Chapter 17

Cursed Island, Mirror Lake, Kreven

a week before the beginning of summer

“I see the boat, Lord Peter!” Bemi called down from behind them. She’d been keeping watch for Miranda’s return from farther up the hill. His executive officer had spent the day across the lake visiting Garl’s estate, checking on Dolores, who’d been installed there earlier in the week. For some reason Miranda’s return had been delayed, and now she was hours overdue.

“Good, Miranda will still make it back before full darkness,” Peter said to Hamm, who only grunted in response.

The two men sat on driftwood log stools on the small sandy beach near the dock. A small bonfire blazed between where they sat and the water’s edge, and Peter was enjoying the steady and slow increase in energy provided by the fire crystal amulet. He smiled, as it was one of those rare, special evenings with not a breath of wind. Mirror Lake was as flat as its namesake and the sun had set behind the peaks of the Sunsets only a few minutes ago.

Off to the south, about a mile distant, the steady beat of a rower’s drum coming from a late-running cargo vessel could be heard clearly over the still waters as if it were only a stone’s throw away. He felt content and at peace, until he looked over and noticed his villein’s somber expression.

“She will be fine, Hamm,” Peter said reassuringly, knowing the man was pining over the absence of his daughter, Jaciee. “She’s only a day away, just over there,” he added while gesturing vaguely to the north.

“It’s harder dealing with Jaciee’s absence than when Stren left, Milord,” Hamm admitted.

Jaciee had left her parents just yesterday, returning to the Stoney Brook Inn with Henri, who’d been visiting Bemi for much of the previous week.

“She will always be your little girl, my friend,” Peter said to the distraught man. “Of course, her going away for the summer will affect you. But girls and boys need to grow into women and men, and they need some freedom to do so. Think of all the stories she’ll have when she returns this fall.”

“You’re sure she’ll come back?” Hamm asked his lord.

“Of course she will,” Peter replied soothingly. “Your wife would crucify me if I let Jaciee remain at the inn beyond just the summer. She will be home in time to help with the fall harvest, Hamm.”

“About the same time Stren’s master smith relocates to Garl’s lands,” Hamm said, finally cheering up. “I can’t thank you enough for arranging that, Milord, Bella and I both.”

Bemi arrived just then at a trot. Peter noticed Hamm smile slightly as he watched the heaving chest of the buxom teenager. While his villein was currently a lonely father, he was also a living male. Bemi pointed to the water. “The boat coming this way is not the large canoe Miranda left on, Lord Bentencourt,” she said between breaths.

Peter stood up and stepped away from the bonfire, and muttered to activate his farsight spell. Bemi was right; the boat was one of Garl’s smaller gigs. It was being rowed by four or five oarsmen, and they were working hard, with oars splashing in the water at a pace of once every three seconds. His canoe was behind the boat being towed on a long rope. The smaller craft appeared empty, so he concentrated back on the gig.

Huddled in front of the oarsmen was a small, hunched-over woman who resembled Lyndris. Moving his gaze rearward, he saw partially obscured behind the working rowers two more women. He breathed a sigh of relief, as one was clearly Miranda. The other, taller woman steering the gig, he recognized as Lady Constance. The commander was wearing her helmet with full face mask and her black leather body armor. Why was she coming now, dressed for battle, and why the rush?

“Something’s up, Hamm,” Peter said to his villein. “Please go wake Tevi and tell her to ready herself and her bow. Then secure the manor and see that Nahuul, Reed, and your wife are safe.”

“What of Klup and the new pups?” Hamm asked as he stood.

“She’ll be fine in her nest. If trouble is on the way, anyone foolish enough to poke their head into a troll’s nest containing newborn pups deserve what they get.”

“Yes, Milord,” Hamm said as he ran off.

“What about the new woman?” his apprentice asked.

Bemi was referring to their new guest, the drug-addicted woman ironically named ‘Merri,’ whom Dolores had somehow smuggled to the ranch for delivery to Kreven for his use as the next seed bearer.

“Merri will be fine in the dungeon,” Peter replied with a sour look. “She’s probably asleep by now with the amount of adda leaf Bella’s been adding to her nightly meals.”

“It’s too bad you have to keep her drugged, Milord,” Bemi said.

“It’s only for another week,” Peter replied, “by then, the pupadominus seed will be fully mature, and the plant can deal with her.”

Bemi nodded with her own grimace. Peter knew the girl had tried to spend time with the new woman when she was awake. This had quickly proved futile, as the addict was a truly nasty piece of work—crazy, stupid, and mean. The woman deserved little pity, as she had been wanted back on Earth for a string of crimes that would likely not soon be forgotten. He’d been appalled that Dolores had taken the risk to get the dangerous woman to Montana, but luckily, the gambit had worked.

Dolores had kept the addict sedated for most of the cross-country journey. The rest of the time, the woman had been restrained. They’d kept her secured in an adult wheelchair, and claimed the addict was mentally retarded. But despite his views on the risky matter, Dolores had managed to pull it off without a hitch, and he had to admit that having a potential seed bearer already procured would simplify the next ripening and delivery immensely.

Peter frowned as he remembered who the next buyer for the pending pupadominus seed was. Now that the Mohennial was no longer a buyer, he’d arranged to sell it to the crazy witch, Rhecate. In a few weeks, after the addict was implanted, he’d have to travel with her to the South Islands where Rhecate lived. At least, if all went well with the implantation, he’d have a bodyguard available, as the plant would have cured Lyndris of her addiction during the same implantation process.

“They’re sure rowing fast, Milord!” Bemi said. “I bet I could waterski at that speed.”

Peter snorted. Bemi had never waterskied in her life but had watched the sport, along with dozens of others, during her brief exposure to streaming television while at Brenda’s. His assistant had lacked the time to develop more serious vices, such as that internet thing, while she had visited Earth, but mindless video had been too readily available to avoid. At least the distraction had kept the older teenager from causing turmoil in Brenda’s bunkhouse, except for one or two hinted incidents with the ranch hands, that he never bothered to explore.

“Maybe someday, Apprentice,” Peter replied. “If I can get my steam engine idea developed.”

Peter sighed, thinking of all the challenges he still faced in bringing his idea to fruition for steam rail and, later, steam water transport. Miranda had wanted the latter to come first, but he preferred land-based rail, assuming he could better control the technology if it were used only on lands he leased or owned. Still, that was years or decades, in the future, especially with new distractions, such as having to run Garl’s former estate, presenting themselves.

Peter used the ale jug he and Hamm had emptied to collect lake water and extinguish the fire. When the embers were soaked, he climbed onto the dock to await the oncoming boat, which was now only a few hundred yards away. Miranda waved before ordering Lyndris to be ready to cast the lines. The rowers slowed for the last stretch as Constance guided the gig in a long curve toward the dock.

Peter motioned for Bemi to receive the cast rope and help secure the gig. When she had done so, he ordered the girl to collect the canoe, which was now drifting slowly toward the beach, and to store it properly. He then helped the despondent-looking elf step onto the dock. Miranda and Constance made their way forward, carefully stepping around the seated oarsmen, and then onto the dock as well. The commander handed her trident to Miranda then bent to untie the gig’s mooring line. Next, she shoved the gig away, ordering the boat to return to Garl’s estate. Constance was apparently staying.

“Welcome back, XO,” Peter said, ignoring the commander’s presence momentarily. “Is all going well with Dolores?”

“Yes, Milord,” Miranda replied with an uneasy look as she returned the commander’s weapon. “She complains about the lack of technology, but I can tell she’s excited as well. I believe she has the task of managing the other estate well in hand.”