Restoree (13 page)

This was news to the others as well as Harlan.

“Yes, that surprises you, doesn’t it,” Stannall said with calculated scorn. “Newrit and Tellmann were killed in the Tane revolutions; Lamar and Sosit are in survivor asylums in pitiful condition. In their places we have such notable personalities as Samoth, Portale, Losin . . .”

“Bumbling incompetents,” Harlan exploded. “I’ve kept them on the Moonbases since they aged into section leaders because they blasted well can’t do much harm to raw rock.”

Stannall smiled mockingly. “Yet they are now
quadrant
leaders and the only choice besides Gorlot that Maxil here would have.”

Harlan glared fixedly, almost sullenly, at Stannall. “I have already done more than my duty for Lothar,” he muttered.

Stannall’s eyes narrowed angrily, but he controlled his face into an appearance of good humor.

“Yes, you have,” he agreed. “So has Ferrill.”

“I have the right to lead a private life, now,” snapped Harlan, jerking himself away from Stannall and stamping over to the balcony.

“How would you lead it under the Regency of a man like Gorlot . . . or Losin?”

“Gartly qualifies. So does Jokan.”

“Aye, and Gartly’s willing,” the old soldier spoke up sternly.

“Jokan’s reputation as a philandering dabbler disqualifies him, however,” Stannall pursued, “in the eyes of the conservatives as much as it enhances him in the halls of the liberals. You know where that would end: stalemate.”

Harlan stopped pacing and stood, his back to all of us, staring out at the revelry beyond the palace and absorbing the quiet of the still gardens. There was resignation and tired defeat in the set of his shoulders.

I wondered in the tense silence that fell if his reference to exploration made me indirectly responsible for the outburst that had stunned the others. This change of face was unlike the dedicated man I knew. He had thought of nothing for the last weeks but to get back to Lothara, be reinstated as Regent and save both Ferrill and Lothar from Gorlot’s plans. It was incredible that he would suddenly separate duty to Ferrill and duty to Lothar when he himself had given me the strongest impression that the two were indivisible in his eyes. Hadn’t Stannall’s revelations impressed on him that Lothar needed him more than ever before? Why did he hesitate?

“My friend,” Stannall began in a subtly persuasive tone, “your return and the fact that you were really drugged into insensibility are the final pieces in a puzzle I have been meditating ten months. Does it not appear all too propitious that Gorlot should have been in Lothara at the time of your collapse when you had ordered him on Rim maneuvers? That three days after your . . . illness, the Tane wars break out? That Socto, Effra and Cheret are replaced within the month, leaving Hospitals, War Supplies and Records in the control of Gorlot adherents? That petty officers with records as martinets and incompetents are suddenly promoted to quadrant leaders? That Ferrill, whose health has never been as robust as we could wish, is suddenly afflicted with a strange debilitating malady and is successfully treated only by Trenor, a relatively unknown physician from a back province in Gorlot’s holding? That Maxil is shepherded, disgraced, shamed, humiliated by a bullying byblow, while Fernan is feted and cozened? That Council is left unconvened except for the emergency quota all during a long summer and that that quota is composed of those barons who have opposed your reforms? They fit in, these pieces, don’t they?

“And don’t think I haven’t left a cave unsearched to find out what is really going on. I’ve seen every report from the quadrants, talked with the wounded; seen the shivering wrecks that were our most promising patrol leaders and tried to convince myself that nothing was wrong. Because there has been no discernible evidence of illicit activity.

“And then, miraculously, you return as sane and hearty as when I saw you in the Starhall two hours before your collapse.”

Stannall paused. He looked at Harlan to see what effect his disclosures were having.

“Tell me,” the Councilman’s facile voice changed flavor again, “have you no personal quarrel to pick with Gorlot for taking ten months out of your life? Can he shame you with the stigma of insanity and not expect to answer to you? Or are you still insane? The man who tells me his duty was done with Ferrill’s deposition does not sound like the Harlan I knew ten months ago. It sounds like a drug-weakened dreamer, filled with delinade, not guts and blood.”

Instead of being stung by the insults, Harlan turned wearily from the window. He looked toward me first, but his face was expressionless.

“You touch a point none of us have brought up, Stannall,” he said slowly, heavily. “It is necessary
first
to prove I
am
sane, to the Council, to the planet, and to myself.”

Jessl and Gartly exhaled tightly drawn breaths. Stannall allowed no expression of triumph whatever to cross his features.

“Harlan,” Maxil burst out, his voice cracking again, “if you don’t want to be Regent for me . . .”

Harlan crossed quickly to the boy and threw an affectionate arm across the rigidly held shoulders. “My . . . hesitation . . . has no reflection on my fondness for you, lad. Or, I should say, my lord.”

“That, too, has not yet been decided,” Stannall said briskly. He sat down at the desk by the communicator and pulled out slates as he continued talking. “The physicians will report here after they make their examinations of Ferrill . . .”

“There’s no chance that the initial verdict can . . .” asked Harlan.

“None,” was Stannall’s emphatic answer. “I presume Gorlot has been merely biding his time before he brought up the matter of the lad’s health officially. Perhaps he didn’t expect Ferrill to collapse so completely.”

“But you said he’d be all right,” Maxil said anxiously.

Stannall frowned slightly at this interruption. He turned and looked at Maxil as if the boy had changed completely.

“I said he’d live. The extent of his invalidism we’ll know when we receive the full medical report. At the same time they are here to see you, my lord, they can make a preliminary examination of Harlan. Undoubtedly a more extensive one will have to be made at the War Hospital Clinic at a later date.” Stannall added a final mark to the slate he had been writing on and handed it to Sinnall.

“Section Leader, this must be delivered at once to Lesatin. I believe he planned to be in Lothara for the festivities, but I doubt he was invited to the palace.” Stannall smiled wryly. “His sympathies have never paralleled Gorlot’s interests. Once the message is delivered, consider yourself under Lesatin’s orders. Try first at his town residence, Place of the Triangle Red. Someone there may be sober enough to remember where the man went.

“Gartly, I want you to contact every old patroller you know, in town or not. Jessl, get your younger friends together. I want word spread that Harlan is back, that he is sane. That he never was mad. Your group can spread the news quicker than the Mil can evacuate the city. By the way, where’s that ladies’ man, Jokan? I’d’ve thought he’d be along tonight.”

“He’s waiting at his place for Sara. And I think she’d better go there,” Harlan said.

“On the contrary,” Stannall countermanded, turning to look at me. “The young lady must spend the night in Maxil’s suite.”

It was Harlan’s turn to frown.

“I don’t see the necessity of . . .”

“You don’t see, Harlan,” Stannall interrupted testily, “that she is essential to counteract Gorlot’s campaign to have Maxil set aside as impotent. In front of the entire Starhall, she admitted his claim on her.”

Harlan turned white and stared at me.

“I did not,” I cried, although I didn’t understand the undercurrent between Harlan and Stannall that was directed at me. “I said nothing of the kind. And I only met the boy this afternoon at a cornade stand in the square. Then . . .”

Stannall waved me silent. “That
must
not be known,” and he pinioned with his glance everyone in the room separately, exhorting unspoken compliance with this essential lie. “The
impression,”
and as his voice underlined the word, he looked squarely at Harlan and then Maxil, “must stand.”

“A moment,” Harlan said in a too-quiet voice. “I had a prior claim.”

Stannall turned to Harlan coldly. “I cannot help your private plans for the Lady Sara. The fact remains unalterable that Lothar must remain under the impression that this girl is Maxil’s lady. That voids Gorlot’s scheme to have Maxil set aside in favor of Fernan. Gorlot neglected to include an element of chance in his calculations. We cannot permit his neglect to go unutilized because of private feelings or dealings. I’m certain that both Lord Maxil and the Lady Sara are aware of the circumstances in which they now find themselves and will conduct themselves accordingly.”

“Sara, I’m sorry,” Maxil pleaded with such adolescent embarrassment that I swallowed the words that rushed to my lips.

“There is so much at stake,” I began, directing my plea to Harlan whose jaw muscles were clenched with his unspoken anger. “After all, it is an honor to be the Warlord’s lady. If I ever dreamed a simple glass of cornade would lead to all this . . .” and I made an attempt at a carefree laugh. Maxil gave me a rather sickly grin of gratitude, but Harlan refused to unbend.

“With
your
permission,” he grated out between his teeth at Stannall and then drew me out to the balcony. Stannall watched us leave and then beckoned to Gartly and Jessl to leave and for Sinnall and Cire to join him at the desk.

Harlan was gripping my hand painfully tight. He shut the glass balcony door and drew me into the balcony shadow.

“Sara, that gesture may cost you your life,” he began.

“Don’t be silly. I’ve braved the worst that Gorlot could do and . . .”

“Gorlot is nowhere near as deadly for you as Stannall,” Harlan said in such earnest my levity failed me.

“You never come right out and explain,” I wailed softly.

He shook his head irritably. “It is not a simple thing to explain. I don’t understand how you came to let Maxil claim you. Surely you must realize how little you know of this planet.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Then how can you expect to play a part which calls for constant public appearances where everything you do and say will be remarked. The tiniest slip will be noticed. Sara, Sara.”

He took me in his arms, pressing my head against his chest, folding me carefully but tightly against him, his lips on my forehead.

“What else could I have done? I’ve been as backed into a short cave as you have.”

At my choice of words, he gave a little chuckle, and released me. I could see his face in the shadow, his eyes on me were tender.

“There was one chance in several thousand you’d manage to carry off what you’ve already done. But I’d far rather see you safely on my holdings until we find out more about how you got here. And preferably, find your world.”

“Is that what you meant when you said you had other things to do with your life?”

“Yes,” he said sadly. “Yes. There’s more than just finding your world and helping them defend themselves against the Mil. But that’s scarcely an issue to throw into the confusion of this mess.”

“But
why
is my origin so dangerous?”

“It’s all wrapped with the horror of restoration,” he said in a tight voice, “which I have no time to explain. But you say you’ve come from another planet. The only
way
you can have got from another planet that I know of is by way of a Mil ship. And traveling on a Mil ship . . . well, it follows that you must be a restoree. And to almost everyone, a restoree is a horror to be exterminated at the first opportunity.”

I stared at him, my throat dry.

“But I’m not horrible, am I?” I whispered, scared deep inside me by the intensity in his voice.

“Dear my lady,” he said softly, framing my face with both hands, “has not half of Lothar acknowledged your loveliness?”

“But your restoree talk scares me,” I said, biting back my tears. Fatigue, hand in hand with fright, seeped past the barriers excitement and novelty had created. I was desperately tired.

“I know, Sara, but I must scare you enough to make you doubly cautious. I feel so powerless to protect you.”

“I’m too tired to think,” I groaned, putting my hand to the place on my jaw that ached.

He opened the door and handed me back into the room.

“
My
Lady Sara is exhausted,” Harlan said, issuing his challenge at Stannall.

The First Councilman looked up at Harlan for a long moment.

“Maxil, you have heard Harlan’s claim.”

“Yes, sir, I have,” Maxil agreed somberly, rising to his feet.

“All right, both of you escort her to Maxil’s apartment. Then I want
both
of you back here,” Stannall said with exasperation.

Harlan, bowing slightly to me and then Maxil, gave Maxil my hand and opened the door to the hall for us.

There was no doubting the shock of surprise on the faces of the guards as they recognized Harlan on the way to Maxil’s quarters. Neither Maxil nor Harlan looked right or left. Maxil palmed open his door and stood aside to let me and then Harlan pass while the startled hall guard snapped to attention, his eyes wide and rolling around to get the closest look at the Regent.

Maxil closed the door and let Harlan lead me to a bedroom, opposite the one in which Samoth had dumped me that afternoon. The lights came up immediately in the lovely room.

“How do you turn them off?” I whispered urgently to Harlan.

He pulled the door to and waved one hand over a panel of darker wood by the doorway. The lights went out. I saw the whiteness of his hand move again and the lights came up.

He stared at me fiercely.

“By all the mothers of all the clans, I should have claimed you on that boat after all. Remember, you are
my
lady.”

The incredible possessiveness of his look stayed before my eyes long after he left. I realized suddenly what the formality of “claiming” and using the personal possessive pronoun must mean. I had got myself married to Harlan without even knowing it. I fell asleep trying to see all the ramifications of my paradoxical situation.