Captain and a Corset (16 page)

But there wasn’t another option. Jordon Camden was the best and Aetos needed the best. He shut the book and prepared to disembark. He was going to enjoy getting his hands back on Bion and Sophia because the moment he had them, he was going to sell Bion Donkova and make sure Sophia got a good view of her lover being led away in chains.

***

Sophia crawled to the edge of the cave and watched the river rushing past. She began to close up the opening to their hiding place with rocks from inside the cave. The light diminished as she built a crude sort of wall, until they were hidden from view.

When she returned to Bion, he was shivering. There was plenty of driftwood along the riverbank, but she didn’t dare risk a fire that might give away their location. So she pressed herself against him to keep warm. As soon as the chill of the river had been chased away, she nodded off into slumber.

***

“How long are we going to tromp around out here?”

Mr. Graves turned to peg his crewmate with a deadly look. “Until we find them. Even as big as that bloke was, he’ll not have gotten too far before the shock of that vapor blast laid him low. That Navigator can’t be carrying him, not as delicate she is. They are here, I tell you.”

“The river might have done them in.”

Mr. Graves shook his head. “Maybe, but I’m not quitting.”

They continued along the edge of the river and the sunlight faded. The forest creatures eyed them as they walked past and both men gripped their rifles to give them comfort. Graves far preferred the shining eyes of the wolves to facing Aetos without the prize he’d been sent after.

Part of him was also enjoying the freedom of being away from the captain. He toyed with the idea of losing his comrade in the dark, but he stayed too close. It was only a fleeting idea anyway, one he shouldn’t give too much attention to. He had nowhere else to go. The Illuminist Hunters would track him down for sure if he tried to settle into a life on the ground.

***

Aetos was in a foul temper. The official waiting for him at the base of the escalator that led up to the docking station was wearing a frown that Aetos had no intention of suffering. He liked being the master of everything he surveyed, which was why he only put into an air station when he couldn’t avoid it.

“You should have donned civilian clothing to hide your identity, Captain Aetos,” the official reprimanded him. “A Hunter might spot you and follow you back to this docking station. That’s trouble I don’t need.”

His fingers itched to lock around the man’s throat, but while on the ground, he had to restrain himself. “So noted. I need to hire the best Trackers possible. I have a pair of Navigators to run to ground.”

The official raised an eyebrow. “Did you say pair?”

Aetos grinned. “I did.”

Aetos moved past the official. The biggest prizes often required the most risk. He thrived on such challenges, which was why he was captain and the man staring at his back only a dock attendant.

Sometime near dawn, Bion muttered and jerked for what had to be the hundredth time. Light was making its way through the cracks in Sophia’s stone wall. She worried her lower lip as she felt Bion’s body burning with fever. When she’d been hit by the vapor of the Root Ball, Bion had taken her to a medical facility where there had been soothing compresses for her burning eyes and medication to ease her pain. The water rushing by only a few feet away might help him, but she hesitated, fearful of revealing their hiding place.

“Bion?” She gently shook him, but he remained locked in fretful slumber. He thrashed again, causing dirt to fall from the ceiling of their cave, and Sophia rolled over. She would have to take action.

The rocks she’d piled up moved away easily. She looked around before crawling out of the cave. The morning was bright and clear. Overhead birds called to each other as they searched for food.

“What are you doing sleeping in the riverbed?” She jumped and turned to face a man in baggy pants, white shirt, and vest. He had a bushy beard that covered his chin and his eyes sparkled merrily. “Even we gypsies do not sleep in the riverbed.” He said something over his shoulder in another language. “Even if many countries would rather we adopted their ways and gave up our caravans.”

Behind the man was a circle of gypsy wagons. Inside the cave, she hadn’t heard the sounds from the camp just above. They were Roma people. Their wagons were small houses on wheels, and many were decorated in bright colors. They had tiny windows and even stovepipes rising from the roofs. A miniature door was set into the back of each one for the inhabitants to enter through. The camp was a cheerful scene, but Sophia looked all around her twice as she searched for any members of the Soiled Dove’s crew.

“Come and share a morning meal with us. I am Abraham, leader of these people. What is ours is yours.”

It was very tempting. She suddenly felt like moving was beyond her tolerance. From her fingertips to her toes she felt like she had been stretched and yanked beyond endurance. But she still turned and looked over her shoulder, scanning the other side of the forest for Mr. Graves. Bion was completely dependent on her. She suddenly understood his unwavering attitude and her cheeks heated with shame for the arguments she’d flung at him.

Well, at least some of them. But she felt her lack of experience with the Illuminist Order keenly. She had no idea how to go about searching for a Solitary Chamber. That lack of knowledge could see them back in the hands of Aetos.

“Are you a convict?” the Roma leader asked.

She turned back to face Abraham and shook her head, biting her lip as she tried to decide what to tell him. She simply didn’t have much experience with lying and nothing came to mind.

But she was going to have to adapt quickly.

The older man stroked his beard and his expression became pensive.

“We were shanghaied,” Sophia offered. “And you see, I’m not sure if it’s safe to come out.”

His eyes widened. “The very reason I tell my brethren to avoid the waterfront. Greed has driven men mad enough to enslave his own kind. Where is your companion?”

Part of her resisted trusting him, but she had no other choice. In fact, the gypsies just might be the perfect solution to their dilemma. The Roma people were known for their love of the open road and their own kind. They rarely became involved with civilization, except to trade their wares.

“He’s here…”

Action. She had to take action and that would mean trusting someone. Abraham motioned to his people and soon Bion was being lifted up and out of the river cave.

Sophia sighed with relief. She just hoped their luck held.

***

Aetos disliked waiting.

But he didn’t have a choice because Jordon Camden only took the appointments he wanted. There were few people who had actually seen the man’s face, and that was due to his very selective nature. Aetos studied the map on the table in front of him. The rented room was simple but clean enough. Since he was accustomed to his cabin on the Soiled Dove, it was really quite spacious, but he wasn’t in the mood to enjoy the luxury.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

“Mr. Graves, Captain,” the crewman at the door informed him before disappearing in a flash. The reason behind his hasty exit was reveled when Mr. Graves entered the room with only the crewman he’d parachuted off the Soiled Dove with.

“I don’t care for disappointment, Mr. Graves.” Captain Aetos was in a dark humor. He glared at his deck master and the all-too-apparent lack of his prizes in tow.

“It’s likely they are dead,” Mr. Graves informed him. “They jumped into the river.”

Aetos snorted. “They aren’t dead unless you saw their bodies.” He flattened his hands on the top of the table and leaned forward. “Did you see their corpses?”

“No.”

Aetos cursed and slammed his fist on the desk. “They aren’t dead,” he snapped. He looked at the map open on his desk. “No one escapes my crew. No one. We’ll track them down and bring them back, or we’ll make sure they don’t tell any tales of the Soiled Dove. You will take to the road again and find them.”

Mr. Graves didn’t nod or offer any comment. Captain Aetos wasn’t the sort of man who enjoyed crewmen who shared their opinions without being asked. The captain studied the map, then straightened.

The crewman outside the door knocked again. He didn’t wait for Aetos to give him permission to open the door but still turned the doorknob and pushed the door in.

“Message for you, Captain.”

His man handed over a folded parchment that was sealed with a large splotch of red wax. There was a crest pressed into it, but Aetos broke it without studying it too closely. The script was nearly perfect, the strokes of the pen even. Aetos read through the details of the message twice before nodding with approval.

“I’m going to see a man who will assist me in getting results.”

And he was going to enjoy setting eyes on the elusive Jordon Camden.

Mr. Graves ended up alone and in the rather unexpected predicament of having permission to leave again. The crewmen in the hallway stared at him as he passed and the smile on his face grew larger.

Aye, he’d take to the road again and enjoy being accountable to no one.

***

“Your man needs rest.”

The Roma had a simple way of talking. Barbara, Abraham’s wife, stopped in front of Sophia and instructed her in a tone of voice that made it clear she was used to being listened to.

“My man has given you both a wagon.”

“Thank you.”

Barbara looked her up and down. Sophia fought the urge to straighten her top. There was little point in attempting to correct her appearance. Her skirt and top had more dirt on them than a coal miner’s boots. The few hairpins she had left failed to keep her braids secured. The strip she’d torn off the bottom of her skirt left a ragged hole and there were rips all along her sleeves.

“You need to bathe,” Barbara decided. “We do not need the greedy men who tried to own you here. You will dress like a daughter until your man is able to rise from his bed. You must not be different. Go to the washing area.”

Other women gestured to her, guiding her to the far end of camp. There were lines strung up for laundry and two women were busy working over scrub boards. The women waved her further away from the camp until she passed what looked like blankets drying in the morning sun. Maybe they were freshly washed, but they also formed curtains that surrounded a large tub.

Sophia let out a little sigh, shaking with anticipation. Just the sight of the tub made her skin feel ten times filthier. It was an old tin tub with a high back. Two fires burned nearby with caldrons of hot water steaming over them. They were up by the riverbank, making it easy to fill the tub. Sophia even fended off blushing when the women took every last bit of clothing she had. Her nose wrinkled when she smelled her chemise. The women laughed and tossed her underclothing toward one of the laundry tubs.

“Pretty golden hair.”

One of the women searched out the remaining pins in her hair and began to brush out the tangles. The Roma were mostly dark-haired, and they seemed fascinated by her blond locks. Sophia didn’t care, so long as she was clean. They filled the tub halfway before adding hot water. After a stir, she climbed in and sighed as the water hit her skin. Someone poured water over her head and then worked soap through her hair. When they finished with her, she rose from the water and ordered herself not to blush.

“Your man must protect you better,” Barbara insisted as she joined them.

“He came after me. Something I didn’t think anyone could accomplish, yet he did. He is the best protector.”

The older woman smiled in response. She held out clean clothing. “You dress like a daughter now.”

The gypsy women all wore long skirts that were colorful and decorated with reflective spangles. They gave her a chemise sort of blouse, and Barbara clicked her tongue in reprimand when Sophia reached for her corset. A woman quickly submerged it in a laundry tub.

Barbara gave her a vest to wear instead and a scarf to cover her hair. Once back in her shoes, Sophia felt relieved, but it was short-lived. With a determined stride, she went back to where Bion was, worrying her lower lip as she tried to think of what to do next.

The honest truth was, she had no idea. But she was going to have to think of one, because she’d be damned if she would falter when it was her turn to let him depend on her.

She was going to protect him and get them back to the Illuminists.

And that was that.

***

Bion fought his way to consciousness. His body resisted. Fatigue smothered him, and he struggled to break the bonds of slumber. Finally, he jerked and sat up, smacking his head on something above him.

He fell back again as pain tore through his head. When it subsided, he was treated to a second wave of pain that didn’t wash away. It was persistent and lingering. Something was tied over his eyes and he pulled it off. His first view of his surroundings was blurry, but his eyesight finally focused, even if it was a bit fuzzy.

The bed he was in was only about six feet by four feet. For a moment, he was confused, the wooden walls and ceiling making him wonder if he was in a crate. But there was a comfortable bed beneath his back and a warm blanket tucked over his legs. The only wall that wasn’t solid had thick curtains drawn across it. He swept them open and stared at the inside of a gypsy wagon. He recognized the colorful decoration of the Roma culture instantly.

There was a small potbellied stove that accounted for the warm interior. Cooking utensils hung on the wall near the stove and there was a long seating area on the opposite side of the wagon. Every inch was utilized and decorated. Even the ceiling was carved with intricate depictions of animals and trees, some of it even gilded.

He sat up, making sure to avoid hitting his head, and crawled out of the bunk. His head touched the ceiling as he walked down the aisle. The door opened easily, but he flinched when the sunlight sent agony through his eyes. How could he have forgotten?

For a moment, he leaned on the closed door, face to face with the reality of something he’d devoted himself to earning for years. The pain became a treasured confirmation of his eyes’ transformation. It seemed surreal, but the persistent discomfort was a hard fact.

And he owed it to Sophia.

For a moment, he indulged himself and grinned. His trainee was a bundle of surprises. Their tumble to Earth replayed itself and he shook his head. As much as he needed to scold her for taking such a mad risk, part of him enjoyed it immensely. She had courage and the spirit of a warrior.

His grin faded and his grip tightened on the door handle. He had no idea where they were, which made it a very inconvenient time to have his encounter with a Root Ball.

When he opened the door the second time, he was prepared for the shock of the light. They were parked under some trees, other wagons forming a circle. Women were tending pots over fires while children ran about. All of their clothing was bright, much of it decorated with spangles that flashed in the sunlight.

Bion’s boots were placed at the bottom of the steps that led down from the wagon. Balanced across the top of one was a pair of purple-tinted glasses. He picked them up, feeling a rush of satisfaction that quickly died. He could not be content while Sophia was still so exposed to danger.

“You’re supposed to put them on, not hold them, Bion. You need them.”

He flinched, his hand tightening around the glasses as Sophia appeared from the side of the wagon.

“What I need is to teach you not to take such chances with your life.”

She propped her hands on her hips. The gesture made the spangles on her Roma gypsy scarf dance. She had it draped over her head like the other women and was dressed in a colorful tiered skirt as well. If not for her blond hair, it would be easy to take her for a Roma woman.

“I got us off that ship and managed to get you what you wanted too,” she insisted.

Bion flipped the glasses open and slid them into place over his eyes. Sophia watched him through her own purple lenses as he stooped to put his boots on. She could tell he wanted to continue the conversation, but it would wait until he decided he was ready to face their situation. He really was a man of action.

She rather liked him without his boots on.

Without
anything
on, you mean.

“You need me at my best, Sophia.”

“We needed a diversion. You mentioned the necessity yourself.” She paused for a moment, trying to keep herself from sounding too pleased. She was ecstatic, but it felt like a weakness in the face of his stern disapproval. He was such a complex man, almost like the Roman god Janus, who had two faces. He loomed over her once his boots were on, and it irritated her.

“I am doing rather well at taking care of you,” she muttered.

Surprise registered on his face before frustration made his nostrils flare. “You are my trainee.”

“It seems we are both trainees now.” She smiled slowly. “And I am a more senior student.”