Miami Days and Truscan (6 page)

“They’re the next Round Table. Aren’t they?”

Johnny sat back down and smiled ruefully. “I guess that was a little dramatic, huh?”

“No. No, from what I’ve seen so far, I think it was probably the literal truth. But I’m sorry they don’t seem to have had much time to be little boys.”

“They’ll like you,” Johnny said, pulling me to my feet and resuming my tour of the garden. “And you’ll like them, too. They’ll be back in a few days, and you can meet ’em.”

I looked around the garden, bathed in the reddish glow of Trusca’s full moon.

“Is this your idea, Johnny? Does Dalph always follow your suggestions?”

I thought he was going to choke. “Lord, if you knew how funny that was, darlin’! Dalph don’t take nobody’s suggestions. He had this script already written last night, ’fore you woke up from his sleeping pill. The one that got you on Pegasus.”

“I see,” I said slowly. I must be careful; I was obviously underestimating the man, merely because I spoke another language and was from a different culture. I must not assume that made me the superior in intelligence. Randalph of Trusca must indeed run his brain in constant high gear, viewing every possibility, determining the highest efficiency of operation, overseeing every detail. Even down to my new clothes. I must use the next few days. And wait for his return.

Chapter Six

Four days later, in mid-morning, I heard the trumpets, the shouts, the roars.

“Trusca vite!”

Trusca comes. He was back. I had spent the last four days roaming the Rata, Johnny or Kiera always at my side. I was building a base for the Truscan language, which was actually reminiscent of Latin, which had never been my strong suit. I’d had a couple of courses in college, and its rules had long since departed from my memory, but Truscan used much the same format. One base word, different endings, different meanings.

I was conversant with the inner workings of the Rata, and I was beginning to place names with faces. And that was about it, I thought ruefully. Not much to brag about. And now, Dalph had returned, bringing with him my new charges. Well, at least we’d be able to talk to each other.

Kiera swept into my room.

“I have much to see to today. There will be a large feast tonight. And my McKay, he must be with Dalph. You will be able to entertain yourself, no?”

“I’ll manage,” I said. “I’ll just stroll around—”

“No. You must not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You must not wander alone. Not yet. It is too soon. Please. You will stay here until lammas.” A direct order, relayed through Johnny. I knew it.

“But Kiera!” I wailed. “I won’t have anything to do!”

She smiled and held out the parcel she carried. “My McKay said you would say that.”

I took the parcel and unwrapped it. Manuscripts. In English.

“Where’d these come from?”

“My McKay. He—I do not know how to say it. They are some of the stories of Trusca.”

“Translations,” I offered. “He’s done translations.”

“Yes! You will be all right now?”

“Well, I won’t say I’m happy about it, but yes. I’ll be all right.”

“That is good. I will send hot water for your bath. In good time for tonight.” She started out of the room and turned back. “Wear the deep green.”

“What else?” I said and lay down on the bed.

“What else indeed?” Kiera smiled and was gone.

The steaming water arrived on schedule. Kiera did not. Instead, she sent her first assistant Saraya who was a good six foot tall and made me feel like a dwarf. With smiles and gestures she indicated that she was in charge of my coiffure this night, and I submitted gracefully. After all, there wasn’t much choice about it.

Johnny came to fetch me and whistled his appreciation. I could understand why. For some reason or other, Saraya had not been content with my usual adaption of Truscan hair fashion, and had woven the intricate braids with ropes of stones, none of which correlated exactly to anything I was familiar with, but bore a striking resemblance to emeralds and seed pearls.

“Why the fancy costuming tonight, Johnny?” He was in something more than his usual garb himself, in a brown and gold outfit of the velvet-like material which I had already observed was reserved for the elite.

“Dalph’s home.”

“He comes home every month from these patrols, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, well. But every time he does is one more month the Pigs didn’t capture Trusca. Cause for a celebration. Don’t you think?”

“I—” I broke off as we reached the top of the staircase and paused. “Good Lord! What’s going on?”

The hall was festooned with greenery that sent out the sharp and fragrant odors of the forest. The high table was covered with flowers, the pick of the considerable variety offered by the Rata gardens. Everyone was in clothing comparable to Johnny’s, and Dalph stood by his chair, the centerpiece in this large hall of medieval splendor. He was dressed in green velvety material, identical to my own, trimmed in gold. I searched my vocabulary. He was…resplendent.

“Well, this is sort of special. Your induction, if you will. Didn’t have time for it when you first got here.”

“Induction?”

“Little ceremony, that’s all. For the general populace, not to mention Baka. Marks you as under Dalph’s protection. You swear fealty. Public relations thing. You understand about that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sure. So what do I do?”

 “Follow my lead. You’ll have to repeat some phrases. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Why not?” I said, and he led me on down, down the staircase, down to the center table. Down to Dalph.

The whole crowd rose as Johnny transferred my hand to Dalph’s.

“Curtsy,” Johnny instructed from the corner of his mouth.

“Say
what
?”

“Curtsy to Dalph. Remember, Tess, this is Trusca.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” I shot back from the corner of my own mouth.

“Now!” he said and tugged my arm suddenly, so that I really had no choice.

Dalph smiled slightly and raised me up, turning me to face another individual, one I had not met as yet. I reminded myself that these people and more particularly, this man, had saved my life, the remainder of which would be spent here, in this place. A curtsy and a few words weren’t much to give in return.

The man in front of us spoke briefly and then addressed Dalph directly, who repeated the phrases that the man spoke. Then he turned to me and spoke more slowly.

“Repeat it,” Johnny said, the words again coming from the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t think I can,” I said. I could correlate none of the speech to the few words and phrases I had picked up.

Johnny spoke quickly to the man, whoever he was, and he repeated himself, a few words at a time, very slowly. I think I complied and, in any event, my attempts to reproduce the words must have been successful because the crowd, as one, jumped to its feet and roared. Shouts of “Trusca! Trusca!” filled the room.

“Doesn’t take much to make them happy, does it?” I whispered to Johnny.

“I guess that all depends on your definition of much, Tess,” he said, a strange expression on his face. “I mean, you just pledged your life to Trusca.”

“Well, haven’t we all? Not much option about it, is there?”

Johnny turned away and muttered something that I didn’t quite catch, though I could have sworn it was something on the lines of “remind you you said that tomorrow.”

“I beg your pardon?” I said.

“Nothing,” he said. “Here comes the first course. Are you ready?”

I had thought I was beginning to become accustomed to Truscan cuisine, which was nothing if not plentiful, but this! The trays never stopped! I saw every food I’d seen in the past four days and a lot more that I hadn’t; game birds roasted in their feathers, huge haunches of the meat I correlated to venison, meat pies and pastries, sweets, and fruits.

“Johnny, Camelot couldn’t have had any more!”

“They can throw a party right, that’s for sure,” he affirmed, upending his cup, which now that I thought about it, he had upended considerably more often than I had ever seen him indulge. I knew the brew was potent, though I didn’t know how it corresponded exactly with the alcoholic beverages of my world.

“You’re getting drunk!” I accused.

“Try a few cups yourself, darlin’. Live a little.”

I did try one or two, and through it all, Randalph of Trusca sat on his massive throne, smiling slightly, and looking paternally down on his Court. Finally, he rose and the Great Hall quieted. Immediately. Completely. Again, his speech was far too rapid for me to translate at all, and he took my hand and gave a gentle tug. I assumed he was again presenting me to his Court as his new retainer and rose immediately, smiling on the crowd. After all, it could have been worse. I could have been in Pria, where, in Johnny’s concise summation, I might have
been
supper. Then he turned, still holding my hand, and made to leave the table. He threw a few words over his shoulder to Johnny, who rose himself, and followed. We headed for the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs.”

“I can see that. Tell him I don’t need an escort to my room, and I’d sort of like to stay for the rest of the party.”

I could see over my shoulder that the tables were being pulled over to the side, and a few men were grabbing what I assumed to be Truscan instruments, something on the order of lutes, or guitars, a few violins; in any event, the Truscan equivalents thereof. Obviously, some dancing was about to take place.

You’re not going to your room, darlin’.”

We were at the top of the stairs by this time and heading down a hall. A hall I’d never been down. Because it led to—

“Wait a minute!!” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Then where am I—”

Dalph tugged again, not harshly, just insistently.

“Get down the hall a little further. I’ll explain.”

“You think?” I threw out as we continued. We paused halfway down the corridor, and Dalph stopped. He turned to Johnny and nodded his head. Permission was obviously given to speak.

“Well?”

“Well, darlin’,” Johnny started. I didn’t like the hang-dog expression on his face. “You see, the thing is—”

“The thing is he’s taking me to his chambers, and nobody told me the damn fealty oath went that far!” I exclaimed furiously.

“Now, Tess, you got to be fair about this. I told you—I did tell you—you were pledging your life to Trusca.”

“My
fealty,
Johnny, you said it was a
fealty
oath!”

“Well, it wasn’t that, exactly.”

“Then what
was
it!?
Exactly?
”

“Your wedding night, darlin’. You’re the new queen. You pledged your life to Trusca, remember? Dalph
is
Trusca.”

My intentions must have shown in my face because he ducked, though not entirely successfully. My hand did make contact with his cheek. Just not with as much force as I wanted.

“You
traitor
!
I
trusted
you, you’re an
American
for God’s sakes!”

“No, I’m not, Tess. Not anymore. And neither are you. This is the only logical solution to a very sticky problem.”

“And you didn’t tell me a thing about it! You tell me
now
! I deserve an explanation!”

Dalph spoke then, an amused tone that maddened me further.

“Dalph says you and I can talk in the morning,” he said and turned to leave. “I’m sorry, Tess.”

I grabbed his arm. “I said
now!
”

Dalph reached over and broke my grip on Johnny’s arm, speaking again.

“Dalph says you got ten seconds to start walking down this hall, Tess,” he translated.

Déjà vu. But if he knocked me out, he’d have to wait to consummate this marriage of his. Either that, or I wouldn’t know about said consummation and that would be some small consolation. I stood my ground and glared at both of them.

“You tell him
no
!”

I was sure that was one word which needed no translation, even if my expression was not sufficient answer, and Dalph shrugged, reached over, picked me up, and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of feed. Apparently, he did not wish to be inconvenienced by an unconscious bride. He strolled rather than walked down the hall, as though on a Sunday stroll through the garden.

I yelled after Johnny.

“I’ll get you for this, you bastard! Both of you!
Do you hear me?
You have to sleep sometime!”

And by the end of my discourse of threats, Dalph had reached the door which obviously led to his quarters, opened it, and walked casually in.

Chapter Seven

He deposited me on the floor, reached over to the table which stood near the door, and picked up a large and ornate key which hung on a small-linked chain, with which he proceeded to lock the door. He slipped the chain over his neck, and had I not known it was his door key, I would have sworn it was merely an item of heavy masculine jewelry. He walked over to the window where sat another table and pulled the stopper off the top of a tall bottle. As glass goblets stood beside the bottle, it needed no great intellect to ascertain that the bottle held some wine or liquor-like contents. He poured two half-full and walked back to me, holding one out.