Getting up, he grabbed a white towel from a stack on a shelf nearby and pressed it to his face. It was quickly turning red. It was the only bit of color in the room of white and grey. Still holding the towel to his bleeding nose, he opened the supply closet door and peered out into the hall in both directions. There wasn’t a person in sight. He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He moved quickly away from his hiding place. He had to take the towel away from his nose in order to climb a ladder up to the next deck. The blood began to drip quickly again as he climbed.
On the next deck, he pinched his nose with the towel to try and slow the blood flow, but winced in pain. He looked around for a moment and then realized where he had to go. He stepped quickly along forward, but had to stop after a moment and lean against the wall because he was feeling lightheaded. He took a few deep breaths and continued on. At last he came to the cabin door he needed, and knocked. The door popped wide open and the broad body, big stomach, and round rosy face of Father Ian appeared.
“Good to see you, Captain Dechantagne!” boomed Father Ian’s voice. “Don’t stand out in the hallway. Come in. Come in. Good gracious, what has happened to you?”
“I cut myself shaving,” said Terrence, pulling the towel away from his face. “I was hoping that you could help.”
“I should say you have!” Father Ian let out a long whistle. “Sit down. As a matter of fact, I have just the help you need right here. Sister Auni here is just the person to set you right again.”
In the corner of the room, unnoticed by Terrence until this moment was a very thin woman in the long white robes of a church acolyte. Her jet black hair was cut straight across her forehead, and hung down low in back. She had deep-set grey eyes and prominent cheek bones. She stood up from her seat and was several inches taller than Terrence, though only about half as wide at the shoulder. When she spoke, it was in breathy tones.
“I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain Dechantagne. May I take a look at your nose please?”
She placed long thin hands on either side of his face and tilted his head upward so that she could look at his injury.
“Razor slice,” she said. “I would expect to see an injury like this in a tavern brawl.”
“Sorry. No taverns available,” said Terrence.
“In the name of the Holy Father I see your pain,” she said. “In the name of the Holy Savior I heal your wounds.”
Terrence felt life flowing from her hands. Not only did his nose stop stinging, but the pain in the back of his head and in his shoulders that he hadn’t even noticed before went away. The residual stinging in his eyes also went away. He was sure that any redness caused by the white opthalium was gone now. Sister Auni pulled her hands away from his face and smiled.
“I knew I came to the right place,” Terrence said.
“Of course you did, my boy,” said Father Ian. “Perfect timing, too. The sister and I had just finished our prayer session. You are just in time to see her back to her cabin.
“You couldn’t be in any safer hands,” he said to Sister Auni.
“Oh indeed,” she said. “I know that already.”
Shrugging, Terrence offered his arm to the acolyte and led her out of the room.
“Good night to both of you!” Father Ian called out in his thundering voice, and then he closed the cabin door behind them.
Walking through the narrow halls of the ship, Terrence usually found it difficult to escort a lady and had to walk in a sort of shuffling sidestep to make room, and if the woman was wearing an evening gown, it was pretty much impossible to walk side by side in any case. This was not so with Sister Auni. Not only did her clerical robes flow straight from her shoulders to the floor, her entire form was scarcely as wide as his two hands splayed out side by side. Her shoulders seemed almost too narrow to hold up her normal sized head.
“Sister Auni!” A young woman Terrence didn’t know came running down the hall toward them. “Sister Auni! Mrs. Duplessis is having her baby, and the doctor wants you there as quickly as possible.”
“Lead the way, child,” said the acolyte.
The three of them made their way through a series of hatches and corridors until they came to a closed cabin door. A group of several women and girls were standing outside in the hallway. The door was quickly opened and the young woman who had fetched her, led Sister Auni inside. As she turned to close the door after her, she looked into Terrence’s face.
“Thank you, Captain Dechantagne,” she said in her breathy voice. “But I think I shall go on from here alone. Have a pleasant evening, and watch out when you are shaving.”
Terrence stood thinking for a moment. Then he gradually noticed that the six or seven females, around him in the hallway, were watching him. He felt as though he had stumbled onto a stage without a script, or stepped into the middle of some savage ritual whose codex he didn’t understand.
“Ladies,” he said, and slowly backed out of the hallway, and then turned and made his way up to the topside of the ship and out onto deck.
He was surprised to find that the sun had already set. It seemed that he no longer really had any concept of time. His stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in a while. He had porridge for breakfast, but wasn’t really sure if that was this morning’s breakfast or some day in the past. This was just about dinnertime though, and he decided to take his sister up on her standing invitation to dine. So he stopped by his cabin to change into a clean shirt, then went and knocked on Iolanthe’s cabin door.
The salad had already been served when he arrived, and the wait staff were just setting out the main course of roasted chicken, creamed potatoes, and pea fritters, which was just fine as far as Terrence was concerned. The waiter set a very manly portion in front of him and the other staff member, a waitress in this case, poured him a large glass of sparkling white wine. He didn’t waste any time tucking in.
“So what have you been up to?” asked Iolanthe.
“Mph,” he shrugged non-committaly, his mouth full of food. He looked around the table. Iolanthe, Lieutenant Staff, Wizard Labrith, and an empty chair faced him. On his side of the table, Terrence’s was the only one of the four chairs occupied. He swallowed his mouthful of chicken.
“Losing some of our popularity, are we?”
Iolanthe wrinkled her nose, but didn’t answer.
“There seems to be a medical emergency that requires Mrs. Marjoram and Dr. Kelloran,” said Lieutenant Staff. “I believe they were all invited to dinner this evening.”
“Oh yes,” Terrence said. “Mrs. Duplessis is having her baby.”
Iolanthe blinked in surprise. She had evidently not expected for him to have any idea of what might be going on. She no doubt had assumed that he had sequestered himself away somewhere, which of course he had, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that.
“Yes, I’ve just come from there,” he said. “Sister Auni is there as well. I’m sure they will take very good care of the woman.”
He smiled to himself and took another large mouthful of chicken, then followed it with a pea fritter, mashed up peas dipped in batter and deep-fried. He would have recognized the flavor of Mrs. Colbshallow’s batter, even if he hadn’t known that she did all of Iolanthe’s cooking.
“So Lieutenant Staff,” said Wizard Labrith. “When do you expect that we will see Birmisia?”
“Captain Gurrman is sure that we shall reach first sight of land in twelve days, and I wouldn’t bet against him. He is the finest seaman that I’ve ever served with. We’re expecting that it will take four more days to reach the site chosen by Miss Dechantagne for the colonial capitol.” He smiled at Iolanthe, and then quickly added. “Chosen by Miss Dechantagne and her brothers, I mean.”
Terrence waved the piece of chicken impaled upon his fork in acknowledgement.
“So you see, my brother,” said Iolanthe. “We have no more time to dally. You must start first thing tomorrow preparing.�
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“Preparing?” wondered Labrith.
“There is a great deal to get ready,” she continued. “We already have the cargo labeled for unloading, but we must organize work details. In the first week, we must build temporary homes for the entire complement of the colony, storage buildings, and an infirmary, as well as a dock for the supply ships. Sanitary facilities must be taken care of. The area needs to be mapped and made secure. A party will have to be dispatched to contact the aborigines—what did Augie call them? Oh yes, the lizzies. Sources of local food must be located and we must have immediate access to fresh water. We need to decide who will lead each of these endeavors and we need to assign the colonists to each of these tasks.”
“I thought that Zeah was doing that,” said Terrence.
“Zeah has proven to be most useful,” she said. “More so than I ever thought possible, in fact. But this is not the Korlann colony. This is the Dechantagne colony. A Dechantagne must be in charge, and that Dechantagne is you, brother.”
“Augie can at least help me, can’t he?”
“Excellent idea,” Iolanthe said, with exaggerated emphasis. “See, you are taking command already. Use both Augie and Zeah. Get everything ready. Coordinate with Radley.”
“Radley?”
“Lieutenant Staff.”
Staff shifted in his chair, and he and Iolanthe passed an uncomfortable look between them.
“I see,” said Terrence. He shoved another pea fritter into his mouth. Maybe Yuah was right. Maybe Iolanthe did have a soft spot for the young lieutenant. Terrence wouldn’t have thought his sister had any soft spot at all.
“I personally can’t wait to see what I can get in my killing jar, once we reach our destination,” said Labrith.
“What is a killing jar?” asked Iolanthe.
“It’s just a jar for killing insects, with ethyl acetate” explained Labrith. “I’m a collector, you see.”
Dessert was a delicate crepe stuffed with a variety of fresh fruit and topped with clotted cream.
“This is different,” said Terrence, taking a bite. It was quite delicious.
“I asked Mrs. Colbshallow to do something before all of our fresh fruit went bad.”
After the dessert course, a heavy fortified wine was served, just as Terrence had expected. His sister’s quirks were no mystery to him, at least the ones associated with mealtimes. And just as expected, she passed out fine cigars to each of her three guests, though she would not let anyone smoke them in her presence. Terrence declined his cigar anyway. It was not his particular vice.
And he was already thinking about his particular vice. What a bizarre thing. Why had Pantagria cut off her beautiful golden hair? She had never done anything so strange. For that matter she had never done anything that he hadn’t specifically asked of her, other than breathe or keep her house or fly. She had certainly never attacked him before. She must be ailing in some way. He would have to find something that he could do for her. He had no way to take her a gift, but perhaps he could try to make her feel better, the way she had always done for him.
“What are you thinking about, Terrence?” asked Iolanthe, very close to his right ear.
“Nothing, really.”
“Is there anything I need to know?”
He looked into her aquamarine eyes. He had always believed that his sister was completely ignorant of his need for white opthalium. Yuah would never tell her. How else would she know?
“No. I’ve had some bad dreams lately.”
“Well, dreams can’t hurt you,” she said.
He said goodnight to Lieutenant Staff, Wizard Labrith, and his sister and went back to his own cabin to find Yuah standing by the door. She had been working, he could tell, for the strands of loose black hair falling down around her face were wet with perspiration. She also wasn’t wearing a corset, not that it made much difference with her slim figure. He looked at her large, round, brown eyes and thick lips and smiled. He had never really noticed Yuah when they had been growing up; she had been quite a bit younger than him. He had examined her a few times since, though. She had grown to be quite beautiful. She might not be the girl for him, in fact she wasn’t, obviously, but she was beautiful.
“I see you were at dinner with your sister.”
“Yes.”
“That’s good,” she said. “I was afraid you had fallen overboard.”
“Just getting a bit of rest,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of work coming up. In fact, I’m going to be working with your father for the next fortnight or thereabouts.”
“All right.” She nodded, then turned and walked away.
Terrence shrugged, then walked into his cabin and locked the door behind him. He pulled the small blue bottle from his pocket and looked at it. He thought about “seeing” right then, but thinking that Yuah had just been there, he thought better of it. So he hid the bottle in the box with his ammunition. Then he got undressed, washed his face in the basin, turned off the gaslight, and climbed into bed.
The next ten days, he was extremely busy. Zeah had given thought to which of the colonists would be assigned to what duties, but he was so immersed in organizing the current activities that he scarcely had time to plan for the landing. Also he felt that he did not have the authority to make such important decisions unaided. Terrence had no problem there. He knew that any decisions he made would be backed up by Iolanthe, even if she didn’t particularly agree with them. She had always encouraged her big brother to take the initiative and be decisive. He also inspected the rifle company he had organized back in Brechalon. Once they had landed and unloaded, the Minotaur would turn around and sail west to St. Ulixes, the largest city in Brech Mallontah. There were several hundred sailors waiting there from a cruiser that had been sunk in storm some months ago. When the Minotaur reached them, they would take their stations on the battleship and put it back in service as a full-fledged warship. It would be up to the men of the rifle company, under the command of the two Dechantagne brothers, to protect the colony once the ship was gone.
As Iolanthe had indicated, there would be a great deal of construction required during the first few months after their arrival. They hoped for an abundance of building materials at the site, but even so, the first thing to be built would be a sawmill. The steam powered saws and other equipment were arranged so that they could be taken off the ship first, and the harvesting of wood could begin even before the remaining supplies had been set off. Latrines would have to be dug, for which Terrence could count on the rifle company. Soldiers were used to digging latrines. The carpenters would have to make them a bit nicer than the ones that the soldiers were used to, for the women and children. Once temporary shelters and warehouses had been constructed, permanent buildings could be started on. Everything looked as though it would go off without too much of a hitch though.
Yuah had stopped by to see him several times, but Terrence didn’t find her waiting by his cabin door or snooping through his things. He suspected that she was just too busy to keep more than a cursory eye upon him. There was plenty for every person on the expedition to do now that they were so close to their destination. He locked his cabin door, pulled out his hidden blue bottle, and lay down on his bed. Opening the stopper he dabbed a dose of the milky white liquid onto his right index finger, then restoppered the bottle and tucked it under the pillow with his left hand. With practiced precision, he lifted up first his left eyelid and then his right, and rubbed the liquid into both eyes. The real world began to fade immediately.
Once again, he was standing in the great field of purple flowers. This time it was night. There was no moon and there were no stars, but nevertheless a soft glow illuminated everything. He could easily make out Pantagria’s little house, and he stepped through the flowers, which had their petals closed over their eyes, and walked to the front door. He hoped that Pantagria’s hair had grown out. In the real world it would have had time to grow out at least a little. Maybe here it could return to its full luxuriou
s length. He knocked on the door. There was no response. He knocked again. Still nothing. He carefully reached out and turned the doorknob.
As he slowly pushed the door inward, there was a loud sucking sound and air rushed past him into the crack of the open door. A split second later, the door was blown shut, and then blown off its hinges and into him as a massive explosion sent Terrence, the door, and huge gouts of flame away from the house and completely obliterated the tiny structure. Terrence was only half conscious, but he realized that he was on fire, and began rolling across the field, flattening scores of the foot-tall purple flowers as he did so. His ears were ringing and he wondered what other injuries he might have, but he at least managed to smother the fire on his clothing. He lay on his stomach with his forehead pressed into the black dirt.
“Pantagria?” He lifted his head up. He had to find her.
Suddenly something heavy landed between his shoulders, completely knocking the wind from his lungs, and pressing his head back down so violently that he felt a large mouthful of dirt pressed between his teeth.
“Yes, lover?” hissed the thing on his back.
It grabbed him by the shoulders and violently turned him over. He spat the dirt out of his mouth and looked up at Pantagria, bathed in the light of the flame that was all that was left of her house. Her hair had not grown out. She was still completely bald. She had painted her head and face and entire body using some kind of greasy, gritty concoction, with black and red designs that in the darkness gave the impression of a skeleton. And she had cut, probably with the same straight razor she had used to shave her head and to slice Terrence’s nose, letters into her own breast. The wounds were gaping and bloody and he could easily make out the letters R E A L cut into the once perfect skin.
“You were looking for me?” she asked, and then licked his face from his chin to his forehead.
The Voyage of the Minotaur Page 18
