must be off. There are three more bodies and one exceedingly dangerous maniac to locate within the city walls."
I he Disore and Camderine families dined together at the Disore mansion that night, and the atmosphere was a curious mixture of sorrow and elation. The guilty were atoning for their crimes with their lives ... yet Harren, Elsile, and Reclor were gone forever. Ve-lesti sat in silence, eating a special meal of meats and salads.
"At last we see a modicum of justice, yet our rulers and protectors treat it like a disaster," said Elene.
"The question is, who is meting out the justice?" asked Graten Camderine. "My son, or someone else?"
"I have given the matter some thought. Those swine must have done such crimes before. Someone else may have lost a girl to them in like manner, and been trying to track them down. Then he heard what happened here."
Mica began clearing the dishes away, and had just turned from the table when the double doors were pushed open. Martyne stood before them, cloaked but with his hood thrown back to reveal short, black hair on his head and face. Julica dropped the armload of dishes and screamed, Velesti looked up without any trace of recognition, and the others bounded to their feet and rushed around the table to the former monk.
"There are none left," said Martyne in a remote, desolate voice as they crowded around him.
Another place was hurriedly set at the table by Julica as the groom cleared away the broken crockery, then the elder Camderines and Frelle Disore sat down with Martyne and Velesti for the first time in over five years.
"The servants will be discreet about your presence," began Elene, but Martyne waved her silent with a chicken bone.
"I have spoken with the city constable. My name is clear."
"Ah, well, that is good news," said his mother, Telsa.
"How?" asked Graten.
"I was very convincing," replied Martyne.
Velesti was munching her way through her salad, paying no attention to the conversation and ignoring Martyne completely. Mar-tyne answered all questions with short, flat, economical replies.
"It is wonderful to all be together again," said Elene, attempting warmth.
"Those of us who are left," responded Martyne.
He drained his wine, then a thought seemed to cloud his features. He grimaced with pain. The silver goblet crumpled in his grip.
"It was not your fault, you were far way," said Elene.
"I should never have gone."
"You know there was no option but to send you to Balesha," said his mother.
"Reclor should have waited."
"He wanted to claim a couple of kills before you arrived in Griffith," explained Elene. "Family honor, you see."
"Very unlucky, dueling as a virgin," said Martyne.
Julica pressed her lips together as she set a new jug of wine on the table. Martyne put an elbow on the table and rested his face in his hand. Elene refilled her own goblet. There was a prolonged silence. Velesti placed her knife and fork together, then wiped her lips with her napkin. Elene called for another goblet for Martyne.
"I have registered to take the Dragon Color examination at Li-bris," Velesti announced.
"Libris?" exclaimed Elene.
"I booked passage on the galley train. I leave tomorrow."
"But—but Rochester is a wild and dangerous city," protested Elene. "You will not be safe."
Velesti folded her arms and glared at her mother. Elene broke eye contact very quickly.
"Is Griffith safer?" Velesti now asked, triumphant.
"But why?" asked Elene.
"Career."
Velesti pushed her chair back before the groom could walk across to her, then stood up.
"Career? But, but ever since you were a child you only wanted to marry. . . ."
Elene shot a glance at Martyne. Martyne joined his hands in the posture of prayer and raised his eyes to the candle chandelier above them.
"Well, to marry," Elene concluded.
"I have changed," replied Velesti.
Velesti walked from the room, and the groom pulled the doors closed behind her. Violating table protocol, Martyne poured himself more wine in the replacement goblet and drank most of it in a single gulp.
"I abandoned my vocation to avenge my sister," he declared. "But I returned to a circus!"
"Some people just don't appreciate the performing arts," said Graten.
Martyne selected several grapes from the fruit bowl and began to juggle them. Unaccustomed to even the small amount of alcohol that he had drunk, he lost control. One landed in his father's goblet, another in his mother's cleavage. Graten declared that Martyne had had more than enough to drink for one night. Telsa agreed, and angrily told Martyne that he was not too old to have his bottom smacked. Martyne promptly unlaced his trews, turned, and bared his backside across the table to his mother. Both of his parents promptly stormed out, slamming the double doors behind them.
"Fras Martyne is not in a state fit to be seen by servants," declared Elene to the groom. "You may retire for the night, but tell Julica that I shall send for her when the table is to be cleared."
The groom left. Elene Disore leaned with her back against the doors, folded her arms and shook her head to stop it spinning. Martyne attempted to bend over and pull his trews up again, very nearly toppled over, then pulled his shirt down to cover his loins instead before sitting back on his chair.
"Velesti's . . . lost her mind," mumbled Martyne, his head resting against the back of his chair.
"Yes, Velesti has changed since that terrible night," replied Elene. "She remembers nothing and nobody from before it."
"Not me."
"Not even me. Alas, there will never be an heir for the Disores."
"How so?"
"She cannot stand the touch of men."
"Understandable. Neither can I."
"All she does is eat, exercise, and study."
"She would fit in well at Balesha."
"Did you fit in well at Balesha?"
Martyne tilted his head forward, sat up, arid was alarmed to see two images of Frelle Disore. He decided it was safer to stare up at the chandelier again.
"I seem to remember hearing a question, but not what it was," he confessed.
"Did you fit in well at Balesha?"
"I excelled."
"Would you go back?"
"No."
"No? You put five years into your vocation."
"Nonetheless, no."
"Why not?"
"Monks are . . . very wise in some matters but in others ... a turkey accepting a Christmas dinner invitation couldn't be more stupid. F'rinstance, having relieved oneself at the privy, one is permitted to shake one's penis five times in innocence, but a sixth shake is considered masturbation."
"Not having a penis, I think it hardly my concern."
"Has to be confessed as a sin . . . forbidden pleasure of the flesh."
"I prefer my pleasures to be more substantial," said Elene, pushing away from the door. "What were the other monks like?"
"Some were there to perfect themselves physically and mentally for. . . the greater glory of God. Some were there to escape. The world, life, who knows? Some just liked having everything planned for them."
"None of those sound like you."
"Hated the place. Pushed myself harder and further to ... to shut it out."
Elene reached the table, and put a hand down to steady herself.
"There was a time when Harren pushed harder and further, may his soul rest in peace."
"I hoped to die . . . in some sparring bout, or weapons accident."
"Not a good attitude."
"Once challenged the Dragon's Cough. That's when a flintlock's fired at you. See this scar on my palm? Struck the bullet aside. Trick is to move on the sight of the striker throwing sparks, not the blast. Somehow . . . survived every ordeal. Surpassed my teachers. Really wanted to die."
"Perhaps God was trying to teach you something."
"Well, He allowed me to leave. Now here I am. Elsile dead, Reclor dead, Fras Disore dead, and Velesti like a cage without the parakeet—ah, no offense, gracious Frelle."
"None taken," said Elene sadly. "But at least she is alive—and so are you. Once I had such great plans for our families, Martyne. Now I just take what comes my way."
Martyne reached for a wine jar, tilted it, then upended it. One drop splashed onto the tablecloth.
"Can't stay here," Martyne declared.
"Why not?"
"No prospects. Tomorrow I'll go."
"If not to Balesha, then where?"
"Rochester. I'll teach theology at the university."
"And watch over Velesti?"
"In Libris she won't need watching."
Martyne stood up, reached over the table for his mother's goblet, drained it, bowed to Elene Disore, then discovered that his trews were still around his ankles as he tried to take a step. He bent over to draw them up, felt giddy, and sat back on his chair.
"Thought I felt a draft," he explained.
Elene walked forward, then steadied herself against the table.
"You are mere weeks out of a monastery where you lived for five years," she said, with a hand on one hip. "How do you know the University of Rochester will have you?"
"I'm well qualified to teach theology," Martyne assured her.
"At least accept a promissory note of one Rochestrian royal to your bank tally every month."
"Why? I got here unaided."
"I worry about you."
"Just write to me, fair and gracious Frelle," said Martyne, standing to go again. "That's enough."
"Fair and gracious," simpered Elene. "Balesha taught you more than prayer and fighting."
Elene embraced him and kissed his cheek. She was neither a small nor svelte woman, and the sensation of being pressed against her warm, soft, scented body made Martyne's head reel more than the wine. Nothing in Balesha had prepared him for exposure to any woman under unchaperoned circumstances, even one twice his age.
"Look after yourself, Martyne, there is so much to do . . ."
"To my eyes, it already seems done," he replied, resentment again in his voice.
"Oh, no, there is more."
"Frelle?"
"So much evil has assailed our families. Why should it be evil to fight back?"
"Frelle Disore, all that I can promise . . ." began Martyne. His voice trailed away as he considered the unspoken question. "Obviously . . . this matter may resolve itself."
Elene pushed him back into his chair, then drew her skirts up and straddled him.
"Frelle Disore!" gasped Martyne. "This cannot be."
"Fras Martyne, this is very obviously in the process of being," Elene replied.
"But, but, but you're . . . Mother's friend."
"Charming woman, known her for years."
"I could be your son."
"But you shall be my child's father." Elene squeezed him all the more tightly.
"The maid might come!"
"But she will be too late. Our families will be united, Martyne Camderine, and we shall indeed have an heir."
Julica could not see what was happening in the dining room, but with her ear pressed against the door she had heard everything. Certain that Martyne was a less-than-willing participant in what was obviously going on, she rapped loudly on the door, then opened it and backed in, pulling a serving trolley after her. By the time she had turned around Elene and Martyne had their clothing more or less restored to normal and were standing beside the table. Elene was looking embarrassed and furious, but an outburst against Julica for entering without being sent for would be an admission of unseemly conduct interrupted. Martyne cast a despairing look to Julica, then looked back to Elene.
"Must go, thank you for . . . hospitality, Frelle Disore," he mumbled quickly.
"Hah, dinner was nothing," she replied. "Take this."
She reached up to a wall rack and took down a plain but sleek flintlock pistol, then presented the Morelac twin barrel to Martyne.
"You shouldn't," he mumbled weakly.
"Why not, you are practically family now," she replied pointedly. Martyne winced. "The other of the pair will be given to Velesti tomorrow, when she leaves for the paraline terminus. Julica!"
"Frelle Disore?"
"Fetch the groom."
"He is asleep, Frelle Disore."
"Then take Martyne to the stables and give him Harren's horse, harness, saddle, saddlebags, everything."
"You're too kind, Frelle Disore," slurred Martyne.
"Oh, nonsense, Fras Camderine. You gave up so much to avenge my daughter, I must show my gratitude. The night's compliments to you."
With that Elene swept out of the room. Martyne and Julica made their way outside and around to the stables.
"That was a fine thing you did," said Julica, to break the awkward silence. "You are more gallant than any of the noblemen who strut the streets of Griffith."
"I failed," mumbled Martyne.
"Nonsense."
Together they managed to saddle the horse, and Martyne mounted it. It quickly became apparent to Mica that unless the horse could find its own way to the Camderine house, Martyne certainly wouldn't. With Julica leading the horse, they set out on the short trip.
To Mica's mind, the situation was both sensitive and tragic. Martyne had wanted the murderers of his sister and friend dead, but he cared nothing for the glory of public vengeance. He had come in secret, taken the papers to identify the musketeers that were his quarry, wiped them out of existence, then somehow feigned innocence. He now had vengeance and Elene's unwelcome attentions, but nothing more, other than loss.
Martyne had just turned fourteen when Julica had begun working in the Disore household. He had been shy yet charming, strong yet gentle. He had once serenaded Velesti beneath her window for her birthday, and everyone had joked that he was in training to be a great seducer. At Christmas he had even saved his chocolates and presented them to a tired and disheveled Julica in the Disore kitchen on a little red cushion, but had fled back upstairs to the dining room when she tried to kiss him. Then the day had come when Elsile burst into the Disore mansion in tears and announced that Martyne had decided to follow a vocation in the Church. He had left for Balesha with no more than a hurried good-bye and a kiss to pass on to Velesti as he climbed into a pony gig before dawn one morning. Like Velesti, he had once been so very charming. Now he had slashed away the lives of over three dozen men, and was terse, sullen, haunted, and desolate.
At the stables of the Camderine house Martyne toppled from the saddle into Julica's arms, rather than dismounting.
"Now, then, you left something behind, five years ago," said Julica.
She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips, then stood back from the astonished youth, holding both of his hands.
"Think, ah, I'd remember that, Frelle."
"Your Christmas chocolates were very welcome, Martyne."
She guided him inside and to his room, where she forced him to drink a pint of water and helped him to undress. Martyne grate-
fully crawled into the refuge of his bed, lay on his back, closed his eyes and felt himself spinning and tumbling through blackness, falling from nowhere to nowhere.
Another body abruptly invaded his reverie, a naked body with soft, warm skin and the hint of perfume.
"Mica—" managed Martyne before she smothered his lips with hers.
She lay on him for a long time, and did not free his lips until his badly coordinated struggles had ceased.
"In all conscience I could not let you end this night with Frelle Disore as your introduction to the female body," she explained.
"But, but should you get with child—"
"It is a little late to worry about that, Martyne, but do not worry. There is no problem."
"Frelle Disore will be very angry."
"And will dismiss me. Not to worry, I might even journey to Roches
ter with Velesti to seek my fortune. I have heard a lot about Rochester, it seems an exciting place. We might even meet there."
I he following morning Julica arrived at the paraline terminus. A long, sleek, articulated pedal train was being prepared for departure, but Velesti was already aboard.
"Frelle, you want just one ticket to Rochester?" said the vendor at the registration window.
"Just one, I have the fare."
"But two fares are required, Frelle. What man goes with you?"
"None. I travel alone."
The man shook his head. "We are at war with the Southmoor Emirates, even though a truce is currently in force. Only women escorted by a man may travel through Southmoor territory, and from Narrandera to Rutherglen is indeed Southmoor territory."
"I happen to know that at least one woman is on this train unescorted," retorted Julica.
"So do I, Frelle, but that woman is also a Dragon Yellow. Li-
brarians are not considered to be human by the Southmoors. I think it is meant to be an insult, but it does sometimes work in their favor."
"If it is a bribe that you want—"
"Frelle, I am no more above a bribe than a fish is above the moon, but just now I am powerless. Every ticket must be approved by that Islamic Fras over there, and you look exceedingly alone and female."
Mica watched as the train was cleared for departure. A Christian minister blessed the train, an Islamic cleric declared it to be approved, a Gentheist priest declared it not to violate the principle of engine prohibition, then the terminus master blew his whistle. The terminus band struck up the pedaling chanty "Ride the Rails," and the long, sleek shape glided softly away from the platform and out into the shunting yards. Mica watched, waving although she knew that Velesti would not be looking back.
Mica walked to a nearby artisans' institute, selected several books on mathematics, and copied some pages of exercises and tables. Next she went to the city gates and bought a place on a wool bale wagon bound for the Darlington river port.
There are more ways than one to cross Islamic territory, she thought as she watched the city walls of Griffith receding.
Siding Springs, the Central Confederation
Brother Disparon of Siding Springs might have been a political realist, but he had no way of knowing what the full consequences of his Mirrorsun Rotation Initiative would be for the entire continent. He sent out his request for the cooperative observation of the next lunar eclipse by Mirrorsun on the public beamfiash network, and included the background information about the paddles and Mirrorsun spinning faster than was needed to keep it in orbit. He also included Brother Nikalan's speculations that should Mirrorsun burst, huge fragments could rain down on the earth, and asked for eccle-
Eyes of the Calculor Page 15
