Chapter 19
I had barely made it back to my suite when Taragis came knocking. He had the look of someone with a secret. That worried me. I was hungry so I made myself some lunch and told him to help himself.
“Are your animals all right?” he asked.
I nearly choked on the mouthful of sandwich I was chewing.
“I think so. Why do you ask?” I tried to sound casual,
Much as I liked the man, he was an official with the Commission and I certainly was not about to tell him I planned to abscond.
“They looked a bit peaky to me. Mind, I know nothing about them so I could be wrong.”
“I’ll check next time I look in on them. How did you find out about them anyway?”
He tapped the side of his nose. “Ah. I have my methods. Actually, I bumped into your friend the hotel manager coming out of a room looking furtive. She practically had a heart attack when I spoke so I suspected she was harbouring a secret. I didn’t know it related to you. I thought she might be doing something illegal, so I used my charm and influence to find out.”
“You don’t mind?”
He shrugged. “I was a bit concerned at first. I’d heard the accusations about wild animals, of course, but you didn’t seem to be keeping a menagerie in your wardrobe so I dismissed them. There are people in the Commission who don’t like you very much, you know.”
I laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, yes. I know, all right.”
“I try and avoid them. My job is to liaise between you, the Commission and the outside world so I can’t afford to become embroiled in politics. Besides, I quite like you… for a barbarian.” He grinned to take the sting out of his words.
“Thanks, I think.”
“Since we’re on the subject, I should tell you that your Jabwak rating is falling. Not your fault. Since the incident at the party, we’ve been vetting all your appointments carefully. Unfortunately some of the sponsors are not entirely happy about this and a have been exerting a certain amount of influence on others. Nothing you could put a finger on. It’s just that a number of high-profile sponsors have unexpectedly withdrawn and the events we’re considering don’t quite have the prestige of some of the others. The Board are reviewing their strategy.”
I nodded. “I can’t say that surprises me. When you disturb a heap of garbage, you never know what unpleasant things will be lurking underneath.”
He winced. “Ouch. That was harsh.”
“Sorry, but you weren't here at the beginning. Tell me, do you think that Sir Inner-Piety and his colleagues will try something?”
“They are, believe me. Relations among the Board members are, shall we say, somewhat strained.”
“They’re not likely to try something more direct?”
He shook his head emphatically. “They’re much too busy trying to defend themselves, mostly by barracking the Chairman.”
“That’s a relief, I suppose. However, you haven’t answered my question.”
“Which one was that?”
“Taragis. I asked if you minded that I’d brought two ‘wild animals’ onto the planet illegally.”
“They’re quite cute though I don’t see why you’re so attached to them. But it doesn’t bother me. I’m not the one who’ll get into trouble if they’re discovered and, if they are, it won’t be through me. I’ve enough trouble with you as it is.”
I think he was joking. The door chimed and he rushed to open it. Barbita and four other beings came in, one of whom was hauling a box on wheels.
“Crawford, have you been a naughty boy again?” she asked as she kissed my cheek.
“What?” A witty rejoinder escaped me, as much due to her unexpected affection as her question.
“Madam Lhewlyn Dibhach is like an active volcano. She’s practically fizzing.”
“I take it you’re joking.”
“I don’t joke.”
“I hardly think that the promise of a trip on my spaceship would do that, even if it is… how did she put it?”
“The best, most luxurious, most expensive, newest ship in the Galaxy,” Taragis supplied.
“That.” I said. “When you say ‘fizzing’, do you mean with excitement, anger or something else?”
She grinned. “Excitement, mostly. Definitely not anger.”
“That’s a relief at least.”
“You don’t seem unduly interested.”
“I’m not. Lorca is a very enigmatic and perplexing person and I wouldn’t presume to guess what’s going on in her head.”
She looked cross. “You’re a fat lot of good.” Then she smiled. “But it’s what I expected.”
“That I’m a fat lot of good?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “That you would refuse to say anything.”
“I…” I began, then stopped.
There wasn’t any point in protesting I had no idea why Lorca was ‘fizzing’. I might as well leave my reputation intact.
“Anyway,” she turned to the young woman who’d been watching our exchange with an amused look. “May I introduce Madam Trissity Hunter. Triss, Sir Crawford MacAdam.”
Hunter? She couldn’t really be called Hunter, could she? Then it dawned on me that her name probably meant ‘hunter’ in her language so my translator had interpreted it as such. She was the thinnest person I had ever seen. I don’t mean she was skinny or bony or any other image the word ‘thin’ might conjure up; I mean thin in the sense of slender. She wasn’t as tall as Barbita but, standing beside the older woman, who wasn't large by any means, she looked positively ephemeral. On top of that, she had incredibly long legs; delightfully and subtly curved legs clad in shiny red pants so tight they could have been sprayed on. On top she wore a loose cream woven shirt with baggy sleeves that came to just below her crotch and revealed nothing at all of her top half. Her skin was golden, not a California tan gold but real old metallic gold, and her deep brown hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. The word ‘foxy’ might have been coined for her; wide forehead, narrow pointed jaw, upward-slanting dark eyes and a small sharp nose. After Lorca I thought I’d never find another woman sexy but I did her. I realised she was regarding me with wry amusement and I was staring.
“Madam Hunter, I apologise. Your stunning looks temporarily rendered me speechless.”
The ironic smile grew wider.
“But you are recovering quickly.” Her voice was deep and melodic.
I made a show of looking around. “Just as soon as I find my composure. I seem to have mislaid it.”
She laughed. Barbita and Taragis were beaming like proud parents.
“I’m sure it will return to you in due course,” Taragis said. “In the meantime, may I present Madam Fay Mortongent and Sir Nerude Ruvloyf. They are dancing instructors.”
The pair, both elegantly dressed and coiffed, smiled professionally with lots of teeth and little warmth.
“Dancing instructors?” I said, my heart sinking. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
Taragis’s grin was broad. I hated him.
“Tonight you and Madam Hunter are to attend a Charity Masquerade.” He collapsed in laughter, pounding his knee. “Oh, the look on you face. This morning was worth it for this.”
“At least we were joking,” I said with some asperity. “I don’t think you are.”
“No, and that’s what makes it even better.”
I turned to Barbita and Madam Hunter. “It’s funny how you can go off people,” I remarked caustically. “However, for the chance to enjoy your company, Madam Hunter, I’m prepared to endure the indignities of even a Fancy Dress Ball and worse.” The ironic smile was back. “I will make one comment. After my last unsupervised outing, do you think a ball is safe?”
“Ah, but it won’t be unsupervised,” Taragis said. “Madam Hunter is an expert in self defence and both Madam Brabicoso and I will be there, as will several protectors.”
I looked at the frail Madam Hunter. “I’ll be in good hands then.”
/> The ironic smile was accompanied by a raised eyebrow. Next thing I knew I was lying on my back with her elbow pressed against my throat. She looked into my eyes then let me sit up.
I took a deep breath. “As I said, I’ll be in good hands.”
She laughed. “You seem to have recovered your composure.”
“But I’ve lost my dignity in the process.” I clambered to my feet. “Right, Taragis, what’s the plan.”
“While you won’t be expected to dance the night away, there are one or two mandatory dances etiquette demands. Madam Mortongent and Sir Ruvloyf are here to teach you the basics. In fact Madam Brabicoso and I should probably practice, too. It’s a while since I attended a formal ball. Then we need to find you a costume. You’ll eat here, in the hotel, then we’ll leave for the Ball together.”
“Who’s going to be at this Ball,” I asked.
“Other than Madam Brabicoso and I?” His grin was smug. “It’s not an A-list event so there won’t be any big names… politicians but not the top ones, minor trivee stars, people connected with charities, business sponsors wanting to display their charitable credentials… that sort.”
“Is there any chance something will happen to me?”
Both Madam Hunter and Taragis looked serious.
“I think it highly unlikely. Unlike previously, you’re not the star guest, it will be very public and the media will be there. As long as you’re moderately cautious, you should be fine.”
“Good.”
“If you’re ready, perhaps we should ask Madam Mortongent and Sir Ruvloyf to begin.”
It turned out that Madam Hunter didn’t know the dances either though, unlike me, she was naturally limber. We learned three dances, two of them social ones. The first was like a pavane or something except there were some twiddly steps and some frankly suggestive movements. For example, at one point the man stepped away from his partner, twirled round and thrust his pelvis at her before resuming the parade. The woman did the same at the next stop. Our instructors informed us that there were varying degrees of display. At one end of the spectrum, the partners barely acknowledged each other’s existence while, at the other, it could be a competition to see who could be the most suggestive.
“It’s a very old dance,” Madam Mortongent explained, “from a time when the Heirarchs had more control over social activity than they do now. It was difficult for males and females to become acquainted and, frankly, assess each other as potential mates. This form of dancing was one way of doing that. If, say, the male was attracted to his partner, he would make his moves slightly bolder. If the attraction was mutual, his partner would do the same. If not, she would be more restrained.”
“Is there a limit to how, er, bold you can be?” Madam Hunter asked.
“Not really,” Sir Ruvloyf said with a smile. “Allow us to demonstrate.”
They did. I was surprised they didn’t tear each other’s clothes off and have at it on the floor by the time they’d finished.
“Wow,” was all I said.
The second dance reminded me of the Canadian Barn Dance I’d once been forced to learn at a ceilidh. The steps weren't difficult but the posture was.
“No, no, no,” Madam Mortongent cried as I did my best teuchter impression. “Not like that. Dignity, Sir MacAdam. Keep the shoulders straight, the head high and raise your knees.”
The third dance was, to my surprise, a waltz. Well, it was in 3-4 and you held your partner in your arms and whirled round the room. Our instructors made it look very athletic and elegant but they were showing off. To practice, Madam Mortongent danced with me and Sir Ruvloyf with Madam Hunter… I still couldn’t think of her as Triss. Again this dance had a decorous and a more intimate version. We did the decorous one first. I have to say Madam Mortongent was both a good teacher and an excellent partner for I felt I could dance at least a bit by the time we’d finished. We did the intimate version next. Now I was not in the slightest sexually attracted to Madam Mortongent but, by the end, I had a raging erection and a very red face. Madam Mortongent had a wicked smile on her face. I begged a five-minute break before practicing with Madam Hunter. Time enough for me to gain a degree of control.
This was the first time I’d actually touched Triss other than her hands. It was a revelation. She looked slender and a bit delicate but looks were deceiving. Beneath her smooth gold skin were muscles of corded steel. They moved supply and sensually under my hand as we whirled round the room. I had noticed, as we bumped and grinded our way through the first dance that her pants did little to hide her attributes and she had a very prominent pubic mound and a tiny tight round bottom. As we stepped into the intimate variation, I discovered she also possessed a pair of high, firm, pointy breasts. I tried to be discreet but Triss was having none of it. She pulled me tightly to her and ground her crotch and breasts against me. Of course I was hard in seconds which only encouraged her to greater heights.
“I think I’m going to enjoy this Ball,” she said with a leer when our instructors called ‘time’.
“I shall have to go as a knight in armour,” I said gloomily. “A knight was a champion who wore a steel suit.”
“Then I’ll have to go as a tin opener.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
We went once more through each dance and our instructors declared we were fit to be seen in respectable circles, if barely, and left. We slumped in the living area and caught our breath. The conversation turned to a costume for me. Various suggestions were made and discarded, mainly by me as the young woman with the box on wheels, who’d waited patiently while we had our dancing lesson, produced a display pad and showed me the possibilities. No way was I going dressed in purple or with sleeves wide enough to park an SUV in or in trousers with the crotch at my knees or a dress. A kilt would have been okay. In fact full Highland regalia would have been ideal but the nearest kilt hire shop was several thousand light years away.
“It needs to be something dashing and adventurous,” Barbita commented.
Dashing and adventurous? Then it hit me. I grabbed my communicator and contacted the tailor. Yes, my outfits were ready. In fact he’s been wondering when I was going to collect them. A call to the shoemaker confirmed the boots were ready, too.
“Right, all I need is a hat and a sword.” Triss’s eyes widened at the mention of a sword. “It doesn’t have to be real. In fact it doesn’t have to exist at all as long as I have something that looks like a sword in its scabbard.”
My artistic talents were pushed to the limit as I tried to draw the hat I had in mind and a sword. Actually the hat was probably more like a Musketeer’s one, with a wide floppy brim turned up at one side and a large white plume, but it felt right. Triss, I was definitely thinking of her as Triss now, was interested in the sword. I assured her I didn’t want a real one. The important bit for the costume was the belt and scabbard. She wanted to know how it worked so I found a longish knife in the kitchen and pranced around the room stamping my feet and crying, ‘en garde’ and ‘touché’, much to the amusement of Barbita and her colleague.
“I think I can do the hat,” the young woman said, looking up from her pad.
She could. It wasn't quite right but good enough. We worked on a plume until I was satisfied.
“What colour do you want it?” she asked.
“Brown. With a white plume.”
“Brown?”
“Brown.” I said firmly.
“Crawford’s colour blind,” Taragis teased.
“No. Subtle. Unlike some.”
The sword was a problem until I thought of Hermes. He was a well-travelled being and a fount of knowledge. He was amused by the question and even more by the answer.
“Errol who?” he said.
“Flynn. Look him up in your Earth database. Can you help with a sword?”
He said he’d call back.
“What or who are you going as?” I asked Triss.
“I had thought of a wood nymph,” she said mis
chievously.
I looked puzzled and Barbita’s assistant, with a grin, brought one up on her display pad.
I pursed my lips and shook my head. “Not a good idea unless you want to practice your self-defence.”
“I’ll fall for it. Why?”
“You’ll be fighting off every male from here to Orion if you go dressed like that.”
She groaned but looked pleased. “Actually I’m going as Paragonimffet. She was a legendary figure who became the leader of a band of warriors.”
Somehow I wasn't surprised. My communicator sounded. It was Hermes and he’d solved the problem of the sword. He had an acquaintance who dealt in curios who might help. Triss and Barbita’s assistant came with me. Taragis and Barbita went off to make their own arrangements. The hat wasn't perfect but it was good enough. The sword wasn't a sword at all but some sort of animal prod. I persuaded the curio dealer to cobble together a hilt with a circular protector. The prod came with a sheath and, with a bit of ingenuity and some staples, we managed to fashion a sword belt. Triss wanted to know how it worked. I tried to demonstrate how you drew a sword from its scabbard and narrowly missed doing serious damage to several display items. The outfit and the boots were perfect.
Back at the hotel I was told to go and amuse myself for an hour. Triss didn’t want to go to the restaurant so I organised for dinner to be delivered and went to see the cats. It was probably my imagination but they seemed weaker than earlier. There was food in their dishes and that, in itself, was a bad sign. Neither had been in the habit of leaving their food dishes until they were empty. I forced myself to put their plight out of my mind. We’d be on our way tomorrow and either we’d make it in time or we wouldn’t; it was out of my hands. Moreover, I was to be on public display again tonight and couldn’t let any of my private concerns show.
I Won A Spaceship Page 40