CHAPTER V

A MILRAUS SURPRISE


The unexpected news was dropped by mild-mannered Director
Milraus a few hours before the opening of the grand Byrull
spectacle.

"A meeting of the Council tonight?" Dama Clarya lisped in a
prim and starched manner. "Why?"

"I regret to say," Milraus said humbly, "that I am unable to
tell you the reasons at this moment but Willouri and I have
agreed to hold the meeting at the Byrull Palace during the
festivity. Why we have chosen Councillor Byrull's palace as
a venue will also become clear to you at the appropriate
time. A lot of things will happen tonight."

"Such as?" Lukus broke in and the effort to contain himself
made his voice sound like a growl.

"It is Willouri's opinion, and mine to a certain extent,
that especially due to the tragic circumstances of Lar
Glynmoran's death, we can no longer delay matters. The time
is ripe to make the final decision, to decide once and for
all the heir to the Protectorate of Trevarthen. You have to
trust Willouri for his great foresight in making the right
decisions, however drastic and inopportune they appear to
be."

In this instance, it was Dama Clarya's opinion that Proctor
Willouri was the greatest fool who had ever walked on the
surface of Phylee-Patre. She grumbled under a semblance of
matriarchal annoyance: "I still think it is grossly
inappropriate to have this meeting, on an evening when
everyone is supposed to be enjoying themselves. On second
thoughts, I feel a bit too old for festivities of this sort.
I would be better off staying at home. And are we not
inconveniencing our host with a dreary meeting like ours?"

"On the contrary, my Dama," Milraus said gently, clasping
his hands in an entreating gesture, "it would be a great
pity missing this occasion. Please do come. And we would be
very pleased if young Adilar could come too."

For a moment, Dama Clarya and Lukus sat tongue-tied and
Ricar quickly intervened: "No, no, my dear Milraus. You of
all persons must be aware he is still weak from his injuries
and the terrible shock. He has escaped death by a hair's
breadth! Even now, a little excitement makes him tired and
you talk of asking him to take part in a festivity! Adilar
will stay and rest in Myar Hall."

Milraus smilingly unclasped his fingers and waved his hands
in a placating gesture. "All right, I know how protective
you are toward him. Naturally, we wouldn't force something
that cannot be done. It's disappointing that he will not be
present. His role in shaping the future could become very
prominent."

"I wish you would speak like a physician and not like a
forecaster," the Dowager said sharply, "I have the
unpleasant feeling that Willouri and you are holding
something back from us."

"My dear Dama, as much as I want to, I am unable to tell the
whole history at this moment. Be patient. Put your trust in
Willouri and me. Tonight at the meeting, all will be
revealed to you and hopefully a new foundation will be
reached for the noblest protectorate of all. Do we have your
formal agreement to hold the meeting?"

"Very well," the Dowager sighed resignedly, her face a
perfect mask, "for better or for worse, let the Council meet
tonight."

"Good!" Milraus's gentle face radiated intense relief as he
eased slowly towards the front door. "We will see you all
then at the festivity tonight."

He left his hosts eying one another in a despairing state of
mind. "Milraus! Willouri!," Dama Clarya muttered. "What are
they up to now? Can't we trust anyone anymore?"

"I don't like this," Ricar said, fingering his collar as if
he felt warm, "not one little bit!"

Lukus bent over in his chair and supported his head in his
hands. "Me neither. What will all this lead to? I detest
these surprises. They are messengers of ill omen!"

Resolutely Dama Clarya rose from her chair. "Don't let it
dishearten you, Lukus," she said, smiling grimly. "We have a
few surprises of our own. It is time to get dressed. I hear
there will be a fireworks display tonight."

She strode towards one of the windows and gazed plaintively
into the rose-sprayed garden. "The heavens will be filled
with artificial fire, while on the ground real fire will be
exchanged between our commanders and whatever dark forces
there are lurking on the Byrull estate. We have come upon
evil times!"

* * *

The long awaited and dreaded dusk soon settled in. The night
was clear and warm, unruffled by wind and studded with stars
twinkling in lively anticipation. Vestre rose, a star of
white fire. Guests from the surrounding manors and villas
arrived in style and manner becoming a festivity at Hern
Byrull's palace. Praecel members of the elite class blended
together with Phycel scientists and technicians of Myarvil,
exchanging banter and greetings like old neighbours.

Lar Wryn had made arrangements to meet the group at Myar
Hall from where they would float to the palace in his
limousine. He arrived punctually at the appointed time with
his trusted chamberlain at the helm, but Rylan did not come
with him. Dama Clarya told him the latest developments.

The Lar softly whistled between his teeth and rubbed his
chin. "Steward Lamidor came by a few hours ago and took
Rylan with him. Apparently they needed someone who is
familiar with the treacherous spots of bogs around the old
castle. He stressed that Rylan will not take part in the
actual action, only to guide the others but, pshaw!, it is
an abominably vexing situation nonetheless."

His companions, feeling none too encouraged by his
communication, refrained from offering words of sympathy.
They were wrestling with their own sombre contemplations. No
one spoke a further word on their way down to the palace,
which rose against the backdrop of night like a mountaintop
overhung with garish stars. Darkness was even bedazzled into
flight from the trees and surrounding lawns by the glitter
of lanterns and light garlands. Amazed at all this display
of wealth and luxury, Ricar had to admit grudgingly: "I must
say, he is really doing it in a most grandiose manner."

A renowned artist had sculptured the ceiling of the
reception hall with the holographic mosaic of a planetary
family, the worlds of Phylee-Patre, Calitre and Vestre,
projected in their atmospheric colours of purple, umber and
sanguine, orbiting the gold and orange parental stars of the
HeliĆ Equation of Iucari-Tres against the ominous blue-black
background of interstellar space. Their host stood aptly
beneath this awe-inspiring artistic reproduction of a most
fertile star system to welcome his guests in person.

Hern Byrull, dressed in dark-blue velvet frock coat and
riding boots, had undoubtedly elevated himself with pride to
the ranks of nobles. His smiles were generous, his eyes,
often described as dark and mysterious, were bubbling
springs of congeniality and his beautiful Cestress in union,
Ecelyn, stood at his side sharing the proud moments of his
life.

He greeted Lar Wryn with a forthright remark: "I see your
grandson has not come with you. I had hoped he would make
tonight's event an exception."

"My dear Byrull," Lar Wryn boomed, his resonant voice a
willing prey for gossip-hungry ears, "you must give him
time. Headstrong young Praecels like him won't be able to
change overnight but he might in the long run."

Smilingly Byrull observed: "I hope so for his mother's
sake."

"So do I," Lar Wryn said, gritting his teeth, "so do I.
Cestress."

He graciously bowed to his former daughter-in-law and
concurred with the general consensus she was a most lovely
lady; maturity had rather enhanced her beauty. He understood
with a sudden pang of conscience why his son, so long ago,
had fallen so hopelessly and deeply for her. Would things
have turned out differently had he accepted her? He
furtively glanced at Byrull, debonair and self-confident. He
grunted unhappily.

Kolcen had the unfortunate aptitude of attracting persons
designed to take advantage of him, and his son would never
have stood a chance against Byrull. Lar Wryn was certain
Ecelyn fell into the same category as her present master in
union; time had done little to change his mind. He only
wished he could say some comforting words when
disappointment temporarily shadowed her face when she saw he
had come alone. He only pondered glumly: 'What does she
expect? That Rylan could have so easily forgiven her?' Even
when still holding his grandson in disgrace, he had
secretively seen to it the boy was not deprived of a
livelihood, sometimes going out for lonely walks at night
just to see whether the lights were burning in the Pavilion.
His mother, Ecelyn, had done nothing.

Maea Trevarthen, noticing their arrival, disengaged herself
from a group of friends and came forward to greet the
Dowager. Dama Clarya was not pleased.

"I thought you were in Frairimont. What are you doing here?"

"To join the festivity, Aunt Clarya, what else? It is a
grand party! Come, let me get you some refreshments."

Taking Dama Clarya's arm Maea led her aunt to the main guest
hall. Ricar and Lukus had already lost Lar Wryn in the
crowd. A moment later an acquaintance councillor pulled
Ricar enthusiastically along with him and Lukus was left
alone.

Lukus observed the conviviality around him through sad and
gloomy eyes. It seemed that all prominent Myaronites were
gathered this evening. Everyone was happily laughing, eating
and drinking. He shuddered at the grotesqueness of the
situation as his thoughts wandered beyond the glittering
lights of the palace to the dark night outside, of what
would come to pass, of Restraint-Elimination Propulsum
Handheld Amplified Radiation fire exchanged, of bodies
falling. His mouth tasted as if he had chewed sand. The
aroma of food and wine in the hall stifled him and panting
he careered to the open doors for fresh air. He felt
someone's hand on his shoulder.

"Lukus," Willouri said, "My, you are jumpy tonight, aren't
you?"

"Forgive me," Lukus mumbled, "I am not myself tonight. It is
the warmth, I think, it is a bit too crowded inside."

"It is a bit warm in the halls," the Proctor nodded and went
on as he pulled Lukus away: "I have been looking for you all
over the place. It is time. The Council is assembled."

Lukus went forward wordlessly as if he was meeting his doom.

Willouri directed him to a rectangular, heavily curtained
room, which was only a short corridor away from the main
guest hall. There were no windows and only dim lights
illuminated the interior. Other members of the Treasury
Council were already assembled and had taken their seats. At
Willouri's indication, Lukus took his place at Director
Milraus's side. Willouri himself sat down at the head of the
table and as chairman declared the meeting open.

"First of all," Willouri began, "I apologize for the haste
this meeting is called together. There was not even time to
notify Advocate Grahn, but he will be briefed in good time.
To some of you this urgency may seem senseless but after you
have learnt of the new developments, you will agree with me
it is imperative that the Council make the final decision
tonight. A great tragedy has struck us but let me assure you
that despite the grief and pain, a better future is in
store."

Willouri paused before he continued in his strong voice: "I
think we should allow Director Milraus take the floor from
now on as he has all the facts on hand."

"Milraus?" Dama Clarya said in a quavering voice.

Milraus folded his hands on the table as if he had a
confession to make, and his face folded in seriousness as he
started to speak: "In Cycle 149 of Fourth Radix a Dama in
Castelmoer met a wandering Praecel, someone many, many years
her senior, but nevertheless still attractive and
good-looking. They secretly wedded. She gave birth to a son
but most unfortunately when the infant was only a few cextra
old she lost her Lar in union when he disappeared on one of
his interplanetary explorations."

Milraus spread his delicate hands on the table and regarded
his co-members of the Council intently. "Friends, as you may
be aware, Leoynar intends to make out his Edict of
Rescindment and is quite adamant about it. This leaves us
Maea and Adilar, both of them very capable, no doubt, but
what if there is someone else, someone more entitled, more
in front of the long line."

"Out with it, Milraus," the Dowager rasped, "don't keep us
in suspense any longer!"

"My Dama, Lar Irwain has a third son."

Lukus glared at Milraus. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Milraus said solemnly: "I was the physician in Castelmoer
who assisted in bringing Lar Irwain's last progeny into the
world. I have known Lar Irwain well. I've kept the promise
not to reveal anything until the son has nearly reached his
second maturity and until all other possible contenders are
found and assembled so that the 'Battle of the Inheritance
can begin!' in his own words, which of course he meant a
healthy and honourable competition amongst the best of the
House."

Dama Clarya rose majestically from her seat and demanded
sternly: "Tell us, Milraus, tell us now who is purported to
be Irwain's third son or I swear by the HeliĆ Equation I
will do something desperate!"

Waving his arms in appeasement Milraus motioned his audience
to calm down. "My Dama, friends, he is no stranger to us. In
fact, we all have a very high regard for him and he has
often stood by us in difficult times. He is none other than
our young councillor, Eugene Sharys, whose mother is Dama
Trevarthen!"

"No," Lukus moaned, "no."

The Dowager dropped back in her seat and ordered
cantankerously: "Shut up, Lukus, you are just being
sentimental. I know you are very fond of Adilar but we have
to keep our minds open for all possibilities. Eugene is
really Irwain's son! Yes, yes, no wonder we have always
admired him. Many times have I secretly wished he could be
in Glynmoran's place. Now I know he has much of Irwain's
dynamism and sense of command. So, Milraus, you after all
have succeeded in keeping the greatest secret of all and
beat us about the heads with it. Congratulations, Director!
We should pay more attention to our soft-spoken physician
from now on."

She subsequently demanded, looking around the assembly
harshly: "Has any of you any more suggestions, or
objections, to offer?"

There were none and Dama Clarya addressed Milraus in a weary
voice: "You are absolutely right, Milraus and you too,
Willouri, in calling this meeting but have you seriously
considered Adilar's position?"

"My Dama, that is why we are here to discuss this issue. I
am aware of Adilar's position. As Irwain's great-grandson,
he is also a formidable candidate."

"The choice here is really between Eugene and Adilar, isn't
it?" the Dowager remarked stonily.

"Yes," Willouri answered, "I am afraid it is. It is not
making our deliberations any easier. They are both brilliant
and highly capable. I would hate to think of any rivalry
coming between them, but we have to make a decision either
way, tonight."

"I don't understand!" Lukus cried out, "why all this haste?
This is not a problem that can be resolved overnight. We
need Advocate Grahn to give his advice on legalities."

Willouri shook his head with a grim face. "It is crucial
that we cast our votes now but before doing that I will
request Anjelie Trevarthen to join us and relate another
part of her story that will have great bearing upon this
meeting."

He stood up to leave the room and returned with a very noble
and dignified Praecel Dama on his arm. Looking at her they
realized that Eugene had his handsome looks mostly from her.
Rather uncomfortably they were also aware that until now
they had known very little about her, the son always
predominating their centre of attention.

Dama Clarya was the first to stand up and greet her.
"Welcome in our midst, Anjelie Trevarthen," she said with
difficulty containing her emotions.

With gracious modesty the newly found Dama Anjelie offered
words of gratitude and took her seat next to the proctor who
requested that she relate her part of the story.

* * *

Anjelie Trevarthen sat back holding herself in readiness to
face her audience. She gazed from one expectant face to the
other with outward diffidence.

In her mind bells of triumph were ringing. She knew that
Eugene had already gained the acceptance of most of the
council members around her. Admittedly, a certain amount of
tension and suspicion was present but she had achieved the
one wish of her life: Eugene will be Lar Protector.

She spoke thoughtfully and pleasantly as if narrating to a
class of eager children: "Irwain and I had a very simple
wedding in the town of Larkae. Director Milraus has already
told you the reasons why I have not come forward with the
truth: I was only fulfilling the wishes of my Lar in union.
He stayed with me until Eugene was born. He made me aware
that he was bitterly grieving for the loss of Valorin. For
him, Eugene had filled the place Valorin had left empty.

"It was only three cextra after we had Eugene when he became
restless. He said there were things that had to be done,
things of great importance, but he promised to come back.
Before he left however, he gave me a heavy strongbox and a
letter. He was preparing for everything, even for the
possibility that something could happen to him on his
journey. In that event, I am only to give the letter to
Eugene when he comes of age. There are instructions in the
letter, which will greatly influence our life and the lives
of others. He impressed upon me not to open the box under
any circumstances, and Eugene is only to open it when he
feels ready. Afterwards he left and I never saw him again.
Only much later did I learn that he had died a lonely death
on the shores of Red Lake.

"It was clear that he had not told the Council about us. It
was a very awkward situation for me and I decided to wait
until Eugene has reached his first maturity. I took the box
and the letter out of its hiding place and gave them to my
son. After reading the letter, he took the box and he said
to me, his words are still clear in my mind, 'Behold Mother,
the thing that can shape the fate of Iucari-Tres.' And when
he opened it, a piercing light blazed out from the box and
it felt as if the room was on fire."

"The Hexstone!" Lukus yelled and wished an instant later
that he had bitten off his tongue.

Willouri glared at him: "How do you know about this
Hexstone?"

"Valorin told me about it," Lukus explained excitedly,
"Father showed it to Valorin. I told you it was true!"

"Told whom?" Willouri wanted to know.

"Told me!" the Dowager fiercely interrupted. "Lukus told
only me. He was suffering from a sudden attack of childhood
nostalgia and couldn't keep his mouth shut about fancy tales
he and Valorin shared together. You have to understand that
recent happenings have been too distressing for all of us.
At the time I dismissed it like some sort of fairy story but
this thing really exists, does it?"

"Yes, it does," Anjelie said, "I have seen the force of the
Hexstone with my own eyes. It is an object not to be taken
lightly, an invaluable legacy a father could ever bestow to
a son."

"Do you understand the significance of this legacy?"
Willouri said. "Such forces as this Hexstone possesses? In
the wrong hands it is a tool of terrible vengeance. But
Eugene, true to his honour, has never used it for personal
gain. Only such a noble spirit can see beyond his own ends
and serve those who need him. The Trevarthen estate could
not have a better leader who can lead them out of their
present misery to a new future."

He paused, unblinkingly confronting their suspenseful eyes,
a huge Iucarian about to make a huge decision. "Eugene is my
choice."

Lukus's vision started to blur. 'Lar Irwain, dear Foster
Father. By giving Eugene the Hexstone you had already made
the decision who would ultimately be the heir a long, long
time ago. What are we arguing here, one vote more or less
will not make any difference.'

But something was wrong, terribly, terribly wrong. Looking
up, his eyes gazed upon the Dowager. Never before was there
such clarity and purpose in the touching together of two
minds. In that desperate moment he read her message and
understood. True, one vote more or less would not mean
anything, but only hers would make it unanimous and with a
resigned gesture he too voted for Eugene Trevarthen.

Dama Clarya remained silent, poignantly aware that everyone
in the room was waiting for her to speak. If the Council had
been gathered together under different circumstances, she
would certainly not hesitate to give Eugene her vote.
Frankly, he was the most ideal person to preside as Lar and
master over Trevarthen Hall. Vivid and competent he had
always stood high in her opinion but even now as the major
part of her was tugged in his direction, one small part was
thinking constantly about young commanders risking their
lives at this very moment somewhere in the blackness of the
night.

"I see most of you have decided in Eugene's favour, my vote
would only reach the unanimity that is called for but before
I do so, I would like to see the famed Hexstone and judge
for myself what repercussions it will present to life as we
know it. Are you able to dispute me when I say that once it
is revealed to the public, life will never be the same
again?"

"You are right, my Dama," Willouri said, "nothing will be
the same again after this evening. And there is no other
person better to unravel the mystery of the Hexstone than
Eugene himself."

Upon a nod of Willouri, Director Milraus stood up and drew
back the heavy draperies at the end of the room. He revealed
a wooden slide door, which separated the small rectangular
space they were occupying with the much larger salon next to
it. While Milraus leisurely rolled the two- part door open
toward the opposite walls, the group of people who were
already waiting in the adjacent room stood up.

Eugene was the most distinguished of them all. Upon seeing
him, some members of the Council rushed forward to steepen
fingers in greetings and congratulations. In their eyes, he
was already carrying the crown. Also present in the salon
were Lar Wryn and Maea. Ricar Myar hovered close,
uncertainly in between.

Lar Wryn, taking advantage of the momentary euphoria, drew
the Dowager apart. "I was summoned here presumably to hear
some good news," he whispered.

"And indeed," the Dowager whispered back, "there is news, of
a most formidable kind, but I am not entirely sure whether I
can treat it as good, or as bad. You see, Viraun, it has
just been revealed to the Council that our Eugene Sharys is
really Lar Irwain's youngest son, and he could be the next
Lar Trevarthen."

Lar Wryn hissed: "This is all so very sudden, and it
certainly does not simplify matters."

Dama Clarya said urgently: "More revelations will be made to
you which may have a direct bearing to our discussions this
morning. For the sake of Iucari-Tres, pretend as if you are
hearing everything for the first time. Honestly, I am very
confused. It feels like being pulled apart by two opposing
poles. This is not the time to give our game away and Lukus
might just do that. He has been having difficulty
maintaining control. Thus, dear Viraun, if you could stay
close to him and keep him in check if and when the need
arises, I will be forever grateful!"

"Set your mind at rest, Clarya," Lar Wryn reassured, "as
long as I am standing right beside him, Lukus had better put
the lid on."

Pressing his hand gently, the Dowager then turned her
attention to the cluster of satellites whirling around the
newly discovered star. Their first excitement having
quietened down, they awaited her presence, and her reaction,
with great sobriety.

Dama Clarya greeted Eugene with open arms and he embraced
her with great respect. "My dear Eugene! Dearest nephew! Had
we known earlier, things would have been so much different,
but I should also ask the question, would it really? How
frail are we Iucarians, hoping and striving to find a better
solution, only to find in the end that destiny in its irony
has twisted us round to where we started. I am not saying
that you will not make a fine Lar, Eugene, but you are not
alone. There are others that you have to rally to your cause
for you to succeed."

"I am aware of that, Aunt Clarya," Eugene said earnestly, "I
would not wish to ignore Adilar, or even Maea. I am more
than willing to share my responsibilities with both of
them."

"Maea" the Dowager implored, "Maea, my dear girl, since you
now know how you stand with us and the estate, I would like
to hear your opinion, frankly and honestly."

"My Dama," Maea urged, "everyone here, and others whom I
have come to know, have all been so very good to me. You
welcomed me and made me one of you, as your own kith and
kin. It is I who will be in your debt forever. If I have to
relinquish the estate, which you were prepared to give me to
rule, to someone more worthy in name and blood, it is my
duty and my obligation to do so."

"Well spoken, Maea," Willouri said, "I've never doubted
you."

"Are we all suffering from short memories!" Lukus exclaimed.
"Have we not forgotten someone who is absent, unfortunately,
but who has the right, more than anyone else here in this
room, to speak his mind before we indulge ourselves in more
decision makings."

"You have cast your vote, Lukus." the Dowager interrupted
sharply. "The final decision is on me but before I cast my
vote, I would like to hear the true and strange story of the
Hexstone, that ominous tool you have now in your possession,
Eugene, presented to you as a gift from your father to his
youngest son with whatever intentions in his mind, noble or
otherwise. If this is truly an instrument of awesome powers,
it would be a grievous weapon in the wrong hands, or even in
the hands of those who think themselves beyond reproof."

"I see, Aunt Clarya," Eugene quietly spoke, "that you have
grave misgivings about this Hexstone, the Force of Light,
but I will dispel your doubts."

He motioned his little audience to take their seats and took
a brown envelope from his pocket.

"None other than my father," Eugene continued, "Lar Irwain
Trevarthen, would be in the best position to narrate to you
the history of this amazing jewel."

He unfolded the letter he took out from the envelope and
started to read to them a tale so strange and bizarre, that
during the length of time they listened to his voice they
seemed to have left the room and travelled with Lar Irwain
Trevarthen to far and inhospitable regions he had once
explored.