The Saga Begins [Nuworld 1] (41 page)

He was definitely attracted to her. But if his plan was to work, he had to remain true to the role he’d agreed to play.

The council hadn’t accepted his ideas on how to handle Tara, at first. In fact, he’d been forced to keep most of the arrangements from the council. They knew she’d been taken hostage. He’d brought her to them after he’d shot her. But they didn’t know she was here, at his home. And they didn’t know how long he’d kept her here. The council wouldn’t have approved, but he knew he acted with the Neurians’ best interests at heart. His conscience was clear.

He’d watched her as she lay under the covers, unconscious from the drugs. She became his sleeping beauty. There were nights when her presence haunted his dreams. He could have had sex with her, and she’d have never known. But that wasn’t his style. He liked his women able to enjoy his ability to please them. No, it would have been rape, so he hadn’t touched her—except in his dreams.

It had all started when the Runner, Kuro, approached him.

“You know there is a way to turn around the Neurian economy,” Kuro had told him one night after they had enjoyed a fair bit of the Sea People’s opiate wine. “And it would make you a hero.”

“How’s that?” Gowsky had asked, although he thought his friend a bit too intoxicated to be taken seriously.

“I grew up in a Runner clan known as the Blood Circle Clan,” Kuro told him. “Their leader, Patha, has a daughter, Tara. She’s a manipulative, hardhearted bitch, I’ll tell you that. They say she is his bastard child, but she managed to lie and cheat her way into becoming Patha’s heir. She’ll lead all the clans after Patha dies.”

“And what does she have to do with the Neurian economy?” Gowsky had no idea why his friend was talking to him about this.

“She charmed her way into the pants of the Lord of Gothman and gave him an heir.” Kuro had poured more wine and then leaned back in his chair. “This is where it gets good, my friend. Tara and her children have entered Semore. They are right here in town.”

“You are talking about the pale woman I saw yesterday?” Gowsky had been running errands when the young woman had driven her trailer into town. He had listened while she asked where she could keep her trailer, and then had offered gold as payment. The woman hadn’t impressed him as coldhearted and manipulative, and Gowsky thought of himself as a good judge of character.

“She must be killed, Gowsky.”

“Huh?” Gowsky choked on his wine. “Why does she have to be killed?”

“Gothman and Runners need oil. Your land is floating with the stuff. But Tara won’t negotiate for it. Right now, she is probably devising a plan to take it without the Neurians knowing. That is how she is, my friend. But with her out of the way, the Neurians could sell the oil to a just Runner leader, themselves. And enjoy an economy better than they’ve ever known.”

“And who would be the new leader?” Gowsky hadn’t liked the idea of murder, but reestablishing the Neurian economy was imperative.

Kuro grinned. “Simple my friend. Me.”

Gowsky pulled himself out of his reminiscing and focused on Tara. “I’m Dorn Gowsky,” he said to her. “How’s that foot?”

* * * * *

Tara glanced sideways at Gowsky. He watched her as if determining the answer for himself. That was something Darius often did. Guilt tugged at her. Noticing that this man was handsome was no crime, so why did she feel odd? She concentrated on his question in order to get her mind off him. “Your doctor’s done a fine job. Please thank him for me. I would like to check on my children. Am I free to go?” She knew the answer to this question before she even asked it, but she decided to play his game and met his gaze with an innocent smile.

Gowsky smiled back. “Your children are fine. I would like to ask you some questions, if I may?”

“I’d like to see my children first. It’s important they know I’m fine. I’ll be more than willing to answer your questions after I see them. After all, I have nothing to hide from you or your people.” She decided to take a chance and started hobbling to the door. There was no doubt in her mind that he wouldn’t let her go, but she needed to make sure. If he had questions for her, he’d better start asking.

“Your children aren’t in Semore anymore. Your trailer pulled out of here yesterday.”

“You’re a fool!” Tara turned and faced Gowsky. The rage burned in her eyes and her body tensed. She saw the amused look in his eyes and her anger intensified. “You better let me contact my family so I can tell them I’m all right.”

“I might be able to arrange that.” Gowsky stood and walked over to Tara, took her arm, and calmly but firmly escorted her back to the bench. “You handle pain well, but I wouldn’t give that foot too much of a workout too soon.”

She yanked away her arm and sat. Once again, her hair streamed over her shoulder. Lifting several strands in her hand, she realized her hair was definitely longer.

Gowsky dropped into the chair across from her, a serious expression on his face. He stared at her once again.

She glared back. “Go ahead with your questions.”

“Why did you come to Semore?”

“I’ve never been south of the Trueland. I simply wanted to visit your town.”

“You were looking for a job with our government.”

“I liked it here. Your people have…” She hesitated.

“We have what?”

Tara reminded herself she had nothing to hide. “You have oil. We need oil. Getting a job with your government seemed like a good way to convince you to trust me so I could begin negotiations.”

* * * * *

Gowsky was surprised by her answer. Could she be telling the truth? He suddenly worried he’d made a grave mistake. These people were so different. Could he trust her?

He told himself her beauty preoccupied him, and she could easily be lying to him. “Neurians have had their way of life stripped from them. Many of our people are without jobs. Regrettably, the dire situation has made us suspicious.” Gowsky got up and stuck her laser into the top of his pants. He opened the door to leave. “I’ll see if we can contact your trailer so you can talk to your family.”

* * * * *

Tara stared at the door after Gowsky left, hearing the lock click into place. Cold air rushed her face, and Tara frowned. It felt like winter outside, but if Tara understood the climate pattern this far south, winter shouldn’t be here for another five cycles.

She cuddled into the thick comforters spread over the bench and observed the dimly lit room. The floor was nothing more than smooth, packed dirt, and the ceiling was wooden. There were no windows, although sunshine peered through slabs of wood that constituted the walls.

She couldn’t see anything indicating this room led to any other. It appeared to be a type of shed, yet Gowsky had said she was in his barn.

She noticed several different sets of footprints leading from the door to the bench and back again. Apparently many visitors had come and gone while she slept. She could only imagine who they might have been.

Tara rubbed her leg above the cloth wrapped around her foot. She could tell whatever pain reliever they’d given her was wearing off. She lifted her sore foot slowly onto her other leg, unpinned and unwrapped the bandage. There was a three-inch line of stitches along the side of her foot by her ankle

She studied the injury. There was no bruising and just a little swelling. As she ran her hand slowly over it, she noticed something that grabbed her attention. Next to the stitches was a faint scar, a scar she didn’t remember having received, and it wasn’t old. How strange, she thought as she rewrapped the injury and secured it with the pins.

Standing up was easy enough, but she worried about how soon she would be able to walk. She tried standing on one foot but was not successful. If she could master putting weight on her bad foot, she could kick through the wall with her good one. Her prison was not that sturdy, but her injuries made escape futile at the moment.

She hobbled over to one of the walls and looked through the slits in the wood. She could see a dirt yard and two trees. No other buildings and no roads were visible. She heard no sounds of animals, and no talking. Would Gowsky live outside town by himself? If that were the case, all she had to do was get out of this dilapidated structure and overpower one man. Child’s play, if she weren’t injured.

Had she really only been there several days? She thought about the faint scar on her foot. Could it possibly be from the injury she’d given herself climbing out of the burning building? So, why the new scar? Was somebody trying to make it seem like she’d been out of it for days when, in reality, it had been months?

Tara’s heart began to pound, and she felt icy fingers creep slowly throughout her body. Something was very wrong. It was definitely wintertime.
How long had she been asleep?
She thought of her children, of Syra, and of Darius. What did they think? Had they tried to rescue her? She wondered why Gowsky wanted her to think she’d only been sleeping a short time.

Tara didn’t see him for the next few days. She spent every waking minute exercising, trying desperately to rouse her atrophied muscles. The condition of her body proved to her beyond any doubt that she’d been asleep a long time. She was weak and out of shape. And she felt like a caged animal. Her body had always been in prime physical condition, and her lack of strength annoyed her.

Someone brought her a generous plate of food several times a day, usually dried meat and canned fruit. The same person never visited her twice, and no one talked to her. By the sound of their footsteps, she determined quite a few people worked for Gowsky. She could sense the fear of each person who brought her food as they slid the plate through the gap between the door and the dirt floor, and then fled.

Her foot was mending quickly, but she decided it was best to give no indication of this. The room that was her prison was old and unstable. A week or two of recuperation and intense calisthenics, and her escape would be imminent.

In the meantime, icy breezes tormented her, mingling with dreams of her babies and loved ones. The blankets she kept wrapped around her provided little comfort. Tara’s imagination made things even worse. She worried that her family was sick with worry, doing everything in their power to search for her, and growing frustrated when they couldn’t find her. Yet while their images plagued her, they also added incentive to endure the cold and bring back her body to health.

Gowsky visited her nine days after she awakened. It was a bitter cold morning, and he pushed open the door with one hand and carried a pitcher with a steamy, hot fluid in the other. The morning glare was behind him.

Tara fought to keep her eyelids from shuttering against the light. He’d awakened her, and she forced her mind to clear before she moved a muscle.

He stood above her for a minute before sitting. Her body was stretched out under the comforters. She was on her side and the comforter curved over the outline of her hip. One of her arms draped across her body and her long fingers fell gracefully off the edge of the bench. Her sandy brown hair fell in strings.

“I do believe it’s time to bathe you,” Gowsky drawled in his singsong accent.

She focused one eye on him but didn’t move. Every muscle in her body ached from the intense workout she’d put herself through the day before.

“I’ve been bathing myself successfully for many winters now,” she answered.

Gowsky chuckled as he placed the pitcher on the ground next to him. “Does a hot bath sound good to you?” he asked and produced two mugs from his coat pocket. The steam floated up to the ceiling as he poured some of the dark liquid from the pitcher into each cup. It looked incredibly tantalizing, whatever it was. She licked her lips.

“It’s good.” He held out one of the mugs. “It also helps wake you up.”

She opened the other eye and stared at him.

“Come on. You’ll like it.” He waved the cup under her nose. “Come on.”

She felt its warmth brush her face. Sitting up slowly, she tried appearing to be in more pain than she actually was. The warmth of the mug in her hand felt so good that she wrapped both hands around it and sipped slowly. The liquid was thick and had a sweet honey and chocolate taste. She took another, longer drink and then looked up to Gowsky again. He had filled his mug and took a large gulp before setting the pitcher on the floor.

“How’s your foot?”

She didn’t respond, but instead situated herself on the bench carefully. She had taken the clothes she’d worn since she’d been there and laid them at the end of the bench while she slept. At the moment, she only wore a white pullover blouse.

Adjusting the comforter over her legs, she noticed he watched the action. His gaze locked on her bare legs, not looking away until she’d covered herself. Whether he noticed her muscles weren’t as atrophied, or simply enjoyed seeing a partially naked woman, she had no clue. Something told her he enjoyed watching her. She knew interest in a man’s eyes when she saw it. But how much had he watched her? For whatever amount of time he’d kept her here, he’d kept her unconscious. He could have enjoyed any part of her, and she wouldn’t have been able to stop him.

When she met his gaze, he didn’t look away but instead smiled.

She didn’t smile back. “Why’d you tell me I’d only been asleep for several days?”

Gowsky’s face looked completely innocent as he raised his eyebrows. “And what makes you think you weren’t?”