by S. J. Madill
“There is nothing to consider,” said Amba. “I have found a new life, a better life, and I will not give it up just so that the Pentarch can be more ‘comfortable’.”
“I see, Revered Tassali. What message should I give to your father and the Pentarch?”
Amba shook her head. “Tell them I am living my life, free and without conditions. Tell them whatever you like. Tell them that I am at thirty-seven degrees, and I need to, what is the saying…” She looked at Dillon. “Get laid?”
Dillon nodded sagely, suppressing a grin. “Yes. That.”
Amba turned back to the ambassador. “Is there anything else?”
The ambassador bowed deeply. “No, Revered Tassali. Thank you for your time.”
Amba calmly raised one hand, palm out, over the Palani man's head. “May the Divines watch over you and protect you from harm, Delan Estelia.” She turned to Dillon. “I would like to leave with you now, Feda,” she said, starting toward the door.
The ambassador watched the departing Tassali, glancing at Dillon. “Commander, the Tassali calls you ‘Feda’?”
Dillon nodded, turning to leave. “What does it mean?”
The Palani man merely smiled. “You are a most fortunate man, Commander. Most fortunate.”
Dillon jogged to catch up to Amba, meeting her at the door. Her blue eyes were wide and heavy-lidded. “Where shall we go, my love?” she asked. “My hotel room is a long way away.”
“I still own the old house; it’s close by,” said Dillon, smiling. “Let’s go home.”
About the Author
Steve Madill hails from the magical land of Canada, and while there may not be any spaceships or unicorns (that you know of), there exists an uncanny natural ability to fix just about anything by using hockey equipment and duct tape.
A lifelong reader, and a lover of all things research-intensive, Steve was often left feeling a sense of "what if?" when he finished reading a book. So he decided to answer those questions by writing some books of his own. You may not find any unicorns between the pages (unless they got squashed in the bindery), but you will find compassionate necromancers, reluctant warriors, and an alien who defies pronouns.
When not writing, Steve can be found on his blog, The Edge of the Empire, pondering universal truths and how embarrassed we’re all going to be when aliens see the Internet.