Deathstalker Return (14 page)

Finn immediately raised a small army of his own people—all utterly loyal to him, of course—and led them in a raid on House Campbell. The guard lowered the House’s defenses at just the right moment, and Finn caught William and his people entirely by surprise. The good guys stormed House Campbell, and got to James just in time. Finn brought him blinking out into the daylight, for the first time in years, and Finn and all his people cheered James’s return from the dead. William was currently under house arrest at House Campbell, awaiting trial, and not available for comment at this time.

Douglas didn’t know what to think. Not about Finn’s story—that was obviously bullshit from beginning to end. Douglas had been brought up at House Campbell, and had roamed all over it as a child, having paid special attention to all the places he was supposed to keep out of. There was no way a hidden room could have been kept secret from him. And besides, he’d seen footage of the original accident scene. It ran for ages on all the news and gossip shows, until William bought up all the rights, to protect Niamh from having to see it again and again. The recording showed James dead on the spot, his brilliant brains spattered all over the front of the car that hit him. But if his elder brother really was dead, who was this? It certainly looked like James. And what did Finn have to gain from making up such a story? He couldn’t expect to get away with putting forward a look-alike, could he? One of the older reporters present raised the subject of the old footage, and Finn smiled easily in reply.

“My people are investigating that even now. I’m pretty sure we’ll discover the footage was faked, to help cover William and Niamh’s tracks.”

“That’s enough!” Douglas was up out of his throne and on his feet before he even realized he was doing it. All eyes and cameras immediately turned on him, and the court was suddenly silent, the air heavy with expectation. Douglas looked slowly around him, and knew that this was why he’d been brought here. He’d been told nothing, kept in the dark, just so he could be brought here unsuspecting, to make all his reactions in public, with all the worlds watching. They weren’t his friends anymore, Finn and Anne. They had transferred their allegiance to this James, or whoever he really was. He was on his own now. And he felt more alive than he had in ages. He walked slowly forward to the edge of the dais, keeping a distance between him and Finn and James.

“I cannot believe my father was a party to this; or my mother. They were devoted to James—his death nearly destroyed them too. I demand to speak to my father.”

“Of course,” said Finn. “Arrangements shall be made, Your Majesty. But for the moment your father is under armed guard, for his own protection. Once news of James’s return gets out, and the details of his past imprisonment . . . well, we don’t want aggrieved citizens taking matters into their own hands, do we? William is safer where he is. I know this must be hard for you to accept, Douglas. It hit me hard too, that the man I served so faithfully for so many years should prove to be unworthy of the trust we all placed in him. But I give you my word: this really is James, restored to us at last! Have you no welcome for your brother?”

All eyes turned on Douglas again. He looked at James. This was what it was all about. He’d been brought here just to answer that question, because his answer would decide how his own people would judge him. If he publicly accepted this man as his brother, he’d be trapped into playing Finn’s game. And James, as the older brother, had a better claim to the throne than he did. If he denounced the man as an imposter . . . Douglas was pretty sure that Finn wouldn’t have come this far without putting together some pretty intimidating evidence. And Douglas would be seen as a fool or a liar, ready to say anything to hang on to his throne. Finn, and Anne, had him exactly where they wanted him.

Except they’d miscalculated. They’d assumed his time in seclusion had broken him, and it hadn’t. He’d been asleep for a long time, but now he was awake again. He might have lost his best friend and his true love, but he was still the King, and he still took his duties seriously. His Champion had revealed himself as a threat to his people, and his family, and Douglas had always been ready to fight to the death for both. Of course, he couldn’t do that now. He’d been very cleverly isolated. Better to play the part they expected, and have them continue to underestimate him, until he could take back the high ground.

So Douglas smiled happily, if a little vaguely, at the man who claimed to be his brother James, and walked forward with an outstretched hand. They shook hands firmly, while the cameras whirred loudly and everyone applauded. James impulsively pulled Douglas forwards into a hug, and they held each other close. It was a very touching scene, and the media pack just loved it, the floating cameras fighting it out for the best angles. Douglas kept his smile going, and let James hug him, but he felt nothing at all—except, perhaps, just the briefest of guilty thoughts. If by some dark miracle this really was James, the man who should have been King, then perhaps Douglas would be able to step down from the throne after all, and escape from all the strains and pressures of a job he’d never wanted anyway. Let James be King. Let him deal with the Church Militant, and Pure Humanity and the Terror . . . It was only a brief thought, the very briefest of temptations. Douglas had always known his duty, even when he was just a Paragon. He’d fought to protect the people all his life, and he wasn’t about to hand their fate over to this . . . stranger.

James finally released Douglas from the hug, and they stood face to face, smiling at each other. James’s mouth went all wobbly, and he had to reach up to knuckle a manly tear from the corner of his eye—another nice touch that the media just loved to pieces. Douglas could feel Finn’s and Anne’s eyes on him, and he kept his face carefully vague and vacant. James turned back to the reporters, and made a big point of declaring that he was sure his younger brother had no idea of what had been done in his name; that he was entirely positive King Douglas knew nothing of his years of imprisonment, or the imminent death sentence from which Finn had so valiantly rescued him. Of course, until James raised the point, no one there had thought that at all, but now suspicious eyes turned to Douglas, clearly considering just how much he could or should have known.
He had to have known something,
people would say.

James smiled warmly at Douglas, and said, “We must work together, Brother, in this time of crisis.” And Douglas kept on smiling, and said, “Yes, of course, Brother.” James then turned the full force of his personality and charm on his audience, saying all the right things in a firm and resonant voice, and Douglas could feel everyone comparing him unfavorably with his brother. More and more, the reporters were being seduced by James’s manner and rhetoric, and embraced him as though he were the Second Coming of the blessed Owen—particularly when he vowed to do everything in his power to find an answer to the coming Terror. So when James also spoke out in favor of Pure Humanity and the Church Militant, those hardened cynical reporters happily went along with every hateful thing he said.

I don’t know who the hell you really are,
Douglas thought behind his pleasant smiling mask,
but that clinches it. James never believed in any of that shit. He had more sense, more conscience . . . and he never followed anyone’s path but his own. So, who are you? Really?

James finished his speech to thunderous applause, but Finn wasn’t finished yet. He took up a martial stance beside James, and fixed the media crowd with a stern stare. “Some of you will still be doubting that this really is the genuine James Campbell. Of course, that’s quite understandable, given the extremely dramatic nature of his return. I see Nigel Glover, of the Logres
Times,
right there in the front as always. I have to say, Nigel, you don’t look entirely convinced. Is there some question you wish to raise?”

“I remember James,” said the old man. “I got there in time to see him being loaded into the ambulance. Half his head was gone. How can we be sure this isn’t some look-alike from the body shops? Or even a clone?”

And that was as far as he got. Other reporters started to shout him down, some pushed and shoved him, and then suddenly they were all crowding in on him, shouting abuse and throwing punches. Douglas looked immediately at Finn’s Paragons, expecting them to dive into the crowd and rescue the old man, but they did nothing. They just stood there, sniffing and smirking. Douglas was just about to dive in himself when James launched off the dais into the crowd, grabbed the old reporter, and hauled him onto the safety of the raised dais. The old man stood trembling, more shocked than hurt, while James put a comforting arm around him. The other reporters milled uncertainly before the dais, still in an ugly mood. Finn stepped forwards, raising both hands in a calming gesture.

“Enough of that, my friends. This is a time for rejoicing, not violence. The
Times
has raised a very reasonable question. It’s been a long time since we had to beware of clone imposters in public life, but in as important a case as this, the question had to come up eventually. That’s why I have invited here today Elijah du Katt, the current clone representative in Parliament.”

Du Katt came through the curtains at the back right on cue—a blocky, medium height, average-looking fellow. He strode up to the front of the dais, stood beside Finn, and spoke in a clear, firm voice. “At the Champion’s request, I have performed a genetest on James Campbell. He is exactly who he claims to be. Details of my findings will be published shortly. My tests were very thorough. There is no way he could hide a clone background from me. DNA can’t lie.”

The media pack cheered again, and a still shaken Glover was allowed to rejoin his fellows, who ignored him. Douglas was still looking at du Katt. You couldn’t fake a genetest. So either James really was James, or . . . the conspiracy went deeper than he’d suspected. If a respected figure like du Katt had been suborned, who else did Finn have in his pocket? But still Douglas found that easier to believe than that his father and his mother could ever have been the villains Finn had declared them to be.

Du Katt left the dais, and Finn turned the meeting over to questions and answers. The reporters couldn’t get the questions out fast enough. James avoided answering a lot of them by pleading ignorance of most recent events, for obvious reasons, but he still managed to push Pure Humanity and the Church Militant as the answer to most of the Empire’s problems. Douglas admired the performance from behind his pleasant face. Anne had clearly done her usual excellent job in preparing and coaching James. And Douglas was pretty sure a lot of the questions had been planted. It was what he would have done. Interestingly enough, James wasn’t too good at the personal stuff. Questions like
How do you feel?
and
What are you most looking forward to doing, now you’re free?
left him thrown and uncertain, and glancing to Finn or Anne for reassurance.

In the end, Finn just stepped in and declared the audience over. He promised the media pack there would be further opportunities for interviews, and even one-on-ones, but that James was clearly tired now, and needed time to himself. Adjusting to his new world was obviously going to take time. Anne quickly ushered James offstage while Finn was still speaking, and he was gone through the curtains before the reporters realized it. Douglas got to his feet, inclined his head regally to the media, and strode off the dais after Anne and James. He had no intention of being left alone on the dais after Finn and his people left, facing questions he had no idea how to answer safely.

Behind the hanging curtains, Anne was patting James reassuringly on the shoulder, as though calming a nervous animal. Away from the rehearsed situation, James looked a lot less confident, and somehow . . . smaller. Douglas started towards them, and then stopped as Finn and his Paragons came through the curtains. Finn looked carefully at Douglas.

“You’re looking tired too, Douglas. Perhaps you should return to your chambers, and get some rest. You have rather been thrown in at the deep end. You can catch up with James later.”

“Yes,” said Douglas. “It’s all been a bit much, really. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Anne, you’d better go back with him,” said Finn. “And I’ll send a couple of my people to go along with you. You can’t be too careful, these days.”

Anne nodded, and she and Douglas walked back to the King’s private chambers in silence. Two of Finn’s Paragons accompanied them. Douglas only knew them vaguely, and they wouldn’t answer him when he tried to talk to them. People were running back and forth in the wide corridors, looking at Douglas with wide eyes, and over and over again he heard the word
James
on people’s lips. The Paragons kept everyone at a distance with menacing scowls. They finally came to Douglas’s door, and he gestured for them to stand back so he could have a private word with Anne. They looked to her for confirmation, and reluctantly retired back down the corridor when she nodded. Douglas looked at Anne, and she met his gaze squarely, defiantly.

“All right,” said Douglas. “What’s going on, Anne?”

“How do you mean, Douglas?”

“You, Finn, James. Why wasn’t I told any of this in advance?”

“Because you gave strict orders that you weren’t to be disturbed, for any reason. And because we weren’t too sure what state you were in. I did look in on you a couple of times. You probably don’t remember—you were pretty out of it. And given the delicate nature of the situation, when we couldn’t be sure how much you did or didn’t know about James . . .”

She broke off abruptly, as Douglas’s face grew cold and dangerous. She actually fell back a step, before Douglas could regain control and put on his confused, vacant face again. He couldn’t afford to confront her over James’s identity, not now.

“Sorry,” he said. “Sore spot, there. Go on, you were saying?”

“We waited to establish the truth about James, and your father, before involving you,” said Anne. “It could all have been rumors. Even after we had James secure, and genetested, we left you alone as long as we dared, hoping you’d snap out of it, but you had to be there when we presented James to the public. It would have looked very bad if you hadn’t been there, Douglas.”