Roger Taylor - Arash-Felloren

Pinnatte was beginning to feel awkward. This Rostan seemed quite different from the angry individual who had confronted him the other day. Indeed, he seemed to be genuinely upset at the trouble he had caused. And, after all, not only had no harm come of it, but a great deal of good. Had it not been for that stormy encounter, he would not now be working for Barran nor have discovered the true Jyolan. The thought of the Jyolan made him feel good. At the same time, Rostan seemed to shrink into a cringing underling. Pinnatte looked at him. The man deserved something for what he had inadvertently wrought. He thrust out his hand. ‘A misunderstanding,’ he said. ‘You needn’t have concerned yourself, but I thank you.’

Rostan took the hand hesitantly. The strange Power had returned, suddenly and without warning, and even though he felt no threat in it this time, it was still frightening. As he touched Pinnatte, it seemed momentarily to swarm through him, possessing him utterly, then just as suddenly withdrawing. He pulled his hand away as quickly as he dared. Again he wanted to flee, but again he knew he could not. While the Power did not actually threaten him he must continue to try to lure this abomination back to the Vaskyros where Imorren could deal with him. If she could deal with him, he thought heretically.

‘You’re very generous,’ he said. ‘Imorren will be most relieved.’

‘Imorren?’ Pinnatte echoed, suddenly curious. ‘The Ailad? The head of your Order?’

‘Yes.’

Pinnatte frowned. ‘Why would she be relieved? Why would she know anything about me?’

Rostan noted the response. It showed him the way. So Imorren was the bait that would reel this one in. Bite, little fish, he thought.

‘I told her about it,’ he said. ‘She saw I was upset about something and, being the person she is, she asked me about it. It was her suggestion I should look for you and apologize if I was to have any peace. She said she was sure you’d understand if I found you. And she was right, wasn’t she? She usually is. She takes a great interest in everything that happens in the city. And she has such wisdom. It’s an honour just to be near her.’ He became wilfully hesitant. ‘I’m uncertain about how to ask this – you’ve been very kind already – but I’m sure she’d like to meet you.’ He leaned forward confidentially. ‘She was quite angry at me in her way. She’s very concerned about how the people think of us. There’s a great deal of misunderstanding about. It would be a kindness both to her and me if she could hear from you herself that all’s well.’ He held out an arm as if they might leave right away.

Pinnatte looked at him uncertainly. In two days, he had been released from Lassner and placed with Barran, fulfilling an ambition he scarcely knew he had. Now, chance was offering him the opportunity to meet with another of the city’s most powerful figures. Who knew what might come of such a meeting? Just to have it known that he had caught the attention of Imorren would make him someone to be feared, to be respected. It would be folly to refuse such an opportunity. But old cautions caught up with his bounding thoughts. The Kyrosdyn weren’t to be trusted. Imorren was even more powerful and ruthless than Barran. He should keep away from her, and the Vaskyros. It was an article of faith amongst Den-Mates that no one went into the Vaskyros voluntarily; ‘things’ happened to people there – no one ever came out. But that was part of his old life. He wasn’t a mere street thief any more. Scorn crept into his thinking. What would any Den-Mate know about the Kyrosdyn? Nothing, other than idle gossip. He, for one, had never even met a Kyrosdyn until the other day, and now here was this Rostan seeking him out and apologizing for what had happened, and offering him an opportunity to meet Imorren. It was time for him to set his old ways aside. There would be many other things to learn in his new life than just finding his way about the Jyolan.

Yet, the caution lingered. A lifetime of distrust, misplaced or not, was not to be set aside lightly. ‘I’m one of Barran’s men now,’ he said, indicating the Jyolan. ‘I have to be back in a few minutes. He’ll be waiting for me.’

Rostan could not keep the surprise from his face, but he managed to make it look appreciative. Barran had little use for street thieves; why would he take this one on? And ‘He’ll be waiting for me’ no less, so he was working directly for Barran. He must be special in some way, was the obvious answer. It was another puzzle hanging about the shoulders of this slight figure. A small conundrum, compared with that of the seemingly flawed Anointing, but one not to be ignored. Still, he could not allow it to deflect him from fetching this man to the Vaskyros.

‘Your star is rising, young man,’ he said heartily. ‘Imorren will be even more pleased to hear of that.’ He risked laying a hand on Pinnatte’s shoulder. ‘I know Barran very well. I can have a word with him, if you like. I’m sure there’ll be no problem – he values Imorren’s good opinion.’ He considered shepherding Pinnatte towards the Jyolan, then thought better of it. Instead, he released him and stepped back a little to give him a sense of freedom.

Pinnatte’s uncertainties dwindled under the combination of Rostan’s affable assault and his own rekindled, if vague, ambition.

He smiled. ‘I think I know where he is,’ he said, and motioned Rostan to follow him.

As they neared the main arch, it was Rostan who began to be uncertain. The Jyolan was an unsettling place for those who could use the Power. He had been there many times, discreetly, to watch the Fighting Pits, as had most of the Kyrosdyn, but there always seemed to be an unspoken consent amongst them not to speak about what they felt – that the building itself was aware of them, watching, waiting.

The origins of the Jyolan were long-lost, though the Kyrosdyn believed it had been built at the behest of Sammrael Himself at the very beginnings of Arash-Felloren. Nothing was known of its purpose, although ancient writings held by the Kyrosdyn referred to it as being built upon one of the Places of Great Power, though what this meant, none now knew. What was known was that the Jyolan had existed before the Order of the Kyrosdyn, and it had always been in their hands. Yet it, too, had always been an uncomfortable possession, with successive Ailads reluctant to use it for anything of consequence and frequently letting it to others. Though there had been surprise expressed at Imorren’s releasing it almost unconditionally to Barran, there had also been a general feeling of relief, albeit, as ever, largely unspoken.

Rostan felt what he thought of as the will of the building close about him as soon as he passed under the arch. But it was different today – very different. Whereas normally it was little more than a frisson of unease, it was now almost palpable. He seemed to sense countless eyes watching him, even studying him. More alarmingly, he noted, there was a marked aura of danger about Pinnatte. For a moment he thought that it was the strange Power returned, but it was not emanating from Pinnatte. Rather it was as though the building was reaching out to protect him.

Questions about the Anointing returned, demanding attention, but a deeper instinct told Rostan simply that he must concentrate on carefully handling Pinnatte. And he must get out of here as soon as possible.

Pinnatte was striding out confidently. People stepped out of his way. Rostan noted that he did not hesitate as he negotiated the many junctions and branches that they passed. Though he knew the building quite well, he could not have walked through it so purposefully, yet this man – this abomination – who had been here only two days at the most seemed to know the place as if he had been born here. It reinforced Rostan’s growing feeling that Pinnatte and the building were connected in some way.