by Pam Uphoff
Inside she was . . . hating the drunken ass. A nasty twist of a desire for violence, and loathing for the man. Kurt could feel her iron control, and the determination to let it go, an awareness of how much that hatred harmed her. Fascinating. She was such a contrast to her sunny friend. He ground a mental heel down on his own hatreds and past injuries. Not for me. Neither the Sunny Girl nor the Dark Lady. Not ever again.
The Baroness closed in, with a smile like a shark. "Will your husband be joining you here, Lady December?"
"I don't know. I fled a bad situation, and do not know if he even lives, let alone is in any shape to find me," her eyebrows were quirked together again.
A gaggle of young women arrived, two of his lieutenants escorting their sisters and their friends. Husband hunting, pretty slim pickings, this stop. He knew perfectly well he was one of the targets. A woman can over look a lot of deficiencies in a husband, when he can make her a princess. And if she'd seduce one of his brothers, she could even give him a child with the family looks to raise, and keep up appearances. Several of them had informed him that they were quite willing to so sacrifice themselves.
Introductions all around, for the few who hadn't met each other, and Lady December who hadn't met any of them. The other four Lieutenants arrived and they were all swept in to dinner, a formal affair that Lady December had no problem with whatsoever. He caught snatches of her conversation with the people on either side of her, and her growing irritation with the young man beside her, one of Roger's local friends. Lord Hasty or Pasty or something similar.
The Baroness had imported a string quartet from God knows where and they played pleasantly through dinner, then relocated to the ball room and played waltzes. The Baron led out the baroness, and after a measure, Roger led out one of the Husband Hunters. Her brother did not look happy. Kurt slipped away from two women closing in on him, and begged a dance of the dark lady.
"Certainly, I am honored sir."
She danced lightly, but distantly, and at the end of the dance faded into the small crowd.
When he looked for her a few dances later, the baron informed him that she had departed early. "Woman's got a baby, after all."
"True, and a husband somewhere, worse the luck," he muttered to Jack Jenner.
"Huh. You always were a sucker for the smart ones. Some things never change."
Certainly not dodging ambitious young ladies. Somehow they seemed much more forward now. He supposed he was judged as safe now. Or maybe, with a foreign engagement in shambles behind him, they assumed he was no longer treaty fodder, and worth serious pursuit.
It was going to be a long and fruitless chase for this lot.
Chapter Six
Saturday, February 21, 3493 AD
Jeramtown, Arrival
Such an incredible horse. Where did Lady December come from, riding such an animal?
Phantom had the horsey equivalent of a very tired smirk on his face on the trip home from the stable. Where Preston swore he'd bred only a single mare, and oh, look! Sadie, one of the chestnuts was showing some interest. So was one of the others.
Liz blushed, she'd never actually seen a horse . . . her father had kept his daughters away when they were breeding the mares. Probably a good idea, because when Preston had made a pass at her, she'd been so . . . well, she'd actually been tempted for about a second. If it had been that cute Captain . . . but then they said he couldn't anymore.
Damn, damn, damn. She put the stallion back in his usual stall, and wondered if the lady was going to breed him to Moxie and start her own little herd.
Liz found mother and baby both sound asleep. She yawned her way into her own bed and slept till the sun was shining in the window.
"Oh, M'lady, I'm so sorry."
The lady just smiled and pointed at a plate of sticky buns. She had to lick her fingers and take a drink of tea before she could talk. "They taste wonderful, but 'sticky' is an understatement. If you feel guilty about sleeping in, I'll simply point to the pile of dirty diapers."
"I'll take the laundry in today," Liz promised. "And in two days we'll be starting the militia training."
"I met Doctor Easler last night. Good grief. Fragile female minds? Only if they are taught to be fragile from a young age. Did you get any education?"
"I can read, write and figure, but women mostly only get educated if they are rich, titled or the children of professionals, like Doctors and Lawyers. Not Doctor Easler, obviously, but . . . "
The lady nodded comprehension. "I'm going to need a house large enough to have a library, as well as a stable. A bit of pasture would be nice as well. Hmm, such plans, and I've only been here five days."
Liz finished off the sticky buns and gathered all the laundry. "I'll be back, well, maybe not for lunch."
"Oh, here, take some money for that as well." The lady handed over another quarter crit like it was nothing. "And how much do books cost?"
Liz looked at her wide eyed. "I've never actually owned a book. Mother has three, and Mr. Rickover has lots. Mr. Richover is the Preacher." Liz looked at her dubiously. "Do you go to church?"
"No. Perhaps I will learn a bit about yours."
"The Sunday services are open to everyone. You will be welcome and there is a nursery for babies."
"Really? Where I come from the few Churches require membership and much swearings of belief and so forth before they'll let you in the door."
Liz sniffed. "Huh. Ours preaches openly. You'll see. Tomorrow."
***
"May God be with you."
December sat quietly as everyone around her called out, "And also with you," to the Preacher.
"Today is Sunday, February twenty-second of the Year 3493.
"It has been over three thousand years since the birth of our savior, Jesus, son of God.
"It has been nearly fourteen hundred years since the hubris of man resulted in our Exile to this World. Let us pray for forgiveness."
December sat quietly. I have heard of the Exile fourteen hundred years ago.
She sat quietly through the entire sermon about her duty to God and Church, and donated when the basket was passed.
They pray to the God the old gods used to worship. And how she knew that, or who the old gods were, was a mystery to her. As usual.
I belong somewhere else . . . through that gate. But why is everything so familiar?
Chapter Seven
Monday, February 23, 3493 AD
Jeramtown, Arrival
Liz reported to the couriers' post, in its usual spot. The officers were there before her. The prince spruce and military in his uniform.
She shouldn't think of him as the prince. He'd introduced himself under his military title. Captain Kurt Alpha. Captain Alpha. She must remember that.
As usual, Old Leegy was running the post, with her father as his horse master. Old Leegy's one eye went wide in disbelief as he circled the horse, and narrowed in curiosity as he eyed her.
Her father snorted derisively.
"Got no use for stallions as courier runners," he grunted.
"This is just practice, and everyone says that black stud is faster than the Devil himself." Old Leegy, blinked at the horse. "Wouldn't want him ordinarily, but for a couple of afternoons we'll all survive."
"And a girl shouldn't be riding him."
"Horse don't belong to you, you threw the girl out. So shut up. Go see if he's sound."
"Stallions are mean and worthless creatures, girl." Her father circled Phantom and nodded curtly. "Oh, he's a fine beast, indeed. But he belongs on a stud farm, being handled properly, not treated like a pet dog by a silly girl."
Phantom had been following all this with interested ears, which were showing a tendency to lay back by the time her father stumped off to look at another horse.
"That's," she stopped to swallow and wipe tears she hadn't realized she was shedding. "What do you say, Phantom? A stud farm and regular rides and adventures?"
He bobbed his head enthus
iastically.
There was a snicker behind her. "Hey Liz, is that the sort of man you want? You turned Roger down because he didn't have four hooves?"
"Little brothers should be seen, and not heard." She refused to look around, but he shoved his horse right up beside Phantom.
"He watching, you, you know? Look over my left shoulder."
She turned in the saddle as if speaking to him, and looked further. The Prince was watching. Roger and Captain Stone too.
"He's watching all of us, and tomorrow he'll watch the archery company. I don't know if they check the medical people or not." Liz turned away and pretended interest in something else.
"So . . . why did you turn him down? It's not like you have any great marriage prospects."
"I did not turn him down. I fought him off. And stormed in to complain to his father. The last part is the only bit I shouldn't have done." She snorted and tossed her head. "And for your information, maids who get pregnant are tossed out into the street, too. I'll take a whip cut across the face any day, instead of raped and pregnant, thank you very much."
He snapped his mouth closed and reined his horse back where it belonged. "Anyhow, Da can rest easy about that plow horse you're riding. He may have nuts, but he's a dud. Didn't even take a whiff of South Wind, here."
Liz frowned. The lady had helped with the saddling this afternoon and had lectured the horse on proper behavior. "You are a courier steed, swift and trustworthy. Not a stallion in a bunch of mares. You will ignore the mares."
And he was. "Smart boy." She leaned and patted his neck.
She ridden over these hills since she was eight. She'd been riding courier in the quarterly training since her fourteenth birthday, the age at which children were expected to start picking up adult responsibilities. So she knew all the usual stations for the training. It was all familiar territory.
Phantom was new to the game, but tackled all the fords with enthusiasm, raced on the flats, and jumped fences and smaller streams.
He father scowled, as he and Old Leegy, sorted through the inexperienced riders and horses that balked, and finally got three useful teams together. "All right, that's it for tonight. Be back here Wednesday eve. A bit earlier, mind you. I don't want any laggards. Now get." Old Leegy was not known for his pleasantries.
Liz walked Phantom back to town with the rest of the town dwellers, while the farmers went their own ways. Some of them cast curious looks at Phantom, but sheared off as Roger trotted up and stopped his horse across her path.
"Where did that horse come from?" In the dim light he was peering closely at Phantom.
"He belongs to my employer, Lady December."
"I know that, but where did she get him?"
The pri . . . Captain Alpha walked his horse up to them. "She said she bred him herself, off in this mystery kingdom."
Liz turned to the captain. "She just rode him into the stable yard, umm, a week ago. I was talking to the tavernmaster about a job, and she hired me on the spot, needing all sorts of help."
"What's she living on?" Roger turned his horse so she could move again.
"She has an account at the Exchange, which is probably more than I should say about my own employer."
Captain Alpha pushed his horse forward. "But what if she was a spy? Arbolian, perhaps?"
Liz felt suddenly ill. "Well, I'd most likely suggest you get a proper warrant and ask at the Gold Exchange about the coinage she sold."
"Oh really?" Roger purred. "Gold coins?"
"There are so many things that are strange about her. Cotton, for instance. It's like she's never seen cotton before. And prams, and she asked about magic. I took her to Church yesterday, and she didn't know any of the responses." Liz huddled miserably in the saddle. "They worship false gods in Arbolia, don't they?"
The Prince patted her shoulder. His horse wasn't as tall as Phantom, but he was taller than she was. It put them eye to eye. "It may be nothing more than my over caution. But if she does anything . . . detrimental to the kingdom, do let me know." He smiled charmingly as they entered the stable yard. "And really, she probably had a country manor house attacked by bandits, and fled, traumatized, and I'm being all paranoid about spies."
He dismounted and loosened his cinches.
Roger snorted, "You aren't going to put up your own horse, are you? Whatever else, you're still a royal prince."
Captain Alpha stiffened, then led his horse into the stable. Liz followed, passing him and going to the last stall. Harv had put the stallion back where he'd have fewer neighbors and no horses walking up and down the aisles in front of him, not that he'd been a problem at all. Harv hustled out now, and hovered, as both Liz and the prince were determined to do their own horses. He did managed to snatch saddles and take them to the tack room. Liz ran a brush over Phantom's silky coat and Roger walked around him, giving him a good look over in the lamp light.
The Prince chuckled. "If you find a flaw, point it out to me. She wouldn't sell him, so I've sent a letter to my man in the capital to send out my best mares for breeding."
Roger snorted. "I suspect we'll be taking him for taxes. Send the mares to me."
Liz cleared her throat. "She paid the Mayor's taxes, and checked specifically about how that was forwarded on to the Royal Treasury."
Roger spun around and glared. "Did you warn her about that?"
"No," Liz shook her head. "She seemed quite familiar with finances, and asked specifically about taxes." She led Phantom into his stall and removed the halter. He had plenty of water and hay. She shut the door on him and walked across the stable yard with the men. The men pumped up some water and she washed with them, an odd sort of camaraderie that she never have thought she'd feel around Roger, let alone a royal prince. She shook the water from her hands, and used her handkerchief to dry her face. She peeked into the Main room and found the lady eating dinner, and chatting with two other women. Three babies were bundled against the wall.
"The Doctor took one look at us and sent us away. Perhaps I should have tried archery." The lady looked apologetic.
The two women shook their heads in unison. "Oh no, Master Gaston is even worse."
"Baronet Roger Weigh, Captain Kurt Alpha, Miss Elizabeth Hinton may I present Mrs. Floral Jackson and Mrs. April Kostel." The lady looked at Liz. "Did I get that right, in the Kingdom's customs?"
They all shook their heads.
Mrs. Kostel smiled. "For formal introductions you use our husbands' names. So I'm Mrs. Michael Kostel and Floral is Mrs. Harold Jackson. You leave off the esquire, which would append to our husbands names when they use them, themselves."
"Otherwise you're implying that we are the lawyers, not our husbands." Mrs. Jackson added.
"Right, and I'd certainly never have gotten that impression talking to you about charters and grants and constitutions," the lady smiled. "Gentlemen and Liz, I'd invite you to join us, but we are out of room."
"We'll just take the table next to you and pretend we aren't listening to your salacious town gossip." The Captain grabbed the chair nearest the lady. Liz tentatively sat, and Roger pulled up the chair beside her.
Lady December shook her head, looking amused. "And how was courier duty today?"
"Actually, rather boring. Today they were just checking that everyone could ride and had a sound horse that would jump fences and cross water. Wednesday, they'll be setting up the relay stations, and we'll get to gallop all over the place."
The Captain chuckled. "Half of them got sent off. And this is the best town yet this year. I lost a bet with Roger about it."
"Hard though it is to believe. What is the usual problem?" Roger leaned back to accost the serving girl. "Ale all around, darlin', bring a pitcher."
"It's either a bunch of farm boys on plow horses that can't jump, or a pack of city swells with nervy high strung animals that spook of everything and refuse at jumps. It's rare that we keep a quarter of the volunteers."
"How often does the militia get called out?
I'm surprised that there's regular training."
"We've always had yearly training, but it didn't used to include the Imperial Troops." Roger took his mug and eyed the prince over the rim.
"Arbolia has been looking our way the last few years . . . and has what they consider grounds for offense . . . so we've gone from an occasional visit to combined maneuvers three times a year. Personally I suspect twice would be sufficient, and we may cut back in a year or two once we get the kinks worked out."
Liz frowned, "But you don't bring many troops with you."
"No, it's mostly a matter of us officers getting familiar with the whole country and all the barons' troops, and the local troops plus the militia learning what's meant by specific commands and getting used to obeying the King's officers." He shrugged. "Hopefully we will never need to use it. The Imperial Guards we have along are mostly for showing the locals how it ought to be done. I think it may be a punishment assignment."
The Lawyers' wives excused themselves shortly, and the lady joined them at their table, little Quail sleeping through all the comings and goings. Four ales down, they were all using first names and telling jokes, Roger's a bit risque, and December's really silly.
And the lady getting homesick, and everyone else morose.
"Wherever it is." December said.
"My father won even look at me anymore." Kurt finished his fifth mug. "I think he wishes I'd been killed instead."
"My family thinks it all my fault." Liz said, and glared at Roger.
"It ish your fault. You've no business reading all the time and acting like I shmell bad." Roger said. "Your Dad should never have taught you to read."
"He didn't. My mother did. She was born in Arrival, and she says everyone goes to school there, even the common girls."
"Ooo. La. Te. Da. And then she gets knocked up and married off to a Baron's horsemaster, far enough away that no one will count on their fingers and shay, no wonder the wedding was sho hasty. I'll bet he's not even your father." At which point Roger slid off his chair.
"Don't kick him," Kurt advised. "His head's gonna hurt enough already tomorrow . . . later today. Oh crap, do I have to be up an on horseback by dawn?"