Princess of Zenina

by Giselle Marks

  “This one I could re-start” said Vellina’s mind. “The other, the brain is destroyed. Massive brain haemorrhage when the spinal cord snapped.”

  “Belabeza how is she?” asked Marina.

  “The suicide? She’ll live to try again, no lasting damage to her. But what do you think about this one? Would she want to be regenerated? Should we?”

  “What damage is there?” Marina asked while examining the corpse herself. Vellina’s findings agreed with hers. There was damage to a small portion of memory and to the optic nerves. The memory loss would be negligible. The optic nerves might regenerate given time or need to be replaced by artificial substitutes. She would be diminished, but she would be alive. Given that Belabeza would commit suicide again if Adelza remained dead, it was better to risk Adelza’s anger and revive her. The decision was simple, they would act immediately.

  Marina went to shower and to dress in scrubs and sent an orderly to Charles and the others.

  “Marina says you’re to take the car and go home, your friend Belabeza is heavily sedated and will not wake until tomorrow. Marina will be here until late. She said don’t bother to wait up.”

  Bromarsh drove them back to Marina’s home. Charles, Chilka and Bromarsh arrived back in the main sitting room. Father O’Flaherty was seated there.

  “I persuaded Father Debenden and the children to have an early night. I watched the match here, because I fear my guests might have been disturbed by the match. A pelozia match and its consequences would be hard to explain to a child, the goings on in the audience even harder. I think Father Debenden is nearly as naive as a child himself,” he explained.

  “I got Belabeza to the hospital in time, she is sedated and healing, for now. I don’t know how we will stop her a second time. She is bound to try again with Adelza dead. Carina will be missed too,” Charles informed the bishop.

  “A senseless waste of young lives and Carina a mother too,” said the bishop.

  Chilka and Charles had not considered that. Carina had had young children. An only child herself, her mother had died before her.

  “What will happen to Carina’s children? I didn’t know her that well. Do you know how many she had?” Chilka asked as Father O’Flaherty seemed to know more than them.

  “I think she named Marina guardian. A Golden daughter of eight called Orina, nice girl, sweet-tempered like her mother. The twins are Silver, five years old, a boy and girl. I can’t remember their names, but pretty children. I suppose someone will have thought to comfort them. Perhaps I should go myself in the morning?”

  No one answered that question or at least not aloud. The thought of motherless children only deepened the maudlin mood of the company. No-one, not even the injured Chilka, felt like going to sleep.

  “Now might be a good a time to introduce the Major, to the more exotic contents of Marina’s bar,” Charles suggested.

  Charles served the others drinks, acted as a skilled mixologist as he mixed drinks for the others.

  “Father, if Marina returns tonight, I don’t think it is the time to harangue her again on the evils of pelozia,” Charles remarked to him, while Chilka was explaining what the line of drinks in front of them were made from.

  “No, I get your point. I’ll say prayers for the souls of Carina and Adelza. The silver on Dalzina’s team was called Velsa. I don’t know much about her, but I will pray for her anyway. Anyone who knew Belabeza and Adelza would have expected her to attempt suicide,” the bishop declared solemnly.

  “That prediction required no pregognitive ability, Father,” Charles agreed.

  “I stayed after the match to offer comfort, not to sermonise at her. She will be emotionally drained by here teammates’ deaths. Why did she stay at the hospital, do you know Charles?” The bishop enquired.

  “Sorry, Father, she just said not to wait up for her, can I pour you another glass?” Charles asked.

  “I can still manage to pour my own whiskey, Charles,” he replied, helping himself to a generous glass of Bushmills which Marina imported specially for him whilst he waited.

  “I know I could ask Marina for the earth itself and she would give it me. Although I long to see Eire again, it is a sentimental dream, because I have spent most of my life away from there.”

  “Marina would free you and send you home if you asked her,” Charles said acknowledging that the old priest loved her as much as he did, even though in a different more paternal way.

  “I know, Charles, but I feel needed here. I’ll die happy if I see St Patrick’s open once more. I long to celebrate mass with a full congregation there again,” Father O’Flaherty declared. The four of them mourned Adelza and Carina together.

  “Plavina stayed out of town as usual. You’d think that her sister would have at least sent a message of condolences to Marina,” Charles said slightly bitterly.

  “She did attend a couple of Marina’s pelozia matches after her majesty forbad her to play as heir to the throne, fearing that she might be killed. You remember how the crowd reacted to her presence,” the old man said.

  “Plavina wasn’t that sorry to obey her mother’s command, Father. It is rumoured that her majesty tried to forbid Marina from playing pelozia too. I don’t believe Marina would have refused a direct order from the queen,” Chilka said staunchly about her friend.

  “It is generally believed that Marina defied her mother. The people think Marina’s defiance shows more courage than Plavina’s acceptance of the prohibition to play. We know Plavina would love to support her sister from the audience, but her attendance draws the crowd’s attention to what they see as her cowardice. She will have watched the match as I did on a vid-cast,” Niall declared. Bromarsh had already lost track of the conversation and was dozing.

  The priest wisely stuck to his whiskey but the others made serious inroads trying some of the more unusual liquors in Marina’s cellar. The Bishop fell asleep in a chair. Chilka and Bromarsh were asleep together on a sofa, Bromarsh with his head in Chilka’s lap. Charles, although the proposer of the drinking session was the only one sober. He dozed in a chair fitfully; then tidied the glasses and empty bottles away.

  It was a few hours off dawn when Marina came home, transporting herself straight into the sitting-room, looking totally washed-out. She looked at the sleeping forms of her friends, and laughed. Charles came into the room with a tray of food.

  “Stinking drunk, all of them,” she said. He concurred and offered her the food.

  “I couldn’t. Charles you shouldn’t have waited up.”

  He took her in his arms and held her. She did not cry, but buried her face in his shoulder.

  “I haven’t the energy left to beat you tonight; you’ll have to wait another day, sorry!”

  “I await it with pleasure. Ought we to put these to bed?”

  “Yes, I suppose we should.”

  Marina slung the Major over her shoulder and carried him up the stairs, he did not even stir. Charles cradled Chilka rather more gently in his arms and they deposited the bodies on the bed prepared for the Major. They stripped them of their clothes slipping them under the sheets together. The Major flung his arm out as he was placed into bed so they laid Chilka across it. She curled in towards his body. One thing was for certain, the Major would have a howler of a hangover when he woke.

  “Damn stupid, getting drunk with broken bones not fully healed,” Marina muttered.

  Charles fetched the old priest and they placed him in another room. Removing only his rosary and sandals, Marina went to her own bedroom.

  Charles was turning down the covers as she slipped off her things and crawled into bed. Charles undressed and climbed in beside her. He drew her close and kissed her gently.

  “Go to sleep!”

  “I want to make love to you.”

  “I’m dead beat. I’ll fall asleep on you.”

  “I don’t care,” he said disregarding his mistress’s wishes as he made gentle love to her. She was asleep indeed before he
finished, but contentedly. She slept as he cradled her tight to his body, kissing the top of her head he fell asleep himself.

  Marina slept but her mind raced on. “Adelza would she wake? She’d been breathing but unconscious when I left. Was our surgery sufficient, we won’t know until she wakes or doesn’t. The signs seemed good. Carina’s death is such a waste.”

  In Hemithea most slept, a few still caroused but Dalzina burned with fury. She healed her own injuries quickly enough, but Marina had beaten her again. Despite her efforts, she lived still. Marina must die, how to kill her Dalzina did not know, but Marina’s luck must run out eventually.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – Breakfast

  Charles rose before his friends and mistress were awake. He instructed the cook to prepare breakfast for himself and Father O’Flaherty. Then he ran to the priest’s house with a lightweight bag. Father Debenden was dressed. He was wondering when his host would rise, for he assumed he had returned later in the night. The children were making a lot of noise, but had not descended to the ground floor. Charles introduced himself and told the young priest he had been sent to fetch some things for Father O’Flaherty.

  “When will the Bishop be down for breakfast?” enquired the priest.

  “He’s already out and will breakfast before he returns home. If you’d ask the cook to prepare what you and the children require for breakfast that’ll be fine,” replied Charles, “Father O’Flaherty will be back in an hour or so.”

  Having appeased the young priest and fetched a fresh change of clothing for Father O’Flaherty, he ran back to the main house. He went to see the old priest, knocked and entered to find him on his knees saying his morning devotions. Charles laid the clean clothes out on the bed for him and waited whilst he finished his prayers.

  “Charles, my son, you really must stop telling these terrible lies. One day the devil will pick you up and carry you off to hell.”

  “I told no lies, I said you’d gone out and so you had. I said you’d have breakfast before you return, which will be swiftly remedied and you’d better shower because you smell like a distillery.”

  “Breakfast, is it indeed? Charles you’re a cruel man. I suppose you don’t have a herd of dancing elephants and a pipe band as well?”

  “I thought the others might find the noise excessive this morning, so I sent them away. I told them to come back at dawn tomorrow and go to the little house down the lane first!”

  “Marina’s home isn’t she? Is she all right?”

  “She got in a couple of hours before dawn, she’s asleep.”

  “Did she say anything when she got in, as to why she stayed at the hospital last night?”

  “Nothing, she was exhausted and was thinking about Adelza, but she shut me out.”

  Charles left him to wash and dress, estimating he would take at least twenty minutes. Whilst Charles waited, he started his morning exercises. He was loosened up by the time breakfast was served to them both. They ate quietly because the clattering of cutlery appeared to offend the old man.

  “Can I drive you home after breakfast, Father?” Charles offered.

  “No thank you, I won’t use the transporter either. I did the cells of my body enough damage last night, to risk being rattled by that contraption. I’ll walk; the morning breeze will be restorative.”

  Charles waved the old man off and resumed his exercise.

  Messages from well-wishers had been arriving all night. The first of the morning’s visitors sought Charles out in the gymnasium as he completed his work out. Kabaneev had ridden from the palace. He wore tight royal blue leather trousers and a pale green silk tabard which left his arms and the sides of his torso bare. His exchange with Charles was brief.

  “Marina’s asleep, please ask her to see me before tonight’s banquet or any time this afternoon. Tell her I want to speak with her urgently,” Kabaneev ordered.

  “Certainly, Sir, I will inform her as soon as she wakes,” Charles promised.

  Kabaneev left, walking with restrained grace like a huge panther. Charles returned to his exercises feeling clumsy and sweaty. Marina’s father made him feel an awkward schoolboy trying to ape the grown-ups. He admired Kabaneev for his cool confidence, but felt he had been judged and come up short. He finished his weight training, showered and went to wake Chilka. He wanted female company at the market, particularly as he was taking Bromarsh.

  Bromarsh was snoring gently where he had been laid the night before. Chilka lay sprawled across him on her stomach with her legs bent up to the side of her. Charles pulled the sheets off them, leaving them naked apart from Chilka’s bandages, neither stirred. Charles leant over and reached his hand between her legs, she turned onto her back as he molested her. Her eyes still firmly shut, she stretched and her thought in his mind said, “Charles if you don’t intend to follow up; let me sleep.”

  Charles stopped. “I’ve arranged for your Deputy to cover for you at work. Will you accompany us to the market today? I want to see who buys Jelen.”

  “Us? You and who else?”

  “The Major! Shall I wake him too?” Charles replied.

  “I wouldn’t try the method you used on me,” she said propping one eye open.

  Charles sauntered to the bathroom and ran the cold water over a towel. Cold water is chilled to just above freezing point in Hemithea so in the heat it is refreshing. When the towel was sodden he wrung it out. Returning to the bedroom, he stepped back two paces from the bed, balled up the towel and threw it hard at the sleeping Major. It hit hard, cold and wet on face and chest. The squeals and moans that rose from the bed would not have shamed a farrowing wart-hog.

  Charles beat a fast retreat. He reached the door and slammed it behind himself just in time. The towel thumped into the door as it shut. The flow of epithets that followed Charles described the sexual deviations of his relatives and himself in some inaccurate detail. The imaginative nature of some of the lurid curses amused Charles considerably, which despite the Major’s protestations to the contrary, indicated neither purity of mind, nor naive innocence of thought.

  Chuckling quietly, Charles went downstairs to greet more visitors. Letinza had already found herself a stiff drink and an easy chair. She glared at his look of enquiry.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – Visitors

  “Hair of the dog,” she remarked to no one particularly. Plavina and Divak accompanied by a dozen friends of both sexes flowed into the house without knocking. They had come to congratulate the victor and had been celebrating, having been out of Hemithea all night. Some were very drunk or stoned, supported by their friends, but Plavina was relatively sober. She was not celebrating, she had known and liked both Adelza and Carina; she grieved for them. She also wanted to thank Marina for standing in for her at the regimental review.

  Charles considered Plavina a very beautiful woman. She was half an inch taller than Marina, but slender and elegant like their father. Her face echoed Marina’s. He knew that if you examined still images of the sisters you would think Plavina, prettier as her features were more regular. In the same room as them both, most never noticed Plavina, for she lacked Marina’s animation and drive.

  If Plavina had been less loving she might have resented her younger, plainer sister being far more popular that her. Plavina was not jealous. Her strengths lay in her passivity, her tolerance and her indolence. Marina was all action, all vivacity and determination. Plavina let Marina steal the show. She wanted to be queen but she acknowledged, in private, Marina would be a better one. She argued to herself that as Marina did not wish to wear the crown, why should they force her? Plavina was happy to take the throne when their mother died or abdicated, then she would get all the pretty clothes and adulation while Marina could continue to make the decisions in the background, between us, she thought they would rule well.

  Charles bowed low to Princess Plavina.

  “Marina isn’t down yet, your royal highness, I’ll wake her. She’ll be pleased to see her sister and brother,” C
harles said.

  “Don’t disturb her, we’ll all going to bed ourselves,” Plavina declared.

  This comment was greeted with raucous laughter from her drunken entourage.

  “Please give Marina our congratulations and condolences for Adelza and Carina. Make sure she gets this,” indicating a lumpy parcel of about two feet by three feet and two hands high wrapped in brightly coloured paper.

  “It’s a thank you present for deputizing for me.”

  “A present for me? Plavina, how sweet of you,” said Marina from the doorway. She was wearing a large towel slung sarong style around her hips. Her hair was wet and hung to the floor in wet hanks steaming gently around her.

  “I’m sorry about Adelza and Carina,” Plavina said quietly to her mind.

  The others all talked into Marina’s mind, giving congratulations and condolences for her lost friends. Marina quietened the babble. She walked to the package and crouched to unwrap it. She opened it deftly with a few swipes of her index fingernail. Plavina was amused by her sister making such an entrance, but surprised she had not taken a few seconds to make herself immaculate.

  Marina’s hair was drying as she removed the gaudy paper, folded it neatly and examined what it had contained. The box inside opened to reveal a metallic mechanism with a small fold down screen. The device itself was studded with a variety of small dials, buttons and sliding levers. Wires for power, some attached to small pads and others leading to a helmet attachment protruded from several points. The writing on the buttons and dials was Kurgian.

  “What is this?” Marina asked Plavina.

  “Some kind of Kurgian mind probe, I believe. My Captain gave it me as a love gift. He got it off a Kurgian thief who couldn’t fence it, too hot to handle. He thought to please me by showing his loyalty. Sweet thought, but no use to me, so as the family quack I thought it might interest you. Always nice to know what the Kurgians are up to.”