Clan and Crown (42 page)

The Nobek emperor held Tidro for
several minutes, offering the only comfort he could: a strong
shoulder to cry on and his protective presence. As Tidro’s fresh
assault of grief began to quiet, Yuder looked to Clajak.

“The emergency shuttle carrying my
Dramok will be here in twelve hours. Is all in
readiness?”

Korkla stepped forward to answer. “Our
best surgeon Dr. Flencik is standing by with his handpicked
team.”

Yuder nodded his approval. “Flencik is
still young, but there is no doubt he is brilliant in the operating
theater. If anyone can snatch Zarl from the mouth of death, it will
be him.”

Korkla added, “Global Security forensic
and investigations teams have also been dispatched to examine the
crash site and debris. The ambassador to Joshada assures us the
site has been secured and nothing will be touched until they
arrive. We’ve been given all access to investigate the
crash.”

Yuder took a deep breath. “Good. Thank
you for assisting Zarl’s aide in the arrangements,
Korkla.”

The emperor looked at Clajak again. The
prince thought perhaps his father would castigate him for not
seeing to the arrangements himself. Clajak deserved such; he’d
wallowed in his grief while Korkla had done all the
work.

I fail at every turn. I
could not even make sure my father Zarl would be taken into surgery
without delay. I didn’t think to have the crash probed. I am no
ruler. I cannot lead Kalquor.

Instead of rightly reprimanding Clajak,
Yuder sagged in relief. His heart in his eyes, he said, “Thank the
ancestors you took ill and could not make the trip, my son. If
there is anything I can take solace in right now, it is
that.”

His father’s words sent a fresh wave of
horror crashing over Clajak. He was not only a failure, he was a
liar and cheat. He lived only because he was too self-absorbed to
go on holiday with his mother. As he had so many times before, he
had disappointed her. And now he had lost Irdis, having given her
one too many disappointments.

He had failed her in so many ways. This
was his greatest failure of all.

* * * *

Egilka was never sure how they’d
managed to get through the first days following the shuttle crash
that claimed the lives of Empress Irdis and most of Clan Pwaldur.
The Empire waited for Zarl’s arrival, its collective breath held in
terror that the Dramok emperor would pass before he could make it
home. Even as the Empire waited it grieved over the loss of its
beloved empress. Shock was palpable throughout Kalquor. Businesses
closed for two days and the people of Kalquor stayed at home,
watching the news vids as they tried to wrap their minds around the
unbelievable tragedy. It was like a shared nightmare for the
Empire, one that everyone hoped they would soon waken from. Yet it
was no dream.

Tidro wandered his home, crying one
moment and reminiscing about the time Irdis said this or Zarl did
that a few minutes later. He cycled through the varying levels of
grief, slowly letting go of his Matara and preparing to do the same
for his Dramok. His doctor and aide remained on hand to watch over
him and help him through the harsh moments when loss overwhelmed
him.

Yuder spent a lot of time staying close
to Tidro as well. As a battle-hardened Nobek, nurturing did not
come easily to Yuder. Yet he did his best, hoping that his
continued presence would give his Imdiko some comfort. He took
solace from having his Imdiko near, reassuring him that at least
part of their clan continued on.

When Yuder wasn’t by Tidro’s side, he
busied himself by comming others. He checked in with the hospital,
making sure all was in readiness for Zarl’s arrival and surgery.
Dr. Flencik would perform what promised to be many operations if
Zarl survived long enough to have them. Flencik patiently reassured
Yuder that all was in readiness for the Dramok emperor’s
arrival.

Yuder also spent time talking over the
matter of the crash with the lead investigator on his way to
Joshada with a large team. Then he was on to talking to Korkla’s
Imdiko, an up-and-coming psychologist named Govi, asking what could
be done about Narpok. The girl was reportedly in a bad way
emotionally after seeing three of her four parents die.

Every person who Yuder could talk to or
bark orders at for any reason large and small received coms. Every
voice on the other end assured the Nobek they would do all in their
power to make sure matters were handled with the utmost diligence
... even if he contacted them a dozen times. Most understood they
were instruments of his coping with the loss. They bore commands
and flashes of temper with serenity, small gestures of support
where little real mitigations of grief could be offered. In his
quieter moments, Yuder remembered the names of those people and
marked them, determined to show his gratitude when he was better
able to feel it.

Then there was Clajak.

Egilka worried over his Dramok. Not so
much during the brief spells when sorrow filled Clajak’s eyes and
he spoke of the pain of losing his mother. Even the moments of
sheer terror that crossed his face any time someone mentioned him
stepping in for Zarl didn’t concern Egilka overmuch; he was sure
anyone would feel the same in his clanmate’s shoes.

What scared Egilka most were the long
silences from the Dramok prince during which Clajak’s entire
demeanor went blank. Clajak could stand or sit frozen in one place
for stretches of time, the only sign of life the rise and fall of
his chest as he breathed. Egilka wasn’t sure where Clajak’s mind
went during those long minutes. When he was gone like that, it was
hard to recall him from that place where no pain ... and no life
... dwelled.

Korkla’s clanmate Govi came to see
Clajak a few hours before the shuttle bearing Zarl and Narpok was
due to arrive. The psychologist, nearly as handsome as Bevau, spent
an hour with the prince. It was during a time when Clajak was
having one of his more lucid spells. After their talk, Govi
consulted with Egilka and Korkla.

“He’s trying to process the shock.
Everything coming down on him at once has sent him into a
tailspin,” Govi told them, his tone hedged with a trace of concern.
“The blank periods my prince Egilka has observed might be a natural
part of that, but it is something to keep an eye on. If you note
him staying that way for more than half an hour at a time or you
can’t get him to come out of it, get him to the hospital’s
psychiatric wing right away.”

“He spoke of seeing his mother as soon
as the shuttle carrying the bodies arrives,” Egilka
said.

Govi considered that for a moment
before nodding. “Let him. The closure might help move things along
to where he can go from shock to grief. Again, if he does anything
that frightens you for his well-being, get him help right away.” He
debated a moment longer before adding, “Consider delaying Clajak
taking over any of Zarl’s duties for a few days. Losing Empress
Irdis and stepping into his father’s place – it’s too much at this
point.”

Korkla exchanged a worried look with
Egilka. “The council and people will demand it of him.”

“He’s adamant that he’s not ready to
lead. I think the real problem is he’s secretly afraid that taking
on Zarl’s duties will somehow allow his father to die as well.
There’s something in Clajak’s head telling him that Zarl won’t pass
if he’s still needed.” Govi gave them a sad smile. “I’ve seen such
things before. It’s a superstitious reaction, but one that can
remain pervasive.”

Egilka raked fingers through his hair.
“I feel so damned helpless.”

“Understandable. One step at a time, my
prince. Let Clajak say goodbye to his mother. Then let him deal
with whatever happens to Emperor Zarl. The rest should wait, at
least until those issues reach some sort of resolution.”

* * * *

It was nightfall the day after the
crash when the shuttle bearing Zarl and Narpok arrived at the
hospital’s glaringly lit emergency bay. Clajak, Egilka, Tidro,
Yuder, and Councilman Pwaldur with his close friends Clan Wagnox
were all waiting for it.

Zarl in a full stasis chamber was
whisked off so fast that Egilka barely saw the man. The strong
Dramok emperor he knew so well was a bent, huddled form ... at
least the parts of him that could be found beneath all the
computerized machinery keeping him alive. Egilka’s breath sucked in
with horror at the quick glimpse he caught. The man’s face was
barely more than a blur as attendants rushed him past with Tidro
and Yuder right behind them. Yet Egilka saw enough to note that
Zarl seemed to have aged fifty years. The Dramok emperor should
have been insensible from the stasis, but Egilka could have sworn
he saw misery etched into new creases that had not been on the
man’s face before.

Clajak watched the stasis chamber flash
by without moving, fists clenched at his side. He did not try to
follow his fathers into the hospital. Zarl would be taken straight
into surgery. Tidro and Yuder would fret and pace in the waiting
room as they waited to hear if he would live or die.

That group was long gone when Narpok
was escorted off the shuttle by two Joshadan orderlies. Pwaldur
rushed forward with a cry, his arms held out to his daughter. Her
eyes, blanker by far than Clajak’s had ever been, looked into the
distance. She did not see her father or anything else. Her legs
carried her jerkily down the ramp from the shuttle’s hatch, as if
she was a poorly made automaton with bad joints. Even when Pwaldur
enfolded her in massive arms, holding his teenage daughter like a
little girl, she did not respond.

“We will take her to the psychiatric
wing,” an Imdiko attendant said to Pwaldur. “The doctors there are
ready for her.”

“Yes, yes, whatever must be done. Come
my precious girl. Your father is here. I will make it all better,”
Pwaldur said to the lifeless doll he propelled towards the in-house
conveyance. Clan Wagnox followed, their expressions masks of
concern.

As the group passed, Egilka bowed in
respect. “My greatest sympathies, Dramok Pwaldur, Matara Narpok,”
he said.

Clajak hesitated a moment before he too
remembered to bow. “Anything you need, you have only to ask,” he
offered.

Egilka felt a little better to see
Clajak clear-eyed for once. The sadness in his face was all for
Narpok, their intended. He even reached out and brushed his
fingertips against her cheek in a gesture of compassion.

Pwaldur looked at the Dramok prince,
his eyes narrowed for an instant. Then he bent his head in an
abbreviated bow. With his arms around Narpok, he could manage no
better, nor did Egilka expect him to. “Thank you, my princes. My
sympathies are with you as well.”

Then they were gone, going to a place
where hopefully Narpok’s mind could be saved, much as others fought
to save Zarl’s body.

Egilka’s com beeped. He checked it and
read the written message. Swallowing hard, he told Clajak, “Five
minutes until the other shuttle arrives.”

Clajak jerked a nod, his gaze going
distant again. “Let’s go.”

It was their turn to board the in-house
transport system. The local morgue was housed in the lowest reaches
of the hospital, but the bay where bodies arrived was five stops
away on the same level as where they were now. Egilka swayed a
touch to the left as the transport moved horizontally. Clajak
stared straight ahead, as still as the dead who were coming
home.

The bay they stepped into was much like
the one they’d just left: metal wall panels with illuminating
strips, the floor smooth as glass with indicators where one might
land a vehicle. The official morgue shuttles were lined up in a
row, their black surfaces dull.

It had all been worked out beforehand.
A group of Royal Guards in their armored red formsuits stood at
attention, waiting to escort their empress from the arriving
shuttle to the morgue. The coroner’s assistants looked small and
somehow vulnerable standing there next to the grim-faced Nobek
guards.

Clajak and Egilka were there to
accompany Irdis as well. Yuder and perhaps Tidro would come down to
the morgue to look upon their deceased mate once they knew Zarl’s
prognosis. A Nobek always took a last look at his fallen clanmates,
vowing to avenge their death if foul play had been involved. If
there were no enemies to be hunted and killed, the Nobek promised
to uphold his lost lifemates’ wishes and memory for as long as he
lived.

With Pwaldur attending to Narpok, there
would be no one to officially greet his deceased clan. He was alone
now, with no one but a catatonic daughter left to him. Pity for the
now-lone Dramok and the clan which would go from shuttle to morgue
without any loved ones to walk with them closed Egilka’s throat.
Pwaldur’s Nobek, who would have made promises to his clanmates, was
dead alongside the rest.

That made Egilka think of how he and
Clajak still lacked a warrior protector. A vision of Bevau awoke in
his mind’s eye. The high commander had commed them as soon as he’d
heard the news, asking what he could do to help them. Clajak had
been too dazed with loss to speak to Bevau, and Egilka had been
swept up in grief as well. All the Imdiko prince had been able to
say to Bevau was, “I can’t think of anything now, but thank
you.”