The Southern Trail (Book 4) (42 page)

“I’ve got a cyst,” Rose spoke in a very low voice.  “Can you cure it?”

“Absolutely,” Marco said.

“Come in here,” she invited him into her room, and led him to a bedroom.  “Here,” she turned her back to him and suddenly dropped the robe to her waist, revealing an back that was sculpted from pure, smooth, white alabaster – except for an angry red spot in the center of the small of her back.  “Can you treat it?” she asked.

“May I touch it?  Only the cyst – I won’t touch you anywhere else,” Marco assured her.

“Go right ahead,” she said with self-assured composure, looking over her shoulder at him.

Marco squatted, then put his finger in his mouth, took a long sip of the spring water, then rubbed the moisture over the sore for a few seconds.

“That’s it,” he said.

“Spit?  You put spit on me?” Rose’s voice rose dramatically.  She shrugged the robe back in place and turned towards him with an angry expression.

“Wait!” Marco protested.  “Here, just taste this finger – really,” he urged.  “It’s not a joke, not a trick.”

Suspiciously, the harem member grabbed his hand, looked at it, then did as instructed.  Her face lit up with shock, and she sputtered out the moisture in her mouth.  “How in the world did you do that?” she cried.

“That’s the enchantment.  It’s water from a healing spring.  Take a drink; it’s good for you.  A drink of this now, plus the water I spread on your cyst, should be enough to make it go away in a day or so,” he told her.

She promptly drank a great deal more of the water.

“Let me introduce you to Lica,” she said a minute later, and proceeded to make the introduction to her neighbor, and give a testimonial to the incredible experience his finger provided.

“Lica!” she gushed as she led Marco into the next room without knocking.

“Lica?” she called, when they stood in the center of an empty sitting room.

“In here; who is it?” a girl’s voice responding.

Rose grabbed Marco’s golden left hand and pulled him through the doorway from which Lica’s voice had come.  They found themselves in the bathroom, and they found Lica soaking in a bathtub full of steaming hot water.

“Rose, do you know what you’re doing?” Lica asked languidly.  She was strawberry blonde, and Marco could see that she had freckles covering more than just her face.

“I’m doing you a favor,” Rose replied.  “This boy has a magical finger!  When you suck on it, water comes out!  Magic water!  I drank some; try it!”

“You’ve been drinking something, apparently,” Lica said dryly.  She stared at Marco, who tried hard to look elsewhere.  “I’m trying to figure out what the joke is here, and I can’t – I give up.”

“There is no joke,” Rose assured her neighbor is a most sincere voice.  “The magic water comes from a healing spring.  It fixes any problems that you have.  I have a cyst on my back and I swear I can feel it getting better already, just five minutes after he put some of the water on it.

“Go ahead, take a sip of the water, and tell him if you’ve got any problems,” Rose insisted, forcing Marco to kneel next to the tub; she extended his hand towards Lica as Marco stared at the ceiling.

He felt the girl engulf his finger in her mouth, and then he felt her tasting the water for several long seconds. 

“What’s the matter?  Don’t you like me?  Or don’t you like girls in general?” Lica asked several minutes later.

“I like girls.  I like one girl, and you’re not her,” Marco replied, withdrawing his hand and standing up, still not looking at the beauty who was bathing.

“I’ve got a sore neck.   Will you take care of it?” Lica asked.  Marco heard her splash in the tub, and then she was standing in the tub, directly in front of him, her back to him.

“Go on Marco, rub her neck,” Rose urged.

Marco secretly wanted to wrangle her neck for putting him in an uncomfortable position, but he obligingly covered his hands in the spring water, and massaged the girl’s neck for several seconds, kneading the tight muscles with circular motions.

“That’s wonderful.  Will you massage my back too?” Lica asked.

“Does it hurt?” Marco asked, letting his hands start to move downward.

“No, but the massage feels good!” Lica laughed, and Marco responded by fleeing from the bathroom.  He waiting in the sitting room for several seconds, hearing the two woman laugh, and then Rose appeared.

She led him to the next room, and after he treated that woman, Rose departed, and he relied on the other woman to lead him to the next girl.  And so it went for more than an hour, as he treated nothing more serious than a hang nail, Rose’s cyst, and a tooth ache.

The last girl walked him past the door to Giselle’s room, and back to Madame Lafarge’s office.

“Done so soon?” the woman asked.  “Your goods will be here by the morning.  And I did some thinking; I put two and two together.

“Gaddis said that you’re interested in Princess Ellersbine, who is the fiancée Count Argen is dumping through a campaign of innuendo and slander.  And you’re trying to heal the girl Argen slashed to pieces.  There’s some relationship between the two isn’t there?” she asked.  “What are you getting at?”

“I want to marry Ellersbine, and we think that I need to be well thought of in the court, and by the king, to overcome the things Argen is saying and doing,” Marco answered.  “Giselle, well, I just want to do what’s right by her, but it helps that it undoes something Argen caused to happen.”

“So we want the girls,” Lafarge switched to a lower voice, and the language of Prester John once again, “to say good things about you, the paramour of Princess Ellersbine.”

“And the hero of the army, and a sorcerer,” Marco interrupted to add.

Lafarge looked at him.  “You’re a busy one, aren’t you?” she muttered.

“So you want the girls to launch a campaign to put your name in the king’s best graces?” Lafarge asked.

“Yes,” Marco agreed simply.

“If you can do half of what you say you can do for Giselle, you’ll win their hearts to your side,” Lafarge switched languages again.  “Now get out of here and come back tomorrow to do your magic for Giselle.”  She dismissed him, and Marco left the office, then slipped out the doors of the harem and back into the darkness of the palace.

All four guards were staring at him.  One was grinning.

“No man goes in there,” the grinning guard said.  “And no man stays in there for hours.  What’s it like?  Was it worth it?”

“I hope it was,” Marco said cryptically, disappointing the eager ears of the guards.  “I hope it was.”

Chapter 33

“You were where?” Ellersbine asked in a dangerous tone of voice when Marco told a disjointed, rambling version of the story of his day during a family meal that night.  He could feel the strong emotions passing through the life force they shared, and he was glad that he wouldn’t be spending the night at her palace facing her wraith.

“I think it sounds brilliant,” Rhen spoke up, while others at the table tried to hide smiles.

“I remember the scandal when Argen slashed that girl’s face.  He boasted about it,” she said.  “It was all the topic at the court for a month.

“That was about a year before you two got engaged,” she turned aside to Ellersbine to explain, making the girl shudder.

“When are you going to go to the king?” she asked.

“I haven’t heard anything from the army about a date for the ceremony they want, or from Gaddis.  I hope that it’ll be soon.  I hope that everything we’re doing starts to pay off,” he answered.

“If you’ve got Conor speaking well of you, half the court will know about you already,” Rhen said.

The mention of the vivacious nobleman triggered a memory.  “He invited me to a party tonight,” Marco mentioned casually.

“A party by Conor?” Sarai asked.  “You should be there! Go, go!  Why are you sitting here with us?”

“Would you like to go to a party?” Marco asked Ellersbine.

“With you? Of course.  Just let me go get dressed,” she said as she hurriedly excused herself from the table and went to change into a suitable outfit for the party.

“Where will it be?” Rhen asked, her eyes sparkling.

“A club,” Marco tried to remember the name.

“Conor?  The Columb Club?” Suseen suggested.

“Yes,” Marco agreed, and then listened to the girls at the table describe the elegance and decadence that marked the Columb Club and the parties that occurred there.

Ellersbine appeared minutes later, and shocked Marco with her appearance.  She was not wearing the elegant clothing he had expected, a gown with lace or frills or hoops; she was dressed in the pants and shirt and boots he had given her when he had freed her from the kidnappers in Rurita.  The clothes were clean, but travel-worn.

“I’ll be the hit of the party!” she exclaimed when she saw Marco’s expression.  “I’ll have a story to tell about our whole journey, and how you saved me,” she insisted.  “We’ll have fun,” she used a pleading little girl’s voice as she stepped up next to Marco and put her arms around his neck.  “Come on and just have fun.”

If that was her desire, he was willing to go along with it, he decided as he grinned in response to her shameless coaxing.

“Shall we go horseback instead of coach?” he prompted.

And so they rode astride his horse, Ellersbine sitting behind him with her arms around him, leaning against him and making him feel that just the intimacy of the ride was worth the journey to the party.

“I’d like a sip of water,” she told him as he helped her down when they reached the party, and Marco turned the horse over to a stable hand.  “Otherwise my thighs will be sore from the ride!”

He obliged her, and then they entered the club, to discover that while Ellersbine’s outfit was unusual, it was not the most unusual clothing in the party.  There was a man who was dressed as a horse; “he’s an earl, my great-uncle’s grandson,” Ellersbine explained.  A woman was dressed as a flower, and her companion held a watering can from which he occasionally sprinkled water on those around her.  “I don’t know them; they’re just strange,” Ellersbine blithely explained.  A man wore a robe that was surfaced with dozens of mirrors – “you can see yourself when you look for me,” he explained to an uncaring Marco, and he considered his pronouncement to be the height of wisdom.

And then they found Conor, their host, dressed in an elegant velvet outfit, with Prina beside him wearing a conventional gown that seemed to hide her beauty rather than highlight it.

“She’s really a very pretty girl,” Marco remarked.  “That dress doesn’t make her look as pretty as she is.”

“It’s a device,” Ellersbine said.  “She’ll probably change into something dazzling later tonight to make sure she keeps his attention,” his princess surmised.

“Here’s my great healer!” Conor’s voice rose dramatically as he spotted Marco’s approach.  The host of the party brushed past a pair of guests he had been speaking to, drawing Prina in his wake, as he rushed over to see Marco.

“Thank you so much for coming!” the nobleman hugged Marco instantly, then turned to Ellersbine.  “This must be the enchanting muse who has captured your heart,” he said as he took Ellersbine’s hand, bowed over it, and kissed it.

“Hello, Marco,” Prina leaned in and gave him a warm kiss on the cheek.  “I’m so glad you came.  Conor is delighted; he didn’t think he could possibly be lucky enough to draw you into his little soiree!” the girl told Marco kindly.  “Won’t you introduce me to your friend?” she asked.

“Prina, this is Ellersbine, who I’ve been chasing for hundreds of miles,” Marco felt caught up in the atmosphere of extravagance at the party.  “She is a princess!”

“This is Prina, who I met when she was posing as a nurse, but she seems to me to be much more than that,” Marco told Ellersbine, as the two women curtsied to one another.

“And is there a story behind your outfit?” Prina asked Ellersbine, giving the princess her first opportunity to describe the long, trying journey on which she had come to know and fall in love with Marco.  Ellersbine hit only the highlights of the story, fascinating both Prina and Conor with her story, especially when she described being kidnapped and forced to endure the brutal treatment she received on the trip south, until she awoke to find Marco had rescued her.

“And he saved Argen too,” she added.

A servant came by and offered glasses of wine.  A crowd had gathered around to listen to the story, as Ellersbine continued to speak, embellishing Marco’s heroism, it seemed.

“Crassten came into your room while you were bathing?” Prina asked, aghast.

“Yes,” Ellersbine replied.  “But Marco was there first; he had come to rescue me, and he killed the Baron and his men, then we fled and finally arrived back here.  Just as simple as that.”

“That’s all a pack of lies,” Argen’s voice loudly proclaimed, startling most in the crowd.  “Except perhaps the part about ambushing Crassten,” he said.

Marco whirled to see Argen standing behind him, a heavily-made up woman on his arm, and a quartet of armed supporters encircling him.  “Either she’s a good liar, which she may be, or you’ve done a good job lying to her,” Argen taunted Marco.  “I suppose I should say hello and congratulations for having made it back alive.”

Marco considered a whole host of responses to Argen’s lies and insults.

“Do I have your permission to reply to this commoner on your behalf, your highness?” Marco turned to Ellersbine to ask politely.

“Don’t do anything too rash Marco, please,” she pleaded.

“No more than he deserves,” Marco agreed.

“Excuse me,” Marco shouted loudly, speaking to all in the crowd.  He felt angry, and gleeful.  He hadn’t used his sword, or his sorcery powers, in several weeks, and he realized, and he was looking forward to exercising both in the circumstances at hand.  “Everyone needs to back away for your own safety.  Move back,” he spoke, and waved his arms dramatically.

“Conor, please take Ellersbine back,” he asked, as people complied with his request.

Marco pulled his sword free, and raised it over his head.