AnderonFatherAndSonAs Giulian, eldest son of Lord Anderon, returned to Anderon House in the early evening, he was aware of a light in a certain room at the side of the mansion as he drove his lightly sprung curricle around to the stableyard. His father was home, then. When first Delan Anderon had become Regent of Aquila, he and his family had moved to the suite of the First Minister within the Nest. Although Giulian had been born -- as tradition demanded -- in Anderon House, it was across the carpets of the Nest that he had taken his first toddling steps, and the walls of the Nest that had heard his first words. Indeed, that state of affairs might have continued -- had it not been for the assassination attempt that had been intended to kill Lord Anderon, but which instead had nearly killed the five year old Giulian. Then the Regent's family had retreated behind the walls of Anderon House, and its estate. Delan had travelled, grim-faced, to the Nest every day, returning to spend long evenings with his son, those interminable evenings when the pain in Giulian's smashed legs had seemed worst. Even when that crisis was passed, the growing family had made their home in the mansion, although many times the pressure of the work of the Regency had forced Delan to sleep in the apartment still kept for his use in the Nest. And as the time of his Regency drew to a close, it seemed he was spending more and more time at the Nest, working on the details of the handover. Now, however, the light in the study told plainly that he was once more at Anderon House. Giulian saw the lighted window and drew a deep breath, letting it out again slowly. Just as well, he told himself, though he said nothing to the groom riding behind him. Instead he drove on into the stableyard, reining his chestnuts to a halt before the wide doors. Another groom appeared to take the horses' heads, while Danton sprang down from the rear of the carriage and came to assist his young master to alight. Giulian handed him the crutches that were propped against the seat, then lowered himself to the ground with the help of the handgrips specially built into his personal vehicle. He could stand, balanced, on the one leg that had eventually healed and the other, metal-braced one which had not, long enough to pull his satchel from the seat and sling it across his shoulder, before Danton handed him his crutches. Then he set off across the yard with his swinging, one-legged gait, toward the door of the mansion that faced the stables. Danton hurried on ahead of him to open the door, but was forestalled by one of the footmen, who had apparently been alerted to his arrival. Giulian greeted this individual with a quiet "Good evening," then said, "Thank you, Danton, that will be all for tonight. You can go and see to the team." "His lordship's at home, Lord Giulian," the footman ventured, as Giulian turned toward the wing where the family slept. "Yes, Sibley, so I saw," Giulian replied. "And my mother?" "I'm not sure, my lord. Dressing for dinner, I expect." "Ah, then I'm not too late. Good. I should go and dress as well," Giulian responded. "I'll be in my rooms, if anyone should ask for me." "His Lordship has asked you to wait for him in the library," said a fresh voice. "He will be with you shortly, my lord." A fresh voice, but a familiar one to Giulian. The crisp, firm tones belonged to Korine, housekeeper at Anderon House for nearly fourteen years -- and one of Giulian's oldest allies. Giulian turned his head sharply to look at her. "He says it is more important that you speak together now than that you change," she added. Giulian frowned a little, thoughtfully, but nodded. "Thank you, Korine. I gather someone has already informed him that I'm home, then? Or have you been lying in wait?" he added, one corner of his mouth turning up. She gave him a brief, slightly indulgent smile. "You drive your curricle very well, Lord Guilian, but not silently. Your father heard you arrive, and sent word to me." Giulian nodded, as if this was more or less the answer he expected. Even as she was speaking, there was a firm step on the stairs, and Guilian's father, Delan, Lord Anderon, came down the stairs. Now in the prime of his middle age, he was still the same dark, saturnine and lean figure that he had always been. His dark hair was touched with grey at his temples, and there were more lines around his eyes, but his gaze was still as keen as ever. At the sight of his son, he smiled briefly and said, in his rich, mellifluous voice, "Jules. Shall we?" A gesture of his arm indicated the library. "As you wish, Father," Giulian replied with an acquiescent inclination of his head. The younger Anderon was not unlike his father in feature, though he had his mother's fair complexion and dark, expressive eyes. The lean build in him had worn to thinness save for the sinewy musculature of arms and shoulders. He swung himself around and headed for the library door. The footman scurried ahead to open it for the two of them, and Giulian paused to allow Delan to precede him inside. Delan ignored the large desk that stood under the window, and instead made for the fireplace with its book-lined inglenooks. He took an armchair to one side of the fire, and waited until Giulian had seated himself in the other before taking his own seat. "So," he said, without heat. "I understand there is something you have to tell me." Giulian drew an audible breath. How does he find these things out so fast? Not that he'd been particularly secretive about the day's activities -- there would have been no point -- but he had rather hoped to be able to break the news himself. Making the best of things, he met his father's gaze levelly. "Yes... I was going to bring the matter up at dinner this evening. I was looking over lodgings today, near the University." His father's dark eyebrows lifted in interrogation. "And you have found lodgings more to your taste than your rooms here at Anderon House? And affordable out of your allowance? You are to be felicitated." "It isn't so much a question of taste as of convenience," said Giulian, leaving aside the matter of finances for the present. "Driving halfway across the city every day to attend classes seems ... inefficient." "Indeed it does," agreed Delan. "As does driving halfway across the city to my office in the Nest. I have, of course, a perfectly good set of rooms in the Nest, and could, in effect, live there. Yet I choose not to. "Efficiency isn't everything, Jules." "Of course not," Giulian agreed. "And I have no intention of abandoning my family. But..." He lifted a hand in an explaining gesture, laid it down again along the arm of his chair. "Well. There are any number of reasons I want to take lodgings near the campus during term time, and I'll lay them all out for you if you like," a selection of them, anyway, "but the main one is..." His eyes fixed on Delan with something very like entreaty. "How am I ever going to know if I can manage for myself -- oh, not alone, I know I can't do that, I intend to take Peterson with me -- but being responsible for myself, if I never try?" One corner of his mouth twitched up into a sardonic half-smile. "Call it an experiment, if you like ... under controlled conditions." Delan listened to all this thoughtfully, his expression suggesting the usual intensity with which he listened to people (a trait that some found decidedly disturbing). When Giulian finished, he said slowly, "I applaud your reasoning. And I fully sympathise with your desire for independence. Yet I do feel that you might be ... trying to go too far too fast. Throwing yourself from the top board of the bathing platform without considering experimenting with the lower levels, for example. And as when you decided at the age of ten that you should learn to drive a carriage and promptly attempted to harness up an unbroken stallion before anyone realised what you were about." Giulian had the grace to look slightly abashed at the reminder, though at the same time his eyes lit with suppressed amusement. "As ever, Jules, I salute your spirit, but I am concerned about your execution." He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "Would you be interested in an alternative suggestion?" "I'd be willing to listen to it," Giulian answered. "I suspect some of your problems come from the fact that we've always lived together in one wing of the House," reponded Delan. "And there's really no need. Well, yes, when you were younger, there were reasons why it was safest for us all to be together -- it certainly made the tasks of the guards easier. But now ... there's no reason at all why you shouldn't take over the South Wing and the suite traditionally used by the heir of Anderon. In fact, it's long past time. As I remember, Drostin moved there when he was sixteen ... I, of course, took them over after Drostin's death, so I was closer to your age... "You'll certainly have more independence -- they have their own entrance -- and as long as you use the south entry to the stables, no-one in the House will know the times of your comings and goings. And you can live a life as independent as you wish -- or can call on Anderon servants to clean the rooms and do your laundry." A startled, then rueful, flicker in those expressive eyes betrayed the fact that Giulian had perhaps not got so far as thinking about laundry. "And you won't have to pay rent." "Would I be able to have friends over for parties?" Giulian asked, cocking a challenging eye at his father. "And would they want to come so far?" "Whether or not you have friends over for parties will depend entirely on your own social inclinations and your budget," responded Delan. "As you have your own entrance, I doubt the rest of the household will ever know -- unless your friends insist on bathing noisily in the fountain in the middle of the night. Drostin had the rooms extensively soundproofed, you know." He did not elaborate on why Drostin would have had his suite soundproofed. The late Drostin Anderon's vicious proclivities were all too notorious. And indeed, despite Delan's lack of elaboration, Giulian's eyes could be seen to widen slightly in appalled speculation. "His ghost does not haunt the Wing," Delan added. "If it did, I am sure it would not have been able to resist the opportunity to haunt me." "I'm not afraid of ghosts." "As for being too far ... Jules, this is Anderon House. I very much doubt you are going to befriend -- or be befriended by -- the kind of people who are going to complain about the distance when invited here. If they are toadeaters, they will be delighted at the opportunity to visit you. If they are honest friends they will be willing to travel as far as is necessary to spend time in your company. Especially," he added somewhat drily, "when they know there will be excellent food at the end of the journey. "You'll probably find the furnishings somewhat austere. My tastes ran that way when I was young -- the seminary influence, no doubt. Your mother has reformed me somewhat over the years. But I daresay you could raid the attics and provide for yourself more than adequately. "Do you want to take a look?" "Do we have time, before dinner?" Giulian asked. "Or should we wait until after?" "It's up to you," said Delan. "Your mother has taken Nalda to a birthday party -- the Rostays' eldest girl. And the children have eaten in the nursery. So if we want dinner put back half an hour, that should be possible. Or we can explore on full stomachs later on. It must be years since I was in the Wing, although I don't doubt that Korine sees that the rooms are maintained to a high standard." "No doubt," responded Giulian, amused. "Well, if we won't be keeping anyone else waiting, we can go now." Giulian's other interests habitually outran his appetite. He hoisted himself up out of his chair with a practiced movement and reached for his crutches. Delan did not offer his son aid that would be intrusive and unwelcome. If, as they moved through the House, he slowed his pace, it was done with such accustomed ease as to be unnoticeable. He did not wait for Giulian on the stairs, however, but moved steadily upwards, and then waited for his son to climb painstakingly upwards and then recover for a moment on the landing. It was only for a moment; though with only one leg that worked, climbing stairs was always a trial for Giulian, it was something he had considerable practice at doing. Then Delan moved unhurriedly on and into the South Wing, unlocking the door with a half-forgotten key on his ring. The rooms were, as he had suggested, immaculately maintained. But the air in this wing was cold, smelling faintly of beeswax, lavender and loneliness. And it was austere in the extreme. Hard, dark chairs. Locked writing desk. A few bleak tables. Through one door a narrow bed could be glimpsed, with a plain white cover. There were no pictures of any kind on the walls. "There must be a happy medium," Giulian murmured, "between this and 'college casual'." Delan looked around thoughtfully. "I had forgotten ... just how narrow my life was then. How ... ascetic. In retrospect..." He shook his head. "I remember ... Jules, do you remember Ailise? You may not ... she married when you were about six. I believe she has five children now -- and she and her husband have a small bakery to the north of the city. She was under-housekeeper for a while here..." Giulian shook his head. He had few memories of Anderon House, or its staff, before the accident. "Originally she was sent to me as a gift. For my ... amusement." He frowned. "I believe I was something of a prig -- but had I not been, I would still have received that gift with about as much fervour as I would have received a live viper. To give one human being to another..." He fell silent, then walked to the long narrow window and looked out. "Until my father died, I was powerless to intervene. We were a slave owning House -- the old man was proud of it -- even though it was economically catastrophic. And morally..." He shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Almost my first action after inheriting was to free our slaves. And as my Regency draws to a close, the action I am most proud of, here on Aquila, has been to extend that freedom to all our inhabitants." He turned and looked at his son. "I sealed a devil's bargain for it to happen. I had to get the Lasses on-side for the Act to be passed. And so I did -- and Aquila pays the price. The ban on technology extended... "Most of the time ... I know I did the right thing. But then ... I think ... If nanotechnology had been routine on Aquila -- could we have made more progress with your injuries? How many other children have I sentenced to endure what you went through? How many mothers have I put through your mother's pain? "Was it worth it, then, after all?" Giulian regarded him thoughtfully, leaning on his crutches. "Do the numbers," he said quietly. "How many people would still be slaves if you hadn't passed the Act? Trapped in a prison not of their own making, with no legal recourse or hope of redress, no rights ... for them or their children. Not preventable, not treatable, not healable ... except in that one way. "As for me..." He shrugged. "Maybe I'll be able to go offworld one day, and see what the nanotech can do for me then." Delan nodded, without answering directly. "The technology will come," he said. "Perhaps -- if he has the stomach for the fight -- in Harry's time. The Lasses will undoubtedly attempt to extend the ban -- but a strong Duke could stand up to them..." "Strong..." Giulian murmured, thinking about Harry, whom he'd known most of his life. Was Harry strong? In that way? Delan was silent for a moment, and then said, "We have a Papal Legate coming to Aquila. To decide the legitimacy of Atropos' divorce from your aunt Nira." "So I've heard. What happens if he decides the grounds were ... insufficient?" "Then," said Delan at his dryest, "the stepfather of the new Duke will not be Lord Tremontaine, but Lord Lagoran. And all bets will be off." He turned to look out of the window once more. "I may be wronging Decuma. He's been away from Aquila a good while -- and will have learnt new habits and customs. Much will depend ... Decuma is, after all, an adult -- not a child in Lagoran's hands." "That's as may be," said Giulian. "But ... would it be as cut and dried as all that? Don't we, the people of Aquila, get a say? And what about Atropos? He wanted Harry to inherit, didn't he? That's what you've always said." "He wanted Harry to inherit," agreed Delan. "But his actual words ... they're seared on my soul, Jules ... were: 'First, I do hereby recognize my son, Decuma Amenides Maun heir to Aquila, to rule in my stead when I am gone. Secondly, by the power divinely invested in me to rule -- I do hereby decree and declare in front of these witnesses that Lord Delan Anderon is appointed regent of Aquila until my heir is of legal age. Advise and counsel him, as I would have.' " He looked a little wryly at his son. "Those words ... could apply to Nira's son as well as Lilly's -- although it was Lilly's that he meant. At that point, Nira's hadn't been born... It could have been a girl, you know." "That would have been too easy," Giulian commented, matching Delan's wryness. "And all right, legally no distinction can be made from that. But you know what he meant. You were there; this Legate wasn't. And he's not the one who will have to live under the consequences of his decision, either." "I know," said Delan. "And these, I hope, are arguments that will weigh with him. In a case like this, Jules, it is not wholly the rigid law that obtains. The wishes of the people, the needs of the state -- they too will play their part. "But ... there are those who would support Decuma rather than Harry. Lagoran has his followers -- as does Nira. And Nira is still very popular with the citizens. And why shouldn't she be? Her life is devoted to good works." His tone was dry. Giulian looked uncomfortable. Over the years he had come to realize that Delan did not trust his sister, and that his mother frankly detested her, but he himself could never forget the kind aunt whose visits had been bright spots in his convalescence, whose judgement as to which games and amusements he would enjoy was impeccable, and who always seemed to be able to tease him out of his sulks and megrims. "You are perhaps too young to remember the shock when Nira married Lagoran. But it was actually a clever choice -- my sister has always been shrewd." "Because he was powerful, and could protect her?" Giulian hazarded. "I've heard that Lord Tremontaine offered for her, too ... before he married the Duchess, I mean. Why would she choose Lagoran over him?" "Because Lagoran is unscrupulous and without morals," said Delan a little grimly. "Lucien Tremontaine will do much for Harry -- but there will come a point where he will draw a line. Lagoran ... has no line. And Nira knew it." Giulian looked troubled. "Does she really want it that much ... for Decuma to be Duke, I mean? What if he doesn't want to?" A reluctant amusement sparked in his eyes as he added, "What if neither of them wants to, when it comes right down to it?" Delan laughed. "I think Harry wants it. Oh, perhaps not in the way you want that new high phaeton. Perhaps not even in the way you want to walk again," he added more sombrely. "But ... the Dukedom is a duty and a trust. A responsibility to the people of Aquila. I don't think Harry is inclined to shirk responsibility -- do you?" Giulian chuckled also. "Never," he agreed. "How his brother regards the Dukedom ... I don't know." "I wonder if anybody knows," Giulian said musingly. "He's been away so long, seen so many other places... Oh, not the ones in that Aquila Awake! column," he added, one corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. "I hope I know better than to be taken in by that. But by now... He might be the one more eager to import technology, if he's got used to it." "To say so openly could cost him dearly," returned Delan. "Oh, he'll gain the support of the more hot-headed students. But, after all, what power do they have, save for causing some riot and rumpus in the streets -- which will alienate the more solid citizens anyway?" "No more than that at the moment, perhaps," said Giulian. "But the University students of today will be the educated and influential Aquilans of tomorrow." "Tomorrow being the operative word," said Delan. "And it is today -- or within a few months -- that the Dukedom will be decided. I doubt your technology-loving contemporaries will achieve gravitas so swiftly. "But the House Heads ... I'm still seen as a dangerous liberal by many of them. What would they make of someone who claimed the Dukedom and the right to introduce technology in one swoop?" "Oh, I agree -- he'd be foolish to come out and say that at the outset. But that wouldn't prevent him from holding the position, and watching for his opportunity." Delan nodded thoughtfully. "Waiting and watching is undoubtedly something Nira taught him -- if it wasn't already ingrained in the blood." Then his tone changed. "But ... Decuma is not here on Aquila. And we still have things to decide here. "What do you think about the suite, Jules? Do you want it for your own?" Giulian gave his father a considering look. "I should start thinking about my own position and responsibilities, shouldn't I? as heir of Anderon. Yes, I'll take the suite. Redecorating..." He looked around him again. "...should be responsibility enough, for now." |
