Spiral: Book One of the Spiral in Time (41 page)

Get well, Germaine.
And from somewhere deeper and barely audible,
Come back; I’ll keep you company. You won’t be alone.

He would try to do what Dr. Ramachandra had suggested. Gossip about people they both knew, talk to her, tell her stories. Whatever he could think of. He wanted her to live.

Nicholas opened his shoulder bag and pulled out a book. He touched her hand so she would know someone was here.

“Good morning Germaine. How are you feeling? Better, I hope. I thought you might like to hear a story, so I brought along a book Sir Aubrey said was one of your favorites:
The Chronicles of Narnia.
I liked it too. The best part for me was the beginning, where the children go exploring and Lucy finds the wardrobe. I think this is where that part begins.”

Nicholas opened the book, cleared his throat, and began reading. After the first few paragraphs, he glanced over at Germaine. Nothing moved or showed any sign that she had heard him; her face was still as a mask. He sighed and continued. “A house full of unexpected places and ...”

A caustic voice interrupted. “Very amusing, Nicholas. Reading children’s books to a woman who can’t hear.” Conan Ryan stood in the doorway shaking his head, a disgusted look on his face.

Nicholas closed the book with a sigh. “She might be able to hear. Dr. Ramachandra said it was important to let her hear things, to talk to her.”

Conan shrugged his shoulders, obviously not accepting that advice. He moved close to the bed and played with the IV tube, tapping it in a disturbing way.

“Can’t they tell yet? Is she going to wake up or stay like this forever?”

“Don’t talk like that in here.” Nicholas said, and motioned Conan out of the room.

“We don’t know what’s going to happen.” Nicholas heard the sharp edge, the anger in his own voice. Conan had been to see Germaine only one time before today and had asked the same question. The tone of his voice both vaguely frightened and certainly irritated Nicholas. Besides showing a total lack of sympathy, there was a self-centered demand for some answer when there were no answers. And Conan sounded angry with her for living.

“She just survived a terrible cave-in. Did you want her to die?”

“Are you blaming me? You know it’s not my fault. She demanded to go first into that burial chamber. I tried to stop her. Now she is suffering the consequences of her rash actions.”

Conan moved to the other side of the hall, opposite Nicholas.

“I have other things to worry about. English Heritage wants me to oversee the dig until Dr. O’Neill comes back. I have my hands full and haven’t been able to get up here. So don’t give me any trouble.”

Nicholas crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the tiled wall. They were both angry, but perhaps for different reasons.

He looked hard at that petulant face. Conan was awfully edgy today. There was something else going on there. He had seen him like this before, and it was always after some project or dig had taken a negative turn. The same old story, for as long as Nicholas had known him. Conan had a broad, selfish streak in his nature, and today it showed. But Nicholas had no patience to spare.

“I’m going now,” Conan said. “Let me know
if
she wakes up.”

If
she wakes up
!
Nicholas wanted to hit the callous bastard. He turned on his heel and went back inside Germaine’s room.

It was almost six a.m. Time to change shifts. No one at the nurse’s station noticed the lab technician. The tech entered Germaine’s room and laid down the tray he carried. “Time for your blood work,” he said in a low voice as he increased the flow from the IV bag that dripped into her veins and kept her heart rate steady. He adjusted the oxygen and was on his way out when a nurse came in. He nodded and slipped past her without speaking.

It was the end of her shift, and she came in to check one last time. This was her favorite patient. She started to change the glucose line and glanced at the heart monitor. It was lit up and blinking like crazy. The IV line was flowing too fast! She quickly turned it off and called for help. This patient was going into cardiac arrest!

The call from the hospital woke Nicholas out a deep sleep. One o’clock in the morning and he had just drifted off to sleep. He listened in a stupor, and finally awakened enough to understand what the voice on the other end was saying. There had been a close call with Germaine—a near-fatal malfunction with some IV. But she was alright now and resting. Dr. Ramachandra had checked her over.

Nicholas asked a few questions and tried to make sense of it. She was safe. There was no need to come to the hospital. And yes, he would tell Sir Aubrey.

He hung up the phone and sat in the dark. All sleep had left him. An irrational premonition of something evil crept through his body; his nerves jangled, he tried to shrug it off. It was foolish to worry so; he knew only too well that accidents happened. Wide awake now, he shuddered, and felt some unknown force hover over him whispering words he did not understand.

He would sleep at the hospital tomorrow night.

PART V

On the Ocean

CHAPTER 28

“He means to run us down,” the Admiral said with a laugh, and gave a nod out the door. He felt Vodenix’s presence, even from inside his cabin. The Veneti ships were out there, bouncing along in the
Astarte’s
wake, scavenger vultures waiting for the kill.

“Just let the barbarian try,” Adonibaal said, as he went out the door to check the
Astarte’s
taut sail. “They can’t catch us.”

The leather-sailed ships had come crashing out of the narrow strait by the Great Menhir and set course to follow the
Astarte,
as close to the wind as they dared to sail. Vodenix would not give up his unwilling new queen so easily.

They were still out there, howling for blood. The wind was behind the Veneti, but try as they might, their ships could not close the distance; the
Astarte
ran lighter and faster.

Supremely confident, Admiral Himilco stood and stretched his arms. They would soon give up. Air gusted through the open door, lifting the edges of the papyrus. His scribe looked up with a smile, closed the ink pot and rolling the long scroll back to its beginning, placed it safely in a tin-lined box. It was almost complete. The Admiral breathed a contented sigh. It was
his
periplus:
The Himilco Mago Periplus
. Satisfaction rolled through him like a great swell in the ocean.

The air was chilly and the sky overcast here in this great ocean, but it did not matter. He was on his way to the warm waters and brighter skies of Carthage. He had everything he came for and more. Yet, he knew better than to carelessly tempt the capricious gods. He could not rest until the
Astarte
sailed into Carthage. He touched both his amulets; the gold uraneus and his carnelian scarab blessed by the priests of Melqart, and rubbed them as omens of good luck in the future—his future.

And here it was, coming in the door. Captain Adonibaal and the girl entered the cabin, the deformed boy trailing behind the girl. For over four turnings of the moon, the
Astarte
had hunted tin and its trail of trading partners to no avail until finally, fate and the gods gave him everything he sought in the form of this young girl.

“Come! Sit here.” Even his voice sounded happy. He motioned Sabrann to a rough stool in front of the scribe’s table.

“And stay, Captain Adonibaal, there is much for you to hear.” His captain leaned against the wall, face impassive, as always. The scribe stood next to the captain, his eyes worried at the sight of Sabrann.

She moved gingerly on bandaged feet. Her arms and face had ugly bruises and cuts. She had been beaten and probably violated, thought Himilco. By Vodenix? It would be like him: a crude barbarian’s way. He was still angry about Vodenix’s deceptions at the Veneti Council. It would not happen again. Now he controlled the winning piece in this game.

“You were not truthful with me, daughter of Caradoc, King of the Durotriges.”

She jerked to attention.

Himilco sat down at the ink-stained table, moving the writing tools and jar of ink to one side. Elbows on the table, he clasped his fingers together.

“And I think you have paid for that error in judgment.” He gave her a slow look, eyes resting on each cut, each bruise. She flinched. “Twice I saved you and the boy from drowning and still you lied. If I had known who you are, I would have taken you back to Mai Dun.”

He paused, astonished by the expression that crossed her face. Her straight eyebrows drew together and formed a dark line. Her mouth shut tight, lips pressed together. The girl’s eyes narrowed and glittered in a cold, dark look. Her deception had caused this, and she was angry with him!

“I asked you to let us go at
Ictis,
” she said in a low voice. “We had kin there. You wanted to sell us as slaves, Glas and me. We will never be slaves! I want to go home to Mai Dun.”

“It’s too late to go back,” the Admiral said, shaking his head. “The sailing season is over. You will come with me to Carthage and in five or six turnings of the moon, I will take you back to Mai Dun. You will not be a slave. You will be under my protection.”

He stood and tightened the sash on his tunic, then moved to the doorway. Putting one hand up to his eyes, he scanned the gray horizon.

“Come look! The Veneti ships are still following us, as close as before. We could stop. Vodenix would take you back to Mai Dun.”

The Admiral turned his head over his shoulder and watched her. For a moment, she lost the defiant look and stark fear reshaped her face.

“Or you can stay. The boy will be Thombaii’s helper, and you will assist Akmu-en-Swnw. You both can help Isis feed the crew. You are safe here. No slavery. No Vodenix.”

A small smile moved a corner of his mouth. He turned to face her, arms folded across his chest. Her eyes locked with his. She leaned forward, her face rigid as her hands gripped her knees. With a quick glance, she looked toward the door and gave a small shudder.

“We will stay here.”