He smiled when Starling grumbled what could only be an insult. “Your suggestion holds merit. Starling?”
His little pet rolled her eyes then asked in a gruff voice, “What do I have to do?”
“Vieve will explain it. I must depart.” He faced the doorway and found Rois and Nausic there. “Nausic, Starling is to remain in my chambers unless I summon her.”
Nausic nodded.
“Come, Rois.”
Bekion led the way to his audience chamber, where the conference would take place via several viewing monitors.
Rois chuckled.
Bekion asked, “What’s so amusing?”
“Are you sure you want to know what she said? That last tirade of hers sounded particularly harsh. I doubt you really need a translation to understand her meaning.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Whatever she writes to her parents wouldn’t matter.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“Then why press the issue?”
Bekion entered the audience chamber and closed Rois out of the room rather than answer the man’s question. He didn’t know the cause of his stubbornness over something so insignificant.
He did know he wouldn’t back down.
Chapter Six
Starling wanted to throw something at Bekion’s head as he left the room. There was nothing close at hand.
Vieve’s muffled laughter brought Starling’s attention back to the woman.
“Your expression is so cute. I can’t help but laugh.” Vieve chuckled more.
Starling was betting her attitude and words wouldn’t be so cute if she were the same height as the people around her. They should be insulted and offended. But getting upset about their reactions only served to raise her blood pressure.
She looked at the breakfast table. She was hungry thanks to her stomach’s refusal to digest the pelbuah soup but her appetite waned when she contemplated eating again. She hoped lunch turned out better.
She faced Vieve. “Tell me about this translation project. How do I get my language into the database?”
Vieve pulled out another tablet. She tapped it a few times, probably inputting information via some unseen keys, and then handed it to Starling. “This is the translation project. It was founded many generations ago when the Gorov Empire started expanding.”
Starling took the tablet and stared at the list of simple greetings.
“While the jehlvan language can be transmitted via the visor you encountered when you first entered the palace, it can only implant languages it knows. Whenever the empire happens upon a new language, we ask the peoples to input it into our database, thus increasing our knowledge.”
“Okay, so what do I do?”
Vieve pointed at the first phrase. “This is jehlvan.”
“I assumed.”
“Read the line.”
“Hello.” The tablet beeped.
“Now repeat the phrase in your language.”
Starling said in English, **Hello.**
The tablet beeped again. A blinking cursor appeared below the word.
Vieve handed Starling a stylus. “Now write it. Please print legibly as the computer will try to simulate what you write.”
Starling wrote out the word and the tablet beeped. What she wrote disappeared and then returned as typed letters. Not typed like she would see on a computer but a computerized version of her own handwriting. She had to be careful to input the letters correctly or else she would teach the computer bad habits.
Vieve asked, “Is that correct?”
Starling nodded.
“You press this button.” Vieve pointed at a blue button at the bottom of the tablet. “And then move on to the next.”
“That’s easy enough.”
“And very boring.”
“Do I have to speak the word and write it at the same time or can I do the spoken part and go back to the written later or vice versa?”
“You can do one or the other or both at the same time. That is entirely up to you. Simply specify to the tablet.”
“To the tablet?”
Vieve smiled. “Tablet, audio-translation mode only.”
In a voice similar to Vieve’s, the tablet said, “Audio-only mode ready.”
That impressed Starling. She decided to try it. “Tablet, resume audio and written translation.”
“Audio-transcript mode ready,” the tablet said in Starling’s voice.
It was a little eerie but interesting.
Vieve asked, “Any other questions?”
“Can I skip around or do I have to do it in order?”
Vieve directed Starling’s stylus to the side of the tablet and dragged it downward. The page scrolled. “While it’s better to do it in order, you can proceed however you want.”
As the words and phrases zoomed by, Starling stared in amazement at the amount. It made sense because she was inputting her entire language. But seeing it presented as a list made it daunting.
Vieve said, “You can either use the stylus for the scavenger method or specify a particular category, like numbers or colors. In either case, tap the line you wish to translate and proceed as I already showed you.”
“How do I save my progress?”
“That is done automatically. The program is also intuitive. It will try to apply your finished translations to future phrases. You correct its guesses. There will also be times when the program asks for explanations, such as with idioms or if a phrase you translate doesn’t agree with a previous usage.”
Starling nodded as she stared at her new task. At least she knew her job for the next however long. She was stuck with Bekion and needed to establish some sort of routine.
She planned to finish the translation project quickly. It sucked that she wouldn’t be allowed to go off on her little English tirades without fear of punishment once she did, but at least she could let her friends and family know she wasn’t dead. If Bekion kept his word.
She asked, “Do you really think he’ll let me send my letter once I’m done with this? Or is this some way of placating me until I forget, since this is such a long project?”
Vieve shrugged. “It may be a little of both. I cannot be sure. There is only one way to find out though.”
Starling nodded.
“I shall leave you to it.”
Starling watched the woman exit the room then regarded the tablet. Before she could decide if she wanted to start in the middle or at the beginning, someone plucked the tablet from her fingers. She turned to give the person a piece of her mind but stopped.
Furielle smiled as she held the tablet above her head. “Good morning, Lady Starling. Since you are finished eating—”
Starling snorted.
“It’s time for your bath.” Furielle stepped back and waved her hand in the direction of the bathroom. “Afterward, the seamstresses wish to measure you for your wardrobe.”
“Am I going to have some say in what I wear?” Especially since I have no say in how my hair will look, she added to herself.
“I will defer to your tastes so long as the clothing is feminine and befitting of your title, as per Bekion’s orders.”
That left a lot to interpretation. Starling met Furielle’s gaze. “You remember what we talked about, right?”
“I do.”
“Then can we please keep this simple? I’m not used to being pampered and the like. I’m also not used to fancy clothing.” She looked down at the gown that if sold could probably feed a poor family for several years. “Bekion may think it’s cute but no more of this fabric. It makes me uneasy wearing it.”
“Most women would kill to wear such clothing.” Furielle ushered Starling toward the bathroom. “But, as Bekion did not specify what your clothes were to be made of, I see no issue with your request.”
“We’re making progress.”
Once in the bathroom, Starling stripped and handed her clothes to Furielle. She walked to the spot where she had washed the day
before. While she didn’t need a shower, the water soothed away a little of her tension from the earlier excitement.
Furielle said, “We await you in the inner chamber.”
Starling waved over her shoulder. Tempting though it may be to stay in the shower until she turned into a prune, she washed quickly. She wanted to get to the translation project as soon as possible.
There was no towel nearby or anything else that could be used for drying herself. Starling called, “Furielle, I need a towel.”
Furielle returned with a towel and beckoned Starling forward.
The little-kid feeling returned as Furielle dried her off. A small flashback of her mother doing something similar made Starling pull away and yank the towel from Furielle. The woman jerked back in surprise.
“I can do it,” Starling said in a rough voice.
“Of course.” Furielle straightened.
Starling didn’t want to think about her mother. She might start crying again.
She finished drying off, wrapped the towel around herself then followed Furielle out of the bathroom. The inner chamber, which had been empty when she’d started her shower, housed ten other people.
She asked, “Why so many people to make clothes for me?”
Furielle said, “They are teams. One for your underclothes—” She gestured to three women, who nodded. “One for your shoes and jackets and headwear and the last for your everyday attire.” The last seven women bowed.
Starling said, “Hello.”
“She’s darling,” one woman gushed. “I had heard rumors but thought them untrue. I’ve never seen a human that didn’t look like some sort of experiment gone horribly wrong but they were right. She does look like a jattikan child.”
“Except for those breasts,” another woman said.
The first nodded. “Yes, well, there is that.”
Furielle clapped her hands. “Ladies, gossip later. Work now.”
“Of course, mistress,” the women said in unison.
Furielle faced Starling with her hand out. “You need to remove the towel.”
Starling didn’t argue. The women descended on her as soon as she removed the towel. She braced herself for more fondling.
Surprisingly enough, the women were all business from start to finish. One measured while the others took notes. Starling did as she was prompted—lifting her arms, standing with her legs together, standing with her legs apart, sitting, crouching, and a whole host of other positions that made no sense. At least she was getting some exercise.
Measurements finished, the task of picking outfits started. The women showed Starling several catalogues and cloth samples. The options impressed her. Panagiota even had clothing that resembled jeans and cotton shirts.
Starling, despite resolving not to, ordered every single outfit that caught her fancy. Clothes had never been her thing. Her closet on Earth had the bare necessities for any occasion. Some outfits could even be transformed with simple accessories to be for more than one occasion.
That Spartan lifestyle had ended. When she couldn’t find certain things, like sweatpants, she described them to the group so the seamstresses could make them.
At one point, one of the ladies discovered the unique texture of Starling’s hair and had to play with it. The others invited themselves to do the same. Starling didn’t complain since the women had refrained from fondling her breasts.
“This doesn’t look like a fitting to me,” Nausic said from the doorway.
The women all gasped and stepped away from Starling quickly.
Starling looked back at them and then at Nausic. “They got distracted.” She didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed being naked before him. More than likely because he’d already seen her naked—and hairless.
Furielle said, “Sir Nausic, we are proceeding quite quickly. Lady Starling should have several new outfits by the end of the week.”
Nausic said, “Good. Bekion has called for her.”
“What? But we’re not finished. She isn’t dressed.”
Starling said, “Yeah, I’m not dressed. I’m not going anywhere without clothes.”
Nausic said to Furielle, “She can wear what she wore yesterday.”
“No, she cannot,” Furielle said in a firm voice. “She is the pet of a king. There would be no end to the gossip if she were seen in the same clothes two days in a row.”
“You had a nightgown for her last night. Put her in that.”
“That is a nightgown.”
“She is a pet. It doesn’t matter what she wears. It does matter that Bekion has summoned her and is waiting. If you had seen to your duties rather than indulging in silliness, she would have proper clothing to wear.” Nausic looked at each of the women in turn. “Get her ready. You have three minutes.”
He stalked out of the room.
Starling half expected him to slam the door on his way out. He didn’t. She faced Furielle, who had her jaw clenched so tight Starling thought she would chip a tooth. She asked, “What nightgown?”
Furielle huffed and then said, “Bekion did not want to disturb you by allowing me to change your clothes.”
“Is it opaque?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, sounds good to me. Let’s get to it before you all get in trouble.”
“It’s a nightgown.”
“You’ve got option one and option two. Your choice.” Starling put her hands on her hips.
One of the other ladies said, “If you add a sash, it will not look so much like a nightgown, mistress.”
Furielle nodded. “You’re right.”
And just like that, the problem was solved. Starling put on the floor-length, silver A-line nightgown. It had small bubble sleeves and looked exactly like something a child would wear to bed. One of the ladies produced a light blue sash that she crisscrossed over Starling’s breasts and then looped around her waist to make a bow in the back.
“Time’s up,” Nausic said as he reentered. He walked straight toward Starling, scooped her up and started out of the room.
Starling looked back at Furielle. “My tablet.”
Furielle jogged after them with the tablet held out.
Nausic swung back, snatched the tablet and then continued on his way.
His motions almost made Starling seasick, except she didn’t have anything left in her stomach to be sick with.
She said, “You don’t have to carry me.”
“Bekion is waiting and you cannot keep up with my stride.”
“Point.” She draped her arm on his shoulders. “Is he done with his meeting already?”
“Hardly.”
“Oh. Well then why does he need me?”
“Ask him.”
Starling got the feeling Nausic didn’t want to talk to her so she stopped trying to spark up a conversation. The walk to the audience chamber didn’t take long with Nausic’s speed. Starling caught sight of Rois and he, her. His relieved smile made her happy to see him.
Nausic stopped before Rois. He pulled his arm from beneath Starling and let her fall, causing her to yelp in surprise.
It was a short fall but unexpected. If not for Rois catching her against his side, she might have hit the floor and broken something.
Rois snapped, “Careful with her.”
“She’s fine,” Nausic ground out. He shoved the tablet at her.
Starling took it but didn’t thank him.
Rois said, “I don’t appreciate your attitude.” A small chime sounded and Rois looked at his arm cuff. “I’ll talk to you about this later.”
Nausic did an about-face and walked away.
“Nausic,” Rois called after him but Nausic didn’t stop.
“He’s in a pissy mood about something,” Starling said.
“Are you unhurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Bekion is anxious to see you for some reason.” Rois eased open the door. With a hand at her back, he walked her into the room.
Be
kion sat at the head of a long table. Surrounding the table were several monitors. Each monitor held the visage of an affluent-looking individual. Starling could only guess they were the lords of Panagiota Bekion had mentioned earlier.
A few of the lords noticed her. Their attention caused Bekion to swivel in his seat and look at her. That, in turn, made the others notice her. As the day before, she had everyone’s avid attention.
One lord said, “What a lovely human.”
Bekion said, “Yes, she is.” He turned his attention to Rois. “Thank you, Rois.”
Rois bowed and left the room. Starling watched him leave. Once the door closed, she faced Bekion once more. He and the others continued staring at her.
If they expected her to do something, she planned to disappoint them. She located a cushion on the floor a little away from the table, possibly meant for her, and sat down. She adjusted her skirt so it wasn’t bunched beneath her, folded her legs to the side and pulled out the tablet.
“Tablet transcription-mode only,” she said in a low voice, though she was sure everyone heard her.
“Transcription-only mode activated.” It surprised her when the tablet responded in the same low voice with which she had spoken. It really was intuitive.
She started at the beginning, which involved inputting the English alphabet and all variations of writing each letter. She wondered if the tablet would want her to sound out each letter once it returned to audio mode.
Bekion said, “Let us resume our business.”
Starling glanced at him. Why had he called her? Surely not to show her off to the lords. But no other reason came to mind since he now ignored her.
She turned back to her task. Her bent posture became painful because of her new afro weighing her head down. With an annoyed sound, she sat up and reached for her hair. She didn’t care what Bekion wanted. She wasn’t leaving her hair like this.
Using her fingers as a guide, she parted sections of her hair and braided quick cornrows. She ended up with six of them. They probably weren’t that neat but it was the best she could do without a comb and a mirror. She didn’t want to call attention to herself by asking for them either.
With that done, she went back to inputting English into the tablet. It went faster than she thought. The tablet returned an error message whenever her handwriting got lazy but she finished all the greetings and simple conversation phrases.
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