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Queen of Mischief: World of Change Book 5
Queen of Mischief: World of Change Book 5
Queen of Mischief: World of Change Book 5
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Queen of Mischief: World of Change Book 5

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Last year was easy. Nobody expected Jameta to be brave enough, strong enough or smart enough to be of any use. It was so much fun to prove them all wrong. Of course, she was scared to death half the time, but she succeeded.
But now they all know what she can do. Now she is at the head of the party, and everyone is looking to her for leadership.
But she has a plan. Good leaders find others to do all the important things that have to be done, and create a competent group around them who co-operate to succeed. And it seems to be working. Her party of Galesians sweeps through Domaland society, impressing everyone. Medlilli, Speaker for the Dry Land people, seems to be getting her message across.
But when things start to go wrong, the solution always seems to be for Jameta to take on more duties than she knows how to handle. Sooner or later, she knows it’s all going to blow up in her face.
That’s if the boiler of her paddle steamer doesn’t explode first.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 24, 2017
ISBN9781988898025
Queen of Mischief: World of Change Book 5
Author

Gordon A. Long

Brought up in a logging camp with no electricity, Gordon Long learned his storytelling in the traditional way: at his father’s knee. He now spends his time editing, publishing, travelling, blogging and writing fantasy and social commentary, although sometimes the boundaries blur.Gordon lives in Tsawwassen, British Columbia, with his wife, Linda. When he is not writing and publishing, he works on projects with the Surrey Seniors’ Planning Table, and is a staff writer for Indies Unlimited

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    Queen of Mischief - Gordon A. Long

    Battle With a Fanatic

    We fight for the glory of the True Belief in the One God. Slaughter of the Unbeliever is our duty and our pleasure.

    Jameta could tell by the pitch of the Prophet’s voice that he was working up to attack, and she prepared herself.

    The One God has answered my prayer. He has brought you to me as a sacrifice. I will serve you up on an altar made of the bones of your followers. Unbeliever slut, prepare to DIE!

    His raised his staff above his head and faltered forward. She slipped aside, brushing the staff away with her left vambrace. He was off balance, and she spun behind him, driving her right vambrace into the back of his head. He stumbled forward and fell, dropping his staff.

    Pavenkov scrambled to his feet and plunged at her, his eyes wild, his fingers clawed. Again she slipped by him, with a punishing blow to his left shoulder and another to his temple as he fell.

    Stunned, he lay for a moment, then pushed himself up. His breath was coming in gasps, and a drool of blood trickled off his chin.

    Don’t get up. You don’t have a chance.

    Consciousness returned to his eyes, and he surged upward. I will kill you! His reaching arms tried to enfold her, and this time she did not let him fall, driving her metal-clad forearms into his ribs and upper arms.

    A twist of his body warned her, and she ducked away from the slash of a knife he pulled from his tunic. He struck again and again, but he was tiring, and Jameta blocked easily. Finally he made a last, desperate lunge, and she brought her vambrace down hard against his forearm. There was a crack, a cry of pain, and the knife dropped to the grass. She darted down and picked it up. Pavenkov stared at her in horror, his hands held out to the sides, helpless.

    Then his arms dropped, his face blanked and his breathing increased. Slowly his back straightened and his eyes widened, pupils dilating.

    He’s getting ready to throw himself on the knife. He’s going to make me kill him. What can I do? In helpless horror, she watched the Prophet stalk towards her.

    Queen of Mischief

    Gordon A. Long

    Airborn Press

    Delta, 2017

    Smashwords Edition

    Published by

    Airborn Press

    4958 10A Ave, Delta, B. C.

    V4M 1X8

    Canada

    Copyright Gordon A. Long

    2016

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    This book is available in print at most online retailers.

    ISBN: 978-1-988898-02-5

    Cover

    Design by Gordon A. Long

    Model: Nova Long

    Cover photo: Sicamous on beach at Penticton 02.jpg

    Darren Kirby, Edmonton, AB, Canada

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sicamous_(sternwheeler)

    Thanks

    To Dusty Hagerud for his design assistance

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    Out of Mischief World of Change Book 1

    Into Trouble World of Change Book 2

    Mountains of Mischief World of Change Book 3

    The Trouble With Tents World of Change Book 4

    "A Sword Called…Kitten?" Romantic Comedy with an Edge

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    Contents

    1. The Wedding

    2. Ferian’s Story

    3. The Wedding Journey

    4. Babes in the Woods

    5. Merely Business

    6. The Siege

    7. A Different Dance

    8. Lady Cavonleigh

    9. The Lilly Belle

    10. Shipwrights

    11. Yacht Race

    12. Launch Party

    13. Lady Cavonleigh’s Tea

    14. Sea Journey

    15. Up the River

    16. The Swamp

    17. The First Sault

    18. Lining the Canyon

    19. Second Rapids

    20. A Different Plan

    21. Aesmark

    22. Downriver

    23. The Prophet

    24. Angry Again

    25. Approach

    26. Rescue

    27. The Queen’s Games

    The Wedding

    Jameta, you look just like a queen!

    The bride turned to stare at her cousin. What?

    A queen. You look lovely enough to crown.

    Jameta shook her head. I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.

    Gita planted her feet, her sturdy arms akimbo. And why not?

    Jameta sighed. Because we live in a monarchy, and I don’t want anybody to think I’m getting above my station?

    There was a burst of laughter from the other women in the bride’s dressing room.

    What? What did I say that’s so funny?

    Aleria anDalmyn took a sip from the flute of wine she was holding. Because the fact that you made the statement shows exactly the opposite of what it seems to say.

    Oh, I suppose. Look, couldn’t I just enjoy my wedding without any political implications or social upsets?

    The other Twin frowned. Social upsets? You’ve turned every tradition we know on its head, and now you want peace and quiet? That’s very unlike you, Cousin.

    What’s got into you, Hana? Don’t you think I should be marrying a commoner?

    The taller girl grinned. What? The handsome and muscular Erlon? We are all slit-eyed with envy. No, I was thinking more of your wedding party.

    Jameta’s glance slid to her second bridesmaid, kitted out in her traditional veils and bangles.

    Hana raised her hands in defence. Exactly. Medlili. And Uncle Arjan, too. Highly unusual.

    You think I should have asked your father to sponsor me.

    Gita shrugged. He is the head of the family, and he offered. I would have thought you’d jump at the chance.

    Your father doesn’t see any disrespect. Uncle Arjan has been like a father to me since I lost my own father, and he is very happy to assume the role for my wedding. For Lord anDennal it would be only performing his duty.

    Hana raised her eyebrows. Oh, somehow I don’t think so. Do you want to hear a little secret?

    If you tell this lot, I don’t think it will be a secret very long.

    Well, I doubt if it’s very secret, anyway. Gita and I think Father is grooming you to be the next head of the family.

    What!

    Gita nudged her Twin with a grin. You did it, Hana. You got her!

    Jameta leaned over the two of them. Don’t say things like that. It just causes envy and backbiting, and it doesn’t do anything to help the family.

    Aleria chuckled. Thus proving the point. You’re thinking like the family head already.

    But my Ladies, there is one problem with this plan.

    All eyes turned to Medlili.

    Lord anDennal cannot have her to head his family. She nodded her head. I got her first. She is the Warrior Woman of the Dry Land People.

    Oh, don’t be silly. Aleria tossed off her drink. This is Jameta we’re talking about. She can do both.

    Jameta was about to object when she saw the glances and the grins. Just what are you lot up to?

    Aleria flicked a hand towards the door, where the sound of the wedding guests filtered through. Doing our duty in keeping the bride from getting nervous before the big occasion.

    I’m not nervous, and don’t need any of this occasion. Jameta turned her back to the door. If I was in Medlili’s tribe, Erlon would show up with a herd of fine goats and sheep, which he would trade with my family for two wonderful horses, and we would jump on those horses and ride away into the desert for our wedding survival month. That’s it.

    Gita frowned. Wedding survival month? What’s that about?

    Medlili grinned. My people live in a harsh land. The newly joined pair must live on their own for a month. If they both survive their journey, then they are truly wedded.

    What if the marriage doesn’t survive?

    The Dry Land girl laughed. That happens, too. Then she sobered. It is for the best.

    Jameta stood. There you have it. Erlon and I have survived a lot more than one little month in the desert. Unless there’s anyone here who would suggest…

    They swayed back from her probing eyes like wheat before the wind, but she could see smiles twitching at their lips.

    You’re not wearing your vambraces, Jameta.

    She glanced at Gita. Trust you to notice. I thought I’d be protected well enough in the middle of Galesia’s capital city with all those dress swords among the guests. And I didn’t want to turn quite every tradition on its head.

    She regarded herself in the mirror. Do I really look all right?

    Aleria stood as well, putting down her empty glass. You look as good as any Rank you wish to be compared to, including the prettiest barmaid in Armourer’s Alley. Does that suit you?

    It does.

    Then let’s go and get you married. I don’t see half enough of Kolwyn, and I won’t get my hands on him properly until all this foofaraw is over. Let’s mount up and ride out.

    My sentiments exactly. Line up, ladies. She pulled her Samnian veil up over her nose.

    Medlili arranged the ornate fabric to perfection, then hitched her own filmy veil in place and glided into line with her fluid dancer’s gait. Jameta glanced back at her friends, squared her shoulders, and stepped out the door.

    As she approached heads turned, and the crowd parted to the sides of the room. She slipped forward – gracefully, she hoped – and felt a momentary glow of satisfaction at what awaited her. For a commoner, Erlon had an elevated set of attendants: Kolwyn anLlannon, up-and-coming leader in the North-East. Raif anCanah, heir to the vast northern Canah dukedom. Even Ferian, Erlon’s Second, had scraped up a military uniform with an impressive number of medals on the breast. Uncle Arjan looked fine and tall, his dark formal suit set off by the bright sash Aunt Dalea had woven.

    And then her gaze was captured by her husband. Taller than the rest by half a head, his blond hair clubbed back with a dark ribbon, he might have dressed on purpose to stand out in this august and colourful company. His suit, unadorned, fitted his soldier’s physique with all the skill that Lady anDalmyn’s top-of-fashion tailor could summon, in a blue so dark it showed black except when the light hit at certain angles.

    But it was his smile that made her heart lurch, and when he reached for her arm she felt a lump in her throat and tears forming in her eyes.

    He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she pulled herself together to make sure she performed the ceremony properly, greeted all the dignitaries afterwards with their appropriate Ranks, and accomplished all the thousand things expected of a bride in a wedding of the Ranking classes of Galesia.

    It was only after the ceremonies and the food and the speeches were over that she was free to circulate and talk to the many people who had come to show their respect and love. First her uncle, the head of the family, Lord anDennal.

    I want to thank you for such a wonderful ceremony, my Lord. I hadn’t expected anything so lavish.

    I could say that it was necessary for the honour of our house.

    You could, but you won’t?

    Well, it is good for us to entertain the level of guests that you and your uncommon commoner of a husband are able to attract.

    We are glad to be of use to the family, my Lord.

    He looked down at her, and his stern face softened. But my real reason for the display of respect is because I wanted to.

    I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to be part of the ceremony, my Lord. You understand…

    Of course. I think Arjan has done a wonderful job of bringing you up. He deserves every bit of the credit. He leaned closer. He also deserves recognition in other respects, and this was a perfect opportunity.

    My Lord. Are we talking family business? And at my wedding?

    I do apologize. I find it so easy, with you. You don’t seem to care about things that most young women concern themselves with.

    What sort of things?

    It would be of social advantage to a woman of your Rank to be sponsored by the head of the family. Paying respect to a loved one, I’m afraid, would normally take second place at such an important time of your life.

    Then I plead guilty as charged, my Lord. I consider showing respect and gratitude to a loved family member to be far more important than my nebulous social status at a moment like this in my life. She glanced up at him. I might turn the point back to you. It seems that standing up for me would have been a mere duty for you, having little importance to you or to the family’s honour.

    The elder Dennal smiled. Oh, don’t be so sure. I follow your career with interest. It is not your social status that concerns me. The fortunes of our family rest heavily on your next enterprise. The status of a mere wedding will have little effect on your future prospects or mine.

    Besides, he glanced at her. You don’t really care about the social status, do you?

    "There’s no point. I am only Esteemed, marrying a non-Ranked husband. If I make any attempt to maintain my Rank I will look pathetic. My only course in life is to forget the Rank and strive for real achievement.

    Perhaps you will achieve such success that your Rank will become immaterial.

    She regarded him. Are you trying to say something, my Lord?

    I thought you would catch on.

    For once, I am not feeling very bright. I’m afraid you will have to tell me.

    I don’t think so. You just go your merry way. In ten years we will have this conversation again.

    If that is your wish, my Lord.

    It is my most fervent wish, my Lady. If we are to have this conversation ten years from now, that would mean that both of us are here to have it.

    My Lord! You are not that old!

    And you are not that reckless. Nevertheless. You are going back to the East, where you are equally likely to be crowned or assassinated. Perhaps both.

    I thought you were joking when you said that last month.

    I was. Sort of. He turned to look down at her. Do not miscalculate our heritage and the effect it could have in Samnia. We Samnians are a people who believe. It is our greatest strength and our greatest weakness. Samnia is at a delicate balance right now. Your presence on their northern border last year sparked their revolution. A repeat appearance could be crucial.

    She shuddered. My experience with the nomads last year is your strongest argument.

    Exactly. He smiled. So let us both do our best to keep the rendezvous.

    She shrugged. It’s an appointment, then. She pretended to write in a notebook. Ten years. Meet with Lord anDennal to discuss the rest of my life. She glanced up at his smiling face. Another person assuming I’m going to be wonderful.

    He looked over her shoulder. And one more unlooked-for and pleasant aspect to the situation.

    She turned. Ferian was standing there, resplendent in his officer’s uniform, which on close observation seemed a trifle loose on him. His medals shone with the soft glow of well-polished gold.

    Feriano del Cauldera.

    Ferian regarded Lord Dennal. I must apologize, my Lord. You have me at a disadvantage.

    Jameta stumbled in with an introduction. My Lord anDennal. Do I gather you know Ferian, my husband’s Second?

    Dropping the protocol, the lord did not require Ferian to speak first. I know of you, Lieutenant Colonel del Cauldera. He nodded deeply. I am under the impression that my family owes you for a favour.

    Feran nodded in a stiffly formal fashion as if he had not performed the act for years. If you mean providing your niece with the means to preserve her life last summer, I plead no contest.

    The elder man’s brows drew together. You are aware that I was not speaking of Jameta’s adventures. He put an arm around her shoulders. Although I gather you served her well in that respect.

    Oh. You are perhaps referring to a small incident with a cannon, years ago? A mere trifle. At the time, I didn’t even know who I was helping.

    And did you take the trouble to find out afterwards?

    It was unnecessary. Stories flew, most of them fanciful, exaggerated, or downright false. I disregarded them.

    Ah. Then all is as it should be.

    I believe it is, my Lord.

    In any case, you are doubly welcome to this event, as an old friend to our family and as a new one.

    Another stiff bow. Then I am doubly honoured, my Lord.

    Lord Dennal bowed as well. As am I. He gave Jameta’s shoulder a final squeeze, then turned away.

    She glared at the armourer. There is something you’ve been keeping from me.

    A minor matter, many years ago. He shrugged and regarded his feet. I had not realized it meant much, except to those involved. If Lord Dennal chooses to remember, then it makes for added joy to this already-pleasant occasion. He looked up and smiled at her. Isn’t that nice?

    She gave just enough frown to let him know he wasn’t getting off that easily. A pleasant tale for another time.

    Perhaps.

    Ferian, that wasn’t a question.

    I noted that. You really are coming along, aren’t you? He held out his arm. Come, now, my Lady. I see a few of your relatives to whom you must pay appropriate attention. I suspect my presence will give them a topic of conversation for months to come.

    She grinned and allowed him to lead her to two old Aunties, who professed great honour and surprise at meeting the Lieutenant Colonel so famous in family lore. Jameta had a feeling that they knew far more than they were saying, but the three of them burbled on at each other cheerfully, and she could find nothing to catch him up on. At least he doesn’t have a plan that depends on me being wonderful. I don’t think. No, it’s not his style, thank goodness.

    Later in the evening she noticed Ferian in deep conversation with her mother, but before she could get to them, he rose, bowed over her mother’s hand, and slipped away.

    She looked down at the older woman. Hmm. Gentlemen kissing your hand. Should I be worried?

    Her mother looked up, a soft smile smoothing her lined face. You are beautiful tonight, my darling.

    Oh, you’re biased because you made the dress. She spun left, then right, making the multicoloured silk flow around her. But it is rather wonderful.

    Your father would have been so proud.

    Yes, I know he would. She sat beside her mother and put an arm around her. I’m sorry I never got to know him properly.

    You were only three years old. How could you remember?

    I remember that I loved him. That is enough. At times.

    I sometimes think that I am over it. And then a day like today comes, and…

    I know, Mother. You think about what should have been. I am so sorry to have caused this pain.

    It’s not you, Jameta. You could never cause me pain.

    Jameta found a chuckle. I seem to recall a few times…

    Well, that’s normal, too, isn’t it? With a girl as headstrong as you. I used to argue with Arjan over that. He always gave you too much latitude, and I was always fearful. But it came out right, didn’t it?

    Jameta nodded. I used to take his permission as evidence that I was doing the right thing, and your worries as a warning that I’d better be careful. It seems to have balanced out.

    Her mother smiled. Yes, I suppose we were a good pair of parents, Arjan and I.

    She glanced at her mother. May I ask something today that I wouldn’t get away with any other time?

    You want to know why Arjan and I never married.

    You could have.

    Her mother sighed. Yes, we could have. We even discussed it. But he was too much like your father. They were cousins, but they looked like brothers and they acted like brothers, and your father’s image stood between us. She shrugged. Maybe it was silly, but it’s too late now.

    It’s never too late, Mother.

    Her mother laid a hand on her arm. Spoken like a bride on her wedding day. Marriage must be the solution for everyone’s problems. She gave a gentle push. Now go and talk to your friends. I will enjoy myself watching you and feeling proud.

    Jameta smiled down at her mother. And I will continue to act in a manner that will make you proud. She deserves that much from me.

    Then she remembered why she had come over in the first place. And Lieutenant Colonel del Cauldera?

    Oh, Feriano’s an old acquaintance. Your father and he were friends, you know.

    No, I didn’t know, and I’m going to break several of his fingers if he doesn’t tell me more.

    Feriano is a very private person. I doubt if he will tell you much.

    Yes, and he’s my private person, and he will not get away with this. He knew who I was all along and he didn’t tell me. Oh, he’s going to be so sorry for that.

    Her mother smiled up at her. Somehow I doubt it.

    No, but it’s fun to threaten him. He ignores it so beautifully.

    Her mother’s eyes moved to the right. What’s going on over there?

    The orchestra was leaving their seats, and another group, one with darker faces, was taking their spots. I think it’s time to break another Galesian tradition. Will you dance with us?

    I don’t think so but I will watch with great pleasure.

    Gita and Hana were donning their veils as she approached, and the three Samnian girls took the floor, Jameta in the centre. Medlili placed herself at the back where she would attract less attention, and bolstered by her mastery, they danced the Path of Light with more skill and enthusiasm than ever before.

    After that, Medlili stepped forward, and the tempo of the music changed. Jameta knew what was coming, and explained to the guests. Medlili of the Ain Tolbè will perform the wedding dance of the Dry Land People. She apologizes that she did not think to bring the proper costume, but feels that it would not be appropriate in the drawing rooms of Galesia in any case.

    Medlili twitched a hip, and a murmur of disappointment rolled from the men, quickly hushed by their wives. Then the music swelled, and she began to dance.

    When she had finished, there was not a person in the ballroom who did not understand the attitude of the Dry Land tribes to the institution of marriage in all its details. The dancer retired, breathing heavily, sweat streaking her arms, and Aleria stepped forward, favouring Jameta with a wicked grin.

    And now, my friends, the bride and groom will show you a wedding dance such has never been seen in this realm. Or any other realm, for that matter.

    She held out her hand, and Gita passed her Erlon’s sword. She drew it from its scabbard and slashed the shining weapon through the air, making it hum. Then she regarded it a moment.

    While this is the usual weapon he dances with, I suppose it would be unpleasant to risk marring such a delicate dress with blood. She turned to Hana and exchanged the true sword for a practice wand. She held it out to him. Come now, my friend. You would not deny your loved ones the benefit of entertainment you provided for the horse traders of the East.

    Erlon glanced over at Jameta. She gave him a lift of the eyebrows that left it all up to him. He seized the wand. I suppose we could give them an idea of how our courtship progressed.

    Gita helped her don her vambraces, and Jameta strode to the centre of the floor. At her gesture the band picked up the tune they had played for the Path, and the dance began again. Jameta had thought she was tired. She had felt that her dress weighed her down, that her veil was pulling at her neck. Once the dance began to flow and Erlon’s sword wove in those hypnotic and dangerous patterns, it all fell away, and there was only the point and the edge and the pattern of their feet on the tiles.

    This time there was no restraint in the kiss at the end. She turned into his arms and enjoyed his lips thoroughly, until the applause of the audience caught her attention. Pulling away from her husband, she curtsied as he bowed.

    Then the Galesian orchestra returned to the stage, and once more courtly dances took precedence.

    When it was all over, they were strolling down the corridor towards the suite they would now occupy in the anDennal mansion, basking in a warm glow of accomplishment and satisfied fatigue. And a great deal of love.

    He gazed down at her. You know, back up in the Trench last year it never occurred to me that someone like you would be interested in a person like me.

    Oh, nonsense. All the girls were interested in you.

    He fingered the ring on her hand. Not like this.

    She shrugged. Oh, you know me. Never can resist the temptation to overdo it.

    He snorted. About as inapt a description of you as I can think of.

    She stared up at his face, searching for…she didn’t know what. "Erlon,

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