Miami Days and Truscan (K)nights

by Gail Roughton

  I realized with a start that my emotions were totally opposite to what I’d have expected them to be. I should have been disoriented, upset, mournful. My world as I knew it was gone and there was no way back. Otherwise, Johnny wouldn’t still be here. I was a survivor though, and I’d made my peace with God, the Devil’s Triangle, and Trusca in the hour or so I’d spent saying my private good-bye to Carlos the night before.

  Actually, I felt wonderful. The very air in this world was sharper, crisper; the quality of the light brighter. It was like waking up in the mountains in October, only better than that. I felt as though I were on the brink of a great adventure and understood completely why throughout history there had always been pioneers willing to leave the boundaries of their known world to make another one. I’d never thought to classify myself as one of them, but there was no other feeling to describe this.

  Even then, even at that point, there was a small voice in the back of my mind that was whispering that I’d certainly feel differently had there been no Johnny McKay, and were I not sitting in front of the most powerful man in the country of Trusca, his arms on either side of me as he held the reins.

  I considered the most powerful man in Trusca as we rode though I didn’t kid myself I had enough information to even attempt to analyze him. He was big, that much was obvious, sleekly muscled like a big cat. He had a wonderful voice, deep and resonant, though so far I couldn’t understand a thing he said. I understood why Ken couldn’t have been moved and couldn’t have been left, which removed the red-hot urge to render serious bodily harm—as if I could have really hurt him—to Dalph’s huge, royal personage. And now that no immediate emergency or danger was presenting itself and I no longer wanted to kill him, I could admit that he was one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever lain eyes on, from his shoulder length dark and wavy hair, over to his dark, oval-shaped eyes, down to his straight nose, right on to his wide, well-shaped mouth and his strong square jaw. And that didn’t take into consideration the rest of the total package. Some hot damn.

  I gave a mental shrug. He was the King, for heaven’s sake. Most certainly he had at least one queen and ten or twelve heirs. Probably some action on the side, too, if Truscan royalty had the predilections of Earth’s royal families. Maybe not, though; I’d certainly gotten the impression that loyalty and duty figured prominently in the Truscan character.

  Truscan women were real lookers, Johnny had said. I didn’t feel like much of a looker right now and I was sure he’d be glad to get me off his saddle and out of his hair. I wondered what I could do to earn my keep. I thought that Johnny might already have some plans about that; he’d certainly grilled me enough the prior night. I hoped he did; I wasn’t accustomed to being merely decorative.

  We’d probably been riding for at least four hours, and I was beginning to wonder if these men ever stopped, when we came up on a small stream and Dalph called a halt. He dismounted and lifted me down. The men got off their horses to water them.

  Johnny came up behind me. “So. How you like your new country so far?”

  I stretched my arms up and over my head, bending and swaying a bit to loosen my cramped muscles. “It’s beautiful,” I admitted.

  I looked at the clearing with pleasure. The stream tumbled over the scattered rocks and sang a song to the trees. The branches danced in tune with the water and the breeze.

  “Wait’ll you see Trussa. It’s only a couple of hills over, but Dalph always stops here. He likes the men to ride in looking sharp.”

  I walked over to the stream and knelt to scoop up water. I couldn’t imagine doing this back home; it would have been all too easy to get a bad dose of hazardous waste products.

  “Johnny, when we get to Trussa, what then? For me?”

  “Well, we’ll see about getting you settled in. I’ll stick real close to you the next couple of days.”

  “Where?”

  “Where what?”

  “Where will I get settled in?”

  “The Rata, of course. The castle. The keep. That’s what we’d call it on Earth.”

  “Doing what? I’ve worked my whole life. I’m not a charity case.”

  “You sure aren’t. No good troubleshooter is. And actually, that’s pretty much what I do for Dalph. Troubleshoot. You did it for a corporation. Try and imagine doing it for a country. I won’t be around forever, though. Ain’t admitting to being an ole’ man or anything, but there’s some mornings I get out of bed I can believe I will be one day. I could use some help. What’d you think about that?”

  “Sounds like my line of work. What does Dalph do? Besides ride patrol?”

  Johnny looked thoughtful. “He guards the world. Tries to anyway. Soon as we get back, he’ll be heading out again.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Well, there’s certain times Dalph likes to take out night patrols. Keeps the pigs on their toes, and it’s getting close to that time. He’ll be gone three or four days. I’ll have you right at home by the time he gets back.” Johnny cocked his head and narrowed his eyes as he scanned my face. “You made your peace already, haven’t you? Took me a while longer than that.”

  A wave of sadness rushed my heart as I thought of Carlos and how he must feel this morning. I knew we’d never have lasted but still, he must be frantic right now, just as frantic as I’d be were I the one already safely in Jamaica and his plane hadn’t come in. It must have shown in my face.

  “Well, you’ve come a long way to making your peace, anyway,” Johnny said. “Let me guess. That look would be for the CEO of Ramos International.”

  Oh, yeah. I’d have to watch Johnny for sure.

  “We’d never have been a permanent couple. I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did. International playboy—you know the type—inherited wealth. He sort of takes it for granted. To be honest, his grandfather actually hired me to make sure the business got enough attention. It never crossed his mind I’d be a romantic interest. Mine neither. We did care about each other, though. He must be out of his mind this morning. He’ll move on fast.” I grinned. “And then he’ll get irritated at the time it’ll take a new troubleshooter to read his mind. Which I’m guessing his grandfather will make sure is a man.”

  Johnny laughed, and Dalph stood up and gave a command, and the riders mounted and reformed ranks. We moved out and over one hill, into a meadow, and then over another hill.

  And before us spread Trussa.

  Dalph stopped at the top of the hill. I turned my head around to catch his expression. It was full of fierce pride, of pleasure at his homecoming, of dedication. Johnny was absolutely right. Dalph lived for this country. And based on knowledge gleaned from my entire twenty-four hours of residency, I was sure that one day he would almost certainly die for it.

  Johnny pulled up beside us.

  “Well?”

  “I ain’t in Kansas anymore,” I said.

  He laughed. “Damn sure ain’t, baby girl.”

  The walls and battlements, constructed of a white material without a shadow of gray, gleamed under the afternoon sun. They reflected a pinkish glow under the rays of the red sun. Behind the walls I saw buildings of one and two floors constructed from the same stone and a golden, glowing wood. Bright pennants flew from many roofs. And in the center of the stronghold stood what had to be the Rata, complete with towers and turrets.

  “Does it have a drawbridge?” I asked. “And a moat?”

  Johnny laughed. “No. The town is its moat. And nobody and nothing’s ever gotten past it.”

  “Welcome to Camelot,” I said softly.

  Johnny laughed again. “Yeah, and there’s even a Round Table. Of sorts. But for God’s sake, don’t expect armor. Dalph’s knights have protection of a different sort.”

  Dalph spoke then, and though I didn’t understand the words, the meaning was clear.

  “Enough.” And he lifted his hand again, and the riders started forward.

  Chapter Four

  As we neared the walls, I saw guard
s posted on either side of the large open gates. Even here, deep in his kingdom, it seemed Dalph never let vigilance relax. I heard the shouts go out as we swept through.

  “Trusca vite!”

  “Trusca comes,” Johnny translated through the roars. “They mean Dalph’s home. He’s Trusca.”

  I looked about me as we rode through the streets. I’d expected dirt, but they were cobblestone for the most part. Some of the buildings were shops, some were houses. Many sported signs which I couldn’t yet read, but I intended to remedy that problem as soon as possible. The streets were open markets, full of food venders. I saw produce that looked close to corn, potatoes, apples. Large kegs sporting taps obviously held beverages. There were goods of all sorts, bolts of material, furs, farming implements, cooking pots and crockery.

  And the people! Johnny was right, the Truscans were good-looking people. All the men seemed tall and broad-shouldered. Most were clean-shaven, though I saw a few short beards. They were all dressed in trousers and shirts somewhat like tunics. Their colorings seemed as varied as you would see any day at any shopping mall; brunettes, blonds, an occasional red-head.

  And the women! I was going to feel like a midget. I was five-six myself, a good height for an up and coming American businesswoman. Not too short, not too tall. But here! All the women seemed to be at least five-nine, five-ten, and I saw many that were undoubtedly six feet tall. Decidedly feminine, most were slender, with long hair predominately worn in braids. They were dressed in pretty but practical and comfortable one-piece sheath-like garments of varying hues. They had a simple round neckline with no definite shoulder seams, flowing to the ankles, with the waist defined by belts of various sizes and widths in contrasting material or soft leather.

  “How pretty!” I exclaimed in delight.

  Dalph said something over his shoulder to Johnny, but I could make no guess as to what.

  Johnny nodded his head. “Dalph says to be sure and get you some dresses in dark green,” he said. “The word here is kirsons.”

  I started. Dalph was concerned about my wardrobe?

  “Surprised?” Johnny asked.

  “Well, yeah. I am.”

  “Shouldn’t be. Dalph’s brain runs in constant gear in fifty different directions. And he’s quite taken with your eyes. Thinks your name is perfect.”

  “Why?”

  “You got some of the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. And guess what the word is for green here?”

  “What?”

  “Tessra.”

  I sat in silence, watching the streets and people as we moved past, the horses moving at a swift walk.

  The horses swept into a Courtyard and the patrol riders veered off to the left, I presumed toward the stables, leaving Dalph and Johnny near the entrance. They both dismounted and Dalph reached up to lift me down. Two young lads of about twelve or thirteen hurried to take Johnny’s horse and Dalph’s falton and led them off.

  Dalph took my hand and stepped forward. He spoke a short sentence, and Johnny translated for me.

  “He says welcome to his world.”

  We stepped through a massive, oval-shaped wooden door into a huge room. Two women hurried up, clucking over us and taking the fur skins from Dalph and Johnny’s shoulders. It was the first time I’d seen Dalph without the fur trappings and was surprised to see how slender he actually was. His shoulders were still massive, but now he seemed more elegant, more graceful.

  The interior walls of the castle were of the same white stone as the exterior, hung with tapestries of forest scenes and riders on horseback. The stone floor was scattered with carpets of thick material. Simple furniture with clean, graceful lines contrasted with occasional massive pieces of dark, glowing wood. A fireplace took up half one wall and though no fire burned at that moment, it was fully laid and ready to be lit.

  A man stood near the fireplace, dressed much as the men whom I’d observed as we rode through town to the Rata. The material of his clothes had a higher gleam though, as though it was of a better quality. He was dressed entirely in black and white, which combined with his coloring to create a striking appearance. His black hair hung below his shoulders and the dark eyes, so dark they seemed black themselves, were startling against his pale complexion. A large amulet that held a gleaming black stone hung from a silver-colored chain around his neck, lying against the stark white of his shirt.

  He came forward and inclined his head toward Dalph. That surprised me; what, no bowing? Johnny was right; Truscans didn’t stand on a lot of ceremony. He spoke to Dalph in a low tone and I wished I could throw a switch and automatically understand the language. The man’s tone was courteous but then again, somehow, it wasn’t. There was an edge there, a veiled—a veiled what? Contempt. That was it. The ability to read people was vital in my line of work. I was good at it.

  As Dalph answered, I was taken off-guard by the look in his eyes as they focused on Dalph and turned to me. I didn’t think it was too far-fetched to assume he was asking who I was and where I came from. And I knew it wasn’t far-fetched to assume that this man was not one of Dalph’s biggest fans.

  Dalph turned and spoke to Johnny without answering, and Johnny pulled my hand.

  “C’mon, darlin’, let’s get you to your room.” He turned to one of the women. “Kiera, vitem.” She followed us, and I assumed she’d been summoned. I had heard “vite” before, several times, it meant “comes.” “Vitem”—come with me? Kiera must be her name. Maybe Truscan wouldn’t really be all that difficult.

  They led me out of the room and into a hall where we started up a large stone stairway that hugged the wall.

  “Johnny, who’s that man? He’s got to be somebody with some pull. But Dalph turned away and talked to you before he spoke to him.”

  “Very good,” Johnny drawled approvingly, turning me toward the left as we topped the stairway. “You notice little things. He is important,” he said, passing two doors and turning into a door on the right. “Madam, your chambers.”

  “Oh, Johnny!” It was a large bedroom with an elegant four poster bed covered with a dark green coverlet that reminded me of velvet. The windows were draped, not exactly curtained, with matching fabric, and the walls had hangings of forest scenes and garden flowers. Matching chairs of that beautiful glowing wood that seemed so prevalent here were perfectly placed, with cushions covered in dark fur. Another small fire was laid in the room’s fireplace, waiting to be lit.

  Then Johnny turned to the woman who’d accompanied us upstairs. She was at least five nine, but seemed small compared with most of the women I’d seen. She had braids of shiny chestnut hair pinned high on her head. Her face was oval, and had an expression of great sweetness.

  “Kiera!” he exclaimed, and held out his arms. She ran into them and he lifted her up slightly in the exuberance of his greeting. “Glad to see you, girl!”

  “And I you, my husband,” she said. English. God was good.

  He put her down, maintaining his arm around her waist, and turned to me. “This is my wife, Kiera. She’ll take good care of you. She speaks English, guess you noticed, and real good, too, went to a lot of trouble for me on that, thought I needed to be able to speak my own language in my own home, bless her heart. The Rata’s her territory; she runs it with an iron fist.”

  I hadn’t pictured Johnny with a wife, though I don’t know why, he’d been here for years. I was glad; she obviously thought he’d hung the moon.

  “Kiera, this young lady here is Teresa Ames. She uses Tess. She’s from my world. We saw her flying machine crash while we were near the border and got to her about ten minutes before the Prians did. So she’s feeling a little out of place. Know you ain’t about to let that last for long.”

  Kiera moved forward and pulled me into a big hug. “But of course not! You poor child! Lost in a new world and all these men!”

  “I guess it beats the Prians,” I said, somewhat taken aback at her enthusiastic acceptance. I wasn’t a very touchy person.


  “Bah! Those pigs! I am so glad my McKay was near! Are you hungry? But you would like a nice bath first, am I right?”

  “Very right,” I admitted. I looked distastefully down at my clothes. I probably smelled.

  “I will get hot water up. Right away. McKay will stay with you till I get back.” And she bustled out the door.

  “Wow!” I said. “McKay?”

  “Oh, she’s something,” said Johnny, settling into one of the chairs. “Been with that woman twenty years now, and she has yet to call me Johnny. Doesn’t think it’s proper to use my first name. Puts me in mind of those Victorian ladies always called their husbands ‘Mister’.”

  “She’s lovely.”

  “And you’ll love her. But I warn you, she’ll try to mother you to death. We got two boys, she always wanted a daughter.”

  I sat down in one of the other chairs. “You side-stepped that very nicely,” I said.

  “What?”

  “That man. Who is he? And if he’s important, why did Dalph ignore him for me?”

  Johnny sighed. “Well, I said you noticed little things. That would be Baka of Canor. Guess you might have noticed, Truscans don’t have last names as such. The nobility, I guess you’d call ’em, use their place for identification. Baka’s the current head of the House of Canor. That bunch had a taste of the throne a long time ago, never got over the flavor.”

  “But you said Dalph’s line’s held the throne for five hundred years, didn’t you? They remember the taste from that long ago?”

  “Good memory, darlin’,” Johnny said approvingly. “But I also told you they earn it every damn day. Actually, they’ve held it longer than that. Five hundred years ago, they just got interrupted for a few years. Guess by who?”

  “House of Canor?”

  “Give the girl an A. I hear Kiera coming back with your bathtub so I’m about to get booted out. But Baka, he’d love to interrupt the line again. Very subtle about it, very careful, no excuse to stretch his neck for him. Dalph’s father would have done it anyway on general principal, just to make sure he’s not a problem later, but not Dalph. Sometimes I think I Americanized that boy too much. I repeat, you—”