The Nanny and the Alien Warrior

by Honey Phillips, Bex McLynn

  A fine metal chain hung next to the door, and she tugged it quickly. She heard the tinkle of bells inside the house as she hugged Sultavi against her side, hoping she hadn’t made a mistake by coming here. Captain Nohta had seemed certain that the Trevelorian scholar would be able to help. He had thrust them through a door concealed in the wall surrounding the compound.

  “Go to the scholar. He will help you escape,” he had ordered.

  “What about you?”

  His face had hardened. “I will avenge my lord.”

  Now the door opened to reveal Opinnas, his brightly colored crest even more disheveled than usual. The Trevelorians were a bird-like race with plump little bodies on long, spindly legs, and his feathers ranged from a deep fuchsia to a very pale pink. He squinted at them through the gold-rimmed spectacles perched on his beak, then breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Praise the Goddess! I was just coming to look for you. Come inside. Quickly.”

  He tugged them into the house, peering anxiously at the street before shutting and locking the door behind them.

  “You were expecting us?” she asked suspiciously. Opinnas came to tutor Sultavi three times a week, and he often stayed to teach Joanna about this strange new world. Over the last year she had grown to consider him a friend, but she was all too conscious of how vulnerable they were now.

  “One of the kitchen staff managed to escape and sent me a message. He told me what happened.”

  Sharp black eyes gave Sultavi a sympathetic look as he led the way down the hall into a cluttered kitchen. The whole house was cluttered—a miscellany of objects, books, and scrolls littered every surface, pictures fought for every available inch of wall space, and a colorful array of mismatched fabrics covered the furniture.

  The scholar urged them into chairs at the worn wooden table, then bustled around making tea. Sultavi climbed up on Joanna’s lap as she watched him, her eyelids drooping.

  “How did you get away?” he asked as he placed the cups on the table.

  “Captain Nohta got us out of the compound. He said they had been betrayed.”

  “I told K’herr not to trust T’paja, but he wanted to make peace with him. For her sake,” he added softly to Joanna as he distracted Sultavi with a plate of sweet biscuits.

  “T’paja? That’s the one who was there last night. Aren’t they related?”

  Opinnas sighed. “Yes. That’s the problem. T’paja thinks he can claim leadership of the clan because of his lineage—once he… eliminates his rivals.”

  “I don’t like him,” Sultavi piped up, her mouth full of biscuit.

  “There is no reason why you should, child.” He beckoned to Joanna, and she put Sultavi down and went to join him. “He will be looking for her. I suspect he plans to announce himself as her guardian. You can’t let that happen.”

  “But how can I prevent it?” Fear and frustration warred for dominance. She hated feeling so powerless. “Is there anyone who would take us in?”

  “Only those who would seek to take advantage of the child’s legacy. You know what this planet is like.”

  They had discussed it often enough. Alliko was divided into city states, each one ruled over by a separate House. Even though the Houses were no longer constantly at war with each other, they had a long-standing and deep-seated rivalry with each other. Sultavi’s heritage—and the fact that she was female—would make her a valuable pawn.

  Opinnas clicked his beak together thoughtfully. “You have to get off this planet.”

  “Off the planet?” The thought of Earth flitted through her mind again, but then she looked at the little girl drawing a finger through her crumbs. “Where would we go?”

  “My suggestion is Trevelor. I have family there who would take you in.”

  “I guess everyone needs slaves.” The bitterness escaped before she could prevent it.

  His crest flared. “I have told you before that slavery is not allowed in the Confederated Planets.”

  “That didn’t stop the ones who stole us. For that matter, it didn’t prevent Lord K’herr from buying me.”

  “I’m not trying to excuse his actions, but he was only thinking of Sultavi. It could have been far worse.”

  She sighed and tried to release some of her anger. Opinnas was right. She had been fed and clothed and treated with a certain amount of courtesy. K’herr had never demanded that she come to his bed, or allowed any other male to do so. But the knowledge that she was a slave had chafed nonetheless.

  If they made it to Trevelor, would she really be free at last? A small spark of hope sprang to life in her heart.

  “How do we get there?” she asked.

  “That might be difficult.” He clicked his beak again. “A female and a child traveling alone would attract attention. And not everyone is as law-abiding as they should be…”

  “This is the first time I actually wish one of the guards was here,” she said regretfully.

  “You’re right. That’s exactly what you need—a guard.”

  “One of Lord K’herr’s?”

  He shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not. From what I was told, no one who was loyal to him survived. I had someone else in mind.”

  “Who?”

  “A mercenary—an old acquaintance of K’herr’s. His name is Vanha Pasken, and from what I understand, he is indebted to K’herr.”

  “Do you know how to find him?”

  “I believe so. K’herr gave me his contact information.” He gave a rueful smile. “You know what he was like. He always wanted to be prepared.”

  She didn’t really know Lord K’herr at all. They met periodically to discuss Sultavi, but he never talked about himself or asked her personal questions. She wondered now if perhaps he had felt guiltier about her position than she knew.

  “I’ll contact him.” Sharp black eyes looked over at Sultavi, her head drooping. “But it will take time, and you can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?” The thought of going back to racing through the streets terrified her.

  “This is the first place they’ll look.” He tilted his head. “Well, perhaps not the first place. T’paja never struck me as particularly intelligent. But even he will get around to it.”

  She supposed he was right. The scholar’s trips to the compound were common knowledge.

  “Where can we hide until then?”

  “In plain sight. Or almost plain sight.” His eyes twinkled. “Now drink your tea and I’ll take you there.”

  “I’m bored,” Sultavi whined a week later.

  “I know, sweetheart,” Joanna said as sympathetically as she could. After five days in their tiny hiding place, she understood the little girl’s frustration all too well, but she was just as bored and frustrated.

  “When is that male going to get here?”

  “I don’t know.” I wish I did.

  The night they escaped, Opinnas had brought them to this tavern on the edge of the open market. He had assured them that the owner, Rouvi, was completely loyal to Lord K’herr. Rouvi had hidden them in a concealed basement that she was quite sure was used to store illegal liquor. Since then, they had only received two notes from Opinnas. The first had assured her that the message had been sent and to remain hidden. The second had said that help was on the way—but it hadn’t provided any details.

  The only contact they had had with the outside world was once a day when Rouvi brought them supplies. Afraid to attract attention, his visits had been very brief, but he had told her that the marketplace was still full of Lord T’paja’s warriors. None of the merchants were particularly happy about the situation, especially since unlike Lord K’herr, Lord T’paja made no attempt to control his males. He seemed quite happy to let them harass the shopkeepers.

  The long delay and the uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on her. She had barely slept since they arrived. Even when the noise of the tavern above finally died down, she found herself turning over possible fates, each worse than the last.r />
  Fortunately, Sultavi seemed to be able to sleep through anything. Although she’d had several nightmares about the evening they had fled, she always returned to sleep quickly after Joanna comforted her. Unfortunately, sleeping well only added to her daytime restlessness. She was used to busy days with lessons in everything from etiquette to archery, so much so that when Lord K’herr had summoned Joanna for one of his infrequent discussions about his daughter, she had urged him to allow Sultavi more free time.

  He had frowned at her, his face as hard as ever. “She must be trained as the future ruler of our House.”

  “I understand that, but she’s still a little girl and she needs time to just… play.”

  “Play?” He made the word sound like a disease, but finally gave a brief nod. “I will consider the matter.”

  He had dismissed her without any further concession, but the next day she was provided with an updated schedule that did allow for some additional free time. Despite that, Sultavi had remained busy enough that this enforced period of inactivity was difficult to handle.

  Joanna did everything she could think of to keep her occupied. She invented games and told her stories until her throat was sore. In desperation, she had persuaded Rouvi to bring her a deck of the strange Allikan playing cards, and they were now working their way through every card game she could remember.

  “Can we look out the window?” Sultavi asked hopefully.

  Calling the opening in the outer wall a window was an overstatement. The small rectangle was only about the size of an air conditioner. They had to climb up on the cases stacked against the wall in order to be able to see out—or more accurately, hear out. The opening was covered with a fine metal mesh with a gauze panel behind it, and they could only make out a vague impression of shapes moving around outside.

  A heavy wooden shutter could be pulled over the opening. They kept it closed at night so that no trace of light could escape, but Joanna opened it during the day to allow some air into the enclosed space.

  Sultavi enjoyed the small glimpse into the outer world, and for that matter, Joanna did too, although she was always nervous at being so close to the market.

  “All right,” she agreed. “But just for a little while. It will be getting dark soon and we’ll have to close the shutter.”

  Sultavi nodded eagerly and scampered over to the stack of crates. She was halfway up before Joanna could catch her, then climbed into her lap as they settled down on the top crate.

  “Mistress Litta is complaining again,” Sultavi whispered with a quiet giggle.

  The heavyset older female seemed to spend more time complaining about her previous day’s purchases than she did making new ones.

  “She’s never happy,” Joanna agreed softly as they listened to her arguing that her marja hadn’t been ripe.

  “I wish I had some marja. I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t ripe.”

  Sultavi scowled at the window opening, and Joanna gave her a hug. Her own mouth was watering at the thought of fresh fruit. Their diet had been limited to what Rouvi could bring them without his cook noticing—which tended to be bland crackers and strips of dried meat. She hadn’t realized until then how well she had eaten at the compound.

  The sound of boots stomping past their window made her shudder, but the familiar voice that followed sent ice through her veins.

  “That’s Besu,” Sultavi whispered, reaching for the panel. “Do you think he’s looking for us? Maybe everything is all right after all.”

  Despite the little girl’s optimistic words, Joanna could see the doubt on her face.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “But he’s one of Father’s guards!”

  And Joanna wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. He had come upon her in the gardens one night and, if Nohta hadn’t appeared, would have forced himself on her.

  Instead, Nohta had hauled him off of her and pushed him away.

  “What’s wrong with you? You know Lord K’herr gave orders that she was not to be touched.”

  “Why not?” Besu asked sulkily. “It was just a little fun.”

  “If you want that kind of fun, go to town.”

  “Why pay for it when it’s available for free here?”

  Nohta shook his head in disgust. “You’d risk losing your job because you’re too cheap to pay for a whore? Get out of here.”

  Besu scowled, but stalked away. Nohta looked over at her, his face not unsympathetic.

  “Are you all right?”

  No. Her hands shook as she clutched her torn gown together across her breasts.

  “Yes,” she managed.

  “Go on back to your quarters. I’ll do what I can to keep him away from you, but it would be better to stay out of the gardens at night.”

  She managed a shaky nod and hurried off before the first tears started to fall. Walking there had been one of the few times when she could escape the reality of her situation, when she could just breathe in the scent of the plants and the enjoy the quiet.

  Returning to her room, she took the longest, hottest shower she could stand, trying to wash away the fear and the humiliation and the feeling of being dirty. Then she peeked into the adjoining room. Sultavi was asleep in her enormous bed, her tiny figure dwarfed by the ostentatious surroundings. The little girl was the one bright spot in her captivity, but as much as she loved her, she still longed for her freedom.

  And now they were on the run for their lives. So far, freedom was more terrifying than exhilarating.

  Sultavi’s fingers still hovered over the panel, but Joanna gently drew them away.

  “We need to wait and make sure,” she whispered as she leaned forward. She could just barely see the guard and his companion, both dressed in Lord T’paja’s colors.

  “Still no sign of the little bitch?”

  The harsh voice came from the other Allikan warrior.

  “No,” Besu grunted.

  “Godsdammit. Lord T’paja is not going to be happy. He needs her to make his claim look legitimate.”

  “How?”

  “He’ll claim she’s his ward. As soon as she reaches breeding age, he’ll mate her and get an heir.” The other male shrugged. “Maybe even keep her around to breed a few more if she pleases him.”

  Besu smirked. “Serves the arrogant little bitch right. So high and mighty. Always ordering me around.”

  “No sign of the human female either?”

  Besu’s grin turned to a scowl. “No. But I’m going to find her. I’ll teach her not to run.”

  “Don’t damage her too much,” the other guard warned. “Lord T’paja said you can have a taste, but human females fetch a pretty profit in the underground markets and he won’t be happy if you cut into that.”

  Besu’s scowl darkened. “He said I could have her. That was part of my reward.”

  The other male laughed and clapped him on the back. “And you will. You just have to give her back. And you’ll have enough credits to buy any female who takes your fancy. But you have to find them first.”

  “I’ll find them,” Besu muttered as the other guard walked away. “But maybe I won’t be handing them over after all.”

  He too walked off, and Sultavi turned to Joanna, her little face indignant. “He’s one of Father’s men. And he betrayed him.”

  “It looks like it.”

  “Just wait ‘til I tell…” Her lip quivered. “I forgot.”

  “I know, sweetie.” Joanna put her arm around the girl and hugged her close.

  “What if the person you sent for is like Besu?”

  “I’m sure Opinnas wouldn’t have suggested contacting him if your father hadn’t trusted him,” Joanna said as confidently as possible. “Time to close the shutter now,” she added. “Can you light the lamp?”

  Sultavi nodded eagerly, already distracted from the previous conversation. She hopped down from the pile of crates and found the old-fashioned oil lamp. The cellar didn’t have power since Rouvi wished to
keep its presence secret. As soon as Sultavi carefully lit the lamp on the lowest setting, Joanna closed the heavy wooden shutter and followed her down. Her hands were shaking, she realized.

  They had to get off this planet. If this Vanha didn’t show up soon, what were they going to do?

  Chapter Three

  Craxan Rok’Darian huddled in the darkest corner of the bar, and stared into his drink. He’d never been much of a drinker, but the fiery blue liquid was Vanha’s favorite and it seemed only right to be toasting him with it. He could almost hear the old man’s voice telling him to just shut up and drink.

  If only he were here.

  Craxan had known Vanha for most of his life, originally as an arms instructor at his military academy. But then the plague came to his home planet of Ciresia and wiped out his family. Somehow Vanha had managed to get him off Ciresia, even while the officials were rounding up the remaining survivors. Vanha had been the one to train him, to show him the ropes as a mercenary, and to get him in—and out—of trouble.

  They had been going their separate ways for the past year after Craxan finally put his foot down and refused to be dragged into another questionably legal enterprise. But they had kept in touch, and the knowledge that Vanha was out in the universe following his own haphazard path had still been there. Then he had received the message that Vanha had been killed and that thread had snapped. He felt as if he’d lost his family all over again.

  He had spent most of the last six months tracking down Vanha’s killers. The last one had been eliminated today—hence the celebration. Except he didn’t feel like celebrating. He felt weary and alone. Without the burning need for revenge that had been driving him, he had no real purpose. The thought of returning to another round of meaningless mercenary jobs held no appeal.