Suddenly Anneliese whirled upon her husband, hands curled into fists, pummeling his chest.
"Damn you!” she screamed. “How dare you torment me like this?"
"Lisa!” Cade laughed, snatching her wrists.
She struggled against his grasp, tears filling her eyes. “You're supposed to love me. Protect me.” The words struck like a secret she'd been keeping from herself. Her lips quivered. “This is our honeymoon."
Cade held her chin with one hand, fingers digging into her cheek. He smiled, but his eyes were hard. “I only wanted to show you what other people call life. You've been hiding in your father's fortress."
Anneliese twisted away, turning her back. “When my father hears of how you've treated me...."
"What are you talking about? Your father worships me. He always wanted a son to take over the business."
Anneliese winced. Don't listen, she told herself. “I can't help being born a woman."
"No, but you can help being the kind of woman you are."
Anneliese moved to slap him, but Cade pinned her arms, spinning her around to face the cage.
"But none of that matters here,” he said in her ear. “On this planet, all women are highly valued, and do you know why? Because the men don't have anything else to trade."
He released her with a slight shove. Anneliese covered her face, sobbing; then, with an upsurge of panic, she realized he was walking away. Women called to him, reaching through the bars with filth-streaked hands.
"Cade,” cried Anneliese, but her voice was barely a whisper.
CHAPTER 5
Anneliese stared at her husband's back. What should she do? He was leaving her.
Cade spun about, arms swinging to encompass the city. “Trade is power! Never forget that! Your father's rule!” His face twisted.
Anneliese felt detached and distant, her body unreal. Darkness tinged the edges of her vision. She took a step forward, then another. Her legs wobbled as if unused to her weight. Cade lowered his arms, his expression unreadable. She saw him as if at the end of a long tunnel.
Why did he hate her? Her thoughts roiled. Why was she unlovable?
"Lisa,” Cade said, suddenly near.
His fingers lifted her chin. Anneliese looked up into the eyes of the man she loved. Her throat constricted.
"Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I never meant to hurt you. It's just that ... well, I find the Resort fascinating. Special. I was hoping you would feel the same."
Anneliese felt her mouth drop. This was his special place—the home he wanted to share with her? A whirlwind of thought caused her head to spin: How could she be so insensitive? How could he be so crude?
"I guess you could call this our first spat.” Cade ran his thumbs across her tear-streaked cheeks. “I promise you will never see me act that way again."
He smiled crookedly, and Anneliese felt her heart swell. Fresh tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to believe, wanted to hold him so tightly she'd be unable to tell where his body left off and hers began.
Instead, she said, “Can we go back, now?"
Cade glanced about. “I'm afraid we're too late for a cab, and we're a long way from the Resort entrance. But I know of a place where we can get out of this heat."
He led her toward a building, squat and primitive like so many others she had seen. Heavy fabric hung across the door. Cade pulled the cloth aside, taking her hand as she entered. Anneliese blinked against the sudden gloaming.
The room was small and sparse. It smelled of dust. In the corner, a native-born man reclined upon a bench, snoring.
"This way,” Cade said, pulling aside a second curtain, revealing a stairwell.
Anneliese caught a burst of cool air. She heard a strain of music. Peering beneath the cloth, she made out a line of roughly hewn steps leading down.
Cade held fast to his wife's arm, urging her into darkness. The air grew cooler as they descended. Voices became discernible. They reached a landing, and Cade opened another drape.
Anneliese stepped onto a balcony overlooking a large room. Smoke drifted in hazy streaks. A fat musician playing a bulbous instrument strolled about the tables. In the center of the room, a group of women danced the moiru.
Brushing her hair behind her shoulders, Anneliese took a deep breath. The air felt cool, the dimness a relief after the glare of the sun.
Cade smiled, glancing about. “Welcome to the Gatesmouth Saloon."
A voice called his name. Anneliese turned to see a buxom woman bounding up a set of stairs. She wore a white blouse, opened at the collar, and a skirt of flowing colors. Her graying hair strayed in wisps from a heavy braid.
"Cade, you limmer, it's about time you came to see me!"
Cade laughed, throwing his arms wide. “Surah, I swear, you get younger every year.” He hugged the woman, swinging her around. “How have you been?"
"Good! How about you? Getting into trouble?” She looked at Anneliese.
"Lisa, meet Surah Rudnitsky, proprietor of this establishment. This is my wife, Anneliese Thielman."
"Thielman?” Surah shot Cade a glance that crossed from shock to warning. Then the expression melted, and she smiled at Anneliese. “Glad to meet you. Come along, I'll get you some refreshments."
She ushered them down the stairway that led from the balcony.
Cade said, “When did you get new tables?"
Surah gave a husky laugh. “Well, after the last raid by the Llaird...."
"The Llaird got down here?"
"Wasn't sure I'd ever get the place running again. The murdering wretches."
Cade took Anneliese's arm, his eyes suddenly solemn. Anneliese recalled what he'd told her about the Llaird: underground dwellers, warring tribes. She thought of the large dent in the middle of the door barring the entrance to the Resort.
Surah said, “Sit here and relax. I'll bring something to cool your gullet. Honey, we have a bona fide washroom right over there, if you're interested."
Anneliese smiled. “Thank you. I am."
Moving in the indicated direction, Anneliese entered a darkened passage. Sound cut off as if absorbed by the walls. She stopped at a wicker-faced door and found it locked. Was she in the wrong place? Glancing back, she saw Cade still sitting at the table.
If she went back now, Cade would laugh at her incompetence, unable to find a washroom on her own. She stared ahead into the darkness of the passage.
A shuffling sound caught her attention. A man spoke in Standard. Workers, she thought. Perhaps they could direct her.
She followed the sounds to two men loading garbage upon a dumb-waiter. Anneliese stepped toward them, and then froze. Even with their backs to her, she could see that one of the men was hideously deformed, his shoulders twisted, one arm hanging low.
"And don't forget to come back down,” the other man told him. “I won't have you sneaking off to sleep while there's still work to be done."
The deformed man grunted, mounting the lift. His golden eyes fell upon Anneliese. She looked away, blushing as if she had been caught looking at something dirty.
"Washroom is right over there.” The other man pointed.
Anneliese stammered. “Yes. Thank you."
She entered the small room, locking the door, then listened for a moment through the wicker. The deformed man had not pursued her. She felt cold inside, as she had when she saw the boy with the fortuneteller.
Such a decadent culture, she thought, allowing that sort among decent folk.
Turning, she swept her gaze about the room: a single stall, a ceramic basin. Where were the sonic cleansing units, the pneumatic fresheners? She stood before a spotted mirror, slowly pulling off her hat.
She would enjoy this place, she told herself, even if it made her ill.
The washbasin was cracked. She twisted the tap and a gush of water splashed into the sink. The water was remarkably clear, refreshing in spite of its warmth. She washed her face, her hands up to the elbows, then ran wet fingers through
her hair.
She had to look her best, had to win back her husband's approval. Things were different between them since they'd landed upon this planet. She thought back to the horrid scene outside the prostitution cages. Cade had said such hurtful things. Her fault. She would not disappoint him again.
Anneliese turned off the water, and then blotted her face with a dry corner of the towel. It was odd that Cade thought her father accepted him, especially after he'd refused to attend their wedding. Just another phase, her father had said.
Her heart sank, remembering. What if her father were right? What if she didn't know how to love? Who would take care of her then?
A shudder uncoiled in the pit of her stomach, a snake devouring her dreams—No! She shook her head. Cade wouldn't always act this way; they just needed to get to know each other.
Anneliese opened the door a crack to see if the men were gone, then hurried back to her husband. Cade smiled at her approach, getting to his feet and holding her chair.
"Surah brought over our drinks,” he told her, “and I took the liberty of ordering lunch."
"How long have you and Surah known each other?” she asked.
"All my life, off and on. She taught me to pilot my first skip-chaser. Took me under her wing, so to speak."
"She must be very kind.” Anneliese smiled, gratified by this glimmer into his past.
Cade gulped his tall, frothy drink. “I could always trust her, if that's what you mean."
Anneliese sipped from her glass. The liquid was sweet and cold. “This is good."
"Mostly milk,” Cade told her. “The city keeps a herd of yllib in the northern hills. Rather like goats. They graze on moss growing on the underside of rocks."
"I would love to see them. Could we visit the hills sometime?"
"Not much to see. Besides, it isn't safe.” He reached across the table, squeezing her hand.
Concerned for her safety. Anneliese smiled. Of course, she trusted him.
She took a long swallow of her drink, gazing across the large room. The lounge was busy but not crowded. The only local people she saw were the dancers.
Anneliese nodded toward the stage. “Is this where Farin started?"
"Possibly. You know, dancing the moiru is an honored profession. Don't be so judgmental."
Forcing a smile, Anneliese said, “I was surprised at first, but now I understand."
She turned her attention to the three women. Their costumes did not shimmer as Farin's had; the bands were wider, and smeared with dark grime.
Cade said, “Sometimes they dance for hours until they collapse with exhaustion."
Anneliese clasped her hands about her drink. She gazed past the stage. On the other side of the room, she made out a familiar face.
Harmadeur-Fezzan-Gendarme. Master of security.
Her breath caught in her throat. Was he watching her?
Suddenly, the music became louder—the fat musician was attending their table. Cade smiled and leaned back, tossing a coin in the man's basket.
Anneliese flicked a glance across the room. Harmadeur was still there—same massive robes, same reflective eyes. She shivered, remembering the way he had stared at her in the banquet hall, as if he were assessing her, and amused by what he saw.
The musician played lustily, blowing upon the mouthpiece and stroking the bulb at the instrument's end. He created a sound much like water dripping into a deep pool.
Anneliese wanted to cover her ears. She watched the dancers upon the stage. A woman cried out and the crowd jeered excitedly. A trickle of blood ran down the woman's leg.
Blood like ink.
Anneliese felt sick. She wanted to push the table over, run screaming from the room.
"I hope you're hungry,” Surah announced.
The proprietor set a bowl upon the table. Reaching inside, Anneliese lifted a fork. A thin length of meat wrapped the tines, dripping with brown juices.
Anneliese drew back her hand. She stared, riveted, as if an electric current were coursing through her. “You ordered stegort for me to eat?"
"I thought you might give it another try."
"But, you know I'm vegetarian!"
Cade laughed then leaned forward, teeth bared in a sneer. “Look around you, Lisa. You're on a planet of stone! Vegetables grow only on the black market."
Surah poured two tankards of ale. The musician strolled to the next table. Anneliese felt a scream bubbling in her throat. She glanced across the room. Harmadeur was gone.
Just then, one of the dancers collapsed. A man bounded onto the stage. The crowd stood, blocking her view.
"Is he a doctor?” she asked.
Cade threw back his head, laughing. The sound echoed in Anneliese's ears. The crowd took up a chant, pumping their fists into the air. Anneliese turned away, eyes wide with dawning horror.
A man sat at the table. “Hello, Cade."
"This is a private conversation, Prin."
"Don't let me interrupt. I just thought you'd like to know, there's a game going on in back. Some of your old buddies...."
Cade hesitated, eyes locked upon Prin's face. He turned toward Anneliese. “I want you to wait here. I shouldn't be long.” He got to his feet.
"But, I want to come with you,” she said.
Prin smiled. “Relax, little beauty. Enjoy your lunch."
Anneliese wanted to slap him. She pushed back her chair, voice strident with alarm. “I do not eat the flesh of animals!"
In a flash, Cade was beside her, fingers digging into her arm. “I suggest you learn. You might be on this planet a long time."
CHAPTER 6
Anneliese sat upon the hard chair. She flicked her eyes to the side. She didn't remember watching Cade walk away, didn't know how long it had been since he'd left her.
A man passed the table, two more walked along the wall. Anneliese held perfectly still, wishing she were invisible. Dear God, she prayed, don't let them notice me. Don't let them wonder what sort of woman would sit alone in such a place.
Odor drifted from the bowl of meat. Anneliese winced. If only she had tried the stegort, just one bite. Tears stung her eyes. How often she'd imagined her honeymoon, replayed the scene in her mind: flowers and soft music, a glass of wine—and Cade, solicitous and gentle, unbuttoning her robe, allowing it to fall from her shoulders, then lifting her in his strong arms, his body warm against hers....
She pushed the bowl to the other side of the table. A voice made her jump.
"Left you already?” Surah laughed.
Anneliese gasped with relief. Surah. A friend. She wanted to hug her. “Please join me. Cade will be right back."
"Will he, now? It seems to me he's been gone quite a while."
Yes, thought Anneliese. Her shoulders ached with waiting. Suddenly, the tears came, bursting as if through a dam. “He hates me,” she sobbed, “because I wouldn't eat the stegort."
"That seems a bit extreme."
Anneliese jammed her fists into her eyes. She felt Surah sit beside her, felt the woman press a cool cloth into her hand.
Anneliese forced a quivering smile. “I'm being silly."
"Maybe. But Cade was right about one thing—vegetable shipments go to the Resort. Wipe your face. I've brought a gift. Over here, Erit!"
A man approached the table—the worker who had been with the deformed man at the dumb waiter. He nodded to Anneliese, and then slid a tray onto the table.
Surah waved her hand over the tray as if she were performing magic. “Here we have lichen, toadstools, and my personal favorite, voorseeds.” She picked up a spiny gray ball, breaking away the thick skin to reveal a nut. “The best this planet has to offer."
Anneliese stared at the feast. She considered her host—how kind she was. How generous.
Surah motioned toward the untouched tankards of ale. “Bring us a couple of fresh ones, would you, Erit? And take the stegort away."
"I'd much rather have tea,” said Anneliese.
"You don't w
ant to drink that stuff.” Surah wriggled the nut from its casing, then bit it in half. “So, how do you like the Resort Debauch so far?"
Anneliese reached for a toadstool, ate it slowly before answering. “Parts of it are lovely, parts a bit frightening."
Surah nodded, eating the nut. “Nice pendant."
"It's malpais.” Anneliese beamed, holding the stone teioid out for inspection.
The elder woman laughed—a barking sound deep in her throat. “I suppose it is, after a fashion. You've never seen true malpais. Indescribable beauty. I'd give my left eye for a nugget that size."
"Has Cade ever seen true malpais?"
"More than likely."
Anneliese paused, chewing thoughtfully. “Cade said you've known each other for a long time."
"All his life, off and on. How did you two meet?"
"My father works with him upon occasion."
"Ah, the infamous Mortar Thielman."
"Do you know my father?"
"We may have met once or twice.” Surah picked up another nut-ball, staring at it. “I was a trader myself in those days, planning to build an empire. But it's a tricky business—one bad decision and I wind up here."
"Cade and I have known each other only a few weeks. He was so attentive and charming—I couldn't help but marry him."
"How did your father react to that?"
Anneliese blushed, glancing up guiltily. “He said I was too young."
"And your mother?"
"My mother died when I was five. My father never remarried."
Erit approached, setting two heavy mugs and a pitcher on the table. He poured the ale into the mugs. “Pol says to tell you he's having trouble with the condenser packs again."
Surah lifted her drink. “Well, you tell Pol I'm having my dinner."
Nodding, Erit walked away.
Anneliese sipped the bitter brew, then set the mug down. “I can't imagine what is keeping Cade."
"Don't worry. It's just business."
Anneliese blinked. What sort of business entailed the playing of games? She picked up a spiny ball, peeling the flesh the way Surah had shown her. The nut was sweet, a good contrast to the ale.
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