Afterwards Charles massaged her body to loosen her muscles which were taut with the tension of the fight’s aftermath. He bathed her gently, she left wearing a red silk robe belonging to Charles, leaving him in the bath.
***
Marina returned to the house and changed to greet her returning guests.
The transporters ejected the two priests, Carina’s children and their nurse. Jessina, Floren, Sebie and Kazimira followed on their heels. The others had returned to their own homes, directly from the Ice Caves. Floren gabbled telling her of the skating, the bob sleighs, the ice slides and the boat ride through underwater rapids. Antang joined in talking about the seven different flavours of ices, which he had managed to consume. He was disappointed he could not manage more. Harminda and Orina said the cable car ride across the Ice Rivers had been best, remembering to thank Marina for letting them go.
Father Debenden looked green from the day’s activities, but still thanked Marina for the trip. Jessina was silent; Charles appeared dressed and they went into dinner in the blue dining room. Jessina hung back catching at Marina’s arm, so she too remained.
“Didn’t you enjoy the trip, Jessina? You’ve been very quiet.”
“It was great, are you really all right?”
“Yes I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
“Sebie was worried about you, but he tried not to show it. When I asked him what the matter was, he wouldn’t tell me, but I saw you fighting in his head. I couldn’t see all of the fight so I wasn’t sure if you were all right. You were fighting weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was fighting.”
“Did you win?”
“Sort of, the fight got stopped, but I didn’t lose. Do you often see pictures in people’s heads, Jessina?”
“Fairly often, but mostly I see a colour round them which tells me how they are feeling. But it’s got more often since I’ve been in Zenina. Father Deb was ever so scared on the bob sleigh, he looked all blue.”
“Can you see the pictures in my head now?”
“Rabbits, oh they’re funny rabbits, pink rabbits and blue rabbits jumping around daisies.”
“Very good Jessina, can you see pictures in everybody’s heads or just in some people’s?”
“Most people’s. I can see them in Sebie’s, Kazimira’s and Alanga’s and in my own mummy’s head and Father O’Flaherty’s, but I can’t see them in Father Deb’s head even when I try to. I can see them in Floren’s, but he can’t see them in mine. I asked him, but he said I was talking rot. I’m not talking rot, am I? You talk to people in your head all the time. Why can’t Floren?”
“Something different in your make-up, I expect. Do you mind if I look at your mind? It won’t hurt. Good, come here and sit on my lap.”
Princess Marina’s study of Jessina’s mind was swift, but it left her thinking.
“Thank you Jessina, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine tomorrow, she’s a very, very, old lady. We’ll send Floren off with Sebie, shall we? You can come and meet my friend.”
Whilst Jessina and Marina went into dinner, Marina spoke briefly with Vellina. She thought in the spoken words of the High Zeninan tongue, often called the Gold or Royal, as it was spoken at official occasions but was otherwise fairly archaic. She did not put up any blocks, but had no intention of letting Jessina follow the conversation.
“I’ve found a high-level untrained telepath and colour empath. I’m bringing her to see you tomorrow,” said Marina.
“Unusually high? When did she reach colour change?”
“She receives on all but the lowest levels; she’s a long time off colour change.”
“Have you checked her thoroughly?”
“Yes she scores very evenly. I’d like a computer reading and change assessment.”
“Why are you concerned Marina? Zenina could do with more like her.”
“She’s only a child. I have to send her back to her parents.”
“It’s not rare for non-telepath’s children to give high readings. It’s almost always gone by six years of age.”
“She’s nine and already knows she’s unusual amongst her people. Ethically I’m in a cleft stick. The child needs Zeninan training now. She’ll atrophy if she goes back to her parents. A child needs her mother. Parents have rights to their children. It’s no good to send one child home and keep the other. Siblings tend to pine for each other.”
“Why not let her decide?”
“She’s only a child.”
“A very precocious child,” said Vellina and broke contact.
***
The meal was not to Zeninan tastes, but Father Debenden and Floren thoroughly enjoyed it. Jessina had a touch of headache; the mind noise of being surrounded by Zeninans was tiring. She ate little, falling asleep at the table.
“I’ll put her to bed upstairs, Bishop,” Alanga said before lifting the child. “I’ll keep her in mind as well as the other children, there’s no point waking her to go home.” Alanga returned downstairs shortly afterwards.
Major Bromarsh woke, so he came and joined them, like Marina he did not eat, but sat drinking a glass of wine. Sebie excused himself to return to the palace to prepare for the banquet. Alanga went up with the twins. The priests and Floren took the transporter home. Kazimira followed having thanked Marina for allowing her to go on the treat. Orina having made the point, that she was older than the twins, bowed to Marina. Marina kissed the top of her head as she headed off for bed as well.
“Charles, I owe you two beatings now, remind me!”
“You’ve only told me about one,” he protested.
“That’s correct and I should disinfect your mouth for the filth you uttered about Zadina.”
“It was all true.”
“Of course it was true, but you sounded like the lowest Ruby brothel slave who hadn’t been tipped. Very, very, vulgar! I was ashamed of you!”
“I’m sorry, Marina. I wanted to delay her long enough for you to get there.”
“You didn’t have to drag me down to her level. Expect to be beaten when I get back from the banquet. It has been postponed long enough. You have forgotten Etapa, whilst we are at the Banquet, I expect you to pay that debt. Be back here by one.”
Charles went off to do her bidding, looking forward contentedly to her carrying out her threat when he got back that night.
“Have you planned what you’ll wear tonight, Major?” Marina enquired.
“I hadn’t thought about it. I’ve a couple of clean sets similar to what I’m wearing, but I’ve no real evening dress or dress uniform. Mercenaries don’t usually get out of camouflage.”
“I hope you won’t be offended, but I had a few mock uniforms run up. They’re light weight cloth, so a little transparent in strong sunlight, but the Banqueting hall is lit by torches, very primitive but everyone else resists change. I checked the seating arrangements; you were seated with me, as if you were my slave. I’ve ordered for you be seated separately. As the Kurgian Prince is seated alone, I haven’t set a precedent. I’d prefer you not to wear Zeninan dress as you’d look like a slave. I thought it better if you wore a uniform. It labels you as a soldier, so you might be treated with some respect. They’re not too flamboyant, it’s a pity they’ve taken back your medals, but if you wish you can wear this.”
She handed him the sash of a Colonel in the Zeninan Army. The edges were plain dull gold, indicating the wearer was attached to Marina’s personal staff.
“But they’ll know I’m not working for you,” he said.
“How so? You’re a mercenary for sale to the highest bidder, aren’t you?”
“I have that dubious honour.”
“Then I’m bidding. Short term, you can’t stay long, or you will become Zeninan. Tippy is already, he changed to Silver early today. He has some of his memory back, so I’ll take you to see him tomorrow afternoon.”
“What are you paying?”
“Three times what you earned with the Suldies, for
one month only. If you sleep with Golds, colour change will be quicker than usual and your arm’s regeneration increased the risk. Your fertility hasn’t been damaged so far, but longer than that and your count will fall fast.”
“What’s the brief?”
“Mostly training, but I want an opinion on something new. If it passes evaluation, it will be no secret. If it fails, it won’t matter anyway. But we’re also having problems with training, I’d like an independent opinion, a male one will be unique. It will shake up a few entrenched opinions.”
“I’ll try it and see how it works. What if I decide not to leave?”
“Depends what you want. I can afford another slave, if you wish to become a permanent addition to my household. I doubt you will settle for that existence. If you’re tired of taking responsibility for your own life, you’re welcome to stay. I’ve not tired of you, with training you would be very good, if you prefer another lady, that would be fine, you’re free to go or stay.”
“But if I stay, I can’t stay free?”
“As things are in Zenina, it is unrealistic to suggest it. Do you accept?”
“Yes, I accept, ma’am.”
“Will one of these do, or do we have to rustle up something else?”
He looked at the offered uniforms. One was scarlet, similar to the dress uniform he had worn on Markaba. He dismissed it, it would look as if he was pretending to be still with the Markaban Army and they had kicked him out. Besides he had always thought it made him look florid and fat. A white uniform with gold braid he discarded as too pretty, leaving a choice of three, a buff uniform, a black and one of dark green. He held them up against him, examining the effect in a mirror, surprised to see he looked a lot younger than he remembered.
“It results from the regeneration, Major. Is this the first time you looked in a mirror?”
“I didn’t have to shave, Marina. It has always been done for me.”
He settled on the black uniform which had a touch of thin gold braid at the collar and cuffs. It would look good with the gold trimmed sash. She produced the lightest pair of black military style boots he had ever seen to wear with it.
“No use for fighting in, but it would look wrong with sandals. How long will you take to get ready?”
“About twenty minutes to shower, shave and dress.”
“Skip the shave. Do you know where my rooms are?”
“Yes, but you prefer me shaved?”
“I do, but my preference is known. In a neat new uniform, you will look like my new toy. Play the part of mercenary, not an old school officer for tonight. Remember don’t march, saunter, do you mind wearing a sword?”
“The uniform would look better with one.”
“I’ll find something suitable. Come to my rooms in twenty minutes.”
Bromarsh was ready in eighteen, military habits being hard to forget. Locating Marina’s rooms without difficulty, he knocked and entered. Marina was dressed, more so than he had seen her before. She wore a floor length sea-green satin dress. It moulded tightly to her body and flowed into a train.
The only golden skin visible were the toes of her feet clad in crystal sandals, the fingers of her hands with their matching nails, a brief glimpse of arm as the dress moved with her and her face above the high collar. There was a faint tinkle as she walked; she lifted her skirt to show Bromarsh the delicate bands of tiny bells enclosing her ankles. Her hair was piled around a plain gold circlet. Tiny bells hung from her ears, her seal was on her smallest finger, but she wore no other jewellery. The effect was dramatic yet stark.
The way, the dress moved around Marina, or how she moved in the dress, created a desire in the viewer to examine its contents personally. The simplicity of the dress irritated the observer by its concealment. Removal was its main object. It was a costume like the satin cloak of a wrestler, designed to advertise its wearer, to cover the body the audience wanted to see, until the performance took place.
Marina inspected Bromarsh.
“You are too neat. You might pass muster on a parade ground. Roll on the carpet and rumple the uniform, undo the top two buttons, push the sleeves up to your elbows,” she ordered.
She tousled his hair which he had planned to get cut, handing him a vicious looking sabre with a plain gold hilt. He buckled it and drew it. He felt it was a good weight and length, so he practiced the Military Academy repertoire of cuts and slashes extravagantly before re-sheathing it, grinning.
Studding into his belt his sheath of throwing knives, he looked exactly as Marina had envisaged; a complete ruffian. The pristine soldier was gone, in his place stood the kind of lad you would not want your daughter to go out with. Which would almost guarantee she would be bound to want to, wouldn’t it?
Marina threw a black cloak over most of her dress and they headed tinkling to the stairs.
“I can’t walk down stairs in this gown and shoes, please don’t tell the children,” she said swinging herself up on to the banister rail. With a small whoop she slid down it, jumping off the end, with a jingle of bells and a small flourish. Bromarsh watched chuckling; then he lifted the sabre forwards, so he did not get tangled with it, following her example. He landed less elegantly with a bump on his rump. He got up, pushing the sabre back into place as Marina’s laughter peeled around the hall. He laughed too, kissing her as they left the house, to drive to the Golden Palace.
Chapter Thirty-Nine - The Golden Palace
They entered the Palace by a side door. Guards snapped to attention as Marina passed. Bromarsh realised, it was the first time he had seen her, as a Princess. She turned back to reprimand a Green guard, whose hair was not quite tidy enough. Bromarsh smiled, “The old General would have had me up on a charge, if he saw me, if he did not throw a fit of apoplexy.” Then realising how ironic the thought was, he put it from him. They passed through well-lit corridors until they reached a guarded door.
“My personal apartments, I’d like you to wait here while I visit my father. You will need a woman before the banquet or you’ll find the performances uncomfortable. I’ll send you someone.”
Marina stalked off with a swish of silk and a tinkle of tiny bells. Bromarsh examined her Royal apartments, large bright rooms hung with satin drapes. One room held a desk and chairs with every wall covered with books. Old books, most with leather bindings with the spines engraved in gold. The antique furniture was inlaid with ivory and mother of pearl, ornate and heavy. He wandered, touching the things Marina owned; trying to know her from the things close to her. The more he knew her, the less he understood. He knew he would leave Zenina, but always long to return.
It was in his blood, his love of the place, only by being part of it would he ever really understand it. He was not ready to settle in Zenina, there was too much he needed to do, but he would return when his search was over. There was a knock at the door, Lahoda entered with Klivina close behind.
Klivina spoke first “I’ve spoken with Marina in the corridor. She says you do not want an apology for my behaviour, but you deserve one. I’m sorry for taking advantage of you. It’s very good of you to be so forgiving, but I would like to be friends.”
“I’m here as chaperone, Marina said you weren’t to be left together unless you wish,” said Lahoda.
“If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, you have only to ask. I did not see it from your point of view. It was wrong of me.”
“Thank you for your apology. I was very embarrassed, but I realise there was no malice in your behaviour. You are quite forgiven.”
“I would like to see you again. You are a very attractive man. I enjoyed you, I’m sorry if my bad manners prevent us from pleasing each other again,” said Klivina.
“You’re a lovely woman, Klivina. Under other circumstances I would have been happy to bed you. Marina intended to send a friend to occupy my time until the banquet. I’d be honoured if you would spend time with me, now.”
“Thank you for your kind offer, I accept.”
/> “Now kiss and make up so I can stop being gooseberry,” said Lahoda closing the door behind her.
Two hours passed, Marina had not returned. Klivina made her apologies and left. Her hair was somewhat less immaculate than when she had arrived. He showered, redressing, trying to recreate the rumpled look, Marina had assigned to him. He continued his inspection of the apartment, some doors would not open and he wondered what secrets they hid.
Bromarsh went to the library; most of the books were in languages he did not understand. Not thinking of anything else to do, he exercised using a heavy bronze as a dumbbell, to re-build the biceps muscles of his new arm. They no longer hurt him, but ached after exertion. His new arm was getting stronger daily. He no longer made allowances for it. There was a knock at the door and a pretty Blue entered wearing the blue uniform of Palace attendants.
“Princess Marina’s compliments she’s still delayed, the queen is not ready yet. She suggested I entertain you for a while.”
Bromarsh’s first thoughts were, “It’s too soon for me to have another woman,” but the girl curled into his arms, holding her face up to be kissed.
“My name is Nerova,” she said in his mind. Somehow he no longer felt tired. There were worse ways to fill an hour’s wait.
Nearly everyone had entered when Princess Marina entered with Bromarsh, holding his arm. She had shed her cloak and strolled with a deliberate, slow flowing gait, her train rippling behind her. Bromarsh, who had had no real expectation of how the other women would dress, realised the impact of Marina’s costume. She had managed effectively to upstage all the others. Drinks were being served and they both accepted glasses of pale yellow wine.
Bromarsh recognised Dalzina who was wearing a white skirt with the train splattered with flowers embroidered in sapphires. Her sister, whom he had admired, Kapalina wore a skirt of palest pink in tiers looped with knots and strings of pearls. She was carried in lying, obviously in pain.
Klivina’s skirt he had already seen and watched her remove, in pale blue with silver and turquoise butterflies embossed upon the translucent silk. Zadina wore silver with peacocks and a scowl which discouraged attempts at conversation with her. Bromarsh was not much put out by the glare she gave to him and Marina as they entered. Marina ignored it and smiled sweetly as she greeted her friends and acquaintance. Stenlina wore a dress of silver with black beading that left her arms and shoulders bare.
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