CHAPTER IV

THE LULL BEFORE THE STORM




Fredric arrived on the doorstep of Myar Hall mentally
fortified with apologies and beguiling incantations. He
braced himself for a bristling reception. No reception was
awaiting him in the hallway, only a heavy air of
despondency. Neither the Dowager nor her companions were
spitting with rage, only worn out and fretting. She, most of
all, had spent a sleepless night.

His arrival sparked off a barrage of questions but he made
sure first and foremost they had talked to no one. Satisfied
that the case had remained airtight as ever, he invited the
three of them to come with him to Wryn Manor. No invitation
had ever been so eagerly accepted, and the three occupants
of Myar Hall trotted after him to the stately house of
Myaron's Lar Protector.

* * *

Lar Wryn, still spruce and firmly muscled for his age, his
silver-streaked hair trimmed and brushed and his usually
sullen face now beaming with importance, graciously received
them in his living room. On a corner table his chamberlain
had already spread out the appeasing ingredients of early
morning breakfast, decanters of berry juice, a basket of
bread, plates of salad and meat and even, a bottle of
crystalcrest wine.

At the bidding of her host, Dama Clarya sat down without
further hesitation. "Viraun," she said, her voice quivering,
"correct me if I am wrong, but I gather that you are in on
this little scheme of the Spacio Command?"

Lar Wryn narrowed his eyes in conspiratorial glee. "You are
absolutely correct, my Dama, but only since the early hours
of this morning."

Fredric discretely scraped his throat in the background and
Lar Wryn nodded in his direction. "Yes, Steward Lamidor. The
Captain and Rylan are in the dining room where breakfast is
also being served. He will brief you there while I do my own
briefing with my guests."

Fredric hastened out of the room and as soon as the door had
closed behind his back, Lar Wryn entreated the Dowager and
her companions to enjoy the food on the table with a
sweeping gesture of his arm. After ascertaining they were at
their ease reinforcing body with his chamberlain's food and
strengthening spirit with the wine, he began his story.

"Your great-grandnephew, my Dama, and I mean the younger,
has such admirable manners. Naturally, I was none too
pleased when my grandson seemed to have disappeared all
night and only reappeared on my doorstep nearly at dawn. The
scamp was literally tottering on his feet. Last night's
adventure had proven too much for him, and instead of
thwacking him, I packed him off to bed. I can well say that
something is brewing in the air, and with all these bizarre
goings-on it is remarkable I did manage to get a few winks
of sleep, but sleep did nothing to put my vexations to rest.
My friends, I was not kept in suspense for long since as
soon as I had woken up, Aylwar, my chamberlain, announced
the arrival of Captain Trajan Schurell. As my grandson was
still snoring away at that time, I hastened to meet him
alone. Have any of you met him?"

"I have," the Dowager said.

The twinkling of mirth in the lord's eyes put to shame the
simulated graveness of his expression. "Ah yes, he mentioned
the unfortunate circumstances in which he has made your
acquaintance, my dear Dama. Trust me, he was in a very
difficult situation at the time, he was compelled by his
command to move in secrecy. But don't be too offended at his
actions. Your nephew has behaved in a most exemplary manner.
He asked my permission to extend his jurisdiction into mine,
which I granted by the way, and told me everything to the
last nitty-gritty. He then stepped back and allowed me to
run my own show, and my friends, this is what he has told
me."

Lar Wryn told them the story to the letter as Trajan had
recounted it to him, with all implications laid bare. He
ended: "Obviously, what has been said will remain between
these four walls. I know I can depend on you, my Dama. And
you, Lukus. Through your strong bond with Valorin
Trevarthen, you are a close member of the family. And you,
Ricar, a long-time friend."

"Do any of you realize what this really means?" Ricar spoke
for the first time, "particularly in our close-knit
community of Myaron?"

"It means, said Lukus in a low voice, "that we are pitted
against each other and forced to plot against our own. It is
a frightful thought!"

"The Spacio Command must be in possession of more knowledge
than they dare to admit. Has their envoy told you all the
truth, Viraun? I think not, for as far as I know, the
Command has generally been very tight-lipped about its
activities, interplanetary or otherwise!"

"Their envoy, my Dama," Ricar said, "is your young nephew,
the brother of the young man whom you have grown so very
fond of lately. Come to think of it, his very existence is a
tightly guarded secret. No one has spoken of him, not his
grandfather, nor his mother and, even less, his own
brother!"

Lukus reflected: "We have never met their father. Who was
he? Can this all be true?"

The Dowager sighed deeply, clasping her hands tight as
though she wanted to hold fickle fate captive between her
fingers, never to let it go to fiddle around with their
lives.

"Yes," she said pensively, "I have seen him. I have seen
them together, Adilar and his brother, Trajan. The
resemblance is striking. If they are not brothers, there is
a blood kinship indeed, but there is something more,
something grotesque and extraordinary." She shook her head.
"No, it has eluded me once more."

Lar Wryn bent over and laid a comforting hand on her
shoulder. "As for matters of security, it is all in the
hands of the Spacio Command. There is little that we,
ordinary citizens, can do except follow their lead and give
our loyalty and support when called upon to do so. Our
commanders are fighting for our survival. But I do believe
you need to talk to your nephew and he also wishes to see
you in private, my Dama, and you Lukus."

He fingered the internal communion disc to summon his
chamberlain who promptly appeared before them. Without so
much as moving a muscle, the noble matron announced, "I have
made the library ready for the Captain, my Lar. He is
waiting there right now. Lar Rylan has also expressed his
desire that you join him in the dining room with your other
guest for a further briefing."

"Very well, Aylwar. Have you made the other arrangements I
have asked you to do?"

"Yes, my Lar. All gates and doors are barred and locked.
Nobody is to enter the grounds without my permission."

"Excellent! Come, Dama Clarya and Lukus, Aylwar will escort
you to the library while the dining-room command centre is
my next destination. Ricar, you will be given your
initiation into the war room of the Spacio Command!"

* * *

Trajan stood by an open window of the library in an easy
position, which suggested idle spectating of the blooming
lawns of Wryn Manor. He closed the window as soon as he
heard them entering the library and turned.

In discomfort, they felt his strange eyes observing them
keenly but briefly as if he wanted to probe the cellars of
their minds, but refrained from it. Once again, the Dowager
felt upon her face that torrid breath of a phantom from the
past, the reliving of someone's image equally striking but
far more imposing and severe. Trajan smiled and the moment
of dementia melted away. He resembled more the engaging
personality of his brother, Adilar.

"I am very sorry," he apologized earnestly to the Dowager,
"to have put you through that nasty experience last night. I
wish there were another way but there wasn't enough time."

With her elbow the Dowager nudged Lukus gently who had thus
far stood frigidly aside like a mast. "I don't think you
have met or even heard of your Uncle Lukus," she said
severely. "If you have, then you'd better be able to offer
some very good explanations for I cannot tolerate any more
officious smugness coming from you, young commander!" She
added, one moment stern, another struggling to control the
turbulence of her emotions: "Of course, as a commander, you
may have means at your disposal to probe into the most
private affairs of us all."

Trajan laughed. "No," he said, "I didn't know him before,
but now I do." He steepened fingers with Lukus. "Uncle Lukus
Stratken."

Lukus felt how his barriers crumbled down like dust as he
was pleasurably conquered. "I don't doubt it any longer now
that I see you," he said and he was amazed at his steady
voice. "I have this to say to you and I have never felt so
confident before. You are part of the Trevarthens, body and
soul, whether you like it or not. And I would only ask that
you start opening yourself to us, take your rightful place
and be one of us."

Trajan gazed at them, his mouth slightly parting in
embarrassment. The Dowager spoke as soon as Lukus fell
silent: "Lukus has never expressed himself so eloquently
before and I give him my approval. I too can make amends. We
all have been terribly wrong about your grandfather and I
shall call a meeting of the Council as soon as conveniently
possible."

"No," said Trajan, "this is not the time for family matters.
There are more pressing things to consider than the business
of inheritance because if the mysterious events in Myaron
escalate there will be nothing to inherit for all
Iucarians."

"A question," the Dowager interrupted, "why have Adilar's
name and yours been so scrupulously withheld from us. A
grandfatherly precaution against unwanted interference?"

Trajan smiled. "This has nothing to do with grandfather. It
was a condition imposed by my father until Adilar and I have
reached our second maturity."

He invited them to take their seats and laid a leather bound
handscreen on the table before them.

"The Supreme Order of the Command has found it necessary
that I brief you further in person, Aunt Clarya, and you,
Uncle Lukus, because in some extraordinary way the family
has become involved, primarily because of Dama Lisaloran's
connection with a deadly duo. I say deadly because I am
reasonably sure that they are involved with Glynmoran's
unfortunate demise."

The Dowager cried out, "This is a horrible suspicion!
Glynmoran was her son. How could she have condoned the
slaughter of her own son!"

Trajan pointed at the handscreen on the table. "Glynmoran
took that journal from her. It is not so much an everyday
blow-by-blow account, merely diary notations of things to be
done and since this diary has already seen some time it also
reveals things that have been done. In my opinion only three
entries are of particular significance. For instance,"
Trajan picked up the handscreen and continued, while
scrolling through it, "the fairly recent entry noted down
one cextrum ago: 'Byrull is of the opinion to hold the
public experiment of the Hexstone during the grand
festivity'."

Lukus exclaimed, "The Hexstone!"

"The what!" the Dowager asked astonished

"So, you know about it," Trajan said with a sudden hard
glint in his eyes.

"What is this Hexstone?" the Dowager demanded. "Sounds like
a piece of ancient folklore. Do we have to cope with sorcery
too nowadays?"

Lukus chuckled. "Could well be, because it's through Valorin
that I only came to know that such an object existed. I have
not seen it myself and Valorin mentioned it only a few times
when as boys together we spun all sort of tales to keep
ourselves amused and he talked about an illustrious object,
the Hexstone which Father had uncovered among the ruins of
Aberon on Evening Star."

"Aberon!" Trajan exclaimed. "Had Uncle Valorin actually seen
this thing of Light?"

Lukus paused, pondered for a while and said, "Yes, as a rule
I never took Valorin's yarns seriously but this one was
somehow different, like a hair-raising mystery. One night,
so Valorin told me, my Lar Irwain came to his bedside and
brought him to the private study. As Valorin was lying on a
couch, Lar Irwain took an oblong box out of a hidden
cabinet. Sitting beside Valorin he ordered him to lie
absolutely still and opened the lid of the box. A stream of
light erupted out from the box that seemed for a moment to
put the whole room ablaze and my Lar asked Valorin to touch
the Light. Valorin could not; it felt as if coming into
contact with cold fire. He said to me there was an uncanny
sensation of power coming from that box."

"He showed and used it on Valorin and no one else? Not to
you, nor to--my grandfather?"

"No, Trajan," Lukus responded sadly. "Handsome Valorin had
always been his favourite, the son he doted on and with whom
he shared his secret aspirations. However, the subject of
this Hexstone was never raised again. It was too powerful a
mystery to be whispered about in idle talk."

"And you don't know what became of it?"

Lukus slowly shook his head. Trajan jumped up from his seat
and paced about the library. "Somehow it has come into the
wrong hands. Somehow, Dama Lisaloran has learnt that such a
thing existed. Through what means has she come to know about
it?"

Lukus remarked, "As honourable Iucarians we respect the
privacy of our peers, but perhaps my Dama is somewhat flawed
in her moral principles."

"Come, come," the Dowager muttered "It sounds more like old
matriachs' gossip, young boys' stories of imagination.
Valorin could have told you just another one of his fancy
tales, Lukus. He was usually good at it. These are all
suppositions, mostly hearsay. None of us have witnessed it."

"Aunt Clarya," Trajan said, "Glynmoran witnessed it in the
library of Trevarthen Hall on the night before the
explosion, and he died because of what he had seen." He
walked to the table and pointed to an entry in the journal.
"Here is one entry, made approximately one cycle ago, that
says 'Had a most fruitful discussion with Anjelie Sharys'."

Lukus and Dama Clarya exchanged a doubtful look.

"It is no secret," Dama Clarya said, "that Eugene's mother
is well acquainted with Dama Lisaloran. I see nothing wrong
in that."

"Maybe the last entry in the journal may mean something to
you, which says 'Eugene Sharys has finally agreed to hold
the public experiment, and it will coincide with his own
arrangements'."

Shocked the Dowager and Lukus stared at him. "Eugene?" they
chorused, "Not Eugene!"

"I am assuming that he is innocent, that he has been lured
into this conspiracy under false pretensions. I hold the
same assumption for both Councillor Byrull and Dama
Lisaloran, and also Lar Julyan Ermiz, unless we can prove
otherwise."

Trajan took his seat again with the handscreen resting on
his lap.

"What I am going to tell you further is very classified
information and not even the Treasury Council is to be told
about it. Three nights ago an intruder fell from the roof of
Glynmoran's building. He has been identified as Niklaedus.
The datalogs of Ermizgarth index him and Carlomon as
indigenous to the Principality of Ermizgarth but Niklaedus
was an outworlder, and his false identity as an Ermian could
only have been arranged through the authority of Lar Ermiz."

"Then you must speak to Julyan!" Dama Clarya cried out.

"I have tried to approach him. After all we are cousins, and
I wanted to offer him my condolences for his Dama's tragic
death, but it seems he is very ill and his physicians
refused me admittance. I can do nothing more as I have no
jurisdiction in his protectorate."

Dama Clarya said emphatically: "Eugene at least must be
told. He is a very fine Councillor, Trajan. I have no doubt
that as soon as he knows what Byrull intends to do, he will
break away."

"But we don't know what he intends to do," Trajan objected
sharply, "and I would rather not forewarn anybody that we
are on their tracks. Eugene Sharys will have to go with the
wind like the others. There is no other way. No one must be
told!"

Trajan scrolled through the journal thoughtfully, one hand
supporting his chin while the Dowager Dama observed his
posture with the same pensiveness. One moment she perceived
clearly the marked resemblance, another moment the marked
dissimilarity with a Lar long gone. Her eyes crossing those
of Lukus she knew he was sharing the same view.

Trajan glanced at his cronodisc and started to his feet: "It
is getting late. There is not much time left. Let's join the
others in the dining room."

* * *

The grandiose dining room table, which had in its lifetime
served numerous guests with lavish banquets and culinary
delights had the bespattered appearance of a mini
battlefield with diagramming monitor screens and
holo-geographic images crisscrossing across its top. A group
of people stood around immersed in deep discussions. At a
cursory glance they were all dressed in casual civilian
clothing; the telltale bulges under their jackets and the
sensor stylets at their belts, however, told an entirely
different story. In the midst of all this flurry, Lar Wryn
was securely enthroned at the head of the table, looking
proud and happy that affairs of such prominence were taking
place under his roof.

An immediate silence fell as Trajan entered, the group of
commanding officers incognito standing to attention while
their Captain approached the table and surveyed the hologram
of action. "Who is going to the castle?" he asked after
several moments of intense study.

One of the commanders with the distinct characteristics of
the Calidan mass of tawny hair and bronze skin, stepped
forward and announced: "I am."

Trajan quietly directed, "Eskar, you take the group that are
heading for the airstrip. I will lead the one to the castle.
Have you told Lar Wryn what is going to happen and has he
understood everything?"

He threw the Lar, high on his seat, a sharp, questioning
glance and Lieutenant Eskar Royan said with a mischievous
grin: "Yes, I am sure he has. The only complication here is
that my Lar has expressed the wish to be part of our
action."

"But my Lar, you have a festivity to go to tonight! You and
Lar Rylan," Trajan turned and gestured to the Dowager and
her companions, "all of you are expected to be there as the
most venerable guests of Myaron. We cannot afford to raise
the slightest suspicion. All of you have to attend the
festivity as if nothing has happened."

"What about me?" Fredric's voice piped from the background.

"Fredric," said Trajan, "you will be the guide to Lieutenant
Royan's unit going to the airstrip." He studied his officers
one by one. "Is everything clear?" They nodded and muttered
their understanding.

"The command code is covert attack."

"Fredric," Rylan broke in, "would you care to change places
with me?"

"Rylan," his grandfather ordered, "you stay where you are,
with me. No combat for you tonight, boy."

Lar Wryn rose to his feet with the grave dignity of a judge
set to pass judgment and he looked upon the members of the
group before him with such heartache that was apparent from
the deepening lines on his face.

"Friends," he spoke, "evil times have come upon us. We
cannot trust our own friends. We have to conspire in secrecy
against some of our fellow Iucarians. I don't know what this
will lead to but I believe, and I hope that so do you, that
what we are doing, trying to do with so much conviction, is
to preserve Iucari-Tres. We could be facing terrible things
tonight but we will always keep this objective in mind.
Iucari-Tres's survival and our traditions must prevail, no
matter what, and I give my blessings to our courageous
commanders for trying to accomplish a tremendously difficult
task. Good luck to all of you! May we meet again soon."

Trajan's commanders saluted him as one. "We are at your
service, My Lar!"

Lar Wryn's eyes glistened with a burst of moisture.

Trajan smiled. "Right, off with you, mates. Leave this house
to its worthy master as inconspicuously as you have arrived.
Where is Lieutenant Darien?"

Her cheerful voice chimed through the room. "Right here,
Captain!" She came to him with a flush of excitement on her
face because the time had come to brief her rescuers, and
Trajan after taking leave of the Dowager and the others with
words of care left the room with the lieutenant.

Gradually the dining room was restored to its former dignity
and the assembly broke up and left, leaving only Lukus and
Dama Clarya.

"Aunt," said Lukus, breaking the hush of the room. "This is
no longer a question of who will but who should inherit."

"Lukus," the Dowager stated in a voice, clear with
unshakable conviction. "It is not as simple as that. At
stake is not one estate but a whole world, a whole star
system. There are powerful forces at work here that I do not
comprehend, but I know only of one thing. Many have likened
my sister's Lar in Union Irwain to a magnetic Celestium, the
eye of a Nebula whirlwind attracting people with the sheer
power of his will. Elanorien worshipped him and so we all
did, still do. Had Irwain cared about his granddaughter,
Norielle, and known about young Trajan he would have taken
the boy away by force but fate has it that Trajan was raised
in secrecy. But now that the boy, a Captain Commander, yes,
but still so unseasoned in the wiles of Existence, has come
out into the open he is no more safe than you and me from
the after-effects of Irwain's omnipotence. I liken Trajan to
an unforeseen Irwain seed, torn loose in the wind, but
Irwain, Lar of Alluring Nebulae, is hauling the young man
back into his vortex!"