Chapter 3

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The Lord Chancellor’s office was empty, all the other doors closed, when Dynan came in from the hallway. There was a fire burning that kept the room pleasantly warm. For an instant, he saw Xavier sitting behind the desk like he always had the whole of Dynan’s life, but his vision cleared the next moment, and there was no one there. A sense of isolation and a weight of responsibility came into his mind, crowding out other thoughts. All the surrogates were gone now, when he’d counted on them being here for this. He missed Boral and he wanted more than anything for Xavier to be there to turn to for the legendary calm. He wished for anyone with even a shred of experience to be able to tell him what to do next, to be able to count on for more wisdom than he possessed, even just to listen when he had a problem he needed to solve.

He grumbled at the long list that immediately came to mind and turned for the door to his father’s office. His office.

He groaned at the idea, at the fact of it, the usual pang of fear plowing down his spine.

The room looked the same. He still felt incredibly small within its walls. A long couch stood to the left of the door with a table in front to set things; drinks, comboards, papers, along with a couple of chairs for extras to take a seat. Two more chairs of white and gold stood before the fireplace, which was burning a small, pleasantly warming blaze to cut the chill. There was a medium sized table a little further down toward the Throne Room door that his father used for more formal meetings or for eating a quick meal. The walls were decorated with paintings, portraits, and crossed swords, real ones encrusted in glittering gems. Everything was burnished in gold, casting a yellow tinge through the room.

The dominant feature was, of course, the King’s desk, a black dreywood monolith, stationed squarely in front of the arched window. It too had gold inlay in much of the carvings. It was more than a desk. Every formative decision that faced the system was made from it. The desk was much more the seat of power than the actual Throne in the next room.

Dynan looked out the window for a time, contemplating his existence, the color of the sky, the birds flying along the line of the cliff, the large number of guards at the gate. Anything else, except what he should be thinking about. Finally though, after hearing more than a few dead people in his head telling him he needed to get on with it, he turned to the desk, its black surface polished to a hard sheen.

He sat in the chair, a large cushioned affair that swiveled and tilted. At least, he thought, it wasn’t made out of stone like the one in the Throne Room. He looked at the desk and reached to open the right side drawer. It was locked.

“That didn’t take long,” he said to himself at being so immediately thwarted in the effort to get started. He tried to activate the companel that was embedded in the surface. That didn’t work either. “Hmm.”

He heard footsteps, looked up and found Allie Ahreld coming in with a comboard in hand. “This has all the codes you need to open the system,” he said as he handed it over.

“Is there a sensor in the chair or something?”

“I knew you were in here,” Allie said. “And there’s an alarm on the door. I knew the system was locked. I figured I’d give you a minute to suck up the enormity of it all before I came back here with the business end of it.” He turned and looked the length of the office to the closed Throne Room door, following the line of swords that hung on the walls back around to the King’s desk. “Seems a bit surreal. That we’re here.”

“Surreal isn’t the term I’d use, but yes. All right. Thanks, except how do I turn on the desk?”

“Oh. There’s a new palm scanner installed. For Telaerin’s only. There should be a red pin – there. Just put your hand over it, flat on the surface and it’ll ... Yes, there. You’ve got it. The screen will come up when you press this bottom corner line. Enter your code that’s on the comboard and you’re all set.”

Dynan followed those instructions and the companel popped up and beeped at him. He entered the code and the system came on, displaying the Telaerin crest on the screen for a moment. This was the only companel screen that displayed that particular emblem. A list of files replaced it. Dynan started reading.

“There’s a schedule already? Who dreamed that up?”

“Dain, I think,” Allie said. “Drake made him.”

“Right. And the rest?”

“Reports on everything that’s been going on, the official stuff at least, that everyone knows about, everything that might go on, and maybe, if you’re lucky, the recommendations to manage it all, but I wouldn’t count on that last part. You’ve got some reading to do.”

“So you’re telling me there’s no instruction manual? Great.” Dynan nodded to the screen. “Who else can get into these?”

“You, Dain, Shalis, and Marc – once he gets up. And me.”

“The order of succession and you, the only one who actually knows what they’re doing. Anyone ask about Garan yet?”

“Officially, no, but they are talking about him.” Allie paused there until Dynan glanced at him. “Not too kindly.”

“I want it made clear to anyone who might think to talk in front of him that they should not. He’s third in line to the Throne and will be accorded all due respect. Shalis is his Regent. You can make that an announcement, if need be. I already talked to Governor Taldic.”

“I’ll have a draft for you to look at in an hour. Need anything else?”

“I’d like to be cloned, yes.”

“I thought you already were. He walks, talks, and acts just like you. More now than ever,” Allie said with a smile that then went away as he thought longer. “He’s all right, isn’t he? He seems all right. Like he hasn’t changed at all, but I mean, after everything he went through...”

“Dain will be fine, Allie. Any time you want to start telling me what went on, you know, feel free.”

“I guess he’s not talking about it too much.”

“Not much, no.”

“It was...” He paused again and the animation drained from his face. Dynan felt bad for asking. “It was the most terrified I’ve ever been that none of us were going to live through it. Not just me, but anyone. The only other time that comes close to that same feeling was when the destroyer was after us at Orgrel. That was only a couple of minutes of sheer, unmitigated life is over awareness. This was days of just not knowing from one moment to the next whether or not Maralt was going to win. For them. For me it was hours, which was bad enough. For Marc and for Dain it was unrelenting.”

“Maralt made you feel like you’d be better off not living through it,” Dynan said and nodded. “I hope that soon, you’ll be glad you did. You helped Marc and Dain get through it, and for that, I am eternally grateful. In case no one said it before now, thank you.”

“I’m already glad I made it, Dynan. I’m completely ready to move on though. Looking back doesn’t do anyone any good.”

Dynan nodded to that subtle suggestion that maybe he should stop asking about it. “Geneal is going to tell you to talk to Dr. Riesch.”

“She’s not getting any takers on that,” he said with a slight smile.

“She doesn’t give up though, so you can expect the suggestion again.”

“Right. When Dain goes, I’ll go, or you for that matter. I’ll be in the com office if you need anything. Start reading. You’re going to love it.”

Dynan laughed at that. “Thanks, Allie.”

None of the reports were good news, but he sat and read through every single one.

Several hours later, after a lot of reading and a few meetings, Dynan walked from the King’s office, his office, he kept having to remind himself, and went to the com office. That was situated at the front of the office suite, off the anteroom where guests waited for their turn to see him. He didn’t look to see if anyone was in there. As promised, he found Allie in the process of training a group of men from the XR-9 on procedures. The entire room came to attention, everyone hopping up to their feet as if on a string. He thought to wave them back down, but didn’t manage it in time.

“I’m going down to the Medic Center.”

“I’ll inform the guard,” Allie said, turning to do that.

Those guards joined him outside the door in the main hall. Dynan didn’t know them and while he trusted Kyle Bairing to make sure the guards were capable, he couldn’t deny the uneasy feeling that crept over him. He missed Sheed and wished just then that he hadn’t made Ralion his First Minister. That happened after a long, though one-sided discussion about Dain. Dynan smiled over Ralion’s expression on learning of the promotion. He supposed he could call him to go along, but he was in a meeting with Kyle, working on the process of getting the new job started.

The main hall was mostly empty, except for servants busily cleaning and scrubbing the floors, the statues, and even the walls. At the grand stair landing, another group worked to repair the windows blown out during the attack. Loren stood with them, supervising the work. She had, without a moment’s delay, taken on the daunting task of making sure Palace operations were set back in order and put into some semblance of a normal schedule. People seemed to automatically do what she told them to, something that didn’t surprise him in the least.

He caught himself smiling over it.

While Alexia and Creal weren’t staying in the Palace themselves, their servants were, so Dynan had to be at least a little careful about how much time he spent near Loren, and guard his reactions when he was. Lady Alvuen in particular, was always out looking around. Snooping, Dynan thought, trying to obtain the latest little bit of information for her Queen.

There was plenty going around for her to discover, though surprisingly, the events of the previous days, from the time of his landing to Maralt’s death, hadn’t become too widely talked about. Marc somehow managed, probably without knowing it, to keep that situation from becoming known by most everyone in the Palace.

Of course, Alexia and Creal had questioned him about what they’d witnessed, particularly wondering why Ralion had so abruptly turned on him. Dynan explained as best as he could. They had more questions that he didn’t have the answers for. Dain wasn’t talking about it. Marc wasn’t awake yet to offer any explanations. Allie, Ralion, no one really wanted to go into anything but the barest of detail.

Dynan did manage to assure Their Majesties that Maralt was finally gone after a horrific struggle he was glad he hadn’t been more aware of. While he was worried that Marc might never completely recover, after what he’d been through, Dynan now felt more inclined to forgive him, though he knew in his heart he wouldn’t likely trust him completely ever again. The simple fact was he couldn’t.

Loren’s voice cut through his thoughts as she stood at the foot of the stair, looking beautiful as always in an informal gown of pale rose. She straightened imperceptibly, turning slightly and saw him. The moment he approached, servants and Guildsmen halted their work, turned and bowed to him. Dynan shook his head, not meaning to cause a distraction, particularly when very large panels of glass were involved. Loren smiled at him before turning back to the workgroup she spoke with, describing with the sweep of her hand how the draperies should be hung once the windows were replaced.

He didn’t stop for long. His shoulder felt like it was going to throb right off his body. The brace Geneal had him wearing only seemed to make it worse and so he frequently turned it off. He did have it on at the moment since he was going to see her about it.

The lift was still broken. He had to remember to talk to Trevan about that, whose job now was to fix everything that was broken. Each step down to the Medic Center jarred his arm to the point where finally, he had to stop to rest. He groaned slightly, wondering if there would ever be a time when he wasn’t in pain. It was a frequent condition and doubted it would change simply because he was home.

He made his way back to Geneal’s office. She hadn’t yet moved into the Chief of Physicians office her father had occupied for so many years. Loren told him about Eldelar just that morning. A needless death, in a long line of senseless killings. Eldelar would be missed. It was hard to imagine the Medic Center without him being there to guide the facility. When he thought about what Geneal was facing, he wished he could take it all away and change what had happened, even while knowing he hadn’t had any control to alter anything. Knowing that didn’t seem to help ease the sense of responsibility he felt for it.

Geneal greeted him happily enough and quickly set about checking him over after taking him to an exam room. Every now and again, a medic would walk by, a few of them peering in, then going about their business. She’d left the door open a crack. He didn’t have to ask why, understanding the protective measure even if she didn’t. Loren told him what had happened there too, that Maralt had raped Geneal while still in control of Dain. Dynan wondered how aware his brother had been of it and could easily imagine that Dain felt responsible for it.

“If you don’t stop turning this brace off, you’re not going to have any use of this arm,” Geneal said when she had finished the somewhat painful examination of the break in his collarbone. She gave him a dose of cordalin. Dynan breathed again with the welcome spread of numbness. “And you need to rest too. I want you to go up to your rooms and do that now.”

“Geneal—”

“You shouldn’t be standing here. You almost died. The treatment I used to stitch your heart back together was untested until I stabbed you with the trillodens. I’m certain that some of them are still active, which is completely insane with you being on your feet at all. I don’t understand what happened to enable you to make such a quick recovery and I don’t trust it. You have to rest. No arguments.”

“Are you going to come tuck me in?”

Geneal flashed him a look. “I’ll send up a medic with another dose of cordalin, but I can come up there myself if you think it necessary.”

He smiled at her tone and shook his head. “I think I can manage alone, but thanks.”

“I’m serious. Don’t deactivate the brace again. You’ll have it off in a week if you do as you’re told.”

“It seems only slightly backwards that my shoulder feels better when it’s off.”

“Keep the brace on for the next week and you’ll save what little bone you have left in there. Keep turning it off and I’ll be seeing you down here for surgery, followed by two months of rehabilitation. The choice is yours.”

“All right,” he grumbled as he struggled to put his shirt and jacket back on. Geneal activated the brace the moment he managed and his arm was effectively locked in place, clamped down to his side and across his stomach. “Have you seen Dain yet?”

“Yes,” she said, turning from him. Another medic walked by the door, looking in briefly. “He’s as stubborn as you.”

“He’s more stubborn than me.”

“He’ll probably need surgery at some point to repair the damage. He may elect to have the scars removed. I’ve also recommended he see Dr. Riesch.”

Dynan grunted at that and refrained from commenting on the futility of it.

Geneal smiled. “He had about the same reaction. He needs to talk to someone about what was done to him though. Marc too, I imagine.”

“There aren’t many people who can really understand what happened, Geneal. Not with Marc, especially.”

“Still, there are emotional issues to deal with. I think Dr. Riesch can help resolve them. I’ve talked to him and it’s helped me.”

“I’ll talk to Dain about it. Marc too, but I won’t promise you they’ll listen.”

“Will you listen?”

Dynan rolled his eyes slightly at that. “One day when I have more time for that sort of thing.”

Geneal hummed at him. “Go to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t turn that brace off any more.”

Dynan left her, listening to a string of dire warnings should he disobey her. He intended to go up and do just as she said though. He was tired. He wished Marc would hurry up and get out of his rooms, being somewhat tired of sleeping elsewhere while his Lord Chancellor decided whether or not he would ever get up.