that he was on Hallholme, he saw he wasn’t alone. Every one of these colonists probably had some uncomfortable reason for ending up here.
Nevertheless, he expected someone to give him instructions. Surely they had some sort of standard procedures for new arrivals? He stood with Fernando in the streets of Michella Town, wondering where to go. Undaunted, his friend set off down the main street, as if he had business to accomplish. Given his obvious confidence, no one bothered to offer advice or ask them questions. Vincent muttered to his friend, “Now what do we do?”
Fernando flashed a bright smile and said, with no embarrassment whatsoever, “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
4
D iadem Michella’s motor carriage rolled past the reflecting pools and ornamental gardens of Sonjeera’s grand palace, then sped across the verdant valley toward Council City.
Previous Diadems had occupied fabulous royal residences in the heart of that sprawling metropolis, but such buildings had long since been converted to other government uses: offices, meeting chambers, festival halls, records vaults. To emphasize the importance of her supreme role, Michella separated herself from the crowds and bustle, living on an ostentatious estate out in the country.
Council City’s weathered copper rooftops and ivy-covered walls gave it the aura of an intellectual center, like a university town. Seated in the rear of her state vehicle, the old woman shook her head in bitter amusement. What absurdities took place inside those structures of bureaucracy! Committees and offices were created solely to give impressive-sounding titles to nobles so they would not feel useless. Lawmakers formed childish alliances to oppose her policies – not because they objected to the policies themselves, but becasue they believed that opposing her made them appear powerful. At least it kept them busy.
Her uniformed driver steered the carriage around the perimeter of Heart Square, taking the circuitous, traditional route that was prescribed for the Diadem’s arrival. According to long-established custom, the Diadem’s mere passage through the city was said to bring good fortune. Silly superstition, but Michella did not dare break the routine. Tradition was the bedrock of human civilization. Anyone who tried to destroy that bedrock, as Tiber Adolphus had, needed to be dealt with. Severely.
The motor carriage came to a stop, and the polished door automatically swung open. Gathering her regal presence as naturally as she breathed, Michella stepped from the running board to the street, still spry and agile despite her advanced age. At this early hour, only a few citizens gathered in the square to watch her approach, with their hats off and heads bowed.
Wearing robes of state, members of the Constellation’s parliamentary body took positions on either side of the broad steps that led up from street level to the inner chambers. She walked between them up to the entrance, and then they followed her inside as if this were a choreographed military drill. Michella smiled to herself as she heard some of them struggling to keep up with her.
The previous week, she had eavesdropped while several lords in this very chamber whispered about who might succeed her as Diadem. Due to her age, the question was on the minds of all ambitious planetary lords, but their speculation was premature. She would probably outlive them all.
Michella had only one child, her daughter, Keana, and Constellation law prohibited a son or daughter of the previous monarch from serving as supreme ruler in order to limit the power of any one noble family as well as to prevent the creation of a corrupt dynasty. Therefore, the next Diadem was not – in theory at least – Michella’s concern.
The authors of such laws were so naïve.
While she had listened in annoyed silence, the whispering lords bandied about a number of names, exchanging favors and recommendations as if their machinations
Louis - Hopalong 0 L'amour