The Royals

Chapter 38

The girl laughed at his foolishness. 'Can't bear to watch the dirty work, eh?'

He jolted against the rope and twisted to see her face, hidden by the hair which had somehow come undone. 'Dirty work' was just a turn of phrase. It couldn't be Ginni.

He could not lift his head, let alone shoulders, arms or legs. It didn't matter. He had lost all l**t for this girl. If she weren't actually Ginni - something of which he was suddenly no longer sure - she could well have been. Age, height, poise all so like Ginni.

He thought of Roslin's similar use of Ginni. She had shown no qualms at the risk to her own daughter as she sent her to tease men in hopes of gathering information. To be a***e this girl thus made Tom all the angrier. He did know Roslin. Perhaps he did know these mages as well.

'Get out,' he told her through clenched teeth. She pulled back from him, surprise and confusion showing in the wide eyes and wrinkled brow. 'But don't you like. . .' she started to ask and trailed off.

'No, I don't like.'

She hung there over him. 'Please don't send me away. Revered Mother will be very angry with me.'

'The Mother can go fall in a dark pit.'

She tossed her head back and forth, hair flying. 'No, no, don't say that. She took me in when no one wanted me.

'Get down at least.'

'You're sure?'

He nodded. 'I haven't been this sure of anything since I promised to watch over my daughter.'

'I have many talents.' Her face brightened. 'I could be your daughter.'

He grimaced. 'Not my cup of serviceberry, thanks. Trust me. There isn't a thing you can do to inter est me."

Slowly, with many sidelong glances, she backed off. She looked at the door and Tom thought he saw real fear in her eyes, the fear of the slave who has displeased his master. 'You don't 'ave to leave right away if you don't want.'

'I can't release you,' she said hurriedly, making sure he didn't get any ideas.

He shrugged under his bonds. 'Didn't think you could. Just thought you might like to wait a spell before returning to wherever you've got to return.'

I don't do magic.' She wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive posture.

'Good.'

Her big eyes went bigger with disbelief. 'Really?'

In this one matter it was easy to be sincere. 'Haven't had too many run-ins with magic that I didn't come out with the short stick.' Ginni excepted, he thought.

'Then why did you offer to "wait a spell"?"

Was this girl missing a few pegs or just left too long in the cold? Figure o' speech,' he explained.

She gave him another puzzled look.

A way of saying something. I meant, you here a while if you'd like.'

Understanding flared alight. 'Oh, I see. Revered Mother always says exactly what she means."

He doubted that but he didn't comment.

'I thought you wanted me to perform some sort of magic,' she explained. 'You know, "wait a spell"?"

He lifted one eyebrow and squelched laughter. 'Right, sorry." Could the girl truly be this naive? Then Tom remembered Ginni's look of utter shock. Yes, she could be, either by nature or magic.

'Revered Mother will know I've failed.' Her voice was barely above a whisper. 'Revered Mother always knows.'

'I'm very sorry about that.'

Silent tears ran down her cheeks.

'I really am. You just remind me of someone else, is all. I couldn't Well, you know

'Do I, honestly? Remind me you of someone, I mean?'

'Sure do.'

'Is she pretty??

'Very.'

'Revered Mother says I can be pretty when I try. I try pretty very hard.'

"The Mother's got it half right. I'd say you'd be no matter what."

'Even now?' The tears stopped and a quivering lip took its place.

Wanton Tom couldn't help but wonder if this was yet another ploy. 'Es even now.' He'd almost said 'especially now' but thought better of it. No need to give her more of an opening than he already had.

They sat quietly for a twin-minute. Normally a master at out-waiting, Tom finally said, 'Why don't you about yourself. How you came here, that sort of thing.'

She blushed and looked down at her hands. They seemed almost alien to the rest of her, unable to be still, plucking at her dress, pulling on her hair. 'I was very young. I don't remember much. Revered Mother took me in, taught me everything I know. I'm terribly grateful to her.'

This last seemed added, as if she wanted someone to hear it.

No doubt she did.

'What about you? How did you end up here? It's a rather strange place for a man.' She spoke come by choice, as if he weren't trussed up like a holiday pig.

'I was looking for someone,' he answered simply.

'The same someone I remind you of?'

So, she wasn't completely without a brain. 'Uh huh.

'I hope you find her.'

'Oh, I found her.'

'And?'

'She doesn't remember me.' He watched her face for a reaction but there wasn't a twitch.

'That's very sad.' She didn't sound sad, more like she struggled to preserve a new-found monotone.

'Yeah, it is.'

'I'd better go.' Suddenly she was eager to leave. She jumped off him and ran out the door before he could respond.

Score one,' Tom said to the air. 'Now we're gettin' somewhere.' He smiled. 'Not sure where, but some where.'

Kate was almost relieved when they took her back to the dungeon and settled her in the cell next to Maarcus. Prisons were all pretty much the same: cold, dank, heavy brick, and high barred windows (windows optional). She knew the hazards. Here she never doubted that everything was her enemy. The cold damp that settled into lungs, the chains and shackles that rubbed great wounds, the rats that gnawed at the wounds - these were only the outward extensions of the true danger. Here she would not be lulled into false security by Hadrian or his men.

Only Maarcus could be trusted now... if he lived.

To see a hostage tortured is terrible. To know the victim is agony.