CHAPTER VI


FLOWERS IN FROM THE COLD




	"Was it all a dream?" Eirini asked herself when she opened her eyes.  A dream 
that was never to return.  Yet, the ecstasy of the past hours was still clinging to her like 
fluid satin and soft, warm down, with the scents of Tyro and lustrous Sunder. 

	Eirini turned to her side and saw Trajan lying beside her, fast asleep.  They had 
lain entwined in each other's arms on the carpet.  She remembered how he had gathered 
her up in his arms and laid her down gently on the bed.  His Giving had rekindled briefly, 
enfolding them both in shimmerings, then he had fallen asleep on her shoulder.  She gave 
out an affected little gasp as if she was surprised for the very first time by the sight of his 
sleeping so close to her. 

	She wanted to sing to the sky glimmering leaden through the flicker-dances of the 
stained glass windows.  Only rooms for special guests had the flaunting of these morning 
shine animated glass.  Very plush, so typical of Huigo.  But the grim image of Lar Moritz 
had dwindled to a fleck of foam as she wanted to splash the wan and fickle 
physiognomies of eclipsing seasons with the colours of her newfound joy.  She threw her 
arms around this Lar with his gift of sweet Fire and laid her cheek against his tousled 
hair, yearning to feel upon her again the gentle warmth of his aura.  Trajan sighed and 
stirred, struggling to free himself from the bonds of sleep.  

	"I am being selfish", Eirini whispered. As she was absorbing what is him, she had 
also felt the load of his duties and that deep inside he had something wonderful and 
frightful.  She pressed her lips lightly against his brow and hushed him.  "Don't wake up, 
my dearest.  It's still early and you need your sleep.  We'll see each other at breakfast, or 
rather mid-meal, I'd think." 

	She quietly slipped out of bed, swiftly put on her clothes and tiptoed out of the 
room.  In the corridor she quickened her pace.  The deserted hallways were scented with 
crisp morning air.  Sounds of life awakening started to trickle in from distant wings and 
chambers of Casteltheyne as the castle roused from slumber like a lumbering beast, ready 
again to reign and command for another day.  

	"I have freed myself."  With a happy scowl Eirini gazed up at the ceiling, once 
looking so forbiddingly high and imposing.  Casteltheyne was no longer a sanctuary for 
pampered birds; she was one bird who had regained the power of flight and none, 
however commanding, scheming, spiteful or demoniac could take that away again.  Her 
father's image suddenly flickered in her mind and she felt an acute pang of guilt.  She had 
all but forgotten him in her state of rapture.  She hurried to his suite, her feet flying over 
the thick corridor furs.  She briefly stopped to take a deep breath before she pushed the 
door open.  

	Marth Olyn and Cestor Vrillenar were seated together in the middle of the room 
so engrossed in their conversation that at first her presence totally escaped them.  Her 
deep sigh of relief soon alerted her father and he turned round excitedly.  

	"Oh Eirini, you will never believe what happened last night--."  Half of his words 
froze in his throat as he stared at her with wide-open eyes.  Beside him Marth Olyn 
breathed:  "I say!"

	"What--what is wrong?" Eirini stammered as she braced herself against an 
onslaught of bad news.  

	"Nothing, my dear.  Nothing at all," her father said, groping for words.  He then 
burst out laughing, head shaking and gradually working himself up to a state.  "What am I 
saying!  Something must be going on this morning.  First all the blooming flowers 
everywhere and then you entering this room looking like a queen!"

	Eirini glanced at herself speechless, at her creased woollies and trousers.  

	"Eirini," her father exclaimed, "it's you, you yourself!  I've never thought I could 
ever see you this way before I depart beyond.  Your eyes sparkling like stars, your cheeks 
like flowers opening in Tyro, your--.  Oh, I am at loss for words.  Say something, 
Marth!"  

	Marth Olyn stood up solemnly.  "Eirini," he spoke gravely, "I have never seen a 
youngslady as radiantly beautiful as you are on this morning of the Phenomenon of Cold 
Flowering."  

	"The Phenomenon of Cold Flowering?" Eirini repeated.

	"It is a very rare occurrence," Marth explained.  "Young people of your age are 
seeing it for the first time because such a phenomenon only takes place once in several 
Epochs and the last event was five Epochs ago.  Our scientists will naturally argue that 
it's caused by warm currents breezing in from the Southern Circle, a very rare event in 
this season, but most of us, simpler minded, attribute it to the many caprices of nature, 
especially during the unsettling seasons of eclipse-joining-eclipse.  The mythologists 
would say that once it meant the realm itself was undergoing a phase but whatever it 
means now, put on a warm jacket, Eirini.  Go outside into the garden and see the 
phenomenon for yourself, before it disappears as the weather turns cold again."

	As Eirini sped away Cestor Vrillenar said proudly to Marth Olyn:  "That is my 
daughter, Marth, my daughter."

	In her own suite nearby Eirini feverishly changed into a fresh outfit and a furlined 
jacket.  Looking upon the garden from a veranda she blinked as the sight dazzled her 
eyes.  A rainbow seemed to have fallen from the sky and poured colours over the earth; 
closer to the truth, an outpouring of flowers of many shape and kind rioting and 
smothering the grass lawns.

* * *

	Legends of antiquity once spread the word with a wicked tongue in cheek that 
sometimes during the Season of One Shadow the Greater of the HeliĆ, deprived of union 
during frivolous times of hide and seek of the Smaller, would spew its seeded phlegm in a 
rutting fit into the open ovary of the planet.  Between the folding of night and the opening 
of dawn HeliĆ seed would burgeon and reshape the half-frozen top soil with legions of 
flowers swarming pastures and gardens as far as the eyes could see for the short span of a 
day.  

	Such reshaping appeared to have taken place once again, coinciding with her own 
blossoming as Eirini took Trajan in love.  

	She ran down the steps of the veranda, dropping on her knees on the grass amidst 
the motley sea of petals, ruffling in the morning breeze like many-coloured feathers of 
small earthbound birds.  She turned her head and her face began to glow.  

	Trajan stood on the veranda of his suite, his hair still uncombed, watching her 
with his bewitching eyes.  He came down and seated himself next to her crossing his legs 
and they blended into each other's waiting arms.  

	She teasingly asked, "These flowers, are they here for us?"  

	Trajan laughed gently in her ear.  "For you, Eirini, only for you."  

	"Do you mean that I did this, that all this has been my work?  Are you sure?"  

	"Yes Eirini, I am sure.  I swear I had nothing to do with it."  

	She nestled her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes and she felt the warm 
caress of his hand on her face.

	"I was not aware before that I am capable of such miracles."  

	"You are gifted with great powers, dear Eirini.  In taking me last night you have 
also given me something which will stay with me for the rest of my life."

	With eyes still closed she whispered:  "And you, Trajan, you have given me so 
much.  You have given me the essence of your life.  My soul was a parched desert, my 
heart a shrivelled bush of thorns, but you watered and nourished it and now I am me, me 
that never was but always will be."  

	She opened her eyes and gazed into his, grey and purple as changing seasons, and 
penetrating, still dark with mysteries, but she had become a part of his secrets.  She knew 
from the first moment that what they had and had shared together, was for the two of 
them alone with no trespassers allowed.  

	Trajan's arm tightened around her waist, she curled her arm around his neck and 
his mouth met her lips passionately, but briefly.  The flush of happiness had left his face.  

	"Dear Eirini," he whispered; his voice was heavy with his troubles. "I wish this 
could last forever but we are living in unsettling times.  Everything that is good and 
beautiful exists only for brief moments like these flowers coming in from the cold and 
they will soon wither and die."  

	"But ours will stay on, beyond this world, beyond death. I just know it."

	Trajan sighed bitterly.  "What we have has only increased my dilemma.  I am 
faced with terrible choices.  I don't know if I can be as brave as you, Eirini, when the time 
comes.  I fear that by urging you to take me, I have put you on my path of an uncertain 
future.  If there were another who would be able to carry out this task in my place, I 
would give it away without a moment's thought, but there is no one.  I do not want to 
leave you and enter a Sphere of which I have no conception whatsoever, only that it is an 
alien and hostile place."  

	They did not speak; there were no other sounds except the gentle wind rustling 
through the beds of flowers.

	"You and I are here now," Eirini said softly, "let's enjoy our moments together 
and forget the future for a while."

	His distress was so poignant and filled with omens that she did not know what 
else to say.  She only knew he was still here with her.  She decided that if he had to go 
away she would take and keep a part of him always with her.  She crept closer into his 
arms, cuddling up so close against his chest she could hear his heart beating.  Greedily as 
if in need of nourishment her Seventh Sense took in its pitch and rhythm, imprinting the 
beat and pattern in her brain cells, a memory of an endearing sound she would conjure up 
and listen to in times of peril and loneliness. 

	Trajan was the first to stir and stretch out his legs.  Eirini glanced at him with 
regret.  'So soon?' was the unasked question in her eyes.  Trajan smiled gently, and sadly, 
but his frown had momentarily smoothened out.  The pull of duty was too great to be 
ignored.

	"The morning will not last long and the night will come upon us very quickly." 

	She softly stroked the delicate petals surrounding her. "Will these last?" 

	"No, my love, before darkness they will all be gone."

	Without a further word, Eirini crouched down and began gathering armfuls of 
flowers.  Trajan stayed close, likewise collecting bouquets of scent and colour, their heads 
sometimes touching, prolonging for many moments more the precious little time they had 
with each other.  

	They went up the wide marble steps of Casteltheyne and through the double front 
doors.  In the hall the chamberlain and other domestics seemed to have been waiting to 
unburden them of the load of flowers.  Through Casteltheyne's row of frontal picture 
windows the two figures embracing each other on a rippling variegated field had been 
observed and envied by many pairs of eyes.  

	Trajan was reminded of his position when the chamberlain told him Lar Moritz 
was expecting my Lar in the dining room.  Eirini smiled at him as his hand firmly closed 
around hers.  They entered the dining room still clasping hands and confronted the mixed 
atmosphere prevailing within of bewilderment, curiosity and tension, the several pairs of 
eyes quickly turning away the moment they crossed the threshold.  

	Trajan observed his audience while Eirini quietly slipped away to join her father 
at the table.  He expected to see the main antagonists: Anjelie was not among them, nor 
was Ronen Wraken, but Huigo was on the scene, towering above the others and fixing his 
eyes, laden with a dark past, upon him.  Beside Lar Moritz, equally square-shouldered but 
not as tall, was someone Trajan had not met before but the rufous uniform easily revealed 
the personality behind the sizeable lipfleece.  The videt looked as if he had taken charge 
of the situation and Trajan stood at ease, waiting for the others to punch the buttons.

	Burdened with his capacity as host, Huigo had put a restraint of ice-cold civility 
upon himself and nudged with his head toward his neighbour.  "Superpre Deyron, may I 
present to you Lar Ermiz.  My Lar, the Superpre of the local Surety has charmed us with 
his presence ever since a crime was committed here."

	The grand lipfleece of the Superpre parted to expose a broad, full-toothed grin.  
"The pleasure is entirely on me," he said, "I am charmed to have made your acquaintance 
at last, my Lar."  

	His dark eyes examined Trajan with a crafty glint.  Trajan other than announcing 
he was in like manner fascinated by the Superpre's presence kept himself as 
uninformative as possible.  

	"I would like to talk in private," the Superpre proclaimed, "with you, Lar Moritz 
and with you, Lar Ermiz." 

	"Superpre," Hugh protested with gentle sarcasm, "would you deny us our mid-
morning meal on this beautiful day?  After all, Lar Ermiz is our guest.  It wouldn't be 
proper to bundle him off somewhere without at least enjoying what our cooks, with 
painstaking labour no doubt, have put on the table.  I don't want to give him the 
impression that we in Castelmoer are less refined in our manners than the Lars of 
Ermizgarth."  

	The Superpre flashed a glance at Eirini before his teeth flashed again through the 
forest of fleece.  "My Lar Moritz," he said amiably, "there are matters which simply 
cannot wait.  If you have a place where we can talk in confidence then lead us to it, if you 
please.  Fruit, juice and herb drinks, this is all we'll need for the moment.  If you think 
you can still partake of that generous meal on the table afterwards, be my guest, but for 
now, I want you to come with me." 

	Huigo turned and gestured to the door.  "I'll lead you to my private study.  
Superpre, my Lar, after you."  He afterwards made curt instructions to his chamberlain for 
fruit, biscuits and juice to be served in the study.  

	A stiff and colder wind was blowing into the study when they entered and Huigo 
closed all windows.  The short-lived fragrance from the garden which had filled the room 
in the early hours of the morning lingered faintly amongst the walls, struggling against the 
predominating programmed firgreen odours of the interior.  

	In the closeness of the study they sat down in a wide arc and faced each other in 
tense preparation for an acerbic debate.  Huigo, stiff and morose as if he was sitting on a 
geyser that could spurt out at any moment with steam of his acid wrath.  The Superpre 
hiding a snort under his curved lipfleece.  And Trajan pouring himself a glass of grape 
juice.  The Superpre was the first to drop his mask of amiableness with a direct assault.

	"Am I wrong to presume that you are here on official business, Lar Ermiz or shall 
I more properly address you as Captain Schurell?"  

	Trajan did not blink an eye though he was somewhat taken by surprise.  Before he 
had time to think out some excuse or retort, Deyron attacked once more with a broad grin: 
"Unless, of course, you have quit the Command since you came into your inheritance.  As 
you see, the Surety also has an excellent way of keeping up with times, although of 
course we are not as omniscient as commanders are."  

	Trajan leant back comfortably in his armchair and took a sip of juice.  Speculation 
of professional rivalry had not crossed his mind before but now that the Superpre had put 
that hint there, he had overcome his first confusion.  Slanting a surveying eye at Huigo he 
perceived that his colleague in governing nobility also presented a formidable rival but 
first he would play along with his colleague in security.

	With a lackadaisical air he countered Deyron, "No, Superpre, I have not resigned 
my commission, I am still Captain Commander.  But I am none too sure why my presence 
should upset you.  You are here to investigate a crime and I am here as a guest, as I hope 
Lar Moritz will confirm.  If you find something wrong with this arrangement, please tell 
me where the wrong lies."

	Deyron's eyes glinted as he said:  "In the past you, as commander and I, as videt, 
would have to bow to Lar Moritz as the governing Lar Protector.  That is no longer true 
but even if that is still true you are holding a very special and peculiar position, being 
Captain and Lar Protector at the same time.  Wouldn't you say so, Lar Moritz?"

	"A clear conflict of interest," Huigo agreed. 

	"I think to some extent I can understand your resentment towards me, my Lar," 
Trajan sparred lightly, "but I feel totally at sea with you, Superpre.  I am not here to stick 
my nose in the affairs of the Castelmoer Surety and I thought you already brought the 
perpetrator of the crime to remand."  

	"Let me put you in the picture, Captain," Deyron offered. 

	He spoke in crisp, short sentences, not mincing over minor details and 
emphasizing only facts and matters.  It was clear throughout the session that he regarded 
Huigo only as a secondary opponent, more accurately he did not regard the glowering Lar 
at all.  The Captain of the Command was his sole target.  He demanded Trajan's absolute 
concentration and scrutinized him for any reaction that would reveal the Captain's hand.  

	When Deyron had finished his reporting Trajan gazed at Huigo.  "Is this true?  
Your cousin is no longer a suspect?"

	Huigo gave a short nod of his stern head.  "In fact, when no clear motive could be 
established the Remand Proctor threw the case out.  Time and circumstance of the crime 
also didn't seem to fit with Vitor's activities because there are witnesses who can attest 
he was in Larkae that night.  Vitor is coming home even as we speak.  I am very happy 
with this turn of events but the Superpre is not.  He is back to where he has started, and he 
doesn't share my belief that an outsider has committed the dastardly deed."

	Deyron twitched his nose.  "I believe the perpetrator is still in this castle and I 
think there are persons staying here who have not been interviewed or who have not come 
forward.  My instinct tells me I will find the solution here and it is also telling me you are 
here for the same reason, Captain Schurell."  

	Huigo quivered with sudden belligerence:  "Is the Superpre's conjecture correct, 
Captain?  Are you sent here by the Command to pry around?  Will the Command 
nowadays judge each crime in the light of the recent Myaron conspiracy?"

	Trajan impatiently shook his head.  "Stop playing games, Huigo!  You know 
better than I why I am here."

	"Why are you here?" Deyron put in eagerly.  

	Frowning in puzzlement Trajan studied Huigo whose face presented a shield of 
cold steeliness.  The stern Lar stood up in a remarkable way to the weight of family secret 
skeletons he was carrying and Trajan bore him grudging admiration.  Life for Huigo 
Moritz must have changed profoundly since his younger brother's accident.  

	"I am not sure I understand what you mean, Captain," Huigo rebutted in a dull 
voice. 

	"You know damn well what I mean but I am not going to say another word.  
Gentlemen, you should work things out between the two of you."

	Rising from his seat Trajan said to Huigo sombrely: "Yes, I am here unofficially, 
with the Command's knowledge and consent.  I didn't want to be dragged into your 
private affairs, but now I am deeply and personally involved.  And that was your whole 
little plan, wasn't it?  If you deny it, Lar Moritz, maybe Dama Anjelie should refresh your 
memory."

	He had hardly finished speaking when Terglyn's intra-cypher codes came through 
the optic artery and Trajan immediately spun round and bolted out of the study.  The 
Superpre sat perplexed in one frozen second, then he jumped up from his chair and 
hurried after the Captain. 

	He caught up with Trajan at the end of the hallway. "Captain, wait, please wait."  

	Trajan turned and they stood glaring at one another.  The Superpre was the first 
who relented.  "All right, I've been too blunt, but no disrespect is intended.  Let's work 
together.  I prefer working with you because this is a case where I may have need of your 
expertise."  

	"Very well, and while there's just the two of us, I have a question for you."  The 
Superpre tapped his toe.  "Does Lar Moritz know who Cidora Amee really was?" 

	"That she was a researcher at the University of Castelmoer and not an 
investigative reporter that young Olyn was led to believe?  No, not just yet.  Lar Moritz 
seems to know very little of what is going on in his household and my strategy is to wait 
and see whether his ignorance is real or feigned."

	"In that case, I'd rather that you come to some sort of agreement with the Lar and 
master of Casteltheyne.  Plainly speaking, I refuse to speak to you until he has told you all 
you need to know.  Go back to Lar Moritz, Superpre, and ask him questions."  Trajan 
turned and continued on his course to the front hall. 

	They had both reached the front portal and while they stood on top of the marble 
staircase an icy gust came whipping through the air, cutting into their exposed skins. 

	The weather had plummeted back to the cold of the Small Eclipse.  Ice-gales 
blowing in from a north-western corner had defeated the warm southern wind.  Vessels of 
slate clouds tumbled and clustered into larger flotillas of darker hue.  HeliĆ Seed all 
around had begun to droop and dwindle away; only here and there isles of hardy petals 
still stood fluttering but soon none of them would be left.  Darkness and renewed frost 
were coming over the Downs fast and furious.  

	Deyron muttered, huddling up under the fur of his coat:  "A storm is coming.  A 
pity, the day has started so well."  

	Trajan hastened down the steps and Deyron went after him, the tailpieces of his 
coat billowing in the strengthening wind.  He joined Trajan below the portico where the 
Affra was parked. 

	It stood there exactly where Trajan had left it the previous night, except that the 
windshield and the side windows were shattered and what was left of them glittered like 
crushed ice on the driveway around the aero.  Peering through the jagged holes Trajan 
saw the worst had happened too.  Nothing was left of the control fascia.  It was smashed 
with the same meticulous intent, leaving nothing behind to salvage.  

	Leaning against the Affra Trajan slid his left hand inside his jacket and fingered 
his communicator.  "Sergeant, I cannot use the microcom.  It has been put in disaction." 
Disaction, the code word Terglyn would understand meant that the microcom's operative 
drive had put itself to sleep when the frame was being shattered and could be rebooted.  
The Affra did not screech out to high heaven when the vandal or vandals struck.  It would 
have shocked him awake as he was lying limp in Eirini's arms, together with everyone in 
the castle, which meant that the culprit had the technical knowledge to disable the alarm 
system.  

	Sergeant Terglyn's voice came hoarse and feeblelike over the optic strip.  
"Captain, there is a blizzard coming fast from the northwest and the higher trajectories are 
running with reduced pulse.  A disturbance is tampering with optic communication and 
Larkae has been struck by an energy outage, very sudden.  Nothing is working over here 
at the moment and I am none too sure whether they can regenerate the power during the 
night."

	"Everything seems to be working all right here at Casteltheyne, Sergeant.  For the 
moment anyway.  I have to find another microcom.  Stay where you are, Sergeant, and try 
to find out what has caused the power failure."

	Trajan leaned with his elbow against the Affra's roof and rubbed his forehead.  A 
grave concern had replaced the Superpre's mocking unfriendliness.  "Someone clearly 
doesn't want you to leave Casteltheyne in a hurry, Captain."

	"What about your own aero, Superpre?"

	"My fellow officer has steered it back to Larkae after he has brought me here.  
And if a blizzard is coming our way, I am trapped here like you are."

	"Trapped?  That's too harsh an assessment.  This castle must have a fleet of aeros 
still intact and ready to go."

	"Were you planning to leave Casteltheyne, my young Lar and Captain?"

	Both of them nearly jumped out of their skins when that low and sepulchral voice 
descended upon them like a voice floating out from a dark tunnel and they whirled round 
to face the speaker.  

	Huigo stood before them, coatless and seemingly oblivious to the intensifying 
cold.  He observed the vandalized Affra with sombre eyes for long moments without a 
sound escaping his lips while Deyron shivered in the icy wind and Trajan remained silent 
and still. 

	"Superpre," Huigo spoke in a voice full of command, "Please leave us two for the 
moment.  You can go into the dining room for refreshments.  I want to talk to the Captain 
in private." 

	Deyron did not object; the wind was enough persuasion for him to seek the 
warmer confines of the castle.  When the Superpre trotted off in a hurry Huigo turned his 
brooding eyes to Trajan.  His former severity had disappeared from his demeanour and 
only a certain heaviness of heart lingered behind. 

	"Trajan, please accept my apologies.  I have misjudged you all the time.  I should 
have seen you as you really are: a commander bound by duty but also a Lar, young and 
inexperienced and just recently come into his protectorate, and what such a burden means 
to you.  I am the one who has behaved dishonourably, resenting you without cause while I 
should have given you moral support.  You remind me of Wyllan in some way, Wyllan 
who had also achieved so much in such a short time, like you."

	Trajan took a deep breath.  "Huigo, I believe you are sincere and I am glad that we 
have now cleared the air between us.  But since I know what happened, and obviously 
you expect me to do something about it, I have to know more.  I have to know what really 
happened to your brother, Wyllan.  What went wrong with his experiment?"

	"I don't know.  I wasn't there."

	"Was Eugene there?"

	"Yes, he and Wyllan were together at the time."  

	"And Nagus?" 

	Huigo answered wearily:  "As I said, I don't know what really happened.  Ask my 
grandmother, she was there."

	Trajan frowned at Huigo, biting his lip.  "What do you want me to do with 
Nagus?" 

	Huigo squinted as if the question was a light too bright.  He gave his answer as the 
Lar he is.  "I don't know what Dama Anjelie has discussed with you, but in my opinion 
there is nothing more we can do with Nagus.  He is an embarrassment for sure, and a 
burden, but I have given him shelter since the accident and for Eugene's sake, and ours, I 
will continue to do so.

	The accident in the shed.  The request if he could inspect the shed hovered on his 
tongue but Trajan did not give voice to it.  As things stood, even asking to enter that 
jealously guarded shed would be like treading with steel-tipped boots on Huigo's 
sensitive noble toes.  

	"Come inside the castle, Trajan.  The cold is becoming unbearable and we can 
continue our discussions by a warm fire.  It is good talking like this and I really feel 
ashamed about what happened to your Affra.  I assure you, it was done without my 
knowledge and I will make amends for it."

	--Yes, I'll make sure that Chief Guillen present you with the bill.--  "Thank you for 
your offer, Huigo but I would like to try out first if the Affra is still manoeuvrable and if 
its microcom can be repaired." 

	Huigo conceded and left him, with bowed head and hunched shoulders meeting 
the opening charges of the approaching blizzard.  Setting foot in the front hall he noticed 
the lights had been reprogrammed to flicker into life hours before actual twilight.  As the 
hours of the afternoon trickled by, dayshine buckled under the incoming wave of early 
darkness.