The Red King (44 page)

Ortega smiled and clapped him on the
shoulder. “We will prevail. It will take more than a rigging’s
worth of
Inselaffen
to capture this vessel. And you have
done us service, as well,
Ruaidhri
, one which no man on this
ship will forget.”

“Don’t think this makes us friends,” Rory
growled, pointedly removing Ortega’s hand.

This time Ortega laughed. “Of course
not!’

Etienne took a step closer to Rory’s back.
“Currently, however, we share a venture, and we shall make the best
of it.
Oui
?”

“You are already making the best of it,”
Ortega said, only half-teasing. He cast a jaundiced eye at Etienne
and asked, “How many of my men have you offered the use of your
stable? Are the rides free, at least?”

“Many of your men are already well-acquainted
with my mares, Captain, and a fair amount of my stallions. They
know my face. My time has been more of finding lost friends than
pursuing new clientele,” the man replied, drolly.

Ortega looked dour for a moment, but then
chuckled. “I suppose it is true. My men seem to find your
companions agreeable,
Ruaidhri
, if not yourself. Which
reminds me, how fares young Andrew?”

Rory still felt the strain of Andrew’s fugue
and was unable to answer. Etienne took up the reply and Rory
squeezed his arm in thanks. “He is still weak, Captain, but growing
stronger. We are grateful for the use of your cabin while he
mends.”

“That is good, very good,” Ortega said,
nodding as he looked out over the water.

“Only a precious few of us survived in
there,” Rory said, staring hard at the man. His words returned
then, angry and unforgiving. “Had you looked one of the others in
the eye, one from long ago, would you have stopped then?”

Ortega was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “I
regret very little in my life. I find I have no time for it, no
patience.” He turned to Rory and met his gaze. “I will not start
now. I take full credit for my decisions and will not lament over
things I can no longer change.”

The anger in Rory swelled, threatening to
explode into violence. He felt Etienne stroke his back, heard his
quiet murmur for calm, and inhaled deeply. When next he spoke his
voice carried no threat, simply conviction. “One day, Ortega, you
will lament all that you have done.”

“Then find your peace in that promise,
Ruaidhri
, and leave me to my fate,” Ortega replied,
decidedly. He gave a small, stiff bow, and left them.

“He’s right, Rory. Leave him to his fate. You
have your own to consider,” Etienne soothed.

“Have you told no one?”

“Only Laurent.”

Rory passed a hand over his eyes. “We should
tell Malik.”

Etienne sighed. “I had hoped to wait, to see
if Andrew…improved. I think Malik will take it hard.”

“He would want to know,” Rory persisted. “As
would Yousef.”

“Perhaps just another day? The thought of
telling them rattles me, quite frankly, and we are so very rattled
already,” Etienne confessed, his soft laugh without mirth.

Rory considered his request. “Very well, we
will wait. He could…the next time he wakes…Etienne, what if he
never..?”

Etienne took his arm, looping it through his
own and gently guiding him into a stroll across the deck. “Never
remembers you? I do not think it likely. Even now, when he looks at
us without knowing our faces, he still trusts us. He knows we will
not harm him.”

“He
is
trusting; it is as his very
core. It is his first instinct to give. What if he only trusts
because that is his nature? If it has nothing to do with us or the
feelings he harbors for us and it is only his way…what will I do?
How will I ever,” Rory stopped to swallow, “bring him back?”

“You are still the man he followed willingly
down a dark path, casting aside his teaching and training to begin
anew,” Etienne reminded him.

“He cast aside nothing. All of his learning
and his teaching came with him and he used it in tandem with what I
showed him. He used it to help me, Etienne. To show me a different
way,” Rory said, wanting to make him appreciate the depth of his
fear. “If his past never returns to him, his patience and wisdom
may be lost and he may never…”

Rory stopped, throat tight and aching as he
struggled with the panic threatening to overwhelm him.

“Oh, Rory,” Etienne said, running his hand
over Rory’s head. He pulled it close and kissed the curls. “There
are so many reasons to love you, reasons beyond reason, in fact.
You love him, dearly and passionately. Anyone can see it in the way
you look at him, hear it in your voice when you speak of him. He
will, too, and his heart will remember if his mind does not.”

For a moment Rory rested his cheek on
Etienne’s shoulder, grateful for his understanding and his comfort.
He was too overwhelmed to speak and could only clutch Etienne
closer, hoping the embrace would convey his appreciation. He
exhaled, shakily, and whispered, “I would return to him, now,
please. If you think I’ve had enough fresh air.”

Etienne laughed and released him. “For now,
but I will fetch you again tomorrow. It will do you no good to hide
away and I’ll not be responsible for the suffering of your
spirit.”

Upon returning they found Laurent sitting
beside the bed, straight and tense in the chair, watching over the
now sleeping Andrew. “He is healing and is ready for heartier
meals. I’ll try to convince the cook to make something soft,
perhaps pressed potatoes or peas. This ship has better food than
I’d thought possible at sea.”

“Ortega enjoys his luxuries,” Etienne
remarked, taking Rory’s cloak for him.

“Did he…say, anything? To you?” Rory asked,
his eyes only on Andrew.

“He asked me my name, how he knew me. I
didn’t know how to answer,” Laurent said, looking down at the
floor.

“Tell him the truth, always,” Rory said,
sparing the man a glance and a gentle smile.

Laurent pursed his lips, nodded.

Rory noticed his troubled look. “Laurent,” he
called, waiting until the man raised his eyes. “Tell me the truth,
always, as well.”

The words came soft and haltingly. “I’ve seen
this, before, when the terrors became too much. Some went away
completely, never to make another sound, even as Maarten destroyed
them. One, though, was stronger, more resilient. The boy was
younger than Andrew, but his story was similar.”

“Tell me,” Rory said, sensing there was
more.

“He kept his wits until Maarten made him...
He forced the boy to kill a dog, a puppy, with his bare hands. I
think he could have born what Maarten did to him but to hurt
something else, something innocent, was too much. He wandered in
this state for two days, not knowing his own name or how he came to
such an end, and submitting to whatever Maarten wanted because he
did not know anything different. He hanged himself, in the end. He
never recovered his mind, but he knew enough, even so.”

“Remarkable” Etienne commented.

“The intellect is more powerful than we
credit. A man can set his mind to overcome much,” Laurent said.

“Yes, I am aware. I meant the compliment for
you. You have retained your mind, your soul, even in such
depravity. You are remarkable,” Etienne told him, smiling
warmly.

Laurent’s pale face colored and he looked
back down at his feet.

“You don’t think it is his injury? But that
is something he has done to himself, willingly, if unaware?” Rory
asked, settling on the edge of the bed.

“That is what I think, based only on what I
have seen. If he is ashamed of what he has done, or afraid of what
others will think of his actions, it would be easier to not answer
questions. But he would not lie. Not to you.”

“Andrew would never consent to torturing
anyone, no matter their evils,” Rory said.

Laurent nodded. “It seemed so, to me. It
could be that he wishes to take it away, erase it, and by wanting
enough it has turned his mind. It could have made him mad, as mad
as Maarten, but he chose to forget instead.”

Rory sighed, rubbing his face. “How do I
bring him back?”

“I don’t know,” Laurent answered, forlornly.
“I’m sorry.”

Etienne stepped closer. “Torture, Rory? What
have you not told me?”

“Not just now, please, my friend,” Rory
pleaded, raising his red and tired eyes.

“I’ll tell him,” Laurent offered, looking to
Rory for approval. At his nod, the man rose.

“Take a turn with me above deck. I daresay
the air will do you good, as well,” Etienne said and held up Rory’s
cloak for him. They left without speaking.

Rory went to the pitcher and took a lengthy
drink. His thoughts were whirling, pressing out against his skull
and threatening to burst free, if the pain in his head was any
indication. It made the healing aches in his body seem like
pinpricks, mere distractions. The throbbing at his temples only
increased as he moved slowly back to the bed. He removed his boots
and stretched out beside Andrew, atop the blankets and so close to
the edge that one shift would see his backside smacking the wooded
deck. Then he curled onto his side and watched Andrew sleep, a
favorite occupation.

Even with the ugly gash across his forehead,
bruising black and purple near the cut fading to a garish
yellow-green around the edges, he found Andrew to be the most
beautiful of all creatures. The sun’s kiss had faded, leaving his
flesh the softest, palest ivory. It made his brows and lips seem
darker, caused his wounds to look all the more dreadful. The fresh
bandages of bleached muslin were clean and still not as fair as the
skin they rest against.

“You look so much like the boy I first saw,”
Rory said, quietly. He reached out, carefully traced the edge of
the bruise where it faded into the shadow of Andrew’s hair. “Hurt
and scared. Alone. Yet you never looked away, even when I
frightened you apurpose. You refused to be cowed by man or beast or
storm. You made the lot of us look like mewling children with your
patience and your kindness. Even your rage guided you to help
others, to save me. You, Coinin, are fearless, and so I refuse to
accept that you are afraid. You told me once not to hide myself, to
always be free with you. I tell you now the same; nothing you have
done will make me love you any less. Nothing will ever make me turn
away from you.”

Lowering his voice even more, Rory whispered,
“I love you, Andrew. I want you beside me, always. Whether it be
you as we parted or this new, wholly innocent you, I need you. I
will hold fast for as long as it takes.” He folded his hands
beneath his cheek and watched. And waited.

Someone shook his shoulder. Had he fallen
asleep?

“
Ruaidhri
,” a deep voice rumbled.
“Wake, please, Captain.”

“Malik?” Rory asked, pushing up to his
elbows.

“Is it true,
Ruaidhri
?”

Rory rubbed his eyes. Blinked. “What?”

“That he doesn’t remember.”

“Malik,” Rory said, his drowsy muddled
thoughts sharpening instantly. “Oh, Malik, my friend, I would that
it weren’t true.”

The man was clearly distressed; his eyes were
red and his face was drawn. “But he knew you. Etienne said he knew
you when he woke.”

“He did, twice,” Rory answered as he sat
himself up fully. “I wish Etienne had not told you, just yet. We’d
agreed to wait…”

“To wait?” Malik interjected. He stood,
running a hand through his ample black hair. “Hesitate to tell me
he suffers the same malady as I do? To what purpose? How could you
keep it from me?”

Raising his hands before him, in supplication
and apology, Rory said, “It wasn’t meant as a slight. We wanted to
be sure. He could wake tomorrow and remember all, Malik. His injury
is not like yours. He needs no trepanation, no burr hole dug out of
his skull.”

“Then why? Why would he not remember you?
Us?” Malik began to pace, his long legs only allowing three or four
steps at each turn.

“Malik, please, you’ll wake him. He needs his
rest, now, above all else,” Rory said, standing, reaching for his
friend to offer comfort.

“Let him wake! My face would send a blind man
into the sea. It will jar him, rouse his mind and mayhap he will
know me! He will know my face and then all…,” the man stopped.
Tears rolled down his broad cheeks and his voice cracked. “All will
be well,
Ruaidhri
.”

Rory guided him to Ortega’s elaborate chair
and urged him to sit. Kneeling beside him, Rory waited while he
regained his control, hands gentle on his massive shoulders. “All
will
be well, Malik. It will be for I am not content to wait
for Andrew to recall my face, nor will I wring my hands for all the
moments lost. I will fill his mind and his heart with new love and
new recollections. I will be to him a friend first and then woo him
with all the fire in my soul.”

Malik drew a breath. “As you have done for
me.”

“As I have done for you,” Rory answered.
Then, with a sly grin, he added, “Except for the wooing.”

Malik’s laugh rumbled low in his chest.
“Except for the wooing.”

“We will meet the
Taibhse
in a few
days, my friend, and then we will put this ship in our wake,” Rory
continued.

“Aye, and then we will go home,” Malik said
with a smile. He threw his huge arms around Rory and pulled him
close. “Thank you,
Ruaidhri
.”

“There are not enough thanks under the sun,
Malik, for all that you have done for me,” Rory said, overwhelmed
by the man’s affection. He returned the hold, waiting for Malik to
release him with a patient sigh.

Malik wiped his face with one hand as he
pulled away. “You should come above deck tonight, dine with the
crew. They are not so disagreeable, if not overdone.”

“I cannot leave Andrew alone for so long. He
is still our wolf, steady and true at heart, but a cornered wolf
is…”