by Ren Garcia
She put her brush down and joined him on the couch. “I’m glad I didn’t. I’m glad we were able to find each at last. It was worth the wait.”
They gazed at each other in the fading afternoon light. “I’m settled, Lilly. I would like to announce ourselves. I am happy with you, and want no other.”
She closed her eyes. “Me, the first Countess of Belmont-South Tyrol?”
“Would you accept such a distinction?”
She lay back and thought a moment. “Right now, at this moment, yes—yes I would. Gladly. But…”
“But?”
“Just look at us, Bel. We’re both still so young. There is so much we haven’t seen or done. There is a whole League out there, and beyond. If we committed to each other now, what if something else came around the corner? I’m not saying something will, I just want us both to know for certain.”
She saw the disappointment in Stenstrom’s face. “Oh, darling—please. I don’t mean it as a rebuke or rejection. I just want the both of us to be assured that, when we commit to each other, that there will be no maybe’s and what if’s. I mean, how much do you really know about me?”
“I know all I need to.”
“You should be careful with that, Bel. We all have our secrets, and I certainly have my share.” She took him into her arms. “Here’s what I propose. Let us take five years. During that time, we may both choose to explore the world and the League at large as we will. If in that time we find something different or new, we may be free to explore it. I pray such a thing doesn’t happen, but I cannot predict the future. I simply want it to be that when I give my heart to you, or you give yours to me, there will never be any question that we were meant for each other.”
“I don’t want anybody else, Lilly.”
She kissed him. “I pray that, at the end of five years, you still feel the same way. I don’t want to lose you either.” She took a deep breath. “So, is this what it feels like to be in love? It’s wondrous. I don’t want it to stop.”
“Then let us present ourselves.”
She lay back. “No, Bel—five years. Please, that is what I must ask of you.”
Stenstrom got up and approached the painting. “No, no, no,” Lilly said. “You promised not to look.” She laid back, her naked breasts pointing up at the sky. “I have a gift for you, Bel, I’ve been wanting to give it to you for some time now.
She placed a small golden locket on a delicate chain in the dimple between her beasts and waited for him to take it. He picked it up. “May I open it?” he asked.
“Of course.”
Inside was a tiny picture of Lilly’s golden face, hand-painted and meticulous. “Did you paint this, Lilly?”
“I did, Bel. I’ve been working on it for some time. I wanted it to be perfect before I gave it to you. Do you like it?”
“I love it. I’ll carry it with me always.” Lilly beamed.
He turned, cradling the locket in his hand and went to fetch his clothes. A few minutes later, partially dressed, he returned.
Lilly lay prone on the couch.
“Lilly, will you stay for dinner this evening, I …”
Lilly was gone. In her place was an intricate sculpture of her nude body in sand, perfect in every detail. Everything about it was perfect, the shape of her face, the curve of her legs, her soft, delicate feet.
Lilly often did this—disappearing at a moment’s notice and leaving behind a wonderful sculpture of her likeness in sand. It amazed him how fast she could put these sculptures together—such care and detail—surely such a thing should take hours, but he’d been gone only a few minutes.
The canvas of his portrait was gone too.
Written in sand near her head in a fine cursive hand was: “Bye, bye …” That was another thing Lilly did on her departures. “Bye . . . bye . . .”
Oh Lilly, he thought. He always felt so sad when she abruptly left like this. He got out the locket and stared at her beautiful face. “Bye, Lilly. Don’t be long.”
Five years—a lot of things can happen in five years.
Though he could probably expect to see much less of Lilly around, she would, nevertheless, come to dominate his thoughts and his doings. Just as Stenstrom began to emerge from his mother’s wing and openly challenge her, he replaced one domineering woman with another—Lilly.
Everything that happened from then on out she had a hand in determining. Just like she could sculpt a statue of sand, she could sculpt him too.
Five years …
14 A Question of Occupation
There was an unspoken disconnect rumbling around Belmont Manor. It had been there for years, and was largely—and wisely—undiscussed.
The disconnect: what sort of occupation would Stenstrom the Younger be allowed to pursue as he matured into a young man. Such a topic was new around the House with Stenstrom being the only son of Belmont. Lady Jubilee assumed that all of her daughters would simply become ladies, countesses and socialites, like she was. Only a few of her daughters, Lady Celesta and Nylar, for example, and more recently, Lady Lyra, had openly antagonized Lady Jubilee on the matter and promptly found themselves outside in the moonlit garden under the knife.
As for Lord Stenstrom the Younger, clearly, his father wanted him to join the Fleet and clearly Lady Jubilee did not.
Lord Stenstrom at one time was rather keen on the idea. He sent his young son all sorts of Fleet memorabilia to fill his thoughts, and spun grand tales of his adventures when he was in attendance at home—both Stenstrom and Lyra soaking them up eagerly. Lady Jubilee frowned on the subject, her hatred of the Fleet most clear.
To further push the matter, Captain Stenstrom took his son on a trip to Onaris aboard his vessel, the Caroline, when he was nine—his first trip into space. It was just a quick run to gather supplies, a task great warbirds normally didn’t partake in; however, Captain Stenstrom was eager for a chance to take his son on a brief introductory spin around the stars.
He hoped more would follow.
Stenstrom the Younger was intoxicated with the whole thing: the launch from EstherBay, listening to his father command the ship, barking out orders, and watching the bridge crew follow them without pause or question. Sitting in his office, the ship under full sail, he looked out the window at the dark gallery of space moving by.
“Do you see that great glowing thread stretching off into the distance, my son,” he asked.
“I do, father,” Stenstrom the Younger said, his face pushed up against the glass. “What is it?”
“It’s a cloud of gas called Druries Belt—just a harmless oddity one finds while at sea. There are many such things, each more wondrous than the previous, all just waiting to be discovered.”
“When will we arrive at Onaris?” Stenstrom the Younger asked.
“Oh, in just a few hours.”
“What’s out there?’
“Here—nothing, just a bit of empty space between Kana and Onaris. Pay it no mind. There’s nothing out there except Druries Belt and some ice.”
When they returned to Tyrol, Lady Jubilee was incensed, and though she was missing her usual cigarette, she smoked nonetheless.
That was the first time he ever heard his parents engage in a bitter, shouting argument, their voices exchanging back and forth through the halls of the old monastery, he covering his ears so as not to hear the hurtful words being hurled back and forth.
As time passed, Stenstrom the Older’s zeal diminished a bit. He never saw his son wearing any of the clothes he sent home to him, never saw him playing with the toys and models he’d bought. Perhaps he really didn’t have an interest in it after all.
So, what was he to do? He was getting older and the question could be ignored no longer.
The question of Stenstrom’s future occupation, the thing Lord Stenstrom and Lady Jubilee always had avoided discussing at any length, finally came to a boil one day when Stenstrom the Younger was seventeen. Lord Stenstrom again took his son for a ride to Onaris, th
is time bringing Lady Lyra along as well. As he had when he was younger, Stenstrom was full of excitement—so was Lyra. This time, Lord Stenstrom put it to them directly.
“So, would either of you like to join the Fleet, sail the stars with your old man? There is a place waiting for either or both of you. Many clamor for such an opportunity, I beg you not to waste it.”
Both of them looked at each other and respectfully said, “No.”
“But why—you both seem to love it. I don’t understand.”
Stenstrom the Younger spoke up: “Mother will not allow it, and has seen to it.”
Ah—Stenstrom the Older now understood.
They returned to Belmont Manor the next day. It was time of the Yearly Reasoning, when a League Auditor from the city of Armenelos came to check the House of Belmont’s assets and determine if enough tax had been paid—it was a dreary and sometimes infuriating exercise to have to go through.
The auditor, a Lord Belamy of Koff—a small, meek man from the League office, sat there going through all of House Belmont’s assets as Lady Jubilee and Lord Stenstrom had a raging fight all around him.
“I have told you that our son will not join the Fleet and have nothing to do with it! I have made that most clear, have I not?” she shouted. “They call you Stenstrom the Brave. Instead, they should call you ‘Stenstrom the Deaf’, or ‘Stenstrom the Forgetful’!”
He returned the favor. “How about these appellations, madam: ‘Stenstrom the Pained’. ‘Stenstrom the Encumbered’, and ‘Stenstrom the Determined’! Jubilee, you cannot protect our son so; he has all of the tools needed to be a fine officer in the Fleet, and should be permitted to make his own choices as he sees fit. He loved his trip to Onaris—he has a passion for faring the stars—just as I do. I know he does!”
“We are under Wirguild!”
“The Wirguild is suspended, and has been for years! There’s glory to be had for him in the Fleet!”
“And death and destruction and pain for his mother!”
“You are talking nonsense!”
Lord Koff continued checking his papers, trying to blend in with the tabletop. In all his travels, he’d clearly never seen a Lord and Lady behave so.
“He has a world of choices before him—just not the Fleet! Not the Stars! I forbid it! Additionally, I have set him to the Blood Promise—he has promised not to join the Fleet.”
Ah—so there it was—there it was. She and her damned rituals. Her superstitions. Stenstrom slammed his hand down on the table, causing Lord Koff’s terminal to jump.
“That is a piece of Tyrol nonsense! How could you do such a thing to our son?” he roared.
“I have protected our children from all that may harm them—I have stood guard over their souls, and the Blood Promise is part of that protection! It is my guarantee!”
“Tyrol nonsense!”
“Tyrol nonsense, is it? I should turn you into a fly and swat you flat right now for your temerity!” Jubilee shouted back.
“I wish you would—I truly do! You have been threatening to transform me into this creature or that for years. Go ahead! Do it! End my suffering!”
Amid this thunderstorm, Lord Koff meekly spoke up. “My Lord, might I command your attention for a moment?”
Lady Jubilee turned her fury to Lord Koff, her eyes smoldering. “You!” she spat. “What, in the name of Creation, do you want?”
Lord Koff trembled under her gaze. “My Lady, I have some figures that I would like to go over with you. I feel, and the data support it, that there has been an underpayment to the League …”
“An underpayment?”
“Yes, Great Lady …”
“AN UNDERPAYMENT?”
Lord Stenstrom approached and looked at Lord Koff’s figures. He threw his hands up. “Yes, yes, I agree. I will authorize a payment to you, Lord Koff, this very moment.”
His gaze went to Lady Jubilee. “I will go and get the funds. I find the company in this room fairly distasteful at present.”
Lady Jubilee watched him exit and lit a fresh cigarette.
Lord Koff tapped his keys. “I certainly hope Lord Belmont understands there shall be additional fees and penalties for the tardy nature of the payment.”
Lady Jubilee appeared not to care about taxes and money at the moment. “The hallmark of any sound relationship, Lord Koff, is the ability to fight with vigor with the one you love and make up later, would you not agree?”
“I… well, I…”
She began to choke up a little and pulled from her cigarette to hide it. “We often fight about this and that, and never fail to properly make up. This time will be no different. I love that man—cherish him. That’s why I act as I do. He and our children, that’s why I care so much.”
She pulled herself from her reflections. She turned back to Lord Koff. She looked at the little man sitting there with his terminal and papers, and she sneered with disdain. “You sir, you are an accountant, correct?”
“Yes, Great Lady. I am a fully accredited accountant for the League and a proud member of the IBBAANA brotherhood.”
“Truth be told? How nice. And this ‘Banana’ organization you mentioned, that is some sort of accountant gathering, yes?”
“IBBAANA, Great Lady, and yes, it is a proud brotherhood of accountants and other similar occupations.”
“I see. And, have you ever been shot at?”
“What? Shot at? No, Great Lady.”
“Have you ever faced death in space?”
“In space? No, Great Lady.”
“Has an accountant ever died of botulism?”
“What? Well, I …”
She leaned down and gritted her teeth. “And, do you not believe that I could turn you into a fly, should I so choose to do so?”
Lord Koff sweated. “I … do not know, Great Lady.”
Jubilee intimidated Lord Koff for a few minutes more; then Lord Stenstrom returned with a chest of coins.
“An accountant!” she declared as Lord Stenstrom sorted through the coins. “Our son shall become an accountant and join the—the. . .” Jubilee snapped her fingers in Lord Koff’s face. “What is the name of that insipid brotherhood you grovel in fealty to, sir?”
“What? The IBBAANA, is that what you are referring to? I do not gro--”
“Yes, yes, the ‘BANANA’—our son shall belong to such an organization and elevate it to new heights.” Jubilee pointed at Lord Koff. “Just like this insignificant man sitting right here! And to ensure such a thing, I shall put him to the Promise.”
Lord Koff was open-mouthed in outrage. “Insignificant?” he sputtered.
Stenstrom threw down the chest. “You will force our son into mediocrity? You will force upon him the life of a faceless Hack?”
“Mediocrity?” Koff shouted with indignation. “Faceless Hack?”
“If it ensures a long, uneventful life for our son, then yes I will!”
Lord Koff, a partially forgotten man in the midst of this row, opened his coat and pulled out a holo pedestal. He set it on the table and turned it on. Soon the flickering images of a number of young people began floating about the room. “I will have you know, Great Lady Jubilee, that I am the proud father of fifteen wonderful children. I am not insignificant.”
Jubilee stopped shouting at her husband and looked at the smiling images orbiting around his head.
“I see,” she said studying them. “And did you have any children that lived, Lord Koff?”
“Lady Jubilee!” Lord Stenstrom said, aghast, dropping his coins. “Where are your manners?”
“Manners be damned! Behold these tawdry waifs, with naught to look at but this man’s bald head as he stumbles home after yet another uneventful day. At least they may expect no harm to come to their father. That is what I crave for our son—a simple, uneventful life, free of danger. And that, by Creation, is what he shall have!”
15 Favored of the Sisters
Shortly after the big row with Lord Stenstrom, L
ady Jubilee was distressed to learn that a contingent of Sisters was coming west from Valenhelm to pay her a visit.
The Sisters always made her nervous. What did they want? What did they know?
Their intentions soon became clear. With Lady Jubilee and Stenstrom the Younger sitting in the parlor, the group of ten Sisters laid it out for them with uncharacteristic haste and frankness. The Sisters didn’t seem to care about Lady Jubilee at all—it was her son they were interested in.
“We have watched your growth, Lord Stenstrom, with great interest. You have matured into an admirable young man,” the prim Marine said.
“Thank you, Great Sister.”
“We shall be blunt, as we are certain your time is short, as is ours. We wish you to participate in our Program, sir. You have been found to be of fine lineage, and you would honor us with your participation.”
Stenstrom was nervous. He knew of the Sister’s “Program,” where they invited select males throughout the League to inseminate fertile Sisters. He’d heard it was a complicated procedure, requiring many visits and a lengthy negotiation, and to be selected was an honor.
He didn’t feel honored. He felt rushed and on-the-spot. He looked to his mother. “Mother, I …”
“This request does not concern your mother, the Great Lady Jubilee. She has no say in your response, either yes or no. Please refer your answer to us.”
Stenstrom didn’t know what to say or do.
Jubilee spoke up. “Sisters, this is most irregular. Normally, a House may expect a reception and proper sitting before …”
“This is hardly, regular, Lady Jubilee. Do not forget that it was we who saved your son’s life on repeated occasions. We expect a small recompense for our assistance.”
Lady Jubilee forgotten, they gazed at Stenstrom. “We require an answer, sir. The matter is completely voluntary, and you shall not offend us in any case. Therefore, what say you?”
Stenstrom wanted his mother to answer. “I … perhaps I am a bit too young. I might better serve you in a year or so, when I am more mature.”
“You are optimally mature at present, Lord Belmont, hence our presence in your wonderful home. Again, what is your answer?”