"So you don't want me coming."
Shanna closed her eyes, trying not to groan at Piotr's... what? Childishness, at least. She put a hand to her forehead. A headache was coming. She just knew it.
"I didn't say that."
"Yes, you did."
God. He was acting like the teen he was. She opened her eyes. The young man stood beside his horse, the animal now saddled, although Piotr looked like he might be ready to pull it off again. The palace stable around them was empty. Shanna took a deep breath.
"I said, I didn't plan on our vacation being a whole official mission with others. I wanted it to be just the two of us, alone. I didn't ask James to send you with us."
"So you don't want me-"
"Jesus Christ!" She stepped towards him, the teen's eyes widening in shock. She didn't know which always got to him more, when she swore, or when she called the King by his given name. Like she was going to bow before someone who had roomed a few doors down from her just months ago. Shanna put a hand on his shoulder. "Look. I love you. I love being with you. I want you to come with us. OK?"
She saw him take his own deep breath, trying to relax. He looked...
Piotr looked his age.
He was a kid. Shanna was in love with a kid. A boy a few years her junior who had never been in a real relationship before. Who had probably heard too many unrealistic tales of true love and the like. Who just didn't understand. Well, he'd have to learn. She'd help him, naturally. Not get pissed, give him time to adjust to all this. Shanna already had a sinking feeling, though. This, like all her other loves, was not going to end well.
"I'm sorry Shanna. I'm just..."
"I know."
"You spend all your time with them."
Fuck. Here she was trying to get this over with, the two of them back to a happy place, and he won't let it go. Well, she'd give it one more try.
"And this will be us spending time together." She smiled. "Tell you what. When we get to the city, I'll tell the others to go get some rooms, look around, and the two of us will find a nice inn with a big bed. We'll spend an entire day or two naked." Her smile became wickeder at his widening eyes, her hand sliding down his chest. "I'll even get on all fours for you..."
"Um... can we leave now?"
****
James would give half his Kingdom for a computer.
Not the good half. No. Without that, there'd be no need for the computer. Unless he wanted to play some games. God, video games. He missed video games. They were so much more fun that... this.
The king sat back in his desk chair, shoulders slumped as he looked down at the scattered papers. So much information. Even knowing as little as they did, it still overwhelmed. Grabbing one, he looked over at Ola, seated at a small desk on the left side of his office. The effeminate man looked as tired as James felt.
"Ola."
"Yes, Your Grace?" He turned to give James his full attention.
"If the trees in that grove Pawlak is lusting over are that good, yes, he can harvest them for housing. But, ONLY for housing, and only that one patch. I'm not having this island cleared of trees. We bring wood from the mainland, or build the rest of the housing there."
"Yes, Your Grace." Ola turned back to his desk, making a note. A page ran in, a chalkboard slate in his hand. He stopped before the King's desk.
"Flag message, Your Grace."
"Thank you."
The boy handed the slate over, bowing. Ola motioned him over.
"Here, Boy. Take this." He handed over a similar square slate with a white chalk message written in a clear, steady handwriting. "Make sure you wait to get confirmation from the shore."
"Yes, Sir." He ran off. James rubbed his eyes, yawning, before focusing on the just delivered message.
"The Captain reports that he has a good five miles of stragglers behind the main body. Maybe more. They're so disorganized, I wouldn't be surprised if they lost a third of those that tried to come." He shook his head. "Damn it. If I had known, we could have done something. Left small garrisons, at least on this side of the Orlan river."
"We thought they were dead," Ola said, rising. "All of us. Don't blame the Captain for that, Your Grace."
"My Grace knows better than to pass blame on an empty stomach. Could you send for something?"
"I need some records from my office. I'll send word to the kitchen as I pass." He bowed, turned, and followed the page out the door.
James leaned back, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. It was the seriousness of it all that was starting to get to him. The weight of the responsibility. If he did the wrong thing, made the wrong choice, people could... die. Actually die. Children. He could get children killed.
He stood, walking to a map tacked to the wall. It showed the island, Nowy Poland, with its infant city Nowy Warsaw. North of them, visible with the naked eye from the shore, the unnamed continent, the town of Fredrick (named after his father) spread out around a small harbor. Twenty miles west of the town, the Orlan river ran into the sea, the Kikker city of Saribit resting on the western bank. A hundred miles further west, the Warta river also ended its southward journey at the sea. His eye traveled up it, past towns, small cities, until it reached the city that was no more. The centuries old home of the only humans in this world, where the Wisla joined the Warta river.
Nowy Kiev.
How many humans crossed the Warta weeks ago? How many might still be crossing? Traveling west, for almost a fortnight, only to see the mighty Orlan river in their path. How many women and children, with only what food they could carry, were staggering down wagon trails now fading, following the Polish retreat?
Damn it all.
"Page!"
A girl ran in. The palace staff must really be stretched, if the younger sisters of some of the boys were being enlisted. He nodded to her as he walked to his desk, grabbing two clean slates and quickly writing.
"I need you to take this green one to the signal flag master. You know where he is?"
"Yes, Your Grace!"
"Good. It's urgent." He paused, laughing. "Everything is urgent today." The girl, no more than eight, laughed nervously. Finishing, he handed them to her. "After you've delivered it, and the Signal Master has indicated he understands it and doesn't need to send you back for clarification, you are to take the blue one to the stable. Find a rider. He is to deliver this to the southern harbor master. Understand?"
"Yes, Your Grace!"
"Good girl! Off you go."
She turned and ran, brown pigtails flapping behind her. It was settled, then. If it was at all possible, they'd send troops back over the Orlan river. Find out where the Poles had managed to cross, secure the crossing. Send scouts back towards Nowy Kiev. Dangerous as hell, with the risk the Elves would think they were making moves to retake the city. But, it could save lives.
James shook his head as he returned to his desk. It was too easy to do these things when others were going to be the ones going into danger.
****
Shanna reined in her mount as the humans came to the end of the mountain pass. The stone road opened up, widening as it sloped down towards the western harbor. Towards the Kikker village of Visvang.
It was the fact the fishing village of the frog people looked like some New England town that got to her. No exotic architecture. No strange cultural flourishes. Just wood frame houses with tiled roofs, square windows and rectangular doors. Only its occupants were fucking weird. Bipedal frogs.
Still, you got used to them.
Piotr brought his mount beside her. He looked strange without the feathered wings attached to the back of his armor, without the decoration that marked him as one of the elite Winged Hussars. It had been his choice to leave them behind, to go as, well, one of her men. She smiled at him. So far as she was concerned, he was her only Man.
The others were her soldiers.
"Given none of us speak Frog," Piotr said, "this could be interesting."
"There's always a few who speak Polish." Shanna let her eyes pan over the small community. Her own Polish was to the point where she wasn't sure she wasn't in fact thinking in the language. Some magic had to be involved, a pale reflection, perhaps, of James' multilingual ability. Maybe she could learn Frog. It didn't seem too difficult. No croaking, at least. Shanna didn't think she'd be able to croak with any great ability.
"Lady," Anelie said, bringing her own mount up. Shanna glanced at the girl. Wherever her brother had found that armor, it fit her well despite its obvious male shape. It was even the proper black. In fact, she thought, it was suspiciously good. Almost as if the two siblings had planned its need ahead of time. The girl, noticing she had Shanna's attention, seemed to sit up straighter in her saddle, the half football shaped helmet adding almost a foot to her height. At least she was no longer the babbling brook from months ago. Everything that had annoyed Shanna about the girl was now, if not gone, muted. That was good. Shanna didn't like being annoyed.
"What is it, Anelie?"
"They've seen us. Someone is coming."
Shanna looked. Sure enough, a brown form was coming towards the road. The girl had good eyes. A point in favor of her keeping the job. She nodded.
"Might as well meet him at the bottom."
"Her," Anelie said. "It's a girl."
Again, Shanna looked, squinting. Damn it, she was right. The Frog was a bit thinner, wearing just a rope skirt.
"Her, then. Let's go."
****
Telling individual Kikker apart was still a chore for Shanna. Her mind still tended to group them as animals, despite the stupidity of that. Worse, she put them lower than horses, given she had no problem telling those animals apart, even when the colorings were almost identical. Racism, that's what it was, and she was not proud of it. Still, this one she thought she recognized. Shanna even thought she remembered her name. Figuring it was worth the diplomatic embarrassment, she trusted her memory.
"Hello again, Adanya." Shanna dismounted before the daughter of the village chief. The Kikker woman smiled, a wide smile which seemed to stretch across most of her greenish brown splotched face.
"Hello." Her Polish was good, although with that strange accent. The eyes on top of her head blinked, then squinted as if in concentration. "It was... Shanna?"
"Yup." Shanna laughed. "I assume I'm one of the easier humans to tell apart."
"Yes. You all have the same skin, and mostly the same hair. It is difficult."
"I know what you mean. Did King James send word?"
The Frog nodded. Her upper body moved a bit as well, bare breasts bouncing slightly.
"Our docks are empty, most now at your town of Fredrick, but they will return by nightfall. We will leave on the morning tide. I have lodging for you and your companions until then."
"We?"
"I am coming," Adanya said. "You need a translator, and my father wants the best for your King."
"We are in your debt." Shanna motioned to Piotr, now standing beside her. "This is my future husband, Piotr. Piotr, Adanya, daughter of Chief Ajani."
"My pleasure." Piotr bowed slightly. His expression was... not quite sincere. Shanna sighed. How low did he put the Kikker? Higher than Elves, she guessed, although respect wise maybe lower. Glancing at the others, she saw a speech before they boarded the ship would probably be in order. They were leaving the world of humans. Respecting other peoples, cultures, would be needed not just to survive, but to get the information they needed. The Poles needed friends, and friendship was based on respect.
Well, she had a few hours to try to remember what the teacher had said in those five multiculturalism lectures she had attended before dropping that class as a waste of time...
****
James watched Ewa gather up the empty dinner dishes from his desk, her movement as graceful as it was efficient. Her long black braid slipped around her left shoulder, falling down her front. With an unconscious toss she sent it back out of the way as she straightened.
"Do you need anything else, Your Grace?"
She only called him James in their chambers. Even when they were alone, or as alone as he could get, she was formal. In speech, at least. Her eyes twinkled as she spoke.
He glanced around the room. The two scribes were working furiously at writing tables beside Ola's desk. The Chamberlain's own dishes were stacked neatly on the desk top. He glanced at the fireplace as a slight chill hit his body.
"I think the fire needs some more wood, but that's about it."
Ola sat up, looking towards the door.
"Guard!" Duda stepped into the doorway. "Guard, send for more fuel for the fire."
"Yes, Sir." The guard vanished again.
"Well," James said, smiling over at Ewa, "that's taken care of. So, no, I'm good."
"Good." Leaning in, she kissed him, a light peck on the lips. The others in the room seemed to conspicuously ignore them. Ewa left, stopping on her way to add Ola's dishes to her stack.
James chuckled. His love was better than a queen. A queen would not help cook dinner, certainly not serve. Was that wrong? Yes, but there was something to be said about old school gender roles. Besides, this was all her idea. She could be doing anything she wanted, with his blessing. She had her own concept of being a wife, and seemed determined to act out as much of it as she could.
More power to her.
"Pardon me, Your Grace."
The guard Duda was again in the doorway. His expression was unsure. That was never good. James sighed.
"Yes?"
"There is a lady here to see you, Your Grace. Lady Lusia."
That name was not familiar. He glanced over at Ola. The man didn't even look up from the text he was consulting as he answered the unspoken question.
"The oldest daughter of Ludoslaw Jasinski, who you met early this morning in the company of Captain Putaski."
"Ah, right." Why the hell would she be here? Certainly, in normal cases such a person would have to pass through a few people before being granted an audience. Then again, Ola was in here with him, so where else would she go? He shrugged. "Send her in."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Now Ola's eyes did come up, questioningly. James shrugged again. Best to get these interruptions out of the way all at once, before he again was lost in today's emergencies. It was already late. Soon it would be too dark to see the flags from across the strait. He rotated his shoulders, feeling the joints crack.
The woman who entered bore little resemblance to the tired and dirty teen who had sat at pre-dawn breakfast with him. She wore a light blue dress, not quite perfectly tailored yet showing off her curved form stunningly. A silver chain with oversized links was tied around her waist as a belt, emphasizing her hips. So, too, her neckline was cut low, white lace outlining her cleavage. Her face was still as pretty as he remembered, with an added layer of confidence and without the exhaustion. Her blond hair was braided, falling down her back almost to her waist. Stopping in the middle of the carpet spread before his desk, she curtsied.
"Good evening, Your Grace."
James rose, giving his own half bow.
"Good evening, Lady Lusia. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Given how she was dressed, he feared the girl's mother was already trying to enter her into the 'become a queen' sweepstakes. He hoped not, as this was not the time for that.
Lusia let out an unladylike, disgusted sigh.
"Your Grace did not join us in the Palace dining room, so my father asked me to come spy for him. He has not sworn loyalty to you yet, and trust in those from Nowy Kiev was never high."
James blinked.
"Honesty. That goes far with me." He walked around to the front of the his desk, leaning his butt back against it, arms folded across his chest. "We've been busy, obviously, but give your father and mother my apologies. Were there any specific questions you were to use your charms to get out of me?"
Her eyes dipped down to her exposed bosom.
"Are they helping?"
"No, but they're definitely not hurting. Ask away."
"When will we have our own land again?"
"Oh, Christ on a Christ stick!" The girl took a step back in surprise as James pushed himself off the desk. "You just got here. We have more important things to deal with, such as feeding, housing everyone. Keeping you alive. Six died today. Did you know that? Two mothers, miscarrying, an old man, and one of our soldiers driving off wolves from the tail of the main group of refugees. More are going to die. That pisses me off, and I'm going to spend all my effort preventing it. Go tell your Father he can go join the city nobles who have been clamoring for estates ever since we got here. See if adding his bitching to theirs helps at all. I predict no."
James took a deep breath, calming himself. She stood her ground before him, light blue eyes regarding him the same way he remembered them doing that morning. He raised his eyebrows.
"Yes?"
"You may not yet have Father's respect," she said, softly, "but you now have mine." She curtsied again. "Good night, Your Grace."
She was gone.
James took another deep breath. What the fuck was that? He glanced over at Ola. The man shrugged.
"Women, Your Grace. I've never bothered with them myself.”