Chapter III

THE ABSENCE OF BIRDS

The dilemma had kept the Head Science Steward of Vriavyn
awake at nights, now it gave her migraines during the day.
She had wrestled with it for two days, she knew there was
something amiss, but what?

She strolled into the monitor dome as if nothing was wrong
in the whole Equation realm. Her assistant observed her
red-rimmed eyes and knew. In such circumstances, he was
better off avoiding the Head Steward altogether, but the
Assistant had to make his report on last night's
quantizations.

The Head Steward squinted at the crypto-tab. "What have we
here?" Her gaze wandered now and then to the graph monitor.
"No signs of tectonic activities at all, or remnants of
White Radiation winds?"

"Only a nearly undetectable fluctuation of energy currents.
Like heat or sound waves, origin unknown."

"It is very inconclusive." The Head Steward massaged her
temples and studied the diagram on the screen. "We can't
even identify what they are, but keep a close eye on those
fluctuations and report to me by the hour."

She sought the privacy of her office, still unable to seize
the meaning of that irritating feeling she was being led on
a merry dance by something which was right there in front of
her nose, something so evasive as the cloud formations
drifting by her window. Her gaze swept over the rippling
green-grey waters of the Inner Odur Sea. Vriavyn lay on the
southern toe of the Peninsula, its white beaches flaring far
into the stretches of the narrow sea arm. At the northern
end of the harbour a runway had been constructed for Calidan
shuttlecraft to unload their freight. Even so early in the
day the port was busy.

The Head Steward contemplated the sky, which was slightly
overcast; thin layers of cloud shot with pearly grey and
purple. Looking at that purplish sheen above Vriavyn she
suddenly stumbled upon the cause of her insomnia. Her
assistant urgently called her back to the monitor dome. He
was assisted by another officer in his quantizations.

"Look," said the second assistant, "the flare-up again. Look
how it is distorting the structure of the land components!"

The Head Steward hurried to the graph monitor and stared at
the spiralling sequences. "Identify!"

"A very powerful energy source. Almost incalculable, no
seismic activities. Like an invisible eddy."

"Maybe we are using the wrong quantum calibration," the
first assistant said. "Lock in the specifiers for quantum
light."

The second assistant hit a few panels and hissed as the
specifics gigaflipped across the screen: "You are right! It
is pure Quantum LIGHT PLASMA energy! And it is travelling
very fast towards the coast."

The Head Steward's voice rasped. "From where is it coming
from?"

"It is spreading at fantastic speed below the riverbed of
the Nheim. It is going to hit Vriavyn!"

The station jolted as if a tremendous force from beneath was
rearing up and had bumped its head against the foundations.
The Head Steward coded her yellow Insignia and relayed her
findings through all emergency channels. "Watch for birds in
the sky! In the last few days this is something I noticed
subconsciously but was not able to comprehend until now. All
birds have left Vriavyn, the blue albas, the snowgulls, they
have completely vanished from the principality!"

"Look, look!" the second assistant pointed, "it is not only
distorting the landmass, it is distorting--"

IT IS. His finger still pointed but he didn't move. Instead,
someone moved out of him. Himself, he saw himself move in
sequences of after-images. DIS-- The other assistant had
turned to overlapping fields of phantoms. –TORTING The Head
Science Steward stood in a cocoon of multiple exposures, her
mouths a series of open circles. The dome's dimensions had
shimmered to a haze where life had slowed down to a drip of
milliseconds, except for the googol violence on the monitor
screens where a war of vectors raged.

"TIME!" The sudden explosion of the assistant's own words
scarred his eardrums. A deep-throated rumble welled up from
under the ground. "WHERE IS THE DISTURBANCE COMING FROM!"
bellowed the Head Science Steward

"Myaron!" her first assistant screamed, instinctively
raising his arms above his head.

A dark shadow fell upon them, a dark shadow that had risen
from the sea, a wall of water lifting off from the depths,
covering blackish the purple clouds, suspending for a moment
like a monstrous Fist dripping dark green. Then the Fist
plunged forward, smashing, drowning Vriavyn.

* * *

"He is a master of fiascos," was Adilar's only comment of
Glynmoran's latest escapade and did not seem to question its
absurdity.

HeliĆ shine showered through the open windows of
Ferngarthen. In that glow of double splendour, Lamidor was
seated comfortably after having enjoyed a hearty breakfast
of fresh fruit and crispbread. He had all but forgotten his
predicament of the past night. He was not able to blot out
from his memory, however, the ludicrousness and, finally,
the embarrassment when it dawned upon him that he too had
fallen victim to Glynmoran's hoax, flying across a span of
several time zones to take home a fraud. Especially since
that fraud, who went by the name of Dennil Laengx, was
sitting at the table as an honoured guest, calm, content,
and intelligently conversant now that he was no longer
labouring under a terrible strain.

"I must beg your forgiveness once more for what happened,"
said Dennil.

"No harm was done," said Adilar and added with a wicked
smile: "At least not to me."

'No, not to you,' Fredric thought. 'Right at this moment
noble gossip must be tearing your name to pieces. Will they
cut out their tattling tongues once they know the real you?
But by simply meeting you we both have learnt so much from
your generous nature!'

Fredric felt gratified his sense of honour had brought him
to Verimur. Everything in Ferngarthen was blooming and
verdant; an uncorrupted haven, the air vibrant with the
music of birds. It promised a fine day for exploring new
friendships.

The grizzled chamberlain entered the dining chamber and
communicated to Adilar the arrival of Glynmoran Trevarthen.

* * *

Adilar pushed his chair back and stood up. "Could you take
Lar Glynmoran to the study, please Grysal. I'll join him
there." With a quick smile he spoke to his guests: "Make
yourself at home. I'll be right back."

Adilar cantered up the flight of stairs to his grandfather's
study. It was still too early in the morning for his
grandfather to come there and take up his daily leisure of
reading. The room, conveniently tucked away at the far
backside on the upper floor of the house, was his
grandfather's favourite for the peace and privacy it
provided, and Adilar wanted a private place to say the
things he needed to say to his capricious cousin.

Opening the door of the study he stood on the threshold for
an indecisive moment: Glynmoran had not come alone. At his
side stood a Dama, elegant in her tailored suit of black
lace; remarkable for the haughty turn of her chin, the
slanting violet eyes and the cascading hair.

"Ah!" As usual in such a situation Glynmoran was the first
to speak. "Cousin Adilar, may I introduce you to Dama Virga.
And Dama Virga, may I present to you my shy, elusive cousin,
Adilar Schurell, whom everybody is simply dying to meet.
There, dear Virga, now that you have met him in the flesh at
last, is he not a treat for sore eyes?"

Adilar stared at Glynmoran and the Dama Virga stared at
Adilar, while the young Lar Trevarthen stood in the centre
and eyed them both with speculative glee. Eventually, Dama
Virga was the first to regain her composure.

"Cestor Schurell--"

"Lieutenant Schurell," Adilar said.

The Dama made a slight bow. "Lieutenant, it is my pleasure
to make your acquaintance. May I further enlighten you that
I am wedded to Lar Julyan, Lar Protector of Ermizgarth, your
cousin."

"Cousin?" Adilar repeated dumbfounded while he mentally
hacked a path through offshoots of his ancestral family
tree. "Ah yes," he continued slowly, struggling to recover
from his discomfort, "a cousin from the side of my
grandmother, Dama Roslinne Ermiz. Unfortunately I've never
had the honour of meeting him. Verimur is situated in a
rather remote part of Phylee-Patre, far from everybody. I
have nearly forgotten myself my maternal grandmother was an
Ermiz."

Glynmoran's saccharine voice broke in: "How distasteful of
you, Adilar, to let that illustrious side of your family
slip your mind. I bet Lar Ermiz is simply pining to make
your acquaintance as well, but, poor Julyan, he is not in
the best of health, isn't he, Virga? But boredom is a
sickness too and we must keep the Dama entertained, mustn't
we?"

Virga countered lightly: "I thought you said to me this
morning, Glynmo, you were treating me to breakfast and
lunch." She glanced sideways at Adilar, "I'd be charmed if
Lieutenant Schurell would honour us with his company."

Glynmoran grinned. "So right you are, Virga. Let's go to the
dining room. I am pretty certain that Grysal has everything
ready there. Coming, Adilar?"

Adilar said, reaching for a panel on the wall: "Just a
minute, Glynmo. Grysal will accompany Dama Ermiz to the
dining room, while you and I have a little chat first."

Silence reigned when Grysal entered and chaperoned Dama
Virga out of the room. When the door was safely shut, Adilar
turned and grimly faced Glynmoran whose grin had not left
his face.

"What you do is your own business, but you went too far this
time. You forced your friend Dennil to pose as me! For what
purpose I can't imagine. You promised to leave us out of
your public scandals. If you can't keep your end of the
bargain, I don't see how we can accommodate you further."

"But you will, Adilar, because Ferngarthen is not yours yet
and I don't have to answer to you for what I do. Grandfather
always takes my side."

"Yes," Adilar said, steadily gazing at his cousin,
"Grandfather always protects you because he loved your
father, Leoynar, still does, and you are his grandson. But
so am I, so is Trajan and I tell you this, Glynmo, you
wouldn't dare pulling this caper if Trajan were around but
he will be coming home soon."

"Trajan," said Glynmorgan, his grin widening, "will find it
very amusing."

'He is right," Adilar thought, chagrined, "the old mischief
would only laugh at it but the old mischief is far away in
space.'

He went on in a severe voice: "I can always tell him and
you, a thing or two what is amusing and what is not and
Trajan knows where to draw the line while you sometimes tend
to overdo things."

Glynmoran spread out his arms and capitulated. "All right,
Adilar. You win this time. I promise, I'll be on my best
behaviour, but be forewarned: now the establishment knows
that you exist they will no longer leave you or Grandfather
alone. Your ostracism from noble society is ended!"

"And I have you to thank for it."

"Since clearly family interest in Grandfather has been
rekindled, sooner or later Advocate Grahn would have found
out about you from one of his many sources of information
and I'd rather he got it from me. Do you understand? And I
have had my fun."

Adilar reflected sombrely that Glynmoran's preoccupation of
having fun was just a shield; behind it hid a very insecure
young man.

"Come on," Glynmoran gestured invitingly, "let's put this
interrogation to a close and raid the dining room."

"One more minute. You said you have mentioned my name, no
one else? Not Trajan's? If you have implicated Trajan as
well, I'll wring your neck."

Glynmoran replied soberly: "Rest assured, Adilar. Though I
think all this secrecy is very foolish, it is Grandpa's
wish. I have not mentioned Trajan. In their eyes he simply
does not exist."

* * *

Lar Alden Trevarthen only made his appearance at dinnertime.
He entered the sitting room, one hand leaning on his
daughter's arm and the other on his walking stick. Pale and
gaunt, he had little of the Praecel features that
distinguished his grandson, but one just had to look at his
hazel on grey eyes, lucid and tranquil above the harsh lines
of troubled Epochs in his face to know with reverence that
here was a Praecel, who had taken the storms of his life in
his stride and conquered them with grace.

As if by some unspoken agreement, his guests all stood up
when he made his entrance. He welcomed them to Ferngarthen
in a low, hesitant voice and made the steepened
finger-trigonal greetings with each of them. It was obvious
that not too many new faces had come about the house and he
looked pleased with all the attention.

"Grysal has put his best foot forward for tonight's menu, I
hope," he remarked with a sly smile to his daughter.

Norielle Schurell was girlish and small, and had the same
hazel eyes of the Lar, but as his eyes possessed a certain
shrouded expression of pain, hers sparkled with the very
essence of life. The beautiful Dama Virga was a head taller
but Norielle Schurell with hair as dark and wavy as her
son's, were she dressed in the same fashionable clothes
would stand up to Dama Virga in any crowd.

"I am sure he has," she replied with a smile and glanced at
her son.

"I have made certain that he has," said Adilar with a laugh.

Lar Alden made a broad sweep with his hand. "Then, we don't
want Grysal to await our presence any longer." He took his
grandson's arm this time to walk into the dining room.
Glynmoran with flashing charm offered his arm to Dama Virga,
while Lamidor with a deep bow gave Norielle his. Norielle,
while smilingly accepting his escort, turned slightly and
stretched out with her free hand. "Come Cestor Laengx, what
are you waiting for."

Dennil, with a grace that was hitherto not apparent, took
her arm and seated himself beside her at the dining table.
Like the others he behaved with perfect gallantry for the
duration of the dinner. Taking up the cue, Dama Virga
surpassed herself in her performance as the present Dama to
Lar Ermiz. She voiced profuse apologies for the marked
absence of her spouse, stating his languishing health had
made it impossible for him to endure the long journey to
Verimur, or even to do anything else, but she, naturally,
could not ignore the responsibilities of social life.

"Julyan is very good to me, really. I wouldn't have given a
thought of leaving him all alone but he insisted a bit of
fresh air would do me wonders. So here I am in Verimur,
amidst all those woods of silverfir, and what a fabulous
place this is!"

Glynmoran grinned: "Yes, dear old Julyan. He has even asked
me to send you his regards, to you Aunt Norielle, and you,
Grandfather."

"Well," said Norielle, "that's very kind of him. He hasn't
forgotten us after all."

"It has not escaped me," Lar Alden suddenly said aloud,
"that after all these cycles, Dama Virga, you are the very
first of Ermizgarth to grace us with a visit. I am asking
myself the question: what has prompted this? I am very much
aware that Julyan's father was not very fond of me."

The conversation around the table abruptly froze and Dama
Virga replied, curving her lips in a smile: "Lar Alden,
after such a long period people have changed. Whatever
disagreements there are, they could not last forever, could
they? For our own benefit, I think we should give more
attention to one another in these disturbing times. And I
observe you have done very well for yourself in Verimur.
Your efforts and success should not remain unheeded."

Lar Alden observed: "Truly gracious words, My Dama, although
my endeavours, successful or otherwise, have rarely won the
recognition of Praecel society. Why should they act
differently now? And I have found peace here." His brooding
eyes sought out Dennil.

"You tell me, Cestor Laengx, what has been going on outside?
What is the latest scandal? As a long-time friend of
Glynmoran, don't you find his friendship somewhat stressful
at times? I know he is fond of playing games. Do you know of
any lately that he has pulled off?"

Lar Alden's cajoling words produced another instant freeze
around the table. Feeling the Lar's dark eyes resting upon
him inquisitively, Dennil felt the whole of his face burning
as if his guilt was branded upon it.

"Can't you see, Grandfather," Adilar cut in, "Glynmo has got
such a hold on him that he dare not even speak unless Glynmo
gives him the command."

"Spoken with finesse, cousin Adilar," Glynmoran said
smoothly, "I have taught my old friend, Dennil, the golden
value of silence and not to speak unless spoken to and only
if it is absolutely necessary, and since you are here in
good company, Dennil, it is not necessary for you to speak
but enjoy all the good food, rather. There!"

"In plain terms, swallow your tongue," Lamidor said under
his breath.

Lar Alden picked up his wineglass and took a long and
pondering swig, conscious that all eyes were set upon him
and savouring every minute of it. He put down his glass
deliberately slow, cleared his throat and asked: "Adilar,
Glynmoran, what have you been up to now?"

Adilar threw his napkin on the table. "That's magnificent!
Why must I always be held responsible for his escapades."

"No one has suggested that you are," the Lar sternly said,
"but invariably you always get involved and if Glynmoran
thinks it is not important enough to talk about it, you have
a duty to do so."

"Well," Adilar growled, glaring at Glynmoran, "will you or
shall I?"

"If I may," Dama Virga interposed, "it all went like this."

While an oppressive silence muted the voices around the
table, she proceeded to describe the account of this latest
game in simple and straightforward terms in the way she saw
it: a harmless prank, no more. No one had suffered by it and
they had all enjoyed a good time. Adilar opened his mouth to
disagree, but clammed it shut when his grandfather chuckled.

"Glynmoran, you truly bring some colour into the drudgery of
everyday life. Did Advocate Grahn counsel you as to what has
influenced this mysterious change of heart?"

"Grandfather," Adilar began. He stopped; his Insignia
flashed orange. At the same time Lamidor's throbbed yellow.
Adilar acknowledged the signal with swift finger coding
while Lamidor hesitated. Adilar raised his eyebrows
questioningly.

"I am still on sick leave," Lamidor explained, "if the
Stewardship is mobilizing me as well, then the situation
must be serious."

"It is serious. Code Red-terraX-00 at Vriavyn."

They both stood up at the same time. "I need to make out a
report first to my unit on a private comm-link," said
Lamidor.

"Follow me," said Norielle, "Fredric, you can use the
sitting-room while you, Adilar, you can go up into the
study."

In the resulting confusion Lar Alden left the dining room
almost immediately after Lamidor, Adilar and Norielle had
made their combined exit. Driven by curiosity and alarm,
Glynmoran and Dennil soon followed.

Suddenly abandoned by near and dear Dama Virga wistfully
contemplated the remnants of the dinner. She nibbled
thoughtfully on a lettuce, then pursing her lips she reached
out to the bottle of crystalcrest wine and slowly filled her
glass."

"Here is to you, Adilar Schurell," she murmured, "it was
great knowing you, and I wish I had known you earlier, but I
am bound by my vows to my present Lar in union. May he, and
you, go in honour always."