Scarlet From Gold (Book 3) (25 page)

“Is it Mitment?” Mirra asked again.

“She’s gone,” Marco sighed in relief.

“Let’s go in the kitchen and get a bite to eat.  I’m famished,” Mirra shrugged off whatever unknown interactions the ghost had with her new husband.  She linked her arm within Marco’s, and the feel of her soft flesh against his instantly gave him a calm sense of relief.

“I’m hungry too,” he agreed, and the two of them went to the kitchen to snack for several minutes.

After they sat at the table and finished their food, Marco looked up and saw Mirra looking at him, a tentative smile on her face.

“Shall we go to bed now?” he asked, and to his own ears his voice sounded shaky.

Mirra’s smile widened.  “I am absolutely ready,” she agreed, and stood up.

Marco grinned back at her, and together the couple walked to the staircase of their residential tower.  Mitment stood there at the foot of the stairs.  “I’ll stand guard here to make sure no one comes up to disturb you,” she said with a wink as the couple passed her.

“The maid took Sybele to her room for the evening,” Mirra said casually as they reached the floor where their rooms waited.  “I hope you don’t mind,” she added.

“I’ll miss her,” Marco said with a straight face.  “But not tonight, I think,” he grinned, as they reached the door of his room, and held it open for Mirra.

“So tell me what the ghost was discussing with you,” Mirra said, and then Marco closed the door.

Chapter 17 – The Morning After

“So you and Sybele will come to the palace with me today?” Marco asked the next morning.  He and Mirra lay together in the bed in his room, nibbling on the food from a breakfast plate that had been left outside the bedroom door.  “Lady Iasco will be surprised,” he said, as they continued the conversation they had begun the night before.

“It will be nice to spend a few more hours with you before you leave us again,” Mirra sighed, then rested her head on Marco’s shoulder.

“Let’s get dressed and start getting packed for the trip,” Marco said.

“We have breakfast with the residents of the estate, remember, silly?” Mirra rolled up against him.  “Sweetness will be very annoyed if we don’t go down and encourage everyone to eat her food.  We have to make a public appearance.”

Marco groaned at the thought.  He was infatuated with Mirra, and marriage to her, but appearing in public for official duties as the marquess was something he found little joy in.  Still, he told himself, the people of the estate deserved to know and see him as their lord.

“Sybele must be wondering where I am,” Mirra answered.  I suppose we must get going, but this is so wonderful to be here with you.” She kissed his cheek, then threw back the covers, and pulled on the robe that Marco had provided.  “You go get Sybele and I’ll get dressed.  After breakfast we can start getting ready for the trip,” she directed.

Three hours later they rode out of the castle grounds, Marco and Mirra and Sybele, along with a horse that Mitment rode, and six attendants who Marco brought along to assure that Mirra would have suitable safety to escort her home when she returned to Sant Jeroni without him.

Mitment sat atop the horse that appeared empty to all the riders in the group except Marco.  She rode along silently for an hour, then finally urged her horse up near Marco’s.   “So, did you sleep well last night?” she asked.

Marco blushed faintly.

“Her ladyship will want to know that you’re rested and alert when we get to the city.  That’s the only reason I ask,” the guard spirit grinned, then let her horse drift back into its position in the group, and they rode on.

By mid-afternoon they reached the city.  “Let’s stay at Gabrielle’s!” Mirra suggested, with an eager tug on Marco’s sleeve.  “It will be so wonderful to see her again!”

“I don’t know if she’s got enough room,” Marco stated dubiously.

“We could stay up in your old room, under the gables,” Mirra continued.  “We could sleep out on the roof I suppose, but I wouldn’t want to scandalize the neighbors!”

“Ah, I see,” Mitment commented.

Marco was deliriously happy.  A large part of his mind was simply content to bask in the joy of having married Mirra; the suddenness of his proposal, and the immediacy of her acceptance, made it seem to be a perfect, fated ending to their romance, which had been both short and long.  Now the gentle, beautiful woman at his side was truly married to him, and would trust in him and be sure to be waiting for him when he returned home from his next adventure.

That next adventure was uncertain.  Iasco was going to assign him to some task, and he would go out and seek to accomplish it.  That sounded simple, he thought, but in the back of his mind he remembered the simple assignment he had received from the spirit of Ophiuchus, to go collect a scale from the Echidna; that simple assignment had nearly left him dead time and time again.

“Marco!” Mirra’s voice was louder than it had been, and he realized she was looking at him; she had spoken, and he hadn’t paid attention.

“One night of marriage and already bored with her, my lord?” Mitment asked snidely.  “So the truth about men is revealed even in the Golden Hand.”

“Yes,” Marco answered as he reconstructed Mirra’s question, “I’m sure Gabrielle would allow some of our people to stay in the spare room that Glaze used.  We probably can fit everyone in if Carter and Woods can sleep downstairs in the workshop,” he agreed, thinking that those two of the guards were used to much less genteel domiciles than Gabrielle’s home would provide.

They continued to ride through the countryside and entered the city gates in mid-afternoon, then rode through the familiar streets towards the square where Gabrielle’s shop was located, next to Applied’s Alchemy Shop.  Marco and Mirra and all the rest dismounted in the square, a neighborhood that seldom saw mounted visitors, and they went to the door.  The blinds were down in all the windows, and the door was locked.

“Bang on it Marco,” Mirra urged, and he complied by knocking loudly.

“I could go around back and climb in,” he suggested a minute later, when no one came to the door.  “Just like old times,” he gave a warm smile in remembering the nights he had regularly snuck out of the shop to go swimming with Kieweeooee.

Just then there was a rattle at the door, before it swung partially open.  Gabrielle stood in the doorway, peering out.  “I’m sorry, the shop is closed,” she told her visitors.

Then she realized who she was seeing.  “Oh heavens!” she smiled, and her eyes sparkled immediately.  “Oh heavens, look who’s here to visit!”  She looked around Marco and Mirra at the others who stood behind them.  “Gracious, so many visitors!  This is delightful.  Won’t you come in?” she asked as she opened the door wide to allow them to enter.

Marco and Mirra held hands, after Mirra took Sybele from her maid, and the small family entered the shop together.  Mirra leaned forward while holding Sybele and hugged Gabrielle tightly as soon as they were inside the front of the shop.

“Young lady, what’s this I see on your finger?” Gabrielle asked as they broke their hug.

“We’re married, Gabrielle!  Just yesterday!  Marco asked me and we had the ceremony in the evening,” Mirra gushed.

“You married this pretty girl?” Gabrielle looked over at Marco.  “I saw that coming a long time ago, ever since those days when she would go up to wake you up in the mornings and then fix your breakfast.  You’re a lucky boy to have such a sweet girl.  You’re both very lucky to have each other,” she said.

She hugged Marco, then spoke again.  “Who are your friends?” she asked, and was quickly introduced.

“We’re going to the Duke’s palace this evening, and we wondered if we could spend the night with you again, just like in the old days,” Marco requested.

“Of course, of course!  I’d be upset if you stayed anywhere else.  We’ll make sure there’s space for everyone,” their hostess declared.

“Marco and I would like to stay upstairs in his old room,” Mirra said.

“Of course you would!” Gabrielle agreed, and they spent the next several minutes showing the servants from Sant Jeroni around the shop to the various rooms.  Marco and Mirra and Sybele sat up in the attic room for several minutes, as the newly married couple reminisced about their days in the house.

“We should go to the palace,” Marco said at last.  “Iasco said the audience with the Duke would be this evening, so we better go find her.”

Mirra insisted on changing clothes, putting on a gown that she had brought with her, one that shimmered with a silver patina atop layers of lace, making Marco confident that no one at the palace would take a look at him as all eyes would be focused solely on her.

They rode to the palace, and were admitted.  Marco thought that they were admitted more for Mirra’s looks than for his title, but he brushed that aside and asked a palace functionary for directions to where he could find the Lady Iasco.  Informed that she was in the western audience hall with the Duke, Marco and his entourage headed in that direction.

When they arrived in the audience hall, the Duke was not present, and dozens of nobles were milling around, waiting for his arrival.

“There’s the Lady,” Mitment spoke, the first time Marco had heard her speak in some time.  “Will you go tell her that I’m with her now?” the spirit asked.

“Excuse me,” Marco said to Mirra, then he strode across the hall to where the Lady Iasco was waited upon by a dozen members of the court, mostly women, with a few husbands included.

“Ah, here’s my hero,” Iasco told the circle as Marco arrived.  “I want to introduce you all to the pre-eminent alchemist of our age,” she said.  “Here is Marco Golden Hand, the Marquis of Sant Jeroni, for now, with greater titles to follow.”

Marco bowed, wondering what titles could await him, then he dismissed the thought from his mind as he turned to Iasco and bowed deeply.  “My lady, Mitment has returned to join you,” he told her, then added, “and many thanks for sending her.  She helped to save my life.”

“Helped?” Mitment squawked, “I single-handedly did all the work.”

“Thank you Golden Hand,” Iasco told him.  “There was a hint of jealousy in your household, and I thought Mitment would be an asset.”

The women standing around them listened with interest to the manner in which Iasco treated Marco as such a trusted friend.

“How are things in the temple, with Folence away on the island?” Marco asked.

“The temple is functioning very well,” Iasco said, aware that they were being listened to, and that her words would be repeated.

Just then there was a fanfare from the far side of the room, and the Duke stepped into the room, standing on a raised dais along the main wall.  “Let’s move in that direction, shall we, Golden Hand?” Iasco addressed Marco.

He offered his arm to her, and together they walked through the crowd in the room.  Marco glanced and saw that Mirra was surrounded by a large gallery of men who were all watching her with admiration.   She caught his glance and smiled at him with a warm flash of her white teeth.

“So what is this ornament I see on your wrist?” Iasco asked.

Marco looked down at the silver band Mirra had placed on his arm as a token of their marriage.  “We were marred yesterday!” he smiled.  “Mirra had this token ready for our wedding day.”

“Ah Marco, you’re a lucky man,” Iasco said softly.  “I’m glad you had the chance to marry your beautiful woman before the battles commence.”

“Here is our most revered guest,” the Duke announced to the crowd as Iasco reached the front of the crowd.  “And I’m delighted to see that she has brought back our long-missing champion, the Marquess of Sant Jeroni!  Thank you for joining us; we’ve wondered where you’ve been.  Baronet Gustaf, Duke Priorato, and a few others reported that you were a hero along the pilgrimage route this spring, much to their benefit.”

Iasco motioned for Marco to escort her up the short flight of steps onto the stage.

“The Lady Iasco, High Priestess of the Cult of Ophiuchus, has given me grave news, and called upon Barcelon to participate in a campaign.  I will allow her to announce to you what she seeks, and then we will begin to sort through the details of what our nation must do to prepare,” the Duke announced loudly.

His words set the room buzzing with speculation, but the crowd immediately silenced itself as Iasco stepped to the front and center.

“Thank you, Duke Siplin, for your pledge of Barcelon’s support,” she turned to the Duke to speak first, then turned to the audience.

“The Duke has heard my tale of the great evil that poses a threat to all the cities and society with which your nation conducts commerce.  He recognizes the terrible danger that is looming on the horizon,” Iasco told the crowd.  “But all of you deserve to know as well why your Duke will lead an army to the field of battle.

“Far to the south is the land of the Docleatae, whose ruler is Moraca, an ancient and powerful man who is a sorcerer and a friend of the powers of darkness.  He has led his people out to conquer all others, and they have been very successful.  They have conquered the Kingdom of Prester John and the Kingdom of Rurita, and there are others as well.  Most recently, they have conquered Athens, and they do not plan to stop there,” Iasco said.

“Moraca will continue to direct his armies to overwhelm, slay, and plunder all the people who come within his sight, and you are within his sight.  He has already sent the Corsairs out on raids to Nappanee and Marseals, as well as the Lion City and of course Barcelon.  Your brave hero here,” she placed a hand on Marco’s shoulder, “has fought them, and helped defeat them in your city.

“Because your Duke had the foresight to begin construction of a fleet, you have the means to fight for the freedom of Athens, and throw Moraca back, further away from your homes.  So your land is about to mobilize for war,” she summed up, “while I will go back to Ophiuchus, and while the Golden Hand will go out to meet with the leaders of Barcelon and Nappanee, and call upon them to also bring their armies to fight to liberate Athens from Moraca’s army.”