The Sleeper Sword (29 page)

“Then you know
how the soul cringes before the mind’s illogic and wishes simply to
cease functioning.”

“Indeed.”

Tial looked
away, his mind, heart and soul in turmoil. His father was a good
man - restless, discontented, angry, and a good man. He stirred the
Deorc to retaliation against the Enforcers mere months after
entering the Plane - such was his charisma - and came to the
attention of the enemy. He was perceived as a danger to the
enclave, particularly to a Numer believing he protected a tear
against a dark man. The Numer reacted under duty, not out of spite.
How to reconcile the two perceptions?

“Lazar?”
Torrullin prompted.

“Someone on
the other side, blood of yours, although not a son or son’s son or
daughter, must establish a link to you and you to him or her. The
link between you and the next two generations is too close and will
destroy both of you, even you, Enchanter. I’ve seen it happen. Of
course, the time warp works to our advantage, for generations speed
by there and the dangers are therefore less. My descendants are
aware of the need to link, thus the way is open to me.”

Valleur lived
long. It was highly unlikely his descendants were beyond second
generation. “How is the link established?”

“Therein lays
the sorcery. You call and they hear.”

Torrullin sat
and lowered his head. His grandson was born, but could not to be
contacted. He told that unborn child in the womb he would return
before his heir reached the age of five, knowledge out of the ether
that morning. When would that child be born?

Goddess, he
dared not put a youngling to the test, a risk not worth the life of
the Valla heir. Where did that leave a likely link? Cat? Had a baby
come of their union? Was there a Valla man or woman he could reach
out to? Had that happened, him and Cat, for this?

He looked up.
“Thank you. I need to consider the consequences to my blood before
I make the final step.”

“Naturally.”

“What now,
Torrullin?” Tial asked.

“My priority
now is the Darak Or.”

“Has he
family?” Lazar questioned.

“He needs no
family; he needs only me.”

Leaving Lazar
to his thoughts and hoping he would prove worthy of trust, Tial and
Torrullin headed to the business end of town to collect Margus,
Brenn and Zual.

It was early
evening and they found Brenn watchful in the parlour to cover the
exits - no doubt giving the madam of the house all kinds of
headaches - with Zual engaged in amorous endeavours. He left his
lady of the night with a wide smile, causing Tial to shake his head
in a long-suffering way.

Both pointed
to a door on the first floor when Tial asked where Margus was.

Torrullin was
disquieted. He could not in good conscience inflict Margus’s issues
on his Deorc companions. He told them to leave, saying he would
bring Margus to Lazar’s house.

Tial eyed him
and left without a word, shepherding his deputies, launching into
an explanation of the afternoon’s events.

Brenn and
Zual’s flabbergasted expressions went unnoticed by Torrullin.

Torrullin
climbed the wide stairway and stood before the door.

To go where
angels fear to tread. He drew a breath and entered. He did not
knock.

Margus lay
naked on a large bed, straddled by a stunning redhead moving
rhythmically, her head thrown back.

His eyes were
stricken.

Torrullin
chewed at his lip, feeling years older, wiser and uncertain. Like a
father. He felt sorry for the man on the bed.

Those large
blue eyes swivelled his way.

He crossed to
the bed and laid a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. She stopped
pumping and glared at him with wide, green eyes.

“That’s
enough,” Torrullin said. “Leave us for a few minutes.”

She spat at
him, clambered off, grabbed a dressing gown and slammed out without
putting it on. Beauty, obviously, did not guarantee class.

“Has she been
paid?” Torrullin asked, turning his back on Margus to give him time
to recover.

“Yes.” A
whimper.

Torrullin
swallowed, dragged a hand through his fair hair. Like a lost boy.
He heard rustles behind him, then silence. Risking a look, he
turned.

Margus sat,
knees drawn to chest, his gaze faraway. He had not bothered to
cover himself.

Torrullin
sighed and lowered to the bed. Keeping his eyes on Margus, he
murmured, “The first time is always strange and never quite what
you expect.”

“I felt
nothing,” Margus said, as if freed from a trance. He stared fixedly
ahead. “No excitement, no arousal. When Zual suggested we come here
I thought I’d discover what the fuss is about … she had to
manipulate … it … and it was like a spring, but I felt nothing.” He
looked at Torrullin. “Am I dead inside? I allowed her to go on,
hoping it was nerves … drank, talked, ate, tried again … and
absolutely nothing.” He shook his head. “Abdiah asked me if I
prefer men, you in particular …”

A dangerous
road. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is
it? This is flesh, Torrullin, not sorcery, not my mind - why can my
flesh not feel?”

“Millennia of
denial, physical, emotional, spiritual …”

“I’ll never
know what it feels like, will I?”

“Is it that
important, really?”

“I would like
to know.”

Torrullin
looked away. “I cannot answer that.”

There was a
long silence, in which Torrullin debated how to bring this
uncomfortable situation to a close, and Margus, well, his mind
evidently went off onto another track.

He bounded off
the bed, crown jewels bouncing, and crouched before Torrullin. For
an instant Torrullin thought the man wanted to offer to suck him –
gods - but, no, it was not that.

“You do it,
Torrullin. You do it.”

“What?” Do
what, for pity’s sake?

Margus was
feverish. “Torrullin, you know my word is good. I’ll give my word
I’ll take any punishment; I’ll take your revenge for Tristamil
without a sound to the contrary - take your pick.”

“What are you
asking me to do?” Never had he been in a stranger situation.

Margus’s eyes
rounded. “No, not me! Her! Do her, do it in my stead. What do you
want me to promise, if you do it for me? Here, so I can watch?” His
blue eyes glittered. “Maybe I can feel through you … this bond
…”

“You want me
to shag the whore for you? Are you insane? Why, in god’s name,
would I agree to that?”

Margus
crouched forward and used his hands expressively. “I won’t run, I
won’t tell the Enforcers who you are …” He paused and a sly look
overcame him that Torrullin liked not at all. “I swear to remain
here when you return to Valaris.”

Torrullin
rocked back. He barely avoided pushing Margus away with disgust.
“Why is this important to you?”

Margus sat
back, pale. It was a life-altering promise and he made it without
thinking, and did not want to withdraw the offer. It had nothing to
do with saving face; it had to do with the bond with the Enchanter,
a chance to feel, to see, to know. He heaved and rose to find his
clothes.

“I don’t know
why it’s important. I lost my father, my love, never knew a lasting
relationship that moved into the next step. I never saw a man and
woman together, and there was no one to tell me. The mating of
those foul creatures on my world was disgusting, a ritual of
survival, the means to my soul army, like a farmer breeding sheep
for market. The closest I came was seeing you with Saska, the two
of you so intimate … no! I never saw you in bed together. I mean
how you were with each other. You are the only other I related to,
trusted, ever had a decent conversation with. In some convoluted
way, you are father, brother, the man I might have been, to me.
Torrullin, I need this now. I thought I was immune to the raw,
physical aspect of coupling and I won’t watch the act itself, only
your face.”

Torrullin
rubbed his cheek. How had it come to this? He owed the man nothing,
except payment for crimes committed; yet he would be lying if he
denied awareness of a deep-seated bond.

“Nailing
someone you don’t know and will never see again is not the same as
making love to someone close to you. What you’d see is pure
mechanics. I shall feel nothing, and thus you learn nothing.”

Margus
shrugged and looked away. There was a suspicious wobble about his
chin.

I should have heeded my misgiving when Tial sent him off to a
brothel. All I need now is to see Margus, Darak Or,
enemy,
cry. I’d rather
let him be a voyeur.

“This is the
craziest scenario.”

“I swear to
remain behind when you go home. Tell me if you’re able to deny this
gift.”

Torrullin
stared at him. He attempted to see past current tensions, tried to
fathom deeper intent … and nothing. Either Margus was truthful or
he could no longer read the man. It was not the latter, he decided
after a while.

Wordless, he
rose and strode to the door, opening it. He was being manipulated
and he knew it, and knew also voyeurism had altered to include a
touch of malice. The Darak Or was very aware of what his offer
meant.

Ceasefire.

He could not
deny the simpler way before him. Who, then, was the true fool this
night?

The redhead
lounged against the rail outside. At least she was beautiful.

“Are you boys
done?”

He glared at
her. “Why do you do this, when you have beauty?”

She laughed.
“Money, privilege, power. Do you really care?”

“No. Are you
still on the clock?”

“Yes …” she
drawled and straightened. “You want some of this?” She opened her
gown to him.

He left the
door open and strode to the bed.

She followed,
closing the door. Sashaying closer, she murmured. “A threesome?
It’ll cost extra.”

“He’ll only be
watching,” Torrullin said. He removed his clothes and did not look
at Margus.

“So that’s how
he gets his kicks,” the redhead giggled. She eyed Torrullin’s
bandaged chest. “Will that slow you?”

He unwound the
bindings. The bandages were for show - he had healed. The
subterfuge would no longer be necessary after this … thing. Margus
had given his word. He glanced over and then wished he pretended
there was no one else in the seedy room.

Margus had
pulled up a chair and sat perched on the edge, eyes manic. He was
extremely pale, with twin spots of high colour on his cheeks. It
was frightening to see the need there.

Torrullin
turned back to the bed when he felt the whore’s fingers at the
clasp of his breeches. He allowed her to carry on, but was not
aroused. Gods.

Walk away,
fool.

“Oh dear. Am I
not beautiful?” She shrugged out of her gown, brought his hands to
her breasts, teasing her nipples against them. “And so ready …” She
jutted her hips forward and pushed her body against his nakedness.
“Come on, lover boy, I know you know how to do this … yes, yes,
that’s better … kiss me, hmm?”

Hating himself
for responding, he leaned forward to kiss her, heard Margus
sigh.

Just get it over with
.

He lifted her,
threw her roughly onto the bed and climbed on after her.

Not once did
he look at the silent watcher and when it was over he knew it had
been the most degrading moments of his life.

It was not the
Darak Or he hated then.

Chapter
31

Day Six:
Legends

1000 - 800
years ago

By morning it
appeared as if the entire Enforcer army had come.

They stood in
silent contingents, battle formation, for miles around the town and
crowded in disciplined rows along every street. It was a siege and
they came to rescue the Numer. Nobody could leave their homes and
business activity came to a halt.

It was as
silent as a mass grave.

Lazar was pale
where he sat at his desk on the upper level, having a good view of
the massed ranks. “I sent out the distress call as you entered my
home yesterday.”

“You could’ve
retracted,” Tial accused.

“Standard
procedure states a retraction may be issued six hours after the
fact, and I did so, but they were too close to turn back.” He waved
at the window. “It is, however, why they don’t attack. They await
word from me, and they won’t wait much longer.”

“Why did you
not tell us this last night?”

“I told the
Enchanter,” Lazar murmured. “He said to let them all come; he was
in a mood to … to …”

“… kill the
whole crap storm universe,” Torrullin snapped. “I still am.”

“Gods,
Torrullin!” Tial was aghast. “We’re not ready for this!”

Torrullin
shrugged, stony-faced at the window.

“Lazar, tell
them to leave,” Tial said.

Lazar pinched
his nose. “It’s not that simple. They know now I’m not alone and
may think …”

“… a hostage
situation.”

Torrullin left
the window. “How many soldiers are loyal to you?”

“Personally?
Very few. As in any army, it’s not the man but the authority he
represents.”

“How large a
percentage would permit access to the tear?”

Lazar frowned
at his shaking hands. The Enchanter destroyed all alcohol in a fit
the night before after catching the Darak Or slurping a bottle of
cheap whisky. “Most of them have no idea it exists. Of those who
suspect? They’ll never allow it.”

“You can take
us,” Tial said.

“They will
think I’m being coerced.”

“Surely you
have a signal, Lazar, which will let them know all is well?”

“We haven’t
been in a position where we need signals of that nature.”