Authors: Margaret Weis
Hardly knowing
what he was doing, moving blindly, acting out of well-trained
instinct, he set the medicine and bandages down on a nightstand and
hastened into the bathroom. He drew a glass of water from the tap,
returned to the woman.
She lay in a
more relaxed position, though the eyes fixed on him remained dark
with suspicion.
Trying to
imagine her as just another of his male patients aboard
Phoenix,
Brother Daniel came to her bedside, leaned down to support her to a
sitting position, and held the water to her lips.
"Drink
this," he said.
The violent
thrust of her strong hand knocked the glass out of Daniel's fingers.
It fell to the floor, shattered.
"Get away
from me!" Tomi said through clenched teeth. "Get out! Go
back to your murdering bitch and tell her I didn't fell for it!"
Brother Daniel
stared at the broken glass at his feet, at the water seeping into the
carpet that covered the ship's metal deck.
"I'm sorry.
I didn't mean—Please, believe me. I had no intention. I . . .
saw only that you were in pain. I thought to give you ease ..."
He couldn't look
at her. Bending down, he began to pick up the shards of glass. "I'll
remove this . . . you might cut yourself. And then, I will leave.
..."
The woman said
nothing more to him. Brother Daniel concentrated on his work, but he
was acutely aware of the woman lying on the bed, of her black eyes
watching him, of her breathing growing easier, of the smell of some
type of exotic perfume that came from her. His hand trembled, he
almost cut himself. He deposited the larger pieces of glass in a
trash compactor. Returning to the bathroom, he soaked a towel in
water, came back and used it to wipe up the smaller pieces.
Uncertain, then, what to do with the glass-encrusted towel, he
finally stuffed it, too, in the trash compactor. He never once looked
at the woman but he knew, the entire time, that she never once took
her eyes from him.
When he was
finished, he came to stand beside the bed, his hands folded before
him, his eyes staring at the lemon yellow sheet covering the
mattress.
"I will
leave the ointment for your burn. Apply it liberally, then cover it
with the bandage. That will stop the pain and keep the wound sterile.
You can wash your hand, but always reapply the ointment afterward.
You can only live for a few days without water." He started to
turn to go.
The woman's
long-fingered, brown-skinned hand reached out, caught hold of his.
"I can
manage the ointment," she said, in grudging tones, "but not
the bandage. I never . . . had the knack. You'd better do it."
Brother Daniel
shut his eyes, asked for strength. The touch of her hand sent tongues
of flame flickering over his body. He reached into his memory,
brought forth a picture of the false monks with the dead eyes; of
Brother Miguel, crouched among the tombs; of Lord Sagan, bleeding,
perhaps dying. Resolution returned. He opened his eyes, set about
calmly dressing the wound.
The woman was
staring at him, forehead creased in puzzlement.
"I heard
them call you 'brother.' You related to one of them, the bitch
maybe?"
"I am ...
or rather was ... a priest," said Daniel. "In the Order of
Adamant."
"Priest!"
the woman scoffed, stared at him, then shook her head in disgust. She
lay back on the pillow. "You expect me to believe that?"
"It doesn't
matter whether you do or not," replied Daniel softly, steadily,
spreading ointment on her fingers that were incredibly long, with
tapered ends and colorfully polished nails. "I'm sorry," he
said after a moment. "Am I hurting you, Captain?"
"Tomi,"
she said. "Call me Tomi." Her hand had clenched suddenly
over his, a spasm of pain crossed her face. She swallowed, gulped in
a breath, relaxed. "No, not you. That freak of nature—"
"What did
Sparafucile do to you?" Brother Daniel asked in renewed concern,
deftly wrapping the bandage over the blistered skin. He glanced over
her body again. "I see no trace of an injury—"
"No, he's
good, that one," admitted Tomi, forcing a grim smile. "I
judged him by his looks, figured he was dim-witted. I thought I could
jump him, take his gun. I never saw anyone move so fast."
Ruefully, she rubbed her right arm. "I'll bet I'm not the first
to make that mistake with him. He's a high-class, cold-blooded
killer. The bitch must have money to be able to afford talent like—"
"Please,
don't call her that," said Brother Daniel, his gaze on the
yellow sheet. "She's a great lady. You don't understand—"
"No,
you
don't understand!" Tomi propped herself up on one elbow, reached
out, grabbed hold of his arm. Long nails drove into his flesh. "Look
at me, damn you! Priest! What do you do, Brother? Bless the bodies
after this crew murders 'em? Is that what you're going to do for us,
when the Corasians have finished with us? Only there won't be much
left behind to bless . . . And what do you expect to do with your
share of the blood-money, Priest? Got a few favorite charities to
support—
Her hand was
strong, trembled in her earnestness. He was conscious of her body's
warmth, the musky smell of her perfume or perhaps her own skin, the
beautiful clarity of her eyes, the startling whiteness of her sharp
teeth against her dusky complexion, the pain of her nails in his
flesh. And the pain of her words. She made him see how different he
was from the rest, made him consider the vast gulf that lay between
him and them, even between him and the Lady Maigrey. A gulf wider
than the one that separated galaxies . . .
She was drawing
closer to him, the almond eyes half-closed, the wide, full lips that
were moist and tinged with coral were coming near his lips. She
pulled him down toward her. The jacket flap opened, her breasts were
bare. He could imagine the softness, the full swelling beneath his
fingers.
The tongues of
flame that swept over his body seemed to emanate from his loins. The
aching pain was both sweet and appalling, forbidden to him by his
vows, inviting because it was forbidden. He made no move to encourage
her, but he made no move to stop her, either. He shut his eyes,
smelling her fragrance, her touch fueling the fire.
Her hand slid
inside his shirt, contacted bare skin, and he shivered at her touch
that was cool . . . cool and searching.
Brother Daniel
stood up suddenly, wrenched himself away from the woman, away from
the feeling fingers. "I carry no weapons," he said coldly.
The almond eyes
stared into his. She seemed abashed for a brief moment, then her eyes
flashed defiance. "You can't blame me for trying!" Throwing
herself back on the bed, she took hold of the flap of her uniform
jacket, drew it up, covered herself. "Get out."
Brother Daniel,
trembling with shame, wrapped himself in what shreds of dignity he
had remaining to him and walked away. He opened the door, started to
leave.
"Tell the
bitch I'll die of thirst," Tomi hissed behind him. "Maybe
you can say a prayer over me, Brother!"
Daniel paused,
but did not turn around, did not answer. Walking out the door, he
shut it, sealed it without truly knowing what he was doing. He
started down the corridor, had to stop. Waves of nausea swept over
him. He slumped weakly against the bulkhead, fought to keep from
being sick.
"God
forgive me!" he cried, shuddering. "God forgive me!"
"Brother
Daniel ..." It was Lady Maigrey, her voice penetrating through
the dark and roiling clouds that encompassed him.
Daniel looked
up, lifted his head, realized that she had been speaking to him a
long time. His face flushed a burning red. "Y-yes, my lady?"
"Brother
Daniel, are you all right?"
No, he was all
wrong. Her tone was gentle, filled with understanding. He was on the
verge of confessing, of pouring out his blackened soul to her. The
words burned on his lips. He lifted beseeching eyes and saw Agis,
standing behind her, the man's face grim and stern. He saw the
half-breed, leering, knowing; saw Xris, cool, amused; the Loti,
Raoul, smiling at him blissfully. They knew. They all knew.
Daniel
swallowed, pressed his lips together. "Don't worry about me. I'm
fine."
Maigrey had seen
his gaze shift to the men standing around her. "Agis, have you
had a reply from our signal to Dion?"
"No, my
lady."
"We should
have heard by now. Send it again."
"Yes, my
lady." Agis, hearing a faint note of rebuke in her voice, went
quickly back to his duties.
"I've got
the door fixed," said Xris, seeing her gaze shift to him.
"Inspect
the ship. Check on the status of the passengers."
"Sure
thing, sister." Xris cast a look at the priest, shook his head,
and walked off.
Sparafucile,
taking the hint, shambled to a distant part of the bridge.
Maigrey turned
back to Daniel.
"I think
you came earlier to tell me something. I'm sorry." She smiled
ruefully. "I didn't give you a chance. What was it?"
They were alone.
What he said to her, he knew would remain locked in her heart. And he
had the distinct impression, from the look in her eyes, that she knew
already.
But should he
shift this burden onto her? Would she even understand? She was having
her own battle with God. Daniel sighed, determined to fight on alone.
"It's the
captain, my lady," he said, his voice steady, in control. "She
refuses to drink the drugged water. She claims that she will die of
thirst before she gives in."
If Maigrey had
been expecting something else and was disappointed not to hear it
from him, she kept her disappointment hidden, contented herself with
one long, scrutinizing look.
And if the
priest lowered his eyes before that penetrating gaze, it was nothing
unusual for him.
"Yes. I can
believe she'd do it, too," Maigrey said. "A woman of strong
character, she's not used to being thwarted. When she goes after
something, my guess is she gets it."
Was that a
warning to him? Brother Daniel kept silent.
"Raoul,"
Maigrey called, gestured to the Adonian, who was gazing out the
vidscreen with his accustomed drug-glazed rapture.
The Loti came at
her command, long hair wafting around him, all lace and ruffles and
glittering jewels. In Raoul's wake moved an odd personage that Daniel
had not previously seen. The person was short in height. Its race,
sex, and species were indeterminable, for it was clad in what
appeared to be an overlarge raincoat, its head topped by a fedora.
Daniel was aware only of two bright eyes that fixed him with a
disconcerting stare.
"How may
the Little One and I have the privilege of serving my lady?"
Raoul asked with a bow and a flourish.
"I need
this drug of yours made into an injection to be given to the captain
of this vessel, and anyone else who may take it into their heads not
to drink the water. Can you do that?"
"With the
greatest of ease, my lady. In fact, I took the liberty of
anticipating my lady's wishes along these lines. The injections are
prepared." Raoul fluttered his hand gracefully over a kit he had
brought with him. "Shall I undertake the task?"
Maigrey
considered a moment. "No, Raoul. This captain is an extremely
active, strong-minded individual. I think the half-breed had better
deal with her."
Brother Daniel
rose to his feet, hands clasped before him. "I will give the
captain the injection."
Maigrey was
obviously surprised, hesitated. "Are you certain. Brother?"
She gazed at him searchingly.
This time,
Brother Daniel's eyes met hers. "Yes, my lady."
"Very well.
Raoul, give Brother Daniel what he needs."
The Loti did as
commanded. The priest accepted the kit, listened attentively to the
instructions for the correct dosage, left the bridge, his outward
demeanor calm.
Maigrey watched
him go. Turning, with a sigh, she found everyone on the bridge
staring at her.
Raoul, head
cocked, appeared to be listening to the silent voice of his
diminutive companion. "The Little One says, my lady, that the
priest is confused. He has thoughts of traitorous intent that are
being fed by a lust for this woman, the captain."
"I don't
think one needs to be an empath to figure that out," said
Maigrey dryly. She put her hands to her aching temples.
Dear God!
Couldn't You have chosen another time, another place? Don't I have
problems enough? And what do I do about it? Brother Daniel has to
wrestle with the devil himself. No one can fight this battle for him.
And yet this mission is far too important to risk it on a priest's
fall ... or his triumph.
"Sparafucile,
go after him. Don't interfere, just keep an eye on him. And,"
she added, after a pause, "don't let him know he's being
watched."
The half-breed
nodded, slid out the door.
"I don't
like doing that," she said, coming over to Agis. "I don't
like spying on him."
"You have
no choice, my lady," said the centurion.
Maigrey sighed,
shook her head. "Any word from His Majesty?"
"No, my
lady."
O hard, when
love and duty clash!
Alfred, Lord
Tennyson,
The Princess
Dion was
fuzzy-headed after a night that had alternated between golden dreams
of love and dark and terrible nightmares. And today, of all days, he
needed to be alert and in full possession of his faculties, for today
he had to bargain with DiLuna and Rykilth for men, ships, and money
to launch the battle that would, God willing, win Dion his crown.
His waking and
sleeping dreams had been so mixed up during the night, he wasn't sure
what was reality and what had been manufactured in his subconscious.
One thing only he knew, knew it because of the warmth enveloping him
on the inside, if not the out, for his room was bitterly cold. Kamil
loved
him
and had promised to become his wife.