“Not that he objected to the sentences. ‘That was only right and just, and they should have been sent to the Islands as well, for they’ll only make trouble of a different sort now,’” Gallian added, mimicking his father’s thin, wheezing voice. “If he would only give me authorization to deal with all Hold matters…” and he raised his hands in helplessness.
“He’s too sick.”
“Wait a minute. He is sick,” Paulin interrupted, “and your weather here is only aggravating the respiratory problem, isn’t it?” Thea’s eyes widened as she jumped to a conclusion.
“If he was sent to Ista or Nerat to recuperate, why he’d have to authorize Gallian - -“, she began.
“Precisely.”
“What happens when he recovers and finds out what I did knowing, as he’s made sure I do, his views on impeachment,” Gallian said, “and finds out I’ve gone against him? I could very likely lose my chance of succession.”
“That not likely, dear. You know how he carries on about your stupid ‘younger brothers’,” said Thea reassuringly, laying a hand on her son’s arm. “You just know when to stand up to him. You’ve always had a flair for dealing with people. As for the nephews.” She threw up her hand in despair.
Then her face clouded. “I really am worried about these constant chest infections. Frankly, I don’t think he’s going to last much longer.” She sighed in regret. “He’s been a good spouse.”
“Can you get your medic to recommend the warmer climate?” Paulin asked sympathetically.
“He’s been doing so constantly,” Thea said, setting her mouth in a firm line. “I’ll make it so. Somehow! I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. For his sake as well as those poor wretches.”
Gallian looked uncertain.
“Don’t worry, lad,” said Paulin. “You’ve already got full marks in my book for cooperation. And, as long as I’m Chair, you’ve my support. The Conclave doesn’t necessarily have to abide by the deceased’s wishes as to successor. But we’ve got to take action now.
“Even waiting until Turn’s End is dangerous. We rescued those people, their rights were upheld in a duly assembled court, and Chalkin’s in some state of mind over that.” Paulin’s laugh was mirthless. “We can’t let him take his vengeance out on them, or we’ve spent a lot of time and effort to no avail. With this thaw setting in, he’ll be able to move about. And I think we all have a good idea that he’ll retaliate in some fashion.”
Thea shuddered, her comfortably plump body rippling under her thick gown. “I won’t have that on my conscience, no matter what my Lord Jamson says.” She rose.
“Jamson spent such a poor night, I’ll catch him now, before he can put up any more objections. One thing’s certain, he doesn’t want to die. He likes Richud more than Franco.
I’ll suggest Ista Hold. I wouldn’t mind the winter there myself, In fact.”
And suddenly, she straightened her shoulders, “I think I’m gomig dowd wifa gold, too…” and she altered her voice appropriately, sniffing. “He might just humor me where he wouldn’t do a thing for himself. If you’ll excuse me?” Both men had stood when she did, and now Gallian strode to open the door for her as she sailed gracefully out, grinning mischievously as she left. Gallian returned to his guest, shaking his head.
“I’ve never gone against my father before,” he said anxiously, his expression unhappy.
“Nor would I urge you to do so, lad. I appreciate your doubts, but can you doubt what Chalkin will do?”
“No, I can’t,” and Gallian sighed, turning back to the Fort Lord Holder with a resolute expression. “I suppose I should get accustomed to making decisions, not merely carrying them out.”
Paulin clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly. “That’s it exactly, Gallian. And I’ll guarantee, not all the decisions you’ll be called upon to make will be the right ones. Being a Lord Holder doesn’t keep you from making mistakes: just make the right wrong ones!”
Paulin grinned as Gallian tried to absorb that notion. “If you are right most of the time, you’re ahead of the game. And you’re right in this one for the good reasons which your father declines to see.”
Gallian nodded his head. Then he asked more briskly, “Will you have some wine now, Paulin?”
“You’ve your mother’s way with you,” Paulin said, accepting the offer. “Which you will find is an advantage… Not, mind you, that I in any way imply a lack in your father’s manners.”
“No, of course not,” Gallian agreed but he smiled briefly, then cleared his throat. “Ah, what happens to Chalkin when he’s removed? I mean, it’s not as if he could be dropped on the southern islands, is it?”
“Why not?” Paulin replied equably. “Not,” he added hastily when he saw Gallian’s consternation, “that he would be placed on the same one as the murderers. There is a whole chain an archipelago of them.”
“Aren’t they volcanic?”
“Only Young Island, otherwise they’re tropical and quite habitable. But one is certain then that the… ah… detainee cannot leave and cause reactions. Which Chalkin would certainly do if he was allowed to remain on the Mainland. No, the most sensible and most humane solution is to put him where he can’t do any more harm than he’s already done.”
“Then who’s to take over managing Bitra?”
“His children are too young, certainly, but there’s an uncle, not much older than Chalkin at that.”
“I heard a rumor though that Vergerin and Chalkin had played a game, the stakes being an uncontested succession.”
“My father mentioned that, too, early on when impeachment first came up. Said he ought to have insisted that Vergerin stand in spite of what the old Neratian Lord wanted. Chalkin’s spouse is Franco’s sister, you know.”
“I’d forgotten that. Amazing,” Paulin added.
“Franco’s totally different, but then his mother was Brenton’s first spouse.
They were discussing the ever-interesting problem of heredity when the door suddenly opened and Thea came in, almost bent double.
“Great Stars, mother!” Gallian rushed to assist her. “Why, what’s the matter? You’re so flushed.”
She slammed the door shut, waved aside her son’s help and collapsed in her chair with laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, your father, dear…” She wiped tears from her cheeks and some of the ‘flush’ came away, too. She looked at the handkerchief and rubbed her cheeks more vigorously, still laughing.
“We did it! He’s going to the warm. I left him writing to ask for Richud’s hospitality. I said I’d have a message pennon flown, but your rider would take it, wouldn’t he, Paulin? When he takes you back to Fort?”
“Indeed, he will. or rather I’ll take it to Richud myself and ask him to connive with us to keep Jamson from knowing what’s happening off the island,” said Paulin, grinning with relief.
“But why are you laughing, Mother? And why the face paint?” Gallian demanded.
“Well,” and she flitted her handkerchief, beaming at the two. “What he wouldn’t do for himself, he’d do for his ailing mate,” she said, again assuming a stuffed-nose voice. “So first I had your sister go in and fetch Canell, as if there were an emergency. I primed Canell to back me up, and it was he who suggested the rouge. So when I came into your father’s room, I arrived moaning over my aches and pains which had developed so rapidly overnight. And sneezing constantly fortunately, I have a small sneeze so I can imitate it… Then Canell took over - really, the man was quite convincing. He got alarmed over my rapid pulse and flushed face. He made much of worrying about the condition of my lungs and the strain on my heart. So between us, why, Jamson agreed to take me south to Ista until I’m completely recovered. So there!” She beamed from one to the other, quite delighted.