B00CH3ARG0 EBOK

by Christie Meierz

  At least she’d been able to sleep. She’d been afraid, at first, that it would be impossible to sleep on the floor. Camping with the children and sleeping in tents had been more years ago than she cared to admit, even to herself. But the mat was wonderfully soft, comfortable, and warm, and she’d been so exhausted that she nodded off within moments of lying down on it. She didn’t even remember Marianne leaving.

  It was still daylight, though. She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, but it felt like a few hours – long enough to leave her hair a mess and wrinkle the robe they’d given her to wear. Sitting up, she stretched her arms and legs until the joints popped. Then she hauled herself off the mat and looked around.

  The room was sparsely furnished, not designed for anything but sleep, but there was a low chair against the wall to her right, another of the pale blue robes hanging over it. Matching trousers and slippers lay on its seat. On a nearby wall shelf, she spotted what was obviously a hairbrush. That she grabbed, running it through her hair as she scanned the rest of the room.

  The left wall was lined with closets. At the far end, a window gave a lovely view of the gardens, and next to that was … the bathing area. With no walls, she couldn’t see how water wouldn’t get everywhere, but she put down the brush and played with the controls, trying to recall Marianne’s instructions. A bathtub-sized basin slid out of the wall, already filling with water.

  Oops. She looked again at the wall. Clever.

  Shrugging, she watched the water level rise and breathed a sigh of relief when it stopped at half full. The temperature was not quite as warm as she would have liked, but tolerable. She stripped and slid in to take another bath; given how sensitive their sense of smell seemed to be, she probably couldn’t be too clean around the Tolari. Now that she thought about it, Addie had complained about that during the first contact mission.

  Refreshed and feeling a little more human, she threw on the clean robe and trousers, shoved her feet into the slippers, and wandered into the next room. Marianne had called it a sitting room. It was more like a drawing room, with several chairs, divans, and low tables arranged in a sort of conversation pit, and a writing desk near picture windows looking out into a garden. Exquisite paintings and small sculptures were scattered about on the walls, shelves, and tables.

  As she looked around, a black-robed Tolari woman appeared out of thin air in front of her. Laura started with a small cry and stood panting. The strange woman spread her arms slightly, palms forward, and bowed. Laura patted her own chest, trying to catch her breath.

  “Don’t do that!” she exclaimed. “I’m not a young woman anymore!”

  “Forgive me,” said the woman, in accented English. “I mean you no harm— How do I address you?”

  “How do you— oh, I see what you mean.” John had occasionally mentioned the Tolari called each other by their titles or occupations. “Just call me ‘ma’am,’” she said. She shrugged to herself. It was what the crew of the Alexander had called her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the woman said. “Would you like me to show you to the refectory now, ma’am?”

  “Please.”

  Laura followed the servant out of the sitting room and into the main corridor, admiring the colorful banners that hung on the walls. The refectory was only a short distance from the guest wing – sensible, she thought. She spotted Marianne at a large, raised table with a massive, ornate chair at one end.

  “Is that a throne?” Laura called.

  “Good morning!” Marianne said cheerfully, leaving her place at the large table to come and meet her.

  Laura stopped short. “It’s morning?”

  Marianne laughed. “Yes, of course. After I left you, you slept all night. You must have been exhausted.”

  Laura opened and closed her mouth a few times, shaking her head. “I guess I really was.”

  Marianne hugged her and pressed a small device into her hand. “You missed another meal,” she said. “You have got to be hungry.”

  “A little.” Laura peered at the gadget. “That looks like a scanner.”

  “A food scanner. It’s the one I brought with me when I arrived. Most of the foods the Tolari eat are toxic to humans, so scan everything you put in your mouth, even the water. They like to add flavorings to their water, and those can be toxic too.”

  Laura nodded, alarm shooting through her belly.

  “It’s all right,” Marianne said, patting her wrist. “There are a few foods you can eat. I’ve lived here for eight years, and I haven’t been poisoned yet.” She bit her lip.

  Is she holding something back? “Is there something else I need to know?”

  The young woman blinked, startled. “Probably lots of things, but let’s start with what’s safe to eat.” They wandered over to tables laden with bowls of fruit and trenchers of grain rolls. “Here, try this one.” It was a round, purple fruit the size of a man’s fist. “It tastes a little like a banana, but sweeter. And one of these grain rolls – not the ones with nuts. This one is like the one you had yesterday. And you’d better have some of this tea, if you’re going to eat that roll.”

  Back at the table, Laura found herself ravenous as she devoured everything, even the spicy roll. “This is really good,” she said, after swallowing a mouthful of the purple fruit.

  “It was one of my favorites,” Marianne said. “I can’t eat much of it anymore though.”

  “Why not?”

  A flash of unease – or maybe guilt – crossed Marianne’s face, and she patted her belly. Laura blinked. Why would she feel guilty for the way pregnancy played havoc with her taste in food? It did that to almost every mother she’d ever known.

  “When you’re done eating, want to see my baby?” she asked. “I visit the apothecary every day.”

  See her baby? “Sure.”

  * * *

  Cena, the doctor, seemed happy to show Laura the displays of Marianne’s baby, explaining each image in careful English.

  “Oh!” Laura gasped, when she saw the tiny child busily kicking and punching. “She’s beautiful! When is she due?”

  Marianne glowed at the compliment, but shrugged. “During the first part of autumn.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “Well ...” Marianne made a noise. “The Tolari aren’t overly concerned with dating every little thing in the universe. Cena will know when I’m about to go into labor.”

  “All is well, high one,” the healer said, as she began picking up and putting away her instruments. “Perhaps you would like to show Mrs. Howard to the gardens?”

  Marianne laughed. “All right, Cena, I understand.” She scooted off the examination bed and got back into her robe. “Come on, let’s get out of her hair,” she said to Laura, and guided her through a door she hadn’t noticed and out into the stronghold gardens.

  “This is beautiful,” Laura said, gazing around at the trees and flowers. “Marianne, why did she call you ‘high one’?”

  Marianne heaved a sigh and didn’t answer.

  “That’s what they call their ruling caste, isn’t it?”

  “Laura—”

  “You can’t tell me, can you,” she said, pursing her lips.

  “Not really, no,” Marianne admitted. “Laura—” She tried again. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I wish I could tell you everything you want to know.”

  Laura nodded. “I was a ship’s wife for a long time,” she said. “I know how it is. People think I’m not very smart – and maybe I’m not – but John always said a pinch of common sense is worth a pound of smarts. You can’t tell me, because you’re literally in bed with the enemy, and you can’t tell me anything that I might tell Central Command if they got their hands on me.”

  Marianne started to protest, but Laura cut her off. “I don’t mean it like that. Really, I don’t.” She paused. “If Central Command catches me, they can make me tell them everything I know, whether I want to or not,” she said. “They threatened my grandchildren. My beautiful,
innocent grandchildren. Right now, even I don’t know whose side I’m on, and I’ve been an Earth Fleet wife since I was nineteen.”

  “The Sural thinks you won’t be safe in human-controlled space,” Marianne said, her voice low and soft.

  Laura nodded. “I know,” she whispered, choking back tears. She took a deep breath and said in a stronger voice, “He’s right. After what they did, they can’t let me live to tell about it, and they wouldn’t believe me if I tell them I won’t talk.”

  “You could stay here.”

  “With the man who killed my husband?”

  Marianne winced. “Do you have anywhere else to go?”

  Laura bit her lower lip. No.

  “Even if you could live with – I don’t know, maybe one of the Sural’s allies – no matter where you are, you’re a sitting duck with that locater chip in your head. We have to get it out.”

  “That’s impossible. It’ll kill me if you try.”

  “Cena can do it safely. She removed mine.”

  Laura was quiet for a while. Finally, she said, “I could use some time alone to think.”

  Chapter Nine

  The Sural sat in his heavy, ornate chair at the high table, eyes closed, when Marianne entered the refectory for the midday meal. Thela was curled in his lap, shoulders hunched in misery, eyes clenched shut. He ate in slow motion, one arm wrapped around his new daughter, while they communed. Marianne could feel a faint trace of Thela’s grief, as well as the love the Sural was wrapping around the girl.

  Marianne took her food to the table Cena shared with Kyza’s tutors. “Why does he continue eating like that?” she asked, as she settled into an empty chair next to Storaas.

  The apothecary glanced over at the Sural. “He is unaware that he is.”

  “That’s weird.”

  Storaas gave a soft snort, and Cena lifted a corner of her mouth. “Much is unusual about a Jorann’s grandchild,” she said. “We know little of them.”

  “Really?” Marianne asked in surprise. “Why don’t you know more?”

  “The Sural is the first to permit himself to be studied. I know a great deal about his physiology, but I cannot tell you how much is unique to him and how much is common to any Jorann’s grandchild.”

  “He told me he’s only the eighth one born in the ruling caste.”

  Cena nodded. “It is probable that a few of them exist among us at any time, but if they are not members of the ruling caste, they are unlikely to be triggered.”

  “Because...?” Marianne prompted.

  “Because for their full abilities to be triggered,” Storaas answered, “they must face a life or death situation.”

  “Oh. I see.” Marianne glanced at the Sural. “I’m sure he has plenty of strength to spare for Thela.”

  “Yes,” Cena replied, “but nevertheless, this is exhausting for him. Do not be surprised if he seeks you out as often as he can, simply to share a peaceful moment.”

  Marianne glanced at the Sural again to find him talking softly with Thela. He seemed to be coaxing her to eat a little. Marianne shook her head in sympathy and resolved to be as supportive as she could manage.

  “All the adults caring for Thela are affected by her distress,” Cena continued. “And you have the additional task of helping your friend Laura. If you need to talk, or if you need to simply share a quiet cup of tea, ask a servant to send for me. It would help the Sural if you allowed another to provide some of the emotional support you need. I will do what I can to ease the burden on both of you.”

  Marianne nodded.

  “I must go now,” Cena said, rising from her chair. “I have work to do that cannot be delayed indefinitely. Will you be well?”

  On impulse, Marianne reached out and pulled Cena into a warm hug. “My gratitude, Cena,” she said. “You’re a good friend.”

  “It is my honor, high one.”

  * * *

  Marianne lay half-clothed on the examination bed the next morning, Cena’s medical tablet in hand, watching her tiny daughter vigorously punch and kick. She would have liked Laura to see this, but her friend was brooding in her quarters, avoiding sight and sound of the Sural.

  At one particularly pronounced kick, Marianne gasped. Cena looked up from her instruments.

  “I felt her!” Marianne exclaimed, a smile taking over her face. “I felt her kick! I think I’ve been feeling her move for a few days – I just didn’t realize what it was.”

  “This is the right time for a first increase,” Cena said.

  Marianne leaned back, letting her smile turn to a goofy grin. She had something joyful to tell the Sural the next time they were alone – if they could get some time alone.

  Cena seemed to read her. “The Sural is somewhat busier than is usual. Finding himself with a distressed new daughter in the middle of a busy season puts a heavy demand on him.” She lowered her voice and put a reassuring hand on Marianne’s wrist. “He has always, since the day you arrived in the stronghold, made as much time for you as he could without neglecting his duties. He will come to you as often as he can.”

  Marianne looked away and blushed a little. She was never going to get used to the idea of the Sural’s daughter knowing about her ... intimacy ... with him, even if neither of them considered the healer his daughter. She squirmed.

  Cena smiled the Sural’s crooked smile and said nothing for a long moment. “You may dress now,” she said. “Your child is healthy and content.”

  Marianne avoided her eyes and scooted off the bed. “My gratitude, Cena.”

  Then she fled.

  * * *

  Sitting on a cora branch in the garden, Marianne searched her library tablet. There had to be Russian poetry on it somewhere. A brief quote ran through her mind, over and over, despite her best efforts to think of something else. She was sure it was from a poem by Khalimonova, the twenty-third century poet-laureate.

  The Sural chuckled and slid onto the branch. “Beloved,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

  Marianne put the tablet down beside her and returned the embrace. “I didn’t sense you coming.”

  “Apparently not.” His eyes danced with amusement.

  “Shouldn’t you be in a meeting or something?”

  “There is a short period of refreshment.”

  “And I’m your refreshment?”

  He gave her a squeeze. “I can think of none better.”

  She smiled, turned to put her back against him, and pulled his arms around her waist. She felt him cock his head.

  “What are you concealing from me?” he asked.

  “I started to feel my baby move today.” She took one of his hands and pressed it to her swelling abdomen. “Here – she’s moving now.” For a moment, there was nothing. Then she felt a tiny poke and a quick thrumming. “Feel that?” She swiveled her head to watch his face.

  A gentle smile flickered across his lips, as she sensed wonder blossom in him.

  “Haven’t you ever felt a baby kick before?” she asked.

  “No.” He tightened his hold.

  She turned in his arms to face him, nonplussed. “How can you be one hundred forty-two years old, have thirty-seven—” she corrected herself to include her baby “—no, thirty-eight children, and never feel one kick inside the womb?”

  He smiled down at her. “I suspect that my life is very different from that of a human,” he said. He laid a hand along one of her cheeks and brushed her lips with his.

  “Well,” she said, at a loss for words. “Well.”

  He gave her another brief kiss and said, “I must return to the meetings.”

  She nodded, deflating a little, but grateful he’d found some time for her, however brief, in his busy day. He disappeared and was gone. She sighed, picking up her tablet to resume her search.

  She still hadn’t found the poem she was looking for when a guard flickered to remind her it was time for the midday meal. She pocketed the tablet and went to Laura’s quarters. The woman neede
d to come out of there sooner or later.

  Laura was on her veranda, leaning on the railing. She turned at the sound of Marianne’s voice in the doorway.

  “Do you feel up to braving the refectory?” Marianne asked.

  “I suppose so,” she replied.

  Marianne twitched her mouth to one side. “Your enthusiasm is underwhelming.”

  Laura smiled, seemingly in spite of herself. Then she sobered and shrugged. “I’m not usually so much of a recluse.”

  “I understand, really I do. Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

  The refectory was crowded with scientists and still subdued from the tragedy. Laura didn’t look at the Sural as Marianne pulled out a chair for her at the high table, next to her own and across from Thela and Kyza. Thela, Marianne was glad to see, picked at her food and occasionally took a bite, while quietly talking to Kyza. Laura gave the girls a warm smile.

  “That’s Thela beside Kyza,” Marianne said. “She doesn’t speak any English, though.”

  Laura looked around. “Is it always like this? So crowded?” she asked. “It wasn’t like this at breakfast yesterday.”

  Marianne shook her head. “There’s a conference going on right now. Those are scientists and engineers in the brown robes.”

  “Scientists and engineers? I thought Tolari only studied music, art, and literature.”

  “No culture can exist without some kind of science and engineering,” Marianne replied in a bland tone. “How do you suppose they manage to construct such massive stone buildings?”

  Laura nodded, her eyes drifting back to the girls across the table. Done with their meals, they got up from their chairs. Kyza trotted off without looking back. Thela sought a hug from the Sural. Laura watched as Thela exchanged a few quiet words with him before following Kyza out.

  “What happened to her?” Laura asked.

  “Her father died suddenly,” the Sural answered from his place at the end of the table. “I allowed her to bond to me in his place. She is a musical prodigy.”