by Reiter
“Father!” Shonsatah had sighed, grabbing his arm. “Will you please tell me?”
After a brief pause, all the while staring into her eyes, Vaiyorl had finally said, “One day, I will be able to look into those eyes and say no. I am very much fearful of the man I will have to be to manage that feat.
“Your father,” he had begun, sweeping Shonsatah out of her seat and into his lap. “... your handsome father was a master tower climber in his day!”
“Truly?!” she had asked, her eyes brighter than the rising sun.
“Oh yes indeed,” he had emphatically nodded. “The only trouble I had... my day came the day after the contest, when the day had been won by someone else.”
Losing some of her excitement, Shonsatah had pressed. “You didn’t win?”
“Did not win!” Vaiyorl had testified. “Didn’t place... didn’t show... didn’t finish!”
“What?” she gasped.
“I fell thirteen seconds into the race,” he had admitted. “The particular format we were testing on came with a robotic arm that swung around the base of the tower. Your father had the incredible notion that he would use the arm to swing out to a pole that was easier to ascend than the tower.”
“Sounds daring enough,” Shonsatah had considered.
“Perhaps, but hardly original. The Games Master had built in a countermeasure. Nothing too dastardly, mind you. We were children, after all. But as soon as I latched onto the arm, it decided to move faster.” Shonsatah had gasped, grabbing onto his shirt tightly. “Careful there, my daughter... I think it’s safe to say I live through this one.
“But suffice to say, I wasn’t going to be undone by a machine! I was a Jhormynn after all!”
“Indeed you were,” she had smiled in agreement, “and thankfully still are!”
“So I managed to keep my hold and despite the speed of the swinging arm, I moved myself, using only my hands, to get to a position where I could swing up and stand on top of the arm.”
“Well, at least you were a good tumbler,” Shonsatah had remarked.
“And abysmal at weights and measurements,” Vaiyorl had replied. “I swung up, stood up on the arm and slammed into a retaining wall.” Shonsatah had shrieked, covering her mouth with her hand. “The good news is that I was completely unconscious before I reached the surface.”
“Why is that good news?”
“Because I can’t imagine the sensation of breaking one’s arm and leg in the same instant. Better to be unconscious before the matter.”
“Father!”
“Not to worry. My mother comes from a long line of capable HealeRs... and like I said, the very next day, I tried again... and I climbed that tower. I even managed to beat the winning time.”
“But Vaiyorl, you weren’t really racing, were you?” True Lord Kelsbi Herthane had inquired, squaring his shoulders before he spoke. “None of the other contestants were there climbing against you.”
“Quite right, Lord Herthane,” Vaiyorl had agreed.
“That doesn’t matter,” Shonsatah had argued. “The important thing is that you tried... twice!”
“The wisdom of a child,” Kelsbi had noted, turning to make sure everyone could see him. For his sort, the True Lord of the Herthane House was a comely man. Just under two meters in height, with mocha brown skin, vibrant golden brown eyes, and brilliant white hair... he was most pleasing to the eye.
“How interesting, then, that my father felt the exact same way,” Vaiyorl stated, bringing the conversations in the stands to a close. Too late had Vaiyorl realized the tone he had used, but timing was still something which was in his favor. “And here we are,” he announced, putting Shonsatah down on her feet as he stood up. “Our racers!”
Vaiyorl lowered his head, closing his eyes. His right hand remained where he had it, as did his left, only now he rubbed his thumb over his index and middle fingers. It was his normal standing pose of contemplation.
“The beginning of the end indeed, good Nokeyesh,” he thought. Turning his head up to look again at the man, the Duke smiled and excused himself. There was no need to witness the dismantling of the construct. Plenty had fallen from it already, and the man had matters to which he had to attend. The time for pausing had come and gone. He walked toward the house, increasing the speed of his gait.
Vaiyorl smiled when he reached the double doors and the two guards. Each saluted before opening the door closest to them. The Duke acknowledged the two men and entered to where a single figure stood... he had been waiting patiently for the Duke.
“I don’t suppose-”
“Not yesterday, not today, and not tomorrow, my friend,” Vaiyorl said without even looking up at his Security Chief.
Quybron Lotansheer had been in the service of the Duke since before the man was promoted to the rank of True Lord. The two men had seen much, as there were many who felt the advances conveyed upon the Jhormynn name were unjustified. The Imperial Empress was not one of those people, however, so it had become increasingly difficult for the Duke’s detractors to voice their opinions and hope they would have any traction in the operations of the Royal Court.
And it was voices they had been reduced to... though that had not always been the case. Quybron could still remember the fateful night when an unassigned Imperial warship fired on the Duke’s wife and children. That incident had come in the wake of a coordinated attack on the former Jhormynn Estate. So many lives had been lost that night; the Duke was nearly one of them, as was his family. It was still a mystery how Guysorla and the children had survived several barrages from an Imperial War Tower, but the whole incident had backfired on those who had orchestrated the event.
The family’s survival of the outlandish attack had only confirmed the Empress’ beliefs and she made it so that Vaiyorl was promoted to Duke the moment he had awakened. Quybron had laid in the adjacent bed, watching his charge give the Oath of Loyalty and Service directly to the Emperor and Empress who had come to personally visit the man and his family.
Still, all of that was years ago... whatever pressed the Duke now was a fresher ill, but Quybron had his suspicions.
“Please have Yorlson and Valian meet me in my office,” Vaiyorl said aloud, but to no one in particular. The guards opened the doors to his office and he entered without saying another word. With only a turn of Quybron’s head, the faster Page took it upon herself to be the messenger. She approached the wall and summoned the virtual console. With three strokes of her hand, she had the locations of both young men and to her delight, they were together. But an electronic message would not serve... not for this. She turned and raced down the corridor, sliding to a near stop to negotiate the ninety-degree turn. She resumed her sprint and was out of the house shortly thereafter.
“My lord is not an impolite man,” Quybron thought, choosing to sit outside the Duke’s office and wait for the two youths. “... but that was a very rude reception. Something presses his mind and tears at his heart... and I’d bet my bad arm it’s that boy!”
A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure, a messenger of peace and love, a resting place for innocence on earth, a link between angels and men.
Martin Farquhar Tupper
(Rims Time: XI-4305.30)
“Sometimes the banister is just as good as the floor!” Valian thought as he raced down the hallway with his boots in hand. He reached the top of the stairs and jumped. His body sailed high over the stairs, eventually coming to land on the banister. His landing was not perfect, but it was enough for him to maintain his speed all the way down the stairs. Jumping before reaching the very bottom, Valian flew down the corridor leading to the front doors. He landed, stumbling a few steps as he continued to run.
“Order up!” he cried and the front doors opened before he could reach them. Jumping again, Valian landed, in a laid out form, on a floating platform. His landing provided the initial momentum and the two servants, one on either side, ran with that speed, adding some of their own as Vali
an spun around, putting on his boots. “Nice catch, you two!”
“Hang the catch, Val,” Anzun panted as he pulled at the handles on his side of the hovering platform. “... you’re late... again! They’re about to start the climb without you!”
“Some things just can’t be helped,” Valian said as he finished fastening the second boot. “Just let me know when you’re about to— whoooooooa!” The platform came to an abrupt halt, slamming into a pre-planned locking station. The back end of the platform came up, sending Valian into the air.
“Weren’t you supposed to give him a countdown to launch?” Siadri asked, watching Valian ascend and arc over the smaller trees.
Anzun stood there, smiling and shaking his head. “Yeah, but it’s more fun this way!”
“INCOMING!” Valian screamed, coming through the branches, trying to spot where he was going to land. All he could see were the seated guests the Duchess had invited. “Guard your children!”
Several women screamed and a few were even quick enough to get out of their chairs... just not the ones where it appeared Valian was going to land.
He grunted as his descent came to a stop, centimeters over the head of one particularly petrified woman. His deep violet eyes gazed down into a soft yellow pair and Valian smiled. “Good afternoon.” The woman stammered without actually ever saying anything clearly.
“‘Guard your children’?” Quybron repeated, looking at the young boy. His left hand was extended, used as a guide for his enacted ThoughtWill. Telekinesis was not one of his more practiced disciplines, but Valian was also not that heavy. He slowly maneuvered the boy to open ground.
“Uh, yah,” Valian returned as he was slowly lowered. He was kept centimeters from the ground and his savior frowned.
“I’m sorry, did actual words erupt from that pit of gibberish you call a mouth?”
Valian came to a quick realization of the man’s point and he composed himself. “My apologies, milord... I meant to say ‘thank you’.”
“I am sure you did, Young Master Valian,” Quybron replied, finally allowing Valian to reach the ground. “Let us hope your form on the tower is better than what was just observed. The height and the velocity were both impressive, but your range of control was... well, let’s leave it at you appeared to be overwhelmed.”
“Only for the moment, milord,” Valian returned, stepping forward to take hold of Quybron’s right hand with both of his. He brought his forehead softly down to the knuckles. “I am in your debt, sir.”
“Demonstrate better form on your climb and consider the matter settled,” Quybron replied, giving the hands a soft squeeze. “That is, if you get to the tower in time.”
Valian stood up straight, gasping. He looked into Quybron’s soft brown gaze and the man nodded. It was the only signal Valian needed to turn and run.
“His contemporaries had better be glad the test is not a foot race,” Quybron thought, watching the boy sprint. Sending a thought to his head-brace cued the visual display of his clock. It was going to be close, but the Chief of Security was a gambling man – with only a few matters – and his credits were wagered on that boy.
Yorlson stood near the center of the group of ten young people, all very eager to race for their place of choice. They had reached the end of their primary education, and were ready to receive a Finishing Master.
A Finishing Master, often referred to as a Praeceptor, was the sole instructor to a child for three to five years, preparing their student, or Phytos, for their chosen Life Path... a decision often made while a child worked with their Finishing Master.
“Are you ready to be humiliated, Jhormynn?” H’Tanvor Herthane asked, walking into the waiting area followed by six of his friends.
Yorlson turned to look at the white-haired youth and grinned. “To be humiliated?” he asked. “You’re here at my father’s estate on an otherwise perfect day. Trust me, I’m already humiliated.” As some of the other children murmured their opinion of Yorlson’s response, H’Tanvor advanced, his retinue keeping in close formation. The other children made it clear they did not necessarily stand with Yorlson by moving off to allow him to stand alone.
“No one said you had to make it to the tower, Jhormynn,” H’Tanvor threatened.
“That is very true,” Valian agreed, entering the tent. Upon seeing the boy, several of the Herthane’s supporters backed away. “But the Duke and Duchess have gone out of their way to build the tower and invite all of the Finishing Masters. I think they have expectations. Do you think you want to get in-between them and their expectations, H’Tanvor?”
The children were all thirteen, or within five months of turning thirteen, so they were about the same size and stature. Valian was actually shorter than H’Tanvor and a couple of his friends. That did not matter now... for it had not mattered at any time before when Valian had decided to get involved in situations like this. He had not always won the engagements, but he had endured each and every one of them – fighting until his attackers either fled or others had intervened.
Valian took another step to where he was actually in front of Yorlson. His eyes stared intently into those of the son of True Lord Kelsbi Herthane. “I know Grujhak and the others will get to me... and it will probably hurt... again. But they won’t get to me before I get to you!”
Without saying a word, H’Tanvor stepped back, turned, and walked away. His friends stayed with him with only the largest of their click, Grujhak, keeping his eyes on Valian until H’Tanvor was safely away. Valian looked up at the large boy, smiled, and waved. As soon as they were away, Valian lowered his head and took a long step back.
“Forgive me, Brother,” he said meekly.
“I am not your brother, and I can fight my own fights!” Yorlson exclaimed.
“Indeed, Young Lord Yorlson,” Valian replied. “But they aren’t worthy of fighting you. You’re meant to rescue the Princess... I’ll handle the trash.”
“The Princess?” Yorlson asked, his face relaxing slightly.
“Yes, Master... and she waits for you at the top of the tower.”
Yorlson looked up at the tower and smiled. He looked back at Valian and maintained his smile. “We shouldn’t keep her waiting, then.”
The children were led to the starting area, most of them wearing looks of supreme concentration mixed with fear, and confusion as the image of the tower flickered.
“The Test Tower awaits you,” Guysorla announced. “But be forewarned, the image you see before you is not the tower, but a holographic projection. When the horns sound, the image will drop and you can begin your race to the top.”
“My word,” one of the spectators commented, “the Duchess has outdone herself.”
“Leave it to the House Jhormynn to erase any possibility of favoritism,” said another. “For I could have sworn that was the very tower they spent the last three days building!”
“The projection was built first,” Duke Vaiyorl explained. “So that it could act as a curtain, concealing the actual construct. The only eyes which have seen the tower belong to the technicians of the Games College who designed and built it.
“Still, all of this was in accordance to my wife’s directives,” Vaiyorl added. “And I agree... she has indeed achieved the remarkable.”
“The rules are simple,” the Duchess continued, trying her best not to let her pride shine through. “Engagement with your fellow racers is allowed, but it must be limited to non-fatal strikes, grappling, trips, and throws.
“Do you all swear that at this time you are unarmed?” she asked, receiving a roaring simultaneous bark from the youths. “Good. May the gods guide Fate in thy name. Best of skill to you, and remember, this is done in the light of the Throne. For family!”
“HO!” the children cried.
“For honor!”
“HO!”
“FOR PRIMUSON!” Guysorla shouted in a voice that surprised many, save for those who knew her well.
The horns sounded, signaling
the beginning of the contest. The Taskmaster began his count and the children turned on one another.
“HUH-RAAARRRGGGHHH!!!!” Valian roared in a voice that made many sit back in their chairs. Even the Duke and Duchess were taken aback by the tremendous sound coming from Valian as he growled, squaring off against the other children. He took a defensive positioning with respect to Yorlson, waving the Duke’s son down the beginning path.
Shonsatah grinned, cutting her eyes over to her little brother, Pirion. He was already looking at her with a bright smile on his face. It was severely lessened when his sister frowned and motioned to her face.
“I’ve got no fight with any racer,” Valian warned.
“That makes two of us,” one girl said as she circled away from Valian and Yorlson.
“Good,” Valian said, acknowledging the girl. “Just to be sure, if anyone takes a menacing stride toward my brother, that racer will have me to contend with!”
“Is that not a foul?!” Kelsbi Herthane asked, getting up from his seat.
“His actions have in no way impeded any of the contestants,” a soft yet powerful voice responded. All heads turned to see who had spoken to a True Lord with such authority.
“True Master Seranos!” one of the spectators gasped. Upon seeing a noted Servant of the Throne, Guysorla signaled for the racers and the Taskmaster to hold their position and count respectively.
“His word and act were both of a defensive nature, True Lord Kelsbi,” the man stated without looking away from Valian. “I’d stake my status to that perspective.
“My Lord?” the man asked, slowly turning to look directly at Kelsbi. Never one to move slowly, Seranos had taken the issue to a very simple ‘if you wish to press this matter, do so in a challenge to me’ standpoint.
“Who am I to question the judgment of such a well-noted Finishing Master?” Kelsbi returned, taking back to his chair.
“You’d be a True Lord of the Throne of Primuson,” Seranos answered, giving the man a slight bow of his head. “... placed in that position by the Emperor’s own hand. That is who you would be, milord. But I appreciate your humility and your boundless grace.