CHAPTER VIII


OKRANE SPRING




	While they waited for the travel documents to arrive, it was quickly decided who would 
accompany Trajan to Okrane: all his companions who had crossed the Main with him, and 
additionally, Assiya, Conrad and the Elder.  Feverish preparations for the journey followed.  

	It was a time for the Elder to put his Clan's state of affairs in some governing order, since 
he expected his absence in Okrane to be of uncertain duration; for the others it was a period of 
packing up the things that they would bring along, resting, strengthening bonds, and quarrelling.  

	One morning, Trajan sat at the table in his cabin reading and rereading the letter of 
Starglory's finding in Aberon until the words turned to moving images in his mind.  He pondered 
the surges of emotion when he gazed into two different pairs of eyes: the Governor General's 
and those eyes that had peered at him from the past with such painful clarity when he stood 
before the burial mound in that canyon of the Acier Shield.  Eyes of a different depth, of 
profound sadness and of--love.  There was no love in the Governor General, only an obsession 
to possess and to excel.  The pieces of this puzzle were slowly falling into place but there were 
still several missing.  He raised his head when a loud commotion came from the outside yard.  
Driven by curiosity he walked to the door and with astonishment looked upon a half circle of 
spectators watching and encouraging with jeers and catcalls two figures locked in a sort of unruly 
wrestling match. 

	On the sidelines Assiya was tearing her hair out and when she perceived him appearing at 
the door, she rushed up to him with a heated and flurried face.  	"Stop them, Captain!  Those 
two brats are fighting each other.  I have never seen such shameful behaviour!" 

	For a while Trajan observed the confused jumble of Jeremy and Conrad rolling and 
wriggling in the dust, while the hoots and whistles grew louder and louder, and to Assiya's utter 
shock he broke into laughter.  She was further outraged when he accepted a challenge from 
Jackal and put a bet of thirty Nukes on Jeremy.  

	"Simmer down, Assiya!" he said, light-heartedly, strolling into the centre of the yard.  
"Sooner or later their animosity has to come into the open and what's more stimulating than a 
good letting out of steam in front of everybody, although I think they're fighting each other 
more like dogs than Cougars.  Watch out there, Conrad!  He is going to use his knee, well, 
almost."  

	"Use your head, Jeremy, use your head!" Deyron cried from the opposite side.  

	"Come on, Conrad, come on, throw dust into his eyes!" Jackal spurred from another 
corner. 

	In the end neither of the two won as they grew weary and their fury petered out.  
Nonetheless, Jackal counted out thirty shining Nuclear Irridio-chips into Trajan's palm.  "I am 
thirty Nukes poorer," he said, displaying his strong teeth in a broad grin, "but it was a thrilling 
performance, and I was getting bored.  I was rather hoping Conrad would make a killing.  He is 
more alert and a head taller than that uncouth mountain whippersnapper."

	"Yes, but he is not trained to fight," Trajan said and strode to the two contestants, who 
with bruised faces and torn clothes stood eyeing each other rather humbly and dejectedly in the 
emptying courtyard.  "Shake hands," he quietly ordered and after they did, he slipped fifteen 
Nukes into each of their hands. "A little something to have a good time in Okrane.  Listen to me, 
no more tiffs and fighting from now on.  I promote you both to my Acting Sergeants.  In the 
afternoon I will give you a few lessons in Hand-to-Nerve combat.  Go and wash yourself and let 
Assiya take care of you with her balms."  

	Aside from this little fray between the two wards, Trajan was too preoccupied with 
himself to participate fully in the monotonous rhythm of village life.  He rechecked all his 
apparatus and weapons, and rewrapped them securely.  Assiya remained loyally at his side and 
tended to the cabin and his daily needs but no more words of profound deliberation were 
exchanged between them.  There was nothing more to be done than go and meet destiny in 
Okrane.  

	For him, the objective to find the IsoMén Equation in this Sphere had edged into top 
priority; everything else paled by comparison.  His second priority was to find Leoynar's 
whereabouts; Leoynar's fate was the other mental affliction which kept him awake at nights.  
Leoynar, uncle no more, but still a part of his heart and soul.

	At long last after twelve days the crisp-looking Adjutant of the Governor General made 
his sensational appearance in the village with the travel documents.  	"The Governor 
General would be most pleased," he said with a smart bow, "if the Captain is willing to take part 
of his ceremonial procession into Okrane."

	"Ceremonial procession?"  

	"The citizens of Okrane would always like to welcome back their Regent from one of his 
missions with all the grandeur he deserves and see what conquests he has achieved, the number 
of captured insurgents he has in tow."

	"No," Trajan said flatly, "I prefer entering Okrane on my own."

	From the adjutant's appalled expression it was clear he would convey this decision to the 
Governor General word for word and Trajan was counting that he would; the Governor General 
for all his pompous "Double Sun" eminence was starting to fray his nerves.  His retinue departed 
the hamlet the following day when the sprinkle of stars was still twinkling in the fast fading 
night.  

	Okrane was almost a day travelling away at brisk speed; however, Trajan was of the mind 
they had wasted enough time and he urged them to drive their horses on with even greater speed.  
During the swift journey many of the party were wondering whether it would be more 
comfortable for them to grow wings than this breakneck galloping on the hard backs of horses, 
without a moment's pause.  The adjutant rejoined them on the road when they had left the 
woods and were speeding across a stretch of grasslands.  

	As the sun was leaning low towards a western roll of hills, the travellers saw at the distant 
end of the road the lofty spires of Okrane soaring in the sky and gleaming golden-blue against 
the red glow of the approaching dusk.  Jackal who had been riding beside the adjutant suddenly 
spurred his horse and went ahead at full blast, vanishing in a cloud of dust. 

	"What's all this haste?" Trajan asked, turning his head.

	"It seems that his grandfather is alive and well in Okrane," Nagus answered, who was 
sharing a horse with his faithful companion, Ralph. 

	"There goes a happy hireling," Trajan said wistfully, and his gloominess lifted a little.  
Dego Kolmarin was alive: that was something to look forward to.  He drew Brightloft alongside 
Nagus' bay to exchange a few words of banter with Ralph who, he suddenly realized, was the 
somewhat neglected member of his party.  He was also aware it was the boy's unassuming and 
uncomplaining way of seeing things through which somehow assisted in turning Nagus around, 
and Ralph's devotion to his new comrade was apparent in the adoring way he sometimes glanced 
at him. 

	The horses slowed down as the company approached the city's boundaries and following 
the Adjutant's guidance they avoided the Head Portal where a crowd had gathered, and slipping 
through a side gate they entered the heart of Okrane. 

	"Captain," the adjutant said, "I have prepared accommodation for your friends in a 
nearby high-class guest-house but my instructions are to bring you to the Royal Castle."

	"I am inclined to stretch my legs and explore the city on my own," Trajan told him 
gruffly. "Any objections to that?" 

	"Of course not, Captain," the adjutant said submissively. "If you would leave your horse 
to me, I will take care of him and lead the others to their chambers.  You will have no difficulty 
in finding the castle after your stroll, but do not be late on any account, I pray.  The Governor 
General does not like tardiness."  

	"And I do not like the Governor General constantly reminding me of his authority!" he 
spat into the adjutant's startled face.  "I will come to the castle in my own time."  He spun round 
and marched down an avenue lined with azaleas, leaving his charges into the able hands of the 
adjutant who had quickly resumed his starchiness of mien. 

	Okrane was a city of trees, flower bushes and affluence, and Okranians had a semblance 
of culture and nobility that he had not so far seen in other cities.  Appearing less engrossed in 
facial aesthetics than the Merinburgers, they displayed their current fancy with New Aristocracy 
with robes and costumes of organza, silk and satin of gold and blue which were the royal colours.  
The merchants minding the open bazaars on the boulevards were trading in respectable pottery, 
jewellery and trendy accessories, rather than synthetic human parts.  It appeared Okranians have 
a passion of tinselling their trees with little star sequins and garlanding their street corners and 
lamp posts with roses and hyacinth.  The fragrance of newfound spring and the gaiety of 
celebration flowed all over the Royal Capital.  

	The multitude of citizens lining the avenues with an air of anticipation reminded Trajan 
what they were going to celebrate, and it made no sense needlessly incurring the Governor 
General's wrath upon his return to the regency.  He therefore asked the way to the castle of a 
passer-by and was directed in a prompt and friendly manner to an edifice gleaming turquoise-
blue under the fading rays of the sun.  It ruled and towered over the city like a tall forest of 
parapets and pinnacles shingled with gold and marble, and turrets plied with the colour of 
summer skies.  On the battlements pennants and lanterns of various tinges and shapes fluttered 
and curled in the breeze.  

	Not wishing to be part of the crowd cheering the Governor General, Trajan steered clear 
from the thoroughfare which led to the grand archway of the castle and prowled around at the 
foot of the rampart in two minds of what to do next: whether to enter the castle now or wait 
until it was dark.  The sudden activation of his communicator made him jump up and for seconds 
he could not believe the voice coming through the optic artery. 

	"Leoynar!  Are you HERE?" He looked around frantically. "Where are you?"  

	"Up here," came Leoynar's voice distinctly, "on the rampart!  There is a side gate near 
you which the guards have opened.  Come up, Trajan!"

	Trajan followed the direction that was given and came upon an iron gate at the foot of a 
buttress.  He hurried through it and mounted a stairwell which led him up the bulwark and there 
before him standing tall beneath a golden-blue pennant was Leoynar, sound, unblemished, and in 
the best of health.  They ran to each other, embraced tightly, and for moments were unable to 
speak.  Then stepping back to get a better view of Leoynar, Trajan exclaimed incredulously: "By 
the Lars, this is an occasion to celebrate indeed!  And you look like a noble Praecel once more!"  

	"And you look outrageously like an unwashed Steppetrekker!" Leoynar burst out in 
hilarity.  "There is so much that has happened and so much I want to tell you.  I knew you were 
coming and have been trying to raise you on the communicator ever since, but I think there is 
something wrong with the long span artery of my Insignia.  How are our other companions?"  

	"They are all here in Okrane, we have all made it safely! And there is something I have to 
tell you too, Leoynar!  But--."  A sudden uncomfortable thought clouded his face.  "But I do 
not know how to tell you."

	Leoynar put a hand on his arm.  "There will be plenty of time for telling each other stories 
but first, come, Trajan, let's go down into the garden."  

	They took a staircase which wound down from the bulwark into the park of evergreens 
which encircled the castle.  Taking Trajan by the arm Leoynar led him through the wood and 
coming upon a bright garden filled with acacia and myrtle bushes, Leoynar halted and pointed:  
"Trajan, look over there, by the pond."

	Trajan followed the indication of Leoynar's finger and once more with a leap of his heart 
he thought his eyes were deceiving him.  He grew rigid and the blood drained from his face.  

	Maykin who stood nearby was beckoned away by a sign of Leoynar's hand while Eirini 
turned and slowly straightened up, and the two swans that she had been feeding swam away.  
She looked at him and her eyes filled with tears.  He had not changed, smudged with dirt, 
bedraggled, but not changed in any way.  And still there was such suffering in his eyes.  The 
tears streamed down her cheeks.  If she had wounded him, his wound was no greater than hers.  

	Trajan hurried forward and fell on his knees before her, seizing her hands he pressed them 
to his lips.  "You did what you thought was right, Eirini.  And we have found each other."

	"Trajan!" Eirini sobbed, falling on his neck, holding his head tight to her bosom, her tears 
mingling with the dust and dirt in his hair. "We both did what we thought was right.  And I have 
never stopped thinking of you, longing for you.  In the darkest hours, your Life I have tasted has 
kept me strong." 

	"And nothing has changed," Trajan said, rising to his feet, holding her waist and with his 
fingers wiped the tears from her face, "I have not changed, my love for you has not changed."  

	"I know," Eirini whispered, "I know now."  She clasped his face between her hands, 
looking at his eyes which had often gazed at her through the mists of her dreams, and stood on 
tiptoe to meet his lips.  

	"A touching scene," a cool voice cut through the sweetness of their embrace.  Trajan 
froze.  He released Eirini and stepped back, his eyes wandering to the erect figure of the 
Governor General on a snow white horse, who had approached them in stealth from the front 
yard of the castle, where his entourage was still waiting.  

	"I see the lady has made a conquest already," he said quietly.  "And looking at you, my 
lovely girl, I also understand why he was so easily captured this time!  But is this how you treat 
your ladies, spoiling their pretty clothes with your shabbiness and not even offering them a 
proper escort into the castle?" 

	He waved an imperious finger.  "A horse for the lady!"  He ruffled Trajan's hair playfully 
with his riding whip. "Don't glare at me like that, my young warrior.  I am not going to steal her 
from you.  If you do not know your manners, I do.  I am just giving your girl the benefit of 
making her entrance into the castle which befits a princess.  And go, take a bath and put yourself 
in a nice suit.  You look like a beggar!"  

	Eirini shot Trajan a confused look as she was assisted by a valet onto a brown gelding but 
he held himself back without a murmur of protest and the Governor General whisked her away at 
his side.  In a sullen mood he left the bank of the pond and walked back to the rim of the wood.  
Seeing the ghastly expression on Leoynar's face, his pensiveness immediately made way for 
alarm, and then an ominous calm.  

	"Leoynar, you haven't seen him before, the Governor General of Vespar?"

	"No, Trajan, I have not seen him before, but now that I have with my own eyes, it is too 
remarkable to believe.  He is--," Leoynar paused, observing Trajan's composure.  "But you 
already know."

	"Believe it, Leoynar and no, I didn't know, I've only assumed, but now I know for sure.

	"That a part of our mission is accomplished.  We have found Lar Irwain, your great-
grandfather."

	"Yes, Leoynar."  Trajan gave out a low harsh chuckle.  

	Leoynar widened his eyes in shock.  "This is hardly a time for humour."

	"It is a laughable situation nonetheless.  I haven't told you the Command's secret 
directive to me that I am telling you all the same, since it has lost meaning in this turn of events.  
The directive was to find Lar Irwain and take him into custody, to bring him back to face a 
tribunal of enquiry.  He is Regent and Governor General of the Double Sun of Vespar.  It would 
even make the Tres-Tiorem think twice to lay a finger on him!"

* * *

	What does it mean? Trajan stepped out, dripping from the warm bathtub, and reflecting 
on the elements of dust and dirt, physically and mentally, one gathers on one's wanderings.  
What did it mean for him?  Personally, nothing but chaos in the family, but professionally his 
mind was clear as to how the next stage of his operation would be formed.  He would not even 
allow the dilemma of Starglory stand in the way, the dilemma of an unfinished Conception, since 
it was now clear who the Governor General really was.  He was a commander first and matters of 
family dropped as the very last on his chain of priorities. Leoynar's safe return had at least done a 
great deal to remove a harassing mental obstacle and had strengthened his commitment to the 
Command.  

	After he had bathed and dressed himself in a silk blue shirt and dark trousers that had 
already been laid out by some unseen domestic, Dego Kolmarin came to visit him in his 
chambers, bringing along a valet who set the table with glasses, plates, silver and generous 
amounts of food and drinks.  They greeted each other warmly as close friends.  

	"It took some hard talking to convince the Governor General to leave you alone at least 
for dinner," the Royal Counsel chuckled.  "Anyway I take precedence over him, I met you first, 
and you were in a terrible state when we parted."

	"But I am here now," Trajan said smiling. 

	"Yes, you are," Dego affirmed, his face wrinkling in pleasure, "and fine looking too.  No 
wonder the Governor General is taking such an uncommon interest in you."  

	They seated at the table as Dego's valet poured out wine and then stood back at a 
respectful distance.  Thoughtfully prodding the food on his plate with a fork, Trajan began, 
"What do you know about the Legend?"  

	"The Forbidden Legend of the Lords Laris," Dego mused, "I've heard snatches of it, 
fragments of tales of the Fallen Angels, but if you want me to relate the whole thing, you must 
forgive me.  I am not familiar with the details of their history.  For that you need a starcaster, and 
starcasters are very difficult to find nowadays.  But I know for a fact," Dego paused, frowning 
in concentration, "that the great-grandfather of the former Governor General, Carlomon, you 
must remember him, had something to do with the old movement of Terra-Purists.  Carlomon 
may know more of their secrets than the common people.  That is one of the reasons why he was 
in possession of a device with which he infiltrated your world.

	"Once I likened you to a Fallen Angel, didn't I," Dego shook his head ruefully. "I spoke 
in jest, because I have not really seen any of them with my own eyes. I am not old enough!  Folk 
often picture them as immaculate beings of great beauty, who brought greater harm than good to 
the world, and maybe even that was not entirely true.  When I returned I was of the mind to 
study their history more closely, but with all the excitement that followed and my new post, it 
has come to naught."

	"Speaking of the device that Carlomon had, what happened to it?"

	"When we came back through the tunnel of light, we landed smack bang right into a 
rebellion.  Carlomon had to flee for his life with his group, and the rebel soldiers liberated us.  I 
believe the complex which housed the device was destroyed."  

	"Are you sure?" 

	"I am not able to say for sure.  You see, the complex was constructed on the edge of no 
man's land between Geosphere D'Or and the Great Barrier Smaze.  You may want to question 
our own Governor General, for I am quite sure that he knows more about it."

	"Can you pinpoint on a map its exact location?" 

	"Why do you want to do that?" Kolmarin returned with some discomfort.  

	Looking at him earnestly, Trajan said: "I can speak freely to you, Dego.  Why do you 
think have I come here?  It is true that during the course of my stay I have become quite fond of 
your people who have borne themselves with such tremendous bravery and I am concerned about 
them, but I am Iucarian first, and my mission is to ensure that no more intrusions are carried out 
into Iucarian space.  I have come here to destroy the device, all devices of the IsoMén Equation, 
by which Carlomon used to link our two worlds.  Seeing your world has convinced me all the 
stronger that link must be broken.  Iucarians are not prepared, not yet, to wage a brutal war."

	"I understand.  How can I forget our despair and sufferings in that underground bastion 
of Carlomon?  You brought us home and to freedom.  First thing early tomorrow morning I will 
bring you a map and point out the location of the complex in the Zilch Zone along the rim of the 
Great Barrier Smaze."

	"I am grateful to you, Dego.  In spite of the commitment to my own world, I am not 
blind to the perils your people are facing, and I especially mean the people of Vespar, and of the 
Dominion, against the threat of Magni-Xandia."

	"So far no war has been declared between Magni-Xandia and Vespar, or the Dominion," 
said Dego, "but you can be sure as two and two makes four Carlomon is itching to take Vespar 
back, at whatever the costs.  If Carlomon escalates the war into Vespar, the Dominion will find it 
very hard to remain neutral, and it is my personal belief that a treaty between the Dominion of 
Aseur and the Sovereignty of Vespar is the most effective deterrent to hold back the Tar-Clad 
Hordes of the Paramount." 

	"Why is that so hard to accomplish." 

	"Pride, distrust," Dego declared with a wide, resigned smile, "we are by nature suspicious 
of each other.  And our own Governor General took it rather badly when at some critical point 
during the Rebellion, the Dominion refused to come to his aid.  Now that he has won the battle, 
naturally he wants to do nothing more with the rest of Aseur but this is hardly the time to nurse 
old grudges. If Magni-Xandia decides to attack, now that it has the whole of the Setting 
Continent under its heel, Vespar is not strong enough to meet the challenge alone."  

	"And no one can make the Governor General see reason," Trajan observed. 

	"For the people he is a real hero.  He has given Vespar peace, stability and prosperity but 
he is also as stubborn and hard as a rock."  Dego raised his hands in helpless frustration.  "For a 
man who rarely listens to people, advice from a midget D'Orrian like me hardly matters."

	"And yet," Trajan said with some amusement, "you are Royal Counsel."  

	"Oh," Dego wiped his mouth with a flourish, "Mind you, Royal Counsel to Queen 
Fleuridi, but not to the Regent.  He takes his own counsel."  He eyed Trajan with some 
speculation.  "Do you think, since he has obviously taken such a liking to you, if you could 
hammer some sense into his headstrong brain."  

	"Hammer is hardly the word," Trajan laughed, "he is the one who will be doing the 
hammering.  He nearly had me dragged into Okrane, do you know that?  And I'm a bit shy of 
sparring with him.  By the way, how is Jackal doing?"  

	"Jackal?" For a moment Dego was mystified, then he started to laugh. "Al is doing fine I 
believe."

	Trajan's lips twisted into a smile. "Al?"

	"That is his real name, short for Algar.  I've sent him off to a skin grafter to make him 
look like a normal human being again. Shocking it really is how today's youth can intentionally 
mutilate themselves with such gusto." 

	In a more subdued tone Trajan continued:  "Could you tell me what happened to 
Carlomon's party who came out with him from Iucari-Tres."  

	"That, my young Captain, is a real tragedy." 

	Dego told him what had befallen Hern Byrull after their arrival and what Lisaloran had 
become.  No sooner had he finished when the crisp adjutant entered and announced that the 
Governor General wanted an audience right away with the Captain.  Dego left, promising that he 
would return for breakfast and Trajan followed the adjutant struggling between a feeling he 
would rather be somewhere far away and a determination to face up to the Governor General 
and sound him out.  The letter written when the Governor General called himself Lar Irwain was 
in his pocket.

	The Governor General's private residence was situated in a section of the castle which 
could rightly be called a self-contained mansion.  A grand carpeted staircase led to the door of 
his salon and when they entered, he was standing on a balcony looking down at Okrane dancing 
with lights under the warm night.  He had changed his uniform with a formal dinner suit which 
accentuated his striking appearance even more.  He turned and his grey eyes studied Trajan with 
keen appreciation.  The adjutant left the salon, softly closing the door.  

	The Governor General spoke:  "I thought you would be looking much better when you 
are clean, and I gather Royal Counsel Kolmarin has kept you pleasurably amused." 

	Trajan willed himself to sober down."We have just been recapturing old times."

	"It is amazing that you two have met before, not in very enjoyable circumstances, so I 
have heard, but a meaningful encounter nonetheless.  When I was told of it, it struck me with the 
significance that we were both fighting Carlomon at the same time, at opposite sides of space, so 
to speak.  He was defeated through our joint efforts, and presumably that is why you are here, 
but that is not important.  For me what matters most is that at last I have found what I am 
looking for." 

	"What were you looking for?"

	The Governor General approached, looking at him with an intense, passionate gaze. "At 
ease, Commander" he said gently.  "Perhaps you don't know me as yet, but I know you, the first 
time I saw you I knew you immediately."

	"I know you too, My Lar Irwain Trevarthen."  

	For a moment the Governor General stood absolutely still.  He returned the challenge 
without raising his voice: "Leoynar must have seen me and told you.  His presence in the castle 
has come to my knowledge only recently.  Do not address me again in that name, it has long 
since been discarded in the past, a past which has no meaning for me." 

	"How could you say that!" Trajan exclaimed in anger.  "How can you just throw away 
your legacy like a pack of dirt.  You abandoned your protectorate, you created conflict and strife 
amongst your descendants.  You abused your authority!"

	"Silence!" the Governor General ordered in a hard voice, "or I'll have you thrown into the 
dungeons for your insolence." 

	"Do what you will!" Trajan snatched out from his pocket a folded, yellowed envelope 
and held it with a clenched hand to the Governor General's face.  "Clamp me in irons, flog me 
but this I have to say.  Recognize this letter you wrote to your son, Eugene?  You deserted him, 
leaving him alone, unprotected, untutored how to control a dangerous force, that nearly 
annihilated a whole principality.  Don't you care what happened to your sons?  Are they just 
fodder to be thrown to the winds?" 

	The Governor General raised a hand as if to strike him but the hand held back at the last 
second. 

	"Trajan!" he said, his eyes gleaming like the grey tips of spears, "there is such defiance in 
you that I could hurt you, but I am proud.  Nobody has ever defied me before with such force.  
The past means nothing to me, because it just feels like emptiness.  Everything and everyone in it 
are but shadows in a dream.  Now is here, I am what I am now and when I saw you at the 
fountain in Merinburg from my window I knew my destiny had been fulfilled:  I have found my 
son!"  

	Trajan took a step backwards.  "That is not possible." 

	"It is true," the Governor General insisted in a gentler voice.  "I don't know, and I don't 
care how it became so, but I believe it is the truth.  You are my heir, blood of my veins.  I've 
searched and traced your whereabouts all over Merinburg's harbour, then the sea and the borders 
in the north.  I was going to treat you as a dignitary if you were willing to come, but also bring 
you in by force as my prisoner if you were not so willing.  This time, I will not abandon my son, 
as you have chosen to accuse me, but I want him here with me always."

	He plucked the envelope from Trajan's hand.  "The letter I wrote so long ago," he said 
meditatively.  "Spores of corruption lie dormant in Iucari-Tres too, even with so much honour 
and blossoming of talents and cultures.  It needed a warning and if that warning came in the 
form of calamity, then the Iucarians have brought that upon themselves for listening to the voice 
of greed and not heeding my words, but of course how could they understand as I myself don't 
even understand the forces of the Hexstone.  Only the One who can take the Light into his bare 
hand.  A fancy tale!  It does not matter now.  You call yourself Schurell and I call myself 
something else."  He kindled a fire in the hearth and tossed the envelope into the flames.  "What 
matters is that you are my memory and my everlasting spirit." 

	Trajan took a deep breath. He does not remember, he does not remember he was the 
firstborn son of Lord Filimon Schurell.  "Your memory and your everlasting spirit?  You are 
assuming much."  The sarcasm in his voice made Governor General to look at him sharply.

	"Am I?  You are just attempting to draw me into a fight.  You accuse me of deserting my 
duties, even though I was the one who had been deserted many times by those I once loved, but 
of course you are too young to know about it.  Let me tell you, my obligations lie presently with 
Vespar, and here will I stay and die to protect its people."  

	"And yet you refuse to negotiate a treaty."  

	The Governor General glared at him. "Is that important in your opinion?  How can a 
treaty help Vespar against Carlomon."  

	"He has a whole continent and you are only one region. With the Dominion of Aseur you 
can create a united front to repel the forces of Carlomon across the Main.  It is a sound policy 
and makes perfect sense to me."  

	A haunting smile flitted across the Governor General's stern face.  "You have been here 
only for such a short time and already you are stating business as it should.  You are certainly one 
who will give me more surprises than disappointment.  Very well, I will open negotiations with 
the Dominion of Aseur on one condition."  The Governor General drew himself up, a figure of 
unrelenting power.  "You will pay me the Iucarian homage of a son to his father."

	Trajan stared at him with wide eyes, holding his breath.  One part of him would be to 
grasp that stern hand and press it to his brow, just as Valorin and Alden must have done, quaking 
in their boots.  Another part, an urgent voice within cautioned that something was still missing.  
If this was his father, who was his mother?  He was given up on Evening Star out of love.  The 
Governor General would never have given him up.  A dead calm was in his voice as he said, "No, 
you have not proven to me that you are my father.  Maybe in time you will.  But not now."  

	They regarded each other in a lull before hurricanes.  A ghost of a smile softened the 
Governor General's face, dispensing the tension that waited like charged electricity in the air.  
"So be it, for the time being.  We are both too strong and cannot yield so lightly to each other.  In 
time you will see and in spite of what the others think of you, you are but a stripling to me and 
you will listen to my command.  Tomorrow you dress yourself in a uniform of my Elite Guards.  
As a commander of the Spacio Command you will know how to handle flycraft and I want you 
to take charge of the unit.  Go now, my son, until tomorrow."

	Trajan bowed slightly and left.  The Governor General once again turned his eyes to the 
flowing glitter of Okrane beneath the balcony, recalling an earlier scene when out of a window of 
the Chine Residence in Merinburg, he observed this young man washing himself with the water 
of the fountain, taking in with beating heart the contours and texture of the face, hair and the 
eyes.  A face not unlike his own, giving him the sensation that for a moment he looked in a mirror 
of the past, seeing himself whole again and not scarred and broken.  Trajan Schurell.  At last the 
name meant something, a name forged in blood, and even though there would be many a clash of 
wills between the two of them, he felt at last a great satisfaction and a lingering sense he thought 
was lost to him forever, a sense of a grain of love.