The Tymorean Trust Book 1 - Power Rising

by Margaret Gregory

  Chapter 6 - Acceptance

  “Silence,” Cindy thought. “Why haven’t I noticed it before?”

  She looked around, really seeing the room for the first time and realised she was sitting on a bed. Was this a hospital room? Why was she there?

  She saw her twin. A dark haired, strongly built man, dressed in silver and gold, was helping him sit up. She felt a momentary twinge of panic until she recalled that there had always been a dark haired man around them when they woke.

  Tim was wearing a gold and purple outfit of an unfamiliar design. She looked down at her own clothes.

  “I’m wearing an outfit like that too, only it’s red and gold. What was I wearing before?” Cindy wondered, easing herself off the bed and going to her brother. She was worried because her mind was producing questions she could not answer. Her brother seemed to be in a trance like state and the dark haired man was touching his forehead with a purple glowing hand.

  Tim’s eyes seemed to focus at last, he recognised her, but he still seemed disorientated. Cindy went to sit beside him.

  “Children, I am Professor Governor Xyron. My fellow Governors and I are responsible for your presence on Tymorea.”

  His gaze rested on both children who were listening intently.

  “You are from Earth, but even so you have inherited a gift that is unique to Tymoreans of Royal Blood. Here and here alone, you will learn to utilize your power properly. On Earth, untrained, it would have destroyed you.”

  Xyron paused to gauge the effect of his words on the children. They appeared to accept them without question.

  He continued. “I have ensured that your memories of your past life will be dormant during the period of your training. It will help you to accept the necessary teaching without needing to break pre-existing thought patterns and habits. I have tested each of you since your arrival and I have measured your potential. You will join the household of Tymoros the High King and have the title Prince and Princess because of the level of power you have inherited. The High King will be your Guardian and Foster Father.”

  “I do not fully understand,” Cindy spoke the Tymorean dialect in a clear well modulated voice. “I can accept my presence here, but how can I be a Princess and daughter to the High King when I was born on Earth?”

  “The Elders, those who have great wisdom, know that is your true place. You have much to learn and you are still young and familiar only with the reasoning process of the humans on Earth. In time, you will come to reason like the wise ones of this world.” Xyron’s voice was soft and cultured, characteristic of those of Royal Blood. “It is time for you to forget you are Cynthia, like you have forgotten your previous life. You are Kryslie, daughter of Pyani Tymoros the High King.”

  “And I?” Tim spoke for the first time. “I am…?”

  “Tymos, son of Pyani Tymoros the High King,” Xyron told him with a smile. “And your Foster Father is eager to meet you.”

  Xyron led his charges through a seeming maze of corridors. He an arm across each of their shoulders, and felt them keeping close to him, half under the gold fabric of his cape. He was aware of the two heads turning from side to side, looking at everything. When they emerged into the huge open entrance hall of his palace, he felt them stop and stare.

  The entrance chamber was impressive with its high ceilings, hanging chandeliers, and the glittering tiled floor. Portraits and trailing plants alternated around the walls, interspersed with tall mirrors that served to make the area seem even larger.

  After a moment, Xyron urged his charges onward, until they stopped in the centre of a circular tiled mosaic. The children looked down and tried to make sense of the pictures. They didn’t seem to hear him say that they needed to transmit to the Conference Room.

  Xyron smiled to himself as he turned to speak to his attendant. “Jerik, activate the transmitter.” He noticed the attendants assigned to the children following closely.

  Both children gave a start of surprise when a new room appeared around them after the tingling and brightness of the transmission process. He was pleased to note that they did not seem disorientated and were already taking in their new surroundings. However, he didn’t give them time to study the huge oval conference table with its ring of empty chairs. He turned them to face a small alcove with four chairs and a low table, where a tall red headed man was rising from one of the chairs.

  Both Tymos and Kryslie noticed him and then glanced back. Xyron nudged them forward to meet Tymoros who was also dressed in his silver and gold Robes of State. His was a tailored suit of gold cloth with a silver lined gold cloak.

  Tymoros was alone. His personal attendant, like those accompanying Xyron, had retreated from the Conference Room to give the group privacy.

  As soon as Xyron materialised on the beam in pad, his impatience to meet the children reached a peak. He rose and studied them close up, for the first time. Except for their brown hair, they were very like two of his dead children. He noticed the nervousness that kept them close to Xyron.

  “Tymos, Kryslie,” he welcomed them in his soft voice. He smiled at them both. “I have waited a very long time to meet you!”

  Both children were now looking at him, studying him. He moved towards them and saw a look of wonder on their faces.

  “Father?” both spoke in unison, breaking out of Xyron’s grip and moving forward towards him.

  A joy he had never expected to feel again, overwhelmed Tymoros as the children spontaneously hugged him. He returned the embrace and something deep within him roused into fierce protectiveness. He held the children tightly. The three heads were almost touching.

  “Xyron, they are mine!” Tymoros said, his voice unsteady. His eyes were moist as he looked at his fellow Governor, who was smiling with intense satisfaction.

  “As I told you, Ty, they are genetically closer to you than to those who begat them and closer than your own children once were.”

  Even as Tymoros kept his foster-children close to him, he stopped thinking of them as strangers. They were his children in every way that mattered.

  Tymoros announced, “Summon Jono; I want the ceremony to begin at once. These children are too precious to risk. We must provide all possible protection for them.”

  Jono Reslic President Governor was ready for the summons. Moments later, he materialized beside his fellow Governors. He too was dressed in the gold ceremonial robes. Like Tymoros, he was a tall man, though his hair was blond and he was physically powerful. He had the aura of controlled power common to each of the Triumvirate Governors. Slung in a magnificently decorated scabbard at his side was a jewelled sword. It was the Sword of Judgement, the symbol of his office since the beginning of Tymorean history.

  “Are they ready, Cousin?” Jono asked the High King.

  “Yes, Jono, they are ready,” Tymoros answered for them. “They are ready to renounce their origins and become citizens of Tymorea.” The children nodded shyly in agreement.

  “Come forward!” Jono Reslic commanded. Tymos and Kryslie began to move forward hesitantly. A sharp command, this time from Xyron, made them snap to attention in front of the President.

  “Kneel!” Reslic commanded, studying the children. He saw the fleeting glance they shared with each other as they obeyed, slightly wide-eyed. He saw them both swallow convulsively as he drew the Sword of Judgement and hold it point down in front of him. Then their eyes stared at the jewelled hilt.

  “This is a most solemn occasion,” Reslic continued. “Do you, children of Earth, pledge to obey the laws and lawful rulers of Tymorea?”

  “We so pledge!” Tymos and Kryslie answered together. After they had spoken, Tymoros and Xyron gently pushed them forward until they were lying face down on the carpeted floor.

  Reslic continued, “I, as President of the Planet Tymorea, hereby renounce for you your alien origins and grant you entry into the citizenship of Tymorea.”

  With the ceremonial sword, he touched each shoulder of each of Tymorea’s newest
citizens.

  “Arise!” he commanded. The two new citizens stood up awkwardly but quickly came to attention. Reslic sheathed the Sword and noted the slight relaxation in their formal stance. He too, relaxed slightly. These two children could not know that they had just passed an important test. The magnificent Sword was not merely an ornament, but a conduit to the Guardians of Peace. As he had touched it to each of them, he had felt the sword hum. It was an unusual sensation, but not a warning.

  He took his eyes from the children and found that Tymoros had approached with two gold rings resting on a small silver cushion. He continued the ceremony, taking one of the rings and directing Tymos, “Allow me to have your right hand.”

  Although Tym had no idea of the reason, he obeyed promptly.

  “Tymos with this ring you are sealed into the citizenship of Tymorea and none may question this privilege.”

  Unprompted, Tymos bowed after the ring was on his finger.

  Reslic repeated the action with Kryslie, who bowed, glanced up at him, and then felt the ring with her other hand. She stared at it until distracted by the arrival of a group of green clad attendants and a white haired man dressed in a long brown robe, belted at the waist.

  Tymoros stepped between his children as Reslic stepped back. “The granting of citizenship is a private affair,” he explained quietly. However, there are now, some formal documents to be signed. I am aware that neither of you are able to read the Tymorean written language yet, so I will have Aldiv read them to you. Ask questions about any point that you don’t understand.”

  Aldiv, a tall middle-aged man with reddish blond hair, bowed to Tymoros and took a document from the low table. He walked to stand in front of his master, glanced at both children to be sure he had their attention, and began to read. He took extra care to make his words distinct and clear. His eyes flicked from the document to the faces of the children, making his own assessment of them.

  His master had called them his children, though in the ten years that he had served His Majesty, he had heard nothing about them. It wasn’t his place to contest that claim, even though the children had brown hair like the commoners did. Perhaps they had been fostered elsewhere, for safety, until now.

  He reached the clause about, “Obedience to the Supreme Rulers of Tymorea,” and saw the eyes of the children flick to Xyron and Reslic and then they turned their head fractionally to see Tymoros. There was intelligence there, but no obvious resentment. Aldiv took that as a good sign.

  He had met some teenaged children, whose missionary parents had sent them back home when they had reached this age. A few of those had been full of resentment at the idea of total obedience to three strangers.

  When he finished reading, he placed the citizenship document on the low table, next to where Jerik had placed two pens and two hand-written name cards. Jerik handed a pen to each of the children and indicated where to sign, explaining that the cards had the written form of their names.

  Aldiv noticed the quick glance the children gave each other before taking the pens into an odd but workable grip. He moved closer, to watch unobtrusively as they began to write, first flicking their eyes from card to paper and then writing as they looked at the card. The signatures wavered off the faint line, but were, otherwise, excellent copies of letters that must have been unfamiliar. Good hand eye coordination these young ones had.

  The children put their pens down and glanced to where Tymoros was signing another document. They watched as the other Governors witnessed his signature.

  “Aldiv,” Tymoros summoned.

  “Sire,” Aldiv acknowledged with a slight bow, after he had crossed to the large conference table.

  “Take this document to the official archive, and the citizenship papers to the census archive,” Tymoros directed, before walking back to where his children were.

  Jerik passed the two signed documents to Aldiv, who placed them under the first, which still had damp ink. The High King’s attendant glanced at the top document and felt a sense of elation as he took in its gist. His Majesty had formally recognised the two children as his own and granted them the privileges of being Heir Designates to his position as High King Governor. He wasn’t about to question why the girl was also an Heir Designate.

  Then Aldiv considered the reaction of the commoners and the lesser Royals who would be attending the imminent festivities, and how they would react when they heard His Majesty’s announcement. Every one in the three palaces knew that Tymoros had taken on the fostering of the newcomers, who were to be presented that evening, but that was all.

  Aldiv continued to read the document as he blew on the ink to dry it. Once he delivered the documents, he had many things to oversee before the ceremonies. He glanced over to where his master stood talking to the children, and waited to see if he was needed for anything else. His instinct was correct; Tymoros flicked a glance at him, long enough to signal for his approach.

  As he arrived, he heard Tymoros say to the children, “Sit here for now. The formalities are over, so you can relax until the public ceremonies begin. I need to attend to some final details, but I will send for you in time for you to get ready.”

  “Public ceremonies?” the girl echoed. Kryslie, Aldiv reminded himself. She looked a little fearful as she sat down on the front edge of one of the chairs. Tymoros though, smiled with pleasure.

  “It is traditional for our children to be formally recognized at about your age with a “Coming Out” celebration. We have been preparing for yours for several weeks. The people who live on the estate will be joined by invited commoners and those Elders from the cities that wish to attend.”

  “Oh,” Kryslie acknowledged blankly.

  “Sounds like a party,” the boy…Tymos…commented.

  “Wait here, for now,” Tymoros repeated, before walking over to the beam in pad.

  Aldiv moved quickly to join him, aware that President Governor Reslic had just departed, and Governor Xyron was moving to sit with the children.

  Xyron sat opposite Tymos and Kryslie. He noticed that the twins were perched nervously on the front of chairs. He sat back in a chair and deliberately chose a relaxed posture. He noticed the children relax as well. But then, with the other Governors out of the room, the aura of power was less overpowering. These children were very sensitive to that aura, and this was the first time they had been in the presence of all three Governors at once.

  He decided to add more detail to answer Kryslie’s implied question. “Your Coming Out today will be more than just the presentation of another Royal child.”

  He saw he had the undivided attention of his two listeners. “Tymoros, your father, will also be introducing you as his Heir Designates. After tonight, no one will be in any doubt about your position here. They will know that you rank at the second level, and be equal in rank to my eldest children and those of Jono Reslic.”

  Seeing blank looks on the faces of Tymos and Kryslie, he knew they did not comprehend his words. “The only people who rank higher are myself, your father and Jono.”

  A flicker of understanding appeared in both sets of blue-green eyes. Xyron added an explanation and a warning.

  “At this time, and in spite of your rank, you have no power or authority over anyone else. At the same time, only those of Governor rank or those we appoint, have authority over you. That includes your attendants at the moment, since they know what is expected of you, and they will guide you until you settle into the usual routine.”

  After a glance at his sister, Tymos began to speak, stopped, considered something and then began again.

  Xyron expected him to question the idea of a routine, but he didn’t.

  “I have noticed, Sir, that others bow when greeting you or the other Governors. You have not commented on our appalling bad manners.”

  “Such a greeting is customary,” Xyron agreed. “But we are aware that you are not familiar with our ways yet. We have not expected it of you. We will give you instruction in Court Etiquet
te along with other subjects. Do not be concerned. During the formal proceedings soon to start, your attendants will ensure that you know what is expected of you.”

  “And what will be happening?” Kryslie asked.

  “The ‘Coming Out’ celebration is an occasion for us to invite important commoners to join with us to welcome our children into adulthood and for our children to meet those they will one day come to serve.”

  Servants appeared bringing a plate of finger foods, and a carafe of fruit juice. They moved the small table near the children and placed the refreshments there.

  Once again, Tymos and Kryslie exchanged glances. Both wondered what they had been eating and drinking before this.

  Xyron went on explaining, “You will need to change into the formal robes. These will be waiting in the apartments assigned to you in Tymoros’s palace. And your attendants will need to make your appearance acceptable.” Xyron spoke casually.

  “Will Stenn and the others be at the celebration?” Kryslie asked.

  Xyron smiled. “Of course. When they have finished their day’s study.”

  Tymos’s query of, “Study?” went unanswered when a man and a woman, clad in green uniforms materialised and then turned and bowed to Xyron.

  “Off you go,” Xyron invited. “You don’t want to be late for the party.”

  The woman moved to face Kryslie and bowed. “I am Delia,” she introduced. “I have been assigned to assist you.”

  Kryslie rose, showing no sign of recognition of the woman who had been tending her since soon after her arrival on Tymorea. “Um, thank you.” She glanced back at her brother as Delia took her arm.

  The male servant was bowing to Tymos and simply said, “I’m Morov.” He put out a hand to help Tymos to his feet. “You will need to stand close to me so I can take you to your apartment.”

  Once again, Tymos and Kryslie experienced the odd sensation of transmitting and this time arrived in rooms that were less elaborate.

  Delia observed her mistress after they had rematerialised and saw her jerk around as if looking for something.

  “Your brother has gone to his own apartment. It is in another wing of the palace,” Delia said quickly, to reassure her charge. The look of fright eased from her face.

  “Oh,” Kryslie said.

  “Will you like me to show you the use of the sonic shower?” Delia asked to distract her further. She had noticed the frequent glances Kryslie shared with her brother, as if they were two parts of one mind.

  “Uh…yes, I guess,” Kryslie agreed. She was seeing the comfortable sitting room around her, and looking at it as if she didn’t know what to do.

  In fact, she knew the chairs were for sitting in and basic things like that, but she was realising that she had no memory of anywhere but the sparse sleeping room with the two beds and white walls.

  “Is this for me?” Kryslie asked. “All this is almost as grand as the Conference room. Does everyone have chairs like this?”

  Daringly, she sat in one of them. The satin fabric covered wickedly comfortable cushions, and the carved wooden armrests fit her arms perfectly. She ran her hand over the pale green fabric and her smile was one of delight.

  Delia merely smiled at her pleasure, gratified that Kryslie liked the décor she had chosen for her mistress.

  “The bathing suite is through here, my lady,” she reminded her charge.

  Kryslie took the hint and followed her attendant. The floor of the bathing room had pale green hexagonal tiles, and the walls had tiles forming a pleasing geometric design, in blending shades of green, fawn and lemon. Delia watched as Kryslie looked around, ready to assist if needed, but after a moment, some vestige of memory surfaced and Kryslie took herself to use the privacy cubicle.

  Delia set about adjusting the sonic shower, selecting fragrances and the temperature of the ambient air. Without a fuss, when Kryslie looked blankly at the device, she assisted her mistress to use it.

  Once clean, Delia draped Kryslie in a long fluffy gown and had her sitting in front of a mirror and began brushing and combing her hair.

  “Your hair really needs attention. Do you prefer it long or short?” Delia asked.

  “I don’t know. Can you do something acceptable with it?” Kryslie asked.

  “I’ll neaten the length, and braid it,” Delia decided, and she began at once.

  When that was done, she applied subtle make up and took Kryslie through to her sleeping room where her formal robes were waiting.

  Kryslie stopped inside the room and simply stared. It was huge, larger than the entry room, with a bed in one corner, surrounded by filmy curtains, several chairs, a desk with a computer terminal, and a large floor rug that looked and felt like fur.

  Delia took a few minutes to show her the subtly hidden cupboards full of clothing, and another concealing a small food heater and cool storage module, and others that were still empty. Kryslie’s eyes lit up with every new revelation.

  Delia gave her little time to consider it all. “You need to get dressed, my lady. Your father wishes to see you before the ceremony starts.”

  Delia observed that Kryslie still accepted being dressed like a doll though she was cooperating more now and that made the process easier.

  “Do all Royal children wear these for their coming out?” Kryslie asked. “This fabric is like what the Governors were wearing.”

  “No, but you and your brother are His Majesty’s eldest children.” Delia didn’t elaborate, but went on fitting the silver-lined gold cape to the shoulders of the long sleeved silver tunic. The tunic clung to Kryslie’s shape and fell down to knee level, over the gold trousers. The cape flowed into a short train.

  “There – all done,” Delia said with satisfaction. She hid her thought of, “Now you look like a Royal Princess, not the heathen that arrived three weeks ago.”

  Instead, she said, “I will get you a drink while you wait.”

  On arrival in his apartment, Tymos glanced around the room.

  “This is more like a room should look. Where are we?” Tymos asked. “I thought that white walled place was for us.”

  “That was the infirmary,” Morov said dismissively. “This is your apartment, Prince Tymos. The bathroom is through to the left and the bedroom is through the other door. You will need to get washed and dressed. His Majesty will be expecting to talk to you before the ceremony.”

  “That’s fine,” Tymos agreed, with out making a move to do anything.

  Morov nudged Tymos towards the bathroom. He noted that his charge had more alertness than he had shown in earlier days, but still seemed to need someone to think for him. That state should not last much longer, but for now, Morov was not embarrassed to do all the little personal things necessary to prepare Prince Tymos for this important first presentation.

  The most essential thing was to make his highness into someone who no longer resembled the shaggy haired ponies of the mountains. As a courtesy, he first advised a haircut, and when Tymos simply agreed, he set to trimming it so it was short, neat and even at the sides and back and longer, but slicked back on the top.

  When the summons to the High King came, Tymos too, was dressed in a silver and gold outfit.

  Tymoros greeted Tymos and Kryslie when they arrived in his suite with their attendants, and complimented their new appearance. He noted that they accepted his praise, without reaction, but then, Xyron still had them sedated, and so would accept all that was new and strange in the same calm manner.

  “Tymos, Kryslie, there is someone I want you to meet,” Tymoros invited. They looked at him expectantly, but turned when they became aware of a woman approaching.

  She was blonde and petite, with her hair braided with lilac ribbon into an elaborate style. Her dress colour matched the ribbon, and the silk fabric flowed from her shoulders, and was held in at the waist by a chain of copper discs, each an inch wide. She moved gracefully over to nestle next to Tymoros.

  “This is Tanya, my consort, and your foster
mother,” Tymoros introduced.

  Tanya beamed a genuine smile of delight. “I have heard of you, Tymos, Kryslie. I am so pleased to meet you at last. And glad you have recovered from your journey here.”

  Her smile didn’t falter when neither child reacted. Instead, she moved closer to them and reached a hand out to each of them. “You poor things. Of course, this is all strange to you.”

  Kryslie looked down at her hands and said, “We don’t…” but stopped, not knowing how to articulate the strangeness she felt.

  Tanya seemed to understand. “You will soon get used to being here, and soon get to know us. You belong here.”

  “Why don’t we remember anything,” Tymos blurted, suddenly agitated.

  Tanya moved forward and drew Tymos into a hug. “It is so you will have a new start,” she said with a glance at her consort. “You will soon learn your place here, and I will always be available to help you.”

  Kryslie leant over and let herself be drawn into the hug too. Tanya sent a message with her eyes to Tymoros and he made the embrace four fold.

  They drew apart when Tymos had become calm. Tymoros said nothing to explain the reason why they remembered nothing. It was not the time for that, so to distract them he said. “I have a gift to welcome each of you to my family – to welcome you home.”

  From his pocket, he drew out two silver boxes, and placed them on the low table near the chairs. Kryslie looked at the boxes with a show of interest, but said nothing, mutely glancing from the box to her new foster father.

  Tymoros opened the first box and drew out a pendant on a gold chain. He showed it to Kryslie, and her eyes went to it as the light from the chandelier above glinted off the gold setting and sent reflections of red and blue from the gem.

  “The stone is a ruby-amethyst,” Tymoros explained.

  Kryslie reached out a hand, and Tymoros let her take it and touch the shield-shaped gold setting, and rotate the oval shaped gem on its hidden axis. Tanya helped her unclasp the chain and put it around her neck.

  Kryslie looked up at her new foster father and said very softly, “Thank you.”

  The pendant Tymoros took from the second velvet lined box was similar but different. The gold setting for this one was sword shaped and the gem was a long slender sliver of the red mineral. The gem was also set so it spun on an axis down the length of the blade.

  Tymos too, was entranced by the gift, and let Tanya help him to wear it. “Thank you father,” he said sincerely.

  They both sat quietly then, not knowing what they should do or say while waiting. Tymoros did not try to make them talk, for he knew they were like fragile empty vessels, waiting to be filled with knowledge and only just becoming aware of themselves.

  Had they been younger, this presentation could have been delayed until they had fully acclimatised. They could have begun their training and be able to handle themselves with other Tymoreans and be less vulnerable.

  Perhaps it would have been better to wait, but the Elders had seen the need to reassure the people of the world of the continuation of his bloodline.

  He sat in a chair across from them and studied them, seeing their features superimposed over a memory of others. He must not let those memories affect him, except to remind him to watch over these children and keep them safe and protected.

  Tanya had moved away, but she returned with a servant bearing a tray of drinks. She placed one next to each child, and handed a third to Tymoros.

  “It is a restorative,” she said in explanation. “You will need all your strength for the ceremonies.”

  She watched her new foster children take their glass and sip slowly. After taking half of the drink, she saw some colour come back into their faces and their posture relax.

  Tymoros noted it too, and said softly, “You know that no one here wishes you ill, and everyone is glad you are finally here - I most of all.”

  He didn’t get any verbal answer, just faint nods.

  At that moment, Aldiv, Tymoros’s personal attendant, materialised near the door to the suite and approached the group discreetly. “All is ready, your Majesty. Do you wish me to transmit you down to the balcony antechamber?”

  “Yes, I think that will be best. Let the children finish their drinks and we will go.”

  Aldiv nodded, and flicked a glance at the still pale children each clinging to their glass. His look was of concern; they still looked…lost.

  The antechamber was on the second floor of the Palace, and it overlooked the Royal Gardens. A red velvet carpet led out through a door to a balcony visible to the guests waiting in the gardens. Delia and Morov waited near the door.

  Tymoros told his foster children to wait with their attendants and he retreated from the room and went along a passage.

  A musical fanfare sounded from outside the room. The attendants were waiting for this signal. Delia opened the door leading to the balcony. Morov spoke quietly to them. “The Governors will be waiting on the balcony. Tymos, you go first, and your sister will follow. You will bow to each Governor and then stand to one side and await their instructions.”

  Tymos nodded, he was nervous and he knew that Kryslie, half a step behind him, felt the same way. The green clad attendants stayed back beyond the golden train.

  As they stepped outside the sun glinted off their clothes and their jewels as well as showing glints of red in their brown hair. The crowd applauded loudly. The people felt privileged to witness the first public appearance of the Prince and Princess. The emotion made Kryslie and Tymos feel giddy. Tymos paused, let his sister catch up and he took her hand in his, but they continued along the balcony by concentrating their attention on the figures on the dais at the end.

  The walk seemed endless, but eventually they reached the Governors and bowed in perfect unison. Then, while keeping their eyes off the crowds below, they went and stood to one side.

  It was with relief that they saw Tymoros move behind them and felt his arm around them. He must have felt them trembling, for he said softly. “The eyes won’t hurt you.”

  Then he hugged them closer to him and the intensity of the attention seemed to diminish.

  Tymoros introduced Tymos first and then Kryslie before beginning a formal speech. He was pleased to note that his children remained standing straight when he released them and maintained a dignified silence even when the cheering erupted at the end of his speech.

  He was aware, from years of public scrutiny and public speaking, that the attention of every one in the crowd below was on his children. He had no doubt that a great many of the people wondered why there had been no mention of these children before now. Perhaps if they thought about the odd deaths of his other children they might think it was deliberate. He hoped that seeing him hug them both would convince them that the children weren’t strangers.

  He hoped too, that now this crowd of commoners had seen Tymos and Kryslie, the farcical rumours that he would be the last High King, would die out. He stilled those ruminations as Aldiv approached with two crystal, gold and ruby coronets on a cushion.

  The crowd hushed as the climax of the ceremony neared. The coronets were symbolic, worn only by the Heir Designates to the position of High King Governor.

  Neither Tymos nor Kryslie moved as he placed a coronet on their heads. It was as well that the crowd couldn’t see how white faced his children were. He really needed to finish this ceremony as quickly as tradition allowed.

  When the crowd erupted into cheering again, he waved down at them, smiled for a few moments, and then swept Tymos and Kryslie in front of him and back to the antechamber. He knew that Jono and Xyron followed behind him.

  Once out of public gaze, Xyron came over and spoke quietly, “Ty, I don’t think they are ready for the crowds below.”

  “The guests expect them,” Tymoros mused, keeping an arm around each of his foster children. “But I agree. It would be too much. Perhaps the carriage could be used.”

  “Indeed. I will have it arranged.” Xyr
on promised.

  Jono Reslic watched from near the balcony door, “I will have the palace guards positioned around the route. I do not expect trouble from the young commoners but I wish to be sure.”

  Tymoros moved to two chairs and said, “Sit down for a while, Tymos, Kryslie.”

  He saw they were both to ready to agree, and their attendants went to stand near them.

  When Reslic indicated that the palace guards were in place, and Xyron confirmed that the carriage was waiting, Tymoros led the way through to a rear entrance of the palace. A carriage was waiting and he helped his children into it. It was an open sided carriage, capable of seating six. He chose to have Tymos and Kryslie on either side of him. They seemed more relaxed now, since no guests were allowed on this side of the palace.

  “I would spare you this if I could,” Tymoros apologised, as the driver urged the graceful beast hitched to the carriage into a slow walk. “It is traditional, and necessary for the commoners to really see you. I want there to be no doubts about the fact that you are truly my heirs.”

  He felt some of the tenseness return.

  “At least this way, you don’t have to shake countless hands, and murmur polite courtesies…”

  Kryslie shuddered. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  “I am not expecting it of you,” Tymoros assured her. “This time it will be enough to wave and smile as we move through the crowd. The palace guards will keep the people back. When we finish I will take you somewhere quiet.”

  “Please,” Tymos said with emphasis as they reached the edge of the crowd.

  Tymoros noticed that in spite of their reluctance to face the crowd, they obeyed his suggestion of waving and smiling. If the smiles were fixed, and the head turnings were more to look at everything but the faces, the commoners weren’t to know.

  He said nothing as he observed the faces of the guests, and sensed the sincere elation the people had for him, personally.

  As soon as the carriage left the crowd again, the musicians now on the dais began to play a gentle melody. On this occasion, the traditional welcome dance would be performed only by Jono Reslic and his consort and Xyron with his. Then their children would join in and begin to welcome the commoners and important guests into the dance. Commoners and Royalty mingled freely on these occasions and the dancing and banqueting would last well into the night.

  Tymoros intended that his children would have the chance to enjoy some of the special foods prepared for the guests. After all, they were the guests of honour. There would be future occasions for them to join in such revelry, but right now, his children were just about ready to fall asleep, though still too tense to do so.

  “Aldiv,” Tymoros summoned his attendant who was waiting where the carriage stopped. “Have some food sent to my sanctum, and refreshments. See if Xyron has any instructions. I think it has been a very long day.”

  He saw Aldiv flick a glance at Tymos and Kryslie before he nodded and departed. Tymoros helped his children from the carriage, walked with them to the beam in point, and took them to his apartment. When he entered his sanctum, Aldiv had already arranged three comfortable chairs around the low table. Platters of mixed delicacies awaited them and a tray of drinks sat on a sideboard.

  “Help yourself,” Tymos invited his children, when they seemed only to want to flop back in the chairs. “If you are feeling as worn out as you look, you need to eat. I know I do. Try these little pastries. They are something Tanya introduced to the palace cooks.”

  Once they began, Tymos and Kryslie found he was correct and began to point out various delicacies to each other. Later, Aldiv brought over drinks, and he watched as the sleeping draught Xyron had prepared for them took effect, first relaxing the residual tension of being the focus of so much attention, and then easing them into sleep.

  Delia and Morov arrived when summoned by Aldiv to take charge of the children.

  “Xyron will come by later and check them,” Tymoros advised the attendants. “If all is well, you can assist them to their own apartments. I would like you to keep watch for the remainder of the night. They both need to be rested for tomorrow.”