Green, Sharon - Mind Guest.htm

by Mind Guest

  neck around a little more, using sightseeing to account for my silence,

  then nodded as I glanced at him.

  "Up to the second floor, then down to the end," I agreed, using my free

  hand to get a grip on the long skirt that would have tripped me on

  those stairs. "See you there."

  I walked to the stairs and began climbing them with out looking back,

  not even pausing when I heard the soft click of the door being closed.

  There was no guarantee Grigon was on the outside of the closed door,

  and I'd already cut him loose in my mind. Taking him out of the game

  entirely would have been the only way of stopping him from reporting

  anything he pleased, and I wasn't willing to do that. The Lord of Luck

  had been good to me in my time, and the only way to repay him is to

  trust him completely when none of your own efforts will do the trick.

  The door at the end of the hall was not door but doors. Two beautifully carved doors stood quietly in the half-lit shadow of a single wall

  candle, and opening one of them showed me a room that banished all

  thoughts of rustic. A fire danced and crackled in the large marble

  fireplace to the left of the doors, an occasional spark jumping out to

  the wide stone apron in front of it. Beyond the apron was a single

  well-padded chair standing on the beginnings of a room-wide, deepnapped

  carpet in what seemed to be wine-red. All the wall space in the

  room was covered with heavy cloth hangings, and ahead and to the right

  was an enormous bed, canopied and curtained in the same dark red, with

  another, lighter color showing faintly inside the curtains. Gold thread

  picked out Prince Havro's emblem on the front curtain, a large circle

  enclosing a snarling, clawing isphalgor standing on an intricately

  embroidered rendition of the three letters of Havro's family name. I

  could feel Bellna's recognition of her father's insignia, but it came

  as something of a shock to realize that she couldn't read the letters.

  Women on Tildor were kept illiterate as a matter of course, and even

  Bellna's position as princess hadn't saved her from the darkness. The

  background information I'd been given let me read as well as any

  Tildorani male, but that was a point I'd have to keep firmly in mind.

  No matter who I was on that planet, if the character was female it

  would have to forget how to read.

  I closed the door behind me and moved farther into the room, seeing a

  large, beautifully carved wardrobe and matching bench standing to the

  right of the bed. I finally got rid of the cape by dumping it on the

  bench, then walked over to the wide carved screen of wood that had been

  set up to the right of the wardrobe. There was faint candlelight

  trickling out around its edges that made me curious, but stepping

  behind it fed me a jolt of shock from the Bellna presence. The area

  behind the screen was all mirrored, wall and screen alike, and thick,

  soft fur pelts covered the more sedate wine-red carpeting. The area was

  a slave nook, and if I'd bothered looking for them among the furs, I

  probably could have found the chains. Bellna was sputtering indignantly

  in my head, upset not so much by the discovery of her father's play

  nest as by having to look at something that free, high-born women were

  usually sheltered from. Everyone knew what men used female slaves for,

  but that didn't mean it was something a well-bred woman would want to

  look at!

  Idly wondering if Grigon had lit the candle, I turned my head to one of

  the mirrors and stared at the redheaded reflection there, consciously

  swallowing down the indignation and forcing it away from me. There was

  no expression on the beautiful face, but it took a minute or two for

  the tension to leave the well-rounded figure dressed all in dark blue.

  The effort necessary to push the Bellna presence to the back of my mind

  hadn't been excessive, but a fal?nt doubt came to dance around lightly

  on my nerve ends. Was I just being stubborn by insisting that I could

  handle the role? Was I endangering everyone involved-as well as the

  project itself-by not going straight back to base? Was Grigon right in

  thinking that I couldn't fight Bellna and Clero's men both at the same

  time? The hell of it was he cou~ be right, but there was no way of

  telling until the time came. Did I take the chance and go on with it,

  or did I opt for the cautious point of view and head on back?

  A look of disgust formed on the face I was staring at, but the Bellna

  presence had nothing to do with it. I was the one who felt the disgust,

  and entirely with myself. The thought of something having gone wrong

  with the impression didn't frighten me, not when I could regain control

  so easily. I'd been in a lot hotter water that time I'd been fed an

  illegal zombie drug, and hadn't been able to throw it off. The problem was that I still didn't really want to be there, and my devious mind

  was digging for a way out that would free me from my commitment to

  Dameron without my having to renege. Could Dameron find someone to

  replace me in time to keep the project going? No. Did I take the job on

  without coercion and promise to see it through? Yes. Then how about

  cutting out the emoting and breast-beating - and the needling of your

  co-worker and getting serious about this? I looked sternly at the

  mirror image that was me and held the stare for a minute, then let a

  faint grim come through. My sense of right hadn't let me allow Grigon

  to send me back without an argument, but my escape reflex had almost

  had me ready to accept the easy out he wanted to hand me. I'd accept

  the challenge instead, and still make it home in time to vote.

  "You look very much at home in there," a voice came, filled with faint

  amusement. "Except for the clothes, of course. You'll have to get rid

  of those."

  "I wouldn't dream of usurping my host's right to initiate all actions,"

  I laughed, turning to look at Grigon. "After you, my lord."

  "You picked a hell of a time to be gracious," Grigon grinned, stepping

  back from the end of the screen. "Come on out here and let's get

  acquainted."

  I followed him back out to the middle of the room, then stood watching

  as he walked to the chair in front of the fire and lowered himself into

  it. Aside from the bench in front of the wardrobe and the bed it was

  the only place to sit, but I wasn't given my choice of the two other

  locations. Grigon moved the chair so that he could see me more easily,

  then gestured me closer.

  "I've been thinking about our problem, and I believe have come up with

  a way to settle it," he said, making himself comfortable as he looked

  up at me. "It all depends on how determined you are that I'm wrong and

  you're right."

  "I'm very determined," I said, folding my arms as I looked down at him.

  "Does your solution have anything to do with making me stand up until I

  fall over?"

  "In a manner of speaking it does," he said, a flicker of annoyance

  showing in his eyes. "Since you seem to have slept through all the

  briefing sessions you were given, let me repeat the point I thought I'd

  mad
e when you first got here: if you keep wise-cracking the way you've

  been doing, you'll either outline yourself as a complete stranger and

  foreigner, or end up tied to a whipping stand. You won't find either

  possibility enjoyable, and the rest of us are far from eager to join

  you. Do you think you can get it through your head that you're putting

  our necks on the block right along with yours?"

  "I'm fully aware of the fact that flip doesn't go over well on this

  world," I said, feeling none of the guilt he was trying to feed me -

  and trying not to feel the annoyance. "If I'd known that wise-cracking

  in this lodge would put you and the others in jeopardy, I wouldn't have

  done it. Please accept my apology, and also my assurance that it won't

  happen again."

  "You're still not funny," he growled, letting his eyes go cold as he

  looked at me. "The only way I can judge how you'll act out there is by

  seeing how you do in her - and so far you're not making it. It doesn't

  matter whether anyone else can hear you. I can hear you.

  "I didn't know I was being tested," I shrugged, still not very

  impressed but finally seeing his point. "If you want to evaluate the

  role I'll be playing that's another story, but bear in mind that Bellna

  would not allow herself to be kept standing like this. Once I settle

  into her, you'll have to vacate that chair." "Bellna might not be the only role you'll be playing," he said,

  comfortably crossing his legs as he ignored my last comment. "If you

  find yourself. on your own you may have to switch to being the peasant

  girl we discussed earlier-with nothing of Bellna showing. Do you know

  how a peasant girl on this world acts?"

  "Certainly," I answered, ignoring the ripple of outrage coming from the

  Bellna presence. "Do you want the peasant girl instead of Bellna?"

  "I want them both," he answered flatly, locking eyes with me. "Bellna

  first and then the peasant, and I want it all to be you. You'll take

  your cue from the way I speak to you, and then act accordingly. If Remo

  hadn't made his and Bellna's engagement official while she was still in

  the Capital, I wouldn't have been able to test you as far as I think

  necessary."

  "I don't understand," I frowned, also not understanding the sudden

  gleam in his dark eyes. "What his that got to do with anything?"

  "You should know more about that than I do," he said, grinning faintly

  as he got out of the chair. "When Remo made the engagement official he

  was entitled to take Bellna to bed - which he did, at almost breakneck

  speed. She's not a virgin any longer, which means you can be put

  through the role of peasant. Peasant girls are given to men as soon as

  they stop looking like boys."

  I had to work at ignoring the flurry of embarrassment coming from

  Bellna, but got some help at it from the part of my mind that houses

  nasty suspicions. Grigon was still grinning at me, and that put a

  sharper edge on it.

  "Is this test the solution you came up with?" I asked, still holding

  his eyes. "Set me into a convenient role, and then indulge in a little

  rape? How nice that your safety can be confirmed so pleasantly."

  "I thought well of the idea," he said, and then his grin hardened. "And

  whatever you think about it, you'll still go along with it if you want

  a piece of this project. If you can keep Bellna from taking over while

  you're being treated as a peasant, I'll agree that you'll be able to do

  it at any time. If you're going to lose the argument, which is the

  better time: while you're being raped, or while you're being attacked?"

  He stared down at me, waiting to see if I would back away from the deal

  or continue arguing, but I couldn't really do either. The son of a joy

  girl was right, no matter what his motivations were. If I couldn't

  handle it, we were better off finding Out right then.

  "A pity you didn't opt for the attack instead of the rape," I

  commented, brushing at the skirt of my dress. "Let's get this over

  with. I'm going to need whatever sleep I can grab."

  "One must admire your self-confidence," he retorted, moving to my left,

  away from the fire. "Are you always so sure that things will work out

  the way you want them to?"

  "I can only judge from past experience." I shrugged, turning my head to

  look at him. "Since things usually do work out the way I want them to,

  it's only reasonable to expect they'll continue on like that."

  "For your sake, I hope they will," he said, and then his face suddenly

  took on a supercilious look. "My lady Princess," he said in broad,

  clipped Rimilian, sketching a stiff bow. "Pray be seated and rest

  yourself the while I fetch refreshments."

  "Fetch them quickly, Ruthor," I answered in Bellna's pettish private

  tones, recognizing the character Grigon was imitating. Prince Ruthor

  was one of Clero's sons, and he'd been ardently courting Bellna,

  probably at his father's urging, before Prince Remo came on the scene.

  "The journey here has positively exhausted me, and I must look an

  absolute hag." "Such a thing would be impossibility," RuthorGrigon protested distandy

  as I sat in the oversized chair. He had gone to one of the draped walls

  and parted the drape to expose a good stock of drinkables, his back to

  me as he messed and clinked. I ran my palms over the very soft leather

  of the chair arms, making myself comfortable while I had the chance.

  Grigon was trying to disarm m~nd the Bellna presence as well-by evoking

  Ruthor, who was hardly the most capable of Clero's sons. If Ruthor got

  very, very lucky, he might one day qualify for the honor of dropping

  the last letter of his name, but Bellna didn't think he'd make it and

  her memories forced me to agree with her. He was a stiff-necked snob

  who always acted in the precisely correct manner, never speaking out of

  turn, never seeking a corner where he might take me in his arms as Remo

  had.

  "Your drink, my lady Princess," Grigon-Ruthor announced from right in

  front of me, his arm extended with a tiny, delicate glass held

  carefully between his fingers. I took the glass without thanking him,

  treating him like a servant the way Bellna always did, privately

  cursing myself up, down and sideways. I'd almost let it happen again -

  no, it had already started happening again, and the only thing that had

  pulled me out of it was Grigon's interruption. I'd let my mind wander

  and Bellna had immediately started to come out. Damn it! If I didn't do

  any better than that, I deserved to be sent back!

  "You dislike the drink?" Grigon-Ruthor's voice came, and I looked up to

  see him staring down at me, a cool, distant smile on his face. "Perhaps

  you would care for something less potent?"

  "I am perfectly capable of drinking anything you choose, Ruthor," I

  answered, bristling with insult. "I am scarcely the child you seem to

  think me!"

  "I see you as no less than perfect, my lady Princess," he answered with

  another bow. "I recall now that it was your father the Prince who

  commanded that you abstain. Forgive my poor memory, and allow me to

  dispose of that for y
ou."

  He plucked the tiny glass out of my hand and turned away with it,

  carrying it back to the hidden niche it came from. I let myself sputter

  and oh! Just the way Bellna would have done, all the while wondering

  what Grigon was up to. I wouldn't have minded swallowing that drink,

  but I hadn't been given the chance to do more than look at it. I pinned

  my fellow conspirator with an accusing stare as he came back toward me,

  and he betrayed a well-practiced chuckle.

  "Your pout is the most attractive that I have ever seen," he said,

  stopping in front of me. "Should you wish it, my lady Princess, you may

  climb into my lap and have a sip from my glass. Surely your father -

  the Prince would have no objection to a single sip."

  "How dare you speak to me so patronizingly!" I gasped, fighting both to

  be Bellna and not be her. "As you clearly think me a child, Ruthor, you

  may leave me at once!"

  I got to my feet and stood with chin raised high, projecting all the

  outraged indignation I could feel Bellna putting out. My doing what she

  was feeling was like living an echo, but managing it wasn't as hard as

  I'd thought it would be at first. I seemed to be getting the hang of

  it, and that made me feel a good deal better.

  "Ah, but I shall not leave you," Grigon-Ruthor purred, taking a step

  closer to me. "And now that I think on it, you seem to be someone other

  than the Princess. You wear her clothing, yet you are clearly not she.

  Who are you?"

  His question, coming as suddenly as it did, was more than a little

  startling. Bellna recoiled in shock from a Ruthor she had never seen before, but that was only on the inside, where Grigon's careful stare

  couldn't see it. Outwardly I took my cue as I was supposed to, and

  looked down nervously at my hands.

  "I am no one, Lord," I whispered, making sure my voice trembled. "A

  poor peasant girl, wishing no more than to know the feel of her

  mistress' clothing upon her skin. I would not have stolen the things. .

  ."

  "A likely tale!" Grigon snorted, his voice still cold. "Let me see

  you."

  His hand came to my chin and raised my face, letting me see the gleam

  in his dark eyes. I cringed back without moving out of his negligent

  grasp, a trick I'd learned some years earlier, and he chuckled his

  appreciation of the gesture.