On the morning of October 2nd, Elora walked into the Chamber better prepared to face the assembly. Sol gestured toward a chair at one end of the table. Storm took a seat nearby on a lower bench. It was a cloudy day, still too warm for the heat of gas torches, so the light in the room cast a somber feeling.
Sol sat at the opposite end of the table. “Good morning, Ms. Laiken. Engel Storm has requested to be present at this hearing. Is that acceptable to you?”
Elora’s eyes slid to Storm and back to Sol. “Yes.”
“Good. We’ll start by outlining the proceeding so that you know what to expect. First we’ll hear your statement. You are welcome to tell your story in your own words, in your own way, but we request that you be as detailed as possible as that may eliminate the need for additional questions later. We will ask that you wear polygraph electrodes. The graph produced by the result of the test will be projected onto the wall monitor so that everyone present will be aware of the results instantly. Do you agree?”
Elora sat with her back straight and her chin up. “Yes,” she said simply.
“After hearing your statement we will ask you to make yourself available to answer questions posed by the representative members of this body. That will be followed by a closed door session during which we will evaluate the product of this deposition and deliberate. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“Not at this time.”
“Very well. Are you ready to begin?”
“I am.”
The proceeding was to be recorded by airbot, a device invented by Monq and his team of assistants for exclusive use by The Order. It was a tiny, round, audio video recorder about half the size of a pea, automatic and airborne with its own internal computer, powered by a microscopic nuclear cell. Because of its size and insignificant weight, the air propulsion system didn’t require much fuel which meant that it could power itself and record without interruption for up to half a year. Also, because of its size and steel gray color, it was practically invisible. If someone in the general population thought they caught one speeding by out of the corner of an eye, they would dismiss it as a fly, gnat, mosquito or trick of the light.
The airbot’s program would be matched to a particular biological signature, also known as life pattern, and then stay with that person until recalled by the lab. It would automatically seek the best angle for maximum visibility and include people with whom the subject was communicating. Under normal circumstances, the individual being recorded could pause the recording while attending to matters of a highly personal nature by coded vocal command.
Sol nodded to the young, bespeckled man sitting behind the tech table who then came forward and attached wireless electrodes to Elora’s temples. She was glad she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. The young man returned to the table, donned headphones, and turned on some electronic equipment including the big screen. She knew exactly when it came on because all eyes moved upward and focused on the same place at the same time. The young man asked her to state her name.
“I am Elora Laiwynn Laiken, from the Clan of Laiwynn.”
The tech guy nodded at Sol who then said to Elora, “Proceed when ready Ms. Laiken.”
“Is it necessary for me to deliver my statement seated?”
“Not at all.”
Elora stood and began to pace back and forth in front of the head of the table. “In the interest of detail, as requested, I’ll not deliberately omit anything that might be pertinent. I’ll begin with the events that precipitated the incident.
I am, or rather was, third cousin to the king and twenty eighth in line for the throne. As an indication of how unlikely my succession would be, they cease populating the list at thirty names. I am part of a large, extended family that is in turn part of a large and powerful clan. The royal family, including the thirty persons mentioned, live in the palace in London. The entire family, which means a large part of the clan, joins us there for certain occasions and celebrations.
I am the oldest of six with three sisters and two brothers. We are educated on the premises, along with our higher born cousins, according to our individual talents, interests, and the roles we are assigned to play within the family structure. Two of my younger sisters are already married.
When it became widely accepted that the gods had left our world, we, as a society, turned to science and magick for answers. My principle tutor was an authority on these subjects. His name was Thelonius Monq.” She glanced at Monq.
“In addition to the disciplines of classical studies and science which I learned under Monq’s tutelage, I was trained in the martial arts of weaponless defense and also in ancient weaponry, the latter being principally about pride of heritage and custom. There was no expectation that these skills would ever be utilized in a practical sense, but cousins of the monarch have been prepared to serve as bodyguards for centuries. So we are expected to keep the tradition in appearance if not in fact. In some ways the acquisition of these skills is curiously at odds with the somewhat prim and retiring behavior expected of royal girls.
We were not allowed away from palace grounds often and then only under highly supervised circumstances. I frequently argued with my parents that palace life was suffocating, that it was a gilded cage that stunted the potential of my brothers and sisters. I thought the future of the royal family would be better served by looking to more contemporary models of behavior. We were locked into a rigid formality that was out of sync with the times. Custom and a skewed sense of propriety had turned us into walking anachronisms. I knew this because we were allowed to watch some television shows and movies.”
Gesturing toward a glass and pitcher she asked, “May I?”
Monq answered, “Of course,” and rose to pour it for her.
She took a sip before continuing. “Our extended family was gathered together for Litha, the Feast of the Summer Solstice, called Mid Summer by some. It’s always magical to see the main hall decorated for a holiday. A gathering of relatives is cause for celebration in itself since we don’t often get to fraternize with people who do not live or work at the palace. Even the staff is excited on such occasions.
On my last day at… home I had spent the afternoon in the kitchen observing preparations with my fifth cousin, Madelayne. And sampling some of the fare. We left in time to get dressed. For the Feast of Litha everyone wears costumes from the Middle Ages. I don’t know why. They are hot and heavy. The younger generation wears street clothes underneath so that we can shed them after the mandatory festivities are complete and have a good time in each others’ company. But that is neither here nor there.
Dinner was just being served on tables decorated with flowers and local fruits of the season. The musicians were playing wyre instruments in a centuries old style of madrigal. I had just joked with Monq that they were playing the hits from his secondary school years. I sat with Madelayne and some of my other cousins across the Great Hall from my parents.
Most people had finished eating and traditional dances were about to begin. I heard shouts. Then the sound of guns firing, automatic weapons. I know that because of movies. Most of us were so surprised we were... disoriented maybe. We just stood there waiting to see what would happen next.”
Elora stopped, took another drink of water, visibly making an effort to retain her poise. She attempted a couple of surreptitious deep breaths.
“People wearing black and carrying guns came running into the hall. At first it seemed they were firing randomly, but it became clear their intent was to leave no survivors. There was screaming, people fleeing and falling on each other, on tables of food. There was so much blood. I looked across the room and saw…” Her eyes suddenly filled with moisture and her voice broke. She took another sip of water.
“My father had taken a decorative sword down from the wall and raised it to strike at one of the attackers. He was armed with a dull, badly weighted sword against rapid fire assault weapon
ry. I saw his tunic stain with circles of red that grew bigger as I watched. His face looked,” she swallowed again, “so surprised.”
Although she was successful at controlling the emotion in her voice, she couldn’t keep the tears from overflowing. They slipped silently from her eyes, running down her face and dropping on her chest.
“I stood there and watched. Watched them die. I didn’t run. I didn’t scream. I did nothing. I kept wondering when bullets would claim me. I even wondered what it would feel like. But I was not wounded.
People around me continued to fall and I almost felt like I wasn’t really there. Someone grabbed my hand and I was jerked back, almost off my feet. It was Monq.” The steps of her pacing grew longer and slower. Sometimes she would get caught up in a point of the story and balance her weight on one leg as if she forgot she was in mid step.
“Monq pulled me through the kitchen and into a service elevator. When we were inside and starting down, he took me by the shoulders and shook me. Hard. I felt my teeth knock together. He said I needed to make myself present in the moment if I was going to survive, but, in that moment, I didn’t care if I survived. The elevator delivered us to the subbasement level. When the doors opened he ordered me to run saying that I was too big to carry. He sounded so very unlike himself. Fearful I suppose.
I did not run. I was unresponsive. He pulled me all the way to his lab and ran to his safe. He was out of breath. I was thinking he must have lost his mind, that my family was being murdered upstairs while Monq was worried about securing his valuables. He pulled out a thing that looked like a remote control and, when he pushed a button, the wall next to where I stood opened up.” Her head jerked slightly to her right as if she was reliving the moment. “Simply opened up!” She repeated it almost to herself. ”And there appeared a tunnel that seemed to go on without end. It began to spin. I was entranced. I couldn’t decide whether to think about how impossible it was that my family was massacred or how impossible it was that a stone wall just became a spinning hole.
Monq was talking about a locket, something about calibrating for a life pattern match. He said, ‘Look for someone very like me and give him the locket.’ It made no sense.” She looked at Monq. “At the time.
When I realized that he planned to put me in that thing, I started to say no, but then he pushed me without warning. I wasn’t expecting it because, well, because it was not something Monq would do. Monq is methodical. When he wants to persuade us of a point of view, he reasons with us until we see the merit of his argument and choose to agree. He does not use physical force.”
She stopped for another drink of water. Sol handed her a crisp, white handkerchief which she used to dab at her face. She had successfully stopped the flow and become determined to get through the rest of the proceeding without more tears.
“If you saw me when I arrived here, you can probably guess what happened. The passage from my world to yours was like being birthed through a sieve and pummeled in a giant tumbler at the same time. I believe I may have come through somewhere in here.” She looked down at the floor. “And after a few moments I heard voices. One of them was yours.” She looked at Sol. “And one of them was yours.” She looked at Storm. “There were a couple of others. Storm carried me to the infirmary. I owe him my life. That was a little over three months ago.
Since I’ve been here I’ve learned that your world is similar to mine, but not the same. That’s the end of my story except to say that, if my family had lived, I would surely be a great disappointment. The shame I carry for my lack of action, having stood in place, having done nothing while all those around me died, is something that I will carry with me every minute for the rest of my life.” She swallowed hard. “I was trained to act in defense of the king, but thought it was just another exercise in useless custom. A game of sorts. When the time came, I did not defend the king or even the people I most love. I have had many weeks to think about what happened. I have sworn to leave nothing out and want to append this vow to my statement. Should I ever again have an opportunity to act in defense of the life of another, I swear that I will not stand frozen in fear and dishonor.”
She looked down at the floor for a few seconds while everyone in the room remained transfixed and statue still. Then she walked, with as much dignity as she could muster, back to the end of the table, sat on the designated chair and folded her hands in her lap in a dignified and ladylike posture.
“That is all,” she said.
After a few moments, Sol cleared his throat. “Ms. Laiken, do you need a break before we continue with questions?”
“No.” She had not looked at Storm because she feared seeing censorship on his face. She was sure that, after hearing her confession, there would be no more visits, No walks. No smiles. No games of chess.
One of the panel asked who may have perpetrated the attack on Elora’s family, not because the answer to that question was relevant to the proceedings at hand, but because they were personally caught up in the story and wanted to know more. She gave a brief answer regarding clan politics with the disclaimer that any answer would be pure speculation; that there were rivals and that history indicated that a pattern of power shifts occurred every two hundred years or so.
Another asked what differences she had noticed between the worlds. She replied that any knowledge of differences had come from watching TV because she was not able to move about freely in their society. She said her initial impression is that this world is more advanced technologically, but lagging behind the pop culture of her world by about twenty years or so. By pop culture she meant such things as clothes, hair, makeup, music, and dance styles. She said she often has to ask about the use of certain phrases, but that she is making progress in understanding; that she listens carefully trying to match the cadence of the English dialect commonly spoken. She said there are many foods that are popular on TV that she has never heard of like fried chicken and burritos.
Another asked what sort of place she thought she had been in for the past three months. Since she was facing the wall with the giant, Black Swan banner, her eyes traveled upward and rested there for a moment before she answered. “I’ve been told this is a military base and that you carry out some sort of special operations. I know it must be dangerous work because you maintain a fully functional hospital complete with surgery. I witnessed the arrival of an emergency, not long ago, one that looked quite serious. The young gentleman’s comrades were quite distraught and almost as bloody as was he.
Also, I don’t know the exact nature of what you do, but, even though I object to the decision my Monq made to send me through an untested device, I believe he intended to do a good thing. He thought he was saving me. The last thing he said was,” she blinked rapidly, “be happy. I don’t think his counterpart in this world would work for an organization that doesn’t meet his ethical standards. People here have been kind to me.”
Without thinking Elora looked over at Storm and almost dissolved into tears again when she found nothing but admiration on his handsome features. “Storm. And the people in the infirmary. It would be difficult to believe that these people are on the wrong side of a thing.”
Finally, Monq asked if she would go back if she could.
She sat looking at her hands for a long time before finally saying, “Even if I were willing to undergo the physical challenge, I don’t think my world has the medical expertise to put me back together again.” She looked up at Sol. “It would be a death sentence.”
She sighed as she absently glanced up at the huge, silk Black Swan banner. hung high at the center point of the wall facing the entrance. The background was the bright crimson of blood as it appears in the moment when it first leaves the body, before adjusting to the chemical composition of air. The rich red background was relieved by a white, equal-sided cross almost as large as the banner itself. In the center, in front of the intersection of the arms of the cross, was a large black swan. The graceful bend of its long neck was exaggerated by its
bill resting on its shoulder giving an impression of sadness or melancholy. A medieval looking script superimposed on a banner across the bottom read, Furchtlosigkeit im Gesicht der Hilflosigkeit.
“Perhaps that’s what I deserve.”
The walk back to the infirmary was slow and solemn. Storm looked at her several times, but said nothing. He stepped into the room behind her, closed the door, turned her around and, taking her by the shoulders, placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through,” was all he said. Then he left.
Storm walked away with a newfound clarity, knowing why Elora had always lapsed into sadness and despondency whenever she was left alone for a few minutes. He realized for the first time how much courage it had taken for her to choose to survive the desolation of being the last one standing. His heart was swollen with sympathy, but also with respect and admiration. And he was determined that she wouldn’t face the future without support and protection. And love.
The hearing had been both emotionally and physically taxing and she was used up. She put on her softest, warmest, comfort clothes, turned out the lights, and crawled into bed where she immediately fell asleep.
When she woke three hours later, Elsbeth, one of her favorite nurses, was checking her pulse. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” said Elsbeth. “There was a big guy around here earlier asking about you. Left you this.” She picked up a worn paperback book and put it on the bed next to Elora.
As soon as she left, Elora sat up and looked at the book. Lord Jim. There was a bright, lime colored post it note sticking out so she turned to that page. It said, “Read this. – S.”
My Familiar Stranger Page 6
