The Warlock's Companion (31 page)

"What's the matter—are you ashamed of them? No? Then walk as though you're proud—
that's
right! Now, tilt your chin up just a little…"

Rod's head swiveled from side to side.

"Give it up," Muldoon advised. "You can't see everything at once."

"I can try, can't I? Wow! So this is Ganymede!"

"Yeah, one big shopping mall, except for the spaceport. You name it, you can buy it."

"Oh, come on! There have to be
some
laws!"

"Don't tell the natives—they'll think you're swearing."

"Oh, wow-wow-wow-WOW!"

"Blink or your eyes will dry out," Muldoon grated. "We're here to look at dresses, not the lack of them!"

Rod pulled his eyes away with an almost-audible snap. "That is definitely not the right style for you!"

Muldoon scowled up at him. "How do
you
know what a woman should wear?"

"Sir, when it comes to beauty, I'm not just a consumer, I'm an addict! All I have to do is dress you like my dreams."

"I thought you said that
wasn't
the right style for me."

"Oh, doing your hair?" Rod popped in around the open cabin door. "Remember, now, you have to rat it before…"

"Shove off, swabbie," Muldoon muttered around a mouthful of hairpins. "This is something I
do
know."

"You do?" Rod couldn't help goggling. "Where'd you learn?"

"Before school, every day for thirteen years."

"Then wh—" Rod just barely managed to swallow the rest of it.

"Because when I got to college, I decided there was no reason to put up with the pain, and swore I'd never do it again. Will you get out of here?"

"But what about your oath?"

"I'm going to start using it in about three seconds. Now shove
off
!"

"Shopping!" Weiser chortled. "The little guy's going shopping! Hey, if ya see something frilly, take it in and have it filled, will ya?"

"Let him alone, Weiser," McCracken grumped. "At least he's getting Gracie to step out a little."

"Yeah. Nice move there, mister." Weiser throttled it down to a grin. "How come
you
know all about dresses, buddy boy?"

"Mr. Weiser," Rod said, in his loftiest manner, "I have always enjoyed studying dresses closely—after there's something in them."

"Oh, yeah? Did you learn anything?"

"A lot, about truth in packaging." Rod turned around at the sound of high heels. "Ready, sir?"

"You betcha, swabbie!" Muldoon floated up in a velvet dress, hair falling in gentle waves, makeup flawless, and a twinkle in her eye. "Let's go see Titan!" She hooked her hand through his elbow and charged out to do battle with the cash register.

Weiser's head pivoted on his shoulders as he watched her go by. He studied their retreating forms, mostly hers. "Y' know, that kid just might be smarter than he looks."

"Yeah, and maybe he's so smart that he's dumb." McCracken frowned at him. "I worry too much, Albie."

"D'Armand's Finishing School," Weiser chuckled. "It'll finish you, if you don't stop snickering."

"I'm not snickering, I'm chuckling."

"Well, stow it, whatever it is—here she comes." They tipped their hats as Muldoon breezed by. "Hi, Gracie!"

"Good to see you, Grace!"

" 'Grace' is the word," Weiser murmured, watching her retreating back. "Maybe the kid knows what he's doing."

"Maybe he does," McCracken agreed. "Pull your eyes back into your head, Albie."

"Ceres again," McCracken sighed. "Whelk goes off to his wife, the captain goes off with a crowd, and I go off to dinner."

"Whatever we're doing, let's
go
." Weiser had the fidgets. "Do we
have
to wait for the captain?"

"More a matter of him waiting for you." Whelk came up. "I understand he wants to give us all a sermon."

"For
liberty
?"

Donough came up with a smile. " '
Ten-shun
! Now, men, I know this is going to be something of a strain, but I understand we're giving the good ship
Murray Rain
a bad reputation."

"Bad rep?" Weiser squalled. "We've been angels! Well… compared to…" His voice trailed off.

Donough nodded. "Just what I had in mind, Mr. Weiser. Who ever heard of a sedate sailor, sea
or
space? Now, I do want dignity at all times—but see if you can't be a little wilder about it, eh? All right, now, out we… What are you staring at?"

All three officers were gazing past his shoulders with eyes like saucers. "Captain… Gracie…"

Donough turned to look, and looked again.

She came toward them with small quick steps, one hand on the bulkhead to keep her down to the deck, eyes bright, an eager smile, and a dress that clung to every contour.

Donough gasped as though he'd been hit, or at least smitten.

Weiser was the first to recover. "Hey, Gracie, I know this great little place…"

McCracken bowled past him. "Grace, would you consider dinner at the most fantastic restaurant…"

Whelk just looked unhappy; he had a wife waiting.

They all pulled a brace. The captain saw Gracie at attention, and took a deep breath himself. "Gentlemen," he said quietly, "for once, I'm going to pull rank. Ms. Muldoon, may I have the pleasure of your company for dinner tonight?"

"Oh,
yes
, Captain!" Muldoon fairly glowed as she took his arm and stepped out under the stars, gazes locked with Donough's. Weiser stood in the hatchway staring after them, muttering, "She's in love with him. I knew it, yeah—so why's it hit hard, now?"

"Maybe because he never realized she was a woman before," Rod said.

Weiser turned to him, narrow-eyed. "Speak when you're spoken to, Mister! If she gets a heartbreak, it's
you
I'll come looking for!"

And, for a moment, Rod didn't think Weiser was going to wait. He braced for combat, resolved not to lose his head this time. All he could say was, "She needed it."

"Yeah." There was no definite sign, but he could see Weiser cooling down. "I oughta hate you for it—but I can't. 'Cause I love her." He studied Rod for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You, too, huh, kid?"

Rod swallowed and nodded.

Then Weiser's arm shot out—to slap him across the shoulders and turn him toward the hatchway. "Come on, swabbie—let's go get drunk."

And they did. Totally.

He woke to the sound of singing, croaked piteously, and tried to bury his head under the pillow, but it was fastened down.

"Oh, Rod, it was so
wonderful
!"

Rod rolled up enough to crack one bloodshot eye open. The ultimate vision of female loveliness sat down on his bed, and he was in no condition to do anything about it.

"The whole night, Rod! He spent the whole night, just with me! No taking me back to the ship and going off!"

"I'm s' happy," Rod moaned.

"First it was dinner, then it was dancing! Then we went to the first night club, and a gypsy came over and played a violin—just for us!"

Rod wanted to ask her to speak more softly, but he didn't have the heart.

"Then another club, and another, and I was hoping he wouldn't proposition me, 'cause I didn't know if I would've been able to resist—but he didn't."

Thank heaven for small mercies. Personally, Rod wished the ship would stop rolling.

Then he remembered it was a spaceship, and the waves were only in his stomach.

"No other women! No blondes! No brunettes! Just
me
!" Muldoon glided up into a pirouette. Rod caught his breath.

"We got drunk, but not terribly—we didn't need to. We had breakfast at Pastiche's and strolled back along the Boulevard Glazé, and I never realized before how beautiful the asteroids can be, like stars in a waltz! And he stopped in front of the church, Ceres' only church, and asked me to marry him!"

Rod stared, too horrified to make a sound.

"Of course I said yes. I didn't have to think about it—I already have, so many times! I said yes, and he took me inside and caught us a minister, and
he
helped us catch each other, and we stopped by a jeweler's on the way back to the ship, and here it is!"

She thrust a small glacier under Rod's nose. He goggled, staring at the iceberg and the slim gold band next to it, and felt his stomach sink, then lurch. But he managed to whisper anyway, "All best wishes."

"Oh, thank you, you darling! And I owe it all to
you
!" Muldoon seized his face, gave him a quick, warm, but thorough kiss, and said, "I'll never forget you for this." She bowed her head, suddenly looking terribly shy, and breathed, "Gotta go now. My husband is waiting."

Then she was gone, in a swirl of taffeta.

Rod moaned and rolled over on his bunk, hanging his head over the bucket beside it. "Fess—what have I done?"

"You have made a good woman very happy, Rod."

"But it wasn't supposed to work out this way!"

"How was it supposed to operate, then?"

"Oh… I dunno… But somehow, she was supposed to realize that I was the one who really loved her, and wind up with me!"

"You will have her eternal gratitude, Rod. You will have a friend for life."

"A friend is not quite what I had in mind…"

A low moan echoed through the hall.

The children were up in an instant, their hair standing on end. Gwen was sitting straight, glaring.

"Oh, no!" Rod groaned. "Not again!"

" T-'tis a spirit of another sort, Papa."

"I don't care
what
it is—we need our sleep!" Rod rolled over, sitting up to glare at Magnus. "Who did you wake this time?"

"I did not, Papa!" Magnus's voice broke. "Or if I did, 'twas unawares, from dreaming!"

"That's all we need." Rod held his head in his hands. "We're gonna be living in a haunted castle, with a son who calls up ghosts even in his sleep." He turned go the spectre. "Just who do you think you are, coming in here in the middle of the night and scaring my family half to death?"

The moan turned into words. "I cry thy pardon, gentle knight. I would not affright younglings an I had any other way to seek thee."

"How about catching me alone, when I'm on my way to the jakes?"

"I cannot, for 'tis thy son who doth give the power to bring me forth."

Rod glanced up at Magnus, eyebrow raised. "Settles that question, anyway." He turned back to the ghost, frowning, studying its appearance. The new apparition was a stocky suit of armor with a sword in its hand, clanking appropriately. "Have the courtesy to show your face, and tell us your name!" Rod growled.

"Thy pardon." The knight sheathed his sword and lifted not only his visor, but his whole helmet, too—and stopped looking frightening. He was balding, and had wrinkles in his kindly face, all in softly glowing outline. "I am Sir Donde L'Accord. I had not meant to affright, least of all little ones."

"We are no longer little!" Geoffrey snapped, but Gregory just stared.

"And I am Rod Gallowglass, Lord Warlock. This is my lady, and my children. What do you want with me?"

"A warlock!" The ghost's eyes lit with hope. "I cry thine aid, my lord! Have pity on a poor, troubled father, an thou wilt! Assistance, I prithee!"

"Father?" Rod was suddenly totally alert. "You wouldn't happen to have a daughter who roams this castle too, would you?"

"Aye." The ghost's expression darkened. "As will I, till I have found the means of my revenge!"

"Ah," Rod breathed. "Revenge on the man who wounded your daughter?"

"Aye, tortured her heart, then slew her! Would that he and I were flesh, that I might cast down my gauntlet and dash out his brains!"

"Not exactly a worthy thought, for one who presumably hopes to win to Heaven. How come you died so soon after your daughter's death?"

"I did not." The spirit stared. "Wherefore wouldst thou think I had?"

Well, so much for Holmes's methods; Rod wasn't scoring any higher than Watson had. "Had to be after, or you wouldn't have known how she died. Couldn't have been very long after, or you would have carved the villain's gizzard, and cheerfully gone to the block if you'd had to."

"Indeed I would have, an I could have." The ghost smiled sadly. "Yet I died ere she did, in battle. My spirit surged toward Heaven, yet slowed and tarried; my concern for her did bind me back to earth. Yet in all else I longed for the mede of the Blessed, and so I hung, poised between this earthly mansion and the one above, until at last her longing for me grew to terror, and drew me back to this castle—at the moment that her spirit stepped forth from her clay. Yet she could not see me, for her whole being was consumed with weeping, as it hath been ever since."

"The poor lass!" Cordelia cried, and Gwen said,

"Was her soul so filled with anguish, then, that she could not break free?"

"Aye, and ever hath been. I have slumbered by, for when death passed, her craving for my presence ceased; she was so filled with horror that there was room for naught else. Only now have I awaked—and I must needs find some way to ease my child's rest!"

Rod rolled out of his blanket and beckoned to his children. "Up. Everybody up. Now it's
my
mission, too."

"But their rest!" Gwen protested.

"I think we'll have better luck sleeping during the day, dear. Fewer interruptions, you know?" Rod turned back to the ghost. "Name the villain."

Fires licked at the backs of the spectre's eyes. "The Count."

"But I thought he whipped his son into line. Did he turn around and commit the same crimes himself?"

"Nay—he died. And the son became Count in his turn—the last Count Foxcourt, and the final scion of an evil line."