Clan and Crown (55 page)

Yuder was the sole member of the
Imperial Clan present in person for the ceremony. Next to him, a
live vid image of Zarl and Tidro shimmered. Clajak’s smile
stretched wider at the sight of his fathers. He uttered a low
laugh, the joy bubbling up at the sight of the three men. Even
though Zarl sat in a hover chair, his proud bearing made him look
the best he had since the fateful crash. All three emperors wore
blue-purple robes that matched their wise eyes, the sleeves and
collars embroidered in gold.

Facing the approaching Clajak and
Egilka at the end of the carpet was the Imdiko priest from the
Temple of Life. Not much of an adherent to the Empire’s most
popular philosophy or any other belief system for that matter,
Clajak didn’t even know the priest’s name. Like most of the sect’s
masters, this one had long black hair to his ankles, the strands at
his temples twisted into braids. His calm face was status quo for a
Temple of Life priest. His white, green, and pink layers of robes
were in keeping with the beach’s predominant colors.

It was the stunning man standing to one
side of the priest that held Clajak’s gaze. Bevau was as perfect as
ever, his gorgeous body clad in a robe that matched his new
clanmates’. The chiseled face was warm with pleasure as he watched
the Dramok and Imdiko prince approach. Clajak’s heart double beat
for a moment. He’d seen Bevau only half an hour before, and yet he
felt like he looked upon his Nobek for the first time.

My Nobek, mine, mine, mine.
Our bond cannot be undone by anyone.

Clajak and Egilka arrived at the end of
the carpet. Clajak winked at Bevau and then pulled a face. Bevau’s
smiling lips moved, the sound of his voice drowned out by the
crashing surf nearby. Clajak thought his Nobek said,
“Brat.”

With Bevau before him and Egilka at his
side, Clajak’s awareness narrowed to those two men. The priest read
from the Book of Life. Clajak was sure the words were profound and
fit the occasion, but he couldn’t hear them. Besides the thunder of
the surf, there was only his Nobek and Imdiko and the steady thud
of his heartbeat. It seemed appropriate; after all it was the two
men who made his heart beat faster these days.

After some time, Bevau began to speak,
his gaze moving between Clajak and Egilka. Clajak heard words at
last, the surf fading into the background. His ears filled with
Bevau’s voice as they did every day and night now ... as they would
for the rest of his days.

“My duty, my honor, and my life belong
to this clan. As a member of the Crown Prince Clan, my duty, my
honor, and my life belong to all of Kalquor. I will never fail
either trust placed in me.”

The priest looked to Clajak and Egilka.
The Dramok prince remembered he too had a part in the ceremony. He
reached clumsily into a discreet slit in his robe, finding the
sheathed blade attached to his belt. It was a surprise, a clanning
present for Bevau that he’d taken great pains to have
made.

He drew it out now, a vicious but
stunning piece to add to his Nobek’s collection. He presented it to
Bevau, the long knife laying across the palms of his hands. He
didn’t miss Bevau’s appreciative gasp of the hand-hammered edge.
The Nobek’s name and the date of their clanning was engraved upon
it. The workmanship was exquisite, made by the Joshadan metal smith
who crafted many Nobeks’ dream weapons.

Clajak had some knife training but was
no aficionado of the weapons. However, he too appreciated the work
he had commissioned and spoke with reverence. “We give this to you,
my Nobek, as a symbol of our trust in your strength and protection.
May you use it to guard our clan and our people – never to cut the
ties that bind you to our side forevermore.”

Egilka’s smile was bright as he added,
“With trust in us as we place our trust in you, take the blade, my
Nobek.”

Bevau did so. His eyes shone as he
looked at the razor-sharp serrated edge. His tone downright
worshipful, he said, “I accept this token of your faith in me. May
my blood be shed before I allow yours to be drawn, my life given
before I allow yours to be taken ... this is my vow. “

Following the gifting of the blade, the
priest mumbled on for a few more minutes. At last the ceremony was
done, and Clajak stood with his clanmates before the gathered
guests and drone-operated vid recorders that shared the event with
the Empire. The assembled bowed to Clan Clajak and cheers rang
out.

The Crown Prince Clan bowed to the
Imperial Clan. As Clajak straightened and looked at his fathers, he
had a vision of Irdis standing among them. Her face beamed proudly
at him. Love filled her eyes, and Clajak swore he heard her voice
in his ear.

“Be happy my wonderful son, my forever,
my Clajak.”

The apparition was there and gone in an
instant. Clajak felt a mingling of joy and heartbreak at once. He
blinked back sudden tears and thanked his imagination for the gift
as the guests turned to cheer the surviving members of Clan
Zarl.

Zarl stood and held up his hands.
Seeing the emperor on his feet, even via a vid image, increased the
joyous cries of those in attendance. Only when he began to speak
did they quiet.

His words were for his son’s clan. “My
sons, we offer our happiest congratulations. May your days be
filled with joy in each other. May you live in complete accord. And
may I ask that someone bring me some of the leshella I know Tidro
had imported for the occasion?”

Laughter answered his plea and louder
laughter boomed as Tidro shook his finger at Zarl in pretended
chastisement. Clajak roared with the rest of them. Zarl gave him a
wink a moment before his vid image disappeared.

The celebration got underway. The Royal
Guard and members of Global Security patrolled the perimeter. Food
and drink stations were set up, along with small tables and seating
cushions for people to sit and relax at. A five-piece band
accompanied the incomparable tenor Dramok Anpav and soprano Matara
Enit.

The party was quickly in full swing. It
was a wonderful affair, but Clajak had made other plans. It wasn’t
easy to sneak off with so many wanting to offer their personal
congratulations. Having bribed the aide to a junior councilman,
Clajak managed to do just that an hour after the
ceremony.

The aide slipped Clajak a black wig
with a grin. Then they made their way to the aide’s friends, a
large, raucous group of young men. Crouching in their midst out of
sight of the rest of the guests, Clajak secured the wig to his
scalp, hiding his steel-colored hair. He slipped out of his robe. A
Nobek in the group kicked the robe under a table, hiding the
ceremonial garb beneath its skirting.

Wearing an unremarkable black formsuit,
the Dramok prince left the party as part of the aide’s gang. No one
gave him a second look.

Once he’d gotten away, paid off the
aide, and accepted the congratulations of his helpful companions,
Clajak made his way to his private shuttle in the Royal House’s
bay. He wasted no time in flying to the nearby
spaceport.

A luxury transport waited for him.
Clajak checked in with the pilot, who was busy going through the
space-worthy vessel’s launch checklist. The prince saw to the
luggage that had been secretly stowed in his shuttle, making sure
it was loaded into the cargo bay. Then he boarded and entered the
small but comfortable cabin. He settled in a plush chair with a
drink provided by one of the smartly dressed Imdiko
attendants.

It took twenty minutes for Bevau and
Egilka to show up, still wearing their ceremonial robes. By then
Clajak had put away two more drinks and was happily relaxed,
watching the live news feed of his clanning party along with
replays of the ceremony itself. It had been amusing to catch the
moment his clanmates had figured out he’d run out on them. When a
flustered Egilka hurried up to Yuder, Clajak had tried hard to read
his Imdiko’s lips. He’d been unable to, but Yuder’s rolled eyes and
shaking head had spoken volumes. Clajak’s father had not looked
surprised in the least. He shrugged at Egilka and pointed to the
frowning Bevau as if to say, ‘Clajak is your problem now.’ Then
Yuder grabbed a fresh bottle of leshella and wandered off with a
big un-Yuderlike grin.

It hadn’t taken them long to catch up
to Clajak. Egilka charged into the transport ahead of Bevau. The
Imdiko gave Clajak an irritable scowl. “Where do you think you are
going?”

Clajak signaled the attendants to pour
his clanmates drinks. “There is a luxury cruiser in orbit. It
leaves within the hour. Eight weeks of decadence awaits us on
board, during which time we will visit Plasius, Dantovon, and the
Szorwisch gambling space station.”

Bevau folded his arms over his chest.
“When were you going to tell us about this? Or were you planning on
going by yourself?”

Clajak grinned at him. “Please, my
Nobek. I knew you would track me down, and I knew Egilka would be
hot on your heels so he could be the first to tell me
off.”

The Imdiko gave him an impatient glare.
“You know we have duties here, especially since Zarl isn’t ready to
resume work. We can’t go running off right now.”

The attendants set down the freshly
poured drinks on the table before Clajak. He waved at his clanmates
to take their seats. “Sure we can. We’re taking a working
holiday.”

Egilka snorted. “Fucking and gaming are
not anyone’s idea of work. At least I hope it’s not.”

Clajak made his tone businesslike.
“While Tidro contracted with Plasius merchants for drinks and food
for our clanning celebration, certain issues concerning tariffs and
trade came up. I’m needed to negotiate new terms.”

Bevau came over. He didn’t sit down,
but he lifted his glass. “Sure you are.” He had a healthy
swallow.

Clajak gave him a challenging look.
“Dantovon wishes to discuss options for Fleet protection for its
shipping lanes. It’s a perfect opportunity for you to hone your
abilities in regards to interplanetary security cooperation – and
make things complicated for Tragoom raiders in the
process.”

Bevau looked delighted at the prospect.
“Oh. Well, any day I can fuck over Tragooms is a good day. A
working holiday, huh? I’m beginning to see some sense in this
trip.”

Clajak continued, concentrating on his
reluctant Imdiko. “Egilka, there have been issues with the gambling
coalitions that run Szorwisch. Some of our people are getting over
their heads in debt. We need to come to some sort of understanding
with the coalitions about repayment. Research into the matter will
also allow us to present findings to the psychological community on
the issue of gambling addiction.”

Egilka wasn’t mollified in the least.
“You are so full of shit, Clajak.”

Clajak patted the handheld computer on
his belt. “No, I have the facts and figures that tell me this is a
growing problem for our people.”

Egilka scowled. “I am not going along
with this.”

“I’m afraid you are. We took off as
soon as you two boarded. Happy clanning day.”

The two men stared at him in shock.
When they looked to the attendants, the crewmen nodded.

Bevau wheeled around and left the
cabin. Clajak guessed the Nobek was checking the outer hatch. His
return was heralded by a blistering list of expletives. As soon as
Bevau was back in the cabin, he grabbed the handle of his new
knife, its sheath hanging from the decorative belt of his
robe.

“You trickster thug! I should take this
blade and – and – damn it, Clajak!”

Egilka blinked, coming out of his
stunned state. He rolled his eyes, sat down, and took up his drink.
Knowing Clajak so well, he’d already given up.

He took a sip of the aged leshella that
had cost Clajak almost as much as the trip. “Is there a pleasure
club on this cruise?”

Clajak clapped him on the shoulder.
“Why yes, there is. I’m glad you’re seeing things my
way.”

“Not really. I just thought it would be
nice if Bevau could find a whip before we got to
Dantovon.”

Bevau finished his drink and motioned
for another. He went from angry to gleeful in an instant. “Oh yes.
Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, you conniving bastard. You will pay,” he
told Clajak.

Egilka’s humor returned. “Make sure you
get pictures of the marks you leave on him. Yuder will appreciate
that Clajak is getting the discipline he so desperately
needs.”

Clajak sighed. He should have figured
on something like this now that his clan had a Nobek. He resolved
to get the punishment out of the way as early as possible so he
could enjoy the rest of the trip. He calculated the time of their
arrival at the waiting cruiser.

The Dramok called for another drink and
told the attendant to keep them coming for the rest of the half
hour flight until the shuttle docked with the larger space vessel.
He was determined to get as numb as possible before Bevau let him
have it.

When the attendant brought the
beverage, Clajak raised his glass to the other two. “To Clan
Clajak. You will sometimes be angry and often irritated but never
bored, my responsible but still beloved clanmates.”

He grinned at the chuckling pair, as
unrepentant as ever. Yes, life was good.