The Heart Harrower

By E A (Edward) St Amant

The Great Betrayer strikes to enslave the Proudhon on Troan. The Soul Slayer will try to seduce the Proudhon with pleasure and gifts, including a celestial virgin and a masterful slave. In the third book, the Proudhon surrenders to the Heart Harrower’s forces on Nuway, a planet with a punishing gravity to the Races. In the fourth, the Proudhon is taken to the secret society of Burydane on Edede, a planet in the Purze Sun System far from the Circle Cluster. In the fifth, the Proudhon acquires work in the Ministry of Essential Duty on Centre planet in the CentreRule administration. The decisive struggle takes place in the sixth and final book on Centre, in Photon Rain Forest, under the Huntuu Gilian Tree.

A stunning and gripping epic. By book three, I was so enthralled, I couldn’t wait to finish reading to the end of book six to follow the future of the characters and the outcome of the story. Strongly built characters with whom the reader will interact; there are some you cheer for and some you want to see get their comeuppance. I purchased this rather intimidating looking six book series with a healthy dose of skepticism. Since then I’ve been converted. Beautiful. It starts as a chase story and like a snowball rolling downhill gathers everything into itself faster and faster until it crashes into the Beginning One himself. A masterpiece a great epic with good characterization, a well developed universe and lots of action.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E A (Edward) St Amant
• Release date: Jun 29, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452393469

E A (Edward) St Amant

E A St Amant is the author of How to Increase the Volume of the Sea Without Water, Dancing in the Costa Rican Rain and Stealing Flowers.https://www.minds.com/edwardatedstamant/https://tededwardstamant.substack.com/

Book preview

Book III

The Heart Harrower

Published by E A St Amant at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition August 2011

Verses and poems within, by author

Web and Cover design by: Edward Oliver Zucca

Web Developed by: Adam D’Alessandro

eimpressions Toronto Canada

Copyrighted by E A St Amant May 2006

Author Contact: [e-mail]

E A St Amant.com Publishers

www.eastamant.com

All rights reserved. No part of this novel may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, emailing, ebooking, by voice recordings, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author or his agent. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, companies, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances whatsoever to any real actual events or locales in persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The Circle Cluster, Book III, The Heart Harrower = ISBN-13: 978-0-9780119-2-5; Digital ISBN: 978-1-4523-9346-9. Thanks to the many people who did editorial work on this project and offered their many kind suggestions, including Dr. Phil Miller, T R St Amant and Susan Alsbury. This series would not have been possible without all the long hours of work by Val Gee.

By Edward A St Amant

How to Increase the Volume of the Sea Without Water

Dancing in the Costa Rican Rain

Stealing Flowers

Spiritual Apathy

Restrictions

Book of Mirrors

Perfect Zen

Five Days of Eternity

Five Years After

Five Hundred Years Without Faith

Fog Walker

Murder at Summerset

This Is Not a Reflection of You

The Theory of Black Holes (Collected Poems)

The Circle Cluster, Book I, The Great Betrayer

The Circle Cluster, Book II, The Soul Slayer

The Circle Cluster, Book IV, The Aristes

The Circle Cluster, Book V, CentreRule

The Circle Cluster, Book VI, The Beginning One

Non-Fiction

Atheism, Scepticism and Philosophy

Articles in Dissident Philosophy

The New Ancien Régime

By E O Zucca and E A St Amant

Molecular Structures of Jade

Instant Sober

Living Animal

Chapter 1

Bonst Coll, the Heart Harrower – Authority/Disbelief – stood on a dais and looked out over a congregation of military personal in a pulsar ship hall. The room was startling for its sense of decorum as though to express authority itself. It was high, made of black reflective walls, lit brightly by high chandeliers which were made of priceless culex diamonds from Redace. In his muscular, almost chiseled teenage Spurl body, the Harrower stared out at them and glowed a dazzling red actiniform. Disbelief filled the room and the primeval emotion of authority could be felt throughout the hall. From the brettiscreens behind the coal colored Heart Harrower, the crowd could see his fleet of pulsar ships floating around their swirlpoints in space, led by his command ship. It was orbiting Nuway, Scol, a planet home to three races: the native Race of Daxz, the underground Bloodscol – a mutant creation from Daxz stock of his centuries back, of which he was still proud – and the Mantus Mur, Mantars adjusted to Nuway’s gravity and living in or around strongly fortified military bases.

The military gathering was made up mostly of Tewks, the generals of his armies–hundreds of them. Some Boldcore Commanders from the Overseer’s Council were there as well. They were the Highest Generals of CentreRule and were from the Races of Vilemarcs, Centrites, Mantars, Spurls, Tonts, Bloodscols, and even Tutans.

Your responsibilities are about to dramatically increase, he said his voice carrying an undercurrent of terror and zeal. We must move to integrate Order’s legions, bases, and pulsar ships quickly in with our forces. We must complete the transition before Eft returns – this is his wish.

It was an outright lie, the Harrower knew that Eft coveted the Slayer’s vast armies just as he did, but his brother was nowhere to be found. The Betrayer’s wish for something else – whatever it was – was strong and had taken him away from the Cluster.

Order is dead, he continued, and Authority must assume command in her stead. During a time of confusion, the Races need reassurance. The presence of the army and of the law is essential. They need information which benefits the voice of Authority. They need the Thurgists and Fakirs on the public screens speaking to them of law and order–we better find out those citizens who are privately complaining. We will dissolve their identities, slay their unhappy personalities, or whatever it takes, but no more public executions. Unlike Eft Coll, my sister forbade them, and in this, she was right.

Again, he sent a wave of disbelief out into the crowd of his leaders. Most minds are horrifyingly tiny, he continued, and geared only to seek pleasure. It isn’t overly simple to say that a little planning and effort on our part are needed in winning their hearts, but, mere automatic regulation of their routines hasn’t produced a complete end to dissent as CentreRule had hoped.

Biting sarcasm filled his deep voice. Setbacks, no matter how disappointing, will make us all stronger, more vital! The Beginning One needs our efforts increased. Theocracy has brought us great advantage, but, the Zora-Cause seizes those who fall through the net of our social infrastructure, so, let us tighten the net, sow up the holes, and thus, curtail Anarchy before she grows beyond our ability to contain her. Are the citizens clothed and fed? Are they monitored on a regular basis? Immediately intensify the compulsory seminars of all citizens. Increase the frequency of accessing sessions. Have you assisted the Accessors who are under your commands? Are they being properly supervised by the Redace and Greenace Hanrahans? In the years ahead, we must move forward quickly in these matters. Remember of the mind, even in the time of complete intellectual detachment, it can’t escape from facing the incoherent nightmare of life without the Overseer. Remember, Order has fallen, but He is on our side. Now go, and do your duty for the love of Him who should not be named.

He stepped back, looking at his high lieutenant, Unmoor, who was as though a monstrosity of the mutant Vilemarc race. He was nearly as large as an adult Spurl, a yellow-eyed Vilemarc who though larger than Bandor had no distinctive haunting feature as he had.

As they walked off the stage together, the military crowd clapped enthusiastically.

Is the ship ready? the Harrower asked when they were alone. His Vilemarc lieutenant nodded. Let us get into tau position as soon as possible. He rethought what he had said and turned around. Don’t spook them though. Terre, Solan is waiting, but we must arrive in good order.

––

On the ceptor trip to Soulhawk from Airange, Arck learned that after the Soul Slayer’s death, the Freeguard on the planet had destroyed Fallow Castle and the Auccion. He would have forbidden it if he’d known. He mourned its passing, but kept his feelings to himself. He knew that you had to make peace with the past, especially with your enemies if you have defeated them, or how else can you go on, except through endless war? Already the planet had devolved into a sort of civil war. Auden being a major player in it, so, the war on Airange was hardly begun, let alone over. What could the Proudhon do? He also knew he had angered all of his detractors inside the Zoraselmain Movement by giving the Soul Slayer’s Mij disc to Durakerk Laiver. It was disagreeable on two fronts. Durakerk was a Druid, and his Druid mother held the Great Betrayer’s old Mij disc. Yes, they would be fuming, but he had suffered under the Slayer and won victory over her. It was his decision to make, and he made it!

As he waited to dock, he grew excited. He could almost taste Sevinn Sean in his mouth. She was just a few minutes away and his loins ached.

When the wendroys were locked, he un-strapped at once, and without words, Grey secreted him through a side door as soon as air-decompression was over. Grey must have sensed his longing. The brettiscreens flickered off as the two of them moved through the corridors. In a hall just around a corner of miniature red trees from the planet Yere, Saber, he saw Sevinn coming toward him at a rush. He shouted out in joy and ran as well. They hugged and hastened to strip as they kissed. Falling to the floor, he burned blue and she did too inside his Taja actiniform.

Her hair was a lighter shade now, but still short and she had a white flower pinned to the side of it. She wept as they embraced intimately. What Arck felt was indescribable joy and a final end of his horrible ordeal in Ninjus and Airange.

Her perfect form and beautiful face carried him away to another place. He was in and out of DreamGarden even as he rolled along on the floor with her under the red trees in the dark rich earth of Soulhawk’s pathways. Where her mind went, he didn’t know, but he knew it couldn’t be to a place as perfect as FlowerWorld.

Grey assured their privacy.

Afterwards, Grey took them both to Arck’s room where they spent the day together in private.

In the Pulsarite, the hallways were so wooded that at times the corridors were like grottos and caves, much more so than even Coldfire. Soulhawk collected live plant specimens from all over the Cluster and even the holds were partially wooded. Their living-quarters were shot through with numerous flowering plants from Troan. Arck thought that it was a quite wonderful trick and wondered who was behind it.

At some point, he asked Sevinn of her rescue from Norlay Delta. She wanted to hear first of his ordeal, but he tearfully refused.

Several weeks after you had left, she said softly, learning up on an elbow and rubbing his chest, alarms brought us to the main brettiscreen.

As she told him of the story, she became teary eyed. I must have cried for hours, she whispered, when I found out you weren’t the one who had sent Taff and that you were missing. I don’t even remember being brought up to Coldfire I was so distracted.

Did you meet Tob, Strom, and the company of Flowerholders then?

At Kryce’s request, we were at once transferred to Soulhawk. He was anxious to meet up with his Pulsarite partner, GoldAegis. I didn’t understand it at all, but Grey insisted we stay under Kryce’s care.

The Greywheter Druid understands the politics of it.

What do you mean?

Strom and I were lovers. She might now be a witch, but she can certainly be a bitch.

I’m still puzzled?

Let’s wait and see.

The next morning, Jeff Lag let himself in and woke Arck. The Proudhon saw that Coldfire must have arrived–the Flowerholders and Taff were near–he felt it. Sevinn sat up beside Arck, covering her breasts. Jeff had an ice-drink in hand and shared it with Arck and Sevinn. Arck saw that Grey had let him in and that she wished him to be the welcoming committee for the Flowerholders. This he thought was peculiar; however, he was so excited with the thought of seeing them all, that it seemed as though just a small detail, unworthy of criticism. Jeff sat by his side and touched his face in disbelief.

I hardly recognize you, he said softly.

Arck thought that was funny too. Jeff appeared much the same, maybe he even seemed now to have grown younger. Perhaps getting older wasn’t as hard as growing up. He touched Jeff’s hand surprised at how rough it felt, but then the Elder noticed the red plastic covers over the holes in Arck’s hands and touched them but said nothing.

It is good to see you, Jeff, Arck whispered after introducing him to Sevinn. What they did to me, I can only hope to forget, or put it in a place where it’s not easily retrieved.

My emotions are high, the Elder whispered, steadying Arck with his ancient look, then, he switched language to Native Troanish, and sang in a soft voice,

"No lost purpose in serving one like thee.

When the sun blasts the tops of trees,

Or the roots creep deeper into the heart,

Or where the plains of clear water start,

Who will reveal what the world now needs?

Who will love this one which now leads?

The sea and the land reside in your ear,

The marsh and mountain meet in your tear."

This, Arck, is a little song from me to welcome you back.

He rose and stepped back smiling with a half bow and left.

Time to go and see everybody, he said to Sevinn and Grey.

The Savant is not a simple problem, Arck, Grey mindsaid to him, his dislike for Zora principles is a problem. Everywhere he goes, he disturbs anyone he meets, and he insists on meeting with everyone–if you see what I mean? Worse still, his wit is every bit as effective as a Beta-Thurgist. On the other hand, Sevinn is truly beautiful and I like her.

Menhaden, how is she? he said aloud, looking at Sevinn with a shrug and heading to the washroom.

Withdrawn, Arck. Grey continued to mindspeak, The suffering I feel in her is great and her memories are as black as even I can tolerate. The Chrisarmains killed her parents, her children, her husband, and her siblings–they believed she had information on the Kryce-Wizard.

When I first found her, she was moments from death, worse even than the Wizard. Is Kryce okay?

Never worry about a Wizard, Arck. I want to tell you something. At Thorgornair Prison, you did a great thing and it was truly inspiring–the Freeguard will never forget it.

You worked with Taff. You have patched up your differences then?

Taff survives, and I survive. That is enough. Wizards and Druids are never going to agree.

Grey left and Arck joined Sevinn in a bath. In her arms, he almost fell to sleep awhile and felt the great magnetic attraction of Soulhawk. Sevinn dressed in a pleat pure white dress which hung on her in a breathtaking manner. Arck wore a white shirt and had Reed’s nakus-falchion tucked under his belt. In a closet, he had found Freeguard uniforms, boots, scarves, and badges, that had been tailored for him, but he had decided not to wear a uniform. For a moment–he didn’t know what brought it on–he thought of Tipeg. He sensed that perhaps the real fighting would have to be done without a uniform.

He was starting to understand how important what he said and did, was to others. He found his sister’s green and black Betty Beetle Bug and a silver necklace engraved, ‘To Pom, Love, Arck,’ as well as, Malory’s bright golden emblem of a quartered sickle moon, the SelmaKeatra coin of safety. He was happy he still had kept them all. Remembering the Bolkant family, his whole life suddenly flooded him with sadness. He recalled his starvation and beatings in the Slayer’s hands. He remembered suddenly that he had not saved Menatt, Vreen, Fern, Tuvver, Sheila, nor Tilly.

Are you okay? Sevinn whispered, as though noticing his sadness. Come and sit. I will make you a little to eat.

He refused with a shake of his head and took her in his arms–he placed the volscyl-bluebell around her neck. She stood perfectly still, as though not understanding that in a minute, for some creatures, a lifetime comes and goes. She glowed in vibrant blue. Perhaps, being a Beta-Kostel and knowing presciental, she had a premonition of this gift. She brushed against him so that he felt her breasts underneath her dress up against his chest–she put her hands down around his waist. They began kissing, and with their clothes on, they made love.

Afterward, they straightened themselves out and left the sanctuary of the room to meet whoever was there waiting for them. Soon, Grey joined them.

In the corridors of Soulhawk, she mindsaid to him, unlike Coldfire, one can easily get lost.

They followed her to Maye Stynn’s offices without being seen. On some parts of their route, the trees were so thick that it was impassable unless they were willing to follow single-path on slick stone walkways.

Taff, Arck shouted upon seeing him–the Proudhon rushed over and hugged him, then he caught sight of his younger brother, Tob. He hugged him as well and saw that he was shaving now. This made him laugh to himself. You finally look good in their uniform, Tob, he whispered in his ears.

This is your uniform as well. You are our leader.

He saw that Sevinn and Strom had exchanged words already and that Sevinn had left the hall in tears. Next he caught sight of the Mauller. My god, Durakerk, he said, it is good to see you.

So it went with the others. He greeted them all full of the memories of days and nights in the Slayer’s dungeons. They’d changed so much and he was so distracted that he didn’t first see the dozen or so Freeguard warriors he had grown to know at Barkel Mountain, including the lovely fierce-looking Deng Frest. Her sharp features combined with her height to give her that distinctive Freeguard warrior look so common among Taff’s troop, wild, yet severe. Deng’s friend, the stunning Azar Elka, who was taller than even Adolphine White, stood beside her. Taff Hart’s highest assistants were there, including the contentious frightful-looking female stō, Ruby Obiss, Taff’s highest, most decorated lieutenant, his field commander, confidant, and war-adviser.

Giant Grey warriors, dressed neither like the Noutrus nor the Guild, stood without weapons as guards and attendants around the circumference of the hall. They dressed casually but wore Maye Stynn’s insignias, surprisingly, a representation of Ninjus, greened continents against the black oceans. His younger sister, Di was dark as ever but now with a defined body. She wore the Freeguard uniform with Taff’s colors and his counter-insignia, the planet of Goldage with its millions of islands–yellow on black, and his official insignia, a naked female and male with their arms stretching upward. She openly displayed the golden atloft volscyl-flower.

Little Larska was in civilian clothes, but she too had the pink aster volscyl-flower, which he had given her at Durmarg, Spurlorn, when he had handed himself over to the Soul Slayer. He wondered why Pom didn’t openly display her orange naitur. The Matron, Jissy Rang, and her mate, Dol Dell, stepped forward and hugged him. He was afraid at first that they would make him sit down and eat.

How long have you been with Taff? he asked, making conversation in the hopes of heading this off.

You don’t know? Jissy said, lightly rubbing his shoulder, we raised him.

Startled with this information, he hung his head, and for a moment, was completely lost in thought, until behind him, he heard the Familiar’s screech, He who sleeps with the enemy’s harlots, will always be in the enemy’s grip.

The Proudhon turned around, and when he first saw Strom, and how beautiful she was, he suppressed a feeling of hurt. She wore a black lustrous dress which flowed over her lithe frame rather exotically. Her haunting, striking face competed for attention with her vivid purple larkspur which hung from her neck. The stunning and colorful silvern Mockingbird, with its crimson wisteria sat on her wrist. Strom wore a sheathed weapon now, a nakus-falchion, and also openly showed Fern’s larlstone. She looked like a goddess, but what she said next, made her seem far less than a goddess.

I see you have brought a lady of pleasure back from the Soul Slayer for yourself. At least you are not in shame now as you were before. I hope you didn’t have to use fraud to win her heart–in her I have sensed that she truly loves you.

Sevinn Suean is a Beta-Kostel, if you don’t know. A healer, practiced in the art of the presciental, and can meld with both Centrite and Hittitean minds. When I first struck Sphange down with Reed Kite’s falchion, nearly slaying Order in her own palace, Sevinn ran with me then to the Guildhad and lived by my side throughout all the suffering and discomfort Mamaral Forest could throw at us–all without complaint.

Arck could see that she had been struck to the quick. She’s a gift from the Soul Slayer, a Centrite, Strom said unkindly.

Silence gives consent, the bird screeched beside her. Contracts with the enemy, paved the way for future betrayal.

Together, the Witch and the Familiar left the hall.

When at last Taff and he were able to talk alone, the Wizard leaned into his ear and whispered, You are truly brave, well beyond which mere words can express. You have destroyed one of the eternal Evil Spirits, and yet, you don’t even speak of it.

I have missed you, Taff.

Kryce Mane has arrived, and the three of us must soon talk together.

Chapter 2

Sometime after this, many trillions of miles away, Bandor, the Vilemarc High-Lieutenant to the former Mij Trinity, gathered his fleet of three pulsar ships around a swirlpoint, just as the Zoras do when they have Council meetings. Here he waited, watching the large brettiscreen of the control room of Avamrate, his personal pulsar ship, which showed a portal view of the star system of Centre Binary. Bandor sat in silence and reflected on his arsenal of military power and the recent turn of his luck. He stuck out among the Vilemarcs, not only with his muscular build and his loveless intelligent eyes, but his political desires. The Vilemarcs would be a Race. They would have a leader. They would get a planet. And he was a means to an end.

By certain turns of fate, he’d gained the Great Betrayer’s personal pulsar ship, Tragal, which had been legally decreed to him. At least he was making that claim. He had also acquired the Slayer’s ship, Tramas, which after her death, he had taken–the crew after all was loyal to him. He knew though that the ships were like ticking time-bombs more than prizes and that the Heart Harrower would soon strip him, not only of these, but also of Avamrate, his personal pulsar ship, and perhaps even of his very existence.

Furthermore, he had been warned in a communiqué from a certain reliable Centrite Councilor who was an old enemy of the Mij Trinity, that the Heart Harrower was moving immediately to inculcate his sister’s forces with his own, and doing so, was arresting, and in many cases, executing, her highest commanders. Now, while it was true there might have been a traitor among the Slayer’s personal staff which led to her defeat, to Bandor’s thinking, suspecting a Vilemarc of his stature was ridiculous, after all, they were created by the Harrower himself – by Authority itself – to serve the Chriso-Cause.

Besides, Bandor was the Betrayer’s man if it came to that, and furthermore, he knew that although he had indeed betrayed the Slayer, that she should have forced the Proudhon into the noloyd-disc and then destroyed his body, just as he himself had so many times suggested. Her greed had destroyed her. Moreover, who knew of his betrayal? Only the Proudhon and the Greywheter Druid.

In front of Bandor, came an image on the giant brettiscreen. It started from a pinpoint of light in the middle of the screen and quickly grew into a clear image of a colossal Centrite Pulsar Battle Ship, then, a huge tall Vilemarc stepped up to him from across the room.

The Tewk’s forces have arrived, he announced quietly.

Bandor looked over at him, one of his most accomplished lieutenants and nodded almost imperceptibly, then the Vilemarc lieutenant withdrew.

Bandor knew that what he did today would decide his fate, and perhaps the fate of all who rode with him, indeed, even the whole Vilemarc Race. He wondered if he could ever be free of the recent thoughts which plagued him. No matter how he’d tried, since being affected by Arck, he had changed. Bandor had tortured, taunted, and abused the Freeguard Proudhon, worse, he had been emotional about it: he had enjoyed it. But all throughout, Arck had scared him. It wasn’t Arck’s power, but his unrelenting desire to be free. Now he wondered, could he be free, and could Vilemarcs be free?

All he knew was that he could not see himself a slave any longer. A nervous expression sat on his face and his yellow sad eyes flitted from the screen to the door. He sighed, rose and walked through the dull light of the gray hallways of Avamrate. In the dull gray hold, he readied his personal ceptor to go meet with the CentreRule Councilor and Tutan Boldcore Commander, Tewk Leccan on board the pulsar ship, Florcelen. He looked to the large brettiscreen which showed that the Tewk had brought a fleet of CentreRule pulsar ships, some trailed behind, just in case there should be open conflict between the Tewk and Bandor, thus, making Leccan’s arrival even more impressive.

Bandor’s attitude changed at this and he smiled. He himself was molded of the Betrayer’s ilk and he knew that the CentreRule Tewks did not trust him. How could he blame them? But, fear is good he told himself. The Tewk Leccan perhaps even thought this was the Great Betrayer’s trap. Perhaps Leccan had not yet guessed that he was just trying to save his own hide. Vilemarcs by the thousands served Bandor aboard these three pulsar ships, and elsewhere as well. Furthermore, many Noutrus served him aboard Tramas. He again quickly counted the main points in his resources: culex, troops, all three ships armed for full battle.

He drew to the main hold called Portal One, and soon, his personal ceptor was lifting off from Avamrate. In the time that had followed Sphange’s defeat, Bandor had received much to think about and much to do, highest among these were, ‘Should the Vilemarcs have their own nation, led by one of their own kind? Could he be that leader?’ However, he wondered about his recent desires to be alone and to have privacy as well? The High Priestess had been cast down by this wild-eyed Hittitean youth who represented freedom for all.

The ceptor landed in the Tewk’s pulsar ship with a knowing clunk. Exceedingly old was this Battle Ship which Bandor’s ceptor had just entered, old, powerful, and full of victories. Florcelen was gigantic, and it had comforts for the Centrite personal which regular Vilemarcs do not even dream about.

He knew that Florcelen was named after a rare bird of prey from the planet Greenace. The doors hissed, and Bandor stepped on board with a host of his personal staff and a dozen guards, six of which were Vilemarcs who possessed annujet-discs and six which were Black-Cloaked SpurlusNoutrus Greys with sama-implants.

The ceiling of the hold was high, curved in columns, and to their sides, there were huge pictures of Leccan, and other famous Tewks.

Bandor saw splendid statues as he walked toward the reception area just out of reach of the grinding decompression sounds. Everywhere, the Tewk insignia were in view, the exploding nova and the shooting arrows coming from it all held within a double circle, and almost looking like the spokes of a wheel.

An assortment of the high echelons in Leccan’s organization had turned up to see him–as witnesses he assumed. He saw that the Tewk was taking no chances. This boded well though. Keeping his face expressionless, he nodded in their general direction. A Centrite Beta-Fakir came forward. He wore a robe which hid his icabus-staff, porphy-device, clipper shields, annujet-discs, and baliwax falchion.

Welcome, Lord Bandor, he said softly, I am Tylish, Beta to the Veda-Fakir, Keress.

Bandor knew of him, and of course, his ferocious-looking and famous leader, Keress. Tylish was Keress’ longtime personal-assistant, a Centrite much younger than his High Veda-Fakir, but who was disguised to look three decades older. He had gray, straggly hair and a faraway look in his eyes like he was almost always in a bewatrance, or as though he was forgetful and had gone senile.

Again Bandor nodded. Take me to Leccan, he ordered in an austere manner.

Tylish bowed and looked Bandor in the eye, as though quite prepared for the lack of culture from a Vilemarc leader. The Beta turned at once. All twelve of Bandor’s guards wore baliwax swords and they flanked him left and right.

In a room with some considerable attention to detail, Bandor waited as the Tewk’s people prepared everything. Then at the moment when the Tewk appeared, Bandor pretended not to see him and drew forth as though distractedly from his train to look at the unusual trees which lined a large wall to his right side. They were robust trees, not tall, but their buds were drawing to brilliant yellow. They were wooded in a considered manner and exuded a feel wonderful to touch.

Having stepped away in this manner, it seemed Bandor had purposely slighted one of the most powerful Tewks in the whole of CentreRule’s military, and Leccan wasn’t just an experienced victorious Tewk, but a High CentreRule Councilor and a Boldcore Commander. Still, Bandor stood in front of the trees as though he had lost his mind. However, Leccan too, stepped away from his train, and drew up behind Bandor. He was a muscular and fit Tutan, the single only Tewk to hail from Echo, and his dress was of the finest cloth in the Cluster.

Forgive me, Lord Bandor, he said, I can certainly see that Dread or Disbelief has not sent you here. I know that you would not have docked three pulsar ships in such a defenseless manner and wouldn’t appear now to be more interested in our beautiful scepms, than talking to me.

Someday, I would like some trees for Avamrate, Bandor said, interrupting him. On my ship, there is not one single plant.

Flabbergasted, Leccan signaled an assistant, a Veda-Kostel, Ooft, an old and severe-looking Centrite. He drew up slowly and bowed. Yes, Excellency, he said in his weathered voice.

Ooft, have the scepms delivered at once to the Avamrate.

The Veda-Kostel bowed again and left. Bandor turned at length after further admiring the trees and stared into Leccan’s eyes. It had been Dread he knew who so hated this Tewk.

I would talk to you in private, he said. The High Fakir Keress is with you. You, he, and me, is this to your satisfaction?

This is more than fair, Lord Bandor, Leccan answered as though he tried to retain his caution, yet also, totally shocked at such a move. Bander knew that if the Tewk was as smart as they claimed, he’d ascertain the riddle. There is a private portal room near.

That will be fine, Bandor said, taking no precautions and throwing his fate to the Tewk.

Thus at once they stepped in that direction, and on passing through the crowd in the hall, Leccan stopped in front of a long haired tall ferocious-looking Centrite with a pronounced bold forehead.

Will you join us, Lord? Leccan asked the Keress Fakir, who was dressed in the signets of the Overseer’s Highest ranks and was talking casually to a beautiful female Centrite, a Yager-spy in the Tewk’s staff.

Looking Bandor quickly up and down, Keress took his porphy rod from under his cloak and tapped it slowly in his other palm. Yes, he said so softly that it was hardly more than a whisper.

Work crews came out into the hallway, preparing the scepms for Bandor’s ship. Together Leccan, Bandor and Keress left the large hall and entered a room with a larger brettiscreen than Bandor had ever before seen on any of the Coll’s pulsar ships.

Tell me of the Slayer’s death? the tall ferocious-looking Veda-Fakir asked before they had even sat.

What is to tell? Bandor said, coyly, annoyed at the question and seeing at once where it headed.

Well, in your opinion was the Proudhon responsible for her death?

Bandor shrugged and released air through his lips. What is it that you really wish to know?

Tell us everything you know of Order’s destruction, Keress demanded. All three were still on their feet, facing each other, and Bandor remained silent. Where is the Bizant Wizard? Keress continued.

"The Harrower had me turn him at