Trekmaster. James B. Johnson
Heads stuck out of doors and people ran down corridors shouting orders and questions.
Summer’s mule died halfway up the second ramp. Summer kicked free and began running up the ramp, his King still in his arms, bleeding all over him and the floor.
A minute later, he was on the fourth floor, the King’s chambers, and bursting through the master reception chamber. As he ran through, he saw that Queen Gwendlyon was hosting a tea party or something similar.
“Gwen, quickly now.” He kicked open the door to the bedrooms and Gwen was running behind him.
“TJ!” Summer could tell from her voice she was fighting for control. She came up beside him and looked at the entry wound. “Is...is he...?”
“I don’t know, but it’s worse in the back.” Summer kicked open another door and went to the King’s bed and laid him on his side. He ripped at sheets and jammed them against the wounds. “Gimme that pillow case, wrap it around these sheets. Tightly, now. Good.”
Then she pushed Summer out of the way and peered underneath the makeshift bandages. “I’ve always dreamed it would end like this,” she said. Her voice was flat. She ran her hands over the rest of TJ’s body swiftly, then checked his breathing and propped open one eyelid. “He’s alive. Barely.”
“I’ve sent for Nora,” Summer said.
“What happened?”
“A crossbow bolt from a rooftop. I suspect poison.”
Gwen raised a decanter of water from a nearby table. She tried to force TJ to drink some. His lips and throat did not cooperate. He breathed harshly and his lips were turning purple. She jammed her thumb in between his teeth and poured the entire contents of the decanter into his mouth. He coughed and gagged, but the action caused some of the liquid to go down. Gwen pulled her thumb out and looked at the ragged gash made by clenching teeth. She wiped it on her gown unconsciously.
Just then crashing sounds came from the outer chambers and a horse slammed through the bedroom door. Timmons bent to hand down Nora from where he was carrying her. The horse was frothing like Summer’s mule just before it had died. He addressed Summer. “Chambers clear and Gyrenes on guard. General Vero notified.”
Summer nodded and the lieutenant dismounted and pushed his horse out backward.
“Nora, hurry,” said Gwen.
“Is he alive?”
“Barely.”
“My equipment,” Nora snapped.
Timmons cursed and dragged a satchel off his pommel and brought it to her. “Sorry.” He left and closed the door.
As Nora began to work, cleaning and inspecting, General Manuel Vero knocked softly and entered without waiting. His dark face blanked when he saw the King on the bed and Gwen and Nora working over him. He looked at Summer. “You have command. Your orders, sir?”
Summer turned to Gwen. “Let Nora work, Gwen. We’ve got to do this right, and do it now.” He knew the entire city of Crimson Sapphire would be afire with rumors. To maintain control, action must be taken immediately. And he knew Manny and Gwen knew it also.
Gwen didn’t stop cutting TJ’s clothes off as Nora worked. “Manuel,” she said without looking up, “Summer speaks for me.”
Nora glanced up, surprised, then returned to her work.
“Orders, Manny. Close the palace down. First line security. As many Gyrenes and palace personnel as can be spared to go off duty—and out of uniform—and spread through the city. Soothing and calming messages, that sort of thing—with wary eyes open. The Queen is in charge. As regent, while TJ is unconscious.” He turned. “Nora, how long...?”
“I do not know. Hours? Days?”
“Okay,” Summer said, “it shall be as when Felicia had to rule when TJ’s father was killed and he was on the Trek. Tell the herald to say that the King has been wounded and is recovering. I want the area of attack to be covered like stink on manure....”
“Already done.”
“Good. No public dismay; outside this room, always optimistic, downplay the seriousness of the wound.” He thought and made a decision. “Also, tell the herald that starting tomorrow, the Queen and Prince Michale will resume the King’s official schedule as much as possible. The Queen is in active control. The rest of us do what we can.”
“Aye, sir.” Vero glanced at the Queen.
Gwen said, “A word from Summer is a word from me and TJ.”
Summer actually felt the quiver in her tone, and could see the weight of the kingdom fall upon her as she realized the impact, especially since all she wanted to do, obviously, was comfort TJ. “It will be easier tomorrow, Gwen.”
“Will it? I don’t think so. Will you see to things? I’m not going to leave him now...now that he needs me.” She looked startled by her own revelation.
Which echoed his own feelings precisely. And there was something he might have to do—and he could have no witnesses. He saw that Gwen saw his indecision. “Manny,” she said, “you and Mike and Alfred run the store. I suspect if you give Alfred free reign, things will be all right. The man’s an administrative genius, else TJ would never have picked him. Check with Summer on policy and the big things.”
“It shall be done, and I’d best be doing,” Vero said.
“Thank you,” Gwen said and threw a blood-soaked tunic aside.
Summer turned and found Nora staring at the three of them as if not believing the conversation she’d just witnessed. He didn’t pay her much attention. He was in an inner struggle of his own. Should he do it? It would be against TJ’s expressed desires. But for his friend’s life, he’d do anything. Then he realized. “Nora—stop staring and get to work.” He doused a towel into a pitcher of water and began wiping off his makeup. Quickly, he stripped to his waist.
And the medallion that swung from his neck was the symbol of the Muster.
As Vero opened the door to leave, Lieutenant Timmons was standing there waiting. “Sir, we scratched a Cheshire with the bolthead. The animal is dying.” Vero glanced at Summer. Summer nodded acknowledgment and Gwen sighed. Vero closed the door and Nora shrugged as if to say she had been right and there was no need to kill a Cheshire to prove it.
Summer stepped into the King’s closet and selected a nondescript tunic and trousers. He tightened a broad belt around them to make the clothes fit better.
He returned to the bedside. “Nora, your silence on this matter and my position is required.”
“Yes,” she muttered, obviously unsure of that which occurred in the halls of power.
“What is your diagnosis?” Summer asked.
“He has lost too much blood. And the quarrel was poisoned.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you an antidote?”
“For what? I don’t know what poison was used, but I doubt I have anything to counteract it. Never have I seen symptoms like these.”
“Do what you can.”
“Obviously,” she said. “For whatever use it might be.”
“What?” Gwen demanded and Summer knew the Queen had caught on at the same time he did.
“He’s dying,” Nora said bitterly. “Only his tremendous constitution has kept him alive this long.”
Gwen sank to her knees at TJ’s side.
Summer stood and stared. He couldn’t define his feelings. Just a complete emptiness. A frustration of things undone. The future gone like chalk erased from a