Jeni got a rapid response to her pleas for help. Cries of “Save the homeland” quickly spread in the district. Lord Parnal and Elder Lord Tolham started gathering men and supplies and promised to finance the Army of Elrad East. Through speeches and monetary help for poorer elven families, they drew large numbers of recruits.
At the Tolham estate, the grounds that once held gaming fields now contained obstacle courses, archery targets and racks of practice weapons. Where girls and women used to stand on the sides and cheer their team on, now they practiced applying splints and bandaging wounds. Farther down the field, knights taught groups of men the arts of war. Salinthia’s estate was the site of cavalry training and small group attack methods, as well as a staging area for the swelling herds of horses. It seemed every elf, and quite a few humans, had answered the call.
The response to her call to send men into the plains, however, was dead silence. She knew what was there--she had seen the hideous thing. For all her explanations, all she got in return was hard looks. Many told her the war was in Elrad, and some even suggested she was trying to make trouble with the north. No one cared what was on the plains, and they didn’t want to waste time on anything but helping Elrad. Even her grandmother wanted her to keep quiet about sending people to the plains.
Jeni’s only positive response came from a visiting knight from Krundle. He told her about how General Cooper wanted to test his battlewagons and thought he might be willing to help her. Jeni didn’t know much about war, so having a real general to lead men onto the plains would be very useful. When General Cooper arrived at the mid-eastern coach depot, she asked her father to go with her to see one of the steam wagons.
The thing they looked at reminded her of a junk pile on wheels. It was big--longer than a horse and wagon--and made completely of iron and steel. The back was squared off, with windows, sitting atop man-sized back wheels. The main body was a long, thick barrel shape with pipes running all over the surface of it. The front, waist-high wheels had the same thick spokes and wide, slatted contact surface the back ones did. Two small turrets sat on top like large bug eyes. Near the front of the heavy steel barrel, a round chimney billowed dark smoke. She saw the tracks it made coming into the coach yard, but it was hard to believe it could be moved, let alone move under its own power. There had to be tons of steel in this thing.
“This moves by itself?”
“That is correct, M’lady,” General Cooper said from beside her. He wore the red-and-gold uniform of Krundle. Puffing his chest up, he said, “We get a full head of steam, and we can outrun horses.”
Arthur waved a hand at the monstrosity before them. “Can you explain just how it does that?”
“Be glad to.” Walking over to it, he slapped the cylindrical body. “This is the water chamber--it stores water--and towards the back, there, is the boiling chamber. The water is heated into pressurized steam, which runs through the pipes, here, to the wheel cylinders.” Pointing to the large, outhouse-like box, he said, “The driver sits in the top so he can see where he’s going. Below him, the engineers feed the firebox and control steam pressure. The wood wagon connects to the back and has a hitch so it can pull other wagons behind it.”
“What are those?” Jeni asked, pointing to the front turrets.
“Those are for defense. Each has a steam blaster the man in it can use. This wagon was made to pull other wagons behind it. It can be used for battle, but that is not its primary function.”
“So, this isn’t a battlewagon?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, M’lady, they are much bigger and have two boilers as well as steam cannons.”
Arthur stared at him. “What in the abyss is a steam cannon?”
Waving for them to follow, Cooper went to the front and climbed a ladder between the turrets. Opening a door panel in one, he stepped in. “Come up, let me show you.”
Arthur and Jeni looked at each other. “You first,” he said.
Inside the turret, a thick rod came from the floor. Attached to this was a tube with a lever on top. There was just enough room for her to squeeze in across from General Cooper, with Arthur standing on the ladder poking his head in.
“This is a firing tube,” Cooper explained. Reaching into a bin fixed to the wall, he pulled out a fist-sized rock. The cylindrical rock was wrapped with a thin cloth. “This is what the tube shoots. The cloth makes sure the rock seals in the tube. A rock this size will kill just about anything at close range and will penetrate four-inch-thick wood. Armor is smashed flat by the impact. At mid-range, say just beyond bowshot, it is still powerful. It might not kill a vlak, but it would get its attention.” Holding his hands to form a circle about the size of a head, he added, “The rocks shot by steam cannons are this big around. One rock can smash holes in gates and most rock walls. We also have buckets of smaller rock that spread out when shot, for use against cavalry and infantry.”
“You do all this with water?” Arthur asked.
Cooper nodded. “Heated under pressure, steam is a very powerful force.”
“Can we see it work?” Jeni asked.
Cooper thought for a moment. “Not in the city. The first battlewagons will arrive in two days. I’ll set up a demonstration just east of town. Anyone who is interested can come watch.”
“We’ll be there,” Jeni assured him. “You mentioned in your letter that you’ll need funds for this mission?”
He nodded. Leaning on the tube, he looked at her seriously. “These machines are expensive to operate. Besides the cost of the smiths, fitters and engineers, we use a lot of steel; and breakdowns are always a concern. I will send these wagons wherever you want us to go, but I need twelve thousand gold up front and five hundred each month we are in your service.”
Jeni gaped at him, while Arthur let out a loud snort.
“You’re insane!” he spat. “How can you expect us to come up with that kind of money?”
Cooper shrugged. “Craftsmen and soldiers need to get paid. Our duke will no longer finance my project without proof these wagons work in battle. I need to win a few battles, but I can’t do that without hard gold.”
Taking a deep breath, Jeni nodded slightly. “If you are willing to work something out with me, I will give you the gold.”
“Jeni, no!” Arthur snapped. Reaching in to hold her hand, he looked at her sternly. “You are going to be ruined if you try that. Think, girl! You have a long life ahead of you; don’t go broke now. Once you’ve lost everything, it is very hard to recover.”
Turning to squat in front of him, she gave him one of her looks of determination. “Dad, everything I have is also Eric’s. Don’t you think I should do everything I can to find him?”
Arthur spoke slowly, trying to drive home his point. “Jeni, I think Eric would not want you to destitute yourself and Erica, no matter what. Honey, from what you told me, he gave his soul so you would be safe. He wanted you to have a good life.”
“He wants me to have a good life,” she corrected. “And to have a good life, I need him back.”
Arthur shook his head sadly. “Honey, sometimes we can’t have what we want.”
Her face hardened. “We will see.”
Arthur knew talking to her at the moment was useless. By her own admission, whatever it was Odif had pulled through the crystal had eaten Eric. She was refusing to believe he was dead. She was convinced that somehow he was going to come back to her. Belenaris had talked to him before about getting Jeni a consort to help handle her affairs and not let her do anything to hurt herself. He hated to admit it, but it looked like Belenaris was right. Since he already knew how her businesses worked, Arthur had to begrudgingly admit the elf lord was the best choice. He knew Belenaris would siphon some of Jeni’s money into his own coffers, but losing bits here and there was better than watching all of her hard work go down the well. He also knew that Belenaris would take care of Jeni.
Diverting his eyes to the ground, he said, “Let’s get out of this thing, we st
ill have a day’s work ahead of us.”
He hung around the coach yard long enough to see the steam wagon depart, chugging loudly and blowing smoke. It creaked and squeaked, but the thing did leave under its own power. As transportation, it might have a chance at success if General Cooper could bring the cost down, but a deaf man could hear that thing coming miles away. In battle, the smoke and noise would give away their position. He had the feeling those behemoths would be more of a liability than any real help. He could not let Jeni ruin everything she had built for a useless cause.
Once Jeni had gone about her routine, he went into his office and sent a message to the young Lord Tolham. The message was simple: if he got Salinthia’s approval, they would go before the council and have Jeni given a consort. He felt bad doing this to her; but left on her own, she might destroy not only her life but Erica’s as well. He only hoped that, in time, she would forgive him.
He was getting ready to leave when a coachman rapped on the open doorframe. “Arthur Cooper?”
“That’s me.”
Looking back into the hallway, the man said, “In here, lady.”
A green-skinned Slavonic girl came in and stood across the desk from him. She wore the simple light-gray shirt and skirt of a slave. He didn’t agree with slavery, but he did know there were laws about harboring runaways. He already had to contend with Sally’s anger and Jeni’s foolishness; he didn’t want to add the possibility of going to prison to his list of problems.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her.
The girl gave him a benevolent smile. “I have been given to you.”
He cocked his head. “You what?”
“I am yours.”
He was just starting to get back into Sally’s good graces after the catastrophe of that druid woman’s visit. The last thing he needed was for her to think he was buying slave women. “I don’t want you.”
She moved closer to the desk, and her smile turned nervous. “Please, it is very important that you take me home.”
“What part of ‘I don’t want you’ don’t you understand?” he growled.
“Can I have her?” the coachman asked. “Being Slavonic, she’ll go for at least three hundred gold.” Seeing Arthur shoot him a glare, he added, “Or so I’ve heard.” He shrugged.
Arthur turned his attention to the girl. He decided to get to the bottom of this nonsense. “Okay, lady, who sent you?”
“My Master.”
“And who is that?”
Wringing her hands, she glanced at the coachman. “Please, take me home then I will explain.”
Arthur nodded. “Fine, where do you live?”
“Wherever you live.”
“Where are you from?”
“My last Master lived in Spring Valley.”
“And who is he?”
“Duke Toma.”
“Good,” he said and pointed to the door. “Get in a coach, and go back to Spring Valley where you belong.”
“I don’t belong there anymore! My Master gave me specific instructions--I must obey!” she pleaded.
“Duke Toma,” Arthur stated.
“No!” She stomped a foot in frustration. Squeezing her hands together, she bounced them up and down as she spoke. “I was to come here and explain to you what happened, only to you! My Master said you would know what to do. I found your wife, and she only said she is eager for an explanation, also.”
He stared at her for a few seconds as what she said sank in. “Ohhh, no,” he breathed, dropping his head. “And what did you tell her?”
“What I was supposed to. I belong to Arthur Cooper, who lives in Tolina.”
He shot to his feet, red-faced. Walking briskly around the desk, he grabbed her arm and gave her a shove towards the door. “Get back to the coach!” To the coachman, he barked, “Drive me home, now!”
***
Sally walked around the table in the small study, making sure there were no wrinkles in the blue tablecloth. She had set the table herself, using their finest silver and crystal tableware. The gold-colored candles matched the real gold candlesticks, and the curtains half-covered the windows for a shadowed effect on the room.
There was nothing on the table that required adjusting, so she smoothed out her black silk gown once more. Close fitting on her torso, it blossomed out full from her hips to the floor. She shifted the low-cut neckline one way then the other, making sure the V rested exactly on the center of her chest. Only a slight hint of breast showed on each side. As she looked down at herself, it occurred to her that compared to the slave girl who had showed up and--defiantly--to Odif, her breasts were, indeed, small. Was that why he had bought that wench? Blocking out that thought, she went to the mirror.
She checked her silver necklace and teardrop earrings then scrutinized her hair for any strays. As she looked at herself, she tried to see what it was that was driving her husband away from her. Pulling a few strands down to cover the tips of her ears, she tried to make them look more rounded. That only ruined the look of her hair. Frustrated, she pushed it back in place and stared into her own eyes. She knew it wasn’t the size of her chest, the width of her hips or the shape of her ears that was causing Arthur to look to other women.
It was her. When he came back to her that night, she smelled the sex on him. Right from the start, he had apologized with tears in his eyes. At the time, she was so hurt she didn’t care about anything except for how she felt. Even when she accepted his apology just to shut him up, she still wanted him to suffer like she was. She had done her best to make him feel dirty and low. In time, she would have eased up and started to make amends. It wasn’t until today, when that green-skinned slave showed up, that she began to think she was really losing him. This wasn’t some druid seducing him with magic. He had gone out and bought the affection she was denying him.
She forgot sometimes that Arthur was human. He was just Arthur, her husband. He was also a man who wouldn’t live as long as she would, one who had to pack all his emotions and desires into a few short decades. She could afford to wait ten years to make up and get on with their lives, he couldn’t. He had worked very hard to make their home, and even when all that work was burned to the ground he kept trying. Not once had he complained about what they had lost but instead kept reminding her of what they had. No matter how bad things got, he always put her first and treated Pern and Jeni like they were his own. Even when she would have one of her occasional bittersweet memories of Verhan, he would hold her and coax her into talking about him. It didn’t bother him that she still loved her first husband--or, if it did, he didn’t let it show.
Aware her eyes were clouding, she grabbed a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes, trying not to ruin her makeup. She had to keep everything perfect. If he could beg for weeks for her to forgive him, she could make her one attempt worthy of the man she loved.
The door slammed open, making her jump and spin around, nearly knocking the mirror on the floor. Arthur shoved the slave girl in before him. The girl stumbled, only just managing to keep her feet. She backed against the wall, eyeing him fearfully.
Jabbing a finger at her, Arthur growled, “You tell Sally what you told me.”
Looking at him then Sally, she said, “I...was given to Arthur.”
“No! “ he barked. "Who told you to say that?”
Shrinking back from him, she cried, “My Master.”
“And who is he?”
She stared at him for a few seconds then her face became stricken. “I forgot his name!”
Eyeing her, his voice became dangerously calm. “You what?”
“I forgot his name!” she cried again, holding her head. “I know what he looks like, but I was only his slave for a short time, and that was weeks ago!”
Arthur ignored her. Walking over to Sally, he jerked a thumb back at the cowering girl. His voice was stern. “I never knew about her before today. Whether this is a bad joke or she is really a runaway, I’ve never seen her before. I have not, nor
will I ever, stooped to buying women. I love you, even if you don’t love me any more.”
His anger vented, he began to notice the room and the way Sally was dressed. Looking at the toes of his boots, he tipped his head towards the door. “I’ll let you get back to your...meeting.”
As he turned to leave, Sally grabbed his arm. “Wait.” Turning him back, she hugged him tightly. She couldn’t stop the tears as she cried “I’m sorry” over and over.
His arms enfolded her as he nuzzled her ear. “I’m sorry, too, sweetheart,” he whispered. They locked lips in a warm, deep kiss, breaking it only to hug each other tighter.
The girl watched them, waiting patiently until they noticed her again. Arthur was the first to look over at her.
“You still here?” he asked harshly.
She gave a half-smile. “I have to tell you what happened. Master said you would know what to do.”
“What is your name, child?” Sally asked.
“Ellie.”
Releasing Arthur except for a firm grip on his hand, Sally wiped her cheeks. “Where is this Master of yours?”
“He’s with me,” she replied, patting the waistband of her skirt. “The woman he was with is with me, too.”
“They are with you?” Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow.
She nodded and pulled a black bag from under her skirt. Showing it to him, she said, “He made her jump in here then jumped in himself.”
Arthur and Sally looked at each other. Arthur inspected it then showed it to Sally. “This is the bag I gave Eric.”
Her eyes widened as she looked at Ellie. “Tell me about your Master, what does he look like?”
Ellie tried hard to think and tell them everything she knew. “Long red hair and beard. He had women guarding him because he killed all the men. He’s kinda odd, he makes me confused. He’s mean to people, even to the woman he tried to escape with. She was dancing, but then just after he told me to go they started beating people up. When they ran, I tried to keep up; and she hit me hard,” she explained, touching her ribs. “I couldn’t breathe, it hurt so bad. Anyway, he yelled at her and carried me to the storeroom. He was looking for a way out and she made the pain go away. He came back and they started yelling at each other again. Then he made her get in the bag and got in himself before Duke Toma could break the door down.”
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