The Lost King by Margaret Weis Read Free Book Online

around him, no
matter how small or insignificant. Recognizing the various landmarks
he had unconsciously imprinted upon his mind, the boy was able to
retrace his steps with ease. He jogged through the empty streets,
pausing occasionally to get his bearings, and soon reached the city
limits. Once outside the town, he was in the broad, flat plains and
he relaxed. Dion had explored this land since boyhood and knew every
tree and bush.
    The young man increased
his speed, running over the sun-baked terrain at a smooth, easy pace.
He was enjoying the exercise, letting it slowly unwind the coiled
spring of his emotions. One of Syrac's two moons had risen and shone
brightly in the sky, lighting his way. There was no clearly marked
trail through the outback, but the land was flat, with only a few
scrubby bushes, stunted trees, Mid ravines to avoid. Within an hour,
he came within sight of the isolated dwelling where he and Platus
lived.
    Light shone from one of
the windows. That was not unusual. Platus often stayed up reading
until late into the night He heard music—a boy soprano's clear
voice cut achingly through Dion's heart.
    " Dona eis
requiem ." Grant them rest.
    Dion increased his
speed. He glanced behind him, but only out of instinct, not because
he was truly afraid of being followed. The mercenary had his money,
that was probably all he cared about.
    Nearing his home, Dion
noticed the blazing blue-white flash of light streak across the sky.
It intrigued him but didn't even cause him to break stride. Never
having seen one of the Warlord's massive ships before, Dion had no
idea what it was, and assumed it must be an unusually large meteor.
At any other time, such a phenomenon would have fascinated him. He
and Platus would have marked where it landed and gone out the next
day in search of it. But tonight Dion had no interest in the heavens.
Platus had some explaining to do.
    The boy's earliest
memories were of this small house and the quiet, gentle man who had
been not only father and mother to Dion, but teacher as well. The two
had lived a secluded life, shunning contact with the outside world.
Dion had not missed the world particularly. He'd been around children
his own age a few times and thought them silly and stupid. The boy
was perfectly content with his life—or would have been but for
one thing.
    He had no idea who he
was or, still more important, why he was.
    "You must be
patient, Dion," Platus told him, time and again, in the mild
voice that grew strained and tense whenever the boy brought up the
subject. "There are reasons for what I do, though I cannot
explain them. When and if the time comes for you to know, then it
will be revealed to you."
    "And if that time
never comes?" Dion asked impatiently.
    "Then you will not
know and you must accept it. What does it matter, anyway, who your
parents were? It is who you are that is important in this
life."
    Maybe that answer had
been good enough for Dion once. But not now. Not when he was being
sent off who knew where. Seeing the lights of his home gleaming
softly in the distance, Dion couldn't believe that Platus had
actually expected him to go meekly away with that crazy mercenary and
his uncouth computer. It just didn't make sense! Platus never did
anything on impulse. He always planned everything. Why, only the
first of this week, he and Dion had gone over what they intended to
study in the upcoming months. They'd laid out the garden, even argued
as usual over whether to put in radishes, which the boy loved and
Platus detested. And, as usual, the radishes had won.
    Then, two days ago,
Platus had been called to town to receive an interplanetary space
transmission. He refused to let Dion accompany him, though it was the
first time the boy had known his master to receive such a message.
When Platus returned, his face was ashen, he had aged years. He would
not discuss the matter but was silent and withdrawn. That afternoon,
he told Dion to begin packing—the