Roger Taylor - Caddoran

Vashnar frowned and closed his eyes. ‘No. I’ve no idea where he is, except that Hyrald’s still with him – and presumably the others – and that he wants to flee, to hide.’

Vellain’s brow furrowed. ‘How do you know?’ she asked, suddenly anxious. ‘Has someone seen them, spoken to them?’

Vashnar pressed his fingers into his forehead again, harder, as he shook his head. ‘No. He… touched… me again. Got into my mind.’ His face was angry when he turned to her but she could tell that the anger was not directed at her. ‘Everything we know tells us they’re somewhere up north by now, but somehow he reached out and got into my mind – just as he did when he was sitting opposite me.’

His eyes hardened and his jaw set. ‘I think, in due course, we’ll have to curtail the entire Caddoran Congress as well. We don’t want to risk anymore like him.’

Vellain’s original concerns for her husband’s sanity returned to full force at this further alarming revelation, and it was only with a desperate rehearsal of her previous reasoning that she managed to keep her voice calm. ‘That’s a detail,’ she said quickly. Shocked though she was, she had sufficient presence of mind to note that, whatever had happened it had brought the subject out into the light again, and it must not be allowed to slip away, as well it might if her husband retreated into the reassuring practicality of his future intentions. She must concentrate on the simple, immediate reality. ‘That’s for later. Much later. Let’s deal with the present, now. Tell me exactly what happened. All of it.’

Her manner jolted the tale out of him, but his voice became increasingly clipped and dismissive, as if the words were an offence to him. He fell silent for a moment when he had finished, then added hesitantly, ‘I wonder if I’m going mad.’

Without hesitation, Vellain spoke the answer she herself had reached before. ‘No. You haven’t the imagination. You’re as sane as I am. What happened, happened, however strange it might seem – trust in that. And you’re right, we’ll have to deal with the Caddoran Congress eventually. They’re a peculiar crowd at the best and there was always something very odd about Thyrn. Having him here, reciting your messages, was like having you here in person. As if he’d stolen part of you – trapped you in his body.’ She shuddered. It was a genuine reaction. ‘But from what you’ve just told me, it seems all he wants to do is run away. Probably he doesn’t want this… linkage… any more than you do. But perhaps he has no control over it.’ She felt calmer. Her voice became authoritative and confident. ‘He won’t come back. In fact, I can’t see any of them trying to come back. Not in the immediate future anyway. And if they do come back in due course, it won’t matter, will it? It’ll be too late. I think you should just forget about him. Either they’ll leave the country or they’ll be found, and if they’re found they’ll probably be killed.’

‘And if they’re not?’

Vellain’s hand tightened around his arm. ‘If they’re not, then who’s going to believe Thyrn? A demented Caddoran, given too responsible a position at too young an age. Encouraged to breach his Oath by a doting relative and three corrupt Wardens.’ She brightened, ideas flowing now. ‘It may even be better if he does come back. It’ll give you a first-class opportunity to start discrediting all the Caddoran. They’ve been grossly negligent, after all, putting so frail a creature in so sensitive a position. They did virtually thrust the lad on you.’ She slipped out of her chair and knelt by him conspiratorially. ‘They might even have done it as a deliberate act to discredit you, or spy on you, for who can say what sinister motives? They’re such strange creatures, aren’t they?’

Vashnar freed his arm and put it around her head, drawing her close to him.

‘We do well, you and I,’ he said.

‘Indeed we do,’ she replied.

They were silent for a while. Then Vashnar leaned back and closed his eyes. ‘But why did this happen? How did he do it? It can’t be possible to just… get into someone’s head, take their thoughts like that.’

‘Why does a cat land on its feet when you drop it? How does a fly land on a ceiling? Who knows?’ Vellain was witheringly dismissive. She abandoned her prayer-like attitude and dropped back into her chair. ‘Who cares? There’ll always be more questions than answers. Leave them to the academics, the teachers; it’ll stop them worrying about other things. You live in the real world – a world in desperate need of the order you can bring as Dictator. Morlider off the coast, menace from Nesdiryn, the Moot in decay – that’s all you need to concern yourself about.’

‘But if it happens again?’

Vellain shrugged. ‘It happens. What’s a headache and a nose bleed? You’ve had worse than that in your time. If anything like it happens again, just tell me. We’ll talk about it for five minutes – see if anything’s to be learned from it – then get on with more important matters. Tell me what Bowlott wanted.’

But Vashnar was not prepared to let the subject go so easily. ‘No. It’s not that simple. You don’t know what it was like – you can’t. Lost, floundering in the dark, not knowing who I was, where I was, even if I was. What if it happens when I’m out on some public duty or in the middle of a meeting?’

It was a difficult question but Vellain bounced back an answer before she even thought about it. ‘Why should it? It hasn’t happened before.’ She paused. ‘And I don’t think it will. Not while you’re busy, your mind occupied. I think you had to be alone and quiet, and maybe he had to be the same, wherever he is.’

‘But…’

Vellain was dismissive again. ‘But if it does, if you pass out in the middle of something, so what? We’ll say it’s something you ate. Even a Senior Commander of the Wardens isn’t immune to a stomach upset, is he?’ She became intense. ‘This is all working our way. Tension on the streets, Hyrald and his sister – always a potential problem – gone, Senators beginning to scuttle about. All to the good. Now tell me about Bowlott.’

Her manner lifted Vashnar out of the lingering remains of his dark reverie.

‘Nothing much,’ he said. ‘Impertinent little goat actually ordered me to come and see him, then blamed it on some Page.’ He screwed up his face in distaste. ‘He’s a wretched creature. And that office of his – it’s appalling. I thought I was going to choke to death with the dust. There must be things in there that haven’t been moved since Marab’s time. And not a vestige of daylight. Dreadful place – typical of the whole Moot. The sooner the torch is put to the lot, the better.’

‘But what did he want?’

‘Just being nosy, that’s all. The Death Cry’s none of his business but he wanted to know if he – the Moot – could help.’ Vellain chuckled unpleasantly. ‘Help! As if they could. I’m surprised any of them can even get dressed without a committee to tell them how. They’ve had people coming in and wanting to talk to their Senators, that’s all. You know how that upsets them – reality washing around their feet.’

Vellain smiled then laughed. All was well. Thyrn and his strange connection with her husband was disturbing, but there were bigger clouds in the sky and while Vashnar could tell her about it, she deemed it unimportant. As for Bowlott’s sudden interest, that was no problem. The man was a cipher like all of them, a relic of times long gone – and not even a quaint relic at that. Soon they’d all be gone. Every last one of them.

Endryk reached down and touched the snarling dog gently. ‘Easy,’ he whispered. ‘It’s all right.’