Authors: Brendan Carroll
“What about Michey?” Luke raised one eyebrow. Everyone felt sorry for Apolonio. The war had done him a favor, tearing him away from his lovely little wife and her annoying little habits.
“But look at Anna!” Omar spun around and sat down on the cot again before turning up the bottle. His spirits were lifting as he named off the wonderful people in his family. He ignored the question about John Paul and Aurora’s youngest child, Meredith Michelle. “Did you not love her? Didn’t everyone love her? For that matter, look at Jozsef Daniel, your nephew before he was lost. God never saw fit to create a better soul and you have become acquainted with Lavon de Bleu, another of John Paul’s sons. Intelligent, handsome, strong, brave, kind. Now tell me, Luke, what is wrong with children?”
“You’re right, but John Paul’s offspring don’t count. He’s not exactly Mark Andrew Ramsay’s son now is he? I’m Mark Andrew’s son. Luke Matthew is Mark Andrew’s son and your father is Mark Andrew’s son. Now that’s a pretty strange trio, any way you look at it. You have me,
du Mortie junior
, the reluctant King of England and your average purple-clad Djinni to chose from. Of course, you can count Michael Ian in your list of desirable members of the family, but even he hangs out with low-life characters.” Luke pulled the cork on another bottle of Il Dolce Mio’s contribution to the cause and laughed at his jibe at Lucifer. “And God forbid, don’t look at his one and only daughter. Who knows what goes on in that head? Do you know what she wants to do now?” Luke asked impulsively and then closed his eyes as he realized his
faux pas
. He had totally forgotten that Nicole had once been Omar’s wife and that Aurora was their child.
Omar corked the bottle and sat it down beside the cot. “No. Tell me. What does Nicole want to do?” He said quietly. For as long as he had known Luke Andrew, he’d never been able to get him to say anything at all about his sister. It was as if she didn’t exist in Luke’s estimation.
Luke turned up the wine and drank half of it. “It’s nothing. Look at the time! We really need to get some rest before tomorrow.” He stood up and Omar raised both eyebrows. “We need to decide in the morning what we’re going to do. I think I know a way to defeat Hubur. Oh! And don’t worry. You and I will trade outfits before we go into the city. There is no need for you to confront her personally.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Uncle.” Omar smiled and looked exactly like Luke Matthew except for the hair. “But before you go, I’d like to hear what Nicole is up to. I think you should share your burden with me. She is, after all, family.”
Luke subsided onto the folding stool and tried to finish off the wine in one long swig without success. There was no way out.
“All right then.” He cleared his throat and tried to think how best to explain what Nicole had only shown him by mental projection. The visions were as clear as if they had happened only the day before. He had been shocked to see her and then she had used the method that they had once used extensively to communicate. It had been years since he’d connected with her mentally, and the act had sent him into a downward spiral lasting for days. Now he was reliving the entire event and the effect was softened only slightly by time and wine. He opened his mouth to speak again and a loud thump startled them as something heavy fell on top of the tent, bounced off and another crash sounded as crates and supplies were scattered outside. The two occupants of the tent sat staring at each other, frozen momentarily, until a familiar voice called out to them from the tent flap.
“Omar! Luke! Did you miss me?” The Mighty Jinn swayed into the enclosure, dragging a large canvass bag behind him. He upended the sack and a variety of wines, cheeses, breads and fruits tumbled out and rolled about the floor of the tent. “I brought supper.”
(((((((((((((
“Andy?” The clurichaun poked the sleeping figure with the tip of his walking stick very gently.
Mark stirred slightly and tried to reach behind his back to find the irritating bother.
Paddy stepped back and waited before closing in again.
“Andy!” He said a bit more loudly and poked him again with the stick.
“Hmmmm?” Mark turned his face toward the sound of the voice. He had drunk the rest of the Port and half the Scotch before passing out in the library on the leather sofa. Someone had covered him with a woolen blanket. Probably Nicole. Sophia had gone upstairs mad because of his drinking. The alcohol was too much for him. The transition had left him as vulnerable as a child to the effects of strong drink. A peculiarity neither Sophia, nor anyone else could explain. Mark Andrew formerly had the ability to drink himself into a stupor without any noticeable differences until he fell unconscious. But this Mark was different.
“Sit up, Andy. I brought ye something.” Paddy pulled up the hassock and sat down on it. He crossed his legs and pulled his tobacco pouch from one of his deep pockets. He wore brown plaid knee britches and a matching coat over a white shirt and a yellow vest. His lively red locks were tucked under a red Tam-o-
Shanter and his face was already showing the first growth of his winter beard.
“What?” Mark opened his eyes and froze at the odd fellow sitting in front of him.
“Sit up! Ye canna smoke loike thot.” Paddy took out two long-stemmed pipes and began to fill them with an aromatic cut.
“Smoke?” Mark frowned and pushed his hair out of his face with one hand. “Is something on fire? Are you a fireman? I saw a fireman in one of the books over there. They used to be everywhere, or at least that is what Miss Sophia tells me.” Mark pushed himself up and leaned back into the sofa. He pulled the blanket over his lap and yawned. “
Ohhhh. My head hurts,” he added as an afterthought.
“Aye and well it
shud.” Paddy nodded and smiled at him. He picked up the half-empty Scotch bottle and looked at the contents. “Ye promised Miss Meredith ye’d give this brew up years ago.”
“Miss Meredith?” Mark frowned.
“Ohh. Thot’s roight. I furgot. Ye dunna know Miss Meredith, do ye?” It was Paddy’s turn to frown.
“I saw her in the pictures.” Mark told him with satisfaction. “She looks like Nicole. Nicole is my daughter, you know, except that I really don’t have any children. That was the other Mark, but I’ll have a son in June.”
“Ye don’t say now?” Paddy handed him the pipe.
“And Miss Sophia says it is OK if we name him Michael Emmanuel like the angel told me.”
“Ye’ve been cavortin’ with angels, ’ave ye?” The clurichaun raised one bushy eyebrow.
Mark took the pipe and looked at it curiously.
“Not
cavortin’
, just talking. They come and see me while I am asleep sometimes and sometimes when I am awake. Miss Sophia says that I have a grand imagination, but that is because they don’t talk to her, just me. What is
cavortin’
?”
“Look.” Paddy turned the pipe around for him. “
Loike this. Wotch me.”
Paddy demonstrated the proper way to clench the stem between the teeth and then struck a large wooden match on the bottom of his boot. Mark watched with bright curiosity on his face. His headache was forgotten. Paddy lit Mark’s pipe for him. After much puffing and blowing and coughing and laughing, Mark was like a small boy sneaking his first taste of his papa’s tobacco.
“Sophia won’t like this.” Mark shook his head and then took a healthy pull on the pipe. He coughed and then blew the smoke out through his nose. The smoke was light green and soon formed layers in the warm air above their heads. The fire was burning low in the big fireplace, but the room was still fairly warm.
“I’m sure.” Paddy nodded and waited for the effects of the special blend that Galindwynne had prepared for him to take effect. “Sophia’s a
foine lass. Foine, indeed.”
“Sophia is wonderful.” Mark told him. “She knows everything. I don’t have to tell her anything. She knows when I’m hungry, and when I’m sleepy ,and when I need to change clothes, and when I need to take a bath. All I have to do is wait for her to say what to do and do it and she’s happy with me. Or, at least, she was happy with me until we came home here to Scotland. I didn’t know this was home until we got here and then I
membered it. Scotland. Lothian. My home. This is my house.” Mark smiled and touched his chest for emphasis. “Did you know that? Oh, I forgot! How rude of me. I didn’t ask your name.”
“Paddy. They
coll me Paddy.” The clurichaun had to forego his formal introduction and puffed his pipe and narrowed his eyes looking for signs of the drug’s effects.
“They do?” Mark puffed on the pipe and giggled. “This is very funny stuff. Why are we doing this?”
“Because it’s gud fur ye. I need t’ talk t’ ye.”
“Oh, I love to talk, Mr. Paddy.” Mark adjusted himself into the corner of the sofa. “I talk to Nicole and Sophia all the time and sometimes I talk to Captain Socrates. That’s Nicole’s sweetheart. He comes to supper almost every night. He says he likes the food, but I say he likes the company because Sophia doesn’t cook very good. And then there is Bari. He used to be the Emperor, but now he’s just a handyman. He gripes about it all the time. We used to live in his house. It was really, really big.” Mark held up his hands and showed him how big the palace in New Babylon was. The pipe slipped from his teeth, he grabbed it and puffed on it again. The stuff was working now. Mark’s face turned deep red and his eyes sparkled more than ever. He blinked too much and swallowed hard every few seconds.
“I don’t think I like this smoke, Mr. Paddy.” Mark shook his head and handed the pipe back to the clurichaun. “I think I should go to sleep and wake up tomorrow. Then we can talk. You can sleep over there if you like.” He nodded to an over-stuffed leather chair.
“
Whattaver ye say, Andy.” Paddy agreed and then stood up as the Scot slipped down in the sofa and fell asleep almost instantly.
Paddy adjusted the blanket to cover his bare feet and went to stoke up the fire. He banked the coals and put up the iron before returning to his sleeping friend.
“Andy?” He leaned close over Mark’s face.
“Aye?” came the immediate response though he did not open his eyes.
“D’ ye know who I am?”
“O’
carse I do.”
“D’ ye know
whair ye air?”
“O’
carse I do.”
“Then tell me
whair ye air, Andy.”
“I’m on me divan in me
loibrary.”
“And wot air ye
doin’ ’ere?”
“
Thot I dunno. Can ye ’elp me out ’ere, Paddy? It seems I’m in a bit o’ tribble. I canna seem t’ get me feet under me.”
“
Weelll now, Andy. Ye need t’ settle down and listen t’ auld Paddy. I ’ave some gud news and some bad news.” Paddy wiped away a single tear on his cheek and sat back down on the hassock.
(((((((((((((
“The messenger! The messenger returns, Your Grace!” The Colonel entered the purple and white command tent and went down on one knee.
“Ahhh. Wonderful.” Omar muttered and then touched the elder man’s shoulder. “You do not have to bend your knee to me, sir.”
“It is a habit, Your Grace.” Colonel McGuffy rose stiffly and rubbed his kneecap. “Arthritis. Just a touch. Nothing serious.”
“I’ll have a look at it after supper.” Omar smiled at him. “Does he come with news from New Babylon?”
“Strange and wonderful news, sir.” McGuffy frowned under his heavy gray brows. “But of course you must be the judge of that. I will send him right away.”
Omar stood as if frozen near the flap of the tent. He did not want to hear news of Huber. His heart seemed to fail him even thinking of her and the hideous thing that used his beloved Ruth’s body. Even after the heartening talk with Luke Andrew, he still quailed at the thought of confronting her.
“Strange and wonderful.” He muttered. Strange and wonderful could mean anything and most of the things that came to his mind were none too pleasant. His anger against his misbegotten son simmered in his mind like a hot coal every time he let his mind wander to Ruth. Twice he had forgiven Bari and twice Bari had rebuffed him. It was going to take time to heal this wound. A long, long time.
“That sounds good.” Luke circled him and snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Don’t flake out on me, nephew.” Luke slapped him on the shoulder. “Snap out of it. It can’t be that bad, after all, unless he brought her back with him.”
Omar nodded and then looked about the tent in panic.
“Good grief.” Luke took his arm and escorted him to the folding canvas chair stationed near the folding table where they had just eaten supper. “Look sit down here and pretend to be absorbed in… in…” Luke grabbed a map from the floor and thrust it on the table. “In this. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m sorry.” Omar seemed to come round a bit and smoothed out the wrinkled map. “Where is my father?”
“He said he had business elsewhere. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Is there any wine yet left?”