Free Dair Devil by Lucinda Brant Page B

She mentally shook her mind clear and discovered Dair had disappeared.
    “D AIR ! D AIR . For pity’s sake! Don’t leave me here to rot!”
    It was Grasby, pleading. But from where? His voice was muffled, as if he was down a deep well. Soldiers were now scrambling over the studio. Soon she would be discovered! Oh where was the Major? No sooner had Rory wondered this than he appeared, out from under the platform. He slithered on his stomach far enough out so he could raise his shoulders then twisted his body around onto his bare buttocks, Rory turning her head so she did not see him sit up. When he huffed she looked back at him. He was covered in cobwebs and dust.
    “Coy little thing aren’t you?” he stated without criticism. He jerked his head at the stage. “Friend in dire straits. He’s stuck under a beam. Must get him free. So you’ll have to excuse me. And a warning, I would stay low until the fighting—”
    “ Fighting —?”
    “—is over.” He leaned down and called out under the platform, “Never would abandon you, Grasby! Just do as I say! You can’t come forward. The gap is too narrow, even for your skinny carcass! You have to back out, rump first!”
    “Oh God! No! Not that way! Dair! Dair! You’ve got to save me!”
    “Will do, dear fellow! Got to create a diversion first. When you hear a roar of noise and the girls screaming, that’s when you scuttle backwards the way you came in, and as fast as you can. Got it?”
    “Got it! A great noise and screaming and I back out.”
    “As fast as you can!”
    “As fast as I can!”
    “That’s the spirit!”
    “Dair! Dair? What the bloody hell do I do then? Where do I go? Make for the window?”
    “No! Not the window! Across the platform. On the other side there’s a door—”
    “A door? On the other side of the platform? Oi!? What’s that racket? Sounds like a damned rhino stomping above me!”
    “Soldiers looking for—”
    “She’s sent soldiers to look for me? Bloody hell! I’m done for!”
    “Not you! Nothing for you to worry about!”
    “Worry about? I don’t care about the bloody militia! It’s the bloody wife—dearest Silla—she’s out there, Dair! She’s going to kill me! Dair! Dair… I’ve lost my bloody breechcloth… Dair?”
    Dair swiveled on his toes, hunched over, shoulders shaking and a hand clapped to his mouth to stifle an outburst of laughter. Tears of glee filled his eyes. He turned back to face the black void under the platform when Grasby called to him in a thin high-pitched whisper.
    “Dair? Dair, did you hear me…? You’re laughing! I know it! This isn’t amusing! This is my head on the block!”
    Despite controlling his laughter, Dair could not hide his grin and it sounded in his voice. He wiped tears from his eyes, smudging the soot.
    “No. Not amusing at all! But it’s not your head that’s the concern.”
    “Damn you to hell for getting me in this fix!”
    “Yes. Yes. I’ll be there soon enough. Just put your hands over your gadso and get across the stage and through that door as fast as you can! Make for the carriage. Grasby? Grasby!”
    “Yes! Yes! Door! Carriage! Have a care with Silla. Be gentle. Her nerves. The shock… Are you listening to me, Dair? Dair? Dair! Devil take you! Bloody stupid prank! Bloody…”
    The rest of Lord Grasby’s tirade of abuse was swallowed by the noise of the dancers being herded under protest back onto the platform.
    Dair took a look across the stage to ascertain the position of the soldiers. Most were still in formation awaiting orders. The civilians were still by the door, as was Lady Grasby and the Weasel, and two soldiers guarded the exit. Strange they were positioned there; that was not part of the agreement with the captain. The dancers were all huddled on the stage, and blocked his view of the right side of the studio. He presumed it was Consulata prone on the chaise longue; all he could see of her was a fan fluttering to and fro in agitation above