The Sleeper Sword (49 page)

“The
closure?”

“The invisible
realm.”

“It wasn’t
that different and had familiar problems, only too fast to grasp.
Time was my great enemy there.”

“Too slow, you
mean.”

“I meant it as I said it.
I
did not have sufficient time, whether we speak of
ten days or ten thousand years.”

“For
what?”

“If I knew the
answer to that I would probably not bemoan it, my friend.”

Declan nodded
and turned for the door. “I must go.”

“Thank you for
your words.”

The Siric
smiled. “Glad to help.”

The following
morning Mitrill presented herself at Torrullin’s suite.

Fresh from
Luvanor, and irate, she pushed her way in without knocking, arguing
the door was ajar anyway, and halted when she found him standing on
his head in the centre of the chamber, poised, eyes closed.

He had not
spoken to Tannil after all, for Declan’s words wound around in his
head like a refrain, driving Fay from his thoughts.
“Daughter-in-law,” he murmured without opening his eyes. “Tannil
enlisted your aid.”

“Fay is my
daughter! What are you doing?”

He lowered his
legs and gradually returned to a more conventional pose. “Exercise,
Mitrill. Good for the mind as well as the body.”

“Ha,” she
snorted. “What about Fay?”

“I’ll find
her. On my own, without you or Tannil breathing down my neck.” He
rose, found a silk gown to cover his semi-dressed state. “She’s
fine. Tymall doesn’t have her.”

“Oh.” Mitrill
deflated and then, “Why did you not tell Tannil this? He came to
Luvanor last night in a right state.”

“Tannil is
blind where Fay is concerned.”

She nodded.
“As is Caltian. You’re saying she’s stubborn because of you. That
child needs a good thrashing for sending us into emotional
convulsions.”

“Too late for
that,” Torrullin smiled.

Mitrill calmed
and found a seat in the nook near the door. “Still, you could’ve
told Tannil. He tried hard to find her.”

“I guess I hoped he
would
find her.”

A weary nod.
“I see. Easier on Tannil.”

“Easier on
Fay, actually.”

“Ah. And you?
Never mind, don’t answer that. Does she realise how stupid she is
right now? What if Tymall finds her?”

“Do you know
where she would go?”

“Fay gives
nothing away, Torrullin. The only time she showed vulnerability was
the time she attempted to disfigure herself, and that was a long
time ago. She has a gorgeous heart, loves her family to
distraction, but she’s an enigma. Where would she go? I have no
idea.”

“Why is she
like this?”

Mitrill
wandered to the window. “She fell in love, head-over-heels love.
The young man was handsome, romantic, talented … and a gold digger.
Even among the Valleur there are seedy ones, I’m afraid. Tannil
suspected him first, but was prepared to keep quiet for Fay’s sake.
The young man was kind to her and gave every appearance of loving
her in his way, and she need not have known the difference. Tannil
hoped, I think, appearances would grow into something lasting;
position and power taking second place. Tannil, bless him, always
sees the good first.

“However, the
young man was discovered in the arms of another and it turns out
she was his wife. She was as greedy - the whole sorry business was
a con from the outset. Tannil paid them off, exiled them to
Luvanor, and Fay thought her young man came to harm, was
distraught, wanted to start a search. Eventually, to prevent her
not only embarrassment, but further heartache, I told her the
truth. She nearly lost her mind and that was when she cut herself.
When she’d healed, thanks to Quilla, and regained sanity, she
sundered her Valla blood. It was her defence against the
opportunists out there and we allowed it. Since then she’s been a
mystery. My poor girl, she never stood a chance at happiness.”

“A curse we
all live with,” Torrullin murmured, but acknowledged it was harder
for some. “Except you, hmm?”

Mitrill would
not meet his eyes. “My own happiness is so recent I can’t yet trust
it. I may sabotage it.”

“I heard you
and Caltian were married some time ago.”

“You were the
ghost standing solidly between us. For both of us. Caltian, well,
he felt as if he encroached on your territory.”

Gods. “And
now?”

“Tannil showed
him how wrong he was.”

“You avoid me;
Caltian does not.”

She was
silent.

Torrullin came
to stand beside her and together they gazed over the valley onto
the stark beauty of the Arrows. The air warmed daily; it would be a
scorching summer.

“Mitrill. Why
did you opt for Luvanor?”

“Beyond my
grandchild?” She drew breath and looked at his profile. “Truth?
You. My marriage hinges on proving to my husband I don’t harbour
not quite so filial feelings for you.”

“It seems to
me Caltian is satisfied.”

“Maybe.”

“Removing
yourself from my presence proves nothing, not to you.” He did not
look at her.

“I know,” she
whispered, uncertain. “I intended to come before, but conveniently
something always arose.”

He turned to
her, his entire body. “Then decide now. We’re alone …” He lifted
his hand and the outer door shut and locked. “No one will interrupt
us. If you want more from me, only you and I will know.”

Her mouth
dried. “Are you mad?”

“Delve into
those inner sanctums, Mitrill, and be honest. You prevent real
happiness because you’re not sure where you are, despite claims to
your husband. I shall accept whatever honesty it is, and be
truthful in return.”

He did not
back off even when she traded stare for stare. She reached out,
placed her hand against his cheek, deliberately releasing the
barriers and blue kinfire sparked. He did not react, although he
aided her in lowering the barriers.

“Can you
imagine what it was like to make love with this? Tristamil and I
didn’t have the time to fall in love, but this bound us into an
almost incestuous relationship we found erotic …” She smiled when
his lids lowered. “Of course it crossed your mind, you’re a man.
Honesty, Enchanter? I miss that depth of desire.” She removed her
hand and cocked her head. “When I see you I’m reminded anew of that
time, but it’s long ago now, and I found Caltian. I love him.”

Torrullin took
her hand, twining his fingers with hers. Trebac sparked. “I know
you love him and I understand clearly what was between you and my
son, but you have not answered.” He drew her closer, using the
link. “What do you want of me?” Their lips were inches apart.

She stared
into his eyes and then lowered to his lips. He did not move. She
stood on tiptoe to claim them, and an instant later broke the
contact.

He barely
reacted, although the force of kinfire churned deep in his gut.

She smiled and
disengaged her fingers to take his face into her hands. She knew
then he would not deny her and knew as well it was not what she
wanted.

“A friend,
Torrullin, and a ruler, a father-in-law. That is how I love you and
it’s all I want from you.” Her smile broadened. “Thank you for
this. Now I am sure.”

He drew her
into his arms. “Thank god, Mitrill,” he said into her hair. “I’m
not sure I could have dealt with this particular complication.”

For an instant
there he wanted her, but it was not something he would willingly
give in to. Drawing apart, they looked at each other, and the bond
missing for two thousand years was made real.

The bond of
family.

They entered
the informal sitting room hand-in-hand and Mitrill did not
disengage when she saw Caltian was there as well as Tannil.

Instead she
smiled her pleasure at seeing him and took her hand from
Torrullin’s to go into his arms. Caltian looked over her head at
Torrullin, who raised his brows in gentle rebuke. Caltian nodded
and gave himself over to the embrace.

Torrullin
stood legs apart facing his grandson. “Tannil, I shall search for
Fay this day. Alone. You are to stay here with your mother and will
control your agitation so as not to send warning to Tymall.
Understood?”

Tannil was on
his feet. He was furious.

Torrullin
forestalled him. “I am laying this down as family, Tannil, not
Enchanter.”

“So it’s
personal, you and her. As family, then, I am going with. She may
need me there.”

“Tannil!”
Mitrill’s voice was a whiplash. “Torrullin will find her and bring
her home.”

“Home, mother?
This is not her home. Perhaps that is why she refuses him.”

“You could be
right, son, but it doesn’t excuse her. You and Caltian, however,
are too emotional. And she can twist you both to leave her where
she is right now.”

“It pains me
to admit this, but your mother is right,” Caltian said. He glanced
at Torrullin. “It’s a sad day when you can’t go after your own
daughter.”

Torrullin
could have said something about knowing, because he had been in
similar situations with his sons, but he did not want to linger in
that time. “This dilemma is of my creation. Allow me to fix
it.”

Caltian
nodded. “Just deal fairly with her.”

Tannil shook
his head. “I don’t like this. She’s stubborn, and so are you,
grandfather. I should be there.”

Torrullin bent
a gaze on him. “Tannil, I’m not going to hurt her.”

He looked
away, frowning. “She may try to hurt you.”

Ah. Torrullin smiled. “I
am
able to take care of myself.”

Caltian
laughed and Tannil gave a half-hearted chuckle.

Torrullin
inclined his head and headed to the courtyard, calling for Quilla.
The birdman appeared at his side. “Quilla, be my eyes while I’m
gone.”

“Where are you
going?”

“Fay.”

“Hmm.”

Torrullin came
to a halt, turned. “Just what does that infer?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t have
patience for your sounds right now,” Torrullin remarked, and strode
through the Dragon doors into the valley.

Quilla watched
him go and hoped the Enchanter would rein in that contrariness, for
where women were concerned, it had a way of taking on a life its
own.

He hoped Fay
did not require the kind of subduing only passion could affect.

Lucan Dalrish
eyed Marcus Campian over the sumptuous dinner.

Christ, the
man was pig-headed! He tried again.

“Electan, be
reasonable. Open the sacred sites to your people. It allows them to
experience the glory of the Valleur.”

“You’re young,
and don’t understand the implications.”

“I see them clearly! I put to you that
you
don’t like them, for they
elevate the Valleur and you can’t come to terms with
that.”

“You young
whippersnapper! That’s entirely unfair! No one has bent to the
winds of change the way I have!” Marcus went red about the gills
and nearly choked around a mouthful of food.

“Yes, an
outstanding job. All peaceful, but you keep them at arm’s length
nonetheless, Mr Campian. And your people see that. Enough to
facilitate a peaceful solution, but don’t open your hearts to the
intruders, the invaders!”

“Untrue.”

“You know of
the threat hanging over Valaris. They need to trust the Valleur can
help them and how better achieved by allowing them to see the
heritage? Those sites are over twelve thousand years old and they
endure. It will be a warm feeling to those who’ll soon fear for
their existence!”

Lucan stood,
punctuating his words with lethal intensity using his fork. He
looked at it and tossed it down.

“Thank you for
the dinner, Mr Campian; you set an excellent table.” Turning on his
heel, he moved to stalk away.

“Sit! You
can’t walk away from a debate, young man! Did your parents teach
you nothing?”

Lucan froze
and turned. “My parents died two years ago during a typhoon on
Xen’s eastern seaboard. Twelve hundred died that week, but they
went into the face of danger, wanting to aid, knowing the chances
of survival were slim. They were sorcerers and it was their duty to
help their people. The Valleur are sorcerers, Electan, down to the
youngest child. Do you even comprehend what an army that is? They
know why they are back on the continent and how many of them could
die soon, yet they are here in the face of every danger. Oh yes,
for love of the man in Torrke, but also because it’s their duty to
protect, aid and succour those without the power to do so. They are
Valaris’s Guardians and you’re doing them a terrible disservice in
hiding their sites from your people. You’re doing your own kind a
disservice.”

“I’m sorry,
Lucan, about your parents. I apologise for my crude behaviour.
Please sit and allow me to make amends.”

Lucan
graciously took his seat. Lifting his glass he said, “My parents
were … I miss them.” He swallowed the wine without tasting and
replaced the glass.

Marcus poured
them both a liberal measure, and sat back, pushing his plate aside.
“You’re right, of course. I’m afraid of losing my grip on the
continent. However, it isn’t loss of authority that concerns me and
maybe I’m just too old-school. Will humankind be subject to the
Valleur when this is over? Is that not a disservice also?”

“The two races
coexisted before.”

“I’ve read the
accounts,” Marcus acknowledged. “It also seemed, though, the
Enchanter was ruler over all.”

“Only because
Valarians trusted him to do the best by them. He never forced it -
they elevated him. And you forget, he doesn’t want to rule. He’s
here to prevent annihilation.”