The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  The thought of Aaron made her eyes wander to the other envelope delivered through Donna, sitting by itself on the table, a remnant of the general household debris she had not yet rid herself of. The letter appeared unremarkable. She received at least half a dozen similar envelopes every day, most begging favors. Aaron represented a lot of money and a lot of power, so people wanted access to him. Some thought her foolish enough to accept bribes. Their letters often contained veiled and not so veiled threats. Every writer demanded an introduction to Aaron Turner. A simple rip and toss to the basket, and the letters were forever gone.

  All the attention this one merited, Amanda reflected, but Karen was absent. Chase was asleep, and she felt entirely too bored.

  Setting down her fork, she picked up the letter, and opened it. At first, it held less interest for her than did the green beans on her plate. After reading the sender's name, she became interested. Amanda knew of this woman, this Brenda Montpass. A Bivin's Group associate had recently helped obtain her freedom, but Amanda's knowledge of Montpass went years deeper. They had never met, or if they had Amanda did not remember, but she had tried to keep track of the woman for years. If things worked out the way she hoped, they would soon meet. She suspected the meeting would be memorable.

  Chapter 4

  If there was one true thing about N'Ark, the city constantly changed. By the standards of the new world, it was historic, but its history was one of constant renewal. Without a qualm, old buildings were torn down and new ones erected. Businesses rose, flourished, and failed with equal gusto. Throughout it all, people lived and worked and raised their families as best they could. Some rose, others fell, and always there was change.

  "Get your smear! Bagel and a smear!"

  "So then I says to her, if you think for a moment that I need this job more than it needs me, you have another think coming. Well, don't you know, before we were finished I agreed to not quit just so long as she raised my wages by a half gold per day."

  "Sausage on a stick! Right here!"

  Autumn's hand clutched Aaron's. Her grip was almost as firm as her smile. Aaron's other hand held the handles of a shopping bag containing four pairs of Autumn sized faux jeans similar to the Fasberly pants he preferred. At one time, his pants had to be custom made to suit his needs. Now they, and similar styles, were quite the fashion among the working crowd.

  Midday pedestrians crowded the walkway. Aaron knew he could easily transport them to the apartment he kept in N'Ark, but Autumn wanted to experience a large city.

  As always, the crowd made Aaron uncomfortable, but today he tolerated it. Autumn loved the bustle. Something about the pushing and shoving struck a chord in her. Her head jerked from side to side as she struggled to take in every sight. The smile spread across her face threatened to displace her ears.

  "Dipped apples! Hey, Lady, you look like you might be hungry. Want some dipped apples?"

  "So I told her a merger was the only way to go. I think she fell for it, so it's the stock for you to buy right now."

  "Is it always like this?" Autumn half shouted.

  "Not always," Aaron answered. "Half the congestion will clear away in a couple hours. Come on, I want to take you to my favorite bakery. They sell the best breads and bagels."

  "Is that where you used to get yours?"

  "Yep. Haven't been there for a couple years."

  When they reached the corner of Sixteenth and Marl, he guided her to the right on Marl, a considerably narrower and less traveled street than the one they had previously been on. Marl's air smelled of stale garbage, horse dropping, and mold. Aaron breathed it in with appreciation; surprised he found something nostalgic and enjoyable in surroundings he had run from just a few years earlier. At the time, he thought his life too complex and empty. He thought he escaped to a simpler, happier place.

  Gods, had he been wrong.

  Autumn tugged on his arm. "What's she doing?"

  Following her pointing finger, Aaron saw a young woman arranging items on a small sidewalk table. A pegboard on a tripod stood beside the table, displaying gold and silver bracelets, necklaces, and pendants. The woman chatted amiably with another woman while her hands bent and twisted a bit of gold wire with a pair of needle nose pliers. Giving a final twist to her work, she passed it to the other woman and accepted money in return.

  "I'll show you." Aaron led her over to the tripod.

  "Necklace and a bracelet," he told the merchant. "The name is Autumn."

  "Is it then?" she answered in a thick accent, displaying, like so many others in N'Ark, that she had been born on a different shore. "I have none o' those here, but it is the making of them I shall do. Which metal shall it be?"

  "Silver," Aaron answered. "She likes to wear silver."

  "What is she doing?" Autumn quieted as the woman drew out a long strand of silver wire and began bending it. The letters of Autumn's name took form in a fancy script, smooth sided and flowing. Less than a minute passed before she finished the bracelet. The wire's remaining ends were bent over a form, clipped, and then the ends were shaped into hooks. The young woman presented the results to Aaron. Nodding approval, he slipped the bracelet around Autumn's wrist and fastened it.

  "Oh," Autumn exclaimed. "I've never seen anything done like that." She turned her wrist, admiring the handiwork. "Is it real silver?"

  "Nay girl," the woman answered for Aaron. "If 'twas silver, I could not be making these here. Stripped of my wares I'd be, by thieves. This be but base metal, but it shines like silver, an' I ha' treated it so the shine'll na fade er tarnish."

  The woman worked quickly, even when talking. Already, she was close to finished with the necklace. She looped the wire over the letters, brought them up for half an inch, made another small loop, and then turned her creation so she could twist the wire's ends to form posts. Clipping off the sharp points, she smoothed it down, slid a chain through the loop, and then handed the finished product over to Aaron.

  "Will this do fer ya?"

  "It will do nicely," Aaron told her. "How much?"

  "Six copper?" she asked.

  "Good enough." Her eyes grew large when Aaron gave her a gold. He pulled Autumn away before she had time to thank him.

  Autumn fastened the necklace around her neck. "I never had anything with my name on it before."

  "They won't stand up to much wear," Aaron warned her. "If you want, I can get you something made up that's more durable."

  "Don't you dare! My father bought these for me."

  "Could use a little help here," a man's voice said quietly. Aaron stopped when a large hand pressed against his chest. He grimaced. Some aspects of N'Ark could never be welcomed. This man looked to be more formidable than most hustlers. He stood huge, half a foot over six feet, a full foot taller than Aaron. The man's heavily muscled shoulders were broad. Corded tendons flexed in his forearm.

  "Rent's due, and the Missus, she says there's nothing left to feed the kids. Could you maybe see your way to gifting me a couple coppers? Just a copper or two?"

  "My daddy," Autumn said, "does not threaten well."

  The hand fell away from Aaron's chest. "Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to threaten. I just saw how much you gave the lady and thought you could maybe help a man feed his children. Forgive me for bothering you."

  When he moved off, Aaron checked his belt, finding exactly what he expected. "It didn't work," he called out.

  Stopping, the man turned halfway around, one hand resting on a light post.

  "Sir?"

  "My purse. There's nothing in it except wooden disks. I put them in there to give it weight."

  The large man spread his hands wide. "I took nothing from you. Search me if you think I'm lying."

  "There's no point," Aaron said. "Your accomplice cut it from my belt. She's very good because I didn't notice her doing it. By now she's passed it on to a third person, and they're probably ticked off because of the wooden disks. I'm sorry for your wasted effort."

  "Ah,
well," the man smiled. "Sometimes you lose. Sometimes you just have to work a little harder." He finished his turn and seemed prepared to come back. "If you hand it over, you won't be hurt."

  Thunk

  The man's eyes fastened on a knife buried point first in the light post. Its handle quivered only inches from his nose. For a moment, the knife held his entire attention, and then his eyes shifted back to them.

  "I have two more," Autumn said. One of her hands, drawn back over her shoulder, held a knife's blade between her thumb and forefinger.

  "Like I said before," the man smiled, "sometimes you lose." Giving Autumn a wink, he casually walked away.

  "When," Aaron asked as Autumn tucked her knife away, "did you learn to do that?" He moved to the light post. The knife was not imbedded as deep as the sound of its strike had indicated.

  "Mister Patton and Miss Bayne coached me when they had time," she told him. "It'll be a while before I grow much bigger because of my Talent Stone, and I'm not nearly as strong as an adult, so they decided I needed a few extra skills. They say I'm pretty good." She grinned. "They better say it. I can beat them both."

  Aaron decided against commenting.

  "You had your look," Autumn explained. "I didn't want you to hurt him."

  "I wouldn't have hurt him," Aaron protested.

  "Yes, Daddy, you would," she said in a serious voice. It lightened, became almost cheerful. "Now where's this bakery?"

  "Just a few doors down," Aaron told her, but he was wrong. When they reached the right building, Aaron saw dry goods in the window instead of a display of mouthwatering breads, bagels, and donuts. Unbelieving, he pushed the door open and was instantly greeted by an openly smiling face.

  "Can I help you? We have some specials you might be interested in, just over here."

  "What happened to the bakery?" Aaron demanded.

  "Sir?"

  "The business that was here before. What happened to it?"

  The woman's expression turned impersonal. She shrugged. "Closed up when the Verlays died. My boss bought the building six months ago."

  "What do you mean, they died?"

  "A flux went around last year. They caught it and died like so many others. It was to be expected. They were old. Look, do you want to buy anything?"

  "No," Aaron answered woodenly. "I don't." Memories of the Verlays ran through his mind. Mistress Verlay had been his special lady. Laugh lines were burned deep into her face by more than seventy years of living. She had teased him unmercifully while he flirted with her, and then they ribbed her husband who frequently gave better than he got.

  "I'm done sightseeing," he told Autumn.

  Flicker

  * * *

  Karen did not seem surprised when they teleported into her kitchen. After giving them a brief look, she turned back to her stove to finish turning a chicken breast grilling in a copper bottomed pan.

  "If I'd known you were coming, I would have put enough on for all of us," she said over her shoulder. "Really, Mister Turner, guests should not drop in unexpectedly, especially near dinner time." She gave a quick stir to a pan containing green beans and turned back toward them.

  "I haven't seen you for more than three years. We wondered if you'd forgotten us."

  "Things have been busy," Aaron explained. He did not care to go into the mixed emotional bag thoughts Amanda Bivins gave him. The last he had known, Amanda was pregnant with his child. She made it very clear raising the child belonged to her. She said Aaron's responsibilities ended with a simple sperm donation--which completely pissed Aaron off. Once again, Amanda set the rules.

  She had been his friend, probably still was, but she was a controlling one. During most of their relationship, she had been the driving force. If not for her ambition and wiles, Aaron would not have his present wealth and influence. He wouldn't have been poor. His hoarded silver would have seen to it, but because of Amanda Bivins, Aaron had become a political and financial force to be reckoned with.

  He wasn't sure he should thank her.

  "You must be Autumn," Karen said. "Your father is a little slow on the introductions. I'm Karen Dandledge, but you can call me Karen."

  "How do you know me?" Autumn asked.

  "Your father only has the one daughter with any age on her, though I have to confess I thought you were older."

  "Pleased to meet you," Autumn said politely.

  Karen looked surprised. "Why, girl, you have manners."

  After learning the Verlays were dead, Aaron had no patience for social chat. He had business to deal with, places to go, and things to do before the day finished.

  "I want to talk to Amanda," he told Karen. "I need more funds freed up. There's going to be war."

  Frowning, she turned back to the stove. Turning off the burner, she flipped the chicken breasts onto a plate and moved the pan to a cool burner. After a moment of apparent thought, she turned off the burner under the beans. Using a perforated serving spoon, Karen lifted up a wad of beans and deposited them on the plate beside the chicken.

  "Amanda's on vacation," she finally said. "I bought her tickets on a cruise ship for a tour of the Manday islands, but she sold those and left the money and a note on the table. I learned yesterday Amanda bought passage on a fast cargo hauler headed for Halimut."

  "Halimut!"

  "Yeah, well that was my reaction, too. I was worried until I found out she never boarded the hauler. I guess she got those tickets as a decoy. Instead of hopping on the hauler, she bought a ship of her own, hired a crew, and I have no idea where Amanda went. When she gets back we will have little talk about why she didn't use the tickets I bought her."

  Aaron frowned unhappily. "I really need money soon or certificates of credit."

  "I'll take care of it for you tomorrow," Karen offered. "Come back in the evening. I'll have what you want."

  Autumn fingered a bare spot on the kitchen table. "Her eyes are brown, but they shouldn't be," she said. "Brown doesn't feel right."

  "Excuse me?" Karen asked.

  "There was a letter here. The person who sent it had brown eyes."

  "I wouldn't know. There's been a lot of letters there. It's where we set the mail." Karen cut a small piece of chicken into tiny chunks and put them on a separate plate.

  "I never read anything that way before," Autumn said wonderingly.

  Turning, Karen took two steps and set the plate down on the table in front of Autumn.

  "No, thanks," Autumn said. "I'm not hungry."

  "It isn't for you," Karen explained. "Be a dear and go wake up Chase. He's in the second bedroom on the left."

  "Chase?"

  "The baby," Karen answered. "Your brother. You can feed him, too, if you like. The Gods know I have a difficult enough time of it. I just thank the Lady and Her Lord the brat is mostly potty trained."

  "Daddy?" Autumns eyes grew bright. Running a hand through her hair, she brushed it back over her shoulders. Shaking her head, she grew a grin so large it fought to fall off her face. "You never told me I have another brother."

  Aaron stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugged, and shuffled his feet. Until this moment he had not known Amanda carried to term, let alone given birth to a boy.

  "Healthiest kid I ever saw," Karen said. "Dozens of women asked Amanda about Chase's father. A number asked to borrow your father for a few nights."

  "I don't think so," Aaron protested.

  "Don't worry," Karen reassured. "Nobody knows who fathered Chase but us. We would never betray you."

  "Daddy, come get me tomorrow," Autumn ordered. "I'm staying the night. I want to spend time with my baby brother."

  Aaron found no reason to argue with her, but he hoped she didn't insist he spend time with the child. He had been down that road with Autumn, Chad, Bret, and Earnest. All he gained was loss and pain…Ernest through murder…the others because Kit didn't want him near her children, until she threw Autumn away.

  He would not go through the pain with this one, with Ch
ase.

  * * *

  Things definitely changed while Aaron had been away from the Clans. The broch still rose high, a thing of stone laid without cement. Double-walled and multi-windowed, it was designed so defenders could shoot arrows through the openings. Since his last visit a town had grown around the broch, surrounding it with homes and roads. Off in the distance he saw plowed earth dark lines in the landscape.

  Aaron walked through the town, seeing not only symbols of the Freelorn clan, but also those of the Scotens, Opants, and Caladons clans. He even saw symbols representing the Roontar's, surprising since the Roontar's were few in number and their homeland distant.

  A stone-sided longhouse had been built next to the ancient broch. Many straw roofed buildings were in evidence. Half-naked children ran the streets beneath the eyes of their fully clothed parents. The clanspeople in this new town followed a strange mosaic of Isabellan and Clan designs and customs, creating something unique unto itself.

  Aaron saw no faces he recognized, not surprising considering the changes. More than a handful of curious glances landed on him as he wandered the streets. None appeared suspicious. A number of Isabellans were in evidence.

  The new mode of Clan dress and customs were not the only things he found strange. Their language had become an admixture of Jut and Clan, a thing neither one nor the other. Because he understood Jut but not Clan, Aaron felt both confused and irked by his inability to gain more than the barest gist of any conversation he overheard.

  One particular grouping drew his attention. A young girl dressed in shaman robes sat in the center of a cleared dirt circle. Two dozen others, also sitting, surrounded her along the outside perimeter of the circle while the girl calmly carved on a stick, shaving off small splinters of wood with a piece of flaked stone. Those watching her chanted a complex refrain with low voices.

  Aaron watched for a while, wondering why the girl freed no more than one thin sliver of wood every five minutes or so. When a sliver came free, its release was answered by a joyous shout from the chanters.