The Kallanon Scales by Elaina J Davidson Page B

five years ago and was diagnosed as an insulin
dependent diabetic. He needed to inject every four hours and one
day left it too late, falling into a coma from which he did not
awake.
    Skye confided
she believed he did so deliberately. Lanto lived on in those who
remembered him, and his tales, tall and true, remembered him to all
on Valaris. Lanto won the Bards and Tales Festival many a year.
Skye was the only child of a brief union between her father and a
young woman from Beacon. Her mother chose return to her homeworld,
leaving Skye with Lanto. She was nineteen years old; shy, but
attractive in a freckle-faced way.
    After she sat,
Torrullin said, “Valleur! Time for the test! Which four are chosen
for this task?”
    Four Elders
stepped forward. A Valleur Elder was not a grey-haired man or woman
of doddering wisdom. Pretora and Kismet appeared no older than
Torrullin, yet were Elders. Valleur showed their advanced age in
the final hundred years.
    These four
could disqualify the penitents from autonomy. They could ask
anything and many failed at this juncture. There was a second
chance, a whole year later.
    “Camot, Lord
Vallorin, and I will test Tymall.”
    “Darian, my
Lord, and I am here for Tristamil.”
    “Rillinon, my
Lord, for Tymall.”
    “Pianote, my
Lord Vallorin. I am here for Tristamil. Good luck to you, young
lord.”
    “In that order
then,” Torrullin said.
    Camot stood
before Tymall. “Our Vallorin decided to rename this valley.
Torrullin’s Keep is a mouthful. Please tell us what your father
intends to call this valley.”
    Tymall drew
breath. Camot set a true challenge. This was the first he heard of
it. He had to think like his father, that was what Tris said. “I
shall answer.”
    Camot gave a
small smile and retreated.
    Tymall inhaled. “My father called this valley Torrullin’s Keep, using
his name as ownership on first viewing, and I believe that will not
change. Torrullin means Rain of Life and describes it well. To circumvent a mouthful,
he would shorten it, Torr for Life or Llin for Rain. The word for home is ke . I believe my father would put home and life in one word,
rather than the idea of rain and house in one thought.” Tymall’s
brows knotted. “Either Ketorr or Torrke. ” He gazed up at his father
and smiled. “Torrke.”
    Camot
prompted, “My Lord?”
    “Camot, surely
I could lie?”
    “No, my Lord,
one of us heard you speak the word to the Throne.”
    Torrullin
laughed. “My son is right.”
    Tymall shouted
his relief and the chamber and courtyard erupted in response.
    “I name this valley officially on this day … Torrke!”
Torrullin proclaimed. Well done,
Ty . “Proceed, Darian.”
    Darian stepped
to the fore. He stood before Tristamil and barked out, “Who was the
forty-first Vallorin?”
    “Villnev.”
    Darian
returned to his seat. Despite the ease with which Tristamil
replied, it was a difficult question. Vallorins forty-one, two and
three ruled one after the other in the space of one year and were
lobbed together in shame. They were brothers and lost their hearts
to one woman. This woman proceeded to kill them off one by one, and
when the fourth brother took the Throne, he had her killed though
there was no proof of guilt. He went on to rule for a long
while.
    “Rillinon.”
    “Thank you, my
Lord. Tymall, please sketch in the air the Valla Dragon.”
    As a child
Tymall often lay on his father’s chest tracing the Dragon with one
finger. He closed his eyes, raised a finger in the air, and
outlined it from indelible memory, a hazy blue line appeared before
him. It was a true rendition and Torrullin clapped his approval
before Rillinon could question him.
    Pianote was
the final taskmaster. “Tristamil, there are fourteen traditions the
Valleur hold sacred. Why fourteen and what are they?”
    “Fourteen is
the universal number upon which magic is based. We build fourteen
sacred sites per world in keeping with that philosophy, and that is
the first tradition.