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The roast venison melted in Dhaval's mouth when he took a bite. It had seemed dubious to him when he saw Toq carry it back earlier that morning. And then it was just lying there on the kitchen counter—raw, bleeding, and with mud covering parts of it—altogether repulsive. And in his opinion, unfit for consumption by people. But now… His Anne had truly outdone herself this time. Then again, she could make even dirt taste delicious. He resisted the urge to wantonly shove his food into his face like the Klingon next to him was doing.
Anne sat on the other side of him as she always did. She was eating, but not with her usual enthusiasm. Her refined table manners naturally would not have permitted her to eat quickly to start with; but there was still something markedly different about her behavior. Dhaval had a pretty good idea why, and it most certainly wasn't because of the cuisine.
She knew something was going on—of course she did! He was well aware of how sharp her wit was; that was one of the many reasons why he had fallen so completely in love with her. In all likelihood, he had thought for some time now, she had set her sights on him from the start. And then, with her conniving wiles, she ensnared him. Her triumph was complete in that he was such a willing prisoner, who actually enjoyed being at her mercy. At least, most of the time he did.
Naturally, Dhaval was concerned. Tokath had specifically ordered him not to tell his wife what had transpired. So how did his commander expect him to hide it from her? He didn't know about Tokath's wife, but his had the baffling ability to utterly disarm him by merely flashing that gorgeous smile of hers. And if that didn't work, she could get it out of him when they went to bed that night if she really wanted to.
Dhaval took another bite of the meat, trying to concentrate on how delicious it was and enjoy himself. He was determined to forget about his dilemma for the time being, for the very reason that he knew there was nothing for it. Maybe she would let the matter drop without even bringing it up again? Or maybe the planet would stop rotating. In either case, he was doomed. So much for Romulan superiority over humans, he thought sarcastically.
His distress was interrupted when a question was posed to his wife. "Why didn't you make another of your cakes, Anne?" asked L'Kor.
"Sorry, I didn't have the time," she said, still somewhat distracted. "But who says the feast has to be over tonight?" She deliberately straightened her posture and smiled. "I'll make one for tomorrow," she promised.
"What will it be?" Ba'el asked excitedly.
"Hmm," Anne thought. "I don't know… Ideas, anyone?"
"An arboreal needle snake," suggested Valdus with a taunting smirk. The room burst into laughter.
Anne acerbically narrowed her eyes at him. "Sorry, Centurion," she said, still annoyed that he called her husband out the night before, "It's just not possible."
"You cannot do it?" he challenged.
"I don't have the counter space," she replied with a carefree air. Everyone else laughed even harder.
Before Valdus could retort, Gi'ral stood. "I believe it's Eviess' turn to read tonight," she prompted.
The lieutenant nodded in assent. "What would you like to hear, Ba'el?" she asked.
"Surprise me," Ba'el answered.
Dhaval thought quickly. This could be his only chance to distract his wife. "'The Bluenose,'" he suggested. He was well-aware of Anne's pride in her Canadian background, and of her particular fondness for that legendary sailing ship. She had spoken of it often, though the poem/song had not yet been read at dinner. Anne smiled at him, and Dhaval smiled back. Success!
"Yes," said Ba'el, "I've wanted to hear that for some time now." She turned to Toq. "You'll like this," she told him. The Klingon man leaned forward to listen.
Lieutenant Eviess nodded again, found the correct page, and began. By now, she was a practiced reader, and had developed her expression considerably.
Once again with the tide she slips her lines
Turns her head and comes awake
Where she lay so still there at Privateer's Wharf
Now she quickly gathers way
She will range far south from the harbour mouth
And rejoice with every wave
Who will know the Bluenose in the sun?
Feel her bow rise free of Mother Sea
In a sunburst cloud of spray
That stings the cheek while the rigging will speak
Of sea-miles gone away
She is always best under full press
Hard over as she'll lay
And who will know the Bluenose in the sun?
That proud, fast Queen of the Grand Banks Fleet
Portrayed on every dime
Knew hard work in her time...hard work in every line
The rich men's toys of the Gloucester boys
With their token bit of cod
They snapped their spars and strained to pass her by
But she left them all behind
Now her namesake remains to show what she has been
What every schoolboy remembers and will not come again
To think she's the last of the Grand Banks Schooners
That fed so many men
And who will know the Bluenose in the sun?
So does she not take wing like a living thing
Child of the moving tide
See her pass with grace on the water's face
With clean and quiet pride
Our own tall ship of great renown still lifts unto the sky
Who will know the Bluenose in the sun?
H'dean, another lieutenant, spoke above the applause. "A very appropriate poem for you, Eviess," he remarked evenly. One could not tell by his tone whether the comment was meant to goad or to complement the reader.
Eviess shot a dirty look at him, assuming the former. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
The man smirked. "I mean you always get the juice on your nose when you eat osol fruit," he said nonchalantly.
"You have a point, H'dean," L'Kor agreed with a hearty laugh.
Eviess narrowed her eyes. She didn't speak a word, however. She didn't have to; her expression said it all. H'dean would regret his wisecrack. In the meantime, her counterpart and the rest of the crowd enjoyed it.
Dhaval laughed along with everyone else. Then his smile faded when he noticed Toq go outside. He discreetly followed him out into the damp cold. On the terrace, they could still hear Eviess and H'dean going at it, while everyone else continued to snicker.
"You know," Dhaval said to Toq, "when I first came here, I thought they were married."
Toq chuckled lowly, his breath forming clouds in front of his face. "They've always been like that, and I've known them my whole life. They were under Tokath's command at Khitomer. Both of their spouses were killed in that battle."
"Hmm," the young Romulan mused.
"So why did you follow me?" Toq asked. "You want to talk, don't you?"
"Yes," Dhaval answered, swallowing his pride. "I want to ask your advice about Anne."
The Klingon looked at his Romulan friend in surprise. "You need to ask my advice? You're the one who's married!" And then he chuckled. "Sorry, but I know nothing of humans and their ways."
"I don't mean that. Anne is curious about why we were out with Tokath and Valdus last night," he explained. "She has perceived that there is more to it than your hunting ritual."
Toq nodded. "Ah," he understood. "You're trying to be truthful to your wife without disobeying orders." He considered his friend's quandary. "It's simple," he said after a moment. "You must distract her tonight." The young Klingon grinned mischievously. "You know how," he hinted.
"That may do for tonight," Dhaval countered. "But what about tomorrow? Eventually, she's going to ask. You don't know how tenacious she is. I can't hide it from her forever." The man was desperate.
Toq laughed. "Well, my friend, I can sympathize. But I have no other suggestions." He leaned against the building. "Perhaps you should ask Eviess and H'dean," he joked.
Dhaval crossed his arms in frustration. "You're no help," he sneered. And then it came to him. A large smile spread across his face. He raised a brow in Toq's direction.
"What is it?" his friend asked.
"I have thought of a solution. It's perfect!" The Romulan rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "But I need your help, Toq. It will be your job to bring Ba'el into the scheme—but don't tell her, of course. You know how they're inseparable."
"Yes," Toq agreed, "They're like two birds squawking in the jungle! So what did you have in mind, Dhaval?"
Toq continued to lean against the wall after Dhaval left to join the others. He laughed softly to himself. Ba'el was serious when she told him that the youngest guard was quite the prankster. This was going to be wickedly fun. Anne would be too absorbed in the plot to ask questions about the previous night. And so would Ba'el. It was a brilliant plan.
His conspiring was interrupted when Ba'el came to check on him. Toq felt his heart begin to beat loudly. She was without exception the most magnificent woman he knew. And soon, she would be his mate. The Klingon's breast swelled at the thought.
"Why are you doing out here all by yourself, Toq?" she asked.
"Thinking," he answered with a warm smile.
Ba'el returned his smile. "About what?"
"You," he answered. And then his smile faded. "I've been wondering."
She waited patiently for him to continue.
"I'm not reader, Ba'el," he admitted finally. "I never have been. You know that. But I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," she answered sweetly. "As long as you don't mind listening to me read to you on occasion."
He face brightened. "That I would enjoy."
Then Ba'el's expression became more serious. "Toq, what's going on?" she asked bluntly. "And don't say it's nothing, because I know that's not true. No one else will tell me. If we're going to marry then we must be honest with each other. Who else can I turn to, if not you?"
Toq sighed. Now he understood how Dhaval felt. He met his future mate's eyes. "Ba'el, I can't tell you…"
The girl held his gaze. "You're under my father's orders, aren't you?" she suddenly understood.
"Yes," he confirmed, "so please don't ask me any more questions."
"Alright," she said with a slight frustration creeping into her tone.
Toq took Ba'el's hands into his. "Truly, my glorious love," he told her, "I don't know. And I can't speak of it."
"I understand," her tone softened. "Do you really think I'm glorious?" She blinked expectantly at him.
He resisted the urge to squeeze her hand until her blood trickled to the ground. Instead, he bared his teeth at her. "Yes. But as with the other matter, don't question me any further."
(I don't own Stan Rogers' "Bluenose." Otherwise, I would be living the life I'm accustomed to!)