The Twins by Gary Alan Wassner Page A

plan. It’s too soon.
    “Who is that you speak of, my friend? I know of no such person. Was I not informed?”
    “Ah, and could it be that you have not heard yet? I thought for sure he was here at your invitation?”
    “Who?” Baladar’s heart pounded.
    Darrel smiled, looking like the cat who got the mouse, so proud for knowing something before his Lord did. Perhaps he did not in fact know of the boy, and some other person of significance had coincidentally arrived concurrently.
    “See for yourself. You need only to turn around,” he replied rather smugly under his breath.
    Baladar turned and took in the sight of someone he never dreamed would have had the courage to enter his city.
    “Baladar, my Lord and liege,” the man said bowing low before him. “It is so good to see you once again. After such a long absence, I would have thought for sure that you would have prepared a welcoming for me.” The dark haired nobleman made a disapproving sound, “Such a disappointment. But, I do forgive you, with the mundane affairs of state keeping you so busy all the time, I am sure you simply forgot that I was coming.”
    Baladar was so taken aback, his feelings awash with conflicting emotions; relief that his secret was not exposed, trepidation at the arrival of his rival, the Duke of Talamar’s heir, at such an inopportune moment, and extreme wariness at the concurrence of the two matters.
    Kettin Dumas, son of the proprietor of the southern reaches, sly and not to be trusted, flashed an insincere and toothy smile at Baladar.
    “My father sends his fondest wishes and hopes that you are in good health, both body and mind. His only regret is that he himself could not be here at this time. Pressing matters keep him occupied at home, as I am sure you can well understand,” he said, as if he shared a monumental secret with his father that he was unwilling to fully reveal.
    Kettin never seemed to say what he meant. His inflections of speech could not help but lead one to believe that his seemingly simple words had far deeper meanings than they originally indicated. Whether warranted or not, he aroused suspicion and doubts even as he spoke.
    “I welcome your presence at any time, Kettin Dumas, although I have to admit that my aides have been remiss in not informing me of your intended visit. How could they have been so irresponsible? Surely you will forgive me and kindly not humiliate me by conveying to your father my embarrassing yet truly innocent and regretful lack of preparation for your coming. I would be mortified if the Duke should learn of my faux pas.”
    Choking on his words, he fervently hoped the insincerity was not too obvious to those present. He was not afraid that the Duke’s son would recognize his affectation. Kettin was not astute enough to sense anything subtle. But he certainly did not need to enter into a lengthy and wasteful argument with his southern ‘ally’ over etiquette at this moment.
    “Come, Kettin, embrace me and enter my court as a welcome guest.”
    With that, Kettin moved the few paces required to reach Baladar’s side, and with as little physical contact as possible, hugged him as if he were infected with the trecco virus itself. Upon contact with Baladar, Kettin noticeably jumped back a pace. His expression changed from one of casual discomfort to one of startled fear. He looked at Baladar askew and then abruptly attempted to regain his composure.
    “I could have sworn that something just shocked me, yet I know that I am not that unwelcome here Baladar. You are surely charged with energy this evening. It is in the air. I can feel it. I hope my arrival is not untimely?” he responded, looking around the court.
    Kettin immediately regretted having uttered such a suspicion, but Baladar could not help but notice a flash of fear in the young man’s eyes, coupled with his usual mistrust.
    “I must have been imagining it.” He quickly shrugged as if it was nothing, yet his cautious look