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Chapter 4
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Servants stopped what they were doing when they saw him come out of Dynan’s rooms. Marc wondered what they had been told. Immediately, he saw in a strange sort of glowing dance, the same swirling eddies of energy around these people that he’d seen around Shalis. It was everywhere, rising into the air outlining each individual, overlapping anywhere they stood close. He couldn’t make it stop even when he tried.
A ripple of bows and curtsies distracted him, making him even more uncomfortable. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, if anything, to acknowledge this show of respect. He doubted then that this was anything more than a performed requirement. He was wearing the Lord Chancellor’s seal and servants bowed to their Lords, whether they liked it or not. He wasn’t sure he cared for the idea either. Then he saw a few hiding smiles as they straightened, watching while he stood undecided.
He looked around at what they had been doing, obvious by the various cleaning equipment they carried. A great deal of work had been done while he slept. Dust and grime removed to reveal a polished wood floor. The central carpet, dark blue with silver edging, seemed a different color than he remembered. Various statues gleamed in welcome light. Above all, Marc noticed the quality of the air had improved tremendously, the death smell completely vanquished. That brought out a smile and he nodded.
“Looks good,” he said, turning toward the main door.
“Thank you, my Lord,” came the reply and as he left, another round of bows followed him. The door guards snapped to attention, saluting as he passed. Marc was only a little more used to that than obeisance.
Down one flight of stairs, the ballroom stretched before him. He remembered sitting at the foot of the landing with Ralion and Allie. More memories of what had followed clouded his mind. He was only partially successful in blotting out the relentless reminders of what he had done. One voice echoed above the others, one vision mocking him. The High Bishop stood over him, a bony finger jabbed at him, saying, “if you use this ability against any other than Maralt, the same fate awaits you.”
Marc stopped at the head of the stairs that swept down to the main hall, wishing he could ignore that voice, wishing he didn’t have to face that man ever again.
He realized there were gaps in his memory and felt certain that the High Bishop was responsible for them. He remembered everything up to the point when he chased Dynan and Dain, fully intent on killing them both, driven to it by the malicious hatred emanating from Maralt’s life force. He shuddered at the sense of overwhelming need, demanding he take that power into himself, so strong it had proved nearly irresistible.
Nearly, he reminded himself, and started down the stairs. Somehow, he’d managed it. He knew Maralt had been taken from him, though he didn’t remember it happening, glad he’d been spared that much at least. The next thing he knew after that was waking up in Dynan’s office, staring down the length of a sword aimed directly above his heart.
That Dynan could trust him enough for the Lord Chancellorship still seemed impossible to Marc, even though he wore the seal and had signed the document. After what Dynan had seen, what everyone knew, Marc found it hard to believe that anyone could trust him again. He wasn’t so sure he trusted himself.
That thought stopped him too. He found himself in the midst of another group of servants, all of them glowing like candles. He wondered how he would ever avoid the energy fields; not at all sure he could safely be around anyone. This time he noticed strands of energy drifting toward him as though pulled by some force he didn’t understand, except, the thought occurred, that maybe he was willing it to him. Every time he breathed it came closer and within moments he was breathing it in.
Marc swore under his breath, backing up a step or two, and then a few more, trying to get out of what seemed like a net, holding his breath at the same time, until he was far enough away. Slowly, the strands that had drifted to him, retracted and he breathed again.
He also became aware that he was being watched. Great first impression, he thought, and tried to block out what he was seeing, which didn’t work. There didn’t seem to be anything to do for it, except stand away from the crowd.
There were several men wearing different uniforms, and Marc recognized the Guild seal. Which Guild he wasn’t sure of. Cobalt, along with the other systems had a Guild for nearly every area of specialization. To Marc it all seemed a ponderous bureaucracy, and he wondered how difficult it would be to cut that number in half.
A noticeable cold streamed in through the open spaces along the wall of windows. Four men were in the process of lifting an incredibly large pane of glass into place. Two rode in baskets, hovering at the top of the frame. A round sort of suction device that periodically flashed lights held the glass. Two other men stood to either side, not directly under the baskets, making Marc wonder what would happen if they did get into the anti-grav field by accident.
Others stood on hand, these Palace servants, waiting until the glass was set in place. When it was, they moved in to seal the lower edge. With that finished, the servants moved out, and the men floating above sealed the rest of the window to the frame, slowly lowering down to the floor as they worked.
Marc watched the entire procedure start again with the last pane to be replaced. The temporary boards were removed in short order and the window set with equal speed. One man, also in Guild uniform, stood aside watching until the last window was set, his uniform denoting the rank of Master. As the sealing process began he nodded in satisfaction and turning to Marc, moved to join him.
He seemed well pleased with the services performed, and Marc agreed readily, though he felt the man was purposely seeking approval. Someone who wanted to be noticed, he thought, guessing he’d be faced with a lot of that in the future. He didn’t stay long. Trying not to breathe was not especially easy, so he politely excused himself. He moved down into the main hall as other servants took over with the hanging of massive panels of fabric that comprised the draperies, royal blue again, bordered with silver fringe. These were newly constructed. Marc started wondering how much all these repairs were costing.
He groaned to himself, entering the Royal offices. A young man he didn’t immediately recognize stood to attention. Marc recalled seeing him on board the XR-9. Allie came out then and handled the introductions. Formerly a communications duty officer, Gray Hildiman was now the Palace Communications Chief, apparently a large leap up the usual advancement path. Marc didn’t have much sympathy for him, considering how far up that same ladder he found himself.
“What does that make you?” Marc asked Allie, taking a step away from him and trying not to look like he had to. Allie didn’t seem to notice.
“I haven’t been told yet,” he said with a slight smile, “but I’ve a feeling Secretary comes in the title before to the King. Ralion is First Minister. He can’t quite believe that. He feels a little out of his depth there. Just like the rest of us.”
Marc snorted. “More like the fools leading the foolish. So do any of us know what we’re supposed to be doing, or are we going to stumble through as we figure it out?”
“We have a fair idea and so do you.”
He turned down the hall for his office. “I have an idea I’m not going to like it much either.”
“Good to have you back, Marc.” His voice lowered slightly, directed at the new Chief. “See? I told you it wouldn’t be much different than the XR-9.”
“I heard that,” Marc called back at his office door. “Did you tell him the hours are ... there are no set hours? Did you tell him that?”
He moved into his office, but Allie’s voice came over his receiver. “You’ve been asleep for two days. Not much room for you to talk about the hours we have to keep. It’s about time you got up.”
“Thank you so much, Allie. Two days? I thought for sure I’d get a few more than that. At least one for every day I went without decent, or any rest. What was it? Five, six days?”
Allie laughed. “At least that. There’s a report on your desk. Tell you all the fun stuff you’ve been missing.”
“Can’t wait. Where is everyone?”
“Dain just walked in. Dynan is down in the Medic Center. His shoulder is bothering him. That was an hour ago. Then he’s due back up here. Trevan is in his office, if you want to call it that. More like an area of chaos with these inner sections of reason. He’s taken over four rooms over there. There’s a report on his activities all to itself. Ralion is on his way down. Gaden is in the com office, but behaving like an ass. Now that things have calmed down, he’s bored and he’s a little put out that no one told him about Maralt.”
Marc grunted at that. “Does Morlin have a report for me?”
“Yes. There’s a list of people who want to meet with you. You’re going to love that one.”
Marc picked up the comboard from his desk, bringing up the Lord Chancellor files on the companel while he looked over the list. “Why do all these people want to meet with me?”
“It’s in there,” Allie said. “Most are legitimate, like Governor Taldic, and some just want to see you because you’re the next guy down the line. Those can wait. I’ve noted who I think they are. Let me know when I can start to schedule them in.”
“I’m going back to bed,” he muttered while he read more.
“Their Majesties are coming down for dinner tonight. I expect they’ll be staying here from now on. Kamien’s funeral is tomorrow. There’s a Governor’s meeting the day after and a ball hosted by the Governors two days after that.”
Dain walked in as Marc sank down into his chair, shaking his head. “Can you give me an hour to get caught up?” Allie laughed in response and cut the channel. Dain’s expression matched that sentiment. “Guess not.”
“Welcome back,” Dain said as he crossed the room to the King’s office. “Time we got to work, don’t you think?”
Marc rose and followed Dain, not liking the sound of what he’d just heard. Around Dain, was the same enormous field of blazing light that he’d first seen when he’d woken in the King’s office. He felt almost that he ought to have to shield his eyes, except it didn’t hurt to look at, even though it was like looking at the sun, or seemed that way. He couldn’t block it any more than he could block what he was seeing with everyone else. He couldn’t avoid being inside it without standing on the far side of the office all the way over by the door to the Throne Room. Marc guessed that Dain would wonder why and ask a string of questions that Marc didn’t want to answer until he admitted what the problem was. He wondered how he would ever get used to it, if he even should.
“What do you mean we?” he asked while Dain took a seat behind the King’s desk.
“You forget, Marc. I’m the Heir to the Throne now, not Dynan. Haven’t been able to undo that since you’ve been asleep all this time, and now, Dynan has made up his mind that he doesn’t want the job back.”
“What?” Marc stared at him in stunned disbelief. “No.”
“Yes. Think I’m any happier about it than you?”
“That ... He’s crazy. He can’t do this.”
“He didn’t. Maralt did, but we can’t very well go out and explain that to anyone else. He knows this.”
“No. I’ll talk to him. He can’t be serious. You’re...” Marc stopped, looking at him closely. “You’re joking, right? This is a joke.”
Dain looked at him and shook his head, his face a perfect mask of near contempt. “No, Marc, I’m not. Ask Allie if you want.”
“Allie, please tell me this isn’t true.”
“Which part, Marc?”
“The part about Dain being in charge.”
“Oh, that. Guess I forgot to mention that to you. Sorry.”
“No way. I don’t ... This is not happening. Where’s Dynan?”
“Still in the Medic Center.”
“You tell him that the Lord Chancellor wants to see him as soon as he’s finished.” He turned to Dain. “This isn’t going to last.”
Dain only shook his head. “Good luck trying to talk sense into him. I can’t. Loren can’t. No one can. He’s never wanted the Throne, Marc, never. He’s been given a convenient way out, without having to die to do it. The only thing remotely amusing about it was the look on Alexia’s face when she realized Dynan was no longer official.”
Marc could only shake his head. “He’s not getting off that easily.”
“Whatever you say. Until he decides to come up, you might want to get to work on that list. There are security arrangements to go over for the Governor’s meeting and the ball. We’ve got those seven Governors we have yet to deal with. All Kamien’s old cronies and I’m certain they’ve banded together. May even be planning an attack by now. You need to talk to Kyle about Palace security, because it isn’t what it needs to be.”
“All right, all right.” Marc shook his head again, and after a flash of anger, sat to look over the list. The more he read the more overwhelmed he felt. “Where do we even start?”
Dynan’s voice interrupted Dain’s response. “The beginning might be a good idea.”
Marc turned in his chair, then stood. Around Dynan was the same white light. It felt like Marc was standing not next to the sun but inside it this time. “At the beginning?” he said. “You’re one to talk. I’d like to know exactly what you think you’re doing?”
Dynan arched an eyebrow, surprised by his tone, until he glanced at Dain. His manner changed then, and he shrugged using just the one shoulder.
“I can’t believe you. And why did you make me Lord Chancellor only to leave me to him?”
“Now, wait a minute,” Dain said.
“I want you to think about what you just said, Marc,” Dynan said and leaned against the doorframe when Marc looked at him.
“I don’t need to think about it, because if you’re...” Marc stopped then, Dynan’s words sinking in enough. He saw him biting back a smile, the same expression mirrored in Dain. He turned from them both, mad at himself for believing Dain Telaerin so easily, and completely forgetting that Dynan couldn’t have appointed him Lord Chancellor without being the Heir. “Allie.”
“Yes, Marc.”
“You’re a shit, you know that?”
Allie laughed at him and cut the channel.
Dynan straightened, moving to stand over his brother, who was openly grinning about his trickery. “You did remember to sign the declaration this time, didn’t you?”
Marc glanced over at him for a moment. “Was that a yes?” Dain asked, moving out of Dynan’s way.
“Yes, Dain,” Marc said. “I remembered to sign it.”
Dain grabbed him and kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
“Get off of me.”
“Does that mean you’re ready to go to work?” Dynan asked. “Or do you need more time off?”
“What time off? I’ve been asleep.”
“So has just about everyone else. Dain, go find someone else to torture.” Dynan nodded him toward the door. Dain eased by Marc, never completely turning his back and left the room, smiling at his steady glare. When he was gone, Marc rolled his eyes, sinking back down into the chair. “I told you it would take time to get used to him. Even though he wasn’t Dain at the time, it still holds true. As if you haven’t figured it out, he can be a real pain.” Dynan smiled and there were sudden tears in his eyes that he quickly blinked back. “Thanks for getting him back to me.”
“I think I regret it already.” Marc smiled, but wondered what other tricks Dain might attempt, fearing he’d bear the brunt of them all. He held up the comboard. “This is impossible, you know.”
Dynan agreed. “The way it is unfortunately. You get caught up. Ralion and Allie are relatively on top of everything. They need help though. I’ll deal with Alexia and Creal. The Governor’s meeting is yours. You’ll be the one speaking to them about everything we’re doing. I’ll be—”
“I’m doing what?” Marc stopped him.
Dynan leaned back in his chair. “When you thought to sign up for this job, did you bother reading Xavier’s notes on what’s involved?”
“I didn’t exactly have time,” Marc said. “Have you seen Xavier’s notes? You’re talking about sixty plus years of these massive dissertations to slog through.”
Dynan smiled at him again. “I know it seems like a lot. You’ve got the rest of today to figure it out.”
“Just today? Thanks. Allie laughed at me when I asked for an hour.”
“Maybe you should talk to him first then.” He stood. “I’ve been officially sent to bed. I’m inclined to agree with Geneal. Sorry. This brace isn’t at all comfortable. The pain medication she’s using doesn’t work that well, or for very long.” Marc admitted readily that Dynan, of all of them, looked the worst. By the care he took in standing up, it was obvious that he was in pain. “Let me know if there’s something you get stuck on. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep.”
“Dynan,” Marc said. He wasn’t exactly sure how to broach the subject, really preferring not to, but felt it necessary. There were a few things that had happened that no one knew about yet. “It’s about Eldelar and ... how he died.”
Dynan came around to the front of the desk, leaning against the edge while he looked down at Marc. “You were there,” he said, almost as a statement of fact instead of a question. “When Maralt killed him, you were with him.”
“He made me...”
Marc stopped because he couldn’t say it out loud. Saying it made it real, made it undeniable, made it inescapable. He didn’t look up, hearing the slight intake of breath. For a moment, the only sound was the pop and hiss of the fire burning.
“He made you kill Eldelar,” Dynan said for him. “Think about that a minute, Marc. He made you. He made Dain put a sword right through me. He made me come here in the first place. Could you have stopped him? Was there even the option to try? I can’t believe you wanted Eldelar dead. I know a lot happened that you think you’re responsible for. What you have to remember – you, Dain, and everyone else who feels like they somehow failed – is that you’re responsible for ridding this world of maybe the greatest evil it has ever faced. You’ve got a lot to deal with, to put this in some sort of perspective. I don’t want you to forget about the lives you saved, my own included.”
“I don’t know what to say to Geneal.”
“Maralt killed Eldelar, Marc. She already knows that.”
The next admission was slower in coming. “I don’t know how you can trust me after all this.”
“I trust you enough,” Dynan said, smiling when Marc looked up at him. “I always have. Besides, that’s why I made you Lord Chancellor, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.” He straightened, wincing as he pushed off the desk. “I’m going to bed. See how much of that list you can get taken care of. Call me if you need me.”
Marc watched him go, still completely unsure whether that trust was warranted or not. Maybe it would get easier with each day that passed without fear of Maralt to chase him. He wasn’t convinced it was possible, but it felt at least a little better that Dynan believed it.
He went back to his office, sat at his desk, staring vacantly at the screen that had since gone blank. He shook his head, re-entered his access code, and went to work.
In his rooms after the long climb, Dynan settled in a chair near the fireplace, not ready to attempt sleep yet. He opened an old book he’d selected from his study, preferring to read about someone else’s struggles for survival than think about his own. To help in that process of escape, he sipped from a forbidden glass of Corrigan, severely watered down though it was. He intended to drink it all before Geneal arrived to see him into bed, which he fully expected she would do.
Sooner than he wanted, a man wearing a Medic Center badge entered. He nodded pleasantly, then proceeded to turn down the bed. Dynan frowned, trying to ignore him. He couldn’t when the medic approached, a dermal injector in hand. Dynan felt instantly uneasy, though he wasn’t sure why. Geneal had said she’d send a medic to give him another dose of cordalin. He’d really expected her to do it though, and not someone he didn’t know.
“What is that?”
“A sedative, to ensure your rest, Your Highness.” The man leaned over him again.
Dynan started at that, looking up at the medic sharply. Cold hatred met him, along with instant awareness that this man was not who he seemed. Dynan’s left hand shot out as alarms erupted in his mind, and he surged to his feet. He grabbed the hand holding the injector and brought his knee up, cracking the man’s wrist. The injector flew wide, skittering across the floor to rest beside the hearth. A fist descended toward him and he tried to dodge aside, still holding his attacker by the wrist.
Dynan realized the mistake he’d made by not deactivating the brace first. Now he couldn’t and couldn’t avoid the blow that slammed into his right shoulder. He couldn’t stop the scream of pain and a swell of blackness descended. Fear followed in its wake. He felt himself being pushed.
Dynan stumbled back, losing his grip and balance, and crashed to the floor. His attacker landed on top of him. A dagger flashed in his hand. Dynan managed to hit the disengage command on the brace controls at his wrist, but couldn’t move his arm anyway, again using his left hand to stop the slashing dagger from plunging into his chest.
The assailant had the advantage of weight, and the weapon lowered, moving to waver over his throat. Dynan’s arm shook under the strain. The dagger lowered again and the thought raced through his mind that after all they’d been through to get home again, he was about to die right there in his own rooms.
