The Sound of Broken Absolutes by Peter Orullian (fun to read .txt) 📗

surfaced all in a rush. Jagged, ugly things to remember.

Images of young friends, though he couldn’t see their faces. A fight, though he couldn’t remember why. Except they were settling something. The feeling of betrayal lingered. A sad pain in the pit of his stomach.

Tahn walked to where the Velle lay. Something glinted on the ground near its body. He hunkered down and ran his fingers across a smooth surface glistening with moonlight. Felt like glass. At its center were two fist-sized holes.

“What’s this?”

Vendanj came up beside him. “Velle won’t bear the cost of rendering the Will. They transfer it. Take the vitality of anything at hand so they can remain strong.”

The Velle had thrust its hands into the soil. Darkness had flared. It had caused the formation of this thin crust of dark glass. Tahn stepped on it. A soft pop. A fragile sound. If Vendanj hadn’t been here, what else inside Tahn would the Velle have taken hold of?

He finally gave a low, resigned laugh. “You win. Why complicate all this fun we’re having, right?”

He stole a look at Mira, who showed him her slim smile again. That, at least, was helpful. Hopeful, too. Like the lighter shades of blue strengthening in the east behind her.

Just before he turned away, he caught sight of low fogs gathering on the lowland floor. He pointed. “You see that?”

Vendanj looked, and his expression hardened. Soon Mira stood with them, as they watched a cloud bank form around the base of the plateau.

“Je’holta,” Vendanj said.

“What is it?” Tahn asked.

“Another form of Quiet.” He paused a long moment. “And something we’ll now have to pass through when we leave here.”

Mira’s smile was gone. “Good test for Tillinghast.”

Tahn gave them each a long look, and said without humor, “I just came out to watch the sunrise. . . .”

Read on for a preview of the

TRIAL OF INTENTIONS

Book Two of

THE VAULT OF HEAVEN

by

PETER ORULLIAN

TRIAL OF INTENTIONS

PROLOGUE

A THIRD PURPOSE

“Encouragements are drawn from living things—trees, grasses, animals. First and best from family. All are vital. All nourish. Perishment results from the absence of these.”

—From The Effect of Absences, a correlative

war doctrine originating in the Bourne

AFTER LONG YEARS in the Scarred Lands, Than Junell realized their patrols held a third purpose.

First, and most obviously, they were meant to provide early warning when visitors or strangers came into the Scar. Patrol routes held long sight lines of the wide, barren lands. From a distance, newcomers could be easily spotted and reported.

On a second, more practical level, patrols were used to build and maintain stamina for fight sessions. Every ward of the Scar—age three to nineteen—spent no less than six hours a day in ritualized combat training.

It wasn’t until later that Tahn finally came to realize a subtle third reason for patrols. They were a way for wards of the Scar to monitor themselves and guard against one of their own wandering from home, alone.

With the purpose of self-slaughter.

Tahn and Alemdra ran fast, arriving at Gutter Ridge well ahead of sunrise. They slowed to a walk, catching their breath and sharing smiles.

“You’re starting to slow me down,” Alemdra teased. “I think it’s because I’m becoming a woman, and you’re still a boy.”

He laughed. “Well, maybe if we’re going to keep running patrols together, I’ll just put a saddle on you, then.”

She hit him in the arm, and they sat together with their legs dangling from one of the few significant ridges in the Scar. Alemdra was twelve today, barely older than Tahn. And he intended to kiss her. Seeing the glint in her eye, he wondered if she’d guessed his intention. But if so, the unspoken secret only added to the anticipation.

Casually wagging their toes, they looked east.

“See that?” He pointed at the brightest star in the eastern hemisphere. She nodded. “That’s Katia Shonay, the morning star. It’s really a planet.”

“That so.” She squinted as if doing so might bring the distant object into sharper focus.

“Katia Shonay means ‘lovelorn’ in Dimnian.” He liked few things better than talking about the sky. “There’s this whole story about how a furrow tender fell in love with a woman of the court.”

She made no effort to conceal her suspicion of his timing for sharing the story of this particular planet. “You might make a good furrow tender someday. If you work hard at it, that is.”

“Actually,” he countered, smiling, “the story’s only complete in the conjunction of Rushe Symone—the planet named after the god of plenty and favor. You know, bountiful harvests and autumn bacchanalia.” He nearly blushed over the last part, having learned the richness of bacchanal rituals. “Rych is the largest planet—”

She was giving him a look. The look. “You seem to think you’re smarter than us now.”

“What do you mean now?” And he started laughing.

She broke down laughing, too. “You really liked it there, didn’t you? In Aubade Grove.”

“I’d go back tomorrow if it didn’t mean leaving you behind.” It came out sounding more honest than he’d intended, but he wasn’t embarrassed. He stared off at Katia. “It’s amazing, Alemdra. No patrols. No fight sessions. Just books. Study. Skyglassing to discover what’s up there.” He gestured grandly at the eastern sky.

She smiled, sharing his enthusiasm for the few years he’d been away before being called back here. “Do you think you’ll ever leave the Scar for good?” There was a small, fatal note in her voice.

He turned to see her expression—the same one she always wore when they talked about Grant. While all the wards were like Grant’s adoptive children, Tahn was the man’s actual son. He supposed someday he might leave this place, especially if he ever learned who his mother was. If she was still alive.

“Eventually. After my father goes to his earth. I don’t think I could leave him here alone.” Tahn threw a rock and listened for it to hit far below. In his head he began doing some math to determine the height of the ridge. Initial velocity, count of six to