Dragons and Destiny (42 page)

The royal
family might condone many actions performed by its members but
murder of a direct heir to the throne was not one of them.

Prince-Duke
Xavier lay back on his pillows, hands behind his head. The King was
sick of the wasting cough. He would soon be dead and Xavier was
determined to be his successor. He would leave the princesses alone
for a while - it was his brother Paul and his nephew Elliot who
were the real impediments.

Paul will
recall Elliot. That will be the time to strike. Elliot first, there
are outlaws and bandits aplenty up in the forests in the
northernmost duchies or I can send a band of my own men to waylay
Elliot on his way here. When I am King I can even hunt out the
‘bandits’. That would be a nice touch.

Yes, that was a
good idea.

Paul now, I
might even deal with him myself.

Xavier pictured
himself ascending the throne, felt the crown being placed on his
head. In his daydream he looked out from the throne-dais, saw the
courtiers bowing and curtseying. He could almost feel the adulation
and the cheers.

This time I
will not fail.

* * * * *

Niaill, Danal,
Tala and Julia

“Right,” said
Julia. “First things first, the map. Don’t know how useful it will
be.”

“Which one is
it?” asked Philip and Julia pointed at the wall of her office where
it was attached. There was a general stampede in that direction as
everyone went to take a look.

“It’s a wonder
it is still readable after all this time,” marvelled Philip after
lamps had been brought to lighten the dark corner. “Some of the
colours look as if they were painted on yesterday.”

“Especially the
greens and the blues,” said Danal, tracing out the coastline of the
southern continent. “Here’s the Island Chain and here’s Settlement,
the words are faint but you can make out enough of the letters to
decipher it.”

“It’s not here
we need to look,” said Niaill, “but there, in the area we know the
Electra
must have landed.”

“Here’s Fort,”
said Philip. “It’s the only place named on our continent except for
these villages along the coast.”

“They would be
considered the more important,” surmised Danal. “Here is where
Castle Duchesne is now and Port Duchesne beside it. I can make them
out although the letters are blurred. That’s good. It gives us an
idea of the scale of the map. How many miles from port to castle
Philip?”

“No more than
five,” Philip pronounced. “Anyone got a ruler?”

Julia rummaged
in her desk drawer and produced one which she handed to Philip.

“Five miles is
a fifth of an inch,” he pronounced, measuring. “One inch to
twenty-five miles give or take. This is really a beautiful piece of
work.”

“Can you make
out the gridlines Niaill mentioned?” asked Danal.

“They’re very
faint.”

“Any numbers on
them?”

“Not on them,
look round the edges of the map though, that could be them. My
eyesight’s not what it was. Derek, come closer and take a
look.”

“The numbers
are very small and they’ve faded over the years,” observed Derek.
“I think that number is a seven but it might be a nine, I can’t
tell.”

The faces of
everyone grew despondent.

“But the map
wasn’t in existence when Peter Howard buried the core,” said Tala.
She was the logical one, technically trained and used to working
things out. “It can’t have been. Fort is on it and Castle Duchesne
and the earliest of the towns and villages in the north, stands to
reason. The people who made the map weren’t in the south at the
very beginning when Peter Howard took the power-core into the
desert.”

“She’s right,”
said Danal, regarding her with approval.

“So it can’t
help us with the gridref,” said Niaill with a sigh of
disappointment.

“Not directly,”
said Tala, thinking rapidly, “but it might help if we can assume
that both used the same scales and measurements. When do we think
this was made?”

“In Susa Tina
and Daltei’s time,” Julia answered. “That would have been, let me
see, only some thirty or so years after we came here.”

“It is probable
they were still using the same scale,” said Tala with
satisfaction.

“In that case?”
prompted Danal.

“In that case,
each little box represents twenty-five miles or so, eureka, I’ve
got it, it’s like geometry, plotting points on an x and a y
axis.”

“Do you know
what she’s talking about?” asked Niall in an aside to his
brother.

“Not in the
least,” Danal answered with a grin, “but it looks like she knows
what she’s doing. I vote we let her carry on.”

“Now,” Tala
said, with a withering glance in Danal’s direction, “if the x-axis
is east to west and the y-axis north to south, it is easy to find
out where the gridref is as long as we have point zero.”

“Point zero?”
queried Danal.

“Yes, point
zero.”

“But we don’t
know where point zero is.”

“Oh, I think we
do,” Tala continued. “Peter Howard set out from the Electra right?
I believe we must assume
that
is point zero. What was the
gridref again?

“9649E 2713S,”
Niall supplied the information in a helpful voice, looking in his
notebook.

“Then,”
announced Tala in triumph, doing some rapid mental calculations in
her head, “the place we are looking for is in this area here.” She
pointed.

“Further east
than I expected,” said Niaill.

“It’s only the
general area of course,” continued Tala. “I still think our best
bet is to try and find the
Electra
and take it from there
but at least we know the general direction we have to take. So,
when do we leave?”

“Captain Rand
will take you tomorrow,” said Julia, “so if you want to say goodbye
to your sister, you’d better trot along to see her now. You’ll find
her in the barracks at this bell. Alyei will take you.”

Tala’s face
brightened and she was gone almost before Julia had finished
talking, the paws of Alyei scrabbling on the floor as he made haste
to follow her.

“We go on the
morning tide,” announced Danal.

* * * * *

Rilla

Shona brushed
aside all the cadets in her way during her rush to tell her news to
a select coterie of friends waiting in the queue for the cookhouse.
Most good-naturally moved out of the way but others frowned as she
shoved past them.

“Hold on there
young Shona,” said Charles, a fourth year cadet.

“Don’t
Charles,” insisted Petra who was in his year group, “you know Shona
is usually the first with any news. She’s bursting with something,
just look at her face.”

“She’s always
rushing about here, there and everywhere,” complained Charles, “and
it’s our duty to keep the juniors in order.”

“Don’t be such
a grouch, she’s not doing any harm. She’s telling them too, it’ll
be down the line in a moment, wait and then we’ll know.”

Charles eyed
the excited group of third years through jaundiced eyes, they were
listening hard to what Shona was saying and as Petra had predicted,
what she was telling them passed down the line as fast as a
stampeding kura.

“The Ryzcks
have been recalled and all leave is cancelled!”

“Yep, even
those in the mountains.”

“Wonder what’s
happening?”

Petra and
Charles looked at each other. No one questioned the news, no one
ever quite knew how Shona found things out but she was invariably
right.

“Think it’s the
Larg, like in the old days?” asked Charles.

“Your guess is
as good as mine,” answered Petra.

Orders were
given out that the cadets were to be quick about breakfast. They
were to parade on the big practice field, all of them, from the
youngest to the oldest.

The cookhouse
was exceptionally noisy that meal as speculation ran wild. None of
the officers were present.

Most cadets
sent out telepathic queries to their Lind and received the same
answer.

: Do you
know what is happening? :
asked Rilla of Zawlei.

: Most of the
trainers and officers and their Lind have been up all night talking
:

: What about?
:

: I don’t know
but it is important :

* * * * *

The Council

The recently
elected Head Councillor of Argyll sat down in the ornate chair that
was now his with a self-satisfied smile and looked with benign
condescension at the other Councillors seated at the table.

This was the
culmination of all Horatio Ander’s dreams. He had done it, after
all the political manoeuvrings, the infighting, the elections, the
promises, the lies, even the occasional bribe. The other elected
representatives of the twelve wards were his to command, or almost
so. The niceties of government would have to be observed but he
would work round the inconveniences. He accepted the
congratulations of the twelve with a modesty not in keeping with
his inner thoughts.

“Thank you
ladies and gentlemen,” he began his rehearsed speech, “and a
welcome to those of you who come to Council for the first time.
Before we proceed, may I just say, in advance, that I’m sure it
will be a pleasure working with you.”

There were
murmurs from around the table.

“Now,” he
continued, “our first task is to vote the appropriate people into
the departmental positions.”

“Here we go,”
whispered old Councillor Dans of the Fifth Ward to his neighbour,
“take heed of what he says, Anders will now pontificate about the
matter of who he wishes we vote into the different posts. It
behoves us well to listen. He will make life very uncomfortable for
those who vote against his wishes.”

“It’s supposed
to be a secret ballot,” whispered his shocked neighbour, new to
Council and one of only two women elected.

“You’ve been in
politics long enough my dear to know that nothing is really secret.
Democracy in action, with a twist.”

Anders left the
meeting in fine fettle. He was pleased with the way the voting had
gone. That troublesome Richard Duchesneson, who during the last
council term had been in charge of defence had been relegated to
farms and produce.

Serves him
right, the interfering old bastard.

During the last
term when Councillor Duchesneson had been secretary for Defence and
he Anders, had been Secretary for the Exchequer, there had been
many a clash between the two, Richard Duchesneson always demanding
more funds for the upkeep of the Garda and the Navy and he
insisting that defence funding should be reduced. The Larg were no
longer the threat they had been in the old days. The new secretary
for defence would be far more amenable.

Councillor Iain
McAllister spent his first afternoon as defence secretary listening
to the briefings of his heads of department. As the last of the
briefings drew to a close, Iain drew a long sigh of relief. His
head was bursting with the effort of trying to concentrate and to
remember what he was being told. There was the added complication
that his military advisor who was supposed to have been sitting at
his side explaining was not here, the General having met with an
accident some tendays ago. The General’s aide de camp was also
missing.

Iain made a
mental note to give Field Marshall Bruce Johnson Jones who
commanded the Garda a piece of his mind next time he saw him.

As a
replacement the Garda had sent along a young and elegant Leftenant
who had sat in the corner and listened. It was obvious that he was
out of his depth. The young man
looked
efficient and
intelligent but Iain had realised from the outset that he was
anything but.

“Leave your
report here,” said Iain as the droning voice of the procurement
official dried up at last and the official sat silent in front of
his new boss.

“Certainly
Secretary McAllister,” the man said, placing it on top of the pile,
“and there’s a gentleman here to see you, a Vadryzka,
representative of Susa Julia of the Vada. He is most desirous to
have a word with you. He arrived as I was coming in and asked if I
would tell you when I was finished.”

“Can’t it wait
until morning? It’s been a very long day.”

“I did suggest
that but he was most insistent.”

It was at the
tip of Iain’s tongue to tell the man to return in the morning but a
cough from the corner stopped him. The young Leftenant stood up and
approached Iain.

“Your
predecessor sir, always made time to receive the representative of
the Susa. I’ve heard the General talking about it.”

Iain sat back
with resignation, “I could spare him a half bell. Send him in on
your way out.”

“Certainly,”
said the official, “and I’ll be leaving the office now, its past
closing bell.”

Iain nodded,
“off you go, I’ll see you in the morning,” and he turned to the
young Leftenant, “you too of you like.”

“Thank you
sir,” the young man said and he followed the official out of the
door, almost tripping over his heels in his hurry.

As the
Leftenant passed Iain’s visitor he looked at him with interest and
he recognised the uniform, a vadeln of the Vada, a Vadryzka.
I
don’t recognise the badge on his right breast, some sort of bird.
Funny, I thought I had the Ryzck badges off pat. Wonder what he
is?

He only
pondered the question for a short while. He was off duty and there
was a very pretty girl waiting. The Leftenant was a young man with
all the right connections but with only average intelligence and
even less imagination. He forgot about the visitor as he spent what
was left of the evening in the arms of his present mistress.