Terrence stood at the porcelain basin in his cabin and washed his face, drying it with a soft white towel. Emptying his pockets onto the nightstand, he looked in the hanging mirror on the wall. He scowled unhappily at the grey hair around his ears, and then took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, ballooning his cheeks. Someone knocked on the door. He stepped across the room and opened it. Dr. Kelloran stood outside, in a white, lace dress and white hat, held fast to her head by a wide ribbon of white lace, tied under her chin.
“Captain Dechantagne,” she said. “I wanted to thank you again for saving me.”
“Don’t mention it, Doctor.”
“I know this may sound forward,” she said, “but I was wondering if you had any dinner plans.”
“I had an invitation with my sister,” he said, “but I think I’m going to skip dinner this evening.”
“I see.” They stood in silence for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thank you,” she stepped inside.
No sooner had Terrence closed the door and turned around than he found Dr. Kelloran’s arms wrapped around his neck. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him frantically, as if trying to suck his soul from him. He returned her kisses, though with less enthusiasm. She kissed his neck and ears as her hands explored his chest and stomach. Suddenly she was kneeling in front of him, unfastening his belt and undoing his pants. Terrence leaned back against the door, sighed, and looked with half-closed lids across the room, at the top of the nightstand, where the little blue bottle sat, waiting for him.
Chapter Nine: Maalik Murty
Senta watched from the deck of the H.M.S. Minotaur high above, as Iolanthe Dechantagne paced back and forth on the dock, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. Senta clasped her own hands behind her back and paced back and forth across the deck, all the while keeping watch on Miss Dechantagne from the corner of her eye. Miss Dechantagne’s older brother, Captain Dechantagne, walked up to her and she stepped close to him and spoke, emphasizing whatever words she was saying by poking her index finger into his chest. Senta walked over to the small tiny steel dragon sitting near her. He had a tiny chain fastened around his ankle, attaching him to his carrier box. She poked her finger at the dragon.
“You listen to me,” she said. “I’m very important and you are only my brother, and I am the boss, and you’d better not do anything I don’t like.”
The dragon half-heartedly snapped at her finger, which she pulled out of the way.
“Don’t tease our boy, Pet,” said Zurfina, appearing behind her.
“He doesn’t want that chain on,” said Senta.
“We can’t let him loose right now,” said the sorceress. “He’s liable to fly off into the forest and not come back until well after we’re gone.”
“He can’t fly very good.”
“That’s just what he wants you to think. Now bring him inside. I have something for you.”
Senta opened the door of the animal carrier, but the little dragon just looked at her.
“Go on,” she said. “Get in.”
The dragon made a noise more like a cat yowling than a reptile. Senta reached out and rubbed the scales on its belly. The dragon bit her on the wrist, not hard, though its needle sharp teeth still drew blood.
“Ow!”
The dragon made an apologetic noise and then crawled down into its chamber. Senta closed the carrier and then sat down. The ship was starting to spin around her. She looked down without real comprehension at her wrist and watched as the blood flowed freely down her palms, down her fingers and dripped into a puddle on the deck.
“Cheeky twonk.” said Senta, woozily.
“Oh good grief,” said Zurfina.
She bent down and pulled the large, black ribbon from Senta’s hair and tied it around the girl’s bleeding wrist. Then she picked her up and heaved her over her shoulder. Leaving the dragon in his carrier, sitting on the deck, she carried the girl to the hatch. Senta couldn’t pay any attention to the direction they were going, once below deck. It didn’t really matter. Every time they went below, they went to a different door. Once inside the door though, they were always back in their cabin. Senta wouldn’t have been able to find her own cabin without the sorceress, but Zurfina was usually there to guide her.
The cabin was spacious. It was large enough to hold two comfortable beds and had its own bathroom. It also featured a great many pictures on the walls—a few were photographs, but most were painted, and all were of Zurfina. The biggest picture was taller than Senta, and was a portrait of the sorceress sitting on a blue day couch, naked except for a pair of dark silk stockings, a silver necklace with a large, dangly pendant, and a black feather boa around her neck. The painting hung just above one of the beds.
Zurfina tossed Senta onto the bed just below the great nude painting. She walked to the other bed and opened a huge wooden trunk at its foot, rummaged around for a moment, and then approached the girl with a small brown bottle. She unwrapped Senta’s wrist, took the stopper out of the bottle, and poured some of its contents onto the bite marks, which had immediately begun to bleed again upon being exposed to the air. The liquid from the bottle was cool and clear, but it bubbled and fizzed on the blood. After a moment, Zurfina poured on a second dose, and it washed away the blood, leaving not a single bleeding hole, not a blemish, not even a scar.
“That’s the fourth time this week,” said Zurfina.
“He didn’t mean to bite me,” said Senta.
“No, he didn’t,” said the sorceress. “He’s just too little to help himself when something that looks like food gets near his mouth. Just imagine if someone who looked like a giant teacake was waving her hands around your mouth. It would be hard to resist, now wouldn’t it?”
“Now I’m hungry,” said Senta.
“You’ll be very excited to hear then that we are having dinner with Miss Dechantagne. You’ll be able to watch her from up close,” Zurfina smirked. “Believe me. That will be even more fun.” She sat the small, brown bottle on the floor by the bed.
“Yay,” said Senta.
“Have a crumpet to tide you over.” Seemingly from nowhere, the sorceress produced a small plate with a steaming crumpet covered with melted butter and strawberry jam, and a small glass of milk. Senta ate the crumpet quickly, and wiped the excess butter on her dress. Then she drank the milk. When she was done, the plate and glass went mysteriously back to wherever they had come from.
“Now,” said Zurfina, producing a large sewing needle. “I’m going to pierce your ears, Pet.”
“Is it going to hurt?”
“Yes,” said Zurfina, grabbing the girl’s earlobe and sticking the needle through it.
Senta screamed. The sorceress didn’t wait for the girl to stop screaming. She took the needle and plunged it through her other earlobe. Then, while the girl’s crying lessened to a weeping, she pulled out two hoops of gold, about an inch in diameter, and placed one in each of the girl’s ears. Retrieving the brown bottle from the bedside, she poured a bit of the clear liquid on each of the tiny holes she had just made. Senta took a deep, sobbing breath.
“All right, stop crying. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
The girl stuck out her tongue. Zurfina returned the gesture.
“You’ll thank me later,” she said. “This will improve your eyesight.”
“Maro just got glasses,” said Senta.
“Boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses.”
“I don’t want any boys to make passes at me.”
“Good. Now pay attention. It’s time to learn a little something more about the art.”
“I can do lots of magic now,” said Senta.
“Yes you can, Pet. But those are all little magics. You want to be able to do big magic as well.”
“Like you and the two wizards?”
“Like me, and far more than our two wizard friends.
“You already know
something of the basic nature of magic. It’s a residue of ancient power and it is spread across the world in an uneven pattern. Some places it’s very thick and other places very thin. Many people have found ways to draw upon that power, but they all do so in one of two ways.
“Wizards tap into the magic by using something called mathematics. They create long and complex equations that force their minds to work in a way that they normally don’t. When they’ve done this, they can see the magic forces and tap into them. Every time they want to cast a spell, they have to reset their minds to be ready for it, by studying their equations. And once they’ve cast that spell, they can’t cast it again until they get it ready. That’s why they love their mathematics almost as much as they love the magic.”
“Do I need to learn mathematics?” asked Senta.
“No, Pet,” replied Zurfina. “You and I have minds that already work the right way. They’re already attuned to the magic. You see, anyone can learn mathematics, if they have someone to teach them, but it’s a very rare thing to actually feel the power of magic. Our wizard friends would do anything to get the power that we have. They would lie, cheat, beg, steal, kill. If they could cut open our heads and eat our brains to get that power, they would. But they can’t. Their minds just aren’t right.”
“That’s sad,” said Senta.
“Sad for them. Good for us. Let’s see now, which spell will you learn first.”
She put her hands on either side of Senta’s face and looked into her eyes.
“Repeat after me. Blechtore Uuthanum.”
“Blechtore Uuthanum.”
“No, not quite. Blechtore Uuthanum.”
“Blechtore Uuthanum.”
“Yes, better. Practice that for a bit.”
Zurfina left her to recite the spell quietly to herself again and again. Senta had a tingling sensation on her forehead. She wondered if this was the power of magic—whether she was beginning to sense it, like her mistress had described. When Zurfina returned, Senta wasn’t sure whether she had been gone an hour or only a few minutes.
“It’s time to get dressed for dinner,” said Zurfina. “I have your clothes laid out”
Senta walked over to the other bed, the one not below the giant picture of a naked sorceress, and found the clothes selected for her. There were of course, black bloomers and a black camisole. And then there was a thin, black sheath dress that went from her shoulders straight down all the way to her ankles, making her seem even more pencil thin than she was. The dress was silky and smooth and shimmered a little bit when she moved, but the opening around her ankles was so small that she had to take small steps. There was a matching pair of long, thin gloves that went all the way past her elbows, and another black bow for her head. A pair of black high-heeled sandals finished the outfit.
“Why do we have to dress so weird?” asked Senta.
“What do you mean ‘weird’? You look just precious.”
“That’s just me. I’m cute,” returned Senta. “What about you?”
Zurfina stood in a dress similar to Senta’s. It was however completely transparent revealing a tiny black brassier and g-string beneath, which did more to enhance the sorceress’s nakedness than to hide it. The two stars tattooed above Zurfina’s breasts were clearly visible as was the rest of the constellation—a two-inch star on each of her hip bones and one around her navel. As she turned slowly around, she exposed the eight-inch flaming sun tattoo in the small of her back and the fourteen-inch crescent moon tattoo at the top of her back
“I can see your bum!” said Senta.
“Too much?”
“Are you wearing that just to brass off Miss Dechantagne?” asked Senta.
“No. Not ‘just’.”
Zurfina snapped her fingers and the dress became opaque. She pointed at her own head and swirled her index finger around. Her hair flew for a moment, and when it settled down, it was no longer the usual spiky jungle but the same chin-length page-boy style that Senta wore, complete with the large black bow on top of her head. She slipped on her own high-heeled sandals, and long silk gloves, and she was a larger, shapelier version of the girl.
“Now we can be twins,” said Zurfina.
The sorceress took the girl by the hand and led her out the cabin door, shutting it behind them. This time the door was in the hall next to the cabin of Miss Dechantagne. Striding down the hall toward them was a young naval officer with bright red hair and freckles. He tugged at his tight collar with one index finger. From the opposite direction came a shapely, dark-haired woman, slightly shorter than Zurfina, in a nicely made and fashionable white dress.
“Well, a good evening to all,” said Zurfina.
“Good evening,” said the woman. The young officer smiled unevenly and looked pale.
“Shall we make our entrance?” Zurfina knocked on the door, which was opened by a servant. The sorceress entered, followed by the others.
The servant led them to the tiny dining room and placed them at the table. Only then did Miss Dechantagne make her entrance, filling the last seat. Already present at the table was Augustus Dechantagne smiling happily, his eyes drinking in Zurfina’s shape. Next to him sat Miss Lusk, pretty and red haired, to whom Senta had spoken several times. And beside her, at the end of the table, was matronly grey-haired woman, whose eyes narrowed at Senta and her mistress. Miss Dechantagne introduced Zurfina, Miss Lusk, and her brother Augustus. The serious looking older woman she introduced as Mrs. Marjoram, who back in the great city, owned several bakeries. The shapely, dark haired woman was Dr. Kelloran. And the young, freckle-faced officer was introduced as Lieutenant Baxter.
“And what is the child’s name?” asked Miss Dechantagne.
“My name is Senta Bly,” said the girl, realizing a moment later that this was the first time she had spoken to the woman she had watched so many times before.
Two waiters served dinner beginning with steamed shrimps on a bed of fresh lettuce with tart vinaigrette, and a light, crisp white wine. Chilled asparagus soup and a bubbly pink wine followed this. The main course was toad-in-the-hole: savory sausages, potatoes, broccoli, and small sweet onions baked in a savory pudding batter. This was served with a dark red wine from Mirsanna. Senta tucked in and ate quite a lot. Even so, by the time she took the first sip of her Mirsannan wine, she already felt her head wobbling from side to side.
“Do you think the child should be drinking wine?” said Mrs. Marjoram, clicking her tongue.
“Pish posh,” said Zurfina. “Wine is good for the soul.”
“I am sure that Father Ian would not agree with you,” said Mrs. Marjoram
“You would know better than me,” said the sorceress.
“Better than I,” corrected Mrs. Marjoram.
“Better than either of us then.”
“I am sorry to see that Captain Dechantagne is not dining with us this evening,” said Dr. Kelloran.
“He indicated to me that he wasn’t feeling quite himself this evening,” said Miss Dechantagne.
“Yes, poor fellow,” said Augustus Dechantagne, draining his wine glass, and waving for the waiter to refill it. “He’s been under the weather quite a lot. I don’t think the tropical air agrees with him.”
“Well I’m very glad to see you again, Lieutenant Dechantagne,” continued the doctor. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for your part in my rescue.”
“Just doing my bit. Officer and a gentleman, and all that.” Gesturing with his wineglass, he sloshed some of it out onto the table. “And please, call me Augie. In fact, everyone here should call me Augie. And you should call me often.”
He laughed. Then Senta laughed. No one else did.
“Well I for one would like to see something done,” said Mrs. Marjoram. “Imagine, women being kidnapped off the street. And it’s not even an unusual occurrence! I mean, what do we have a military for? They should send in a battalion of marines and clear these cultists out.”
“Enclep is a big place,” said L
ieutenant Baxter. “Over two hundred thousand square miles of mostly jungle and this is our only base. Our navy is stretched as far as it can be already—patrolling colonies on twelve continents as well as protecting the home front.”
“And I understand,” said Augie, pausing to take another drink, “that this ape cult is spread out over the entire region.”
“Well, I still think it is abhorrent,” said Mrs. Marjoram.
“Quite right. Quite right,” agreed Augie. “Still, we gave them the old what for.”
“Yes,” said Miss Dechantagne. “Thanks to my brothers there have been no attacks for the last three days reported in Nutooka or any of the outlying villages.”
“Oh, I don’t think they’ll be showing their faces in these parts any time soon,” said Augie. “Not that they showed their faces before, what with those hoods and all. Bit cowardly, that.”
Dessert was served and it looked wonderful. It was trifle, and Senta had seen but never tasted it before. Fresh fruit from the local market made it even more extravagant than similar preparations at Café Carlo. Strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, peaches, and kiwi were layered with sweet custard, whipped cream, and pound cake soaked in fortified wine. Even over the aroma of the wine, the smell of vanilla—which Senta had only learned existed two days before—rose up from the decadent dish. Each mouthful thrilled the girl to her core as she scooped it in and let the foison of flavor delight every taste bud. And when she finished, a waiter brought her another piece! Along with this wonderful dessert, they served tiny little glasses of blackberry liqueur.
The Voyage of the Minotaur Page 13
