Chapter 31 - Testing
Xyron’s examination took the form of testing their recall of things that one or other of them had learnt, read or scanned, and if those things had been in the archives, recalling and re-finding the exact references.
“Even with a perfect memory, it can be hard to keep so much information in your mind. Moreover, since not everyone has a perfectly retentive memory, we have the computer archives. You can find any information you need, once you have the skills. I am satisfied that you can do that,” Xyron told them.
Therefore, within a day, that aspect of testing for level delta was over.
As Tymos went with Kryslie back to the High King’s palace, he said, “That was the easy part. Reslic has been testing our weapons skill for the past two weeks, but I am sure he will want to test our psychic skills and mental discipline.”
“I have no doubt that he will have thought of a way to do it,” Kryslie told him. “I predict it will be while he ensures that we cannot reinforce each other.”
“If that is what he intends, Krys, we should abide by it. We have to be sure we can each function alone. It can be our secret that we are stronger together.”
“I won’t resist it,” Kryslie assured him. “I have learnt that lesson, and the Governors all know we are better when working together. As I see it, the only way they can fully test us, as individuals, is with one of us unconscious. Even tightly shielded, I am still aware of you.”
At breakfast the next day, Tymoros told them to expect a summons later, but at first they should return to their study of the archives.
Delia came with a summons for Kryslie to go to the armoury, and she went off. Morov brought Tymos a drink and retreated.
Kryslie realised that she had spoken truly the previous day. As soon as she sensed Tymos’s mind become a blank place in hers, she had warning of a surprise test.
Five black clad ambushers materialised around her within seconds of her arrival in the armoury. One glance at them and she knew the rules. She had anticipated something like this when she had dressed as she did for physical skills lessons. Her outfit was a crimson version of the all-in-one black suits of her opponents, but without the head covering. Since her opponents were deliberately anonymous, she did not greet any of them.
Last time she had faced five to one odds, Perrin Reslic had told her that real assassins would not play fair. These opponents were only waiting for a signal to start and they would be looking for a means to disable her. They would be in earnest, and give her no concessions and because she was so powerful now, they would not be withholding their strength.
The idea of the anonymous black outfits was to prevent her from identifying individuals, but it didn’t work. From the way each of them moved and reacted, she quickly identified four of the five attackers. She studied the fifth as the group merely circled her. She had no idea who it was – not any of her instructors in weapons and physical skills – and that one was not attempting any attacks yet.
Kryslie sensed each attack and spun to parry it, judging each attack and defending perfectly. The fifth person was equally as good as the rest, but he feinted attacks, and she believed he was the one using mental attacks against her. It wasn’t the President, for she could see Jono Reslic watching this encounter.
The mental attacks were a mixture of insults and deliberate attempts to distract her. The mental voice had already informed her that the odd framework of metal and wood on one side of the armoury was strong enough to contain her and she would end up restrained by it. Then it had elaborated on the types of tortures it could be used for. She doubted that these attackers would deliberately torture her, but as a lesson, she might find herself enduring an unpleasant session.
In any case, if they managed to restrain her, in her mind she would lose the challenge. She had no intention of losing.
She held her own during the first half hour of furious skirmishing, blocking most attacks and getting some well-aimed ones of her own to their designated targets. Then she began to feel the sense of pressure building in her stomach again – the feeling that presaged a ground tremor. A strong one, she knew.
For a few moments, she lost concentration. Her awareness of the people around her was lost in the need to control the painful pressure in her gut. Her opponents took the opportunity, and caught her in a painful grip. Two of them dragged her towards the metal and wood framework, even though she tried her best to resist. Until the tremor finally began, she felt weak and unable to wrest herself free. Her only advantage was in knowing a tremor was imminent and she would be ready when it did, for her strength would return then.
In the first few seconds of sensory confusion, she overcame the two dragging her and sprang back at the other three. In moments, she had sorted out which of the five she had disabled.
“A lucky break,” one of the three commented, his voice coming from a synthesiser to disguise it. The voice went on to disparage her fighting skill, and general needle her in an attempt to get her angry.
From the rhythm and cadence of the voice, and some of the comments, Kryslie recognised Perrin Reslic. He knew her well enough to know exactly what had angered her in the past. It amused her now, rather than angered her. Harder to ignore was the insidious mental voice that was urging her to ‘show him’.
Kryslie ignored both types of voice. The only return comment she made was, “You don’t want to see me angry, Perrin Reslic, or I will stop merely playing with you.”
That he had not expected her to recognise his synthesised voice was apparent to her extra sense as was the faint thread of amusement underlying the needling mental voice from the opponent she hadn’t recognised.
So far, this encounter was without weapons; Kryslie wondered at the significance of that. Was it because this was her area of expertise, and it might make her overconfident?
The three remaining opponents were attacking her every time they thought she was not expecting, or couldn’t see them. However, she continued to sense the movements and spun to counter their attack.
When did they intend this to end? When she was worn out and tied up? When she had bettered these three? The first two were standing back out of the way.
It was time for her to take the offensive. She drew in more energy every time she touched one of the three. She analysed the moves of each one and from merely defending, she leapt, attacked and landed behind the other two – forcing them to spin around and forget about the third now lying stunned on the floor. Her mind flicked to her victim. He was stirring and mentally cursing. She sent to his mind, “You knew what to expect, Gann Reslic.”
“You won’t find me so easy,” Perrin Reslic taunted her.
The other opponent stayed silent but the mental needling had not ceased. He was the only one she hadn’t yet closed with. He would be her next target.
Her inner thoughts mused that both these taller opponents had learnt the same skills that she had been taught. To beat them, she needed to improvise.
She began a pattern of movements, and watched as her opponents studied it. When she knew the silent one was about to attack, she went from moving to perfect stillness in a microsecond. As the opponent went past, she grabbed, twisted and threw – or rather, intended to throw. In that instant of touch, she recognised her opponent and that did rock her.
She had never seen her father fight, or even train, but it made sense that he did. In the last instant before Tymoros hit the floor, she controlled the power in the throw. He touched the floor gently, not solidly, and Perrin Reslic grabbed her.
“Consider yourself dead, Princess Kryslie,” Perrin Reslic claimed. “You took pity on an opponent.”
“I am sure there is a penalty for regicide too,” she muttered, shaking herself free.
The man on the floor stood up and removed his hood. Tymoros smiled at Kryslie.
“Impressive,” he commended. “I am pleased that you spared me a hard landing and you used your foreknowledge of the tremors to excellent advantage. Something affected you though, what was it?”
“Tymos and I feel the pressure building up – like a stomach ache. I knew the tremor would be a strong one from the degree of pain.”
“Then that is something you need more work on,” Jono Reslic told her, as he offered her a cup of the restorative drink she was used to.
Kryslie drank the drink gratefully and dared to ask, “How did I do?”
“Well enough,” Reslic admitted. “This test will be considered and we will talk to you when all tests are complete. Have a rest and go back to your study in the archives.”
Resting would be good, Kryslie decided.
“Tomorrow we will test you with various weapons.” Reslic told her, seeming to watch her intently.
Kryslie barely had time for the scrutiny to register. Between one breath and the next, she went from awake to asleep, unaware that the drink had been drugged.
Reslic summoned Delia and had Gann help her to take Kryslie to her room in Tymoros’s suite.
Tymos roused, slumped over his desk in the computer archives. The screen in front of him had gone into hibernation mode. He straightened and looked around, realising that he must have slept for several hours. Even the room was dark. He realised then that he couldn’t sense his sister. As he stood and began to move around, he adjusted his eyes to see in the dark. He tried to call Kryslie’s mind, but he felt no reply. She was alive though, he was sure of it.
As he tried to recall what he was doing before he fell asleep, he felt a breath of air moving. The only warning of danger was the arm that came around and tried to catch him by the throat. It was just a dark shape outlined by a heat aura. He acted immediately, Perrin Reslic had caught him this way before but now he knew how to counter it. He did, and his would be assailant landed against another of the tables and chairs. As he tried to leave the room, he felt something fall on him. Some kind of net contracted around him. Struggling only made the net contract further, and he tried to draw in power to break free. He couldn’t. He tried to visualise the net strands becoming looser and thought he was succeeding when he heard a mental voice saying, “You are mine now. I have your sister too.”
He shivered, recalling that time in the caverns and the mental voice that had frightened him with its sense of gloating possession. This mental voice was different, but saying the same sort of things.
The voice went on, “Don’t expect help this time.”
Something hit his head, hard, and he felt disoriented for a moment. He concentrated on easing the pain, and realised that he was no longer in the archive room, but back in the caverns, in the dark, moist cave. He must have blacked out, but he didn’t think so.
Silence was around him, with no sense of any other person. All he heard was his own gasping breath and the steady drip-drip of water nearby.
He was tightly constricted, and he needed to get free. He had to find where Krys was. For half an hour, Tymos wriggled so that one or other of his hands felt over the strands of the net, until he felt a more solid place – the node where the strands originated. The memory of a brief glance of an archived computer record surfaced. This was a strangler’s net, and to free himself, he needed to press the outer surface of the node. He couldn’t position his hand or fingers close enough. In an instant of thought, he rolled so that his weight was on that section of net. He imagined his body getting denser, heavier – as he had to do to swim under the surface of the pseudo-aqua in the natatorium pool. The net retracted with a sharp whoosh.
Tymos sprang up and made for the area of deeper shadow that meant a tunnel. He ran along it and into a wall. He paused to rub his nose and tried to see better. He reached out and felt the rock wall. It was cool and didn’t emit a heat aura for him to see. He could just make out the walls if he moved slowly.
He heard a sound, like footsteps suddenly stopping a moment after he did. He moved ahead slowly, keeping one hand on the wall as an extra guide. After his hand had been touching the wall for a time, he realised the rock was glowing very faintly. It gave him enough illumination to move a little faster. The wall seemed to be alive with energy, waiting for him to grasp and use. It exhilarated him and his mind moved at greater speed.
“I can use my transmitter,” he thought, reaching for it and bringing it into his hand. He programmed it for the beam in point in the High King’s palace. When he activated it, he felt himself seem to hit solid rock.
“That didn’t work,” he muttered to himself, and assumed he was outside the power nexus that enabled the transmitters to work.
Another idea occurred to him, as he recalled mention of an anti-transmission field. He manually programmed his transmitter to move him in a short flit of four feet, just before he activated it, he changed it to eight feet. This time, it worked and he found himself further along the passage, away from the glowing area.
At that moment, he sensed a start of surprise – several – and knew he was not alone in the dark. He glanced behind him and saw black figures silhouetted against the faint glow he had left behind. When they began to trot towards him, Tymos began to run. He wondered if they had just arrived, or been there for a while. He hadn’t sensed them before that…or had he? Was that why he changed the distance he set on the transmitter
The tunnel opened into a cavern – the sense of the walls was further away and they no longer glowed. Seeing was harder; he needed to listen for sounds and feel the air movements. He wondered if the figures following him were as blind as he was, or were they merely playing with him?
Needing to augment his hearing, he instinctively drew on the energy he felt all around him. He began to hear the padding of almost silent feet and the even breathing of the ones stalking him. He felt the movement of air as two of the stalkers ran at him. He twisted, attacked and blocked. In moments, both were down and lightly stunned. One smelt vaguely of cedar. He checked that each was breathing and one of them stirred. Tymos moved off and considered a wisp of thought. The smell of cedar was familiar – where had he smelt it? Finally, some kind of fog cleared from his mind. Konn Reslic had smelt of cedar that first day in the large lyceum.
Tymos knew what was happening now, this was a test, and they had tried to muddle his mind to handicap him. He tried to reach Krys again, still without a reaction from her. Not surprising, they had probably made her sleep so as not to help him. Then he recalled his own unplanned nap. They had done that to him first – slipped a drug into the drink Morov had brought him.
Knowing this was a test was not enough. He had to finish it – get himself out of the trap he was in. His transmitter didn’t work, but he would wager that his stalkers had transmitted into the caverns. He turned and edged back to where he had left his two victims. Recognising the need to see, the rock under the two unconscious assailants began to glow. Tymos removed the head coverings and identified Konn Reslic and Jarro Reslic. Neither had transmitters.
He had forgotten the mental voice and now he heard it again. It was amused at his attempts to escape, disparaged his futile efforts, and stressed his helplessness and how he would become simply a mouldering pile of bones because the rest of the attackers would get him in time.
Tymos ignored the voice – the words were reminiscent of the one he’d heard the first time he had come down here, but they did not feel as threatening. However, another mental presence was beginning to intrude on his concentration. This one was harder to ignore. It was Llaimos, and his distress was growing in intensity. Tymos had to stop, and project calm. He drew close to the wall, stood very still, felt the aura around him. He listened, and heard the furtive movements of more assailants. Two, he thought. Another wisp of thought, “He cannot transmit out. This cavern is shielded.”
A faint breeze went past him.
“Ah,” Tymos thought. “If the shield was not there, perhaps I could have transmitted out.”
He put the thought aside to concentrate on the mental distress coming from his brother. It was strong, even though he was only two months old.
“Llaimos, little brother, I am okay, really,” he sent mentally. He felt the naive mind recognise his. “You are safe. Mother is with you, isn’t she?”
The game of hide and seek took on a new intensity. A beam weapon erupted from a few feet away and struck the wall, barely an arms length away. Tymos kept still, with the aura hiding him. The hunters were trying to force him to move. He had to return part of his mind to Llaimos and interpret the emotion coming from him.
“Kryslie is asleep,” Tymos sent, more as an image, but the mental wailing increased. “Brother, this is a game – a rough one – but father and others are testing me. They don’t want Krys helping me.”
Another bolt of energy narrowly missed him. The other mental voice began again. It had picked up on his reaction to Llaimos.
“The brat had better get used to it. You won’t be getting out of here. In a century, perhaps, someone will stumble on your bones.”
To himself, Tymos thought, “I have had enough of this.”
Instead of trying to find the exit, he decided he needed to see if the remaining hunters had a transmitter. He brought to mind what he had learnt about transmitters on the first day he had free run of the archives. His transmitter might be partly disabled, and there might not be a shield – that might be a trick.
It was a plan, and he deliberately ignored the inadvisability of using another person’s transmitter. Xyron had said his was calibrated to him - probably because he was a student and restricted to short range. He couldn’t move someone with him, but servants could and the servants had less power than he did.
Tymos squatted low; the energy beams were aimed at chest height. He used his left hand to feel around on the dirt and rock of the floor until he found a flake of stone. He tossed it a few feet away, ahead of the hunters. The clatter sounded like a gunshot, but instead of ricochet echoes, he heard padding feet and elevated breathing. He was ready when the stalkers went past to launch himself at the second one. A brief tussle, Tymos snatched the transmitter. He rolled clear and activated it. He did not try to change the setting since every microsecond mattered. He felt the brush of a grab as he dematerialised.
He found himself on the floor of Reslic’s office, with both Reslic and his father staring down at him.
Reslic spoke to his attendant. “Tell Gann to deactivate the force shield on the cavern complex and help my brother back up. He will need to see the medics.”
Tymos stared up at Reslic and chose to say nothing – forcing Reslic to speak first.
“Perrin received backflow from your departure, Prince Tymos.”
“He is an experienced member of your staff. He should have aborted his grab when he felt the repellor field.” Tymos kept his voice even and stared back at the President. When he felt he had made his point, he pushed himself up.
“If this test is over, I have somewhere else I need to be,” Tymos told them. He turned to his father. “How can you sit there? Surely you can hear Llaimos screaming mentally - since you were using that fact to try to distract me.”
Tymoros did not betray his inner thoughts. “Tanya has Seoni and Dari with her. They have both told her that Llaimos needs to learn that he cannot keep on demanding that you and Kryslie run to him when he cries.”
“He is only two months old,” Tymos almost hissed, but he controlled his anger.
“And as you pointed out, his mind is more mature than his body. It is not too soon for him to learn that he doesn’t need you or someone for everything – all the time.” Tymoros spoke deliberately and firmly.
“You don’t understand…” Tymos began to insist.
“Seoni and Dari have a great deal more experience with babies than you do, Prince Tymos,” Reslic told him severely.
“Llaimos is not an ordinary child. He is growing fast and it is painful.” Tymos omitted polite etiquette.
“Then you should teach him to manage it,” Reslic told him, perfectly serious.
Tymos bit back a retort, and began to turn to leave.
Tymoros halted him with the question, “How did you know it was me in your mind?”
“The tone wasn’t arrogant enough or derisive, denigrating,” Tymos didn’t turn back, but answered dismissively. “I would have said you were not a good enough actor to play a villain, but I have changed my mind. And Llaimos isn’t a brat – I should know.”
Without the expected politeness, Tymos strode from the room, intending to ignore any attempt to continue the conversation. He tried to transmit away, and again the process failed. He went in search of a servant to take him to Llaimos.
With equal brusqueness, he strode into and through the High King’s suite, past Tanya and the other consorts and into the room where Llaimos’s screaming was unabated. He shut the door behind him and spoke to the screaming infant.
“For the Guardian’s sake, Llaimos, I told you they were testing me. It was a game. And Krys is fine – if you would deign to stop your noise, I will take you in to wake her up.”
Tymos had to shout to be heard, and he knew he was angry, but it was anger at his elders not his brother.
The screams subsided to uncontrolled gulping sobs. Now Tymos went and picked his brother up, held him to his shoulder and massaged his back and sent a feeling of calm.
“Come on,” Tymos said to the distressed child. “I think both you and I have had enough of being tested. Let’s go wake Krys.”
Tymos carried his brother past the three consorts and Llaimos’s nurse, without acknowledging them. He went into his sister’s room without knocking. She was still fast asleep.
“No wonder you thought she was dead – if she slept through your noise storm,” Tymos remarked. He freed one hand to shake his twin gently. It took half a minute before she stirred. Her first reaction was to grip his hand.
“Gods,” she swore. “I feel like newly laid floor tiles. What ever they gave me was powerful.”
“It feels like it either quelled your power, or you needed a lot of power to neutralise it,” Tymos told her. “If you need it – I have plenty of angry energy to share with you.”
“You and Llaimos both,” Kryslie agreed. “Give him to me and while you do something about getting calm or I will be throwing a tantrum next. Want to tell me what stunts they pulled on you and why Llaimos is so upset?”
“Later,” Tymos promised. He understood that Kryslie meant that Llaimos was receiving his anger. “Reslic said we should teach him pain control techniques. Isn’t he a bit young?”
“It’s a good idea, and we are probably the only ones that can do it,” Kryslie told him. “What is annoying you still?”
Tymos told her what Tymoros had said about teaching Llaimos not to keep demanding attention.
“Controlled crying,” Kryslie told him. “The psychology is sound even if it is traumatic for mother and child and us.”
Kryslie felt her twin about to erupt and quickly added, “I also agree with you. Yes, Llaimos wants us, but not for mere amusement, or out of impatience or what ever the usual reasons are that babies demand attention.”
The gulping sobs were abating. Kryslie turned her full attention to Llaimos. “I’m fine, like Tymos told you. You were fussing over nothing. You have to trust others, like mother and father. We can’t be here all the time. We have lessons and duties, and things expected of us. We have lots to learn still and we need to try to teach you things. Did you have voices and pictures around you today?”
Kryslie sensed Llaimos remembering such things, but there was no indication of comprehension yet. “That is so you can learn things too, and it will change, day by day, so you will keep seeing and hearing new things.”
Tymos wasn’t sure that his little brother would understand, but he had to try. He touched his brother’s cheek and said, “Little brother, you can’t keep relying on us. We will do what we can to help you to help yourself, but in a few days, we will have to go away with father on his royal tour. This is important – for us – and we will be away almost two months.”
There was now quiet in the previously roiling mind of the child. Somehow, Tymos knew he understood, at least partly. Llaimos’s sobs decreased to nothing, and his siblings sensed him projecting images of pictures and voices. He was associating the recordings with ‘learn’ but he could not yet communicate the nuances.
Tymos was not sure if he meant, “I want to come and learn with you” or “tell me what you learn when away” or “You said you had something to teach me.”
“What say we give you a bath, a massage and a light feed and see how we go,” Kryslie proposed. A sense of remembered pleasure was projected to them.
Tymoros had returned when they emerged from the bathing room with Llaimos. Both Tymos and Kryslie glanced his way, but continued back to Kryslie’s sleeping room. Tanya had gone off with the other consorts.
An hour later, when they emerged again, Tymoros spoke quietly. “I will hold Llaimos for a while. I have sent your attendants to bring a meal to your apartments. You will sleep there tonight.”
Tymos kept his, “Suits me,” comment strictly to himself and forced out, “I will probably feel less like a rock rat when I have eaten.”
“What if Llaimos won’t settle?” Kryslie asked, keeping her query perfectly polite.
“I am not completely inexperienced with babies,” Tymoros remarked quietly. “And I think it must be my turn for a disturbed night’s sleep.”
“Yes,” Kryslie agreed mildly, as she settled Llaimos on his lap.
“While we are away, Tanya and Llaimos will sleep in the nursery with the other youngsters,” Tymoros told his elder children, aware that they were hiding their anger from him. “They will move in from tomorrow night. If Llaimos needs anything, Tanya will have plenty of help.”
“But you will keep having the stories and pictures going,” Tymos insisted.
“And the massaging,” Krysl