by TylerRose.
“Stop that noise,” she said of the siren.
“It is protocol when driving the Ambassador,” the driver said.
“I don’t give a shit if it’s protocol for god of the universe. It’s a blasted infernal noise,” she said, reaching over to flip the switch to the off position. “I want less attention drawn to me, not more.”
The driver said nothing, didn’t even look to the Ambassador. Truth be told, he was glad to have the thing turned off. The traffic indicator gave him the go signal, a blue light apparently, and the vehicle glided out of the Rosaas building’s lot and across the street to head directly East. The road was a straight shot directly to the government seat, and the Ancient House of Meathe was the second drive way on the left after a few long and lonely country roads.
Maybe five miles outside of town, she guessed. There was one set of buildings with the open side facing On’R City and a smaller house on two of the ends. North and South. Passing by, she turned to see the East House on the back side. The three outer buildings seemed to be attached with corridors.
People were around on the land, working at various tasks, and a downward sloping garden in back met what became the front yard of the next house.
A pond with two tall birds rather looking like something between an emu and a cassowary, with a stream coming to and going from it, seemed to be the dividing line. The stream continued on the other side of the road, through farmland. The land sloped upward to the drive they were turning onto. Both main houses were rectangular and three stories tall; but this one had a large balcony over the entry portico and the roofs were different configurations. A man in rich dress, who could have been Arran himself, was watching them approach.
Her attention was drawn to the pond by a sudden surge of panic. There were smaller birds as well, downy offspring. One was floundering, flapping its wings, and fell beak first into the pond. The parents pranced back and forth, apparently not sure what to do while the fuzzy little one flopped around in the shallows and worked its way into deeper water.
Tyler concentrated hard, but psychokinesis did not work on the little bird. She didn’t think about it. The vehicle stopped and she ran down to the pond, dropping her leather jacket and kicking out of her shoes as she went. She took three final steps, seeing another shape closing in on the down-covered baby, and leapt high with a push of psychokinesis to dive into the water near the middle. She grabbed at the snake’s tail, causing it to turn the other direction.
With a kick on the final approach, she frightened off the serpent. It fled the other way. Scooping up the bird as she broke the surface, holding it firmly as it squirmed, she swam over to the shore where the frantic parents were trying to chase back men who had come down. By the time she reached the marsh, several men had come to the edge. One of them took the bird while two others grasped her by the upper arms to haul her out of the water. They carried her up the slope at nearly a running pace.
She yanked loose and turned back to see if the chick was well, ignoring the shouts behind her not to get too close to the birds. Approaching the last ten feet, she put her hand out, cupping the palm upright. The male head-butted her palm and let her pass to check on the sopping wet and still freaked out baby gasping for every breath. The mother had crouched beside it and was using her beak to nuzzle and comfort it.
Tyler went to her knees on the other side of the baby, mimicking the mother’s posture. A dry cloth appearing in her hand, she put it over the small bird’s back and started to rub and sop up some of the water.
“I know. So indignant,” she said when the baby shook itself a good one. “Go flopping like that into the pond and need to be rescued. So undignified. You’re right.”
The mother nuzzled Tyler’s upper arm, giving a sort of cooing purr.
“You’re welcome, Mama,” Tyler told her, patting her solid body.
Satisfied the little one was none the worse for wear, she got up and started up the slope toward the thirty or so men staring at her in utter disbelief.
Mankell felt it.A grip on his heart and mind as strong as the one he’d known for his favorite of favorites. A woman who dove without fear into an unknown water and grabbed a deadly snake by the tail, who walked up to one of the fiercest creatures on K’Tran and sat down beside it.
“What is her name?”
“Lar Tyler,” replied the Ambassador. “From Earth.”
“Thank you. You can go back to your duties.”
“Gar Mankell, she is my duty.”
“Not anymore, Ambassador. The Raas have made her my duty.”
“As you choose, Gar Mankell,” the Ambassador bowed, and retreated to his vehicle.
Mankell watched her rubbing the two week old hatchling, the four other babies running around her. The big male bird growled at the men, keeping them back. The female bird lay her long neck and hard, fist-sized head against Lar Tyler’s arm in a gesture of acceptance and gratitude. Lar Tyler responded with a slapping pat to the heavily feathered body. A touch no man on K’Tran would ever dare. She rose straight up to her feet, graceful as the Tihi bird would do, and started up the slope towards the waiting, watching men.
“What?” she challenged a staring pair of eyes. “Where is my room? I have to change now.”
“Go about your work,” Mankell said loud enough for the men to hear.
They dispersed in all directions toward or around the house, going to their various daily tasks. To a man, they looked forward to seeing more of this remarkable female at the evening meal.
“You must be Gar Mankell,” she said, flipping with one hand a dripping wet strand of hair away from her sapphire blue eyes while offering him the other hand.
A marvelous beauty in her unexpected and unselfconscious dishevelment.
“You are Lar Tyler,” he replied, bowing to kiss the palest hand he had ever held in his fingertips. “Envoy from the Celestial Congress, sent to assess if K’Tran is ready to join the Congress and the galactic society just beyond our solar system.”
“And very much in need of change of clothes. Denim is fantastic, but wet denim is extremely uncomfortable,” she smiled.
“I cannot have you in discomfort for a single moment longer than necessary. The chick is well?”
“He will recover. He was getting up to chase a bug when one of the siblings ran into him and knocked him off his feet. He went tumbling feet over beak into the water. The parents were afraid of the snake. That’s why they didn’t immediately go in.”
“I will call to the city for someone to capture the snake and take it to a better home,” he promised. “You saw all that from the drive?”
“No, I felt all that from his sudden fright. I tried to lift him out with psychokinesis, then tried to teleport him to the shore, but it didn’t work. So I went for a swim.”
“No, it would not work,” he said, more stuck on her references to two abilities she had tried. “The Tihi birds are telepathically impervious.”
“TeeHee birds?” she repeated. “They call themselves Shrikers but I guess we’ll keep that between the two of us unless you want to explain to the Rosaas how we know.”
“I think it wise to keep to ourselves,” he indulged her.
“Telepathically impervious? I don’t think that is the correct term. Impervious to other psionic abilities yes. But not telepathy. I was communicating with them the entire time. The male demanded I give the proper show of greeting before he would let me pass.”
They mounted the large, wide stone steps to cross through the portico and into the huge double doors.
“You have astounded my warriors. They wouldn’t walk up to those birds on a bet – and my men bet on anything.”
“Then make sure they always bet on me,” she smiled, glancing around the entry.
A box of a room with a six foot wide open doorway on the other side that ran from floor to ceiling, some fifteen feet. Through it and into a long corridor most of the width of the house. A wall of portraits in front of her was obviously
intended to impress. The wall was grey stone, mostly flat, with an open doorway in both ends.
Mankell gestured her to the left, to a set of stairs in the corner.
“Is this your House Room?” she asked of a door on the left.
“It is.”
“I’ll look at your Mondragoon after I change. I would not disrespect your House or Mondragoon by touching it right now,” she said, and moved on to the stairs in the corner.
Julian had warned her the steps were very tall, intended to make climbing them difficult for a female. She looked at them a few seconds and teleported to the first landing, then skipped the second landing and appeared at the top. Mankell said nothing but his smirk spoke volumes.
“Perhaps you would install a temporary set of half-steps to make it safer for me to walk the stairs,” she stated when he reached her.
He walked her the length of the corridor, pausing at the only door on the right hand side of the wall.
“This is my Gar Suite,” he gestured, intending for her to go inside.
“I’m sure I’ll see it at some point,” she smiled, and continued on. “And this down here would be for your favorite of the season?” she asked of the door at the end of the corridor.
“It is your room.”
“No, it’s not. I’m not a resident of your North House, Gar Mankell,” she said, turning left into the next corridor. “I never will be. I am a diplomat and a guest and will be treated as such. In any case, I would prefer not to have a room overlooking your soldiers’ house. That’s bound to get noisy at night when I want to be sleeping. I’d rather be at the back of the building, without vehicles.”
“The back has a house full of young boys,” he pointed out. “They will run and shout and play games around the East House all day long.”
“That’s fine. I won’t be in my room all day long.”
She turned left onto the rear corridor and into the first door on the right. A furnished room with old energy. No one was currently living in it.
“I’ll take this one,” she said, going in.
Two seat sofa sitting on an angle on top of an oval fur rug, facing a fireplace and a window. No balcony, but that was fine. A desk, a vanity, a closet. Doors on either side of that closet were to the bathroom and the bed closet.
Arran had described beds inside of closed closets to preserve body heat inside large houses that were difficult to heat. This House, being so old, was of that old world design. Two steps up to the door that slid sideways into the wall and there was the bed. She found a stuffed mattress on top of a wood platform, with pillows and blankets. It would be rather firm, but that was fine. It was private and there was only one way in, easy to defend herself.
“Have my cases brought here,” she said, going to the large window.
Mankell nodded the request to one of the men accompanying them, sending him to the Favorite’s room to retrieve the two pieces of luggage.
Looking out, she saw she was to the right of the East House, could see the wood frame and glass corridor from the main house to the East. All around this side of the main house was a formal garden with paths and beds of plants and flowers, benches, a fountain, men and women working. Beyond was a curve of forest with a road heading into it. Farther on, the other side of the forest, sat a village of small houses.
Exactly as Arran had described it.
“When you are dry and have changed clothes, the man outside the door will escort you to my terrace. I will have a small refreshment brought for us.”
“I don’t need an escort to go from here to the front of the House, Gar Mankell. I’ll be there at the eleventh hour,” she said with a glance to the chronometer on the wall showing her it was quarter past 10th hour.
Her belongings brought and placed near the closet, the young man gave her a quick bow and retreated from the room.
“Given your diplomatic status, it is right and proper for you to have an armed guard to protect you at all times.”
“Wouldn’t the laws of K’Tran, particularly those about assassination attempts on a Gar’s land, preclude the necessity?” she asked.
He was caught off-guard by her uncommon knowledge, for about two seconds. “I understand your enemies are not of K’Tran origin. They would not respect the laws of our planet. Should I fail in protecting you on my own land, the Rosaas would have my head. I do mean that literally, Lar Tyler. It is not about power. It is not about male and female. I would insist equally were you a man. There will be at least one armed man with you at all times when you are outside of this room.”
“Very well. I will do my best not to take it as a personal affront or attempt to control me.”
“I will see you shortly,” he tilted his head, and left her.
He went directly to his room, to the comm-screen on his desk, and called Prince Shestna.
Voran III was sponsoring K’Tran’s application and Mankell had been hosting the Prince on his visits.
“You said she was something else,” Mankell opened. “You neglected to say what something else.”
“What did she do?” Shestna grinned in that knowing way.
“Other than violate every Rosaas protocol and numerous other norms? She dove into my pond to rescue a drowning Tihi that was about to be eaten by a Ridoro serpent. Grabbed that serpent by the tail to stop it. She says she was communicating telepathically with the birds.”
“Yes, she does that.”
“You do not understand, my friend. Tihi birds are telepathically impervious. The strongest telepathic minds sent to study our society could not communicate with them. But she did.”
Shestna was silenced.
“So what, exactly, is she?” Mankell demanded.
“What do you think she is?” Shestna asked back.
“I am not going to speculate. I’d rather you just tell me.”
“She is a young woman of extraordinary ability who has a great many enemies. Let her be just that, Mankell. Don’t make her into anything else.”
The screen went blank and Mankell slammed a fist against the desk in annoyance.
Feeling no one watching,as there would have been in the other room, Tyler undressed and hung the wet clothes on hooks around the fireplace. Heavy, difficult to peel down denim, soaking socks, the tank top. She’d shed the lacy shirt with her jacket, so at least that had been spared. Her bikini style unders completely rolled over themselves into a tight twist she didn’t bother to open. She took the gold rings from her jeans pocket, tossed them onto the vanity.
The house was ancient, but the showers were modern. She could set the water by temperature, and tried several settings before finding one warm enough she wouldn’t be chilled but not so warm as to make a steam bath. Most concerned with her hair, she shampooed thoroughly. The pond’s water had a particular odor she didn’t care for. Stagnant, rotting plants, dead animal. The suds rinsed down her to wash it away from her body, and she ran her hands over herself to help them along. Ten minutes and she was out with her hair wrapped up in a towel.
She spent a moment hanging things in the closet while her body fully dried in the warm air. Redressed in an identical pair of jeans, a fresh tank top and the same lacy shirt, she found her boots and jacket on a resting sofa by the door. Her clothes were missing from the fireplace.
A neutral energy almost not noticed approached her door and came in without knocking.
“Lar Tyler,” the young woman curtsied briefly. “I did not expect you to finish with your bath so quickly. I have taken your clothes to the laundry to be washed and dried. I also have bottled water for you to drink. Prince Shestna suggested it might be easier for you if you find our local water not to your taste.”
“Prince Shestna? Why would he suggest anything?” Tyler asked, combing her hair and noticing the pouch with the rings had not been moved.
“He has been Gar Mankell’s guest several times during the application process.”
“Who are you?”
“I am Kellina, Lar Tyler
. Gar Mankell’s eldest daughter. I assist Houseman G’Ven in his duties.”
“You are schooled? Educated?”
“I am, Lar Tyler. We all are, as per the laws set forth over 450 years ago. I attended business college, with an eye toward doing exactly what I do now.”
“You’re not being forced to marry some other powerful Gar?” Tyler had to ask.
“My father has never required it of me. He is content to have me helping to run his House and acting as hostess. He desires I marry because I want to and for no other reason. Other daughters of his House are not given that luxury. If you require anything, press this buzzer once and a maid will come. If you require male assistance, press twice.”
“Thank you, Kellina.”
She tilted her head the same way Mankell had done, and left. Tyler took out a blank, copied journal and two pens. Into her messenger bag with the vidpad and she grabbed the pouch of copied rings from the vanity. One of her rings was worth fifty Kartara at the current rate. She put two of them onto a finger and the pouch into her pocket. Bag slung over her shoulder, she left the room.
Across from her, slightly to the left, was an open doorway. She went in, the young man outside her door following. A balcony looking down into the Gar Hall. Large rectangle, open in the middle, long tables with bench seats near the front wall. Two chairs and a lounging sofa near the far corner, angled to view most of the room at once. Angled to face the expected entryway.
This was an old style of Gar Hall. The Gar would meet important guests on the other side of the long wall, where the portraits were hung. Less important guests would be met by the Houseman or some other high ranking male of the House and then conducted to the Gar Hall. In newer Houses, the front door opened into an entry which sat directly opposite the doors to the Gar Hall. A guest would walk a straight line in the door and to the Gar for greeting.
“Gar Mankell is waiting—“
“He will not die if I take a moment. If you must be with me, you will be silent. You will not tell me where I must be. You will simply accompany me. Is that clear?”