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down the hill to where I sat.
She was the true Companion. The true Nerissa."
"And it was this Nerissa, the true one, that MacLeod stole?"
"Yes, said Khordas. "And one day I received a visit from another, whom I
thought would be my Companion. This is only one hundred years ago, now, more
or less. That
Companion was Lauren, and she has tried to serve me well."
Oh, god. Oh, no. Gabriela trembled. "But Lauren no longer serves you?"
"Lauren is not the true Companion. The Companion must be a sacrifice; I must
make her of my own will. Do you understand? I think if you asked the
Highlander, he would understand."
"MacLeod is not here," said Gabriela. "I can ask him nothing."
"He has told you so little, Miss Savedra. You are so much more than you know.
MacLeod has been unjust to both of us, but from this injustice we will find
grrat fortune. You are an unblemished stone, perfect clay, like the clay I
breathed life into in my true form, to make man. Untarnished by the false
truths about the Immortals. The perfect Companion. Here," Khordas said,
lifting her glass. "Drink with me. We are to be together."
"Why me?" she asked, slowly, but she knew, didn't she?
And Duncan had known, he had known all along ... She took the glass, shaking,
what kind of fool had she been played for? Gabfieta took a sip.
"Why you?" Khordas chuckled softly through the mask, and now he removed it,
showing his face for the first time.
And it was beautiful, the red hair shining, the eyes burning brightly, godlike
indeed.
"Because it is the time of sacrifice, my Companion, my new Nerissa, my
Gabriela." His voice ...
Now Khordas took her and raised her up, and she looked into his eyes, losing
herself in them. She felt him draw her to his breast, the candlelight
flickering, casting their shadows on the walls, the god and the Companion.
And in the flicker of candlelight she saw the glint of steel, and felt it
enter her breast, pushing through, sliding serpentlike between ribs and
slicing through her heart.
And Gabriela's eyes fluttered and she felt herself falling against him, her
head against his breast. Arid then someone turned the lights out on the
world.
But only for a little while.
Captain Jacob Devereaux of the Royal Preventive Service tapped Captain Daniel
Hendricks, USN, of the Troilus, on the shoulder and pointed. A sailing vessel
had just come over the horizon and he had recognized it.
"Is that him?"
"Aye, Captain," said Devereaux. "As I said. This smuggler Carruthers has
been dodging us for a good while. If possible, I want him captured."
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Hendricks nodded. "Do you think he's carrying guns this time?"
"I wouldn't put it past him," said Devereaux. "I received a tip that lie
would be in and around New England. It looks like we've just run into him,
headed back to England."
"Well, then," said Hendricks. "Let's see if we can get his attention.
At the launching of the Dido, the first thing Duncan noticed wa:; that she was
travelling under sail. "I thought this was a steamship," he said, as he
joined Connor.
"Oh, yes," said Connor, with that bizarre, staccato laugh of his. Connor was a
dark wire of a figure against the ocean, a face fleating atop a foul-weather
coat. "But I prefer to keep that under wraps, shall we say?" By this he
meant, as he showed Is student, that
CONNOR preferred to keep his steam engine for emergencies, the paddlewheel
stowed under a great hood, disguised as a lifeboat and a series of badly
stowed nets. "Part of strength is in the hiding," said Connor, with a wink.
"But where's the smokestack?"
"Smokestack?"
"For your exhaust," said Duncan. Connor shrugged with a coy smile.
The Dido left Buzzards Bay under Captain Carruthers at 1400 hours on the
thirteenth of
February. She travelled thirty miles out before moving southward, scanning
the area for her quany. Duncan stepped aside when Thomas Rooke approached.
The sailor glanced at Duncan and made it clear that he wanted to speak to
Connor alone. Connor and the
First Mate stepped a few feet away and whispered.
"Captain," said Rooke, who Connor sensed was disturbed to even speak directly
to him, "the men are concerned."
Connor scanned the horizon, a pair of field glasses held before his eyes. He
brought them down for a second and said, "Oh?"
"It's just that, going up and engaging a naval vessel . .
"We're not engaging them," said Connor. "We're just
going to give them a message." He smiled. "Don't worry, our holds are empty,
we unloaded everything."
"Aye," said Rooke. "But ... we just wanted to voice our concern."
"Tell the men I understand," nodded Connor. "Tell them I apréciate their
honesty, and their loyalty."
"Their loyalty is unquestionable," said Rooke. "It's just that we've turned
around so quickly, and all this strange business with the Navy-it's him."
Rooke tilted his head towards Duncan, lowering his óbice still further, but
naturally not to the point that
Duncan, a very skilled listener indeed, could not hear it. "Are you certain
he can be trusted?"
"Yes, Rooke," said Connor. "As I said, I would trust him with my life."
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"I hope so," said Rooke. "Because we are trusting you with ours."
As the Dido travelled south, a number of ships appeared, and each time the
sailor at the topmast cried out, and each one Connor inspected at a distance.
And finally, at 1800
hours, as the sun was going down, a pair of shapes topped the horizon, twins,
gigantic in size.
Connor ran to the rail and inspected the ships, which now seemed to pick up
speed. He climbed the ladder on the mast about ten rungs and peered through
the glasses again.
Even in the failing light the shapes were unmistakable: the lowslung decks,
looking more like a monitor than a seagoing ship, the guns at ready. Oh, the
twins were going to put on quite a show. "That's them!" cried Connor, as he
dropped to the deck of the
Dido.
Duncan ran to the alarm horn and began to crank the handle as the three ships
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