The Sleeper Sword (53 page)

Quilla’s
parallel put that idea in place.

In Menllik he
found Mitrill with a team of women dispensing nourishment to tired
rescue workers.

“Torrullin,”
she said when she noticed him, “you haven’t had sufficient
rest.”

“Tannil and I
had to deal with Southwell. I’m fine.”

She shook her
head and doled out broth to a man almost asleep where he stood.
“Eat, Rennir, then get some rest, hear?” She beckoned another woman
to take her place and drew Torrullin onto the street. “You did
great work the last few days.”

“Thank
you.”

“Many would’ve
died. You are a hero to Valarians now.”

Torrullin
grimaced. “I’m beginning to think that may be part of Tymall’s
stage setting.”

“Ah, so it was
no accident.”

“Southwell
confirmed the last transmission. No accident.”

“Strike one.”
Then she appeared to change the subject. “Have you been to the
media centre yet?”

“You know I
have no particular interest in technology.”

“It’s what’s
on the monitors. Fay told me about it earlier. If what she says is
true, now may be a good time to get folk to hark to Tymall as
threat.” She began striding towards the centre. “Your words carry
greater weight now.”

“So soon after
the disaster? Moods change quickly, you know that. Tell them now,
and later I am the culprit and we are back to the time before
Menllik.”

She glanced at
him. “How do you do that? See the angles with such certainty?”

He barked a
laugh. “Pure guesswork!”

She smiled,
walked on.

“Where is
Fay?” he asked a block later.

“Up north, I
assume.”

Torrullin
grasped her arm as they neared the media centre, pulling her to a
stop. “How can you not know?”

“She’s a big
girl. I don’t keep tabs on my children.”

“Fay is
different.”

“Stubbornness
doesn’t set her apart. Besides she’s not alone with hundreds of
Valleur about her.”

“Not one of
them looking out for her!”

Mitrill
glanced at her arm and, with a muttered apology, he released her.
“Don’t worry so much. She’ll eventually come around.”

“Is that what
you think? That my ego is bruised and I feel the need to bring her
to heel? Do not insult me, Mitrill. Tymall was seen on the bridge
of the traveller. It means he is in the area. He is no fool.”

“What are you
saying?”

“Suddenly
everyone loves the Enchanter - who organised that? Tomorrow it may
be plugging a volcano. Besides the fact he sets me up for massive
betrayal, what else do you think he watches for? In all this hero
worship and love?”

Mitrill shook
her head, watching his face.

“He is
receptive to continuing hostility, dislike, mistrust, for that can
be used. Recruits, perhaps. And if one of those recruits happens to
be a very unhappy Valla? He has each of us by the balls. And Fay
loses first.”

“Fay!” Mitrill shouted before realising it was a useless
gesture.
Fay, please come to me. I need to
speak with you.
Aloud she said, “My god,
that’s devious.”

“He was
devious from the cradle.”

Fay appeared a
moment later, a concerned frown on her face; it vanished the
instant she saw Torrullin.

Don’t forewarn
her. She dislikes me enough to spite me and then she will be in
serious trouble.

“Mother?” Fay
frowned again when silence greeted her.

“I’m sorry,
dear, I’m overtired, I think. I need you to take over here for a
while.”

“Well, fine,
but this is stupid. Any number of women could do that.”

“You’re right,
but you need a change of scene also.” Mitrill touched her
daughter’s face and turned to Torrullin. “Okay, I’m all yours for
five minutes - shall we?” She gestured at the media centre.

Fay cocked an
eyebrow as Torrullin moved. “They love you now, Enchanter. You are
the flavour of the month, no, the year, the decade. I couldn’t have
engineered it better myself … yes, go and view the outpouring of
gratefulness and reverence and awe …”

“Fay!” Mitrill
gasped. What had happened to her sweet-natured daughter?

She ignored
her mother. “Oh, they’re all being thanked, human and Valleur
alike, for unselfishly giving, but, guess what, your name, your
title, your face gets by far the most airtime.”

Torrullin was
silent, watching the frustrated anger on her face, and then he
moved forward, a blur, and Mitrill was left standing with empty
space, her heart filling with foreboding.

He took her
where he found her only days ago and roughly pushed her into one of
the sturdy cane chairs on the deck.

“Did he say I
engineered the horror up north?”

“I don’t know
what you mean.” She lifted her chin.

“Innocent,
preyed-upon Fay. You’re being duped again. Let me tell you about my
son …”

She rose. “You
are not my keeper.”

“
Sit
!”

She sat, and
stared at him, frightened for the first time.

He muttered,
backing off. “I’m not the one you should be frightened of. How do I
get through to you?”

She looked at
her hands saying nothing.

He drew
breath. “Fine, if you cannot meet me halfway, then you will listen.
My son is a master at masks, an expert in duplicity, and does it
with a glorious smile, kind words and his lovely grey eyes.”

She looked at
him again, this time with a shadow of uncertainty.

“I cannot claim to know him, for I inhabited a dream world
where he was concerned, and saw his true colours only near the end
of his life, but if he could dupe me for twenty-five years, how
much easier would you be? And what does it tell you of him? But
that was then; today there is an evil that took
at least
two thousand years to
become a powerful Warlock. Then it was a child’s petty wickedness
and it murdered my father and his brother; now it is a man’s
serious evil. Do you know that man? I do not.

“What hides
behind his smile? A murderer? Yes, for he murdered an entire family
to mask his return, including a child, and he raped the mother. He
is, therefore, a rapist also. You were there, Fay, you called it to
my attention. Is he a terrorist? The Vall catastrophe proves that
and was confirmed by Beacon’s ambassador. It was not of my doing, I
swear to you. A fiend? Who sent an army of darklings to occupy the
Guardians? A conqueror? He took a darkling world as his own. A
gaoler? He has Margus prisoner - what kind of power does that
take?

“And another
thing, my son has my wife. He tried to rape her once, did you know?
Do you even comprehend the restraint I place upon myself? Do you
think I shall allow him to take you also? Use you, rape you, and
eventually kill you? Fay, you must not take him at face value; you
must, for your own sanity and safety, look behind the mask.”

Her voice
trembled as she spoke. “He said you’d say the things you said.”

For Aaru’s
sake. He had hoped he was wrong. “Did he tell you he killed a
child, raped a woman? Did he mention we were nearly at war with
Beacon over an act of terrorism? Did he mention the Darak Or? Fay,
did he whisper in your pretty ear that he holds Saska in order to
control me?”

She shook her
head.

“No, he
couldn’t. Any specifics, and you would flee. If you had, you would
be keeping Saska company now or, worse, you would be worm bait. In
believing his lies you saved yourself and for that we must be
grateful. Next time he will see in you uncertainty, for you will be
wary whether or not you believe me.”

“He asked that
I tell him of your movements.”

He was getting
through, thank the gods. “He can guess my movements and probably
knows most of what I do as I do it. He knows me better than I ever
knew him. He doesn’t need you to tell him where I am and what I
plan.”

“Then why
ask?” she snapped, slipping back into doubt.

“You don’t
like me and that dislike is his leverage.”

She shifted
her gaze over the water, chewing at her lip.

“How long?” he
asked.

“Soon after I
came here. He tracked me from the burnt farm. I was furious with
you. You brushed me off.”

“I’m sorry. I
was hurting. What he did? It defies all rules … and he is my son.
He is still my son.”

“I’m
sorry.”

Torrullin too
gazed over the lake. “Vannis offered to suffocate him as he was
born. I wish I had listened to him.”

“That’s
terrible!”

A grimace.
“That guilt might have been easier to bear than the guilt of today.
I loved him, Fay, but it was not enough.”

Fay was
silent. No, love was not enough, she knew that.

“How often did
he come?”

“Six times,
but never for long. There wasn’t much I could tell him and I told
him nothing anyway, most of the time I just listened. He, well, he
understood … me.” Her voice fell away to nothing.

“He can read
you.”

“He cannot.
You
cannot.”

A wry smile.
“You’re as closed to me as Vannis was, yes. I meant not thought. He
learned to decipher others’ emotions at an early age to take his
cue from them. You were full of feelings, everything from fury to
unhappiness - easy for him.”

Again she bit
at her lip. “I would not have betrayed you to him.”

He was not so
sure, but he gave her that. “I know.”

She looked at
him. “I’m not sure I believe everything you say.”

Torrullin
sighed. “There’s another reason you need to stay well away from
Tymall.”

She frowned,
readying herself for what she perceived as more untruth.

“He is Valla.
Tannil, your mother, the boys, Samuel and I are Vallas. And between
him and us there is you, sundered.”

“So?”

“The sundering
makes you a conduit. It gives him the whereabouts of all Vallas,
including those innocent boys.”

“
What
?”

He leaned
against the rail. “My son seeks revenge for what he regards as the
stealing of his birthright. He was meant to be Vallorin; it was in
his scrying. He wants it returned to him and the only way to take
and hold it, is by being the last Valla.”

She stared at
him.

“He cannot
kill me, and thus embarks on a strategy to dispossess me. No doubt
he aims at Destroyer. And to get me there he will murder every
Valla, and may use you to achieve exactly that.”

She bounded
up, frantic, and clawed at him. “Where are they? Are they safe? Can
you see them?”

She thumped at
his chest, angry at herself, angry with him, frustrated, afraid,
and he absorbed the impacts until she burst into sobs, collapsing
against him, and then his arms lifted to cradle her.

“They are
safe,” he murmured, adding, “If you believe nothing else, trust
that our family is in danger. Please.”

She nodded
against his chest and then pushed herself flat-handed away. There
were wet marks on his tunic and she brushed at them. She wiped at
her cheeks with angry gestures.

Watching her,
he understood something. “You are like him.”

“I am
not!”

“I’m not
insinuating anything untoward. I simply mean you match him in
temperament. Contrary, fiery, moody …”

“Sounds like
you.”

He drew an inaudible breath. Yes.
Like me. I would know my son, if I acknowledged the dark in
me.
It was an insight he could well use.
He turned slightly askew so that she would not see the sudden
triumph, and dread, in him.

She moved,
wandering to the side of the deck, looking down on the grassy area
that led to the sand. She glanced over her shoulder. “Will you
wait? I …” Then, firmly, “I need to walk a bit to clear my
head.”

“Go.”

“Thank you.”
She stepped off and disappeared below the level of the cottage and
re-emerged on the shore nearby. She did not look back.

Torrullin
angled a chair so that he could, this time, watch her.

He did not
trust Tymall.

Acknowledge
the dark in me.

He was grim.
He did so more than once and did not need to do so again. He was
well aware of it.

However, he
needed to use it.

Maintaining a
steady gaze on Fay’s retreating form, he released a barrier to it.
Felt the first rush, for rush it was.

My heart is full of vengeance
.

He released a
second barrier, clutched at the chair to remain centred.

My mind is
full of hate.

He released a
third barrier, the last he could do safely, and felt his blood
course with a different power.

My soul is
filled with fury.

He breathed
deep, in two places of power at once.

Enchanter?
Quilla’s frantic
calling.

I know what
I’m doing, Quilla.

There was no
added communication from the birdman, but his presence remained
close. It was comforting.

He became then
a thinking being in the dark.

He became, he
hoped, like his son.

Torrullin saw
Fay, walking on, and was powerfully attracted to her.

He saw Tannil
as an interloper, a bug that would be trampled.

Torrullin saw
Mitrill, a scourge who brought forth the new generation, deserving
only death.

He saw Samuel,
laughable in his blood.

The darkness
within saw Teroux and Tristan, two featureless boys at present, who
would be made to suffer for who and what they were.

He saw Margus,
felt the pleasure of his torture.

As his son he
saw Saska and found anticipation of her degradation as a living,
breathing monster.