Miami Days and Truscan (32 page)

Johnny stared at me. “Never thought of it that way. And you sound damn near Truscan, Tess!”

“Good. I feel damn near Truscan. Though I really think Truscan and American are much closer than it seems on the surface. That’s why all three of us, and Madeleine, assimilated ourselves here so quickly. So if we’re not going in as Tornans, we’re not waiting for the full moon, are we?”

“No.”

“Do we still attack at night?

“Oh, yes.”

“But we’re going to just—what? Get within striking range, move closer with dark-fall, and simply charge the city?”

“Sometimes you still amaze me, my Queen. I can’t think why I’m ever surprised anymore.”

I stood up. “Okay, are we through here?”

“Short and sweet, as you would say. That’s about it, yes. Why?”

“Because you and Carlos smell,” I said and reached down for Dalph’s hand. “Kiera, can you get the hot water going please?”

“Well, we love you, too, your Majesty,” Carlos assured me.

By this time I had Dalph out the door and turned back. “And after the hot water gets in our chambers, I’d strongly advise that you post a guard at the door. Because if anyone knocks on the door before we come out, I’ll not only sign their execution order, I’ll execute ’em myself.”

“And more importantly, I’ll let her!” Dalph threw back over his shoulder as he followed me down the hall.

I only half-heard the shocked Truscan exclamation from Kiera, but I knew what it was.

“In the daytime?”

And with the new intelligence information in hand, and the new battle strategy in gear, the days moved toward the new fortnight-away target date, in whirlwinds of motion; the continuing clash of swords and swoosh of arrows. Carlos scoured the kitchens, the smithies, the laundries—collecting lye and potash and other elements necessary for incendiary products. I had no idea what all he was gathering or how he was putting it together, and as all I wanted to know was that it would work, I didn’t try to learn.

Finally, the portentous morning dawned. The Truscan Army would ride out toward Pria. Dalph guided Pegasus restlessly back and forth in front of the troops as the formation assembled. We, the American Truscans, which of course included Dal and Johnny’s boys, held our position in the front. The gates opened. Dalph’s upraised arm lowered, and the riders began to pour out of the front gates.

Dalph was on my left, Carlos on my right, Johnny and the boys were flanking Carlos. Beside me, I heard Carlos humming loudly, barely audible over the noise of the horse hooves. At first, I thought I must be imagining it, and then realized that I wasn’t. And that it was perfect. I felt magically transported to an American sports stadium, the crowd clapping and stomping their feet in pounding rhythm.

“
Taa-da, taa-da! Tata! Taa-da, taa-da! Tata!”
He reached down and pulled his sword out of its scabbard a few inches and slammed it back in, creating the emphatic beat that was the signature of this particular song. It was just too good to pass up.

Adding my own sword to the beat I translated the words into Truscan and joined in. “
Anda, anda, canta
!” I heard it swell down the ranks until it reached the back lines, the punctuating music of the swords as loud as any stadium percussion band. “
Anda, anda, canta! Anda, anda, canta
!”

I looked over at Dalph, who threw his head back and laughed. I twisted in the saddle to find Johnny, who had come through the door, I thought, years before this particular song had become so much a part of the American sports world. But I was sure he would recognize it immediately for what it was, and he did.

“
Anda, anda, canta
!” And as the swords rose and fell in their sheath for the backbeat, I heard Johnny’s gleeful shout.

“
Hot damn, I love Americans!”

Chapter Thirty-One

Trusca was apparently located on the outer fringes of greenbelt country that reminded me of the eastern portions of the United States before they reached the plains; wooded and crossed with streams and the occasional river. Two days’ hard ride southwesterly took us back into country reminiscent of the Badass that one ran into when one rode northwesterly out of Trussa.

“Is everything but Trusca like this?” I asked as we sat around one of the fires our second night out, after we’d run back into Badass country.

“No, the other countries are very like Trusca. Tarn is lake country; Motravia’s very flat but verdant and very fertile. Frescia’s hilly, edging into mountains. The legends say that’s because Fresco likes to run and jump. And Andovio’s green, but much warmer than the other countries, which it should be after all; Andovo
is
the God of Light.”

I loved it when Dalph relayed the myths of Trusca and, it must be confessed, I always tried to keep him talking as long as possible, just to listen to him talk. It was amazing how much knowing that these might be my last days of life heightened my senses. The horizon had never been wider; the sky never bluer; the Truscan moon never redder. Water had never tasted so sweet; the dried provisions were better than the roasted meat of a Truscan banquet; the sound of voices all around me more awe-inspiring than the finest symphony orchestra. And the most wonderful sounds of all were, of course, the voices of my men, all of them, Dalph, Dal, Johnny, Carlos, Johnny’s boys.

I especially savored the sound of Dal’s voice mingled with Crayton and Cretor’s, whose conversations usually culminated in such unselfconscious and joyous laughter. But then, I also especially loved to hear Johnny’s Midwestern, good ole’ boy drawl, and I loved to track the changing accent in Carlos’ voice, which I didn’t think he was aware of. Usually, he had no accent at all but in the past, when he was very tired or very angry, the distinctive word emphasis of those for whom Spanish was more their mother tongue than English would creep in. I’d always loved to hear that when it happened, which wasn’t often. But now, it was as though a cumulative accent was forming in his speech, one that wasn’t English or Spanish or Truscan, but one that over-rode and combined all three, and which was present no matter what language he was speaking.

And, of course, I stored away every echo I could garner of my husband’s voice, especially when I could coax him into the slightly more formal, poetic phrasing that I knew was the legacy of his mother, the phrasing that I knew he used without conscious thought; the almost-poetry that simply flowed from brain to lips.

“And Trusca is located nearest Pria because…?”

He smiled, knowing exactly what I was doing. “Because, of course, Trusca was created to be the Guardian of the world, to protect the other countries from Pria. And if we are to serve that purpose, we should get as much sleep as we can now. It’s another two days’ hard riding and we don’t want to expend all our strength just getting there.”

Dalph rose and went to check the guards, and when he came back, we settled in together in our double bedrolls as far away from the others as was safe. We talked a lot in the night, softly, so that the sound wouldn’t carry, and I knew he treasured the quiet privacy as much as I did.

That night, when we were warmly wrapped together with my back against his chest, spoon-fashion, his hand slipped from its accustomed position around my waist down to my lower stomach.

“So, you truly aren’t going to tell me?”

I don’t know why I was surprised; I suppose I thought he’d had too much to occupy himself with to notice. I’d also thought that though theoretically, he knew the women of my world had monthly cycles, he certainly hadn’t grown up with that knowledge and that probably the thought that Mother Nature hadn’t called but once during our marriage wouldn’t cross his mind.

“I thought you had enough to worry about. And that it’d be a nice victory present.”

“I’ve tried not to say anything, but it worries me that you might be pushing yourself too hard—so as not to worry me. You don’t feel ill?”

I laughed softly. “No, quite the little Truscan warrior on campaign. I haven’t felt sick at all, actually. Or even much more tired than usual. As though he doesn’t want to interfere. His father’s son.”

“No, Tess. Her mother’s daughter. Her name’s Madeleine.”

I started. “You think it’s a girl?”

“I know it’s a girl. Who was conceived in Miami when we passed through, wasn’t she? In her grandmother’s and mother’s world.”

I turned over to face him.

“Yes. Have the Stones been talking to you again?”

“Well, I figured out you were with child on my own. But yes, the stones think Trusca needs more women from Beyond the Door. Much more efficient to make our own, don’t you think?” I wished I could see his face. He was grinning, I knew.

“How chummy have you and the stones gotten? I can’t tell anymore when they’re talking to you.”

“And it’s a bad thing that my head doesn’t nearly explode with pain and I don’t run wet with sweat anymore?”

“Of course not! But still, what else are they saying?”

“They are confident of victory. And I’m much more confident myself since seeing Prias. Still, I wish I were Truscan enough to believe them unconditionally, Tess. But then, I’ve never been wholly Truscan, I’ve always had too much of my mother in me. Brenden should have been first-born.”

I reached up and over and kissed his cheek. “No, he certainly shouldn’t have been. Trusca would have fallen long since had a hot-head held the throne. It doesn’t bother you if it’s a girl? You won’t mind?”

“There’s no if, Tess, and no it. She’s a girl, trust me. And certainly it doesn’t bother me. You know I have a weakness for the women from Beyond the Door.”

“Yes, thank all the gods of both worlds, I know you do.”

He kissed my hair. “Go to sleep, my Queen. Hard riding ahead.”

“And you, my King? Are
you
actually sleeping?”

“Enough. Go to sleep.”

I yawned. “Miami Nice. I’ll explain later.”

And two days later, we made our last camp behind a series of low, sandy hillocks; the camp from which we would ride on Prias, which Dalph and Carlos advised was about five miles outside the city proper.

“So close?”

“They’re overconfident. They don’t patrol this far inside the borders. But this is the last cover sufficient for such numbers. We rest a few hours. And then we ride.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

It seemed I’d only just gone to sleep when Dalph shook my shoulders.

“Tess, it’s time.”

I opened my eyes and then closed them again briefly, in silent prayer to all the gods of both worlds—in supplication. We rode slowly and quietly, toward the Prian capital, until I thought I could see, faintly in the distance, the roof line of Prias. Dalph raised his hand, signaling a stop.

He pulled out of the first line of riders, which was always the Truscan-American contingent, and turned Pegasus to face the Truscan troops. I expected a battle speech but I didn’t get one. Rather, Dalph threw back his head and issued a blood-curdling howl; a howl picked up and repeated by the entire Truscan army, as Dalph wheeled Pegasus around and flew like the wind toward the walls of Prias. The Truscans surged forward, the sound of pounding hooves mingling with those echoing howls that split the night and bounced back from the darkness; those howls that kept repeating, over and over, in different keys, from every Truscan warrior, eerie beyond description.

In the midst of the mad rush, I saw Johnny herd his three young charges to the side, and I knew he was reminding them that they were to stay as near as possible to the rear and side of the battle. And lots of luck with that, too, I thought, because I certainly didn’t share Dalph and Johnny’s confidence that the boys would do as they were told, probably because I was actually so much more a rebel than Dalph was. But there was nothing I could do about that, so I became, for the moment, pure American, and sent out another silent supplication—
Holy Mary, Mother of God, please keep them safe.

I roared into the city with the first Truscan lines and as we hit the streets, the explosions began—the gunpowder mini-bombs with which Carlos had armed them all, lit by means of the packs and packs of mini Bic cigarette lighters that Carlos had brought back in his sacks of wonders from Beyond the Door. I’d been amazed at his foresight when he’d pulled them out, actually, and had freely admitted that
I
wouldn’t have thought of the lighters, which admission had resulted in another ersatz fainting spell from Carlos.

I’d fallen behind my assigned spot a bit, and looked around, intent on making my way to Dalph and Carlos, whose intended goal during this battle was to get to the stronghold located in the middle of the city. I was supposed to stay with them, but as always,
“the best laid schemes o' mice an' men, gang aft agley.”
In the mass of Prian bodies and the smoke of the explosions. I’d gotten side-tracked. It was my own fault, and I could only hope it didn’t put either of them in jeopardy because they’d certainly come back as soon as they saw I hadn’t been able to keep up. The explosions continued, and then I began to hear mightier explosions, and knew that the first of the plastique bombs had gone off. Prians were pouring into the streets now, and the explosions were getting louder, seeming to come from everywhere at once, and that’s why I stupidly lowered my guard as I plowed through, heading toward Dalph.