Restoree (14 page)

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE NEXT MORNING WHEN
I woke, I felt rested completely and, of course, hungry. I was torn between a bath and something to eat. On the bed was a heavy green robe. I glanced at the other side of the large bed and assured myself I had been its lone occupant. I rose and belted the robe and tiptoed to the door. I peeked out into the living room, saw a clear path to the fruit on the table and started for it.

“Lady Sara, I hope I didn’t wake you,” and I whirled to see a young blond girl in a blue overdress, her eyes wide and anxious.

“No,” I muttered.

“I am Linnana and at your service. May I draw your bath? There are gowns for your choosing and, if I may suggest it, the others will soon arrive for breakfast.” She glanced at the hall door nervously, expecting an invasion momentarily.

Beyond her, I saw on the raised level at the balcony door the table set and awaiting diners. I nodded but nevertheless grabbed up an applefruit before I returned to my room. I didn’t care what she thought. I was hungry.

I bathed and then allowed Linnana to show me the clothes she had mentioned. It was a mistake because there were far too many of all colors, lengths and fabrics, and a small chest of jewels as well.

“I’m just a simple country girl,” I began finally as even Linnana showed impatience at my indecision. “I don’t know what to choose to wear in the palace for breakfast.”

She giggled. “That’s easy. With your permission?”

She held up a knee-length tunic and overdress in contrasting shades of a soft rust, and took from the jewels a simple chain of gold with jadelike buttons in the links. When I had dressed, no longer worried about unfamiliar closures because she took care of that, she set me down again and opened a small metal box. With a brush, she recreated eyebrows for those I lost in the force screen. She added a touch of color to my lids and a blush of paint on my lips and studied the effect. When I glimpsed myself in the mirror, my hand inadvertently went to my nose. I snatched it back into my lap for fear she would interpret the gesture.

“My pardon, Lady Sara,” and she brought out powder for me.

It was a little reassuring to know that women still used such guiles on Lothar.

Evidently she felt no more was needed and followed me to the door.

When I stepped out into the room, I stopped abruptly on the threshold. Linnana had neglected to tell who had been expected for breakfast and I had not bothered to count the place settings. It would not have been so overwhelming if I had known what to expect. Over twenty men were gathered in that room, of whom I knew only Stannall, Harlan, Maxil and Jessl. Following Maxil and Harlan’s example, those seated at the crowded table rose instantly. I believe I was the only one who saw Harlan prod Maxil forward to greet me.

Maxil struggled with his embarrassment as he took my hand to lead me to my place. Our flushing faces only compounded the desired impression.

A servant came quickly with the steaming chocolaty beverage which was the Lotharian equivalent of coffee. It helped clear my head, certainly; hot, tart and stimulating.

“You’ll be pleased to know, Lady Sara,” Harlan began formally but with a wicked twinkle in his eye, “that the Lord Maxil and I have been cleared of the various physical and mental deficiencies attributed to us. And, by the foremost physician of the world, Monsorlit.”

I grabbed frantically to balance the cup in my hand before my trembling spilled the hot stuff all over me. Maxil hastily proferred a napkin and a servant materialized to mop up and produce a fresh cup. I muttered inanely about hot cups and tried to catch Harlan’s eye. His remarks were addressed to the table in general and he did not look at me.

“Gorlot was . . . obviously . . . mistaken about Maxil,” he continued blithely. A polite ripple of laughter forced a bright smile from me. There were no lascivious sidewise looks at me from the men at the table. Actually fathers were quick to urge a likely girl to become the unofficial lady of a Warlord. A child of such an alliance might well be Warlord-elect if the father died without other, more legal issue.

“The most exhaustive tests brought by Physician Monsorlit failed to show me mentally defective but he’s to try his worst this afternoon in that precious Clinic of his. I am, evidently,” and here Harlan’s laughter was echoed by the others, “to be congratulated on my astounding return to sanity.”

“Physician Monsorlit,” the name rang in my brain and I couldn’t believe it. Could there be two with the same name?

“Remarkable luck, that,” said a man standing by the balcony, “getting one of Gorlot’s own to validate your sanity.”

Harlan frowned at the comment.

“I say I find it difficult to believe a man of Monsorlit’s caliber is connected with Gorlot. He’s too fine a scientist and physician . . .”

“Not too fine a man to have dabbled in the vile practice of restoration,” snapped Stannall with such massive hate and condemnation in his voice that it filled the room with tension.

I stared, amazed at the First Councilman for the passion of his denunciation.

“He was severely disciplined for that youthful attempt,” a gray-headed, senatorial man remarked, “and has turned his remarkable energies toward our truly pressing problem of insanity. Look what he has achieved with that Mental Clinic of his. He’s been able to train useless idiots to perform simple duties perfectly.”

Stannall was not impressed.

“He has sought the proper cave in company with Gorlot.”

Then why, I asked myself, did Monsorlit say Harlan was sane. Don’t they realize that Monsorlit was responsible for Harlan’s collapse?

“Gorlot will have difficulty now keeping Maxil from the Warlordship and Harlan from being appointed Regent,” someone stated.

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Stannall said sourly. “Remember, there was little Monsorlit could do when three other noted physicians were sincerely convinced of Harlan’s recovery.”

“Then you expect trouble tomorrow when the Council convenes?” Grayhead asked worriedly.

“Of course I do,” Stannall said. “Do you think Gorlot will simply step aside because Harlan has returned unexpectedly? No, the man is incredibly cunning, else we should have suspected him long ago. How many of you doubted his report of Maxil’s impotency until last night? How many of us have questioned any one of his other unusual acts? The appointment of a back-province physician for Ferrill instead of Loccan or Cordan?”

“But Trenor effected some relief for the War—the boy,” another voice interposed. “There
was
a definite improvement.”

“Yes, a cessation of whatever drug they used to debilitate the boy,” Stannall retorted.

“Did the physicians find the residue of any such drug in Ferrill’s body?” Grayhead asked.

Stannall snorted. “There are many drugs with peculiar properties, my dear Lesatin, whose traces are completely absorbed in the system within a few hours. Cordan suggests that perhaps cerol was used since Ferrill’s motor system has suffered most. But that is confidential information.”

“Cerol?” Lesatin exclaimed in horror, “but that’s a Tane-grown drug.”

And, I amended to myself, the same thing they used on Harlan.

“Then the Tanes are behind this,” someone blurted out.

“No,” Stannall replied with such calm assurance that the rising hysteria in that quarter was calmed. “But I have good reason to believe that the Tane Revolution masks some intention other than meets the eye.”

Stannall smiled slyly at the anxious requests for explanation.

“We have already sent a . . . ah . . . qualified observer,” and Stannall glanced quickly at Harlan with an accusatory expression, “to Tane to bring us back a firsthand report of the situation. I have not been satisfied with the all too reassuring official reports.”

“Neither have I,” Lesatin asserted loudly. “They’ve been . . . ah . . . em . . . too vague.”

Maxil muttered in my ear, “Jokan took off on his own last night. Harlan was fit to tie him to a Mil Rock. So was Stannall but not for the same reason.”

“But Jokan was supposed to wait for me,” I said inanely.

“That’s why Harlan was mad. That Jokan!” Maxil chuckled with delight.

Stannall was continuing smoothly. “He will return as soon as he has properly assessed the problem. In the meantime, it is essential that we delve into every corner of Gorlot’s administration and bring up from the depths of each cave those inconsistencies which can bring the majority of council to its senses with regard to this tyrant.”

“I should think poisoning Ferrill would be sufficient,” remarked a wiry, black-headed man later named to me as Estoder.

Stannall pointed a finger at him, punctuating his words,
“If
we had proof of it, which not even Cordan can find . . . except by the process of eliminating other factors. Indeed, without Harlan’s miraculous escape and return, we would not even be possessed of the suspicion. The action of that new drug is comparatively unknown, you realize.”

“Just how did Harlan escape, if he’d been so heavily drugged? No one’s clarified that point,” Lesatin remarked, pointedly staring at me.

Harlan shot me a quick encouraging smile but allowed Stannall to speak first.

“The . . . ah . . . Lady Sara,” Stannall had difficulty for some reason in deciding on my title, “managed to penetrate the sanitarium and became assigned as Harlan’s attendant.”

“We are doubly indebted to the Lady Sara,” Lesatin remarked, bowing in my direction.

Lesatin seemed to me to be the sort of person who dotes on being possessed of the fullest information on any given subject that attracts his attention. He reminded me unpleasantly of an officious junior executive at the agency library who had plagued me unnecessarily for infinite details about this or that. I steeled myself for the questions Lesatin, if he bore out the resemblance, might throw at me.

“Can it be possible to assume,” Estoder spoke before Lesatin could, “that Socto, Effra and Cheret were removed from Hospitals, War Records and Supplies more by Gorlot’s intervention than the normal course of events?”

“Possible, probable and entirely feasible,” Stannall agreed, “and I suggest we begin our checking immediately with these offices with the thoroughness of the ancient priesthood in examining a novice.”

Everyone now had a question or an opinion or a suggestion. The breakfast broke up into little groups of debaters, calling to Harlan or Stannall for approval. Men departed in pairs or singly. Finally there were only four of us left. Harlan reached for a heavy surcoat. I tried to catch his eye so I could tell him about Monsorlit’s visit to the asylum. I was also afraid of being left alone with Stannall after his remark about restoration.

Harlan spared time only to grip my arm and mumble about seeing me later. As the door swung shut behind him, I felt awfully alone and vulnerable.

“Maxil,” Stannall said, “I think you had better present yourself to your brother’s quarters.”

“Fernan?” Maxil countered, distastefully.

“No,” Stannall frowned, “Ferrill. The morning’s report is reassuring. The paralysis of his right side continues. But last night’s examination contradicts the theory of a heart seizure. It will look well that you have been to see him. And take the Lady Sara with you. I have assigned four men as your bodyguard. Absolutely trustworthy,” and the First Councilman’s face relaxed into a reassuring smile for Maxil. “You two,” and he flicked his eyes to me, “are not to be left unguarded for a moment. Oh, and when you’ve seen Ferrill, your new quarters should be ready. I’ll see you at dinner. Lady Sara,” and he bowed punctiliously in my direction.

“He doesn’t like me, Maxil,” I said when the First Councilman had left.

“Aw,” Maxil shrugged it off. “He will. Harlan’ll see to that and when Fara gets here,” and Maxil blushed furiously, “I mean, aw,” and Maxil rolled his eyes to the ceiling in adolescent embarrassment.

“I know what you mean, Maxil,” I laughed, patting his arm consolingly. “It will be a great pleasure to step aside for my competition.”

Maxil’s face screwed up even more. “Oh, Sara.”

“Oh, Maxil,” I teased back, trying to reassure him.

A knock at the door disclosed Sinnall, in resplendent Palace Guard uniform, at rigid attention. Behind him I could see an equally rigid Cire and two huge guardsmen. Sober-faced and taking his new position very seriously, Sinnall saluted.

“My orders, Warlord, are to guard, guide and defend you and the Lady Sara. May I present Second-Leader Cire, and Patrolmen Farn and Regel!”

“Second-Leader Cire,” Maxil said, grinning broadly at Cire’s good fortune. Then he hastily cleared his throat and recalled his new position in life. “My compliments,
Group Leader,”
and his voice underlined Sinnall’s double promotion, “and my thanks for your loyalty. I wish to see my brother, Ferrill.”

Saluting smartly, Sinnall backed out into the hall with his men, waiting at attention until Maxil and I started before he signaled his men to fall in behind us.

There was a vastly different atmosphere in the hallways this morning. Perhaps it was the green sunlight that flooded the hall from the skylights and balconied alcoves. Perhaps it was the crisp snapping to of the guards who saluted as we passed where last night they had insolently glanced our way. Perhaps it was the obsequious salutations of the men and women who paused to greet Maxil, openly eyeing me. Several would have engaged Maxil in conversation, but he was too nervous to give them any encouragement and, to my relief, they tactfully withdrew.