Читать книгу Trekmaster - James B. Johnson - Страница 16

12. SUMMER

The King’s next destination was no secret: the riverside locks for an inspection tour. It had officially been scheduled for this day at noon. The Howling Volv river ran from the mountains west to the sea. At Crimson Sapphire, engineers had built a series of gates and levees to funnel water into the city. As the river wound past the city and the palace and into the farmland, more gates were located for irrigation.

As they made their way through a particularly narrow street where a few people were the only onlookers, the shadows of the buildings pressed in upon them. This was an older section of the city, stone buildings lofting high with no pattern in their construction. The area had evolved into mainly warehouses and other storage facilities.

Summer Camp held his mule back, as outriders had to come closer to the King, and other soldiers moved forward to give the King room to ride.

Summer scanned rooftops and upper windows. “It is a mistake to take the most direct route,” he said.

TJ shrugged. “It’s the shortest—and time is expensive.”

A cloud blotted the sun. Summer did not know much about science, but he always listened; and now he wondered why the Bear Ridge weather was what it was. According to Sharon Gold, none of the normal reasons for volatile weather were present: inordinate axial tilt, excessive sunspot activity, too many volcanic eruptions, rogue major currents, both atmospheric and oceanic. Sharon had speculated on the effects of the two great ridges circling the planet, but had said she didn’t know enough meteorology to specifically attribute the planet’s erratic weather to these terrain abnormalities.

“Too quiet,” Summer said aloud, echoing his inner unease. “Are you wearing your mail?” A spattering of rain hit him.

The squad leader, Lieutenant Timmons, rode calmly ahead of them.

“No.”

“TJ, you....”

Summer heard the thunk and saw the shaft come out through the back of the King’s shoulder. The clops of the horses’ hooves seemed to continue.

“Cover!” he shouted and slapped the rump of the King’s stallion with a stinging hand. The horse leapt forward, surprised. Summer goaded his mule to catch up. TJ lurched atop his mount. Summer stood in his stirrups searching the skyline.

Another bolt quickly followed and Summer saw its trajectory as it flashed out of the shadows from above and his jester’s hat was off and he swung the two-foot length of the weighted end in an arc behind TJ and knocked the quarrel aside.

“Close up!” he yelled at the Gyrenes who were just now comprehending.

Uncontrolled, the King’s stallion struck a post and the King fell off like a sack of grain. TJ hit the cobblestones and rolled only a little. Summer saw TJ’s right hand had automatically grasped the shaft of the crossbow quarrel.

Summer stood his mule on its hind legs, stopping the animal with brute strength. Before the mule had regained its footing, he was out of the saddle and leaping for the still form of the King.

Blood spurted from the wound. TJ was either unconscious or dead. Summer knew TJ had maintained consciousness from far worse wounds. He didn’t understand. Could the fall have knocked TJ out? Summer didn’t remember the King hitting his head when he fell. Summer lifted TJ and he jammed the jester’s hat into the wound, staunching the flow of blood from TJ’s back. The entry point on the front left shoulder showed only a small leakage.

Gyrene horses clattered up. Lieutenant Timmons jumped from his horse and ran to the jester and the King. “‘My Lord!”

“Form a protective circle, man, there may be a follow-up attack.” Summer’s voice was commanding. His breath came quickly and he fought to control his own panic.

The lieutenant shouted orders. “First squad to the roofs.” He pointed to a likely looking doorway. “Second squad, bodies between the King and all else.” Summer admired the man’s coolness and his precise directions.

The first squad began to move out and the second to encircle Summer and the King before Summer decided on a line of action. “Hold,” Summer countermanded. The soldiers stopped immediately.

“You have command, sir,” the lieutenant said.

“Timmons, look at the King. His lips are blue. We have no time to chase the assassin. We must get the King back to the palace and medical aid. Here, help me pull this bolt out.”

“Should we?” asked the lieutenant as he bent to assist. Two squads of Gyrenes with weapons at ready folded around them shoulder to shoulder, blocking the light and casting shadows.

“I think it’s poisoned,” Summer said. “He’ll have to bleed. That might remove some of the poison.” But not enough, he knew. “Now!” The lieutenant broke off the fletched end and Summer pulled the quarrel through TJ’s shoulder with a smooth and steady movement. He handed the bolt to a soldier. “Save that. Mount up,” he commanded, voice rising. He was scared. More frightened than he could remember ever having been. He could think of nothing but TJ, not Gwen nor Michale nor Crimson Sapphire nor Bear Ridge nor the goddamn Fed nor their goddamn Council seat, not any goddamn thing but TJ.

Training came to his aid. A good soldier can turn his mind off when it comes time to do what is necessary, and then do it mechanically, swiftly, and efficiently. Then he can turn on his mind again.

With little conscious effort. Summer lifted the King, heavier and taller than he, and ran to his mule. The King’s stallion was nowhere to be seen. The lieutenant ran with him, assisted Summer to mount and helped position the King. Summer swung the mule about and urged the animal to speed. While racing along the way, he managed to cradle TJ in front of him. He didn’t want to sling him across the mule face down, not for dignity, but because that position might aggravate the bleeding. He kept his hat pressed against the exit wound allowing only a little bleeding.

“Lieutenant,” he called as the officer caught up with him, “get one of your squads out front to clear the way.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant signaled. Six men dashed ahead of the plunging group and formed a wedge stretching far in front.

The mule was a game one, thought Summer. Ears flopping, the animal had somehow caught the tension and was running full out. Summer thought about switching mounts with one of the Gyrenes, but didn’t want to waste the time. He hoped the mule would last.

Around corners and up streets they dashed, clattering through markets and scattering people. The huge thoroughbreds of the soldiers made an effective shield, clearing the way. Summer did not want think of the possible injuries they were causing.

Hoofbeats tattooed the roadway as they raced toward the palace. People stopped to stare, and unmistakable was the body of the King lolling in front of the bareheaded jester on the mule. The shock wave seemed to roll out in front of the hard riding men.

As usual, the gates of the palace were open and they sped through there for the main entrance to the front steps.

Summer did not stop, but rode his mule right up the wide stairs and into the great hall that served as the throne room. The Gyrenes followed. The roar of hoofbeats on the flagstones in the empty hall was deafening. Only slightly slowed, Summer guided the mule down a corridor to a ramp and shouted to the lieutenant, “Get Nora! Get the surgeon.”

“Aye!” He signaled and his squads split up. “Second squad, guard the King, first squad, search for the surgeon.” He turned his horse down another corridor and the last Summer saw was the Gyrenes scattering servants and administrative personnel. By now, the entire palace was in an uproar. Heads stuck out of doors and people ran down corridors shouting orders and questions.

Summer’s mule died halfway up the second ramp. Summer kicked free and began running up the ramp, his King still in his arms, bleeding all over him and the floor.

A minute later, he was on the fourth floor, the King’s chambers, and bursting through the master reception chamber. As he ran through, he saw that Queen Gwendlyon was hosting a tea party or something similar.

“Gwen, quickly now.” He kicked open the door to the bedrooms and Gwen was running behind him.

“TJ!” Summer could tell from her voice she was fighting for control. She came up beside him and looked at the entry wound. “Is...is he...?”

“I don’t know, but it’s worse in the back.” Summer kicked open another door and went to the King’s bed and laid him on his side. He ripped at sheets and jammed them against the wounds. “Gimme that pillow case, wrap it around these sheets. Tightly, now. Good.”

Then she pushed Summer out of the way and peered underneath the makeshift bandages. “I’ve always dreamed it would end like this,” she said. Her voice was flat. She ran her hands over the rest of TJ’s body swiftly, then checked his breathing and propped open one eyelid. “He’s alive. Barely.”

“I’ve sent for Nora,” Summer said.

“What happened?”

“A crossbow bolt from a rooftop. I suspect poison.”

Gwen raised a decanter of water from a nearby table. She tried to force TJ to drink some. His lips and throat did not cooperate. He breathed harshly and his lips were turning purple. She jammed her thumb in between his teeth and poured the entire contents of the decanter into his mouth. He coughed and gagged, but the action caused some of the liquid to go down. Gwen pulled her thumb out and looked at the ragged gash made by clenching teeth. She wiped it on her gown unconsciously.

Just then crashing sounds came from the outer chambers and a horse slammed through the bedroom door. Timmons bent to hand down Nora from where he was carrying her. The horse was frothing like Summer’s mule just before it had died. He addressed Summer. “Chambers clear and Gyrenes on guard. General Vero notified.”

Summer nodded and the lieutenant dismounted and pushed his horse out backward.

“Nora, hurry,” said Gwen.

“Is he alive?”

“Barely.”

“My equipment,” Nora snapped.

Timmons cursed and dragged a satchel off his pommel and brought it to her. “Sorry.” He left and closed the door.

As Nora began to work, cleaning and inspecting, General Manuel Vero knocked softly and entered without waiting. His dark face blanked when he saw the King on the bed and Gwen and Nora working over him. He looked at Summer. “You have command. Your orders, sir?”

Summer turned to Gwen. “Let Nora work, Gwen. We’ve got to do this right, and do it now.” He knew the entire city of Crimson Sapphire would be afire with rumors. To maintain control, action must be taken immediately. And he knew Manny and Gwen knew it also.

Gwen didn’t stop cutting TJ’s clothes off as Nora worked. “Manuel,” she said without looking up, “Summer speaks for me.”

Nora glanced up, surprised, then returned to her work.

“Orders, Manny. Close the palace down. First line security. As many Gyrenes and palace personnel as can be spared to go off duty—and out of uniform—and spread through the city. Soothing and calming messages, that sort of thing—with wary eyes open. The Queen is in charge. As regent, while TJ is unconscious.” He turned. “Nora, how long...?”

“I do not know. Hours? Days?”

“Okay,” Summer said, “it shall be as when Felicia had to rule when TJ’s father was killed and he was on the Trek. Tell the herald to say that the King has been wounded and is recovering. I want the area of attack to be covered like stink on manure....”

“Already done.”

“Good. No public dismay; outside this room, always optimistic, downplay the seriousness of the wound.” He thought and made a decision. “Also, tell the herald that starting tomorrow, the Queen and Prince Michale will resume the King’s official schedule as much as possible. The Queen is in active control. The rest of us do what we can.”

“Aye, sir.” Vero glanced at the Queen.

Gwen said, “A word from Summer is a word from me and TJ.”

Summer actually felt the quiver in her tone, and could see the weight of the kingdom fall upon her as she realized the impact, especially since all she wanted to do, obviously, was comfort TJ. “It will be easier tomorrow, Gwen.”

“Will it? I don’t think so. Will you see to things? I’m not going to leave him now...now that he needs me.” She looked startled by her own revelation.

Which echoed his own feelings precisely. And there was something he might have to do—and he could have no witnesses. He saw that Gwen saw his indecision. “Manny,” she said, “you and Mike and Alfred run the store. I suspect if you give Alfred free reign, things will be all right. The man’s an administrative genius, else TJ would never have picked him. Check with Summer on policy and the big things.”

“It shall be done, and I’d best be doing,” Vero said.

“Thank you,” Gwen said and threw a blood-soaked tunic aside.

Summer turned and found Nora staring at the three of them as if not believing the conversation she’d just witnessed. He didn’t pay her much attention. He was in an inner struggle of his own. Should he do it? It would be against TJ’s expressed desires. But for his friend’s life, he’d do anything. Then he realized. “Nora—stop staring and get to work.” He doused a towel into a pitcher of water and began wiping off his makeup. Quickly, he stripped to his waist.

And the medallion that swung from his neck was the symbol of the Muster.

As Vero opened the door to leave, Lieutenant Timmons was standing there waiting. “Sir, we scratched a Cheshire with the bolthead. The animal is dying.” Vero glanced at Summer. Summer nodded acknowledgment and Gwen sighed. Vero closed the door and Nora shrugged as if to say she had been right and there was no need to kill a Cheshire to prove it.

Summer stepped into the King’s closet and selected a nondescript tunic and trousers. He tightened a broad belt around them to make the clothes fit better.

He returned to the bedside. “Nora, your silence on this matter and my position is required.”

“Yes,” she muttered, obviously unsure of that which occurred in the halls of power.

“What is your diagnosis?” Summer asked.

“He has lost too much blood. And the quarrel was poisoned.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you an antidote?”

“For what? I don’t know what poison was used, but I doubt I have anything to counteract it. Never have I seen symptoms like these.”

“Do what you can.”

“Obviously,” she said. “For whatever use it might be.”

“What?” Gwen demanded and Summer knew the Queen had caught on at the same time he did.

“He’s dying,” Nora said bitterly. “Only his tremendous constitution has kept him alive this long.”

Gwen sank to her knees at TJ’s side.

Summer stood and stared. He couldn’t define his feelings. Just a complete emptiness. A frustration of things undone. The future gone like chalk erased from a board.