***
The climb up the stairs seemed to be in slow motion to Bromarsh although he knew Zada was moving quite fast. He struggled but to no avail.
“Stop,” said a voice in Zada’s mind, but she ignored it. There was a blast of air in front of them and a thud as a knife sank into the carpet on the wooden staircase, three steps above them. Bromarsh was unceremoniously dumped on the landing and Zada turned to face her adversary. Zada had the advantage of the defensive position, but could not reach Letinza who drew her sword and stepped forward.
Lahoda arrived and joined the rest of the customers in pushing back the tables and chairs to give room for the fight. No-one called the police. Why let them spoil the fun? The bar-owner was unconcerned about any damage. The man on the landing had worn Princess Marina’s badge. Marina would pay up without arguing. Zada might have the law on her side now, but the law tended to favour the winner in a fight and Letinza was a serving officer in the Army. She had a good reputation in a fight.
The bar-owner was mentally backing Letinza to win. Bromarsh got awkwardly to his feet. He had fallen with a bang and hit his head, so was slow to rise. Letinza and Zada crossed swords and were feinting and parrying with style. The banister rail restricted Letinza from getting a good angle to thrust directly at Zada. He knew nothing of the betting on Letinza, but he was getting tired of thanking people for rescuing him.
It was time he acted for himself. Moving quietly back down the stairs, behind Zada, she did not notice his advance. She caught his thought as his arm raised and the side of his hand cracked down on her neck, but her reflexes were too slow. His hand reached its mark and she crumpled into a heap sliding down the stairs indecorously. Her sword which had fallen from her hand, bumped down after her. Bromarsh turned and tugged the knife out of the carpet behind him and handed it hilt first to Letinza. She took it and re-sheathed it, then did the same with her sword.
Two of Zada’s friends checked her over, carrying her out of the bar cheerfully. The other customers put the tables and chairs back and continued their drinking where they had left off. There was a slight air of disappointment that the fight had ended so quickly, but the night was young. Bromarsh and Letinza were joined by Lahoda and the three had a drink or two. An hour or so later they decided they were hungry and dined together. Some time that evening someone informed Letinza of her new posting. The quiet evening became a celebration. Then Lahoda was asked to fetch Jelen from the central police station. Letinza and Bromarsh continued on without her.
Jelen had been arrested along with another five slaves after a fight as the demonstration was breaking up. An overheard thought from a Police Officer had resulted in a heated exchange and a slave was arrested. Jelen and a few other slaves had piled in to protect their friend, but got arrested themselves. Charles had not been involved. Jelen left the police station, sporting a black eye and Lahoda paid over a considerable sum as surety for his good behaviour. Lahoda was thinking seriously of chaining him permanently to her bed as the only way of keeping him out of mischief, before he bankrupted her.
Divak had stayed with Ondiella all that afternoon. She agreed to him accompanying her back to the hostel and he explained how a transport worked to her. He invited her out with him the next day. Ondiella accepted shyly and went into her room. She had not yet found a name for her son. She would ask her new friend Divak for suggestions tomorrow. She wondered why he had not tried to come inside. Ondiella liked that, an old fashioned gesture, courting a woman. She thought it sweet.
Divak sought out the manager he had spoken with earlier.
“Thank you for helping me in my search for Ondiella. Could you assist me in another couple of small matters?” He asked being his most charming self.
“I will try. What do you require?”
“Would you not mention to Ondiella that I was looking for her? I don’t want to make a big thing of it and we’ve now met, so all is well.”
“No problem and the other thing?”
“Ondiella and my sister didn’t hit it off well, apparently. Could you not mention I’m Marina’s brother; Ondiella is bound to learn it eventually, but it doesn’t have to be right away, does it?”
The manager laughed and agreed it would be all right, after all Marina was picking up the bill. It did not disturb her ethics.
***
Jessina had a long chat that night with Father O’Flaherty. Floren was fast asleep, but she found sleep would not come. Father O’Flaherty welcomed her into his study. They had hot milky drinks and toasted crumpets which the cook made especially for him. She told him about her visit to Vellina. She was worried about Vellina, but had faith in Princess Marina.
“If anyone can save Vellina, then Marina can,” he said.
“But I’m concerned about Floren, if I stay. Should he return to our parents or should he stay with me? My mother will understand my decision, but I’ll miss Floren and he’ll miss me too. Should I go home? I want to stay here with you and Marina.”
Father O’Flaherty loved Zenina but he still longed for Eire.
“Would I give up my telepathic abilities for the chance to die in Eire?”
He did not know whether to tell her to live with sight amongst the blind or to break her parents’ and brother’s hearts and follow her talents where the wind would blow. So he listened with love, comforting her and prayed a solution to her dilemma would be found. It was late when they sought their beds and neither slept easily.
***
Charles had an early supper at Halabala’s and a willowy Blue to follow. His companion was due on shift in the early evening so he returned home alone and sat with a book to await Marina’s return. He did not concentrate and dozed in snatches. He hoped Marina would succeed, not because he especially loved Vellina but his mistress Marina was so close to Vellina, he feared how she would react if she failed. In the early hours he had heard nothing from her, he gave up and retired to bed. He slept deeply but not peacefully, racked by dreams of Marina dying, a sword thrust through her, drowning, burning, or exploding. He saw many ends but each left him bereft.
Then worse, far worse followed; he saw Marina cradling her child, looking up at a Golden man who stood beside her with love in his eyes, oblivious of Charles who stood watching their joy in agony. He sought the face of the man who would steal his joy away, but it was in shadow as if mist hung around him. Marina took his arm and the expression on her face tore at his soul. Charles prayed without hope she would one day look at him that way. He woke in a cold sweat and it was long before he slept again. No further dreams came, but neither did he wake refreshed.
***
The sun just peeped over the horizon when Marina left the hospital. She had done all she could. Carina’s body was breathing artificially and Vellina’s brain was still functioning but asleep. It would be hours before she knew if the operation was successful. She had eaten; she did not recall what, sometime before she operated. Marina had known she needed it to keep her hands steady, but had eaten as duty without looking or tasting. Her body was hungry and tired, but she could face neither food nor sleep.
What she wanted was a man and a drink, perhaps many drinks. Logically, she argued it would be better for her body to prescribe herself a sleeping draught and sleep at the hospital. She felt emotionally exhausted; the last few days had piled up on her. Everyone expected so much from her, she expected it herself. Right now she did not want to do what she ought. She rebelled against going home and easing Charles’s mind. She could not face his sympathy or his love which she could not return. She wanted a man who cared nothing for her and who she cared about even less.
Marina trotted from the hospital, loosening up the muscles of her body which had been held in check too long. She stretched her stride to a full-out run and soon reached the back streets of Hemithea. She let herself into the flat she kept for slumming and changed out of her medical whites. Marina put on a simple skirt and changed her skin to a glittering Blue. She took out her hair; re-braiding it
so the thicker shorter plait hung below her shoulders and added some bright coloured bangles and gaudy beads. Then she strapped on her knife and set out.
Hemithea never slept. The bars were not obliged to close at any time. Theatres and clubs could run five or more performances a day and sometimes did. Zeninans required less sleep and the majority of residents worked shifts, so it was always possible to shop, buy a meal or a drink. Marina visited three bars, having a drink or two in each without seeing any man that took her fancy. In the fourth she saw a couple of lads, who might be possible and wandered over to join them.
They welcomed her to their table, one offering her his knee, but she was still too sober and pulled up a chair. Introductions were made; they accepted her name as Marza without question and were friendly in a rough way. Marina was not that interested in either of them, but supposed they would do, plural.
The boys were Markabans off a cargo ship; square jawed, unshaven but handsome enough in a raw style. The older, Zanan, had high colour in his cheeks and tiny ginger curls escaped from the neck of his shirt. The younger, Mevil, was fair and had a luxuriant moustache over his upper lip. They had arrived in Zenina that evening after two months in space and were game for anything.
Marina was considering inviting them upstairs when a voice spoke from behind her. Standing by her table was a tall man in Markaban dress. He was not Markaban, but Kurgian in appearance. He wore beige fatigues pressed into sharp creases. The indigo of his hair was faded at his temples into pale blue flashes. He was in his mid-thirties with strong sharp features and deep blue eyes. Marina twisted in her seat and apologized, “I’m sorry I did not hear what you said.”
“May I introduce myself, ma’am?” he said “My name is Riyal. I’m sure these gentlemen would excuse us. May I be of service to you?”
“A charming speech Captain Ga’ Riyal, I’m not very good company, this morning, perhaps some other time.”
“Apologies for the intrusion, ma’am, but I’ve seen and admired you and always hoped we’d meet one day. Today seemed my lucky day. I thought I’d take my chance.”
He turned and walked away sitting down again at a table across the room with two other men, a Kurgian and a man of mixed blood, probably mostly Markaban. Marina finished her drink, bought the boys another and walked over to Riyal’s table. They stood as she came closer. She gestured for them to sit and perched herself on the corner of the table.
“You know who I am, don’t you Captain Ga’Riyal?” she asked.
“I’d recognise you if you were bound in a sack, Princess, I prefer Riyal; I’m not Kurgian.”
“You look Kurgian.”
“Only three quarters, my grandmother was Zeninan, as I will be soon.”
“How long have you been in Zenina cumulatively?”
“Over four months.”
“You understand the risks then?”
“Yes, I accept the risks.”
“Well you are not what I had it mind and I’ve no intention of being gentle with you, but I suppose you’ll do. Follow.”
She stood up and sauntered out of the door without glancing backwards or slackening her pace. She retraced her steps to her pied-a-terre. Riyal left his drink and friends, catching up before she reached the door, kissing her roughly as the tradeswomen went about their early morning business.
Inside she led him to a small room, it was completely unfurnished, and the walls, floor and ceiling were padded and covered with scarlet velvet. There were no windows and the door too was identically padded. No handle stuck out from the door. The lights were set deep into the angles where the ceiling joined the walls, nothing protruded. They undressed in silence, leaving everything outside the room.
He reached for her roughly and she hit him with the flat of her hand across his face. It was a light slap but not gentle. He retaliated with his fists and she fought wildly back. He hit her harder. Then pushing her so she fell, he threw himself upon her. She bit and scratched but she let him in. It was not nice or kind or loving; but when they fell apart bruised and bleeding, neither were complaining.
Riyal knew she had not really tried to hurt him. He had not pulled his punches, understanding her need to punish herself and the relationship between pleasure and pain. She had held back, not wanting to hurt him seriously. She played rough with velvet paws.
As he took her again more gently, he wondered how she would be after his colour change. He could only partly read her thoughts and they had not entered mind-link. She was certainly everything he had hoped she would be. Everything he thought a woman should be. If this was Marina exhausted and emotionally drained, he was not sure he could imagine anything better. What would she be like if she loved you, his mind wondered? Better not think it, he told himself, grab what you can Riyal. Don’t dream of love; for this one will fly away.
Chapter Seven - Prejudice and Courtesy
When Father Debenden awoke, dawn had been chased away by the day. He washed, dressed and performed his morning observances to the trinity and all the saints. He spent some time in quiet reflection before waking the children for breakfast. The subject of his reverie was life in Zenina. He knew he was being kept cloistered, out of trouble. He appreciated Princess Marina and Father O’Flaherty’s concern for him, but he had seen too little of Zenina or Zeninans to form opinions.
He had not considered disobeying their instructions as he was used to obedience to his rule. In the evenings he read about Zeninan society but believed the selection of books chosen for him by Bishop O’Flaherty had been censored so he read nothing that might offend him. He was surprised Jessina had been taken around by Marina and Kazimira. She was a pretty little girl, but rather dull. She never seemed to be listening, as if her thoughts were elsewhere.
Now if they had taken Floren, he would have understood it. He was a bright out-going boy, how could they prefer his quiet sister? Princess Marina had taken no real notice of Floren at all. He wondered how soon they could leave. It was strange to visit another planet and meet so few people. Apart from Marina, the Bishop, Konsky and Charles and the two Ruby nurses, he had met only children and servants. He was used to the company of learned men. There did not appear to be many of those on this planet.
He found the conversation of Father O’Flaherty common place; they had no doctrinal discussions or witty dissections of complex passages of the Scriptures. Father O’Flaherty talked about breakfast, lunch and going swimming. His voice was beautiful and sonorous, but it did not disguise the lack of content in their conversations.
Charles’s status seemed to be chief concubine, chauffeur and general gopher to Princess Marina. Yet he had been informed by Bishop O’Flaherty he was a slave and technically that Marina owned the Bishop as well. Neither acted as Father Debenden expected slaves to. Both came and went as they pleased and neither treated Princess Marina with the formality her royal status required. Konsky was another matter, he dressed and swaggered like his idea of a Zeninan pimp, or Father Debenden thought like a rent boy, not that he had knowingly met any, but he seemed quite charming and a very loving father. Even Father Debenden acknowledged appearances could be deceptive in Zenina.
Charles and Konsky seemed as thick as each other. They passed the time of day politely with him; but neither could be considered intellectual. He doubted Charles had ever read anything of note. He could not discuss important things with him. The nurses had talked only of the children in their care and the progress of their lace making. Princess Marina was clearly fairly intelligent and a great lady, but she was always dashing about.
Father O’Flaherty had his own house, servants who did the cleaning and cooking and enough money for anything he wanted. Few Bishops lived as well. Yet he chose to live simply and apparently there were some religious persecution issues, but he could not be described as a martyr.
He found the Zeninans’ attitude to nudity unsettling, what he had seen of Hemithea when they had driven through town indicated the normal dress of both sexes consisted of a breach clout
or skirt with jewellery. Such dress in primitive tribes he found understandable, but women walking around with their breasts exposed seemed the norm on Zenina.
Debenden believed the intelligence of Zeninans grossly over-rated. Their telepathic abilities he dismissed like conjuring or tight-rope walking, a nice party trick but hardly practical. Not what an educated man would seek to do. Debenden did not consider the smooth space-ride or the transporters or the other feats of engineering he had seen in the ice caves proof of greater intelligence. He had always considered scientists, engineers or inventors were quite clever people, but not as intelligent or intellectual as his theology tutors.
The ability of Zeninans to change their skin colour he had noticed, yet he wondered if it indicated some link to reptiles in their genes as chameleons could do the same he believed. Zeninans could actually do it far better than chameleons and had used the ability to get near to enemies in battle. In poor light or jungle conditions their ability to blend into the background made them almost invisible and aided the surveillance of enemy units. The ambush of heavily armed troops by naked Zeninans had proved successful in previous battles.
He was enjoying the food; the Zeninans were excellent cooks, which as the planet was run by women, was as Father Debenden thought it should be. He had not discovered the vast majority of Zeninan women never cooked, leaving it up to work or residential kitchens where they could eat or pick up food to take home. Whilst noticing he had never tasted vegetables or meat so delicious, he did not realise it was because no artificial chemicals had been used in their production or added to lengthen storage.
Nor had he learnt ground level force-shields kept slugs, insects and small herbivores from the growing vegetables or that the only fertilisers used were seaweed, manure of various kinds, compost and processed sewerage. Agriculture on the planet was easier as there were no fungal or viral pests to destroy the crops, but the flavour of the natural product was superior. Kabaneev who specialised in human and animal genetics had also suggested changes to crop varieties which should be carefully bred and modified.
Heroine of Zenina Page 5