by James Gurley
Simios pronounced this last as if there was no doubt in his mind. Tad looked again at the young king, searching for some visible sign of his talent but saw only a strange child. He wasn’t sure he was up to the task.
“Where will you be?”
“I will remain close for a few days. Then I will leave you to your job while I attend to mine.”
As they spoke, King Karal set aside the toy dog, stood, and looked at them. He walked around them several times, slowly, expressionless, his eyes never leaving Tad.
“Tad,” he said.
Tad nodded.
“That is a rare treat,” Simios said quietly. “He remembered your name.”
The king reached into his robe and pulled out a yellow-green seepum fruit with two bites missing. He handed it to Tad.
“Do I eat it?” he asked Simios.
“Do as you see fit,” Simios replied.
Tad accepted the fruit, took a bite, and then returned it to the king. As Tad chewed the slightly acidic, fibrous, moist fruit, the king smiled, took a bite as well, and replaced it in his pocket. This strange bonding ritual completed, he turned and walked away. Tad took a step to follow. At the slight movement, the king stopped, looked at him and screamed shrilly, “Nooo!”
Tad froze and swallowed. Remembering Simios’s advice, he said, “I am going to follow you now.” He took a tentative step forward. King Karal turned and continued, allowing Tad to follow. The king headed for the balcony, past the guards and stood at the edge of the stone balustrade. He peered over the top and pointed to the Watchers’ Tower in the distance, visible above the intervening buildings.
Tad nodded. “Yes, the Watchers’ Tower.”
King Karal smiled at him and raced back into the room. Tad followed at a discreet distance. He noticed a smile on Simios’s face. The king plopped down on the tile floor in front of a wooden box. He reached inside and pulled out a small, carved wooden figure, a likeness of a Delphinium Guard done with great attention to detail but its features worn smooth from much handling. Tad moved slowly to stand behind the king. Karal ignored this breech of protocol, placed the soldier at Tad’s feet, and looked up at him. An expression of great concentration clouded his young face. Tad thought he understood and shook his head.
“No, they guard you.” He pointed to the two guards flanking the window. Next, he pointed to himself. “I am here to watch you, to be your friend if you will let me.”
Karal studied Tad’s face for a moment before smiling. Then he set the figure in front of him on the floor and stared at it, humming softly to himself. Tad waited several minutes for him to move.
“He can sit like that for hours,” Simios said from across the room. “It is best if you find a chair and make yourself comfortable. He seems to like you.”
Tad nodded. “I will sit with you now,” he said. Very slowly, he moved closer to the king and sat down a few meters from him but within his sight. The king glanced at him very quickly out of the corner of his eye and resumed his humming. Tad crossed his legs and leaned back, producing a scowl from King Karal.
“I’ll sit here with him if you don’t mind,” he told Simios.
Simios spread his arms. “If you wish. If you need water or nourishment, notify one of the guards. They will serve your needs as they do the king. I must speak with the Council of Regents.”
“You’re leaving me here alone?” Tad asked, suddenly frightened.
“The king likes you. You will do fine.”
Tad was unconvinced. “What if something happens?”
Simios smiled. He removed a small pearl-colored bead from his pocket. “Place this inside your ear.”
Tad eyed the silvery bead in the Plin’s hand with suspicion. He noticed the king watching him with interest. “I’m going to move now,” Tad announced. He accepted the device from Simios and did as instructed, surprised when it slithered into his ear canal.
“Now, when I speak thus,” Simios closed his mouth, but Tad watched his throat move as the words “you can hear me” popped into his mind.
Tad was amazed. “Plin magic?” he asked.
“A simple ancient device,” Simios said with a shrug. “You can also hear what I hear.” He handed Tad a small oval of dark metal. “Place this over your eye.”
The small bead had settled in his ear and caused no harm, so he placed the oval over his eye. It adhered to the skin around his eye. To his surprise, it turned cloudy.
“Now concentrate.”
Tad focused on the glass and it slowly became transparent. Suddenly, he could see through Simios’s eyes. It was disconcerting at first and it took a little practice to see both what Simios saw and what he saw with his other eye. As Simios strode to the door, Tad marveled at the technology his forefathers once possessed.
“But how do you transmit the sound and picture?” he asked.
Simios smiled and tapped the side of his temple. “Augmented devices implanted as a child.”
“But, how…?”
Simios cut him off. “Later, when you have a better basis for the knowledge.”
Tad glanced at the king staring at him and softly humming a tune Tad thought he recognized and wondered where he had heard it.
8
THE COUNCIL OF REGENTS
THROUGH SIMIOS'S DEVICE, TAD LISTENED AS TWO GECK guards escorted Simios into the Council chambers, their booted steps echoing down the corridor. The guards paused just outside the chamber door, until someone in the room called to them.
“You may enter.”
Tad heard the rustle of the guards’ silken uniforms as they bowed slightly and backed away, closing the door behind them.
“Ah, Simios,” a man said. “So good of you to come.”
A hazy picture began to form in Tad’s ocular device. The man was Terran, just under two meters tall and spoke with a deep bass voice that filled the room with its authority. His hair was white, but he wore a mantle of vigor like armor, his movements sharp and quick.
Simios bowed. “I was summoned, Akalah,” he said.
“Akalah,” Tad whispered. He had heard of the head of the Council. He concentrated over the king’s soft humming as Simios had instructed and the hazy picture cleared perfectly, as if he were standing beside Simios, seeing things as Simios saw them.
Akalah’s face was angular but not unhandsome. He pressed his lips tightly together. Tad guessed that they did not smile often. He waved a long, lean finger in the air. “Not summoned—requested.”
“As you wish.”
Tad felt a tinge of humor flow through Simios’s mind at the word play. The devices conveyed more than simple sight and sound.
The others around the table (Simios whispered their names for him) were Harriman, the other Terran, tall and thin with cold, calculating eyes that spewed distrust at the Plin; Saxtos and Tyris, both Saddir, the first short and portly and the other slightly taller and broad-shouldered; and Meran, a tall, willowy Lilith. Tad thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman. Her long dark hair spread across her olive-hued shoulders and framed her perfectly formed breasts barely hidden beneath a thin gown. All deferred to Akalah, the head of the Council. Simios knew them all by name but had little dealings with them outside the Council chambers. He nodded to each of them respectfully before taking a seat opposite them. Tad noticed the chairs arranged as if an Inquiry were in progress. He looked for an official Recorder but saw no one else in the room. It was to be a secret meeting. It suddenly dawned on him that these thoughts were not his own but placed there by Simios.
“You were delayed,” Akalah stated flatly but with a hint of recrimination in his voice. Tad assumed that the Chief Regent was a man used to immediate response to his requests, a man who wielded his power like a weapon.
“I was introducing my new young apprentice, Tad de Silva, to King Karal. They seem to have bonded well.”
Tad glanced at the king and he saw Karal glance away as if trying to hide his curiosity. He tapped his foot on the floor to some unhe
ard rhythm.
“Ah, yes, your apprentice. A Terran, isn’t he?” Saxtos commented.
“Yes, a Terran,” Tyris repeated.
Simios smiled. “Yes, a Terran.” Tad caught more amusement at Simios’s repetition of the word. “He was recommended by a Mage. It seems he has hidden talents.”
Hidden talents? Tad wondered if Simios intended this comment solely for the Council or for him as well.
“Hidden talents?” Akalah asked. “What sort of talents?”
“Hidden ones, of course,” Simios said, enjoying the look of anger that crossed Akalah’s face.
Tad giggled but stopped at King Karal’s look of annoyance.
“Can you not explain?” Meran asked, her voice dripping honey. Her smile disarmed Simios briefly, before he remembered how the Lilith trained from birth to manipulate men for their purposes. He glanced away from her stare and shrugged his shoulders. Tad was glad he did. He, too, had felt the hypnotic pull of those dark, mesmerizing eyes.
“He is young but intelligent. He has a capacity for caring that many do not. As for his other talents, well, they are miniscule as of now, but with proper training, he might shine brightly.”
“As obtuse as usual, Simios,” Akalah noted, the harsh edge to his voice revealing his enmity toward the Watcher.
“I prefer to be more certain before making boastful claims that I cannot confirm before the Council.”
“Very wise,” Meran agreed softly. Akalah shot her an annoyed glance, which she ignored. “Dealing in facts eliminates uncertainty.”
“I shall watch him closely, of course, but I feel great comfort in his rapid bonding with our king. Perhaps this Terran can accomplish what others have not.”
“Such as?” Akalah asked pointedly.
“Wrest our king from his private world and into this one.”
There was a long, silent pause before Akalah said, “Ah, yes,” while nodding his head.
Meran leaned over the table and smiled at Simios. “But would we not then lose the benefit of his value as an Oracle?”
“This I cannot say, but even so, would this loss not be acceptable compared to the benefits of a whole and healthy king in control of the land?”
Meran’s smile faded slowly before she replied. “A healthy king, yes. A truly noble goal.”
Akalah folded his hands and laid them on the table before him. “You will report your progress with this young Terran apprentice?”
Simios nodded at the Chief Regent’s request, which sounded more like a command. “Of course, if that is the wish of the Council.”
“It is.”
“Then I shall send a progress report each week.”
“The Council thanks you,” Akalah said. He glanced at the others sitting at the table for their agreement; then added, “You may return to your duties.”
Simios noted that Akalah uttered the word ‘duties’ as if saying ‘useless games’. The head of the Council had never hidden his lack of faith in Watchers. As the others turned to look at each other, Tad noticed Simios stealthily remove a second bead from his pocket and place it unobtrusively on a ledge by the door. It quickly disappeared from view. Tad’s vision suddenly jumped from Simios’s viewpoint to that of the second bead. He watched Simios leave the Council chambers.
Wonderful devices, Tad remarked to himself. I must learn how they work.
As soon as the doors shut, Akalah turned to Meran. “These Plin worry me. They appear so benign, so helpful, and yet their agenda is so secret. They see everything but say nothing. I do not trust them.”
“You trust few, Akalah,” she sighed. “Simios is honest to the point of arrogance. He is a Watcher. It is not their incessant observations that worry me. It is what they do with them.”
Akalah leaned over the table. His eyes narrowed and darkened, reminding Tad of a bird of prey perched above a dying animal. “What have you heard?”
Meran smiled. “Only that they write a great book that explains the past and predicts the future.”
Akalah raised his head and cocked an eyebrow at Meran. “Is this possible?”
“They are a strange race, the Plin, Watchers and Mages. They have many remarkable machines and ancient devices. Who knows what is possible for them.”
“You believe him then?” he questioned.
There was no hesitation in her voice as she answered. “Yes.”
“This … apprentice concerns me, also,” Akalah continued.
“He is Terran. Surely you approve of this?” she asked coyly. Tad understood that Meran enjoyed needling Akalah, delighted in his quick anger. The Lilith no longer thought of themselves as Terran, though their genes were identical. Being Terran was a pejorative part of their barbaric past.
This time Akalah ignored her jab. “Simios said the Terran youth connected with the king, could possibly bring him out of his affliction. We do not need the king, uh, unafflicted.”
“Certainly not. How can we read wisdom into his oracular pronouncements if he were to become, er, unafflicted, as you say?”
Saxtos and Tyris had closely watched the exchange between the two. Finally, Saxtos spoke, “The king lives in his own world. He sees little around him. I do not fear his recovery.”
“Nor do I,” Tyris added.
Akalah shook his head slowly. “You two could not see the dawn if I peeled back your eyelids and staked you out facing the rising suns.”
“But I …” Saxtos began, waving his hands in the air. His fat jowls shook.
“Do not disregard Simios so easily. He is cunning and he has the king’s ear. He could easily persuade the king to make certain changes in the Council. If I lose my power, do not think your position so safe. Do not forget, it was the Plin who warned of the return of the Veil. For whatever reason, they have kept this knowledge secret save for the Council. If they should ever break their silence . . .”
Tyris gulped silently as Saxtos wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
“Yes, I see,” Tyris said.
Akalah stood. “We must keep an eye on this Terran youth. If the Plin see something extraordinary in him, we must discover what it is and use it to our advantage. He is young and malleable. Saxtos.”
Saxtos jumped as if stabbed.
“Saxtos, you will become acquainted with this youth; befriend him. Learn his desires.”
“Why me?”
“Because you look the part of a friendly Saddir. Tyris, with his permanent scowl looks like a killer. I cannot be seen with the youth and Meran, well, we will use her charms when it becomes necessary.”
Meran nodded and smiled her approval. “On one so young? Marvelous idea.”
Tad gulped and hoped that no one saw his cheeks redden with embarrassment.
Saxtos turned to her and smiled. “It amazes me that a Lilith would allow herself to be used in such a manner.”
Meran’s wicked smile disarmed him. Saxtos lowered his eyes. “Sex is a tool,” she said, “much like a sword and used effectively, can be just as dangerous.” She pouted provocatively. “Besides, it is not I who is used in such a tryst.”
“Go now, all of you,” Akalah commanded. “I must speak with the king.”
“On what matters?” Meran asked.
Akalah smiled. “We need more soldiers to seek out the rebels in the countryside.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Will that not leave too few men at arms here in the city?”
Again, Akalah smiled. “There is always my personal guard.”
“Oh, I see.” Meran bowed and left the room, followed closely by the others. Akalah walked to the window and looked down at Delphi, just now beginning to awaken to the coming day.
“Such a city should not be ruled by a simpleton.”
Suddenly, Tad felt a cold chill run through his body. “Enough,” Simios’s voice said in his head and the vision faded, leaving Tad suddenly dizzy and fatigued. Karal reached out a hand and almost but not quite touching Tad’s, frowned.
“I’ll be fin
e, Your Majesty,” Tad said. “Some lessons take their toll.”
9
KING'S COMPANION
THE DAY HAD BEEN A FLURRY OF ACTIVITY. THE KING'S MIND leaped from activity to activity more swiftly than Tad could manage to keep up. Young King Karal would exhibit a profound interest in the passage of clouds, but as soon as Tad could set up the telescope for better viewing, the king’s mind would fly to some fresh idea or thing to do. From paints to blocks, tin soldiers to pretty bits of glass, from running to sitting motionless for hours – Tad attempted to perform his job to the best of his ability, but the young king seemed to take a special delight in tormenting him.
Perhaps it is all in my mind, Tad thought, and the king treats me no differently from any other person. At times, the king acted as though no one else was around, living in a world of his own construction. At other times, even Tad’s breathing annoyed him. Several times, sudden, unannounced movements elicited shrill screams of protest. For twenty minutes, the king raced around the room repeating the single word ‘cloud’. Tad observed and took careful notes when he could, though he saw no information in his scribbling that would be of value to the Watchers. Still, he wrote furiously at times, careful to leave out his personal thoughts about the king.
Lunch was, at best, a waste of food. The servers trundled in a cart laden with foods of every type from fruit to fowl, meat to beets, and soups to sugary sweets. Sometimes the king would nibble this or that, or perhaps choose one item and carry it to some hidden corner to consume or secrete it in one of his pockets. Often the food sat all day, tasted only by flies. All attempts at communication that day ended abruptly as the king turned away from Tad when Tad spoke directly to him.
“He knows I’m there but ignores me as if I wasn’t,” he told Simios later as he sat in his quarters in the Black Tower. His rooms were three doors down from the king’s suite and as luxurious as any other rooms in the Tower, though somewhat smaller. He still felt uncomfortable in them, as if someone would suddenly rush in and demand he remove his feet from a table, challenge him to sit up straight, or inform him that there had been a mistake and these quarters were for someone of higher status.
