Lady of the Haven (Empire Princess Book 1)

by Graham Diamond

  Stacy blushed. “Good things, I trust.”

  Elias laughed and nodded.

  “Elias is a river captain,” said Nigel.

  A riverman! Stacy felt her heart leap and her eyes widened. “I’ve always wanted to meet a riverman,” she said. “We hear so many tales about you.”

  “‘Good things, I trust,’” said Elias, repeating Stacy’s words, flushing with pride.

  The girl laughed. “Of course.”

  Nigel took Stacy by the arm and together they stepped closer to the wolf. “This is Cicero,” he said, “a lord from the Newfoundland packs. He came to the Valley with Elias.”

  “Fara has graced you well,” said Stacy with a growl.

  The wolf’s eyes widened and he bowed, wolf-fashion, with his head low and paws outstretched. “You speak our tongue?”

  Stacy nodded. “I speak all canine tongues. Wolf, Jackal. Even in the cry of Hyena.”

  To the others in the room the conversation was little more than growls and barks, but it was clear from the look on his face that Cicero was most impressed. Many men had learned basic words and phrases in his tongue, which was common, but this girl spoke it freely, clearly, almost as if she were a wolf herself.

  “Perhaps we can all talk later,” said Nigel after the last of the introductions. “But now I think we’d better get back to business.”

  “Yes, please do,” said Stacy. “I’ll leave.”

  “No, no,” said Des, “stay and listen. It might do us all some good to have you around.”

  Stacy looked questioningly at her father. Nigel smiled. “It’ll be all right, Stacy.”

  Stacy walked over by the windows and stood with her back against the long drapes. The wind was mild, but there was a slight chill in the air. Hands folded, she listened intently as the discussion began again.

  The stocky Newfoundland man, Edric, planted a stubby forefinger squarely on the map on the desk. “That’s the trouble spot, right there,” he said, rolling his r’s in the soft Newfoundland burr. “No wagon is going to negotiate that pass without some real difficulties.” He shook his head sourly.

  Lord Desmond pursed his lips and rubbed at his chin. “Then we’ve got to move our wagons around it. The project’s too far behind as it is.”

  Edric looked at him coolly. “And how’re we to do that? It’ll take a new road, to be built across the range — and that’ll take us years.”

  Des took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A nerve in his cheek began to pound. “Well, we haven’t got years,” he snorted. “We’ve got to get that hardwood delivered from Aberdeen by summer.”

  Edric put his hands on his hips. “Fat chance o’ that!”

  Des seethed. “We had your word on it, Edric.”

  “Aye, that you did. But that was before the mudslide,” growled the Newfoundlander. “My wood’s cut more than a hundred leagues downriver. And I can’t bring it up to Aberdeen any quicker — even if that damned new road you promised me was already cleared.”

  Des glanced to Captain Mace. The engineer avoided the icy stare. “What about it, Mace?” asked Des. “Can you be done by spring?”

  Mace shook his head. “I’ve got a work force of one hundred thirty men,” he said, with a deep sigh, “and about a third of them had to be taken off my road to help with the old road clearing. There’s no way it can be done. I’m sorry. In another six weeks the snow’ll be chest-deep.” He shrugged noncommittally.

  The wolf began to stir. He glanced from one face to the next, searching their eyes. “I think Elias has the only solution,” he growled in the common tongue.

  Des turned to the riverman. There was a slight look of distrust in his eyes, though Stacy and Cicero were the only ones to detect it.

  “I’ve discussed it with Lord Nigel,” said Elias, “and we think it can work.”

  Des shuffled his feet. “Let’s hear it, then,” he said impatiently. “At this point I’m willing to try anything.”

  Elias smiled. “Well, it won’t be easy,” he admitted. “But my plan is to pick up the lumber at Edric’s site, tie it down on barges, then haul it downriver.” He spoke rapidly, with a cocky Newlander air of assurance in his husky voice — a tone that rattled most Valley folk.

  Des stared for a few long moments, then said, “I think you could do it as far as Aberdeen. But what about getting the rest of the wood up to Rhonnda? What about the rapids?”

  “I said it wouldn’t be easy,” answered Elias.

  Des shot a glance at Nigel. “You think it’s worth the risk?”

  “Those downriver currents can be treacherous, no doubt of that,” said Nigel. “But Elias knows the river like the back of his hand. And if he thinks it can be done, I believe him.”

  “I can barge about five metrics on a single trip, I’d say. Maybe a little more. Depends mostly on the weather.”

  Des whistled with some surprise. “You can barge that much? Even at this time of year?”

  “I’ll have to. Rhonnda’s depending on it. We need the bulk of the wood before winter.”

  Stacy’s ears perked up. Ah, she thought. So Elias is from Rhonnda. The settlement that was the farthest outpost of the Empire. The town that bordered on the sea itself. The sea! Her mind flashed back to Old One and his strange tale. Already the first pieces of her own schemes were fitting into place.

  “If I agree,” said Des hesitantly, “I’m going to have one of my own men sent along with you.”

  Elias glared. “To take charge, you mean.”

  “I think this is a mistake,” said Mace. “Captain Elias is promising too much, too soon.”

  “You don’t think it can be done?” asked Des.

  Mace laughed sarcastically. “I’ve spent too much time in Newfoundland to believe in their schemes. These Newlanders are all dreamers. The rapids will more than likely rip his barges to shreds, and we’ll wind up losing everything we cut.”

  Edric’s mouth twitched angrily. He darted his eyes toward Mace. “You Valley folk scorn everything you don’t think of first, don’t you? Because you fail in your own tasks, you degrade anyone else’s ideas.”

  Mace’s own temper began to flare. “I don’t have to listen to this,” he barked, his face flushed.

  Des held up his hand and gestured for Mace to hold his anger. “I’ve been to the rapids myself once,” he recalled, “when I helped survey the lands for Aberdeen. And I think Mace has a good point. It will take quite a ship to grind its way downriver tugging five metrics of lumber. You’ll lose all maneuverability.”

  Elias’s face grew stern. “I make my fortune on the river,” he replied. “And I know what can be done and what can’t. My ship can take a lot more stress than you give it credit for. I’ve made the trip between Deepwater in the south and Rhonnda in the north a hundred times and more. You may be masters on the land, my lords, but on the water I’m the master. And let there be no misunderstandings between us. I expect to be paid and be paid very well if I succeed. If I fail” — he shrugged — “we’re both losers. The settlements don’t get the lumber, and I don’t get the money.”

  “I didn’t know you were such a mercenary,” drawled Mace.

  Elias’s eyes narrowed. The old feud between Newlanders and the Valley was beginning to flare.

  “I’ve been on the river with Elias,” said Nigel, “and he has my confidence. Two years ago, when I was at Deepwater, I spent a week on the river aboard the Brora. And Elias is right. His ship’s a tough old wench. Her keel and ribs are built with the finest oak I’ve ever seen. Her last captain sailed her for almost twenty years. In fact the Brora was one of the first to carry cargoes to Rhonnda. I think Elias deserves a chance. And if he’s right, if it can be done, we can have a dozen ships barging wood for us. The day might even come when we won’t need the Old Road at all. Then we could recall Mace and his men and give them other assignments closer to the Valley.”

  Des nodded slowly. He met Elias’s gaze. “All right,” he agreed, “we’ll try it. But I’m sti
ll going to insist that one of my men go along with you.”

  Elias shrugged. “That’s fine with me. But you’d better pick him quickly. I plan to leave for Newfoundland no later than tomorrow.”

  It hardly took Des a second to decide. All through the conversation young Trevor had stood aloof, listening carefully but not saying a word. “Can you be ready by the morning?” asked Des, looking to his first young engineer.

  Trevor nodded. “If you want me to go, I’ll be ready.”

  Lord Desmond nodded. He looked again to Elias. “Now how soon can your ship be made ready?”

  “She’s ready now,” replied Elias with a hidden smile of satisfaction. “She’s sitting at Deepwater with the barges at her side. I anticipated your agreement.”

  “Can the first shipment be delivered before the snow?”

  “If the road to Deepwater’s still there,” Elias said, “I’ll be there within a week. Aberdeen will get her supplies before the month is out, and then it’s on to Rhonnda.”

  Chapter Four

  Stacy luxuriated in a hot bath for almost an hour, the first hot bath she had taken since leaving the Valley. She lingered for a long while, then got up and began to dress for dinner. And the thought of a hot meal was almost as pleasing as the bath. Sitting before her vanity mirror, she carefully braided her hair and let it fall over her breasts. The black hair shined and felt as soft and fluffy as a rabbit’s pelt. It curled slightly upward at the tied edges and bounced ever so gently with each breath. She slipped out of her robe and dressed in a light-yellow tunic with white lace at the collar. The tunic was a smart fit, one that hinted at the firm and toned body underneath. Stacy stood fully before the mirror and smiled. She wore no makeup; she never did. She took the gold pendant, clasped it firmly and let it dangle in full view. And the transition was made; once again she had become the fine lady of the Haven she had been brought up to be. Then she slipped out of her room and made her way down the winding stairs that led to the dining room.

  Olaf held the doors wide and bowed slightly as she entered grandly.

  “Anastasia,” came a joyful cry.

  Lady Gwen, Stacy’s mother, bounded up from her chair and ran to Stacy, hugging her tightly and smothering her with wet kisses. Stacy held her mother at arm’s length and stared at her. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you when I arrived. But you look wonderful, mother. Ravishing.”

  It was true. Gwen, despite her years, was still an attractive woman. The almond-shaped eyes were as large and sparkling as ever, the ashen hair just as silken to the touch.

  Gwen blushed at the compliment. “And you look lovely, too, Anastasia. You could turn every eye at the Great Hall.”

  Stacy laughed grandly, now blushing as well.

  “Why just yesterday Lord Brendon was asking about you,” Gwen said. “He wanted to know when you’d be back.”

  “Oh, really?” Stacy mumbled, feigning interest. Inwardly she groaned. Was her mother trying to push a husband on her already? And Brendon of all people! Of all the marriageable lords of the Haven why must she always be pestered by him! Anyway, marriage for her was a long way off. If her parents did not know it now, they surely would know it soon.

  “Perhaps next week I’ll drop by to see Brendon and say hello,” she said at last, sounding bored.

  Nigel rose from his place. “Come, Stacy. Sit down. Your mother had a special dinner prepared for your homecoming.”

  Stacy moved to take her place, then tensed. Standing at the far end of the table was a guest for dinner. Trevor.

  The soldier smiled with embarrassment. “Your father invited me to stay,” he told her, somewhat awkwardly. “We have a lot of matters to clear up before I leave for Newfoundland.”

  “Commander Trevor was just telling us about his new duties,” interrupted Gwen. “They sound really exciting. But never mind about all that. We haven’t seen you all summer. Tell us everything about the forest, and tell us about Hector.”

  Stacy eased into her chair and put the grinning soldier out of her thoughts. “I have a lot to tell you,” she said, “but first I want to hear what I’ve missed in the Valley.”

  “Well, you haven’t missed much!” laughed Nigel. “Trevor here is building a new road. But I understand you know about that.”

  Stacy nodded icily; she knew more than she wanted to.

  “Last week we got a letter from your sister,” added Gwen happily.

  “From Newfoundland? From Lorna?” There was real excitement in Stacy’s voice. It had been about five years since Lorna had married and left the Valley. “What does she say?”

  Gwen laughed. “Well, her writing is so scribbled it’s hard to make out what she wrote. But she had a lot to say. Simon has received a post from Governor Bela. It seems he’s a young man with a future. He’s been named Royal Medical Commissioner.”

  “For Deepwater?”

  Nigel shook his head. “For Rhonnda.”

  Stacy frowned. She loved Simon like a brother and thought that he deserved better than that.

  “Don’t be displeased,” said Gwen. “It seems Rhonnda is not the muddy backwater town some people think. Lorna says it’s already become the biggest town in all of Newfoundland.”

  “Remember, Stacy,” said Nigel with a glint in his eye, “it is the only part of the Empire that touches the sea.”

  The sea! thought Stacy. If only I could see the sea!

  “Newlanders are moving there in droves, they tell me. Even Valley folk. That’s why there’s so much urgency in Captain Elias’s mission. And Trevor’s.” Her father looked at the soldier and smiled. But Stacy didn’t hear; her mind was racing.

  Perhaps if she went to Rhonnda herself...Yes!

  “Ah, dinner is ready,” said Nigel, interrupting her thoughts. And from the kitchen came an elderly woman carrying a large silver tray laden with hot beef and steaming potatoes. Stacy felt her mouth water as the servant set the tray down and filled her plate.

  “Well, I think our conversation can wait until we’ve finished,” said Nigel, seeing the hungry look on his daughter’s face. “Don’t you agree?”

  Stacy laughed. “For once, father, we agree completely.”

  The meal was wonderful, and Stacy ate slowly, savoring each morsel.

  After the main course was done, the servant brought a large bottle of sweet wine and a bowl of fresh fruit. Nigel sat back, wiped his mouth with his napkin and raised his goblet. “To you, Stacy,” he said. “Welcome home.”

  Gwen and Trevor eagerly joined in the toast. Then Nigel raised the goblet toward Trevor. “And to you, Commander. May your journey to Newfoundland bring nothing but success.”

  Stacy politely raised her glass and took a small sip. For all she cared, this arrogant soldier could drown in the deepest part of the Newfoundland River.

  Trevor acknowledged the toast with a bow of the head, then proposed a toast of his own. “To the Empire,” he said sincerely. “May it stand forever.” And to that they drank again.

  “Well,” said Nigel after a while, “that’s more toasting than I’ve done for a year. Now, Stacy, tell me. How is Hector?”

  Stacy frowned. “Not well, I fear,” she confided sadly. Nigel raised his brows and stared. “He tries to hide his discomforts,” she went on, “but they become more apparent all the time. He doesn’t sleep well anymore. And he whines in his sleep. Sometimes he shivers. But he won’t talk about it. He just shrugs it off. I think sometimes he’s in great pain.”

  Gwen put her hand to her mouth and glanced at Nigel. “Can’t we do something for him? After all, he is such a friend.”

  Nigel rested his hand in his lap and half closed his eyes. Sadly he shook his head.

  “Isn’t there some medicine we could bring?” asked Trevor. “Surely there has to be something to ease such pain.”

  Again Nigel shook his head. “I see you don’t know much about wolves, Trevor. They’re a proud species. For Hector to accept our drugs would shatter his pride.” He sighed, quickly adding,
“but I suppose I could bring him some morphine — when his time comes.”

  “That’s right,” said Gwen. “There’s nothing to be done now. Why not let him spend his last years in dignity.”

  Stacy’s eyes flickered sadly. “I don’t think he has years, mother. Hector spends most of his time staring idly at the stars.”

  “Waiting for Fara to call,” whispered Nigel knowingly.

  Trevor stared dumbly. “Fara?”

  “The Fate that guides all forest Dwellers.” explained Stacy, with a trace of impatience in her voice. Only a sharp glance from Gwen stopped her from saying any more.

  “I asked Hector to return to the Valley with me,” Stacy continued after a while, looking at her concerned parents.

  “And?”

  “And he refused. He said there were just too many things that had to be done for the winter.” She looked away to conceal her sorrow.

  Nigel gave an understanding nod. That would be like Hector — too concerned with his pack to even think about himself. He leaned forward at the table and rubbed lightly at his temple with his fingertips; a dark shadow crossed his features. How the years had slipped away!

  Gwen reached over and touched his hand with her own. “Hector’s lived a rich and rewarding life,” she reminded in a very low voice, “and he’ll never be forgotten. He has sired more than a dozen hunters, known as many wives and even helped raise a brood of grandchildren. Strong and healthy grandchildren.”

  Nigel looked warmly at his wife and smiled through his saddened eyes. “Was there ever any doubt?”

  Trevor glanced sideways at Stacy and saw that the girl was showing every bit as much emotion as her father. Like many soldiers and officers of the Empire, he had often come into contact with Dwellers, sometimes even friendly wolves, but this was the first time he had come into contact with a family who spoke of the wolves as though they were members of the same race. Nigel and Stacy, and even Lady Gwen for that matter, were treating this as though it were a deep personal loss.