Читать книгу The Rhoedraegon Chronicles: Book Two - Paul Sr. Alcorn - Страница 4

Mathew Rhoedraegon poured over the streaming data on his comm unit. For the moment it was his only solace from the humiliation of recent events. Only three weeks ago his brother, Helson, had married the Lady Winifred McDowell, an alliance valuable to both their families, but one that caused him great personal embarrassment. He marveled at his response to their wedding, realizing that the two deserved each other, ambitious, unprincipled and ruthless. He was well rid of Wendy and had no regrets that he had not been the one to marry her. Yet he smarted from the experience. Everyone now knew that his brother had stolen his intended. To the Nobility it seemed that Helson had swept her away from her brother right under his nose. The fact that it was not really true made it no less painful to Mathew.

What troubled him most of all was Archer Condrey, Helson’s latest mistress, drugged, seduced and now effectively captive in Helson’s apartments in the Bay Area Complex. Of course, for Helson to have a mistress was not unusual, nor was it surprising that he picked a very beautiful and very vulnerable commoner for his purposes, but Archer was different. She was a true innocent, absolutely ignorant of the ways of the Nobility at their worst, which neatly defined Helson.

There was a cruelty about Helson, almost a vengeful vindictiveness in the way he’d arranged for Mathew to escort Archer to the marriage celebrations and to the wedding. He was showing his anger, lauding over his younger brother his power as First Lord of Rhoedraegon and putting him in his place. To him it had all been a great joke, and Mathew had allowed it, not really caring anymore. But the one thing that neither Helson nor Mathew had foreseen was that Mathew and Archer would make a connection far beyond the social niceties. She was bright, as intelligent as her brilliant father had been, she was articulate, and she was beautiful. For whatever reason, Mathew had become completely enthralled with her during the week leading to the wedding, and they had stolen away after the ceremony, exploring the favorite haunts of the Nobility until well after dawn.

That was three weeks ago. Since that time, he had not been able to see her at all. His brother kept a tight rein on his ‘property’, and she’d been out of sight while Helson and his new wife made a very public show of their honeymoon, touring exotic cities on Earth and Mars. Helson was showing off his trophy, and he had no time for his mistress.

Mathew looked up from the vid comm for the hundredth time, wondering why he simply couldn’t focus. There were the family businesses to run. There were a hundred details to take care of and the week of festivities had pulled him away from his work for far too long. Reluctantly he had to admit that he’d taken on too much of the primary responsibility for day to day operations. He simply must delegate more.

Mathew turned from the screen and walked to the window. The sun hit the window just right to reflect his own image back at him and it was a sorry sight. His shock of light brown hair, never cooperative at its best, now exploded from the top of his head like a fountain, his eyes were slightly sunken from lack of sleep, accentuated by bags developing under each, and the disheveled state of his clothes made him look more like a rag doll than a young, fit Noble. Mathew sighed, refocused on the peaceful scene, somewhat distorted by the curvature of his window and thought to himself how appropriate it was that this view was as off kilter as he himself. He turned away and sat again in front of his com which automatically reactivated itself as he did.

He looked at the screen, watching the flashing signal in the upper right corner, urgently requesting his attention. Absently, he closed the data screen and stared at the worried face of Lars Sanburg, his director of operations at the Bay of Naples facility.

“Your pardon, My Lord,” the harried Sanburg said. “I do not like to disturb you, but we’ve another case of sabotage.”

“What’s happened?” Mathew said, cursing to himself.

“They’re becoming more blatant. The shipping bay was incinerated at 9:00 P.M. local time. It’s all gone.”

“How many units did we lose?” Mathew asked without thinking.

“Three hundred were destroyed. Fortunately, the bay was almost empty.”

Mathew thought for a moment. “Something’s not right. If they could thermal the bay, they could have easily destroyed the entire production section. Why just the bay?”

Sanburg looked at him blankly

“Well, that’s a question we’ll have to answer, isn’t it? How badly will it disrupt shipments to the colonies?”

“We’ll be down about five days, I think,” Sanburg said quickly. Obviously he’d already been working on solving the problem.

“That’s too long,” Mathew said to himself. “Reprogram two of the housing units to reproduce the shipping bay. That should speed things up.”

Sanburg looked uncomfortable, like a small boy afraid to tell his father that he’d just killed the family cat.

“What is it, Lars?” Mathew said.

“Sir, I’m not comfortable with performing the conversion. I’d appreciate your assistance…”

Mathew nodded and gave him a slight smile. “I’ll be there in four hours. Move two units into place and I’ll work out the programming on the way.”

Sanburg’s shoulders slumped slightly as he relaxed. Mathew couldn’t be sure if it was because of the impending help or because he was relieved that Mathew didn’t reprimanded him. The production super was under tremendous pressure and his natural tendency to take responsibility for everything that happened ‘on his watch’ was one of the characteristics that had moved Mathew to place him in charge in the first place.

Mathew killed the connection and leaned back. He thought for a moment and initiated another call. “Helson,” he said to no one and the vid comm immediately responded. In less than ten seconds his brother’s face appeared on the screen.

Helson was sprawled on a great circular bed and wearing a long scarlet dressing gown. To his left Mathew could see the sleeping Wendy, her bare shoulders and slender back plainly visible above the white covers. There were scratches and a small bruise on her back. In Mathew’s mind, there was no doubt that Helson was once again rubbing it in.

“Little brother, you’re not supposed to disturb a man on his honeymoon, you know.”

“Sorry. I forgot what time it is there. In fact, now that I think about it, I don’t know where ‘there’ is.”

“I’m in bed with my bride, as you can plainly see. What do you want?” growled his brother. Mathew was glad that he had only a two dimensional view of the bedroom. A full holo would have been more than he needed right now.

“I wanted to speak to you privately, if I could.”

“This is private enough, Mathew. What do you want?”

“It’s about your, um, guest.”

Helson looked at him blankly for a moment and then a look of recognition crossed his face.

“You mean Archer?”

Mathew looked nervously over at the still sleeping Wendy, wondering what Helson was thinking, speaking so frankly with his wife lying in bed next to him.

“Um, yes. I was wondering if I could borrow her for a few days.”

Again Helson looked blank and again a sudden look of realization crossed his face. There was more going on here than simply figuring out what Mathew was saying. Helson was famous for moving beyond the obvious. He had already developed some scheme, probably in great detail, that would allow him to use this moment to his advantage.

“You want to borrow her, little brother? May I ask why?”

“I’m going to be at the Bay of Naples facility for three or four days. I thought she might enjoy seeing a bit more of the world. She’s very provincial. I think it would broaden her experience.”

Helson laughed loudly, causing Wendy to shift, groan and roll over long enough to punch him in the side. “What you mean is you need some feminine companionship, isn’t it? She is a beauty, isn’t she? And as for broadening her experience, I think I did a pretty good job of that already!”

Mathew tried to smile and simply nodded. It was easier than trying to convince his brother that he meant what he had said. From Helson’s point of view, the only uses of a female were either political or sexual. With his new bride it was both.

“Well this is good timing, little brother. Wendy and I were talking about Archer earlier. My wife informs me that I have to get rid of my mistresses for the moment. It’s not very good form to keep them when one just got married. It creates serious problems with public image.”

Mathew said nothing. He knew full well that Helson didn’t give a damn about public image. Wendy was a different matter. If she was forcing him to give up his mistress (did he say mistresses? Plural?), then she was a strong woman indeed.

“You can have her,” Helson said abruptly. “She’s yours. Consider it a wedding gift from us to you. I think I owe you that much for stealing your fiancé. Please have her moved out of her apartments within twenty four hours. I’ll contact Hans and make the arrangements.”

Before Mathew could protest the com went dead.

“Dear God,” he said aloud. “Now what do I do?”

Mathew heard a chirping sound, coming from the direction of the bedroom. He stood and walked from the small office he had installed in his Bay Area Complex quarters to the larger sleeping quarters where a small bulbous form lay sprawled on the bed, its head raised in question.

“Shamreel, we’ve got a problem,” he said.

Shamreel squawked again, more plaintively this time. Mathew swore that that animal could read his mind, or his emotions at a minimum. She rolled over at an impossible angle, her long straight tail bracing her as she stood in the middle of the bed and looked at her master.

This was no ordinary pet. Shamreel was a genetically engineered throwback, a true dinosaur about three feet in height, with large muscular hind legs and small but functional forearms. She was currently a mottled gray, though she could change her hue at will, like a chameleon and she could shift from an almost pure white through most of the colors of the spectrum to a dark gray. Her response to emotions seemed to be the triggering factor. For the moment, the mottled gray indicated concern and caution but not fear. Shamreel was technically a Saltopus, the only one of her kind, and she was Mathew’s constant companion. Interestingly enough, she had never liked Wendy but had taken immediately to Archer, something she did not often do with females.

“I’ve just been given a mistress. Now what the hell am I going to do with a mistress?”

Shamreel cocked her head to one side like a dog and then darted for the clear wall of the bedroom, staring out at a small insect on the other side as it tapped against the invisible barrier of the transparent plastisteel. She was obviously no longer interested in his plight.

What would he do now? Certainly he would have to do something and quickly. Knowing Hans, Helson’s houseboy, he’d have Archer packed in a matter of hours. He could take him with her to the facility as he originally planned and that would buy him some time, but what to do after that? How was she going to like being passed around like a platter of beef? He had to speak to her, but he had to do it personally. There was no other way.

“Riker?” he called.

“Yes, My Lord,” answered the household control in a soft almost doleful voice.

“Pack for four days at the Bay of Naples Complex. Also, arrange with Lord Helson’s control to find suitable clothes for Archer Condrey, his, um, guest. She’ll be going with us.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the control said flatly.

“Have all luggage brought here for transport. I will return with Miss Condrey in about an hour.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the control said for a third time in the same flat voice. How Mathew wished he could have brought Caliper with him from the Rhoedraegon estate. At least that control had a personality. He changed his clothes hurriedly, choosing a cape, a brassard and appropriate shoes. For this he wanted to look his best.

He checked himself in the mirror. Mathew decided that he wasn’t too bad for the early side of thirty, tall and straight though neither as tall nor as muscular as his older brother, yet sturdy in a bookish sort of way. He wore an emerald velvet cape over his tunic and trousers, and the brassard across his chest that displayed the Rhoedraegon crest, a scarlet dragon swallowing its own tail, contrasted perfectly with the cape. He did not consider himself to be handsome, but he was pleasant enough to look at and he would admit to that. The women he usually chose had always been more interested in the cerebral type than the muscular chisel faced hero, so this suited him well. For a moment Mathew tried to imagine how he would look when his piercing dark eyes would lose some of their luster with age and his sandy hair would be flecked with gray. He quickly combed his hair to bring it back under control, gave himself a final appraising glance and left. In moments, Mathew was in the hall and headed for Helson’s quarters three floors above.

When he arrived at the guest apartments, Hans was waiting at the door. He bowed obsequiously, ushered him into the living area. “Miss Condrey will be here presently, My Lord,” he said.

Mathew glanced at the servant and frowned. “One moment, Hans, if you please,” he said.

Hans stopped and turned.

“You don’t entirely approve of this, do you Hans?”

“I am not in a position to either approve or disapprove, My Lord. It is not my place.”

“Be that as it may, you do not approve, do you? Speak frankly, Hans.”

Hans hesitated for a moment, looking directly at Mathew for probably the first time since he’d known the man. He thought for a moment and said, “No, My Lord. I do not.”

“Why?”’

“My Lord, I…”

“You are ordered to speak frankly,” Mathew said with slight irritation.

A moment more of hesitation and Hans said, “Miss Archer Conley is a lady in every sense of the word that has meaning. The way she’s been treated and the way she is about to be treated is a crime against all that I understand to be honest and decent.”

He waited for the wrath that he was sure was coming, but instead of what should have been a very violent reaction to his insolence, Mathew simply nodded, smiled and shifted his weight onto his left leg.

“Well,” he said, “I can’t argue with the first part of that statement. She is, as you say, a true lady in every meaningful sense of the word. I also agree that the way she has been treated is a crime. However, what is about to happen to her is not. I don’t know why I want you to know this, except that you have demonstrated a definite affection for the woman and have obviously acted as best you could as her protector, no easy feat when working for my brother.”

He thought for a moment, forgetting that he was talking to a servant of his household. “Maybe it’s because I’m trying to defend myself against my own worst thoughts. At any rate, I have never treated her as anything but an equal, and I do not intend to do so now. My brother has seen fit to transfer her care to me. My intentions are to continue to protect her and to offer her whatever assistance I can to get on with her life. She is not my property, either figuratively or literally, and I will in no way force myself on her or expect her to do anything against her will. That may not be much consolation to you, but I offer it because of your service to her and because I recognize your pain.”

Hans stood stunned. No Lord had ever spoken to him in such a manner and certainly not at such length. He was a commoner, a servant. He was of no more consequence than a service bot or household control. And the Lord Mathew owed him no explanation at all.

“I thank you for that,” he said at last, bowing deeply. “I apologize for my remarks and my attitude. I had no right to assume as I did. I am very grateful that Miss Archer will have you for a guardian.”

“For a friend,” Mathew corrected.

Hans turned and left. As he rounded the corner Mathew saw the glistening of a tear in the corner of the man’s eye. He fought the urge to cry as well.

Fortunately, Archer appeared almost immediately which helped him regain his composure and as was usually the case, he stood in stunned silence when he saw her. She entered demurely, as a slave not wishing to be noticed by her master, and fairly glided across the floor. Her five foot eleven inch frame was covered with a knee high traveling dress, gathered at the waist with a slightly flared skirt whose pleated folds fell naturally around her. Her jet black hair, blunt cut to shoulder length now, gave her a classic look that was almost childlike. Around her neck she wore a stiff silver necklace with a small scarlet pendant displaying the Rhoedraegon crest. Her head was bowed and he could not see her eyes, but he knew them well, ebony orbs, far darker than his own dark blue eyes, and imbued with an intensity that could penetrate a man’s soul to its center. When he saw the necklace, he shivered, his face reddening.

“Take that off!” he snapped.

She looked up at him. “I thought you would like the dress,” she said.

“Not that, Archer. Take off that necklace. You’re not some servant or slave and you don’t need a collar to tell the world who you belong to. I don’t want you to ever think that you belong to anyone but yourself.”

She looked confused for a moment and then said, “I would like to keep it on, if I can. I wear it in deference to you.” There were tears in her eyes.

Mathew melted instantly and cursed himself for his stupidity. He went to her and gently took her in his arms. Her touch was magic and he pressed her softly against him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “All I could think of was Helson making you wear that emblem like some sort of brand. I couldn’t stand the thought of that.”

She took a deep breath and shuddered slightly. “I only meant to please you, My Lord.”

Mathew held her away from him so he could look into her eyes and smiled.

“You please me by being who you are. Nothing else is necessary. I need to explain what’s happened.”

He led her to the couch where she sat and he sat conspicuously at the opposite end, not trusting himself if he were closer. Even the fragrance she wore played havoc with his senses.

“Please do not call me My Lord. I am not your lord and I am not your master. You are free to go or stay as you will. Helson has released you. He thinks that he’s given you to me, but that’s impossible. I won’t own you. You know how much I care for you. I value your friendship for that. I hope you feel the same, but you are free to do as you will. For the next four days we’ll be on the Eastern Continent on the Bay of Naples. I’ve work to do there and you’re coming with me. On that I insist. While we’re there, we’ll talk about your future and what you want to do.”

Archer was busily trying to assimilate all this information, darting her eyes left and right as she did whenever she was trying to put new information in some sort of order. She seemed confused.

“I can be of help in that. With your father’s credentials, you can teach at any University in the Empire. If that doesn’t appeal to you, we can find something else, but I want you to be able to get on with your life, Archer. What my brother’s done is terrible. I can’t make that go away, but I can see to it that it never happens again.”

Archer was crying again, this time harder. She looked at Mathew with great pain in her eyes and he began to imagine what it must have been like for her being under the control of his brother. He seethed with anger inside, but hid it as best he could. There would come a day for Helson. What was it his brother Marcus said? No one ever really gets away with anything.

Archer gulped, wiping tears from her face and looking more beautiful and more vulnerable than ever. Mathew’s heart nearly broke with the pain of watching it.

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Mathew? Have I been such a burden?”

He didn’t remember how it happened but in the next moment she was in his arms again and he was holding her close, unwilling to let her go.

“I don’t want to ever let go of you, Archer, not now, not ever. I didn’t know if you’d want to stay.”