CHAPTER TEN
Questions
WAR HAWKS….Though this name has been informally used by several groups throughout human history – including the now-defunct Galvenian Exceptionalist Party (q.v.) – the most famous usage of this term was by a loosely organized anarchist group, led by the mysterious and shadowy figure of Almonth Jakov (q.v.)….
….Though infamous for almost bringing about the collapse of the Commonwealth at the Battle of Chespa Bay (q.v.), this group is as mysterious as its founder. It disappeared without a trace after the decisive defeat its troops suffered there, though 'suspicion of being a Jakovite' (a War Hawk sympathizer) was a common charge in the show-trials that marked Russel Kievan's early rule over the Varald. During the Terran War, rumours of their re-emergence grew stronger as the conflict entered its second year…
- ENCYCLOPEDIA GALVENICA, 24th Edition, C.Y. 347
It was nightfall in the city of Indernes, and Lavie – after a friendly game of cards with her three young cousins, Judith, Deborah and Esther – was returning to her room, accompanied by her Aunt Leah.
"We're all going on a little outing tomorrow, Lavie," she said brightly, "and your father and mother said they would like to come, too. We're going to visit the Temple of Hermanus, which is just a short drive away into the next town, and we'll have a picnic there."
"The Temple of Hermanus?" Lavie smiled. "I think I read about it in history. He was an Itarian saint, right?"
"Sort of," Leah admitted. "He was the founder of David's religion – the Old Republican faith – as well, but the Itarians developed some of his teachings to form their Church, and they revere him as a holy man too. It's a very pleasant place, and there's lots of fine architecture. And paintings too, which is why David wants to take us there." She laughed.
"Well, that ought to be fun," Lavie said brightly. "Did you read about Ryan in the papers, Auntie Leah? It seems he was part of a mission to rescue the Princess, and he and his men will all get medals for what they did!"
"My, my, you seem to have stars in your eyes, my niece," Leah teased her. "He certainly seems like a very brave young man. Now sleep well, Lavie, because we need to be up a little early tomorrow, to leave before the sun roasts us all! Sweet dreams – maybe you'll dream of your Ryan Aramondrius, who knows?"
"Eramond," Lavie corrected her, with a laugh, and they embraced. "Good night, Auntie."
Still laughing, Lavie lay down on her cot, stretched herself out comfortably, and yawned. Silly Auntie! Ryan Aramondrius, indeed. The two names do sound alike, though, so I shouldn't make fun of her. She's been so good to us all!
She covered herself with a sheet, and closed her eyes, when it finally struck her.
Wait a minute.
What if that was actually the meaning?
A and E. Aramondrius and – Eramond.
No, that's not possible. It must be a coincidence.
Leaping out of bed with a sudden movement, she pulled the journal out of her dresser, and turned to the page she now knew almost by heart. She moved her finger over the lines, until she came to the last of them.
T.A.
Ryan's dad is Theodore Eramond. Theodore Aramondrius? No, it can't be! And yet – she looked at the next line. T.A. and S.R. Ryan's mom also has the initials S.R. – Sheila Robinson. I know that because her dad, Benjamin Robinson, worked in a Government office at Lorean, and Granddaddy knew him a little.
Her face took on a bewildered expression.
But the rest of it doesn't make any sense, she thought. Unless the first and the second T.A.s aren't the same person. Maybe Ryan's dad has an elder brother or sister whom I haven't heard about!
Finally, she looked at the last line, and felt her heart beat faster – in the stillness of her room, she could almost hear it.
But if this is true…
Ryan – is the last of the Journeymen?
Or – does it means that if he marries, his son will be the last of them?
He's dangerous?
I can't believe it. I won't believe it.
She tried to lie down again, but sleep was long in coming, and her dreams were troubled – troubled by images of men struck with lightning, and Ryan dying in battle.
xxx
"How sweet," the Duke of Marksmith said, admiring the Memory Crystal sitting on his desk. "Truly, though our nuptials have been postponed by this unfortunate kidnapping, Carranya's affection for me is deep and true." He smiled complacently.
"Do not be so presumptuous," Lady Rochelle Anton said, impatiently. "Consider yourself a fortunate man to be the future Prince Consort."
"Rochelle, if you're going to be such a spoil-sport, I'm going to ask you to leave," the elderly Duchess of Marksmith observed. "Wouldn't you agree, Scott?"
"Perhaps," Professor Scott said diplomatically. "I presume that is a gift from Carranya, Your Lordship."
"You presume rightly, my good Scott," Marksmith said. "And now, I must leave you. I have an urgent errand to run."
"Are you planning to visit the Princess?" Rochelle said disapprovingly. "She has caught a chill, from the exposure on those dreadful hills, and she will not be in a position to receive you."
"Sometimes, your Ladyship, I think you disapprove of me," the Duke replied with a large grin. "But rest assured, I will not disturb her."
"Will you not stay for tea, my son?" the Duchess said affectionately.
"I regret that I cannot, Mother," he replied. "Duty calls me, and I must go. As old Karzai would say, if the man will not go to town, the town will come to the man. Farewell, ladies and gentlemen." He left the room, and his mother departed in another direction, presumably to give instructions about their tea.
"How amusing," Lady Rochelle said, looking at him coldly as he left.
"Now, don't be such a killjoy, Your Ladyship," Scott said gently. "I know you think he isn't good enough for your precious Carranya, but she has accepted him, and that is enough. Moreover, there is no cloud of suspicion over him; my friends in Intelligence tell me that they have exonerated him. Is that not good enough for you?"
"Perhaps," she replied, in a voice that lacked conviction.
xxx
"Everywhere I look around," Marksmith sang to himself, in a forceful but tuneless tenor, as he looked out of his carriage window, "love is in the air…"
He tapped the Memory Crystal in his hand, and a picture of the Princess appeared. She did not move, but she began to speak.
"I will be choosing my wedding gown on Thursday at Irma's Boutique, and I would very much like to see you, my lord. Could you meet me in the evening there? I await your presence eagerly."
"She called me 'my Lord', Hayton," he said to his manservant, who was seated quietly opposite him. "Is that not a delightful proof of wifely submission?"
"I'm sure no woman in her right might would do otherwise, Your Lordship," Hayton replied. "That Princess is a lucky girl."
"Indeed," Marksmith said, beaming. "And when I am Prince Consort, then she will be even luckier. Life is beautiful, is it not, Hayton?"
The carriage drew to a halt, and Hayton opened the door.
"Here we are, Your Lordship," he said.
"Ah, joy," Marksmith replied, picking up a large bouquet of flowers and walking into Irma's House of Couture. It was strangely silent.
"Carranya, my flower, are you there?" he called out. His voice echoed through the empty vestibule. Puzzled, he moved deeper into the building, and what he saw silenced him.
Irma and her assistants were lying on the floor, unconscious but still breathing, and the entire room glowed with a dim red light. Standing in front of him were two men, remarkably alike except in age, both bearing swords. He turned, and saw that three more men were guarding the exit. He was trapped.
"What is the meaning of this outrage?" he said, trying to summon up his most commanding voice.
"Outrage?" The older of the two men walked forward, and struck the floor with his sword. To the Duke's horror, it began to burn, creating a wall of fire that prevented him from speaking further. Across the flames, his interlocutors' faces seemed disfigured, almost demonic. "Now, I'm glad to see you know some big words, Your Dukedom – or whatever title you may bear. We're here to ask you some questions."
"The Duke of Marksmith does not bandy words with commoners," he replied, trying to conceal his mounting fear. "Rest assured that once the authorities learn of this, you will be severely punished. You are speaking to the future Prince Consort of Galvenia."
"For the moment, my man," the second man replied with a smile, "we are the authorities. And you would do well not to cross us."
"Do not address me as 'my man'," Marksmith began, then felt something prodding him from behind. He turned, and saw that one of the three men behind him had a rifle pointed at him. His knees began to tremble.
"We will address you as we please – as Duke, Duck, or anything we feel like," the second man went on, with a laugh. "Is that clear?"
"What do you want with me?" the Duke moaned.
"Take a seat, quacker," the second man went on, still amused. Marksmith turned, and found that there was a chair behind him. Dazed and frightened, he sat down. "Now watch."
The first man placed a Memory Crystal in front of the Duke, tapped it, and then stepped back. The images lasted only a few minutes, and at the end, he was shaking his head, a look of revulsion on his face.
"Is this – true?" he began.
"We swear it on our honour," the first man said coldly. "And even if you do not believe, do you not feel it in your heart? Does a man in love not know when he is being played false?"
"We're trying to help you, Ducks," the second man said with a chuckle. "Now listen. In exchange for our generosity, we want two things. First, we want the release of one of our men, unjustly detained as a political prisoner in Lorean. His name is Makarov Juno. Second, we leave you free to act as you will, now that you have seen the little story on our Crystal. Only, be discreet. In times of war, commoners can be heroes."
"Why are you doing this?" he whispered hoarsely.
"We love our country, and we love Terra," the first man replied. "You are a pawn in a much larger game, Your Lordship, but you are free to act. Remember, even a pawn can be powerful if it makes the right moves. Now go – and remember that if you play us false, we will be all too eager to arrange a second meeting."
The three men guarding the door stepped aside, and Marksmith scurried out of the room.
"Safe journey, Lover Boy," the second man called out cheerfully.
Two of the men poured water over the flames, quenching them.
Jason Lugner laughed. "I quite enjoy playing them off, one against another," he observed. "It is a test of wills. Which of them will be stronger? Juno is driven by envy. Marksmith, by greed – he does not love that Princess, not any more than I do. As for our other friend, we will soon force him to show his hand, if Marksmith proves too cowardly."
Jacob Lugner replaced his sheath in his sword and shook hands with his brother. "I agree with you, brother," he said. "Kin, Kun, Ken – revive those poor seamstresses, and remove the lights. They probably won't remember much anyway."
"Yes, Sir Lugner," one of the three men replied.
"And now, let us wait," Jacob Lugner said. "Erasmus cannot be wrong. We will have an answer before we realize it."
xxx
"Another dead end," Sheffield said disgustedly. "He either can't, or won't, tell us anything more. Are you certain that your chemical concoction really works?"
"I've done all that I can, Prime Minister," Dr. Roper replied. A pudgy man with a perpetually worried look, he shook his head emphatically as they walked out of the interrogation room. "He says he acted on the orders of the Council of Viceroys, and nothing more."
"And is that the truth?" Sir Cornelius said, walking in step with them.
"Let me put it this way, Sir Cornelius," Roper replied. "It is one of three things: the truth, what he believes to be the truth, or what his guilty conscience accuses him of, even if he has not done it. Our drug cannot make that distinction. It can lower defences and obtain answers, but it cannot verify those answers."
"At least your medicine isn't totally useless, Roper," Sheffield said, a little more gently. "We were able to get a confession from one of Marksmith's servants, saying that he had nothing to do with the attempt on Socius – it was merely gossip he had overheard and stored in his memory. As for those two alcoholics who spoke of an attack on Mother Anna's carriage, they were working independently, and denied any involvement of the Duke's."
"Then we are back to square one," Sir Cornelius said, disappointed. "We do not know who the guiding spirits of this entire affair are. The Zion abducted the Princess – very well, we already know that from their ill-timed gloating! – but who among us helped them?"
"Speaking of the Zion," Roper said, "I've heard an interesting item over the wire. We doctors tend to keep in touch across countries, and the word is that Charlemagne has begun to recover."
"Really?" Sheffield said sharply. "I thought the man was moribund."
"So did I, Prime Minister, but it seems we were wrong," Roper replied, and then closed his eyes, hesitating. "And we did get one interesting item out of the Zion soldiers we captured. They have plans – plans to strike at us."
"Another abduction? Good Lord, Roper, are they criminally insane?" Fairfax exclaimed.
"Not quite, Sir Cornelius," he said. "It was difficult to reconstruct what they said, because the doses I was administering were already quite high, and they weren't too coherent. But the general tenor is clear. There is a plan on the part of their High Command to move from Darington to the border, and to strike there – perhaps at Checkpoint Alpha, perhaps at Alton. Unfortunately, both of them began speaking gibberish at the end."
"Gibberish?"
"Here are the transcripts, Sir Cornelius," Roper said, pulling two sheets of paper from the pockets of his lab coat. "It is clear that their mission in Linois' Glade was not only to detain the Princess, but to scout out the area for a future possible strike."
Cornelius scanned the doctor's notes quickly. "As you say, gibberish. 'Wrath', 'sickness', 'journey'….they must be afraid of being punished once we send them back."
"There was one phrase that recurred many times," Roper said, pointing to the paper. "'Core wrath'."
"Core wrath?" Sheffield shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense to me. I will give orders to our men to secure Alpha and reinforce it, and also strengthen the Citadel of Derren, at the northern edge of Galvenia. Hopefully, that should be enough."
"I hope so, Sheffield," Sir Cornelius said, studying the papers again, but unable to glean anything more from them.
xxx
"And this is why I conclude," Pontiff Pious XXI said, firmly and vigorously, "that Terra will not know peace until those who desire war look inside their hearts, and ask themselves if they are truly serving their God and their country, or their own selfish interests. God is not a 'jingoist', to use the Galvenian term. He does not play favourites, abduct innocent women, or invade other countries simply to 'prove a point'. Those who would follow Him must submit to him obediently, and not seek to misuse His words and His holy men and women for base purposes. Leaders of Terra, repent."
A smatter of polite applause greeted this speech, but the six faces turned on the Pontiff were far from pleased. Viceroy Kanoi seemed on the verge of having a stroke, Archbishop Mazarus seemed worried, Lord Lucan was perspiring, Jedda seemed bored, and Jansen looked angry. Only Terrin Hipper, President of the Commonwealth, was keeping up a calm exterior.
"Thank you, Your Holiness," he said politely. "The proposition is this: The Zion Empire has been guilty of an unwarranted and violent intrusion into the Theocracy of Itaria. No convincing proof of any casus belli on the part of the Itarians has been provided, despite Kanoi's rantings. Do we, the Executive Council of the Commonwealth, condemn this intrusion? Vote with your hands, gentlemen, for we have little time for speeches."
Three hands were raised – Lucan, Jansen, and Mazarus.
"Lucan, you traitor!" Kanoi spluttered. "You will pay dearly for this!"
"You crossed a line when you touched our Princess, Kanoi," Lucan shot back. "You and your Council of Viceroys are a disgrace."
"Gentlemen, a little more politeness, please," Hipper said. "As President of Terra, I approve the motion, and this condemnation shall go on the record. Next, as President, I commit the Commonwealth to continue its peacekeeping efforts, and we will be deploying further troops to Itaria shortly. And finally, gentlemen, we must vote on a punishment. Invasion of a sovereign state is a direct violation of the Charter of Lord Geraud, and there are three penalties prescribed. I shall put each of them to the vote."
"First, and most severely, there is the option of expelling the Zion from the Commonwealth. They will be under a complete trade embargo, and will have no voting powers or representation in elections until they withdraw from Itaria. Their government will be deemed illegitimate, and all other nations will be free to break off relations with them. This is the most dramatic form of punishment, and it must not be undertaken lightly. Are any present here in favour of this?"
No hands were raised.
"Second, there is the option of degradation. The Zion will remain members, but neither their Council member not their Senators will have any voting powers, and there will be sanctions on non-essential items of trade. Does anyone here wish to vote for this?"
Mazarus' hand was raised at once, followed – after a pause – by Jansen's. Kanoi turned pale, and clenched his fist.
"Third, there is the option of Council degradation alone. Kanoi will be excluded from the Executive Council and its decisions, but the Zion Senators will retain their voting powers. Trade sanctions will apply only to weapons or other items intended to aid an unjust war. How many here vote for this?"
Lord Lucan raised his hand.
"Representative Jedda, do you abstain?" Hipper said gravely.
"I do, Mr. President," Jedda said with a laugh. "Kanoi, you are behaving like a spoiled brat, as the Galvenians would say. I've seen better behaviour from a five-year-old Republican child. Just give up this silly war. The Itarians are not my cup of tea, but they are harmless. Leave them alone. Premier Josen has asked me to hold my fire, but has also authorized me to vote for penalties in the next meeting, if you do not desist."
"Very well," Hipper said. "Since the Council has voted, it remains for me to ratify this decision. I hereby move that…"
Kanoi pounded his fist on the table, and swore loudly. "This is a travesty of justice!" he bellowed. "You are only sitting in that chair because your men assassinated Junzio Koketsu, and now you abuse your power! According to the Charter, a punishment of this sort has to be ratified by an absolute majority of the Council – not by the Itarian provocateurs and the Varald terrorists!"
"Let the record state," Hipper replied calmly, "that Representative Kanoi was noted to use intemperate and ungentlemanly language, besides making slanderous accusations about the President of the Commonwealth. But, being President, I must concede the rightness of your point. You have one week to start withdrawing your troops from Itaria, Kanoi, and consider yourself lucky. If, at the end of one week, Itaria is still under attack, we will have a second vote, with no abstentions permitted."
"A provocateur, me?" Pontiff Pious XXI said mildly. "Come now, my good Viceroy. Remember that patience is the mother of many virtues."
"There is a second matter to be discussed," Hipper said, shuffling through his papers, "if Kanoi will promise not to throw another tantrum."
Jedda burst out laughing, and Kanoi looked daggers at him.
"The issue is this: as per the provisions of the Charter, we are offering Pontiff Pious XXI, head of the Theocracy of Itaria, refuge from invaders here. However, such refuge is likely to become a political football – to use a Galvenian phrase – and may lead to our neutrality being impugned. Given this, there is a provision in the Charter whereby a neutral state – one that is not involved in fighting against the exiled leader – can offer him temporary shelter. The Senate has requested this, and the motion is now before me. Zion and Itaria are, of course, excluded. That leaves Fulton, the Directorate, and Galvenia. Though this is not compulsory, gentlemen, you will be working for peace if you offer to do so, and will be rewarded with a reduction in Commonwealth taxes for as long as the situation lasts. Are any of you willing to do this?"
Lord Lucan raised his hand. This was his cue.
"May it please the Council, Mr. President," he replied, "on behalf of His Majesty, King Arlbert Lionheart the Third of Galvenia, I make a free offer of our hospitality and neutrality to Pontiff Pious XXI and the Pontifical Council. Your Holiness, if you wish, Galvenia will be your home."
Pious looked at Lucan appraisingly, then nodded.
"I accept, Lord Lucan," he said, "and may the Infinity bless you, your King and your nation for this."
Kanoi stared at his Galvenian counterpart, utterly bewildered.
A little while later, when the Council had adjourned for the day, the Pontiff made his way back to his chambers, accompanied by his colleague, Polycarp Meissner.
"Your Holiness," he said softly. "Is this wise? I know what you have in mind, but is it not too soon?"
"We will have to go there sooner or later, my good Polycarp," he replied, "and many things must happen, though the end is not quite near. Trust the Infinity, my friend."
xxx
"I am sorry for calling upon you at this time," Professor Scott said, addressing Henrik and Viola, "but there is another task I need you to help me with. First of all, though, allow me to congratulate you on success in the mid-semester examinations."
Viola blushed. "I must confess I didn't expect to do that well," she said.
"No false modesty, please, Miss Benise," the Professor replied. "Now, I assume both of you are familiar with the Museum of Science and Lore, near the eastern exit of Lorean."
"Of course, Professor," Henrik said. "I've paid quite a few visits there, especially since I've taken physical science as an elective. What about you, Viola?"
"Hmm, I know where it is, but I don't know it too well," she said, appearing strangely reluctant to discuss the matter any further.
"Well, that's good," Scott went on, in a lower voice, "because your next assignment is there. Over a year ago, they were given a curious specimen by my friend Colin Erasmus, the mayor of Alton. It was an animal horn, but it belonged to no known animal as far as they could tell."
Henrik smiled. "It so happens that I know a thing or two about that creature, Professor," he replied. "My friend Ryan and I killed it in Alton Marsh, at the Mayor's request. It was a strange creature, like a wolf but with a mane like a lion's."
Viola looked at Henrik admiringly, but said nothing.
"Remarkable!" Scott said, clapping his hands. "At any rate, what is of more concern is that two more creatures of that sort have been sighted – one near Checkpoint Alpha, the military base near the border, and one in Davenport Woods."
"Davenport Woods?" Viola said, a nervous expression on her face.
"Oh, don't worry," Scott replied. "Fortunately, thanks to the war, both those sites are regularly patrolled by our soldiers, and the animals were taken down without much difficulty; Erasmus has also requested, and obtained, a small troop of Territorial Army men to guard Alton Marsh in case such things recur.
"Where are these beasts coming from?" Viola asked, with a frown.
"Ah, that's the question, Miss Benise." Scott placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward in his chair. "They are certainly not native to Galvenia, and a careful investigation suggests that they had been living in those locations for several months, feeding on rabbits and other small animals. At Checkpoint Alpha, we found an empty cage, and in Davenport Woods, we found a small cave near the foot of Davenport Peak – both of which contained animal bones and other traces of the creatures themselves. Someone has placed them there."
"But who could that be, and why would they do it?" Henrik said. "Some crazy animal lover?"
"I'm afraid it's a little more serious than that, Mr. Spenson," Scott replied. "But rest assured, I'm not sending you into a danger zone. All you need to do is proceed to the Museum of Science and Lore, and meet a man there. He is a visiting biologist from Jadeed, in the Fulton Republic, and he claims that he can tell us about the beasts. Unfortunately, he is regarded as a bit of a crank in his own country" – Scott chuckled – "and it's possible that his information may be worthless. I want you to meet him, listen to what he has to say, and report back to me. If he seems to make sense, Colin and I will talk to him."
"Sounds harmless," Henrik agreed, and Viola nodded, though she still seemed strangely uneasy. "What's the guy's name, Professor?"
"Petros Constantinus," Scott replied. "I haven't read anything by him myself, though Colin says he has a bee in his bonnet about mythical creatures and how they really exist, despite the fossil record stating otherwise. If all he has is myths and legends, thank him and walk on. If it's anything more – report back to me."
"Got it," Henrik said, standing up with a quick movement. "Coming, Viola?"
"I'm not really one for museums," she said, smiling at him –he had the impression that she was forcing herself to do so – "but I could certainly do with a little fresh air and company. Let's leave soon, before it gets dark."
"That sounds like a plan," Henrik replied, as they left the College.
xxx
It was not a long walk to the Museum, and in about half an hour, they found themselves drawing near to its archways.
"It's a lovely day, isn't it, Henrik?" Viola said, smiling and admiring the carefully-maintained gardens outside the edifice of the Museum. "I hope this Professor Constantinus isn't too much of a crank."
"Hmm." Henrik looked forward, then turned back. "Viola, tell me – is there anything that's bothering you about this trip? You've been pretty silent all the way here."
Viola flushed. "I didn't realize I was that obvious," she said. "Well, if you must know, I had rather a frightening experience there when I was about twelve, and I've been a little scared of the place ever since. It's silly of me, I know, but I can't help it."
Henrik held out his hand to her, and she took it. "Don't worry," he said. "We all have our fears. Let me let you in on a secret – I'm not too crazy about heights, myself. I guess it must have been one of those fossil exhibits – those can be quite scary to some people."
"Heights?" Viola said, smiling and squeezing his hand. "Well, that's comforting. And anyway, it wasn't a fossil – it was one of those, um, magic exhibits."
"Magic?" Henrik grinned. "I'm a bit of a skeptic when it comes to such things, actually. Yes, I know there are Zion mages, but for me, seeing is believing – except when it comes to my religion, I guess. I'm strange that way."
"I thought your religion said that mages were evil," Viola said hesitantly.
"Not all of them," Henrik explained. "In fact, though there are some early Church documents which might read that way, every Pontiff for the past two thousand years has distinguished between 'natural' magic, which some people seem to be born with, and 'demonic' magic, which involves summoning evil spirits. Only the latter is condemned by the Church. An example of the former would be, um, one of the Zion's fire or wind mages. An example of the latter would be Samath the Journeyman, who tried to summon a female demon to receive her powers."
"Now that's something I've never heard of yet," Viola said, with a smile that looked far less forced this time. "You're a mine of information, Mr. Spenson."
"Hey, blame it on my friend Ryan, from the Academy," Henrik replied. "He used to enjoy the old story of Kaleb and Samath as a boy, and that made me curious, so I studied a few Church books on magic."
"Here we are!" Viola said, as they stood at the entrance to the Museum. After signing their names in the visitor's book, they headed to the reception area. People milled around them – students with notebooks, young couples, families with young children. Cutting through the crowd, Henrik approached the reception desk.
"Can I help you?" the woman behind the desk said, with a cheerful smile. "An assignment, perhaps?"
"Professor Scott sent us here to meet a man named, um, Petros Constantinus," Henrik replied. "Would that be possible, ma'am?"
"Ah, the Professor told us he'd be sending some of his students along," the woman said, nodding. "Be warned, kids, he loves to talk!"
Viola smiled. "The Professor warned us about that, didn't he, Henrik?"
"If you're up to it," she went on, "he's up that staircase to the right, in the second cubicle, behind a door labelled 'Visiting Faculty'. He's quite annoyed that we've put him in the 'Magical Artifacts' section, but our Curator of Biology refused to have him in the 'Fauna' section. Scientists can be quite difficult at times." She laughed.
"Sorry to hear that, ma'am," Henrik said. "Come, let's get this over with."
They climbed up to the first floor, where the crowd was a little thinner. Heading down the corridor, they came to the room that the receptionist had indicated. Its door was slightly ajar.
"Professor Constantinus?" Henrik called out, knocking on the door. "We've come from King's College. Could we speak with you?"
There was no reply.
"Professor?" he called out again.
"Maybe he's gone out," Viola suggested. Heading for the counter, they asked the young guard there if this was the case, but he shook his head.
"Hasn't left his room since the morning," he replied. "Had a few people coming to visit – the last one was about an hour ago – but he doesn't come out much. He's too busy pottering about with books, and with some weird-looking buffalo horns. Go right in, if you really want to meet him."
"Thanks," Henrik replied. Pushing open the door, he and Viola entered.
It was a second later that everyone in the Magical Artifacts wing heard the scream. Rushing into the room, the guard was greeted with a sight that caused him to turn green as well. Professor Constantius was lying on the floor, dead from a bullet wound to the head, a torn piece of paper clutched in his hand.
"Did – did you find him like this?" he stammered.
"Yes," Henrik replied, helping Viola stand against the wall for support. "It looks like he's been murdered."
"By Prince Derren," the guard moaned. "My first shift here, and a man has to die on it…."
xxx
"We were too late," Jason Lugner said sadly, his trademark smile gone for once. "They got to him first. Erasmus will be very unhappy."
"Well, at least our suspicions are confirmed," Jacob Lugner replied, resting his large jaw on one hand. "Unfortunately, we are in no position to act on them, even if we have secured the release of Juno."
"Juno…" Jason Lugner brightened. "Brother, why do we not use Juno to send – a message to a particular person?"
"He is a hothead," Jacob Lugner said, "and he needs to temper his unbridled aggression by being given smaller tasks. No, Jason, to proceed further we need the other man. Or Marksmith."
"Speaking of Marksmith," Jason said, "our little ploy has worked too well. As soon as our men got wind of Zion troop deployments near the border, Sheffield began to organize his own forces. I have it on good authority that Marksmith has ensured – through his army contacts, and his mother's relatives – that his rival, Eramond, will be part of those forces. I foresee a short and glorious career for him if that happens – and if what we suspect about the Zion is true."
"The recovery of Charlemagne is a wild card," Jacob replied. "It throws our timeline out of kilter, unless…."
"Unless the process is taking more time than expected? Yes, that is quite possible, brother," said Jason. "My own calculations suggest that over a year may be required."
"You always were the theorist, Jason, even if I had the gift," Jacob said affectionately. "But we must try to ensure that this border jaunt of the Zion's dies an early death. Otherwise, those calculations will prove frighteningly accurate."
"What do you have in mind?" Jason asked hopefully.
"Nothing, really," Jacob replied. "But I think a little trip across the border would do us some good. I've heard that summers in Issachar are quite pleasant."
"I have heard the same as well," Jason said, his smile now quite recovered.
It was a day before Terrin Hipper's deadline was due to expire.
"What a life," Sergeant Hodges grumbled, sitting at his desk. "To think that rookies are getting medals for serving the Commonwealth, while we're stuck here."
"Well, you're the one that opted out, Hodges," Captain Helms retorted. "When they gave you a choice between the Zion and the CSF reserves, you asked for the first, much against my advice. A young man like you needs to see the world."
Hodges chuckled. He was used to his superior officer chaffing him in this way, and though he grumbled, it was all in good fun. "Well, it looks like we need to review our men for today, though what purpose it serves, I can't tell. Checkpoint Alpha is quiet."
"But we've received warnings from Central Command, Hodges," Helms replied, "to watch out for any suspicious movements, and they're sending more men down from Lorean in a few days…."
He had not finished his sentence when the alarm began to ring.
"By King Richard!" Helms said, and swore under his breath. "Some young fool must have hit the switch by mistake. Come, Hodges. Let's find out who it was – the potatoes tonight need peeling."
The two men emerged from the base, to be greeted by a group of nervous-looking soldiers.
"Sir!" one of them said. "Sir, you've got to see this!"
"Which one of you fools rang the bell?" Helms said sharply. "Damn it, that thing is not a toy!"
"Sir!" A voice pierced the uneasy silence that followed his question. "Imperial division approaching, at about two miles from here! They're about fifty strong."
"What?" Hodges exclaimed.
Captain Helms, in the meantime, had moved to where the sentry was, and realized that he was speaking the sober truth.
"Hutchison!" he called out, his hand going to his sword. "Send a message to Lorean immediately, informing them that we may soon be under attack. The rest of you, prepare for battle immediately! Defense formations, and place both cannons near the northern entrance!"
"Sweet Infinity, sir," Hodges stammered, "what is the meaning of this?"
"Damned if I know, Hodges," Helms said darkly, as the men began to line up and assume their positions. "But whatever it is, we're not going down without a fight."
In less than an hour, the Zion men had drawn up in battle line at the border, and their leader, in a Major's uniform, stood in front of them, carrying a megaphone.
"Men of Galvenia, we are the 29th Imperial Battalion," he said loudly. "Your citizens have violated the Border Treaty of Arlbert I on several occasions. Surrender, or we will capture this post by force."
"You and whose army, kid?" Helms shouted back contemptuously. "You'll take Checkpoint Alpha over our cold, dead bodies."
"Very well!" the Major replied, and the Zion men immediately opened fire. Three of the Galvenian soldiers were hit, and fell to the ground.
"They have numbers, but they shoot like old women!" Helms urged his men. "Hodges, fire the first cannon!"
A shell landed in the midst of the Zion line, knocking several men to the ground. Enraged, the Major charged forward, and the battle became heated. The second Galvenian cannon fired, tearing a line in an approaching group of Zion soldiers, but they retaliated with their rapid-fire artillery.
After several hours of fierce fighting, it was evident that both sides had been utterly decimated. Helms, looking behind him and wiping the blood from his neck, noted with horror that Sergeant Hodges was slumped over the first cannon, a sword transfixing him.
"Well, Major," he called out, as he and the eleven men left with him faced the Zion leader and his seven, "do you want to continue this, or shall we just chase you back to your own country?"
"We will never surrender," he said, and three of the riflemen fired, but this time Helms' men were prepared, and they fired rapidly. Four of the Zion men fell, but only one of the Galvenians.
"Do you truly want any more punishment?" Helms taunted him.
The Major reached for his belt, and took hold of a grenade. Helms, reacting rapidly, fired at him – and was instantly knocked to the ground, convulsed with the most intense pain he had felt in his life. Rolling on the ground helplessly, he saw to his horror that the rest of his men were similarly affected.
"Move in, my friends," the Major and his three comrades said, slowly and deliberately disarming the helpless Galvenian soldiers. "Mission accomplished."
xxx