Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (18 page)

Yes, it was high time for a transfusion of youth and new
adventure. The boy
had
begun to bore him. New, young blood
was in order. As if to acknowledge that fact, the vision of a
new child brought a stirring to his loins. 'Do not bother with
the masseur,' he said offhandedly. 'That boy is a disgrace. I
want no part of him.'

Ivan felt the tight knot in his gut slowly unravel. So the axe would not descend upon him but upon the boy. Quickly he
looked away so that Mordka could not see the relief in his
face. He had bought enough time, he was certain, to discover
where the man had disappeared. With a lot of footwork and
a little luck, he would surely find out soon. Mordka would be
pleased with the results. Perhaps even reward him.

Mordka's thin voice cut into Ivan's reverie like a knife slic
ing through butter. 'You may go now. And take the boy with
you.'

'Yes.' Ivan hurried toward the door and opened it.

'And, Ivan?'

His hand on the door handle, Ivan turned to face his master.
'Yes?'

'See that he doesn't suffer too much pain, will you?'

'As you wish.'

Mordka sighed deeply. 'On the other hand, he should suffer
somewhat. After all . . .' He allowed himself a tight, humourless smile. 'He was really a rather dreary disappointment.'

Chapter 6

Princess Irina's birthday did not start auspiciously, at least not
for Senda.

At seven-thirty in the morning she was awakened by a series of sharp, businesslike raps on the door. The knocks continued, sharper, louder, more insistent. Then they awakened Tamara,
who began wailing angrily.

Damn.

Senda flung the covers aside, jumped out of bed, and
grabbed a flannel robe, quickly slipping it on. She rubbed
her arms briskly with her hands. The room was icy cold; the
floorboards felt like frozen wood beneath her bare feet. The fire in the grate had long since burned out. As she breathed,
wisps of vapour trailed from her nose and mouth. She caught sight of herself in the mottled mirror on the wall. She stopped,
peered into it, and gasped. She was startled by the ravaged
visage staring back at her. Her eyes were puffy and red-
rimmed. She did not look at all well-rested.

The knocks on the door continued without letting up.
Angrily she turned from the mirror, stalked to the door, and
flung it open. A woman in a grey uniform and starched white
apron quickly jumped back, one hand poised over her heart.
Obviously the suddenness with which the door had burst open,
coupled with Senda's fierce scowl, gave the woman quite a
scare. Senda blinked and gazed at her blearily.

Frizzy flaxen hair fought the confines of the braids coiled on
top of her head in the Germanic fashion and was winning the
battle, but the face was far from unkempt, young and glowing
with health as it was. She had a button of a nose, apple-red
cheeks, and naturally pink lips, all highlighted and brought to
sparkling life by a pair of lively inquisitive cornflower-blue
eyes. Senda guessed her age to be twenty, twenty-one at most.
Only a year or two older than she herself, she mused.

The woman smiled tremulously and let her hand drop from
her breast as she stepped forward.

'Yes?' Senda inquired politely, pasting on a smile to com
pensate for her abruptness.

The young woman bobbed a quick curtsy. 'I'm Inge Meier,
my lady. I've come to fetch the baby,' she said in halting,
heavily accented Russian. 'His Highness suggested I take the
child to the nursery in the family wing of the palace and care
for it there.' She hesitated, quickly looked away, and added
softly: 'He said to tell you it was probably best you concentrate
on other things, seeing as how you have to perform tonight.'

"He
told you to tell me that?' she asked incredulously.

'Yes, my lady.'

'I see.' Senda tightened her lips and her smile froze in a
bleak, humourless line. Annoyed, she raked her fingers
through her hair. How dare he interfere with her family, she
thought rebelliously. She wasn't about to let Tamara out of
her sight, let alone hand her over to a total stranger. Yet what
choice did she really have? She guessed that a 'suggestion'
from Prince Vaslav Danilov was actually a polite euphemism
for an order.

Slowly the irritation seeped out of her. She couldn't really
hold him at fault. Lord knows, she owed him the best perform
ance she could give. That would take all the concentration she
could muster. Today was one day it wouldn't hurt not having
to care for Tamara on top of everything else.

'Very well,' she said at last. 'Wait here, please.'

'Yes, my lady.'

Senda went back inside, half-closing the door to shield
Schmarya's sleeping form from the nurse, and approached the
crib. Tamara stared up at her and reached out with tiny, pudgy
fingers. Senda lifted her out and kissed her, hugging her
tightly, then nuzzled her face. Instantly the wails with which the child had awakened turned to happy laughter.

'You be a good girl,' Senda whispered to her daughter. 'You
hear? Don't do anything to shame me. I'll try to drop by to visit if I can.' Then she went to the door, forced a smile and
met the other woman's cornflower-blue gaze. 'You'll take
good care of her?' she said anxiously, handing Tamara over
to her.

'Oh, I will, my lady ! As if she were my own!' The nurse
leaned low over the bundle in her arms and cooed softly.
Tamara laughed happily in return.

Senda smiled, liking the young woman's honest eyes and self-confidence. 'I don't think I caught your name.'

'Inge, my lady,' the young woman said, an answering liking
shining in her eyes.

'And I'm Senda Bora. You may call me by my first name.
Please.'

Inge looked surprised that anyone she worked for would be
so casual. 'Yes, my lady,' she said formally, rocking Tamara
in her arms.

Senda smiled her thanks, shut the door, and stumbled
wearily back to the bed. She wanted to go back to sleep. She
let herself fall into bed without taking off her robe. Shivering from the cold, she buried herself under the covers. Suddenly
she had to stifle a paroxysm of laughter.

' "My lady"!' The nurse had actually called her 'My lady!'
Now, that was a first, Senda thought.

Minutes later she had shut her eyes and drifted back to
sleep, when another series of knocks interrupted a dream.

'Oh, my God!' she cried, sitting bolt upright, her heart skip
ping a beat. Her nerves unravelled and fear shot through her
like a bolt of lightning. A thousand potential disasters short-
circuited her usual composure and practicality. Tamara! The
nurse had dropped her! There'd been an accident. There—

She flew from the bed to the door and threw it wide, but
her panic was immediately replaced by relief as she squinted
down at another stranger, a short barrel of a woman who gazed
unblinkingly up at her through thick metal-rimmed glasses.
Senda leaned against the doorframe, shut her eyes, and mur
mured a quiet prayer of thanks.

'Are you quite all right, my dear?' the woman asked anxi
ously.

Senda nodded, waiting for the rush of adrenaline to dissi
pate. 'Yes. I'm fine.' She opened her eyes and saw the
woman's genuine concern. 'Really I am. For a moment . . .'

'For a moment you looked quite as though you were ready
to faint. You gave me quite a fright, actually.' The woman
laughed weakly. 'Calm, you know,' she said, wagging a finger at Senda. 'Inner calm and optimism. They change your entire
perspective on life, you know. Of course, they are rather a
difficult state of mind to achieve. Higher planes always are,
don't you agree?'

Senda couldn't help but smile. She had no idea what the
woman was babbling about, but something about her cheerful
spirits and energy boosted her own flagging morale. So did her
bizarre figure and costume. She'd never seen anyone quite
like her. She was short and plump, with a massive, thrusting
bosom and gentle turquoise eyes hugely magnified behind the
bottle-thick spectacles. Her uniqueness was further accentu
ated by the gloriously plumed, top-heavy hat swaying precariously atop her head. Beneath it, the shiny scrubbed face
peering up at Senda was round and lady pink, with a succession
of chins which wobbled as she spoke. She had that flawless
complexion so often seen in overweight women. She smelled
of Pears soap and lilac.

'So you are the actress,' she said, studying Senda with as
much fascination as Senda studied her. 'Vaslav told me you were beautiful, but he didn't begin to describe how enchanting . . .' She waved her wrist limply. 'Never mind, there's so
much to do and so little time. We'll show them we can move
mountains, shan't we!' And then, out of the blue: 'How soon
can you be ready, my dear?'

Senda stared at her, trying to follow the incessant chatter
and abrupt changes of subject without success. 'Ready? For
what?' She was confused. 'I don't have the least idea what
you're talking about,' she protested.

'Of course you don't. He wanted to keep it a surprise!'

'But what, may I ask, is the surprise?' Senda pressed her thumb and index finger against her forehead, as if she had a
massive headache.

'Why, the fitting, of course! How stupid of me. I keep forgetting that it's a surprise. He hasn't told you.' The woman
laughed, and the running litany came to an abrupt end as she
placed her hands on her hips and her giant eyes swept Senda's
figure up and down. 'Now, let me think . . . the pink or the dove grey? Noooo . . . the white! It will look so inspiring on
you. So virginal. It will suit you to a . . .' The giant eyes
sparkled happily. 'Come, come. We've wasted enough time chattering. In we go. There's so much more I've still . . .' She dashed past Senda into the room and skidded to an abrupt
halt. 'Oh
...
oh, dear!' The woman suddenly looked flus
tered. 'Oh. Ohhh! How thoughtless of me.' She turned to
Senda, balled up a hand, and brought it to her lips. 'I didn't
realize—'