Van Laven Chronicles (15 page)

CHAPTER 27

The morning after their heated quarrel, Crausin and Comron attended the high council meeting, to discuss the tumultuous affairs of state. Rebellion was becoming widespread in the old country even as the great cities rallied in support of their Duke. News of the Emperor’s deathly grave health only fanned the fires of rebellion; the last great advocate of the masses would soon depart this world.

“Just as swiftly as we round up the leaders, new ones spring up to take their place,” explained the minister of the interior, a frail-looking man with gray thinning hair. “There is talk of cessation and cries of independence.”

“The ignorant fools require a sharp lesson in our national history,” Crausin snapped. His mood had improved little since he’d last spoken with Comron. “How conveniently they forget the horrific days of civil war when the streets ran red with the blood of their brothers. The harsh famines and proliferation of disease. Is that what they want?”

“We still have the majority support, Sire,” the Minister of Holy Sanctum said. “The high church demands allegiance of the faithful, and the informal inquiries show support holding steady at sixty percent.” The tall, slender man leaned forward, elbows on the table, his priestly long hair pulled back from his face.

“At least that’s what they say to your face, Bishop Rayne,” Comron said. “But what do they say behind closed doors? Large numbers are flocking to the rebels. I dare say some of them sit in your pews.”

Crausin cast a dark stare at his son.

“To the contrary, Your Grace,” the Chief Bishop replied. “You’d be surprised how many confessions have resulted in the arrest of key members of the resistance.”

Comron nodded. “I am aware of that. Nonetheless, I urge you to avoid complacency and to remain vigilant.”

Rhayne gave a curt nod. “Naturally, my lord.”

“We require reinforcements, Sire,” said General Lugen Undersoll, the queen’s uncle and the man behind the attack on the royal family. “We have lost scores in battle and to defection.”

Comron glanced at Crausin. His father’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed a hair, barely registering the true extent of the blistering hatred he felt for the man. The general and his accomplices would all pay dearly for their high treason, but first Crausin would allow Lugen to become soundly ensnared by the elegant trap the Duke had set for him. Then Lugen’s guilt would be fully exposed for all of Nethic to see.

“Then it is time we enact conscription for national service,” Crausin said. “All males between the ages of eighteen and thirty five will be called.”

“Sire, the outcry.” The Minister of Societal Affairs was the sole female in the room. “Conscription hasn’t been enacted for nearly a century. The people already feel burdened enough, and now to send their sons off to war?”

“Better a little pain now than the ravages of civil war later on,” Comron replied, before his father could. Crausin gave him a sharp look, but Comron chose to ignore it.

“Now that the Murkudahl Edict is sure to be overturned, we should gain some traction there,” said the olive-toned Minister of Natural Laws and Philosophy. “The parliament must approve the full funding of our endeavor. House Jen Tao will accept not a credit less.”

“They will have it,” Crausin assured the esteemed counselor. “The legislation will be ratified in the next parliamentary session.”

Eight billion credits was the entry price required to share in the scientific knowledge acquired during the Jen Tao expedition to the Murkudahl homeworld. Even then, they had only a fifteen percent stake in the venture.

Comron could not help reflecting on the conversation he’d had with Vaush. “Here’s to hoping we find a stick big enough to beat back our worst fears.”

“For eight billion credits, we’d better find something more than a bloody stick,” chortled Grimison Van Laven – the Minister of the Privy Purse and a close cousin of the royal family. They wouldn’t dare entrust the oversight of the treasury to anyone else.

Comron heard little of the last remarks. His thoughts were now consumed with Vaush and his plan to satisfy her demands. Soon he’d take Spira away on a brief holiday, ostensibly, to mend wounds before the wedding day, and while there, thieves would break into their suite and attack them, seriously injuring Comron but killing Spira. That was the arrangement – clean, simple, and effective.

At the noon hour, the Duke’s administrator, Marbury, popped his head into the council chambers as the morning’s meeting adjourned. “Sire, Lord Overcrom is here to see you,” the older man said in an urgent tone.

“Lord Overcrom? I wasn’t expecting him.”

“He begs your pardon, Sire, but he said it is imperative that he see you immediately.”

Comron exchanged glances with his father. “What is this all about?”

“I have no idea,” Crausin said looking equally concerned. “I just spoke with him yesterday morning and he made no mention of a visit.” He glanced at Marbury. “Have him meet us in my private study.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Whatever it is, I hope this won’t take very long.” Comron glanced at his wrist chronometer as they headed to Crausin’s private offices. “I’m scheduled to meet Spira in thirty minutes to finalize the plans for Tristain Hall.”

Crausin turned sharply to face him. “What sort of fool do you take me for? One second you’re cursing me to hell for making you marry her, and now you can’t wait to go pick out floral patterns with her?”

Comron nodded. “Forgive me for losing my temper with you. Sometimes I need to be reminded that my duty is to Nethic and my Duke. All else is inconsequential.” They entered the private study. Comron lowered himself into one of the finely appointed chairs. “From this point on, I will be all that Spira requires of me, at least until those deposits are legally ours.”

Crausin sat across from Comron, never taking his eyes off him. “If you’re going to continue insulting my intelligence with this subterfuge, I’d prefer you shut it.”

Comron held his silence.

“I only hope that one day the man I’ve called son all the years will finally return to me,” Crausin said somberly.

“I plan to redeem myself, Crausin,” Comron replied, “And I’ll start by mending fences with Spira.”

His father raised a skeptical brow.

“I’m taking her on an overnight holiday to Vegan Falls as stipulated in our contract. We leave in the morning, by our wedding day she’ll be the happiest bride the world has ever known.”

They both turned when Marbury entered the room.

“Lord Overcrom is here, Sire.”

“This matter is not over.” Crausin’s eyes lingered on Comron before turning his attention to Telkuve Overcrom who entered with his usual aplomb.

He was a senior colleague of Crausin’s who hadn’t aged nearly as well. The gray at his temples, the wrinkles around his eyes and sagging jowls betrayed his advanced years.

“Telkuve, this is rather unexpected,” Crausin said as he rose from his chair to greet the man with a curt embrace. He indicated he should be seated next to Comron.

“Lord Telkuve.” Comron nodded to him.

The man wasted no time on pleasantries. “I believe we’re in grave danger, gentlemen.” He took his seat, his face heavily creased with concern.

“And what is the nature of this danger?” Crausin asked, keeping the tension out of voice.

“The Duke of Ti-Laros nature,” Telkuve replied

Comron’s heart froze a beat. Had Vaush confessed their love affair to her father? Was that what had prompted Telkuve’s urgent visit?

“Earlier this morning I had an unexpected visit from Bastionli’s lapdog, Lord Fera Relledon. He’s in a state because it appears Larrs may be turning on him.”

“Really?” Crausin sat back crossing his legs. “Do tell.”

“After the frightened idiot blathered on for a spell, he made the most interesting statement.” He glanced from Crausin to Comron. “Larrs’ youngest daughter is not his biological child.”

“You are referring to…” Crausin snapped his fingers. “The one called Vaush?”

“Yes.” Overcrom glanced at Comron. “The one you recently encountered on Patheis. Apparently she’s his adopted daughter.”

Vaush, not of Bastionli by blood!
Comron considered the possibility and what that could mean for their future.

“How did Fera come by this knowledge?” Crausin asked evenly.

“One night a few years back, Larrs had imbibed too much during a long game of doxise and disclosed this information to Fera. Not thinking anything of it, Fera just stored the information away. It was only in his rambling that he even mentioned it to me.” He handed a com-tablet to Crausin. “Here’s her DNA analysis. That girl is no more Larrs’ daughter than she is mine or yours.”

Crausin examined the data. “This is an interesting piece of trivia, but I hardly think it warranted a trip to Nethic.”

Comron was so elated to learn that he wasn’t in love with Larrs’ biological daughter that he failed to continue down the logical path.

“It’s when you consider the source of Fera’s anxiety. He’s afraid Larrs is planning something monstrous. It’s the way nothing seems to trouble him, even the overturning of the Murkudahl Edict left him undisturbed. He’s never supported Thalonius’s enthronement and even speaks openly against the Emperor’s son.” He looked intently at the two men. “It is my conjecture that there is a link between the two pieces of information.”

“Gods’ teeth, Telkuve. What more do you know?” Crausin said.

“Try thinking, Crausin,” Telkuve Overcrom said with the gentle chiding of an old friend. “Why would a crotchety old bear like Larrs Bastionli bother
adopting
a child to raise in his home as part of his royal household?”

“He already had sufficient heirs: Skarus, Hellena and a close nephew,” Comron said letting his thoughts flow logically. “So what advantage could she possibly bring him?” He considered the nature of Vaush’s philanthropic endeavors. Was there some tie there? No, she kept that work hidden from Larrs.

“What does the child represent to him?” Crausin inquired and then answered, “Power of some sort.”

“Yes, but Vaush isn’t the one with the power, it’s her biological parents,” Comron conjectured.

“Very good.” Telkuve grinned. “That’s the smart question, who are this girl’s real parents? First, we’d have to determine what constitutes special to Larrs.”

“Anything that could help him advance his house by gaining more political power,” Comron answered.

“Particularly anything that could advance his position toward the imperial throne,” Crausin added. “Perhaps her parents were powerful members of the imperial court and she was the product of some high ranking official’s impropriety.”

“That is a distinct possibility,” Telkuve conceded.

Crausin shook his head. “It would be one thing to oversee her upbringing, but Larrs raised her as one of his
own
, gave her
his
name.”

“Which means he wanted her honor-bound to his family,” Comron concluded. “To feel a deep sense of loyalty to House Bastionli… in the event that—,”

“That she may one day inherit the great power that her parents once held,” Crausin finished the thought.

“Precisely,” Telkuve nodded grimly. “I believe that girl would place House Bastionli very close to the throne – the imperial throne.”

That thought made all Van Lavens everywhere shudder. “You’re suggesting she’s the Emperor’s bastard?” Crausin scoffed nervously at the idea. “Supreme Prince Thalonius is first in line. His mother saw to it that no one should precede him.”

“Yes, by murdering his primary wife,” Telkuve said. “Immediately after which, Emperor Sorren had her executed.”

“Your speculations are interesting, but irrelevant,” said Crausin. “Thalonius has been named the Emperor’s heir. No bastard daughter could challenge that.”

Comron thought of Vaush’s flawless honey-toned skin, dazzling hazel eyes and long dark hair. The late Emperor had been quite fair-skinned, blue eyed and flaxen haired. “I have to agree with my father. Besides, there’s not a bit of Hrollaugr family resemblance.”

Telkuve gestured for Crausin to return his comp-pad. “Apparently, you’re forgetting what his primary wife looked like, not at all surprising considering the brevity of the marriage.” He tapped at the keys to project a holographic image. “Now cross the Emperor’s likeness with hers and
that
explains Lady Vaush and how she could blend so easily into Larrs’ natural family.”

“He hid her in plain sight,” Crausin said soberly.

Comron stared at the lovely woman in the image with skin the color of warm caramel. She smiled beautifully, her delicate features frozen in youthfulness. Large, expressive, brown eyes gleamed brightly and dark wavy hair cascaded over her bare shoulders as she turned, glancing playfully over her shoulder at whoever captured her image. There was no doubt her exotic beauty and charm would have captured the Emperor’s attention while she served as Imperial Translator in his court.