D. A. Houdek

Deb Houdek Rule

Web designer - Science Fiction author - Civil War historian - Genealogy researcher

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Of All the Western Stars

by Deb Houdek Rule

Chapter 25

That he was an idiot was undeniable. He’d already let Lisette see the unthinkable, no point in stumbling on through the dark just to maintain a shattered facade of sixteenth century decorum. Ashur felt Lisette flinch when he turned the light on, but, to her credit, she didn’t cry out. Perhaps she was dazed or in shock from what she just witnessed.

Ashur glanced back at her, sitting atop the white stallion like a fairy tale princess in her flowing gown of green and white. No, she appeared alert, staring at him steadily, not even dropping her gaze when he looked at her. How beautiful she was. When he had seen her there, held by that murderer, nothing in the universe could have stopped him from destroying her attackers by whatever means necessary, and destroying them utterly, without mercy, without reprieve.

That’s the way it had been with Capella. The numbers were different tonight, a scant dozen compared to billions. But was the value of life, or the punishment for taking it, measured by numbers? Would the killer of one have a gentler place in Hell than the killer of one hundred? Perhaps the answer was in the ratios of revenge. He’d taken a dozen tonight in exchange for one murdered boy and one endangered girl. The Capellans had massacred millions on his home world, destroyed cities, and taken his family captive, so he’d annihilated billions in response.

He shook his head and glanced again at Lisette. How magnificent she’d been in the fight, acting without hesitation, taking out the very one he needed her to at that moment. What an exceptional lady she was.

"I can now see your aunt in you," he commented. "You fought like a…" he searched his mind for an appropriate Terrestrial analogy, "…like a tiger… tigress. But how is it you came to be there?"

Lisette didn’t answer.

The rest of the journey was silent, the unease clear in the stiff postures and pursed lips. As they neared the estate, Ashur flicked off the light and concealed it again in his pocket. Torches burned ahead, their ruddy glow dim and inefficient by comparison.

"That great light of yours made it difficult to see the stars," Ashur was startled to hear Lisette comment.

He turned his head to see her looking upward, taking in the wide view of the firmament. A serene expression played over her features, melting away some of the tension. Following her gaze upward, Ashur stared at the stars. He’d not looked at the night sky much these past several weeks. Its grandeur was still there, its accusation still glaring down at him. Stumbling slightly over an uneven place in the road, Ashur heard a soft chuckle from Lisette. She looked down at him with an expression on her face, half-amused, half-something else he couldn’t discern.

"How works it," she said so quietly that he doubted the words were meant for him, "to have two who watch the sky and not the ground?"

As they arrived at the estate, into the bare area between the buildings, doors were flung open from the main house and the servants’ quarters as the household’s female servants rushed out to meet them in a flurry of skirts and candles.

"Oh, milord! What’s happened? Where be the others?" the cries came. "Is every one all right? Where is Bobbin?"

"All is well," he assured them over and over. "None of our company was hurt and the highwaymen are all dead. So, I’m afraid, is the boy."

That drew the inevitable cluckings of concern and the crossings and prayers. Ashur waited impatiently for the ritual and supplications to end, not even bothering to feign compliance. He held his arms up to Lisette, to ease her down from the horse. She accepted stiffly, freeing herself from his touch as soon as her feet touched the ground.

"Mistress Lisette! How came you to be here?" the servants murmured in surprise when they saw her. Lisette moved to greet them. Of course, Ashur realized, she must have been here with her aunt and come to know them. It was easy to forget how thoroughly she was a part of this world, a world that after tonight it was unlikely she’d think him a part of again.

"Where is my aunt?" Lisette asked urgently. "Did the message reach her?"

They shook their heads and looked at each other. "No doubt the one that poor dead lad was to deliver. Nay, no message reached her. And her ladyship stayed only for a few hours, leaving to continue her trip. Have you the message? We could send one of the men with it at dawn."

"Yes. Send good warning to my Aunt Agnes. Tell her to take heed. She must have armed men about her. Her home estate of Allyngton Manor has been attacked and burned to the ground. It was done, so I did hear, by men of great powers…"

Lisette gave Ashur a sideways glance, opened her mouth as though she meant to say something more, then stopped and shook her head.

Ashur interrupted the alarmed chatter of the servants. "You there… Emily… see to it that a hot bath is prepared for Mistress Lisette, and fix something to eat, if you would, please," he instructed. "And ready food for the men, they’ll be back soon."

"Aye, milord," she bobbed a curtsy, "With pleasure."

He turned to Lisette. She had moved a bit apart from the others, resting one hand on the white stallion, biting her lower lip and staring at Ashur but, he felt, not really seeing him.

"We should send word to your home that you’re here and safe," he said to her.

Her eyes snapped sharply back from their view of the unseen. "No," she said harshly. "There’s no one there to inform. Leave it be."

Taken aback, Ashur nodded. "As you wish. If you’ll go in, I’ll be along shortly. I must see to the horse, none of the stablehands are here." They’re dealing with a slaughter, he silently added.

Lisette followed the servants into the house, the women fluttering about her, gushing concern and asking her questions about what happened. Taking up the reins of the stallion, who affectionately tried to bite a chunk out of his arm, Ashur watched as Lisette disappeared into the house. Slowly, he led the horse to the stable. He’d probably be better off mounting the beast right now and vanishing into the night. Ashur swallowed hard.

No, he’d run before and that is what brought him to this place. He’d not run now, not from Lisette. If she wanted to betray him, so be it. She hadn’t yet. She hadn’t run screaming that she’d seen magic or witchcraft when she found the crystal, nor had she now when she’d seen things that would send the most rational and educated of the sixteenth century into a superstitious, witchburning frenzy. He owed her the explanation. And he wanted the chance, the faint hope, that she would believe him and accept his story… and accept him.

Yes, that he was an idiot was undeniable. But he was an idiot in love.

Lisette allowed the maids to usher her into the apartments her aunt used when in residence, selecting a thick satin robe for her. Soon Aunt Agnes’ custom-made brass tub filled with hot, soapy water scented, thankfully, with lavender rather than roses, awaited her. With the help of the chattering maids, she undressed, stopping them only from removing the crystal on its lace cord. Briefly, she mourned the dirt and rips in her beautiful gown. Her fingernail caught on the rough, crusty edge of a hole burnt into the fragile silk.

"Leave me, please," Lisette ordered as she sank into the deliciously hot water.

Emily fussed a moment longer, setting up a small table of inlaid, Italian woods by the tub, laying a thick towel on it, finding Agnes’ combs and brushes for Lisette, and lighting more candles. "There you are, Madame. I’ll bring you up a good bite of supper just as soon as it’s prepared." A rap at the door interrupted her. She opened it a crack to accept a steaming cup from another of the girls. Emily set the cup down on the table beside the tub. "Good hot, mulled wine for you. There. You drink that down. It’ll give you strength. I’ll be leaving you now."

"Thank you, Emily," Lisette said, trying to put feeling into the words but so distracted by the rush of thoughts in her mind that the thanks came out hollowly.

Emily smiled understandingly. "You’ve had a trying time. You just take your ease." She left the chamber, closing the door behind her.

Lisette stretched, savoring the unaccustomed luxury of the tub of water. Ah… someday she’d have such as this every day of her life… well, every week at the least, she amended as she trimmed back the impossible fantasy to the merely improbable.

Her muscles gradually relaxing from their tensely alert state, Lisette sighed and reached up to free her braids. She pulled them loose, the two long plaits unbending down to trail in the sudsy water and over the edge of the tub. She wanted to tremble with delayed terror, quiver with fear at the horrors and wonders she’d seen, but it all seemed so oddly distant and unreal that she only sat quietly pondering the events in a distracted way. Lisette couldn’t have said why she hadn’t told Ashur or the servants that the sorcerers who burned her aunt’s home were seeking Ashur. Something stilled her tongue. Something demanded to know more of Ashur before she spoke.

The door latch clicked and she looked up expectantly. Now that a semblance of calm, if not normality, was returning she realized how hungry she was. It seemed long, long ago since she had eaten the bread and cheese from her basket. The door slowly opened and her nostrils detected the delicious aroma of good food, not slop such as Bess prepared.

"Pray, enter," she called, wishing Emily to hurry.

Instead the door opened to reveal Ashur, holding a loaded silver tray. Lisette gasped and tried to cover herself, pulling the towel half into the water, splashing water onto the floor. Ashur ignored her discomfiture, continuing into the room, turning away to close and latch the door.

"What are you doing? What do you mean by this?" Lisette demanded. Why, he had changed clothes. He wore the shirt she’d made for him. The golden threads she’d so painstakingly embroidered glinted in the candlelight. It gave her an odd pleasure deep within to see Ashur wearing it, knowing that which her fingers had once caressed now caressed him. The shirt hung loose over tight black breeches of that style he preferred. The ebony curls of his hair fell onto the white linen. She found herself staring hungrily at him, taking in every inch of his form as he moved gracefully toward her over the dark polished wood and silk carpeting on the floor. Her hand slipped down, abandoning her vain attempt to conceal herself.

Ashur pointedly did not look at her, seeming not to see the revealing glimpses of her naked body beneath the foamy water. He set the tray down on the table, moving aside the towel which dropped to the floor in a wet puddle. Crossing the room, he took up a chair, setting it down beside the table so that, she in the tub and he in the chair, were separated by the table.

"You are too bold, sir. You must leave," Lisette insisted, wishing vainly her tone had sounded more outraged.

Ashur met her indignant stare with crooked smile. She read anguish in his eyes, pain and uncertainty and it touched some place within her.

"I think," he began slowly, "that after tonight secrets between you and me are a foolish thing, a thing to end."

She looked down, running her hand over the surface of the water, toying with the suds. "I think you are right," she whispered, the memory of those killed so effortlessly by Ashur’s magical — she could think of no other word for it — ray of light sending a shiver through her body despite the hot water. Looking up again she considered how many times she’d wondered what lay behind this man’s mysteries. Now she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know the answers, wasn’t sure the full truth of this strange man was something she could bear.

Suddenly, Ashur reached toward her. Lisette flinched, drawing in upon herself. He touched one of her long braids that fell over the edge of the tub, lifting its glossy, brown length, fondling it in a distracted, caressing way.

"My mother had hair such as this," he said distantly, "though I seldom saw it so. She liked to wear it in elaborate ways, coloring it with clouds of light…"

"Like a shimmering rainbow for a crown," Lisette said with awe. "I saw that. She was your mother."

"Saw it in the holo crystal, yes. I knew you’d seen the pictures in there." He dropped her braid abruptly, focusing his attention on the tray of food. "You must be hungry, and thirsty," he said, peering into the cup of wine. "I know I am."

Dryly, Lisette commented, "Sorcery is a thirsty business."

He stopped, then looked up at her. "Do you have it in you to believe other things? Other explanations?"

She met his dark eyes, glittering with mysteries, staring deep into them, trying to divine his true nature. Ought she not sense an evil in him, if that were the truth of him? She did not. Her fingers sought out the crystal on the cord about her neck, closing around it.

"What other explanations can there be," she asked.

"Have you never seen something that appeared so wondrous it seemed it must be magic, but you knew it was not?"

She pondered that. Slowly, she said, "I once saw a water pageant on the Thames in London. There floated a great dragon from whose mouth spewed flames as though it lived." She glanced up at him. "Is that the manner of thing you mean?"

He nodded. "Was it magic that made flames come from the dragon’s mouth?"

"No," she answered, staring at him intently, striving to guess where he was leading this conversation. "It was merely a device. A clever device, to be sure…"

"Yes," Ashur interrupted. "A clever device." He reached toward her. So entranced was she by the intensity in his eyes, Lisette didn’t flinch or shy away as his strong hand gently freed the crystal from her fingers, dangling it before her. The crystal, so innocent in its appearance now, caught the light of the candles, the flicker of the fire, and the images of both Ashur and Lisette in its surface. "So this is also," he concluded and waited, watching her intently.

Lisette slowly shook her head. She wanted to believe him. "No device such as this now exists," she said mournfully. Beliefs must be cast aside in the face of reason.

A tight smile crossed Ashur’s face. "Indeed. Not now." He released the crystal and began to tell her a fantastically improbable story…