Miami Days and Truscan (K)nights

by Gail Roughton

  “Ain’t in Kansas anymore,” I finished for him. “You mean hang him?”

  “Damn straight. Can’t prove it, but I think he’d do just about anything to sit on that throne. Even work for the Prians. Fool doesn’t stop to consider the Prians won’t need him if he hands them Trusca. Thinks he’d be their honored advisor. He’s gonna bite Dalph in the butt one day, and that’ll be my fault, stories of the American justice system and all.”

  His vehemence shocked me. Johnny was so laid-back, so cool and collected. And had he really had that much influence on Dalph, who had broken Ken Hanslett’s neck and punched my lights out without hesitation? Necessary actions, which I now understood. I didn’t doubt he’d hesitate to take Baka of Canor down either, not if he thought him an immediate threat. I also didn’t have any doubt Johnny wanted the man dead, though. He’d apparently been Truscanized just as much as Dalph had been Americanized. I decided they were a good balance for one another.

  “That was a not so subtle put-down, by the way, Dalph’s not speaking to him right off,” Johnny explained. “Dalph lets him know who’s boss. You try and avoid him. Don’t get near him without me or Kiera.”

  That was a direct order from the head Troubleshooter of Trusca, not a suggestion, and I knew it.

  “Yes, Mr. Connecticut Yankee,” I said. We were interrupted by Kiera and two young men bearing a large wooden tub between them, which Kiera instructed them to place in front of the fireplace. Clouds of steam rose from the surface.

  “Oh Lord, that looks like Heaven!” I exclaimed.

  Johnny laughed and rose to his feet. “And that’s my cue to leave,” he said. “Kiera, you gon’ take care of some clothes?”

  “Silly man, the child cannot wander around the Rata without them! But of course, I take care of the clothes! Even now, Saraya shortens the kirsons. This child, she’s too short! Saraya will bring them.”

  “Make sure you get her some dark green ones,” he said, as he exited the door. “Dalph says he’d like to see her in green.”

  “Out! Out! You and Dalph! Think you not I know how to dress this child?”

  “I’m gone!” he said and closed the door behind him. I heard his laugh as he walked down the hall.

  I stood by the tub, waiting for Kiera to leave. I wasn’t accustomed to bathing with an audience.

  “Come, child. Off with the clothes. I help you wash your hair.”

  “Kiera, I don’t—”

  “Come. You feel much better.”

  “Face it, Tess,” I told myself. “You ain’t in Kansas anymore.” So I stripped and slipped into that lovely, beautiful hot water, and nothing else much mattered for the next twenty minutes or so.

  Chapter Five

  Actually, nothing much mattered for the next couple of hours or so; I slipped into a soft slip-like garment Kiera produced, lay down on the bed, and knew nothing more until Kiera shook me gently awake several hours later.

  “It is nearly time for the evening meal,” she said. “Come, I have your kirsons.”

  I sat up and inspected the garments she’d lain on the foot of the bed, surprised by the feel of the fabric, akin to the silky like comfort of high-quality cotton. Several were of some material which, like the fabric adorning my bed chamber, reminded me of velvet.

  “You like?” she asked anxiously.

  “I like,” I affirmed, rubbing my hand up and down the skirt of one such garment, trimmed in gold thread and accompanied by a belt of some metallic material. Gold? Surely not, though that was the only thing to which I could relate it.

  “But all of this, it’s too much.”

  “Ah, that one! Yes, Dalph would be pleased you like, he picked that one himself.”

  “Himself? Dalph?”

  “But yes. He will be sorry he was not here for the first time you wear it. But there will be other occasions.”

  “He won’t—oh. Johnny said he was going right back out.”

  “Yes, it is time. Always, at this time. Night patrols.”

  “Why?”

  “It is how things are. How they have always been, how they will always be.”

  “I’ll wait,” I said.

  “Wait?”

  “To wear it. Let’s pick another.”

  “No! It is the best. You must wear it tonight, at lammas—supper. In the Great Hall.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. You must.”

  Supper. Lammas. Great Hall. Alone. On exhibit. I felt a surge of panic which must have shown on my face.

  “My McKay, he is here. He will be with you. For the next days until Dalph returns.”

  That did make me feel better, and I surrendered to her ministrations. I looked in the large mirror, beaten silver or something similar, and stared at my reflection. Who was this woman, draped in the soft, velvety green, wearing her golden trimmings? My hair wasn’t excessively long, but it was a lot longer than it had been in years, and Kiera sat me down, parted it in the middle, and pulled it to the back. It was intricately braided, something on the order of French braids, and firmly secured at my nape. I’d never thought I was conventionally pretty, certainly not beautiful, but I knew that I’d always had, for lack of a better word, something. Something striking that set me apart from the crowd. Now I knew what it was. I looked Medieval. Like something out of a tapestry.

  “You like?” she asked again, but she knew the answer.

  “Kiera,” I declared firmly, “I have never looked like this in my life!”

  She smiled, apparently satisfied. “Dalph and my McKay, they will be pleased also.”

  Johnny certainly was. He gave a low whistle when I walked out of my door.

  “Hot damn, darlin’! Good thing Dalph’s the one found you. Have to beat the nobility off with a damn stick if he hadn’t!

  Medieval, indeed. To the victor belong the spoils, and women were spoils. Suddenly, my pleasure faded away.

  “Johnny, what I am going to do here?”

  “Don’t worry ’bout it, darlin’. You just stick close to me.”

  “Like super glue,” I said.

  I don’t remember much about my first entrance into Truscan society, actually. I was too busy sticking to Johnny like super glue. The castle, the Rata, ate together, much as I remembered traditional castle life in medieval England and Europe. A great chair, massive and intricately carved, was placed at the center of the highest table stood vacant. I didn’t have to ask whose it was. Johnny sat down in the smaller chair beside it, obviously his position of honor as Dalph’s troubleshooter, and seated me beside him.

  There were few vegetables, but there was plenty of meat. There were side dishes reminiscent of salads, dressed with some light dressing. The names of the ingredients danced on my tongue, but I couldn’t place them. Trusca must, undoubtedly, have herbs and spices very similar to Earth’s.

  What I remember most were the stares, which came at me from all sides, and most especially from the table on the right, where sat Baka of Canor.

  “Johnny,” I whispered. “That man, Baka—”

  “Ignore him,” he said shortly. “You’re Dalph’s favored. And I’m just about to make sure everybody knows that,” he said as he rose to speak. The great hall quieted as he rose, evidence of the power he held, both in his own right, and as the right-hand of Randalph of Trusca. I had no idea what he was saying, but as he finished, the entire hall rose as one, and half-bowed and/or curtsied in my direction. I stared.

  “What was that?” I whispered, as he sat.

  “You’ve been sent. From Beyond the Door. Directly to Dalph.”

  “In other words,” I translated, speaking slowly, “I’m off-limits.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How nice,” I said.

  He took me for a walk through the grounds after supper.

  “Herb gardens,” Johnny pointed out. “Pretty much the same as ours. Could you tell from supper?”

  “Yes. The salad dressing.”

  “Something like tarragon and
wild onion,” he affirmed. “You’ll fit in real quick, Tess. Don’t worry.”

  “You keep saying that, but fit in doing what?”

  Johnny paused in his stride and looked around for his bearings, spotting a carved wooden bench. He took my arm and guided me over. “Why don’t we sit a spell?”

  I sat.

  He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and then he spoke.

  “You know full well corporations and countries don’t run without a lot of organization. Some folks good at that, some not so good. You got to be good, what you did. I really do need help.”

  “And I’m glad to do it, but that’s not all. Is it?” I asked, studying his face.

  “Dalph has a son,” he said.

  “I’m not surprised,” I responded. “So where’s the queen?”

  “I said he has a son. His queen died in childbirth. Kiera’ll tell you if I don’t, so I will. Dalph counts that one of the greatest blessings of his life. So do I. She was from the House of Canor, Baka’s niece, in fact. State marriage of course, Dalph was real young, just approaching twenty. Needed every edge he could get to hold things together. Didn’t work out real well. Anyway, his son—also Randalph of Trusca, but we call him Dal—he’s ten. I’m more spread out now than I was when Dalph was young, but Dalph and I’ve both tried to give him the same education Dalph got. My boys, they’re twelve and fourteen so they’re sort of past the actual tutor stage, but I’d love for you to spend some time with them, too.”

  “Greek mythology been that much use to Dalph?” I asked.

  “Greek—oh. Pegasus. Well, Dalph and I got along real well from the beginning. That was the deal. I told him a story; he had to tell me another. He was seven, Tess. So I guess you could say we swapped worlds with each other.”

  “Don’t know how well that’ll work until I can learn Truscan.”

  “Oh, Truscan’s easy. ’Sides, Dal’s English is really good. He’s mostly been with my two boys growing up and they’re pretty much bi-lingual. Crayton’s fourteen and Cretor’s twelve. The three of ’em, they spend a lot of time together.”

  “If Dal and your boys speak English so well, why didn’t Dalph ever learn?”

  “Dalph’s always had a lot on his plate, Tess. From a very young age. And no, I ain’t gonna tell you about all of it. That’s for him.”

  “Then I hope Truscan’s as easy as you say it is or we’re going to have a lot of long, awkward silences. When do I meet them? The boys?”

  “When Dalph gets back. They’re out with him.”

  “On patrol? Boys?”

  Johnny stood up and paced restlessly. “No, Tess. Not boys. Truscans. Truscan nobility, Truscan royalty. Kiera, she’s—well, she’s actually Dalph’s aunt. Half-aunt. His father’s half-sister. My boys, sure I think about how they’d live back on Earth, how much I’d have loved for them to grow up with Little League in the summer and football in the fall. Wouldn’t even mind the gray hairs they’d give me learning how to drive, talking on the phone half the night, and hitting me up for an advance on their allowance. But that was my world. This is their world, a hard world, a dark world, a Truscan world. We have to do the best we can to teach ’em what they need to know because they are the next guardians, the next—”

  “They’re the next Round Table. Aren’t they?”

  Johnny sat back down and smiled ruefully. “I guess that was a little dramatic, huh?”

  “No. No, from what I’ve seen so far, I think it was probably the literal truth. But I’m sorry they don’t seem to have had much time to be little boys.”

  “They’ll like you,” Johnny said, pulling me to my feet and resuming my tour of the garden. “And you’ll like them, too. They’ll be back in a few days, and you can meet ’em.”

  I looked around the garden, bathed in the reddish glow of Trusca’s full moon.

  “Is this your idea, Johnny? Does Dalph always follow your suggestions?”

  I thought he was going to choke. “Lord, if you knew how funny that was, darlin’! Dalph don’t take nobody’s suggestions. He had this script already written last night, ’fore you woke up from his sleeping pill. The one that got you on Pegasus.”

  “I see,” I said slowly. I must be careful; I was obviously underestimating the man, merely because I spoke another language and was from a different culture. I must not assume that made me the superior in intelligence. Randalph of Trusca must indeed run his brain in constant high gear, viewing every possibility, determining the highest efficiency of operation, overseeing every detail. Even down to my new clothes. I must use the next few days. And wait for his return.

  Chapter Six

  Four days later, in mid-morning, I heard the trumpets, the shouts, the roars.

  “Trusca vite!”

  Trusca comes. He was back. I had spent the last four days roaming the Rata, Johnny or Kiera always at my side. I was building a base for the Truscan language, which was actually reminiscent of Latin, which had never been my strong suit. I’d had a couple of courses in college, and its rules had long since departed from my memory, but Truscan used much the same format. One base word, different endings, different meanings.

  I was conversant with the inner workings of the Rata, and I was beginning to place names with faces. And that was about it, I thought ruefully. Not much to brag about. And now, Dalph had returned, bringing with him my new charges. Well, at least we’d be able to talk to each other.

  Kiera swept into my room.

  “I have much to see to today. There will be a large feast tonight. And my McKay, he must be with Dalph. You will be able to entertain yourself, no?”

  “I’ll manage,” I said. “I’ll just stroll around—”

  “No. You must not.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You must not wander alone. Not yet. It is too soon. Please. You will stay here until lammas.” A direct order, relayed through Johnny. I knew it.

  “But Kiera!” I wailed. “I won’t have anything to do!”

  She smiled and held out the parcel she carried. “My McKay said you would say that.”

  I took the parcel and unwrapped it. Manuscripts. In English.

  “Where’d these come from?”

  “My McKay. He—I do not know how to say it. They are some of the stories of Trusca.”

  “Translations,” I offered. “He’s done translations.”

  “Yes! You will be all right now?”

  “Well, I won’t say I’m happy about it, but yes. I’ll be all right.”

  “That is good. I will send hot water for your bath. In good time for tonight.” She started out of the room and turned back. “Wear the deep green.”

  “What else?” I said and lay down on the bed.

  “What else indeed?” Kiera smiled and was gone.

  The steaming water arrived on schedule. Kiera did not. Instead, she sent her first assistant Saraya who was a good six foot tall and made me feel like a dwarf. With smiles and gestures she indicated that she was in charge of my coiffure this night, and I submitted gracefully. After all, there wasn’t much choice about it.

  Johnny came to fetch me and whistled his appreciation. I could understand why. For some reason or other, Saraya had not been content with my usual adaption of Truscan hair fashion, and had woven the intricate braids with ropes of stones, none of which correlated exactly to anything I was familiar with, but bore a striking resemblance to emeralds and seed pearls.

  “Why the fancy costuming tonight, Johnny?” He was in something more than his usual garb himself, in a brown and gold outfit of the velvet-like material which I had already observed was reserved for the elite.

  “Dalph’s home.”

  “He comes home every month from these patrols, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah, well. But every time he does is one more month the Pigs didn’t capture Trusca. Cause for a celebration. Don’t you think?”

  “I—” I broke off as we reached the top of the staircase and paused. “Good Lord! What’s
going on?”

  The hall was festooned with greenery that sent out the sharp and fragrant odors of the forest. The high table was covered with flowers, the pick of the considerable variety offered by the Rata gardens. Everyone was in clothing comparable to Johnny’s, and Dalph stood by his chair, the centerpiece in this large hall of medieval splendor. He was dressed in green velvety material, identical to my own, trimmed in gold. I searched my vocabulary. He was…resplendent.

  “Well, this is sort of special. Your induction, if you will. Didn’t have time for it when you first got here.”

  “Induction?”

  “Little ceremony, that’s all. For the general populace, not to mention Baka. Marks you as under Dalph’s protection. You swear fealty. Public relations thing. You understand about that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, sure. So what do I do?”

  “Follow my lead. You’ll have to repeat some phrases. You can do that, can’t you?”

  “Why not?” I said, and he led me on down, down the staircase, down to the center table. Down to Dalph.

  The whole crowd rose as Johnny transferred my hand to Dalph’s.

  “Curtsy,” Johnny instructed from the corner of his mouth.

  “Say what?”

  “Curtsy to Dalph. Remember, Tess, this is Trusca.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” I shot back from the corner of my own mouth.

  “Now!” he said and tugged my arm suddenly, so that I really had no choice.

  Dalph smiled slightly and raised me up, turning me to face another individual, one I had not met as yet. I reminded myself that these people and more particularly, this man, had saved my life, the remainder of which would be spent here, in this place. A curtsy and a few words weren’t much to give in return.

  The man in front of us spoke briefly and then addressed Dalph directly, who repeated the phrases that the man spoke. Then he turned to me and spoke more slowly.