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General Doocar bowed.
"As for the rest," said Innelda, "keep the military police after them. As soon as
this mess is over, I'll set up special court martial and we'll teach these traitors the
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meaning of their oaths of allegiance."
"Suppose," said Doocar, and his voice was soft again, "they have weapon shop
guns?"
Her reaction to that was so violent that she grew calm in her anger. "My friend,"
she said gravely, "when army discipline can be set at nought by an underground
organization, then even the generals must realize it is time to destroy the
subversion." She made a motion with her right arm. A gesture of decisiveness.
"This afternoon, General, I shall visit the laboratories of Olympian Field. I want
to see what progress has been made in finding out just what the weapon makers
did to that building. Tomorrow morning, at least, Colonel Medlon must procure
for me the young man he was supposed to have commissioned. If he cannot do it,
one corrupt head will roll. You may think I'm being childish, concerning myself
with one individual. But I must start somewhere. And that young man I know
about. Him I can check on. But now," she said, "you weapon shop admirer, get
out of here before I do something drastic."
"Madam," protested Doocar mildly. "I am loyal to the House of Isher."
"I am glad to hear it," said Innelda scathingly.
She brushed past him and went out into the hallway without looking back.
CHAPTER XXIII
As SHE ENTERED the salon, she heard the faint sighing of relief of those already
there. She smiled darkly. People who wanted to eat in the Imperial salon had to
wait till she broke bread or sent word she wasn't coming. No compulsion existed
for anyone to be present. But usually those who had access did not deny
themselves the privilege. Innelda said, "Good morning!" Then sat down at the
head of her table. She sipped a glass of water, which was the signal for the waiters
to come in. After she had given her order, she looked around the room.
Everywhere were graying heads; men and women over fifty; relics of the regency.
A half dozen young men and two of her younger secretaries sat at her own table.
But they were a remnant; the residue of the emigration of young people that had
followed the departure of Prince del Curtin.
"Did everybody have a nice sleep last night?" Innelda broke the silence sweetly.
They hastened to assure her that they had. "How nice," she murmured-and
settled into a moody silence. She wasn't sure just what she wanted of her
companions. Lightness, perhaps. But how much? A year before; a newly
introduced young man had asked her if she were still a virgin. And since she was,
the incident still annoyed her.
Crudeness was definitely out of order. She had an instinctive feeling that
immorality on her part would reflect on the reputation of the Isher family. But
then what? She pecked at a piece of toast. What did she want? A positive
approach-a belief in principles, with an ability to see the humorous side of We.
Her own upbringing, severe and simple, had stressed the positive mind trainings.
Very important, but seriousness could be overdone. She stiffened with an old
determination. "I've got to get rid of these humorless, do-nothing, let's-be-
careful-and-not-rock-the-boat, think-twice-and-stop-" She paused, self-pityingly,
and prayed to her private gods, "Give me one good joke a day to make me laugh
and one man who can handle affairs of state and, in addition, know how to amuse
me. If only Del were here."
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She scowled in annoyance at the direction her thoughts were taking. Her cousin,
Prince del Curtin, disapproved of the attack on the weapon shops. What a shock,
when she had first discovered that. And what mortification when all the young
men of his clique left the palace with him, refusing to participate in the
adventure. Having killed Banton Vickers for threatening to inform the weapon
shops of her plans, a treasonous utterance that would have destroyed her prestige
if she had let it pass, she could not overlook the opposition. Tight-lipped, she
recalled their final conversation, the prince, cold and formal, marvelously
goodlooking in his anger, herself uncertain but determined, as he said, "When
you get over this madness, Innelda, you may call me back." He must have known
that it was an opportunity for her to say, "That will be never." But she hadn't [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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