Chapter 32

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The thin, ribbed metal steps rang in time with the footsteps of the rising Taer, filling the narrow well of the spiral staircase with multiple echoes bouncing off the walls. As she ascended, a low humming noise grew from above, gradually drowning out all other sounds. The shield generators were operating at full power, and a bio-defense field resonating in unison filled the interior of the frigate with a piercing low hum that sounded like infrasound and echoed deep within the solar plexus. After a few turns the stairs ended, hitting a massive hatch that slid gently upward to reveal an exit to the observation deck.

Upstairs, near the hatch, she was met by an impenetrably calm Carpathian, wearing a white tunic with black embroidery - the Rionale colors - with a scanner in his hands and one of Countess Durlurl's men. The scout was armed with a "shorty" and dressed in a gray-green planetary uniform without insignia, over which he wore a white anti-blaster waistcoat. After the attack on the castle, the lord was careful not to be left alone, even in perfectly safe places.

The observation deck was a small transparent dome on the sloping foredeck of the frigate, with seating inside and a pair of navigation terminals, which were now switched off. In a chair at the left-hand edge, Lord Cassard sat broodingly with his head resting on his hand. Above his head, a fighter glided like a black cloud. On its short, downward-facing grav stabilizer wings glowed scarlet, griffins standing. Two more fighters glided left and right. They looked like giant needles or black stilettoes, with short, crescent-shaped wings at their hilted ends. In the distance, near the horizon, the grey blurred silhouettes of the many towers of the business center could be seen, against which the chain of police aircars of the outer cordon was strewn in white drops.

While the Carpathian scanned her, Taer sent a questioning look to the scout, pointing her eyes at the lord, "How is he?" He only shrugged his shoulders slightly in response.

Having finished scanning her, the Carpathian bowed courteously and stepped aside, clearing the way.

"Your Lordship..." Taer gently touched the lord's shoulder. "We're already at the castle, landing in a few minutes. You told me to warn you."

"Is it always so... red around here?" Alex asked her without turning around.

From above, the parks of the historic center of Cassard looked like a patchwork of red. Lush crowns of reddish foliage hung in scarlet clouds over the black lines of the paths, merging into a continuous hilly field, the gaps between them revealing glades of yellowed grass.

"Only in winter," she replied. "In winter, most Cassards trees have reddish leaves."

The Lord, for some reason, was very sharply taken by the fact that his domain included the entire planet, and though the flight from Copeira had helped him come to terms with the idea, he still looked somewhat dejected, staring down as if searching for something, and must have turned to the Taer before he could find it.

"Doesn't it snow here in winter?"

"As far as I know - it doesn't happen in this zone. But I have seen snow caps in the mountains at the Pole."

At the mention of mountains, curiosity sparkled in Alex's eyes:

"And high mountains?"

"I don't know," Taer shrugged uncertainly. "I wasn't interested, a few comers probably."

"Are there any rides?"

"Unlikely, individuals are banned from owning flyers on Cassard."

"What do flyers have to do with it," Alex wondered. "Forget it, though," he waved."

As they spoke the frigate turned slightly to the right and began to descend. From below, engulfed in an orange glow, the Flame Incarnate, or as it was called, the Face of Fire, a gigantic statue of the second incarnation of Ir' Ryan at full height and with a flaming sword in her outstretched hand, was swiftly looming over them. It was located directly across from Istal Palace, separated from it by a long square that was now filled with a motley mass of people who had come to see their lord.

The original plan had been to land at the foot of the statue and travel to the palace on an open platform, but this idea had been abandoned for security reasons, despite all the resistance of the protocol committee, who did not want to disappoint the visitors. Though, as Taer guessed, it wasn't just about the loyalist sentiments of those gathered. Information of attempts on the lord's life has clearly reached Cassard, and the rumors here must be the most bizarre, and the municipality wanted to dispel them with a demonstration of the lord, so to speak, from close up.

As they descended, the top of the white palace loomed up directly in front of them. Two enormous towers of incredible height, rising from a low and very wide base, shaped like an eight-pointed star. The towers were flush with each other and only near the tops of the towers curved to make room for the orange glass sphere that glinted in the sunlight. They were tapered at the tops to resemble two hands clutching a ball of flame.

"We've already arrived," she said aloud, pointing her eyes in the direction of the Face of Fire. "We have to go now."

When the lord turned around the frigate was just passing across the face of the titanic statue. Against the dark gray stone glowed, orange gaps of eyes filled with roaring flames, each of which could easily fit a fighter jet. A huge torch of lemon-yellow fire enveloped the statue's head, forming a sheaf of short hair flowing in the wind with a slight black fringe of smoke.

"So huge..." the lord stretched out in shock as he appraised the size of the outstretched arm that had floated by. If the palm clutching the sword had been extended, the frigate could have used it as a landing pad.

Even though Taer had seen Flame Incarnate many times, even she was still impressed by the scale, especially up close. She was in the midst of it, and her own insignificance was felt more keenly than ever.

"Is it even real?" Alex asked, turning to the specialist again. "Or is it a hologram?"

The descending frigate ducked under the outstretched sword in Ir'Ryan's hands, and for a moment, the sky was obscured by the blazing canvas of the blade. The fighter coming over them must have passed too close to the sword, and the hitherto invisible protective field gleamed, reacting to the heat.

"Perfectly real," Taer assured him and made an inviting gesture, pointing to the open hatch. "The tallest statue of Ir'Ryan in known space, but we have to go anyway."

The palace of Istal, which gave its name to the capital of Cassard and marked its beginning, was a very old building. It started as a fortress, then was rebuilt over many centuries to suit the needs of new generations. Because of its past, the outer gates of the hangar were large enough to allow a frigate and escort to enter and not risk unnecessarily landing in an open area.

The frigate did not have a separate passenger gangway, so they descended into the hold. The wide cargo ramp had already been lowered, revealing an empty hangar from which everything had been removed before they arrived at the Taer's request. At the edge of the ramp, colorful groups of greeters were huddled in a lonely huddle.

Directly in front of them on the ramp were two blurred red blobs - part of the advanced team. The fields were still running at full power, so everything within their structure was distorted.

"We could have taken our time," Alex murmured softly so that only Taer could hear. "I'd look at the castle from the outside..."

They had been standing in the hold for several minutes, waiting for the advance teams to establish contact with the rendezvous and once again check the room and set up a perimeter.

After a few minutes, Taer felt a slight tingling under her communicator bracelet and nodded to the lord:

"It's all right, we can go down."

"I don't like all this officiousness," Alex complained quietly, taking on a nonchalant, arrogant look. "It makes me nervous and angry."

When they finally descended onto the humming metal slabs of the hangar, passing through the thick fluctuating haze of the force shield, an unusually thin chain of "admitted to rapturous gazing" appeared before them.

Taer had already been with the lord at the two Days of Gifts, and usually, his lordship was simply greeted by crowds of various officials, of course, of the highest rank. This time because of the unprecedented security measures, there were fewer greeters than guards.

First, at the edge of the ramp, was a small group of secretaries in white livery, led by General Secretary Rist Gyom. Behind them were not the usual representatives of the Municipality but a group of House Fyron scouts in dark scarlet tunics. They were the ones tasked with catching the instigators among the Cholans and tacitly searching for their municipality's associate. Just behind the scouts, a trio in bright scarlet robes stood out: Prelate and the universal benefactor Teessir, accompanied by two young aides. The head of the Church of the Flame, conversing quietly with a not-so-elderly man in the snow-white uniform of a Sain Major of Imperial Intelligence standing beside him. The last to be seated, a little apart from the others, were the representatives of the municipality, as grim as their uniforms.

It seems that information about the investigation has leaked out to the Office, Taer decided as she looked around at the strange arrangement of greeters. And the current composition of the municipality has already been put to rest.

As soon as the lord stepped down the ramp, the secretaries and officials bowed and stood still, awaiting "his lordship's" attention. The others confined themselves to a courteous tilt of their heads.

The lord paused beside the secretaries, looking around the motley crowd with a somewhat bewildered look.

Taer wanted to hint to Alex to raise the bowed ones but changed her mind, deciding that in this position, she liked the secretariat much better.

A few seconds passed, and the first of the bowed tops, gleaming with baldness and grey in the liquid brown hair, lifted, revealing the round face of the general secretary. Seeing that their lordship was not going to pay any attention to the secretaries, Rist Giom, despite his more than sizable bulk, slipped gracefully out of the cramped ranks as an agile white ball and froze one step from the lord:

"Your Lordship." The General Secretary bowed once more. "Such a joy for all of us to see you here, safe and sound."

"I'm so glad too." Alex nodded sarcastically. "How's that going for you?"

Rist's brown eyes darted around as if searching for the best answer:

"As your lordship already knows," he continued, devouring the lord with his eyes. "The over-achievement of the master plan is twenty-four percent. The annual report is ready and will be presented to you after the ceremonies." The Secretary-General paused for a moment as if contemplating whether or not to continue and then continued with assertive energy in his voice. "But this year's planetary performance is far from ideal. And if it pleases Your Lordship. The secretariat has prepared a program to examine the spending and the transformation of planetary governance..."

So lackeyish... Taer thought, looking at the general secretary with ill-concealed contempt. In a hurry to bite the man in disgrace.

Rist Giom could not finish the sentence as the lord, who was about to move on to the scouts, suddenly turned towards him with an expression that did not augur well:

"The General Secretary..." he interrupted him. "It seems to me that you are overstepping your bounds. Leave it to the Municipality to report on planetary management and let me think about transforming planetary management. If I, see the need for such a transformation." Pronounced the lord, putting special emphasis on 'me' and 'I'.

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These accents clearly did not escape the attention of those gathered, and while most simply took note, a wave of animation and barely perceptible whispers through the group from the municipality.

An unexpected turn... mentally commented the 'specialist', catching the consternation in Rist's eyes. I'll have to ask later why Alex decided to stand up for the municipality. The types there aren't any better than at the Office.

"Please forgive my inappropriateness," bowed again the secretary-general, sensitive to the moods of his superiors. And he stepped back, literally dissolving into the white mass of clerks.

"And how are you doing, Peleng Captain?" The Lord asked, with a wry smile, the scout standing behind him.

The question was a pure formality; they had received their first report on the situation on Cassard immediately after coming out of hyperspace five hours earlier.

"All is well, Your Lordship..." replied Peleng Captain Sarvola with calm assurance. "The instigators among the Cholans have been arrested. Those who aided them have also been arrested. We were greatly aided in this by Sain Major Derbal and his men." He remarked separately and continued in the same tone. "The riots, which had started due to the arrests, had been stopped by the police, and those involved had been detained. The local police and the House of Fyron Retainer Service are conducting further investigations. Further reports will be forwarded to you when you so wish."

"Good." The lord nodded approvingly in response. "The work is worthy of an award. I hope Countess Durlurl will listen to my appraisal of the distinguished. We'll leave the reports for later. After the ceremonies," he added.

Taer only had to grind her teeth silently and exchange glances of dislike with Sarvola. The captain was sent to Сassard as the original in charge of the case:

And now this prick will get all the glory of 'solving the plot' and 'saving the lord', thought the 'specialist' angrily as she walked past the captain. Even there's not a bit of credit to it! He didn't lift a finger to save the lord, and the whole conspiracy was, in fact, revealed by the lord himself! The obvious injustice infuriated her terribly, but there was nothing to be done. If the Lord wasn't kidnapped, then I didn't save him, and he couldn't have known what was going on since he wasn't in captivity.

While Taer pondered the vicissitudes of 'secrecy' that caused the honors to go to the uninvolved, the Lord approached the church representatives.

The head of the Church of Ryan was in mundane garb, a simple scarlet robe reaching down to the floor and girded with a narrow, rope-like sash. Such attire only emphasized his tall and thin stature. The "Provider" Teesshire looked older than he was in his sixties and gave the impression of a deeply tired man:

He is, however, on his fourth day of celebrations and has three more to go. With constant solemn services.

"My soul blazes with joy at the sight of you, Lord Cassard," Teesshire said, spreading his hands slightly. "In your miraculous rescue, we have all witnessed divine providence. May the goodness of True Fire continue to be with you," he added, blessing the Lord.

"May it be," Alex agreed and, as per earlier instructions, bowed his head slightly to receive the blessing of "his purity".

That was the end of the conversation with the benefactor, Teesshire. The lord was clearly trying to keep contact with church representatives to a minimum.

With Sain Major Vimo Derbal, Alex only exchanged greetings. Although it was obvious that he was eager to ask the Major about what exactly had happened on Copeira and how he had handled the information he had received.

From the brief list of 'news' they had received from Countess Durlurl, they knew only of the removal of the head of the Imperial Security Service, Stack Major Sheldon, on leaving hyperspace. And the unexpected suicide of one of his deputies. Two days ago, Sain Captain Tarbel, alone in his office, had shot himself in the face with his blaster.

Taer was ready to bet that there was a reason for all this. But there was no questioning of the Major at the moment:

If he wants to tell us anything at all, she mentally sighed.

The last in the line of greeters were the representatives of the municipality. They had looked a little frightened before, squinting at the massive figures of armored guardsmen with heavy weapons in their hands. After the lord rebuked the general secretary, they became more enthusiastic.

As the lord approached them, the dark blue mass of 'municipals', again bowed in a long bow. The only exception was the Head of the Municipality, Doiur Luor, who was seated in a hovering grav-chair. His face was pale, his usually round cheeks sagged, and a pained expression lingered in his swamp-colored eyes. A thin, transparent tube of oxygen went to his nose from the medblock built into the chair. His collar, high and full of gold stitching, was open, and beneath it, the edge of an injection unit flashed with control lights, and on his left temple, a protruding circular sensor. Behind the chair a gleaming statue of a meddroid stand

"Forgive me, Your Lordship, for not being able to greet you as I should," Doiur said, breathing heavily and nodding his head uneasily. "However, with long years of service comes not only experience but also less desirable fruits."

I really hope the guards have checked both the chair and the droid, Taer thought doubtfully, looking at the head of the municipality. She was sure he wasn't half as bad as he portrayed. She'll have to clarify, and if they didn't...

"You shouldn't trouble yourself," sighed the lord sympathetically, eyeing the crouching officials curiously. "You should have stayed at home. You shouldn't mess with your health."

"In my thirty years of service to Cassard..." said the Head of the Municipality with undisguised pride. "I haven't missed a single 'Day of Gifts'. And if it pleases Your Lordship and the people of Cassard. I intend to continue this custom."

"Frankly, recent events have caused..." Alex paused for a moment, picking up his words. "Certain doubts as to the loyalty of the Municipality. I can only hope that this was an unfortunate exception. And I can be sure that the Municipality will continue to serve as before, faithfully and effectively," he added, with special emphasis on "as before".

"You may rest assured, Your Lordship!" With glee and enthusiasm, the officials said, bowing once more.

"Good," the lord said, and he looked around at the huge hangar in confusion. "Shouldn't I be greeting the people in the square? I'd hate to keep them waiting, even more so. If we're done greeting, of course."

The General Secretary, reacting before anyone else, slipped out of the white mass of secretaries, reappearing before the lord with a slight bow:

"This way, Your Lordship," he said in a gracious tone, pointing to one of the exits from the hangar.

The guards politely and accurately cut off the other "meeters" who were about to follow the lord, and they walked through the deserted corridors of the castle almost alone, apart from four guards in heavy armor and the Secretary-General who remained on the sidelines of the ceremony.

They walked through the oldest part of the castle, the humming sound of soldiers in armor echoing through the wide corridors adapted for the movement of machinery. The sparse light panels and solid bluish fiberglass walls, without any decoration, gave the impression that they were inside a huge warship but not a castle. Their entire route, at Taer's request, was cleared of humans and droids, and only at the intersections with the side corridors and staircases were pairs of guards. One from Intelligence, one from Baroness Rional's arm, accompanied by small scoutbots balls from which the detonation blocks had been removed, just in case. This was only the 'inner' ring of guards. The much larger 'outer' ring extended even further and was manned by the best of Cassard's police force.

Shortly before their destination, the guards politely dismissed the secretary-general, and out onto the balcony, the two of them stepped on their own.

The bright sunlight, dazzling after the half-dark corridors, reflected off the white outer walls of the castle and gleamed on the wrought iron railing of white steel. Because of the height, the square beneath the castle was not visible. Directly in front of them blazed the face of Ir'Ryan and loomed menacingly overhead with a sword in her outstretched hand. The huge blade, engulfed in slashes of orange, wavering and roaring in the wind, stretched toward them, while on the sides the piercing blue of the winter sky flooded all around as far as the eye could see.

The lord paused only for a moment and then strode resolutely towards the edge. As he approached, the horizon receded, revealing the scarlet sea of parkland surrounding the castle, and a multitudinous noise came in waves from somewhere below, like the roar of a waterfall. The "specialist" stopped before reaching the edge a few paces away, and the lord approached the winding white railing alone. At that moment, the noise from below suddenly turned into a roar, and it drifted into silence like a wave crashing on the shore. He looked down, and Taer could see the white of his hands clutching the smooth rail. Even from her vantage point, she could see that people were filling the entire square that stretched between the castle and the statue in its entirety, and a grainy carpet was covering the base of the statue. There were about three million people who had gathered to see their lord. At least, that's what the Cassardian police thought.

"What shall I do now?" Without moving his lips, but with obvious panic in his voice, Alex asked, clinging to the railing.

"Well, I don't know." She answered, also without moving her lips. "Wave your hand and smile."

The lord followed her advice, and the crowd responded with an uproar that quickly turned into an enthusiastic roar. To the right and left, a succession of loud claps erupted, and red clusters of fireworks bloomed in the sky above the square.

The organizers were clearly well-timed, but the bright sunlight made the fireworks look pale. But tradition demanded that the arrival of the Lord at the "Day of Gifts" should be celebrated with fireworks. It was just usual to arrive in advance and in the evening. But they did the best they could.

After about a minute, the lord had clearly got the hang of it and was already waving quite naturally, and his smile became less strained.

"Why did you turn down Rist's offer?" Taer asked, taking advantage of the pause.

"Won't they record us?" Alex asked cautiously, not stopping to wave his hand.

"There are so many layers of defense fields, and I have a suppressor on," she reassured me. "Just don't move your lips." And after a short pause, she asked again:

"So why did you decide to cover up the Municipality? In my opinion, they are just as nasty as those in the Office."

"Because I don't yet have one, no, even two much-needed elements."

"Which one?"

"Hundreds, maybe thousands of auditors I can trust and a spare management team that I will swap these ferrets for."

"Does this have something to do with the reorganization?" She genuinely wondered.

"If they are allowed to 'reorganize' everything now, there will be no end in sight." He explained as he continued to smile at the crowd. "Why do you think they're making such a fuss? They've obviously heard rumors of investigation digging for the Municipality. And I bet they're with the Office, tied up. Open at the Municipality, and they'll reach for the Office. There's Mr. General, and he's trembling. He doesn't know the extent of the investigation, but he assumes the worst. Decided to take a chance, in case he comes out to lead the process."

"How do you know that?"

"It's written all over their faces," Alex sighed. "I am..." He started but stopped for some reason.

"But why? If you suspect them of embezzlement," And they are certainly guilty. She added mentally. "Why not investigate and bring everyone to justice?"

"Because first, we have to find out what the risks are for us. And somewhere to get replacement officials. By the way, how much longer do I have to wave?" He asked changing the subject.

"As much as you want. The symbolic part is clearly fulfilled."

"Then let's wrap it up," summed up the lord. "My arm is already falling off."

He made a few "goodbye waves", and they went behind the high dark curtains that separated the balcony from the castle.

As soon as they were inside, the general secretary jumped up to them again:

"Everything went splendidly, your lordship," he smiled flatteringly.

"Great," Alex nodded. "What's next on the plan?"

"A ceremony of presenting gifts," Rist was quick to come to the rescue. "All the gift-givers were already gathered outside the main hall."

"I hope it won't take long."

"Don't even think about it," Taer whispered to him.

And, of course, she was right.

A long chain of gift-givers, snaking like a snake through the vast hall, approached a low platform on which Lord Cassard stood, surrounded by four guardsmen in armor. Since some of the gift-givers might have been carrying weapons, and there was no way to remove them, four projecting generators of force shields, hastily clad in scarlet cloth, were set up around the platform. It looked a little strange, but the ceremony should not be hindered. The groups of "gift-givers", who were largely the managers of the largest companies on Cassard, still left their trays with their "share of the higher-ups" at the foot of the platform. The lord, according to protocol, nodded, confirming the acceptance of the gift, and one group succeeded the other.

Of course, these were no more than symbols. The real "gifts" - tax deductions and annual company reports - had been sent to the Office three days earlier. But the attitude to participation in the "day of gifts" was the most reverent. First of all, admission to the ceremony was a recognition of the importance of the company. Not everyone was allowed to take part. The company's participation in the event was also a high-profile event, and many companies used the gift as a way of presenting their achievements.

And best of all, the Corporants would kill each other to give the 'best gift', Taer commented mentally, eyeing the next gift, a huge white crystal several girths in circumference, surrounded by an iridescent glow. Due to the weight of the crystal, the tray was carried by a dozen people.

The "best gift" nomination, of course, was not an official one, but the competition was no less fierce. Thanks to this, the first hours of the ceremony were brightened by the opportunity to look at the gifts stacked at their feet. But everything gets boring, even beauty and sophistication. One gift was replaced by another. The zone occupied by the presents was getting deeper and deeper into the hall, and the chain of "the givers" never faded. Standing motionless for hours, pretending to be a living statue is not easy, and by the fourth hour of the ceremony, Taer already began to envy the guardsmen in heavy armor. They had a "waste removal system", but she, clad in her ceremonial tunic, had to endure it. The Lord, too, had to endure it now, but he should be more used to it, having taken part in Gift Day ceremonies since he was eight years old.

Finally, after six excruciatingly monotonous hours, all five hundred givers gave their "share of the higher-ups", and the ceremony was over.

"I'm going to die," Alex groaned as they finally left the hall and found themselves in a small adjoining room designed for rest. "My head is going to fall off. It's not good for my body to nod so much. And why stand all the time? Couldn't they at least put a small chair in there?"

"Tradition," Taer sighed, unbuttoning the top buttons of her collar and gesturing to the guards to keep the Secretary-General out. "Hallowed for millennia."

"I wish to say something about these traditions... That's it. Let's get out of here now."

"You wanted to meet Sain Major Derbal, didn't you?" Taer wondered faintly. "And that..." She almost said what she thought but held herself back. "Captain Sarvola."

"It won't work," the lord shook his head dejectedly. "They'll misunderstand me."

"Why?"

"Because I can only talk to them in a horizontal position."

"Then I contact the frigate?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I'll just visit one small room like, and then we'll fly."

Taer, with her eyes, indicated to the scouts standing nearby to escort his lordship out.

"I made it," Alex said indignantly. "Already going to the bathroom with the guards."

Taer, only sympathetically shaking her hands, and making sure the lord was gone, hurried off in the opposite direction - it was a long walk to the frigate.

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