"But what crimes can we accuse him of?" asked Zoran. "There is no concrete proof of anything that he directly had his hand in."
"That much is true. But the activities of the others in his family, and in the generations preceding him, are public knowledge. Guilt by association."
"And there is . . . something else," D'ndai said slowly. "Something that I myself was witness to. I have been," and he looked around uncomfortably, "I have been reluctant to say anything until now, for I have no desire to disrupt the alliance between the Thallonians and the Danteri. Such a disruption could only cause difficulties for my people."
"Disruption?" Ryjaan seemed utterly confused. Nor did Yoz or Zoran comprehend either, as their blank looks indicated.
"There were," and D'ndai cleared his throat. "There were certain 'private' arrangements made. Certain allies that we Xenexians acquired when we were fighting for our freedom."
"What allies?" asked Ryjaan, and then slowly the significant look that D'ndai gave Yoz was enough to focus him on the Thallonian. "You?" he demanded. "The Thallonians allied with Xenex against us? You!"
Yoz threw up his hands defensively. "I knew nothing of it! You speak of matters twenty years ago! I was not even chancellor then!"
"Aye," agreed D'ndai. "Yoz speaks truly. He was not involved personally . . . not to my knowledge. But Si Cwan was."
"Si Cwan?" Ryjaan looked stunned. "But he was barely out of his teens at that time!"
"The same might be said of my brother," replied D'ndai. "And look at all that he accomplished."
"Zoran, did you know of this?" Ryjaan demanded. Ryjaan looked to D'ndai, and for a long moment he was silent, wheels turning silently in his head.
"Well?" insisted Ryjaan. "At the time, you and Si Cwan were best friends. Did he mention anything of this to you?"
"No," said Zoran, sounding far more restrained than he usually did. "But there were any number of times that he left Thallon for lengthy periods. When he returned, he would never tell me where he'd been. He was rather fond of his secrets, Si Cwan was."
"So it's possible."
"Oh, yes. Eminently possible."
"Very well," said Ryjaan, and he turned back to D'ndai. "I appreciate your informing me of this situation."
"It's more than just a situation that I'm informing you of," replied D'ndai. "You see . . . I happen to know that Si Cwan, in his endeavors to undercut the authority of Danter, committed a variety of brutal acts. One, in particular, will be of interest to you."
"And that one is . . . ?"
He folded his arms and said, "He killed your father."
Ryjaan visibly staggered upon hearing this. "Wh— what?" he managed to stammer out.
"You heard me," said D'ndai with supernatural calm. "A high-ranking Danteri soldier named Falkar. Your father, I believe."
Numbly, Ryjaan nodded.
"You understand, I did not make the association immediately," D'ndai continued in that same, unperturbed voice. "But you and I have had continued meetings, and since our alliance was becoming more and more pronounced, I felt it helpful to—please pardon my intrusiveness—explore your background. I violated no secrets, I assure you. It was all information easily obtained through public records. But when I learned that Falkar was your father, well . . . please forgive me that it took me this long to tell you."
Slowly Ryjaan sank into a chair. "I was a child when he left," he said calmly. "When he said that he was going to Xenex to quell a rebellion, he made it sound as if there was no question that he'd return. And he never did. His body was eventually recovered. He'd been run through, and his sword was never found. The sword of our family, gone. And all this time, I thought it was in the hands of some . . . some heathen . . . no offense," he said to D'ndai, with no trace of irony.
"None taken," he replied.
"You have no idea, D'ndai, how this unclosed chapter in my life has hampered my ability to deal with the Xenexians. I do so because it is what my government requires of me. But after all this time, to be able to resolve the hurt that I've always carried . . . the unanswered call for justice." He squeezed D'ndai's shoulder firmly. "Thank you . . . you, whom I, for the first time, truly call 'friend.' And when judgment is passed upon Si Cwan—when he is found guilty and is to be executed for his crimes—my hand will be the one that strikes him down."
And Yoz nodded approvingly. "We would have it no other way," he said. Then he considered a moment. "What of Kebron? The Brikar? He slaughtered a number of our guards. Are we to simply release him?"
"He killed fools," Zoran said with no sympathy. "Are we to publicly admit that a single, unarmed Federation representative obliterated squads of our armed guards? Rumors and legends of the might of the Federation are already rife throughout Thallon and the neighboring planets. Why provide them with even more fodder for discussion?"
"You're suggesting a cover-up then," said Yoz. "I am suggesting mercy for the Brikar. After all, we have Si Cwan. We can afford to be . . ." and Zoran smiled, ". . . generous."
And as the others nodded around him, he exchanged looks with D'ndai. A look that spoke volumes. A look that said, All right. I've coveredfor you. Andyou'd best not let me down . . . or there will be hell to pay.
SELAR
VII.
SELAR STOOD ON THE CRESTof Mount Tulleah, feeling the hot air of Vulcan sweeping over her. It steadied her, gave her a feeling of comfort. The sky was a deep and dusky red, and the sands of the Gondi desert stretched out into infinity. Selar had come to Mount Tulleah any number of times in her youth, finding it a source of peace and contemplation. Now, when her world seem to be spiraling out of control, she was pleased (inwardly, of course) to discover that Tulleah still offered her that same, steadying feeling.
She heard feet trudging up behind her and she turned to see the person she knew she would. "Thank you for coming, Soleta."
Soleta grunted in response. "You couldn't have been at the bottom of the hill?" she asked.
"One does not find spiritual comfort at the bottom of Mount Tulleah."
"No, but one does not run out of breath down there, either." She shook her head. "I have forgotten how arid the air is. I've rarely been to Vulcan."
"You do not know what you have missed."
"Actually," and she indicated the vista before them, "I suppose I do."
Selar shook her head. "This is an excellent reproduction, I don't dispute that. But in my heart, I know it is only that."
"In your heart. What an un-Vulcan-like way to put it."
"To court grammatical disaster . . . I have been feeling rather un-Vulcan-like lately."
"Selar," said Soleta, "you are in the early throes of Pon farr.If anything, you are a bit tooVulcan-like."
Selar stared out at the arid Vulcan plains for a time, and then she said, "I need to know what to do. I need to know what to do with these . . . these . . ."
"Feelings?"
"Yes, that is the word. Thank you. Feelings. I cannot," and she put her fingers to her temple, "I cannot get Burgoyne out of my mind. I do not know why. I do not know if the feelings are genuine or not, and it . . . it angers me. Angers me, and frightens me."