CHAPTER 5

“God bless those spineless cock suckers in the US Congress,” Ian Balfour said as he raised his glass as if to toast, “my profit shares are about to triple.”

Carol Somerset looked away from the television they were watching and said, “do you mind Uncle Ian?”

“Sorry love,” Ian replied quietly and then he finished by saying, “caught up in the moment.”

The reporter on the television was standing in a spot that looked all to familiar to the average viewer these days. Carol had to figure that so many reporters had stood there, the grass was probably all dead by now. Behind them you could always see the facility sky line, the big sign that said Coven Hill International Embarkation Facility, the big motorway that led to it, and even the train tracks were visible on good days.

This particular reporter, Ken Sheer, had obviously waited until one of the big trucks, loaded down with a shipping container on it’s flatbed, passed by before he said, “these trucks right behind me, travel to and from Coven Hill, almost every minute. As trade grows with the Feyland Empire, so does the volume of traffic leaving and entering the facility behind me.”

Ian pointed at the screen, “do people really get paid to say obvious bullshit like that?”

“Shut up,” Carol responded with bigger more aggressive eyes this time.

Sheer was still rattling away, “and as the American Government is now claiming, many of these trucks are carrying drugs. The Center For Disease Control, in Atlanta, Georgia, is stating emphatically that this new drug is far more deadly than anything seen on our streets in years. That is why the United States Congress is moving to ban this substance. While Feyland officials are denying that they have anything to do with this illicit trade, our own government is being unusually silent on the matter. Prime Minister Thayer, is only saying that the situation is being studied at the highest of levels.”

Carol turned away from the bar and the television. Ian could tell she was not too happy and he was yet to understand why. He followed her into the next room where the sounds of music and chatter were present but, low key. Ian took that chance to ask, “I don’t understand what the problem is?”

“You don’t have to deal with this Uncle,” Carol told him as she passed through the room and then stepped out on the balcony that over looked the sea. Just off on the distant horizon you could barely make out the Welsh coastline. The weather was unseasonably pleasant and the fog that normally socked in this little island was thankfully absent right now.

Carol had spent a good deal of her childhood on this island. She cherished it as well. The place had belonged to her family for a very long time. It felt very much like home or, at least, it used too. Now when she came here, Carol almost felt like everyone was out to stab her in the back and, she no longer wrote that off to paranoia either.

Ian walked up to the balcony railing, finished his drink, and then chunked the glass over the cliff and down onto the rocks below. He laughed when it hit and then he told his niece, “what’s there to handle? I say if they want to outlaw this stuff, let them. All that means is I move less dust for more money. That’s how this stuff always works. I can live with that.”

Carol looked at the man and could not believe he was serious, “is that the only thing that means anything to you?”

That question left Ian wondering if he wanted to laugh or cry, “darling, let me tell you something. Anybody that tries to fill your head with that honor and glory crap, is just waiting for you to salute so they can have a free run at your wallet. You, of all people, should know that. You’re the one who makes up the lies so everybody else falls in line.”

“Is that what you think of my job?” Carol asked.

Ian mulled it over and then thought, “yeah, pretty much.”

“I am,” Carol spaced her words out a she said them, “a public relations consultant and media specialist.”

“Oh yeah,” Ian replied with a laugh, “while that isn’t a term that means liar, it is definitely a term that means very good liar.” When Carol turned to walk off he stopped her and was apologetic, “I’m not trying to insult you Carol. Ok? You’ve always been my favorite niece. That is particularly true ever since you got elevated to become a voting member of the board.”

“I see,” Carol replied, “so money isn’t everything to you after all?”

“You reach a certain age darling and the way you see things definitely change,” Ian told her. “I’m not going to live forever, nobody does. I just thought I’d like to see everything that I’ve worked for, not go to waste.”

“What?” Carol was not sure she understood him, “are you telling me that…” Carol waived the notion off and then said, “that’s preposterous.”

“Not as much as you might think,” Ian pointed out, “that is, if you are thinking.” He had her attention at least. They both turned back to the sea and leaned on the railing as Ian continued, “I know what’s most important to you Carol. You want to be with your child again.” She almost erupted but, Ian cut her off, “only poor little Amanda spends all her time in hospital while your duties keep you in New York, oh, and, we both know she couldn’t possibly get what she needs in America. They don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on.”

“I’m not following you,” Carol replied, “what are you suggesting?”

“There’s one place you could be with her, she could get what she needs and,” Ian looked around then lowered his voice, “little Amanda could spend her time with Daddy.”

Carol rolled her eyes at him, “and I almost thought you were serious. John and I are divorced.”

“Which don’t mean jack shit,” Ian told her, “it’s like marriage, it ain’t nothing but a piece of paper. You don’t need ether to be happy little girl.” Carol felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She walked off and heard Ian make a parting comment, “so what do you think?”

“I think you’ve been drinking, Uncle,” was all Carol had to say to that. That statement easily applied to everyone in the manor house this evening but, it was true for some more than others. Unfortunately, it was also the case for the next person that Carol had to cross paths with. David Cross stepped out of the shadows, almost literally in this case, by the door to the gardens. He had this huge grin on his face and a look in his eyes that Carol could live without. Carol simply nodded, “David.”

As she kept on walking David said, “you know, you’re still beautiful.”

She was still walking, “like I haven’t heard that before.” David had not changed since Carol had known him and that was going all the way back to their early childhood. Carol supposed that she liked him well enough when he was sober but, he most certainly was not that now. Talking with him, in that condition, was not so much an option. He would begin thumping his chest, bragging of his exploits, and telling her things that he thought put him in a favorable light. All of these exploits were things that Carol would rather not know about.

David wanted to get his name in the book and he could not understand, Carol did not see the deeds, that would get him there, the same as he did. David also wanted other things from Carol even if he was not so obvious when he was sober. He had certainly made his intentions plain when they were children. It was almost funny to Carol. For David, the nearly impossible chore of getting in that book was likely. Him getting in her was the thing that would never happen.

David was still not her main concern. He was no different than the rest of the people at this gathering. They all wanted something or, at least, they wanted it while they were here. Many of them were quite pleasant, warm, and even conscientious people when you got them on their own. Most of them were her family, at least, very extended family and a good number of them, she even called friend. Put them in this setting, on this island, in this house, and they were a pack hyenas all trying to pounce on one another. It made Carol wonder why in the hell they did this? It was also why she noticed one of the new faces in the crowd.

Carol watched the young man for a little while. He mingled and glad handed, like all the rest, and would never have really stood out in particular. The only thing about the situation was that Carol knew the players in this room. She could watch the movement of the crowd and make a fairly accurate guess as to who was trying to get what. It was quite obvious this new person had no idea about any of that. He just randomly met people and, seemingly, just to meet them. It made Carol curious so she managed to corner the guy and then lead him out to the garden at one point.

Even his accent surprised her. This young man was from North America! It was not that everyone in that room came from the British Isle’s. Too many there did not, like, Arthur Cavendish’s now late son who was the product of one Arthur’s many dalliances abroad. That man had been Chinese and had even lived most of his life in Hong Kong. Carol suspected that this man, with the boyish looking face, was probably of a similar pedigree. As it turned out Carol was wrong.

He seemed humble enough and, that alone, was a sign to Carol that the boy had not been raised by the family. It may have hurt his chances of ever holding any power but, the board took care of it’s own. Carol asked this Jamie Jones, “you’re American?”

“Actually no,” Jones replied, “I’m Canadian. I grew up near Toronto, within sight of Niagara Falls if you’ve heard of it.”

Carol laughed, “of course I have. I live in New York. Then again I think everyone has heard of the falls. Even the elves want to visit there. They come to New York and for many of them, it‘s the first thing they want to go see. Course, then I have to explain it‘s not in New York City. I don’t know why they never grasp that. They seem to think everything in America is in New York City.”

Jaime seemed almost surprised by the revelation. Carol figured it was probably because of her accent which was most decidedly Welsh but, then he said, “ah, you must be Carol Somerset. I’ve heard of you.”

“Yes that would be me,” Carol replied with a laugh, “I hope what you heard was not all bad, of course, I have definitely never heard of you and I like to think that I know everyone.”

“Not surprising Lady Somerset,” Jamie replied. Somehow his use of her title did not sound right coming with that accent of his. Carol had become too accustomed to listening to Americans and they never used titles even when they knew you had one. Jamie did explain that a little when he explained himself, “I am here, courtesy of Lord Geddings.”

That told Carol a great deal about Jones. Steven Geddings was a member of the board and, he was also the official historian. One of the duties of that office was genealogy and, for the Government of Camelonia, it was not just a hobby. Carol would almost call it an obsession but, it did bring them new and formerly lost members on occasion. Jones was most certainly a Legacy, as they had come to be called.

Jones even explained, “he told me I was a direct descendant of, um, trying to remember that name.” He had to think on it for a moment but then came out with, “Oberon I think it was?”

Carol almost lost her composure but, she was sure she kept her jaw from dropping. Not showing your cards or, in this case, letting your opponent know he had a winning hand, was something you learned to do at these things. Carol’s late father had drilled that into her head as she grew up. Many would think that just a social skill and, at one time, so had Carol. Ironically, it took her father’s death for her to see this talent for what it really was, a survival skill.

Carol simply replied to the revelation, “well I’m sure some have been happy to meet you.”

“I guess,” Jones replied. “To be honest with you, I don’t have a clue what’s going on here. This is my first one.”

At least, that statement was most certainly honest. It was probably one of the few that Carol had observed here. Still, there was something in his eyes. Carol noticed little things about Jones. He seemed humble but, he had that spark, something Carol had noticed about her ex-husband, John, long ago. It meant that just like John Snow, Jamie Jones was intelligent. Maybe his act was simply just that? Carol wondered and she vowed to find out. It would be for later though, the music had stopped and everyone was gathering in the great hall.

Arthur stood before all of them and the usual ceremonial processions began. Carol had been seeing all of this since she was a little girl and it bored her to tears. She did notice that, too men like Arthur Cavendish, it seemed more than important. He was an old man and yet, still, he took all of the banner waiving, anthem playing, oath taking, and meditating very seriously. Many here did and, Carol noticed that Ian Balfour was not one of them. There was no great surprise there and, as Carol suspected, that was probably why he consumed so much alcohol before hand.

Cavendish also reminded everyone, with his speeches that he so liked to give, of who they were. Such dribble was old hat to Carol. She had heard all of it a thousand times before and since she could first remember. It was not like she was likely to forget and, there was even still apart of her that felt pride in who she was. The one thing all of those speech’s, some of them so old that no one even remembered who wrote them, was that it told you that you were special. A part of Carol still believed that.

As was inevitable, Arthur lapsed into his own words but, the theme was always the same, “our once great empire, may be long gone and, to this world that surrounds us, even forgotten. Still, people marvel at those things we left behind. It is our sacred duty, to not remind them of who we were. It is to show them what we will be.”

There was thunderous applause on that note and Carol participated right along with it. She noticed Ian was less than enthused even if his hands clapped on occasion. He could get away with that and Carol knew that she could not. Ian had been sitting on the board since she could remember. Her position was new. This was her first Cyn since she had ascended to voting member. Her father’s influence did not translate to her own and, Carol’s position here, was not very secure. Carol doubted if she would ever reach her father’s level of influence. Her age alone doomed that particular goal. Carol was not only the youngest member of the board, she was the youngest who had acquired the vote, in a very long time.

The end of the ceremonies opened the floor up to a great number of speeches. No one actually voted at the Cyn, at least, not anymore. While the Warriors of Civilization might have been all about preserving their traditions, they had no problem at all in incorporating new and useful things. Carol’s job was certainly testimony to that fact. So was the internet and before that the telephone. These days, faster than light communications meant that the board quite often voted from the far flung corners of the Earth and, even from Feyland. The Cyn had become more of a place to tell everyone what you wanted heard, to mingle and make friends and enemies alike. Carol thought the irony of all this was, usually, that nothing was ever said here that no one did not already know.

One of the speakers proved her wrong. She knew who the man was even if she did not know him personally. He had been here before and that was despite the fact that he was not a member. Most of the time, Curwin Losmun was only an observer and allowed that due to his peoples most ancient ties with the clan. Losmun was human but, he came from a world that was not ruled by them. Another of those great ironies that Carol wondered about. Losmun had almost no power here but, he and his people had the most at stake.

After Curwin thanked the gathering, he also told them, “and I probably do not need to remind any of you, of the shared heritage of our two great peoples. Our language, our culture, our very existence began with what was our empire. We parted ways in the hopes of re-establishing our birthright. I am here to tell you that this goal is still as valid today as it was over a thousand years ago. Our lands still exist. Our people still exist. Our people are our most precious resource and we need to take care of them.”

People listened to Curwin politely but, Carol could hear the whispers. They were the usual affair like, “he’s here with his hat in his hand, again.” Carol could not dispute that but, she could also not see it as a bad thing. What Curwin said was also true.

Then Curwin’s little speech took a turn that was unexpected, at least, it was for Carol. He told the Cyn, “we have reached another crossroads in our great history. The two worlds are merging ladies and gentlemen. Light is now reaching the shadows and the old ways will no longer work. Our ancient enemies, are gathering at our gates. We must find a new path. We must work together. If we do not, then all of the blood, the sweat, and the tears of our once united forefathers will be sacrificed and in vain.”

The Cyn gave Curwin the usual polite pause but, after it was over with, Carol suspected that he was forgotten. That was why she was surprised to later hear Sir Steven ask his latest young recruit, “Jones, you’ve been over there. What do you think of all this talk about the Orc?”

Jones was as humble as ever, “they are dangerous. I’ve had to fight them.” The Canadian then thought about that for a second and then continued, “after what happened to the Americans, a couple of years back, we really haven’t seen that much of them.”

“You see,” Geddings was obviously using the boys testimony to make his point with older influential members of the Cyn, “it’s what I’ve been saying. Emperor Solenceaus is using these incursions to do nothing more than clean up his own house. Look what happened last year with that purge. The elves went and made a mess of things and, when it was all over, what did you have? Solenceaus was still in power and many of his nay sayers were dead on the streets. Is that your sense of it Jones?”

The only thing Jones said in return was, “I saw a lot of dead elves, that’s to be sure.”

Carol noticed the evasion even if Steven Geddings seemed to be too intoxicated to do so. It made her wonder what Jones really thought and, more important, she now knew he had been over there. Carol suddenly realized what that spark she saw was. She looked over to the next table where Jamie Jones was sitting. She studied his posture, the way he scanned as he sipped at his whiskey, and his mannerisms in general. He was a warrior. That made Carol wonder about a few other things as well. She would do so, all the way back to New York.