The Eyes Of A King Part 30

He turned to stare out at the storm. "After I hit that boy, I suddenly had-I don't know-a vision. That was why I remained on the hill. I could not move. I thought I was dying. This scar on my face-it is all the retribution that has fallen on me. I shot his mother and father. And the prince cares about you-I know he does-probably more than anyone else. I have one relative. The rest of my family disowned me when I joined Lucien's government. You probably do not blame them for it. You probably think I am an evil man. But I too have cared about people. I too have loved."

Anna did not reply. He turned back to her. "It may just be superst.i.tion, but I am afraid. There is something strange in the air. Riding here through the city, I heard the wind and the rain calling my name. It was not just my imagination; I really heard it." He sat down again opposite her and leaned forward, breathing fast. "You know Aldebaran; you have met him. Is he capable of doing that? Tell me what he can do."

"He can see what you're thinking," Anna answered carefully. "And the future."

Ahira leaned back and covered his face with one hand. "He is a very powerful man. My mind has been in torment since I hit that boy. I know that the prophecy will soon take effect; I am sure of it. These ten years have been borrowed time for me-escaping a punishment that will surely come, while all the time I thought that I was safe. Will I lose the only family I have? Would that be justice? I don't know how these great ones think when they write their prophecies, and I have no power to change destiny." He stood up again. "I will not let them kill you," he said. "That is why I cannot let them kill you. I can't have your blood on my hands as well as his mother's and father's. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I don't know."

"I care about my family just as much as the prince cared about his," Ahira went on. "Perhaps I should write to my one relative. Perhaps I should let him know ..." He turned to her. "Should I? Tell me."

He was leaning forward on the table in front of her, waiting for an answer. "Yes," she said eventually. "You should write to him."

He nodded. "Because if I do this-if I protect you from harm or even help you to escape-it will become dangerous. And I may not come out alive, and then it will be too late to set anything right. Our country is in a bad situation-you must see it. If the rebels bring the boy back and overthrow the government, I will be one of the first to be executed. But if I do not try to set right what I have done wrong, a worse punishment may fall on me whether we keep hold of the country or not."

There were footsteps outside suddenly. Someone was in the corridor. They both fell silent, listening.

There was a hammering on the door. Ahira crossed the room and opened it. Darius was there. He looked at them both and smirked faintly. "And you say that I have no pride," he muttered, catching Ahira's glance.

"What do you mean by that?" said Ahira.

"Nothing, sir. Nothing. The king needs you. At once."

Ahira stood in the doorway, still watching Anna, while Darius tied her to the chair and blew out the lamp. He watched her until the door closed between them and the younger man bolted it. And then she heard them both march away.

That night I woke up about eleven. I had gone to sleep early, for the rain had brought a cheerless dark over the city, and I slept without dreaming. I was wide-awake now, and everything was suddenly peaceful. I could not explain it. I felt as though everything was going to be all right. There was no reason for the change, but I was calmer than I had been since Stirling had died, as though if I had picked up the newspaper, I would have been able to read it straight through.

Then, suddenly, I knew that Grandmother was gone. She was not in the house. I tried to hear her breathe, but I couldn't from this distance, so I got up and went into her room. I was right. Her bed was empty, the covers cast aside. She was nowhere in the apartment. I ran back to my room and pulled on some clothes. I picked up my keys, checked one last time-she was gone for sure-and went out.

The apartment door was ajar, and so was the front door downstairs. I shut them behind me as I went. Perhaps she had gone to the graveyard. I turned into the street, blinking against the light of the streetlamp. There was no sign of her. I turned left and broke into a run.

I found her in a narrow, dark street nearby. She was wearing only her nightgown, which clung to her thinly in the night breeze. I was so frightened I didn't even think about not talking. "Grandmother?" I called. "What are you doing?" She didn't hear. She was muttering furiously to herself. I reached her and took off my jacket and put it about her shoulders to cover her. She did not seem to see me. "Grandmother, come home."

She allowed me to lead her away, but suddenly she began shouting. The words she yelled weren't recognizable as real ones. They were harsh in the silence, and I tried to quiet her, but she shouted all the louder. A man came to the window of one of the houses and frowned sleepily out at us. "Shh, Grandmother," I told her.

Then two soldiers rounded the corner. Our eyes met. I tried to pull Grandmother away, but she stood still in the middle of the street. Casting a hasty glance behind me, I saw the soldiers turn from their route and begin to approach us.

"Grandmother," I muttered. "Shh. Be quiet. Quickly, let's go home."

"Hey!" shouted one of the men.

"Keep walking," I muttered to Grandmother.

"Hey-lad! Where are you going this time of the night?"

"Home," I called.

"Wait here," one muttered to the other, and he strode down the street toward us.

"Stop where you are!" the soldier told me. I stopped. "Where are you going with this madwoman?"

"She is not mad," I said.

"She is an Unacceptable. She ought to have proper care taken of her."

"She is not mad," I told him again.

"She is disturbing the peace," he said.

"That's why I'm taking her home," I said wearily.

He was beside us now, and he pushed at my shoulder aggressively. "Do not dare to take that tone, arrogant young b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

I stumbled and swore at him.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." We began to walk away, Grandmother hurrying ahead of my guiding hand and glancing back fearfully at the soldiers.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

"Nothing."

"Hey! Stay where you are, I told you. Do you want to be arrested also?"

"You are not arresting either of us," I said. " We are leaving now."

"Stay where you are." He caught hold of Grandmother and stopped her. Immediately her screams shattered into the wet quiet. "Shut your mouth," he told her. She went on screaming.

"Stop!" I cried. "Let her go!" I grabbed at him.

"Get off me!" he shouted. Grandmother went on screaming. The jacket fell from her shoulders, and her gray hair slid from its tight knot, wild about her frightened face. I grabbed the soldier's rifle across his back, the closest thing I could catch hold of, and pulled at it hard. "Get off!" he yelled again.

"Let go of her!" I shouted. The rifle strap was choking his neck; he coughed, and his hands loosened their grip. I went on tugging at it. Grandmother's screams grew wilder.

Suddenly the strap broke. I fell down in the mud and so did Grandmother, from the sudden force. Her screaming stopped abruptly. I got up, dripping mud and still holding the soldier's rifle, wiped the water and earth from my eyes, and ran to her. She did not move. "Grandmother?" I said. I fell down on my knees beside her. She had fainted and was still unconscious. I turned her over, wiped the mud from her face, and shook her by the shoulders. The soldiers had disappeared into the night. "Grandmother!" I went on urgently. "Wake up!"

While I knelt there, I heard a sound, louder than the hushed drips from the sleepy houses, and getting louder still. It was footsteps. Steady footsteps, coming closer. I looked up and saw that a dark figure was approaching steadily. The figure glided up the street, with long strides, and all the while its face was in shadow. But by the inclination of its head, I could tell that it was looking straight at me. The whites of its eyes glinted in the light of the streetlamp as it approached. I stayed still, crouched on the ground like an animal, shivering in the mud.

Then, "Leo?" said the figure. "Leo! I did not recognize you. What are you doing here?" It took down its hood, and I saw that it was Father Dunstan. "Leo! What is going on?"

"Father!" I exclaimed. "It's Grandmother. She collapsed, and I cannot wake her. The soldiers came and-" He dropped down beside me.

"Margaret?" he said, taking hold of her shoulders. "Margaret, can you hear me?"

"Father, Father," I was saying suddenly, as though I was a child and he was my own father. I clutched his arm.

"All right. Calm down, Leo. Go on trying to wake her."

I tried to talk to her, but my voice sounded so feeble that I barely heard it myself. Father Dunstan took Grandmother's wrist, sat motionless for a moment, then nodded quickly. "I can feel a pulse."

"Then why won't she wake?"

"It must have been the shock," said Father Dunstan. "It can bring on attacks like this."

"Attacks like what? Father-"

And then, suddenly, she coughed and blinked. I let go of the priest's arm and caught hold of her hand. She did not grip it back. Her face was colorless, flecked with a few dark spots of mud. Eventually she looked up at me and mumbled, "Harold?"

"It's me, Leo," I told her. She began to cry.

"All right," said Father Dunstan. "Let's get her back home."

We managed to support her between us, though she was hardly able to walk. She was covered in mud and her face stood out pale, trembling and glistening with tears in the lamplight. She muttered, "Harold, Harold," over and over as we walked, like a prayer. "All right," I said, and gripped her arm more tightly. "We are almost home."

I heard myself say that from a long way off. My ears were ringing suddenly with a strange silence.

Back in the apartment Grandmother went on shaking and crying. She collapsed on the sofa, staring into the cold fireplace with tears running down her muddy face. I fetched blankets and cushions and propped them around her, but that didn't stop her shivering.

Father Dunstan lit a lamp. Something in my left hand glinted, and I realized I was still holding that soldier's rifle. I dropped it by the door. The sound made Grandmother start and cry out. She went on asking for Harold and then mumbled something about Arthur. It occured to me distantly that she must mean Aldebaran. Father Dunstan boiled water for tea, and Grandmother drank some, still crying. "You have some tea too, Leo," he said, pushing a cup into my hand. "You have both had a shock." I drank some automatically and noticed that my hands were shaking. I stood up to ask him what to do, but I could not speak.

"How old is your grandmother, Leo?" Father Dunstan said then, drawing me aside.

It was stupid, but I couldn't remember. I had known once, before all this. "Sixty?" prompted Father Dunstan. "Or older?"

I started counting on the fingers of my right hand. "Sixty-one?" said Father Dunstan. "Sixty-two? You do not have to speak." He went on guessing. At sixty-five I nodded.

He stood silent for a long time. In that silence I heard Grandmother begin to tell me some story about her childhood, in a high, weak voice that did not sound like her own. "She is old, Leo," Father Dunstan said then. "And shock is not good for someone so old."

I just looked at him in silence. And then Grandmother came back. She stared at us, felt the mud in her untidy hair, and started up from the sofa. "Leo!" she said. "What happened? Father?"

Father Dunstan knelt beside her and took her hands. "Rest there for a moment, Margaret," he said. "You have had a shock; that is all." He began to tell her, and she listened, tears rising in her eyes again.

"I was never like this before," she said, crying again, when he had finished. "What are we going to do without Stirling? I never had these strange turns, or felt so tired, when he was here."

"It is understandable that you are not quite yourself," Father Dunstan said. "These past days have been very difficult for you, Margaret. You need to rest, and you will begin to feel more normal." He went on talking to her, and she listened anxiously.

Moving slowly, I fetched a shawl for her and helped her wash the mud from her face. Father Dunstan made more tea and he and Grandmother talked quietly. I sat in silence and watched my own hands shaking. "I have to go," said Father Dunstan eventually, taking out his watch. "I was on my way to see a very sick child. I don't want to leave you like this, but I have no choice." In the half darkness of the room, he caught my eyes briefly, as if to tell me something. "You will be all right?" he said, turning to Grandmother.

"Aye, of course," she said. "I feel fine now, Father. I don't know what happened, but I'm sure it is nothing to be anxious about." But I could hear her voice quavering.

"Take care of your grandmother," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder for a moment. And then he left.

We sat in silence, without looking at each other. My hands were shaking worse than ever. "Leo, Leo," said Grandmother then, trying to take them in hers. "Don't be afraid. It's all right now. I am myself again. It was just those soldiers."

It was not fear that was making my hands tremble and my heart beat fast. I thought I could see the room growing darker in front of my eyes. I could tell suddenly that I was going to do something like I had before-throw a chair through the window or hit my head against the wall. But Grandmother was so weak and frightened; I was terrified of shocking her again. I thought that if I sat still and kept my eyes closed, I would be safe. I willed myself not to move.

The lamp went out. I didn't dare to get up, so we sat in darkness. I could hear Grandmother's breathing-deliberate and irregular, as though she had to think about it-but nothing else. And then there was a sudden bang at the door.

Grandmother tried to get up. I raised my hand to stop her from moving. "Go and answer the door, Leo," she said weakly. "Please go. It must be Father Dunstan back again."

I forced myself to go to the door. "Hurry," said someone outside. It was not Father Dunstan's voice. Light showed under the door, flickering strangely. I struggled with the catch, then got it open.

Outside was a soldier with a burning torch in his hand. He stood close enough that I could feel the heat on my face. "Good evening," he said. "Are you the main occupant of these premises?" I didn't answer. He smirked faintly and went on. "An Unacceptable has been traced to this address. I am here to bring you the warrant for her arrest and detainment under the Unacceptable Cla.s.ses Act Clause 24."

He handed me a folded sheet of paper. It fell through my fingers. He shrugged and went on with his recitation. "Soldiers will arrive in the next few days to collect her and take her to an appropriate center. You are advised that-"

Behind me, Grandmother started to cry. She was sobbing loudly, rocking back and forth, her face in her hands. The soldier raised his torch and took in the mud in her hair, her filthy nightdress, and the dark, shabby room. Then he laughed and shook his head. "Poor old b.i.t.c.h. This is life, eh?"

"I'll kill you," I said out loud.

He raised his eyebrows and gave me a jovial punch on the shoulder. "Just try it."

There was a silence while we stared at each other. I clenched my fists until my knuckles burned with pain. "Leo, come away from the door ...," Grandmother was murmuring.

"Thank you for your cooperation," said the soldier, turning to leave.

I swayed in the doorway and tried to remain still. Then I could not. I pushed him against the wall, then s.n.a.t.c.hed the torch from his hand and threw it hard down the stairs. Next thing, I had hold of his shirt as if to strangle him. I stumbled on that rifle in the doorway, and I suddenly had it in my hand, trying to bring it down on his head, but he caught my arm. My heartbeat was thumping in my forehead; he was swearing; Grandmother behind us was crying out, her voice high and frightened. "Leo, stop!" someone else was shouting then, trying to separate us. And then louder, "Don't hurt Anselm! Don't hurt Anselm!"

I collapsed onto my knees. There was blood on my forehead; he must have hit me. Maria had separated us. She was kneeling in front of me now, in her nightdress, the baby screaming in her arms. The soldier was hurrying away down the stairs.

"I heard noises, and I came to see," Maria was gasping. "Leo, I didn't want you to get into bad trouble; you looked like you were going to kill him. Who was that man? What did he want?"

She reached for my hand. I did not want her to touch me. I staggered away from her, still shaking. I was frightening myself now but I could not help it. I got up and ran down the stairs, struggling with the safety catch on that rifle. I could still hear Grandmother sobbing, and Maria was calling after me to come back. At the bottom I tripped and crashed down hard on the floor. I staggered to my feet again. I pulled open the front door and ran out into the alley.

The street was empty. The soldier had gone.

I fired a shot anyway, into the silence. Then I fell down in the alley and rested my head in my hands.

"What was that?" said Lucien, on the balcony. The distant gunshot had sent a bird snapping through the treetops of the roof garden below.

"A troublemaker in the city," said Talitha. "The law enforcement will be there, no doubt."

Lucien nodded, but his eyes had darkened. The others stood in silence and watched him. Ahira was a short way off, frowning into the night. Darius and Anna had just come out onto the battlements, unnoticed. Cannons pointed into the starlit sky from this highest balcony, and Anna glanced at them now. Darius stepped forward. "The girl, Your Majesty. You sent for her."

Lucien turned. Talitha remained where she stood, her back to the others so that Anna could not see her face.

Lucien took a couple of steps toward Anna. "You do not have the silver eagle?" he said. "Not on your person, here in Malonia."

"No," Anna said. Lucien stared at her for a moment. Then he muttered something to Talitha, and she turned to look at Anna.