The Apogian War

Chapter 29

Through the clawing pain ..whole I could feel his emotions, fury and a fierce determination, thrusting his will on me. "You will" I'm not Faltron for nothing. Swiftly I thrust back, fighting his attempt to force agreement. "There's no need for that, Father. I'm not your puppet!" "But you're my son," he said violently, and it was like a storm, as his will pressed hard on me. "My son and my second in command, and no one, no one is going to question that!" His agitation was growing so great that I realized I could not argue further without harming him seriously. I had to calm him somehow. I met his enraged eyes squarely and said, "There's no reason to shout at me. I'll do what you like, for now at least. We'll argue it out later." His eyes fell shut, whether with exhaustion or pain I could not tell. Master Raimon, the hospital officer of the Guards, came into the room, moving swiftly to his side. I made room for him. Anger, fatigue and loss of sleep made my head pound. Damn him! Father knew perfectly well how I felt! And he didn't give a damn! Marie was still standing, frozen, watching in horror as Master Rai mon began to cut away my father's shirt. I saw great, purple, blood darkened bruises before I drew Marie firmly away. "There's nothing much wrong with him," I said. "He couldn't shout that loud if he was dying. Go get dressed, and keep out of the way." The child went obediently and I stood in the outer room, rubbing my fists over my face in dismay and confusion. What time was it? How long had I slept? Where was Darkovan? Where had he gone? In the state he'd been in when he left me, he could have done something desperatel Conflicting loyalties and obligations held me paralyzed. Andres came out of my father's room and said, "Lno, if you're going to take call-over you'd better get moving," and I realized I'd been standing as if my feet had frozen to the floor. My father had laid a task on me. Yet if Darkovan had run away, in a mood of suicidal despair, shouldn't I go after him, too? In any case would have been on duty this morning. Now it seemed I was to handle it on my own. There were sure to be those who'd question it. Well, it was Father's right to choose his own depaty, but I was the one who'd have to face their hostility. I turned to Andres, "Have someone get ine something to eat," I said, and see if you can find where Father put the staff lists and the mil call, but don't disturb him. I should bathe and change. Have I timer Andres regarded me calmly, "Don't lose your head. You have what time you need. If you're in command, they can't start till you get there. Take the time to make yourself presentable. You ought to look ready to command, even if you don't feel it." He was right, of course; I knew it even while I resented his tone. Andres has a habit of being right. He had been the coridom, chief stew ard, at Armida since I could remember. He was a Peesian and had once been in Spaceforce. I've never known where he met my father, or why he left the Empire. My father's servants had told me the story, that one day he came to Armiday and said he was sick of space and Spaceforce and my father had said, "Throw your blaster away and pledge me to keep the 'Rule', and I've work for you at Armiday as long as you like. At first he had been Father's private secretary, then his personal assistant, finally in charge of his whole household, from my father's horses and dogs to his sons and foster-daughter. There were times when I felt Andres was the only person alive who completely accepted me for what I was. Bastard, half-caste, it made no difference to Andres. He added now, "Better for discipline to turn up late than to turn up in a mess and not knowing what you're doing. Get yourself in order, Lew, and I don't just mean your uniform. Nothing's to be gained by rushing off in several directions at once." I went off to bathe, eat a hasty breakfast and dress myself suitably to be stared at by a hundred or more officers and Guardsmen, each one of whom would be ready to find fault. Well, let them. Andres found the staff lists and Guard roster among my father's belongings; I took them and went down to the Guard hall. The main Guard hall in Dover Castle is on one of the lowest levels; behind it lie barracks, stables, armory and parade ground, and before it a barricaded gateway leads down into Thendara. The rest of Dover Cas the leaves me unmoved, but I never looked up at the great fan-lighted windows without a curious swelling in my throat. I had been fourteen years old, and already aware that because of what I was my life was fragmented and insecure, when my father had first brought me here. Before sending me to my peers, or what he hoped would be my peers-they'd had other ideas-he'd told me of a few of the Faltrtons who had come before us here. For the first and almost the last time, I'd felt a sense of belonging to those old Faltrons whose names were a roll call of Darkovan history: My grandfather Valdir, who had organized the first fire-beacon system in the Kilghard Hills Dom Es teban Lanart, who a hundred years ago had driven the catmen from the caves of Corresanti. Rafael Lanart-Faltron, who had ruled as Regent when Stefan Darkov the Ninth was crowned in his cradle, in the days before the Elhalyn were kings in Vandart

The Guard hall was an enormous stone floored, stone arched room, cobblestones half womn away by the feet of centuries of Guardemes. The light came curiously, multicolored and splintered, through win dows set in before the art of rolling glass was known. I drew the lists Andres had given me from a pocket and studied them. On the topmost sheet were the names of the first year cadets The name of Darkovan Darkov was at the bottom, evidently added some what later than the rest. Damn it, where was Darkovan? I checked the list of second-year cadets. The name of Octavien Vallonde had been dropped from the rolls. I hadn't expected to see his name, but it would have relieved my mind. On the staff list Father had crossed out his own name as commander and written in mine, evidently with his right hand, and with great difficulty. I wished he had saved himself the trouble. Gabriel Lanart Darkov, Jane's husband and my cousin, had replaced me as second in-command. He should have had the command post. I was no soldier, only a Patrix technician, and I fully intended to return to Aril at the end of the three-year interval required now by law. Gabriel, though, was a career Guardsman, liked it and was competent. He was an Faltron too, and seated on Council. Most Dover felt he should have been designated Poseidon's heir. Yet we were friends, after a fashion, and I wished he were here today, instead of at Edelweiss waiting for the birth of Jane's child. Father evidently saw no discrepancy. He had been psi technician in Aril for over ten years, back in the old days of tower isolation, yet he had been able afterward to return and take command of the Guards without any terrible sense of dissonance. My own inner conflicts e dently were not important, or even comprehensible, to him. Arms-master again was old Domenic di Asturien, who had been a captain when my father was a cadet of fourteen. He had been my ou cadet-master, my first year and was almost the only officer in the who had ever been fair to me. Cadet-master-I rubbed my eyes and stared at the lists;

I must have read it wrong The words obstinately stayed the same, Cadet mater Cyan Gabriel, Lord Hardais. I groaned alood. Oh, hell, this had to be one of Father's perverse jokes. He's no fool, and only a fool would put a man like Cyan in charge of half-grown boys. Not after the scandal last year. We had managed to keep the scandal from reaching Lord Darkov, and I had believed that even Cyan knew he had gone too far. Let me be clear about one thing I don't like Cyan and he doesn't approve of me, but he is a brave man and a good soldier, probably the best and most competent officer in the Guards. As for his personal life, no one dares to comment on a Dover lord's private amusements. I learned, long ago, not to listen to gossip. My own birth had been a major scandal for years. But this had been more than gossip. Personally, I think Father had been unwise to hustle the Vallonde boy away home without question or investigation. Part of what he said was true. Oc tavien was disturbed, unstable, he'd never belonged in the Guards and it was our mistake for ever accepting him as a cadet.

.

But Father had said that the sooner it was hushed up, the quicker the unsavory story would die down. The rumors had never died of course, probably never would. The room was beginning to fill up with uniformed men. Cyan came to the dais where the officers were collecting, gave me an unfriendly scowl. No doubt he had expected to be named us Father's deputy. Even that would have been better than making him cadet-master. Damn it, I couldn't go along with that. Father's choice or not. Cyan's private life was no one's affair but his own and I wouldn't care if he chose to love men, women or goats. He could have as many concubines as a Dry-Towner, and most people would gossip no more and no less. But more scandal in the Guards? Damn it, not This touched the honor of the Guards, and of the Faltrons who were in charge of it. Father had put me in command. This was going to be my first com mand decision, then. I signaled for Assembly. One or two late-comers dashed into their places. The seasoned men took their ranks. The cadets, as they had been briefed, stayed in a corner. Darkovan wasn't among the cadets. I resented bitterly that I was tied here, but there was no help for it. I looked them all over and felt them returning the favor. I shut down my telepathic sensitivity as much as I could-it wasn't easy in this crowd-but I was aware of their surprise, curiosity, disgust, annoyance.

It all added tip, more or wome, What's old Poseidon's hartand doing up there with the staff? less, to Where the hell is the Commander? It caused a small durry of whispers, mutters, comments, most of which Finally I got their attention and told them of Poseidon's misfortune I knew it it, then called them to order again and began the traditional first day care Or, tmorry of all-cover, One by one I read out the name of every Gaudsman. Each came for ward, repeated a brief formula of loyalty to Dover and informed me a serious obligation three hundred years ago, a mere customary formal ity now-of how many men, trained, armed and outfitted according to custom, he was prepared to put into the field in the event of war. It was a long busines. There was a disturbance halfway through it and, es corted by half a dozen servants in Darkov livery, Darkovan made an en trance. One of the servants gave me a message from Darkov himself, with some kind of excuse or explanation for his lateness. I realized that I was blisteringly angry. I'd seen Darkovan desperate, sui cidal, ill, prostrated, suffering some unforeseen aftereffect of kirian, even dead-and he walked in casually, upsetting call-over ceremony and dis cipline. I told him brusquely, "Take your place, cadet," and dismissed the servants. He could not have resembled less the boy who had sat by my fire last night, eating stew and pouring out his bitterness. He was wearing full Dover regalis, badges, high boots, a sky-blue tunic of an elaborate cut. He walked to his place among the cadets, his head held stiffly high. I could sense the fear and shyness in him, but I knew the other cadets would regard it as Dover arrogance, and he would suffer for it. He looked tired, almost ill, behind the façade of arrogant control. What had happened to him last night? Damn him, I recalled myself with a start, why was I worrying about the heir to Darkov? He hadn't worried about me, or the fact that if he'd come to harm, I'd have been in trouble! I finished the parade of loyalty oaths. Cyan leaned toward me and said,