The Rekkaru approach me next with questions on where to distribute the Walrey honey — how much should go to the healers and how much to the witches who spin Walrey honey into something more…potent.
I’ve just finished that grueling task and seven others when I’m approached by Gorman again and he looks even less pleased to see me than usual. “Merquin is here.” His typically bright orange coloring flushes, turning him umber.
“WhaaaaaAAAAaaat?” My voice lifts at the end and scrambles in the middle. I start to breathe hard and heavy. The dull ache in my horns returns with a fiery vengeance. I reach up and grab onto them both. “Is she alone?”
“Nob.”
“Nob?”
“Nob.”
“Nob!” I glance down at my pants and see them for the coarse, unrefined wool that they are and panic. “Are they coming in now?”
Gorman’s fins flash in true irritation. “Raingar, you’ve never kept me in the dark before. I need to know what happened when you were in Quadrant One. Did you negotiate?”
“Pagh! You know I don’t negotiate. Do these pants look okay?”
“Then did you…” He freezes and glances around. The Lemoran male standing next to him has also gone still and so has the female beside him.
They all look at me and look at each other and then look at my pants but it’s Gorman who hisses, “You have never cared what your pants look like before. Did you crack one of your horns?” He says, actually sounding horrified. The female Lemoran nearest him gasps. “Are you in pain? Do we need to take you to the healer?”
The Lemoran male — a male called Bruttut — says, “Did you fall down a flight of stairs and break your skull?”
“Maybe it was Merquin,” the female, Talia, suggests with a shrug that says she doesn’t care one way or the other. “Maybe she pushed him.”
“Nob! I didn’t fall down the stairs! Do I have time to go change? Are they coming in now? Are they…”
And then a hush falls through the front half of the chamber and time suspends. Everything that comes next happens in slow motion. Merquin strides in through the massive, arched doors at the end of the space, two of her closest assistants crowded in close beside her as she points out the different features of my great hall.
“And you’ll see here, Raingar has erected his keep with four towers and a great hall in their center. Did you also see the long house built between two of the towers on the left when we approached?”
My ears strain — my whole entire body strains — to hear the answer. But I don’t. “Exactly that. There, he keeps his private chambers. Unlike Librida and I, Raingar doesn’t much care for village life. He’d rather stay here away from the commotion.” It was a generous way of saying that I hate everyone. Far, far too generous. Merquin must have gotten into the Walrey honey.
Soft laughter emanates from beneath the hood of the cloaked figure between the three Lemoran females. Females. Thank the ohring sun. Seeing her with males might have made me kill one of them. Or it would have hurt my feelings. Or it would have done both.
“There he is,” I hear Merquin say before she pitches her voice louder, attention narrowing on me standing on the short flight of stairs that lead up to my rather simple, piddly stump of a throne.
I glance around wildly, wondering if she could be talking about someone else as I try not to simultaneously get an erection and poop myself. She’s here. She’s ohring here! “Raingar. Oh Raingar! There you are,” Merquin sings. Her voice is light but her glare is icy. It frightens me.
“Nob. I’m not,” I answer perfunctorily, wondering if there’s a place behind me I might hide, but the female who’s mine looks up as I speak and meets my gaze with a soft, barely there smile.
Oh nob. Nob nob nob. I’m not ready for her smile. I’m not ready for any of it. I’m like a lunar blossom, shriveling away underneath the soft touch of the early solar sun. Because that’s exactly what she’s like. Lemora in the morning, when the world has just begun to stir. When everything is peace, it’s very definition.
Everything else has dissolved but the sight of her face, so I’m surprised to find that the rest of her body has made its way into my personal sphere. Merquin stands beside her, the both of them at the base of the stairs. The assistants stand slightly back. I stare at her face, well aware that Merquin’s rambling about something, but I haven’t heard a word. I can’t hear anything. I’m deaf.
“AM I DEAF?”
My mate blinks her black and brown and white eyes. They form perfect circles that match the shape of her mouth before she says. “Pardon me?”
“You!” I panic. I start to sweat and glance around, praying for some sort of distraction. I see Merquin instead and point a blocky digit at her. “You!” I accuse.
She rolls her eyes and grimaces, but when Essmira turns to glance at her, she’s all smiles instead. “Pardon me. Have I done something wrong? Please. If you inform me as to what I’ve done I’ll ensure it never, ever happens again…”
Merquin takes her by the upper arm and pushes her another step closer to me. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Essmira.”
There’s some bite in her tone that I don’t like and don’t understand when her every other action toward Essmira has been one of kindness — a trait Merquin isn’t most known for. I’m known for it even less. Perhaps, not at all.
“And we talked about this already. You’ve got to stop apologizing.”
Essmira’s gaze drops to the stairs between our feet in a way that I despise. “Pagh! Don’t listen to her. You can apologize. You can do anything you want!” I end on a humph and Essmira shoots me a surprised smile. Merquin glares and, again, when Essmira looks at her, transforms.
Her hand slides around to Essmira’s back and she pushes her forward, up the first step and across whatever invisible divide had separated us. “Yeffa, I suppose Raingar is right. It’s never happened before but I suppose, eventually, it was bound to.”
Essmira does something wild then. Something totally out of character. She snorts. Snorts like a hungry ruffalumph searching for ranxcera blossoms and the pink, glowing fruits that grow beneath them. She immediately covers her mouth, but a small trickle of laughter escapes the cage of her hands.
And then this entire display is followed by the second least expected thing I’d have imagined from this female, who was groomed by Igmora, who is as fake as she is flawless.
“Ohr! I mean stars! Oh,” she curses. She curses?
And then she just tightens her hands around her mouth and shuts right up while the rest of us stare at her in shock.
Because nothing about Essmira’s reaction is fake. And it is certainly not perfect.
In fact, it’s almost unattractive.
And immediately, my horns turn to liquid Walrey honey because — forget about her face — this is the most attractive thing about her.
Merquin reacts before I do. She belts out a laugh so loud that it fills the entire hall. I glance up and wonder if they’ve all stopped because of that laugh…but I don’t think so. Even though Merquin is laughing, all eyes are still straining to catch a glimpse of the creature beneath the hood. The one with brown hands and sharp red fingernails and red ripping across her skin as a tease of whatever lies beneath. I paid fourteen tuns of kintarr just to know. I need to know. But first, I need to hear her make those sounds again.
I smile — even chuckle a little. Essmira releases a little gasp behind her hands, her eyes getting all big. Her hands fall away from her lips and she opens her mouth, but it’s one of Merquin’s assistants, Hebba, who shouts first, “Holy ohr! Raingar smiled!”
“Nob! Nob, I did not,” I shout, still smiling, but fighting harder against it now. “And even if I did, it’s Essmira’s fault!”
“Essmira?” We all turn to see Gorman standing beside the simple stone seat I use for a throne, looking curiously over our small constellation.
“Oh! Apologies for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Essmira,” she says in unac
cented Lemoran. She takes a step forward, which brings her to the step directly below me, and pushes her hood back.
Then she reaches up to catch the air with her right hand and brings it over her heart. Gorman repeats the motion perfunctorily, I can tell, because his eyes have bugged out of his head and he’s staring — staring — at my female with his mouth gaping open and his shoulders slouched. He looks drunk. Not that I’ve ever seen him drunk.
With Essmira’s hood back and her arm sticking out of her cloak, it’s open enough for Gorman and ohring everyone to see the dress she has on underneath. Where did she get that ohring dress! She came with us empty-handed and yet, she’s wearing what is clearly Lemoran fabric stitched perfectly to fit her form. It’s a soft yellow color and makes her skin stand out in bright, striking shades. The dress attaches behind her neck and the sides drape down almost to her hips.
Oh. My. Ohring. Stars. With her arm outstretched, I catch a glimpse of her waist — her bare waist — and see red. My mouth dries. The red that starts at her breasts goes all the way down, stopping just above the curve of her hip bone. Does it cover her…her…her there?!
I open my mouth to shout my question — my request? my demand for proof or contradiction? — but manage to catch myself in the final moment.
It helps when Gorman stutters, “Ess…Essmira. It’s a…it’s…your name is uh…beautiful.” He flushes a dark orange and I throw both hands in the air.
“Don’t stand there gawking at her!” I warble, even though I’d been doing the same thing.
Gorman straightens and for the first time since she caught his gaze, turns and blinks at me. “I…I’m…” He clears his throat and straightens even taller. Nob. Is he…this male who I’ve known half my life and has never bowed to anyone…humbled by her? Nob, he’s trying to impress her. Maybe he’ll win her from me…
“Pagh!” I shout, voice a deep wail. I flutter my hands towards Gorman and force him back a few steps as I block his view of Essmira with my back. Facing her, I shove her outstretched hand down, grab the outsides of her cloak and pull them together over her chest. Then I grab her hood and wrench it back into place.
Merquin clears her throat loudly and steps up behind Essmira and says, “I don’t think that’s necessary. Her hood was only up before to protect against the rain. Outside, there’s a light drizzle.”
“There’s always a light drizzle. She could get wet. The hood stays.”
We engage in a staring contest. Merquin loses and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t have time for this! Essmira, these are your clothes. You made them yourself in the span of one lunar. It’s clear you know how to tailor and dress yourself and you can decide for yourself if you’d like to get wet, keep your hood up or down, or anything else. Don’t let Raingar bully you.
“I’m going to leave you with him now for the remainder of the solar. It’s important that you learn as much as you can about each of the territories so you can decide where you’d like to build your house and what roles there are for you across all of Lemora. I’ll be back for you this lunar.
“Raingar.” She gives me a pointed look over the top of Essmira’s head. And then she actually points, stabbing her finger in my direction threateningly. “Be courteous. I know it’s a foreign concept for you, but behave. Gorman, make sure he does. I don’t need to tell you that Essmira is valuable merchandise.”
The way Essmira winces makes my whole body react. I push up against her and shake a fist angrily at Merquin over her shoulder. “She isn’t merchandise! She’s Lemoran now!”
There are whispers in the crowd that hush as my voice stops ringing. Merquin makes a soft sound and touches the center of Essmira’s back. “Essmira, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“Oh please…don’t apologize.” Her hands twist in front of her as she turns around to face both Merquin and me. “You’ve shown me every kindness. I could not be more grateful that you all purchased me. Please.”
Gorman’s fins wiggle and he looks at me, shocked. He knows we don’t deal in flesh. He knows how much I hate it — genuinely hate those that trade in it, not just the passing hatred I have for everybody else. He knows I’d have had to have a good reason to purchase another sentient being from another. He knows it would have had to be a matter of life and death for me.
And it is. It was. It’s everything.
My right hand twitches to my pulsing horns and his gaze captures everything. He chokes. He actually chokes. Nothing at all could have severed the tension in the great hall more quickly than the sound of Gorman choking to death on his own breath.
“Are you okay?”
“Should we get the healer?”
Talia and Bruttut say at the same time, genuine concern coloring their tones now that it’s Gorman’s health on the line.
I stomp angrily over to him while Merquin and Essmira share a few more soft words I can’t make out over the sound of him half-retching. “Get it together, you miserable Hypha.”
“Ack! Augh! Ock!” He chokes out a few more sounds while I pound on his back and ask a passing Rekkaru to fetch him some water.
Downing it upon the Rekkaru’s return, Gorman straightens himself to his full height and glances between Essmira and I over and over, finally settling his softest expression on her. Not that I blame him. She’s easy to look at. I wish she weren’t.
I’d have rathered a mate just as hideous as me, just as hard and rocky, but Essmira is none of that. She’s perfect as a moon and soft as a petal. I can still remember the small brush of my hand on her wrist… What would it be like to put my blocky hands all over her? I flush and step away from her, trying to use Gorman as a shield.
Finally, Gorman extends his hand and I see that it shakes. I lunge to block him, but he’s a clever male and moves quicker to compensate. He reaches his free arm up to block mine and our forearms collide clumsily.
Reaching in through the opening in her parted cloak, he gently takes her hand. I hate seeing it. I hate it. I trust Gorman with my life but can I trust him with this? Essmira was designed to tempt not only me, but every male. Everyone.
I’m twitchy as a live wire as Gorman’s voice breaks. He darkens even further as he glances at me and then back at her and gently shakes her hand as he says, “My dear heelee, I am Gorman and I can truly say from the bottom of my heart that it is my greatest pleasure to meet you. Finally.”
5
Essmira
“Ughm. So this is the great hall.” That’s the first thing that Raingar says to me after shuffling awkwardly between Gorman and myself.
Gorman, after the initial shock of seeing my alien face, was extremely cordial — slightly aloof, but very gentle in his mannerisms.
All of Lemora’s beings seem to be extremely kind. I’m not used to it, but it excites me. Gives me hope that I may actually like living on this planet. I know better than to get my hopes up. There’s always the chance that I may not find a place here at all and that I’ll be…I swallow hard at the thought…returned.
I don’t know what conditions these Lemoran were given by Igmora and Tyto for my purchase, but I’m absolutely certain that Igmora would willingly take me back only to sell me again. Why make one sale when she could make two off of the same creature? And Tyto?
I shudder. I don’t want to know what would have happened had he gotten his way and been allowed to keep me. All I know is that I wouldn’t have likely survived very long.
I’ve heard tales of what he does in other pleasure houses where the creatures within can be made expendable — for the right price — though I’ve never seen it myself. I didn’t want to believe the stories I heard from the guards and cooks and helpers that ran Igmora and Tyto’s estate, let alone see it. I don’t know if it makes me a wretched thing, but I’m selfishly glad that wasn’t my end.
I smile up at the male assigned to give me a tour of his village. He doesn’t seem particularly agreeable or excited about his task, but I plan to change his impression of me, which has
been odd from the start.
“It fits,” I joke, in an attempt to charm.
He just crosses his twitching arms tighter over his broad, bare chest and looks down at me with a frown. “What fits?”
“Oh. I just meant the moniker. The great hall. The name fits.”
“Pagh. I don’t see anything great about having all of these creatures toiling in my halls. These halls are mine. And ordinarily, they’re free of all this rabble.”
He waves his enormous mitt at a passing Rekkaru, almost hitting the poor creature, which is only half my size and a quarter of Raingar’s. I don’t like that and it’s on the tip of my tongue to say something, but I shame myself by worrying what sort of punishment I’ll receive by defying him. So I bite the inside of my cheek and whisper only to myself, “Not now, Essmira. Shh.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say, cursing myself and old habits. “I was just saying that you’re probably right.”
“I am?”
Nob. “Yeffa. Of course.” The male is always right. I wince, hating that I can hear Igmora now when she’s Quadrants away. Momentary panic grips me as a new thought arrives, a dangerous one. What if I still haven’t escaped?
“Humph,” Raingar grunts. He’s still staring at me as we finally reach the vaulted doorway. The doors are wide open and sunshine streams in through them, and also filters down from the skylight overhead. It’s beautiful. A whole new world full of mist and light.
Inside the hall, huge bales, crates, tuns, cartons, shells, yeeyar pods, and sacks are arranged in what looks to be an increasingly methodical order. Rekkaru carry items back and forth. The male who introduced himself as Gorman carries a notebook that he records things in — I’m assuming, some kind of ledger.
I had sort of hoped he’d join us on this tour since he was more…articulate and helpful about the workings of this keep than Raingar, but Raingar and I are alone and everyone is staring.
Taken to Lemora Page 8