Ambition and Alavidha (44 page)

Beside these
two were his son Liam with his wife Marie. Marie was holding her
year old so in her arms and waving his chubby fist in an
approximation of a wave. She was upset but looked relieved too that
she was staying. This daughter-in-law of Paul was not of an
adventurous disposition.

Paul was in the
courtyard where those who were adventurous, who
were
leaving
for the Nadlians had congregated. Seated on the driving seat of the
wagon were his widowed daughter Elizabeth and his second son
Robain’s pregnant wife Pauline. Elizabeth’s two boys were behind
their mother squeezed in amongst the belongings. Five year old
Charles was chattering and bouncing with excitement. The one year
old Michael Karovitz sat still and silent, his eyes round. There
was a considerable amount of baggage in the wagon but they had been
told that neither weight nor volume was a barrier.

Pauline smiled
at Paul and gave him the thumbs up.

On Paul’s desk
was a document, written by her, abdicating her inheritance rights
to her grandfather’s ducal coronet. On old Duke Vincent’s death the
title would now go to Pauline’s third cousin Count John. Paul
Hallam fully intended to be around when the young man was informed
about his good fortune.

Elizabeth was
holding the reins of the horses who were to pull the wagon. She was
a competent horse-handler and Paul was confident she would
manage.

The other two
leave-takers were riding.

Robain sat his
horse calmly, his face alternating between looking at his mother
and his father. It strayed more often to the former. He and his
father had said their private farewells before breakfast and the
bond between this mother and son was a strong one.

Jill Hallam was
mounted on her pony. Her vibrant face was flushed with excitement
and the excitement was communicating itself to her mount who was
hoofing the ground. This didn’t bother Jill. She was probably,
reflected her father, the best horsewoman he had ever met.

With a smile he
realised that she was wearing trousers and tunic, cast offs of
either Liam or Robain from when they had been younger. She had
always railed against having to wear the restricting female riding
habit. Well. She could wear what she wanted to now.

Paul didn’t
approve of parents having favourites from among their children but
if pressed he would have admitted that if he
had
to have
one, it would be Jill.

He laid a firm
hand on her booted foot and looked at her.

“You okay? Not
having second thoughts?” It was a vain question and he knew it.
“There’s still time to change your mind.”

“Father!”
Jill’s address was reproachful. “Not a single one except that I’ll
miss
you
and Mother. I have to go don’t you see? I simply
must
. I must see Maru the Lai again. I simply
must
.
He can
fly
! I want to fly!”

At last Paul
understood.

“But I wish you
and Mother were coming too,” she added.

“I have
responsibilities here child,” Paul answered, hiding the fact that
in his innermost self he would have liked to. “I can’t just up
sticks and trot away and it wouldn’t be fair on Judith either. I
know you love her but her destiny is
here
, on Rybak. She is
so looking forward to her marriage with Philip Ross. Actually I
thought there might be a double wedding. When your Mother came home
from Prince-Heir Elliot’s baptism she told me you seemed to be
quite taken with young Daniel Ross.”

“Him!” sniffed
Jill, who hadn’t even gone out to say hello to Daniel when she had
been told he was at the manor, “he’s all right I suppose but to
marry him? I don’t want to get married to
anyone
Father, I
want
adventure
, to
fly
!”

“You’re about
to embark on the greatest adventure of your life my Jill,” Paul
with poignant tenderness reached up and drew her head down to his.
He planted a kiss on her forehead.

“There,” he
said, releasing her head, “that’s from your Mother and me. Go with
joy Jill. I’ll be thinking of you always.”

* * * * *

-69-

THE NADLIANS OF
THE LARG

Daniel waited,
unobtrusively merging in with the fifty or so people who arrived at
the dom and trying to keep out of sight of Thalia. The families
proved to be both understanding and accommodating, rearranging
their possessions so that Daniel could ride on one of the spare
horses they had with them. The pack-horse allocated to Daniel
proved clumsy and unintelligent after the months riding Vya.

The group rode
east, the small group of humans who wished to live with the Lind,
Larg and Lai. They rode out into the desert and were joined there
by what was left of the Larg, all adults and all male.

“The ship is
just over that rise,” said the self appointed leader of the human
group, a small elderly man, a tailor by trade and one of the hidden
members of the Avuzdel.

Daniel wondered
where Thalia and Josei were. Probably already on board he thought
when he didn’t see anyone standing on the ramp which led into the
immense spaceship.

“What about the
horses?” he asked.

“To be let
free,” another of the group answered. “There are grasslands a few
miles south, plenty of water. They’ll be fine.”

The ship,
Daniel realised as he rode ever closer wasn’t just immense, it was
immense
. Daniel gulped as he unsaddled his loaned mount and
picked up his scanty possessions. He followed the human group up
the ramp. Behind them trotted the last of the Larg.

At the top of
the ramp he stood for a moment and looked back. The horses stood
indecisively for a while, watching as their masters left them then
one of them whinnied and sensing water they began to move away,
snatching at the knobbly grass as they went.

He watched as
they stopped and started, ears pricked at the sound of a distant
whinny. It was a stallion, one of those brought to this place by
one of the previous groups, come to gather in the new members of
his herd.

Daniel wondered
if he would know any of the people already on board. The group he
had travelled with had all been strangers. Strange as it might have
seemed, but he hadn’t recognised Jill Hallam.

At least he
would know Zeb and Thalia. He prayed she wouldn’t be angry with him
when she found out he was here. Of course, Josei might have already
told her what he was intending but he rather wanted to surprise
her.

He did feel a
pang of regret for his family he was leaving behind. He hadn’t even
had a chance to say goodbye but he felt sure they would
understand.

“I wish you all
well,” he flung the words out, “and hope that you all live long and
in happiness.”

“Regrets?”
asked the old man who was watching him.

“A few,”
admitted Daniel.

“But friend, I
ask you, did you really have a choice?”

He was right as
Daniel realised, his regrets far outweighed his non-regrets and by
a long way. He was taking the right road for him.

“It’s a
wonderful planet is it not?” continued the old man. “it has been
our refuge, our home, for eight centuries. We are better people for
the experience, no longer a part of isolationalist humanity but
people wishing to live with the Lind, the Larg and the Lai, at
peace. We go to make another world, a better world, free from
strife, all species in harmony.”

“Do you think
it will be possible?”

“Not possible,
but certain my young friend.”

* * * * *

-70-

THE
SPACESHIP
LIMOKKO

“So we meet
again Jill Hallam,” said Maru the Lai, his ear knobs twitching with
inner amusement. “I rather expected I would see you here.”

Jill lifted
glowing eyes and laughed.

“My choice was
made to come before the choice to stay or to go ever existed Maru,”
she answered, “I want to fly!”

* * * * *

-71-

THE KINGDOM OF
LEITHE – THE GREAT EASTERN SEA

King Cadan of
Leithe received the letter from Queen Antoinette with a face devoid
of emotion. Rumours concerning the failed coup in Murdoch had been
rife on the island this last tenday.

The messenger
was a member of the Ambassadorial staff in Murdoch.

Cadan’s lips
were set in a straight line as he acknowledged the man’s bow and
held out his hand to receive the letter. He was about to learn the
truth.

The messenger
backed away from his King. Cadan noticed that the man was shaking.
Not good news then.

He gazed at the
front of the letter, then he turned it over. The reverse side bore
the seal of Queen Antoinette of Murdoch. The sight of the seal
caused Cadan an involuntary hiss to emerge from between his teeth.
That the letter bore this seal rather than the one of his son
rather bore out the percolating rumours.

His son’s plans
had failed. Still, it might not be too late to salvage something
out of the mess.

Cadan broke the
seal with a manicured finger and opened the page. His eye strayed
to the signature. It was that of Queen Antoinette. This confirmed
his suspicions.

He began to
read. The words were stark and to the point.

‘
His Most
Royal Majesty, King Cadan of Leithe,

I regret to
inform you that your son, Prince Crispin, is dead. He died, I am
informed, bravely and with honour, an honour he did not
unfortunately, adhere to during his life.

Your son
attempted a rebellion against me and others. The attempt failed.
Prince Crispin was apprehended and judged guilty of treason by five
Dukes of my Realm. He was sentenced to death.

He did not try
to deny his guilt.

He took his own
life the night before the morning set for his execution, preferring
this it seems, to the headsman’s block.

As the once
loved husband of my daughter and the father of her son, he has been
accorded a funeral suitable to his rank and is to be buried in the
royal cemetery here at Fort, but in an unmarked grave, together
with royal persons in the past who have dared to challenge the rule
of their lawful monarch. I trust you will have no objections.

You will
understand why I am unable to commiserate with you about your son’s
death. If your son had had his way I would now be dead and my
daughter, though still alive would now be facing a life as a queen
in name only.

I do not know
if you were aware of your son’s plans. I suspect that you were,
but, for the sake of my kingdom I am prepared, against my better
judgement and under advisement from Conclave, to give you the
benefit of the doubt. Diplomatic relations between our two kingdoms
will revert to what was before the marriage of our children. Your
Ambassador may remain. He will not however, be received formally
here at the palace until Winter Court.

As for the
future, as rulers of our respective kingdoms I would wish that we
remain at peace.’

The last
paragraphs were a warning and King Cadan understood this perfectly.
His face became bulbous with anger as he read them.

‘
We of
Murdoch do not wish for war but will not condone any acts of
aggression against us or any other country, island or state that is
either allied or at peace with us.

One last word,
King Cadan of Leithe. Your ambition has led to the death of your
son, others of rank and those not of rank. Their wives, mothers and
children grieve.

Please take the
above words as an intimation that any aggressive acts shall ever be
met with a punitive force of arms.’

It was
signed;

‘
Antoinette,
Queen Regnant of Murdoch.’

There was a
postscript.

‘
May I also
inform you that a man whom I believe is known to you, one Baron
Erik Halfarm, is also dead. His personal possessions will be sent
to Leithe, to his family, later. We relieved his person of a
certain box which my advisors tell me you will be aware of. Please
note that the box has been taken to a safe place. Do not look for
it as you will not find it.’

With a cry of
rage Cadan crumpled the paper in his balled fist.

He commanded
everyone in the throne room to leave him.

He sat on his
throne for more than two candlemarks, staring into space.

* * * * *

Queen
Antoinette’s letter was not the only bad news King Cadan received
that day.

A nervous Earl
Marshall appeared at the hall towards the end of afternoon
court.

Like the
ambassadorial messenger the man was shaking.

He came to
attention in front of his king and bowed.

“Your Majesty,”
he began, “I regret to inform you that our fleet has suffered a
significant defeat.” The Earl Marshall flinched as Cadan’s
dagger-agate eyes descended upon his person. He informed his wife
afterwards that he thought the king was going to strike him down
there and then.

Cadan didn’t
although his fingers twitched on his sword hilt.

“Tell me,”
Cadan ordered, spitting.

“Our fleet
faced the combined fleets of Argyll, Eilidon and Randall Your
Majesty. They were badly mauled in a battle, seven leagues west of
the Island of Galliard and were forced to retreat.”

Cadan felt sure
that this was the expurgated version, designed to tell him the bare
facts in a manner designed not to rouse his explosive, lethal
temper.