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A Review of “The Girl Who Knew Too Much”

by Amamda Quick aka Jayne Anne Krenz aka Jayne Castle, etc

A review by Mystery Loves History

Four Stars

The 1930’s is a new era in history for Krenz and it sometimes takes her several books to find her feet when she switches time periods. I refer here not to the actual story itself but to a feel for the mores and customs of a particular era. I have no doubt she will be more at home in the next book. And I DO hope there is a next book. The ending of this one certainly set it up for one.

The story itself is excellent, and the mystery is beautifully done, with plenty of red herring suspects to throw the reader off the track. True mystery writers always play a kind of guessing game with their readers, in which the writer may drop clues to the mystery, but uses misdirection to distract the reader from guessing the solution too soon. Krenz did great here and like all good mystery writers she played fair: the clues are there if the reader is paying attention.

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Book 4 In the Handfasting Series: From This Day Forward

PRE ORDER NOW: PUBLICATION DATE DEC 1, 2017

Books2Read Universal Link: https://www.books2read.com/u/mdNzRy

List Price: $2.99

When she finds the body of a retired shopkeeper on the beach, a series of mysterious events draw the new shop owner into a web of passion, terror and murder.  Jayla must find the killer and discover what he wants because she is his next target.

FREE PREVIEW:

The sun was just peeking over the horizon as Jayla ran with her usual long easy strides along the deserted beach. Jayla liked to jog along the shore next to the spaceport because despite the noise the shuttles made taking off and landing, the shore was usually deserted except for a few solitary runners like herself. She and Ghost, the creamy white Quirka clinging to her shoulder, enjoyed the fresh breeze and the freedom from demands on her time.

She brushed her short gold hair back out of her face. It seemed she had been running half her life. Jayla smiled to herself as she remembered how hard it had been when she began to run every morning.

Jayla wasn’t native to Vensoog. Her Uncle Gideon had married Genevieve, the Laird of clan O’Teague and emigrated to Vensoog after Moodon, their home planet was burnt off in the last war with the Karamine Coalition. Jayla had just lost her parents and had resented being uprooted to a new world with strange customs where she knew no one. A headstrong, resentful teenager can find plenty of trouble to get into by herself and even more if she connects with unscrupulous adults who intend to take advantage of her rebellious feelings. She had made loads of mistakes that first year. She bitterly regretted having gotten involved with Gregor Ivanov, the much older man who had romanced her and planned to sell her for the child sex trade. While it had not been her fault when she and other girls from the clans were kidnapped by the Thieves Guild, she hated remembering how helpless she felt as a captive. She was rescued from both situations, but she vowed to learn to defend herself so nothing like that could happen again.

Two weeks after the clans had rescued the girls from the Jack ship, Wolf Larsen from her Uncle Zack’s old Recon unit, showed up on Glass Isle to give her lessons in self-defense. She later learned Wolf had been specially requested as her teacher by Lord Jake Reynolds, her Cousin Luc’s best friend.

“Stamina,” Wolf’s deep voice echoed in her mind, “is the essence of fighting. You can’t fight if you are exhausted or out of breath.” He had knocked on her door at dawn that first day to drag her out to run a mile. Wheezing, and with her legs feeling like jelly, Jayla had kept at it because she was tired of being pushed around. Seeing her determination, Wolf agreed to show up every day for the next two years to train her in self defense.

After Wolf had returned to his other clan duties, she had kept up the training. The morning runs were not an indulgence even though they took time away from her shop. She ran, worked out in the Clan gym at Glass Manor, and practiced her marksmanship faithfully because she intended to never again be at the mercy of someone else.

Thanks to her parent’s foresight in moving their accounts to Fenris as soon as the war with the Karamine Coalition started, Jayla had inherited a sizable nest egg when she came of age. Enough to buy the gift shop she had always wanted. When she had bought the shop with the apartment over it earlier in the year, Jake had promised to come by and see how she was getting along.

Her faithful companion Ghost was a Quirka. Quirka were native animals adopted as pets by the early Vensoog settlers because they were small, cute and avid hunters of the insects and other vermin infesting human dwellings. The Quirka adopted humans because they provided a mutually satisfying emotional bond and a ready source of food and hunting grounds.

Like all Quirka bonded with a human, Ghost went everywhere with her chosen human and even seemed to enjoy the morning runs. Her pristine white coat sparkled in the morning sun, and her plume of a tail waved with the motion of Jayla’s steps. The sturdy leather straps affixed to the shoulders of Jayla’s running clothes allowed Ghost to cling to Jayla with her tiny, hand-like paws and feet. White Quirka like Ghost were rare. Ghost had never developed the ability to adapt her fur color to match her environment the way other Quirka did. The hollow rows of retractable venom quills along her backbone, which were Ghost’s chief defense against predators, glistened as the sun hit them. If she felt threatened, their quills stood upright and filled with an acidy venom. Being stung by a Quirka was quite unpleasant, and in case of smaller predators, sometimes fatal. Ghost’s bright blue eyes, also unusual for Quirka, matched Jayla’s in color. She chirped in Jayla’s ear now, her small upright ears pricked forward as she recognized the large rock where Jayla usually turned to make the return trip.

There appeared to be a bundle of rags and sticks lying next to the boulder. Jayla slowed as she approached, hoping it wasn’t something nasty a picnicker had left there. If it were, she decided, she would report it instead of hauling it all the way back to the Spaceport buildings the way she ordinarily did.

Ghost hissed as they approached and her quills lifted, her sharply pointed nose wrinkled in distaste. The smell hit Jayla whose olfactory senses were less well developed than a Quirka, and she stopped several feet away. She had once come upon a goat on Glass Isle that had been dead for several days. It had smelled like this.

It took her a moment to realize what she was looking at. What she had taken for a bundle of sticks was wearing shoes. Swallowing nausea, she made herself walk closer to see if what was lying in the sand was human or humanoid. It was difficult to tell what species it was, because the body was in an advanced state of decomposition, but it had been some type of humanoid.

Glad she hadn’t eaten before starting her run, she backed away and sat down on a driftwood log, trying not to throw up. Ghost, in the way of all Quirka, was more concerned with Jayla than with the unknown body. She stroked her mistress’s face and crooned soothingly to her projecting comfort. Jayla dropped a kiss in gratitude between the small pricked ears and took a deep breath before she tapped on her wrist com.

The com automatically dialed Clan security on the O’Teague compound instead of the emergency Port Recovery Security Patrol. Even though she was now living above her shop in Port Recovery, she had forgotten to re-program it. Her com was immediately answered by the Clan communication center.

“Jayla, I haven’t heard from you in ages—what’s wrong, honey?” Mira, who had often been assigned as her trainer, had sounded cheerful until she saw the girls face.

Jayla turned her wrist so Mira could see the body through the com. “I need Port Recovery Security to come out here. It looks like Ghost and I found a dead body this morning. We’re out at the end of the island behind the spaceport.”

“Are you safe?” Mira demanded, instinct kicking in. Her regular job was O’Teague Clan Security but she was pulling desk duty because she was pregnant.

“Yes, we’re safe,” Jayla reassured her. “I think it’s been here a while.”

In the background, Jayla could hear her calling for Larry to grab a sled and get his ass out to the end of Port Recovery Island. “Jayla’s found a body. I’m calling the Port Recovery Security but she’s alone out there—”

“Jayla,” Mira’s voice was calm. “You stay where you are. I’m sending Larry out to you, and I’ll call the Port Recovery Security. I want you to keep this com open, okay?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Jayla assured her.

The trip from Glass Manor on O’Teague Isle to Port Recovery Isle took thirty minutes by boat, but a fast airsled could make it across the channel in ten. When the tall, dark skinned man dismounted from the sled, he smiled reassuringly at Jayla whom he still saw as the little girl she had been when he first met her. Larry Jorgensen, the O’Teague Clan Security Chief, was a former member of her Uncle Gideon’s unit who had married into the clan

“You okay, kid?” his deep voice rumbled.

She nodded, giving him a watery smile. “Yes, I’m fine Larry. It was a nasty surprise, but we’re okay.”

Jorgensen nodded at her and went to inspect the body, being careful not to touch it. He was examining something on the ground in front of the corpse when they heard the approaching whine of the Port Authority Security sleds. He came over to her side to wait with her.

Within a few short minutes the deserted shore was swarming with Patrol. The first to arrive were the uniformed officers who came to check out her story, then the medics, and finally, the detectives in charge, a man and a woman in civilian clothing.

Since she and Larry and been told to wait for the detectives, she leaned back against a boulder on shore, and sipped at the bottled water Larry provided for her and Ghost. Ghost, no longer perched protectively on her shoulder, was busy investigating a pile of seaweed a few feet from where Jayla sat. They had both missed breakfast, and presumably the Quirka was hoping to find a few insects to munch on until they could return home. Larry had offered Jayla an energy bar earlier, but her stomach had rebelled at thought of eating anything.

When the two detectives finally approached her, Larry moved in protectively.

“Lady Jayla?” the male detective asked. “I’m Jim Gorsling, and this is my partner, June Sipowitz. We have a few questions for you.” Gorsling was short, with a square, bulldog face and dark hair in contrast to his partner, a tall, hazel-eyed woman with bronzed skin.

“You found the body?” Gorsling asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Why did you contact Clan O’Teague Security before you called us?” Sipowitz asked.

“Like all the Laird’s immediate family, Lady Jayla’s emergency signal is set for Glass Manor on O’Teague,” Jorgensen interjected, obliquely reminding the two detectives they were dealing with a high-ranking clan member and to be careful how they treated her.

“Perhaps you could join me over here, sir,” Gorsling suggested. “We have a few questions for you.”

“I was dispatched here when Lady Jayla notified O’Teague clan she had found a body,” Jorgensen said, not moving. “It’s been requested I stay with her until she can leave. I’m to give her a ride back to her shop.”

“Are you her legal representative?” Gorsling inquired. “Because unless you have some legal standing—”

Ghost, sensing discord, left off hunting for bugs and scrambled back to Jayla where she hopped up to her shoulder. She turned her bright blue eyes to the two detectives and hissed defensively, her quills lifting.

The detectives eyed the Quirka warily. Neither one wanted to chance getting stung by the Quirka’s acid tipped barbs.

Sipowitz tried a different tactic. “Your Quirka is unusual. I don’t think I’ve seen a white one before.”

Jayla stroked Ghost’s back and the quills lowered marginally. “Yes, she is different. Ghost was a gift.”

“From me,” announced a voice from behind them. “Why is it,” Jake remarked as he dismounted his airsled, “that whenever I find you, you’re either in trouble or causing it?”

“Jake!” Jayla cried, jumping up. “Where did you come from?”

Jake pulled off his helmet and hung it on the handlebars of the sled, revealing a shock of dark hair. The male detective gave Jake a sharp look of recognition. He saw, as she did, a slim man in his early twenties with an easy smile, and an air of assurance showing he was accustomed to being obeyed.

Ghost bounced in delight, and when he was close enough, leaped to his arms chirping happily. “Yes, I’m glad to see you too,” he told her, petting her before moving her to his shoulder.

Sipowitz frowned. “And who might you be?”

Her partner answered her. “Cara, this is Lord Jake Reynolds, the Duc d’Orleans’ nephew, L’Roux Clan. What brings you here Lord Reynolds?”

Jake gave them a little bow. “I’ve been requested by Clan O’Teague to assist Lady Jayla in her present difficulty. Ah—I do have legal standing.”

Jorgensen relaxed his protective stance. “Good to see you kid. If you’ve got this, I’ll head back to the manor. I was just coming off shift when I was notified about it.”

“Sure,” Jake said, “take off.”

Jorgensen stepped away and spoke with Gorsling for a few minutes before mounting his sled and zipping off.

When Gorsling returned, he said, “Lord Reynolds, you said you had legal standing but—”

Smiling, Jake pulled a small crystal out of his pocket and handed it to the detective. “Here is my authority to act for Lady Jayla.”

Frowning, Gorsling stuck the crystal into his porta-tab and showed it to his partner who rolled her eyes. All they needed was interference in their investigation by a high clan lord.

Jake looked over at Jayla. “So, you found a body, did you?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“This is a kind of deserted area to run in.”

“I like to run out here,” she said a little defensively. “Nobody bothers me.”

He grunted. “Where’s your weapon?”

She patted the pocket of her running shirt. “It’s here. Mira got me a small one to fit in this pocket and I always carry it when I run.”

Sipowitz looked up and held out her hand. “May I see, it Lady Jayla?”

Jayla slid her hand into her pocked and pulled out a pulsar gun about the size of her palm, which she held out butt first to the detective. Sipowitz took it and examined it. “Hasn’t been fired,” she said, handing it back.

“That’s right,” Jayla said.

Sipowitz studied her. “Had you ever seen the deceased before this?”

“I don’t think so,” Jayla replied. “I’m afraid the smell got to me so I didn’t go any closer than I needed to make sure it was a person.”

“Okay. Just as a matter of form, can you tell us where you’ve been over the last several days?”

“I’ve just moved into my new apartment in Port Recovery. I’ve been out on Glass Isle collecting the rest of my stuff.”

“All right,” the detective said. “That’s all for now. We may have more questions later though so don’t leave town.”

“I believe it’s time we let these officers get on with their investigation Jayla. If you have any further questions, Detectives, you can get in touch with Lady Jayla through Clan O’Teague,” Jake said. He took Jayla by the arm and led her over to his sled.

“There’s no place for Ghost,” she objected.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jake replied, opening a cache in the side. He took out a spare helmet for her and handed it to her. Then he brought out what looked like an upside-down helmet with a clear visor. He snapped it into place on the front control panel. “C’mon Ghost,” he said patting it. Ghost hopped into the cavity and settled happily into the made-for-Quirka seat.

“I want one,” Jayla declared. “Where did you get it?”

“It’s a prototype. Friend of mine is marketing them. I’ll tell him he’s got a sale.” He mounted the sled and waited for her to throw a leg over the seat behind him before they took off in a whirl of sand.

Gosling left the Coroner and returned to his partner as Jayla and Jake took off. “Coroner thinks it’s a body dump,” he told Sipowitz. “She figures the woman has been dead about two days.”

“That means if Lady Jayla was out on Glass Isle she couldn’t have done it.”

“I suppose so, but she sure drew a lot of defensive firepower for someone who is innocent,” Gorsling said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I told you Lord Reynolds is the Duc d’Orleans’s blood nephew. He’s the clan troubleshooter. The Duc sends him out to solve problems. And the guy we found here with her? That is O’Teague’s Head of Security here in the Port.”

“Well even if her bracelet is marked as a member of the Laird’s immediate family, I’m surprised to find the clan sent two people out to back her up though, unless—”

“Unless what?”

“I’ll tell you after you run her Match List history and that of Lord Reynolds,” she said.

“I’ll do it on the way back to headquarters. What do you want it for?”

“Well, the Planting Festival is coming up and it occurred to me that Lord Reynolds coming to ‘rescue’ her from us might have nothing to do with this murder. Either the Laird or the Duc could be doing a little matchmaking. If that’s the case, then O’Teague’s local Security Head showing up might only mean Lady Jayla has an overprotective family.”

“The O’Teagues do have that reputation,” he admitted. “We’ve got an intern from that clan working down in the morgue this year, and from what I heard Lady Katherine practically microscanned the place for germs before she let the kid work there.”

Unaware of the speculation they left behind them on the beach, Jake stopped the sled in the rear of Jayla’s shop. Her apartment was on the second level. Although she had access from the store, the private entrance was upstairs in the back. She dismounted and pried a reluctant Ghost loose from her perch in the Quirka basket. “Thanks for coming to the rescue again,” she told Jake.

“I was coming to see you anyway. Drusilla wanted me to invite you to have dinner with the three of us tonight here in the city,” he said.

“I’d love to, but I’ve been invited to attend the Merchant Guild mixer tonight. It’s my first one and I don’t want to miss it.”

Jake shrugged. “So, I’ll escort you there, and then we’ll meet Luc and Drusilla for dinner afterwards.”

He waited while she and Ghost mounted the stairs to the owner’s quarters. When the door had closed on Jayla and Ghost, restarted the sled as he commed his uncle. L’Roux was head of security in Port Recovery this year and his uncle liked to be informed of anything touching the clan families.

Once inside her apartment, Jayla stripped and then she and Ghost got in the shower. She lifted Ghost to the specially made Quirka shelf, and turned on the water letting the hot spray wash away the morning. Ghost enjoyed playing in the water, turning and twisting to rinse her short, plush fur of the sand and salt that had accumulated on it during their stay at the beach.

Once they were both clean, Jayla wrapped a towel around herself while she patted Ghost dry. She set the Quirka down on the mat in front of the Quirka sized blower on her dresser, laughing as Ghost danced and whirled in the stream of warm air.

“May I assist you in dressing?” Jayla jumped as her house-bot spoke behind her.

Jayla gave a small shriek of surprise and scowled at it. The bot had been christened Daryl by the previous owner. It was one of the expensive bots that could fool the unwary into thinking he was human. When she first moved in, Jayla thought it was a plus that her apartment came furnished with a house-bot to cook and clean. However, Daryl had yet to cook or       clean anything, and judging by his behavior, his previous owner had installed some unconventional programming, which Jayla had tried in vain to modify.

“No, you may not,” she snapped. “Remove yourself from this room while I am dressing. Go in the kitchen and make a grocery shopping list.”

“But Mistress,” the Daryl protested. “I am versed in all forms of physical pleasure and I can assure you—”

“Out!” she shouted. Thank Goddess the maintence people were due to come today to adjust his programming, she thought half hysterically. If she had to listen one more time to that bloody list of sexual acts he was programed to perform, she would scream.

She was furious all over again when she listened to the messages on the house net and discovered that the Robo-Maintence crew was not coming out today. They were sorry to hear she had canceled and wanted to reschedule the appointment.

Furious, Jayla got on the com with them and demanded to know who had canceled the prior arrangement.

“Your house-bot left us a message you were canceling the appointment,” she was told.

“Well, I didn’t,” she snapped. “I expect to see you out here today at our scheduled time.”

“I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible,” the receptionist said. “We’ve filled your time. We have an open slot two weeks from now if you want that.”

Jayla made a growling noise. “Fine! please have it noted in the records that until he has been re-programed, you are not to accept messages from my house-bot! Is that clear?”

“As crystal,” she was told snippily.

Jayla turned her glare on the house-bot. “You may no longer contact anyone without my express order.”

“That is a waste of my talents,” Daryl informed her. “I am well versed in communication protocols needed to efficiently run this house for you and—”

“Shut up!” she yelled.

Daryl hadn’t stocked the robo-chef either so Jayla took Ghost down the street to a local eatery that served breakfast where she ordered Ghost the Quirka Special (diced raw meat, nuts and vegetables) and a large spicy omelet made from Ostamu eggs for herself. Ostamu were huge flightless birds bred by the settlers for their meat and eggs. Their multi-colored feathers were highly prized for clothing and decorations as well.

Since Jayla was a fellow business woman, Carol, the café owner, brought her order to her and sat down for a friendly chat.

“What’s the matter, hon?” Carol asked, pouring them both a large Cafka. Carol was in her late forties with the comfortable shape of those who work in the food industry.

“Can they charge you for killing a droid?” Jayla demanded. “I just found out that clump of slag I inherited as a house-bot canceled the appointment I made to get him reprogrammed!”

Carol’s eyes danced over the rim of her cup as she gave a gasp of laughter. “Oh, dear,” she said inadequately. “Is he still offering you sexual favors?”

Jayla nodded over a bite of omelet. “This morning when we got out of the shower. I don’t dare invite anyone over—I hate to think what might happen if he does it to a guest. Suppose my friends think I programed him for that stuff?”

Carol sputtered into her Cafka. “You never know—it might lead to some interesting encounters.” She eyed her friend shrewdly. “That’s not all that’s bothering you, though is it?”

Jayla sighed. “No. I found a body on my morning run today. It was nasty.”

“Oh, you poor thing. Who was it?”

“Well, to tell the truth the smell was so bad I didn’t get close enough to find out. Just that it was human or humanoid.”

“Icky,” Carol sympathized. “I wonder who it could be? I don’t know of anyone local who is missing—”

“I’d rather talk about something else if you don’t mind though. Anything else.”

“Sure,” Carol said obligingly. “It’s going to make the rounds though. You’re likely to have customers asking about it all day. There’s nothing like curiosity to drum up business.”

Jayla made a face. “You’re probably right. I’m not officially open, but I can’t afford to turn away customers.”

“The other shop owners will be dropping by too, you can bet,” Carol told her.

The rest of the day was productive, even with the constant interruptions from her fellow shop owners and local customers who had heard about the body and wanted the latest gossip about it. When she went upstairs from the shop to dress for the evening events, she was conscious of a pleasant feeling of achievement.

The original shop owner, Sara Lipski had sold high-end imports, but Jayla intended to widen the sales base by featuring locally made arts and craft products. She already had several local artists and craftspeople bringing in new products, and hoped to pick up more at the Planting Festival.

She and Ghost were still dressing when she heard Daryl let Jake in. The apartment’s walls were soundproofed so she couldn’t hear the actual conversation, just the murmur of voices.

She looked at herself and Ghost in her mirror and nodded in satisfaction. She wanted to look professional, but classy tonight, so she had decided on loose black pants and a dark gray vest over a blue, dragon-nest silk blouse. The blue in the blouse, with its three-quarter inch sleeves and scooped neck matched her eyes, and the gray vest snugged under her breast and drew attention to her slim waist. Ghost wore a bracelet of glittering black and blue stones around her neck, and Jayla had fluffed her white coat until the hollow ends of her fur sparkled.

When she joined him in the sitting room, Jake was standing with his arms crossed frowning at Daryl, but he gave her a wide smile and a wolf whistle.

“You look great. Very classy,” he said.

“Thanks. I want to look like a businesswoman at the mixer.”

“You pulled it off,” he said. “At least you will have if no one at the mixer ever meets Daryl here.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the house-bot as they shut the door and started down the stairs. “Seriously Jayla, you need to get that sucker re-programmed. Do you know what he asked me?”

She signed, “I can guess. The programmers were supposed to be out today, but Daryl called them and canceled. I was furious. He’s driving me crazy. It seems Sara Lipski had some very irregular enhancements programmed into him. The house maintence company told me it would be another two weeks before they could reschedule me. I’ve told them not to accept any more orders unless it comes from me in person, but I don’t know if I can stand keeping him around for that long.”

“You could turn him off.”

She snorted. “I tried that. He’s got a failsafe that resets itself if he’s been off for over eight hours.”

“Want me to check around for another House Maintence company?”

“Thanks, but I’ll do it. I just didn’t want to deal with stuff like that today. I hid in the shop doing inventory.”

She was pleased to see that Jake had brought a closed two-seater airsled for tonight. She had enjoyed the ride from the beach but tonight she didn’t want to arrive at the mixer looking windblown.

The Merchant Guild Mixer was held at a meeting room in City Hall, one of the large domes lived in by the first settlers that the City had converted to civic use. Tonight, the Merchant Guild had scattered tables around the large room for seating, but a lot of the local shop owners were standing around in groups talking. When Jake and Jayla entered, they were met by Miles Standish, the current Elector of the Guild.

“So glad you came tonight, Jayla,” Miles said, enthusiastically pumping her hand while his eyes ran over her admiringly. When he saw Jake, he frowned, but quickly smoothed out his expression. “And you brought a plus one, too. Nice to meet you. Are you a close friend of Jayla’s Lord Reynolds?” he asked Jake, smiling owlishly.

Miles and Jake were of similar heights, but Miles mild blue eyes, snub nose and round face gave him the air of a friendly puppy.

Next to Miles, Jake appeared dark and dangerous and it was plain Miles wasn’t exactly happy to see him despite his pleasant welcome. Jake did nothing Jayla could object to; in fact, he was perfectly pleasant to the Elector, but Ghost muttered fretfully in her ear and Jayla could almost feel Jake going on alert as the men talked.

“That’s right,” Jake agreed. “Jayla and I go way back. He cousin Lucas introduced us.”

“I see. I hope you will excuse us for a few minutes while I introduce Jayla to some of the other merchants. Ah, Carol,” Miles said snagging Jaylas friend from the café, “Perhaps you can find Lord Jake here a drink and entertain him while Jayla and I make the rounds.”

“Sure,” Carol agreed, smiling. “I’m always up for a drink with a good-looking man.”

She signaled a waiter-bot who brought over a tray of drinks. “What’s your poison, Jake?”

“Cafka,” he told the server. “No alcohol for me thanks; Jayla and I are meeting friends for dinner after this, and I don’t like depending on the auto pilot on my two-seater. It’s been a little wonky lately.”

“Miles always likes to give special attention to the new women merchants,” she told him.

Jake gave her a considering look. “Especially if they are young and beautiful?”

Carol grinned at him. “Somehow I don’t think he was expecting competition like you.” She slipped her arm through his. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to some people I think you’ll enjoy talking to.”

Jayla enjoyed meeting the other store owners, some of whom she could see becoming friends. After several minutes though, she became aware that a few of them seemed ill at ease. Everyone was friendly and polite, but she caught some odd expressions whenever Miles put a hand on her shoulder or her back, which he did a little too frequently. Whenever Miles touched her, Ghost stiffened on her shoulder and muttered unhappily. Jayla wondered what the Quirka sensed that she didn’t.

When she was introduced to a young couple named Fred and Elsie Boyington, who owned a food supply store, she surprised a flicker of relief mixed with pity in Elsie’s expression. It was even more puzzling to get almost the same response from a pair of sisters named Jan and Lin Sorency who ran a local clothing shop.

“Perhaps we can get together later this week for lunch, Jan suggested, directing a challenging look at Standish. “Miles always encourages us old timers to make you newbies welcome, don’t you Miles?”

He hesitated briefly, and then said, “Of course. An excellent idea. Just don’t frighten her away.”

Jan bit her lip, but nodded. “Sure. No reason to scare a newcomer away.”

“That sounds as if there is something to be afraid of. Don’t worry—I don’t scare easily,” Jayla said lightly.

About halfway around the room, Miles stopped. He seemed to hesitate for a minute then he asked, “Do you mind a personal question?”

“I suppose it depends on the question,” Jayla responded, looking at him curiously.

“That guy who came with you—is he boyfriend or guard?”

Jayla stiffened. “Jake is a good friend of mine and of Clan O’Teague,” she said somewhat haughtily. The ‘it’s none of your business’ remained unspoken.

Miles looked self-conscious. “I’m sorry, it’s just—well I got a copy of my Match List today and you’re on it, and I find you very attractive, so I was wondering—”

Jayla’s anger softened. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to be offensive,” she said. “Look Miles, I like you, and you seem like a nice man, but I will be too busy getting my shop up and running to think about Match Lists.”

Deciding it was time to put an end to this type of overture, she caught Jakes eye and he moved casually toward her.

As soon as he was within speaking distance, Jake asked, “Everything Okay here, Jayla?” Jayla turned to him with relief.

“I’m fine, Jake,” she said. “I guess this morning took a little more out of me than I thought. I’m sorry Miles, Carol, but I think we need to get going to meet our friends for dinner. Thank you for inviting me. I had a lovely time and I do want to meet more of my compatriots later.”

“Of course,” Miles said. “I’ll drop by with the application for joining the Guild sometime this week.”

“Thank you and good night,” Jayla told him

Jake was silent as he put her into the airsled. He gave the order to proceed to the restaurant, a new one overlooking the water, and turned to face her.

“Okay, what did I interrupt?” he asked.

Jayla made a frustrated noise. “Did anyone ever tell you what a nosy boots you are?”

Yes,” he said calmly. “You, many times. Give.”

“You’re worse than Ghost at a vermin hole,” she complained. “He wanted to tell me I was on his Match List. There, are you satisfied?”

He studied her face. “You didn’t look overjoyed at the news. Is he on yours?”

She looked at him blankly. “I don’t know. I didn’t download mine when it came in this morning. I was too busy dealing with the house programmer fiasco and then I went down to work in the shop.”

“So look now,” he said. “I’ve got mine.”

When she hesitated, he said, “I’ll make you a deal. You download yours, and I’ll call mine up and we’ll swap. That way neither of us will have any surprises.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “Why would you be willing to do that? You always guarded your list like it was pirate gold before.”

He grinned at her. “And you always found out who was on it anyway. What are you afraid of?”

Jayla tapped her com unit and scrolled down through the list until she found the message from the Makers, conscious of Jake doing the same. When she called it up her Match List, she stared at it in shock. Miles Standish was on it all right, but so was Jake. Before she could wipe it clear, Jake had started the data swap. She looked at his list. She was on his list.

“You knew I was on your list this time,” she accused him. “That’s why you wanted to swap.”

“Well, I was curious,” he admitted. “Now we both know and we don’t have to worry who else is on it. All we have to do is decide what we’re going to do.” He patted her hand. “You think about it.”

Truthfully, she didn’t know what to think or feel. Her first girlish hero worship of Jake, began when he had defended her from Gregor at the trial and intensified when he rescued her from the Jack ship, had never quite gone away. However, over the years she had accustomed herself to thinking he regarded her like a little sister, and that he was just a friend. Now he was hinting at something different and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

The two-seater stopped at the door of the restaurant and the valet came to open the doors. Jayla exited the car with mixed emotions.

2  Burglary

The restaurant where they were meeting Drusilla and Lucas was one of the newer establishments in Port Recovery. The Spinning Mollusk had been created by a couple matched in the first wave of Handfasting immigrants. The restaurant had become famous for its exotic seafood. It boasted retractable terraces with views of the city, the spaceport and the wharf. The terraces had to be retractable because if they weren’t, they would be torn off during the fierce yearly storms Vensoog was blessed (or plagued) with.

When Jake gave the hostess Luc’s name, she told them “Your party is waiting in the bar as the table isn’t ready, yet.”

Jayla gave her cousin and his wife a hug before allowing Jake to help her onto one of the high stools next to the polished, rainbowwood bar. Toula, Drusilla’s Quirka, and Ghost touched noses in greeting and then shared the serving of shelled nuts the bartender had set out for them.

A news feed vid from Aphrodite, one of the water worlds, was talking about a jewelry heist. Thieves had stolen the ruling families Crown Jewels and the entire planet was in an uproar. The criminals were suspected of escaping off planet.

“That was a real security screw up,” Luc remarked, eying the vid. “I bet it cost somebody their job. I wonder where the thieves actually went?”

Jake grimaced. “Uncle Max thinks the thieves will come here to pass the jewels to a fence. With the Planting Festival drawing so many off-worlders, he says the thieves might be hoping to slip in with the crowds.”

Jayla glanced briefly at the vid feed, and then turned to Drusilla.

“How are you feeling?” She asked the heavily pregnant woman. Drusilla was a Dragon Talker, and a powerful empath who could communicate with and control the wildlife native to Vensoog. Drusilla didn’t brag about it, but the family knew she was one of the few Dragon Talkers powerful enough to control humans as well. Just now she was about eight months pregnant. With a Dragon Talker, there was always the chance the emotional upheaval caused by the pregnancy hormone changes could cause chaos around her, but Drusilla seemed to be weathering the changes easily.

The tiny redhead touched her belly ruefully. “I’m doing okay, but I look like a fat water dragon. My three Sand Dragon trainees have been a big help though.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’ve got Violet, Ceri and Simon interning with you this season,” Jayla said, speaking of the two girls and the boy who had adopted orphan Sand Dragon Calves. Sand Dragons were cousins to the enormous Water Dragons Vensoog was famous for. Despite their name, both species were warm-blooded mammals. Like several species of animals on Vensoog, the Sand Dragons were empathic. Unlike their feral cousins, the three owned by the children were accustomed to being treated as pets and behaved more like over large dogs. They would grow much larger than any dog of course. At maturity, they might top out at between four and six hundred pounds. Hard skin plates resembling dragon scales except for the head and underbelly protected their body. Like Quirka, Sand Dragons could adapt their coloring to conditions around them. A necessary protection for attacks from the air by the huge flying Dactyls who preyed on the Water Dragons.

“However, did you get Katherine to release Violet to you? I thought she refused to send any of her kids off for training,” Jayla asked Drusilla. Violet was an extremely powerful empath but she was still a child, and Jayla knew Lady Katherine hovered over her like a mamma Water Dragon.

Drusilla shrugged. “Well, she had already agreed to allow Lucinda to intern with Patrol Security here in the city, and Violet wanted to come to me, so she let her. Still, if it was anyone but me doing the teaching, I’m not sure my over-protective sister would have agreed. I think Katherine is having a hard time with her children growing up. Not to change the subject, but how is your shop going? Are you open for business yet?”

“Next week, I think. I’m planning to continue the booth Lipski optioned during the festival as well and that’s taken a lot of planning.”

“How will you handle both the shop and the booth?” her cousin Lucas asked curiously.

“Well, I can leave Wayne, my sales-bot on duty in the shop during the day and handle the Festival booth myself. If it turns out I need him to help me in the booth, I can close Whimsical for a few days. A lot of the other shopkeepers are planning to do that.”

“That’s a clever name,” Drusilla said. “Did you choose it?”

“No, that’s the name the shop came with. To keep the customer base, I kept the name. I am changing some of the merchandise I will carry though.”

“What kind of changes?” Jake asked.

Jayla shrugged. “Well, Sara Lipski carried a lot of stuff imported from off-planet. I will still carry some of that in the shop, but I want to stock more bits and pieces from Vensoog Artists and craftspeople.”

Just then, three young men about Jake’s age walked into the bar.

“Hey, Jake’s here!” one of them exclaimed and the three came over to them. Jayla recognized two of them, although it had been many years since she had seen them. Jorge Carmody out of Clan Caldwalder, a tall guy with orangey hair recognized her and nodded in greeting. Silas Crawford was from Clan Ivanov, a blocky round-faced young man whose merry smile hadn’t changed as he bowed to the two women.

“Are you in town for the festival?” Silas asked.

“Yes,” Lucas answered. “Drusilla and I came in to pick up her three interns so we decided we might as well stay for the festival and see who gets Matched this season.”

Jorge groaned. “Don’t talk about the Lists. I got a new one this year, and my family is pushing hard for me to make a permanent choice this time.”

“Mine too,” the third young man said. “Since these two louts don’t seem to have the manners to introduce us, I will present myself. I am Nels Ridenhour out of Clan Yang. Lord Lucas, I know the Bard of Lewellyn by reputation, but may I meet these lovely ladies?” He bowed to both Drusilla and Jayla.

“This is my wife, Lady Drusilla, Reverend Mother to the Dragon Talkers, and my cousin Lady Jayla, Warlord Gideon’s niece,” Lucas said.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Lady Drusilla. Congratulations on your coming child,” Nels said. He then turned to Jayla and gave her a big smile. “Lady Jayla, if you are on my new match list, I can see obeying my clan this year won’t be a hardship.”

“Thank you,” Jayla said, conscious of Jake stiffening beside her. Since Drusilla was a married woman whose husband was well-known for his possessive attitude, she was drawing most of the young men’s attention. She caught her cousin’s eyes, noticing his unholy grin of amusement when he saw Jake take a possessive step closer to her.

Hastily, she said, “I haven’t gone through my list yet, so I don’t know everyone who is on it. Are you going to be attending any of the events?”

Silas snorted. “I was told that I’d better be at a few of the official ones or my name would be mud, so I suppose I will.”

“The Makers events are boring,” Jorge agreed, “but I know of some off the mark places. How about it, Lady Jayla, want to see stuff we don’t show the tourists?”

“For Voids sake, Carmody,” Jake exploded. “You aren’t taking Jayla to some of those dives you frequent. I won’t have it.”

“What business is it of yours Reynolds?” Jorge demanded. “Last I heard she was a free agent, and she’s sure not underage anymore.” The two young men glared at each other.

Both Ghost and Toula twittered in distress at the negative energy in the atmosphere, and Drusilla, the empath, said, “Whoa boys, let’s not start a brawl in here, shall we?”

Even Jayla felt the calming push the other woman was sending.

Fortunately, just then, the hostess appeared and said, “Your table is ready Lord Lewellyn.”

Drusilla slid down off the bar stool with difficulty. “I think I need to make a trip to the lady’s room before we sit down.”

Jayla got up too. “Here, let me help you.” She cast an admonishing look over her shoulder at Jake as she followed her cousin’s wife. “I’m hungry so try not to get us thrown out of here before we eat, okay?”

Watching the women leave, Lucas laughed out loud. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep them in line,” he promised. He nodded to the three young men. “Nice to have met you, gentlemen; I hope you enjoy your dinner. Come on Jake, let’s wait for our ladies at our table, shall we?”

Jake scowled as Lucas chuckled all the way to the table. Once seated, Lucas looked at his friend with a grin. “So, it’s Jayla, is it? Oh, Man, I’m going to enjoy watching this. Especially after the hard time you gave me when I was courting Drusilla four years ago. What was it you compared me to? A Saharan Snap Dragon looking for a fight?”

Jake gave his best friend a sour look. “Oh, you’re hilarious Lewellyn.” His normal good humor reasserted itself and he shook his head ruefully. “I guess it serves me right; I did give you a hard time when you were courting your wife. It’s just—I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now. When we met, she was so young I kept telling myself being around her was like getting my sister Karen back for a while. I convinced myself I felt like a big brother.”

“That was four years ago,” Luc pointed out. “She isn’t a kid anymore and neither are you. Besides, didn’t you end up on each other’s Match List this time?”

“Yes, we did, but how did you know?”

Lucas shrugged. “Drusilla’s sister Katherine watches the family Lists like a hunting Dactyl. I think she must have a back door into the Maker’s computer or something, because she always seems to know what they’re up to.”

Jake looked thoughtful. “Wasn’t it Lady Katherine who developed the program used to create the original matches that brought all of us here?”

“It sure was.” Lucas laughed. “I remember her husband Zack telling me once that when she wrote that program, she had corrected some ‘oversights’ she found in the original program the Makers had been using for years. He thought it was funny because she didn’t ask their permission. If you are serious about courting Jayla, you better learn the O’Teague women are very prone to independent action. Jayla is no different.”

In the meantime, Jayla and Drusilla were making their slow way back to where the men waited. “I can see you will have a lot of fun with this year’s Match List,” Drusilla said. “I’m glad I’ll be here to watch the fun. I heard you and Jake are on each other’s this year.”

Jayla looked troubled. “Yes,” she acknowledged. “I’m not sure what Jake thinks about that. He’s always considered me a sort of replacement for the little sister who was killed in the war you know.”

“Humm,” Drusilla said. “Maybe, but earlier in the bar I sure wasn’t picking up big brother feelings from him. It felt like jealousy. Do you want him?”

“Four years ago, I would have said yes. I had the most awful crush on him when I was fourteen,” Jayla admitted. “He was the first non-family guy I met after Gregor who was decent. Then he defended me at the trial and helped rescue me from the Jacks—I sort of saw him as this knight in shining armor, but he always treated me like a kid.”

“Perfectly normal for you to feel that way,” Drusilla said. “You know he had to treat you like a kid because that’s what you were. Besides, even if he saw you as a sister then, I don’t think he does anymore. If no one told you, you’ve grown into quite a beautiful girl.”

Jayla shrugged. “That’s surface stuff. It means nothing.”

By this time, they had arrived back at the table and both women dropped the subject. After some discussion, the four of them shared a large baked shellfish, imported from the water world Oceana. It was lightly seasoned, baked in a rich wine sauce and served with creamed orange roots called tapiala and a large pea-like vegetable, fried crispy in its own pods. Bowls of uncooked, diced fish and vegetables were set out for Toula and Ghost, along with the small water bowls the Quirka would use to wash their paws and muzzles after dinner. Visitors to Vensoog were always surprised to find the natives shared meals with their pets.

Because of her pregnancy, Drusilla ordered fizzy water so by the time dinner was over she was the only one not feeling some effects from the wine served with the meal. When Jake took Jayla home that night, she was feeling quite relaxed from the two bottles wine the three of them had shared. When they arrived in the alley behind her shop, Jake insisted on walking her up to her door.

“What, do you think I’m too wobbly to make it up my own stairs?” she demanded. The comment might have had more force if she hadn’t tripped on the steps when she said it. Ghost, hung on gamely as she rocked on her perch on Jayla’s shoulder.

Jake caught Jayla’s elbow before she went all the way down. “Oh, no,” he retorted, guiding her up the stairs, “I can see you’re as steady as a rock—”

He cut off abruptly, staring at the open door. “Wait. That shouldn’t be open. I saw you lock it.”

“Huh?” she stared owlishly at the door for a second. “I did too lock it.”

“That’s what I said.” Unlike Jayla, he had imbibed very little of the wine. He pushed her up against the wall, drawing his gun. “You stay here. I’m going to check it out.”

Ghost trilled, and hopped from Jayla’s shoulder to his, her quills lifting. “All right,” he told her, “you can come but you stay out of trouble.”

Jayla pushed away from the wall. “I’m coming in too,” she announced. “I’m not staying out here by myself.”

Jake hesitated. “Okay, you can come, but stay behind me and do what I tell you.”

Standing sideways to the door, he pushed it open, taking a quick look into the darkened kitchen. Gripping Jayla’s hand, he ducked into the room, pulling her with him out of the doorway. “Lights,” he told the house program, and the room lights came on.

It was a mess. Drawers were pulled out, and the contents spilled on the floor. The robo-chef had been broken into and what little food Daryl had shopped for was strewn around and ground underfoot.

The sitting room was worse. Cushions on the couch and chairs were ripped open, and the stuffing pulled out. Art was pulled off the walls, the frames broken, and the canvas slashed. Shelves of old-fashioned books were pulled out and the books themselves ripped apart.

“This is awful!” Jayla gasped. “Why would someone do this?”

“Looking for something, I’ll bet,” Jake responded. There was a tinkle of glass breaking from downstairs. He shoved her down behind the overturned couch with a curt, “Stay there,” and headed for the stairs to the shop.

“Don’t!” she exclaimed. “What if whoever it is has a gun?”

“So do I,” he reminded her as he vanished through the doorway. She hesitated for a second and then stood up and went to her bedroom. This was her apartment, her shop, dammit. She would not hide up here and play the damsel in distress.

The bedroom had been treated similarly as the sitting room, but they hadn’t found the wall safe. She keyed in the combination and a portion of the wall panel slid back. Jayla reached inside and pulled out her pulse gun. Checking to make sure it was loaded, she started down the stairs to the shop. The shop and the living quarters were separated on the bottom with a locked door, but that had been forced open. The shock of the break-in had sobered her enough so she could hold her gun steady and traverse the stairs without tripping.

The shop was never completely dark because low wattage security lights were always on. Gritting her teeth, she called for more lights in the shop, relieved not to see much damage. Suddenly there was a yell of fury, pulsar fire flashed, she heard glass shattering and then running feet. Jayla whirled around, but her reflexes were slower than normal. A big man in dark clothes with a hood and mask was firing back over his shoulder and charging toward her. Hot on his heels, Jake dodged the wild shots being fired at him. He raised his gun, but checked when he saw her in the doorway.

“Jayla get down!” Jake yelled, unable to return fire without taking the chance of hitting her.

She dodged, but it was too late. The intruder hit her full force, knocking her down. Her head smacked into the doorframe behind her and she blacked out. When she came to, she was sitting on the floor. Jake had one arm around her while he wiped her face with a wet cloth. The cloth smelled vaguely of disinfectant and dusting oil. Irritably, she pushed it away.

“Can you stand?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said. He pulled her to her feet, steadying her with an arm around her when she swayed. Ghost twittered anxiously from his shoulder.

“I’m all right Ghost,” she managed. “What happened?”

“You didn’t stay upstairs like I told you to,” he informed her. “I almost caught him when he tried to open the front door, but he took off running toward the back, and I couldn’t shoot him with you in the line of fire. Then he barreled into you and got away up the stairs. Didn’t I tell you to stay behind the couch?”

Under other circumstances, Jayla would have been furious at his calm assumption of authority; just now, she felt too dizzy and her head hurt too badly for her to care.

Despite his rough words, his hands were gentle as he guided her back up the stairs. He righted the least damaged of the chairs and sat her down in it.

“Sit here while I get you some water,” he instructed, dropping a worried Ghost in her lap. The Quirka climbed up her shoulder and sniffed anxiously at her head. Absently, she stroked the small creature, accepting the love and concern Ghost was projecting at her and sending reassurance back. In the kitchen, she could hear Jake’s voice talking to the Patrol as he ran water into a glass. His next call was to Glass Manor, informing them she’d had a break-in at her place.

Three hours later, she was sitting sleepily in the same chair, Ghost pillowed on her lap while Jake talked to the two detectives who had investigated the body on the beach. Jorgensen, O’Teague’s local head of security stood by listening. Crime scene techs were busy with their instruments recording everything.

The one bright spot in an otherwise hideous ending to their date, was Daryl being found hanging upside down in his utility closet, stripped to his android skin. That the intruder had turned him off was evidenced by the open flap on his back. His dermal tissue was pockmarked with slashes and holes; evidently, the thief had been looking for hidden pouches on his body.

Looking annoyed, Jake left the two detectives and came over to her. He tilted her chin up and examined the cut the medic had bandaged. “Are you feeling up to answering questions from those two?” he asked jerking his head at the two detectives.

“Sure, why not?” she leaned her head back against the damaged chair.

He sat down on the arm and nodded curtly to the two detectives who had followed him over. Larry Jorgensen took up a position on the other side of her chair.

Sipowitz frowned at the two men. “Alone if you don’t mind Lord Reynolds.”

“No,” Jake said simply. “You can do this with us here, or later at your headquarters when she has Jess Braydon with her.”

“We could take her downtown now,” Gorsling responded.

“The only thing that will get you is Lady Jayla says nothing until Braydon gets there, and Braydon rakes you over the coals for attempting to talk to her client when she has a head injury.”

“Never mind,” Sipowitz, the senior partner, said. “I’m surprised you told us you didn’t recognize the body on the beach, My Lady.”

“I told you I didn’t get close to it,” Jayla reminded them. “I only got near enough to be sure it was humanoid. Who was it?”

“Sara Lipski,” Gorsling said, watching Jayla with hard eyes.

“Oh no! That makes it seem worse somehow. I bought this shop from her. She told me she planned to retire to Sand Castle Cove on DeMedici. I only met her once, and that was the day we signed the papers for the sale,” Jayla said. “Do you know how she died?”

“The coroner is ruling it a homicide,” Sipowitz responded. “That’s what makes your little home invasion so interesting. Did they take anything?”

Jayla fumbled for Jake’s hand, which was resting on her shoulder.

“I don’t think so, but I haven’t looked yet.”

Just then, the head of the repair crew from O’Teague came over to tell Jorgensen that the material to repair Jayla’s broken doors had arrived.

“Okay to start the repair work?” Jorgensen asked the detectives.

Sipowitz hesitated, glancing at the head crime scene tech. “We’re done with the doors,” she said. “They can fix them if they want to, and we’ve finished our scans. We’ll be out of here as soon as we finish processing the house-bot.”

Sipowitz nodded, and Jayla winced as the repair crew banged on the back door as they removed the broken one to replace it. Ghost stirred in her lap at the noise. Sipowitz turned back to Jayla.

“What do you think whoever did this was looking for?”

Jayla’s shoulders lifted. “I suppose it must be something Lipski had or they think she had, but I don’t know what it could be. There wasn’t anything but furniture in the apartment and sales goods in the shop when I moved in. Nothing anyone would want badly enough to do this.”

“He had a go at Daryl,” Jake remarked. Maybe he knows something. Didn’t you say Lipski had added some unusual enhancements in his programming?”

Gorsling got up and went into the other room where the techs were working on Daryl.

Sipowitz nodded again. “Okay, we will be out of here as soon as they finish in there. You must come down to the station to give a statement tomorrow. Where are you going to be staying?”

“I’m taking her out to Glass Manor on O’Teague for the night,” Jake told them. “Do you want any clothes or anything Jayla?”

She shuddered; remembering the tangled mess of her clothes strewn out all over the ruined bed and the floor. “No. Everything will have to be cleaned before I can wear it. They’ll find me something for tonight and tomorrow at the manor.”

He reached down for the sleeping Ghost, scooping her up in one hand as he helped Jayla rise. “We’ll see you out at the compound, Larry. You can give her the keys tomorrow. She will need replacement furniture too.”

Jorgensen nodded. “There’s stuff in stores she can have.”

Jayla made a face. “I think I’ll just buy new. I have enough capital left from my parent’s legacy. I didn’t like this furniture anyway.”

3  The Little Man Who Wasn’t There

The staff at the compound expected Glass Manor to be crowded during the Festival. The Festival wouldn’t start for another two weeks, but clansmen were already trickling into town. Every clan member who could manage it always tried to come into Port Recovery, and most of them wanted to save money by staying at the Manor instead of renting a room at one of the city hotels. The Manor was built to hold the entire clan when they first came off the emigration ships, so although it was crowded, there was plenty of room. The estate took up the entire small Island so if they ran out of space inside the manor, there were places for the clan to set up portable domes on the grounds. When Jayla had shown up last night, the house manager had put her on a cot in the room shared by Lucinda and Juliette, two of her Aunt Katherine’s daughters. She knew the girls well since she had traveled out from Fenris with them. Lucinda, who was more Jayla’s size despite the age difference, had lent her some nightclothes.

When she woke up, she found the girls dressing for the day.

As Lady Katherine’s First Daughter, Juliette was shadowing her mother in Parliament today. In keeping with those duties, she had dressed formally in tailored black trousers with a green vest over a white blouse. The colors set off her flaming hair and green eyes and the tightly tailored clothes gave her thin frame curves. Her Dactyl, Saura, perched on the mirror, looking on with interest while her mistress checked her outfit for flaws.

Dactyls were empathetic and like Quirka, the smaller varieties often developed life-long bonds with humans. Agra and Saura were intensely interested in the world around themselves. Like earthly bats, Dactyls were flying mammals. Unlike the bats of old earth, they were four-legged, with long, hair-like fur. In flight, the long fine hair on their wings drifted around them in a gauzy haze. Although Dactyls came in many sizes, smaller varieties like Juliette’s Saura and Lucinda’s Agra, were often kept as pets.

“How are you feeling?” Juliette asked.

Jayla touched her head gingerly. “Well, I think it’s still attached,” she said.

“The house medic said you were to take these,” Lucinda said, pointing to a small saucer with two tablets and a bottle of water.

Both girls had been adopted by Lady Katherine when she was on Fenris, and although they were the same age and had been raised together, they did not look alike. Juliette was short and thin, with reddish hair and green eyes. In contrast, Lucinda was tall, with very pale blond hair and grey eyes. Since she had no duties today, Lucinda had dressed casually. As she spoke, she went to the wardrobe and drew out a similar outfit for Jayla.

“I think this will fit you. After you shower, we’ll all go down to breakfast. I’m supposed to make sure you can manage the stairs.”

Encouraged by chirping from Ghost, Jayla gathered up the clothes and headed for the bathing room. The shower had stall the usual shelf for a Quirka. Jayla saw that the girls had added a perch for the Dactyls.

After her shower, Jayla found her cousins engaged in grooming their Dactyl’s long fur.

“Mom brought by a brush and comb set for you and one for Ghost since your stuff got all messed up by the burglar,” Juliette pointed to the dresser.

“Oh, thank you,” Jayla said. “I couldn’t stand the thought of using something that was handled by that guy.”

“You’re sure it was a guy?” inquired Lucinda. She held out a finger and Agra obligingly stretched out a wing so she could brush out the fine hair-like fur.

“Well, he had a mask covering his face, but it felt like a guy when he hit me. Smelled like one too, come to think of it.”

“I expect there will be a lot of things you remember about him that didn’t occur to you right afterwards. At least that’s what they teach us at the Academy,” Lucinda added. She was studying to become a security expert.

Jayla finished brushing out her short hair and started on Ghost’s tail. “Wow,” she said, watching Juliette untangle a snarl on Saura’s wing hair, “I bet you’re glad she isn’t as big as the Dactyls who hunt the Water Dragons.”

“Oh, I am,” Juliette agreed. She finished brushing Saura, went to the dresser, and opened a carved wood box holding several varieties of jeweled bracelets. Saura hopped off her perch and rummaged through the selection. At last, she held up a green leather one with blue stones in her tiny front paws. Juliette took it from her and slipped it over the Dactyls head.

Agra twittered from her perch. “Yes, we’re done, Dame Impatience,” Lucinda said. She opened a second box on the dresser.

Jayla held out the jeweled collar Ghost had worn last night and the Quirka obediently slipped her head into it.

“Let’s go down now if everyone’s ready,” Juliette said. “I heard a rumor there would be breadfruit pancakes this morning.”

Breakfast was served buffet style in the common room. Jayla was surprised to find she was hungry.

With her Quirka Sooka perched on her shoulder, Lady Katherine stopped by the table to collect Juliette and Saura just as the girls finished eating.

A taller, older version of Drusilla, Lady Katherine tilted Jayla’s face so she could see the bump from last night and inspected it. “Not as bad as I thought it might be. How do you feel this morning?”

“Much better. The tablets helped. Thank you for sending the brushes.”

“Well I wouldn’t have wanted to use mine if some dirty housebreaker had his paws all over them so I figured you brought nothing like that with you. You aren’t to go back to the shop alone until the security has been improved,” she ordered. “Jayla, Jess Byrdon will meet you there at the Station at nine, so you are represented when you give your statement.” She held up her hand. “Yes, I know you need to replace clothes and furniture Jayla. The two of you,” she nodded at Lucinda, “can do girl shopping afterwards. The new security systems should be in on your shop by this afternoon.” Turning to Juliette, she reminded, “We need to leave now to catch the shuttle into the city Juliette.”

Juliette hastily wiped butter off Saura’s muzzle and then took her tray to the recycler.

“Sorry about this,” Jayla told Lucinda as Katherine and her First Daughter left. “You probably don’t want to spend your free time babysitting me, but I appreciate it, and the loan of the clothes.”

Lucinda grinned at her. “There’s nothing like a shopping trip where I get to spend someone else’s money. What kind of furniture are you going to look for?”

“I was thinking something in light colors. Lipski had the place decorated in dark reds and browns, and she liked heavy furniture. Not my style, and since it got wrecked…”

“Um—I think I saw a furniture store with some stuff like that.” Lucinda tapped her Clan bracelet and a city map popped up.

“Wow! That’s new. Mine won’t do that,” Jayla said enviously.

“Yes, it’s new. I’m testing it for the boys,” Lucinda explained, referring to her cousins Roderick and Rupert who had started a computer program and design firm two years ago. “Besides just scanning for drugs and poisons, it has useful stuff like this map. Okay, I’m supposed to tap in furniture and then lightwoods and—it works! Here’s our list of stores to visit.”

By lunchtime, Jayla had arranged for most of the wrecked furniture to be replaced, and the new stuff delivered to her apartment. She was surprised to discover she was enjoying Lucinda’s company since the two of them hadn’t been all that friendly as children. It was lunchtime when they finished furniture shopping and they were close to the city center where the spaceport and government offices were located. They ran into Juliette as they were entering a café.

“How did you get loose?” Lucinda asked her. “I thought you had Parliament all day today.”

Juliette made a face. “I do, but Mom has some kind of hush-hush meeting about the immigration program, so she said for me to take a few hours off. I decided to grab lunch. Are you guys getting ready to eat?”

“Yes,” Jayla said. “C’mon let’s grab salads and then I won’t feel fat when I try on clothes later. If the new security is in when we finish, we can stop at Whimsical and I can show you around if you’d like to see it.”

“I’d love to see it,” Juliette said. “Mom won’t mind if I take some extra time. This afternoon is just a discussion about fishing rights before a bill comes up. Afterwards, Mom will quiz me on strategies to use to get it passed.”

Jayla looked at her curiously. “Are you ever sorry you became a First?” she asked.

Juliette shook her head. “No I don’t regret it. The actual text of the bills can be boring, but the maneuvering that goes into getting them passed, well that’s fun. It’s a kind of game. And it’s not all politics. I need to learn how to manage the land and people on Veiled Isle, stuff like that. Do you regret not doing it?” she asked Jayla.

“No,” Jayla said. “Aunt Genevieve and I talked about it, but as far back as I can remember I wanted to be in retail. That’s a game too; figuring out what people will buy and then convincing them they want it. What about you, Lucinda? Why did you choose security when you can draw so well? Why not an art career?”

“I love drawing and painting,” Lucinda admitted, but there needs to be order. People need to be safe walking down the street, or in their homes and businesses. Security provides that. I can draw in security too, you know. Next month I intern with the security artist here in Port Recovery. He will show me how to draw from a description and how to use the imaging technology. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Enough soul searching,” Juliette said firmly as they returned their dishes to the recycler. “Let’s go try on clothes!”

Jayla noticed a strange little man watching the shop from across the street when they arrived at Whimsical that afternoon, but since he didn’t approach them, she forgot about him. She opened the shop using the new codes Larry Jorgensen had sent her.

“Wow,” Juliette said, looking around. “Look at all this stuff. Some of it looks handcrafted. Is it?”

Jayla nodded. “Yes, some of the local arts and crafts people brought in some of it. I’m hoping to feature more of that kind of thing. Maybe I can talk Lucinda into putting some of her artwork in here?”

Lucinda looked surprised. “Do you think my stuff is good enough?”

“Of course, it is,” Juliette said loyally.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think so,” Jayla told her. She frowned when she realized that Wayne, her sales-bot, hadn’t come forward when they entered, and he hadn’t cleaned up the broken glass from the break-in. Annoyed, she went to his utility closet and opened the door. He was turned off, and like Daryl, he had been subjected to a dermal search.

“Wow! What happened to him?” asked Juliette, looking over her shoulder.

“The burglar must have searched him too,” Jayla said resignedly. She turned Wayne back on, ordered a diagnostic, and then told him to clean up the glass when it was finished. After a few minutes of humming, he sat up and went out into the store. Unfortunately, Jayla had forgotten to tell him to dress and he was stark naked. Like Daryl, he was anatomically correct.

“Does he wait on customers like that?” Lucinda gasped out over Juliette’s giggles.

“Wayne! Put on some clothes before you scare away my customers!” Jayla ordered. “And then clean up the glass.”

“He doesn’t scare me,” the little man from across the street remarked, having entered because Jayla had forgotten to lock the doors when she and the other girls had come in. “I just wish I had his equipment.” He looked around. “Where’s Sara? I have a consignment for her,” he patted the canvas bag he was holding.

“Sara—retired,” Jayla informed him. “I’m the new owner. I’m not open yet because I’m still doing inventory, but I can look at what you have. What type of consignment is it?”

He hesitated, and then said, “Uh—maybe we could do this in the back? Wayne there seems to be drawing quite a crowd.”

“Sure, follow me,” Jayla said. She cast an exasperated look at the sales-bot who was parading in front of the window with a broom and dustpan. She caught Lucinda’s eye as her cousin eyeballed the audience outside the windows ogling Wayne, and laughed despite herself. Rolling her own eyes, she unlocked the door to her office and turned on her comp. “You can set the item down on that table there so I can scan it.”

“Scan it?” her visitor was dismayed. “Sara never scanned my consignments.”

“I’m not Sara,” Jayla said. “Until I get more familiar with her vendors, I have to scan everything. Just unwrap it and put it on the table. The scan won’t damage it.”

He sidled toward the open office door. “Ah—maybe next time. Sorry to have bothered you. Mistress—?”

“Lady Jayla,” she told him. She came to the door and watched as he ran out the front doors, clutching his bag.

“What was that all about?” Lucinda asked.

“I’m not sure. He said he was one of Sara Lipski’s regulars. He almost had a conniption when I told him I would scan the consignment though. I don’t even know what it was.”

“If he didn’t want it scanned, that probably means it would show up as stolen on the local police list of missing items,” Lucinda informed her.

“He said Lipski never scanned his consignments,” Jayla murmured. “I wonder…If she was in the habit of receiving stolen goods that might explain what whoever broke in here was looking for.”

“I’ll check to see if she had any kind of record for that tomorrow when I go to work. I’m interning in the morgue this semester,” Lucinda promised. “Are you ready to head back to the manor?”

“Yes,” Jayla said. “Just as soon as I give that blasted exhibitionist instructions to dress himself and clean this place tonight.”

An amnesiac fighter on the run falls for a sorceress hiding deadly secrets.

In the Kingdom of Askela being born a Magi means slavery in the Kings Witch Kore or a death sentence. Rebecca will do anything to save her family from being found by the King’s Witch Proctors—even accepting an engagement to a mercenary fighter with a price on his head.

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In The Beginning

A WAY TO travel from world to world was discovered in the late 22nd Century on a planet called Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy. Were these new worlds simply other planets in the known galaxy or did the gateways lead to other dimensions with other physical laws? Or perhaps—both?

         Earth was constantly beset by strife and wars and the portals became simply another item to be fought over. A group on the losing side of one of a conflict captured and held a portal for a space of three months, allowing their families to escape. As the winning forces flooded the city, the last of the fleeing losers fled through the Portal, erasing their destination as they left so they couldn’t be hunted down by their enemies.

         Travel now to the world of Rulari the new home of the escaping Terrans. Not only does time march differently on Rulari, but this world answers to the rule of will, heart, mind and of magic as much as the laws science that had governed on earth.

         Humans are very adaptable and began to prize those families with the ingrained talent to use magic. In the years since man first came to Rulari, Seven Places Of Power were searched out, new portals established and enclosed in keeps held by the seven of the most powerfully gifted families. Formidable wards were set to assure the keeps stayed in the control of the families. One of these ancient keeps was Ironlyn on the northwestern sea of the country of Askela. It is held by a family named Mabinogion.

1  The Witchlings

KATHLEA MABINOGION, heritary Draconi to the shire of Ironlyn, was a powerful, unregistered Magi. Her much loved husband Maxton was a great soldier, but he had no talent other than his swordplay. Magi were highly valued in the kingdom of Askela but only if a registered member of the Elite Kings Magi Kore. Unregistered Magi were hunted by the Magi Proctors and forced to join. When a Magi joined the Kore, to ensure loyalty only to the King and the Kore, the Kore insisted all family ties be broken. The Kore would choose a mate for you, to breed stronger Magi. It mattered little to the Kore if the Magi ‘recruited’ was already mated, in a relationship or if they even liked their assigned partner. If she had been a registered Magi, Kathlea would never have been allowed to marry Maxton. If the Kore caught her, her children would be tested for Magi talents. Any of her Magi gifted children would be separated from their parents and sent to a special school where they were indoctrinated in loyalty to the Kore above all else.

Kathlea had born Maxton three children, Rebecca, age ten and the twins Catrin and Owen, age four, all of whom were showing signs of nascent Magi talent. There was also hope of a fourth child, but Kathlea hadn’t yet shared that with her family on that fatal day when the Proctors found them.

Years ago, the rebellious unregistered Magi of Askela had formed a network called the Cabal to enable Magi to escape the nets spread by the Kore. Travelers like the Maginogion family picked up Magi hiding from the Proctors and aided them to escape to neighboring countries where the Magi Laws were different. For the truly desperate, there was Ironlyn Keep and a portal.

Magical in itself, Ironlyn had defied attempts by the King and the Magi Proctors to force their way into it. Unable to break the wards or decipher the spell that created them, the Proctors continually searched for members of the bloodline in the hope they would be able to control them and in turn control so powerful a resource.

The family belonged to the cabal dedicated to helping Magi escape the Proctors. Joined by Kathlea’s parents, the family traveled around the kingdom in wagons, eking out a living selling spices, potions and medicine to various villages, while a cousin without Magi abilities held Ironlyn for them. On Rebecca’s tenth birthday, the Proctors found her mother. Her grandparents had driven their wagon into a nearby village to meet their contact and pick up a Magi hiding there. Kathlea and Maxton had stayed behind because it was rumored the Proctors were in the village, and Lewys Maginogion felt that two traveler wagons would draw too much attention.

Rebecca and the twins had been playing under the wagon when Kathlea suddenly stood up and looked towards the town.

“What is it?” Maxton demanded.

“He’s coming!” Kathlea gasped. “I feel him. He knows I’m here.”

She turned to Rebecca. “Go! Hide where we found the berries. Be quiet, and keep the twins quiet also. Don’t come out whatever you see or hear. Promise me!”

“I promise,” Rebecca said. She grabbed Catrin and Owen’s hands and ran into the bushes. They barely made it before the Proctor and his men thundered into camp.

The Proctor immediately cast a Binding Spell on Kathlea to keep her from using her Rainbow Magic to help her husband. Rebecca could see the bubble of magic over her mother push outward as Kathlea tried to break through it. Hidden in a hollow in the brush with her hands covering the mouths of her brother and sister, she watched in terror as her father fought the guardsmen who came with the Proctor.

Catrin whimpered. “Hush!” Rebecca breathed and the children obediently stilled.

The Proctor had brought ten guards with him. Maxton fought like a tiger to reach him, slaying all but four before an unlucky strike brought him down. Kathlea screamed.

“Shut up woman!” the Proctor yelled. “You are Magi and a strong one. I will let him live if you do not resist.”

Sobbing, Kathlea allowed herself to be led away, the bubble binding her to the saddle. The remaining guards loaded up their dead and wounded comrades and followed their master.

Rebecca made the twins wait until the Proctor and his men had disappeared before they came out of hiding. Maxton was unconscious but alive. Anghard, Rebecca’s grandmother had just begun to teach the girl healing, but she bathed and bound her father’s wounds as well as she could, applying a poultice of crushed bayberry and skunkweed to stop the bleeding.

Lewys and Anghard had been forced to watch as the Proctor led their captive daughter through the village, arriving back at the camp to find Maxton alive but still unconscious.

As soon as he was recovered, he left to try and rescue his wife from the Kore. The family packed up and left the area, traveling in a roundabout way toward the Capitol city of Khios where the Kore was headquartered, hoping to be able to help their daughter and her husband.

Lewys learned through his contacts in the Cabal that Kathlea had arrived there and been taken into the inner courts for training, but he could discover nothing more. Almost a year later, news came that Maxton and Kathlea were both dead.

“It is a tale to sing of that will inspire rebels against the Kore for generations,” the woman, an escaped Magi, brought the news. “He fought his way in to her, and they defied the Chief Magi himself, but they were trapped on the highest tower of the castle above the ocean cliffs. They kissed each other and jumped into the ocean. It is believed they drowned.”

Anghard sobbed. Lewys Maginogion’s face was hard.         “Someday, I will kill them,” he said. “All who support this cursed system that destroys families.”

The woman telling the tale looked frightened. “There is more,” she whispered. “It is rumor only, but they say your daughter was delivered of a babe who was sent out of the city.”

“What happened to the child?” Anghard asked, a desperate hope in her voice.

The woman shrugged. “A servant woman was paid to smuggle her out of the nursery. That is all I know. I’m sorry.”

“You are sure the babe was a girl?”

The woman hesitated. “That is what I was told, but—”

Anghard pressed her hand. “Thank you.”

 

2  Fire Magic

THIRTEEN YEARS passed and the family never forgot their lost daughter or the child she might have born. The night the fever took her grandmother, Rebecca stood under the byre looking up at the sky. Anghard had fought the illness and fought hard, but in the end, she succumbed. “You are Draconi now,” she told Rebecca. Holding her granddaughter’s firm young hand in her wasted one. “Take care of your grandfather and your brother and sister. It will be up to you to find our lost one now.” She had pressed an amulet into Rebecca’s hand. “Use this to help you skry for her.”

“I’ll find her grandmother,” she vowed. “Mother is gone, but if her child lives, I’ll find her. I promise.”

“It’s hopeless,” Catrin said, wiping her eyes. She and Owen were sixteen now, a tall strapping pair, with curly dark hair and usually ready smiles.

Rebecca looked over at Lewys Maginogion’s ravaged face. He would miss his beloved Anghard. She reached for her sibling’s hands. “He will stay with her tonight, I think. Let’s go back to camp.”

Dinner that night was a simple stew which they ate in silence. Afterwards, Owen set up the rope corral around the unicorn herd that was their uncle’s prize possession. Rebecca and Catrin were finishing up the supper dishes and setting up for breakfast the next morning, when they had unwelcome visitors.

John Thomas Lazarus was an important man in the nearby village of Stonhenge.

“What, no dancing around the fire? I was looking forward to that,” he said jovially.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lazarus,” Rebecca replied quietly. “We are not entertaining visitors tonight. This is a camp of sorrow. Our grandmother Anghard passed into the great beyond this afternoon. Please excuse us.”

She went back to wiping down the clean plates, ignoring him, hoping he would take the hint and go away.

Instead, he threw some coins down on the ground. “Here, I’ll pay for my entertainment.”

She made no move to pick up the coins. “No, Sir.”

Lazarus frowned, but he hesitated. “Maybe I should ask the old man. Where is he?”

“Grandfather is sitting vigil with Grandmother,” Owen, who had just returned to the camp, replied.

Lazarus looked at him in incredulity. “You mean someone really did die?”

The three just looked at him in silence.

“I see. Alright, I’ll be back tomorrow then.” He turned and left.

Owen spat on the ground at his back.

“Make sure he really leaves,” Rebecca said. “I intend to skry for our lost sister tonight, and I don’t want a witness.”

“He and the others have left the Trade Station Circle and headed back into town,” Owen reported. “Becca, are you sure this is a good idea? Grandmother always did it before.”

Rebecca pulled out the bronze stone that had been Anghard’s last gift to her. “Yes. I feel her spirit strongly tonight. She will help me before she passes on. I know it.”

Catrin unrolled the ancient map of the kingdom, stretching it on the wooden worktable the girls used for making their medicines, and held down the corners with four flat stones.

Rebecca took the necklace over her head and held the stone in one hand. She cut a small prick in her finger and rubbed it over the stone. Holding the stone over the map, she rubbed the blood on the surface.

“Bone of my bone, blood of my blood, seek now that which is lost.”

Catrin picked up the knife and did the same. Handing the knife to Owen, she too rubbed the stone with a bloody fingertip, and repeated the chant.

After a second’s hesitation, he repeated the actions and the chant.

At first, nothing happened, but finally, the stone began to swing gently. There was a surge of power and then the stone pulled strongly toward the west finally coming to rest on the symbol for the village of Buttersea.

All three felt the soft caress as Anghard left them for the final time.

“What have you done?” Lewys demanded.

Catrin looked up at him with tears running down her face. “It was grandmamma. I felt her,” she sobbed.

“We all felt her,” Rebecca said coolly. “Look, we have a destination.”

Lewys stared down at the map with the stone resting on it. “Yes,” he sighed. “I heard from Cousin Lerrys. He needs to leave Ironlyn. The local Proctor is getting suspicious of him. We will go home. That village is on the way. If your sister is there, we will find her.”

Rebecca nodded. “We will be ready.”

“I need to go into the village tomorrow and pick up the supplies I ordered. You three stay will here and pack up so we can leave when I return,” Lewys instructed.

Breakfast the next morning was quiet. Lewys put a pack saddle on one of the herd mares, saddle Sunrise and left for the village outside the Trade Station, while his grandchildren began the process of packing the two wagons. It was a complicated process. The limited space meant that everything stowed for traveling had to go in exactly the right place or it wouldn’t all fit.

Packing took longer than it should have because Owen kept stuffing things in higgledy-piggledy. It was obvious he was in a hurry. After she had unloaded and re-packed the things he had already packed several times, Rebecca turned to him in exasperation. “What is wrong with you? This will take forever if you aren’t more careful. Why are you in such a hurry?”

Catrin laughed. “He wants to get done so he can hurry over and say goodbye to Fiona,” she said with a knowing look.

“The Station Master’s daughter?” Rebecca inquired.

Owen nodded.

“Okay, take off then,” his sister said. “The way you’re working, we’ll get on better without you. Scram!”

Her little brother kissed her cheek and loped off toward the Trade Station.

“Grandpa told us all to stay here,” Catrin remarked.

“I know,” Rebecca replied, “but he’s only young once.”

Catrin laughed and began repacking the pots and pans Owen had made a mess of.

“Leave a space for what Grandpa is bringing back,” Rebecca reminded her.

“What is it, do you know?” Catrin asked.

“Not a clue,” her sister replied. “He was very mysterious about it.”

“Well, we’ve finished,” Catrin said, a few minutes later. “I suppose we can harness the unicorns. Whose turn is it today?”

Lewys’ prize unicorn herd were mostly draft animals and to keep from overusing any of them, the family rotated the ones used to pull the wagons.

“Let’s rotate the teams,” Rebecca suggested. She went to the rope corral and called four mares to her. She was about to lead them over to the front of the first wagon when they again had unwelcome visitors. Lazarus was back.

“Not leaving already are you?” he asked Catrin, looking the girl up and down in a way that made her flush with embarrassment.

“Yes, we are,” Rebecca answered him. She deliberately led the four large unicorns between him and Catrin, forcing him to move back out of the way.

“Really?” he sneered. “Leaving without allowing me to sample your wares? I don’t think so.”

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. She understood exactly what type of ‘wares’ he referred to, but pretended she didn’t.

“I’m afraid we’ve already packed away our herbs and medicines, Mr. Lazarus,” she said.

“I’m not talking about any piddly spices girl and you know it,” he said.

“Catrin, get in the wagon and lock the door,” Rebecca told her sister.

Catrin hesitated, but obeyed her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lazarus,” Rebecca continued, “but we aren’t receiving visitors, and my grandfather and brother will be back soon. I need to get our unicorns harnessed. Please excuse me.”

She lined up the unicorns and was preparing to throw the first harness over one’s back when Lazarus grabbed her.

Rebecca fought him, but he was stronger than she. When she landed a lucky kick on his knee, he slapped her hard across the face. The dizzying blow stunned her long enough for Lazarus to rip her blouse open. He yanked her to him and mashed his mouth down on hers.

When she tried to turn her head away, he grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her face back to his. With her arms pinned against his body, she was unable to move. Finally, she managed to free one of her arms and stabbed at his eyes with her fingers.

Lazarus hit her again, this time with his fist. She stumbled and fell to her knees. He knocked her the rest of the way to the ground, following it up by falling on her body. He tore her blouse the rest of the way off, biting at her bared breast. The pain brought her out of the stun, and she clawed at his face and head.

When she felt him fumbling at the buttons on her pants, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop him unless she used her Magi talents. Fear and anger ignited her Fire Magic. A fireball burst in his face, causing his greasy hair to catch fire. Lazarus screamed and drew back.

Suddenly, he was knocked off Rebecca by the solid twack! of the shovel wielded by Catrin, who had disobeyed her sister and come to help. He fell to the side unconscious, with his hair still smoldering.

When Lewys and Owen arrived a few minutes later, they found Rebecca leaning on her sister’s shoulder while Catrin applied a poultice to take down the bruising.

Lewys looked down at Lazarus in silence. He had checked the man for life signs and was disappointed to find him still alive. “You should have made sure he was dead,” he informed his granddaughters.

“We can still do that,” Rebecca said, half hysterically.

“No, child we can’t. It would be murder. Owen, go and get Trade Master Jordan.”

When Catrin started to take Rebecca inside the wagon, Lewys stopped her. “Better he sees her just like she is, so he knows this was justified,” Lewys said.

The Trade Master arrived in Owen’s wake, puffing. He was a round man, no longer made for running.

“Oh, no, Oh, no,” he kept repeating, wringing his hands. “This is bad.”

“It was self defense,” Lewys reminded him. “Look at my granddaughter. Since when is it bad to stop a man from raping her?”

“Since the man is John Thomas Lazarus!” Jordan snapped. “You don’t live here. He is the most powerful man in this county. He owns half the farms around here and at least a third owe him money. He pretty much does as he pleases.”

“Including rape?” demanded Lewys.

“I’ve heard rumors,” Jordan said. “Well, the first thing is to get you out of here. You boy,” he pointed at Owen. “Get those unicorns harnessed. I’m going to the village to round up a few men to help me collect Lazarus and take him back into town to a healer. You need to be on the road by the time I get back. I can give you about an hour. Who knows? Maybe he’ll die in the meantime and solve both our problems.”

While Lewys and Owen harnessed the unicorns to the wagons, Rebecca threw off her torn blouse and put on a loose comfortable shirt. She mounted the wagon box and took her place to drive.

“Are you able to do this, girl?” her grandfather looked at her from the back of his golden unicorn.

She set her hat firmly on her head and nodded. “Yes, lets just go away from here.”

They camped that night by a small creek deep in a black leaf forest, Lewys having decided that it would be wiser to avoid the Trade Stations until they were a long way from Joppa.

The next morning, he had them whitewash the sides of the wagons so they would appear a different color. He also instructed Catrin to prepare a concoction he said would dye the unicorn’s coats a different color. It turned Sunrise and the mares’ golden coats to a dull brown.

To make Owen appear older, he brought out a fake beard for him to put on each morning.

It was while they were dying the unicorns that Rebecca found the three hungry kittens. They were very young and hadn’t yet grown the white manes they would have as adults. She also found the body of their mother nearby. Gathering up the kits in her arms, she brought them back to camp. Milking one of the nursing unicorns, she mixed the rich milk into a feed for them.

For several weeks, they continued to travel west avoiding the usual travel lanes.

 

3  A Spell Is Cast

HARRY SIMS, proprietor of the Glass Slipper Tavern, was an unhappy man on this fine summer evening. He should have been happy. The Glass Slipper was full. The Jamborees for local stock collection and sale had just finished and all the holdings, small and large were in town and spending coin freely.

The chief cause of his unhappiness was not the rowdiness of the crowd; he was long accustomed to that. No, the cause of his worry was the five-man gambling game going on in the corner. Harry knew four of the five players well. Leej Jonsyn, the rug merchant, was losing and was going to be in trouble with his wife for being out so late in the evening. Ruddy Tyer, a long, skinny kid from Gryphon’s Nest, was still reasonably sober but he would lose his Jamboree bonus before the end of the night. Charger French, a squatty rider from back in the badlands with it was said—but not where he could hear it—a reputation for shady deals. The fourth player was Jajson Buttersnake the son of old ‘Rock’ Buttersnake, the biggest breeder around. Jajson figured he was top dog in this town because no one dared challenge the son of old Rock. Rock ran a tough, salty crew of drovers. They didn’t much like the boss’s son, but they would take his side in a fight.

It was the fifth dice thrower who worried Harry. Harry had seen him ride into town earlier that day on the highbred, dapple war unicorn presently taking up space at Harry’s hitching rail. The stranger wasn’t a big man; he stood around five-eight with a short, neatly trimmed black beard and cold green eyes. To Harry, who had seen quite of few of his kind as a young man, the stranger had ‘Merc’ written all over him. His clothes were of too good quality and too clean, his thigh-high boots too new and shiny, and the saddle on that fancy unicorn stud was too pricey for a coin a day drover. His needle-gun was tied low on his leg in a well-worn holster, and unless Harry was mistaken, he had a blade down his back, one in his boot, and a second gun hidden in his sleeve.

Absently, Harry polished a glass while he tried to place the man. He didn’t look that familiar, but the blood feud over to the south between the RedBird and Smoker clans had just finished. Before he died, the Smoker Chief Hutchins had claimed Rupert RedBird was hiring paid Mercs. A practice that while not against the law, was something Prince Tarragon disapproved of; and the stranger had ridden in from the south.

Harry swore softly to himself. Jajson Buttersnake was drunk. When he was sober, he was a poor card player and an even worse loser. Because he ran with the Buttersnake mob, he was usually safe when he had a tantrum; no one in his right mind wanted to start a fighting ruckus with Old Rock’s crew.

Harry had a bad feeling the fifth card player wouldn’t give a damn how tough Old Rock Buttersnake’s crew was. There was just something in that dark face that said, ‘I don’t care’. And it was going to happen in his place too, he thought bitterly. They would probably cause a lot of damage before things got settled.

Suddenly Buttersnake stood up, scattering dice and coins. “I want a new set of dice!” he cried. “You shouldn’t have won that throw!”

The stranger came up out of his chair in one swift, clean movement. He slapped Jajson across the mouth, knocking him into the crowded bar.

The room exploded away from young Buttersnake. Leej Jonsyn, the rug merchant, dived away from the table so fast he knocked over his chair.

Jajson Buttersnake staggered to his feet, a trickle of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He was white with fury. “You cheated!” he shrieked, pawing for his gun. He fumbled and almost dropped it in his rage.

The stranger waited until Buttersnake had his needlegun coming level before he drew and fired. His gun made a loud snapping noise as the puff of compressed air sent a fatal needle right down Buttersnake’s throat.

In that instant, Harry recognized the fighter. Hammer Smith was the handle he went by, but Harry was one of the few who knew his real name was Andre Benoit. Benoit hailed from the coastal area at the south end of the kingdom. Hammer Smith was reputed to be in his twenties, but he was already known as a dangerous man. It was said that he never drew a weapon unless the man was armed and facing him but if you pushed him, you died. Jajson Buttersnake died.

In the stillness after the weapon fire, Hammer Smith calmly reloaded his weapon, scooped up his coins from the table and quietly walked through the swinging doors. Whispers started in his wake.

“Shot him in the mouth,” someone said.

Hammer Smith mounted the dapple unicorn and set off at a brisk trot.

“So much for a warm bed for me and a soft stall for you, Blackfeather,” he said. “Unless, I’m mistaken we’re going to have a bunch of irate drovers on our tail really quick. Why did I sit down at that game, anyway?”

Blackfeather’s stride increased to a smooth, ground-eating lope. The double moons were full, making the road as clear as day, but Hammer Smith knew he was going to have to leave it soon. He started looking for a good place to hide his trail. Behind him, he could hear angry shouts and then the snap of needle gunfire.

“Okay, boy,” he spoke softly to the unicorn, who cocked an attentive black ear, “let’s ride some lightning.”

Blackfeather was fast. Hammer Smith had traded him off from a CatMan who had used him for racing. The trouble was, he had beaten every unicorn in the area so often that no one would race against him anymore and the CatMan was broke. Hammer Smith had traded him a half-broke unicorn with the disposition of a poison beetle crossed with a snapdragon, an extra needle rifle and twenty coins in eating money.

He knew if he could get a start on the impromptu mob forming behind him, he could make it across the line into CatMan Territory. Not the safest place in the world to be, but safer than here as it was unlikely any posse would follow him there. The Prince had given orders that entering CatMan territory was forbidden. No one wanted to re-start the raiding again, and the Cats would undoubtedly see any group of armed men as breaking the treaty. Single riders entered at their own risk, and were usually ignored. Maybe.

Suddenly ahead of him came the pound of running hooves and a wild screeching yell. A mob coming in late off the Jamboree maybe?

He checked the unicorn and faded off to the side, stopping under a kaleidoscope tree about twenty feet away from the road. The moon flecked through the shinny semi-transparent leaves, causing light and dark shadows that blended with Blackfeather’s coat.

A more cautious man would have taken the opportunity to scuttle out of there quick. But Hammer Smith was not a cautious man. Grinning, he watched as the mob from town ran full tilt into the celebrating drovers.

Chuckling, he started Blackfeather around the tree and to the north at an easy lope heading into a forest of more kaleidoscope trees. In the melee behind him, he heard the snap of air guns as some fool started shooting and he knew everybody soon would be.

He paid a price for the inattention caused by his unholy amusement. Karma has a way of catching up with a man. In the darkness, he never saw the tree branch coming that dealt his head a smashing blow, stunned, he blacked out. Only his instinctive riding ability and Blackfeather’s superb gait kept him from falling off. Several times, Blackfeather shifted stride and course to ensure his rider stayed in the saddle. Puzzled at being given no other signals, Blackfeather continued to travel west, taking the easiest route.

The sun was just coming up when Hammer Smith awoke. Blackfeather had slowed to a walk. Muzzily, Hammer Smith peered around. His head hurt and he was having trouble focusing his eyes. Blackfeather mounted the top of a small rise and started down toward a creek gurgling below.

Hammer Smith blinked harder to focus his eyes because he was sure he was seeing things. The loveliest girl he had ever seen knelt by the water washing her face. Straight black hair fell in a curtain to the ground around her, some of the strands floating in the water.

Blackfeather stopped at the edge of the creek and lowered his head to drink. The girl lifted her head to stare back at Hammer Smith out of the clearest gray eyes he’d ever seen. She stood, pulling her hair back over her shoulders. Her crimson night robe clung to her lush figure, making a bright splash of red against the green plants growing on the bank of the stream.

At that moment, Hammer Smith was beyond appreciating nature’s decorating schemes. The whole world felt unreal. There was no one in it but him and the girl, and never would be. He nudged Blackfeather across the stream and stopped beside her.

She looked up at him with no sign of fear. He stared down at her. It seemed as if her eyes grew enormous and he was diving into a huge pool of gray water. This time he did fall off his unicorn.

Rebecca tried to break his fall, but since he outweighed her, she ended up on the ground with him on top. Awkwardly, she sat up, wriggling out from under his weight. His head lolled back against her breast.

“Gosh!” exclaimed her sixteen-year-old brother Owen, “where did he come from?”

“Over the hill,” Rebecca said absently, looking at the dark face. He wasn’t bad looking; of course, you couldn’t tell much with that beard…

“What’s the matter with him?” demanded Owen’s twin, Catrin. Like Rebecca, she was still in her nightclothes.

Rebecca had found the caked blood matted in his hair.

“He’s been hurt,” she said. “One of you go and get Grandpa.”

“Gosh!” said Owen again. “That’s a funny place to get hurt. Do you suppose somebody whacked him?”

“Maybe.”

Blackfeather nudged Hammer Smith curiously with his soft grey nose. Why was he so still? Absently, Rebecca patted him.

“He’ll be fine,” she said to the unicorn. Blackfeather snorted gently and wandered off to crop some grass growing by the bank.

Pulling the straps of his suspenders, Lewys Maginogion, awakened out of a sound sleep by Catrin, hurried up to them. His sharp old eyes took in the situation at a glance.

“Owen, unsaddle that unicorn and take care of it. Catrin, go fix up a bed in the wagon.”

As the two hurried to obey, he knelt beside Rebecca.

“He’s got blood on his head. Owen thought maybe he’d been whacked in a fight,” she said.

Gingerly Maginogion turned Hammer Smith’s head, running a finger in the gash on the top of his head and forehead.

“You’ll make it bleed again,” protested Rebecca.

“He’s out like a candle. Doesn’t feel a thing. We’d best get him in the wagon and that wound dressed before he wakes up.”

Unobserved by Rebecca, Lewys Maginogion looked pensively down at the lovely visage of his eldest granddaughter, who was gazing at the face of the young man resting in her arms. It had been six months since the incident, and in all that time his beautiful Rebecca had not voluntarily let any man touch her. Yet she held this stranger against her with no sign of shrinking.

They put the unconscious man to bed in the wagon. As Lewys cleaned and dressed the wound, he thought about what he had learned in the village yesterday, and a plan began to form in his mind. Only if the young man proved worthy of course…

Twenty minutes later, dressed in a grey cotton shirt and trousers, Rebecca was sitting on a folding campstool, brushing her hair with the aid of a hand mirror.

A pan of sliced meat was sizzling on the fire, and Catrin, similarly dressed, with her long curly hair tied back was making sourdough wafers, her face flushed from the fire.

Owen was brushing the mud from the stranger’s unicorn. Blackfeather seemed to enjoy it, one hip cocked as he sleepily munched a bag of grain.

Lewys Maginogion surveyed his brood proudly. They were good kids all of them. Owen was growing tall and straight as a young fire tree. He was gangly still, but his blue eyes met a man head on.

His twin, Catrin, took after Lewys’ mother, being tall and buxom. Her dark hair was thick and curly; she wasn’t conceited either for all she drew the men’s eyes like bees to nectar.

His gaze dropped to his oldest granddaughter. With her hair drawn back, the resemblance to his dead wife was uncanny. Rebecca wasn’t the looker Catrin was; her red-lipped mouth was too wide, and those gray eyes under her slanted brows gave her heart-shaped face an eerie beauty, but he knew from his own experience many years ago just how potent a spell that exotic loveliness could cast. He had been caught in just such a spell years ago when he first laid eyes on his dead wife, Anghard.

“All of you, come here,” he said. “I need to tell you what I learned in the village yesterday. Catrin, leave those biscuits alone. We won’t starve in the next ten minutes.

Obediently, Catrin and Owen seated themselves on a nearby log. Rebecca turned to face him on the folding campstool, a thick black braid lying over her shoulder.

“John Thomas Lazarus has put out a reward for our arrest for unauthorized magic. I saw it posted on the wall outside the sheriff’s office.”

“But we haven’t done anything!” Catrin cried, tears trembling on the ends of her lashes.

Rebecca said nothing, but she shut her eyes and clasped her hands in her lap. Magic users were regulated by the King. Powerful users were recruited to serve in the Kings Magi Kore. Less powerful magic users were required to buy a license to use magic, or if proven to be of the right bloodlines, used as breeding stock. In either case, Magi were tested and licensed and paid a fee to the King to practice their arts. Unauthorized users could be hung without trial if they committed crimes using magic.

Owen started to curse, and was immediately called to order.

“Owen I’ll not have you using words like that in front of your sisters,” Lewys said sternly. “Besides, saying a thing like that about a man can get you killed in a challenge.”

“Even when he deserves it?” asked Catrin wryly.

“Yes,” her grandfather said flatly. “Especially if he deserves it. It’s about how powerful he is, not if he deserves the name.”

After a short struggle with himself, Owen said, “Yes sir. Sorry, girls.”

“Never mind that,” Catrin said. “What are we going to do?”

Her grandfather patted her hand. “I’ll think of something,” he said. In fact, he already had a plan in mind, but he wanted to talk to their guest before he came out with it.

“Now, how about breakfast? Am I to starve to death today?”

“Grandfather, what exactly does that notice say?” demanded Rebecca.

He took it out of his pocket and handed it to her. She frowned as she read it aloud. Travelers such as themselves always had a bad reputation in any new town, being automatically suspected of thievery and other less savory actions. Combined with hints of outlaw magic it spelled real trouble. Lewys and Owen were wanted for the assault and attempted murder of John Thomas Lazarus, Catrin and herself for a magical assault on Mrs. Charity Lazarus and for burning a wagon. All were hanging offenses.

They had left the village quickly after the incident hoping an old man traveling to his new hold with his grandchildren might escape notice. They never gave their real names when plying their trade as sellers of herbs and medicines in a village, but the descriptions of them on the flyer were very close. Upon fleeing Coverville, they had turned the gaudy signs on the wagon’s side inward and stretched canvas over the outside so the wagons looked more like ordinary travelling wagons. Unfortunately, Lewys’ treasured herd of beautiful draft unicorns were very noticeable.

“Sorcery my foot!” Owen exclaimed. “That old hag died of spleen when she found out what her supposedly God-fearing husband was up to!”

“Look for the mote in your own eye,” quoted Lewys, “before speaking of the one in your neighbors.”

Owen made an angry noise. “I don’t care! And don’t quote that stuff at me! I’m sick to death of—”

“Stop it! Please!” Rebecca cried.

Everyone looked at her in astonishment. She was weeping. Rebecca never cried.

“This is all my fault,” she sobbed. “I should have just done what he wanted—”

“Wash out your mouth of that filth girl!” Lewys roared. “No granddaughter of mine and Angard’s would make a whore of herself for any reason! You did just as you should have,” he added more gently. “What’s done is done, and we live now, not in the past.”

“Uh—breakfast is ready,” Catrin inserted. “That is if anyone is interested.

They stayed another day by the creek tending to the wounded man and checking the dyes they had applied to the unicorn herd. The man didn’t really wake up, but Lewys was able to get a couple of spoons of broth down him.

The first night after everyone had gone to bed, Lewys sat up late. Another man might have been ashamed of himself for what he intended to do. Lewys Maginogion was not. He had a plan to protect his family but he needed more information about his patient before he could decide how much of it was workable. He opened the saddlebags Owen had taken off the unicorn. There wasn’t much in them. One of the bags held a clean shirt, an extra needle gun, a small sleeve weapon, a package of kophie and a battered cup and pot. The other held tools for making needles and small containers of compressed air. The most interesting things he found were a gold pendant with a man and woman’s image inside and a small packet of letters.

Most of the letters were addressed to Andre Benoit. The oldest of these was dated almost ten years ago and had been written to a schoolboy.

My dear son, Lewys read, Mr. James, the head master from St. Anthony’s visited us today and I am afraid your father is very angry with you. Dearest, you must learn to control that dreadful temper of yours or one day I fear it will lead to serious trouble. I am very proud of you for standing up for that poor young man, but was it really necessary to half-drown his tormenter in the chamber pot? And did you really need to break a valuable urn over Jimmy Hendricks head? Not but what I do sympathize with your desire to hit him with something. A more horrid brat I’ve never met and his mother is just the same—but I hear your father coming. All my love dear and do try to stay out of trouble for a few days. All my love Mama.

There were several others, all in the same vein. The last one was not written by his mother. Instead, it was written by the Cleric at a church.

My Dear boy, my heart goes out to you at this time. I wish I could be with you to comfort you, but as I cannot, I can only tell you to call upon He who is our greatest comfort in our grief as well as in joy. Your mother did not suffer at all. Dr. Thomas tells us the fall killed her instantly. Your poor father is sorely stricken. I hope this mutual sorrow will heal the gulf that has opened between you. Call upon me if you should feel the need for my services and I will come. God be with you, Respected Vincent McCauley

There were two other letters. One was from someone named Marie. It was just a note thanking him for the money to get back home to her family and telling him of her upcoming Handfasting.

The last one was addressed to someone named Hammer Smith, desiring him to come a village named Cutterston and quoting a price of seven thousand silver coins for unnamed services.

Thoughtfully Lewys re-folded the letters and replaced them. A handful of letters wasn’t much to base his plan on, but they were all he had. ‘The Divinity helps those who helps themselves’ he reminded himself. It had been one of Angard’s favorite sayings. Just the thought of her somehow made her seem closer. Would she have approved of what he intended? He thought so. Comforted, he turned into his bedroll and went to sleep.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Looking into the wagon Lewys found his patient awake.

“Well,” he said, “you scared us a mite son. How do you feel?”

Andre Benoit touched his head gingerly. “If I move will it fall off?”

“Headache? Well, I think that can be helped.” Lewys rummaged around in Anghard’s medicine box until he found a small leather packet filled with white powder. He poured a tiny amount of the powder into a tin cup, added water and swished it around.

“Here,” he said, “handing Andre the cup. “This should do the trick.”

Andre accepted the cup gingerly. “Who are you?” he asked.

Lewys looked at him in well-feigned surprise. “Why don’t you know?”

There was a small silence as Andre finished his medicine. “No,” he said at last, “I don’t guess I do.”

He paused, searching his memory and then he frowned. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think I know who I am.”

“Good Lord,” exclaimed Lewys. “I’ve heard of such a thing, but—”

Andre took him up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Why, memory loss after a blow to the head. When I was at sea, a fella got knocked on the head like you. He claimed he didn’t know who he was either. Of course, we didn’t believe him at first, but we came down to it in the end.”

Lewys rubbed his chin. “As I recall, that fella never did get his right memory back.”

Andre carefully set his cup down on the wooden chest next to him. “Do you know who I am? How I got here? How did I get hurt?”

“Whoa son,” Lewys flung up a hand. “One thing at a time. First, your name is Andre Benoit and you’re engaged to marry my eldest granddaughter Rebecca.”

Lewys told that whopping lie without a blink. He rushed on before Andre could question him. “You’re in bed because it looks like someone took a whack at you. We’re not sure how it happened. You rode off hunting yesterday and your unicorn brought you back. I’m afraid there isn’t a lot more I can tell you about yourself before you joined us a couple of weeks back, because we only just met you.”

For once in his quick-tongued life, Andre was struck speechless. The story sounded fantastic and he wanted to hear more, but he was very tired and found himself drifting back to sleep. Lewys watched him for a minute more, then rose and left the wagon.

That had been relatively easy compared to what was next—explaining to Rebecca, Catrin and Owen what he had done and getting them to go along with it.

The girls were down by the creek, washing clothes. Owen was making a fresh pot of kophie. He had heard what had gone on between Lewys and Andre. He scowled at his grandfather and opened his mouth to speak. Lewys shook his head at him.

“Where are Rebecca and Catrin?”

“Down at the creek.”

“Good. Come with me; we’re going to have a family conference.”

“We just did that yesterday,” Owen grumbled under his breath as he followed Lewys. “Much good as it did us.”

Arriving at the creek, Lewys said jovially, “You two girls look as lovely as flowers in springtime this morning.”

Catrin and Rebecca exchanged glances over the bucket of dirty clothes. When their Grandfather started showering compliments, it generally meant he was up to something.

“Thank you,” Rebecca said politely.

Both girls waited.

Lewys cleared his throat. “All of you read that wanted notice I brought back from town, didn’t you?”

“We read it, Grandpa,” Catrin replied.

“Well, then you know there weren’t images of us, just a description of an old man, two girls and a younger man. It occurred to me that what we need here is a bit of misdirection. Now we can’t change our looks, but we can become a party of five instead of four. Our new place is around three weeks’ travel from here and there are several villages between Ironlyn and us. If we travel through those villages as a party of five, everyone who sees us will think of us a group of five people not four, even if the fifth member of the group doesn’t stay around long.”

Catrin was the first to speak. “You’re talking about the man on the war unicorn. Has he agreed to this?”

Owen made a rude noise. “He’ll probably stay. You should have heard that pack of lies Grandpa fed him!”

“What if he finds out about the wanted notice?” Rebecca asked. “He might decide to collect the two thousand coins by turning us in.”

“He might not turn us in but not want to stay either—”

“Quiet!” Lewys glared them individually into silence.

“Our young friend—his name is Andre Benoit incidentally, has lost his memory because of that clout on the noggin he took.”

“Permanently?” Owen asked. “What if he starts remembering?”

Lewys waved that aside. “Makes no difference. It’ll stay lost long enough to suit us. Now stop interrupting me! Where was I?”

“Memory loss,” Catrin supplied.

“Yes. Well I told him we met him a couple of weeks ago on the trail. He went hunting for meat and came back with a cut across his head. I also told him he was engaged to Rebecca so he’d have a reason to stay around.”

Benignly he smiled at his offspring who stared back at him with varying degrees of exasperation, horror or amusement.

“Why you old reprobate!” Catrin exclaimed.

“You,” said Owen forcefully, “are a sneaky, underhanded, unscrupulous old—I don’t know what.”

They both carefully did not look at Rebecca who had gone dead white. She raised stricken eyes to her grandfather.

“I’m sorry Grandpa, but I can’t,” she whispered. “He might want—I can’t do it.”

Lewys jerked his head at Owen and Catrin. “You two go back to camp. Rebecca and I need to talk. And mind, you remember what I told you if you talk to Andre.”

Obediently they started back to the fire. Lewys put an arm around Rebecca and felt her involuntary stiffening.

“Child, you’ve got to do it. Ironlyn is our last hope. You know we need a permanent spot to retire—it’s getting dangerous to keep up the traveling medicine wagon, we are beginning to be too recognizable. The Proctors were asking questions about us in the last town. If can’t reach Ironlyn, they’ll hunt us down. We don’t have enough coin to start again overseas even if we could get passage on a ship. Besides the Cabal is counting on us to take over at Ironlyn. You know how important that is to what we do.”

She pulled away from him and covered her face with her hands.

“Don’t you see, he’s going to think its real! I dread having even you or Owen touch me and I know you aren’t going to—every time a man even touches my hand I remember—”

She broke into sobs.

Lewys’ heart ached in pity, but he steeled himself against her tears. If she didn’t overcome this fear, she would go maimed all her life.

“Rebecca, you know it isn’t natural to feel that way. You must face your fear and overcome it. What is between a man and a woman is good, not evil.”

“What happened to me was evil!” she flashed.

“The man is evil and what he did was bad,” Lewys agreed. “I’m sorry your first experience was so ugly, but you cannot allow it to rule your life child. Do you want to end your days a sour old maid with no children to light your days as you light mine?”

Her eyes closed. “Grandpa, please!”

Lewys sighed. “Well, child I won’t force you to do this for our benefit. The Cabal will find someone else to handle Ironlyn. I can sell the unicorns—”

“Stop it!” she cried. She knew her grandfather loved his unicorn herd second only to his family. It would break his heart to let them go. Her refusal would bring hurt and destitution on everyone she loved and the innocents they were charged to protect. She lifted her chin and wiped her eyes.

“You’re right. There is no other way,” she took a deep breath and gave him a watery smile. “I’ll try the best I can.”

Lewys hugged her. “That’s my brave girl. I knew I could count on you.”

Rebecca deliberately forced her body to relax. Andre would be in bed for another day or so, she hoped. Perhaps by that time she could learn not to flinch.

Catrin and Owen both looked at her anxiously when she and Lewys returned to the fire.

“Are you alright, sis?” Owen asked, his eyes widening as he realize Lewys still had his arm around Rebecca’s shoulder and she had not only walked all the way back to camp that way, but didn’t move away.

“I’m fine Owen,” she smiled at him, a rather strained smile, but a real one nonetheless. “I have agreed to Grandpa’s plan.”

Owen opened his mouth, thought better of what he had been going to say, and shut it again.

Lewys gave his granddaughter a last hug and moved toward the fire. “Catrin are you burning the biscuits?”

“No, Owen is. It’s his turn to cook,” she replied.

Aggh!” Owen leaped toward the fire to rescue his mistreated breakfast.

Rebecca took a deep breath, poured a cup of kophie, and mounted the wagon steps. Andre was awake.

“I brought you a cup of kophie. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“I hope you’re Rebecca, because if you aren’t, I’m engaged to the wrong girl.”

An involuntary laugh was surprised out of her. “What a thing to say! It would serve you right if I denied it!”

He smiled back at her, running his eyes over her possessively.

To cover her nervousness, she said hastily, “Here, let me help you sit up. You can’t drink kophie lying down.”

This was an error, she soon discovered. It brought her entirely too close to him, making her sharply aware of him as a man. He did nothing to ease her nervousness and when she attempted to help him sit up so she could place a pillow behind his back, he put both arms around her waist and leaned against her, inhaling her scent from her breast.

“Ummn—you smell good,” he said.

“Your kophie will get cold,” she said, pushing against him.

“Better cold kophie than a cold woman,” Andre retorted teasingly. But he allowed her to settle him back against the pillow and hand him his cup.

“Where’s yours?” he asked, lifting the cup to his mouth. Any doubts as to Lewys Maginogion’s veracity had vanished the instant he set eyes on his supposed fiancée. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to him that he should have wanted to marry Rebecca. She was everything he had ever dreamed of in a woman. He was a little puzzled and hurt at her reaction to his embrace though. His dream woman wouldn’t have pushed him back.

Rebecca retreated to perch on the foot of the blankets. “Grandpa says you don’t remember us.”

Andre almost laughed aloud at this simple explanation for her stiffness. She must feel extremely awkward to have him declare he was in love with her, ask her to marry him one day and then the next be told he didn’t remember her. No wonder she hadn’t responded.

He smiled warmly at her. “I plead guilty, but since I fell in love with you again on sight, I feel I deserve a suspended sentence, don’t you?”

 

 

Another Winner By Patricia Rice

This review is from: Mystery Loves History aka Gail Daley

Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Kindle Edition)

Patricia Rice has done it again. This latest series follows the Saga of the Malcolm family a little closer to modern times into the Industrial Revolution. The romantic comedy in this story is overlaid by plots and counter plots as well as a hard look at the way women were treated in the early half of the 19th century. Rice manages to get the point about this across without ever sacrificing the entertainment value of her story.

Our heroine this time, is a Malcom woman scientist who considers herself unattractive. Thanks to her grandfather, who left her a fortune but didn’t trust her to handle it herself, she needs to get married if she wants the freedom to pursue her interests. She picks another scientist to marry; a man reputed to be dying of consumption. He agrees to marry her because he needs her money to support his mother and sisters after he dies.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this book and I can’t wait to read William’s story (he’s next), when Rice takes us through those marvelously logical Ives brothers we met earlier.

Five Stars

Born to Love, Cursed to Feel

Not much of a fan of modern poets (I prefer Dorothy Parker and Rudyard Kipling), but I know folks who are. So take a look. Maybe you will find it interesting.

Crooked English

30312512Born to Love, Cursed to Feel

AUTHOR: Samantha King

GENRE: Poetry

PUBLISHED: September 27th, 2016

GOODREADS:

Born to Love, Cursed to Feel is about love—the good, the bad, and the confusing. It touches on morals and how when emotions are involved it’s not as black and white. The poetry is frequently written in a narrative manner that evocatively pulls you in and makes you feel. This book is about falling in love, bad decisions, and ultimately growth. The essence of it all is to show that no matter how far one falls all the mistakes don’t have to be what defines them.

REVIEW:

RATING: 3/5

The theme of the poems is love — highs and lows, unrequited love, heart-break, fights, and everything that could possibly happen.

The book is beautifully written. Every line makes you feel.
But, personally, I couldn’t relate to them. Yes, the book does make you feel. You get what…

View original post 135 more words

Review: The Painted Queen

By Mystery Loves History aka Gail Daley

Joan Hess has done an excellent job completing this manuscript. Amelia Peabody readers can rest assured this entry in the series was handled deftly and lovingly. For readers who prefer reading the series in chronological order rather than publishing order, I believe this story takes place between The Falcon at the Portal and He Shall Thunder in the Sky. In The Falcon at the Portal Nefret and Ramses discover they love each other, fight, and she is tricked into marrying the villain of the book, who is killed attempting to murder Amelia. This book isn’t just a place to tie up some loose ends that are only alluded to as having happened in Thunder (which it does very nicely by the way). It is tightly woven, with a well-done mystery. I confess I did guess the identities of the last two villains early on, but I suspect that was because as a writer myself I could find no other reason for their presence in the story, although their antics did make a nice distraction.

Amelia Peabody Mysteries In Chronological Order

Crocodile on the Sandbank (1884-1885)

Curse of the Pharaohs (1892-1893)

The Mummy Case (1894-1895)

Lion in the Valley (1895-1896)

Deeds of the Disturber (1896)

The Last Camel Died at Noon (1897-1898)

The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog (1898-1899)

The Hippopotamus Pool (1899-1900)

Seeing a Large Cat (1903-1904)

The Ape Who Guards the Balance (1906-1907)

Guardian of the Horizon (1907-1908)

A River in the Sky (1910)

The Falcon at the Portal (1911-1912)

The Painted Queen (1912-1913)

He Shall Thunder in the Sky (1914-1915)

Lord of the Silent (1915-1916)

The Golden One (1916-1917)

Children of the Storm (1919-1920)

Serpent on the Crown (1921-1922)

Tomb of the Golden Bird (1922-1923)

A Book Review Of Cozy Witch By Tess Lake

Book Review by Mystery Loves History aka Gail Daley

This is one of my favorite witch series because it is fun, rather than dark and heavy or gruesome as some paranormals are. It combines humor with a good mystery and supernatural elements. The mystery is in this book is solved in the end. However, there is a long-running sub plot, which in my opinion has been drug out far too long. We are given snippets of information about it in each new book, but it has lingered so long that I almost don’t remember the original issue with it! Whenever it’s brought up in the books, I always need to redirect my thoughts to a “Oh yeah, what happened with that?” mindset.

However, this story is a fun and funny, cozy paranormal mystery. I especially enjoyed that the mystery writers group kept turning up when Harlow’s family was trying to investigate because they were doing the same things! If there isn’t any such genre as cozy paranormal mystery, I vote for creating one.

Three Stars. I would have given it more if not for the lagging sub plot about what is going on with Grandma, Aunt Cass and the spell on Harlow.