Miami Days and Truscan (K)nights

by Gail Roughton

  “Except me,” I interjected. “I do think he’s stupid.”

  “And this is different from every other day how?” Carlos asked.

  Dalph sighed. “Children! Order please. No one—except Tess—thinks you’re stupid or is attempting in any way to insult you. We merely want to keep you alive long enough for you to learn to keep yourself that way. And while I appreciate your decision to come, I truly hope you will not live—or die—regretting it. Do we understand one another?”

  “Completely.” He turned to me. “Am I supposed to say ‘Your Majesty’ or something over here?”

  “Do that and I’ll knock you down,” Dalph assured him.

  We mounted and set out, the blood of Truscan kings who had guarded a country for centuries riding with the blood of a pure American mongrel who’d fought for everything she’d ever had. And Carlos rode beside us, carrying the blood of the Spanish Conquistadores who’d conquered the known worlds of Earth, another American knight called to join the Truscan Round Table.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It took us several days longer to get back to Trussa; the faltons didn’t appear bothered by the extra weight, but the packs were awkward and Dalph didn’t want to push them. Besides, we had an extra man, it had taken us longer to get to the stones than we’d anticipated, and the food supply was running a tad low. Dalph stopped before dusk every day in enough time to hunt, so there was fresh meat, reminiscent of rabbit. I wouldn’t have been thrilled about that back on earth, but it was amazing how your mindset changed when there was no corner grocery store.

  Time did appear to be slightly off-kilter between the worlds; it appeared that Dalph had missed a Truscan full moon completely, as only a red quarter-moon appeared in the night sky. The timing couldn’t have been better as that gave us time to get back to Trussa to ready the Tornans for the ultimate spy mission I tried not to think about.

  The micro-fleece was a miracle and I didn’t shiver a bit during the Badass nights. Even Dalph, long accustomed to the down-side of riding harsh country, appreciated the extra comfort. Carlos, of course, had included micro-fleece in his own backpack, along with the extra plastique, dynamite and grenades. In retrospect, I should have known he was planning to jump straight into the color-filled winds when I first saw him sling that pack over his back.

  Finally, we halted the faltons on a high hill overlooking the capital, and Carlos gazed for the first time on the glowing, white stones of Trussa.

  “Oh—my—God!” He breathed.

  “Welcome to Camelot,” I said. “Truscan style.”

  We urged the faltons forward, and I heard the shouts go up from the gate guards, the sounds of the ropes and pulleys as the gates slowly rose.

  “Trusca vite! Trusca vite!”

  “What?” asked Carlos.

  “Trusca comes. Dalph is Trusca.”

  I didn’t worry about the language barrier. Bilingual since birth, Carlos would undoubtedly surpass my current Truscan expertise within a few weeks.

  The faltons ran through the gates and down the cobbled streets, into the Courtyard where the crowd was amassing. Truscans poured out of doors and buildings in greeting, but there was only one figure Dalph and I were looking for. He came running out the main doors of the Rata, arms outstretched, alternately yelling “Abba! Tess! Abba! Tess!”

  We dismounted quickly, heading toward him, and met in the middle of the Courtyard, Dalph and I falling to our knees so that three sets of arms could encircle each other. Dalph stood, actually picking him up in his arms for a few moments, before setting him back down and turning to the crowd.

  “Truscans!” he shouted over the roar of the crowd, which quickly hushed to hear the returning King.

  “The stones have called to tell us that Kruska’s time is done! No longer will Pria hold the world in terror! I pledge you this on my life!” He turned back from the crowd, currently going wild, gently nudging Dal forward and herding us all back toward the main doors.

  I finally caught sight of Johnny, who, if I wasn’t mistaken, appeared to be wiping under one of his eyes. I ran forward and grabbed him.

  “Damn, girl, it’s good to see you two! And this would be?” He gestured back toward Carlos.

  “That would be Carlos Ramos of Ramos International.”

  Johnny’s head jerked. “Well, I bet there was a hot time in the ole’ town that night!”

  “Oh, they’re a real Mutual Admiration Society,” I assured him. “I sort of gave you the wrong impression about Carlos. Apparently, I didn’t know him nearly as well as I thought I did.”

  “Well, I guess not, if he’s here alive and Dalph ain’t killed him! C’mon, let’s get you inside. Kiera’s too short to see over the crowd and she’s foaming at the bit.”

  I laughed. Kiera towered over me, but I suppose in the press of Truscan men, she would be at a disadvantage. I looked back, and Dalph and Carlos were closing in on us, Dal talking rapidly non-stop. He quieted when they got to us.

  “Carlos, I see you’ve met our son?” I asked, reaching my hand out to Dal, who abandoned his father and pressed himself against my side.

  “Abba says the stones sent him, Tess. I thought only Trusca’s Stone was calling!”

  “Be patient, we can’t tell you everything in two minutes. Let’s go in.”

  The crowd parted, allowing us passage, and Kiera stood beaming in the doorway. At least she was beaming until she saw me.

  “Your hair!” she wailed. “Are you never to leave your poor hair alone?!”

  “You’ll get used to it, Kiera,” I said, enveloping her in an exuberant hug. She hugged me back and caught sight of Dalph.

  “By the sword of Trusco!” she wailed louder. “Not since the beginning of time—”

  Dalph laughed and took his own hug.

  “This is the beginning of time, Aunt! A new time!” I started; Dalph had never referred to her as such before, and then I did recall Johnny telling me that Kiera was Dalph’s half-aunt. Dalph continued, “Kiera, Johnny, the family room, and we’ll take a few minutes to catch you up. Can you send to the kitchens, please? It’s been a long ride.”

  Kiera, flustered and bustling as always, called for Saraya, issuing orders like a general in battle, and in a very few minutes, we all gratefully sank into the comfortable couches and chairs of the family room, cold drinks in hand and the equivalent of earth’s finger-food spread out on the low tables, though it didn’t last long as the three of us rushed the trays, stuffing food into our mouths as though we were starving, which we really weren’t—quite—but nothing made one appreciate fresh food as much as a week-plus camping trip.

  “Now I know how you felt when you first smelled that pizza, Tess!” Carlos mumbled through his full mouth. First appetite satisfied, he turned and looked around the room, the portraits which comprised the equivalent of a family photo gallery. “Your family, Dalph? Your mother, she must have loved you all very much.”

  “Yes, she did. A remarkable woman. She shared many traits with another woman I know,” Dalph said, smiling.

  “Abba, the Stone, what about the Stone? And where did Carlos come from? And is he staying, and will he like it? And when do we march against Pria? And—”

  “Dal!” I said, patting the couch I was currently occupying in invitation. “Enough, son! We speak no line before it’s time. Everyone ready?”

  I was beginning to feel as though I should apply for a job as the Court bard. At least, I think that’s what the wandering storytellers used to be called. Just as I had in Carlos’ sunny kitchen, I talked and talked, and when I could tell that Dal was about to erupt with questions about something that would be explained in the next few minutes, I simply put my hand over his mouth, which speeded things up considerably.

  I’m not sure exactly what the mood in the room was when I finished. Dal, of course, was jubilant—he was ten. Johnny was excited, cautious, and fearful, all the same time—he’d been a Truscan warrior by necessity, but not entirely by choice, for twenty-f
ive years and according to Dalph, was the only living Truscan (albeit by way of America) to have ever seen the Prian capital. Kiera’s mood was easy to peg. She was a woman, a wife, a mother. Her husband and her sons would ride into that battle. She was scared to death.

  Dalph broke the silence. “Dal, do you realize you have been in Battle Council?”

  “Yes, Abba.”

  “And you know that nothing you have heard here leaves this room?”

  “Yes, Abba.”

  “And I trust that in fact, there was no need for me to even remind you of that?”

  “No, Abba.” No quips, no come-backs, no protests. Dal was astonishing in his ability to distinguish his Father from his King, to change immediately from a mischievous ten-year-old to the dignified heir of Trusca. No, there had been no necessity to remind him. How well I recalled my astonishment when I realized that Dal would barely speak to another child for fear he would repeat something he didn’t even know he’d heard.

  “I didn’t think so. And now I want you to excuse yourself and go write a note to Falco to thank him for his services to you over the past few years. You’re going to Warrior Fields tomorrow.”

  I jerked in astonishment. Dalph was dismissing Dal’s tutor and sending the boy directly into the twelve-year-old class at Warrior Fields? Two years early?

  Dal’s face registered both surprise and excitement. His body bowed as he made a fist of his right hand and pumped his right arm up and down.

  “Yes!” he exclaimed, in the classic victory cry and gesture of earth. I didn’t know if he’d gotten it from Johnny or if, in fact, such was simply a universal reaction to unexpected and welcome good fortune.

  “Provided,” Dalph added, “that you do not attempt to circumvent any instructions I or the other generals give you. You’re younger and smaller than the others and if we don’t think you’re ready for any particular move, there will be no protest from you. Understood?”

  “Yes, Abba!” He turned and rushed for the door and Kiera also stood to take her leave.

  “I will go and see to chambers for our new friend,” she said.

  Dal turned back at the door. “Tess, can I get my hair cut, too?”

  Kiera spoke before I could. “No!” she said emphatically.

  I laughed. “Yes, you can. I’ll do it tonight, okay?”

  This elucidated another “Yes!” from Dal and I caught Kiera mumbling as she exited after him, but didn’t quite hear the words.

  Dalph did, and laughed. “What was that?” I asked.

  “She’s telling him to take care that his crazy mother does not shear him bald.”

  Johnny sighed. “I’ve almost forgotten how good short hair feels.”

  “Want me to cut yours, too?”

  “Maybe later, darlin’. She’s had enough culture shock for right now. Don’t think she could take it from me, too.”

  “What’s up with Warrior Fields, Dalph? Did you go in when you were ten?” I asked, my recently acquired maternal instincts kicking into overdrive.

  “No, but things were not then as they are now. Things have never been as they are now in Trusca, not since Brentar the Strong, and I need for Dal to be in as ready as possible when we ride on Prius.”

  “You said you weren’t taking him!”

  “I said I wasn’t taking him on the scouting run. He’s going with us when we attack. He and Crayton and Cretor can stay together, back away from the main battle but still near.”

  “With us?” I asked. I certainly had every intention of going with them, but I’d expected to have to fight about it, and I hadn’t expected that he’d take Dal.

  “I told you, Tess. Trusca lives or dies in this battle. If we die, Pria will spread over the borders like a plague, they will leave nothing and no one standing. You and Dal need to be with me. I want Johnny’s boys with him.”

  I looked from one to the other of the three men in the room, and caught the fleeting movement of their eyes as they glanced—surreptitiously, I’m sure they thought—at each other, an unlikely trio who at this moment understood each other completely, an alliance formed in a space of time no longer than a lightning bolt. And I understood completely, too. Well. How bizarrely comforting it was to know that the three men who loved you most in the whole of two worlds were fully prepared to kill you in a heartbeat rather than let you be taken by the Prians, and further, that one or the other of them was always going to be close enough to you to do just that. I’d give them their moment of male camaraderie and pretend I didn’t understand; they’d probably be upset if they knew I knew. And who was I kidding? Of course, I wasn’t capable of pretending I didn’t understand.

  “Just make damn sure first, if you don’t mind. And what’s the plan for the ones we leave behind?”

  Dalph smiled slightly. “Didn’t think that would slip by you. I don’t know, just yet. But I’m working on it.”

  Johnny began to speak. “Dalph, a few things I need to tell you. First off, there’s a black falton stallion the Naranian Tornans are working with. Stubborn as Pegasus and actually looks a lot like him, too. Almost certainly pur-sang. You want me to send for him for Carlos?”

  I was amazed.

  “Damn, Johnny, you’re good! Pur-sang?”

  “From the same blood-line. This one’s almost certainly from the same line as Peagasus and Andromeda. And the boy came riding in on Andromeda, who already has a master. Or partner, or however the damn things view us. He’s made for one. And more power to you, son, they scare the piss out of me, have ever since Dalph’s father tried to put me on one.”

  “Yes, get him over here as soon as you can,” Dalph confirmed.

  “And second, didn’t know if you’d want this discussed in front of Kiera and Dal, I didn’t particularly want to discuss it in front of Kiera and Dal—we have Baka. Caught him hiding in the hills near the border. Apparently the Prians didn’t welcome him with open arms after his little ‘let’s kidnap the queen’ party crashed.”

  Dalph had been semi-reclining; it wasn’t often that he actually relaxed, and now his head jerked upright. “And he’s still alive?”

  “Didn’t really feel like that was my call.”

  “Well, it is. He’s your call, Johnny. I give him to you.”

  Johnny gazed at Dalph, and his face slowly formed a smile, a terrible smile, rather like the one I would imagine an avenging angel to wear.

  “You don’t say?” he drawled.

  “Within reason. We are Truscans, not barbarians.”

  “I know, damn it! Sort of makes me wish the Prians had found him! You do want to be there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Midnight tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  Johnny turned and strode down the hall.

  Carlos stared after him, having gleaned enough history from my initial explanations to know who Baka was.

  “And he’s going where?” he asked.

  “To make the preparations to hang Baka, I imagine,” I said. “At least, I’d guess it’s hanging.” Dalph didn’t clarify and I wasn’t about to ask.

  “Just like that? No preliminaries, no—”

  “This is Trusca,” Dalph said. “Baka plotted to deliver Tess to the Prians, who would have used her to lure me out. And they would have butchered her into pieces—slowly—in front of me to get what they wanted, which at that time I didn’t even have in my possession. Second thoughts on your new residency, my friend?”

  “Oh hell no!” Carlos affirmed emphatically.

  This was my first experience with Truscan execution, and I was glad it didn’t appear to be a public holiday, like in the Old West and the medieval autos-da-fé of Europe.

  “Midnight? Obviously not a public execution then. I have no sympathy for Baka but I am glad of that.”

  “No, such are not for the women and children of Trusca to see. Although…” He broke off and looked at me, uncertainty on his face.

  “Although?”

  “Although it would be for the Quee
n of Trusca if she so chose. You were the one in danger. And you did see the deaths of your captors.”

  “Thank you, but no. And I certainly didn’t mourn the death of my captors but I didn’t enjoy watching it.”

  He gave me an appraising look. “But you realize that I and the other Tornans enjoyed the doing. Don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that does not upset you?”

  I shrugged. “The wolf is part of you. We have a song back in America. ‘Take Me as I Am.’”

  “’Bout time,” Carlos observed in a stage whisper.

  “That’s not fair. You never told me who you were—you became whom I assumed you were.”

  “Touché.”

  I turned back to my husband. “But I am surprised you’re leaving it to Johnny. Why?”

  “Because it’s his right. Baka’s festered in his soul for fourteen years, ever since my parents died. Johnny’s always believed Baka was behind that ambush and has always held him responsible, both for my parents and all my brothers. Johnny respected my father, he loved my mother, and he considered all of us his sons. No, this is his.”

  “You told me it was unexpected and that the Prians didn’t know who they had or they would have taken them captive.”

  “I thought you’d had enough shocks at the time I told you about my parents and perhaps I didn’t explain fully.”

  “Go figure. Such as?”

  “You did not miss the reason that you and Dal will be with me, Tess.”

  “You think your father—”

  “I know. Mother and Gareth died too cleanly, too quickly. Especially in comparison with how my father died. And I will always believe that it was that, the knowing of what our father was forced to do, that sent Brenden over the edge, sent him after the Prians.”

  I looked around the royal Truscan den, at the tenderness and pride in Brentar’s eyes that the artist had captured when they looked at Madeleine and his sons. Dalph caught my gaze and his own eyes followed the line of portraits around the walls.

  “Kiera was right to refuse me, all those years ago. I told her to take all this down.” He gestured at the paintings. “She said we’d keep the door locked, that they’d be waiting for us when we were ready. It must have been five or six years before Johnny or I ever set foot in this room. Well. Enough darkness. Let’s go get cleaned up. I’m sure Kiera’s already taken care of Carlos’ new accommodations.”