Prax didn’t comment. Chio left and Prax opened his bags. It only took him a few minutes to unpack his meager belongings, including the uniforms that had been issued to him on the ship. He had only four changes of clothes of his own; the Elliniká had neither the space nor the resources for many possessions. He was pleased to find that he had the use of a private bathroom with its own shower.
A chiming noise sounded just as Prax had put his bouzouki on a high shelf, out of the way.
“Come,” Prax said, hoping he was guessing right about the chiming noise.
The door opened, and Chio stuck his head into the room. “Come along, Prax. I’ve got more things to show you.”
Prax followed him to the end of the corridor, where a large part of the wall was divided into rows and columns of colored rectangles.
“This is the status board,” Chio said. “Our schedules are always posted here.”
Prax couldn’t read much Standard yet. “What does it mean?”
“Each block is four hours,” Chio said. “If your name’s in a red square, you’re on duty. If it’s green you’re off, and if it’s yellow, you’re on call.”
“What’s ‘on call’?”
“You can’t leave the security wing, but you can do whatever you want while you’re there.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Chio’s voice got that patient note that told Prax that Hari would have been annoyed about now, “you have to stay available. You might have to cover if someone calls in sick. Or there might be an emergency, and we suddenly need more guys.”
Prax was curious. “What kind of an emergency?”
Chio shrugged. “Usually it’s just Mistress Trahn wants to go shopping or something like that. But we nabbed an intruder once. Somebody tried to get in through the force field. It set off every alarm in the house. Then, once we had a power failure, and the backups wouldn’t work. The chief had everybody out in full gear in case it was a setup for something, but nothing came of it.” Chio tapped Prax on the shoulder and pointed to a line in a rectangle on the wall. “This is tomorrow morning’s duty list. That’s your name, so it means you’re on duty.”
Prax studied his name; it looked very different written in Standard, but he knew enough of that alphabet to know it was his name. He looked at the other blocks and concluded he would need to learn to read and write as soon as he could.
“Come along,” Chio said, turning away. “I’m supposed to show you where everything is.”
Prax followed his guide as Chio pointed out the common room, which was quite large and contained assorted entertainment consoles as well as several sofas, tables, and chairs.
Chio also showed him the gym, the firing range, the weapons locker, Hari’s and Rurhahn’s offices, and the staff dining room.
“That’s about it,” Chio said. “I’m going to join in on the poker game if you want to come along.”
“No, thank you.” Prax knew what he wanted to do more than anything.
He waited until Chio had gone into the common room and then he walked rapidly to the end of the security hallway. He discovered he had to put his hand on the access panel to exit, but the door opened after he did that.
Once he was outside, Prax looked around. It was only vaguely like being on Celadon. The open sky above him looked very strange. The grass underfoot was oddly tinted, a brown that was almost orange. The strangely shaped curling blades of grass crunched when he walked on them. Still, being outside felt good compared to being in a boxy room inside the house. Prax began to run.
He ran in long easy strides, covering a lot of ground quickly. He didn’t want to go too far, but he needed to stretch his legs. When he came to the top of the highest hill in sight, he stopped and looked around.
Rishi’s estate was an island of seclusion in the midst of a sea of crowded civilization. He could see the tops of buildings looming high above the dark green of the trees. The strange trees came in two kinds. One kind were very tall, but spiky, their trunks broad but flat, almost like boardwood trees on Celadon; the leaves seemed merely different colored extensions of the branches. Other trees were much shorter and leafier, with three or four thick, round boles growing together in a cluster. The bushes around Prax had peculiar leaves, too. Some of them were almost like sewing needles. It hurt when he brushed up against them. Other plants were bulbous, without any leaves at all.
Prax threw himself down on the grass, which at least looked something like grass, even if it was the wrong color and crunched when he sat on it. He surveyed Rishi’s estate. He could see the house, the open meadow, the trees, and the loose circle of towers that marked the boundaries of her land.
Finally, he lay on his back, looking up at the strangely colored sky. He took deep breaths and watched the puffy white clouds float past. Eventually, for the first time in days, Prax fell into a sound and easy sleep.
“PRAX!”
Prax opened his eyes. Hari stood over him.
When Prax sat up, Hari moved back a step.
“I fell asleep,” Prax said. He glanced at the sun, confused about what its position in the sky meant. “What time is it?”
“You missed lunch,” Hari said. “Rishi was worried. She called me all upset that you might have gotten lost or something.”
Prax glanced around at the area bordered by the towers. “How?”
Hari grinned. “Good question. I found you right away because the security monitors can find your belt transponder. Anyway, Rishi was worried because you’re new here, and you had said you’d be there for lunch.”
Prax felt the prick of his conscience telling him he had neglected his duty. “I will have to apologize to her.”
“You can do it at dinner. She’d like you to join her.”
Prax nodded. “Very well.”
Hari half turned. “You can stay out here if you’d like, but lunch is over for the staff, too. If you want anything to eat before dinner, your only hope is to go to the kitchen and ask Thulan for something. I wish you the best of luck.”
He waved a hand and started down the hill.
Prax sat for a while, but he became aware that his stomach was a better judge of time than he was. He was hungry. He got up and started for the house.
Once inside, Prax went in search of the kitchen. He passed the common room at the end of the hallway that ran the length of the security wing. Several people sat around a table playing poker. Chio had tried to teach him the game on the ship, but Prax had been too stressed by his surroundings to want to learn anything nonessential.
Prax kept going through the short hallway beyond the common room through the staff dining room. It had two long tables in the middle of it, each with more than a dozen chairs around it, and another door at the other end of the tables. Prax went through that door and knew immediately that he had found the kitchen.
It looked a lot like kitchens he had seen back in Pireaus. The appliances set into the counters and the walls might be more elaborate, but the room was still recognizable as a kitchen. Several knives hung from a rack over one counter, and a whole array of pots and pans occupied a larger rack on another wall. A short, plump woman, her black hair streaked with gray, bustled around mixing something in an enormous bowl. She looked up when Prax came through the door.
“Who are you?” she demanded, wiping her hands on her apron. “And what are you doing in my kitchen?”
“My name is Praxiteles Mercouri, and I’m hungry.”
Her black eyes started in surprise when she heard the name. She squinted at him suspiciously. “You don’t look like a fancy man.”
“What is a fancy man?”
The woman studied him for a second, as if debating the best way to explain herself. “Are you sleeping with Mistress Trahn for money?”
Prax felt himself flush from the roots of his hair on down. No insult could be greater th
an this. If an Elliniká had suggested such a thing, it could have led to a fight to the death. “No! Who said that I was?”
“No one said it.” She set a bowl down on the counter with a good deal more force than was necessary. “Most people don’t like plain speaking as much as I do. They don’t really say much of anything. They just hint and make snide comments.”
“If they say it to me, then I will get my knife and make them regret they said it.”
She gave him a sharp glance. “There’s no call for that. I believe you.” She gave him another look, more speculative this time. “Still, I expect she’s after you, though.”
Prax didn’t know what to say. He had never met anyone as blunt as this woman in his entire life. “If you’re speaking of Mistress Trahn, she is not.”
The woman smiled a broad smile. “She’s a fool then.” Before Prax could defend Rishi, the cook bustled over to the larder and opened it.
“Sit down, sit down,” she said over her shoulder. “If you’re hungry, you need to eat. Got to keep your strength up. Don’t want you to waste away to skin and bone, not in a house where Thulan Mao is the cook, thank you very much.”
Prax sat down. Her authoritative manner reminded him so much of his own mother that he was overwhelmed by a feeling of homesickness. Thulan Mao seemed to understand this.
She dropped a hand on his shoulder when she put a plate in front of him. “There. You eat that, and you’ll feel better. A person shouldn’t let himself get too hungry. Things prey on your mind when you’re hungry.”
The plate held meat and vegetables cooked together in thin strips. Thulan had warmed the food thoroughly, somehow, between the larder and the table. It was delicious—even better than the food Prax had eaten on the ship. He cleaned his plate in no time.
“More?” Thulan asked.
Prax shook his head. “No, thank you. It was very good.”
“Of course it was,” she said with simple pride. “Everything I cook is good. I wouldn’t have a job in a kitchen like this one if I weren’t a great cook.”
She set a cup of some hot liquid down in front of him without asking if he wanted it. Prax took a sip. He realized it must be coffee, but it tasted so much better than what he had had on the ship that he was amazed. “Why doesn’t Mistress Trahn take you with her when she travels?”
Thulan laughed, a deep satisfied laugh. “Because I won’t go. I’m not leaving Subidar—I’ve made that plain. When the Mistress takes a trip, I take a holiday. I stay home and cook for myself and my man.”
Once she had said it, Prax had a vague memory of Rishi saying much the same thing. “Do you have children?”
She smiled with satisfaction. “All grown up. Six grandchildren now—four girls and two boys.”
“Congratulations.”
“What about you?” She gave him a quick glance. “Did you leave a wife behind on that wild planet you come from?”
“No,” Prax said, fighting another blush.
“How about a mother, then?” she asked, returning to her mixing.
“Yes,” Prax admitted. “I left both my parents, two sisters, and two brothers.”
Thulan looked sharply at him as she stirred. “Well, with that many children, your mother won’t have as much time to miss you. Why did you come?”
Prax was surprised when he realized that Thulan Mao was the first person to come right out and ask him that question. “Mistress Trahn asked me to come, so I had to. She saved my entire clan. Not just my own family, but many others as well.”
“I thought you said she wasn’t after you?” Thulan countered.
“She asked me to come with her,” Prax said, looking down at his cup, “but she doesn’t want anything from me except loyal service.”
“I suppose if she did want something else, you’d go along with it?”
Prax didn’t answer.
“I like you,” she said suddenly. “You speak the truth, or you say nothing. That’s a trait that’s hard to find these days.”
When Prax made no comment, she put him to work mixing ingredients in the huge bowl while she got more things down from a cupboard.
“That’s the way,” she said, watching him stir. “The old ways are the best where food is concerned. All machines can make is flavored mush.”
Prax was sitting at the table having another cup of coffee when Nakamura came in.
Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Hello, Prax,” she said, looking from him to the cook. “Thulan, could I have some fruit or something to take into the common room? We’re still on ship time and everyone’s hungry.”
“I suppose so,” said Thulan grudgingly. “There’s a bowl in the larder, all ready. I expect that whiner Beecher sent you in here to ask me.”
Nakamura attempted a diplomatic smile. “It’s for everyone, Thulan.”
“You’ll give him his pick,” Thulan said, with a disgusted sniff. “I hate to think what else you’re giving him, when no one else is around—a nice girl like you, too.”
The frankness of the conversation amazed Prax. Thulan must subject everyone to the same treatment she had given him.
Nakamura took the bowl of fruit and fled.
Prax watched Thulan putter around the kitchen. She caught him studying her. “What’s wrong?”
“You embarrassed Nakamura.”
Thulan lifted her brows. “I embarrassed you, too. So what? She needs to know that Beecher is no good. If her mother were here, she’d set her straight fast enough.”
Prax smiled at this explanation. “Everyone’s mother can’t be here, so you take care of them?”
“In a way,” she said complacently.
“Thulan?” someone called from the doorway on the opposite wall.
Prax recognized Rishi’s voice and jumped to his feet.
“You sit back down,” Thulan commanded. “This is my kitchen. I’m mistress here.”
Prax hesitated.
Rishi walked into the room and saw him. “Oh, hello, Praxiteles. Please sit. I just need to talk to Thulan for a few minutes.”
Prax sat down again. After her gruffness with everyone else, he was astonished at Thulan’s behavior to Rishi.
“You sit down, too, Mistress,” the cook said, smiling warmly. “You look tired. You should rest when you come back from a trip. All that traveling is very wearing. Would you like some coffee?”
“Thank you, no, Thulan,” Rishi said, taking the chair beside Prax. “I just need to talk to you. I want to have a party next week—about a hundred people. Can you do it?”
Thulan’s expression brightened. “Of course, dear. What did you have in mind?”
Rishi held up one hand as if to lower the cook’s expectations. “Nothing spectacular, just dinner and drinks. I’ve been away for months, and I need to renew my contacts. There’ll be quite a few Shuratanians, so we’ll need lots of food.”
Thulan wiped her hands on her apron. “No trouble at all. I’ll come up with a menu and you can tell me what you think of it.”
“That would be wonderful.” Rishi sounded relieved. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Thulan.”
“Nonsense,” Thulan said. “You’d manage fine. Besides, you won’t have to because I’m not going anywhere.”
Rishi smiled and murmured a goodbye. She nodded at Prax, rose, and left the kitchen, leaving Thulan and Prax sitting together at the table.
Prax looked inquiringly at Thulan. “No brutal honesty for Mistress Trahn?”
Thulan sniffed. “She’s had enough brutality in her life, that girl has. Don’t you go adding to her woes, either, my lad, or you’ll have Thulan Mao to answer to.”
“I would never hurt her!” Prax said, aghast at the accusation.
“See that you don’t.” She got to her feet. “Now finish your coffee and get out of my kitchen. I have
work to do.”
Prax downed the last of the coffee and set the cup neatly in the cleaning hatch. Thulan softened her instruction by telling him to come back whenever he was hungry.
Prax went into the Security common room and took a seat behind Chio. He watched for a while and tried to figure out the rules of poker.
Prax found it difficult because he discovered poker was not one game but many. Every time the deck passed to a new dealer, the game could change radically.
Chio was playing with Beecher, Nakamura, Tinibu, and a Miloran whom Prax had not met yet but had heard the others call Qualhuan.
Beecher gave Prax a sidelong glance. “Did you get your hand slapped for missing your lunch date?” he asked, in what passed for a bantering tone.
Prax took him literally. “No. Not that it’s any of your business.”
A noise like a small earthquake starting startled Prax. It took him a second to connect it with Qualhuan. The Miloran was clearing his throat. “Are we playing poker, or do you want to stop and have a tea party, Beecher? It’s Nakamura’s deal. Give her the cards.”
Beecher passed the deck to Nakamura. She shuffled expertly, called the game, and dealt.
Chio folded quickly, throwing his cards down in disgust. He went over to the bowl on the table but found it empty. “Hey, Nakamura! Can you get us anything else to eat? It’s still a while until dinner.”
Nakamura looked up from her hand. “You’d better send Prax this time. He was sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee when I went in last time.”
Chio whistled. “Thulan let you sit at the table?” he asked Prax.
“She told me to sit at the table,” Prax corrected. “What’s wrong with that? Isn’t that what a table is for?”
Chio shook his head. “Not for us. She won’t let anyone on the security staff sit at her kitchen table except the chief. She says we get underfoot too much. We have to sit in the dining room.” He grinned knowingly at Prax. “So you’re a favored one, too, huh?”
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