"I don't like being kept waiting, Adel," Ricol said. He descended the stairs with an imperial air, his staff and personal guards close behind him.
Grayson stiffened. It hadto be a plot. Where was Varney? Where was Jeverid? Whatever was afoot, Grayson was sure Adel and his Royal Guards were in on it, too. Not only that, the Lancers were to be turned over to this Kuritist duke.
With Ricol's entrance, the soldiers had loosened then-hold on Grayson's arms, absorbed in the spectacle of the Red Duke. Moving softly, Grayson stepped into the crowd, headed toward a side exit in the hall.
"Stop him, idiots!" Nolem's harsh whisper was more hiss than words, but seemed louder than a shout against the Hall's shocked silence. Hearing the step of soldiers coming after him, Grayson broke into a run, smashing past finery-clad lords and ladies of the court, and bowling over one gray-haired and stoop-shouldered man in a black cloak who stepped into his path. There were other guards at the door to the corridor, but they couldn't fire their weapons with the crowd at Grayson's back. He lunged at one of them, smashing the helmet down across the man's eyes, pivoting, and giving him a stiff-armed blow in the chest that sent him sprawling back into the surprised arms of two of his comrades.
Then he was moving into the passageway, his feet pounding against the heavy carpeting, then echoing from marble steps as the corridor ended and he was faced with nowhere to go but up. The crowd was spilling into the hallway behind him, and he heard the clatter of running boots, the predictable shouts for him to halt
At the top of the stairs, the passageway branched. He looked both ways, frantic and unsure. Then, he got his bearings, remembering that one corridor led to the Ministerial Offices, including those of Stannic.
Grayson realized suddenly that he had not seen Stannic at the Reception Hall either. Had Jeverid and Stannic both been deposed? Or might Mara's father simply be unaware of what was occurring? If he could find the Chief Minister, if he could find Mara, who frequently worked with her father in these offices, perhaps he could warn them. Unless it was already too late....
He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a young Trell. It was Claydon! Grayson opened his mouth to speak, then noticed that Claydon wore the green jacket of a Guard, with a black armband showing him to be a senior Tech. So, he'd made a deal with General Adel. Or was it with Duke Ricol? Was he the new replacement Tech for Lori and Grayson? Though his head spun with questions, Grayson merely nodded curtly and hurried past. Then he heard the sound of Claydon's boots descending the stairs Grayson had just come up. Would Claydon betray him? Had he betrayed him already?
He ducked into the outer reception room of the Chief Minister's office suite, and stood with his back to the door, panting. Moments later, he heard the clatter of boots again, this time racing past the door and down the corridor. Grayson let out his breath in a long, slow sigh. He'd not been aware of holding it "Grayson!"
He opened his eyes, and saw Mara.
"Mara! What are YOU doing here?"
"I might ask you the same question. I work here."
"Look, Mara, something terrible is going on. I think General Adel has engineered a revolution. He's downstairs talking to that Kuritist duke right now, and there's no sign of General Varney or the Militia or..."
He stopped, his eyes widening. Mara had reached behind the ornate desk that dominated the room, and brought out a sleek auto-feed needler. The pistol's narrow, slit barrel was trained on his heart.
"Mara! What...?"
"You really are a fool, you know. You Commonwealthers think the galaxy revolves around you, that you can use people, use whole worlds with no more thought for their welfare than..."
"What are you talking about, Mara? I... I..."
"Quiet!" she snapped. Keeping the gun centered on his chest, Mara reached behind the desk again, and Grayson immediately heard the sound of an alarm sounding somewhere in the far distance.
Stannic appeared behind his daughter. Seeing him dressed in a resplendent gold and green uniform of the Royal Guards, Grayson recalled having heard that Stannic was a retired Guards officer. He wore a colorful cluster of medals on his chest, including the starburst of the Crimson Star. "What's all this then, Mara?"
"An intruder, Father."
"Ah, it's young Carlyle. I'm sorry, son, but this is for the better. We appreciated your help, but you can see that it's really not necessary now. Duke Ricol will be taking care of our defense."
"Sir, you don't know what that will mean. We have fought the Draconis Combine for years and..."
"Exactly. Your people HAVE fought them for years, and you can hardly have a, shall we say, unprejudiced attitude toward them."
The door burst open behind Grayson, and armed men crowded in.
"Here's your prisoner," Mara said. Hands closed over Grayson's arms, holding him upright when he thought he was going to keel over. He was dizzy... weak.
From far away, he heard General Adel say, "I'm sorry for the disturbance, Your Majesty."
Stannic chuckled. "No problem, General. Just see you hang onto him now, eh?"
* * * *
The only reason Lori had been awake was that she'd not been alone. Garik Enzelman was with her, the two of them sharing memories of Sigurd with gentle touches and lingering kisses.
She'd gone to Garik after the assassination attempt. She'd known Grayson was headed for Mara's apartment that day, and her own hurt and jealousy had driven her to the one person with whom she could talk, remember, and feel less alone. They reminisced about life on Sigurd, the moon of a sullenly glowing gas giant. Circling its brilliant but distant F4 star, Sigurd was even more frigid and forbidding than Trellwan. They talked of their experiences in the service on Sigurd and in the time since, and they talked of their future on Trellwan.
They'd come to no certain decision, beyond the fact that the future looked dark for them. Enzelman wanted to join the Draconian forces. Then, at least, he would not have to deal with the anti-Oberon prejudice of the Trell indigs. Lori was not so sure, but she listened to him all the same.
Garik was two standard years younger than Lori. His abrupt, almost bumbling manner and studied lack of thoughtfulness made her certain she would never have been friends with the guy were it not for the fact that he was the only man within several hundred light years with whom she could confide.
Well... almost. She could share with him what she was not busily walling up somewhere inside her hurt and confusion. Why did she keep thinking of Grayson?
"The Dracos won't be any better."
"I don't really see what choice we have," Garik said. "If we stay on Trellwan, we have nothing to face but prison... or death. I understand they enjoy setting people loose in the desert here, unprotected."
"The Draconians might not want us." She was remembering the polish and snap of those legions debarking from their DropShips. Those were professional soldiers, in every sense of the word.
"Then again, they might. Technical people are always in demand. And the fighting's over now. That means they'll be recruiting and training for their next project, whatever that is."
"Does it?" She wondered where Grayson was. This period, he'd be with Mara, no doubt, but where would he be after this shakeup in command? General Adel wasn't about to leave him in charge of so potent a force as a 'Mech Lance. There had already been outbreaks of violence when Guards units had ordered the Militia to disband, and rumors were spreading that General Varney had been placed under arrest.
They both heard the whine of hovercraft outside the building at the same moment. When Lori peered out past the curtain, she'd seen the fifteen or 20 Guards dismounting from military HVTs and converging on her door. Obviously, this was no social call. With the Guards in power, with Adel calling the shots, she and Garik had become targets.