“I’m glad you’re here, Villison,” Menders said. “Now, can you compile all the information you have about the Council, people at Court and the like, and give it to Haakel? This is the sort of intelligence we need.”
“Absolutely. I have some of it written down already,” Villison answered, clambering down from the bed. “I’ll put the rest together and give it to him, as well as anything else I find out.”
“Ho, Villison!” Hemmett could be heard bellowing in the hallway.
“In here!” Villison answered. A moment later, Hemmett stuck his head around the door.
“Hello Menders,” he grinned. “Back from your nefarious expedition, Subordinate? Getting scolded by the boss man?”
“No, informing him of things you didn’t bother to,” Villison grinned, tossing Hemmett the gun. “That’s for you. Don’t say I never give you nothin’.”
Hemmett goggled at it. “That’s a beauty! Thanks!”
“Remember me when you find some pretties while going around the world and I’m holding the fort here,” Villison answered.
“Not a worry, I will,” Hemmett replied, gloating over his gun. Villison picked up the parcel he’d given to Menders and held it out.
“Come on,” he grinned.
Menders took it and peeled back the wrappings, managing not to gawk openly at the incredible knife it held. The blade could split a hair. Intricate designs had been engraved in the blade, and the handle was carved from Surelian firestone, a rare gem that was simply not exported to Mordania.
“Do you know how to invest money?” he asked, turning quickly to Villison.
“Not really, but more than willing to learn,” the young man replied.
“Good. You’ll give me information, I’ll give you information. You shouldn’t limit yourself to contraband running, not with your mind.” Menders put out a hand and shook Villison’s.
“You know what means more to me than anything?” Villison said as he pumped Menders’ arm. “That you said you were glad I’m here before you opened that little prezzie. Sir was right about you.”
Hemmett smirked. Menders raised his eyebrows in query.
“He said you were the one man on the planet I would never be able to buy,” Villison said. “You just proved him right.”
The Shadows, Mordania
6
Captain Greinholz and a
Damsel in Distress
L
orein Spaltz waved once more to her best friend, Rivka, as they separated at the road leading to the Spaltz estate. It was school picnic day, the end of the school term. They had stayed late in the afternoon and then helped Mistress Menders and the other teachers clear away.
It had been a wonderful day, the best picnic day ever. Katrin was there since she taught at the school, but most of the rest of the people from The Shadows were there as well.
Menders had designed a terribly difficult scavenger hunt and was merciless in seeing to it that the correct items were found. Borsen ran a pony ride for the little children while several of the Men ran other games. Kaymar Shvalz had been the Fool in the ducking booth. No-one managed to throw the ball accurately enough to duck him all day, until Menders crept up on his hands and knees while Kaymar yelled and hooted, taunting all the children who were desperately flinging balls at the target. Menders rose up suddenly and hurled a ball so hard it made the air ring with its impact on the bullseye. Kaymar went into the water with an enormous splash, swearing.
Best of all, Hemmett Greinholz was home from the Military Academy after graduation. He had refereed all the foot races and games. Lorein entered one of the races and ran until she could hardly breathe. Because she was plump-bodied with long thin arms and legs, running wasn’t what she did best. She’d had the glory of having Hemmett declare her the winner and pin the ribbon on her dress! Rivka jealously tugged one of Lorein’s braids in retribution. They both thought Hemmett was beautiful.
Now Lorein slung her shoes, laces tied together, around her neck. She took time to make sure they didn’t ruffle her blue ribbon prize and began to skip up the long dirt road toward her home. She didn’t run easily but skipping was second nature to her. Her lanky legs ate up the dusty road at a great pace until she came down hard on a stone with her bare right heel.
She ended up rolling in the dust, howling in agony, grasping the offended foot. It hurt so badly she expected to see an enormous hole in it. Inspection showed it to be bruised. The purple mark was already showing.
Lorein sat in the dirt and sobbed, rocking over her foot. It was already so swollen there was no way she could stand on it. She was almost a mile from home. Mamma insisted that she walk back and forth to school as much as she could, because she didn’t believe in girls being weak, spoiled little misses. Lorein liked walking, because it gave her time with Rivka and she didn’t have to worry with seeing to her pony at the school, which gave her more time at lunch and recess to play with the other girls. Now she wished she had her pony, fat old Pinky, with her.
How was she going to get home? She couldn’t possibly crawl and she couldn’t stand on the foot, no matter how hard she tried. Mamma had never let her make a great deal out of every little injury, like some girls who sobbed over a cut finger, but this was very bad.
Lorein looked around and saw several large sticks nearby. She could use one of them as a crutch! She crawled over, grabbed one and managed to get to her feet. The stick gave way the moment she tried to put weight it, tumbling her back into the dirt. The sticks were old and dried out.
She rolled over in the dust and reached for her shoes. Perhaps she could put on the right shoe as a splint. No, her foot was too swollen. What was she going to do?
Suddenly she heard hoofbeats approaching and wondered who it was. Usually only the people from The Shadows came along this road, as a shortcut to the village. It might be Borsen. He was always going over to the village to pick up supplies. She hoped so. Borsen was comfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d given her a ride home.
It was a bigger horse, she could hear now, not Borsen’s pony. It might be Doctor Franz or Menders. Doctor Franz was jolly and she wouldn’t mind being rescued by him, because he would make a joke out of it all and keep Mamma from scolding about not wearing shoes. If it was Menders it would be even better, because he was so dashing and mysterious, but would also keep Mamma from fussing. For all he looked stern, Menders knew how little girls could get into situations like this, since he’d raised Katrin from the day she was born.
She could see the horse now and breathed a sigh of relief. It was Ifor Trantz’s big black gelding. She liked Ifor. He was shy and quiet, but very kind and patient. He’d taught her to play DeGratz when she was laid up for weeks with aching fever and had stayed at The Shadows because her parents were also ill and couldn’t take care of her. All the children called Ifor the Big Bear because he looked sort of like one, but he wasn’t a fierce bear.
Oh no.
It wasn’t Ifor! It was Hemmett, in his uniform with his cromar slung behind him on the saddle! He must have borrowed Ifor’s horse since he had no mount of his own at The Shadows. He was probably on his way over to the village tavern for the evening, where Mamma said he chased after women who weren’t good enough for him. Lorein always imagined Hemmett chasing them in the street, playing tag, though she knew that wasn’t really what Mamma meant. And no woman was good enough for Hemmett, except maybe Katrin, but he couldn’t marry her. He was too handsome and brave and wonderful for any of those silly village girls!
Lorein began scooting back into the dusty ferns at the roadside, suddenly desperate not to have Hemmett see her here, covered with dirt and crying with the pain in her foot. She wanted to go home, but she didn’t want wonderful Captain Greinholz to see her wallowing in the dust like a worm!
“Ho there, Firefly!” The horse stopped beside her and Hemmett was looking down at her, using the nickname he’d given her when she was a white-haired little baby whose hair glowed in the faint light o
f dusk. “What’s wrong, honey?” He was down off the horse in a flash, crouching beside her in the dust. “Has someone hurt you?”
His voice was fierce and Lorein understood he was afraid someone had caught her and interfered with her.
“No, I hurt my foot on a rock,” she gasped and saw the relief that went through the big, handsome soldier.
“Here now, let me see,” he said, carefully lifting her foot while keeping her skirt over her knees so her bloomers wouldn’t show. He whistled when he saw the now-black bruise spreading over the sole of her foot.
“Good thing I came along, Firefly,” he said. “What happened?”
“I was skipping after I left Rivka and stepped on a sharp stone,” Lorein sniffled. Hemmett looked around.
“This fellow, I’ll warrant,” he said heartily, picking up a big pointed stone. He heaved it far up into the woods at the side of the road. “We’ll get him out of the way, so he doesn’t hurt any more little feet. Some cold water and ice are what you need, so let’s get you home. You won’t be winning any more footraces for a while.” He gave her his handkerchief. It had his initials and class insignia on it. She knew Mistress Menders had stitched a dozen of them up for his graduation gift. She waited until he turned his back to steady the horse, and tucked the unused hanky in her pocket, so it wouldn’t get dirty, then wiped her face rapidly with her skirt.
Hemmett lifted her onto the horse and got up behind her after tucking her shoes and books safely away in his saddlebags. Oh, it was too romantic! Borsen would have heaved her up to cling like a monkey behind him. Hemmett was holding her in front of him, sidesaddle, like a lady in an old picture riding in front of a hero! Oh, Rivka would be so mad! She’d probably slap Lorein over it, but it would be worth it! She was so full of glory over riding with him that she hardly heard the funny stories he was telling her.
Mamma was waiting on the front steps, looking worried, but she smiled when Hemmett waved as soon as she spotted them. She gasped over Lorein’s foot and hardly scolded at all except to remind her why she owned shoes. Hemmett carried Lorein into the house and set her on the sofa while Mamma sent for ice and water and tended her bruise.
Hemmett kept saying funny things about sending away for a foot she could use while this one got better. His jokes took away a lot of the hurt, because she didn’t think about it. Pappa came from his study and made jokes too until Lorein was tired with laughing. Then Mamma helped her change while the men went into the solarium for a cigar before dinner, Hemmett’s trip to chase unworthy women apparently forgotten in favor of taking dinner with them.
He stayed for dinner and into the evening, talking to Pappa and Mamma, but including Lorein as well, though she didn’t know much about politics and military things. Then he played the cromar for her, saying it was magic music that would make her foot heal faster. Mamma and Pappa listened too. Mamma always said Hemmett’s playing was a credit to Menders’ teaching.
When it got late, Hemmett offered to carry Lorein up to her room. Her eyelids were drooping though she was struggling to stay awake, because she wanted to savor every moment he was there. Pappa accepted thankfully. He could carry Lorein, but it would be slung up over his shoulder like a huge baby, because he wasn’t nearly as big and strong as Hemmett. But Hemmett carried her upstairs as if she was light as a feather and not the tallest in her class.
He set Lorein on her bed, saying he would stop in next time he passed to see how she was doing. Then he bade Mamma good night and she could hear him going down the stairs, speaking to Pappa and then going out the door.
“Oh, wasn’t he wonderful?” Lorein said to Mamma, who was getting her nightgown and hairbrush.
“He’s a very fine, kind young man,” Mamma agreed. She began brushing out Lorein’s long, white blonde hair.
“I’m surprised Katrin isn’t in love with him,” Lorein said cautiously.
Mamma smiled. “Love is a strange thing,” she replied. “It’s as well too, because Katrin wouldn’t be permitted to marry Hemmett because he’s a commoner. Katrin’s life is limited in a lot of ways, my girl. People think it’s a great thing to be a Princess, but she can’t just marry anyone she wishes, even if she did want to marry Hemmett.”
“Why would anybody not want to marry Hemmett?” Lorein sighed blissfully. Mamma laughed.
“Love is a strange thing,” she repeated. “At one time people couldn’t believe that I didn’t want to marry Menders. The heart loves where it loves.”
Lorein thought about that when the room was dark and she was falling asleep. People were always saying she would grow out of being awkward, with a tubby body and thin arms and legs, like a frog. They said she would look like her mother, who was very beautiful indeed. Even Mamma said it and she didn’t flatter.
Maybe one day when she didn’t have a frog body and wasn’t eleven years old. Maybe when Hemmett didn’t love Katrin any more.
Moresby, Mordania
7
The Revenants
“A
nd what are you two very diligent young people studying?”
Dorlane Cheval-Shvalz, Princess of Fambré and the mother of Kaymar Shvalz paused on her way from her sumptuous gardens to the Moresby estate house to observe the dashing Hemmett Greinholz and the tall and intense young woman, Varnia Polzen, bending over a book open on the verandah table before them.
Hemmett rose immediately and bowed to her. Dorlane observed that Varnia watched Hemmett closely, standing herself and curtsying awkwardly. We must correct that, Dorlane noted to herself as she smiled and returned their courtesies with a head-bow, then went to take the young people’s hands.
“I’m helping Varnia with her Surelian,” Hemmett smiled, indicating the textbook.
Dorlane gazed at him in amazement and then laughed aloud.
“Dearest, when the blind man leads another blind man, they both fall off the cliff!” she said, patting Varnia’s hand. “Of all the people who speak Surelian here, Hemmett is tutoring you?”
There was a muted ‘haw haw’ from Hemmett.
“Now, Your Highness, who better to help her than someone else who struggles with the language and needs a brush-up?” he countered. “On top of that, I don’t intimidate her.”
Varnia said nothing, but raised an eyebrow and nodded.
Dorlane pondered that for a moment.
“You may be right,” she conceded. “However, I have heard you speaking Surelian, young Captain. You will teach Varnia a terrible accent.”
“Right now I’m just trying to understand the grammar and realizing that saying everything with a Surelian accent isn’t speaking Surelian,” Varnia said wryly while Hemmett snickered.
“Oh-a you cutta me to the heart-a, beautiful-a sanorina,” Hemmett told her.
“I am not beautiful, I’m striking,” Varnia retorted, smothering a smile.
“Grammar will only confuse you,” Dorlane declared. “You don’t learn your native language by studying grammar. You learn it by hearing it and speaking it.”
“You see-a, beautiful-a sanorina?” Hemmett asked winningly. Varnia shook her head at him.
They were visiting Kaymar’s family on their estate, Moresby, prior to sailing for Surelia later in the summer. Moresby had once been part of the massive Stettan land holdings which belonged to Menders’ family. Kaymar and Menders’ fathers had been brothers. Over the years Kaymar’s family had visited The Shadows many times. They had prevailed upon Menders to return the visit before embarking on the world tour that promised to stretch to three years.
Suddenly Dorlane held up her hand for silence, straining to hear.
“Kaymar is shouting at someone,” she said tensely.
Varnia was immediately alert, listening so keenly that she quivered like a racehorse in a gate.
“Borsen went down there to sketch,” she gasped and bolted away toward the road at a breakneck pace.
“Try to catch her!” Dorlane cried as Hemmett raced after the fleeing girl, hard pressed to gai
n on her. Dorlane dashed in their wake, holding her skirts up out of the way of her feet. The gods only knew what Varnia was running into.
Kaymar’s shouting in the distance had roused the household, family and visitors alike. Ifor rushed down the steps and brought Varnia to a halt.
“Kaymar can take care of things – you mustn’t rush into the unknown,” he told her as she tried to pull away.
Menders was suddenly there, followed by four of Menders’ Men. They immediately spread out and blended into the scenery, moving toward Kaymar’s voice, checking every shrub and tree on their way. Eiren ran down the wide house steps and put her arms around Varnia, who was still determinedly fighting against Ifor’s gentle grasp on her shoulders.
“Let me go! He may be hurt!” she hissed.
“Stop dear!” Eiren pleaded. “Kaymar is there. I could see from my window. Some people stopped and were talking to Borsen and Kaymar ran right over…”
“I don’t believe it!” Princess Dorlane had reached the front lawn where they stood. “I haven’t seen them in this neighborhood in years.”
Varnia stopped struggling and stared at the fantastical group of people who were approaching, followed by a caravan of colorful wagons. Ifor almost released her, thought better of it and kept his hands on her shoulders protectively.
“Dorlane,” Eiren whispered, “are they?”
“Revenants,” Dorlane answered firmly. “They must have been after Borsen.”
Varnia gasped, staring at the approaching procession.
The Revenants were itinerant people who roamed the roads of many nations. They dressed peculiarly, in oddly clashing colors and styles. Many of the women affected elaborate hairstyles and wore dramatic and flashy cosmetics. The Revenants sought out and traded for peculiar pieces of metal, bits of what appeared to be ancient machines that were occasionally turned up in farmers’ fields or found in rockslides and remote places. Often they appeared and disappeared from a district without anyone seeing them coming or going.
Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series Page 7