by John Daulton
Captain Asad thought the whole business was a reckless course to take. Having seen what one of “them” could do, meaning Altin and his magic, it felt like suicide to him to send the whole fleet “straight into their trap.” He maintained that the orbs were just a hoax and had been all along with their shifting skins and transitive three-part disease. While he was reluctant to call it “magic,” there was no doubt that these people had abilities that were as mysterious as magic, something that became increasingly clear after the Prosperion ambassadors had arrived. However, his belief in magic-seeming phenomena only proved to him, and not a small number of others amongst the fleet, that the Hostiles had in fact been the ruse that would bring the whole fleet into the skies above Prosperion. The orbs had been the bait.
And then what? If Altin’s performance during the Hostile fight was real at all, then the power his people possessed was unimaginably great. Such consideration presented the possibility of danger in that the fleet would be at the mercy of Altin’s people should their mysterious powers be turned against the trusting people from planet Earth. And there would not be one thing that the Earth ships could do, not if Altin’s power was real. And it was this sense of being inexorably drawn into a Hostile plot that put the captain in a mood.
From the stories Orli got from friends who resumed visiting as she became more bearable to be around, she was almost glad that the captain left her in the brig. Roberto made his shifts on the bridge sound as if he were the target at a firing range. But Orli wouldn’t have minded either way, bridge or brig; it made little difference to her. She was going to a royal ball. She was going to dance with Altin and feel his hands in hers, see his eyes gazing into hers, and there was nothing in the universe that could take the joy of anticipating that away. The Queen had even promised her a dress. “Your gown will be as fine as mine,” is what the Queen had said via Altin’s note. Orli couldn’t wait.
And finally the day came. Seven and a half months later, ten ships of the fleet’s remaining eighty-nine were orbiting Prosperion, not far from its pink-hued moon. The rest would wait just outside their solar system, in case things went as Captain Asad and a few others feared they would.
In truth, however, the people of Earth’s first trip to Prosperion did not go poorly at all. They were met with nothing less than vast and unending courtesy. Queen Karroll had a forty-acre compound cleared for their landing craft two measures out of Crown. She’d had time as the Earth fleet travelled to have the compound walled, gated, and filled with several orderly rows of outbuildings and one central structure to serve as command post for their admiral and his staff. No expense was spared, and even the royal gardeners were employed to plant and grow oaks and elms that were large enough to throw shade amongst the buildings should the springtime sun be too warm for the Earth folks’ ship-bound skin, not used to such a thing.
All in all, the compound was spectacular and gracious, and Orli gasped at it as she stepped out of the landing craft and stood mesmerized on the ramp. The wind made a whispering sound as it blew through the grass, and she could smell lilac, heliotrope and mignonette. There were other scents she’d never smelled before, flower varieties she had never seen. She could hardly wait to touch them all and see what colors they would show. She looked up, squinting as the sun shone warmly on her face. There were birds up there, soaring in the sky, and their calls mixed with the trumpets that were being blown by men in fluttering tabards standing atop the walls. A grasshopper landed on her sleeve. She took it gently into her hand, tilting her head and giving it her sweetest smile. What a beautiful creature, she thought as it leapt back into the breeze.
She looked around for Altin even though she knew that he would not be there. This was their space, he had told her that. The Queen insisted that they have a place they could call their own. In fact, the horns were blowing to announce the changing of the guard. The Queen’s men had been ordered to depart when the Earth forces were ready to take control of their new fort. Orli was actually surprised to see that the admiral had agreed to do such a silly thing, but she watched from the loading ramp as marines moved to station themselves around the upper wall.
How stupid, she thought. What kind of a message was that to send? But then, what did she know about diplomacy and military force? Maybe it was expected from them, a sign of strength or some odd form of respect. Apparently a lot had gone on in the lord chamberlain’s meetings with the fleet.
But none of that mattered to her. At last she was finally here. She was free of her cell and in the incredible contrast of a real “outdoors.” What made the situation even better was that she was here on the orders of a queen. The Queen. A royal pardon of sorts. Too bad it hadn’t worked for her on the ship these last few months. But that no longer mattered, not now, not here.
She stepped down onto the grass and moved amongst the straggle of officers and those few lucky crew members who’d been allowed to come. “At least a few hundred,” insisted the Queen in one of Altin’s letters. “What good’s throwing a ball if there’s no one there to dance?”
Orli went through the receiving line and was assigned a room in one of the buildings near the outer wall. Once inside, she tossed her small travel bag onto a bed that was little more than a wooden bunk. A mattress lay upon the crude frame that looked as if it might be filled with straw. It was. She had to laugh at that. What a wonderful thing. How quaint. She lay on it. It was softer than anything she’d ever lain upon before. She turned and pressed into it with her hand, marveling at how straw could be as supple as this mattress was, and then she noticed the tag sewn into the mattress seam. “Enchanted by Murphy. Do not remove.” She laughed again. She knew immediately that she loved being here more than any place she’d ever been. Even more than Earth. Earth was a gauzy memory, lost to distance and space, a place of origins and loss. Here, this was beauty and reprieve.
Something nibbled on her ear.
Used to them by now, she took the homing lizard from her shoulder and untied the message on its back. “It’s me,” was written on the parchment scrap, followed by, “Where are you? What number is on the door?”
She glanced up, but the number was outside. She put the lizard on the bed and quickly went out to look. Seventeen. She went back to the bed to reply, but realized she didn’t have a laser scalpel at hand. She ran her eyes around the room. There was a quill pen in an inkpot sitting on a tiny desk near the wall. She smiled yet again, her cheeks beginning to hurt from being so happy for so long and all at once.
She wrote her room number on the note and retied it to the lizard’s back. Speaking Altin’s name, she tossed the lizard to the floor, where it vanished as the creatures do.
She didn’t hear anything from him again for quite some time, so she decided to go out and have a look around. There were manicured gardens all around the little village the Queen had built for them, and there was even a small fountain in the middle of what might be construed as a town square. The buildings were all made of wood, and from appearances looked for all the world as if their roofs were made of thatch. She laughed again, joyous through and through, and had to reach up to rub her aching jaw. It didn’t seem possible that there could be so many things to make a person smile.
As she turned down an unpaved lane that separated a row of buildings, she could see their landing ships parked in the grassy field a few hundred yards beyond the little town. Such an odd sight, those metal boxes sitting there in contrast to everything else around. Such an ugly sight. She turned her back on them so that they were no longer in her view.
She studied the wall for a moment. It wasn’t very high, fifteen feet at most, made entirely of stone, large hewn blocks that measured three or four feet at every edge. This must have been a colossal project to get done in time for the Earth ships to arrive. She absently wondered what it was that the wall was supposed to keep away, or was it as the captain said, meant to keep them all locked in?
She turned to the huge iron-bound gates as the thoughts were going throu
gh her mind, and immediately she knew. The gates were thrown wide, chained back and open, inviting anyone to leave. The walls were meant to make them feel secure, perhaps free from a thousand gawking eyes, but no more sinister than that. And there were some gawking eyes too, for she could see that out beyond the gates quite a crowd had begun to grow. People from the city were filing into the meadow beyond, obviously hoping for a peep at the people coming down from outer space. Orli realized that it must be very exciting for the denizens of Kurr to see such an unprecedented sight. And she wanted to meet them too.
As she walked up to the gates, two marines stationed on either side stopped her, the larger of the two barking an authoritative, “Halt.”
She looked at them, their laser rifles clutched firmly in their hands, and she could only shake her head. They bore the insignia of the Pershing on their sleeves, and she’d never met either of them before. “I’m going to say ‘hello.’”
“We have orders to keep people from going outside,” said the big man, standing squarely in her path.
The shorter one’s face wrinkled up a bit as he stared at her. “Hey, you’re Pewter, aren’t you? From the Aspect?”
“Yes,” she said. “I am.” Then she turned to the serious fellow and added as she pushed past him without a backwards glance. “Shoot me if you have to. But, I’m going to say ‘hello.’” Orli was done with orders.
Her enchanted com link did nothing to help her understand what the Prosperions had to say as she approached, but the slow murmur of “Orli” told her that the young marine was not the only one that had figured out who she was. She smiled, warmed by the sunshine of their joy, their happiness at seeing her and touching her with their reaching hands when she drew near. She felt like a celebrity, and their acceptance was such a contrast to the derision that she got on Captain Asad’s cold and lifeless ship.
She spent nearly twenty minutes mingling with the people and learning many of their names before she heard her own name come barking across the breeze. “Pewter,” yelled the captain, “you were not authorized to leave.”
She smiled at the little boy she was talking to—his name was Peety—and gave him back his toad. “Thank you,” she said. “He’s a wonderful little pet.” She took her time in turning back to face the captain. She was enough of a diplomat to know this was not the place to face him down. “Coming,” she said.
As she strode through the tall grass, headed back towards the gate, the sound of horses’ hooves and wagon wheels turned her gaze towards the west. A coach was rumbling down the road, little more than two tracks worn in the grass by the passing of construction carts, and it was headed towards the gate, drawn by four black stallions upon whose coats the sunlight glinted in a mesmerizing way.
The gilded coach stopped before the gates as Orli came around it from behind. She stood near Captain Asad as the coachman leapt down from the driver’s seat and opened up the carriage door. A tall, lanky man with a beaked nose and a conspicuous mole beneath his left eye gazed at the captain and gave the slightest bow. He was exquisitely dressed, and he had a leather case tucked beneath his arm. “Are you a person of authority?” he inquired of Captain Asad.
“I am,” said the captain.
“I am Perfuvius Needlesprig the Third,” he announced with an imperious air. “And I come with a summons from the Queen.” He handed the leather case to Captain Asad who opened it and stared at the parchment letter inside with a frown.
“I can’t read this,” the captain admitted as it occurred to Orli that she’d just understood everything that this man had said.
It was Perfuvius’ turn to frown. “Damned enchanters can’t get anything right,” he mumbled to the coachman. He snatched the letter back. “I will read it for you. It says, ‘It is the will and desire of Her Royal Majesty Queen Karroll, Overlord of Kurr and Defender of Right, Purveyor of Justice and Keeper of the Realm, that the Lady Orli Pewter of the forces of Earth and serving upon the great warship Aspect be delivered in person to the auspices of the Royal Dressmaker, Perfuvius Needlesprig the Third,’” he paused, adding unnecessarily, “That is me,” before continuing on, “‘…that Lady Pewter might be properly attired for the royal ball that is being thrown largely on her behalf.’ It is signed by the Queen herself.” He turned the document back so that they both might see the large, flowing signature on its lower half, accompanied by what could only be the royal seal.
“I’m Orli Pewter,” she said before the captain could open up his mouth.
“Pewter…,” the captain started to say, but she smiled and cut him off.
“It’s a royal order, Captain. You know as well as I do that it’s bad manners if we don’t do whatever the Queen demands.”
“Indeed,” agreed Perfuvius Needlesprig the Third as his footman made a gesture that invited Orli to step up and into the gilded coach.
“We’ll have to run it by the admiral first,” said the captain, fighting for control. “There are security issues to be discussed.”
Orli was already climbing into the coach.
“Let me know how that goes,” she said as she settled comfortably into the carriage’s cushioned seat. The interior smelled like leather and perhaps too much of Master Needlesprig’s cologne. All in all, delightful. She waved to the people still gawking at her through the window on the opposite side of the coach. Peety hoisted up his toad. She flew a smile at him and another for his pet, and a few moments later, they were bouncing along their way, Perfuvius Needlesprig the Third eyeing her up and down and muttering about fabrics, colors and just what to do with her too-short but gorgeous platinum-blonde hair.
Chapter 46
The ball, formally titled “The Royal Earth Ball,” took place one week after the ships from Earth had settled on the ground. Altin had been waiting restlessly for seven long months for that day to finally come. He and Orli had gotten quite a bit of time to see one another in the days that came before the dance, but never enough to suit his insatiable desire to be with the woman that he loved. Master Needlesprig hogged her most of the time, and when she wasn’t being royally attired, either Queen Karroll or Kettle were monopolizing her time. Even Pernie had taken to following her around like a little puppy hoping for someone to throw a stick, and Orli was incapable of resisting the child’s charm.
Orli told Altin at one point that Captain Asad was going to have a stroke if she got any more attention than she already was.
“Don’t worry,” Altin had said to that, “he’s in no danger then. You can’t get any more attention than you do.” They both laughed because it was true.
Kettle had taken to pinching Orli’s cheeks by the time she was on her third visit to Calico Castle’s now quite busy kitchen, and Roberto gained six pounds from his week of visits and humorously declared his eternal love for Kettle in his most romantic Spanish tones. This, of course, made the much older woman blush to her ears, though it did nothing to discourage her from cooking her finest and most decadent recipes whenever the Spaniard came around.
Finally, the day of the ball arrived, and Altin found himself standing on the palace steps waiting for Orli’s carriage to arrive. Aderbury was standing next to him, both men dressed in the formal uniforms of the Queen’s Reserve.
“You’ll be fine,” Aderbury was saying. “Stop worrying already. You’ve already seen her ten times since they landed. Relax.”
“I know. I just want everything to go well. There are so many people now. So many coming together all at once. And her captain hates me. And I can’t dance a step without stepping on someone’s toes.”
“Stop it,” Aderbury said. “You’re going to work yourself into a fit. Go get a cup of wine.”
“She might come while I’m inside.”
“Gods. You’re pathetic.”
A carriage rumbled up and deposited its occupants onto the crimson carpet that ran up the stairs from the curb to the titanic palace doors. It was Thadius Thoroughgood and his parents, the baron and the baroness.
Courtesies were exchanged as the couple and their dapper son came up the steps. “Nice work, Master Meade,” said the baron as he shook Altin’s hand in an enthusiastic grip. “Nice work indeed. A real honor. We’re proud of you, my boy.” The baron’s familiarity was a bit out of sorts, for, in truth, Altin had only met the baron twice before, but it was nice to receive his praise.
“Thank you,” Altin said.
“Yeah, nice work, old boy,” said Thadius, though his tone seemed to mock the words. “Even a blind pig sniffs a truffle every now and then, eh?” He laughed as if he’d meant it as a joke. Altin smiled politely back, but only for the baroness’ sake. She seemed to recognize his kindness, and then tugged her husband up the stairs. Thadius delayed for just a moment more. “I hear the Earth girls are exotic,” he said once his parents were safely up the steps. He leaned down and gave Altin a conspiratorial wink. “I bet they just love to dance.” Altin winced as the butterflies had seizures in his gut. “Maybe I’ll have a go with yours.”
Aderbury grabbed Altin’s arms, hugging him from behind as he prepared to pounce and rendering him incapable of doing anything foolish that might ruin the entire night. “That’s what he wants,” Aderbury hissed.
Altin ground his teeth and forced himself to breathe.
“Easy there, old man,” jibed Thadius. “Don’t want to start something you’re unable to carry off.” His hand was resting lightly on the pommel of his sword. It was true; Altin could not beat him if it actually came down to a conventional duel. But a nice fireball to the face would have melted Thadius’ smugness straight away. Aderbury squeezed him and demanded that he “let it go.” Reluctantly, he did.
Thadius grinned and gave a derisive snort. “Of course not,” he said, and bounded up the stairs to catch his parents before they had time to reach the castle’s enormous bronze-cast doors.
“By the gods I hate that man,” said Altin when Thadius was gone.