The Red King (16 page)

“Will you not be in more danger alone on the
shore?” Malik asked, belting his tunic as he rounded the
screen.

“I will be on board, as far as they know.
Have the ship ready by sundown, with as many of the crew as you can
muster. I’ll give you more information then,” Rory said, releasing
Amira so she could go to Malik.

Malik nodded, but voiced his concern.
“
Ruaidhri
, what is happening?”

“I hope that it is nothing, but there are too
many eyes upon us. It doesn’t feel right. I’ll see you at the
Taibhse
tonight.” He grasped Malik’s forearm and gave Amira
a chaste kiss on the lips. “I’m sorry that I have disrupted your
time together.”

“Quiet, now. Go do what you must do,” she
said, gently patting his cheek.

When Rory returned to Etienne’s house, he was
directed to the baths by Nadir. “
Monsieur
is in the bath. He
is not alone.”

“I need him, now. It’s urgent,” Rory told the
young man. He saw the nervous way Nadir bit his lip and was taken
by a sudden suspicion.

Rory strode to the bath. It was wide,
low-ceilinged, with a raised, tiled platform in the corner and a
sunken pool in the middle. There was a fire burning in the oven
opposite the pool and a servant was pouring water over a grate in
the floor. The effect was thick, fragrant steam filling the room.
Etienne was in the pool, temples being rubbed by yet another lovely
servant. Rory half expected Andrew to be in the water with him and
was gratified to see that he was not.

Etienne cracked one eye to look at him. “You
could have knocked.”

Before he answered, Rory cast a sweeping
glance around the room. He did not see Andrew, at all. “We have to
leave tonight. I need provisions for the journey and I need to get
Andrew out of here without outside knowledge of his leaving.”

“What has happened?” Etienne asked, but did
not sound overly concerned.

“Maarten’s man is here.”

“Are you certain?”

“A dark man with silver eyes was asking
questions, just today. The old teacher said he didn’t tell him we
were here, but he could be lying. I would not take that chance,”
Rory clarified.

“You’re panicking, Rory. You should take a
moment,” Etienne said, calmly. He brought one hand up out of the
water. “Come, have a bath. Andrew thoroughly enjoyed his.”

Rory took a moment to clamp down on the surge
of anger he felt, knowing Etienne took pleasure in goading him. “I
am not panicking, but I am troubled. If Maarten’s man is here
already, that means that he did not have to return to Esbjerg.
Either he’s acting under orders delivered before we arrived or
Maarten is not in Denmark,” Rory paused, running a hand over his
sweaty face. “Either way, Andrew and I need to be away from here,
no later than tonight. We’ll need to travel to Tipaza over land, on
a less used trail.”

“Tonight? We leave tonight?” a voice said
from behind him.

Rory turned. Andrew was there, wrapped in a
light robe that clung to his damp body. His hair was wet and combed
close to his head. Drops of water were still running down his
cheeks and neck. Rory went half hard looking at him. He averted his
eyes away from the outline of Andrew’s cock and thighs and
answered, “We need to keep our destination unknown. The ship will
set sail tonight for Majorca. I need you outside the city walls by
nightfall.”

“Just you and I?” Andrew asked, stepping
closer.

Rory nodded, raising his head. Andrew was
flushed from the steam, his lips even more red and skin glowing
with youthful health. “You had a bath?” Rory asked, his mouth gone
dry.

“With hot water. I’ll wager I’ve never been
so clean.” Andrew answered. His grin was infectious and Rory found
himself returning it.

“They say it is next to godliness. A pity we
don’t have time to get you dirty, again,” Rory teased.

“I can think unclean thoughts until we do,”
Andrew offered, teeth catching his bottom lip.

Rory took a deep breath, and cursed with
great feeling. “You do that, Coinin. I’ll have you in the dirt soon
enough.” He had to turn away or there would be no stealthy escape
for either of them. “The ship won’t be able to meet us for some
time. We’ll need provisions, Etienne; food, water, and shelter.
Have you an ass, or camel? I’ll pay for their use.”

There was splashing as Etienne rose from the
water. His servants held up a large piece of crimson cloth and they
wrapped it around him as he left the pool. “Tell me what you need,
Rory,” Etienne said calmly. He looked like a Roman senator, swathed
in his toga. With absolute assurance he told them, “It will be
ready for you.”

The sun was nearly set, only shades of red
and purple striped the horizon while the dark blue of night bled
into the west. Rory waited below deck, listening to the activity of
his crewmen as they readied the ship for departure. There was a
screech and the anchor pulled free of the sea floor. The ship
groaned against the dock, the wind catching in the sails to propel
her away from land.

“Mind the mizzen, Yousef! We need no repeat
of last time!” Malik called to the man at the jib.

“I seem to recall it was you at the jib when
we knocked the piling over,” Yousef shouted back,
good-naturedly.

“You were drunk, how do you know what
happened?” Malik answered, leaning on the rudder to turn the ship
sharply.

“You were drunk, as well. We’ll blame it on
another,” Yousef argued.

“We’ll blame
Ruaidhri
!” Malik cried.
All of the men present laughed and agreed.

Rory grinned and climbed out of the hold.
“What are you blaming me for this time, Malik?”

“The piling at Essaouira, Captain, it is your
ship after all.”

“Well, if that is the case I shall need all
of your shares back to pay for the damages,” Rory announced.

“My apologies, Captain, that payload is
already gone,” Yousef said.

He clapped Yousef on the shoulder as he
passed and made his way to Malik. “Did you see him?”

Malik lowered his tremendous voice and said,
“I saw him earlier, while we were refitting the boom. I am sure he
is still there.”

“Good. I’ll stay until we clear the view of
the city. Don’t take the ship north, take it to Tunis. Pass the
word and do not shout it. Try to get to Tipaza within the week,”
Rory reiterated. At the man’s worried frown, he continued, “Don’t
worry, Malik, I’ll be fine. Etienne has seen to everything.“

“I do not like it, Captain; just you and
Andrew, in untamed lands with no escort or guard?”

Rory was grateful for the concern. “If this
is done correctly, there will be no need for added protection. I’ll
be able to defend us.”

“You will keep the little wolf out of
trouble?” Malik asked.

“Oh, no, Malik, I intend to get him in as
much trouble as possible,” Rory answered, smiling.

Malik laughed, but lowered his voice again
before he said, “I like the changes he has brought about in you.
You seem a different man. “

“I may yet be a different man,” Rory said.
“Perhaps even a better one.”

“One would hope,
Ruaidhri
.”

The ship swung about in the harbor and set
out for the sea. They kept to the coast and made good time,
rounding the last outcropping of rocks as the moon crested the
horizon in the east. Rory stuffed his boots in an oiled leather bag
and tied it securely. He slung it across his chest, letting it
settle at his back. The daggers in the strap were secure, his boots
and shirt would remain mostly dry in the sack. He was ready.

With only a nod towards Malik, Rory moved to
the gunnel. None of the men looked in his direction, as ordered.
Rory perched atop the rail for a moment and dove into the water, as
far from the wake as possible. He came to the surface and heard the
bell as the ship sailed on, not turning north but continuing west.
The sky was clear above, showing no signs of any sudden storm to
disrupt the swim to shore.

Taking a deep breath, Rory submerged, his
long, powerful muscles carrying him through the water easily. He
emerged some distance away, his momentum increased as he kicked up
from the depths. He relished the exertion, clearing his mind of all
distractions to simply swim. It took some time; keeping to the
coast still put the ship quite a distance from the shore. Rory did
not waste his energy on how fast but focused on how far. He still
had to meet Andrew and the appointed place was at least another
hour’s walk from this point.

The rocks finally rose up beneath him. Rory
was able to climb from the ocean at a crevice in the cliff. After
resting for a few moments, he resolutely pulled on his boots and
shirt and carefully crawled up rocky incline. When he reached the
top he stood and slowly surveyed the land and sea around him. He
was alone. Only the night roaming animals would present any real
danger. Rory laughed out loud in the silence and began the walk to
Ayn Taya.

Rory knew it would not take him long. Despite
the rocks, trees and crevices he was fast and agile. His stride was
long, swift, and he could maintain it for miles. He could walk,
run, swim, even climb far longer and farther than any one he had
ever known. There were other talents in Rory’s arsenal which, some
said, were supernatural, diabolical. Whispers abounded of satanic
forces at work in his extraordinary endurance and his tolerance for
pain only added to his disrepute. He could stay awake and alert for
days. His disregard for pain, even pain that incapacitated men of
greater stature, was made legend in the tales of his escape from
the galley. All these things were part of him because of the lost
years of his youth. He would have gladly forgone the extreme,
brutal conditioning but since these gifts had been forced upon him,
he used them unabashedly.

The stream of days being kept awake for
naught but the whim of another taught him other gifts. Rory could
escape his own mind, set loose his spirit and leave his body
looking awake. When he took leave of his fleshly bonds, he returned
with renewed stamina. A small, narrow-eyed man from the east had
called it
hesychasm
, meaning the blocking of physical senses
through inner focus, a Christian meditation. While he scoffed at
the religious implications, Rory had found the word fascinating. He
had consulted more scholars, priests, and discovered ways of
prolonging the state, of being able to find it even as he labored.
To some degree he went there as he tread the distance between he
and Andrew, excluding all thought outside of completion.

When the moon had yet to reach its zenith,
but it still cast silver light across the land from its heavenly
perch. Rory crested a rocky hill and saw them. There were four
camels, their riders still astride the beasts, and one unmanned
black horse. They stood in a row, looking towards the north from
whence he arrived. He knew they saw him, for there was an excited
whinny from the horse and they struck out in his direction. One of
the camel riders pulled out in front and Rory suspected it was
Andrew. As it drew nearer, though, he saw black wrapping and
delicate slippers, not Andrew’s white burnoose and boots. He was
curious and slightly anxious to see who this mysterious rider
was.

“Hold!” he called when they were closing on
him, raising his hand to show the dagger in his grasp. The beast
slowed, stopped, and lowered to its knees for the rider to
dismount.

“Rory!” It was Andrew, tearing the black wrap
away to expose his face.

Andrew was smiling and breathless when he met
Rory at the bottom of the hill. When Rory held his arms open Andrew
willingly went, eagerly accepting the hungry kiss. It deepened,
lengthened, and was veering towards immoderate when Etienne’s voice
said, “I’ll return to my tent, then. Have a safe journey.”

Their lips parted but they remained in the
embrace. “Wait,” Rory called, but was unable to look away from
Andrew’s face. He noticed an oddity, more than the slippers and
wrap. Andrew’s blue eyes were unusually bright and looked enormous,
lashes thick and black against his pale skin. “Are you wearing
kohl?”

Andrew laughed. “It was Etienne’s idea. He
put me in these clothes, too. He claimed it was to smuggle me out,
as I could not leave wearing the same garments I wore in.”

When Rory looked at him, Etienne shrugged. “A
man must dream,
Ruaidhri
.”

Rory laughed and shook his head. “You are a
rogue and a scoundrel.”

“A handsome rogue and scoundrel,
merci
. I personally ensured Esme is laden with food, water,
and tent, and perhaps even some wine. Your horse is fed and
watered, brushed and eager for her master.”

“Thank you, Etienne,” Rory said, releasing
Andrew to take Etienne’s hand in both of his. “Again.”

“And again,” Andrew added, chastely kissing
the man on his cheek. The action surprised Rory. Etienne’s
reciprocal kiss on Andrew’s forehead, doubly so.

“You take care of this barbarian, Andrew,” he
said.

“I will.”

“And mind your lessons.”

Andrew blushed. “I will.”

Etienne turned back to Rory. “Send word when
it is time.”

Rory nodded and watched the man retreat.
Etienne waved elegantly at his guard, who brought Brighid to Rory.
Once mounted, Etienne bowed his head towards them and called for
his escorts to follow. “Let us return to our comforts,
mes
amis
, and leave these two to the wild.”

Rory and Andrew waited until the party was
out of sight before turning back to each other. “Your eyes,” Rory
said, staring, unable to stop it.

“I look like a girl!” Andrew chortled.

“No, you are still a man, with a stubborn jaw
and breadth of bone. You are lovely, though. Very lovely,” Rory
said, fingers tracing lightly down the side of Andrew’s face.