by Brian Daley
Gil cleared his throat delicately. “Speaking of Gabrielle . . . ”
“Say it. She’s hardly tolerant at the best of times. What with all my time taken reordering the realm she is the most difficult problem that I have now. Do they speak of it at Court?” He chuckled with little humor. “I can control a suzerainty, but how may I command her heart? Or mine? Sometimes we say that we cannot stay with each other, and then of course we do. I don’t know what will come of it all. Shallow as it may sound, I think we both content ourselves with the moment.”
Gil nodded. He didn’t think that attitude shallow in the least. He knocked back some more beer. “And Van Duyn? Still determined about your abdication, is he?”
“Hah! His idea of representative government included himself at its head—for the interim! No, we arrived at an arbitration. I gave him stewardship of a collection of city-states in the north. Several of them have council governments already, and he found that acceptable—as an empirical testing situation. I surrounded him with spies, of course, and Katya is with him, at least for the nonce, so I doubt he’ll get into much mischief. Besides, he and she may come up with something I can use in reconciling all the tyrants, councils, divine leaders, plutocrats and other political wretches with whom I have to deal.”
Gil snorted. “More than likely your agents’ll wind up having to save his hide from his new flock.”
“Well, I wish him all luck. Had it not been for him I suppose I’d be dead, or at best an exile for life.”
Gil reflected where he and the Nine-Mob would be had it not been for Van Duyn’s intervention and Andre’s spells. “How about Hightower?” he asked.
“He didn’t want to resume his title as Duke; he says his grandson’s doing well and doesn’t see any reason to jostle Sordo’s elbow. Too, he and Andre have been doing a good deal of conferring and investigating. Hightower has found his own new tracks to walk. Oh, and Andre says that Ferrian is healing nicely; a kind of miracle that he lived at all.”
Springbuck’s face became more disturbed. “None of us thinks the troubles with Shardishku-Salamá are done. Their vitiations have spread across the face of the world, through its skies and its roots. I fear me that great contests are yet to come.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised. Man, we were losing the last one until that eleventh-hour raid. Maybe you should think in terms of taking thfe war to them?”
Springbuck shook his head. “There are too many things to do here for the time being. Perhaps later on. For example, what shall I do with all the troops who fought against me? I could disband the levies and Legions, but what about the officers and leaders who were willing to fight Freegate and me? Too, that would leave Coramonde badly underdefended, what with new sorties by the wildmen of the north. On the other hand, I can’t just return those units en masse to their garrisons.”
“You’ll think of something.”
“And the peasants and yeomanry who were in the underground are yet restive. It’ll take a thousand reforms to satisfy them; I’m not sure it can be done.”
“I rode through Kee-Amaine today. The people looked content, prosperous. And the refugees are moving back to their homes.”
“Oh, yes! Many of my . . . former nonsupporters have goodly amounts of money and influence. They’ve been persuaded to commit both on a long-term, no-interest basis to reconstruction and improvement projects. Much of their savings went, too, but I’ve left them their working capital, and their heads.”
“Gad, tough-and-direct, eh? Just don’t kill the goose who lays the eggs.”
“Most assuredly.” There was a silence then, and different events echoed in each man’s mind. Springbuck built himself up for a question of his own.
“What of you, Gil? Will you stay or will you go? You’re plainly restive, but I don’t know what you want.”
Gil got up and went to the balcony and looked out at Coramonde, its exotic sounds coming up on the light breeze and drenching sunlight. At his side hung the sword of Dunstan the Berserker, to which he somehow felt attached.
He watched Springbuck’s stag’s head banner flutter and crack high over Earthfast, under the snarling crimson tiger of Coramonde. After a time he said, “I’ve been talking to Andre and Hightower. I’ve made up my mind to try to find Dunstan. And kill Yardiff Bey. Andre gave me a lead.”
“If that is what you wish,” Springbuck said quietly. “Do you know how unlikely it is?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I’ve just got this gut feeling that Dunstan’s alive.” He slammed his fist on the balcony’s railing. “What do you want of me? Should I sit around forever and mourn her? You can’t do that; I learned that with the first friend I lost in combat. Dunstan I might be able to help, but Duskwind I can’t.”
“We all mourn her, Gil. Go, find Dunstan if you can. You can have men, money, anything you’ll need of Coramonde.”
Gil MacDonald, ex-sergeant late of the 32d Cavalry, Doomfarer, nodded to himself. His mind was already working on the practical details of the endeavor. He hoisted his stein to the wide world.
Adventure!
End
About the Author
Brian was born to Charles and Myra Daley. He has an older brother, David, and younger sister, Myra. He graduated from Northern Valley Regional High School of Old Tappan, NJ, in 1965. He then joined the army and served a year-long tour of duty in Vietnam.
After the army, he attended Jersey City State College, majoring in media. During this time, he wrote his first novel, The Doomfarers of Coramonde. He went on to write the first Star Wars spin-off novels, The Han Solo Adventures. Han Solo at Stars' End, the first book of the trilogy, was a New York Times bestseller. Daley also adapted the original Star Wars film trilogy as a series of radio dramas for National Public Radio.
Daley also wrote under the pseudonym Jack McKinney with his good friend of 20 years, James Luceno. Together, they wrote over 20 Robotech novels and collaborated on the Black Hole Travel Agency series. Luceno is responsible for editing the 1,600-page manuscript of Daley's Gamma L.A.W. quartet, which was published posthumously. Daley and Luceno were also amongst a team of writers for the 1986 television cartoon series The Adventures of the Galaxy Rangers.
Lucia St. Clair Robson, an author of historical fiction, was Daley's partner of 14 years.
