The Pearl Savage (7 page)

Their history warned clearly in that
regard, they needed to be ever vigilant with the
savages.
The
Time Keeper had made it known that they were a people apart, possibly
not even the same species. Charles doubted that. Early sketches
showed them looking very human…if not larger,
fiercer
. As a
boy, Charles had looked at many hand-written accounts and sketches of
the
savages,
and they were markedly similar; large men (a
female had never been witnessed), with unkempt hair and clothing (and
from what Clara had conveyed, a shocking lack thereof). Weaponry had
been noted as well: spears, knives and most prominently, bows and
arrows. Charles thought of his own sword practice. It was not
something that was required in his occupation, but was of keen
interest to him. However, there was also the matter of the airways on
the throat Clara claimed to have seen…
gills,
as a sea creature has. Charles could only surmise that this was in
some way an environmental response to the air quality of the Outside.
He longed to explore Outside, but it also filled him with a nervous
dread. Would he survive? Because breathe he must! Charles understood
Clara had been safe behind the security of the sphere but he had a
disquieting portent of the proximity of the
savage.
What could
have been the reason for his close approach? Were they being watched?

He did not like it.

And what if they possessed salt?
What if they knew the weakness of the sphere’s defenses he thought as
he paced the room.

Charles went over the events of the
night and how unable he was to protect Clara. The abhorrent Queen
wielded her tyranny over Clara with a singular focus that drove him
mad. Where was her compassion for her own offspring? Charles dreamed
of dispatching her…
permanently.
The idea swelled in his head, especially acute after witnessing
Clara’s stiff posture. Seeing Olive’s expression, Charles knew what
had occurred. Clara dismissed his concern, accepting the rages as
part of her duties. However, what if Queen Ada lost total control,
deep in the cup as was often? Clara was a small female, her mother
was not. Charles shuddered, Clara said that it was better that
Charles had
some
contact with her, rather than none. “Do
nothing,” she had said, “so that we may have a friendship. Do not
defend me, or she will never let us consort.” That was all well and
good in theory, but Charles brooded, remembering the bruise that
blossomed on the whiteness of her throat, his fists unconsciously
flexing. He had never wished to harm a female; but the Queen made him
rethink himself.

Further, Prince Frederic was of a
similar ilk, a male with the same disposition as the Queen, a
terrible reality for Clara.

Putting a forearm against the sphere
wall, he leaned his head on it, gaze fixed on the Outside, his flesh
sinking into its permeability. How he wondered what it would be like
to breathe fresh air of the Outside; to have answers to the questions
that ricocheted around his skull! To not be surrounded by heat and
steam? He and Clara often spoke in hushed tones of escape and
exploration; she as interested as he. With a curse, Charles swung
around, heading back toward bed. He must get rest, tomorrow was a
full day in the fields with Trading Day one day hence. And…a plan
must be devised to save Clara,
his Clara
(before he could stop
the interior sentiment from forming).

He sat back on the bed, rubbing his
eyes, grainy from the lateness of the hour, his eyes locked onto the
small photograph of Clara that sat on his night table. A stiff pose
could not counteract the vulnerable eyes that filled her face, the
black and white colors emphasizing the lightness of them, showing as
the palest gray. Her personality could not be denied in that face, he
could see it.

He loved her.

Charles flopped back against his
pillow, hoping sleep would come. He thought of the long days in the
field, wishing a portion might be spent with Clara. Afterward, a
small joy would take place as he sparred with Clarence, his steadfast
opponent in sword fighting, how he dreamed of being a guard at the
sphere intersects!

As sleep claimed Charles, his mind
filled with the dangers of saltwater, and what it would mean to the
sphere,
to all of them
,
if that safety was breached.

CHAPTER 8

Clara’s eyes came open and she
stared at the apex of the sphere, there to greet her as it had each
day she could remember. She listened for Olive stirring in the
adjacent chamber of their huge, interior house. Modeled after row
houses similar to the ones she had heard tales of from Before, every
house was connected to conserve space. The sphere was a
sound-absorber and noises from one dwelling to the next were not
easily heard.

She shifted to her side,
automatically looking at the drapes, which Olive had closed last
night, her side aching dully. The corset had not buffered
all
,
she noted. Of their own volition, her feet swung free of the bed
linen and she hopped off the bed, the blood rushing to her
extremities. She used a hand on the bedpost to steady herself then
began slowly walking toward the drapes. Interesting… now that the
savage
had been spotted, the drapes were closed. After all,
who concerned themselves over privacy when no soul left the sphere?
However, with a
savage
coming inches away from the sphere’s
barrier, there was new concern over… whatever it was
they
were seeking. Aside from the beating and rough handling of the prior
evening, Clara felt robust. A new day awakened with the promise of
the fields and work ahead of her.

Working the fields made Clara feel
accomplished… centered. Most importantly, she felt closer to her
father. While she stood, legs anchored, her pole drivers guided the
boat with smooth wooden poles used until they whittled away into
nothing.

Clara stretched her arms above her,
inhaling deeply, the rich humidity of her environment a salve on her
throat. Smiling, she thought how convenient it would be that the
queen would be feeling ill until mid-day, the consequence of her
over-consumption. That suited Clara perfectly. She would be dressed,
breakfast eaten and in the pungy before the Queen alighted from her
bed.

First order of the day would be to
open the accursed drapes. She detested the light from the Outside
dimmed. Prince Frederic would be similarly disposed, the sloth. He
thought nothing of getting up at the noon hour as routine,
also
perfect.

The drapes felt damp, Clara turned
her body, using the strength of her legs for momentum, and with both
hands, strode the left side of the drapes to the right, sweeping them
behind the large, brass holder, which resembled a semi-circle. Head
down, Clara walked quickly to the other side, using the same manner,
putting some energy into the opening of that side. Swinging the heavy
cloth behind the holder, the heavy material barely captured behind
the brass, she turned to survey the Great Forest Outside.

A face loomed in her view, and her
breath caught in her throat. By sheer habit, only a small sound
escaped her. She realized she was half-naked before a man she did not
know and was gazing at her with curious abandon. Her arms, ankles and
half her back was showing…and Clara was frightened. This was
clearly a different
savage
from the first. There had been a
deep intensity with the former, but this one looked angry.

So this is the female that Bracus
will take. He looked down at her obvious surprise and took pleasure
in it. Bracus was weak, wanting this one, no female should have a
hold over a male. No matter how much their captain thought he kept
his feelings to himself, it was obvious to
this
guard what he felt. He looked at the fragile-looking female before
him, trying to fathom what she could possibly offer the Band. She was
interesting with her strange eyes, and deep red hair and the pale
skin like the full moon. Women were not easy to claim in his clan or
anywhere outside, fights would break out. The women had great power
of choice over whom they would mate with, be with. This strange
sphere held many, from the captain’s reports. Reporting was all well
and good but he wished to see up close. He watched as she backed
away, wrapping the strange garment around herself tightly in an
effort to hide her body. Why did she do that? He thought that
strange. She seemed frightened of him, and he touched the wall which
separated them.

He touched the sphere’s wall from
Outside and Clara leaped back, yelping. She hated the sound but
couldn’t help herself, he had startled her. She could not hear him,
but he felt differently to her than the other
savage.
This
one… she felt menace from him.

She jumped again as Olive came up
behind her, “Is that he? Is that the
savage
?” she said
excitedly.

“No. It is another.”

“Look at how he stares.” Olive
had never in all her years, seen a male with so great expanse of skin
showing. There was no kindness in his face, no softness. He was all
hard angles and planes, all male. Then she saw it… the gills, “Your
majesty…”

“Yes, he has them too. I see
them.” The gills opened only slightly with his breath.

Both women were well away from the
window when Olive asked, “Does he threaten you, my lady?”

“I do not know. But he feels
differently than the
savage
who charged the sphere one day
past.”

The savage stared at the two women.
The one who had come through a door, entering the room of this
woman… the Princess.(He scoffed at such leadership.) She was taller
and wider of hip. A good breeder, he thought absently, his gaze
roving back over the small form in front of him, her eyes blazing
with heat. Yes, he would have her; dismissing the other female; she
of the dull brown hair, and eyes which matched. He would have the
red-haired one, the Princess. He noticed that she had marks on her
throat. Someone had handled her roughly. A female abused…who could
have done it? Mayhap females were not prized inside the oddness of
this structure? Possibly she liked this interaction…he was puzzled
anew. Looking around, the guard resisted his longing to gaze
unabated, to plan with her figure before him. Instead, he would take
his leave and when the time was right, he would capture her for
himself. No one would be the wiser. He looked at her a final time,
yes, he supposed he could see what Captain Bracus liked. He would
never have it and it pleased him, it would be his secret.

Clara watched him look at her
again… a considering look which made her heart speed, and then he
ran off. No, that was not entirely accurate, he
sprinted
to
the Great Forest’s edge. He turned to look again, as the
savage
from the prior day had, then melted into the woods as if he had
never been.

“I do not think it wise to close
the drapes from this point forward, Princess,” Olive said as they
stared after the
savage
.

“Yes, I think the whole group of
savages
could make an appearance and I, for one, would like to
see them advance. This one gave me quite a start. I opened the drapes
and there he stood.” Clara felt disconcerted. This did not have any
of the excitement or curiosity of the other meeting. It made her
anxious.

Olive turned to her, “Did you take
in the sheer size? The breadth of chest, the height? He is a huge
male!” Olive said in a tone of reverence. Clara would put a damper
on that.

“And what of it, Olive? Let us put
it in the proper context; would you be this enthralled had there been
no barrier?” Olive shook her head, looking chastised.

“Princess, I do apologize, but for
the love of the Guardian, he does impress one!” Clara understood
that he was different enough from the men inside the sphere to be a
novelty, but she could not slip the feeling of foreboding.

“I say that we exercise caution,
Olive… and tell no one as yet.”

“But, my lady, the Queen should be
told. Or what of Charles?”

Clara deliberated, rolling her
bottom lip under her teeth, biting down, nibbling to ease her
tension.

“I know not, but I do not wish to
have more of the Queen’s speculations upon me. With another
savage
seen at my bedside window,” Clara gestured with her hand to the
Outside, “she could imprison me further. Speaking of which…I
dare say it is time I dress and get to the fields.”

Olive sighed, her lady was stubborn
beyond measure. Dare she go behind her back and at the very least,
alert Charles that the
savages
have marked the Princess in
some way?

The Princess’s finger was suddenly
under Olive’s nose, “Do not think of it. Tell no one. Your face
shows your feelings, Olive, you must learn to school them, especially
around the Queen.”

Olive curtsied and thought that may
be the end of it.

“I wish to see Sarah before the
fields.”

Olive turned, “My lady?” That
was an unusual turn. The princess did not typically linger in the
morning, preferring to escape the Queen’s notice as early as was
possible.

“Yes, I wish to see Sarah, and…
briefly visit with her.”

“Does she not have schooling, my
lady?”

“Yes.”

Olive thought this odd, however, it
may ease her mistress if they could confer. She went to the huge
wardrobe which held the Princess’ articles and clothing. She chose
with care, the Princess was not one to enjoy the finer clothing that
the Queen did. As summer was upon them now, she felt the linen best
suited to the climate with the cotton blouse. She chose low-slung
heels in leather, a scarce thing nowadays. She rifled around,
slinging silk stockings over her shoulder, gathering the shoes, skirt
and blouse, walking the whole of it to the bed and laid it on the
made portion. Her thoughts engrossed in the encounter with the
savage
. He was everything that the princess had said they
were. He was by far, the largest man she had laid eyes on. Even with
as tall as Charles and [the horrible] Prince Frederic were, these
savages
were half a head taller, she would have guessed. And
the nakedness… it made Olive lust for them, and the Outside. She
giggled.