“I’ll stay here with Mirta,” Bast said, grinning. She winked at him and grinned wider. “Why don’t you take Megan back and show her her quarters?”
“I’d like Shanea and Amber,” Megan said, pointing at two of the other women.
“Bast, sort out the embark, will you?” Herzer said as he scrambled into the boat. “Make way. Head for the Hazhir.”
Megan tried to sort out her feelings as they headed for the ship. She didn’t believe in love at first sight, but her reaction couldn’t be anything else. Well, maybe lust. Herzer was the most… masculine man she could remember ever meeting. It had taken her a long time to even notice that his left hand was missing, replaced by some sort of complex prosthetic. His face was also heavily scarred, one scar running from his ear to chin with another on the opposite cheek. And at some point his nose had been broken; it was slightly squashed. Despite that, he was handsome, very handsome. Too handsome. She had to get this under control.
“Major… Herrick was it?” Megan asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Herzer answered, then cleared his throat.
“I’ve heard the name before,” Megan said, suddenly. “Paul hated you almost as much as he hated Duke Talbot.”
Herzer suddenly grinned and she realized that he was far younger than he at first appeared, maybe her own age. She had taken him for nearly a hundred.
“You don’t know how much that pleases me, ma’am,” Herzer said, still grinning. “And may I congratulate you on your accomplishment?”
“It was… ugly,” Megan said, shuddering at more than the wind off the water.
“Killing is,” Herzer said gently, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around her. It was still warm from his body and was filled with his smell. She wrapped it more tightly around herself as much from the pure sensation as against the cold. For some reason she was no longer really feeling it. In fact, she felt like she was running a fever. God this was bad.
“I’d never killed anyone before,” Megan said, leaning against him suddenly.
“Killing is a bit like sex,” Herzer said, gently. “You always remember your first. After that it tends to blur a bit.” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry if…”
“I hope I never get to the point that it blurs,” Megan said, leaning back and looking up at him. “But I’m glad that there are good people that can do the job when necessary.”
“Good is a relative term, ma’am,” he said with a shrug.
“I told you to call me Megan,” Megan said watching his face. He was half turned away from her, watching the approaching ship.
“Good is a relative term… Megan,” he repeated, working his jaw. “Most soldiers that are good at what they do are stone bastards. And I’ll happily add myself, and Duke Edmund, to that category.”
“Then for the time being you’re my stone bastard,” Megan said, suddenly laughing. “Thank you for coming to pick us up. What’s with the dragons?”
“There are New Destiny forces nearby, ma… Megan,” Herzer said, gesturing to the coxswain. “If it came to blows I wanted my dragons up. By the way, we should have loaded you last. That way you would be first to disembark. As it is, we’re going to have to do some shuffling around.”
“Your dragons?” Megan asked.
“Commander Gramlich’s, actually,” Herzer said, frowning at the bodies in the way of getting her to the front of the boat. “I’m the XO of the dragon contingent.”
“I thought you were a Blood Lord?” Megan said as the boat pulled up alongside a floating platform. There was a short set of stairs up to the ship’s maindeck and she could see a group of seamen formed up in a double line.
“Oh, I am,” Herzer said, frowning. “But Blood Lord is a state of mind rather than a job description. Right now I’m the XO of the dragon contingent. Ma’am, would you mind if I got somewhat personal and just lifted you over the side? That’s going to be the easiest way to do this.”
“That’s fine,” Megan said, standing up carefully in the rocking boat. Now that she had time to notice it at least part of her internal distress was nausea. She really hoped she wasn’t going to throw up in front of everyone.
Herzer put his hand and prosthetic around her waist and lifted her as if she was a feather over the side of the boat and onto the small platform. As he did the bodyguard scrambled past some seamen and took up station behind her.
“Ladies, if you could exit at the front,” Herzer said, gesturing to the dock.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Bast boarded the last boat out with Mirta and one of the other women. She slapped the seamstress on the arm and shook her head.
“I can’t believe Paul Bowman would be stupid enough to take you for some sweet young thing,” Bast said, grinning.
“I can play the game as well as you, ancient one,” Mirta grinned back. “By the way, did you see Megan? She looked as if someone hit her between the eyes with an oar.”
“Herzer was just as bad,” Bast said, shaking her head. “It’s like the first time Edmund saw Daneh. Sheida had just been killing time, but her sister, wooo-hoo! Going to have to break in new boy-toy.”
“They’re both trying so hard to play like nobody notices,” the other girl said.
“Bast, this is Ashly,” Mirta said, her mouth working. “We’ve had our times, but right now we’re in a state of armed truce.”
“Mirta,” Ashly said, shaking her head.
“Oh, can see this is going to be a lovely voyage,” Bast said, chuckling. “If it comes down to cat-fights, though, putting money on Mirta.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time building up a reputation for harmlessness,” Mirta said, frowning. “I’m not sure I’m up to changing that now. So are we going straight to Norau?” she continued, looking over at Bast and ignoring Ashly.
“Don’t know,” Bast admitted. “Think not. Large battle going on. Invasion force reaches Norau… today, maybe tomorrow. Will need the carrier.”
“So we’re going from captivity to a battle?” Ashly snapped. “That’s insane.”
“Whole world insane,” Bast said with a grin. “Did you not know?”
“This is just insane,” Rachel muttered tiredly.
She still was the only doctor in the hospital and as the enemy fleet approached, the injury rate had just gone up. She had taken to sleeping on the ward rather than in the rather nice suite that had been set aside for her quarters; since she knew she was going to be called in just about every night it wasn’t worth the fifty-meter walk.
In addition to the injury cases, the legion had been sending over their post-op patients. On one level it made sense; the hospital was far better quarters than a leaky tent. But, on the other hand, she didn’t have the staff to handle the soldiers as well.
During the day, between one crisis and another, she had been training her staff, most of the time, unfortunately, in practical exercises. The two PAs were barely adequate as nurses and the nursing staff was only up to simple instructions. She had finally had to open up the internal injury patient but by the time she did it was too late and the experience was nauseating. The nurses didn’t even know the instruments or internal structure; expecting them to assist in a difficult operation was clearly a bad idea. But even with the best nursing staff there was no way she could have saved the patient. His spleen had been ruptured and there was damage to the liver. He’d survived the operation but he’d just… gone during recovery.
She’d set the two best of them to memorizing internal diagrams and had them assist on two “easier” operations, putting together comminuted fractures.