Clan and Crown (48 page)

They gasped and heaved against one
another, their bodies enslaved to the sweeping tide of passion.
Clajak’s emotions raged as well. He was still raw with hurt and
newly awakened fears. However, his feelings were uninhibited in
another way. Now he felt a love so fierce for his Imdiko that he
could have screamed from it. It felt like a madness within him, a
brutal longing that an eternity of devotion might not quench. The
need for Bevau to remain in his life was almost as intense, a
ravening hunger as primitive as the Nobek could be.

When Clajak came, his wild shriek rose
high above those of the other two. It emptied from his lungs as
forcefully as the pleasure ripped from his loins. Yet nothing could
drain the devotion that filled his heart for the men who gave him
so much ... including the will to live in a future now so
uncertain.

As his cocks jerked with the last,
sweet pulse of love, Clajak reflected how he was never going to be
a ruler to match any of his parents. But he thought he might become
just enough to do an adequate job of it, if given the time to grow.
And if he had this perfect pair he lay gasping and moaning
between.

It was clear to Clajak that only with
these two men could he hope to successfully rule Kalquor in the far
distant future. Half-Imdiko or not, Bevau had to consent to be his
Nobek.

Chapter 23

A long week after the crash that
claimed Irdis’ life, the Royal Council gathered for its regular
session. Clajak entered the chamber, his official purple robe
rustling around his body. He looked towards the Imperial dais where
eight thrones on two tiers loomed above the council’s floor.
Despite all he’d done to ready himself for this moment, his heart
stuttered.

Yuder and Tidro already sat in their
great chairs on the upper tier. Though as impressive as ever in
their robes of Imperial purple, their faces were drawn. The two
unoccupied hand-carved chairs on that level seemed like a great,
immeasurable distance between the two emperors.

Seeing the center ornate chairs empty
of Zarl and Irdis was a punch to Clajak’s gut. The prince
maintained a determined optimism that the Dramok emperor’s throne
would one day be occupied by his father again. Yet Irdis’ seat
would remain unused until the day Clajak clanned his own
lifebringer and ascended to the status of emperor. His mother would
never sit there again.

The thought made Clajak’s throat close.
For a moment he could barely breathe. At the foot of the steps
leading to the dais’ lower tier, he froze.

Egilka and Korkla were there in an
instant, moving so that the councilmen assembling across the
chamber could not see Clajak. Egilka’s robed body and Korkla in his
blue formsuit blocked the Dramok prince from everyone’s
view.

Egilka took his hand. “It will be all
right, my Dramok. Remember, there are only two things on the
itinerary: the council’s demonstration of remorse for the loss of
the empress and injury to Zarl, plus the vote for Head Councilman.
Of course we know they’ll raise the question of you sitting in
Zarl’s stead—”

“Which everyone is prepared to deal
with,” Korkla broke in with a firm tone.

Clajak shuddered, but he drew a deep,
steadying breath. His voice was stronger than he’d anticipated. “I
know. It’s just seeing those empty chairs on the top
tier.”

Egilka and Korkla looked up and winced,
their countenances identical with pain. That they shared Clajak’s
misery somehow made him feel better about his initial
reaction.

And how awful must it be for Yuder and
Tidro to sit there with the heart and soul of their clan missing?
Clajak had an urge to race up and embrace his fathers, to lend them
the strength he was beginning to recover.

Egilka swallowed hard. “The sooner this
is done, the sooner we don’t have to look at that awful space
between Tidro and Yuder. Breathe, Clajak. We’re going to be all
right.”

Clajak nodded. If not for the empty
chairs, he might have stepped back in time. Egilka’s encouragement
made it feel much as it had when he was growing up. Clajak had
attended many a council meeting as a child. Egilka had been there
then too, back when the Imdiko had been like an older brother. Here
he was still, ready to guide and keep an eye on Clajak as much as
was needed. Damn if Clajak didn’t feel young and unsure as he had
in his youth.

Like those days of his childhood, he
hid behind bravado. He needed to do this for his parents and his
people. Squaring his shoulders, pretending he had the strength to
meet a situation far beyond his actual abilities, Clajak put his
foot on the bottom step. Then he climbed the next step. Slowly
ascending, he made his way to the lower tier of the dais, the four
thrones of the Crown Prince Clan. He reached his chair and turned
to face the round floor of the council chamber and the stepped
seats where the Royal Council sat in their dignified blue robes. In
the sudden silence that filled the large chamber, Clajak sat down.
Egilka took his seat to the Dramok’s right, the sharpness of his
face made smooth by a studied calm.

Clajak looked up at the glassed-in
enclosure hanging halfway up the wall to the right. The public
gallery was filled to capacity. No doubt Kalquor’s citizenry had
lined up early in hopes of getting in to see this particular Royal
Council meeting, the first since Empress Irdis’ death. Half a dozen
females in somber-colored gowns stood at the front of the throng,
pressed all around by the many men who had also come to pay their
respects and learn who would rise to be the next Head
Councilman.

Clajak swept his gaze over the council
itself. Since Dramoks were natural leaders, it was no surprise that
the Royal Council’s numbers were exclusively of that breed. Once in
a great while, an Imdiko or Nobek was elected to represent the
people of a particular territory, but it had not happened in
Clajak’s lifetime. The strong, confident faces mirrored Clajak’s
own personality ... at least the personality he’d had before so
much loss and uncertainty had descended upon him.

Every eye from the gallery and council
seats riveted on him. For a few moments, it was as if the entire
chamber had frozen in time, a vid paused in mid-action. Clajak sat
as still as those who watched him. He waited.

He was not surprised when Wagnox rose
from the third rise to stand. His grating voice rang in the silent
chamber. “Why does Prince Clajak not sit in Zarl’s
stead?”

Yuder’s tone was forbidding, as deep
and dark as an approaching storm. “Because Zarl lives and remains
Dramok Emperor. He is fully informed of today’s itinerary and has
advised Clajak on how to represent him and speak his words. Note I
say that the Dramok Crown Prince represents Emperor Zarl. He does
not replace our emperor in any way.”

The people came to life, muttering to
one another as shock rippled through the room. Seeing that the
stares remained trained on him, Clajak raised an eyebrow, affecting
surprise at their reaction.

It was exactly what he had expected and
prepared for.

Wagnox looked to his – or rather
Pwaldur’s supporters. At the nods he received, he resumed his
complaint. “This is most unusual, my emperors. In times past, an
Imperial Clan without all its male members gave way to the Crown
Prince or Princess Clan. In the event that the heir clan was not
complete itself, either a regent or the direct heir would sit for
the missing emperor until the heir’s clan contained all its male
members.”

Now it was Yuder who sounded
disbelieving. “Zarl is incapable of ruling in the physical sense
only. Mentally, he remains competent. It is no different than if he
was off-planet for an extended trip. The surviving members of the
Imperial Clan and present members of the Crown Prince Clan will
relay any decisions and arguments Zarl wishes known. This is proper
and within our codes.”

That brought more muttering,
particularly from Wagnox’s group. Others seemed concerned, their
brows furrowing as they whispered to one another. However, Clajak
noted that the majority of councilmen and citizens seemed
satisfied.

Not surprisingly, Wagnox was not among
the content. “Proper? I’m not sure I agree. Zarl was horrifically
injured by all accounts. As delighted as I am to hear he retains
his mental faculties, I am not convinced that this proposed
arrangement is satisfactory.”

Tidro’s tone was almost too breezy. “We
can ask Zarl’s physician for a confirmation of the Dramok Emperor’s
ability to rule from the hospital. However, that is a matter for
the next session. Shall we move on with today’s approved business?”
Clajak glanced up to see his Imdiko father smile indulgently. “No
offense to this council, but I’d like to get back to my Dramok. He
gets restless when he’s bored, and hospitals are insufferably dull.
I don’t want to have to chase him through the corridors to get him
back into his bed.”

Even if Tidro played the lack of
concern too liberally, Clajak thought the ploy was a sound one.
While Zarl couldn’t have gotten out of bed if he wanted to, and no
doubt almost everyone knew that, the fact remained that the
meeting’s business was already set. No changes outside of emergency
matters would change that.

Perhaps Zarl would be much improved by
the next council meeting when Wagnox could not be so easily put
off. If not, they would have to find another way to postpone the
matter.

Wagnox frowned, making his prematurely
aged face seem older still. Clajak could see it was on the tip of
the councilman’s tongue to argue further.

Another blue-robed man stood and bowed
to the royals. Pleasant-faced Dramok Oiteil had been a councilman
for the last decade. All the evidence thus far pointed to a fair
personality. He was already a mentor to the newest councilmen.
Seasoned enough to be taken seriously but new enough to fight
passionately for what he believed in, he was respected by
everyone.

He addressed Wagnox. “I agree with the
emperors, my esteemed colleague. Today is about honoring the great
loss of Empress Irdis. Let us give ourselves over to this terrible
but necessary acknowledgement of mourning. We should postpone the
small matters that can wait their appointed time.”

If Wagnox had any inclination to
further his protest, Oiteil thwarted it by stepping down from the
seats to take the council floor. Clajak was not surprised that the
thoughtful Oiteil had been chosen to deliver the council’s
condolences to the Imperial Family.

The councilman bowed before them once
more, holding the pose longer than usual to denote profound
respect. When he rose, his usual smiling countenance was filled
with sadness.

In the silence, Oiteil’s mild voice
permeated the chamber. “The Empire grieves with you, my emperors
and my princes. Our hearts break to be here without the benevolent
wisdom of our empress, the incomparable Matara Irdis of Imperial
Clan Zarl. Quick to forgive, able to debate without causing
offense, but never shaken from her beliefs, she was an inspiration
to us all. She possessed the greatest qualities of Kalquor itself:
the heart of an Imdiko, the strength of a Nobek, the leadership of
a Dramok. Empress Irdis indeed personified why females are not
assigned breeds. She was so much more than any mere man could hope
to be.”

Clajak was moved as Oiteil continued to
extol the many virtues of his mother. The councilman spoke for
twenty minutes. At the end he proclaimed, “I have not even begun to
scratch the surface of the greatness that has been lost to us. We
cannot dare to believe we will see the like of Empress Irdis again
in our lifetimes.”

It was a beautiful eulogy, spoken with
feeling. When Oiteil’s voice went quiet, many heads were bowed.
Strong men openly wept.

Clajak’s heart felt full to bursting.
Hearing someone else recognize how wonderful his mother had been
and how irreparable the loss of her was underscored Kalquor’s loss.
He blinked back tears of his own as the entire Royal Council rose
to its feet and bowed to the Imperial and Crown Prince Clans. Those
filling the gallery bowed as well. Clajak knew their respect was in
tribute to his mother, and rightly so.

The councilmen sank back to their seats
with a rustling of robes. Egilka reached over and took Clajak’s
hand, squeezing it. The Dramok glanced at his clanmate and managed
a tight smile. Clajak’s heart hurt, but he thought he would be all
right. The pain was manageable.

He stood and addressed those assembled.
“Thank you for your kindness Councilman Oiteil, Royal Council, and
citizens of the Kalquorian Empire. Our hearts are as if torn from
our bodies and shredded to pieces over the loss of our empress. We
acknowledge your sympathy with great appreciation. We offer our
sympathy in return to the Empire, for it too suffers without our
beloved Empress Irdis.”

Clajak paused for a moment, allowing
the brief silence to separate the homage to his mother from his
next duty as Zarl’s representative. After what he felt was the
appropriate amount of time, he continued. “We the Imperial and
Crown Prince Clans also call upon the council and Empire to share
our grief over the passing of Councilman Pwaldur’s clan. They too
were lost in the crash that claimed my mother’s life. Matara Ladni,
Imdiko Fru, and Nobek Mox were great believers in the code of
Kalquor: honor and Empire. To Councilman Pwaldur, we wish him and
his daughter strength in the coming days of mourning and offer our
support in whatever way they need. May they find joy in their
memories and hope in the future of meeting their loved ones again
when they join the ancestors.”