Restoree (27 page)

“The drug was named?”

“Yes. Cerol. Monsorlit said that there was no need to increase the dosage. He told Gleto to have a weekly absorption rate taken and that would give an indication when more would be needed. Gleto said he didn’t have the personnel and Monsorlit offered to send him a repossessed technician who could perform the test on Harlan. Monsorlit also said that Gleto had better do the same for the nine men who were Trenor’s patients.” My story came out in a rush because I was afraid of being interrupted and because I wanted desperately to say it before I lost my nerve.

Lesatin turned with anxious concern to the Councilmen. They whispered agitatedly among themselves.

“Why didn’t you bring this conversation to light in the earlier investigation?” I was asked.

“I never got the chance. The Mil came,” I defended myself.

Monsorlit’s voice asked for the right to question me and permission was given him.

“How did you obtain the position as Harlan’s attendant?” he asked me pleasantly.

“I was placed there from the Mental Clinic.”

“Oh. You’d been a patient there?”

Watching every muscle in his controlled face, I nodded.

“How long were you a patient at the Clinic?”

“I don’t remember exactly.”

“Accuracy to the minute is not required. A rough estimate is all that is necessary.”

“Two months,” I blurted out because that number came to my mind first. It was wrong. I could see that in the gleam in Monsorlit’s eyes. He drew out another bundle of slates and passed them to Lesatin.

“The Councilmen will see the documented record indicates a stay of over five months.”

He’s covered up here, too. All I have to do is not get rattled. He can’t beat me. I’m right and he’s wrong. He’s dangerous. They’ve got to believe
me.

“Lady Jena,” and Monsorlit turned to the other woman in the room, a gray-haired, gentle-faced lady, “was the ward nurse in Lady Sara’s early days with us.”

“I was indeed, poor thing.”

“Describe her condition.”

“Sir, she couldn’t speak at all. She didn’t seem to understand anything. They’re like that sometimes, poor dears. Especially the civilians who came to us from Tane. But it took her longer to understand even the simplest things. Her early achievement tests are just too low to be possible. I have included them in the records.”

Lesatin hemmed and cleared his throat, looking at me with an expression close to anger and resentment. I saw that I had been wrong. Lesatin really wanted to clear Monsorlit and here was my incriminating testimony to confuse the issues already settled in his mind.

“The Lady Sara seems quite able to make herself understood now,” one of the Elders pointed out dryly.

“Notice, however,” Monsorlit said smoothly, “that odd labial twist. Notice the aspiration of the hard consonants, as if there were difficulty in controlling the speech centers.”

“A personal quirk?” asked my champion.

“Possibly,” Monsorlit admitted, but there was no conviction in his voice. “Lady Sara,” and he spaced his syllables oddly, “what is the capital of Ertoi?”

“I don’t know,” I replied quickly. “Do you?” and I directed my question to one of the Councilmen. He blinked at me for my insolence.

Monsorlit laughed. “They can be very shrewd.”

“Sir,” Lesatin began angrily, “your line of questioning is irrelevant and offensive. Lady Sara’s contribution to Lothar is great and you must be careful of your aspersions.”

“She isn’t careful of hers,” Monsorlit answered tolerantly. “They often aren’t tactful. But she is very beautiful, isn’t she?” he added kindly.

I held my breath. He couldn’t be going to . . .

“She has only to smile,” Monsorlit continued, “and be admired. Beautiful women know that intelligence is not required of them and conduct themselves accordingly. However, the fact remains that the Lady Sara was a patient in the Mental Defectives Clinic and she
fails
to remember how long. She does not know the capital of Ertoi and there isn’t one. Here, Lady Sara, write me a few lines. Write your name. Even beautiful women who have attended our Mental Clinic can write.”

Monsorlit thrust a slate and stylus at me.

“I protest this preposterous treatment,” I cried.

“That’s a good sentence to write, isn’t it?”

The slate was put in my hands. I didn’t know what to do. Lesatin and the others were waiting with increasing impatience. It was such a simple thing and I couldn’t do it.

“I cannot write,” I said finally.

“Of course not,” Monsorlit said, turning to the Councillors. “Her records show that she was incapable of learning anything except the most routine duties. How to dress herself neatly, keep clean, act cooperatively. That’s why she was in a mental-home attendant’s position. She can learn anything by rote.
Anything.”

“You certainly cannot insist that Lady Sara has responded to rote lessons today?” my champion asked.

“Not entirely. I most gladly admit she has improved tremendously since she left the Clinic. She shows more promise of complete recovery than those records indicate possible. She must be allowed every opportunity to grow toward complete mental health, to restore her lost knowledge. I suggest, Councilman Lesatin, that she be returned to my Clinic to complete a recovery so auspicious.”

Someone must contradict this diabolical man. I turned anxiously toward Ferrill and saw to my horror that his seat was empty. How could he leave me? Now, when I needed a friend most? I burst into tears and tried to draw back from Monsorlit as he placed a proprietary arm around my shoulders and began to lead me from the room. I resisted, but the man was unbelievably strong. He led me out a side door into a small anteroom while, in the chamber behind, the Councilmen burst into angry questions and discussion.

“You should have come of your own accord. I did not wish so public a humiliation for you,” Monsorlit chided.

“You
know
I’m no defective. Harlan will be back and you’ll be sorry.”

“Threats. Threats. Harlan can return when he wishes, but you will go back to the Clinic and stay until my treatments bring about a full recovery.”

“No! I am recovered. I don’t need more treatment.”

“You do. One day I’ll have a complete success with my technique of restoration,” and his eyes were fixed at a point above my head, “mind and body. There will be no mental blocks such as you have in the memory synapses. It will be a complete cure.”

I stared at him. He didn’t know either. I had always assumed he did. He thought I was a Lotharian and just didn’t remember. He really believed I had been a colonist on Tane when the first Mil attack came. He had collaborated with Gorlot so he could prove, to himself if to no one else, that restoration itself did not cause the mental deterioration.

“You’re mad,” I cried. “And you’re wrong.”

The door opened wider and Lesatin and several other Councilmen entered.

“The charges against you are dismissed, Monsorlit,” he said gravely. “And you have our permission to take this . . . girl with you. For all our sakes I hope you do effect a complete cure for her.”

“It’s a pity she had been so closely connected with the young Warlord. I wondered why Harlan tolerated her.”

“Harlan has always liked a pretty face. Look at Maritha. And then, too, Harlan is probably grateful.”

“No, no no,” I shouted at their pitiless faces. “That isn’t it!”

Monsorlit took my arm in one steel-fingered hand.

“She’s done remarkably well considering her early ineptitude,” he said. “I can’t imagine who could have turned her against me.”

“No one,” I shrieked at him, trying to twist free. “I’m not defective. I can’t write Lotharian because I don’t even come from this planet. I came from Earth, the place those corpses on the Star-class Mil ship came from, the planet Jokan has gone to find. I’m not from Lothar. I’m from Earth,” I screamed desperately, for Monsorlit was tumbling in his belt pouch and I knew what he was seeking.

“What’s this about Jokan’s expedition?” “Another planet?” “Who’s been babbling?” The Councilmen all asked at once.

“Delusions,” Monsorlit reassured them, smiling at me as he got the needle out of his pouch.

“On the contrary,” a new voice said from the hall doorway. Ferrill pushed through. “On the contrary, she is telling the truth. And here is a slate, written by Harlan before he left for the Battle of Tane. It is addressed to me. Lesatin, I suggest you read it to everyone. You see, in this corner is the date, hard and fast.”

Monsorlit dropped my hand as if it burned him. Even he looked his incredulous surprise at Ferrill’s news. I ran to the ex-Warlord, weeping with relief, clinging to him. He put an arm around me with awkward but very reassuring gentleness.

Lesatin mumbled the phrases Harlan had written and the others peered over his shoulder. When they had read, they stared at me in complete confusion.

“How did you get here?” Lesatin roused himself to ask.

“Evidently on a Mil ship,” I said cautiously. “I . . . don’t really know. I was in shock. I’m here. I’m me. I’m not mentally ill.”

“But those tests we were shown? Jena is a very reliable person. A woman of her background and breeding would have no reason to fabricate lies,” Lesatin stopped.

“The tests were undoubtedly accurate,” Ferrill suggested sensibly. “I doubt any of you could understand her language so how could you expect her to understand ours . . . particularly after having been so nearly . . . skinned alive.”

Monsorlit’s eyes blazed as if I had suddenly changed into another person.

“How did she get here?” Lesatin repeated, dumbfounded.

“She was brought into my base hospital along with several other cases,” Monsorlit interjected smoothly, but there was a curious look of triumph in his face. “I assumed at the time she was one of the colonists who had been attacked by the Tane. There was no reason to suppose otherwise at the time. We know that Gorlot had several brushes with loaded Mil ships. Some were disabled. Undoubtedly she was on one of them.”

“In what condition was she brought to you?” demanded Lesatin with fierce urgency. I clutched at Ferrill for support.

“In a state of complete shock.”

“No, no. Physically,” demanded the Councilman.

Monsorlit looked at Lesatin with surprise, then back at me as if comparing two pictures in his mind. “Why, much the same as she is now,” he replied unhurriedly. “Much the same.”

“Could she have been restored?” my old champion demanded, bluntly.

Monsorlit pursed his lips. “How could she have been? She is as rational as any of us,” and to my amazement he smiled at me.

“A few moments ago, you assured us she was mentally incompetent,” Lesatin reminded him, eyes narrowing.

I could see that Lesatin was not entirely sure my comments were rote lessons.

“My remarks on her apparent defectiveness are still valid,” Monsorlit pointed out “She does not read or write Lotharian. She does not know simple facts our children do. She still talks with an odd accent. But she does not know how long she was at my clinic. She most assuredly had the violent nightmares such as were recorded. She most certainly was incapable of anything but the simplest, most routine tasks. She has been in deep shock and by some miracle has survived and regained complete mental control.
When
she gained it, I do not know.” He stressed the conjunction deliberately. “Therefore I can clinically doubt her recollections of a conversation such as she reported here today.”

He paused to see the effect of his words. I was about to contradict him, but Ferrill shook me quickly and silenced me with a glance.

“But, gentlemen,” and his voice rose above the interruptions of the others, “she presents an incontrovertible proof that I have tried for years to have recognized. That it is the capture by the Mil, not the restoration, that produces deep shock. We have completely restored burn victims and they did not go into shock. It has been our own fears that kill us. She never heard of the Mil. She went into deep shock, true, but she has recovered. I believe that any Mil victim can recover, if properly treated. Restoration has nothing to do with it. Can you realize that?” he demanded triumphantly.
“There
is your proof.”

I sagged wearily against Ferrill at the end of my strength.

“As you can see by that slate,” Ferrill drawled, “Harlan, our beloved Regent, has entrusted the Lady Sara to my care. She needs it right now. You will excuse us,” and he led me from that room.

I remember hearing Monsorlit’s voice rising above the arguments of the others as the door closed. I had been forgotten and I was glad.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

F
ERRILL MARSHALED ME DOWN THE
halls and back to my apartment without stopping for anyone.

He called Linnana to bring a stiff drink and then propelled me to my bed. He propped me up, covering me with a shaggy blanket, took the drink from a startled Linnana and shooed her out of the room.

I gulped at the stimulant gratefully, disregarding the raw bite on my throat.

“Don’t leave me, Ferrill,” I whispered as he turned from the bed.

“My dear aunt, not even a surprise attack by the Mil could stir me from my post,” he said with complete sincerity. He brought a chair to the bedside and settled himself comfortably.

“My curiosity is boundless and you won’t get rid of me until I hear everything I want to know about your fascinating recent past. Really, Sara, I consider it immensely rude of you not to have relieved my tedium these past days with this exciting disclosure. A planet, full, I hope, of other enticing females? My, my! Jokan will have fun. I do hope he returns with another extraplanetary aunt. They’re much more alluring than the homegrown variety.”

His absurd raillery was more effective than any tenderly delivered conciliations. The drink diffused its heartening warmth and it was ridiculous to think events would not turn my way with Ferrill putting them into their proper perspective.

The door exploded inward and I cried out, trembling all over even after I saw it was only Jessl.

“Who’s been knocking caves down?” Jessl demanded, glaring fiercely at me.

“Easy,” snapped Ferrill, holding up a warning hand, his eyes flashing authoritatively. “If you’ve come storming in here, you know as much as you should.”

“The Councilmen are in panic. I thought we were to leave Monsorlit alone. And I thought news of that new planet was to be strictly confidential. What on earth possessed you . . .”

“Hold your tongue, Jessl,” Ferrill ordered with such force in his tone that Jessl eyed the ex-Warlord in respectful silence, “Sit down.” Jessl complied.

“Now,” Ferrill continued more calmly. “Sara has had good cause to be frightened of Monsorlit. Harlan, in his infinite wisdom, chose to ignore it and none of us had the facts to understand her concern. During the Alert, Monsorlit threatened her that she must return to the Clinic,” Jessl started to interrupt, staring at me suspiciously. Ferrill held up an imperious hand, his eyes flashing, his pose of bored bystander forgotten. “Don’t interrupt
me!
That’s better.

“Even if she weren’t Harlan’s lady, that establishment has little to recommend it to the healthy-minded. Consequently Sara found herself placed in an untenable position at the meeting. I had no chance to warn her what it was all about because I only found out by accident Lesatin had scheduled the hearing today. I was under the impression Harlan was to preside. You are, I believe, aware of the terrible strain Sara has been under,” and Ferrill’s face was stern. “I sympathize with her completely. I doubt I could have maintained such control were I in a similar position, struggling to survive on her planet.”

“Then what Lesatin was saying . . .” Jessl stared at me anew, “you
are
from another planet?”

I nodded.

“Then what . . . they say about Monsorlit doing restorations,” Jessl began in a hoarse voice, his attention riveted to my face.

“ . . . is nonsense,” Ferrill said in an airy voice not echoed by the tense expression on his face. “Her planet is so close to the Tanes that she hadn’t so much as a mark on her. She was, understandably so, in deep shock. Monsorlit’s team discovered her and assumed she was a Tane civilian casualty. She was processed along with others through the Clinic and ended, so fortuitously as far as Lothar is concerned, as Harlan’s attendant.”

Ferrill’s easy explanation gradually reassured Jessl who began to untense and ceased looking as if he wished he were anywhere but in the same room with me.

“But, if she were never a mental defective, then her testimony about Monsorlit’s complicity is valid,” Jessl said.

Ferrill shook his head in exasperation. “It is useless and wasteful to implicate Monsorlit. No one, except Stannall or Gleto, really wants to indict him. He’s done too much among the little people of our world. And just as much for the rich who might want a new face. He is too well established in people’s sympathies. His entire hospital staff worships the ground he touches. No real evidence can be found against him. Except Sara’s testimony. And because she cannot establish when she came out of shock, Monsorlit has cleverly convinced the session that her recollection of a conversation in her recovery period is probably faulty.”

“But I can establish the moment I recovered,” I contradicted. “It was the day you visited Harlan with Gorlot and four other men. We were all walking in the gardens and you said ‘Harlan, to see you this way.’ Gorlot told you you had to keep your mind clear for the evening’s work and you told him he could control your decisions but not your heart.”

“You were sane then and didn’t speak out?” cried Ferrill stunned.

“That was the day everything cleared up. Before it had all been so confused. But I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing so I just kept quiet.”

“Continue to do so,” Ferrill suggested with authority.

“But,” and I had another horrible thought, “if the Councilmen now know I’m from another planet, won’t they wonder about restoration?”

Ferrill shrugged this suggestion off.

“Why should they? Monsorlit has testified you weren’t and he should know.”

“Loyalty? Statesmanship—better to say I wasn’t, even though I was, from top to toe, a restoree?” I said.

“I feel certain,” said Ferrill firmly, “that the incident is closed. Council has something of great moment to concern itself with . . . preparations to attack the homeworld of the Mil itself.”

Jessl rose slowly, nodding his agreement with Ferrill’s pronouncement.

“My apologies, Lady Sara, but I was deeply concerned,” he said. He bowed respectfully to Ferrill and left.

Ferrill waited till he heard the outer door close. Then he got to his feet, smiling broadly.

“Yes, my dear Aunt Sara, Council is going to be very busy. They’ll leave you alone and Monsorlit alone.”

“You’re sure Monsorlit will leave me alone? That I won’t have to go back to that ghastly Clinic of his to prove anything more to him?”

“Yes, Sara, I’m sure. You don’t have to fear Monsorlit anymore,” and Ferrill grinned with his secret knowledge. “Don’t you realize why?”

“No.”

“The only reason he wanted you back was he thought he had failed in a complete recovery. Now that he knows you have all your old memories, now that he has proved to himself that capture by the Mil does not, in itself, produce insanity unless the victim has been taught to expect it, he doesn’t need you anymore. Your case is closed as far as he’s concerned. So,” and he shrugged his thin shoulders, “you have nothing to fear from Monsorlit.”

I stared at Ferrill as the logic of his argument dispelled the last vestiges of my apprehension. He was quite right. Monsorlit had proved his point. I didn’t have to worry about returning to the Clinic. Or about my restoration.

Ferrill had pulled the draperies back from the window. The Young Moon, the faster nearer satellite, was rising in the early afternoon sky, a ghostly globe on the green horizon.

“Ironic, isn’t it, Sara?” he commented into the companionable silence that had fallen. “We’ve finally dispersed the last shadow of our fears of the invincibility of the Mil. We can stand free of any subconscious taint of sacrilege after two thousand years at war with ourselves and our old gods. Our weapons can paralyze their strong armadas. Our science is conquering superstition and releasing the last captives from the thrall of the Mil just when no Lotharian will ever have to fear being captured. Our envoy speeds to bring us a new ally.”

He looked out over the city. I threw off the blanket and joined him.

“One of my planet’s great statesmen said, at a very crucial time in our history, that the only thing we need to fear is fear itself.”

Ferrill looked around, pointing a finger at me.

“ ‘The only thing we need to fear is fear itself.’ I like the sense of that. It is very sensible, you realize from your own recent experience with fear.” Then he laughed, mockingly. “Of course, it doesn’t make allowances for cowards like myself.”

“Ferrill,” I said angrily, “don’t give me that nonsense about being a bad Warlord and you’re glad Maxil’s got it now because . . .”

“But I am glad,” Ferrill objected strenuously. “Something I can’t seem to convince you, Maxil, Harlan, everyone . . . except Jokan who understands completely . . . and he broke off. He snorted, annoyed he had risen to my baiting.

He laughed and, taking my hand, led me from the balcony.

“It’s going to be an exciting era for both our planets, Sara, and I’m going to be a part of it . . . even a bystander can enjoy that much. But right now,” and his eyes danced as he waggled his finger at me, “I’m afraid,” he chuckled, “I’m afraid I’m hungry. Aren’t you?”

I burst out laughing, dispelling the last shadows of my weeks of fearful doubts and uncertainties.

“Have you
ever
known me when I wasn’t?”