Weight of Gravity

by Sheron Wood McCartha

  “Your new wife is most beautiful,” commented Khalib. “She is Terran, no?” The gaze became even more predatory.

  “She is,” Bashar asserted in a restrained voice. “She’s anxious to meet fellow Terrans who we have heard dwell here.”

  Khalib brushed an imaginary grain of sand from his spotless cossack. “It’s possible. I’m a connoisseur of beautiful women, no matter what the species.” He grinned.

  A sidewise glance by Merek revealed Mika twitching at the nomad’s attitude. Mika wasn’t used to being evaluated by outward appearance. She had spent her life honing her fighting skills and that was where she set her bar, not on any idea of surface beauty. Any whiff of femininity she hid behind a severe black uniform and absence of makeup. She lowered her eyes and stared at the floor, most likely biting her tongue bloody but playing the role. Duty came first with her, no matter the price… or the insult.

  Bags and possessions were sent to rooms, while the women left for the women’s quarters where they could freshen up for dinner. The housemaster led the men to quarters at an opposite end through sandstone corridors, musty with age. Underfoot, decorative shale slabs paved the ground. Echoes of voices and the shuffling of shoes bounced around, ricocheting off the hard limestone walls.

  Merek’s room was simply laid out, revealing cream sandstone walls and dark wood furniture. A wardrobe and low dresser took up one wall. A large ceiling fan rotated lazily overhead. Entering through a dark wooden door at one end, Merek stopped near a bed next to two washbowls with water in each and a cake of fresh soap on the side. First, he washed away the dust and grime on his body before changing into fresh clothes. Over at a far wall, a private door led to Bashar’s larger and grander room.

  ***

  At Bashar’s insistence, Merek joined the group for dinner. A large stone table accommodated Khalib Allfyre, his primary wife, Kalista, and his two sons by her, Mahat and Jarod. His guests consisting of Bashar, Deuce, Mika, Souci, and Merek sat across from them. Servants circled about offering everyone food from platters and refilling drinks.

  Merek pushed around a cube of mystery meat, worried it might be one of Matilda's relatives.

  Noticing Bashar’s reluctance to taste the tidbit, and guessing his reason, Deuce said, “Khalib, this is one of the best cuts of ark that I have ever eaten. Your seasoning is superb. My compliments to the cook.”

  Merek breathed out a relieved sigh. As difficult as the lompir had been, he couldn’t eat its meat. It had become a pet. “Ark?” Encouraged, he nibbled at a piece on his fork.

  “You’ve heard of the ark,” replied Deuce. “Dumbest animal in Alysia, but their coat is a gorgeous iridescent color and their meat quite tasty.” He motioned for another helping.

  “I have a rather nice herd,” Khalib said proudly.

  Deuce’s eyes twinkled as he picked up a green stalk of an exotic vegetable and nodded minutely to Merek.

  “I’m amazed at how fresh your vegetables are,” said Bashar as he scooped up more greens from a platter.

  Khalib chuckled. “I was lucky this compound came with a greenhouse in the back that is connected to a deep well. With the outside atmosphere tainted by so much debris, raising vegetables outside is impossible. Once the Ching T’Karre farms thrived, but now many in the area stand abandoned. People starve unless they augment with a greenhouse.

  “I’ve done the same to protect my people,” said Bashar with a nod. “We are mostly self-sufficient, too.”

  Deuce cleared his throat. “I heard the Terrans are clearing the atmosphere with their giant air cleaners. Surely farming outside will soon be possible again.”

  Waving a tong, Khalib said, “Their air processors are concentrated more northward near Islia where the bigger pieces of the moon, Thanos, hit. There, the air became so thick it was hard to see or breathe. Even so, our atmosphere is finally clearing and the climate stabilizing. Myself, I personally prefer this warmer climate much like the Sunglast, but I don’t want it to get too much drier. Desert living can be hard.”

  “Truth from Rhagma of the flame who rules us all,” intoned Bashar, waving his drink.

  “So, he does,” murmured several voices in response. “And so, it will always be, evermore,” they concluded.

  Merek pushed around his ark meat and said nothing.

  A pause came in the conversation as everyone concentrated on eating. Finally, Kalista turned to Mika and said, “Your abela is lovely, dear.”

  Mika nodded as if she understood. She adjusted a fold, smiled at her hostess, and sipped her drink.

  Talk started up and proceeded with neutral subjects. Bashar must have warned Souci, for she spoke rarely, except to answer an innocuous question or two. Merek blessed the local gods and held his breath when any question was directed at her. Later, he noticed Bashar toss her an approving nod, and toward the end of the meal, he passed her an extra exotic dessert.

  Finally, Khalib clapped his hands and stood up. “The hour is getting late. Let the women retire to their quarters. Men, follow me to my study for a taste of t’aile.”

  Deuce and Bashar exchanged worried, but eager, glances as everyone stood. Deuce licked his lips, causing Bashar to roll his eyes while Merek trailed along, continuing to fulfill his role of bodyguard.

  In Khalib's study, a servant began setting out small cylindrical glasses while Merek examined the room. Solid wood shelves with books and décor items filled one sandstone niche. A large desk with a quartz-like top, covered by computer equipment, occupied another. In a corner, a grouping of well-padded chairs sat with a round heartwood table at their center. An alcove within the third wall held a bar stocked with an assortment of bottles that provided a variety of drinks. There a servant poured and came to set a drink in a small glass cylinder in front of each person.

  Khalib lifted his glass. “To a successful visit.”

  His two sons, Mahat and Jarod, raised their glasses along with the others. “To a successful visit,” all six chorused.

  Merek bent to listen to their comments and took a sip. The drink exploded in his mouth. Nuances of spicy, sweet, tart, and floral played across his tongue. After he swallowed, the heat from the drink traveled down his throat, forming a warm ball in the pit of his stomach. He went for another sip, this time much larger. His eyes watered as he savored the astounding experience.

  Bashar gazed at the sparkling amber liquid, slowly rotating the drink in his hand. He took a second sip and sighed. “This is a fine t’aile. One of my favorite growths.” He eagerly poured the rest of the drink into his mouth. In a moment, it was gone.

  “Please have another glass,” encouraged Khalib.

  “Alas, I would better appreciate such a drink if I were more alert. It has been a long day.” Bashar stretched and placed his emptied glass on the table, rubbing his face.

  Khalib lowered his drink. A flash of disappointment flickered across his countenance and quickly vanished to be replaced with a forced smile. “Forgive my lack of courtesy. You must be exhausted from the trip. We will meet tomorrow and discuss business when you are more rested.”

  Bashar nodded. “It would be better. I cannot give a true account when I’m this fatigued. If you won’t take offense, it would be best for me to retire. Your hospitality has been superb, but my lids grow heavy and my body weary.”

  Already light-headed from the t’aile, Merek felt Khalib’s eyes studying him. “Is it usual for one’s guard to sleep so near? The adjoining room is usually reserved for, ah, someone of a more tender sex.” Khalib raised his drink for a sip but watched Bashar intently from behind the rim.

  “As my bodyguard, I require Merek’s complete attention. At home, the situation is different. I mean no disrespect, as I’m sure this house is safe, but when traveling in a foreign land, I have decided that he be at my beck and call.” Bashar regarded the pretend guard. “Merek is new to the position, and we are both working out what is comfortable. Discretion is vital to our arrangement.”

  “Ah.” Khalib smi
led. “That explains a lot. Be assured I have no qualms with divergent preferences.”

  Bashar’s eyes widened when he realized their host’s implication. “Bear in mind, dear cousin, that I have a wife with child. That is my sole preference.”

  “And two beautiful additional wives in your harem.” Khalib closed his eyes and tossed back his drink in a gulp.

  Bashar winced, but managed a return smile. “Indeed. That makes my manhood not in doubt.”

  “I have often found that variety can offer spice to a relationship.” Khalib stood, placing his empty glass on the table. “But no matter. Let me have my house manager return you to your rooms. If you have any needs, inform him at once.”

  Merek stood to follow, leaving his empty glass on the table. Longingly, he gazed after the bottle of t’aile. He now understood Matilda’s feelings when he’d walked away with the sugar cubes.

  He also recognized that Bashar’s move was wise. Unfortunate words often followed a drink as strong as t’aile. He would have to be careful if ever offered the drink again for already he yearned for more. He knew that alcohol could easily be used as a weapon to weaken one’s adversary.

  With that penetrating insight, he headed to his room.

  Chapter 5

  Harem

  “Uncle.”

  The soft word jerked Bashar out of sleep. He was too young to be anyone’s uncle. Uncles were old men.

  But no, he stared into the dark eyes of Solanje’s niece. Souci sat nose tip to nose tip with him on his bed.

  “What are you doing here?” he gasped, eyes blinking.

  Behind her, a door opened and Merek crept in. When the guard saw who it was, his body posture relaxed, and he pocketed his weapon.

  Bashar waved him forward and turned to Sousi. “What are you doing on my bed?”

  “But husband, why would you ask such a question? A message came that you requested me tonight.” She stroked him on the cheek and straightened an errant dark curl at his forehead.

  Bashar shot up to a sitting position, brushing away her hand.

  She leaned forward whispering, “There are cameras all about.” Then she straightened up, a smile dancing across her lips, the consummate actress.

  He rubbed his nose and lifted his gaze toward Merek, who stood in the dim light with a frown.

  Merek nodded to the ceiling where Bashar could make out an embedded round disc. He traced a line across the ceiling and found another. He angled his head at it.

  Merek nodded.

  Bashar grabbed for a robe and wrapped it around him. With raised eyebrows, he murmured, “Others?”

  Merek nodded.

  He tightened his sash. “T’aile makes me thirsty. Merek, go to the kitchen and bring us each a glass of water. And you, my delicious wife, will come to me now.” Bashar yanked Sousi to his chest and buried his lips against her neck.

  “Awk!” Her body stiffened.

  Into her hair, he hissed, “Behave yourself.”

  She whispered back, “What about our rescue?”

  Out loud, she declared, “I hear and obey, oh Lord de Fyre Elitas. Your wish is my command.”

  He choked on the impudent words, but her luxurious silken strands of hair smothered the sound.

  Lifting and standing her apart from him, he gritted out, “As it should be. Tonight, I require polite conversation as it has been a long day and physical activity is not desired. But I did want to see you.” He moved over to a grouping of chairs and sat while Sousi lit an oil lamp and brought it over. She kneeled at his feet.

  What an actress. He played his fingers through her long silken hair and leaned in to offer her an eye roll. “You have lovely hair, truly worthy of a Ching T’Karre princess. It would be such a shame…”

  He glanced up as Merek returned with the water and a raised eyebrow. “Did you know the status of the women in the Ching T’Karre is measured by the length of their hair?” Bashar asked.

  Placing the water on the table, Merek peered at Souci. “I was not aware. Her hair ripples almost to her waist. This one must have a very high status, indeed.”

  Souci yanked her hair back with both hands, wrapped it into a bun and secured it with a hair stick. “You both should not worry overmuch about my hair or my importance.”

  Bashar reached for his water. “Oh, I have no worries where your hair is concerned. None.” He took a thoughtful sip. “However, your importance… is a different matter. Nonetheless, I have a present for you—a trifle to show my affection, dear wife.” His eyes twinkled at the jab.

  He pulled out an electronic tablet that was small enough to fit easily into her delicate hand. He passed it to her. “I have noticed your passion for video games.”

  “Video games?” Her brow knitted together in puzzlement.

  “Oh, yes. I have included your favorites. Press this button to turn it on.”

  Arcade music filled the room. Merek frowned. “That reminds me of a popular ship game with jumping brothers in overalls. In fact, I would bet the device came off a Terran ship.”

  Bashed nodded. “You’re right. A Terran toy. Also, it comes with a drawing program.” He tapped a blue button and wrote: Draw a layout of this house and outlying buildings. Write the names of all occupants and their responsibilities. “You draw such exquisite pictures of flowers and animals.”

  She rubbed the device with a forefinger and smiled. “Grandmeir always says so.”

  He flipped back to the arcade. Music punctuated the area. In a lowered tone under the noise, he said, “This black button sends the information to me, and in an emergency, this red one erases your board to lock the information into a secure area.” He tapped a button and the music stopped.

  “Oh husband, you are too kind. I shall treasure this gift and surely find a proper way to repay you.” She leaned forward to kiss his forehead, after which she deposited the gift into a hidden pocket.

  Merek put out a hand to help her stand. “Nothing too painful, I hope,” he murmured, gazing down at her.

  Her eyes twinkled. "Most likely," she answered.

  Barely hearing the exchange, Bashar yawned. “Now I must get my rest as tomorrow may prove to be another long day.”

  “As you wish, my lord. As you wish.” Souci rose and danced out with a wave goodbye.

  Bashar motioned for Merek to accompany her back. “Make sure she returns safely.” They both exchanged meaningful glances.

  ***

  “Oh.” Mika quickly hid the knife she had been sharpening and adjusted her abela. The damned outfit kept twisting around, making her uncomfortable and restricting any freedom of movement. Morning now dawned, and she’d just finished dressing. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes as the large bulk of Khalib Allfyre strode into the women’s section where she was quartered. She hadn’t much time to investigate where the Terran women slept, but it was a good bet they were in the locked unit adjoining the courtyard. Several small, intimate rooms were situated just off the main area where she could only imagine what went on.

  Khalib swept into the room and headed straight for her. He brushed his hand outward, signaling for them to clear a path. Women tittered as they scattered before him.

  “I came personally to make sure you were comfortable.” He touched her arm.

  Her body shivered, and she tried to find her voice. “I’m most comfortable, thank you.” Her stomach clenched as she removed his hand from her arm. She took a step back, but he seemed to be tangled up in her clothes and pulled himself closer.

  He quested for her hand and gripped it. “I want to know if I can do anything for you.” His eyes stared intently at her with a manic expression. “I must admit I was curious to see your bare face.” His free hand reached up to stroke her cheek.

  She stopped an almost unconscious reaction of kneeing him in the groin and breaking the his invading hand. Her mind demanded her body to stay still. Attacking this dangerous man would destroy the mission and possibly kill them all. Her hand itched to stab with the sharpen
ed knife, but she took a breath and a step back.

  “You are even more beautiful without the veil. It hides your true beauty.” He stepped forward, his alcoholic breath blasting into her face. “It is not fair to tempt a man so. Especially a man like myself, vulnerable to your charms.”

  “Sir, I’m a married woman. I don’t wish to tempt anyone.”

  “Bah! Bashar puts on airs. He is of little consequence. I knew him when he was but a landless pup.” Khalib waved his hand about. “It seems that if he has more than one wife to occupy his time, who should be allowed to dally with more than one husband? There is a private room nearby. No one need ever know. It will be our secret.” A sly smile emerged on his face.

  Mika stared at him. How stupid does he think I am?

  Khalib reached into a pocket and extracted a sparkling gem. “I reward generously those that please me,” he said in a coaxing tone.

  Her mind grew frantic trying to think of how to respond to this idiot.

  He took her hesitation for consent, grabbed an arm, and tugged her toward the nearest locked room.

  She dug in her heels and their forward progress halted. “You are handsome and powerful, but I swore fidelity to Bashar the day I married him,” she gasped, hoping that would be enough to stop him.

  He paused. A frown wrinkled his brow and a lip stuck out. Petulance at her resistance emerged on his face.

  Mika had little experience handling amorous men. Usually, she had the upper hand and cuffs available if the behavior turned bad. That was not an option here.

  “Mika!” Entering, Sousi broke the hold of several women barring her way. “What are you doing?”

  “Ah, Sousi. Lord Allfyre was asking if I was comfortable… and… if we needed anything.”

  “I cannot think of anything more.” Sousi took hold of the nomad’s hand and peered up at Lord Allfyre. “You are so gracious, my lord, but our accommodations are perfection. We hardly want for anything else.” Her fingers pried his hand loose from Mika. “We have a busy day today and look forward to enjoying your hospitality, but really, Mika is already late for an important appointment.”