Chapter Thirteen: Mind your language

Chapter Thirteen

Mind your Language

Ellie threw up.

A lot.

In between the convulsing misery of the retching she found herself being vaguely surprised there was anything left in her stomach to throw up, but there it was. She rested her hands on her knees and squatted down, leaning back against the door of the kitchen cupboard for support. She looked up at Samaar and shook her head faintly.

"It's too bloody complicated." She said faintly, and buried her face in her hands.

The big man sighed, compassion mingling with the fury in his deep brown eyes. He crouched and placed a surprisingly gentle hand on her shaking shoulder. "Oh, for goodness sake." He slipped his hands beneath her elbows and softly lifted her to her feet.

He nudged the recumbent Viscount with his foot. "This guy. Good or bad?"

Ellie looked down at Tristian, and the livid bruise that was already beginning to form on the side of his head. "g, good" she stammered.

Samaar gave a small, rueful smile. "Right, I suppose that's an apology I'll need to make later." He gave Ellie a gentle shove towards the kitchen door. "I'll sort him out, you go and get cleaned up, then we'll talk."

-oOo-

Half an hour later a slightly dazed Tristian was laying groggily on Ellie's sofa, a pack of frozen peas held to the side of his head with one of Ellie's floral scarves. Ellie was slumped in her armchair, newly showered and clad in grey jogger bottoms and faded University of Leeds t-shirt, eating Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice-cream out of the freezer. Samaar had returned to the kitchen of the Bengal spice to help his mother with the evening rush, saying he'd return to find out what was going on once the take away had closed.

Tristian had listened carefully as Ellie explained how he'd come to be knocked out, and he was not taking it at all well. "I don't understand how he managed to sneak up on me like that!" he exclaimed, "Just what are you intending to tell him, anyway?" he demanded, wincing a little as he did so. He placed a gentle hand onto the florally bound bag of peas. "And seriously - are you telling me you don't own a single black scarf? I'm a bloody Black Guard - I can't be lolling around with flowers on my bonce!"

Ellie rolled her eyes and shovelled another spoon of ice-cream into her mouth. "Stop your moaning - I'm sorry but I never went through a goth phase." She jabbed viciously at the hard frozen confection in her hand. "As for Samaar, I have no clue what to tell him. The truth?"

Tristian raised an eyebrow and then winced again. "He'd believe the truth?"

"I doubt it, but given that both me and you vanished almost in front of his eyes and then reappeared in the flat without coming in through the door I'm struggling to think of a lie he'd find more convincing." She waved her spoon absently as she spoke. "Also, I've been gone what? Two days? What can I tell him I was doing?"

Tristian's head dropped back into the sofa cushions. His only reply was a groan.

-oOo-

Twenty minutes later both Tristian and Ellie had started to doze when the door of the flat burst open with an ear splitting crash. Tristian was immediately on his feet, hand leaping to the oversized pistol still holstered on his left thigh. The blow to his head had clearly slowed his reaction times, however, and his sidearm had not cleared leather before he found himself shouldered to one side by the irresistible force that was Mrs Pragya Chatterjee.

"Ellie!" The joy and concern in the chubby woman's voice  was unmistakable. She perched herself on the arm of the armchair, her pudgy hands either side of Ellie's head. "Where have you been?! We've been so worried about you Śiśu, what has been going on, hmm?"

She seemed to notice Tristian for the first time and rose from the chair arm, a wagging finger levelled at the man's bruised face. "And YOU! If you've hurt this girl I'll -"

"It's OK Mrs C!" Ellie interrupted. "He rescued me!" She struggled to her feet and placed a hand on the irate Bengali woman's cardigan clad shoulder.

Tristian extended a hand. "Viscount Tristian Ignacious Augustine of the House of Rerum, at your service dear lady." He flashed a dazzling grin, made a little lopsided by his swollen face. Mrs Chatterjee regarded the proffered hand for a long moment and then gave it a wary shake.

"A Viscount?" Mrs Chatterjee made no attempt to keep the disbelief out of her voice. "I don't think I ever see you in Hello magazine." Her eyes narrowed. "I won't be finding you in Burke's Peerage either." Her brown eyes locked with Tristian's in a diamond hard stare and she folded her arms firmly across her chest. "You look at me, you see a fat old Bengali lady. You think I'm stupid. Well, Kuttar Bhaccha*, there is more in this head than feathers and you don't fool me for one second."

Tristian's expression had not changed, and in spite of the hostility that radiated from the woman in front of him his grey eyes were twinkling with amusement. "I never knew my mother Kakima** but my father assured me that she was a lovely woman." His smile widened as he saw a glimmer of doubt flicker across her hard hazel eyes.

"You speak Bengali?" Mrs Chatterjee's voice had lost some of its hostility.

Tristian's smile widened further, flashing a mouth full of dazzling white teeth, "Hyām̐ āmi ki, Kintu āmāra a yākasēnṭa bhaẏānaka."*** 

There was a long pause. The pale skinned grey eyed man and the chubby Bengali woman stared hard at each other, but Mrs Chatterjee blinked first. She couldn't help herself - her round face creased into a broad smile and she clapped the black clad man on the shoulder. "HA! You are right Chhele**** your accent is very bad indeed! But if my Ellie here says that you are good, you are good!"

She swept forward and engulfed Tristian in a smothering hug. Tristian spread his arms wide and looked helplessly at a hopelessly amused Ellie over Mrs Chatterjee's shoulder. She considered letting him fend for himself, but the desperation and discomfort in his eyes were too much and sallied forth to his aid.

"I'm not sure I can explain everything properly Mrs C," she began "but if you take a seat I'll make some tea and I'll do the best I can."

-oOo-

Duke Regimen Asquith of the Singularity sat back in his chair and considered his options. He knew that The Traitor and the girl had left the Finningley Air Station in Verisimilitude  607, and that they had in all likelihood left that reality completely. He knew that they'd left their aircraft behind, and it seemed to him that meant they had probably taken that ridiculous van The Traitor insisted on driving.

However the Duke doubted that The Traitor and the girl would be comfortable living together in such a confined space. They were not lovers, and he knew from his observations that most homo-sapien females were unlikely to be happy to sleep in the same bed as a man who was not their lover. This inefficient emotional behaviour would now work to his advantage.

But where would they go?

He smiled a thin smile. Returning to the girl's home would be illogical - idiotic even. But she had undoubtedly been through some trauma. The Traitor would want to make her feel comfortable, and Homo-sapiens tended to be very attached to their homes. It was logical that The Traitor would behave illogically.

He leaned forward and tapped the intercom on his desk. "I shall be busy for the next little while," he rasped "I am not to be interupted."

-oOo-

Ellie and Tristian were sitting side by side on the sofa, while a bemused looking Mrs Pragya Chatterjee perched in the armchair. Samaar, who had returned to the flat after the takeaway had closed was leaning on the back of the chair staring intently at Tristian. His expression was unreadable.  Finally he spoke.

"That's an interesting story."

His voice carried no shred of conviction and his expression spoke only of disbelief. He dropped his head and fixed Ellie with a firm hazel eyed glare.

"I did say that your explanation needed to be good, but I didn't expect such creativity Ellie."

Ellie shook her head. "Samaar, I know this is hard to believe but-"

"Hard to believe?!" The big man's voice dripped with incredulous derision. "Ellie, I don't know where you've been or what you've been doing, but you scared the Biṣṭhā***** out of us! Ma has been a wreck since you disappeared, and now you come back with this stupid story about alternate universes and giant airships?!" He shook his head.

Ellie began to speak but Mrs Chatterjee interrupted. 

"This all sounds like nonsense." Her voice was thoughtful. "But I do not think that Ellie has ever lied to me. I do not think that she would make up something this stupid."

Ellie pressed her advantage. "Look, I know how this sounds - I'd like to not believe this myself! But these things happened! I saw what I saw! So many people are dead and I honestly don't know what to do." She looked at the Bengali woman with imploring eyes. "I don't understand what these people want from me, I don't understand this Fulcrum business, I don't get any of this. But I'm not making this up!"

Pragya Chatterjee smiled. "What you say makes no sense at all Śiśu, but i know you. You are a clever girl. If you wanted to lie to an old woman you would make your lie one I could believe. Such nonsense as this? You would not make up."

Ellie was about to reply, but a blinding flash of purple light silenced her. The air filled with the stench of mothballs and Ellie's stomach sank to her boots.

Duke Regimen Asquith of the Singularity reached a cadaverous hand to his throat and straightened the black tie that hung loosely around his neck. "Hello." His voice was like sandpaper on stone. "Miss Sage. You will come with me, or you and all your friends will die."

Both Tristian and Samaar leapt to their feet, but the Duke was faster, bringing a slim chromium pistol to bear between Ellie's eyes.

"Do not move." His voice was calm. Flat. Devoid of emotion. "I will take The Fulcrum. You will remain here. I presume I am clear?"

Tristian caught Samaar's eye and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. The old Duke smiled.

"As I thought, traitor, no stomach for the fight."

There was another blinding purple light, and both he and Ellie were gone.

*Bengali - "Son of a Bitch"

**Bengali - "Aunt" - general Bengali term of address for an unknown adult woman.

***Bengali - "Yes I do, but my accent is terrible."

****Bengali - "Boy"

*****Bengali - "Shit"