She sat back down with her cup and, because nobody was around, she let herself smile. Why should she feel bad? It was fun, and she deserved to have fun once in a while.
But now it was time to get to work. She remembered Althea’s unease during the feast, and she was right, there was something about this place that was just… well… wrong. Isra couldn’t quite pick out why yet, but it was there. It was in the perfect faces and bodies of its citizens. It was in the expressions of the children sent out to fight for the pleasure of the crowds yesterday. There was something at work in this city and, as much as she would like to find out what it was, it was better to do the job and get out as fast as possible.
She finished her second cup of fornocha, got dressed, and left the room. As promised, two servants of the Rainha waited outside the door. They escorted her through the halls of the Sala, and up a set of stairs onto a wide balcony overlooking the white stone buildings that filled the spaces in between the craggy mountains of the Venusian landscape.
Isra walked to where the Rainha sat in a simple chair built out of several planks of wood painted white. She sipped from a mug as she overlooked the city below.
“You wished to see me, Rainha?” Isra asked as she approached.
Isabel didn’t turn around but motioned to an identical chair next to her. “I did. Would you join me?” Isra sat down, and the Rainha motioned to a kettle and several cups on a metal tray. “Fornocha?”
“Yes, thank you.” Isra poured herself a cup. She wasn’t sure that she actually wanted any more of the intensely bitter tea, but she felt it best to take what was offered her.
They sat in silence and watched the city below them. Cytherea appeared to be an equal mix of metropolis and military base. Groups of men and women marched or ran in formation through the streets while oculto moved around them. There were no pack animals that she could see. Oculto carried goods in small hand carts, baskets or slung over their shoulders.
There was a persistent quality to the movement. Nobody seemed to be in a terrible hurry, yet it didn’t look like anything short of a natural disaster would hold things up either. It was as if every man and woman on the streets were part of some great machine built with extraordinary precision by extremely skilled craftsmen.
“Was everything to your liking last night?” The Rainha spoke in English.
“Yes,” said Isra. “It was most enjoyable.”
“That pleases me. Cytherean men take much care to bring pleasure to the women. Their strength combines with the woman’s will. That is the power of Cytherea. I wanted for you to see that.”
Isra took a long drink, unsure of how to respond. Everything about the Rainha’s speech and actions appeared to be from a mind that was working a set plan. Like the city itself, there was a mechanical precision to the Rainha that made Isra uneasy.
“I would like to begin discussing the arrangement between our two worlds,” said Isra, thinking it best to continue in the Rainha’s native language. “Through trade and an exchange of ideas, our two societies—”
“In time,” the Rainha interrupted. “Yesterday I showed you the seeds of our military might. Today I would like you to see the mighty tree that it becomes.”
“Of course.” Isra set her cup down, pulling up her sleeve to reveal her EROS computer. “Give me a moment to locate the others—”
Once again, the Rainha interrupted. “Your people have been taken care of. Your soldier will meet with Gabriel and join his men on patrol. The smaller one, I am told, is still exploring the secrets of the ancient ship with Joana. I have sent for the other woman. She will arrive soon, and Celia will escort you.”
Isra looked back out at the city. A group of oculto carrying sacks of grain paused and spread to the edge of the street to allow a formation of soldiers pass. When they did, the workers closed ranks again and resumed their journey as if nothing happened.
“Speaking of the other woman,” Isabel added, “Althea, I think her name was?”
“Yes, she is our…” Isra paused as she realized she didn’t know if there was a Cytherean word for ‘medical officer.’ She compromised and went with, “…healing person.”
The Rainha nodded as if she understood. “I understand that she left the Sala last evening. A few of my people saw her leave.”
“Where did she go?” asked Isra. She was careful to keep any emotion out of her voice, although she could almost feel the Rainha’s words reaching for something. It tugged at her in the same way a long and expectant silence compelled its target to fill it.
“She went to find your soldier who was being entertained at House Vincente.”
“I see. Is that a problem?”
For the first time since Isra had sat down, Isabel turned her head to look her directly in the eye. “I have taken steps to make sure my people will take care of yours. I wish for that to remain. Cytherea has its dangers.”
Isra looked out over the city again. “I do not understand. Are we prisoners here?”
“I would not call it so. Instead, let us say that it is my wish. Celia will arrive soon.” The Rainha indicated that the conversation was over by getting up without a word and rushing past Althea who just arrived on the overlook. Althea watched her go before she looked at Isra with surprise.
“Is something wrong?”
“I do not know. Althea, did you see anything last night? Anything unusual?”
Althea sat down in the Rainha’s vacant seat. “Why yes, actually. There was… a woman. She was pregnant and terrified. I couldn’t pick up much of what she said except for, ‘help me, they are going to take my baby,’”
“I see.”
“What do you think it means?”
Isra sipped her mug of fornocha. “I am afraid this visit has nothing to do with an alliance. The Rainha had something else in mind when she invited us here.”
Shouting from the street caused Isra to stand up and observe. She didn’t know what instigated it, but a Cytherean citizen and an oculto were arguing about something. The argument reached a crescendo, and the robed man charged the citizen. The fight lasted only a couple of punches before the oculto lay still on the ground.
Fights like this were not uncommon in any city. Even the halls of the Ministry had their odd scuffle now and again. It was practically human nature. Still, it seemed an unbearable anomaly in a place like this.
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the days that followed the proclamation, squads of Brazilian police and militia groups stormed corporate offices. They broke up board of directors meetings, dragged executives from their offices and even raided stockholder sessions.
At first, those arrested were simply taken to the nearest airport and sent back to their country of origin. These included a few Brazilian citizens, who were basically shown a list of international flights and told to pick one.
-From The Fall: The Decline and Failure of 21st Century Civilization by Martin Raffe
Viekko woke up, opened his eyes and immediately regretted both decisions. He rolled over on the bed, trying to shield his face from the light pouring in through an open window. The brightness of broad daylight felt like the wrath of all gods ever dreamed up by humans focused on the pain centers in his brain. A low, constant clatter of people being busy in another room combined with the searing pain to make this one of the more unpleasant mornings of his life.
“Bom dai!” said a chipper little voice next to his bed.
Viekko risked a peek to see a stunningly beautiful brown-haired girl standing next to his bed with big, bright eyes and a soft, gentle smile. Okay, maybe it wasn’t too bad.
“Bom dai” Viekko groaned, rolling over. “Where am I?”
The young woman continued to smile but tilted her head slightly, indicating that she didn’t understand. Viekko cursed and tried again. “Oh right… er…Onde…estou?”
That phrase unleashed an avalanche of words that made Viekko’s fragile head spin. The young woman chattering at him in a shrill voice didn’t do his
hangover any good, but he managed to pick up enough to know that he was in a place called ‘House Vincente’ which didn’t help define his current location.
The woman took him by the wrist and started yanking his arm as if to pull him out of bed. “Ah, come on,” he muttered. “After what y’all did to me. Please… er… por favor… sono… sono…”
The woman kept pulling with greater enthusiasm until he gave in. “Fine. I’m comin’, I’m comin’.”
Viekko got to his feet with the young Cytherean’s help. It was only at that moment he realized he didn’t have one bit of clothing on. Even as moments from last night’s events flashed through his brain, he felt the embarrassing need to cover his crotch with both hands. The woman looked down as he did and giggled for a moment before laughing outright. Viekko, despite himself, felt his cheeks flush but held his hands in place with more determination.
“Fine, fine, laugh it up. Just tryin’ to be…gentlemanly…I guess. Hey, maybe you could help a man with some clothes.”
Maybe she understood what he said, although he didn’t know how that was possible. Either way, she took him by the arm and led him out of the bedroom. She walked him into a much larger, circular room with several couches in plush red upholstery and a fire burning in a pit in the center. The roof sloped upward toward a central hole where the smoke escaped. Whereas the bedroom appeared to have rather modest accommodations, little more than a bed for sleeping and related activities that were, even now, still arriving back into memory, this room was clearly built to impress. Several stone columns were spaced in a circle around the room and carved with beautiful intricate designs of flowers, vines, fruit, and other assorted natural themes. There were three intensely colorful frescos on the outside walls depicting some kind of glorious battle or another, and, set on the polished wood furniture, gold and silver ornaments, jeweled figurines and several other crafts, that lent an air of wealth to the place.
He also became aware of other women in the room, along with the fact that he still wasn’t wearing any clothes. He stood at the entryway with the young woman still holding onto his arm for an awkward moment, before he allowed one hand to uncover himself enough for an embarrassed wave. “Bom dai,” he muttered.
It appeared they were waiting for him. As soon as he set foot into the lavish common area, all the women got up and went to him at once. It was all Cytherean chatter that he could barely pick out as he was whisked away in a feminine tide. Within a few minutes, and in spite of some minor protests on his part, he ended up with a white tunic draped over his shoulders, a belt strapped around his waist and soft leather moccasins placed on his feet. Before he even knew what was happening, he was practically carried to one of the couches and presented with a mug of some questionable-smelling blue-green liquid and plate of fruit. It all happened so fast that, by the time he had enough presence of mind to object, it was all over.
Still, he felt the need to stand up… he wasn’t sure what after that. Apologies were probably called for all around. He wasn’t sure why, but, in his life, it was almost guaranteed. He was curious as to what happened to his clothes along with his EROS computer and medical regulator. Lastly, he was anxious to leave this situation before Isra found him. She was unlikely to have a sense of humor about this. But when he tried to stand up, one of the women behind him pressed him back down by the shoulders.
“Hey! Okay, listen. I don’t know what happened and this is all very nice but…” His voice trailed off as one woman began working his shoulders and the back of his neck. “Oh…. wow… okay. This is…”
One of the women held out the mug of liquid again. He sighed, deciding it was better to just go along with it. It appeared he had little choice regardless, so he took the mug and examined it for a moment.
“Fornocha,” said the woman who had handed him the cup.
“Bless you,” muttered Viekko. He inhaled the steam coming off the drink and recoiled. He wasn’t sure what herb they used for this tea, but it obviously objected to being used in this fashion.
The woman made a drinking motion with her hands. “Bom para voce. Faca voce alerta e forte.”
Viekko concentrated until he realized what the woman said. Apparently, the tea was ‘good for you’ and ‘makes you strong and alert’. The other women in the room watched him expectantly, and the one rubbing his shoulders added extra pressure for good measure.
“Well, if you insist,” said Viekko wearily. He breathed in deep and took a large swallow.
He managed to choke it back, but the bitterness hit the back of this throat like a bag of sand. He coughed and wondered if he was ever going to be able to taste anything again but pine sap and lawn clippings. Almost as quickly, however, he felt himself perk up, and the hangover that threatened to be terminal only a few moments ago faded. He felt a jolt of mental sharpness that rivaled three or four cups of the strongest coffee on Earth, but without the jittery feeling. And, overall, he just felt better, as if the harsh liquid went through his body and purged anything it found distasteful.
“Feeling better?” asked one of the women and Viekko realized that he didn’t have to translate. His brain was sharp enough now that he just knew what she said.
“Sim. Muito melhor. Obrigado.” said Viekko. He paused for a beat as he realized that, while he meant to say, ‘Yes. Much better. Thank you.’ in English, it just came out in Cytherean.
The woman smiled and held up a steaming pot. “That is good. Would you like some more?”
Viekko drained what was in his mug and held it out for another cup. With his other hand, he grabbed what appeared to be something similar to an apricot from the plate of fruit. As he ate and drank, the women took turns massaging his shoulders while others cuddled up on either side of him.
Viekko was vaguely aware that someone was knocking at the front door, but he continued to enjoy his breakfast and whatever it was about to lead to. It was only when Gabriel, the Cytherean Captain of the Guard, strode into the circular common area that Viekko felt the need to be embarrassed again.
“Gabriel! Er…. Hello…. Er Ola,” stammered Viekko, tripping up between English and Cytherean. “What brings you… This isn’t what it looks like.”
Gabriel appeared amused and bowed slightly. “It looks as if you are enjoying arte de lareira of House Vincente.”
Viekko took another drink from his mug and repeated the unfamiliar phrase. “Arte de lareira?”
“The display of generosity and kindness a citizen woman shows to her male guest. Behind giving birth to and training Cytherean warriors, it is their most important job.” Gabriel smiled. “It is not often a man is treated to arte de lareira from the entire house at once, but you are a special case, I think.”
Viekko smiled as one of the young women kissed him on the cheek. “I do feel special.”
“I have experienced the House of Vincente before,” Gabriel continued. “They are some of the finest in the city, but I did not need to tell you that. The reason I am here is to invite you to join us on patrol.” Gabriel snapped his fingers, and two soldiers marched into the room. One held a breastplate and helmet and the other a spear and sword.
Viekko didn’t know exactly how to respond to the armor held out for him. It was bewildering and more than a little scary, and Isra would definitely not see the humor in this. “Thank you, but I cannot go. I must find Isra.”
“Rainha Isabel is informing her of your participation as we speak. She will not worry. You are safe with us,” Gabriel assured.
Viekko reluctantly extracted himself from the attentions of the women and walked over to inspect the armor presented to him. As he touched the bronze breastplate, an uneasy feeling crept over him, and he pulled his hand back. “I prefer my own clothing. And my own weapons. If that pleases you.”
Gabriel looked hurt but nodded. “As you will, of course. I assumed you would want to experience the honor of the Cytherean warrior as one of us.”
Viekko drank the rest of the fornocha. “I mean no offen
se. I speak as a warrior that is unfamiliar with your ways. I would feel safer fighting as I have been trained.” Viekko looked around and added in English, “If I can find my clothing that is.”
Gabriel laughed and motioned to something behind him. Viekko turned around to see the women holding his folded clothing, his shoulder holster, guns, EROS computer, medical regulator and, he noticed with some amusement, one of them was wearing his wide-brimmed white hat.
Viekko handed the empty cup to one of the women standing by. “Very well, give me a moment and then I will go with you.”
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