FIFTY-ONE
Juri Selanne looked up at the young man standing in front of him as he finished reading the sheaf of papers in his hand. Folken had been at his door right after dawn, the report on the weapons systems in his hand. Without a word, he had handed over the pages and stood quietly in front of Juri's desk while the older man scanned over the contents. Juri had glanced up at Lacour several times as he read, but his expression had been unreadable.
"So . . . it appears that our fears have been realized." He dropped the report on the desk, "Are you sure about this Lacour?"
Folken cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded a little hoarse. "The malfunction was due to a design error in the weapons trigger."
"Before I take this to Emperor Dornkirk I must be absolutely certain that what you've discovered is correct -- there can be no room for error."
"I'm absolutely certain, Juri."
Juri sighed, "Damn it all the nine hells -- the military will have a field day with this." He rose from his chair and stepped around to the front of the desk. "It was Dimetra wasn't it? I don't know why the hell he was assigned to this project in the first place. The little tart has no talent for design or mechanics . . ."
Folken dropped his eyes and swallowed. "I-I-It was my fault." His voice was a whisper.
"What -- what are you talking about?"
"T-T-The fault was mine . . . the trigger mechanism was my design, therefore I'm responsible for what happened."
Juri swore under his breath and Folken could feel the anger that radiated off the other man. "Damn it, I knew you weren't ready for this kind of delicate work. But who could deny the emperor's will? Oh no your majesty, who am I to judge if the boy is ready or not -- I've only been designing mecha for the last twenty years!" He threw up his hands as he finished. "Look where the emperor's will has gotten us. Do you know what you've done, Lacour? Do you have any idea?"
Folken spun around and faced the other man, his eyes cold. "Of course I do! I've killed two men -- one of whom was my friend . . ."
"Spare me your self-pity, boy -- it's all irrelevant now." Juri took a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. As his gaze returned to Folken, there was hardness in his expression, "I should make you present this to the emperor -- but I doubt it would do any good. He'd still believe that he did the right thing."
The older man stepped back behind his desk and slid down in the leather chair. "Gods, this is all we need -- the military was just waiting for something like this to happen . . ." He trailed off and seemed lost in thought. After a few minutes, he spoke again. "Well what's done is done -- you can't turn back time or bring back the dead. All we can do now is try to keep this out of the military's hands and make sure that it doesn't happen again."
He looked back up at Folken. "You are not to say one word about this to anyone -- do you understand me? If I even suspect for one moment that you've broken silence . . . you'll wish you'd never set foot in Zaibach before I'm through with you. Don't think that the emperor will intervene on your behalf either, Lacour. After I present your findings, I can almost guarantee that you won't be so high on his list of favorites for quite sometime to come."
"I-I-I'm sorry, Juri -- you don't know how much. I-I . . ."
"Save your apologizes for someone who cares, Lacour. At the moment nothing you say is going to make any difference as far as my opinion of you goes. You're a bigger incompetent than that pretty-boy whore Dimetra." Juri waved a dismissive hand, "Get out of here -- I need to think."
Folken bowed and turned towards the door. As his hand reached for the doorknob, he heard Juri muttering under his breath. ". . . damn outlander brats . . . should have left the idiot to die . . . going to ruin us all . . ."
Biting his lip in anger, Folken swung open the door and closed it hard behind him. He stood in the hallway and took several deep breaths. . . . And the worst part is that what he said was true -- every word of it. Shaking his head to clear it, Folken started down the hallway and the quiet solace of his quarters.
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Folken sat on the bed in his quarters, a dark wooden box across his knees. Unlatching the lid, he opened it and looked down at the glittering objects inside: a long, slightly curved sword and a thin gold ring. He picked up the ring and placed it on the third finger of his left hand. His gaze returned to the sword as he lightly ran his fingertips over the cool, shining metal. A tear slid down his cheek as he thought about Jindra -- and he wondered how he was ever going to be able to tell her that he had been responsible for Coren's death.
Folken suddenly winced -- he had inadvertently nicked two of his fingers on the sharp edge of the sword. He stared at the blood that welled up from the cuts. How the hell do you tell your wife that you're the person who killed her brother?
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Jindra was sitting in the library, absently flipping through the pages of a large book on the history of Asturia. The clock on the mantle over the fireplace chimed the hour, causing her to glance up and note the time. Where the hell is he? I can't believe he's going to make me do this alone. Folken was supposed to have been there over an hour ago so that the two of them could tell Jindra's parents that they had been married. He promised that he would be here . . . gods, I hope he didn't get into trouble. Her fingers touched the front of her dress and she felt the outline of the pendant that Folken had given her underneath the cloth as it rested against her skin. Jindra had also taken her wedding ring off and put it on the pendant's chain. Although she didn't want to hide the beautiful presents that Folken had given her, Jindra knew that her parents would ask even more questions were they to see them.
It had been about nine o'clock in the evening when Jindra had left Folken at the inn and returned home. Folken had again pleaded with her to stay for the rest of the night, but once again she insisted that she had to leave. She knew that he was angry with her -- and she supposed he had every right to be. It was their wedding day after all; and yet there she was running home to her parents instead of staying with her husband. It was probably the strangest wedding day on record. But Jindra couldn't help smiling as she thought about the afternoon that she and Folken had spent making love. She thought that their night together at the hunting lodge had been special -- but it had been nothing compared to the love and tenderness that Folken had shown her in that cozy little suite while the rain poured down outside. Perhaps it had been the spirit of the moment or perhaps it had been the knowledge that they were finally man and wife. But whatever it was, Jindra wanted nothing more than to be back in her husband's arms as he made love to her until her toes curled. Leaving Folken behind at the inn had been one of hardest things she had done in her life -- but she knew that it was the last time that she was ever going to leave him, so it didn't hurt nearly as much as it could have. When we step on that ship for Palas, I swear no one is ever going to separate us again. You won't be able to pry me away from Folken Lacour.
Just as she knew they would be, Jindra parents had been concerned and worried about her. She had lied and told them that she had spent the day with Laurelle Dunbar, and that she had been invited to stay for dinner. She had apologized for not sending word of where she was, but she had lost track of the time. She told them that she had been playing with Laurelle's year-old daughter and hadn't realized how late it had gotten. Since her parents knew Laurelle and her husband Matthieu, their anger dissipated at bit and Jindra had managed to escape with just a light scolding.
She had felt so bad about the lie -- especially since it seemed to have come so naturally to her. If she hadn't known the truth, she would have convinced herself. As she sat in the library, Jindra tried to count how many lies she had told her parents in the last few weeks leading up to her secret marriage to Folken -- but it wasn't too long before she sighed and gave up. It's as if the last two months have been one gigantic lie -- my parents probably won't ever trust me again . . .
Just then the door opened and Erich Roh looked in. "Ah, there you are." He stepped into the room, "I wondered if I might be able to tempt you into joining me for lunch." He sat down next to his daughter. "Your mother went out earlier with Bethanne and left me all alone."
Jindra hesitated, "I-I-I'm not really hungry . . ."
"We could go back to that tavern you took me to that time."
She gave him a small smile, "You must mean the Northgate Tavern."
"As I recall the food was outstanding, even if the clientele was a bit dodgy." Her father replied playfully.
Jindra shook her head, "I'm sorry father . . . I'm just not in the mood to go out somewhere -- I'm not hungry."
"I know that you didn't come down for breakfast this morning, Jindra. Your mother is worried about you -- she thinks that you might be ill. I can ask Simon to stop by if you don't feel well."
"No, that's not necessary; I'm quite alright -- I feel fine."
Her father looked at her, "But there is something wrong -- you've been hiding in here all morning."
"I'm not hiding -- I just wanted to read for a little while."
Erich glanced down at the book in his daughter's lap. "A treatise on Asturian history?" He frowned at her, "What's really wrong, love? Don't lie and tell me nothing, because I can see it on your face."
Jindra looked down at the book in her lap and nervously clutched her hands together. I can't stand this -- I have to tell him the truth. Damn you Folken, where are you? "I-I-I . . ." Jindra took a breath to steel her nerves.
Erich gave his daughter a sharp look, "What is it, Jindra?" He reached and took her hand.
Jindra squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Her eyes darted a quick look up at her father's concerned face. "Y-Y-You're not going to like it."
"It can't be that bad, love." Erich released her hand and tilted her face up towards him. "I'm not some horrible ogre, Jindra. If you've gotten yourself into some kind of trouble then I need you tell me what it is so that I can help you."
"I-I-I'm not in t-trouble . . . at least not in the way that I think you mean." Jindra felt a slight blush creep up her face.
Erich raised his eyebrow, "Excuse me young lady, but that thought never even entered my mind; and I'm shocked that it entered yours." Jindra felt her blush deepen and she once again dropped her eyes. "Really Jindra, sometimes I wonder if you have any sense of decorum at all." Her father scrubbed at his face with his hand, "Well at least we know you haven't compromised yourself and brought scandal to the family; so what is wrong? What is so horrible that you're afraid to tell me if it isn't that?"
Jindra was silent for a few minutes while she tried to gather her courage. Her voice was very soft when she finally spoke. "I-It's about . . . it's about Folken." She paused, waiting for an outburst from her father; but surprisingly, it never came. Taking another deep breath, she continued. "I've been seeing him . . . and he -- he asked me to marry him again." She glanced up at her father's face, but his expression was unreadable -- his eyes cool as he looked at her. "I-I-I told him yes . . . and we -- we . . ." Jindra broke off as her nerve started to fail. I can't -- I can't do it! Oh gods -- I can't do this alone. I thought I could, but I can't. She took several deep breaths as she squeezed her eyes shut.
"I already know, Jindra." Erich's voice broke into her thoughts. "Even though I never said anything to you about it -- I guessed that you had been seeing him again." Her father's voice was soft, but she could hear the sadness in it and it made her heart clench. "I'm disappointed of course -- I've tried to make you see that the two of you don't have any chance at a future together . . . and what father wants his daughter to have her heart broken? You're just too stubborn and willful; but that's our fault I suppose -- your mother and I."
Jindra bit her lip as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. I don't want to hurt him -- but I can't leave it like this. I have to finish it. He's going to hate me -- but I can't lie anymore. Her hand strayed once again to the pendent and she clutched it, hoping that it would lend her the courage to finish. Swallowing down her fear, she reached underneath the book and pulled out several folded sheets of paper and held them out to her father.
Erich looked at his daughter for a moment before taking the pages from her trembling hand. Unfolding them, he looked down. It was only a few seconds before his breath caught in his throat and the tears sparked in his eyes.
Even though her father had seen the written proof from the documents in his hand, Jindra still felt that she had to confess the words aloud. "Folken and I were married the day before yesterday." He voice broke as she finished, her own tears starting to trickle down her face.
Erich Roh sat unmoving for several minutes -- his heart and mind in turmoil. He couldn't believe that his own daughter would go behind his back and wed a man that could only bring misery and heartbreak to her life. What did I do wrong? Did I love her too much -- let her have her way too much? How could she do this to us? How could she ruin the rest of her life like this?
Jindra watched her father as he started to shake with anger. She started to reach out her hand towards him when he balled her marriage documents up in his fist and threw them towards the unlit fireplace. Jindra snatched back her hand as her father's cold, angry stare fastened on her. For the first time in her life, she felt afraid of her father. She had seen him angry -- but the look on his face and in his eyes as he stared at her was something beyond mere anger. "F-F-Father . . ."
Erich abruptly stood up. "I can't speak to you right now, Jindra -- in fact, I can't bear to be in the same room with you at this moment." He tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling as he took a deep breath. Letting his head fall back down, he looked at her with sad eyes. "I don't know what we did to make you hate us so much that you would do something like this to hurt us. Your mother and I tried to raise you the best that we could, but obviously we failed somewhere along the way. Now because of our failure, you've ruined the rest of your life." Without another word, Erich turned away and left the room.
Jindra sat for a few moments while her tears ran unchecked down her face. Slowly rising from the sofa, she walked over towards the fireplace and picked up the crushed papers on the floor. Clutching them to her chest, she slid to her knees as a sob escaped from her throat.
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"I take it everything went well?" The man's voice inquired.
"Yes. I switched the plans while he was away from his quarters -- but it was close -- he almost caught me. I was in the hallway when he came up the stairs."
"Did he recognize you?"
"No, I don't think so. It's been over a year since we met -- and it had been dark out."
"Good, very good." Came the reply with a hint of satisfaction.
"Now what?"
"Now we wait. He was to see Selanne this morning. No doubt Juri has gotten the bad news. He's probably still mulling over what to do about it."
"What about the other one -- Dimetra?"
The man smiled, "Oh, no need for you to worry about dear little Marco. I've taken care of him -- personally. He will do what I tell him to."
"But what if Lacour doesn't do it -- what if he keeps silent?"
The man waved a dismissive hand, "That is very unlikely -- the boy still has too much of a conscious. Have no fear Sergeant, you'll have your reward soon enough." The man rose and stepped towards the door, "I'll keep in touch -- try not to leave the tower if at all possible."
As the door closed, Anton Lefebvre allowed himself a small smile. Soon my love . . . soon you'll be mine -- as you were meant to be. You'll thank me Jindra -- you'll fall on your knees and thank me . . .