Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Pleasure's Foehn (10 page)

“That’s one mad little whore,” Seamus pointed out.

Sighing heavily, Cair turned to the two maintenance ‘bots that stood behind Seamus. “I want this cleaned up as quickly as possible.”

The ‘bots rolled into position immediately and began scrubbing at the wall with paint remover.

“Is the
Faucon
leaving today?” Cair asked.

“She’s scheduled to.”

“When are they leaving?”

Seamus fingered his chin. “Around two this afternoon.”

“Is she going directly back to the front or can I ask a favor of her captain?”

“I imagine he’ll be receptive to a favor since you helped keep two of his men from killing one another last night,” Seamus replied. “By the way, the one you sent to the brig got busted down to airman. He’s not a happy voyager.”

“Too fucking bad. Would you ask Captain LeClerc to meet me in my office before he goes?”

“You gonna send that red-haired demoness with him?”

“I’m going to see if he’ll drop her over at the
Samiel
on his way. I wouldn’t wish her on Isma’il otherwise, but he’ll be immune to her dubious charms.”

“It’s your title that slut wants,” Seamus reminded his captain. Cair snorted and turned away. The sight of the wall so angered him he wanted to be away from it.

“No one’s seen it but the two of us,” Seamus called out as Cair entered the elevator.

“And the bitch who did it,” Cair growled.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

All the way down to the command deck, he was fuming. He wanted nothing more than to go to Amethyst’s quarters and beat the hell out of her but that wasn’t an honorable thing, a manly thing to do. Men did not beat women, yet, for that one, he thought he could make an exception.

“Captain on deck!” Dorrick called out as Cair took the bridge.

“Carry on, Mr. Dorrick,” Cair said as he seated himself in the command chair. Freemohn came over and took the console seat beside his captain. “There was a very bad skirmish overnight,” he informed Cair. “Several hundred causalities.”

Cair put a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger.

“How many dead?”

“At last count, thirty-seven.”

“By the Goddess I wish we could bring this damnable war to a close,” Cair said on a long breath.

“Do you have anything you need me to handle this morning?”

Cair started to shake his head then remembered his conversation earlier that morning with the healer. “Aye,” he said. “Get hold of Major Quirin Degendesch at the United Court. Tell him I’d like to speak with him as soon as possible.” He stood. “I’ll be in my office.”

Dorrick hopped up. “Aye, Sir!” he said.

Annoyed but somewhat amused by his XO’s enthusiasm, Cair left the bridge and went down the corridor to his office. He spent much of his time there—alone and content to be so—unless Seamus saw fit to interrupt.

Or his mother suddenly appeared on the Vid-Com screen as she took that moment to do.

“You look like hell, Cairnan,” she pronounced.

“Must be the company,” he mumbled. “What’s wrong now, Mother?”

“How is that lovely little Davan today?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied.

“Best you be finding out, boy. I have set the Joining date for the two of you for the summer solstice.”

“Funny,” he said with a snort and sat down on the edge of his desk, his forearm braced on his right thigh.

“Do you think I am joking with you, Cairnan Douglas? The solstice is only a week away.”

“How is Bennick?” he countered, in no mood for her teasing.

“Enjoying himself, I suppose,” his mother answered. “As much as he is allowed to.”

A sliver of ice pressed against Cair’s spine. “What does that mean?”

Queen Margaret “Meg” Ghrian shrugged. “Take it to mean whatever you like. He is either enjoying himself or he isn’t.”

54

Pleasure’s Foehn

Cair ground his teeth. “That’s not what I asked and you know it, Mother.”

“What exactly are you asking then, boy? Sometimes you tend to be very vague.”

He stared into his mother’s light eyes and he saw a spark of mischief floating there. Although her face was expressionless, her lips perfectly still, he had the notion she was laughing at him.

“Where is Bennick, Mother?”

“I haven’t clue. He could be inside. He could be outside. He could be underground in the catacombs or he could be sitting in the belfry. I am no longer required to keep tabs on the man.”

That sliver of ice became an iceberg settling between his shoulders. His mother was smiling sweetly at him and that was a sure sign hell had just opened up for him.

“Where is my brother?” he whispered.

“Brother,” she said. “Fancy you should call him that, Cairnan. Brother.” She put a slightly arthritic finger to her lips and looked up at the ceiling as though deep in contemplation. “Brother Brother. I’m not sure you should call him that.”

Horror flitted through Cair’s golden eyes. “You can’t be serious,” he said.

“Am I ever anything but when it comes to the men of my family?”

“He joined the priesthood?” Cair asked, his voice higher than usual.

“The Brotherhood of Síocháin,” she replied. “I believe their monastery is in the foothills of Mount Ciúin.”

“But what about Briana?” he questioned. “They were to be Joined…”

“She ran off with Tommy Roderick’s youngest son Patrick,” his mother reported.

“Said she was tired of waiting for Ben.” She shook her head. “Such an impulsive lass. Perhaps I chose wrongly in picking her. Davan may be headstrong but I don’t think she’s capricious.”

The implications of what his mother had just said fell on Cair with the velocity of a meteor and with just as much crushing weight. He jumped up from the desk, shaking his head in denial, wagging a finger at her.

“No. I know what you are trying to do and I won’t have it,” he stated firmly. “You are
not
going to marry me off on the solstice!”

“You are starting to like the wench. Don’t tell me you aren’t,” his mother chided.

“Liking her is one thing,” he snapped. “Taking her to wife is another.”

“You will do as I wish, Cairnan!”

“I don’t want to marry!” he shouted.

Queen Meg’s face became a mask of authority. “Since Bennick Terrence has abdicated the throne and—before the Tribunal—formally renounced and surrendered all sovereign power granted to him as First Born Son of Amhantar, the title of prince regent now falls to you. As prince, you must have a wife at your side. That is Amhantarean law!”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“No,” Cair groaned, burying his head in his hands.

“You are a Ghrian, boy. It is your duty to take up your brother’s mantle and carry it for the family. A Ghrian must sit on the Council of—”

“Then give it to Liam!” Cair said, pleading making his voice break. His mother’s chin trembled. “Don’t be cruel, Cairnan,” she said. Another weight piled upon Cair’s back and he stumbled beneath the pressure. “By the Goddess, don’t tell me he’s a POW!” he whispered.

“You don’t remember?” she asked, tears forming in her eyes. “Were you that drunk when I told you that you have forgotten?”

“Forgotten what?”

“Liam died near Azulene. He’s been dead for over six months. His body was never recovered.”

“And you are just now telling me?” he shouted. He was very fond of his younger brother and the news was devastating.

“I did tell you, Cairnan!” she yelled back at him. “I Vid-Commed you the moment I learned of it!” Her mouth turned bitter. “If I had known you were not sober enough to understand what I was telling you, I would have—”

Cair rushed from the room, pushing Seamus aside as the older man was about to ring for admittance. Seamus lurched into the room and was about to leave when the queen’s voice made him turn around. He bowed respectfully.

“Go after him, Seamus,” she commanded. “He doesn’t remember me telling him about Liam.”

Seamus went perfectly still. “What of him, Your Majesty?”

The Amhantarean queen broke down, her shoulders heaving as she plastered a trembling hand to her mouth. “I told Cairnan. I told him what had happened weeks ago. I wondered why he refused to allow the shuttle to land on the
Foehn
when I sent it to fetch him but Bennick assured me it was Cairnan’s decision not to come home and that I should leave him to grieve in his own way. I never dreamed he was so drunk he hadn’t understood what I said to him that evening.”

“Milady?” Seamus asked quietly. “I don’t know what you’re referring to. Tell me for I am in the dark here.”

“He’s dead! Liam is dead!” Queen Meg cried. “My baby boy is dead!”

Closing his eyes to the news, Seamus hung his head. “Milady, I am so very sorry to hear such news.” He ran a hand over his face. “The lad said nothing to me.”

“Go after him. He’ll head for the nearest bottle and that has to stop. Bennick has abdicated and Cairnan is now the heir apparent.”

“The boy will be king?” Seamus said, his eyes round. “My Cairnan will be king?”

“Go, Seamus!” the queen demanded. “Let nothing happen to him! The future of Amhantar depends on him!”

56

Pleasure’s Foehn

As fast as his brittle old bones would carry him, Seamus went searching for Cair. For over an hour he searched every nook and cranny in which he’d ever discovered a drunken Scythelord in the past but Cair was nowhere to be found. Growing very concerned, Seamus called out the security forces to help. Well into the late morning, there was no sign of the
Foehn
’s captain.

Davan looked up as the security team entered the sickbay. Without a word to her, they searched the premises then left—again without a word of explanation. She went to the door, watching as they entered each of the operatories but hesitated to ask questions for the looks on the faces of the men were forbidding. It wasn’t until she made a VidCom call to the captain’s office that she found he was missing.

“Where is Chief Rawls?” she asked, hoping Seamus would tell her what was happening.

“Is there a message?” the yeoman asked, irritation rampant in his tone.

“Would you ask him to contact me as soon as—” She got no further for the yeoman broke the contact with a curt “aye”.

The Francach warrior who had been operated on the night before was awake and in a great deal of pain though he could flex his wounded hand, much to Davan’s relief. His captain Pierre LeClerc had come by to see him and had spent a few minutes with Davan before agreeing the warrior should stay a few more days in sickbay.

“I will send a shuttle back for him,” LeClerc promised. “I will need his testimony at the court marshal of his assailant.”

“Will you be taking his attacker with you, then?” Davan asked. She remembered the rage on the warrior’s face and the sharp blade with which he had threatened her.

“He is in our brig even as we speak,” LeClerc replied. “Had not Captain Ghrian disarmed him, I am told he would have stabbed you in the back.” He clucked his tongue. “For that offense alone he would have been drummed out of our military!”

“I hope you have a safe trip back to the front,” she said. “I believe you’ve had more than your share of excitement while on leave.”

LeClerc shrugged. “And more heaped upon that since Captain Ghrian had wanted to ask a boon of me,” he said. “One with which I shall most assuredly comply although he has not asked it of me personally.” He put an index finger to his right eye and pulled down the lower lid. “Getting rid of a mistress is something I understand all too well. I’ve been forced to do it myself on occasion.”

“A mistress?”

“Aye,” LeClerc replied. “The stygian red-haired virago Chief Rawls brought aboard the
Faucon
kicking and screaming like one of those wild Amhantarean banshees of legend. The woman was cursing a blue streak ten fathoms wide until I had her sedated. All that noise gives me a bellyache. I have never cared for Iodálach women. They are too temperamental for me.”

“Amethyst?” Davan asked. “Is that who you mean?”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

At LeClerc’s nod, Davan whistled silently. She wondered what had happened to cause the rift between the two lovers but a part of her felt relief at not having to come into contact with the brazen woman again.

Another part of her whispered joy at the Scythelord’s availability.

“Well, I’ll be going now, Doctor,” LeClerc announced. “I am glad Dubois had so fine a surgeon to see to his wound.”

After walking the Francach captain to the door, Davan told the corpsman on duty she was going to get a bite of lunch. As she knew would happen, the man ignored her and that was a situation she was going to have to clarify when she returned. Walking down the corridor, she passed several security men. They were opening doors that had been locked and were peering inside, shutting the doors and relocking them as they continued on. She wondered where the captain could be hiding but on a ship the size of the
Foehn
, it could be just about anywhere and it would take days to find him unless…

She stopped and called out to the security men. One looked around while the others keep walking.

“Aye, Doctor?” the man snapped.

“Do you have heat search capabilities onboard?” she inquired. The man frowned. “You mean engine heat signatures?”

Davan took a few steps closer to the security team member. “No, I mean body heat. Can’t you just scan the ship for a position on every living thing onboard?”

Rolling his eyes, the man threw up his hands. “I thought you might have a good idea,” he snapped. “That’s already been done.”

“And you didn’t find him?”

“If we had, do you think I’d be standing here wasting my time with you?” the man grumbled.

That wild berserker that wasn’t very far from the surface at the best of times came shooting up to lash out at the security man. Davan stepped up to him—nose to nose—

and when she spoke, her eyes were spitting green fire.

“Not only do I outrank you, Ensign,” she said, stressing the man’s title, “but I would be willing to bet I can find Captain Ghrian within the hour without your help or anyone else’s.” Her lips peeled back from her teeth. “How much you want to bet? A day’s, a week’s, a month’s credits?”