* * *
“You are not enjoying yourself, Garryn.”
Garryn broke off his vacant gaze across the ballroom floor and turned to his father.
“Should I be?” He tried to hide his boredom.
“There are many lovely young women here.” Iran gestured towards the sprawling room.
Garryn looked up and swept his gaze across ballroom. Gold draperies hung from large windows, while crystal chandeliers were suspended across the ceiling. The mirrored walls seemed to make the room larger than it was and the floor was polished so well it gleamed and bounced back reflections. There was music from a ten-piece orchestra in the corner, while servers patrolled the room, carrying silver trays with flutes of sparkling alcohol.
Men and women from the best families paraded across the floor. Some were engaged in small talk. The others chose to dance. Men his age kept their distance while perusing the debutantes in dresses whose value would feed a family for a month. Older men sat on delicate-looking divans smoking their pipes, while dowagers picked to pieces anyone who did not have noble blood in their veins.
“You might think about getting a wife for yourself,” Garryn teased, knowing what his father was driving towards.
Iran let out a sigh, knowing that his son was in a testy mood tonight, despite his attempts at humour. Through the facade of his impeccable manners to the hosts of this event, it was obvious to Iran that Garryn wanted to be anywhere but here. Garryn was a soldier, accustomed to doing more than playing court to a room of aristocrats who would never presume to soil their hands in battle.
It wasn't any easier for him when he was the Prime, Iran thought.
Studying the guests, he realised he shared Garryn's distaste for these people. Being Imperator had its unique benefits. It allowed him to deal with people from every corner of the galaxy, no matter what shape or form. The secular world of the aristocrats was prejudiced and tiresome.
From the corner of the room, Iran saw General Edwen appearing through the crowd. Since Edwen's speech in the Quorum, they'd hardly spoken. Even though he said nothing to reveal his disappointment at Edwen's political stance, Iran tried not to make eye contact with the General. Iran sensed that it was best they kept their distance. They were friends, but their relationship was now on tenuous ground.
Still, Iran was surprised Edwen would make his court re-emergence here. Even though he was the absolute master of Security Elite and one of the most powerful men in the realm, he was still considered an outsider. Edwen's crime was not having any noble blood, something the aristocracy never allowed him to forget. None of them would dare to snub him openly, because it was never wise to make an enemy of the Security Elite.
Tonight, Edwen was not alone, however. Hanging on his arm was a young woman of exquisite beauty and one Iran did not recognise. Since Garryn had come home, Iran had been introduced to every young woman at court who might be a potential mate for his son. The young woman with Edwen was one he did not recognise. She was extraordinary beautiful, with dark auburn hair and deep green eyes.
The duo crossed the ballroom floor and approached them. Iran was conscious of the fact the scene was being observed with interest. After all, the souring of relations between Edwen and the Imperator was common gossip these days. As the man approached, Iran realized he had no wish for their friendship to end merely because of a difference of opinion.
If he meant what he told Garryn about Edwen having a right to his opinions, then what he said in the Quorum shouldn't matter.
Edwen reached Garryn and Iran, who were seated at the head of the room, like kings receiving their subjects. Neither man liked the positioning, but the Myzyne were traditionalists. Even though Iran always insisted the title of Imperator was not king, the aristocracy thought otherwise.
“Imperator,” Edwen bowed slightly upon his arrival and then repeated the same gesture to Garryn. The young woman at his side curtsied accordingly before taking a step behind him. The General was in his black uniform, which appeared even more impressive with the medals pinned on it. At least that was one thing he had in common with Garryn, Iran decided.
Those medals were earned.
“Edwen, it's good to see you. How have you been? You've been absent from the Quorum lately.”
It was an honest question and Iran hoped Edwen would be able to tell the difference.
If any offence was taken, Edwen did not show it. Instead he smiled graciously. “I decided to limit my oratories for the time being and deal with some pressing matters at the Enclave.”
“Nothing too distressing, I hope.”
“The matters of state are always pressing, Iran. This time is no different. I'm only here tonight because this is Kalistar's first ball since her return from school.”
Iran faced the young woman again and felt some astonishment. “You're Kalistar? You were playing with dolls the last time I saw you!”
“They weren't dolls, father. They were little water sprites from Nevar.” Garryn rose to his feet and bowed gallantly at her. “It's good to see you again, Kal. How long has it been?”
“About ten years,” she laughed. “I'm surprised you remember, Prime.”
“How could I forget? You and Elisha played together for most of that summer and it was my responsibility to look after you two. I'm glad you're back. Elisha will be happy to see you again.”
“Well, since you know each other so well,” Iran interrupted, “Garryn, why don't you ask Kalistar to dance? It would be nice if you at least made some attempt to be sociable.”
Garryn threw his father a look, knowing what was running through the Imperator's mind. This time, he was not annoyed. He did want to dance with Kalistar.
“Shall we?” He offered her his arm.
“I would be honoured.”
* * *
After a short turn on the ballroom floor, Garryn and Kalistar slipped away from the peering eyes, aware the gossiping was already started. By inviting Kalistar to dance, he'd made her the first woman he'd shown the least bit of interest in since his return home. If they did not escape the ballroom, their actions would be under scrutiny all night and Garryn didn't think he could stand that.
Instead, they left the mansion and headed towards the Myzyne's beautifully cared for gardens. Once away from everyone, he relaxed considerably. It felt good to be away from that stifling air of nobility everyone was forced to wear. Outside, the night was sultry. The hot air of the summer day had abated into a balmy breeze. He could smell the sweet fragrance of flowers carried by the wind from the approaching gardens.
It was a change Kalistar noticed immediately. Her memories of him were vivid, thanks to a childhood infatuation of which she was grateful he was unaware. In her memories, he was a proud, swaggering young boy who knew with total confidence he was going to be a soldier. Now, there was none of that arrogance. Instead, there was just that sadness at time having caught up with him.
“You were miserable!” Kalistar teased as they entered the impressive gardens.
“You can joke, but you have no idea what I've been going through since I got home,” he laughed, glad to be himself again.
“I can't imagine. Has it really been that bad?”
Garryn could see she was no longer teasing him. “I don't know. Maybe if I was raised the way these people have been, maybe I might be happier.”
“Would you have traded your mother for any of them?”
Garryn could not even imagine anyone else other than Aisha being his mother. “Not a chance.”
“I didn't think so,” Kalistar smirked with triumph. “When we were children, things were so uncomplicated. I was just another playmate for Elisha and you were going to conquer the universe. You used to say so, and stand like this.”
She placed her hands on her hips and mimicked a pose that seemed utterly ridiculous and unfortunately familiar.
“Gods, was I really that pompous?” Garryn winced in genuine horror.
“Worse.”
“I'm g
lad you're here. Now never show that to anyone ever again.”
Kalistar laughed and put her hand to her breast as if taking a sacred oath. “You have my word, Prime.”
Her laughter was infectious and, compared to the people he had consorted with this evening, a breath of fresh air.
“You know, you're probably one of the few normal people I've met since I've been home.”
“Why, thank you! I guess it must be difficult readjusting to all this after being a private citizen.” She brushed his arm in sympathy.
“You have no idea.”
They stepped across the ornate grass threshold that led into the gardens. The blue moonlight shimmered across the manicured lawns, bouncing off the white sculptures that peeked through the flowerbeds and taller plants.
“Does your father know how much you hate it?” she ventured to ask.
“Subconsciously I think he does, but it doesn't really matter. I am his son. I'm not afraid to do my duty. I just hate the rest of it. Marrying some woman simply to ensure the line, dealing with the nobility, those are the things I can't stand.”
“Garryn, the Imperator defines his reign by doing things exactly how he chooses. Not because the court tells him to or because society demands some stupid rules are obeyed. Your father brought us through the worst age in our history and allowed us to change because of it. My father may hate it, but on some level he knows it's inevitable. Define the future by what you think is right, not by all the old rules.”
Garryn was silent for a moment, absorbing her words. She spoke with such conviction and earnestness it was hard to argue with her, especially when she was right.
“I guess I have been feeling rather sorry for myself,” he gave her a long, meaningful look.
“I hope I didn't speak out of turn,” she apologised, realising belatedly this wasn't her childhood crush but was, in fact, the next leader of the Empire. “You just really needed to hear that.”
“I appreciate it,” he said with a little smile. “I think I've been too much in my own head with all this.”
Garryn suddenly found he liked her company very much. Far more than the childhood playmate he could remember only vaguely. These days, the number of friends in his life was lacking and Kalistar being able to treat him like a person, not a title, was just what he needed.
“I'm glad my intrusion helped for a change. My father tells me that I should learn how to be more subtle and impassive about what I am feeling.”
“Don't change a thing and we'll get along just fine.”
VIII
Officer Trayla
For a while, it felt as if going away would ease the pain.
He took refuge at a retreat in Sellust, unable to face being at her funeral, although he did pay his respects in absentia. On that remote world there was little to distract him. He faced his grief and tried to get used to the idea of living without her. It was easier said than done. His memories of her were clouded with regret and he tortured himself with all the things he should have said to her and didn't. All those years wasted, while they danced around their feelings instead of relishing every moment.
In an odd way, Jonen began to empathise with his Dreaming patients, now that he experienced nightmares of his own.
Eventually the pain did subside, even if the void in his heart did not. The days seem to move forward faster and soon an entire month had passed since that terrible call from Teela. The feelings of self-loathing and regret eased. It almost felt as if they belonged to someone else whose life was inexplicably changed. He even believed he might be able to continue without Mira.
Until he returned home and entered his office.
When he saw Mira's replacement seated at her new post, he knew no amount of time would ever heal the wounds he carried. Telling himself resolutely it was time to go on was no match for the reality of seeing a stranger occupying Mira's customary place. For a few minutes, he stood before the woman like a lost child, not knowing what to do until she greeted him.
All he could do was manage a polite response before hurrying to his office where he could hide from her.
She was out there now, doing all the things Mira had done so superbly, making the job her own and contemplating her employer's odd behaviour. With a flash of insight, he knew she would not be in the position long enough for them to get acquainted. None of it was her fault, of course. She simply had the bad luck to be the one who replaced Mira.
He spent most of the morning hidden in his office, dutifully reviewing his case files, contacting his patients to let them know he would be back and their appointments could be scheduled. Keeping busy prevented him from being reminded it was not Mira who was outside taking his calls.
At one point, he became so engrossed in his work he reached for the com unit to ask Mira to bring in some hot brew. Like a splash of cold water, the voice responding to his request belonged to a stranger. Staring at the device in shock, a split second jumped by as Jonen tried to fathom who it was on the other end, until he remembered Mira was gone. Once he realised his mistake, he was overwhelmed with shame and despair.
Closing his eyes, he forced away the tears and swallowed hard, hoping to steady himself. Only when he'd composed himself did he trust himself to address her.
“I shall be going out for an hour.”
“Yes, mentalist Jonen,” she answered without any surprise or curiosity at the emotion in his voice. How different she was from Mira, he found himself thinking. If it were Mira, she would be asking him what was wrong by now.
Angry at himself, he switched off the com unit and eased back into his chair. He glanced around the room. The space suddenly seemed empty and lifeless. He needed to escape, even if it was only for a little while. As he walked towards the door, he realised his office was his world and that he had taken for granted how much a part of it Mira was. Without her, it felt incomplete.
After giving the young woman, Ana, a plausible excuse for leaving, Jonen hurried out of the building, not caring where he went. Only after he felt the warm sunlight touch his skin and took a breath of fresh air did the knots in his stomach begin to unravel.
For the moment, the demons were at bay.
Outside, it was not quite midday. The stillness of morning broke into the animated pieces of early afternoon. There were not many clouds in the sky and the brilliance of the sun was glaring in contrast to the ambient lighting of his office. For a while, he strolled leisurely down the main walkway of Rura's busy commercial district, not having a specific destination in mind. He wondered whether he would be frivolous if he did not return to the office for a few hours.
By the time it was noon, he had no desire to return to his office, even if his spirits were considerably lifted. Outside, the world went along its business. People moved back and forth out of his view, just as places drifted by. Watching all of it imbued him with the hope of life going on. Someday, he would be one of those carefree people again. For every person who loved, lost and mourned, time's onward march ensured all wounds would eventually become scar tissue.
Since Garryn was his only appointment of the day, Jonen continued on his walk. The Prime was the only one he'd agreed to see today, because he'd sensed some urgency in the young man's manner the last time they spoke. Jonen was well aware not all of Garryn's problems had to do with the Dreaming. Some of it involved the forthcoming Ceremony of Ascension. Despite Jonen's personal problems, he wanted to help Garryn.
As he thought about the Prime and their afternoon session, it rekindled another thought in Jonen's mind: the investigation he was conducting regarding the older New Citizens. Guiltily, he realised there was much he was neglecting of late, even if he had a valid reason. Still a healer's work continued, regardless of his personal tragedies. The people who came to him needed his help.
It would be good if he could have more information for Garryn before their session. Surely by now, authorisation on his request about the New Citizens would have come through. Not even bureaucracy on Quorum Hill c
ould be so inefficient. If he was going to idle half the day away, it ought to be for something constructive. With a sense of purpose, Jonen strode towards the Kleist district.
* * *
Upon entering the Department of Citizenship, the severe harridan who'd served him earlier fixed her hawkish gaze on him. Despite her aloof manner, Jonen saw she was surprised to see him and she followed him as he approached the counter. Jonen glanced at the name plaque at the edge of her desk. Officer Trayla.
Another clerk rose to attend him, but Trayla froze his advance with an icy glare. Instead of coming towards him, the intruder retreated, allowing his older counterpart to take his place. She seemed determined to deal with Jonen and, for the first time, he regarded her with the high-powered scrutiny he reserved for his patients. No longer did she seem ordinary.
Instead, he was certain there was a hidden purpose to her. As he studied her closely, a few key elements surfaced, making Jonen rebuke himself for his prior ignorance. He'd spent enough time around patients with dangerous mentalities to know everything about this woman was intentionally nondescript. For some unknown reason, she was trying hard to appear ordinary.
He doubted if any one of the people around Trayla knew her well, other than the fact she worked at this department. Her desk, from the brief glimpse he had taken earlier, was devoid of personal effects. No holo-pictures, no little trinkets of any kind, nothing to personalise a long-term workspace. Even Mira, who was as reserved and professional as any woman he had ever met, had something to mark her desk as hers alone.
It did not escape her that he was staring. The realisation forced away some of the haughtiness from her manner. At this time of the day, inquiries to the department were few and Jonen was alone in the line for attendance. Again, it felt as if the plasteel counter between them was a barrier to more than just information.
“I came here some weeks ago. I filled out an application for access to some information regarding the New Citizens. You remember me, don't you?”
Children of the White Star Page 7