StarlightComplete

by Astrid Cooper

  Purple, green and silver—the official colors of Chizan. John had showed her the planet’s heraldic symbol on the Galactic Council website. Chizan (or known to outsiders as Fellinal) was one of the original signatories to the Council Charter and so wielded great influence, which was why the opportunists had descended on Kuno’s apartment, the moment it was discovered Harimal—the heir-apparent—was missing, presumed dead.

  Sam’s hackles rose again at the scene and then her thoughts diverted as the planet revealed itself in all its splendor.

  Chizan was breathtakingly beautiful, heart achingly beautiful. No wonder the cats guarded its secrets so fiercely.

  She remembered the glances at her as she walked beside John along the spacedock terrace, his hand at the small of her back—the outward display that the woman was his chosen.

  He had dressed in felinus silk, the black kaftan plain, except for the swirl of silver and green at the high collar.

  Taren had insisted John wear the Chizan robe. John equally determined to wear jeans and t-shirt. “And be damned to the lot of them,” John said to his clan-brother.

  “Yes, damn them. But damn them later, Kuno. You need every advantage.” He flashed a hand signal at John and Sam frowned. She knew some basic assassin signings, but this one was unknown. But she didn’t have to be Einstein to figure it out.

  “It’s because of me.” The looks on their faces was enough to tell her she’d interpreted accurately. “Even if I’m your mate and you’re in mutatis, some aren’t going to accept me, are they, because I’m not felinus?”

  John’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll make them.”

  “How? By refusing to follow tradition?”

  “Your kitten has more sense than you, Kuno. Remember the assassin axiom: it is better to retreat and submit, to save your strength for the war.”

  So, John acquiesced and grumbled all the way to the shuttle dock.

  “I like the kaftan, John-Kuno,” Sam said. “Because I know you’re not wearing a damn thing under it. Very sexy.”

  “You’re trying to manipulate me. Placate me.”

  She grinned. “Is it working?”

  “Might be.” He paused. “When I get you alone, I’ll show you manipulation.”

  “Promise?”

  “Ooohhh yeah!”

  Sam gulped at his sexy drawl. She was wearing her little black dress, with a new multi-chained belt slung low around her hips. Her only jewelry was her pearl necklace. Balance and poise was everything and a gal couldn’t do either tottering on stilettos in space stations, she’d learned that the hard way, so she wore a pair of flat silver sandals with metal tassels that chinked together as she walked. But she wished for more height, because every person she saw was tall. Her size marked her as an off-worlder.

  “There’s an old earth saying, kitten-mine,” John said. “Good things come in small packages.”

  “You’re reading my mind.”

  “Can’t help it. When you’re emotional, you broadcast loud and clear.”

  “It’s easy for you, you’ve probably never had to look up to anyone ever since you were old enough to go ring surfing!”

  “Never equate size with quality, Samantha,” Taren remarked behind her. “And any sentient who does so, is a fool!”

  She glanced back and saw his fierce grin. He strode behind them, his right hand on his dagger, his left hand hidden in his leather jerkin, another dagger at the ready if there was the slightest provocation. This was his message to all and Sam was comforted by it—and him.

  The two draconis walked at the rear, their spiked tails swishing behind them. People scattered, pressing back against the plasti-shield of the tunnel walkway, to avoid the dragons.

  Not that she could blame anyone for their alarm. She had been terrified of them on first meeting. Nearly three meters tall, with teeth and claws razor sharp and dark fathomless eyes, no one would want to mess with such a person. Formidable, terrifying, but marshmallow inside, she had found out en-route to Chizan.

  While John had slept, she and the draconis—Vax the eldest and his mate, Keik, had played Martian poker. Sam suspected they let her win the first two hands, for beginner’s luck. After that all bets were off and they played hard. Over cards and brandy, they had traded insults and jokes. When the time was right, she’d have to remember to tell John that draconis joke about felinus and scent. The two draconis had roared with laughter while Taren blushed.

  But the easy shipboard camaraderie was forgotten, now they were in Chizan space.

  Sam saw several black cats, resembling lions, with thick silver ruffs shadowing them on either side. Their obsidian eyes were unwavering and she felt they watched only her.

  “Don’t let them upset you, Sam,” John said. “They’re Korcan. Felinus guards, loyal to the Ronsevaal.”

  “They look like they want to eat me.”

  “I can’t damn them for their good taste. Eating you is my job. Theirs is to escort us.”

  Taren intercepted the customs officials at the end of the terrace and after a cursory exchange, they were waved through formalities, quickly passing to the planet-bound private shuttle.

  The two draconis formally took their leave of John and Samantha; and John, equally formally, granted them permission to return to Taren’s ship.

  “Thank you, Maer Vax, Maer Keik,” Sam said bowing.

  The older draconis laughed. “She is so human, so amusing. I understand why, san-Duran Kuno, she is your mate. With her, life will never be dull.”

  “Exactly so.” John bit back his laughter and watched as the draconis departed.

  “What’s so damn funny?” Sam demanded.

  “Keik is not Maer, but Maera.”

  “What?” It took some moments for the implication of John’s words to sink in. She flushed all the way to her heels. “You mean to say Keik is not a he, but a she?”

  “Yes.”

  “How was I to know?”

  “You weren’t. Draconis hide their sex from all but their own kind…unless you scent them and that means a very close contact, something they rarely allow.”

  “Should I apologize?” Sam chewed her lip.

  “There is no need,” Taren said. “If you gave offense, trust me, sister-mine, you would have been fanged as only a draconis can do. They like you, so you are forgiven.”

  “It’s that simple?”

  “Draconis are very tolerant creatures.”

  “C’mon, Sammi,” John said, tugging at her hand.

  The Korcan saw them on board the planet-bound shuttle and departed. Save one. The largest. The cat padded into the flight deck. There was a flare of green-purple light and when Sam’s eyes re-adjusted, she saw a tall, middle-aged felinus dressed in a black spacer’s suit. His long gold, silver-streaked hair was tightly braided and tied with a metal queue adorned with the heraldic colors of Chizan.

  “He was one of the Korcan?” Sam asked, turning to John.

  “Mm, Karev.” John nodded to the felinus. “Good to see you again, Captain.”

  The older man inclined his head. “And you, san-Duran. Welcome to your lady. It is my honor to fly the shuttle to the palace. You are ready?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He retreated to the shuttle cockpit.

  Sam settled against the cushions, grasping the arms of her chair. Her stomach did flips as the shuttle dipped sharply into the atmosphere.

  So, here she was about to step foot on a world off limits to most humans.

  The shuttle skimmed low over a purple-green continent, heading towards its center.

  Sam saw a huge lake; the water tinged mauve. A squat island stood in the middle of the lake and built atop it was a palace, a cross between the Taj Mahal and the Alhambra.

  Her artistic eye registered the shifting colors of the marble edifice, the play of light and shadow of the tracery towers and arches, and the contrast of every shade of green from the plants growing in profusion around the island.

  Four causeways led f
rom the palace over the water to the surrounding land, roads disappearing into the lush forests and valleys. In clearings she glimpsed crystal obelisks and settlements, the carved wooden buildings reminiscent of Viking longhouses. The shuttle dipped lower, skimming the water, bearing straight to the palace. The closer they got, the bigger it became.

  She glanced at John and saw his smile.

  “Impressed?” he asked.

  “Overwhelmed. Is this your home?”

  “I was born on earth, remember? This place was never home.”

  Right. Sam studied him doubtfully. Stubborn cat-boy.

  “Why were you born on earth?”

  John smiled. “A happy accident. My mother didn’t plan it, she was intending to lay-in on Chizan, except I arrived early, shocking everyone.”

  “As you still do.”

  He looked smug and Sam sniffed disdainfully.

  Perhaps for her benefit, the shuttle pilot did a complete circuit of the palace before making a final approach. She saw terraces and gardens and pools, fountains, rose-shaded courtyards and plazas.

  The shuttle landed smoothly on a tiled courtyard and the door hissed open.

  John drew in a breath and pushed himself to his feet.

  Sam followed him to the door. Again, he inhaled deeply. She did the same. Unidentifiable scents greeted her, as well as familiar perfumes: cat musk, rose, lavender.

  “I forgot what Chizan smells like,” John said.

  “You’ve missed it, huh?”

  He glanced at her and smiled. “I suppose.”

  “How long has it been since you were here?”

  “Six years.”

  Six years—he must have left soon after his mother had died. Sam put her hand on his wrist.

  “No place like home, Kuno,” Taren said.

  “If you say so.”

  “Don’t go cat on me.”

  “You’re lucky to have a home, John,” Sam said. “I was never in one place long enough to call it home.”

  He glanced at her. “Never?”

  “That time with him didn’t count.”

  “Let the time henceforth, Samantha, be a beginning,” Taren said.

  She stared at the assassin, surprised by his philosophy. He was always startling her. As every shifter. Just when she thought she knew them, they were doing or saying something to reveal more of their layers and textures.

  They stepped down the shuttle ramp onto the plaza. From beneath an archway, an older man, dressed in flowing black robes with the silver and green spiral across his collar, strode forward. Reaching John, he bowed formally, his right hand over his heart, then palm opened, face up. He straightened.

  “San-Duran,” he said, inclining his head.

  “Minister Devril.” John nodded. “Permit me. This is Sharille-Samantha fe’ha tu.”

  The Minister glanced at her. He inclined his head, the merest gesture, and in that Samantha fancied she had her answer as to how she was regarded by the felinus.

  “The King has demanded your presence the moment you arrived, so please to follow me.”

  John placed his hand at Sam’s back.

  “If you please, san-Duran…only you.”

  John sucked in his breath. The silence about them was ominous, charged with tension and anger—on both sides.

  “It’s okay John, I can wait here.”

  “My fe’ha tu waits for no one.” His eyes challenged the Minister.

  Sam touched John’s wrist, lightly pressing, sending a private message, assassin-style: Don’t fret. Sort it later.

  John’s finger pressure on her cheek: Sort it, yes! I bite someone.

  Not on bum!

  Save that for pussy-cat. Bite you? Now? His gaze locked with hers. He smiled. Turning to the older felinus, John squared his shoulders. “Very well, Minister. But my fe’ha tu is to be taken to my residence and accorded every respect.” He held the older man’s gaze, throwing down the challenge.

  “It will be done to the best of my ability, san-Duran.”

  “I hope so.”

  The Minister snapped his fingers and two young male servants emerged from the shadows of the archway. “You, Zeren, take the fe’ha tu to the residence, and you, Aarn, see to the luggage.”

  “It’s all right,” Sam said. “I’ve only one bag. I can take it.”

  The Minister looked affronted.

  “I travel light,” Sam said.

  “I understand the necessity. These are difficult times. Nevertheless…” His gaze raked her length.

  Sam knew that look, had experienced it too many times to fail to understand. She did not measure up. And it hurt, more than ever because she wanted John to be proud...

  “Kitten-mine!” John whispered. “You do me honor. Always. It is they who do not measure up.” He glared at the Minister. “Lead the way.” He touched Sam’s cheek. “I won’t be long.”

  Taren emerged from the shuttle. “That went well.”

  Sam grimaced. “I want to scratch someone.”

  “Truly? Show me your hands.”

  Sam held out her hands palms down, frowning at him.

  He snorted. “You do not have claws, sister-mine. Though you did bite me once.”

  Their gazes locked. Smiling, they shared the memory of their loving.

  Taren reached behind his back and drew out a knife from a concealed sheath. He held out the weapon, hilt first. “Take this. For when you want to draw blood.”

  “I don’t know how to use a knife.”

  “I will teach you. But the fact you carry an assassin’s blade, no one, kitten, no one is going to mess with you.” He slipped the knife into her belt. “I will find you a proper belt and sheath. When you come to Aves, I shall induct you into my clan.”

  “More ceremonies?”

  “Naturally.” Taren studied her. “If anyone here insults you, kitten-sister…”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It is not. I expected civility at very least. Felinus can be so…so…”

  “Yes?”

  “Catty,” Taren said, unfurling his wings, flapping them for effect. The two young felinus retreated. “Listen to me, cat-boys. Pay very close attention. The fe’ha tu is my clan-sister. Any insult to her is an insult to me and my clan. Tell that to all in this cat-house. Any offense and it is I who will demand apology.”

  StarlightComplete

  The two boys fell onto their knees, heads bowed.

  Horrified, Sam stared. Taren’s reputation had preceded him. Just exactly what was his reputation? She didn’t want to find out.

  The older youth lifted his head, flicking back the long braid of vibrant red hair. His emerald eyes were dark as he studied her, just for a moment. He was all legs and arms, like a gangly colt, but in a few years’ time, Sam knew this boy would devastate. She smiled and held out her left hand, palm up, the felinus gesture of friendship.

  “You’re Zeren?” Sam asked.

  He smiled, his eyes sparkling. Yep, Sam thought, the boy would devastate.

  “Yes and this is Aarn.” The younger boy lifted his head, flicking back his black hair. He flushed and dropped his gaze, concentrating on the ground at Sam’s feet.

  “I will serve the fe’ha tu. My life is in her hands,” Zeren said.

  “Good, we understand one another.” Taren nodded. “Stand up, both of you. You have got work to do. And I…” He turned to Sam and bowed. “Must leave.”

  “But why?”

  He smiled. “You will miss me? Ah kitten! I will be back in time for the ceremony.”

  “That mutatis thing?”

  Taren blushed—actually blushed!

  “No, Samantha, that is for you and Kuno. I will be there for the final phase.” He put a finger to her lips. “I know this is confusing. So little time, so much to learn. You have good instincts, rely on them. Listen with your woman’s heart and soul.” He kissed her cheek and straightened. “And do not stand for any cat nonsense.”

  “Not even from John?”

>   “Especially.” Laughing, he retreated into the shuttle and the younger felinus boy hurried forward.

  “My Lady,” he said. “May I remove your belongings from the ship?”

  Sam nodded, cringing inwardly. Is this how she was going to be treated? Reverence from some and disdain by others?

  Aarn raced into the craft and returned moments later, carrying her battered rucksack. The boy hitched it over his left shoulder and calmly awaited orders.

  “C’mon cat-brain,” Zeren said to his friend. “Just don’t stand there, we’ve got work to do.” He bowed to Sam. “To your apartment, please to follow me, Mistress.”

  John’s private apartments in the palace were located in the northern wing. Reaching it took nearly ten minutes of walking through carved marble corridors and porticos, decorated with luminescent gems, the walls inlaid with crystals. The ceilings were painted with vines and roses and other flowers from Chizan.

  It was a feast for all the senses, Sam decided. Open walkways allowed the gardens to intrude, vines and roses spilling their perfume and color inside the palace.

  She glimpsed rooms and atriums adjacent to the corridors through which she was ushered by the two boys. Occasionally she saw men and women walking through the palace or sitting in rooms. All were dressed in elaborate kaftans, glittering with jewels, so beautiful to the eye it hurt to look at them for long.

  Overwhelming was an understatement.

  It was with relief when Zeren paused before an archway of delicate tracery and at his hand signal the door opened. He bowed Samantha into the room.

  She paused, her heart thudding in her ears.

  “It does not please you?” the boy asked.

  “I…yes, yes. How could it not?”

  She forced herself inside.

  The mauve walls were unadorned, but the cornices and architraves were carved with dolphins, whose eyes were glowing crystals. The floor was palest mauve and strewn with rugs woven from mottled green and purple and silver wool. Potted palms nestled in every corner. Seven doorways led off the foyer and a floor to ceiling glass door to her left revealed an outside courtyard, shaded by rose vines. A fountain with a dolphin statue at its center sent sparkling water cascading into a sunken pool.