The Hand of Grethia: A Space Opera by Guy Antibes

Author:Guy Antibes
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Casiepress
Published: 2015-06-26T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

The spaceship landed in a forest clearing, but this time, not too far from the capital. The dusk of the evening cast a pinkish light contrasting with the dark blue shadows on the land. Jan left the clearing and returned with horses that had been tended for a month by a nearby woodsman. Fosan had revived enough to hazard a painful horseback ride back to Diltrant. After the disastrous discussion on Diltrantian world domination, Fosan had steadfastly rejected further medical assistance from the autodoc and had barely said a word.

Jan, still disturbed by his conversation with Fosan, had placed a portal inside his ship in the engine room. The woodsman helped Jan load the rest of the treasures on a cart, covered them up and Jan, Merinnia and Fosan headed for the palace.

King’s advisors, he thought. It wouldn’t be Bloodin, would it? Jan didn’t want to endure a repeat of his incarceration. At least Merinnia understood his point of view.

He found his faith in Obsomil a little shaken. His discussions with Obsomil encompassed the same activities of world conquest or world government. Conflicting information always created an unsettled feeling in the back of his mind and Fosan’s perspective ate at his trust.

As they rode into Diltrant, Jan felt a palpable unease in the city. Obsomil waited for them at the palace gates. He greeted Merinnia first, warmly and openly. The King helped Fosan down from the cart. He left the academic and taking his daughter’s hand began to lead the way into the palace. To Jan, he gave a brief nod.

Something had changed. Could it be Lord Wilton? He seemed pre-occupied. Perhaps Wilton had poisoned the King’s impression of him? Obsomil’s body language was all wrong. Jan had fantasized about a hero’s welcome, but that didn’t happen.

A guard came to Jan’s side and led him apart from the others while his thoughts raced. He soon found himself in a meeting room on the other side of the corridor from Obsomil’s council room, facing a man, years older than himself. He was good looking, if a bit gray, with a weathered complexion. He was well built, rather tall, nearly Jan’s height. What struck Jan was that he had the eyes of a bird of prey, cold and calculating. Even though this man might outwardly look friendly or in good humor, Jan could see this man would reveal nothing without purpose. Could this be Lord Wilton? Jan looked him over and put out his hand, “Hello, I’m Jan Smith.” Taking the initiative seemed to reflect Jan’s resolve to get to the heart of this perplexing situation. “And to whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

~

Wilton looked at the out-worlder, sizing him up. So this is Jan. He certainly appeared intelligent, but he was so young. Wilton mentally dismissed Jan as influential. His youth disqualified him to be a true player in the coming event, in fact he looked more like a Murgrontian, with his blond hair, than one of Obsomil’s minions.

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