Way of No Return (Champions of the Crystal Book 8)

Chapter 22.1

Two days later, with the King and Commander having returned to Dansestari to begin the cleanup there, Cynthia was thinking wistfully of the time when she had only had to worry about keeping one person alive. The Academy infirmary was filled to overflowing, and soon Sastarn and Lyrabeth were moved to one of the research labs on campus, depriving Cynthia of even their distracted counsel. Stecklan was kept busy keeping curious visitors out of what was now referred to as the royal wing and screening returning members of the royal staff for infection; Rutha, who was willing to help, knew no more about how things should work than Cynthia did. The return of someone with the title of Housekeeper was promising, but the woman quickly left again to oversee the salvage of the palace. The Chamberlain, whose job might have included what Cynthia was doing, had been killed during the invasion, and no one knew where the Steward was.

Ford regained consciousness just when Cynthia was at the end of her rope, dealing with petitions from citizens and requests from various organizations within the principality. He was reluctant to be torn away from his wife and daughter, but he acknowledged the debt he owed Cynthia by granting her a few minutes to speak in private.

"I can't handle this," Cynthia said flatly. "I don't know what I'm doing, and you guys need someone who does. The Commander told me if I didn't do this Sabrina would try to when she woke up, but I think I'm just making things worse."

Ford grimaced. "You're right; Sabrina can't wake up to a mess or she'll start trying to sort it all out. And the doctors say she'll need surgery soon, but they want her to wake up first to make sure there's no brain damage. Dammit, if only Ranja were here, or Kendara," he sighed, becoming abstracted for a moment. "We've never tried to run things without our staff. And nothing is running normally right now."

"I'm sorry," Cynthia said. "I know you want time with your family right now, but you need to handle some of this. If I can watch you, maybe I can get the hang of it after a while."

Ford grimaced again, then nodded. "All right. Are you sure you don't want to go home, Cynthia?"

She shook her head. "As I understand it, there's not a choice right now. But even if there were, no. I want to help out here, but I need some training."

"Then let's make this official. Er, as official as I can make anything without a Chamberlain—do you know if any of his staff has reported in?"

"A few, I think. Stecklan will know."

"I'll have to deal with staffing the department head positions first; they can then deal with their respective areas," Ford mused. "Meanwhile, I'm making you my personal assistant." He smiled a little at her expression. "Don't worry, it's not particularly clerical. It's sort of a cross between being a diplomat and being my deputy. For now, you'll follow me around, keep some notes on things I need to remember to do, and learn the names and faces. What are the most pressing things you've encountered?"

Cynthia pulled out the datapad Stecklan had procured for her, which she had finally learned to use after some struggle to program it in English. "The legislature want an official statement from you on the status of the principality and the royal family. Apparently there are a lot of rumors."

"Ask Lyrabeth to help you draft one," Ford said. "When Sabrina wakes up, we'll take some vid of us with the baby. That will help. What else?"

"There's been a whole parade of people trying to get in to see you to ask for help locating relatives or for housing and food assistance."

"We have a refugee problem?" Ford said incredulously. "In Bathir?"

"A lot of the capital city is either destroyed or unlivable," Cynthia said. "There's temporary housing being set up here at the university—the dean wants to speak to you about that as well."

Ford scowled. "Who's in charge of the Bathiran militia?"

"Um—"

"Find out and put him or her in charge of tracking casualties and missing persons," Ford instructed.

"Right." Cynthia made a note. "How do I convince people that what I'm telling them to do comes from you?"

Ford's shoulders slumped a little, and she realized he was still exhausted, although he was valiantly trying to ignore that fact. "Come on," he said, and led the way down the hall to the security station. Stecklan smiled when he saw them, but his expression rapidly became more somber as he took in the prince's condition. "Sir!"

"Stecklan, where's Sabrina's signet? Does Sastarn still have it?"

"No." Stecklan dug in his pocket and handed over the ring. "He gave it to me before he left. He figured the princess would want it back."

Ford turned to Cynthia. "Do not, under any circumstances, put this on your finger. That would be a sign of disrespect to Sabrina. But don't lose it either. It will convince anyone who sees it that you're entitled to tell them what to do, to a point."

Cynthia nodded, taking the ring carefully. "I'll find a necklace chain and wear it around my neck. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, fine," Ford said. "Stecklan, has anyone had time to look for a place for us to live after we can leave here?"

"No, sir. There's very little housing available in the city right now. The dean has offered to host you, but the house is not very defensible."

"Have you been out to the beach house?"

"No, sir, but I can send someone to evaluate it."

"It's small, but at least it's in Bathir," Ford said. "I'd rather move Sabrina to Fibraäé, but we can't possibly leave the principality right now."

"I've had word that your apartment in Dansestari is habitable," Stecklan suggested.

"Good to know, but we have to get things settled here," Ford said, sounding weary. He rubbed at his eyes. "Stecklan," he said, more quietly, "why can't they find Kendara? What do you think happened?"

"Until we can ask Ranja, we can't know," Stecklan replied. He paused, then said, "We've found bodies in the wreckage of the Kyan ships. Our people. They were taking captives, though we don't know what selection criteria they were using, because they certainly killed most of the people they encountered."

Ford bit his lip. "Do not tell Sabrina that."

"No, sir." Stecklan took a deep breath and said, "We've had word of some of your siblings. Princess Marie is safe and has been taken to Dansestari. Prince Malick was wounded and is being treated in Khator. The King has asked you to call for a full report when you have time."

"Any, uh," Ford stopped to clear his throat. "Have they found Mira's body?"

Stecklan hesitated. "Yes. The, um, the head, at least."

Ford rubbed at his face, and Cynthia looked down to give him some privacy. They were all silent for a moment, listening to Ford's breathing hitch as he tried to regain his composure. That reminded Cynthia of someone she wanted to find, and she asked, "Is there any search going on in orbit for the people who died on the orbital platforms and such?"

"That is a secondary concern," Stecklan admitted. "The few ships daring to attempt to navigate in close orbit are clearing the debris from Darkene. Which has had to be completely evacuated, sir. It does not appear as though it will be habitable without some remedial terraforming."

"Our breadbasket. And they've burned our fields. What are we going to eat this winter?" Ford murmured, recalling his conversation with the transport driver on the way to the city.

"One catastrophe at a time," Cynthia said, sensing his despair.

Ford looked at her with a wry expression. "Yes. Exactly. Do you still want to go with me to see Lien's family?"

"Yes, very much. When?"

"When Sabrina's awake and I'm sure she's going to be all right, and when we have things calmed down here a little bit," Ford said. "Stecklan, I've made Cynthia my personal assistant. Please give her all the assistance she requires."

"Welcome to the royal service," Stecklan said to Cynthia with a lopsided smile. "Though I think you are no longer new to it."

"I've had my baptism of fire, that's for sure," Cynthia agreed.