“Before you submerge yourself completely in self-pity, there are a few things I’d like to
know,” Etienne said in an even tone. “Her Majesty didn’t have time to give me a full
briefing on the case, and I’m still very puzzled. Your father was the dearest friend I had in
this life, and if he was condemned to death I’d like to know the reason. Do you know
anything more about the charges?”
Slowly, mechanically, Helena recited the story of Fortier’s investigation as the captain
had told it to her. She knew it by heart, having gone over and over it on the trip from
Preis hoping to find some flaw in its logic. She spoke in a near-monotone; she was numb,
and all emotion had fled from her body.
Etienne d’Alembert paced around the room as he listened. His vibrant energy could
hardly have been less like the studied calmness her father had affected when receiving a
briefing, but there was an intensity of concentration and thought that recalled her father
very much. The slight similarity caused a minor ache in Helena’s soul, but with so much
grief already present she scarcely noticed.
When she finished, the Duke was shaking his head vehemently. “That’s not enough,” he
muttered. “I wouldn’t condemn a flea on evidence like that. Why did she do it? I don’t
understand. Eh bien, she is the Empress. . . .” He fell silent and resumed pacing. Helena
sat silently, waiting for him because she had nothing else to do.
At last he stopped pacing and looked squarely at Helena. “Khorosho, let’s look at
Fortier’s story. It breaks into three parts, on three different planets: Lateesta, Durward,
and Preis. Everything that happened on Lateesta was perfectly straightforward, and
everything on Preis was neatly wrapped up when the robot ran into your father’s house
and conveniently opened up his files. But Durward remains unfinished business; Elsa
Helmund got away, and nobody pursued that connection any further. If there’s any weak
point to the story at all, it’s there.”
He paused to roll the name around in his mind. “Durward.” The very name conjured up
long and unpleasant memories, dating back to a time even before Etienne had been
born. Durward had been a source of uneasiness within the Empire for more than sixty
years, entangling and killing many fine SOTE agents in its web of intrigue.
It began when Emperor Stanley Nine was on the throne. Duke Henry Blount of Durward,
in an effort to consolidate more power for himself, arranged for a beautiful and
unprincipled young actress named Aimee Amorat to become the Emperor’s mistress.
Amoral-later to be known as the “Beast of Durward”-had a son by the Emperor, and the
child was officially acknowledged as heir to the throne. For form’s sake, Amorat was
married to Duke Henry, but her influence over the Emperor continued-until he was
presented with a legitimate heir by his wife. The older child, Banian the Bastard, was
now far more than an embarrassment; he was a threat to the orderly Imperial line of
succession.
Having led an unsuccessful rebellion against her husband Henry, Aimde Amorat took her
son and vanished just a step ahead of SOTE. For over sixty years SOTE had searched
in vain for that child and the royal patent he’d been issued; not until just a few years ago,
when it was almost too late, had Jules and Yvette tracked down Banian and smashed
the organization he’d built over the years. Even Banian did not know what had become of
his mother, but it was assumed she was either dead or infirm by now, since she’d be a
woman in her middle nineties.
In the meantime, the very name Durward raised uncomfortable feelings in any SOTE
agent. The Banian case was closed, but bad memories lingere3 like the smell of old
garbage.
Duke Etienne stroked his right hand as he thought, and anyone who knew him well would
recognize that as an important sign. The Duke’s right hand had been severed by a
blaster bolt during the course of one mission, and was now replaced by a very
real-looking artificial one. The detachable fingers were tools and implements of various
sorts; the Duke wore rings on each finger to disguise the seams where the fingers joined
to the hand.
Duke Etienne looked back at Helena. The young woman was staring emptily into space,
still in shock from the horrible news she’d received. “Your father was the closest friend I
had,” Etienne told her. “I can’t believe he was guilty as charged. Something in Captain
Fortier’s story is itching at the back of my brain, and I won’t feel right until I investigate
the matter personally.”
“But you promised Edna you wouldn’t,” Helena said lifelessly.
Etienne gave her an encouraging smile. “I promised I wouldn’t use the Circus to help you.
But this is something I want to do for myself. Unless I’m given a specific assignment that
takes priority, I’ve always been free to follow my own course to help Imperial security.
Right now, there’s nothing more important to me than finding the truth about your father.”
He stood up, walked to her side, and lifted her chin so she was looking straight into his
eyes. “I also promised Edna I would take you into custody, but I never promised to send
you back for trial. If you’ll give me your word you won’t try to run away from us, you may
come along and help. ”
“What would be the point of running away?” Helena said dejectedly. “I’ve got nowhere
else to go.” As the Duke let go of her head, she lowered it again to stare dismally at the
floor.
Etienne d’Alembert gazed with tenderness and pity upon the young woman seated before
him. As long as he’d known her she’d always shown excitement in life and a cheerful
disposition through any adversity. It was heartbreaking to see her as she was now, a
creature broken in mind and spirit. He made a silent vow that, if it were at all possible, he
would prove her father’s innocence and return to her the lost fortune and dignity that was
rightfully hers.
Duke Etienne had cultivated, over many long years, the reputation for eccentricity. It was
a common occurrence for him to alter the Circus’ schedule without warning and take it to
some other world altogether. Money was always refunded to disappointed ticket holders,
and Etienne always made sure to present them with some token gift to make the
disappointment more bearable. The Circus of the Galaxy was such a popular attraction
that it was always welcomed to a new world, whether it had been expected there or not,
and any bitterness caused by unexpected schedule changes never lasted long.
This eccentricity, of course, made a perfect cover for the Circus’ secret activities on
behalf of SOTE, and now it served a more private purpose. The day after Helena’s
arrival the Circus announced it was ending its run on Evanoe prematurely and altering its
schedule for a stay on the planet Durward. Both of those worlds were startled, as were
others that had been tentatively on the schedule, but there was little they could do other
than accept Duke Etienne’s decision. No one wanted to alienate the mercurial circus
manager, lest he punish them by withholding the Circus from them for longer periods.
The journey from Evanoe to Durward took several days, even at top speed. Helena
traveled in the Duke’s personal ship, and few members of the Circus troupe saw her.
She mourned continuously, despite the best efforts of Etienne to cheer her up.
The job ahead of them was complicated by the fact that they were not going to Durward
on official Service business. The Circus’ connection with SOTE was so top secret that it
didn’t even have a codename. When it was given an assignment at a particular place, the
local agents were told they’d be contacted, but identities were never revealed. No one
had told the local SOTE office on Durward that the Circus people would contact them, so
Etienne knew he and his people would have to work on their own, without official
endorsement or assistance. It would be awkward gaining information and acting on it, but
he’d worked under such handicaps before.
He did have a few personal contacts of his own that he’d developed many years ago.
He’d been on Durward a couple of times in his official capacity; once, checking some
fruitless leads to the whereabouts of Banian the Bastard, and a second time tracing an
unrelated case of a doctor who’d been performing plastic surgery on criminals to alter
their appearances. That last case had been twenty years ago, and apart from routine
Circus appearances he’d never worked on Durward again. His contacts could be dead or
otherwise out of circulation, for all he knew. But he’d have to make the effort.
After landing on Durward. there was nearly a full day wasted while he supervised the