CHAPTER XXXVI
"Are you sick?" Hitomi asked suspiciously.
"Do I look sick?" he asked back, arching his eyebrows.
"Well, you do look sort of—grey."
Tremin shrugged. "It's just a minor allergy." He said, but he adjusted the scarf higher over his nose. "Nothing to worry about. Tell me again about what Mikoh Bas said."
Hitomi looked again in the direction of the men working over the burnt down trees. They seemed to be painting them with something thick and green. "What are they doing?"
"It's a solution of some river plant. It helps the trees heal and grow. It's also what I'm allergic to."
She looked at him. "Then what are you doing here? Go away."
"I'll ignore that order. I'm the Lord, I have to be here. Besides there's no where else to be. You're here and you're the one I wanted to talk to. So, again, Mikoh Bas?"
"I don't know, I still have to think about what he said." She said at last.
"I wouldn't believe you lacked the time to do that on a two and a half week journey in a leviship. Especially without half the guests you had with you on the way there. What did you do?"
"Mainly arguing with Van."
"Love is paradise." Tremin arched an eyebrow. "Speaking of which, what was that you said about Topaz?"
"Jasina, Jasmine and him went in the Basramian leviship, since it was on its way, so I didn't have a chance to talk to them, but I think him and Jas are having a fight."
"You know what about?"
Hitomi shook her head. "Van asked him, but Topaz only said something about disagreeing on a rather major thing."
Tremin looked into space for a moment, his thoughts racing. "Hn." He said finally. "Who knows. There's no understanding that boy." He remembered something and turned to her again, eyes sharp. "Did I hear you say something about Duke Freid?"
"Oh." Hitomi frowned. "Yes. Chid was acting very weird since the day we left. Like he was distracted, out of it of sorts." Her eyes traveled over the gypsies climbing up the trees with the buckets of the heavy, thick healing syrup, uneasy. "His eyes were dull. Eventually it passed, but he couldn't remember anything of the night of the Ball or the day after. It was very alarming. It still is."
"Well, memory loss is certainly a strange mental illness for a ten year old boy, and since I very much doubt the gap is due to drunkenness and subsequent hangover, my options are limited."
Hitomi agreed, smiling faintly. The Fanelian leviship had left the Freidians and their country on the way back from Meridiana, and the Asturians had boarded the Crusade and left after a good night of sleep. The world had to go back to its usual roll after all, and holidays were over.
With Van returning to his routine of King duty every morning, and having a lot to catch up on, she scarcely ever saw him before dinner. Merle had her own duties, but the two girls spent most of their time together, while Merle read things and Hitomi studied Fanelian history and such. Hitomi also made it a point of going over to the gypsy villages every day and help with what she could. She wasn't very strong to help with the reconstruction of Tremin's village, but at least she could help the ladies with what they asked her to do. It also served as time Tremin's wife used to explain some gypsy habits and traditions.
As expected, Stelius had kept the country perfectly under control in Van's prolonged absence, and only minor problems had arisen with the so called revolutionaries of Zaibach. The biggest problem had been to keep the Fanelian population at ease. A country used to war and battle, the patience to aggression was culturally limited. Stelius' own attitude towards the trouble makers didn't help in the least, since he categorically threw them in prison even if Van had ordered them to be left alone, hoping they would chill on their own.
They hadn't.
Some places of the capital city were more virulent than others. The market district was quite calm, but the hard work sector where the ironmen and similarly strong work shops were located was beginning to be dangerous. Van had determined there to be guards on that sector day and night, and Hitomi had asked one of the gypsy Lords to keep and eye out.
"I can do that." He had said easily. "I can also snatch one of them and drag him to my village before his partners know he's gone missing. I can probably know who send him before they know where to look."
Hitomi had considered it. "That's a good idea. Except… well, the method of interrogation…?"
"Well, I guess I could beat him." He offered rubbing his stubble. Hitomi's eyes widened. "Calm down, I was provoking you. We give them truth serums. We're not barbaric, damn."
"Most of the time." Tremin had drawled.
In any case, Hitomi became more accustomed to the gypsy way of life every hour she spend with them, and she really liked it. She felt comfortable and at ease.
The autumn was losing it s fierceness when Tremin offered to teach her to use the bow and arrow. That forced Hitomi to wake up earlier than Karyn thought decent—she was quite vocal about it too—and train at least two hours a day. Tremin insisted she shouldn't use her mind's eye, but Hitomi was unsure herself whether she did so or not. There was no way to tell really. She was so used to using either or both that she could no longer tell the difference.
In any case, he said she was naturally good. Hitomi had always been good at sports.
There were a few things she was still worried about. One was Chid's behavior immediately after leaving Meridiana; taciturn and silent, as if something no one but him knew had happened, but he had forgotten it, leaving behind the ghost of a scary memory he could not fill in, but that haunted him.
Then there was the fact the Corto Maltese had made no appearance on the leviship, and had instead sent orders to be replaced by his second in command, Pier. The man ahd steered the leviship as well as Corto, but the man's absence was still noticeable, and they had had no news of him since, even when he was Stelius' old friend.
Lastly, what bothered her was the deep set sensation than her last image of Mikoh Bas boarding the leviship to leave for Basram was the last image she'd ever have of him, because the certainty that something was going to happen was overwhelming. She had asked the gypsies across Gaea to keep an eye for him, but no reports of any incidents had reached her, and the gypsies' reports came to her every day without delay.
Her relationship with Van was as good as it ever was, even if they saw little of each other at the moment, and the wedding preparations were going smoothly.
Towards the end of the month Van insisted she visited Asturia. He couldn't go with her, of course, because a King isn't supposed to leave his land so much, but he wanted her to go. Hitomi protested she didn't want t go anywhere without him, but the idea of spending a few days in Asturia with the others was appealing.
The Dragonking ordered without place for argument that she would be accompanied by a sufficient guard, but Tremin revoked his decision and instead placed a gypsy guard of five men. They argued about it and finally Hitomi yelled at the both of them, sent one to the woods and the other to his room and ordered she was not to be contacted by either until further notice.
Tremin apologized first.
In the end, she ended up going to Asturia with the five gypsies and a guard of five Fanelian soldiers, all ten the best that could be offered, commanded by Stelius' and Tremin's sons.
Moriko made the lives of all twelve of them impossible all through the trip, and was finally expulsed from the small leviship and left to fly at its side. He was waiting for them when they landed, coy and playful.
+BREAK+
Dryden arched his eyebrows, looking up from his desk. "Oh? Well, send him in, of course." he said to his secretary, straightening in the chair and putting down the inked feather he was writing with. Millerna sent a puzzled look his way, also surprised.
Allen was in full Caeli Knight gear, which was usual. What was not usual was the formal and official way he carried himself with. It was also unusual for Celena to be waiting outside for him.
"Thank you, Mac, you can leave us." Dryden dismissed his secretary, perplexed by the situation. The man bowed and left without a word. "Allen, you requested an audience? You coulda just drop by, you know."
"Thank you, but I'm afraid it's not something that I'd like to discuss casually." The Knight said with a smile. "I'm far pass that point."
Dryden looked weary. "Alright, spill it. What did you do? Do I have to rush somewhere to save your ass?"
Allen looked bemused. "Am I really that troublesome?"
"Well, you have your quirks." Dryden offered. "Not that I'm against that… what's going on, though?"
Allen tensed his jaw for a moment, his fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword where he gripped it out of habit, simply a place to put his hand on. Finally, his eyes the deepest blue Dryden had ever seen them, he moved his hands to the buckle of his sword belt and took it off.
He walked forward and placed it on the desk before Dryden carefully.
The King stood slowly, his eyes fixed on the weapon. "I think I know what this is, but I want to hear it from you." he said firmly, looking up.
"I request permission to abandon the Caeli Knight Guard." He said simply.
"What?" Millerna asked, walking to the desk. "What are you saying? Why?"
Dryden stood motionless, silent.
Allen swallowed. "Because I am no longer one of them." he said gently. "Because I find no pride in being it, find no pleasure. I feel it as though it burdens me, holds me back."
"But you love being a Caeli Knight." Millerna said, confused.
"No, I don't." he said softly. "Not anymore. Not for a long time."
"I'd risk about five years." Dryden said, and sighed. He ran his hand through his brown hair, frowning slightly. "Is this really what you want, Allen? Are you sure? This" he placed his hand over the sword, barely touching it. "there's not coming back from, you know?"
Allen looked at him evenly. "I understand. I do this in full use of my abilities of evaluation and decision, and I take all the responsibilities and consequences it brings upon me."
"What consequences?" Millerna asked, concerned. "Dryden?"
"Uh, do I look like an expert in Caeli quitting? Cause it's my first too." He said with a wicne. "I've got no idea if there are consequences. I actually don't know if there are even precedents. You?" he looked at Allen.
The blond shook his head slowly in negative.
"Did you ask Eries?" Dryden asked. "She knows every single law."
"I haven't spoken of this to anyone."
"I would say you can still turn back" Millerna said sadly. "but I see you won't even if you can. You're determined?"
Allen nodded. "Yes, I am. I need to do this."
"Where will you go?" Dryden asked, lifting the sword from the desk.
"I don't know." Allen answered honestly. "I don't even know if I'll leave Asturia. But whatever I do, wherever I go, this has to be the first step."
"I have to agree." Dryden said. "Your position is certainly restrictive. Have you talked to Celena?"
"Yes, her I told everything." He answered. "She helped me make the decision, and she says she'll be with me whatever I choose."
"You've got a good sister." Dryden said, smiling slightly. Then he sobered up. "I don't know how this works, or even how it's supposed to be done, but it's me you came to and I've heard your reasons." He paused. "Wait. Mac!"
The secretary came back in, rather bewildered. "Your Highness?"
"Here, I need a witness." Dryden said, and turned back to Allen. "As I was saying, I've heard your reasons, which are your own, and I understand your position. The King before me took your oath, and now I free you of it. I won't make you kneel, Allen Schezard" he added with a grin. "I declare you a free man, and those don't kneel to nobody."
He could have paid a fortune for seeing that kind of brilliant light in his friend's deep eyes.
Millerna smiled at the sight of it. "May you find happiness wherever you seek it, Allen." She said. Allen bowed his head in thanks, unable to talk.
"And take your sword back." Dryden said, offering the hilt to the man. "I have no use for it and it's annoying to have it lying around." Allen took it and placed it back where it belonged, at his left hip. "You surrender your title of Caeli Knight, willingly and by own voice?"
Allen nodded firmly, visibly. "I do."
"Then so it shall be, if it's your will. Deliver your uniform to the quarters within the day, and feel free to deny explanation to anyone who seeks it but myself. And Allen," he added when the man was turning. "I still want you here for dinner, what do you say?"
Allen smiled widely at the offering of a continued friendship with the Royal house even after he ahd abandoned his title and rank. He nodded and agreed, and then left the chamber with firm steps, leaving behind burden and regret.
Celena stood when the doors closed behind him. She smiled brightly.
"Is it done?"
He nodded. "It is."
"Let's get you out of that uniform!" Celena said happily, tuned with her brother's feelings, and grabbing his hand, led him out of the palace and into their house. He changed clothes, and then went by horseback to the Caeli Knight quarters to leave them. He wasn't asked questions, for Dryden's orders were way ahead of him, and if he was stared at or murmured about, he failed to notice.
Celena wanted to do half a million things, but surprisingly Allen slept all through his first afternoon of complete freedom since he was twelve years old. His sister didn't wake him, and instead draped a blanket over his curled form on the bed.
He woke up and changed for dinner at the palace, and found Celena ready.
"It's something you may be very proud of." Was all Eries said concerning his retirement of duty. "I know I certainly am."
That night after everyone in the Schezard estate had gone to bed, the young master was sitting in the back of the house, on the wooden planks of the deck, kept warm by a thick coat and staring at the stars.
They had never been so bright.
"Hey, Boss." A familiar voice called in the dark, and steps approached on the grass. Allen stood, suddenly remembering.
"Gaddess." He said, half in horror.
"Yeah, Gaddess." The sergeant said, and as soon as he was within reach, sent out a closed fist that collided right against Allen's aristocratic high cheekbone, with all the burnet man's weight behind it.
Allen stumbled back under the blow, the heel of his boot hitting the planks, and he fell on his back, immediately sitting up.
"I should have told you—"
"You bloody hell should have!" Gaddess fumed, towering over the blond. "What the fuck am I, huh? Your subordinate? I don't get to know? What, I get to wait for a bloody rumor to get to me?!"
"I just made up my mind this morning and I was impulsive." Allen said, stirred, frowning. "It's not like you're my brother either!"
"Do you even remember what I told you ten years ago when I entered the service at the Crusade? Specifically at the Crusade?"
Allen didn't have to make an effort, as he stood up. You're the only valuable punk in that corps, and I intend to stay close to you. You're the less likely to get me killed, Sir.
"Ten years." Gaddess fumed, though his anger had deflated into a rightful frown. "Seriously. If you think I'm just a subordinate, you coulda say so before I had to drag you back from the bar all those times. I wouldn't do that for my boss, you know?"
"Gadess, I really am sorry." Allen said sternly. "You know you're my best friend. It slipped me, I'm sorry."
Gaddess sighed and ruffled his dark hair. "Damn, I must really like you, man."
"I'll talk to the Commander, I'll see the Crusade gets a good Knight as replacement." Allen said, thought he was unsure whether he still held that power. Probably not. In any case, he would certainly try.
"Make that a Knight and a Sergeant. You can't be left on your own. You'll get killed in a week."
Allen almost lurched forward. "What? No! You can0t throw you career—!"
"What career?" Gaddess questioned, arching an eyebrow that was barely visible in the darkness of the night. His eyes were bright and playful as always. "I'm a glorified soldier who got a good position. They don't like me much up there, don't think I don't know you shielded me more times you should have."
Allen grinned. "It was half duty half laziness. I didn't want to bother getting another sergeant."
"Gosh, you couldn't lie to save your skinny ass. I can see you, kid. Actually, I can see right through you. In fact, hi, Celena."
"Hi Gaddess." Celena's sleepy voice drifted from the doorframe. "Would you two ple4ase be quiet? A girl needs her beauty sleep. Else I'll call the police on you two. Now they can arrest you, you know?"
Allen and Gaddess nodded and entered the kitchen. "So, what now, partner?" Gaddess asked grinning. "I'm with you."
"Gaddess, you really shouldn't waste all the time you spent in the military." Allen said gently. "Don't do it for me."
"Boss, I owe you mi life fifteen times over. Plus, I like you. And I really don't want to get another tight assed Knight who has no clue how the Crusade works. I went through that once, thank you very much." He smirked. "And I get the feeling you're not going to be staying 'round here very long, am I right?"
Allen smiled. "I really appreciate it and it actually makes me happy—but I can't ask you to quit. I won't."
"Then don't. Already did."
"What?"
"I wasn't going to come punching you if it was just a rumor, Boss. First I made sure. Then I quit. Then I punched you."
"Makes sense." Allen chuckled.
"So, kid." Gaddess said, lounging back. "I think you have a thing or two to learn about the streets and being, you know… a free man." He smirked. "And I happen to know a lot about both."
+BREAK+
Deep golden eyes fluttered open, black lashes trembling. The eyes shifted slightly to the left, attempting to recognize the place he was in.
A blurred face leaned over him. "Good morning." A gentle feminine voice said, and a hand was set against his cheek. Her fingers were warm and long. "Do you know who you are?"
He paused. "Corto" he rasped, cleared his throat and continued in a richer voice. "Corto Maltese."
"Mister Maltese, my name is Carolyn and I am nurse at the National Meridian Hospital. Do you remember what happened to you?"
He remained silent, remembering clearly how he had turned a corner into a lateral street in the night and had been surrounded by men dressed in black.
"My injuries?" he asked flatly.
"You have a concussion and a laceration on your scalp. We've shaved your hair to stitch it, and that pressure you feel is the dressing. You also have several bruises and your knuckles are cut and bruised, signal that you defended yourself well, sir." She smiled faintly. "None of these wounds are life endangering. Is there anyone we can call, sir?"
"No." he said firmly. "Who found me and how long have I been out?"
"You were found by a couple of Nobles who stayed until you were well and wished to be informed of your condition. That was four days ago."
"Four days?" he asked wearily. "He must think I'm dead." He murmured, struggling to sit upright. She helped him, piling up pillows behind him.
"You must take it easy, sir." She chided. "Would you like me to call this gentleman you speak of?"
"No." he repeated, even though his head swam. "I'll write a message—would you have it delivered? I need you to make sure it's not a hospital messenger, or at least it's not dressed in that fashion."
"Are you in danger, sir?"
"It's best you don't know what I am in." he said grimly. "In fact, it'd do you much well to forget me and my name. Am I released to walk away?"
"No." she said firmly. "You need rest, and that wound needs a lot of attention."
"That's fine, I can take care of wounds. Get me that messenger." He pushed the covers away and swung his legs out of the bed. The world tipped precariously to the side, and she steadied him.
"I must insist." She said cynically.
"So must I, young woman." He replied, brushing his fingers over the white linen wrapped around his aching skull. "I am not joking. It's too dangerous."
"I didn't think you were joking at all." She said, kneeling by the bed to retrieve his clothes from the rack under it. "Neither am I. Until you're well enough, I'm going to be your shadow. I don't mind following you."
"You're too stubborn for your own good."
"You know what they say." She said, leaving the clothes on his lap. Corto looked at her more attentively then.
She was very dark skinned, with almond shaped grey eyes and a small mouth with sensual plump lips, very red against her skin. Her hair was black as night and very long, almost to her waist, completely straight. She was an exotic beauty, dark and elegant, wild.
She flicked her wrist up for a moment to open his folded shirt and he saw the long black lines of a tattoo over the smooth skin.
He arched his eyebrows, his lips stretching in a bemused smile. "I guess I don't. Why don't you tell me?"
She chuckled. She circled her arms around his neck to reach behind him and untie the knot that held the white linen shirt that was hospital garment together at his nape. "Gypsy girls are forces of nature." She whispered against his ear. "My name is Pocahontas, and I am daughter of Amadahy Chitsa, Gypsy Lord of Meridiana." She grasped the linen and pulled it off his shoulders and down his arms until he was bare, then she made a show of helping him put on his own shirt. "Tigris knows you're alive." She said curtly. "I've been taking care of you; I'm your right hand."
Corto's head rested against her shoulder for the briefest second, grateful. Then he straightened, and stood.
"I'll get that messenger for you now, sir." She said smoothly, and exited the room to let him change into his trousers.
Corto made a short evaluation of his body. The damage wasn't bad; he had sustained worse. His head though did feel like trash. He had been shot in the head once, the bullet cutting his scalp and cracking his skull, shot by a girl who was certain he was her enemy instead of his friend. His head felt just as bad now.
He smirked. An old gypsy in Gibraltar, friend of his mother's, had once said, when he was a child, that women would be the end of him. Then he wondered if this Pocahontas had any relation with the legend in America, back in Earth—in the Mystic Moon.
For a brief moment he wondered again how he had ended up in Gaea at all, and as soon as it had come the question was dismissed.
There was no more place for a man like Corto Maltese in Earth.
Instead, he had to focus on more important things. Mansur knew he was alive, but those who had attacked him had clearly left him for dead.
He had to take advantage of that situation.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Well, how about that? I've always wanted to make that scene about Allen
Namariel, out!