AfterHours-TheCardinalArrivesLate as it was when Giulian returned to Anderon House, there was still a light on in Delan's study. This time no anxious servant or Korine came with a message; indeed, beyond the guards on duty, there was only one sleepy footman who let Giulian into the main house, a little surprised that the heir to House Anderon was using this entrance, rather than the private one to his own suite. The footman received no explanation, however, only Giulian's customary quiet word of thanks before he headed down the hallway to Delan's study. He knocked at the door, softly. "Come in!" his father's voice called. When Giulian entered, he saw that his father was working still, piles of papers on the great wooden desk. A pool of light from an oil lamp reflected off the gold-rimmed reading glasses that Delan now sometimes used for close work. He looked at his son across the top of them, and then smiled in greeting. "Jules! Did you have a good evening?" "Pretty fair," Giulian answered noncommittally, though a smile lurked in his eyes and around the corners of his mouth. "And yours? Quiet, I hope, after that day." "Dinner with your mother and the girls—Gallfrey was in bed. I'm glad the younger ones weren't at the funeral. Lord knows, they'll have enough of ceremony when they're older, and avoiding situations like today's is a blessing." "Amen," Giulian agreed. Delan gestured to the decanters and malts that stood on the sideboard. "I think I deserve a drink. Will you join me?" "A small one, thank you," responded Giulian. "I don't want to fall asleep quite yet." Delan moved to the sideboard. "So ... what was the highlight of your day, Jules? The funeral, its aftermath, the Wake, or the Council meeting?" Giulian arched an eyebrow as he accepted a half glass of brandy and retired to one of the armchairs. "Well," he offered, "the funeral proper at least didn't turn up any unpleasant surprises." Delan joined him in a neighbouring armchair. "No—and the reading of the Will was satisfactory. Apart from the Dragon's decision to concentrate a good deal of power in Nicola's hands. One must accept he knew his own son best..." This suggested to Giulian that his father was troubled by the Dragon's decision. "Yes," he responded slowly. "And that he had to work with what Nature gave him." "The riot ... we shall have to question the priests tomorrow morning. And in the afternoon ... the technology accusation. A fun day all round, it would appear." Delan shook his head. "I've taken on the Dragon's man Antonini as my secretary. A secondment. I had a feeling I was going to need some solid legal advice—and today's events seem to confirm that." He looked at his son over his malt whisky. "Do you want to be present when we question the priests? It will be ... amiable, I trust. Though there may be a good deal of hymn singing." "May I? Yes, I would be interested ... from a historical standpoint if nothing else." "In terms of our history," said Delan, "it might be one of our more civilised events. Unless the various Monsignors decide that they want to prove their worthiness for the position of Cardinal by re-enacting the Inquisition in its bloodier days. Essentially, I hope that we'll have this sorted out before the Legate arrives." Giulian nodded. "That would be as well." "The technology challenge worries me more. Oswestry didn't come up with that challenge alone—but I've a good idea where it came from. What would your guess be, Jules?" Giulian frowned thoughtfully. "Oswestry looks to Hoberty, but I don't think there's necessarily anything in that," he began, thinking aloud. "And it isn't as if Lord Oswestry would be difficult to influence, one way or another, so that doesn't narrow the field very much. Creoni... Torre is rather isolated as these things go. What occurs to me is that it's someone who wants to know what Creoni is up to, out in the hinterlands, but isn't in a position to ask straight out. But I don't know who that would be," he confessed. There was a light rap on the door. The knocker, however, did not wait for the customary invitation to enter. The door opened and Lady Anderon stuck her head inside. "Delan, dear, are you coming to bed?" She stepped into the room, slightly surprised at not seeing Delan perched at his desk. "Giulian! Good evening," she exclaimed softly, her eyes lighting with pleasure at the sight of father and son. "I hope I'm not interrupting?" Giulian's dark eyes, very like his mother's, similarly lit with a smile as she entered. "Good evening, Mother. I hope we didn't wake you." "Not at all," Bea assured him. Delan rose from his chair and moved, smiling, to take his wife's hands and raise them to his lips. "And I promised I would join you an hour ago. Not Jules's fault—he's only just come in. My fault entirely—I was reading some of the legal precedents that Antonini had prepared for me. The man clearly has a mind like a steel trap ... I'm more glad than I can say that I've brought him within my team." Bea accepted Delan’s explanation with an understanding smile. He saw Bea settled in an armchair, and with a glass of ratafia, before he took up his own seat again. "We were talking over the events of the day," he explained to her. "The Council Meeting—I've told you my impressions. Jules was aloft with a crowd of other people—Harry and Decuma among them." "Ahh..." Bea responded with an understanding lilt, her gaze shifting to her son. Delan smiled suddenly at his son. "The atmosphere wasn't too frosty in the heights, was it?" "Not nearly so much as it looked to be on the ground," Giulian replied with a grin. "Positively sunny, in fact." Delan laughed. "One of the ambushes I was expecting," he said. "The other ... yes, it took me a little by surprise. But it's going to cause problems. It's not just Creoni ... many Houses are on the fringes of using technology, pushing the boundaries as hard as they can. And others are getting ready for what they believe will be the lifting of the ban in thirty years. We need a transition ... before and after. It's going to be a key task for the new Duke, to ensure it happens as seamlessly as possible. And it won't be helped by the reactionary Houses making Justin Creoni into a martyr for technology." He took a long sip of his whisky. "I imagine a lot of people's attention is going to be directed onto where our two aspiring Dukes stand. Or where they are perceived to stand." "I have an idea about that," said Giulian. "Partly in connection with Miss Starr and her movement as well. Since we have thirty years, I think there ought to be a commission formed to explore the possibilities for the introduction of technology, and come up with a plan to make it—well, as seamless as it can be." He looked at Delan speculatively. "Lord Creoni could be invited to be on it, perhaps, or a representative of his." He grinned. "And Miss Starr could be given a chance to see how well her ideas would actually work in practice." "It will be interesting to see how Harry and Decuma manage their interaction. Especially under the pressure of the Papal Legation," Bea commented thoughtfully. Giulian did not comment, but his expression was troubled. Harry and Decuma were both friends of his, and he had frequently, though privately, damned the circumstances that seemed determined to set the half-brothers at odds with each other. "Hopefully, they will have some breathing space to establish that," said Delan. He paused, as the sound of a horse was heard approaching the horse—a horse being ridden at some speed. "A little late for callers," he remarked. "Friends of yours, do you think, Jules?" His tone was light—but all three of them, after twenty-five years of the Regency, knew that late calls generally meant bad news; good news could generally keep till morning. "None that gave me any advance warning," Giulian replied cautiously, his brows drawing together. The door was opened by an under-footman, supercilious until he recognised the late visitor. "Mr Hoberty! Is something wrong? Do you wish to see the Regent?" "Yes please, Mr. Moore," John Hoberty addressed the footman. "And … you should probably have his horse prepared, also. I suspect the Regent will want to leave with me. I saw his study light was on. Is he there?" John asked as he stepped into the foyer. "Yes, Sir," returned Moore, looking harassed even as he gave John's order to another sleepy under-footman who arrived in the hall doing up his buttons all wrong. "He's working in his study." He led John over, and knocked at the door. "Enter!" came Delan's voice, calmly authoritative. Moore opened the door—and within the study John could see not only the Lord Regent, but also Lady Anderon, and their son, Lord Giulian. "John!" said Delan, rising to his feet. "What is it?" John's appearance was not normal to say the least. He was dusty and sweaty, and had obviously been riding for some time. He nodded once to Lady Anderon, then looked to Delan and Giulian as he entered the study. "Aquila seems to be more and more popular," John said, running a hand through his hair. "The papal envoy is here. Now. On Aquila. I had the good fortune to be at the spaceport when he arrived tonight. I made sure he was delivered directly to the Cardinal's palace, rousted them to greet him, then rode straight here." Giulian raised startled eyes to John's face, then glanced over at his parents. "Not so much breathing space as we thought," he murmured. "No," said Delan grimly. "Jules—do you want to come? I'll need a carriage ready immediately. It will have slightly more dignity than riding flat out on horseback. And send a groom to Tremontaine with word." Giulian nodded. "I'll see to it, Father." He raised himself from his chair with the accustomed thrust and lift of his arms, before reaching for his crutches, which he grasped without even looking at them, and leaving the room. Delan looked keenly at John. "Have you notified Blackheath? You'd best do so. I imagine Lord and Lady Lagoran would not be amused to learn you'd brought word to me first, despite my position." "I have not. They are out to dinner entertaining the Efrosian ambassador and his wife tonight," John responded. "I'll probably hunt them down next. Then I have to rush back to the Cardinal's palace ... apparently an offworld Bahlmis came in with them and I offered to take him to Lady Rosalor tonight." John went over to the small bar in the study and poured himself a drink of water. "Though whether or not Lord Lagoran will be happy to have me rushing in all sweating, covered in dirt and interrupting his dinner is a very good question," he said with a touch of humor. Thank God for small favors, Bea thought to herself. Delan looked over at his wife. "Bea, my love, do you feel up to forming a welcoming delegation at this hour? Or would you rather retire to bed and see our visitors in the morning?" Bea stood up, hands folded in front of her. "I'll accompany you, Delan." Within fifteen minutes, the whole party was ready to depart—and an Anderon groom was already heading out of the gates towards Tremontaine, to alert Lucien, Lilly and presumably their family too. Delan spoke to John while Giulian and Bea climbed into the carriage—one of the more impressive formal carriages that the House possessed. "Do you have any idea of where Lagoran might be? It's nearly two now—and the Ambassador and Madame de Corven are hardly people to carouse till the first cock. You may well find they have returned to Blackheath." "No," John answered. "But I need to head to the Lagoran estate anyway to get a horse for our new Bahlmis guest. The head groom will know where they were headed to, and if they're back or not." He nodded to the group. "I'll meet you there at the Cardinal's palace then. The Cardinal's name is Fiore. He has a man with him, a Deacon O'Byrne. He looks ... like a man whom you'd assign to care for a Cardinal," John said as he mounted his horse. "They seem ... disarmingly casual," he added with a small grin. "And the Cardinal's palace was a chaos when I left. Good luck." "Thank you," said Delan, with dry irony. "I believe I might need it." And with that John urged his horse to a gallop as he rode away, tearing through the streets of Aquila City toward the Lagoran estate. Delan watched him go, and then turned to climb into his own carriage. "The Cardinal Palace," he said to the coach driver. "And swiftly, please." Then he joined his wife and son as the carriage began to move towards the wrought-iron gates that separated Anderon House from the road outside. Once the coach began to move and they could be assured that no one else could overhear them, Giulian looked over at Delan and said quietly, "You didn't expect them this soon. Why not? Or perhaps I should be asking, Why are they here earlier than expected?" "The only explanation is that they took the quickest commercial route, regardless of conditions," said Delan grimly. “Our calculations were based on them using chartered flights—in which case we would have had ship readings from our Lasse contacts. The fact that we haven't suggests that for part of the journey at least, they travelled incognito. And that worries me. They are playing outside the box ... which might be to disorientate us, or may be for some other reason entirely. And only time will tell." As the carriage drew rapidly through the night, it was clear that Delan was looking unusually grim.
"I will not decline your hospitality, Eminence," Drew replied gratefully. But it was not John Hoberty's horse that was heard coming up the drive. It was a rather larger carriage, with a crest on the door panel. The more knowledgeable would recognise the owl motif even in the darkness. Civetta—the symbol of House Anderon, the House of Delan, Lord Anderon, Regent of Aquila. Without haste, the carriage approached the palace. Deacon O'Byrne nodded to the Cardinal with a small, calm smile, but as he turned toward the array of flunkies awaiting their leave, he halted in mid-gesture. His head cocked in a listening posture, he attended the rumble of carriage wheels on cobblestones. "Were you expecting other guests, Monsignor?" "No," Schubert replied. "To be quite honest, the only thing I was expecting this evening was a good night's sleep." Drew would have paid no attention at all to the sound of the carriage, were it not for O'Byrne bringing it to their collective attention. He coughed politely. "It would seem even without digital telecommunications, word still travels fast." Micahle chuckled as he straightened his vestments. "Yes, I'd guess in this case, as fast as Hoberty's horse." Schubert nodded. That only made sense. If he was not wrong, he was about to be reunited with an old friend. At least this night would bring some good. Of course he could have waited a day or two to meet up with Anders again, but as usual God seemed to have other ideas. Out of sheer habit he looked up, his expression reflecting his acceptance of the situation. "Monsignor Schubert, perhaps you'd do well to warn my steward that unless I miss my mark, the Regent arrives to dine also." Fiore nodded to Tom. "Of course, Your Eminence," he replied, sounding almost but not quite dutiful. The staff was going to love this, he thought. Maybe he would have to find a way to do something nice for all of them. With a small nod in Micahle's direction he headed off to the kitchens to break the news. "I know that after travel one must get used to the planet's cycle, but it seems that the Lord of Aquila is ready to meet mine. Curious, eh?" Micahle asked rhetorically. Within moments, Schubert returned to the main parlor. "Well, I suppose I may as well go greet this batch. We can take turns or something. I imagine this will not be the last visitor this evening. I never get that lucky." He smiled as he made his way towards the door and let himself out. As the Anderon carriage arrived, a lone priest stood on the stairs ready to welcome them. Delan saw him first—and frowned slightly. "I know that figure," he said quietly. "But ... it's been years. What..." The carriage drew to a halt, and Delan dismounted, turning to give a hand to his wife, and then to make sure his son descended safely—no offered hand to Giulian, but unobtrusive watchfulness. Then he moved to mount the stairs, the Regent as correct as ever. Save that his pale face wore its rare smile, and the hand extended to the priest offered a warmer handshake than was usual. "Tom! You old rogue, I thought you deep in the Wastes! What in the name of all that's holy are you doing here? I was told to expect a Cardinal—I didn't expect a miracle!" Tom did not feel the need to stand on protocol and returned the handshake with an embrace. Pulling back, he smiled warmly. "That's Monsignor Schubert to you. The miracle is not that I'm here, or that they decided to promote me. The real miracle was the fact I accepted." And for all he sounded like he was joking, Delan knew him well enough to know he was not. Something had to have happened to make him step into the political ring. Delan looked at him searchingly, but said nothing. There would be time enough for them to discuss the political ramifications of this—he hoped. He turned to his companions. "Bea, my love, this is Father Tom Schubert—my old friend from the seminary, and the wildest rascal that ever took the cloth—you've heard me speak of him, of course. Giulian—the godfather you've never met—the one whose name we evoked in absentia at your baptism.” As the priest looked at Giulian he seemed to fill with a bit of pride. He might not have been physically involved in the boy's life, but he had spent many, many hours praying for him. It was wonderful to be able to set eyes upon him at last. "Tom—my wife and son. My eldest." Delan’s voice conveyed his warm pride in his firstborn. Lady Anderon emerged from the carriage, slightly taken aback by her husband’s sudden change in demeanor; but grateful and curious just the same. Giulian's godfather. This was a surprise! A very welcome surprise. Bea inclined her head, offering Father Tom a warm smile and hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Father. Welcome home." He took her hand and kissed it gently. It might not have been exactly appropriate but he didn't care. "The pleasure is truly mine." "And..." she added with a quick glance at her husband, "I look forward to hearing your side of the tales Delan has told us." Her voice hinted that she suspected the stories Delan had relayed over the years may have been a tad exaggerated for the pleasure of the children. "Oh, you do?" he asked with a glance at Delan. "We shall have to see about that." His voice hinted that he suspected the stories Delan had relayed over the years may have been a tad understated for the sake of the children. Delan laughed. "And Giulian," Tom said, turning his attention from Bea. "You seem to have grown into something of a man while I wasn't looking. I think I may have lost track of that fact. It is wonderful to meet you at last." The thin young man on crutches, whose features strongly resembled Delan's but whose large dark eyes were his mother's, smiled and extended a hand. The expression erased much of the weariness from Giulian's face, the marks of what had been a very long and strenuous day. "I am very pleased to meet you as well, Father." The smile turned a trifle mischievous. "Even if I was expecting someone taller..." Tom laughed and clasped him gently on the arm. "I hope we will have time to get a chance to know one another soon. Unfortunately there are other pressing matters." Dropping his arms to his sides, he seemed to slide back into a more conservative state of being. "Now then, there is a Cardinal inside, sent by the Pope himself. One of his right-hand men, I suspect. Young though, very young considering his position. I don't know if that's good or bad. Probably more than a bit self-righteous but hopefully not too rigidly set in his ways. I would hate to have to deal with that. You know how I feel about people who are far too full of themselves." He gave Delan a wink. "Come on then. I'll do the whole formal introduction thing if you'd like. I can probably manage it." "Thank you," said Delan. "I'm not proposing to stay long at this time of night. A few mutually formal greetings—and an arrangement to meet tomorrow. Tom ... I'd welcome a chance to speak with you tomorrow, without the Cardinal. Might that be arranged? After early Mass, say? I don't know how much you've heard of today's events—or even if you were at the Dragon's funeral at all, to be honest..." Tom opened his mouth to reply, but stopped short as he noticed another carriage rapidly approaching. No rest for the weary, he thought, and at once he realized that he was probably not the only tired member of the clergy here this evening.
"Or a weirdness magnet," Ronan added, sotto voce but just within Drew's hearing. Drew smiled in response, his eyes flickering on the Deacon. In more ways than you realize, my friend, in more ways than you realize, Drew thought. Turning to O'Byrne, Micahle nodded. "I'll meet him here in the library, not the chapel or the office. It's not my residence and I won't presume, even if I'll be occupying it until this is done." As he turned into the library he smiled at Drew again. "Don't feel obligated to join us, nor unwelcome." "If you sincerely have no objection, Cardinal, I'd love to join you; particularly since Mr. Hoberty must have been sidelined by some other errand. After all," he elaborated, "Treasa has a point. This is the birthplace of my grandfather. I'd be remiss if I turned my nose up at such an auspicious moment, in favor of being all by myself." Also, as a businessman, it seemed just wrong not to network. That and if he took this opportunity to do some investigation of the Enigma Box, it would be helpful to know a little something about this planet. Of course, knowledge of the Box and its contents would really have raised the Deacon's eyebrows. "Very good, Your Eminence," O'Byrne nodded, snapping back into official mode. He set about relaying requests to the manor staff for light refreshment to be served in the library and collecting such files and notes as would aid the Cardinal, should the Regent choose to dispense with protocol and turn to business early.
"Yes, I suppose that does make sense," Tom agreed. "We should probably wait for him. It would seem terribly rude to head into the house now." He sounded a bit disappointed but Delan knew it was a bit of a put-on. Delan waited until Lucien had left his carriage, and then reached out a hand to him in greeting as the Lord of the City came up the steps. "Tom, might I present Lucien, Lord Tremontaine, Lord of the City. My lord, this is Monsignor Thomas Schubert, a friend of my youth, recently arrived here in the city—he's been out in the field on our terraforming borders for some years, I believe." His gaze became a little satirical. "You're just in time to join me in greeting our distinguished guests, my lord." "Well, I am certainly glad that I neither kept anyone waiting nor interrupted anything," Lucien said, perhaps a little dryly. Turning to Schubert, he smiled and said, "An honor, Monsignor. Has your terraforming been of the literal or spiritually figurative sort?" "Yes," Schubert replied quite honestly. "You can't live out there and not end up doing both." His smile was sincere and welcoming. "I'll give you the same overview I offered Lord Anderon so that we're all on the same page," he offered. "Cardinal Fiore has just arrived from offworld. There is a Deacon traveling with him by the name of O'Byrne. My guess is he is some sort of guard. I have had a meal prepared, and all are welcome. If you will all just follow me…" He turned towards the door but stopped short and immediately turned back. "One other thing, and you'll have to forgive me for not bringing it up sooner, I've only just arrived in town myself. A bit of a carriage accident kept us from being here in time for the funeral. Another man is with them. His name is Drew Bahlmis. I take it he’s one of the long-lost members of the family. Now if there is nothing else, and I think that's everything on my part, please follow me once again." He hesitated a moment to allow for comments. Giulian's eyes widened just a bit at the mention of Drew Bahlmis. "Now, that's ... interesting," he said softly. "Though perhaps not entirely unexpected. Another long-lost Bahlmis recently arrived on Aquila, you see." A smile twitched the corners of his mouth as he revealed, "I had dinner with her this evening, in fact." Leading them through the door, Schubert scanned the room for signs of the Cardinal. His eyes immediately settled on the Deacon. "It seems we have more than the one guest," he said jovially. "Is his eminence prepared to greet them?" "Yes, Monsignor," the Deacon nodded. "I hope you'll pardon the minor liberty taken with your staff, but I've called for refreshments for the guests already. In the library, if that's all right." "Thank you," said Delan, acknowledging this with a slight bow of his head. Well accustomed to being in the Palace, he moved directly to the library and approached the Cardinal directly. "Welcome to our planet, Your Eminence. I'm Anderon, Regent of Aquila—and this is my wife, Lady Anderon, my son, and Lord Tremontaine, who is the Governor of Aquila City, our capital. We're grateful that you've arrived to assist us with our little local difficulty. I've no intention of trespassing on your time tonight—I merely wanted to welcome you, and make sure that everything so far was to your satisfaction." Micahle smiled and nodded to each of the introduced. He answered, "I appreciate your gesture, Regent, and hope that my assistance will be just that. Brother O'Byrne will be happy to schedule a meeting for later this week for us to discuss the succession. Tomorrow would be fine, but I also don't wish to rush a matter that is of such impor-tance to the Holy Father and more importantly to Aquila. At your convenience, Regent." "Thank you," said Delan. "Perhaps, Brother, you might be able to liaise with my secretary, Antonini. I will ask him to contact you early tomorrow." "I'll be happy to speak with him any time after Mass, Lord Anderon," the Deacon acknowledged. "Lord Tremontaine, while I've seen a great deal of the documents supporting both claims, I expect to schedule hearings for both claimants and interviews if possible at the earliest date. If someone would so kindly speak to Brother Ezekiel, my secretary who should be arriving in the next day or two, he'll be sure to find a suitable time." "I would be pleased to take care of that," Lucien said. "My purpose at this time was merely to welcome you and the rest of your delegation to Aquila. It is a city—a world—in which I take a certain amount of pride, and we hope to show it to you at its best." He smiled at the churchmen. "If there is anything I, or my staff, can do to make your stay a pleasant one, I hope you will not hesitate to ask." "Lady Anderon, I apologize for the extreme hour and any inconvenience that my arrival has caused to you and your household. I hope the extreme hour won't keep me from seeing you all at mass tomorrow morning." "Not at all," Lady Anderon assured him with a slight shake of her head. "We're quite used to long days and short nights." She frowned momentarily; it might be best if the children attended services at home considering the earlier trouble. "I look forward to seeing you at Mass tomorrow." "There is one matter that I will probably need to bring to your attention," said Delan. "At the moment, I'm treating it as a civil matter—but I suspect there are religious dimensions. However, this had best be discussed tomorrow. Perhaps you could spare me five minutes after Mass, and I'll outline the problem." Lucien said nothing, well aware of what the Regent was referring to, and priv-ately pleased with the way he was handling it. He cast a friendly eye on Tom Schubert, and wondered what stories he had of the younger, perhaps less guarded, Delan Anderon. He would be at early Mass himself the next morning. Perhaps he could connect with the Monsignor after that. There would be time, he was sure of that. Not unlimited time, but enough, perhaps... Not that he would allow himself to become too distracted. Not with Harry's very future, and perhaps that of Aquila, at stake. Drew waited for Fiore to reply to Delan before making a sound, but before the impromptu reception concluded, he cleared his throat politely and replied directly to Fiore. "You can count on my attendance as well, Your Eminence. With my work keeping me off planet so frequently, my sleep schedule was shattered years ago. It always takes me a few days to get used to a planet's rhythm." His smile was polite. The speaker was, simply put, dressed anachronistically. Specifically he was adorned in a dark blue suit and red silk tie—offworld tailoring and not poor by any means. He was a blond-haired man, with clear blue eyes, and comely. Not only fit from nature's own blessing, but from all the benefits of advanced medicine, health care, and dentistry. "If Mr. Hoberty has been detained and cannot collect me," he added, "I might be in the embarrassing situation of asking if you if I might further impose upon the hospitality you and the Deacon have already so generously extended." He shrugged slightly with a bit of chagrined amusement. "Otherwise I might not even find the church." This momentary humor faded quickly though, and he nodded respectfully to the Cardinal's unexpected late night guests (carrying himself as one who was an expected and invited guest). "A pleasure to share the company of such august personages. Lord Regent, Lord Governor, and Lady Anderon," the stranger acknowledged each in turn. "Mr Bahlmis?" said Delan, using a common offworld form. "I believe Mr Hoberty will be here shortly to take you to your destination." What Delan thought Rosalor's reaction to such a late night arrival might be, he left unspoken. But he added with a smile, "I have found that when John Hoberty undertakes to do a thing, he does it no matter what. You will find many people here equally helpful,” he went gravely. "Not least, I am sure, will be Lady Bahlmis, who is my son's godmother." He smiled at the young man on crutches beside him. Giulian, he knew, had also spoken of encountering an offworld Bahlmis. "And who is ... not entirely unused to having young offworld relatives descend upon her unexpectedly," Giulian added, his dark eyes alight with speculation and amusement. This offworld Bahlmis who shared Treasa's coloring was almost certainly her brother, he guessed. O'Byrne's face was impassive, almost iconic. It might have occurred to Drew that this Deacon, were he not a man of the Church, might be supremely dangerous to play poker with. Giulian’s words garnered a curious look from Drew to be sure. His blue eyes studied Giulian, as he tried to discern more from the off-hand remark. Drew looked to O'Byrne and the Cardinal, to see their reaction or just to get confirmation that they read the same meaning into what the young man just said. "I'm certain you'll find Lady Bahlmis most hospitable, Mr. Bahlmis, and a very intuitive guide," Lady Anderon chimed in agreeably, though her brow was quirked in the direction of her son. "I am looking forward to meeting Lady Rosalor," Drew said almost absently, his eyes only flickering for a moment to Lady Anderon. "I'm curious to learn if my grandfather was any sort of immediate relative." He hesitated, aware that no introduction had been made. Yet he was clearly drawn back to her son, but he added briefly, "Andrew Bahlmis, but I usually just prefer Drew." "Giulian Anderon," Giulian introduced himself in return, extending a hand and a friendly smile, in which there was also a trace of satisfaction at having his deduction confirmed. Drew accepted Giulian's handshake, smiling in return. "Pleased to make your acquaintance…" There was a half second hesitation as he chose what might, he hoped, be an appropriate form address. "Giulian," he decided. However, the 'cat was out of the bag', so to speak, and his attention was right back on Giulian. That amused look on young Anderon's face spoke volumes. "I take it then that she did make it here?" he asked directly and with grave concern. "My younger sister, Treasa. Have you seen her? And is she safe and unharmed?" Giulian chuckled. "Yes, she did make it here, and yes, she is quite safe. I delivered her to the door of Bahlmis House earlier this evening, in fact." Drew looked obviously relieved, but didn't join in any display of Giulian's amusement. "That's a great comfort to know," he answered Giulian quite seriously. "I am in your debt, sir. And thank the Lord for it," he nodded to the Cardinal. Turning back to the other guests he elaborated, "I had shared my concern with the Cardinal and the Deacon on the journey here. Their assurances have been validated. All the more reason to offer my thanks at the Early Mass." Giulian nodded also, in acknowledgement. Privately he thought that Salla Lasse would be a more appropriate recipient of Drew's thanks for Treasa's safety than he would, but that was not a matter to be discussed here and now. "Forgive me," Drew added then. "I have already stolen enough time away from the Cardinal's reception with my personal business." "No, no," said Delan. "Having paid our respects, we shall withdraw. All of us, I suspect, will benefit from a good night's sleep. We have important work to begin tomorrow." He bowed to the Cardinal and his chaplain, including Drew in the gesture, and then prepared to withdraw. |
