The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  "Uh huh. Just before we left Isabella a lady named Heralda told me to say she's coming to see you. She said the two of you need to talk."

  "Heralda!" Missy almost barked with astonishment. "Mister Turner, you know the Messenger!" Her face lit, and her eyes gleamed excitement. Patton's expression showed interest.

  Aaron touched the right corner of his mouth, remembering a kiss that had become the permanent tattooed mark he always kept hidden with makeup.

  "I know her," he admitted. "Haven't seen her for three or four years, but I do know her."

  "Who is this Heralda?" the major asked.

  "She's the Messenger of the One God," Missy answered. "She's the Acolyte and Priestess. I've been a follower of hers for the last two years, but I've never gotten to speak to her or even met somebody who had. " Her eyes bore deep into Aaron's. "What is she like? Why is she coming here?"

  "Intense. Driven," Aaron answered. "And I don't know why."

  Missy's face turned thoughtful. "She promised us she'll one day announce the Chosen. I wonder if that's why she's coming here. Maybe the Chosen lives on this side of the big water."

  "The Chosen?" Patton asked.

  "Yes. She also calls him Bringer, and sometimes Death, but nobody knows why."

  Closing his eyes, Aaron wished the world away. Gods, not again.

  Chapter 7

  Autumn quickly disappeared into the depths of Billowby Manor while the staff argued over whose job it was to watch her.

  Aaron's presence was in demand, but he refused to talk to the major until after he filled his wineglass. He wasted no time admiring the unfamiliar sweet red's bouquet or the subtleties of its flavor. Retreating to his office, he filled his glass again, drained it, and filled it once more. Before long, he felt his nerves loosen, his muscles relax, and the lightness in his head allowed him to start thinking again.

  Technically, the major had no claim on his services. She was merely a representative of Corsica, a small and insignificant country more than four hundred miles from Chin. Unfortunately, she also claimed to be the unofficial representative of a small gathering of nations scheduled to take place in a few months. Jutland, but not Isabella, would be represented at this meeting.

  Since the major had no official claim on him, Aaron saw her as just another person making demands. She sought his sympathy by telling him the length of her search. She sought his good will by bringing him a daughter who would have been sent his way regardless. In short, the major wanted everything and offered nothing but unwelcome trouble.

  Aaron poured himself another drink and studied Zisst where it lay on the floor. The animal appeared worn from its day with Julia. Zisst was Aaron's most loyal companion, and he owed the animal a great deal, including his life. During the last year it had slowed considerably, preferring warm corners and long naps over anything else. That worried him.

  Speaking of worries, what was he going to do about Autumn? She definitely needed supervision. She let him in on that secret herself when telling him of the fire, never mind the details the major had added later. Aaron doubted he could control the girl any better than Kit had done. He didn't have the time, and Autumn didn't see him as an authority figure. Yes, he was her father, but Autumn had no memory of him other than a few fuzzy images. To her, Aaron was just one more adult needing manipulation.

  Frowning, Aaron picked up a letter from the desk. The major had handed it to him shortly after the almost challenge by Jerry Flintlow. Letter in hand, he turned it around, studying the travel-worn envelope. The flap was solidly sealed, but the surface was stained with dirt, sweat, and sea salt. Aaron's name, scrawled in a spidery hand, was almost too faint to see.

  Clenching his jaw, Aaron slowly opened the letter and drew out two sheets of paper. The writing on the letter showed more care than its address, though it could not be called neat. Even at her best, Kit's handwriting had never been steady.

  Aaron,

  The new ranch is doing well even if I do not have enough help to run it. The boys try, but they are still too young to do a full day's work. Both are growing like weeds and take after my side as they are going to be bigger and broader than you. I have had them tested, and they have several Talents, all too weak to be useful. According to the testers, even a Talent Stone would not help.

  The testing showed Autumn has two Talents, one of only middling strength, but the other is fairly strong. Its focus is too obscure to be known, but if she had a Talent Stone she could use it. The weaker Talent is a minor version of my Talent for finding. With a Stone it might give her indications and hints. Otherwise, it is useless.

  Aaron, I know I did wrong by sending our daughter to you, but I did not know what else to do. The girl is trouble. The frontier is dangerous, and there are too few idle people to provide her with a caretaker. In just the last year Autumn has been involved in several incidents where she or others were injured. On two occasions she could easily have been killed.

  I love her, but I can no longer contain her. She needs you.

  This next part is difficult for me to write. I have forsworn my marriage vows. Yes, I am your wife. I can never legally marry again, yet I have found a man who wishes to marry me. He believes me to be a widow, as do all in this area. I do not love him. Indeed, I do not know if it is in me to love any man. However, I do like him much as I liked you. More importantly, I am infatuated with his second wife. She feels the same about me.

  I told him I will marry him. By the time you receive this letter the deed will be done. If it ever comes out that I was previously married I will be ruined. My lands, money, and children will be stripped from me, and then I will be hanged.

  In my heart I feel I deserve these things for my faithlessness to you, but, Aaron, I am so lonely for someone to care about, to love. Sarah was many years ago, and our time together brief. Since then I have been empty, cold, and alone until Debra came into my life. Even the children were not enough for they are children. I sometimes craved adult company so greatly it hurt. I now feel whole, complete, though guilt for what I did to you threatens to tear me apart.

  If you can forgive me, I will know because I won't hear from you again. If not, I will also know for you will come to my new home and rightfully accuse me. Then I will die. My death will be just so no blame will attach to you. Not even my own. My new address is on the envelope. Do with it as you will.

  Your less than dutiful wife.

  Kitty Turner

  Aaron carefully ripped the letter into quarter inch pieces before throwing it away. He would not lie to himself. He had made love to Kit but had never loved her like he had Sarah. Neither of them had given their marriage a decent chance.

  The wine bottle was empty. He opened another.

  * * *

  "Have you thought about what it would be like to war against an empire of nomadic tribesmen?" the major asked a day later after taking a gentle sip of her wine. She seemed not the least ill at ease as she sat in the guest chair in Aaron's office. Indeed, she had no reason for unease. Her over-sized body filled and dominated the room. Even from his raised seat behind the large desk, she made Aaron feel small and insignificant.

  "Not personally," Aaron ran idle fingers across the lip of his empty glass. He thought about a refill but decided it was too soon.

  "According to what our Isabellan sources told us about you, you've been trained in military tactics. That being the case, I thought you might have spent a little time thinking of military matters."

  "My training is over a decade past and was minimal."

  "Minimal, yes, but training is training. " Fitzbeth took another sip of wine. "We've learned you are highly thought of by the Thirty Clans, and you have some tenuous connection to this One God cult of theirs. We know you are, or have been, intimately involved with Amanda Bivins, head of perhaps the most ambitious and fastest growing law firm in the world today. We also know you are a countryman of Emperor Klein, although we do not know what country the two of you came from. Rumor says you studied
in the same militia. When Klein left the militia he took up residence in Chin. A decade later you settled in Isabella."

  Setting her glass down, the major leaned forward. "Some people say your stay in Isabella has made you modestly well off. Others suspect you're incredibly rich because of your interest in the new bearing factories. A few people wonder if you are somehow connected to the rash of new inventions and processes that changed Isabella from a backwater into a manufacturing and scientific powerhouse."

  "The last seems unlikely. It would take more than one person to come up with all the new inventions. " Aaron noted.

  "Yes," Fitzbeth agreed. "Few take that one seriously, but they do take seriously a N'Ark University professor. While acting as a guest speaker in Corsica, he made an offhand remark about you to Ambassador Yenwitch. He said you were the only person in the world who had a chance of speaking reason to Emperor Klein. Since the forthcoming Conference of Nations is a direct result of an idea you first proposed to the emperor and later wrote about to others, a few people thought you might be a partial solution to the Chin problems."

  Aaron sat quiet for a few moments, thinking. "I've had no contact with Helmet Klein," he finally said,"and I know nothing about this Conference of Nations. I never mentioned it in person or writing to Helmet, and I never wrote about it to anyone else. I'm only a private citizen trying to get by."

  Fitzbeth's lips quirked in a disbelieving smile. "Don't try lying to me. Too many of your letters have been shown around. "

  Picking up her glass again, Fitzbeth sat back. "The girl believes she's telling the truth about you killing a Talent Master. If so, you might be powerful enough to frighten the emperor."

  Aaron snorted and carefully watched his words. "She's confused. A Talent Master murdered one of my wives, injured me, and escaped. Hardly the same thing at all. I'm no hero, Major. I'm a slight and usually frightened man. I dislike most animals, and I find it difficult to gain true friends. When a fellow has money people try to see how much of it can stick to their fingers. Those are the people I've mostly dealt with for the last ten years."

  "I wouldn't know about that," the major said. "I have few friends, only a little wealth, and never felt the need for more. However, despite your protestations, your actions prove you do care about people. Look at your local factory. Your employees work fewer hours for more money than anyone else doing their type of work. The caretakers in this house are too old for their tasks, yet you allow them to remain."

  "What do you want?" Blood pounded in his temples. Aaron felt like the world poured itself across his shoulders.

  "What I want, what many of the world's smaller governments want," Fitzbeth said,"is for you to come to the conference and speak with the emperor. It's possible without your help an entire continent will be at war within the next six years. Innocent children, men, and women will die by the thousands."

  Leaning forward, she lowered her brows. "Would you like that to happen, Mister Turner, knowing your presence might have made a difference?"

  Scowling, Aaron decided he needed more wine. After opening a bottle and filling his glass, he took down a healthy gulp.

  "Of course not," he finally answered.

  The major's eyes pinned him like he was a fly on a wall. "No one does, especially the people who are doing the dying. The thing is, war will happen unless we reach some sort of resolution with the emperor. You can help us. If you choose not to help, you'll have had a part in every death."

  "You're only speculating that a greater war will happen, and then you're trying to put responsibility for it on my shoulders," Aaron pointed out. "Nobody can see the future, and no action of mine will set this war in motion."

  "We are as responsible for our inaction as we are for our actions," Fitzbeth said. "As for all this being speculation, perhaps, but it is informed speculation. The Chin Empire rests on shaky ground with almost no infrastructure and few resources. Now, with its consolidation almost complete, there remain few possibilities for further expansion except through already established countries. This fact has many small countries worried, including Corsica. Klein is demanding financial and material help from other nations. So far his neighbors have refused since the last thing they want is a stronger Chin presence on their borders. In the short term, this is a good plan. However, if Klein can't get the help and resources he requires through donations, few people doubt he will invade the weaker nations."

  The major pushed herself erect when somebody knocked at the door. "Think about it for a while. I hope your conscience offers you only one answer. " Walking to the door, she pulled it open.

  Mister Buntson entered as she left.

  "Sir, Miss Autumn has been found and is now impris--um--placed in her rooms. Miss Levine presently stands watch outside her door."

  "Standing watch," Aaron asked with a pained smile,"or standing guard?"

  "The interpretation could fall either way," Buntson admitted.

  Aaron shook off his last interview in order to concentrate on more immediate matters. The question of Autumn needed to be handled now. "I'll have Miss Bayne hire a couple people to act as companions and tutors. The regular staff won't need to babysit her for long."

  "Sir, may I make a suggestion?" Buntson asked.

  Aaron nodded.

  "I know of two ladies who would fill your requirements perfectly. They are not so old that they will wear out after following an active child for a day, but they are old enough to possess good sense. One is very knowledgeable about the requirements of proper society. The other is a scholar who ran out of money before finishing her studies. They are both of impeccable character and are very well thought of. They are, in fact, my only living grandchildren."

  Aaron laughed. "All right, Mister Buntson. Tell your grandchildren they have jobs at the same wage I pay my factory workers, excepting they also have room and board."

  "Thank you. " Buntson bowed his way out of the room.

  Relieved, Aaron closed his eyes and sighed. Interviews over. Finally alone.

  Despite demands and moral blackmail, no law said he had to get involved in international affairs. They could demand, but he could refuse. In a short while the major would be gone. The letters Aaron had supposedly written could be ignored. The entire matter could be forgotten. His other problems were equally simple. After supplying Autumn with a few guards, her impact would be minimized. The threat from the First National would soon be contained, and the factory was producing at full output. Everything was progressing smoothly.

  Of course, his wife had also married another man, which was a kick in the balls since he had mostly remained loyal to her for over ten years. Hell, the woman wasn't even throwing him over for a man. Kit wanted the man's wife.

  Footsteps in the hall foretold somebody coming. Aaron cursed. He wouldn't allow anyone else to bother him tonight. He hadn't yet drunk enough to deal with anything more, not when governments courted him, his wife had left him, and an unwanted daughter had been dropped in his lap.

  To hell with them all.

  Flicker

  * * *

  "Ah--Hem."

  Startled, Amanda glanced up from her books. Her eyes pinned Aaron in place while her frown deepened. Moments later the frown eased, and her features became noncommittal.

  "Mister Turner. Is this appropriate?"

  Aaron looked at her. Nobody would ever call Amanda beautiful, but the term handsome fit. Her hair, still damp from her bath, draped around her shoulders. She wore a silk flowered and clingy, ankle-length powder-blue robe. Her flushed cheeks heightened her natural color, removing half a decade from her age.

  Amanda was four years younger than Aaron's own thirty-six. Under normal circumstances she appeared to be half a decade his elder, but she appeared lovely once her hard-planed face relaxed.

  Stepping up to her, Aaron looked into her face. Her expression seemed slightly troubled.

  "I," he said emphatically,"am just a little bit inebriated."

  "You are drunk," she
noted.

  Aaron raised a finger. "Just a little bit more than a little."

  She almost smiled. The barest hint of a twist showed at one corner of her full mouth.

  "Perhaps even a bit more than that," she corrected.

  Lowering his finger, Aaron rested it against the top button of her robe. Her eyes gleamed with repressed humor and something more serious.

  "I'm not drugged," Aaron reminded her.

  "Not by me," Amanda agreed. She drew in a deep breath as Aaron undid her top button. He undid one more, and then a third. His hands moved apart, bringing the edges of her robe with them. The material spread open, revealing her naked body from navel to neck.

  When he kissed her, Amanda's lips tasted of licorice.

  "Even so," she whispered,"this doesn't count. You are drunk."

  "I am today," he agreed as he pressed against her. "I won't be tomorrow."

  Her lips opened in soft surrender, but Aaron knew her kiss was a lie. He was the one who surrendered.

  * * *

  Aaron wished he smoked. It would give him something to do with his hands, something other than what they had recently been doing anyway.

  Amanda kissed him playfully on the corner of his mouth and smoothed back his hair. "You surprised me."

  "It's been a while," he protested. "I was better the second time."

  "Um hmm, but not nearly as good as the third. Do you realize you've been here almost three hours? Mind you, I enjoyed those hours immensely, but I do have a court date tomorrow, and I'm not quite sure how I'm going to make the judge see our position."

  "Need some company?"

  She kissed his nose. "No, this one could get ugly, and ugly isn't for you. You're too nice, too soft hearted. I love you for it, but it keeps you from being a good courtroom participant. " Sitting up, she pulled his head against her small breasts and stroked his face. "Did you mean what you said about tomorrow?"

  "Maybe," Aaron answered. "If I can get away, definitely soon."