Ty. I’m more spoiled than I thought.”

He laughed.
“So was I - we have that in common. I don’t exactly thrill with
delight every time I return here. This is a temporary situation and
we shall have our privacy in a section of this old building -
darklings only at the outer door. You need not lay eyes on them
much.”

She smiled up
at him - the quiet he had promised - but knew if she permitted it
she would be a prisoner as well. “Thank you, but as Lady of the
Manor, I would oversee the kitchens, staff. If I can make it better
for us we all benefit.”

He smiled
also, but it did not touch his eyes. “We’ll see how it
develops.”

Tymall did not
trust her. Maybe he was not as much under her spell as she
believed. She shrugged. “Fine. I’m not so enamoured of hard work
anyway.”

He smiled
again and this time it reached his eyes. “Spoken like a true lady.”
He gripped her elbow and drew her with him. “Come, I’ll take you to
our quarters.”

Interminable
corridors later he waved the darklings on guard before a set of
solid metal doors aside. He drew a small silver key from his
pocket, inserted it into a tiny keyhole and muttered inaudibly.

More than a
physical unlocking, she saw, and wondered how she would get him to
give her access, or leave to exit, which mattered more. She smiled
brightly when he glanced at her.

The doors
swung inward and he waved her through, following with measured
tread. It was pitch dark on the other side, but she drew her
courage close and walked forward. Behind, the metallic and heavy
clang of the doors swinging to sounded. Locking her in with him.
Alone.

No Torrullin
watched her back.

“Are you
afraid, Fay?” he whispered in the dark.

“Yes.”

He laughed.
“Always be honest and I am your slave for eternity.”

A glowing
globe appeared in his hand and he lifted it to pass to her. “Here,
this will help. Fear of the dark isn’t pleasant. I, of course, have
no need of light.”

He
deliberately misunderstood what she was afraid of. That made it
worse. She turned to him to see his pupils contracting in the
light, more than should be normal. Her heart hammered.

“You can see
in the dark.” She nestled the globe to her chest and looked at it.
“You can create,” she realised out loud, and could have kicked
herself for revealing to him she had thought him less.

“We have much
to learn about each other - a most engaging task and one I look
forward to.”

“As do I,” she
responded and lifted the globe. “Where are we?”

“In the west
tower. This is my private domain.” He brushed past and led the way
to a spiral staircase. “The dark recedes on the next level. This is
for the benefit of curious eyes in the castle.”

“You don’t
trust them?” She followed, lighting her way and placing her feet
with caution on the narrow stairs.

He barked a
laugh. “Never. If a better proposition comes along, they’d desert
me without a second thought. Fickle and stupid.”

“And
useful.”

“For now.”

He halted
before another set of metal doors, these smaller, withdrew the same
key and muttered inaudibly. The doors swung inward and on the other
side there was light and comfort and beauty.

“Fantastic,”
Fay breathed, stepping around him. Without thought she pushed the
globe at him.

The stairs
spiralled up along the outer edge of the huge circular space and
each landing was a chamber, stepped up until it reached a far final
space. Narrow, cathedral like windows were spaced evenly around the
entire perimeter, flooding the chamber with multi-coloured beams of
light. Each window was a magnificent piece of artistry. Landscapes,
angels and cherubim, sun and planets, fairies and elves. This
chamber was furnished as a sitting room with leather armchairs, a
real fireplace, a patterned rug.

She sprinted
up to the next level - a dining chamber. A solid round table, a
glass deck perching on a rock statue of a young woman holding two
hands out in support. Six beautiful wooden chairs surrounded it and
a veritable forest of potted plants was placed around the walls,
vying for sunlight through the glorious windows.

Fay grinned
over her shoulder and climbed up to the next level. A library, with
waist high shelves groaning under their loads. A semi-circle of
armchairs and a low round table, also filled with books. Her eyes
raked the titles. Eclectic, like the books his father had at the
Keep. They were very alike after all.

Smiling,
enjoying the effect his private space engendered, he preceded her
up to the next chamber. It was a kitchen, beautiful in simplicity.
A small set of chairs along a counter. He showed her a chute in the
north-facing wall where food and utensils were sent down and up
between the kitchen and dining chamber. Not so novel, but it
revealed his sense of practicality.

She smiled and
gestured up.

He grinned and
sprinted before her, and then waited on her reaction. It was a
bathroom with a deep sunken bath, mirrors in every alternate window
and palms everywhere. It would be like bathing in a jungle and she
was entranced and clapped her hands.

Laughing, he
took her gloved hand and led her to the next level. It was the
bedchamber. There was only one. It was a beautiful space, somewhat
masculine, with a low bed, round like the chamber.

Her smile
vanished and she glanced at him uncertainly.

“Until you are
comfortable I’ll sleep in the sitting room. You mean a great deal
to me and I want you to me come freely.”

She merely
nodded, but was surprised by his tact and understanding.

“The next
level is the dressing room …” he said, diverting her attention.
“The final chamber is empty. It’s my meditation chamber and you’re
welcome to use it, unless I am within. I shall brook no
interruption when I am up there. The rest is yours without
qualification.”

She nodded
again and smiled. “It’s truly beautiful, Ty. How did you do
this?”

“It was
already here. All I did was furnish it, although it took a bit of
low-level magic to pass the bigger pieces through the walls. I’m
glad you like it. Why don’t you freshen up, while I go down and
brew coffee?”

She bit her
lip and nodded.

He headed for
the stairs. “You’ll find clothes upstairs, and cosmetics. I wasn’t
sure what you’d need or where your tastes lie, so it’s quite a
collection …” He vanished down the stairs.

Fay sank onto
the bed, putting her face in her hands. What was she thinking? This
Tymall was more dangerous than the other.

This one was
sensitive and understanding, the kind of man she could fall in love
with.

She awakened
in the middle of the night. “Ty?”

“Hush, go back
to sleep. I’m going to the top chamber.” He mounted the stairs and
like a soltakin vanished into the dark.

With trembling
fingers she lit the candle next to the bed and sat. There had been
tension in his voice she did not like. She would question him when
he returned.

Hours later,
the candle burned to a stub, she gave up waiting. Sighing, she
closed her eyes and was asleep a moment later.

A few minutes
thereafter he paused at the bed to stare down at her. His gaze
raked her hungrily; quickly, he turned, left.

Stopping in
the kitchen he made a hot drink and then stood there sipping it and
staring into the distances of his mind.

Something did
not feel right. There were new disturbances in the etheric, and he
thought it was due to Fay’s presence, but the examination from the
upper chamber revealed nothing. No one searched for her yet. All
was quiet.

That disturbed
him. It was too quiet.