Cardenas (Findlay IV), Findlay System, Eriuman Republic.
The Great Hall was a stand-alone structure in the center of the city. The city itself had a name that most people had forgotten. As the seat of power for the Cardenas family, the most senior family in the primary Scordini clan, the city had become known as Cardenas, just as the planet was named. The city had sprung up around the functions of the family, with structures that included the Great Hall.
When the ground cars that had been sent to pick up the new arrivals at the family’s private landing field had headed for the city center, instead of the homebase on the hill to the north, Sang knew their guess had been right. There would be a formal welcome ceremony at the Great Hall.
As they pulled up, Khalil studied the screen in front of him. “They’re all family? Everyone out there?”
“Everyone on Cardenas is connected to the family in one way or another. This is a family event, yes.”
“There are thousands of them.”
“Yes.”
Khalil glanced down at his new finery. It was black, a tunic and trousers, with a more formal long coat over the top. Glitter and gilt was absent, while a subdued length of piping followed the style lines, which had been all Khalil would tolerate. “Anything more is a distraction.”
“Elegance is often used in such a way,” Sang pointed out as they worked on the print file, preparing it.
“I meant I would be distracted. No, Sang. Enough.”
The ground car halted and Khalil shifted his feet, preparing to exit. Sang gripped his wrist, staring at the screen. “Wait.”
Khalil protested. Sang pointed at the screen.
There were two more ground vehicles drifting through the pack of people toward the Great Hall, their armored fields glinting in the early morning sunshine.
“Who?” Khalil asked.
“I believe one has Max and Bellona. The other, senior members of the family.” Sang watched.
“Max and Bellona go first?” Khalil guessed.
“Yes.”
“Then we’re definitely last.”
His dry tone made Sang smile.
The first car opened and Max stepped out and waved as everyone cheered and clapped. He reached back and helped Bellona out. She was appropriately dressed in a green gown, although for the second time, she had eschewed jewelry. Her hair was down. She did not wave, even when the cheering grew louder.
Sang remembered the Karassian officer forcing Xenia to wave.
The second vehicle opened and a tall man emerged. “That is Max and Bellona’s uncle, Gaubert,” Sang told Khalil. Gaubert waved to the crowd, then helped a woman from the vehicle. “The woman in gleaming red is his wife, Thora,” Sang added.
Gaubert brushed down his braided jacket, then led Thora to where Max and Bellona were standing at the foot of the stairs.
“Now you must exit,” Sang said. “Go to Bellona at once.”
Khalil raised his brow, but obeyed. He walked straight over to Bellona, who gave him a stiff, self-conscious smile. As Sang got out, they kept their gaze on Khalil as Max murmured to him. Khalil nodded.
Max held out his hand to Bellona, who took it. Together, they climbed the stairs. Khalil fell in behind them, with Gaubert and Thora following.
The people watching them enter the Great Hall swept in behind them, keen to enter as soon as possible so they would not miss a moment of the pageantry. Sang edged their way between people, careful to not bump or push anyone. Progress up the stairs was slow as the numbers were many. As soon as the lintel of the big doors passed overhead, Sang nudged out of the flow and climbed the service stairs to the balcony that ran the width of the back of the hall. As a member of the inner family, Sang was allowed to pass through the security shields. There was no one on the balcony, for everyone who would be permitted access to the balcony was standing on the high dais at the front of the hall, or was walking the long length of the hall toward the dais.
Reynard Cardenas waited at the front of the dais, wearing the family colors, his wide shoulders made wider by the formal coat and high collar. His expression was impassive, his gaze unmoving. The plane of his brow was unfurrowed. Only the short hair that he wore brushed forward showed any sign of frailty, for it was shot with gray. He appeared to be watching the small party walking along the aisle, himself a still rock of a man on the higher dais.
Iulia was a pace behind him. She glowed with joy, her gaze on Max and Bellona. She held her hands tightly in front of her.
Ranged behind the two were the more senior members of the family, those closest to Reynard in either blood or favor.
Applause, shouting and cheering filled the hall. Sang sampled the sounds. Analyzed them. There were no sour notes to be detected. As usual, the city was as pleased to celebrate the family occasion as the family itself appeared to be.
Max climbed the steps up to the dais. Instead of moving a step ahead of Bellona, which was usual, he stayed abreast of her. Once on the dais, he turned and presented Bellona to Reynard with a flourish. The theatricality was a new element. Had Max finally learned to move within the family strictures for maximum personal freedom? His success with the Eriuman Navy would certainly indicate as much. This was another sign.
As Reynard took his daughter’s hand from Max, the noise in the hall leapt higher. Sang glanced from one upturned, shining face to the next. Everyone was overjoyed at Bellona’s return.
Then Max stepped aside and waved Khalil forward. Khalil moved up next to Bellona and Reynard held out his hand. Khalil, uncoached, followed suit. So Reynard grasped his elbow and drew him forward in a formal hug and patted his shoulder, then released him.
They were talking. Sang could see their lips moving, only the sound in the hall was thunderous.
Reynard turned to the audience and held up Bellona’s hand.
The cheering intensified.
Bellona attempted a smile. Sang could see her mouth working as she tried. The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered wildly, but the smile did not form.
* * * * *
After the formal public ceremony, a private family function was scheduled at the homebase on the high hill overlooking the city. A dozen ground cars carried the invited guests up the hill. Inside the grounds, help-meets were waiting with mulled wine in tall cups, for the chill of winter still gripped the city, even though the snow had gone.
Sang passed into the house without partaking, for it was no longer their role to blend in. There was a mild relief in returning to familiar behavior patterns, even though most of the more recent habits had been built around the absence of Maximilian. It would require concentration to restore the focus now Max had returned, even temporarily.
Sang moved into the big gathering area, that was open to the elements on three sides to take advantage of the view down into the valley and the city lights. They checked arrangements for hosting guests were in place. The help-meets and aides that were not handing out refreshments at the entrance were here, arranging the sideboards with more cups, more aromatic wine and hot food.
The fields were still up, so the interior of the room was warm. Sang took note and went back out to the entryway. Max and Bellona were just passing through, with Khalil following closely behind.
Sang helped Max out of his coat. He was still in uniform, which was appropriate for this hour. Sang would check to see if the civilian clothing he had left behind was laundered and wearable, although the shirts would all have to be reprinted to accommodate Max’s increased dimensions in the upper body. As Max chatted easily with cousins and friends, Sang visually measured his proportions and hurried back to Max’s old suite to compare them against the stored clothing.
Once Max’s immediate wardrobe needs had been dealt with, Sang returned to the gathering room.
Everyone was inside now. To accommodate the number, most of the seating had been removed and guests swirled about the room in easy-moving patterns. A gathering of this size was unusual. There were second cousins from off-world here, as well as the more immediate uncles and aunts and first cousins.
Reynard took up his favorite position in the corner of the room where two pillars held up the roof and where the light was greatest during the day. At night, directional lighting also picked out the corner. A quirk of field technology and the intersection of two fields made the corner snug and comfortable no matter what the weather may be on the other side of the fields.
Although there was nothing as crass as a line of people waiting to speak to Reynard as the head of the family, there was a steady flow of people seeking him out in his corner, to exchange a few words, to thank him for the invitation and to add another tiny layer to their relationship as a hedge against future politics.
There was another invisible line waiting to speak to Bellona, although this one was shorter. Bellona sat upon the only chair in the room, a high one that kept her at the same level as those speaking to her.
Sang noticed that Khalil had gravitated to the back of the room. No one sought his company, so Sang went over and stood next to him for a short moment.
“I’m wondering when either of them will speak to the other,” Khalil said, crossing his arms. “They could still be on different planets, right now.”
“There is a timing to such things,” Sang said.
Khalil rolled his eyes. “She’s his daughter. Why must there be a right time?”
“There are still too many cousins and distant family in the room for an intimate conversation.”
Khalil’s smile was knowing. “Even if it was just the two of them, it would still be too many people.” He nodded his head. “They cannot possibly see each other, not with this many people, yet they are both fully aware of the other.”
Sang considered the arrangement of people in the room. They narrowed their focus upon Reynard. Reynard was always formally polite when more than the immediate family were nearby, yet there was a stiffness about his stance tonight that Sang had first assumed to be tiredness.
Bellona had found a way to smile, but it was not a warm expression. Even though she sat, her back was very straight. In between smiling, her jaw flexed.
A voice rose from among the polite chatter. “Of course she was abducted! The Karassians took her, right from under our noses!”
The voice was Iulia’s. She held a small court of her own, mostly women of the family, with some partners in tow, over by the smaller sideboard where the wine samovar steamed.
At her protest, Max spun on his heels to look at his mother. He was on the far side of the room, with a small group of cousins. His turn sent his elbow into the side of a help-meet, who just barely controlled the tray of used cups they were carrying. The cups toppled with damp chimes, but Max didn’t look. He was staring at his mother.
“How dare you suggest otherwise, Magdalena!” Iulia cried.
Soft voices tried to shush her, to turn the subject.
“My daughter did not run away!”
Bellona didn’t move. She was a frozen pillar of flesh, her gaze on her hands.
Conversations checked. Heads turned.
Reynard beckoned to Riz, Iulia’s personal assistant. Riz hurried over and bent their head to listen to Reynard’s quiet command. They nodded and hurried back to Iulia, to whisper in her ear.
“No, I will not retire,” Iulia said, her voice still loud enough to be heard everywhere in the room.
Max was standing as still as Bellona was sitting. His hands were tight fists.
Reynard’s face might have been carved from the same marble as the pillars on either side of him. As much as it was possible for his deeply olive skin to show white, it was. Pale strips of flesh bracketed his mouth. The scar stood out.
“Tension is causing interesting reactions, isn’t it?” Khalil murmured.
A tight knot of family members surrounded Iulia, drowning her voice in soft concern. The heads drew together. Then, with Riz among them, the group drifted toward the arch that led into the interior. Iulia was being removed.
Sang went over to Max and waited.
Max glanced at them. His shoulders relaxed. His fingers uncurled.
“Perhaps this would be a good moment to change out of your uniform?” Sang suggested. “A general movement out of the room would be…supportive.”
Max nodded, yanking at the high collar. “Exactly what I was thinking. Watch Bellona, while I am gone.” He turned and stalked from the room, as many of the family members were, as if Iulia’s departure had been a natural phase in the proceedings.
Reynard was already speaking to someone else. His pallor was fading.
Bellona, though, had not relaxed. No one sought her out. She sat alone, as if her mother’s outburst had made her radioactive. Sang obeyed Max’s last order and moved over to her. Khalil beat Sang there.
“That is what they think of me,” Bellona said, her voice low. “That I ran away, like a coward.”
“You don’t know what happened. You can say that truthfully,” Khalil assured her.
“I remember Max taking me off the planet, though.” Bellona dropped her voice even lower. “I wasn’t abducted from here.”
“Did Max tell you why you left?” Khalil asked.
“We barely talked,” Bellona said. She grimaced. “The life of a captain is apparently a frantic one.”
“Perhaps you should ask him, now that he is home.”
Bellona sighed. “If I get the chance.”
“Perhaps you will need to manufacture the opportunity,” Sang said.
Khalil nodded. “Your family doesn’t like talking about difficult subjects. You’ll have to nail Max to the ground.”
Bellona’s mouth lifted in a barely suppressed smile that held a wicked glint. “That is something I can do, now.”
* * * * *
Iulia’s departure signaled more than just a natural pause. Sang catalogued faces and saw that many of the fringe relatives did not return to the gathering.
The numbers in the gathering room thinned. The volume of conversation dropped. Max returned and his civilian clothing audibly approved of by cousins. Reynard waved him over and pressed his hand on Max’s shoulder, his fingers gripping tightly, as Reynard spoke to Gaubert and Markjohn, the youngest of the brothers. Max and Reynard were the same height, which had not been the case when Max had left.
Sang hovered near Max’s elbow. The peculiar tensions in the evening had jolted something in the man. When he returned to the gathering room, Max drank several glasses of the mulled wine quickly, then drained more at a steadier pace. Sang could foresee need of their services and waited.
Soon enough, Max was swaying. Sang stole the cup from his unsteady fingers, handed it to another aide and slid under Max’s arm and straightened. Reynard pretended not to notice, although his jaw was tight even as he spoke. Gaubert and Markjohn merely looked amused. It wasn’t unusual for at least one person to overindulge at family gatherings, although it was rarely Reynard’s immediate family.
Sang helped Max stagger to his bed, peeled off his boots and arranged him in a fashion that would not tax tendons or muscles if he fell asleep in that position.
“She doesn’ trust him,” Max muttered. “I don’ understand.”
Sang was in complete agreement, which bothered them as much as it had appeared to bother Max, although for different reasons. Max just wanted everyone to get along. He never had liked family arguments, even those not involving him, for Reynard drove most of the conflict.
Sang sealed the suite against casual entrances, a timed key to their prints only and set to expire at a reasonable hour tomorrow morning. They went back to the gathering room. By now, most of the extended family would be gone, except perhaps for Reynard’s brothers and sisters. It would be possible to tidy and clean and not get in the way of the family while doing it.
The short day was growing dim, which put the airy rooms inside the house into deeper twilight. The help-meets had not added light to the public rooms. It was not yet an issue to navigate through the big spaces, especially for those familiar with every piece of furniture and carpet.
There were pockets of conversation all through the house. Family had drawn together in twos and threes, away from the gathering room, to talk quietly. Sang did not try to hear any of the conversations. Tones were light, interspersed with laughter, highlighted by happy notes.
The library was the last room before the gathering room. Sang had never understood why the room was named such. It did not contain books, nor shelves to hold ancient tomes upon them. It was the grandly formal reception room where Reynard Cardenas did most of his working and thinking. There was one comfortable chair and several less comfortable visitor chairs, glowing carpets on the walls and little else. Wait, Reynard’s aging assistant, supplied all computing functions, communications and security when there was a visitor.
When Reynard was not working in the room, it was a silent, almost featureless place except for the single big green armchair, which provided the only point of focus.
There was someone in the room when Sang moved quietly past the wide doorway. Sang glanced only to ascertain they were not interfering with Reynard’s possessions, then moved on smartly, startled. In that brief glance, they saw more than enough.
The image lingered, though. Bellona and Khalil, standing close. His hand moving softly against her throat. Bellona reaching for him, her face turned up, every line of her body speaking of want, matching Khalil’s tense need.
Sang moved as quietly as possible out into the gathering room, where the light was much brighter and the sound of conversation, clinking cups and plates drowned out the silence they left behind.
They felt no surprise. The fact merely confirmed what they had subconsciously concluded. They felt neither pleasure nor dismay at the confirmation. Instead, there was a quiet satisfaction at the idea that Bellona would experience a degree happiness as an outcome of her time on Ledan, something that had always been a rare quality in her life.
They also found some amusement in the location she had chosen for her seduction. Defiance had always been part of her personality.
Then their gaze fell upon Reynard Cardenas, who still stood in his warm corner, holding sway upon the gathered family. Of everyone in the room, his was the loudest voice. He rarely bothered to modulate. There was no need—everyone was eager to hear what he said…if they were wise.
Sang realized they felt dismay, after all. Not everyone in the family would be pleased by the man in Bellona’s arms.