Chapter 11

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“You made an impression tonight,” Katreen said from the door to Loren’s room.

She set her hairbrush aside, glancing at her. “I’m just glad it’s over,” she said.

Katreen smiled. “There were a number of Lords who approached me wanting to know who you were and of course, dancing with Prince Dynan ensured their interest and maybe his too.”

“Prince Dynan isn’t interested in me. He was just doing what Queen Marella asked him to. Maybe that was part of the test, to see if I wouldn’t faint dead away,” Loren said, trying to make light of it.

“He helped make all my dreams come true tonight,” Katreen said, a wistful smile on her face. “Lord Frayn Edwallin – he escorted you tonight – well, when he found out that Prince Dynan was escorting me ... I think it prompted him to finally make up his mind. He asked me to marry him.”

A number of comments clicked into place, making Loren feel somewhat guilty for her earlier assumptions about Katreen. “That’s wonderful. I noticed he watched you most of the night. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. It isn’t official yet, but with any luck will be soon. Frayn was a little jealous since Prince Dynan is young, powerful, and really, he can have any lady he wants.”

“But I thought you said it wasn’t normal for the Prince to marry from outside his own System,” Loren said.

“It isn’t, but in Prince Dynan’s case, it’ll be far more acceptable. He hasn’t been home in a very long time. He would have been married by now if he was home. No, I think everyone, including the people of Cobalt, will understand it when Marella helps him find his bride.”

“But that’s not the case with Princess Danetha?”

“No. A marriage between them is too close a connection to another System. That sort of match between Systems is almost unheard of. It’s extremely rare that a Queen’s daughter from one System would be allowed to marry the Crown Prince of another. It just doesn’t happen. Dynan would have to agree to it and he won’t. Queen Alexia can’t come out and tell him that’s what she wants. There are rules about such things. One of them is our non-interference laws, and trying to force a marriage to Danetha on him would break those laws.”

A knock sounded at the main door, startling both women.

“That must be the guard and the nightly bed check,” Katreen said and went to let him in.

“Sorry to disturb you, Ladies. May I have a look?”

“Yes, yes, come in,” Katreen said.

The guard checked the rooms out, pronouncing them all safe for the night. “I’ll be right outside the door, until my shift is over anyway. Then it’s Lt. Rohn. Just sing out if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Lt. Roderick,” Katreen said. “Lady Loren and I will be fine. Goodnight.”

Maralt listened to Roderick’s report, glancing occasionally at the comboard the Lieutenant had provided, a satisfied smile on his face. “Tell me about Lady Loren,” he said when he’d finished.

“She’s from Capra, the cousin of one of our more prominent families, the Brassils. Her father was Sir Delian. He died several weeks ago. The Lady joined the Brassils shortly after that, and then came to the Palace at the Queen’s invitation. She’s been accepted in Court. She attended the ball last night and danced with Prince Dynan.”

“Anything else?”

“One of Alexia’s women was asking about her. That’s all though.”

“Security on Their Majesties?”

“Tight. I can’t get close. They’ve brought in a lot of new guards. They’re conducting another review, so I could get moved again. I’m on the evening shift now, the dining and dancing hours. While the Ladies are out, I guard their rooms.”

“Yes and that will prove very useful.” Maralt consulted the comboard again that displayed a schedule of Palace activities the Royals were involved with. “In two days, I want you to bring Lady Loren to the gardens.”

Roderick stared. “How? I’m not supposed to leave my post and I can’t just ask her—”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to think of something,” Maralt said. “I have the utmost faith in your abilities.”

“What does Lady Loren have to do with any of this?”

“That’s not really any concern of yours.” He stood. “In two days, Roderick.”

The Lieutenant waited, his eyes darting nervously, hinging on desperation. Maralt had only to narrow his gaze at the man, a look to convey a deadly warning. Roderick turned and nearly ran from the room.

“Arlon, come here,” Maralt spoke into a companel. “Lt. Roderick is wavering. If he fails to do what I’ve asked, kill him. If he succeeds...” He smiled. “...kill him anyway.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“I need to locate one of Alexia’s spies. He’s in Ilthain now. When you find him, tell him I have some information he may find useful and highly profitable.”

He set aside the comboard, rose and moved to the door to the next room. He had to enter a code only three other people knew. The rooms of the house were modestly furnished, their colors muted from age, but were once rich browns, greens, and orange. The curtains were torn in places, the furniture threadbare. The previous owners kept the place meticulously clean ... right up to the end of their lives.

Maralt examined a set of figurines, of a man walking along a fence with his son, painted in pastels, an idyllic scene of familial tranquility. Another porcelain depicted a woman gardening, watering a bed of flowers. Maralt glanced over to the room’s only other occupant, leaned against the arm of the small couch, legs drawn up to fit, apparently asleep. Beside him, a dosage pump stood, metering out the proper amount of medication that would keep the patient in a state of stupor, unresponsive, but more importantly unable to communicate telepathically.

There were other reasons to keep Dain Telaerin drugged besides preventing his brother from finding out about him. Over the last several weeks, he’d been given a regular diet of food, a lot of it lately, along with the opportunity for consistent sleep. It worked and worked far faster than Maralt thought it would.

Dain was a dangerous man even in a weakened state. Now, having regained some of his strength, he was uncontainable. Maralt trusted that the mind reconditioning had worked; up to the point he had to risk his own existence being alone in the same room with him. On top of the anethinol and other muscle repairing drugs, the medications Dain was being given were designed to reduce or eliminate a natural reluctance toward indiscriminate killing. These kind of ramping drugs were highly illegal now, but during the Wars they were used by some Systems to enhance the abilities of their military forces. The drugs had to be carefully monitored, the dosage precisely measured, reactions noted. It had taken two somewhat grisly deaths to get a more exact adjustment. Maralt didn’t doubt he could stop Dain mentally, but wasn’t willing to completely trust that he wouldn’t get up off the couch and try to kill him.

“Dain,” Maralt said to see if he would wake. Anethinol kept him unconscious, but it wore off quickly. The dosage had to be adjusted, more or less, depending on a number of factors, including interaction with the other drugs.

His breath elevated and he rolled on the couch. His eyes opened to slits, but closed again. He tried to speak and couldn’t. Maralt pressed a control on the dosage meter, an arrow key downward by one click. It was time to wake him for the daily regimen of exercise and another meal. Maralt entered his mind, waiting while he woke, to keep him from communicating telepathically once the anethinol was turned off and the pump disconnected. Once they reached Cobalt, it wouldn’t be necessary to keep him drugged like this all the time. It might not have been necessary now, but Maralt wasn’t taking that chance either.

Dain knew what was expected of him. As Arlon came in at Maralt’s summons, he stripped down to just his underclothes, minus the shirt. White scar lines crossed his back, overlapping and undulating with the movement of muscle. His wrists and his neck were banded as well from his time chained in a dark hole. There were other scars, left by the sadistic tortures Arlon had inflicted. Maralt sometimes wondered if he let Dain loose, how many pieces of Arlon Drayer there would be to pick up. Several, he imagined, while Dain retrieved a pair of flex grips, set them and turned them on. What followed was a toning and strengthening routine that he had probably known most of his life.

Maralt frowned briefly at that and wondered if that routine might be a memory check, one of thousands of moments in his life that could trigger a reversal, or a dichotomy that would make him insane and therefore, useless. Those kind of potential triggers were relatively easy to fix. Maralt just had to alter the memory slightly. He was about to start that process when Logue came in. He had a comboard in hand.

It wasn’t especially difficult to stay with Dain and function in the outside world. Maralt liked to avoid it, since there were dangers, but Logue seemed to think this was important enough to interrupt. He nodded to the comboard as he handed it over.

Maralt took it and read.

Roth Perquin was alive, identified by witnesses who saw him in the Palace. A woman named Bronwyn Ord was with him, along with her brother, Corwin. There were rumors of a child, a young boy, around the age of eight seen with Prince Dynan, who carried a remarkable resemblance to him, but was believed to be his nephew. Dain’s son.

Maralt blinked and read the report again, glancing once at Logue for confirmation and then at Dain, who continued his exercises without interruption.

“Aldridge missed something,” Logue said.

“Indeed,” Maralt said, narrowing his eyes in thought. This was a revelation that had the potential to change everything. “He did, indeed.”

At the least, it meant there was one more Telaerin for the pit.