At the Queen_s command

Dr. Frost laughed. "Bravo, Caleb. To parrot so effectively the pamphlets that circulate in camera is an art. Captain, what do you think of the rights of Men and nobility?"

Owen looked up from swiping a piece of bread through the empty bowl. "To be honest, sir, the army does not encourage philosophical discussions, nor does it leave much time for them. In the army we revere tradition, so I agree with you there. But, I suppose, were I the puppy, there would come a point where taking a bite out of my master's hand might seem appealing."

"Ha!" Caleb smiled and refilled Owen's glass. "You see, Father!"

"Well now, Master Frost, I'm not saying I agree with you. Men aren't puppies. A puppy isn't aware that a beating will follow that biting. A man should know better, and know if he wants to invite that beating."

Caleb's eyes sharpened. "But, Captain, is a man a man when he accepts that someone else says he's inferior and never tests that assumption? As my father said, Mystrians were cast upon this shore because we were expendable. Everyone in Norisle would have been happy if we had died. Fact is, we didn't. My grandfather came over as an indentured servant to a miller. Worked his way out of his obligation, then turned to trading. In thirty years he made enough to build this house, endow part of the College, and send ships to every corner of the globe. Yet there's not fishmonger in Highgate or a lowly clerk in the City that doesn't believe himself better than the best of us."

Owen ran a hand over his jaw. He'd seen the same treatment at school and within the army, but there, to react was to be punished quickly and severely. Did curbing his desire to defend himself make him less of a man? Did it stop his shots from hitting targets?

Dr. Frost raised his wine glass. "I submit, gentlemen, that this discussion, which is really the eternal struggle of children to gain the recognition of parents, will not be resolved this evening. Let us, therefore, table it and discuss more pleasant things.

"After all," Dr. Frost's smile wavered for the first time, "if your reason for coming here, Captain Strake, is true, the least pleasant of man's inventions will be coming to our shores. And, I suspect, it is an immigrant which will be most reluctant to leave."

Chapter Seven

April 28, 1763

The Frost Residence, Temperance

Temperance Bay, Mystria

O wen awoke with a start, reaching out for his wife. His dream had been vivid enough that he sought warmth in the emptiness where she should have lain. Her absence disoriented him. It was several hours past dawn, marking this as the latest he'd slept in months, and it likewise confused him.

He tried to sit upright, but the soft mattress resisted his effort. He surrendered, the feather pillow molding itself to mute bird-calls from outside. He smiled and tried to capture the dream's fleeting images.

Catherine had joined him in Mystria. They attended a ball at the Prince's home. The center of his laboratory had been cleared and the bear and the jeopard took part in the dance. The moose appeared also. Well-mannered, all the animals, enjoying themselves while a regimental band played. The Prince danced with Catherine and she smiled as broadly as ever he had seen. And then she came to him and clung to him and they found themselves in his bed, making love.

Owen might have been tempted to put the dream down to nothing at all, save that Catherine believed fervently in dreams. He had no idea what the presence of the animals meant. He forced himself to remember what he could, so he could write it all down for his next letter home. She could make of it what she wanted.

He closed his eyes again just for another moment, and then remembered nothing until the light tapping on the door presaged its opening.

An elderly valet entered bearing his coat, vest, and breeches freshly washed. Owen pulled himself up against the headboard as the man hung his clothes in the wardrobe. Wordlessly the servant stepped into the hallway again, then returned with freshly polished boots.

Owen smiled. "Thank you."

"It is our pleasure to serve." The old man returned the smile with sincerity. "Doctor Frost awaits your pleasure, Captain."

"Please convey my thanks. I shall be with him shortly."

The valet nodded and retreated, drawing the door closed behind him.

Owen rose and stretched, then washed his face and hands in the bowl on the side table. He dried them with a towel, then pulled on his clothes. The trunk he'd brought from Norisle had been opened and the clothing stored in wardrobe and dresser. Instead of his boots, however, he chose hose and low shoes with big silver buckles.

He descended the stairs and exited out through the kitchen to use the privy. He much preferred the outhouse, despite its being stuffy, to hanging his arse over the heads on the ship. Though the scent of salt air was more refreshing, getting splashed with cold sea spray was not.