Florida Knight (39 page)

Raven glanced along the sidelines, had an unaccustomed moment of feeling like a fool. Max looked as if he were almost as gleeful about the battle as the fighter jocks. Alys, too, seemed fascinated by the action, and not the least bit fearful. The same rapt expression was on the faces of the wives, girlfriends, and LALOC members lining the field. Except for one wife whose attention was focused on her nursing infant. Satisfied smiles played over the faces of the remainder of the crowd as well. Male, female, old or young, everyone was enjoying the tournament finale. Except Raven. FHP Lieutenant Michael Turco. Who wanted to get his hands on the person who had turned everything sour . . . and slowly, painfully, wring his blasted neck.

Which wouldn’t solve the problem of Cat fighting in tournaments. But it’d make him feel a damn sight better.

Raven didn’t hide his sigh of relief when Drakon finally called a halt to the mayhem on the field. But by the time he saw Cat walking toward him, his scowl had escalated from fierce to ferocious.
By God, she wasn’t going to live long enough to fight another tournament.

And then, because he was Michael Turco, he remembered that reason was what separated man from beasts. “Nice going, Lady Knight,” he said, and began to help Cat remove her armor.

As Cat took in the picnic table littered with pine cones, sticks, globs of peanut butter and spilled bird seed, she didn’t know whether to wince or laugh. Thank goodness she’d changed into her oldest, most easily washable gown. But the intent faces of the eight children who were making bird feeders to hang in trees and bushes around the campground were so appealing, she was forced to admit the mess didn’t matter. Working with children hurt. But maybe not so much today when there was faint stirring hope. A hope she’d thrust far down under her layers of fear so it couldn’t blossom into something wonderful that could rise up and bite her. Perhaps . . . just perhaps there were children in her future after all.

“Cat, Cat, look at mine!” Sean shouted. “Can we go hang it up?”

Since many of the trees with branches low enough to hang the bird treats on were down by the lake, Alys had designated Cat as guard. “Sure,” she said, waving a group of four in front of her. She smiled as Sean turned away from the trees, choosing to hang his creation on the chain link fence around the swimming pool. Another child scrambled up on a wooden bench swing at the playground and hung her bird treat from the suspension bar. Cat wasn’t at all sure what the campground’s resident ranger was going to think of that, but as a believer in creative thinking, she wasn’t about to scold.

When the mess on the picnic table was finally cleaned up, Alys announced they were now going to have fighter practice. Every eye gleamed, even those of Karen, the one superior, semi-bored preteen who had deigned to join the children’s activities. Fighter practice was genuine excitement, a rare event in the annals of LALOC children’s events. A half hour from now, they were scheduled to be “attacked” by barbarians. They had to be prepared.

Cat ducked into a nearby cabin, brought out a cardboard box overflowing with weapons. Each sword was so padded with foam cushioning that the broad end was three or four times the width of a LALOC fighter’s weapon. Each and every one was, of course, heavily wrapped in duct tape. Since she, Alys, and Max had made them, and Cat had kept the box locked in her van until an hour earlier, she was fairly confident the weapons were innocuous. Nonetheless, ignoring outstretched hands and eager faces, Cat carefully squeezed the full length of each sword before handing it over. No mistakes here. No metal masquerading as innocent rattan or foam.

The children paired up, and practice began with all the proper ceremony. “For honor and glory, lay on!” Cat shouted at the beginning of each match. Inevitably, the boys whose fathers were fighter jocks, were remarkably expert, knowing all the rules.
If you get hit in the leg, you have to fall to your knees, but you’re not dead.

One little girl, her sword stroke similar to a fairy waving a wand, naturally lost every bout. “You gotta put some muscle into it,” Sean coached with more than a dash of disgust. Although not her partner, he’d won all his battles against the boys and paused for a scornful look at the girls’ matches. Suddenly, Sean stepped forward, holding his sword out in front of him. “Come on, Megan, hit me, I dare you! Come on, come get me!” he taunted. “Hey, Megan. I’m the bad guy, I’m gonna hurt you. Hit me!”

Megan, no higher than Sean’s shoulder, swung with all her might. They moved into a flurry of blows, each of Megan’s stronger than the last. Not that Sean couldn’t have taken her at any moment, but the change in the girl was a marvel to behold. No longer hanging back, too polite to stand up for herself, she was swinging away with glee. An effective lesson, Cat decided. On more levels than one. And to think it was Sean, difficult independent Sean, who had delivered the message.

Grinning, Sean lowered his sword, allowing Megan to whack him a good one on the shoulder. Amazed, Cat could only shake her head. A boy of no more than ten practicing chivalry with an seven-year-old.

“Okay,” Alys announced on a note of barely repressed excitement, “I think”—she peered toward the woods on their left—“yes, I think they’re coming. Everybody get ready now. Swords up!”

Three monsters burst out of the woods, fearsome beast masks concealing their faces. All were armed with the same foam-padded swords as the children. Not a single child shrieked from anything other than glee. Cat, abandoning her role as marshal, stepped back and let it all happen. Although the attackers were hidden behind truly hideous masks, Cat had no trouble distinguishing Max, Raven and Thor by their respective size. One giant, one as lean and solid as a telephone pole, the third half a head shorter and boasting the shoulders of an ox.

Oh-oh. Thor’s enthusiasm was getting the better of him. His sword, padded though it was, was swinging too high, too hard. Cat shouted to him to cool it. The warning came too late. Karen, the twelve-year-old going on twenty, shrieked, stumbled backwards, crumpled onto the sidewalk, burst into tears. Not surprisingly, Raven reached her first, dragging off his mask as he covered the distance to the girl’s side, Max right behind him. Thor stood like a statue, mask in place, his right hand limp at his side, still clutching the foam-padded sword.

Cat stared at him. If only she could see beneath the mask. Surely this was a
genuine
accident. It had to be. The man they were looking for wouldn’t do anything this obvious. This stupid. Thor just forgot he was fighting children. Slowly, the LALOC knight dragged off his mask. He looked, Cat thought, as if he’d already been banished for life. Stricken blue eyes met hers.

“I-I didn’t . . . I never . . . I wouldn’t . . .” Thor stuttered.

“It’s okay,” Cat assured him. “I don’t think it’s serious.”
No, not Thor.

Not unless he was particularly clever . . .

While Raven examined Karen, Max patted the girl on the shoulder, murmured soothing words. Soon, he’d coaxed a shy peek in his direction, a gulp, a sniff . . . a smile. “It’s just her fingers,” Raven announced to the sea of faces around them. “Nothing’s broken as far as I can tell, but she should see a doctor just in case. Anybody know where her parents are?”

“I’ll find ’
em,” Sean volunteered. And he was off and running.

Max lifted Karen to her feet as if she weighed no more than a bag of chips. Cat noted that Raven stood back and let him do it. A smart man with a subtle mind, just a couple of more reasons why she liked him. Though
like
was perhaps no longer the operative word. As Max sat down beside Karen on the picnic bench, coaxing more smiles from her while they waited for her parents, Cat watched Raven out of the corner of her eye. He, in turn, never took his eyes off Max and the girl. He was seeing something more than she was, Cat was sure of it. Surely by now he should realize that Max, in spite of his size, was kind and gentle, and loved children. But maybe not. That still didn’t explain why he was staring at Max as if he were trying to see right through him. Odd. She’d have to ask him about it later. With a sigh, Cat moved forward to speak to Karen’s parents who were rushing toward them with Sean loping along in front of them.

Chapter 23

Fortunately for Thor, LALOC members tended to be stoic about injuries. He had been forgiven. Karen was smiling as her parents headed for their car and a long Saturday afternoon wait at the local ER. Raven and Cat, on their way back to their tent, stopped by the royal cabin to see if there was any news. “Nothing!” King Corwyn stormed. “Kiri waited half the day for a reply, Marius missed the tournament, and not a damn thing! Kiri’s still waiting to hear from
Michigan
, but she told me what she’s found so far.” Cautiously, the king checked the large open room, making sure no one else was within hearing distance. “Only two of our local vendors have been at the out-of-state fairs we’ve heard from so far. One is Rebecca . . . Well, right,” the king conceded when Cat snorted, “a ninety-pound wonder who sells tarot cards and pendulums isn’t my idea of a villain either. The other”—Corwyn paused for effect—“is Alfric.”

“Alfric? The guy who sells armor?” Raven sounded more thoughtful than triumphant over having a name at last.

Cat frowned. It was possible. Alfric wasn’t the most likable person she’d ever met. “But he wasn’t at the fair in
Manatee
Bay
,” she pointed out.

“He wasn’t
vending
,” Corwyn countered. “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. He lives near
Tampa
. Not much of a drive to
Manatee
Bay
.”

“Maybe . . . maybe he was turned down,” Cat suggested thoughtfully. “Being refused a vending spot at the
Manatee
Bay
fair would be a blow.”

“I still like Brocc,” Raven declared, chin set in a stubborn line. “Or maybe Thor.”

“Brocc was working right here in
Florida
during two of the out-of-state fairs where there was trouble,” Princess Kiriana stated firmly as she joined the group. “Thor, too. I checked them both.
And
Don Antonio. I mean, he’s sort of an odd one, isn’t he?”

Raven eyed the diminutive princess. “You could apply for the FHP, except you’d never make the height requirement.” He sketched a bow. “Thank you, my lady . . . or is it ‘your majesty’?”

“Your highness,” Kiriana corrected, her blue eyes twinkling up into his.

“Well, uh, your highness, thank you very much,” Raven said. “You’ve given us our first real lead. I’d appreciate it if you’d call me the minute you get a reply from
Michigan
.” He hauled a business card out of the pocket Cat had sewn into his baggy pants and handed it to the princess.

“Ah,” she said softly, glancing at the card, “so that’s why you said
FHP
.” Grinning, she waved the card in front of Corwyn’s nose. “A lieutenant, no less. And he called me, ‘your highness.’” Kiriana heaved an elaborate sigh, fluttered her eye lashes. Cat was tempted to use the LALOC princess for a floor mop.

Corwyn raised an eyebrow as if to say,
Hey, you didn’t give
me
a card
, but the thought never made it into words.

“Corwyn, Corwyn!” The king’s flunkey, the one Raven particularly disliked, panted out his message, seemingly too agitated to remember proper protocol. “Marius’s sword. We found it. Just now.”

“What d’you mean, you found it?” the king snapped. “Was it missing?”

“You’d better come look,” added one of the king’s honor guards, skidding up behind the flunkey. The cabin emptied swiftly, Queen Eilis and Prince Marius joining in as they all followed the two messengers. Their near-run faltered, however, when they approached the campfire circle overlooking the lake. Feet slowed, then moved cautiously forward for a closer look. In the center of a large ring of wooden benches was a cleared area where campfires were allowed. Where there should have been nothing more than a mound of ash and charred wood was, instead, a heap of white satin and fur. Piercing the once pristine folds was a shining ceremonial sword, stuck far into the ground, much as Excalibur was thrust into stone.

“God, it
is
mine,” Marius breathed. What’s all that white stuff?”

“My cloak!” Queen Eilis cried. “That’s my cloak.” Eyes wide, she turned to Corwyn, fear choking off her questions.

“Shit!” Raven muttered. Another prank? Or an outright challenge? A threat designed to cause trouble between the king and queen and their soon-to-be successors.

“I’m going to kill the bastard,” Corwyn announced as he tucked his terrified wife into his side.

“No!” Raven grabbed the king’s arm. “We’ve got nothing but speculation. Damn good digging by Kiriana, but insufficient for accusations. Let it go. You spook Alfric, and he’s long gone. And it just might be someone els
e,” Raven added as a clincher.

Corwyn shook him off, glared at the sword, its semi-precious stones and mirror polish glinting in the late afternoon sun. “How?” he demanded. “In broad daylight. How the hell did he manage it?”

“We only got here ninety minutes ago,” Marius added.

“We’re not dealing with a ghost,” Raven ground out, “just a damn clever crazoid. Nobody’s camped around here, right? He probably thought we wouldn’t find it until campfire tonight.”