Lady of Blades

by Saje Williams

  She didn't know whether to be enthralled by the unique experience, or horrified. Her pulse raced, and she felt both giddy and distinctly uncomfortable at the same time. The pressure in the pit of her stomach shifted downward and she shifted her weight from foot to foot, desperate to keep any sign of her body's rebellion from showing on her face. Of course, she had no idea if she was succeeding or not—she simply had no experience to draw upon.

  The man called Diamond watched the woman closely, as closely as he could without appearing to stare. This was what it meant to be enchanted. If he pulled his gaze away for length of time, all he could think about was looking at her again.

  The moisture evaporated from his mouth and he felt his heart thunder in his ears. She seared his mind, image burning into his psyche like no other before it. He gritted his teeth against it then deflated inwardly. He wasn't going to win this battle, as much as he wanted to do so. He'd never seen a more beautiful woman in all the years he'd been hopping from universe to universe. It seemed impossible, on the face of it, but it was nevertheless true. Just the very sight of her lit a fire in his blood and he knew, without question, that she'd be in his mind to stay.

  He stood, chair scraping the floor, and strode from the room without a word, leaving the others sitting there in stunned silence.

  Jaz watched the gorgeous trader leave and frowned at the door as it slid shut behind him. “What the hell was that about?” she asked.

  The Steward seemed the only one likely to respond, but she snapped her mouth shut with a quick shake of her head before she could speak. “Of no consequence,” she said, the equivocation lingering in the air for a long moment like a bad smell. The others shifted uncomfortably.

  Oh, I really don't have time for this shit, Jaz thought irritably. “So what's the verdict, folks?"

  "You still haven't told us what you need,” Gimp casually pointed out.

  Jaz flushed, revealing more nervousness than she could ever remember feeling. Shit! He'd gotten under her skin that far? It wasn't really a revelation, but she found the realization like a bucket of cold water in the face.

  She quickly outlined the situation, and her plan, leaving out the fact of her own vendetta against Hecate. Let them think it was driven by professional interest rather than personal involvement. As long as they agreed she honestly didn't care why they thought she was doing it.

  At various points she found herself having to block out unsolicited images of Diamond's face rising up in her mind's eye. Every time it happened her tongue stumbled and she had to force it down through a sheer effort of will. My God, what's happening to me?

  Once she'd finished, Veramyth stood, sending her glance circling the table. “We have much to discuss. If you'd like to freshen up or get some rest, I'm sure Sam or Johnny would be glad to arrange for your comfort. We will contact you when we've reached a decision."

  She nodded her thanks and exited through the door. She missed a step as she approached when it slid open on its own. Damn, I doubt if I'll ever get used to that.

  She wasn't even sure if she'd ever get used to Strihava in general. It was a totally different world than Earth, and, as if to drive the point home, her short tour with Sam and Johnny had done nothing to dispel the impression.

  It wasn't just the alien creatures, but that certainly helped. She knew the homogenization of America lent its own weight to her burgeoning culture shock ... the fact that one corner of the United States had little but terrain to differentiate it from the rest of the nation made the striking differences even more astounding. This was not her home.

  She stepped outside, beneath the artificial sun, and blinked against the sudden brightness. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  "Are you okay?"

  Her eyes snapped open and she was starting to move away, sliding into a defensive posture, before she was able to get her reflexes under control. She found herself looking up—just slightly—into a pair of oddly indigo eyes. Diamond stood only a few feet from her, an enigmatic smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I'm fine. Anyone ever told you it's dangerous to sneak up on people like that?"

  "Occasionally. But I didn't sneak up on you. I was standing out here waiting."

  "Why'd you leave like that?” she asked. “I got the feeling your fellows weren't all that happy with you."

  He shrugged. “Wouldn't be the first time."

  "Huh.” Does he want me to ask? She didn't, instead scanning his face curiously. She'd never met a man she could describe as beautiful, except maybe Stormchild, whom, technically, she hadn't really met. Men weren't supposed to look like this, she told herself. It's just wrong.

  His body wasn't nearly as androgynous as his face, she realized. He had a strong, athletic build, as if he spent time not only in a gym, but engaged in actual athletic endeavors. The jumpsuit he wore did nothing to hide his broad shoulders and trim waist, and stretched taught across a flat stomach that made her want to run her hand across it.

  She stuffed it behind her, holding it by the wrist with her other hand to stop herself from doing just that. Impulse control, woman! Just because he's hot enough to ignite and burn your clothes right off of you doesn't mean you can't keep your hands off.

  She repeated that a few times like a mantra, somehow knowing if she didn't, she'd end up wrapped around him like a length of ribbon around a Christmas present. “Hungry?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I ate before I came before the council,” she told him. “So what do you do for entertainment around here?"

  He lifted a brow and let his gaze glide slowly, demandingly, enticingly, down her body. “It's pretty dull, most of the time,” he said easily, adding a casual shrug that did nothing to hide the tension bound within his gorgeous body.

  She blushed and hated herself for it. Why did he, of all possible men, elicit this sort of reaction from her? It made no sense. She'd started to think herself immune to this sort of thing and it disturbed her deeply to find out she wasn't.

  True ... he was absolutely stunning. But he wasn't the only good-looking man she'd ever seen. He was, however, the only man she'd ever found so attractive that she'd had a physical reaction to his proximity. And what a physical reaction it was. She felt feverish, light-headed, and almost giddy, as if all her blood was running from her brain to someplace else entirely.

  "I'd be glad to show you around,” he offered. “I'm sure we could find something to do."

  His meaning was clear. This guy didn't waste any time, she realized. If he had his way, they'd already be naked and pressing their sweaty bodies against one another. Surprisingly, the thought didn't discomfort her the same way it would have only moments before. If she didn't know better, she would've accused him of casting some sort of enchantment on her.

  But that sort of thing was impossible—wasn't it? She was starting to wonder.

  He laughed, then took a step away as the child-creature Gimp emerged from the council building. She shot a dirty look at Diamond and reached up to grasp Jaz's hand. “We need to talk,” she said. “Come with me, please..."

  Aiming an apologetic shrug at Diamond, she followed the creature back into the building. Instead of heading back into the council chamber, she ducked around a wall and in through a cleverly hidden doorway. Another door slid away and Jaz found herself standing in the entry of a modern-looking cafeteria straight off a college campus. In fact, there were dozens of young people—human and otherwise—engaged in various activities from eating to socializing.

  Their entrance prompted a few curious glances, but little more. Gimp found them a nice, out of the way table, several feet from any potential eavesdroppers. “Have a seat,” she told her.

  Jaz did so, observing the child-woman curiously. At the moment she appeared more woman than child. A tiny, exotic woman, but a woman nonetheless. If one could ignore the mass of hair crawling its way across the table top like little fingers questing for something interesting to play with as the woman leaned forward to speak.

&n
bsp; "I realize you didn't ask for it—but I'd like to give you some advice."

  "Advice?” Jaz felt her gaze narrow as she stared across the table at her. “What kind of advice?"

  "It's about Diamond."

  How did I know? “What about him?” she asked, surprised at the thinly-veiled hostility in her tone. What the hell's gotten into me? she asked herself again.

  It didn't ruffle Gimp at all. In fact, she seemed to expect it on some level. “Diamond's race isn't fully human,” she revealed. “They're close, but their world has experienced some odd genetic drift. He's irresistible, isn't he?"

  Jaz shrugged, more casual than she actually felt. “I guess."

  "I'm not even immune to it,” Gimp admitted. “I'm as far removed from my human ancestors as he is, to be honest."

  She'd been wondering about that. How human was Gimp? Not very, to look at her. At first glance she'd easily be mistaken for a nine or ten year old girl. Until the hair did its thing, at least. “What are you trying to say?"

  "The Traders are pheromone factories. They honestly can't help it. Their bodies produce whatever hormones seem to suit their purposes at any given time. The old saw about ‘having a girl in every port’ is a truism for the traders. It's not even deliberate. If they find someone attractive, it's almost guaranteed their target will reciprocate."

  "That's so ... fucked up,” Jaz murmured, not wanting to believe it. It did, however, explain so much. Her own reaction to the man, for one. Deep down, she felt a bit disgusted by the whole thing. Betrayed by her own body. “Thanks for telling me."

  "A lot of people don't like hearing it,” Gimp said. “I was worried you'd be one of them. Yours was among the strongest reactions I've ever seen."

  That bit of news wasn't something Jaz really wanted to hear. She liked to think she'd be more resistant to that sort of thing ... not less. Guess that what comes of staying a virgin well into your twenties, she thought sardonically. “So what can I do about it?"

  "Whatever you want,” Gimp replied. “Just knowing about it will help you resist it. If that's what you want. If not, you can do anything you want to—knowing that it's your choice, not something beyond your control."

  Jaz blinked at her, not certain if she'd been done a favor or not. Now she'd be almost honor-bound not to let her hormones get the best of her. But, for a brief shining moment, she'd felt just like one of the girls. The fact that the manipulation sounded more or less unintentional didn't make her feel any better about it.

  In the back of her head there whispered a voice she didn't want to listen to. You were affected because he was attracted to you, that voice said. Oh, shutup, her own thoughts answered back. She didn't need to feel conflicted about the whole thing. Resist temptation and be done with it, she commanded herself with a mental snort.

  Gimp gave a cautious nod. “I see you get my drift."

  "I do,” she replied. “Thank you."

  "Not a problem. Us women have to stick together, don't we?"

  "If you say so,” Jaz replied dubiously. She'd never been a big fan of other women, in general, barring a few notable exceptions. She thought men far less likely to use her back for target practice. At least, she'd observed that sort of interaction with other people for years. She never let anyone close enough to plant a knife in her back, but she knew a lot of people who did.

  Some people saw it as a flaw, she knew. But she didn't agree. Only a fool risked herself by letting someone in that close in the first place. And I didn't raise myself to be a fool. “I assume you haven't decided whether to help me or not."

  "You would assume right,” Gimp replied. “We need Diamond's input, though—if I were to guess—I already have an idea what his vote would be."

  "Go up and grab yourself something to eat or drink, if you like. I'll come get you when we've reached a decision. It shouldn't take long, actually. A couple of hours."

  Jaz looked skeptical. How a bunch of people used to living somewhere time had no meaning would have no motivation for making decisions quickly. Or so it seemed to her. “I'd appreciate that. But I have no money ... nothing you people use for money, anyway.” She thought about it a moment, then added, “What do you folks use for money here, anyway?” She'd tried to figure it out while wandering around with Sam and Johnny, but she'd never once seen anything remotely resembling money change hands.

  "Don't worry about it,” Gimp said with a tiny chuckle. “It's been taken care of."

  Jaz nodded reluctantly. She didn't like being beholden to anyone, particularly in a situation like this one—where she didn't have any recourse. If she wanted to eat, she had to rely on their generosity. If she wanted to defeat Hecate, she needed their aid in tracking down the rest of her team. She loathed the necessity.

  She grunted her thanks, sounding far less grateful than she actually was. Gimp seemed to understand, reaching up and patting her arm as she passed on her way to the door. “Sit down, have a meal, and relax. I'll be back to collect you when we've made up our mind."

  Jaz watched her leave and walked up to the counter, glancing up at the menu, thankful that all the menu items included pictures as well as the unreadable text that seemed all too common here. Whatever allowed her to speak the language everyone else used, it didn't seem to extend to the written word. “Give me one of those,” she directed, pointing at a rice bowl that looked vaguely Thai in origin.

  "Very good, miss,” the attendant, a round little man with a monkish fringe of silver-white hair circling around the edge of his scalp above his ears like a little white hedge. “Would you like anything to drink with that?"

  She nodded. “You got milk?"

  She ignored a snicker from behind her. “Of course. What kind of milk would you like? We have cow, goat, llama, horse, bison, and yak ... all of them come in fat-free, low-fat, or whole milk varieties."

  Sheesh. I'm almost sorry I asked. Yak milk? She shuddered. “Cow. Whole. Please."

  The attendant smiled and nodded slightly, vanishing into the back of the shop. He returned a couple minutes later with a large pitcher. He set it and a gleaming glass on the bar, vanished again, and came back a moment later with a steaming bowl easily the size of her head. Unlike the fast food restaurants on Earth, the graphic on the sign didn't do this justice.

  Just as well. She was starving. Again. She dove into the mixture of noodles, sauce, vegetables, and tiny chunks of meat with a vengeance, stopping only to take occasional sips of her milk. She felt a presence at her shoulder and she stiffened, hand reaching out reflexively toward the hole in space-time in which she kept her sword.

  She felt as though her head were spinning, her focus narrowing to barely a foot in front of her face. A scent, barely perceptible, ripped through her consciousness as a hand brushed across the back of her neck. She shuddered deliciously, her stomach clenching and her breath suddenly coming in ragged gasps. A delicious shiver, as the nearly intangible touch ran up the back of her skull.

  Being Jaz, she dropped her utensil, surged off the barstool, and drove her fist into the stomach of a very surprised Diamond. The breath exploded out of him in a vast gust as he stumbled back, eyes widening in shock.

  She met his stunned look with an apologetic smile. “Touching me without permission isn't a good idea,” she told him.

  "Now you tell me,” he puffed. “I feel like I've been kicked by a mule."

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Please tell me you're not comparing me to a mule."

  "Uh ... no. Just saying—"

  She chuckled. “I'm sorry for hitting you. Have you made a decision yet?"

  "We're on the brink. We have a few more questions for you yet."

  "Great. More delays. I'm worried about my friends, Diamond. I don't have time for all this screwing around."

  "It won't take long. Seriously."

  She nodded once. “Fine. Let's do it."

  * * * *

  The council members shifted uneasily as she entered, a bit of body language she wasn't thrilled t
o see. If she made them uncomfortable, she saw little chance she'd ever be able to get through to them. They could end up thinking she wanted to replace Hecate rather than just depose her. I can't think of any way to convince them otherwise if they're leaning that way.

  She glanced at Diamond as he made his way around the outside of the table to his seat. In contrast, he seemed rather casual, not evincing the outward signs of stress the others did. Which didn't necessarily mean anything. He was a trader, after all. Staying cool during tense negotiations is what he does.

  Gimp cleared her throat, a strangely innocent sound amidst the stress of the moment. “We need to know your ultimate intentions, Jasmine Tashae,” she said, apparently taking the lead in this round of questioning rather than sitting back and observing as she did through most of the first round.

  Jaz had never felt particularly comfortable under scrutiny, and this situation was one of the worst in memory. Is there any way to get through to them?

  She found herself meeting Diamond's gaze. He let a tiny smile tease the corner of his lips and winked at her. What the fuck does that mean? she wondered.

  "Do you wish to kill the dark queen only to take her place?” Gimp said, the depth and knowledge in her eyes belaying her otherwise innocent appearance. It would not do to underestimate Gimp's age—remarkably easy to do, but a mistake of incalculable magnitude. Not only wasn't she the child she appeared, she could well be one of the oldest people in this room.

  Jaz found the idea vaguely creepy, actually. She suppressed a shudder and met Gimp's gaze squarely. “You know, I shouldn't be surprised you'd think that. Am I actually that scary?” she asked, half-seriously. Part of her really wanted to know, the other half couldn't have cared less. She was who she was and she'd be damned if she was going to play humble just to placate them.

  Gimp read beyond the mild humor and shrugged. “For all her power, we were able to keep her more or less pinned down. She couldn't have disabled that ward and walked through that door. She's not a mage."