The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  The doorman eyed them with distaste. "I suppose there is no help for it. Word of your probable arrival was sent to us weeks ago. We have a room for you and your wife. A tent has been reserved behind the house for servants and," he sniffed,"companions. Your friend will be comfortable there."

  "I stay with them," Kim said evenly. "A cot or a blanket will be sufficient for my needs."

  Frowning, he studied her mismatched clothing. "I am sure the tent will be fine."

  Aaron's anger rose. "No, it won't be fine. The young lady is my friend. Not only will she be treated with respect, but you will also assign us a suite so I may keep my people nearby. I expect at least two bedrooms and a sitting room. A fireplace would be nice so long as you have a servant deliver the wood. Also, my friend requires a personal servant of her own. Please see to it."

  If the man had not been so well trained, his jaw would have dropped.

  "Impossible! All the suites are occupied. Furthermore, all the estate's servants are in use."

  Kim started to speak, but Aaron silenced her with a gesture.

  "Have the representatives from Nefra arrived?"

  "Weeks ago."

  "Remove them from my rooms and have their estate servants reassigned to me."

  The man's eyes narrowed. "You misjudge your importance. Perhaps you should find someplace else to room. The conference starts in a few days. Until then, find a spot among the tents or camp out in the hills and come back in the mornings."

  "I'll give you two minutes to reconsider."

  "Sir, you are here only as a consultant. The Nefran contingent represents our neighboring country."

  "True," Aaron agreed. "I'm only a consultant. In fact, I'm the only consultant outside of the emperor's court who knows the world Klein came from. I am the only consultant who thinks of Helmut Klein as his foster father. In about five minutes I will be the consultant who returned to Jutland because he would not tolerate disrespect toward himself, his wife, or his companion."

  "Perhaps you should leave."

  "Perhaps he should not!" A tall, heavyweight woman stepped into view. "Perhaps, Harold, you should consult with other people before deciding who to insult. If you did so you would know Mister Turner is much more than a mere consultant. He is, in fact, the man who came up with the concept we are here to discuss. He is also directly responsible for Isabella's sudden burst from obscurity. Mister Turner has enough influence and power to ruin entire economies, and yet you blithely insult him."

  Melna gave Aaron a pointed look. "You forgot to mention one or two things. Have you any idea how many plans to support us I just threw away?"

  "I didn't want a little money to become a factor in our getting to know one another," Aaron explained.

  "A little money?"

  "A lot," Aaron admitted,"Have two minutes passed?"

  "Not quite."

  The doorman no longer seemed so self-assured.

  "Governor Rhodes, they want the Nefran suite."

  "Then give it to them. Never met a Nefran I liked anyway."

  He caved in. "It will take an hour or so to move the Nefrans out."

  "Try to make it sooner. If Mister Turner leaves you lose your job."

  The man left on a run.

  "You seem to know more about me than the major did," Aaron observed.

  "A few people compared notes while we've been waiting around. Several puzzles were solved. Others were created. So, I'm curious. What did you mean when you mentioned knowing the world the emperor came from?"

  "It means you haven't put all the pieces together," Aaron told her. "If you don't mind, it's been a long day. We'd like to sit inside while waiting for our rooms."

  "Of course."

  Aaron led the way into the house and found a group of unused chairs sitting near an atrium.

  "Did you mean it?" Kim asked. Her face was still. "Would you have left because of me?"

  Aaron felt uncomfortable. "I didn't want to come here in the first place."

  She looked at him so long his skin started to prickle.

  "Thank you."

  Yelling sounded deep inside the house. Aaron smiled. The eviction had begun.

  "Why Nefra?" Kim asked.

  Melna answered for him. "Because an assassin tried to kill Aaron before we joined the caravan. Since the head of the assassins sits in Nefra, Aaron assumes Nefra doesn't want this conference to succeed, probably because more will be accomplished here than just reining in Chinish ambition. To the best of my knowledge, this is the first time so many representatives from so many lands have been together. If things go well, there will be fewer wars in the future. Fewer wars mean fewer political assassinations. Furthermore, it's possible a unified set of international laws will be passed. The outlawing of slavery is bound to be one of them. Nefra might be an under-populated country, but it sells more slaves than any other. Many of those slaves are its own citizens, but most belong other countries represented here. With Nefra out of the main house, it loses some of its status among the others."

  Aaron felt nonplussed. "I only thought I don't like people who support slavers. I never worked out the rest."

  Melna blew him a kiss. "I told you I'm smart. Care to give me an industry for my wedding present. I'll double its profits inside two years."

  "I'll think about it."

  * * *

  Inadvertently, Aaron had chosen his rooms well. The Nefran suite proved to have three bedrooms, a sitting room, a private dining room, and a bathing area. The carpets and hangings were excellent, and each bedroom had a canopied bed dressed out with thick comforters and silk sheets. True, the suite was slightly inaccessible since it was located on the third floor, but Aaron thought it worth the climb.

  Three servants came with the suite, all women, the oldest in her forties. The youngest appeared younger than Kim, who Aaron placed at perhaps seventeen or eighteen. The third bedroom was theirs.

  The oldest woman greeted them. "Sir, do you have any special orders?"

  "Just keep the place tidy. I want one of you assigned to my wife and one to my companion. We have laundry needing to be washed and pressed, and please have someone bring water for our baths."

  As he spoke, Kim moved into one of the bedrooms.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Our luggage is outside the front door. Please have it brought up."

  Leaving the first bedroom, Kim entered the next one.

  "Yes, sir."

  Kim came out. "You will sleep in the room on the right. It has a barred window and solid shutters. I have closed and locked them. I will sleep outside your door."

  "But I obtained a room for you," Aaron protested.

  She smiled thinly. "Thank you. You were thoughtful. I will sleep on the floor outside your door. I would suggest we prepare our own meals, but that is not practical. Instead, I will sample your food before you eat. My training has made me immune to most of the commonly used poisons. Still, don't take the first or the last serving of anything."

  "Is this necessary?"

  "Mistress Turner judged the situation correctly. It is in Nefra's interest to have you killed."

  "Don't you think you're being just a touch paranoid?"

  "No," Kim and Melna answered simultaneously.

  Later Kim ordered dinner sent up. After ordering Aaron to wait, she tasted everything, pushed one dish to the side because it held enough spice to hide a subtle poison, and indicated the rest was safe to eat.

  Dinner finished, Melna watched Aaron unpack. When he pulled out his small chess board, she pounced.

  "Do you play? Of course you do or you wouldn't have a board. Are you any good?"

  "I'm decent," Aaron admitted.

  "Wonderful. "

  She beat him three games running in twenty minutes flat. Aaron never stood a chance. Later, her good night kiss tasted sweet as she snuggled against his side.

  * * *

  Time passed while the organizers waited for the last ambassadors to arrive. Aaron used the time to meet a few peo
ple. Almost all treated him with disdain. They disapproved of the way he spoke, of his dress, and even of his hair style. More importantly, few had any idea why he was there.

  Aaron wondered about that one himself. When Major Fitzbeth first approached him, he thought he was supposed to speak with Helmet Klein. Since then, those plans had either been altered or they had not existed. Many of those he encountered thought of Aaron as nothing more than a footnote. Most had never heard his name.

  A few exceptions existed. The ambassador from Isabella, a woman who had not been invited to the conference but had come anyway, deferred to Aaron and his companions. So did the representatives from Connicut and New Madrid. Other than Isabella, they were the only representatives from the new lands. Three or four other ambassadors gave him a knowing smile along with an occasional nod. Governor Rhodes remained unfailingly polite, as did the doorman, Harold.

  It was all very confusing.

  Chapter 16

  Late one evening, Aaron and Melna sat at dinner, talking about their former lives. Watching, Kim admired their efforts. An expert at body language, she knew they lied at every opportunity. Neither was convincing, but she found it instructive because their real emotions did not quite match her created ones. Kim knew her assumed facade was imperfect. She no longer remembered many of her past emotions. Fortunately, most people were not observant enough to realize this. Strangely, the fact theirs were real while hers were fake bothered her. For the first time in years she wished she could experience what others felt. She was dead inside, a wooden golem designed to one end. She had few emotions, fewer desires, and only two buttons that could be pushed. Because of this, she watched these two with a vague hope of relearning the secret of feeling.

  "Potatoes," Melna said during a conversational lull.

  "What about them?" Aaron asked, and his smile gave Kim a shadow of satisfaction. Not since she was a child had she thought people like Aaron Turner existed. With no promise of gain, he had stopped her rape, killed her rapist, and at a terrible price. She had heard his nightmares. She had seen him sweat. For this service to her, she owed him service in return.

  "I'd like some," Melna said, gesturing toward the potato bowl. "Shove them my way."

  Grinning, Aaron gave the untouched bowl a shove.

  Reaching out, Kim stopped it. "I haven't approved these yet."

  "Taste on, oh, master chef," Melna said.

  Kim transferred a small bit of potato from the bowl to her tongue. The flavor was starch and butter and garlic and cheese, but behind those she tasted a hint of something else. A faint tingling foreshadowed her tongue going numb. An herb, she suspected, from the roots of a nightwing flower. Normally only mildly toxic, when enhanced by the smallest touch of even Stoneless Talent, nightwing was deadly to those who had no tolerance.

  Fortunately, she had built up a tolerance.

  "Questionable," she said and took the potatoes away. Aaron shrugged, but Melna gave her a knowing look. No innocent, Melna had knocked around the world for a number of years and knew the score. This was the second time Aaron's food had been poisoned, a fact of which Aaron was still oblivious.

  Melna was not. A slight nod gave Kim silent permission to take care of matters, as if Kim needed Melna's approval to do her job. Indeed, the job was already begun. The ground had been prepared. A few coins and a promise of freedom had loosened the lips of a Nefran slave. The Nefran contingent, it seemed, was unhappy with Aaron Turner. They had assigned their two assassins to rectify the matter. Unfortunately for them, their assassins were not very good. Fortunately for Aaron, Kim was. She would be gentle at first, out of respect for Aaron. In the morning the Nefran ambassadors would wake to discover two severed heads on their dining room table. Hopefully, they would heed the warning. They had better because the next attempt on Aaron Turner's life would initiate a substantial thinning of the Nefran ranks. She might be only seventeen, but Kim knew she was one of the best. She should be since she and her five sisters had begun training when Kim was only ten. Those sisters were now dead. One died by Kim's hand. Any loyalty Kim felt toward either the guild or the father who sent them there died with her sister's last breath.

  No, her loyalty belonged to Aaron Turner. Yes, she owed him service, but Aaron Turner had more. He had her loyalty because he had defended her to a doorman. His seeing her as more than furniture had wormed into the single thin crack remaining in her shell. It made her think she might be human after all.

  That meant people who tried to hurt him pissed her off, which made her smile because fury one one of the few emotions the guild had not trained out of her.

  Three hours after Aaron and Melna retired for the evening, Kim rose from her place outside their door and quietly left the suite. Melna Turner hunted during the day without Aaron knowing. Mistress Blood hunted at night.

  * * *

  He was the blackest man Melna had ever seen. Late fifties but still muscular, the black man's bearing showed a self-assurance she had rarely encountered. Walking with a firm stride across the grounds, he was unfailingly polite to those who crossed his path, but unyielding when they did not move aside.

  She found him impressive and exciting. Mere weeks ago she would have trailed him for the adventure and hope of it. Yes, he was older, but if he were her man she would not have cared. She would have gloried in his sheer physical presence.

  Closing her eyes, she pictured what it would be like with her dusky skin pressed up against his black. The thought was intriguing, arousing.

  Melna mentally shook herself. Enough daydreaming. She, a married woman, was done with man chasing. Her husband was a good man even if he did make her uncomfortable, a thought to bring a bitter smile. If the truth were known, she was, perhaps, a bit more than fond of her husband. Unfortunately, she didn't find him the least bit attractive.

  She peeked at the black man and felt flushed.

  Okay, so she found the Afkan exciting. Was that really so bad? She might be married, but she was a long way from dead. She could look. Melna drew a deep breath and shooed her thoughts away. Aaron might not excite her, but he had a brain. Better yet, he was challenged and not intimidated by her superior intellect. In fact, he took her natural genius in stride so easily the subject never came up.

  A disturbing thought struck her. Did Aaron know she was his mental superior? He must. After all, she had informed him of that early in their marriage.

  She shook her head. Enough. The important thing right then was the Afkan. He had arrived with the Chin delegation. This meant he was important, and he carried a weapon similar to Aaron's. As best she could tell, only three people in the Chin contingent had one. Well, of the ones she had seen so far. The Chins had brought a lot of people.

  She picked up her plant tray and changed location to get a better view of the Chins. The servant outfit she had stolen was a bit loose in the front, but along with the wide brimmed hat and the dirt smeared across her face, it helped hide her identity from the few people who might know her.

  She had been right, she soon saw. The Chin's were not staying in the manor. Instead, they had moved their tents to a section of clear space set far away from anyone else but not too distant from where she planted flowers. She mentally patted herself on the back. Good girl, Melna. Three days of skulking had gained her information she could have received by asking any servant.

  Still, she was in the right place for Chin watching. Unfortunately, she didn't understand a single word they said. This made her chances of eavesdropping rather limited. If she was as smart as she believed, she would have thought of that weeks earlier. With her natural knack for picking up languages, a tutor could have quickly added Chin to the seven others she knew.

  Bending her head, she pulled a yellow flower free of the flat. Her father always stressed the importance of doing a job well. It was especially important, he said, if you were spying. Nothing flushed out a spy more quickly than incompetence.

  "Come with me."

  The voice, speaking Frankish
, startled her. She looked up in seeming incomprehension to see a tanned man wearing Chin clothing.

  "Come with me, girl," he said again, this time in Jut. "There is a need for you."

  Melna rose after taking a moment to brush dirt from her knees. "Yes, sir."

  She followed him to the newly risen Chin tent city. That surprised her. Like the Afkan, this man was not Chin, but he wore Chin clothing and had privileges. Caucasian like Aaron, she guessed, but there was some other race in him as well.

  Leading the way, he glanced back to make sure she followed. When they reached one of the raised tents, he opened a flap and gestured for her to enter. She had to duck slightly. Another man waited inside.

  "She doesn't understand Normandish," the first man said to the second, speaking Frankish. "Don't use Jut."

  "Something of a stick, is she not? Couldn't you have found someone with more of a figure?"

  "Hell, Clack, she was closest, and she isn't a yellow skin. Look at her. Nut brown, blue eyed, and not a drop of fight in her body. Exotic and complacent, what more can we ask for."

  The second man loomed large in the shadows. "Would have preferred something with more curves. Then again, anything's better than the lot we've been given."

  He moved forward, growing clearer as light caught him. Looking up, Melna gasped. The man was gorgeous. Her knees trembled. By the Lady! Where had he been before she married Aaron? He made the Afkan look stale in comparison.

  Reaching down, the man tilted her chin. Her heart beat heavy when he leaned in for a kiss. His lips tasted of salt and garlic. Melna's knees threatened to give way as his hands explored her shirt buttons. Another set of hands joined in, roughly feeling her body with an assurance foreign to her husband.

  Guilt briefly touched Melna, but she brushed it away. This was adventure. It was like one of the books she used to read. Besides, she had been around enough to know morals and laws did not control human nature. She wouldn't be the first woman who strayed. What her husband did not know.