CHAPTER VII


DOUBLE SUN EMINENCE


	Initially still dizzy with sleep and absolutely horrified of having been woken at 
such an ungodly early hour, Conrad's spirits instantly brightened up when he came to 
know that he was going on a mission with the Captain and he made ready with the speed 
of running deer.  After enduring numerous words of care and caution from Assiya they 
crept out of the cabin and to the stable, saddled Brightloft and stole out of the village.

	Heeding Conrad's advice Trajan took Brightloft by the reins and led him first up 
the path which swung through the citrus grove in the direction of the beach.  Once out of 
earshot of the sleeping hamlet they climbed on the horse's back and immediately 
Brightloft's hoofs hacked away at dirt, sand and pebbles.  Brightloft's speed brought 
them to the shores of the Main in no time.  The sky over the beach was still velvet black 
and studded with white stars, but ribbons of dawn were slowly roseating from behind the 
eastern arch of greenery.  

	Conrad's plan was to take a shortcut by angling their route first to the beach and 
reentering the grove from the southern end of the cove.  He had made excursions over the 
frontier before and knew the location of the Knoll of the Sore Thumb.  Although 
appearing well schooled on the geography of the countryside, where the borderline was 
drawn and which part of the heartland was Vesparan territory, he did not know before 
that the Sore Thumb was housing underground caverns.  

	"I am glad I have you with me," Trajan said. "I would have soon lost my way 
without you.  You have familiarized yourself very well with the area here."   

	"The Elder of the Mountain Clan," Conrad told him, "appeared to have spent his 
childhood in this region.  He was brought up in one of the neighbouring villages, and he 
frequently takes me with him on his regular outings into the hinterland.  He wants me to 
learn as many things as I can."

	"Is he a good teacher?" Trajan enquired, "better than Assiya?"

	Conrad wavered for a moment.  "I have known Assiya my whole life and she has 
taught me many useful things.  On the other hand, the Elder strikes one as being highly 
intelligent and there is so much more to learn from him.  I would say that both of them 
have been very good teachers to me.  I am going to spend half of my time with the Elder, 
and the other half with Assiya.  It is an arrangement that seems to suit them both and so 
far Assiya has gone along with it."

	Two teachers, two Guardians, vying for one pupil, because they thought Jeremy 
was dead.  There could be no argument who Conrad really was in the eyes of his elders, 
or Jeremy now that he had proven himself to be alive.  He was convinced of Assiya's 
righteousness but more inclined to take the Elder's benevolence towards his ward with 
plentiful grains of salt.  He felt the Perceptor had an insatiable penchant for power.

	"Captain," came Conrad's voice across his shoulder, breaking his chain of 
thoughts, "I think we'd better go on foot from here on.  There could be border guards 
lurking about."

	They came down from the saddle and Conrad went quickly forward, leading the 
way.  The sun had crept above the wooded borderlands and was throwing slants of light 
through the trelliswork of cypress and pine.  For the sake of anonymity Trajan had pulled on 
his hooded cloak while Conrad remained bareheaded.  For a length of time they weaved 
their way through a dense section of the wood where the gold of the sun did not reach, 
the shadows looked darker than midnight, the shrubbery reached to their waists and 
fallen dead wood had grown to hedges with thorny arms. 

	For a time Trajan was leading Brightloft by the reins.  However, it soon became 
apparent that the horse had found his own peculiar way of overcoming barriers of 
undergrowth and thorns by using teeth and hoofs, and he allowed the steed to meander 
around freely.  At the end of the march, they came upon a grassless glade at the foot of a 
knoll with a cap, which tapered and bulged above the waves of greenery like a swollen 
thumb.  Rounding the foot they found the entrance to the cavern concealed behind a 
layer of scree and a barrier of briar bushes. 

	"Stay here," Trajan told Conrad, "and stay out of sight.  I have to go in on my 
own."  

	Not until he was deep within the darkness of the subterranean interior, did he use 
his stylet torch.  The broad lance of light cut through the webs of blackness and revealed 
a jagged trough twining between sandstone slopes further into the bowels of the cavern.  

	The path twisted into a wide lane as he pushed forward and deeper into the heart 
of the underground enclave.  The lane appeared at some places sufficiently broad and 
high for a rider on his horse but the farther he went the more he encountered barricades of 
cave-ins and detritus that made his progress more difficult.  With each step he kicked up 
plumes of fine dust which then lingered in the air like garlands of grey mist.  

	As he walked further inwards and deeper down, the musty atmosphere seemed to 
give way to a smattering of fresh and moist drafts of air.  At the terminus of the tortuous 
channel the beams of his torch shone upon a pool of bubbling spring water at the feet of a 
ridge that rose to the dome of stone like a flat of dwellings. 

	Wherever his gaze roamed there were only rock and crumbling slopes.  With faces, 
grim and obdurate, they refused to give up the secrets that fugitives had once hidden and 
lived here, carving out an existence amongst bare tufa and sharp brash.  All traces had 
long since been ground into dust by the acts of time and nature.  He magnified the 
radiance of his torch so that the trajectory of its beams ballooned across a wider quadrant. 

	Nearly all the walls of the cavern and the ridge bore brittle and jagged surfaces of 
granite and sarsen except for some, tucked away in hidden bends and corners, which 
were scoured and burnished almost to the texture of glass.  Faintly at first, but sharper as 
moments passed by, he saw on the glazed surfaces the emblem of the oval ring with the 
pointed thorn in the heart and inscriptions, like diagrams, names, stemmas.

	Lady Artgan, Lady Pryaan, Lord Vertgo, and lastly, in an isolated corner by 
itself, as if purposefully revered on a separate altar, the line of descent of Lord Filimon 
Schurell.  The Great Lord, his wife Lady Marenan, son and daughter, Trajan and Lierra, 
and younger cousin-brother, Octavyn.  There it stopped but the bright light of the torch 
caught one more tiny scripture far below the genealogical diagram, in part mutilated: 
Farewell to Krystan ... his …Ascent ... born to Octavyn Schurell and ...Go in grace. 

	The stylet torch nearly slipped out of his hand.  With trembling fingers he touched 
the names on the wall, one by one.  Who are they to him?  Grandparents, aunt, cousin, 
Krystan, and a young lord who bore his name?  His family, butchered all.  Starglory, why 
did you let it happen?  But Starglory was now One with him and would not answer, only 
listen to his voice and feel what he felt.

	He took out his microcom and proceeded to record all the names in their 
genealogical order into its datalog.  In time these scriptures on the walls would pass out 
of sight but they were now preserved in computerized form for generations to come.  The 
thought consoled him: he would take their memory back to Iucari-Tres, to Adilar, and 
have them enshrined in Ferngarten. 

	He undertook the trip back from the caverns and along the lane with impatient 
haste.  He took the utmost care that the stylet torch and microcom were securely inside a 
pouch which was strapped on his belt and the hood was over his head once again before 
he stepped back into sunlight.  

	Squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun he surveyed the glade.  He noted 
with some astonishment Brightloft shaking his head restlessly under the eaves of the 
wood, but there was no sight of Conrad.  A sudden urgency stung him into action.  He 
hurried to the horse and jumped into the saddle.  

	"Conrad," he called, "where are you?"  There was only quietness everywhere.  

	"This is wrong!" he muttered and spurred Brightloft to go into the woods.  
Without warning, three, four horsemen sprang out and galloped into the glade from 
behind the slopes of the knoll.  The rephar was in his hand but a rider brushed him from 
behind and ripped away the cloak from his shoulders.  Stunned, as the merciless sun 
blazed down upon his uncovered head, he froze temporarily in the saddle and a buffet 
from another rider threw him from the steed's back onto the ground.  

	A second after he had hit the dust Trajan scrambled to his feet with all the speed 
he could muster, but equally fast four men jumped on him like a falling net, and once 
more he was brought down.  With fists, elbows and the hard edges of his hands he 
battled a path through the tangle of his assailants, his boots not sparing the weak parts of 
their bodies, while his mind feverishly worked at a strategy, to attempt reaching the 
thicket where he could more easily escape.  A blow to his jaw momentarily defocussed 
his eyes, but with one vicious ram of his fist the attacker stumbled back with a bleeding 
noise.  Another kick in another groin, and he was nearly free.  With one last thrust of his 
foot he shook off the fourth men and leaping up he bolted to the edge of the wood when 
another five, and six, swooped down on him like in an untidy mob. 

	With a thin, shrill whistle the poniard leapt to a rapier, glistening in the sun with 
brilliant deathliness.  With a unified gasp, his group of assailants jumped backwards.  
Regrouping reluctantly, they circled slowly and slowly he made eye contact with each of 
them.  What they saw in his eyes increased their hesitance until a stir, a fearful murmur 
among the ranks of the other soldiers made them retreat.

	A rider on a white horse approached, a fine, stalwart figure of a man in silver 
harness and flowing purple mantle, whose face was covered by a shining helmet of 
elegant design.  He descended from his horse and with slow movements drew out his 
sword.  A fierce flicker of steel, a ringing clash of blades as with the speed of an 
attacking viper his arm struck out and Trajan intercepted before eyes could blink.  Sparks 
sizzled in the air as rapier and sword collided in succession of fierce thrusts and parries 
with neither of the two combatants yielding a foot of ground.  Finally, the man in the 
shining helmet paused and took one step backwards, his gloved hand stroking his throat 
as if to wipe a sheen of sweat and Trajan, clasping the rapier with both hands, following 
each flick, each swipe of movement.  

      Trajan glimpsed the clench of the fingers around the sword fastening; he wished 
he could see the eyes of his opponent, the unseen scrutiny hiding behind the helmet with 
the striking emblem of a helix-shaped symbol of two suns: one gold, the other orange. 
The sword hand of the man made a fickle gesture, drew his focus on the hand.  Too late 
he glimpsed the adder movement of the other hand, the flash of the dagger thrown. 

	With a gasp Trajan clasped his upper arm.  The momentary defocus caused him to 
stumble backwards.  And with a lion jump the man in the helmet sprang and threw him 
on the ground, wrenched off the poniard and held him with all the weight of armour, 
harness and purple mantle.  And a voice finally came out from the helmet, a voice that 
paused the fight still simmering within him.  

	"You are a very hard one to catch and subdue.  A real warrior, at last!  I do not 
want to harm you, do you understand?  I only want to know who you really are, you with 
that amazing blade.  

	"Remarkable," the voice continued, quietly amazed, almost gentle, "really 
remarkable.  Your eyes, they are real!  Long ago, I saw such strange eyes before."  Trajan 
could not suppress a cry of dismay as, with one hand fastening around his throat, his 
examiner with the other hand stripped away part of his shirt.  The pressure around his 
throat tightened unbearably.  

	"Iucarian!" the voice exclaimed, "and an Insignia, a red Insignia of the Command!  
What is a commander doing here?  You are indeed a marvel.  Tell me, what is your name?  
No lies, you would not like to know what we do to liars." 

	"No lies," Trajan said, struggling onto his elbows, holding the man's attention 
with his own voice and his eyes.  And with quick savage movement he heaved onto his 
haunches and grabbed the man by his harnessed throat, pressing a silver pistol-blade to 
the helmeted temple.  "I have my little surprises too.  And since you know how a Iucarian 
looks like, you must know what this is, pressed against your head and it will fry your 
brain, helmet and all." 

	"And you will do this to the Governor General of Vespar?"

	Trajan grimaced. "And why shouldn't I?" For a second they stood unmoving 
chest to chest in a breathless impasse, hands to each other's throats.  Then, the voice came 
again through the helmet:  "We are no match against each other.  We have the same will 
power, the same strength.  Let me go and I will let you go.  We will speak again later as 
equals."  

      With a grunt of disgust Trajan flung the man away across the clearing, retrieved 
his fallen poniard and whistled sharply.  "Brightloft!"  

	The horse stormed back into the glade and his lethal hoofs prompted the soldiers 
to scurry in all haste towards the foot of the knoll.  With one agile leap Trajan was back in 
the saddle and with one powerful bound Brightloft disappeared into the woods. 

	For long moments the Governor General had his face turned to the spot where 
Brightloft had sprung away, out of reach.  His hands swept the film of dust off his purple 
mantle with slow, thoughtful movements. 

	His soldiers crowded around him apprehensively.  "We still have the boy, Sire.  
And we have this foreign device." 

	"Give me that device," he ordered in his placid and steely voice, his gloved hand 
closing around the rephar, "we will take the boy, but treat him well.  And find out the 
location of his village."

* * *

	When Trajan burst into the cabin, his face white with distress, bloodied, his shirt 
torn, Assiya felt he needed her as if she were his mother.  She wrapped her arms around 
him and hugged him tight to her bosom, sensing his seething fury and something else, 
something so disturbing he could not say a word about what he had gone through.  After 
he had calmed down, he became morose and irritated.

	"Don't fuss too much," Trajan grumbled, grimacing as she sponged the cut on his 
upper arm with moist cotton wool.  "I'm used to looking black and blue all over." 

	"Sit still," Assiya insisted, "it will take only a few minutes longer.  I am putting 
some balm on your other bruises as well.  It will make you feel better, trust me."

	Trajan kicked his chair away when Assiya was finished.  Walking to the window 
he pounded his fist on the wooden post and leaned his head against it.  "I have a habit of 
losing my charges, haven't I?" he said bitterly.  

	Behind him, Assiya stroked his shoulders gently.  "Don't blame yourself, you 
couldn't possibly have expected or prevented it.  It is only recently that Vespar has 
decided to reinforce the borders.  It is not your fault!" 

      "I am really sorry about Conrad, Assiya."

	Assiya nodded, patted his hand. "Go and wash yourself.  I have cleaned and 
dried your old clothes.  You can put them on.  Meanwhile, I'll get your lunch ready and 
we will think out a way of getting Conrad back.  I feel somehow that he is not in 
danger."

	Jeremy came running through the open door when he was sitting at the table, still 
feeling sour and nursing his wounded pride.  

	"Captain!" cried the young Cougar breathlessly, his grey eyes bright with relief 
and gladness. "I heard about the attack.  Thank the Mountain Spirits that you are safe and 
well!"

	Trajan reacted with little enthusiasm. "But I am not well, far from it."

	"You should have taken me with you," Jeremy said, mildly critical, "I would have 
kept a better lookout and warned you when the border guards were approaching.  I 
would have put up a better fight than that feeble greenhorn!"  

	"Jeremy!" Trajan said in a disapproving voice, "were you with me this morning, 
you would have been taken prisoner instead.  There was a whole battalion on the prowl 
and we were totally unprepared.  And besides, Conrad was my responsibility." 

	Jackal was the second visitor enquiring how he was doing and dropping hints all 
over if he had a good couple of men, as Overman he would launch a direct attack across 
the boundary line and lay siege on all Vesparan outposts.  However, he was an Overman 
no more, which was just as well because no war was declared in Aseur. 

	Subsequently Deyron and Nagus filed through the door, showering him with 
anxious concern while at the same time availing themselves of the generous amounts of 
food and drink Assiya was putting out from the kitchen.  As agitation died down, the 
get-together around the table relaxed into an atmosphere of congeniality.  

	While his friends chattered away, Trajan wrestled with an inner turmoil that 
threatened to shatter his self-control.  For most of the time he ate or spoke little, and only 
sat there, his eyes darkgrey and pondering.  Listening to the merry voices of his friends 
and the good-natured jabbering around him soothed his troubled heart.  

'Find this Someone and you will find your true origin, but beware of treachery on the long 
and perilous road, the road that Another will also take, one who calls himself the 
Governor General of the Double Sun.'  Those were Dama Edina's words that seemed 
now so long ago.  

      Little by little the fog patches on his mind were dissipating and he regained his 
confidence.  When later in the day the Elder and the Village Chairman requested him to 
join them for a meeting in the communal brickhouse, the commander in him had won the 
battle.  

	The Village Chairman was consternated about what happened across the border, 
concerned on one hand about Conrad but plainly more concerned on the other hand about 
what it meant to the welfare and safety of his hamlet.  

	"I understand," Trajan said, "that I have created a rather nasty border incident."

	"I wouldn't put it in such a dramatic way, Captain," the Elder said, "It goes 
without saying the Chairman is anxious not to provoke our Vesparan neighbours, 
especially now that it appears the Governor General is taking personal charge of 
protecting the borders."  

	"What do you know about this Governor General?" Trajan asked and his question 
seemed to cause them discomfort.  

	"Personally not much," the Chairman wavered, "I'd say he is that sort of person 
that the Dominion, and especially my village, would not want to have as an adversary.  
We find ourselves in a rather delicate political stalemate.  	"As you know the threat 
from Magnificent Xandia across the Main is looming closer by the day.  The Dominion is 
considering an alliance with Vespar but at the same time it will attempt to open overtures 
with Magni-Xandia as well.  It is a necessary policy, giving the impression you want to 
have friendly ties with one party, without antagonizing the other."

	"Is it not so much better for the Dominion to enter into frank discussions with 
Vespar?"

	The Chairman wiggled his finger knowingly.  "It is not that simple, my boy.  We 
find the Governor General of Vespar a difficult man to draw into a discussion, and a very 
hard man to convince.  We fear his tremendous powers too; he is Regent as well as 
Governor General, which means he has the armed forces and the government under his 
control.  Which leads us to the issue of your skirmish this morning with his elite guards 
and young Conrad's unfortunate taking."

	"It is young Conrad we are mainly concerned about," the Elder broke in, carefully 
studying the Captain's face.  "He has broken no law and is an innocent victim of 
circumstance. If you have not resisted the Governor General's soldiers so well and in so 
doing kindled his ire, we would still have room to negotiate the boy's release." 

	"Do you want me to turn myself in or has the Governor General offered a reward 
for my capture?"

	The Chairman gesticulated his hands in a placating manner.  "Nothing of the sort, 
Captain.  I only wish to maintain my village's neutrality.  And the boy Conrad, he hasn't 
done any harm to anyone.  It is very hard for a young boy like him to be suffering, and 
under lock and key.  My village and my people cannot be held responsible for this 
unfortunate incident." 

	"Do you fear that the Governor General will come thundering through the border 
and ransack your village as punishment for the outrage committed on his territory?  Do 
not fear!  Trust my word, he will want to talk and he knows where to find me.  I know 
what he wants.  I am in a position to strike a bargain right now, but I would rather that he 
takes the first step.  I will stand my ground here in your village, Chairman and wait for 
word from the Governor General."

	The Elder stepped forward and observed Trajan with his glinting blue eyes.  "Who 
are you, Captain Ermiz?  You fight like a Cougar, as Jeremy told me, yet you speak the 
tongue of the Aristocrats and your eyes sparkle with mystery.  Jeremy and you could 
have been born in the same year.  Who is your Guardian?"

	"I am my own Guardian," Trajan said, his hand on the hilt of the poniard, "and I 
am telling you that the Governor General of the Double Sun and I will meet and sort 
things out."

* * *

	Trajan's prediction was fulfilled two days later, when the Governor General's 
emissary in his smart Vesparan dark-green uniform with golden piping along the trouser 
legs arrived with a royal message and threw the whole hamlet into uproar.  

	Trajan sent a message back stating his agreement with the terms of the summons.  
Jackal was feverish to know what crucial role he would be assigned to in this dramatic 
turning-point of events.  Jeremy was of the same mind, and the Chairman naturally was 
eager to know what it spelled out for the fate of his village.  And the Elder proffered the 
assistance of his wisdom and experience. 

	Trajan was adamant:  "I am going to the meeting place alone."  He paused and 
looked at Assiya. "Except you, Assiya, I want you to come with me."

	"That wouldn't be wise," the Elder grimly objected, "What can she do?"  

	"She can do a lot of things," Trajan said calmly, "Conrad is her ward, and I am 
trying to give him back to her."

	Assiya hurried to their cabin to get her cloak and Trajan pulled Jackal and Deyron 
aside from the little crowd which had assembled before the communal brickhouse.

	"There is one thing you both can do," he said softly.  "Make sure that no one of 
the village is following us.  I want no witnesses while I am conducting this meeting."

	The two affirmed they would carry out his instructions to the letter.  Trajan led 
Brightloft out of the stable when Assiya returned wrapped in her shawl, and she carried a 
new cloak for him hanging over her arm.  Soon, the horse sped out of the village bearing 
them both on his back with royal nonchalance.

	After an hour long ride they approached the designated place of contact and 
halted on the crest of a hill overlooking a densely wooded dell.  Trajan descended and 
assisted Assiya in getting off the horse.  He took her to an open spot amongst a cluster of 
saplings on the brow of the hilltop from where they could see, directly beneath them, a 
small clearing. 

	"Take my range-scanner," he instructed her, "you can hook it to your ear for 
comfort.  I've already coordinated the sensorbeams to my signals.  All you have to do is 
just look through it and don't lose sight of me.  Try it.  Do you see everything clearly 
within the Juxta Radius?"  

	"All things below me look as if they are only an arm's length away," Assiya 
replied.  

	"You got it.  Stay in this position and keep low.  Whatever happens, don't show 
yourself.  I will make sure that Conrad is released but I am not sure what will happen 
next.  If they take me, do nothing but return at once with Conrad and tell my companions 
not to leave the village.  Is that perfectly clear, Assiya?"  

	He gave her a fleeting, encouraging smile and pulling the cloak's hood over his 
face he went down the hill.  Arriving at the heart of the clearing, he stood and waited 
with arms folded and legs slightly apart.  During the moments ticking away no sounds 
came from the wind or creatures dwelling nearby. A heavy silence of suspense swathed 
the whole vale as if it waited like him.  Hence, with a slight rustle of leaves the tall and 
proud frame of the Governor General appeared from behind the trees on a low ridge.  

	The voice behind the helmet addressed him with the same bloodcurdling calm: 
"Why do you find it still necessary to hide your identity behind a cloak?  Have you in the 
meantime become so ugly that you even shun the sunlight?  I have seen your face, and 
your eyes, and I want to see them again while we talk.  Uncover yourself!" 

	"The same goes for you!" Trajan called out.  "I want to see your face while we 
negotiate, or there will be no talk between us.  I believe you and your men, and especially 
you as a representative of a government, have enough honour and decency not to shoot 
me when I turn my back to you!"  

	A silence followed as if the whole world forgot to breathe, only the gasp of the 
wind could be heard stirring through the leaves of the encircling wood.  The Governor 
General spoke then: "Now I hear you speak up, you amaze me once more with your 
courage.  You shall have your wish."  He gave a signal with his right hand.  "Let the boy 
go!"  

	Trajan pulled the hood off his head as Conrad appeared from behind a shrubbery 
at the foot of the ridge and was allowed to meet him.  He put his hands on the boy's 
shoulders and looked into his face.  The youth appeared a bit harried, perhaps, but none 
the worse for wear.

	"Are you well?"

	"I am fine, Captain!" Conrad replied as if it had all been a grand adventure.  

	Trajan smiled.  "Good stuff.  Now go up the hill, stay behind the trees and wait 
there for me."  

	As Conrad started to cross the clearing and climbed up the slope as he was told, 
the Governor General slowly descended from his apex position until he stood almost 
cheek by jowl. 

	"Before I let you see me," he spoke slowly.  "I want to know first what rank you 
are holding in the Command."

	"My rank is Captain."

	"And what is your name, Captain?"

	"My name is Trajan Schurell." 

	The Governor General made a movement as if a snake was about to attack him 
with its poisonous bite.

	"Are you REALLY?" he said in a terrible voice and drew the helmet off his head. 

	With wide eyes and lips slightly opening in stupefaction Trajan regarded a 
manliness upon whom age had lost meaning but whose hair had turned platinum by the 
toils of time, whose features were stern yet remarkably graceful, and whose grey on white 
eyes pierced him with the brightness of exploding suns. 

	Suddenly a shadow like a cloud moving across the face of the sun passed before 
his eyes.  He could not bring his eyes into focus; there was such an inexplicable, and 
nearly uncontrollable, drumming at his temples, swelling of his heart, and surging of 
emotions that he swayed and nearly fell in the dust at the feet of the Governor General.

	"TRAJAN!"  The hand that had caught his throat days ago with such cruelty was 
now gripping his shoulder, and the grip was powerful yet kind.  He shut his eyes, 
clenched his teeth and fell back into reality.  

	"Is there something amiss, Captain?  For a moment there you look pale." 

      "I'm all right." Trajan looked at the Governor General blandly.  "Maybe I am a 
little tired."

	"No doubt you are," the Governor General said, softening the grim curves of his 
lips into a truly winsome smile.  "I gather you have had a hard journey behind you, and I 
am willing to let bygones be bygones.  Your transgression across the demarcation line was 
perhaps an act of ignorance rather than of hostility.  And you have earned my admiration, 
and my men's, for the way you stood up against us.  Not many have managed to escape 
our hands in such a spectacular way!" 

      The Governor General drew the rephar out from under his mantle and handed it 
over.  "Do you believe me when I say I did not want to hurt you?  I could easily have put 
a bullet in your arm, or leg, to disable you, but I have not.  Can you accept my trust?"

	"Yes," Trajan said, accepting the rephar back, "I can."

	"Excellent!  Then come to Okrane as my guest.  I will furnish you with the 
necessary documents in a few days' time to let you cross the border legally."

	"I have friends and I would like them to come with me."

	"You can bring as many as you like.  Good day, Captain, we will see each other in 
Okrane!"

	The Governor General turned and ascended the ridge without deigning to put his 
helmet back on.  His silver hair streamed in the strengthening wind and his mantle flowed 
behind him like a purple stream.  As soon as he disappeared around a bend in the ridge, 
Trajan swiftly returned to the observation post where he had left Assiya with the range-
scanner.  

	"Have you seen everything clearly?" he asked breathlessly. "Do you know him?  
WHO is he?"

	Assiya slowly turned, unhooking the scanner.  Trajan gave a startled gasp as she 
fell forward on her knees and pressed her face into the grass, rocking herself in misery.  

	She raised her head and looked into his anxious eyes.  "I cannot explain by what 
divine instrument, or madness, this wonder has been forged, but I know I am right.  I will 
challenge anyone with my life to prove me wrong but when he took off his helmet, 
Captain, I know it is the truth:  he is your kinsman, Trajan Schurell the Elder!"  She then 
burst into bitter tears.  "O woe to us and the whole world: he has changed into a hard 
man!"