GUISES OF THE MIND Read online

  “Proclaim what the Voice speaks to you,” he ordered. “Fulfill Rhii’cha.”

  Troi hesitated. Mother Veronica’s revulsion screamed inside her head, amplifying the feelings that were Troi’s own. At that moment, Troi, too, would have liked to break away, to go back to the Enterprise and be cleansed from her contact with the blackness of Beahoram’s mind.

  Duty held her in place. Duty and the point of a sword. Both were sharp. Troi took a deep breath as she steeled herself to touch Beahoram’s emotions again.

  She reached; she touched; an answering wave of darkness boiled back at her. It slammed through her mind, battering at her defenses with the force of obsession. She was hardly aware that Faellon had removed the tip of the sword from her throat and again taken up his post between the prostrate bodies.

  “Anger,” she said aloud. Some part of her heard her own voice, but she could not spare the concentration to choose her words. “Pain and loss. Loneliness. I’ll make them pay. Revenge. I’ll hurt them for what they thought they did to me. I’ll take back what is mine.”

  This was not enough. These thoughts were barely below the surface of Beahoram’s mind. Troi knew she would have to go deeper. She withdrew a little, giving herself time to recover from the negative currents in which she had been immersed.

  As she withdrew, she felt Beahoram’s confidence return. He thought he had driven her off, but Troi knew otherwise. There was a technique for reaching past the imbalanced telepathic mind that she had learned in her training on Betazed. She had not needed it in the years she had worked among humans. She had almost forgotten it, but in the severity of her need, the memory of the training resurfaced.

  Troi once again strengthened the link between herself and Mother Veronica. She wove their minds together, plaiting them into a single, bonded entity. Troi had not felt such complex psychic structures since she had bonded with her own teacher on Betazed.

  Prepared now, Troi sent a Questing deep into Beahoram’s mind. It stood out like a ray of light in the surrounding blackness, plunging and searching deeper and deeper. At any moment, Troi expected to encounter resistance, but unlike his brother, the layers of Beahoram’s mind peeled easily away.

  Troi knew then that she could shatter his mind with a single thought. She also knew that she would not. Her training, her sense of duty, and her devotion to the healing of the mind was too deeply engrained to let her do more than recognize the possibility and discard it. Instead she stripped away Beahoram’s defenses. She laid bare to him the full darkness of his own mind. He tried to stop her, but he was powerless. Relentlessly, she delved into every memory, every action and plot, and revealed to him the true corruption of his motives.

  Then she spoke. In the hush of the temple, her voice carried, revealing everything she learned to this inquisition of Servants and Elders that encircled her, and there was nothing Beahoram could do but lay groaning with frustration at her feet.

  Troi opened her eyes. Faellon had left his place between the two brothers. He was straddling Beahoram’s prostrate form, the Sword of Justice pressed into Beahoram’s back. Gone was the bent old man who had hidden his face with shame when Joakal entered the temple and who had sat mute during the Council’s interrogations. Gone was the Chief Servant of the temple, worn out with long Service. Faellon had become the avenging angel of his God. His eyes blazed with fury as they looked into Troi’s, and she knew he would willingly wield the Sword.

  “Complete the Rhii’cha,” he ordered. “As you have read the heart and soul of one, now read the other.”

  Troi closed her eyes again. She focused her mind, still tightly interlaced with Mother Veronica’s, on Joakal. Again she gathered their linked powers into a tight, penetrating beam of thought. But as before, Joakal’s mind turned her away.

  She tried again and again. Every time the way remained blocked. Surface memories—fears, beliefs, hopes, darted quickly over the external layers of his mind, but allowed no deeper entry.

  Troi felt herself start to tremble with the effort. Finally she let out a gasp and sat back on her heels, her energy—and Mother Veronica’s—spent.

  “I cannot,” she said. But that was enough.

  “The God has protected His own,” Faellon shouted triumphantly. He raised the sword. His muscles tensed as he prepared to plunge it down into the body of the imposter who had almost made a travesty of everything Faellon held sacred.

  “No!” Troi screamed, lurching toward him.

  Joakal sprang to his feet and caught the arm of the Chief Servant as it began to descend. Their eyes locked; Troi felt the pulse of their battle of wills.

  Finally Faellon lowered his eyes. The sword in his hand dropped and clattered on the stone floor. He sank to one knee before Joakal.

  “Your Majesty,” he said. Faellon stood and turned to the waiting Elders. Aklier sat among them, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. He made no effort to break from the hands that held him.

  “Take him away,” Faellon said. “And find his accomplices. They will await the judgment of the King.”

  “Wait,” Joakal ordered. Movement in the temple stopped as he walked over to stand before the Elder.

  Aklier did not look up. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I should have trusted you.”

  “Yes,” Joakal said softly. “You should have. But I should also have trusted you. If I had not kept my plans to myself, if I had shared them with you, none of this would have happened. I was selfish, and though I did not know it, I was arrogant. You must also forgive me.”

  Aklier bowed deeply. Faellon came up behind Joakal. “Your Majesty,” he said. “The coronation—”

  “Will take place in two hours,” Joakal replied. “With one alteration—me.”

  For the next two hours, the news of the Rhii’cha’s outcome was broadcast through the city. It was carried over communication systems, whispered from ear to ear, gossiped out doorways and windows until everyone knew the tale.

  At the appointed time, the Elders once more gathered in the palace to escort the King to the temple. Joakal requested that Captain Picard stand in Aklier’s place in the procession and that Troi and Mother Veronica also walk with them.

  It was the biggest crowd in living memory who turned out to see Joakal’s coronation and elevation to Absolute. People lined the walkways and filled the city square, each hoping to catch not only a glimpse of their young King but to see the people from the Federation who had risked their lives to overthrow the usurper and protect the most hallowed right of sovereignty. Neither Troi nor Mother Veronica realized that to the people who whispered and pointed as the procession passed, they had already gained the status of living legends.

  The procession reached the temple and once more ascended the long flight of stairs. A fanfare blew once, twice, three times. Joakal entered the hallowed structure and walked in triumph down the long nave to prostrate himself before the altar and be raised again as Absolute.

  He had already been hallowed by his passage through Rhii’cha and therefore, when the coronation recommenced, Faellon chose to omit many of the prayers he had prayed over Beahoram. But the Chief Servant could not reduce the rite of anointing or the consecration.

  At last, hands lifted Joakal from where he lay upon the crimson cloth. He knelt before the altar. Faellon stood in front of him and the four Servants, again assisting Faellon, came and laid their hands on Joakal’s shoulders. Faellon recited the ancient prayer of consecration.

  The prayer ended. Faellon dropped his hands to Joakal’s head. At their touch, a warmth filled Joakal’s mind. It expanded slowly at first, spreading outward and inward, warming and caressing him. It turned into a fire. It began to blaze. It scorched and seared. It burned its way through the layers of shields Troi had encountered, reaching deeper and deeper, down into the center of his brain and firing back outward again along all of the twisting pathways of thought, memory, reason, and belief.

  Joakal rocked back and forth on his knees, he groaned as from deep with
in his mind, power flared, unleashed for the first time. It surged back up along the pathways that were now unblocked. It met with the energies that were flowing into his mind and blended with them, absorbed them.

  It was as if a switch had been thrown in Joakal’s mind. There was a flood of illumination and suddenly Joakal could hear the thoughts of those around him. He could read through the layers of their emotions and feel within himself the depths of their joys and triumphs, their sufferings and fears. He Knew them— all of them.

  Then, just as he felt he could accept no more, he found he could shut them away with a single thought. The empowering was complete.

  This is what Counselor Troi and Mother Veronica were trying to do for me down in the cell, Joakal realized. I did not understand.

  He sent a single thought of affinity to them, brushing the minds of empath and telepath with his gratitude. Then he stood and met the eyes of the temple’s Chief Servant. Faellon bowed low, acknowledging the new Absolute and in that instant, Joakal knew he had only to think a single thought to be able to read the mind, the heart and soul of the God’s Servant. Such a temptation must be guarded against.

  Joakal turned away from Faellon. He looked out at the congregation. The faces that watched him held expectations and a little dread. He knew they wondered what kind of a man was now their ruler. They would know soon enough.

  Joakal descended the altar steps. He crossed to where Elana stood with Picard, Troi, and Mother Veronica. He took Elana’s hand into his own and raised it to his lips.

  “My Queen,” he said for her ears alone. “My friend,” he said to Captain Picard. Then with two steps, he stood in front of Troi and Mother Veronica. He said nothing for a few quick seconds. Then slowly, he sank to one knee before them.

  The people in the temple gasped; no Absolute had ever bowed to any but the God.

  Joakal came to his feet again. He looked down into the tired faces of both women and he smiled a soft, warm smile.

  “I owe you more than a life,” he said. “What you have done will never be forgotten among my people.”

  He turned away and went back to stand at the foot of the altar. Once there he raised his hands. All eyes were fixed upon him. Joakal felt the surge of anticipation that flowed from the hearts and minds of his people as they waited to hear the first words of their newly consecrated sovereign.

  “My people,” he cried out in a loud and royal voice. “You have seen today the price of following an old law that has passed from the Way of Wisdom. The old laws will be reviewed and new laws proclaimed, and the first such law is this: No more children shall die for an accident of their birth. Life is the God’s most precious gift. In revering it, we do homage to the God. Now is the quickening of a new era. We go forward together.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then, suddenly, a voice rang out. “The God’s blessing upon the Absolute, ” it shouted. The cry was taken up by other voices until the temple rang with the accolade.

  Joakal again crossed over to Elana and took her by the hand. She would walk by his side as he left the temple, as she would walk by his side through life. But he did not forget the people of the Enterprise.

  “Captain,” he said. “Will you, and the others if they are not too tired, be my guests at the coronation banquet? I believe we still have things to discuss.”

  “I, for one, would be honored, Your Majesty,” Picard said. “Counselor—Mother Veronica?”

  Troi smiled, but Mother Veronica shook her head. “If you don’t mind,” she said, “I’d like to go back to the Enterprise.”

  “Certainly,” Joakal replied. “But I hope you will return to us soon.”

  Mother Veronica did not answer. She lowered her eyes and stood waiting. Picard tapped his communicator.

  “Picard to Enterprise,” he said.

  “Enterprise, Riker here.”

  “All is well, Number One,” Picard reported. “Counselor Troi and I will remain here for a while longer, but Mother Veronica wishes to return to the ship. Please see to it. I’ll give you a full report later.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Number One. Picard out.”

  He and the others stepped back a few feet to allow the transporter to work. As the effect took hold of Mother Veronica and before she had disappeared completely, she raised her eyes and looked at Troi. The counselor was uncertain what expression she saw there.

  Then she was gone. Joakal, too, took his leave of them as he led Elana to their place in the coronation recession. Picard and Troi were left standing alone.

  “Well, Counselor,” the captain said, “I believe our young friend will make an excellent ruler for the people of Capulon IV, and they will be a welcome addition to the Federation.”

  “I agree, Captain,” Troi said.

  Picard held out his arm to her ready to escort her formally to the banquet. A wry smile touched the edges of his lips. “You’ll have to admit that life in Starfleet is never boring.”

  Troi laughed. “It is certainly never that,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  THE FEAST AND CELEBRATION were held in the main banquet hall of the palace. Larger even than the Great Chamber, it easily held all the people who had attended the coronation and the population of Servants from the temple, as well as the retainers and servers, the musicians and dancers and the other entertainers who would perform during the evening.

  Joakal had ordered that Picard and Counselor Troi be seated near him at the high table. As the platters of food came and went, music played, toasts were given, and conversation crescendoed, Picard found he had little chance to speak with the King.

  The first hour passed. The main dishes were cleared away and an array of desserts presented. More wine was served. The second hour was nearly spent when the evening’s entertainment began with a chorus of children performing some old songs, written for past Kings but with the names changed to honor the new one. Next came tumblers and acrobats and a troop of dancers. Picard began to think about how he might make a graceful exit and return to the Enterprise. He turned and found Joakal watching him.

  The new Absolute smiled and stood. Immediately the music stopped. Conversations halted in midword as throughout the hall, people sprang to their feet and waited.

  Joakal motioned for them to sit. “You have feasted Us most wonderfully,” he said, using the royal pronoun, “and you have shown Us your love and loyalty. We are appreciative of all you have done, but We must now take Our leave of you. Please, stay and enjoy yourselves in Our absence.”

  Joakal turned away from the table and as he did, he motioned for Captain Picard to follow him. Picard nodded to the King, then leaned closer to Counselor Troi.

  “Stay here,” he told her. “I’ll try not to be gone too long.”

  Troi nodded. She and the rest of the room remainded standing until Picard had joined Joakal and the two of them left the banquet hall.

  “They’ll enjoy themselves more now that I’m not there,” Joakal told Picard as they stepped out into one of the many palace corridors. “And I want—no, I need to ask your advice. Let’s go to my private apartments where we can be comfortable while we talk.”

  “Certainly, Your Majesty,” Picard said.

  “Please, Captain, when we are alone, call me Joakal. My life will be filled with titles and formalities, with Elders and advisers and subjects, but there will be very few whom I can call friend.”

  “I shall be pleased to be among those few, Joakal. And my name is Jean-Luc.”

  “Jean-Luc—is that an Earth name?”

  “Yes, from a country known as France.”

  “Now that we are to be a member of the Federation, I must learn more about your Earth.”

  The small talk continued while they walked down the corridors, but Picard knew that Joakal had other things on his mind. His chatter had a preoccupied quality to it.

  Finally they reached Joakal’s rooms. They entered and Joakal motioned for Picard to sit while
he poured them each a glass of wine. When he had handed one to the captain, the younger man dropped into a chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. He held his wine goblet up until the light touched the ruby-colored crystal at its heart and he sat contemplating it.

  “Tomorrow,” Joakal said at last. “Tomorrow is a great day for my people. I will sign the final treaty that brings us into full membership with the Federation. We will join that glorious brotherhood among the stars. It is a wondrous thing, Jean-Luc,” he said, turning to look at the captain. “The treaty is a good document, one I’ll be proud to sign.”

  “If it is not the treaty you wish to discuss,” Picard said, “I don’t see what else I have the knowledge, or the authority, to help you with. My experience with your people is quite—limited.”

  “The authority? No, now that I am Absolute, no one has that. It is a heavy burden to wear such a title and to wear it well. Perhaps that is why with the title comes this new power into my mind. Every action I take for the rest of my life must be for the good of my people—and how can I not act for their good when their hurts and fears are as clear to me as my own. In many ways, I am my people now.”

  “Then, what—”

  “You do have a knowledge I need,” Joakal continued. “And I would ask you for your advice.”

  “But you have advisers who are far more familiar with the ways of your world than I will ever be.”

  “That is why I cannot ask them.” Joakal stopped and took a long drink of the wine in his goblet. Then he placed it on the small table between the chairs and folded his hands.

  “Tomorrow,” he began again, “I must pronounce judgment on my brother, and on Aklier, and the two who aided their actions. The laws of this world call for their deaths, as my advisers have already reminded me, several times. There must be laws. Society needs them or there would be chaos, and my people need them. They need laws they can believe in if they are to have any confidence in me as their ruler.

  “But, Jean-Luc,” Joakal continued, “I have said that I wish to enact new laws for my people. As an individual, I would offer Beahoram and Aklier mercy —but I am no longer an individual. I am Absolute. How, where, do I find the balance between mercy and law? What is justice?”