Wings of the Storm

by Sizemore, Susan

  She tried not to be angry. All this happened a long time ago. "What about my car?" she asked, trying to stay objective. Trying to get the facts. It was really very interesting, in an uncanny, macabre kind of way.

  "I drove it into Chicago and left it in the Grant Street parking garage. This was after I sobered up enough to realize the equipment hadn't functioned properly and that I only had a general idea of your location. The garage was under Lake Michigan a few days later. If there hadn't been an earthquake, I doubt I would have managed to get away with what I did. If I hadn't known you were alive and that I was the only one who could get you back, I would probably have admitted what I did to the authorities. Eventually."

  "Eventually." She was very tempted to hit him. For the boy he'd been. She decided to forgive him and pretend they were talking about a mystery plot. "How did you know I was even alive?"

  "The tracer sewn into your headdress was still registering body temperature. It was the only thing working correctly. Unfortunately, I lost contact with it. Also due to earthquake damage. It was two years before we had the apparatus up and running again. By that time. Time Search was a major gov-

  eminent project, with me in charge. I was the only one with the expertise to run the project. Nobody knew my ulterior motives for the intense experi­mentation."

  "You didn't jump in right behind me, then?"

  "No." He stroked her temples lovingly. "No. It was two years before the bloody thing was working well enough to use test animals. It was around then I met your mother."

  "Oh, yeah?"

  He nodded. "I went to her. I wanted information about you. Photographs. Anything. She asked me quite a few insightful questions. She guessed some­thing was wrong. She thought I killed you. I told her what really happened."

  "She broke your nose."

  "She broke my nose."

  "You have to watch out for her right."

  "It was a left. But, yes, she's very good at unarmed combat. And armed. And ancient combat tech­niques."

  "Better be." Jane laughed. "She was one of the founders of the Medievalist Society. She thought I was weird when I took her hobby as my profession." It occurred to her that it was her mother who'd turned him into such an efficient killer. Her mother. The efficient soldier. The one who sent people into battle and had taken life herself. David had had a job to perform. She'd given him the tools to perform the job. Jane discovered her throat was tight with emo­tion. She almost started crying. She was so proud of both of them.

  He ran his fingers lightly down her cheeks to her throat. She didn't think he noticed what he was doing. His eyes were looking inward. Somewhere far away. "The colonel was not pleased with me. She took a lot of convincing. But when I told her my plan she helped me all she could. Making my life hell in the process."

  "So the colonel taught you to fight?"

  He nodded. "Eventually. There was a great deal more to learn before we got around to even basic training. Language, customs, history. History for me was just energy readings. Time an elegant concept to manipulate. I had to learn about people, what I could and couldn't do to keep time flowing the way it ought. It was quite an education. In the meantime," he went on, "the Time Search Project became more and more refined. Five years ago a volunteer made his first trip back to the target area. To Anjou. Fontrevault."

  "You?"

  He nodded, his eyes full of old pain. "You weren't there. I returned again and again. I finally took on the Daffyd persona and spent most of my time back here. While I conducted my private search, carefully keep­ing the project in my control, we began the other work we'd been funded for."

  "Weapons research?" she guessed. "Spying?"

  He gave a sarcastic bark of laughter. "Nonsense. We can't expand the field beyond the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries. Not yet. But it doesn't mat­ter. We can get everything we need from this time period."

  "And just what do you need?" she asked, almost frightened of the answer. What kind of exploitation was her time—

  "The world's barely inhabited back here. We've

  been able to find samples and bring them back with­out disturbing anything."

  "Samples of what?" she demanded.

  "Plants. Animals. Extinct and endangered species. Not the animals themselves, either," he hastened to add. "We just stun them with anesthetic darts and take cell samples. We're repopulating rain forests at present."

  "Cloning?" she asked.

  "Yes. Quite a big business these days. I'm consid­ered quite the environmentalist." His lips curled in a sneer. "They've given me medals for it. I'm a hero. If only the world knew. You aren't going to tell them, are you?"

  "Them? Them who?"

  "The media, the world, whoever. Take your pick. If going back's what you want," he added.

  She looked at him in confused shock. "What?"

  "Though you might prefer Lilydrake and Daffyd." He kissed her. She was suddenly cold all over. His lips warmed her a little. "Your call, Jane," he whis­pered into her ear.

  She stared at him. She saw the earnestness, the honesty. The willingness to give her whatever she wanted. "Are you crazy?" she demanded angrily.

  "Just an average mad scientist," he responded.

  "You'll make me chatelaine of Lilydrake?"

  "If you like."

  "Keep me as your lady fair? Be my champion? Wear my colors at tourney? Sing me troubadour poems?"

  "All that. Promise." He was looking at her as if he thought she were about to break into mad hysterics. Was he crazy for real? What kind of romantic, idi­

  otic notion did he have in his head? This wasn't the Medievalist Society .. . this was the bloody thirteenth

  century!

  ]ane grabbed the wavy gold lock lying on either

  side of his face and hauled his head up until they were

  nose to nose. "Get me out of here!"

  He flinched from her angry shout. "Yes, ma'am." "Right now!" she demanded, shaking him. He eased her Fingers out of his hair. He got hold of her hands. "Not just yet," he said soothingly.

  "I want a hamburger. Without onions. And choco­late. And coffee. Lots of coffee." -"That's not good for you."

  "I don't care. And a shower. A lovely, long hot shower. A dozen. Books. My stereo. Every Mel Gib-son movie ever made. Central heating. Bug repellent.

  My mommy."

  He stroked her hair, gentling her. "Soon. Soon," he

  promised.

  She collapsed against him, burying her head in his

  abundant chest fuzz. This was so frustrating! She wanted it so bad. And he was amused at her. She could tell. His chest was quivering with suppressed laughter. She looked up again, meeting his eyes.

  "How soon?"

  He looked up at the storm-darkened window.

  "Soon as the weather clears," he said. "Storms still play havoc with the apparatus. On either end of the

  search."

  34

  "Interested in what became of Sibelle and Stephan?" he questioned as they crossed the hall hand in hand to join the couple seated at the high table. The lord and lady of Passfair were sharing a breakfast trencher, talking to each other in low, inti­mate whispers. The screen had been moved to one side and the doors flung open. A fresh, rain-washed breeze was blowing into the hall. The sky outside was a bright, clean, cloudless blue.

  She stopped David just a few feet from the stairs. "How do you know what happened to them?" she asked very quietly.

  "We've started picking up some extensive data from this area," he replied. "I looked them up when I was in the office catching up on paperwork."

  Stunned shock covered Jane from head to foot. The look she turned on him was not friendly. She said very slowly, "When you were in the office . . . when?"

  His Adam's apple bobbed hard as he gulped.

  "Uh . . . yesterday morning?"

  Sibelle was looking their way. Jane plastered a false smile on her lips, saying, "I'm going to kill you, you know."

&n
bsp; "They lived happily ever after," he rushed on, try­ing to divert her. "Ten children. Most of them lived. Their family still lives in Kent. The Devrays are some of the most famous dog and horse breeders in Eng­land. Famous for it for centuries."

  "Probably also the rightful heirs to the throne," she muttered to herself. Did King Charles know about the Plantagenets hiding out in Kent? "In the office yesterday?" She wasn't going to be diverted so easily.

  He gave her an abashed look. "And talking to my counselor," he added. "There's one on staff who does nothing but remind me I'm not Daffyd ap Bleddyn, world-class savage, when I'm back in my own period. You'll get debriefed, too, love," he added. "Believe me, you'll need it. Even after only three months."

  She believed him. And she was relieved to know he was smart enough to make sure he didn't let himself become totally lost in the role he played in the thir­teenth century.

  "Just how do we get back, anyway?" she asked him. She'd take up the discussion of his walking off into the future without her once they were safely returned to an environment where she could throw lamps, cups, crystal sculptures, or any other hard, breakable object she could lay hands on at him. Preferably expensive objects belonging to him. "Dear."

  "First rule is we don't disappear where anyone can

  see us. Or where we might accidentally take some­thing with us. You sure there's nothing you want to bring along?"

  "Not a thing. Stephan and Sibelle are welcome to all my treasure. I owe them a lot. I'm going to miss them," she added. She looked around the hall. "You see Nikki and Vince anywhere?"

  "Who?"

  "My dogs."

  "No. I don't see those mongrels."

  "Probably ran off and hid somewhere. Poor things are scared of storms. I think we better join our hosts."

  He kissed the back other hand. "I love you."

  "I love you, too. Let's not stay for breakfast," she suggested strongly. He was sniffing hungrily as they approached the table. Well, to each his own, she reminded herself.

  He looked disappointed but said as they reached the table, "My lady and I start for Lilydrake this morning. We wish to bid you good-bye."

  "We'll miss you," Sibelle said, hurrying around the table. Stephan was right behind her. Sibelle hugged them both, planting kisses on both their mouths. "Go in peace," she told them. Tears brimmed in her large blue eyes.

  The look Stephan turned on Jane held equal parts joy and regret. "It was merry while you were with us," he said, taking both her hands in his big, square one. "We will miss you."

  "But we will see each other soon," Sibelle said. "Lilydrake's not so far."

  David and Jane exchanged a quick glance. David turned back to the young couple. "It might be a while," he told them. "After we visit Lilydrake, I plan to take Jehane to my family in Wales. We may be there for quite some time."

  "I'm with child," Jane said quickly. "Daffyd wishes his children to know their homeland." She gave David a quick, questioning look. It was possible. He shook his head and touched the spot on his inner elbow where a contraceptive implant would be. Oh. Well, they'd work on kids after they got home and had a nice, screaming fight.

  Sibelle clapped her hands for joy. "A double bless­ing, then." A sad sigh followed. "Then you won't be here to stand godparents to our first child?"

  "Maybe we'll be back for the second," Jane said. She gave David another look.

  Well, why not? If he could just pop in and out, why couldn't they visit sometimes? She could go on with her research that way. A detailed biography of Rosamunde Clifford, perhaps?

  She bet he wouldn't mind playing Daffyd ap Bled-dyn now and then, either. It was a cunning plan. They'd talk.

  "We must go," she said. "Get as many miles in as we can while the light is good and the weather holds."

  There were more farewells. To the serving women and Bertram and Raoul DeCorte. The time went by both too fast and far too slowly before they were able to get on David's ungainly gray gelding and ride out the gate. They even made a stop in one of the fields where Cerdic was working to say good-bye. And Switha met them just before they reached the track leading into the forest. She smiled and handed up a pair of tiny cloth bags on leather thongs. The bags were full of some fragrant blend of herbs.

  "A charm for fertility," she told them, adding, "I haven't any children of my own." She looked at them with a cryptic smile. "Not exactly." She shrugged, then headed down the road toward the village.

  They looked at each other. And shrugged.

  Jane directed him toward the tower where she'd first arrived. It seemed fitting, somehow.

  It was cool under the trees. Branches shed rainwa­ter on them as they passed. She held on to David's waist, riding pillion for the last time. Enjoying it far more than she had the first.

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'm very happy," she told him.

  "Try not to fall off" was his loving reply.

  They reached the edge of the clearing, and David stopped and got off the horse. They were taking it with them. Apparently, it normally grazed on the grass over the acceleration ring at Feynman.

  Jane was sliding down also when she heard the sound of running bodies coming up the trail toward them. She froze. This was still the thirteenth century. Just because Hugh of Lilydrake was dead didn't mean all danger was over. What if the outlaws were coming again? Her mouth went dry. She saw David had drawn his sword.

  All she wanted was to go home, she thought, trembling more from frustration than fear as two long, sleek forms broke from the cover of the trees. The beasts moved with lightning speed. Speed bred for chasing down swiftly fleeing deer. David raised his sword.

  "No!" she yelled, bumping his arm.

  "What? Oh!"

  "Nikki! Vince! What are you doing here?" she demanded as the deerhounds screeched to a halt in

  front of her.

  Nikki barked, while Vince jumped, trying to put his paws on David's shoulders so he could lick his face. David pushed him down.

  He gave Jane an annoyed look. "Apparently they followed you."

  "Well, they are my dogs." She smiled at him.

  He backed a step. "Oh, no." He pointed a stern fin­ger at her. "We are not taking these monsters with us." She kept smiling. "I couldn't afford to feed them even on my salary." Her smile turned toothy. "I'm not sharing a bed with them."

  "National Enquirer still publishing?" she asked conversationally. She polished her nails on her kirtle. "Wonder what the media will think of my little adven­tures in Never-Never Land. Besides," she added rea­sonably, "you've got the horse."

  "Yes, I've got the horse. All right," he capitulated. "We'll take the dogs."

  She kissed him, even though Nikki growled a little as she did so. She could deal with Nikki and Vince. Get them a nice big doghouse and a couple of fenced-in acres to run in. Everything would be lovely. Just lovely.

  "Let's go home, David," she entreated, her arms still around his neck. He nodded. His hand dropped to his sword hilt. He twisted the pommel to the right. "What do you do, just say 'Energize,' or something?"

  The world went very weird. She was sucked upward through a sea of what felt and looked and, yes, tasted like blue paint.

  "Or something," he agreed as the blue paint disap­peared.

  She, David, the dogs, and the horse they rode in on were now standing in a blue-walled room.

  She stepped away from him. The recessed light­ing was fluorescent. She touched the wall. It felt like cool steel. There was a thrum of air-condition­ing in the background. It sounded loud in her ears. Air conditioning and other things. Her perceptions had definitely changed over the last few months. There wasn't much to see, but it all looked so ... odd. She shuddered, suddenly afraid of this alien environment.

  David's arms came back around her. "It'll be fine," he soothed. "We'll get you debriefed and you'll be fine. Then hot showers and chocolate and all the cof­fee you can drink."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise."

&n
bsp; A door opened and several people dressed in beige coveralls came into the room. Some of them carried boxes with lights and dials. She didn't pay any atten­tion to them. Neither did David. The dogs immedi­ately tried to find someone to pet them. The horse lifted its tail and casually did what horses tended to do.

  Jane hugged David tightly. "Get me to your shrink, then. As fast as you can."

  He held her close to his side as they walked into a long corridor. "David?" she asked as they approached an elevator. She was a little uncertain about doors that opened and closed by themselves and little boxes that went up and down. She supposed she'd just have to cope.

  "Yes?" he asked.

  She rested her head on his shoulder. "How should we celebrate our eight hundredth wedding anniversary?"

  "Hmm? How about with a good night's sleep?"

  "Suits me." Together they walked into the little moving box.