Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [32]
It was a victory for them—of sorts. They were wise enough not to continue to argue or cajole.
“And now, gentlemen,” said Saryon, “you have been kept here past your time. I don’t mean to seem rude, but I have travel arrangements to make—”
“All that has been taken care of for you, Father,” said General Boris, adding lamely, “on the ... er ... off chance that you would decide to make this trip.”
“How convenient,” said Saryon, and one corner of his mouth twitched.
We were to leave that night. One of the General’s aides would remain with us and assist us with packing, drive us to the spaceport, escort us on board ship.
Kevon Smythe left with gracious words and seemed to take the sunlight with him. General Boris hurried out, relieved to have it all over with, and was immediately surrounded by his staff, who had been impatiently awaiting his release. King Garald remained a moment behind.
Saryon and I had gone to the door to see our guests out. King Garald looked almost as ill as my master, and he, at least, had the grace to apologize.
“I am sorry to put this burden on you, Father,” he said. “But what could I do? You’ve met the man.” We knew who he meant. There was no need to name him. “What could I do?” he repeated.
“You could have faith, Your Majesty,” said Saryon gently.
King Garald smiled, then. Turning to Saryon, there on the doorstoop, the King reached out his hand and clasped my master’s. “I do, Father. I have faith in you.”
Saryon was so extremely startled by this response that it was difficult for me to hide my smile. Garald left, walking tall, with his shoulders back; a kingly air. General Boris was waiting in the limousine. Kevon Smythe had already departed.
Saryon and I ducked hastily back inside, narrowly avoiding a mob of reporters, who clamored for interviews. The General’s aide was skilled in handling the press, and all in all, they did not give us too much trouble. After breaking only one window and trampling the flower beds, they eventually left us in peace. I saw several interviewing Mrs. Mumford.
I suppose that a birthday celebration for one elderly cleric was not considered worth the expenditure of time and money. Had they known the true story, they would have stormed the house.
Another of the General’s aides was in the study, on the phone, confirming and updating arrangements for our transport to Thimhallan.
Saryon paused a moment in the hallway. Noting the expression on his face, I touched his arm, drew his attention.
“You did the right thing,” I signed, and added, a little teasingly, I’m afraid, hoping to cheer his mood. “You must have faith.”
He smiled, but it was a wan, pale smile. “Yes, Reuven. So I must.”
Sighing, his head bowed, he went to his room to prepare for our journey.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Watchers had guarded the Border of Thimhallan for centuries. It was their enforced task, through sleepless night and dreary day, to keep watch along the boundary that separated the magical realm from whatever lay Beyond.
What did lie Beyond?
TRIUMPH OF THE DARKSWORD
I will spare you the details of our journey, which was, I suppose, the same as any other interplanetary flight, with the exception that we were in a military ship with a military escort. For me, the trip into space was awe-inspiring and exciting. This was only my second flight and the first I remembered clearly. I had only the vaguest recollection of leaving Thimhallan, traveling on the evacuation ships.
Saryon kept to his quarters, on the pretext that he had work to do. He was, as I believe I have neglected to mention, developing a mathematical theorem having to do with light-wave particles or something of the sort. Not being mathematically inclined, I knew little about it. The moment he and his tutor began to discuss it, I began to feel a throbbing in my temples and was glad to leave. He claimed to be working on this, but every time I entered his room, to see if he needed anything, I found him staring out the porthole at the stars gliding past us.
He was reliving