Picard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was a delicate question, and one that he had often asked himself over the years. But he was not burdened with the responsibilities Joakal faced. As captain of a starship, some aspects of his life could be compared to that of a ruler, but only on the surface. Picard always had other officers with whom he could share some of the burdens, and who had the authority to relieve him of command should he become unfit for his role. There were also other captains or admirals, and the whole great legal system of Starfleet and of the Federation at his back. He was never truly alone in his decisions. Joakal was.
Picard twirled the stem of his own wineglass between his fingers, staring down into the rich, golden liquid. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed as he tried to find a way to answer the young King’s question.
Picard sat forward to put his goblet down next to Joakal’s. “You told me a tale out of your people’s history,” he began, sitting back in his chair, crossing his legs. “It was the story of the first King Joakal and the two bakers. You said that this King knew the meaning of wisdom. On Earth, many centuries ago, there was a King by the name of Solomon. He was a very righteous man, a man of great faith who sought to serve both his people and his God to the best of his abilities. When he came to the throne, the one thing Solomon prayed was that God would grant him the wisdom to govern his people with both justice and understanding. It is said that God was so pleased by this request, that He granted it in full measure.
“Well, Solomon’s new wisdom was soon put to the test. One day, two women appeared before him demanding the King’s judgment. They had an infant with them. The women lived in the same household. They had each given birth, but one of the children had died within a few days. Now both women were claiming to be the mother of the remaining child.
“They argued back and forth as they stood before the King. ‘It is my child who lives and yours who died,’ they shouted. ‘Give me back the child you have stolen from me.’ Solomon let them argue while he watched their faces and tried to judge their hearts. Finally he stopped them. He took the child into his own arms. ‘Bring me a sword,’ he ordered. ‘Since each of you claims this child,’ he said as he held the child up, ‘I will cut the living child in two and give half to each of you.’
“One woman nodded and said ‘That is just.’ But the other woman cried out in horror. ‘No,’ she cried. ‘Do not slay the child. Give it to this other woman here. I would rather my child be taken from me than that it should die.’ By this King Solomon knew that it was the second woman who was the true mother. He put the child into her arms. And it is written that when the people of his land heard of Solomon’s judgment, they said that the Wisdom of God was with him.”
Picard finished his tale, and the two men sat in silence for a time, each in his own way contemplating the meaning of the tale. Finally, Joakal raised his head and smiled.
“Thank you, Jean-Luc,” he said. He picked up both glasses and handed Picard’s to him. Then Joakal lifted his own in toast.
“To our new era,” he said. “And to Wisdom.”
“To wisdom,” Picard echoed.
Down in the banquet hall, Troi sat next to Elana at the high table. Troi did not notice when Faellon left his seat further along the high table, but suddenly he was there, kneeling on the floor between her seat and Elana’s. Troi could feel the depths of his shame and sorrow.
“Elana E’shala,” he said and he bowed low to her. “I have wronged you and I have come to ask your mercy.”
Elana looked at him. There was a spark of anger that still burned within her, but at the sight of the old man, bent with the weight of his repentance, the spark flickered and died.
“Faellon,” Elana said softly. “There is no need—”
“There is,” Faellon countered, straightening. “Please hear me. I need to make you understand, at least in some small part, why I acted as I did, for truly I did not wish you harm.”
Elana nodded and waited, allowing Faellon the dignity to say what he needed in order to make peace with himself.
“I am an old man,” he began again. “And for most of my life, I have lived in Service at the temple. There are those who enter Service who yearn toward high office, but I was not one of them. I was content to Serve the God in quiet obscurity. Yet twenty-two years ago I was named Chief Servant. Since then my only thought has been to guard the ways of the God and to bring them to the people.
“But, Lady Elana,” he said, and he paused for a breath. “I have grown old. More and more my thoughts have turned to resigning my office and retiring, to living the last of my days in peace. I had only one more act to perform—the coronation of the Absolute—before I could lay aside the title and responsibilities of Chief Servant. It became my greatest desire. More than hearing the Voice of the God, more than serving the God or the people or the King, I wanted obscurity and solitude. I wanted peace. And, though I told you that you must have faith, I had lost mine.”
Here again Faellon paused. Elana reached out and touched his shoulder, offering her comfort and her forgiveness.
“Faellon,” she said. “There is no need to go on.”
“Yes, there is,” he said. “You must know the fullness of my fault so that you can guard against it, both in yourself and in others. You are to be the queen of this land, and you will help the Absolute to rule.”
“Go on then,” Elana said kindly.
Faellon’s breath, when he drew it this time, was ragged and shaky, but his voice was strong. “When you came to me,” he said, “with your claim that something was wrong with the King, I did not want to believe you. It would have meant a disruption to my life and the routine world with which I was familiar. I convinced myself that you were nothing more than an angry and disappointed lover. When later you told me of the Absolute’s capture by a twin brother, I still would not listen. Although I knew the particulars of Joakal’s birth, I refused the memory. Again, I did not want to hear you. I did not want my peace disturbed. I wanted the actions of the God to conform to my needs and I refused to see beyond that. For my blindness, you and many others suffered. I am not fit to continue in Service. I ask your forgiveness, Gentleborn, and I shall spend the remainder of my days asking forgiveness from the God.”
“Faellon,” Elana said, “I do forgive you, and I know that Joakal does as well. You call yourself a tired old man. Yet, in Rhii’cha you held the Sword of Justice with strength. Without your help, Joakal would not now be upon the throne. You have paid your debt to us, Faellon. Your debt to the God, only your own heart can judge.”
“Thank you, Elana E’shala,” Faellon said, and again he bowed.
“I would add one more thing,” Elana said. Faellon raised his head and looked at her. “You told me to have faith. Now I say the same to you. Have faith, Faellon. The ways of the God are sometimes hard to understand, yet I believe that all that has happened has been for a purpose. There will be less resistance to the changes Joakal wants to make, now that the people have seen for themselves the dangers of living only in the past. The future is our goal, Faellon, and it is full of bright hope for our people.”
“You shall make a great queen, Elana E’shala,” Faellon said. He stood and bowed again to her, then went back to his seat. But his back was a little straighter and his head was again held high. Troi could still feel his remorse, but could also feel the beginnings of his healing. She, too, thought that Elana would make a great queen.
Abruptly, the room hushed. Troi looked away from Elana and Faellon, and saw that the Absolute had again entered the hall. By his side walked Captain Picard. With a smile, Joakal waved his people back to their seats and motioned for the musicians to resume playing.
Troi watched Elana watching Joakal approach. Elana’s eyes sparkled and she smiled a bright, delighted smile. Again Troi felt the love that ran between the two of them. It was a thread as strong as any alloy science had discovered, and far more indestructible. They were soul-bound together, and Troi was glad t
hat she had had a part in reuniting them.
“Well, Counselor,” Picard said when he and Joakal at last reached the table. “Are you ready to return to the Enterprise?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, trying not to sound too eager or ungracious.
Joakal, however, was not fooled. He reached out and took Elana’s hand, raising her from her chair and drawing her close to his side. Then he turned to Troi and smiled.
“Then, although both Elana and I will be sorry to see you go,” he said, “we shall detain you no longer. We shall look forward to your return tomorrow, and to the arrival of the Little Mothers. Tell Mother Veronica for me.”
Troi moved to stand next to Captain Picard, ready to beam up to the ship. As she passed by the new Absolute, Joakal laid a hand on her arm. She stopped and looked at him. He said no word, but she felt a brush of affection and respect within her mind.
I will never forget all you have done, , his thoughts told her. You offered your gifts unselfishly, which is the greatest gift of all. It will be an inspiration to me through all the long years ahead.
Troi lowered her eyes, deeply touched. The sense of balance she had not realized she had lost returned and renewed as Joakal’s words echoed a teaching from her own people’s religion.
It is not the success or failure, she remembered, but the act itself.
“Thank you,” she said aloud. Joakal lifted his hand from her arm and Troi continued on to stand by the captain’s side.
Picard tapped his communicator. “Picard to Enterprise,” he said. “Two to beam up.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
MIDMORNING THE NEXT DAY, Troi and Captain Picard stood on the transporter platform waiting for the Little Mothers to join them beaming down to the planet. Mother Veronica had spent the night in seclusion, refusing all of Troi’s attempts to speak with her. Troi could not help wondering what decision, if any, Mother Veronica had reached about her future.
Troi thought back to the many hours they had spent together during their journey. Had she said enough? the counselor wondered. Too much? Did Mother Veronica realize the possibilities stretching before her if she would only choose to accept them?
The nuns finally arrived, but aside from a bare greeting, Mother Veronica was silent. What was more, her thoughts and emotions were tightly locked behind the shields Troi had taught her to use. Although a small part of Troi was pleased by her inability to read the nun, another part of her was still worried about the effect their time on Capulon IV, and especially the ritual of Rhii’cha in which Mother Veronica had participated yesterday, had had upon the nun’s mental stability. Troi wished Mother Veronica would talk to her.
Beside the counselor, Captain Picard spoke. “Mr. Tuttle—if you please,” he said.
The transporter chief gave them a half-smile as her hands moved across the controls, and Troi had no more time to worry over Mother Veronica’s future.
They once again materialized in the reception hall of the palace and Tygar, as representative of the Council of Elders, was there to greet them.
“Welcome, Captain Picard,” he said, stepping forward when they appeared. “Welcome, all of you. His Divine Majesty sent me to escort you to his presence. He is eager to see you.”
“Thank you, Tygar,” Picard replied. “We are looking forward to seeing His Majesty, as well.”
“Then if you’ll all follow me,” Tygar said, “His Divine Majesty is waiting.”
Tygar led them out once more into the palace corridors. As they walked, he began telling Captain Picard about the planned events of the day.
Today, on Joakal’s first full day as the God-embodied to his people, oaths of allegiance would be taken, petitions presented, and judgments passed. The people of Capulon waited to see what kind of a ruler the God had given them. But it was already being whispered, Tygar told them confidentially, that this Joakal would prove to be as great a King as his ancient predecessor, Joakal I’lium the First.
“The last action today,” Tygar concluded, “will be the formal dismissal of the Council of Elders. Now that His Majesty is Absolute, we are no longer required.”
“So, King Joakal will have to rule alone, with no one to help or advise him?” the captain asked. “It is a terrible burden for one man to bear alone.”
“His Majesty is free, of course, to retain his advisers, or to name new ones, or to have none at all. And you are right, Captain,” Tygar said. “It is a heavy burden, but one His Majesty has spent thirty years in training to bear.”
Picard cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Does the thought of dismissal bother you?” he asked.
Tygar shrugged. “I will continue to serve if His Divine Majesty asks me,” he said. “But my wife and I have been away from our homeland for over nine years now and we would not be sorry to return to it.”
They reached the Great Chamber. The massive doors stood open and inside several hundred people milled about, waiting for the business of the day to begin. At the sight of the newcomers, they parted, creating an aisle that led to the throne where Joakal sat, dressed majestically in crimson and gold. Jewels sparkled on his wrists, neck, and fingers. On his head sat the triple-tiered crown of the Absolute, and around his neck hung a thick golden chain. Suspended from the chain was a stylized bird of prey, the symbol of the House I’lium, made of gold and rubies. Troi could not help thinking what a different picture he presented from the filthy, haggard man they had awakened to find as their companion in captivity.
Joakal saw them. He stood and ran down the five steps that raised the throne off the chamber floor, a smile of welcome spread across his handsome features.
He stopped and approached them more sedately, as if suddenly remembering his rank. But Troi could feel his delight and his pride. He had something special, more than the signing of the treaty, he wanted to share with them today.
As Joakal neared, Captain Picard bowed. Troi and the others followed his example.
“Welcome, Captain Picard,” Joakal said, giving a slight incline of his head in recognition of the captain’s rank. “Welcome, all of you. We are pleased to have you here with Us and We are most overjoyed at the reason for your presence.”
“Thank you—Your Majesty,” Picard answered.
“Captain,” Joakal said. “It is Our pleasure that you and the others sit near Us while We conduct the business of the day.”
Joakal turned and walked back to the raised dais of the throne. He climbed the stairs and again took his place upon the royal seat of carved stone. Picard, Troi, and the Little Mothers followed him, but stopped at the base of the steps. With a sweep of his hand, Joakal indicated that it was on these steps they were to sit, Picard taking the place on the top stair.
Once they were seated, Joakal nodded to Tygar. The Elder walked out to the center of the floor, carrying a long staff of bleached wood that had been wound with gold. The top of the staff was adorned with a stylized bird of prey that matched the one hanging from the chain around Joakal’s neck. Tygar struck the floor three times with the staff. The sound rang through the room and immediately all conversation died away.
“In the name of His Divine Majesty, the Absolute Joakal I’lium XII, Supreme and Most Holy Ruler, Voice of the God, King Nonpareil of Capulon IV, I call this court to order.”
Again Tygar struck the floor. He walked down the length of the long room until he reached the open doors, then he turned and walked back again. Following him was Elana. Tygar escorted her to the base of the steps where he bowed to the King. Without a word he turned away, leaving Elana standing alone before the throne.
She was dressed in pants and tunic of deep royal blue. Around her waist was wrapped a sash of silver cloth that sparkled with each breath she drew. A band of the same cloth pulled her hair back so that it cascaded like a golden waterfall down her back. Her eyes, as she looked up at Joakal, were almost as blue as her clothing.
Joakal bent toward the captain. “I wanted to take care of some of the happier business f
irst,” he whispered. Then he pulled himself up straight with his hands resting on the arms of his throne and looked down at Elana.
“Elana, First Daughter of the House E’shala, approach your King,” he ordered. Elana climbed the stairs, walking between the seated figures but keeping her eyes on Joakal. When she reached the top step, he stood.
“Elana E’shala,” he said. “We would have this world know the esteem with which you are held in Our heart. Without your faith and courage, We would not sit upon this throne. You have more than proved your love and your worth to Us, and to the people of this world. It is therefore Our pleasure to announce to Our people that our marriage will take place thirty days from today. But you shall be more than Our Queen and wife.”
Joakal stopped. He lifted the chain from around his neck and placed it around Elana’s. There was a ripple of voices through the room; no one but the Absolute was allowed to wear the golden bird.
“Elana E’shala,” Joakal continued. “On the day to follow our marriage rite, you shall be crowned and consecrated to a new status. You shall, like Us, be invested and hallowed as Absolute unto this people, to live and rule by Our side through such years as the God shall grant us.”
Again, quiet pandemonium swept across the floor as the people grasped the import of Joakal’s announcement. Tygar gave them no time to talk, even among themselves. The Elder again walked to the center of the room and struck his staff upon the floor. The people quieted. Tygar then walked to the door, this time returning with Faellon and two fellow Servants.
Tygar led them to the throne and then again withdrew to the side. Joakal, once more seated on his throne with Elana standing by his side, looked down at the Chief Servant. Troi recognized the two Servants with Faellon as two who had assisted him during the Rhii’cha and during Joakal’s coronation. One was an older man of about fifty and one was a woman of, perhaps, Joakal’s age. Troi looked closely at the woman, feeling a connection of empathic powers with her.
GUISES OF THE MIND Page 22
