Chapter 9
December 4th, 2241: House Roglark estates, Centauri Prime
The Centaurum is descended from the Assemblage of Noble Advisors. Initially it was established as a delineation between those that could claim nobility and those that could not. It was decided at the time to divide it into six levels of nobility (six is considered a lucky number for the Centauri). Once the actual Centaurum building was constructed these 'levels' became know as 'tiers' ever after, with each level of nobility occupying one tier.
The first three tiers were descended directly from those families that gave the most aid during the Xon Wars. Each tier can trace its time back to one of the three generations that the wars took place: first tier to the first generation, second tier to the second generation, third tier to the third generation. The remaining tiers were those that had received their nobility by gift, or marriage, or by dint of their ability (or some say how deep their pockets proved to be).
House Roglark sits in the second tier. Though traditionally most Emperors have come from the families in the first tier, many times they have come from the second, and once even the third. To date none have come from the fourth, fifth, or sixth tier.
Being on the second tier has placed House Roglark in a position to effect events in the Republic despite their lack of an Imperial ancestor. Unlike many of the other second tier families (House Molari comes to mind), there has never been an Emperor from House Roglark. One Roglark son, Lord Antharcus Roglark, came close just over three hundred years ago. At a critical juncture in the Orieni War, he left Centauri Prime to command a large fleet in a desperate attempt to blunt the major Orieni offensive. It was assumed by many Houses, both Great and Minor, that he would be named Emperor should he be victorious.
He was indeed victorious, smashing the Orieni fleet. In proved the high-water mark for the Orieni and the remainder of the war was clearly in the Centauri's favor. The Orieni were never able to go on the offensive again. Lord Antharcus Roglark was hailed as a conqueror and savior of the Republic, but alas he did not survive the battle. His battlecruiser was last seen going to the knife with three Orieni heavy cruisers. Posthumously he was invested with the Order of Kiro, awarded the Gradicolco Laurifice Erusalum, named Hero of the Republic, and some say he now sits at the right hand of the Lord of War. His wife, Lady Terhali, was left to raise his sons, satisfied that her husband and Lord had not given his life in vain. He had told her upon his departure that the Republic was worth all any man could give.
To this day, House Roglark wears their silver braid with pride, knowing the Republic may have fallen without their ancestor's sacrifice (gold braid or trim is reserved for those Great Houses that have an Emperor in their family tree). In some ways it has engendered in them a broader view of Centauri politics and policies. Though they tend to be nationalists and traditionalists, they also tend to be Republican-men rather then Imperial-men.
The shuttle carrying Lord Jentavus Roglark launched off the flight deck of the destroyer. He had returned to Centauri Prime three weeks after the last battle at Ardun. After that battle he had swept his fleet through several of the other minor systems in the Buffer Zone, clearing out all of the Narn warships and ground forces he could find.
Once his sweep had been completed, the Imperial High Command had ordered him to halt the offensive. Emperor Turhan had offered to accept a surrender from the Kha'Ri, the ruling council of the Narn Regime. Currently there was a cease-fire in place while the Kha'Ri considered the terms of Emperor Turhan's proposal. Lord Roglark felt that despite the tremendous losses the Narn had suffered so far, it was unlikely they would surrender. He was certain that many of the Narns would continue fighting even if the only weapons they had to use were rocks and sticks, or their bare hands.
Apparently the Imperial High Command had similar feelings as well. They had recalled all theatre commanders to Centauri Prime during the cease-fire. A planning session was being convened to explore options should the Kha'Ri reject the terms of the surrender, and to consider punitive action against the Drazi for their complicity in the Massacre of Quadrant 17. The session was in two days, and Lord Roglark had arrived early to spend some time with his family.
The shuttle entered the atmosphere of Centauri Prime. It dropped down over the Sea of Namzee, then turned inward towards land. Lord Roglark glanced out the window at the blue-green crystalline water. The shuttle was just passing the yellow-sand beach. A single sharp memory invaded his musing, of playing in that surf and sand as a boy. His mother reading under the shade of a large awning, the covered double basinet of his brother and sister, servants endlessly throwing him into the waves as his little-boy shrieks of delight echoed off the dunes.
His chest ached for just a moment recalling that earlier idyllic part of his life. For him, memories were rarely dulled by the passage of time. His almost perfect memory was able to recall every detail: sight, sound, smell, even his emotions from precise moments in his life. He sometimes found himself longing for a simpler time, as it had been when he was so young.
With a heavy sigh, he put his brief melancholia away as the lands of House Roglark appeared outside of the viewport. He keyed the comms and said, "Pilot, please slow down." The shuttle's velocity decreased, giving Lord Roglark a better view of the holdings of his family. Vast vineyards rolled past, terraced into the low hills overlooking the orchard-covered valleys. The antya vines were covered in netting, an added protection from the birds for the new fruit. "We should have a good harvest in a couple of months," he thought. Harvest was only the first step of the long process to turn the antya into fine brivari.
The shuttle swooped around a copse of nut-bearing trees, and the demesne of the Roglark family came into view. A rambling many-winged structure in the classical Centauri style, it sat atop a hill. Set in a defensible position, it had grown over the centuries to engulf the entire top of the hill. The oldest parts were still a keep and castle. In the days when it was initially constructed the Xon were still raiding the Centauri coastline, and a strong house was to be desired.
The shuttle pilot flew once around the structure then put down on the landing pad in front of the house. Even the landing pad was ancient, having been added centuries ago first for rotary winged craft, and then later reinforced for spacecraft.
As the shuttle touched down, he could see the House guard in a double line leading from the pad to the steps at the front door. Beyond them he could see most of the domestic staff. "Chantra has turned out the whole household," he thought. As he stepped down the short stairs to the ground, the guard came to attention and presented arms while recorded music played. Just as his booted foot touched the ground the smaller silver-trimmed blue pennant broke out over the house flagpole, letting all know the Lord was present. This display was a bit out of character; his first wife Chantra usually didn't stand on ceremony like this.
He crossed the short distance from the pad to the stairs; he could see his family at the top. Every step closer lightened his mood. He rushed past all of the servants to his waiting family. Chantra was standing there in a Roglark-blue court gown, looking demure. He didn't recognize the gown, thinking it must be something new. He grinned and swept her off her feet, arms around her waist, spinning her around in pure joy. The spicy essence of maltrix filled his nostrils as he held her close. The sudden embrace elicited an exasperated "Jentavus!" from Chantra even as she laughed.
Lord Roglark's exuberant display and his wife's laughter seemed to be some sort of signal, and the whole crowd of domestics and soldiers broke out into a ragged laughing cheer. Lord Roglark released his wife, and was abruptly surrounded by his children. Little Trianna, his youngest, was tugging at his trouser leg, fingering the new blue seams added since being awarded the Gradicolco. He bent down and scooped her up, her nursery-length hair tickling his nose as he kissed the top of her head. His youngest son Spiricus was hugging him around his waist saying "I missed you Papa!" Lord Roglark held him with his other arm. He looked around and saw his oldest son and heir Erekann, seeming to have grown into a man in the six weeks since Lord Roglark had last been home. "In two short years he will be off to the Academy," he thought. Erekan was grinning with repressed glee, trying to appear cool and aloof as a proper noble should. He gave a short bow from the waist, then stepped aside and turned to bring someone into Lord Roglark's view.
Erekann pulled his younger sister out. Renetta, Lord Roglark's oldest daughter, was dressed in a court gown that matched her mother Chantra's in style and color. She smiled at him hesitantly, seemingly to be waiting for something from him. Lord Roglark quickly looked her over for something different about her. With a start he saw Renetta's head was now shaved with a gathered topknot down the back. "She must have had her palomini while I was at the front," he thought.
Though all Centauri women shaved their heads, when they were girls they grew hair. The day a female had what was known as her 'nursery hair' cut and her head shaved marked her a girl no more. Palomini was the traditional hair-cutting and head-shaving ceremony that marked a girl's passage into womanhood. It also marked her as eligible for suitors should she not already be betrothed. No particular date was chosen, each girl was unique physically and emotionally, it was up to the mother to decide. Her mother, or other suitable older female relative, in conjunction with a priestess, performed the ritual. The father had one role to perform as well, that of acceptance of her new status. Obviously, Erekann had stood in for him as was tradition, but Renetta was seeking his approval as well.
She took a hesitant step as someone prodded her forward. Lord Roglark saw his second wife, Glaianna, was propelling his daughter to him. He mentally raised an eyebrow, wondering what could have possible changed the situation here to make Glaianna try to mesh with his family in such a way. Glaianna had never tried to make things flow smoothly, a favor he often repaid in kind.
Renetta stepped forth as Lord Roglark set his other daughter down and disentangled himself from his younger son. She smiled at him again, her hands clasped nervously at the high waistline of her gown. He smiled in acceptance, holding out his arms to her. She rushed into the circle of his arms, tears of joy wetting her face. She was laughing and crying at the same time as he hugged her tight.
He released her and held her at arms length, his second wife Glaianna looking over her shoulder in a way that seemed a bit wistful. He nodded once to Renetta, then extended his arms, one to Renetta, one to Chantra and said, "My dear ladies, shall we go inside?" They promptly linked arms with him and walked into the house amid the populace's cheers, the rest of the family in tow.
Several hours later Lord Roglark was sitting in his bedchamber. A gas fire and subtle sconces on the walls dimly lighted the large room. He was sipping a glass of his Terran cognac while stripping off his uniform. All of the servants had been dismissed and the children were put to bed.
He was replaying the day's events through his mind, mulling over an unusual detail: apparently his second wife Glaianna had been responsible for the official-style welcome he had received. Chantra had told him that Glaianna had planned the whole event to honor him, not realizing even after all these years that he preferred not to stand on ceremony. "Still," he thought, "the sentiment was considerate." This change in Glaianna's behavior was noteworthy enough that he brought it up to his first wife Chantra.
"So my Lady," he said, slyly speaking to his wife Chantra through the open door to the bathing suite, "What did you do to Glaianna to give her such a turnabout while I was gone?"
Chantra snorted from beyond the doorway. "Nothing I have ever done has changed her behavior before."
Now it was Lord Roglark's turn to snort. Shortly before their second child Renetta had been born, Lord Roglark had been obligated to take Glaianna as his second wife. Glaianna had arrived, haughty and full of anger, but also full of wicked plots and devious cunning. She had crossed swords with Chantra immediately over every household matter. After some particular bit of mischief with the household, Chantra had taken her on a holiday to one of the hunting lodges in the mountains. They had left the children and most of the servants behind, and had returned after only two days. Glaianna had returned both in awe and fear of Chantra. Lord Roglark had never found out exactly what transpired between them, but Glaianna had curbed much of her scheming ways, at least where Chantra or the children were concerned. Whenever he asked Chantra, she grew coy and coquettish, saying only it was 'just something between women'.
Glaianna had been promised to his brother as a final codicil in an agreement to end a long-standing feud between House Roglark and House Carun. But before the marriage could take place, his brother Aloysien had received a True Calling to be a priest of the Great Maker. True Callings to the Great Maker cannot be disputed, and those that receive them were freed of all social, familial, and governmental obligations. The Humble Servants of the Great Maker are the only priestly order that may not take a spouse. As Lord of the House it was Lord Roglark's duty and responsibility to make good on the agreement. His own son was barely three years old, and House Roglark had no other males of suitably high station.
Glaianna was a stunning beauty by Centauri standards. Her topknot was of the rarest and most desired straw blond, her eyes the unusual shifting grey-blue color. Her tall well-formed figure and sultry contralto voice had left many a young man breathless with desire. But her older brother, the Lord of House Carun, had already been forced to break off two other betrothals before Aloysien. Her disposition and personality were so disagreeable, her tongue so sharp, her machinations so problematic, that she was quietly being called a "Handmaiden of Infilnia", in reference to the Centauri goddess Infilnia, the patron of virgins, and old maids.
Multiple marriages for Centauri males were not uncommon, should they have wealth and position. Most first marriages among the nobility were arranged by their families, often for political alliance. Many times the second wife might be married for love though not always so. In some ways, Centauri culture respected the second marriage more as it was seen as a representation of the taste of the husband. Each marriage had its own moniker: first was 'Duty', second 'Taste', third 'Desire', fourth 'Folly', and so on. Lord Roglark knew he had been incredibly lucky with Chantra. Their fathers had arranged the marriage unbeknownst to them even before her palomini. His father Quillan had contrived to put them together endlessly throughout their adolescence, hoping a connection, a compatibility, perhaps even a spark of desire would arise.
Quillan's plan bore a bounteous harvest. By the time of the announcement of their betrothal, the young Jentavus and Chantra had fallen deeply in love. Jentavus had promised Chantra that he would allow no other woman to bear his children, even if he was forced to marry another as his first wife. They were joyous upon the announcement of their betrothal. Lord Jentavus Roglark had kept his vow: only Chantra had borne his children. Though he had, by law, been forced to consummate his marriage with Glaianna, it had been perfunctory at best. He hadn't even removed most of his clothing. He had only allowed the First Level, made certain of birth control, and had left immediately after. She had been furious, thinking her considerable physical charms could bewitch him. When such was not the case she flew into a rage, destroying much of her sleeping suite. For quite some time she made continued attempts to seduce him, often at the most inopportune times, but he would not be swayed. They had eventually come to an agreement: he would not share her bed, but she was free to take lovers, so long as she was discreet. Lord Roglark had warned her that should she embarrass him with a lover, he would invoke the Patrum Famillium, his divine right as Father of the Family, to have her executed as an adulteress. It was rarely done in modern times, but he reminded her that House Roglark was a traditionalist House. She had taken the warning to heart, and was discreet as could be.
Lord Roglark's musing over the past was broken by Chantra asking exasperatedly, "Jentavus, are you there?"
He turned with a start saying, "Yes my Sweet, just deep in thought."
She didn't reply immediately. When she did her voice was concerned, "The war?" she asked.
"No, just thinking about our family," he said.
"Could you please help me with these fastenings?" she asked.
He put down his liquor and moved to the bathing suite saying, "Of course my dear." Chantra was struggling with the intricate buttons, hooks, and laces of her new gown. Lord Roglark was familiar with the delicate design of female court garb, and knew his wife didn't wish to damage the dress. He moved up behind her and began to help his wife out of her cumbersome clothing. He studied the convoluted fastening system, and could make no sense of it. He shrugged and dove right in.
After a few minutes of quiet cursing, they didn't seem any closer to getting the dress unfastened. He finally growled, "Why did you dismiss the servants before you got out of this?"
She looked over her shoulder with a sly smile and said, "Well I thought that you might like to undress me."
He cocked an eyebrow upwards and said, "Oh is that what you were thinking?" He began rubbing the sensitive spot all Centauri women had right at the base of the spine. Even though the layers of fabric blunted some of his ministrations, he knew they were having the desired effect when she quietly gasped.
She leaned over the vanity, resting her weight flat on her palms. "Jentavus," she whispered hoarsely, "you need to get this dress off me."
He released her, backed up and said, "All right, enough of this before I have to go get a sword. Lift your arms and I'll pull it over your head." She turned around and stepped sideways, lifting her arms over her head. He knelt down and plunged his hands under the voluminous folds and layers of the dress. He felt through the layers until he found the layer closest to her skin. He started rucking all but that layer up over her hips, his hands sliding on her stockinged legs. She pulled her body down as he worked the dress up over her waist to her bosom.
They were both unprepared when the dress suddenly came off her upper body. He stumbled backwards into one of the sinks knocking cosmetics and grooming implements across the counter. Chantra ended up flopping down onto the floor, landing on her bottom.
He was about to curse again, when he saw she was giggling. Her laughter was infectious as he found himself chuckling right along at the situation. "Well, I'm not sure that was what the dressmaker intended..."
She giggled for a few moments more as she lay sprawled out on the floor. Lord Roglark thought she made quite a fetching sight: lying back on her elbows, black-stockinged legs exposed, a diaphanous Roglark-blue sleeveless chemise hugging her body. He felt his desire for her rise.
Her giggles subsided as she saw the look he was giving her. She dropped her eyes, held out her hands and said in a husky voice, "Help me up Jentavus."
He tossed her cumbersome dress across a chair, then leaned down and pulled her upright to a standing position. Without her shoes she stood just up to his chest. She raised her face to his, her own desire lighting the depths of her dark-green eyes. He leaned in, kissing her ready mouth. This close, her maltrix perfume surrounded him in a heady cloud. She gasped again as his hands snaked around to her back, parting the folds of the silk. Her chemise, like so many Centauri female undergarments, was virtually backless.
He continued kissing her for a moment more, then abruptly swept her legs out from under her and lifted her up. She clasped her arms behind his neck as he carried her back to the bedchamber. He gently deposited her on the waiting bed. He stood and stared at her for a moment, marveling at her beauty, and again thanked the Great Maker that she was his.
She pulled the front ribbon to the chemise, allowing it to fall open. Rolling onto one side she raised her head up on one hand and said, "Would you care to share my bed my Lord?"
He pulled off his shirt, his desire evident. "Eagerly my Lady," he said as he lay down next to her. Chantra's eyes smoldered with passion as he embraced her again, both of them falling into that timeless space known only to lovers.
Miles away, Lady Morella sat in a darkened room in the Imperial Palace. She sat before a table on which rested an intricately decorated metal bowl full of water. At rare times in her life, her seer abilities had been difficult to channel. She had learned long ago to use the bowl of water in conjunction with deep prayer and meditation to help her concentration.
After the abrupt surprise she had received weeks ago, her talent had returned but in fits and starts. It had been much the same for the few other seers she knew. They were a small select few; all known to one another, though not necessarily known at large, even by the Emperor.
She remembered the day she had received the vision that started her on her present course. She had seen a vision so clear, and so terrifying that she had to act on it. She had packed up her few belongings and booked passage to the Imperial City. She had presented herself to Lord Turhan. She had told him he would be Emperor, though he had been certain of that already. She had offered herself as his companion and wife that she would be on hand to him to help make sure the details of her vision would come to pass. In time Lord Turhan had become Emperor, and he had always followed her advice. This had been the first time her sight had been seriously disrupted since becoming Emperor Turhan's wife. During this time she had come to realize that perhaps her husband relied on her gift too much.
"This is not the time for such regrets," she thought. She focused her gaze to the water's surface and reached deep within for her inner sight. She was able to grasp it firmly enough to cast about her consciousness. She felt the time-stream slip over her as she began to view events. She saw the nexus point of where Lord Roglark avoided his death. It had turned to a shatter-point. So many threads of destiny had been flung sideways it was hard to concentrate enough to make sense of what was to come, a least for the immediate future. She could still see the terrifying darkness coming, looming like some vast event horizon. She could see nothing beyond that darkness though instinctively she knew there was something beyond it.
At last she could see some of the near future: a dark evil thought gone was returning, and even she could not see what it might mean save death and despair. She was able to see a new line outward from Lord Roglark's avoided death. Her experience had been that Destiny would continue to try to reassert itself, even if temporarily avoided. Great and terrible things would come if he could continue to avoid his foretold death.
He stood helpless as the Narn ships closed. His guns had not been able to destroy them. Their weapons vomited forth vast amounts of fire. He was knocked to the deck as fire and explosions spread across the bridge. He staggered to his feet as the fires continued to burn. He saw Thendon lying motionless on his back, burns covering his bloodied face. Many men lay dead on the deck. He stabbed the comms button, yelling at the Chief Engineer to give him ramming speed. He felt the gravity shift as the ship swung around and bore down straight at the center Narn ship. He ordered the navigator to sound the collision klaxon. With the klaxon ululating in the distance he began to pray to the Great Maker. He closed his eyes as a terrible white light surrounded him, a light that did not warm.
Lord Roglark awoke with a start. Even though the reality had not happened that way, he continued to have the same old dream about it. He glanced down at Chantra making sure he had not awakened her. She still slept peacefully. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He felt a tingle of passion watching her, but couldn't bring himself to invade her slumber.
He flipped the bedclothes off his body and put his feet onto the thick plush carpeting. He stood and stretched, some of his joints popping and protesting. He felt the mild ache in his torso that all Centauri males experienced after a bout of vigorous lovemaking. "Well," he thought, "no more of that for a day or so. I'm not as young as I used to be."
He moved to a bureau, withdrew some clothing, and started dressing. He chose some casual civilian clothing as he planned to spend the day here on his estates with his family. He saw the servants had removed most of the black clothing, certainly on Chantra's orders. He knew she preferred to see him in other colors than his signature black. He was obligated to obey his vow to only wear black in public until the Buffer Zone was returned to the Republic, but here in the privacy of his ancestral home he was not bound by his vow.
He finished dressing as quietly as he could, and then made sure his hair was up in its usual fan. He returned to the bedside, leaned down and gently kissed Chantra's cheek. She moaned softly, smiled and opened her dark green eyes. Lord Roglark smiled in return saying, "I am sorry my Sweet, I did not mean to wake you."
"You didn't wake me," she said. Her smile turned into more of an impish grin as she added, "I was just lazing here wondering if you were going to, ahh..."she hesitated then continued," assert your husbandly privileges again."
He chuckled saying, "Not much chance of that dear lady." He clasped his arms over his torso and said, "I fear we overexerted ourselves."
Chantra sighed and then softly groaned as she slowly sat upright. "Yes my love, I fear it will be the divan for me today," she said. She almost giggled as she added, "I hope the servants won't be too scandalized." For Centauri women, not sitting upright in a chair but reclining on a divan would be seen as the result of boisterous lovemaking.
Lord Roglark snorted and said, "Damn the scandal." Chantra swung her black-stockinged legs out from under the bed coverings and slowly stood. She still wore her filmy blue chemise, open at the front. Leering at her exposed bosom Lord Roglark said, "But I won't be able to prevent it if you show up at the breakfast table dressed like that."
She threw a pillow at him and said, "I'm getting dressed you lecher." She slipped on a robe over her near nakedness. As she walked across the chamber she put her hands to the small of her back and said, "But I think something a little less confining will be the order of the day." She selected something in teal from the wardrobe, and then pulled the old bell rope. The ancient bell system had been replaced centuries ago with an electronic light and chime signal to the servant's area. In moments a female servant came through the door. She quickly closed the door, allowing only a flash of the brilliant sunlight that filled the hallway behind her. She moved immediately to Chantra's side.
Lord Roglark bowed from the neck to his wife and said, "I shall see you at breakfast my Lady." He turned and left the bedchamber as the servant began helping Chantra out of her robe and undergarments.
He squinted at the bright sunlight in the hallway, thinking he should have his Estate Manager get some tinting for the windows. He walked briskly down a carved wood staircase to the family hall, a smaller more intimate setting than the great hall, usually reserved for family or close-relation meals. He passed several servants along the way, each of them giving him a hearty "Good morning my Lord," while stepping aside and bowing from the waist. He acknowledged each greeting with a smile, a nod of his head, and often a reply calling the servant by name. He was happy to be home, and found himself humming one of his favorite tunes as he crossed the swirled and polished black-white-green stone floor and entered the hall.
The rich odors of a fine Centauri breakfast greeted him as he stepped across the threshold: savory fried ghraulugh, porridge made of tempala, fresh bread, glazed jomich fruit, sweet nut-covered pastries, hashed spoo with gravy. Those at the table were mostly finished, merely lingering over final cups of hot jala or fruit juice. Everyone looked up as he entered, then they jumped up and bowed. He waved them all back down as Trianna leapt from her seat and ran to him yelling "Papa, papa!"
He picked her up and carried her back to the end of the table as her governess clucked and reached out to take her. Lord Roglark shook his head and carried her to the head of the table, sat down and put Trianna on his knee.
Smelling the food, Lord Roglark suddenly felt ravenous. Mostly it was because he had arisen later than normal, though his night with Chantra had contributed as well. He began piling food onto a plate, shaking his head when the servants rushed forward to serve him. He lifted the jala carafe, only to find it empty. He motioned to one of the serving girls. He was going to call her by name but realized he didn't know it. "She must be new," he thought. She saw his look and guessed its meaning. She dropped her eyes and said, "Nedina, my Lord."
He nodded and said, "Nedina, tell the kitchen that I want some eggs to go with this, and have them send up something hot to drink." She immediately left the room for the kitchen.
Lord Roglark was surrounded by the pleasantly benign conversation of his household. As Trianna nibbled on his pastry, he sat back and reveled in the peaceful domestic tranquility. Even the House Guards in the room joined in the happiness, laughing at a joke Erekann had just told.
The serving girl Nedina returned, bearing a tray. On the tray sat a steaming plate of eggs and a large ceramic mug. Lord Roglark's nose detected the spicy sauce used in the preparation of the eggs, and the rich smell of Terran coffee. Lord Roglark had not even known they had coffee in the house. It was a rare and expensive delicacy, yet one he savored whenever he had the chance. He wondered if Chantra had purchased it as a surprise for him, or perhaps it was a gift from his friend Admiral Doyle.
Lord Roglark's musing on the origin of the coffee was interrupted by a loud crash. The serving girl Nedina had collapsed and was convulsing on the floor. The crash of the tray was followed by chaos as servants and guards burst into noise and activity. Lord Roglark jumped up, passing his youngest child to her governess. "Get Trianna and Spiricus to safety," he ordered two guards. Both were familiar with the procedures Lord Roglark had put into place. In times when he ordered his family to safety they had a special area to occupy, but not where one an assassin might expect: the training gymnasium. Only one hallway led to it, and as weapons would sometimes be used there, it could be locked down quite easily. One House Guard took both governesses by the arm as the other led the way, producing a break-down ion carbine.
Two other Guards were trying to restrain the serving girl. Lord Roglark heard some of the females crying, including his daughter Renetta. He dropped to the floor with the two Guards and tried to inspect the convulsing girl. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, and pink-tinged foam was coming from between her lips. Her breath had an odd odor leading Lord Roglark to only one conclusion, one that a Guard spoke out loud, "Poison!"
"Go see to Lady Chantra and Lady Glaianna's safety," he ordered the final Guard. The serving girl's convulsions had dropped off to mere twitches and jitters, and the foam seemed to have stopped. The Guards were able to easily restrain her now.
Lord Roglark felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see his son Erekann. He told him, "Find Casamir and have him lock down the estate. The assassin may still be on the grounds." Casamir was the Estate Manager, and a damn good one. He served Lord Roglark well as Estate Manager and Chatelaine since the death of Lord Roglark's father Quillan. If the assassin were still on the estate, Casamir would find him.
Erekann nodded and turned to leave the room. The door opened before him as the House Chiurgeon rushed in, one of Renetta's ladies-in-waiting in tow. As Erekann dashed out, the Chiurgeon knelt down beside the now almost motionless serving girl. He snapped some protective gloves over his hands, and then sampled the pink-tinged foam that still was in the corner of the girl's mouth. He sniffed it, then shook his head and clucked. He immediately unlimbered and opened his medical case.
"What is it Doctor?" Lord Roglark asked.
The Chiurgeon said, "Mystong, my Lord." Lord Roglark knew mystong was a bitter-tasting, potent neurotoxin that had to be either ingested or injected. Lord Roglark knew that it was almost universally fatal to Centauri men, the poison working in conjunction with male hormones. It was rarely used not so much because it was hideously expensive and very difficult to procure, but also because it left obvious evidence. The poison lasted for quite some time in a dead victim.
The Chiurgeon confirmed Lord Roglark's memory of the poison by saying, "Were she not so young, and female, she would most likely be dead my Lord." He withdrew a hypodermic gun and loaded some sort of medication into it. He then instructed the Guards, "Hold her tightly, if this antidote works she will convulse violently again." He put the gun to her neck and squeezed the trigger.
True to his word, Nedina's back arched and her body began to thrash about. The two Guards and the Chiurgeon held her down until abruptly the spasms stopped. Nedina hung limply in the Guards' arms as the Chiurgeon felt for her pulse. He sighed and smiled saying, "We have saved her but she must be gotten to the infirmary quickly." He looked askance at Lord Roglark saying, "May I have use of these two my Lord?" pointing to the Guards.
"You may have this one until others arrive," he replied, pointing to the one holding Nedina's shoulders. The Guard stood, hefting the serving girl up into his arms. The Chiurgeon glanced around, and then took the ceramic mug and a small sample of the scattered eggs, placing both in separate plastic bags. "How did you know to come to the family hall?" Lord Roglark asked.
The Chiurgeon smiled as he got to his feet, gesturing to the lady-in-waiting. "Your son sent that young woman to fetch me my Lord, saying someone had been poisoned in the family hall," he replied.
Lord Roglark climbed to his feet as well thinking, "Well done my son!" A large group of House Guards then trooped into the room and saluted Lord Roglark. The subaltern in charge said, "Casamir sent us my Lord. He says the estate is locked down and a search has commenced for the assassin." The subaltern turned to his men, detailing several saying, "With your permission my Lord: Escort Madam Renetta to Ladies Chantra and Glaianna and stay there until the 'All clear'." The Guards saluted, then took a red-eyed Renetta and her small entourage out of the room.
Lord Roglark dismissed the remaining servants and the Chiurgeon and the Guard carrying Nedina. "Send a report when you have ascertained how the girl was poisoned instead of me," he said to the Chiurgeon. The Chiurgeon bowed then left. Once everyone else was gone save the newly arrived Guards, Lord Roglark moved towards the door.
The subaltern looked uncomfortable as he stepped into Lord Roglark's path. He saw the anger rise in his Lord's eyes. "My Lord, forgive me but Casamir asks that you remain here until the assassin has been captured, or he can be sure he is gone." Lord Roglark's anger evaporated as he realized the wisdom of the request. "Knowing what I know about me, if I were trying to kill Lord Jentavus Roglark, I might use this poisoning attempt to flush me out into the open for the true killing strike." He heavily sat down at the table as the Guards took up position around the room. Lord Roglark's ravenous hunger returned, though he had little desire to eat. Bowing to the physical, he ate some food from the table and waited for a report of the assassin's capture or escape.
He did not have to wait long. He had barely finished his joyless meal when Casamir himself gave the proper coded knock and entered the room. He had mud on his boots and a shallow cut across the back of his right hand. Lord Roglark stood to greet him. Casamir bowed and said "My Lord the assassin is captured." He then dropped down on one knee saying, "My Lord, please forgive my failure in this lapse of security."
Lord Roglark grasped his shoulder and said, "Old friend, there is no cause for blame. We had all thought these direct attacks were a thing of the past." Though both Major and Minor Houses often worked against each other, outright physical attacks, assassinations, open warfare between Houses usually no longer occurred. It was much more subtle now than in decades past, owing mostly to the influence of Old Emperor Peraini and his successor Emperor Turhan. Obviously, someone had felt justified in direct action. Casamir rose as Lord Roglark asked, "My family?"
Casamir smiled and said, "I have given the 'All clear'. Your family has been moved to their private suites." He glanced sidelong at Lord Roglark adding, "Erekann acted quickly and wisely. He serves my Lord well." He said the last with a certain amount of pride. Erekann was the first Roglark son he had trained in the arts of Centauri nobility.
"Indeed he does," Lord Roglark agreed. "I am very proud of the man he becomes as every day passes." He stared off, remembering his own youth. He shook his head to clear it then said, "Come Casamir, show me where you have the assassin." Casamir bowed then led out Lord Roglark. The subaltern and the remaining House Guards fell into step behind them.
The small group tramped down a couple of flights of stairs before entering the dimly lit corridor that went to the underground holding cells. In times past these rooms and chambers had been used to punish enemies, extract information from spies, and in general to detain life. Though House Roglark considered itself a very traditionalist House, in this day and age there were far more effective ways than torture to harm an enemy or disrupt his plans.
They reached the end of a corridor. Casamir pointed to a door. Lord Roglark following stepped up to the door and looked through the peephole.
The room was spare, with a simple table, cot, and several chairs. One House Guard stood inside, his ion rifle unslung and pointed at the assassin. The assassin was not much to look at, typical of his breed: nondescript, nothing to call attention to himself. He wore a vineyard worker's tunic and trousers, both covered in a fair amount of mud. He had the shorter hair of the lower classes in a shade of dark brown. His eyes were brown, the left one sporting a large bruise. He looked sullen and angry. Both hands were chained to the table, and both legs chained to the chair. Lord Roglark could see the protrusion of a polymer mouth bit. The bit prevented the assassin from using a poison tooth. Unfortunately the bit also prevented the assassin from speaking.
Lord Roglark knew that the assassin could very well have a poison tooth. In the past it was not uncommon. He couldn't risk not finding out who sent him. He needed to know who his enemy was.
He leaned back from the peephole and said to Casamir, "Send for Trajus. I want this handled quickly." Casamir nodded grimly and dispatched the subaltern and his squad to summon Trajus, the strongest of House Roglark's telepaths.
Lord Roglark and Casamir sat in one of the other rooms for close to half-an-hour. During that time a message had come from the Chiurgeon saying that the mug of coffee had been poisoned. Apparently the serving girl Nedina had sipped the coffee on her way from the kitchens. She had succumbed to temptation and had nearly paid with her life, though inadvertently saving her Lord.
They heard a group of men coming down the hallway and left the room. The subaltern was escorting a short Centauri man, Trajus, one of House Roglark's telepaths. His ornate fashionable clothing was of the finest cut and fabric, his short fan of hair pomaded as large as his station allowed. His custom tailored boots clacked on the stone floor of the hallway as he was chatting with one of the Guards. He stopped upon seeing Casamir and Lord Roglark. He bowed deeply from the waist to Lord Roglark saying, "Greetings my magnanimous Liege. My mind is greatly relieved to see you were unharmed by this attack. I am pleased I can help identify the foul cur that would so churlishly raise a hand against you."
Though flowery and overblown, Lord Roglark knew that was no false statement. Trajus was extremely loyal to the House. He was a very pampered vassal that was rarely called upon to use his skills or expose himself to possible violence. But when needed he acted with dedication and drive for Lord and House. Lord Roglark had no doubt if the identity of the assassin's employer could be discovered, Trajus would extract it.
"I need this information Trajus," Lord Roglark said.
Trajus nodded saying, "By your command my Liege." An unholy gleam appeared in his eyes as he said, "He will reveal everything to me my Liege." Trajus raised an eyebrow and said, "And after?"
Lord Roglark saw the gleam had not left Trajus' eyes. Though he would not willingly resign someone to Trajus' tender mental mercies, this assassin had known the stakes when he came here. He said, "I care not what happens to him once I have what I need."
The gleam in his eyes was reflected in his smile. Trajus bowed to Lord Roglark again and said, "Thank-you my Liege." He then turned and went into the room where his prey awaited.
The assassin looked away from the Guard as the door opened. He expected to see the Lord he was to have slain, perhaps to order another round of beatings. Instead a shorter Centauri male entered the room. His hair may have indicated a less-than-noble class, but the cut, materials, and richness of his clothing screamed vast wealth. He sat down across from the assassin, an unhealthy grin on his face. He laced his manicured fingers together and said, "I am Trajus Comilen Ordillo. I have bonded my life, my wealth, and my sacred honor to House Roglark, against whom you have chosen to strike." His grin changed to a pitying smile as he shook his head. "Much to your chagrin, I shall be conducting your interrogation today."
The assassin panicked as he realized Trajus must be a telepath. The assassin tried to pull back from him but the restraints prevented it. Trajus chuckled and said, "It won't matter if I cannot touch you, slime. My abilities go far beyond that."
The assassin found his gaze snared by the telepath. He began to fall into the eyes; so dark they were almost black. He was being pulled in, the eyes now a vast and frightening event horizon. What would happen when he passed the edge he did not know, but instinctively feared.
He tried to put up mental blocks as he had been taught: recitation, repetition, and resolve. He felt the telepath's hold slip. His descending slide to the event horizon slowed and then stopped. Trajus projected amusement at the assassin, then attacked again.
The assassin felt the tendrils of the telepath's mind wrap around him. Like dozens of tentacles, it wrapped around his psyche, trying to drag his mind into the maw at the root of the tentacles. He tried to keep up his mental defenses, pushing back against the attempt. He could hear Trajus whisper from all around, "Yes, you mustresist me! I so much enjoy it more when you fight me!"
The tentacles became stronger and more numerous, dragging the assassin closer to the event horizon. He was trying to scramble away, kicking and clawing the entire way. He felt excitement from Trajus, a growing sense of joy and glee the harder he struggled. He was panicked, screaming and gibbering, trying anything to prevent his final consumption by whatever hideous darkness lay beyond that event horizon. He felt the black worms of the telepath's mind crawl over then through him, break his last hold on reality. With one final shriek of despair, he was pulled into the blackness. Horror upon horror crashed through his broken mind, and all he knew was laid bare. All that he was, all that he might be, all he had hoped and feared was exposed for a brief instant. Then the might of what lay at the center of the event horizon crushed him, collapsing him down in agony and terror, until at last he was nothing.
The House Guard in the detention room saw the assassin clench his body against the restraints. Trajus had not moved since he sat at the table, just smiled that disturbing smile. The assassin stayed clenched, quivering with every muscle taut. A small trickle of blood leaked out of one eye socket, like a single tear.
Abruptly the assassin collapsed, his body slumping over onto the table. The Guard heard him let out a pent up breath, then resume breathing shallowly. His eyes were wide with much of the whites showing, as if staring at some unimaginable horror. After a moment they returned to their normal size before slowly going blank.
Trajus pushed back from the table, his chair scraping across the floor. He was almost panting, as if in ecstasy. His eyes glittered as he nodded to the Guard and opened the door to leave the room. He turned back and gave the limp assassin one last look. Trajus daubed at a drop of saliva in the corner of his lips. "Exquisite," he whispered, then stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
The House Guard wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor in the room: the assassin had lost control of his bladder and was dripping on the floor. The Guard checked his timepiece thinking, "Less than seven standard minutes...Trajus must have set a new record."
With a bounce in his step and a sparkle in his eyes, Trajus walked into the room where Lord Roglark sat. Casamir had left for other duties. Lord Roglark stood as Trajus bowed deeply to him. "What news Trajus?" Lord Roglark asked.
Trajus smiled to his Lord saying, "My Liege I have surveyed the assassin's mind and determined who sent him, and why."
Lord Roglark sat back down and said, "Then sit and tell me what you have gleaned: who is responsible for this attack?"
Trajus sat opposite Lord Roglark. On other occasions he might have bantered with his Lord, but he knew Lord Roglark was in no mood today. "My Liege, the assassin is a servant of Felix Tesu the Lesser, only son of the late Lord Tesu."
Lord Roglark sat back in his chair. It all made sense now. Lord Tesu had committed suicide to prevent his family from being proscribed, his assets seized, and his House dissolved. Clearly his son, Felix the Lesser, has chosen to lay the blame for the suicide at Lord Roglark's feet. "Perhaps I share some portion of the blame," Lord Roglark thought.
Still, it was Lord Tesu's utter incompetence that had doomed over two hundred thousand Centauri to death, destroyed an entire fleet, and allowed the Drazi to even now still threaten Quadrant 17. That crime was Lord Tesu's alone, and one for which he deserved to pay the ultimate price. Taking his own life had spared Lord Tesu and his House many of the more severe punishments the Centaurum had considered. Even with Tesu's death, the Centaurum had recommended to the Emperor that House Tesu should be dissolved (there were not enough votes to secure it through the Centaurum alone). Emperor Turhan had made no decision as of yet.
Without looking up Lord Roglark said, "Thank-you Trajus, your help was most welcome. Report all else you have discovered to Casamir."
Trajus took the statement for a dismissal. "I live but to serve, my Liege," he said as he stood. He bowed deeply from the waist as Lord Roglark waved for him to go.
Lord Roglark sat listening to Trajus walk away. An attack of this sort required retaliation, but nothing precipitous. "Something to permanently remove House Tesu as a threat," he thought, "Something the Lesser Tesu will never expect." Lord Roglark sat and considered what might be his most subtle form of attack.
86