by Neal Jones
By the time she emerged from her bedroom, dressed in pants and a short sleeved tunic that accentuated her cleavage, Grax had changed his mind. "I'm sorry," he said abruptly, starting for the door. "I..." He tried to think of some excuse, but none occurred to him. He became even more angry with himself for being this flustered. He turned away and marched for the door.
"Thalor, wait!" Tilura cut him off at the threshold, blocking his exit. "Sit. Let's have a drink."
"No," he sighed, shaking his head. "This wasn't a good idea."
Now it was her turn to be annoyed, and she crossed her arms, staring at him defiantly. "Sit!" she commanded, pointing to the couch.
For just a moment, there was a flash of something in his eyes, and she was sure that he was going to barrel right through her in order to make his escape. But, after a moment, he turned and retreated to the couch, but he didn't sit.
"Fine. One drink."
Tilura walked to the desk where a backpack was propped in the chair. She pulled out a bottle and held it up for Grax to see. "Khazar cakch wine."
He gasped, in spite of himself, and smiled. "I don't believe it! How the hell..." He trailed off, shaking his head in amazement.
Tilura poured two tumblers and handed him one. "Are you going to sit now?"
Grax obeyed, staring at the blue liquid, a shade so deep as to remind him of the Shynd Ocean back on homeworld. Cakch wine was illegal in the Federation, and only the very skillful smugglers were able to get their hands on a bottle or two. That was a feat that not even Grax had been able to accomplish during his years in the Nevala sector.
"Well," Tilura said after awhile, "I never thought I could make you speechless again."
Thalor sipped his wine, savoring the bittersweet fire as he swallowed. It was enough to almost make him forget why he was angry with her in the first place. Almost. He set the glass on the end table and looked at Tilura. "Congratulations. How did you do it?"
"One of my clients is quite wealthy, and he prides himself on owning priceless and rare treasures. He helped me smuggle a case of this out of Khazar space a few years ago."
Grax stared at her, dumbfounded. "You've been inside Dominion space??"
She grinned, nodding. "I didn't get very far, and I nearly got caught before my rendezvous with the other smuggler. But, there are weaknesses in the tachyon security grid, if you know where to look and how to exploit them."
Thalor shook his head once more, amazed. "You're crazier than I ever thought. I'm glad you didn't try something like this with me when we were partners."
"I know," she teased. "I wanted to a couple of times, but I knew you would never go for it."
Grax took another sip, and then he frowned as he stared into the glass, tilting it so the overhead light reflected on the surface of the wine. After a minute or two, he looked up. "This doesn't mean that I forgive you for that business on Mr'gss-Gl'nn."
"I know," she said quietly.
Her agreement only fueled his irritation, and he jerked to his feet, pacing to the viewport. He silently fumed as he sipped his wine, and, after a few moments, he turned to face her. "There's one thing I still don't understand. Why did you do it? We were partners, we'd known each other for ten years. So why did you betray me? I know it wasn't for the Crown, because that's still locked away in my private collection. We could have both escaped that planet and not been captured, but you decided to turn me in to the authorities for no apparent reason. I want to know why!"
Tilura stood, closing the distance between them. "You're right, there wasn't a good reason. I guess I just panicked. I was young, remember, and you and I had never tried something so...bold before. We were stealing from the Sr'gg'nss emperor's private vault! I got scared."
Grax watched her, his gaze locked with hers, searching her expression for any sign of deceit. "That's it? You were scared?"
"What else do you want me to say?" she demanded, exasperated. She refilled her glass and sipped the wine as she waited for him to answer.
Thalor sighed and tossed back the rest of his wine. He turned to the viewport for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. He walked to the desk to refill his tumbler, and then said, "I don't know, Tilura. I guess I never thought that you would ever betray me like that. We were both young and foolish, but I thought you knew better."
She shrugged, settling back onto the couch. "We all have our weaknesses."
"I spent two years in a maximum security prison because of you. If I hadn't had friends in high places who owed me some favors, I would still be sitting in that cell." He paused again, examining her expression, and she calmly waited, staring at him with the same intensity. He decided to change the subject. "Lieutenant Navarr came to see me this morning. She thinks that you and I are up to something illegal."
Tilura nodded. "I'm not surprised. I told you my ID was flagged at the docking checkpoint."
"So why are you still here?"
"I thought you might need my help."
Grax snorted. "With what?"
"Finding Sesrin," she replied, puzzled. "Why else would I still be here?"
"No. I don't need your help. I would suggest you leave first thing in the morning. I don't need your presence giving Navarr an excuse to pester me. Thanks for the wine." He set the empty tumbler on the desk and turned to leave.
"You've been out of the Nevala sector for fifteen years," Tilura said, rising. "Not everyone that we used to know is still operating there."
Grax glanced over his shoulder. "Sol is. He was the only other one besides you that I knew I could trust. Now it looks like he's the only one."
"Solomon Gunn? He's retired. He's not even in that sector anymore."
Thalor paused on the threshold, the door open. He turned. "How do you know that?"
"You need my help, Thalor. Thanks to you, I've operated in that sector my entire life. If Sesrin really is involved with Draussen's organization, you're going to need all the help you can get."
"You didn't answer my question. Where is Sol?"
Tilura hesitated. "All I know is, he's not in the Nevala sector. I tried contacting him a couple years ago, and his comm code was no good. Word on the rocks is that he's gone into hiding somewhere in Federation space."
Grax stepped back inside so that the door could close. He shook his head, frustrated. "How do I know you're telling the truth? After what happened all those years ago, how can I trust you now??"
"I don't know!" Tilura shouted back. "I know that if I was in your position, I would feel the same way! I already said I'm sorry! What else do you want?" She downed the last of her wine and stepped forward to reach for the bottle. Grax's hand lanced out to snag her wrist, and he pulled her close, looking into her eyes. She didn't flinch, but, after a moment or two, she relaxed, allowing him to embrace her. "So this is what you wanted after all," she murmured. "Just like old times." She cocked her head, ready to kiss him.
He gave a noise of disgust and pushed her away. "On second thought, no thanks. But I will take this." He seized the wine bottle. "Let's call it a parting gift."
"Sure," she said sourly, adjusting her blouse. "But that doesn't mean I'm leaving Exxar-One. My cargo hold is empty at the moment, and I have enough in my savings for two weeks' rent. I just might take a vacation."
"Fine, as long as you stay out of my restaurant," Grax shot over his shoulder as he walked out.
Chapter 4
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( 1 )
VATRA INEHL STOOD AT THE LARGE window, watching a flock of small, blue and green needlebirds flit about the front lawn, their long, sharp beaks plucking at the insects that lived on the blades of fire grass. The grass was so named because of its bright orange color, and it wasn't the only thing that Vatra hated about her new home.
Prokal hadn't been kidding when he'd warned her to pack summer clothing. Warm weather was one thing, humidity something else entirely. When she and Jharek had first stepped off the shuttle, Vatra had nearly fainted from the wall of thick, soup
y heat that assailed them as they walked onto the tarmac. By the time they arrived at the terminal, she was mopping her face and forehead with a damp sleeve, and she felt almost sick. The colony's president, Mishar, apologized profusely as he handed her and Jharek a bottle of water.
"I'm very sorry, lady princess. You've arrived at the height of our summer season, and this climate does take awhile to get used to." He led to them to the nearby shuttle train, which was the primary source of public transportation for the colony. Shuttle trains were more common in large cities, and Vatra was surprised that a colony the size of Sonri had one.
R'Daak's estate was on the outer edge of the colony, a modest, three-story house that was larger than Vatra had expected, but smaller than a typical mansion would be if R'Daak had been living on homeworld. During the trip to J'Vel, Prokal had told his bride a little more of her new home. The estate was over a century old, one of the first buildings to be constructed when the colony was established almost a hundred and thirty years earlier. R'Daak was the seventh commandant of the twenty-sixth legion, and, like his predecessors, the house and its land had been part of his reward for his position. He then went on to explain more about the other families living in Sonri. As Vatra had already known, they were primarily wives and children of the officers serving under Prokal's command. R'Daak had assured her that Jharek would be receiving a quality education at the elementary school, whose instructors had graduated from top universities all over the Emperium. There was a hint of a sneer in Prokal's tone when he spoke Jharek's name. It was clear to Vatra that he thought the boy had been sheltered too much at the palace and was spoiled because of his private tutoring.
Vatra had accompanied her son on his first day, and she thought Jharek's teacher seemed almost as knowledgeable as the tutors that he had had at the palace. The school's headmaster seemed thrilled to be in charge of a lord prince, and Vatra had taken some comfort in the looks of envy that the other mothers cast in her direction when they thought she wasn't looking. However, none had yet dared to come calling at her house or introduce themselves in the public market. That, too, was something that was foreign to Vatra and was difficult to get used to. She had never cooked a meal in her life, and was quite surprised to find that the food dispenser in her new kitchen had not been used in many decades. When she'd asked Prokal about this, he had replied in a slightly condescending tone that the previous commandants and their families had employed cooks and a serving staff.
"So why don't I have them as well?" Vatra asked.
"Because I don't see it necessary to pay the extra expense when your responsibility includes cooking and cleaning for the house. That is your place as my wife. Your duty is to maintain my household, and, besides, what else is there for you to do all day?"
Vatra had found it difficult to tell if he was joking or serious, but, either way, she was on her own as far as cooking, cleaning, and laundry were concerned. At least there was a functional computer in the office on the first floor with access to the colony's library database, and Vatra had done some more research of the followers of Sh'alla. She decided that her new husband had been serious when he said that the home was her responsibility, and not employing a serving and cleaning staff made sense if the Sh'allanites were forbidden from ostentatious displays of vanity or wealth.
"What's the point of being rich if you don't spend the money to have nice things?" Vatra muttered, sipping her wine.
She turned away from the window and faced the stacks of crates that still littered the parlor and the front hall. Even after almost two weeks here, she was still unpacking, the result of laziness and homesickness more than anything else. The house was located at the end of the street, separated from the other houses by a brick wall. Behind the house was a large garden, with a courtyard at its center, and, since she had no servants, Vatra wondered how Prokal expected her to keep the flora alive and well-tended.
She sighed as she opened the closest crate. It was more of her clothes – a few evening gowns, some scarves, and other accessories. Vatra began one of several trips upstairs to the master suite on the second floor. Her closet alone was the size of a small bedroom, with more than enough room for her entire wardrobe. Not even in her private chambers in the palace back home had she had a closet of this magnitude. The master bedroom and the private bath attached to it were also quite spacious, and Vatra had spent many long mornings languishing in the tub, every inch of her massaged by jets spouting water from the natural hot springs that lay beneath Sonri, a bottle of spiced wine close at hand.
As she emptied the last of her wardrobe from the crate and set it aside, she wondered if it was time to meet her neighbors. She had secretly hoped that at least one or two of them would have introduced themselves by now, but it seemed they were either intimidated by her, or they despised the monarchy like every other citizen of common birth back on homeworld. She walked back downstairs and stood at the front window. The needlebirds had had their fill of insects and flown off into the forest that surrounded Sonri. Vatra glanced over her shoulder at the crates that still needed to be unpacked, and then reached for her wineglass. She emptied it one gulp as she walked back upstairs to change into a fresh tunic and trousers.
She didn't bother styling her hair since the humidity would wreck it anyway, so she settled for tying it back with a simple knot at the base of her neck. She made sure that the credit chip Prokal had given her was secured in her pants pocket before closing the front door behind her. Lining the paved walkway between the door and the front gate were blue roses, imported from the Adaruu homeworld, according to Prokal. Again, Vatra wondered just what she was supposed to do to ensure that the roses maintained their deep azure and purple hues.
"Not to mention the fact that I'd rather cut out my eyes and feed them to the needlebirds than get on my hands and knees in the dirt like a common servant," she muttered to herself as she opened the gate and stepped onto the sidewalk.
"Morning sun," a quiet, but perky voice said from behind her, and Vatra gave a start, biting her tongue to keep from crying out.
She turned to find a woman standing at the corner, an empty basket hanging from one arm and a sun hat shading her narrow face. She was smiling, and Vatra closed the distance between them, smiling back. "Morning sun," she echoed. "My name is Vatra –"
"– Inehl, yes. Well, it's R'Daak now, right? You're quite famous here. It's the first time we've ever had royalty living among us. Are you going to the market?"
"Uh, yes..." Vatra was flustered, caught off guard. The woman was right, of course, everyone in Sonri knew of her. In a community of less than ten thousand, there was no such thing as a secret, especially when the wife and son of the commandant of the twenty-sixth legion moved into the neighborhood.
"I'm Kelitreth." The woman held out her left arm, and Vatra grasped her wrist. Kelitreth grasped Vatra's wrist at the same time, and then the two let go. It was a standard greeting for Jha'Drok, the equivalent of the human custom of shaking hands. "My husband is Third Krin on the Nal'Derack." She started walking, and Vatra fell in step beside her.
"Which house is yours?"
Kelitreth pointed to the other end of the street, at a sprawling, crimson brakstone. "It's almost as old as yours, I've heard. My husband has been stationed with the twenty-sixth for almost two years now."
Vatra nodded. "How long is a typical assignment?"
The other woman shrugged. "It varies, depending on rank and operational division. Janen – that's my husband – is a tactical specialist. Most assignments only last five or seven years. But I've heard that some families have lived in Sonri for ever ten years or more. It seems that the twenty-sixth is a popular legion. Every graduate of Strodod wants to be stationed here."
"Why is that?"
Kelitreth shrugged again. "I'm not really sure. Probably because this entire sector is under control of the Talik'Jhor. If you're stationed here, it means that you or your house are in good favor with them. Some of the wives believe that their husbands a
re involved in top secret projects for the Talik'Jhor, which is probably the truth.
"Oh," Vatra said, Erengaar's words echoing back to her. Do what you do best – spy. "So...is Kelitreth your family name?"
"No. My surname is A'Sha. You can just call me Kel."
They had arrived at the corner stop for the shuttle train, and two other women were also waiting. Kel introduced them as Akshel and Nonya. They, too, lived in the neighborhood. They eyed Vatra with guarded suspicion, and, as all four took their seats on the train, Kel whispered to Vatra not to take it personally. "They probably think you're like all royalty – spoiled and condescending."
Vatra smiled, sneaking a glance across the aisle at the two women. They were busy looking out the window at the passing cityscape as the shuttle zipped on its rail toward the town square.
"You'll like it here," Kel assured her new friend. "Jharek will too. I'm sure he's already told you about the other boys in his class. They're probably in awe of him. They've never seen a lord prince up close before."
Vatra nodded. "He's very excited about his classes and his new friends. He's looking forward to continuing his Skelperi lessons next week."
"Have you hired your house staff yet?"
Vatra shook her head. "Prokal won't allow it. He's a Sh'allanite."
"Oh," Kel said, understanding instantly. "Well, that's another first for this colony. He's not going to make you go to weekly service, is he? There's no temple here."
"No," Vatra snickered. "I was so relieved when I found that out. We just observe the customary silences before meals and going to bed, and there's some kind of altar in one of the rooms at the back of the house. I just keep the door closed when he's gone."