CHAPTER XII


MOPPING UP IN SUNDER




Afternoon approached with the ultimate dispersion of storm
cloud remnants, and the reappearance of the HeliĆ in full
force. Prohibited for a span of days to entertain denizens
below with the Enigma of Wholly Two in Sunder, the Equation
blazed upon the area. A breeze lent some coolness to the
principality, breathing ripples over the fields that were
still drowned by pools of water, tugging at waterlogged
plants and trees, but mingling with the freshness of the air
streams came a faint stench of death.

To mop up and cleanse Myaron was the new battle cry of
Royan's unit but until a fresh detachment of commanders
arrived, he had to make do with his bone-weary group.
Members of the Rescue Force had their hands full with the
number of casualties. Jefroy, who had become close friends
with Director Milraus and the guiding light of the Myaron
Sanatorium, had not come along and had already lost himself
among the inundated surgery rooms of the Sanatorium. Until
another company of rescuers augmented the Force, little
assistance would be expected from that front. Earlier in the
day, Royan had consulted with the Command whether he could
mobilize the former guards of Carlomon into the operation
and he was reminded that the correct procedure was to put
them first in quarantine. He had presented their case with
great ardour, arguing it was to the advantage of the
Tres-Tiorem in general, and of Iucarian society in
particular, that those youngsters be put to the test as to
their true intentions, and to work consequently. The Command
had conceded: "Lieutenant, you are in charge of Myaron. Do
whatever you think is best."

Thus, Royan's command was increased by a score of eleven
strong. Two more were added when both Adilar and Fredric
returned in the afternoon. In the morning, they had fled
retching from the scene and not a word passed through
Royan's lips. He knew that only great discipline and the
training they had received prevented his commanders from
doing the same.

"The corpses outside on the flooded fields are our immediate
concern," he said, "they are a breeding-ground for disease
now the HeliĆ has come up. I want to round them up as
quickly as possible so that the lab Stewards can do their
job as soon as they get here. We will start from the road
and gradually work our way towards the airstrip and the
castle. There will be a number of them looking more like
animals than people. Set them apart.

"A word of advice," this was directed particularly to Adilar
and Fredric, "don't go near the Byrull place alone, and
without a weapon."

"Surely you don't expect anyone to be still alive," Fredric
muttered and felt a sudden chill despite the warm day.

"You'll never know," Royan said.

Jefroy had sent Adilar as on-the-scene Rescue Officer for in
his capacity the Marshall had to consider the possibility,
however remote, that there might be injured who needed
medical assistance. It was not an assignment Adilar had
zealously volunteered for; contrariwise, in the initial
stages it was marked with shameful desertion, but now he
that he was back, he wanted to see with his own eyes what
Trajan had seen, albeit dead rather than alive.

Tents serving as makeshift mortuaries were set up along the
roadside and from there they went across to the once stately
Byrull palace, now a huge scorched and jagged ruin. The
pillars that still stood jabbed into the sky like blackened
arms in rigor. They were extremely alert for sudden attacks,
but there were none, and except for some cadavers of the
spiky Mutations, nothing else could be seen. It was on the
narrow patch of the airstrip and the immediate vicinity
where the massacre manifested itself in appalling numbers as
if the fury of an underground volcano had punched a hole
through the centre of the tarmac and erupted with bodies and
floods of underground water, and scattered the horrid load
far and wide.

Royan stayed with his company until he was satisfied that
the operation would continue smoothly. He asked Lieutenant
Fedros to take over supervision so that he and Adilar could
return to Myarvil to attend the Town Council's meeting. They
had not forgotten the proposal of the Dowager of Ayrie and
were resolved to implement it sooner than later.

Upon the road coming into Myarvil, they saw from a distance
that a large convoy of tankers and skimmers was approaching
the outskirts of the town. They broke into a run and waved
and welcomed the fresh contingents of Commanders, Rescuers
and Science Stewards that had arrived with supplies of food,
medicine and loads of other provisions given the size of the
containers. These forces had not been able to land spitsoars
in Myaron because of the still flooded surroundings but had
to station themselves first in a neighbouring principality
and then hydroplane across the submerged roads into Myarvil.

With jubilant yelling and shoulder-clapping Royan greeted
friends and fellow officers while Jefroy, who had hastened
down from the Sanatorium hugged his colleagues with laughter
and happy tears, and amongst this sea of commotion Adilar
discerned with astonishment an island of affluent silver
hair.

"Advocate Grahn," he welcomed with a graceful bow, "I admire
your resourcefulness and your determination."

Grahn, dressed in a smartly tailored raincoat and an
expensive white scarf, had the appearance of a guest who had
come to the wrong party but exuded every intention of
staying where he was. The advocate gravely said, "As soon as
I have received Dama Clarya's communication I was determined
to reach this place, come what may. I managed to hitch a
ride with one of the Force's EROS craft, though it took me
quite a bit of wheedling. But here I am and here I will
remain until I have conducted and finished my business. And
I am telling you this, my boy, from now on they'd better not
leave me out from any important issues. I have not yet had
the honour of meeting your brother but if he trusts me
enough to tie up all loose ends of his ascendancy into the
Ermizgarth Protectorate, I will do just that!"

"I am sure," Adilar said smiling, "that he will have every
confidence in your skills."

The next step requiring immediate attention was to find a
place to temporarily lodge this important personage, in
addition to the numerous officers who had accompanied him on
his journey to the disaster stricken community. Since Rylan
in his new capacity as Lar Protector of Myaron had earlier
sent word that he was to be otherwise engaged for the whole
of the afternoon, the Town Council meeting was postponed and
instead a short conference was held amongst the various
detachment heads of the Command and the Force.
A brisk decision was made that the critically sick and
injured would be removed to neighbouring Sanatoria to reduce
the pressure on the resources of the area. The fresh forces
would relieve those who had taken but little rest so that
transfer preparations and the mopping-up operation would
continue throughout the night. It was nearly dusk when
discussions came to an end and the assembly was about to
disperse when Fredric excitedly sloshed his muddy feet into
the room.

Adilar thought that so many excitements in a day foreboded
nothing good and he asked frowningly, "I hope nothing is
seriously wrong?"

"Not at all," Fredric reassured, "I have only come to tell
you that," he paused dramatically, "we have found the body
of Julyan Ermiz."

An abrupt silence greeted his announcement and he hastily
added, "I know what you're thinking but you needn't worry.
His remains are the best preserved of them all and because
of this we have decided to put him in the memorial hall,
together with Lar Wryn and the others. I hope you'll agree?"

Adilar glanced at the officers and they gazed back without
commenting. "Naturally, Fredric," he nodded, "I don't think
there would be any objections."

Royan laid a hand on Fredric's shoulder before he started
out of the door again. "Stay, Fredric, rest. I will order
the others who were with you to turn in for the night also.
Other Commanders and Stewards who have arrived will take
over for the night shift."

Saying thus he chose from the gathered contingent, brimming
with fresh energy, the necessary crew to instal a network of
floodlights, powered by the engines of the Command's
amphibians, in order that the clean-up could go on in the
deepening darkness. When that was settled the Lieutenant
ventured again into the fields to continue the gruesome
work. He would not spare himself tonight; the bodies out
there, bloating in stagnant waters, were harping on his mind
and he wanted them out of his sight.

Adilar and Jefroy walked back to Myar Hall under a sky, warm
and smooth like black silk. A gentle evening wind breathed
through the streets of Myarvil but all the villas had their
doors and windows closed. The stench from the fields hung
like a vapour cloak and no breath of wind could freshen the
air. For the first time in so many nights Evening Star
reappeared, glittering like the Queen of Diamonds, lost and
found again, and they nearly fell on their knees, there and
then, vowing that never again would they allow catastrophes,
like the one before, blot this marvellous sight off the sky.

Once inside the house, Jefroy exclaimed, "Lar, am I glad to
be inside! I really don't envy Royan and his commanders."

Adilar heaved a sigh: "I am going to join him later but I
gather dinner and afterwards an hour's sleep won't do any
harm."

Jefroy tapped his back. "You might as well, Adilar. Don't
overdo things. Let's go up and see how your brother is
doing. Royan made me promise that I would report to his
Captain how the clean-up operation is progressing."

Entering Trajan's room they found that in their absence the
residents of Myar Hall had brought in a table, chairs and a
reading lamp and they found their patient, seated and
dressed, and enjoying a meal while engrossed in the study of
some wrinkled, yellow scrolls of paper spread out before
him.

"Well, well," Jefroy said, "it was only last night when you
were brought in more dead than alive, and now look at you,
back in form. Remarkable!"

Trajan rolled up the parchments and winked at him. "Your
Lieutenant Darien, it is she who is remarkable. Has done
everything what can be expected from a competent rescuer,
and more."

Jefroy winked back: "I told her only to check on your vitals
and give you your medicine, but of course I cannot prevent
my rescuers to be meticulous in their assigned tasks. I see
that she has done wonders."

His face sobered down the next moment. "Don't overestimate
yourself, Trajan. You may feel fine now, but you took a
heavy beating and you are far from recovered. Don't muck
about, and rest, rest! In fact, I want you to stay in your
room for at least eight days."

"Don't fret too much, Air Marshall, I can't hardly walk
without a crutch. And would you two like to join me in my
solitary dinner? There is enough food here to feed a small
detachment."

They happily complied. The Myar household appeared to
venerate the only commander patient under their roof by
spoiling him with delectable dishes from the kitchen
recently replenished with new supplies, and Adilar and
Jefroy took up Trajan's offer to sit together and reflect
upon the events that had changed their world.

After making his brief report, Jefroy said, "Myaron has been
placed under the mandate of the Tres-Tiorem for an
indefinite period and once the mopping-up is complete, the
Command will put up sting barriers around the perimeters of
the airstrip, the old castle and the ruins of the Byrull
palace. Would you expect people to be still alive down there
in that hellhole? Shouldn't we at least make sure?"

"I think not, Jefroy. There are other things other than
people down below and it is safe to assume that people like
us have either gone away or not survived. I will make up my
own report to the Command and suggest even more drastic
measures, to demolish completely the ruins of the old castle
and the Byrull mansion and seal up all exit holes. Naturally
this has to be done with the full consent and participation
of Myaron."

"What happened to Byrull and Dama Lisaloran?" asked Adilar,
his voice low with suspense.

Trajan frowned as those last scenes of departure came
surging back in a tide of painful memory. "They went
voluntarily into other realms from where they will never
return."

Nobody spoke for several moments. "This intrusion into our
world," Jefroy said, "how can we make sure that it will
never happen again."

"We must make sure, there is no other way." Trajan
secretively contemplated that only he knew the answer; he
alone must make sure that no one would come seeking ever
again the Peril of Worlds that was Himself.

Someone softly knocked on the door, opened it and Rylan with
unaccustomed shyness peered through the opening. "May I come
in?"

Adilar waved to him: "Enter, my Lar Wryn."

Rylan blushed and stepped into the room. "I am not used yet
to be called this way," he said bashfully, "It has always
been my grandfather who was the real personification of that
title. My own father was not even that fortunate."

Jefroy smiled and pulled up another chair. "But that title
has now been rightfully passed on to you and no one else has
deserved it more."

Rylan smiled back at them, and a light appearing in his eyes
brightened his grave and sombre face for the first time in
days. "The same I say to you, my Lar Ermiz," he touched his
forehead and steepened fingers with Trajan in the greeting
of high respect between one Lar Protector and another, "all
homage should be paid to you."

"No, my Lar Wryn," Trajan said, touching his forehead and
returning the greeting, "to everyone who has fought so
courageously." He further enquired softly: "How is your
mother, Rylan?"

Rylan laughed. "I wouldn't have believed it if someone told
me just a few days ago that she was a great lady, but she
is, she really is. She is trying to spoil me now at my age
and she will give me tremendous support in running such a
large estate."

"I am sure she will," Trajan said satisfied. It happened as
he had foreseen in the Halls of Shadows. Ecelyn had found a
new haven with her son, the new Lar Protector of Myaron, and
since only a grievous act of nature could deprive him of
that title, she would hang on to him and bestow upon herself
the title of Loving Mother of the Lar and contribute to his
glorious status. All's well that ends well, for Ecelyn
Byrull.

He enquired again, cautiously: "I gather that Doctor Reball
is temporarily staying with you."

Rylan nodded. "It appears that he has nowhere to go, and
since he and my mother seem to have grown attached to each
other, I will likely offer him permanent lodgings in the
Pavilion, once it has been restored from flood water damage.
Unless, of course you would want him somewhere else."

Trajan absentmindedly shook his head. Will the Tres-Tiorem
pursue retribution on the single surviving adherent of
Byrull's grand enterprise? A scientist already wreaked by
guilt and shame? It would offer very little moral
restitution for the countless lives that had been lost,
Iucarian or otherwise and he said: "No, let him stay at Wryn
Manor as long as he likes. The Science Stewardship will set
up a board of enquiry to investigate his role in the matter,
especially building a dangerous machine without their
authority but for now the best way is to keep him out of
trouble."

Rylan coughed discreetly and said, "There is one thing I
would like to mention. Word has been floated around with
respect of setting up an administration committee and Town
Council members have already approached me with the request
that I sit on the committee."

"They could not have made a more appropriate request."

Rylan said bitterly, "I know nothing of governing or of
administering and moreover, I will likely go into Iucarian
history as the Lar Protector who has come into the most
ruined protectorate of the region!"

"You can't be serious!" the other three cried out in unison
and Jefroy said vehemently, "Now where is that old Wryn
tenacity I have come to know and respect. You cannot give up
so easily, Lar Wryn!"

"We will be here with you," Adilar said, "all the way. We
will rebuild Myaron."

"That's why I have a suggestion to make," said Rylan,
grinning shyly. "Sit with me on the board, Adilar. You have
more experience in this kind of administration and I need
every bit of your expertise. Say yes now and I will pass it
to the Town Council."

"Nod with your head and make this sad-eyed little boy happy
again," Jefroy said.

Rylan beamed. "Then it is agreed. I have one other thing to
mention. People have proposed to hold a memorial service
tomorrow. Although it is primarily for my grandfather for
whom Myarvil would like to pay their last respects, I would
rather perform it as one service for all those who have
departed lately. It would be a good opportunity for the
citizens, who have survived, to come together and
re-establish harmony."

"It is a very sound proposal, Rylan," Trajan said, "go
ahead, and I have a request for you too. Could you also
arrange for a simple service for Julyan, at the same time or
afterwards, it doesn't really matter. And then keep his
remains in the mortuary. When I depart for Ermizgarth I will
take him with me for burial on his home ground."

"Trust me, Trajan," Rylan promised, "I will personally see
to it that your wishes are fulfilled. In fact, I will put
this on top of the agenda when the committee meets this
evening. And there is one final thing."

"Now that he has become Lar," Jefroy complained loudly, "he
cannot stop talking."

Rylan had been carrying with him a slim, leather sheath,
which he now put on the table, and from it he drew out a
poniard, elegantly carved and sparkling like a platinum
jewel under the light of the table lamp.

"This dagger," he explained, "is an old family heirloom
which has been with us for unaccountable ages. See the
stones studding the hilt? They are real gems and worth a
fortune. This dagger was presented as a gift to an ancestor
as a token of homage to his courage, another tale of heroism
now lost in antiquity. And I offer it now as a gift to you,
Trajan.

"Don't decline," Rylan continued speedily, "Before he passed
away, my grandfather had a vision and made me promise that I
will present the white-gold poniard to you. It is his wish,
and mine, that you should have it. There is a legend
attached to it, that it will bring greatness to whoever
acquires it, provided that they are prepared to bequeath it
to another who has proven to be more worthy and superior. In
doing this graceful and generous act, the giver would
procure everlasting glory.

"O Blade, glittering silver white
Glorious is the Hand that draws forth Thine Might.
O Hand, unclasping Blade blood red
Terrible is the Taker that avenges Thine Death.

"It sounds just like an old and lovable fairy tale, but
there you are, it is a very precious thing of folklore, and
it is all yours!" Trajan took the dagger and admiringly
fingered the design on the hilt of a single ruby laid within
a spiralling string of two-coloured stones, saffron and
citrine; the symbol of Evening Star and the HeliĆ.

"Now shake it a little," Rylan told him. Trajan grasped the
dagger by the hilt and for a very short moment, almost as if
it did not happen, the slim blade seemed to flare up with a
blue and white fire. He shook the poniard and with a
high-pitched tone the blade zinged to the length of a
rapier. Adilar and Jefroy started in their seats and Rylan
whistled. "By the stars, it has never before leapt to such
brilliant extension! Amazing!"

"I am very grateful, Rylan," Trajan said warmly, "it is a
beautiful thing and I will keep it with me always."

Adilar noticed with regret that it was getting late and he
wanted to get back to work. Jefroy was of the same
inclination and he voiced his intention to retire for an
hour's rest. "Get back to bed immediately, Captain! I will
be checking up on you within an hour. And by the way, your
Sergeant Terglyn has retrieved this from the fields." He
deposited a silver pistol-blade on the table. "Smaller than
the poniard but still deadly. You have collected quite an
arsenal there!"

Likewise, the impending arrangements in Myarvil pre-occupied
Rylan's mind and he too started for the door in haste but
before he crossed into the corridor, he slightly turned and
said with that same uncharacteristic diffidence which had
marked his entrance into the room: "I have to thank you once
again, Trajan, for bringing my mother back safely. It is a
silly thing. I thought I could never forgive her but the
catastrophe has brought us together."

"I understand," Trajan said, "Catastrophes have a way of
tearing people apart but also of bringing people together
again."

* * *

The quietness veiling the house was so profound that Trajan,
when he woke up, had the queer feeling as if he was waking
up into another dream. But there was a covered tray on the
table near his bed and a note leaning against it, and HeliĆ
shine glimmered through the curtained windows. It was early
morning and another warm and bright day.

The note was from Norielle with her words of care. A walking
stick was leaning against the end of the bed with a short
reminder to use it wisely, which came from his grandfather.
There was another note from Adilar explaining where
everybody was at this moment and they would only return
later in the morning. It appeared that all of them had
nicely allowed him to oversleep while they went to attend
the funeral services.

For a moment Trajan felt regret that he could not be present
at the service. He then shrugged and gingerly set his feet,
one by one, on the floor. He was grateful to Lar Alden for
leaving him the walking stick so that he could hobble about
the room, wash and dress. He put on a white shirt and blue
trousers and limped to the table to enjoy his solitary
breakfast and to dig in, once more, into the mysteries of
the ancient parchments.

His study of the scrolls became almost an obsession. He went
over them so many times the diagrams were almost imprinted
in his brain. It was not the theoretics, which drew him to
the scrolls night and day but a yearning of the heart, to
know who designed the Equation, to find out from the
graphics the person who put them on parchment. A Lord Laris?

Trajan sighed and took out Dego's Stone from under his
pillow. He stroked the Stone absentmindedly, a large
amethyst set in the cross-section of two yellow-gold bars,
one short and the other long with a loop at the top of the
longer bar. He felt deeply moved by all these gifts. 'I'd
better start doing my work again.' He put all his treasures
away and proceeded to compile his report to the Command on
the microcom.

Trajan opened his eyes with a start. He had dozed off in his
chair. His chronodisc told him that at least more than an
hour had passed since he had left his bed. The house, which
had been wrapped up in silence, awakened suddenly with a
noise of hasty stomps, hurrying nearer, nearer still with an
urgency spilling into frenzy, then fell silent in front of
his door. The door opened and Eugene came into the room,
healthy, strong and in the bloom of his prime.

Trajan was shocked and he would have sprung up on his feet
but for his ankle. Eugene stepped briskly across and two
other individuals came after him. Instinctively Trajan's
hand flew to the side where he usually kept his rephar ready
but his fingers curled around emptiness.

The two strangers had all the appearances of having chased
Eugene into the room but they halted in their tracks upon
seeing Trajan sitting at the table. They were breathing
heavily, and even if Trajan was not armed, they were, or at
least had stingthrusters dangling at their belts, used by
Calidans to control the wild wisurs of the Steppes. One
series of stingspirals emitted by a thruster would only stun
a strapping wisur but on an Iucarian it would have the same
effect as one Elimination beam of a rephar, and Trajan
wondered if the world had gone mad now that common people
found it necessary to carry arms. He retrieved the
white-gold poniard from under the scattered notes and hid it
on his lap.

Eugene glanced quickly at Trajan, smiled and crossing his
arms turned to the other two. "Cestors, what were you
saying?"

"We want you to come with us."

"And if I refuse?"

One of the two gave Trajan a nervous look and said roughly:
"We are only following orders. You have stayed away for too
long, he wants you to return."

The other interrupted in frustration: "If only you would
remember to come back now and then, we wouldn't have to
waste so much time and effort to come after you, time and
again. We don't like this job, any more than you."

"I will not come," Eugene said, "I refuse to be subjected to
this kind of extortion. You can tell your master as such."

They stared at him, clearly in two minds whether to go a
step forward to take their victim by force or go a step
backward to beat a retreat.

"Cestors," Trajan said finally, "with one flick of my
communicator I can order a whole unit of commanders to
descend upon you. I won't do that until I am sure there is
cause for summoning reinforcements, forcible abduction for
instance. But if you would leave this room, and this house,
at once, I will let the matter rest."

They both gave him a jittery look and needing no further
persuasion they hurried out of the room and tramped down the
stairs like wisurs on a stampede. The front door banged shut
in the distance.

Eugene turned to him and in a crazy reflex Trajan brazed
himself, his fingers closing around the hilt of the poniard.
He could not explain the sudden upsurge of perplexity, of
confusion, and of dread, seeing his kindred, whom he had
seen just two nights ago lying in bed rocked with fever and
covered by ugly burns, rejuvenated, unmarred and in the pink
of condition.

"What have I done?" he whispered and shrank back against his
chair as Eugene approached, grabbed his shoulders and gazed
into his eyes with positive--affection.

"Yes, what have you done," Eugene said, "to me? I've never
felt better in my whole life. You've saved me, Trajan,
dragged me back from the clutches of death with the power of
the Hexstone."

"No!" Trajan protested vehemently. "Never with the power of
Starglory!"

Eugene drew back a little nonplussed. "Then what did you do
to cure me?"

Trajan answered wearily: "Shall we just say that you cured
yourself. You were already on the mend and I hastened the
process, so to speak. I lent you some of my strength, my
willpower to overcome your injuries and you did as was
expected. Let no more words be wasted on this."

Eugene studied him intently for a moment or two. "Then I
have to be doubly grateful," he spoke again, "you cured me
with utter disregard of your own wounds. I am better while
you are not. Forgive me for being curious but I must know
what happened to the Hexstone, Starglory as you now call it,
because I was its safekeeper once and I am aware of its
destructive powers. I want to know whether it is safely
hidden away at last."

"Yes," Trajan said, "it is safe at last. In me."

Eugene's eyes widened in wonder. "I understand!" he
exclaimed, "the words, 'the one who can take the Light into
his bare hand'. How blind we were, unwilling to accept that
it was the only true test."

With an earnest voice he continued: "Listen, Trajan, I
assure you that there will be no rivalry between you and me.
The Hexstone had found its true custodian, and I am
satisfied. I am relieved that events have turned this way,
that I can finally relinquish it with a clear conscience
because the weight of its secrets has been a heavy burden.
This is what I wanted to tell you, eye to eye, and I have
left the memorial service for this purpose."

"And those Phycels saw you leave and trailed you here. Are
you in trouble, Eugene?"

Eugene lifted up his eyebrows. "Are you referring to that
silly little incident?"

"It has the looks of being neither silly nor little. What
dangerous games are you now playing?"

Eugene was politely adamant. "If I may say so, my boy, this
is a matter where you cannot interfere."

Trajan, feeling more at ease, appraised him with keen eyes.
Eugene Trevarthen, his grandfather's half-brother, a
mind-boggling fact. And did he resemble that enigmatic Lar
who had spawned them all, the Patriarch who seemed to refuse
to let his control and his power die with his corpus?

Sounds of voices floated from the front yard through the
open windows. The memorial service had ended and the
attendants were coming home. Eugene immediately walked
towards the door and cautioned Trajan with a parting shot:
"Promise me not to tell anyone about the incident."

Trajan lifted his hand in resigned compliance.

* * *

One Sunder-cextrum passed with uneventful drudgery.
Emergencies disposed of, all transfers completed, problems
tackled and dealt with, pressing chores phased out into
routine, and the river Nheim whose mighty waters had come
within a hair's breadth of drowning the whole community
finally retreated to a tranquil state of lambent iridescence
under HeliĆ shine.

The day when he was formally discharged from the medical
care of the Force was also the day for Trajan to depart from
Myaron and take up his duties at Ermizgarth. He had a
lengthy communication with the Supreme Order of the Command
the evening before. A protracted discussion had ensued which
had not altogether progressed smoothly. In view of coming
into the title of Lar Protector of Ermizgarth Trajan had
requested relinquishing command over his unit, a decision
that he had thought necessary to take after many sleepless
nights, and a decision that the Command was loath to
sanction. Only after long and harrowing deliberations was
the Command prepared to grant his request, but only upon the
issue of surrendering his contingent, but not his
commission. Trajan agreed: he would remain Captain Commander
but Eskar Royan would henceforth be promoted to Captain also
and take over his unit, which would be stationed in Myaron.

On the morning of his departure, it was arranged that
Captain Royan would accompany his former Captain on a tour
of inspection around the newly formed mandate. Everyone else
in the house was still asleep when Trajan and Adilar
descended the staircase together, and in the hall they were
joined by Royan and Jefroy.

It was the first time since the storm that Trajan had
ventured outside Myar Hall. Standing on the open country
road his eyes swept over a brown and ravaged land that had
once been breathtakingly lush and green. Myarvil grappled on
the horizon in a tangle of disjointed structures like a
confusion of flesh and bones, partly living, partly dead.
Stretches of hard, brown hassocks spread into the bleak
distance under the skeleton shadows of demolished mansions.
The hills, luscious no more, were intermittently dotted with
potholes where clumps of pollardulas had been plucked out by
the storm but countless others of the little trees had
survived and still stood, some erect, some askew, like
unbeatable warriors.

The group spoke very little until they stood before the
blackened, crumbling walls of what was once called with
pride a palace.

Trajan enquired: "Has Cestress Byrull been told of what will
ultimately be done to her property? We need her formal
consent."

Royan answered: "She has been verbally notified and she
offered no objection. She will sign the transfer documents
once they have been prepared and we will take it from
there."

Jefroy asked: "Will all of Byrull's assets be transferred to
the Tres-Tiorem?"

"No," Trajan sighed. "Ecelyn Byrull can claim those as hers
by right. We will only acquire this parcel of land lying
within the Principality of Myaron, and not even free. She
will be amply compensated for all this."

"Pretty neat," Jefroy remarked, viewing the grim derelict
with a wry twist on his lips, "what possible value does it
have now, she is extremely fortunate to have it taken off
her hands."

From these dark ruins they walked through the fields,
circumventing pools of mud still scattered across the
terrain like open sores and arrived upon the airstrip, which
jutted out towards the horizon in the form of a scorched
limb. Those who had come here after the storm remembered all
too well the arc of death, encircling the huge, black crater
in the middle of the runway.

Royan pointed to a rectangular structure along one side of
the strip. "Those are elevator shafts leading downwards into
the underground. The explosion has ripped everything inside
apart and the elevators are no longer working but as a
precaution we will also likewise raze it to the ground."

"This is a most creepy place," Jefroy said, "I've heard some
of your commanders say that the atmosphere around here preys
on their imagination. It is not possible for anyone to be
still alive down there but sometimes, in the silence,
especially at night, you can almost hear something moving
deep down below." And Jefroy rubbed his arms and stamped his
feet as if he felt a chill.

Trajan and Royan exchanged a quick look. The monstrosities
they had witnessed and fought against so desperately was
something they would never be able to describe to happily
ignorant Iucarians; the Mutations and everything else
underground were products of a warped mind, which had to be
seen to be believed.

"The things that may still be alive," Trajan said, "had
better stay down there. That's why we are sealing up the
whole place."

The old castle was their next destination. On the exterior
the same forbidden appearance of the ancient structure had
remained as of old, and no immediate newly inflicted damage
was visible. The interior however was a different story. The
same disintegration of matter and fabric also prevailed here
and a huge portion of the walls had collapsed, blocking the
thoroughfare to the inner halls.

"Is the same demolition being planned for this old fellow?"
Adilar enquired. "It is a pity."

"He has been decaying for centuries," Royan said with a
laconic grin. "We are just putting the old guy out of his
misery. With its underground network of chambers, sewers and
catacombs it is likely to offer more hiding places than the
mansion and the airstrip."

In the cool, unpolluted morning breeze they walked back and
when the outlines of Myarvil loomed in the distance, Royan
and Jefroy went ahead with excuses they had duties to attend
to. On a hill overlooking the road leading to Myarvil Trajan
and Adilar stood still, fixing their eyes upon the scalped
hills and the dun, barren heath.

"What can we learn from this?" Adilar asked.

"To preserve and safeguard Iucari-Tres. There are no other
worlds beyond as wondrous as ours.

"Adilar," Trajan went on speaking in a heavy voice, "our
father was an extraordinary Being, a Lord Laris they say. I
may never know what that means to us, especially to me, but
I do know he came to Iucari-Tres from, I don't even know
where, to look for the Thing which has precipitated all this
waste and which I have absorbed in me. It appears now I was
singled out to finish what he was trying to accomplish and I
am not sure if I have the strength, or the courage, to do
that."

Adilar quietly put an arm around Trajan's shoulders. "I will
always be here with you. We'll see it through together."

A glow of purple ice glimmered in Trajan's eyes. "I will
face my destiny and you will face yours; it is not an easy
future . I don't know what lies ahead of me but I am certain
of one thing: you too are the son of a Lord Laris and even
though you do not possess the powers within me, the seeds
lie in you too and may some day come forth. Adilar, you will
be the unifying force of the Protectorate of Trevarthen. Of
that I have no doubt. As for me I have to go and consult
Chief Guillen what is lying in store for me. It is not
something I fancy doing."

Adilar clutched Trajan by the arms, the blue steel of his
eyes looking into his brother's which had turned to stormy
grey. "Trajan! Whatever happens, wherever we have to go, our
bond is strong. When you were far away from home on patrol
this bond made you come back to me, again and again. It will
not be severed; I will be waiting here for you for as long
as it takes."

They embraced passionately and exchanged something in their
sorrow, a sentient flame that would make Adilar raise his
eyes often to the stars in dark times of waiting and
strengthen Trajan's resolve in dark nights of danger.

They walked back to Myar Hall where the residents had been
impatiently waiting for Trajan's return for they were
anxious that he would depart from Myaron early enough to
arrive at Ermizgarth before nightfall. Trajan had little
further to do; he had already bidden his unit farewell the
night before with the exception of Sergeant Terglyn who, the
Command had decided, would remain at his side as an
aide-de-camp, to Terglyn's great delight, although Trajan
anticipated he would find life at Ermizgarth a bit dull.

Dama Clarya was the other person who would accompany him to
Ermizgarth. She met him in the hall and pressed an envelope
in his hand. "It is from Eugene," she explained, "He said
that from now on you are to keep this letter and the map.
Since he seems fit to travel, he and his mother have already
left, but he has expressed the wish that he and you should
see each other regularly.

"I am so glad," the Dowager continued warmly, "that you and
Eugene are on friendly terms. I must admit that for a while
there I was worried. Rivalry and contention can so easily
arise and that is the last thing I would wish for,
especially at present. That is also the reason why I would
like to finalize the hanging question of the Trevarthen
estate as soon as possible. May I ask what, in your present
capacity, your advice would be to the Council?"

"Do I have the right? Particularly as Lar Ermiz I am
reluctant to meddle in the affairs of the Treasury Council.
It was established for a purpose, by someone," Trajan's face
clouded momentarily, "who thought such a body was necessary
to safeguard the future of the estate. Do what you think is
right, unless you want to dissolve the Council entirely."

"I am very tempted to do just that," the Dowager broke out,
"but your great-grandfather made a provision, out of folly
or out of wisdom, I am not to judge, that the Council can
only be dissolved by a Lar Protector of Trevarthen who has
governed the Protectorate for at least three cycles, and we
don't have one yet."

Trajan said with a wink: "Well, that is one problem to
occupy you with while you are staying with me at Ermizgarth.
You will have all the time there and the place, to sort it
out." He went to the dining room to have some brief and
intimate moments with his mother and grandfather, and
afterwards bidding a temporary farewell to Leoynar and
Lukus.

All four would remain in Myaron to continue rendering
assistance and support, for Lar Alden on one hand to renew
his social relationship with the gentility of the region,
and on the other to lend a sympathetic hand to Rylan in
consolidating the young Lar's position. To him, who had
never had the satisfaction of being entrusted with full,
reigning powers over a territory, it only gave joy to be
able to offer aid to one who had, but during a time of such
widespread cataclysm.

But now Lar Alden was filled with even more throbbing pride:
his own grandson, unexpected and unheralded, had achieved
what had eluded him for all his life and fulfilled his
fondest dreams, became Lar Protector in his own right. And
he could not make himself tear away from the side of this
grandson.

Dama Clarya intruded upon the emotions of the moment and
expostulating with so many words of comfort and haste she
managed to draw Trajan away and into the waiting Travel
Affra in the front yard. Leoynar and his father stood side
by side on the main country road watching the Affra locking
into the fly trajectory and winging into the distance.

"Have you ever told Trajan," Leoynar said, voicing the one
question, which had always been on the tip of his tongue,
"whom he resembles so closely, maybe not within, but
without, to his stature and the shape, not the unusual
colouring though, of his eyes."

Lar Alden was silent for moments before he spoke simply:
"No. You still love your Grandfather, Leoynar, all of us do.
Maybe the Great Lar did love us but not in the way we wanted
to.

"Perhaps, he might have forgiven me if I had cast myself at
his feet but I was afraid he would kick me away in his great
wrath. Shame at my own cowardice has pursued me throughout
the years and I would not have last long, Leoynar, if Trajan
weren't there. Caring for him, seeing him grow up tall and
graceful like the Lar, seeing his love in his eyes, for me.
Ah!" Lar Alden heaved a deep sigh. "Lar Irwain would have
praised me for taking care of Trajan but I love Trajan for
who he is, my grandson!"

Leoynar fell at a loss for words, his eyes pensively fixed
on the broad and empty horizon. He raised himself on his
toes and said with astonishment: "Where are those people
going to?"

Lar Alden looked into the direction Leoynar indicated and
observed the lines of people streaming out from Myarvil into
the fields. "I believe the townspeople have at last received
permission from the Command to carry out what they have
promised themselves to do, to plant shrubberies of
thornbushes around the former runway."

"The nights in Myaron will no longer be consumed by darkness
but filled with beauty!" Leoynar exclaimed and Lar Alden
agreed, already seeing in his mind the soul-stirring sight
of the icerosin flowers slowly opening in the gloaming and
showering the stricken fields with the silvery radiance of
their nightly reawakening into life. They both knew that
once Trajan arrived at Ermizgarth he would bend to the same
task, planting a thornbush, since in the same Travel Affra
which was taking him to his new home, there was another who
was also coming home to his final resting place.

ERMIZGARTH

'You are my memory and my everlasting spirit. Your Father."

Trajan folded up the letter and thoughtfully put it back
into the envelope. The contents of the letter troubled him,
and the last words would keep haunting him in his darkest
moments. Lar Irwain could not have known, or would not even
care, that granddaughter Norielle had sons but somehow in
reading the letter he felt as if the message was meant for
and directed to him.

Trajan stood up and walked to the tall picture windows.
Resting his elbows on a windowsill he dreamily gazed at the
twinkling, pink-sprayed landscapes of the garden.

Days at Ermizgarth had been hectic in the mornings and
relaxing in the evenings. The property had always been
superbly managed and maintained by his predecessors, and
although during Julyan's time some neglect had seeped
through, thoughts and aspirations of the former Lar Ermiz
being elsewhere occupied, no great dilemma was encountered
in rectifying it. The occasional stumbling block was
Trajan's inexperience in managing such a widespread estate
and the people living on its grounds. He was therefore
grateful for Dama Clarya's expertise and assistance in
guiding him through a daily quagmire of estate chores and
duties. The entire Sunder Season was taken up with the
process of getting familiar with the state of things but he
thought now he had most of that behind his back. Dama Clarya
had proven herself to be a very able administrator. She
obviously enjoyed the routine and tediousness that went with
it and he considered promoting her into a fulltime position.

Ermizgarth would benefit from her steady hand. A park
landscaped with ponds and citron-tinted chromavari bushes
spread at the southern front of the House of Ermiz, and a
belt of auricspruce wood swept along the northeastern and
western verges, providing a shield against the snow winds
blowing from Mount Argento in the Small Eclipse Season.
Built on a wide plateau, the House looked upon the
green-glimmering expanse of the Greater Odur Sea. In calm
seasons the auricspruce could see their golden crowns
shimmering in mirrored waters and far into the night the sea
would rush around the cliff in a mesmerizing rhythm. In
harsher climate when sea and wind would join forces to broil
and howl around the cliff and around the narrow beach
beneath and HeliĆ shine was a dim manifestation, the House
with its wide triangular roof and flaring wing sections
would blaze like a starship about to take flight.

Now that affairs of the estate had smoothed out into
suitable monotony, Dama Clarya had compiled an endless list
of suggestions for the entertainment of guests. The one name
that had always been on top had been that of Eugene
Trevarthen and Trajan agreed to hold a dinner party.

He would like to see Eugene before departing for his private
rendezvous with Commander-in-Chief Guillen. In different
circumstances, he would be looking forward to seeing Chief
Guillen again. He had looked up to the Chief who had filled
the place of Krystan Schurell, the father he never knew but
who had influenced his education and training, and what he
was to become. Now a strain of apprehension mingled with
feelings of anticipation as the time of the meeting drew
closer by the day.