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

he turned to me and spoke more slowly.
    “Repeat it,” Johnny said, the words again coming from the corner of his mouth.
    “I don’t think I can,” I said. I could correlate none of the speech to the few words and phrases I had picked up.
    Johnny spoke quickly to the man, whoever he was, and he repeated himself, a few words at a time, very slowly. I think I complied and, in any event, my attempts to reproduce the words must have been successful because the crowd, as one, jumped to its feet and roared. Shouts of “Trusca! Trusca!” filled the room.
    “Doesn’t take much to make them happy, does it?” I whispered to Johnny.
    “I guess that all depends on your definition of much, Tess,” he said, a strange expression on his face. “I mean, you just pledged your life to Trusca.”
    “Well, haven’t we all? Not much option about it, is there?”
    Johnny turned away and muttered something that I didn’t quite catch, though I could have sworn it was something on the lines of “remind you you said that tomorrow.”
    “I beg your pardon?” I said.
    “Nothing,” he said. “Here comes the first course. Are you ready?”
    I had thought I was beginning to become accustomed to Truscan cuisine, which was nothing if not plentiful, but this! The trays never stopped! I saw every food I’d seen in the past four days and a lot more that I hadn’t; game birds roasted in their feathers, huge haunches of the meat I correlated to venison, meat pies and pastries, sweets, and fruits.
    “Johnny, Camelot couldn’t have had any more!”
    “They can throw a party right, that’s for sure,” he affirmed, upending his cup, which now that I thought about it, he had upended considerably more often than I had ever seen him indulge. I knew the brew was potent, though I didn’t know how it corresponded exactly with the alcoholic beverages of my world.
    “You’re getting drunk!” I accused.
    “Try a few cups yourself, darlin’. Live a little.”
    I did try one or two, and through it all, Randalph of Trusca sat on his massive throne, smiling slightly, and looking paternally down on his Court. Finally, he rose and the Great Hall quieted. Immediately. Completely. Again, his speech was far too rapid for me to translate at all, and he took my hand and gave a gentle tug. I assumed he was again presenting me to his Court as his new retainer and rose immediately, smiling on the crowd. After all, it could have been worse. I could have been in Pria, where, in Johnny’s concise summation, I might have been supper. Then he turned, still holding my hand, and made to leave the table. He threw a few words over his shoulder to Johnny, who rose himself, and followed. We headed for the stairs.
    “Where are we going?”
    “Upstairs.”
    “I can see that. Tell him I don’t need an escort to my room, and I’d sort of like to stay for the rest of the party.”
    I could see over my shoulder that the tables were being pulled over to the side, and a few men were grabbing what I assumed to be Truscan instruments, something on the order of lutes, or guitars, a few violins; in any event, the Truscan equivalents thereof. Obviously, some dancing was about to take place.
    You’re not going to your room, darlin’.”
    We were at the top of the stairs by this time and heading down a hall. A hall I’d never been down. Because it led to—
    “Wait a minute!!” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Then where am I—”
    Dalph tugged again, not harshly, just insistently.
    “Get down the hall a little further. I’ll explain.”
    “You think?” I threw out as we continued. We paused halfway down the corridor, and Dalph stopped. He turned to Johnny and nodded his head. Permission was obviously given to speak.
    “Well?”
    “Well, darlin’,” Johnny started. I didn’t like the hang-dog expression on his face. “You see, the thing is—”
    “The thing is he’s taking me to his chambers, and nobody told me the damn fealty oath went that far!” I