Miami Days and Truscan by Gail Roughton Read Free Book Online Page A

alone. Not yet. It is too soon. Please. You will stay here until lammas.” A direct order, relayed through Johnny. I knew it.
    “But Kiera!” I wailed. “I won’t have anything to do!”
    She smiled and held out the parcel she carried. “My McKay said you would say that.”
    I took the parcel and unwrapped it. Manuscripts. In English.
    “Where’d these come from?”
    “My McKay. He—I do not know how to say it. They are some of the stories of Trusca.”
    “Translations,” I offered. “He’s done translations.”
    “Yes! You will be all right now?”
    “Well, I won’t say I’m happy about it, but yes. I’ll be all right.”
    “That is good. I will send hot water for your bath. In good time for tonight.” She started out of the room and turned back. “Wear the deep green.”
    “What else?” I said and lay down on the bed.
    “What else indeed?” Kiera smiled and was gone.
    The steaming water arrived on schedule. Kiera did not. Instead, she sent her first assistant Saraya who was a good six foot tall and made me feel like a dwarf. With smiles and gestures she indicated that she was in charge of my coiffure this night, and I submitted gracefully. After all, there wasn’t much choice about it.
    Johnny came to fetch me and whistled his appreciation. I could understand why. For some reason or other, Saraya had not been content with my usual adaption of Truscan hair fashion, and had woven the intricate braids with ropes of stones, none of which correlated exactly to anything I was familiar with, but bore a striking resemblance to emeralds and seed pearls.
    “Why the fancy costuming tonight, Johnny?” He was in something more than his usual garb himself, in a brown and gold outfit of the velvet-like material which I had already observed was reserved for the elite.
    “Dalph’s home.”
    “He comes home every month from these patrols, doesn’t he?”
    “Yeah, well. But every time he does is one more month the Pigs didn’t capture Trusca. Cause for a celebration. Don’t you think?”
    “I—” I broke off as we reached the top of the staircase and paused. “Good Lord! What’s going on?”
    The hall was festooned with greenery that sent out the sharp and fragrant odors of the forest. The high table was covered with flowers, the pick of the considerable variety offered by the Rata gardens. Everyone was in clothing comparable to Johnny’s, and Dalph stood by his chair, the centerpiece in this large hall of medieval splendor. He was dressed in green velvety material, identical to my own, trimmed in gold. I searched my vocabulary. He was…resplendent.
    “Well, this is sort of special. Your induction, if you will. Didn’t have time for it when you first got here.”
    “Induction?”
    “Little ceremony, that’s all. For the general populace, not to mention Baka. Marks you as under Dalph’s protection. You swear fealty. Public relations thing. You understand about that, don’t you?”
    “Yeah, sure. So what do I do?”
     “Follow my lead. You’ll have to repeat some phrases. You can do that, can’t you?”
    “Why not?” I said, and he led me on down, down the staircase, down to the center table. Down to Dalph.
    The whole crowd rose as Johnny transferred my hand to Dalph’s.
    “Curtsy,” Johnny instructed from the corner of his mouth.
    “Say what ?”
    “Curtsy to Dalph. Remember, Tess, this is Trusca.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding!” I shot back from the corner of my own mouth.
    “Now!” he said and tugged my arm suddenly, so that I really had no choice.
    Dalph smiled slightly and raised me up, turning me to face another individual, one I had not met as yet. I reminded myself that these people and more particularly, this man, had saved my life, the remainder of which would be spent here, in this place. A curtsy and a few words weren’t much to give in return.
    The man in front of us spoke briefly and then addressed Dalph directly, who repeated the phrases that the man spoke. Then