by Mark Eller
Aaron's smile was contrite. "Sorry. Ladies, this is Mistress Melna Turner, your charge. Melna, the young woman on your right is Miss Delia Homes. The sweet thing on your left is Miss Felicity Margrave. Don't try to keep something secret from them. You'll fail. If they want to know something, they'll figure it out. I'm told they're almost as good as Mister Patton at the hand to hand stuff. Miss Homes specializes in knives. Miss Margrave likes to throw things like lead weights and such stuff."
"I should be very safe then," Melna said. She stiffened her back and faced Aaron. "Let's get this over with. Ship me out of here."
Aaron's face was a study of conflicting emotions. Melna wished she understood body languages as well as she understood words, but her Talent did not work that way.
"Melna," Aaron said. "I don't want to get rid of you. I just don't see any way around it. I'd much rather have you here with me."
"This is the first time I've heard you say that. Is this your way of saying you would miss me and might even love me a little?" She waited for his reply. Two of her mothers had said one way to gauge a man was by the quality of his lies. If Aaron said he loved her, his lie would be huge.
He shook his head. "No. I don't love you. I don't entirely trust you either, and you know the reason why. I'm fond of you, and I'll miss you. If matters were more settled, I'd keep you near until we reached some type of accommodation. I might learn to love you if we ever get the time to work things out."
She cocked her head. The man was a quandary. Any other man, including her father, would have lied. She did not know what to feel. Her gut churned, and her pulse thrummed. She wished she could say she loved him--but no--she would not lie. Maybe it would be enough to leave things where they were right now. Maybe she should keep her mouth shut. Maybe not.
"I am your wife."
"You are."
"Love me or not, the least you can do is kiss me goodbye."
Aaron frowned, but she was not hurt by it. She had seen the frown on him before. He wore it when he lied to himself.
"You do realize you have kissed me, and you have screwed me, but you have never really kissed me."
"For the Lady's Sake," one of her guards complained. "Kiss the girl so we can get out of here."
Aaron shot them a look and moved in. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her in tight. His eyes were frightened. His face was tight, but his lips parted as they touched hers briefly. It was a virgin's kiss, soft and innocent and unsure. Melna let him have his way, but only for a moment. Neither of them were virgins.
She pulled his face tight against hers and gave him a kiss that would have made Sailor Joe blush. Take that Aaron Turner.
He did. He took everything she gave and returned it with change. Her heart thundered; her knees trembled. The man kissed like nothing else mattered. He kissed like she was the only woman who had ever existed, like she was a treasure beyond compare. Her husband was so single minded nothing else existed except the kiss. He was taking her on a trip--a trip? Oh, Damn.
He pulled her in closer, as if he sensed her diverging thoughts. Melna settled down--but still--planting her hands against his chest, she pushed herself free. Aaron looked startled and hurt, and that was fine. They had no time for childishness now.
"Aaron. The taxis."
"What?"
"There are none in the city or at least I haven't seen any. Have a lot of cabbies been put out of work by your runabouts?"
His confused expression turned hard and decisive. His eyes narrowed. "Melna, you are a genius."
Melna grinned. "I told you that quite a while ago. Given enough time I can solve almost any puzzle. Okay, send me on my way and get to work."
"Not yet. A few minutes won't make much of a difference, and I hate being interrupted. "
He most certainly did hate being interrupted and what a wonderful thing. Melna ran a fingernail across her lips. They felt tender. The man showed potential. She could get used to being kissed that way. With enough practice she might even start feeling passion for her husband, but probably not. Even the world's most fantastic kiss could not change the fact that he was not her type.
She sighed. "Okay, ladies. I'm ready. Aaron.
Flicker
Chapter 22
Melna had no problem being admitted to the conference, maybe because she was recognized as Mistress Turner, though probably it had more to do with her attire. Aaron's shopping trip to N'Ark had garnered results far beyond anything she expected. It was amazing what money could buy.
And those full suitcases had cost money. Though not custom fitted, each of her dresses was worth more than a year's wage for an average worker. Her diamond and sapphire necklace had to be worth more than a million silver, and her twin bracelets were worth half of that. Melna did not want to guess at how much her rings and the many other necklaces were worth. All she knew for certain was she wore more money on her body than the entire worth of her family's fortune--several times over. She found the fact impressive since her family's fortune was more than respectable.
Her father would approve. Hell, her stuck up, status conscious bitchy mothers and siblings would approve. The Lord and Lady knew a lot of people who had previously snubbed her at this conference now fell all over themselves to show respect. She just wished the dresses were a bit more practical. Designed to be form fitting, she found them difficult to put on.
Melna smiled. How nice to know Aaron had looked at her body enough to judge her size. Though not perfect, the dresses came close. They were a bit tight in the waist and a tad loose in the bodice, but since Aaron made these purchases from memory, those imperfections were rather flattering.
After she was admitted into the conference room, Helmet Klein greeted her cordially and invited her to sit with the Chin delegation.
"Your appearance has changed," Klein said. "The baubles dull when compared to your natural self. Please sit down."
What a nice man Melna thought as she settled into her seat. "With lines like that," she quipped. "I bet every woman in Chin wants to marry you."
He smiled thinly. "Not so many. Few want to be saddled with an animated corpse. " He nodded. "I believe you know Mister Aybarra?"
Melna smiled at the tall black man. "We met on several occasions."
Accepting her hand, Aybarra pressed her fingers to his lips. Melna was both touched and bemused by the strange gesture.
"Each meeting was better than the last," he said.
Remembering their first meeting, Melna had to agree. Improvement was the only direction things could go after he saved her from rape and maybe death.
Klein nodded to the older, scar faced woman sitting to his right. "Mu Lei, my first advisor and my wife."
Mu Lei nodded shortly. Her expression was closed, but her eyes showed disapproval of Melna's rich wear.
"Hello. " Melna gestured toward the woman's headscarf, a rainbow colored band of metallic shimmer. "Your headwear is very beautiful. I've never seen anything like it."
"Mu Lei belongs to the Bandes tribe," Klein explained. "The Bandes pride themselves on their colorful clothing. The cloth is lighter and yet stronger than wool. Mu Lei, please offer your scarf to Mistress Turner as a gift."
Glaring at Klein, Mu Lei slowly unfastened her scarf and handed it to Melna. Beneath, her head was bald and scarred. "My gift."
Melna almost gasped at its lightness. The thing was so smooth it made her skin tingle. "I've never seen such material."
Klein smiled. "It's spider webs. I won't tell you from what spider. " He gestured toward the man beside Mu Lei. "Bill Clack. A good friend, even if he does represent the small fraction of my people who dislike where I'm taking them."
"More than a small fraction," Clack said coolly. His eyes barely flickered over Melna. Melna secretly smiled at his gauze stuffed nose and blackened eyes.
The conference started. After listening for several hours, Melna placed most of the countries into four categories concerning Klein's proposed league. Category one were those
cautiously optimistic. These representatives saw where their nations could benefit from the arrangement, though they universally castigated Chin in general and Helmet Klein in particular for his warlike stance.
The second category--by far the largest--was the undecided. They could be swayed in either direction, and indeed, often were. Their opinions seemed to change with each new speaker. Many of these urged caution and forbearance. They saw no reason to rush into decisions prematurely, especially decisions requiring major changes in their world view.
The third group, though smaller, were those who hated everything the idea represented. These nations included Camrey, Faso, Kelburn, and the islands of Berkash, all places thriving on loose laws and slippery merchants. They were often clearing houses for smugglers or other chancy exchanges. A couple of these countries were isolationists. One believed in extreme conservatism.
Finally, there was the fourth and last group. Militantly combative, they raged against the idea of any usurpation of their sovereign rights. Their borders belonged to them. The things happening inside those borders concerned nobody else, and if they chose to operate outside their borders nobody better damn well try to stop them. They saw war as an honorable way to prove their mettle and worth. These countries were represented by the likes of Nefra, Iram, and Halimut. They were proponents of piracy, slavery, and murder for hire. Harsh people, most lived in inhospitable lands. Iram was a desert. Halimut was a long, thin stretch of land set between the ocean and high cliffs. Nefra's borders were forested, but its interior boasted some of the most disease ridden swamps known.
Opinions were strongly held. Tempers were short, and words often flew faster than the interpreters could translate. Before long, Melna assumed the role of peacekeeper as she corrected mistranslated words.
When called upon, she presented Aaron's views, changing his words in places where she felt they were a bit unforgiving. By the time the day's session was over, she felt wrung out, ready for a hot tub, and not optimistic at all. She wound her way toward the manor, reflecting on the irony of having a suite to her lone self excepting for a few servants and her seemed to be missing guards.
"We need to talk."
She jerked when a hand grabbed her arm with bruising force. Clack's hard eyes bore into her, intense and intimidating. On either side of him stood a scar-faced Chin warrior woman whose black stares made Clack's seem soft in comparison.
"We have nothing talk about. " Melna tried to jerk her arm free, but failed. His grip was too tight.
"Don't try those airs on me," he snapped. "You're a fucking spy and a whore. I won't have you playing your games around here."
"Remove your hand. " Melna tried to make her voice as calm and demanding as possible. She was proud of her voice not betraying a single quaver of fear. The dress hid her trembling knees.
"You're nobody," Clack said. "You're a nobody married to an ex-crip of a nobody. Don't come it over on me, my girl, and don't stick your nose and opinions in matters that don't concern you, or you'll get hurt."
He twisted her arm viciously, though subtly so the passing people did not see what was happening. With a faint sneer, he released her, spun on his heels, and stalked off, leading his two knee-breakers.
Drawing a deep breath, Melna looked around, wondering where her two bodyguards were. Supposedly nearby, but she had lost them shortly after the transfer. Apparently, they did not live up to their hype. They had not stopped Clack's assault.
Then again, neither had she. Why had she not reached for her pistol? After all, she had gone to enough trouble to hide it away from the conference guards so it would be available for a time like this.
Because, Melna answered her own question, you are not used to thinking of it as a weapon. A thirty minute run-through with Aaron was not enough training to build the proper instincts.
She heard a cry of alarm. A fast look showed Clack climbing back to his feet, one hand held to a bleeding head. His other hand held a lump of something. Turning, he glowered at Melna, and then peered around angrily.
Melna smiled. Miss Margrave was on the job after all.
"Mistress Turner!"
Melna stiffened and turned toward the voice. Aybarra worked his way toward her.
"You left too soon," he said once he reached her side. "The emperor wants a private chat with you."
Melna frowned. "Why? I'm nobody but a girl in a fancy dress."
Aybarra snorted. "You're the wife of Aaron Turner, and that means you're very special. I don't know if you're aware of this, but the emperor had a strong hand in raising Aaron. He thought of Aaron as his son, so he wants to get a better idea of the woman Aaron married."
Melna took another look around but was unable to see her bodyguards. She thought a moment and frowned again. "I suppose I could see him now. I don't have anything else to do except find someplace to lock up this jewelry."
"Not now," Aybarra told her. "Klein's schedule is filled for the next few hours. A number of diplomats want to talk him out of declaring war. He'll see you later tonight. Around seven?"
"I'll be as free then as I am now."
"Good. This will be a dinner so bring an appetite. Bring four or five companions if it helps you feel comfortable, and dress casual. We don't have a lot of luxuries in Chin."
"I'll be there if you tell me where there is," Melna said. "I don't know how hungry I'll be. I don't eat much."
He gave her a bright smile. "I'll have people call on you. Thank you, Mistress Turner."
He started to leave, but Melna put a hand on his arm. "One question."
"Yes."
"The man my husband dueled, what is his condition?"
"Dead."
"Oh. " She would not let Aaron know. It seemed important to him that he had not killed the man.
"Chin is an inhospitable country," Aybarra expanded. "The Chins learned a long time ago they can't care for their crippled. The emperor is a barely tolerated exception. "
"I see. " Melna made a note to herself. Do not set up housekeeping inside the Chin borders.
"I'll see you tonight."
He moved off, and Melna took another careful look around. Any sign of Bill Clack was missing, but plenty of Chins were in her immediate area. She was pleased with Clack's absence, but the Chin's made her nervous. Any one of them could be a member of Clack's faction, and she knew Clack wanted to cause her harm. She hoped Miss Margrave and Miss Homes were still out there. She would have to take their presence on faith because they seemed invisible.
She walked the rest of the way to the manor at a quick pace, glancing frequently around. None of the Chins appeared to be following her, but several people kept her pace and direction. Any of those could be someone she needed to be wary of--or not. A lot of people were bedding down in the manor. She was not familiar with even half of them.
Upon reaching the manor entrance, she found the doorman's demeanor had changed once again. Obviously fawning, naked greed shone as he fastened his envious gaze on her jewelry. She was almost past before he cleared his throat.
"Some people wish to see you. Will you receive them in your rooms?"
"I need to freshen up," she told him. "I'll be available in half an hour."
"Very well. I will inform them of your availability."
* * *
Aaron Turner was a thoughtful husband, Melna decided, but this was absolutely the last time he would provide her with clothing. His taste was good, but his practicality was lacking. The contentment she felt after changing into her regular travel clothes was almost better than sex.
Almost.
A flick of her wrist sent her necklace into an open bureau drawer to join the bracelets and rings. Afterward, she allowed the oldest servant to settle her hair into place. Thirty minutes later, a firm knock sounded on her door. Waving the servants away, Melna rose with an unhappy groan. She checked to make sure Aaron's pistol was tucked into the back waistband of her pants, pulled her shirttail over the grip, and made her way to the door.
/> Two women stood in front of the opening door. Dressed impeccably, their suits spoke of refinement and power. Four female retainers stood behind them, wearing loose clothing which would not bind their movements. Each was at least twice Melna's size.
Without asking permission, all six pushed past Melna and entered the suite.
"Out," the tallest suit said to the servants. She was an older woman, pushing the far side of fifty. Her face was somewhat indeterminate, a thing composed of indistinctive off the shelf parts, but the set of her eyes spoke of a strong will.
The servants looked to Melna.
"You may go, but return in an hour. " After all, somebody needed to find her body.
"Yes'm."
The visitors waited until the servants left. One of the retainers closed the door, and then every eye except four fastened on Melna. Those four belonged to two retainers who began browsing around the suite. One opened an end table drawer and rummaged through it. The other pushed open the door to Aaron and Melna's bedroom.
Okay, so there would not be even a pretense of civility. She could play their game. She might be small, but she had hung around a rough crowd since she was very young.
"Bring your people to heel," she ordered.
"I think not," the younger suit said. Her smile was empty.
"A lot of rooms for only one person," the woman rummaging through her table drawer said.
"I am Mistress Temondare," the younger woman continued. "I'm the Ambassador for Halimut. My friend, Miss Stublinska, presently sees to the interests of Iram. Tell me, Mistress Turner, where is your husband?"
A prickling sensation worked its way up Melna's body. Taking a step back, she flexed her shoulders. A small ironic smile touched the corner of her mouth. She had dreamed of an adventurous life. She had been an idiot. This was not adventure. This was scary. Six people and she only had seven bullets.
"My husband is not your concern. " Pride ran through her. Her voice barely quavered at all. Under these circumstances, quite an accomplishment.