There were cushy chairs in the first section behind the pilot's pit, but most of the vehicle was just a cargo bay. They were supposedly used to collect and deliver trade goods to the outer reaches of the planet, but they had to remain more or less invisible, so they had preset routes that took them high enough above the clouds to not be visible from the ground. They required pilots, even though there was nothing for the pilot to see other than a large monitor. No windows, even up front, the excuse being that if a warrior had to be brought to the Center on one for some reason, they made it as painless as possible for him by giving him no visible reminder that he was flying while he was in the air. There was no sound, either, no feeling of lift‑off, no feeling of any movement at all, for that matter, just a low, steady hum barely heard. The landing points for these buses were called stations, all of them located far enough from the major towns, again, to keep the people from being reminded of their existence. It didn't dawn on Brittany until they arrived at their station Just what that was going to mean.
Views. Incredible, far‑reaching views of the majestic sort. The station sat at the base of a mountain they called Mount Raik, a mass so tall its point was capped with ice even though the climate was tropical. Mostly flat land spread before it, some cultivated with grains and vegetables. Forests were in the distance, with multi‑colored trees, reds, greens, yellows, blues‑blue?‑and every shade in between. She saw long purple shadows on the horizon that could have been other mountain ranges, too far distant to define. She saw what might be a small lake in a field of wildflowers.
No telephone poles, no roads other than dirt paths, no buildings yet, no airplanes flying overhead to blow it for this look of Eden. And the air was clean, no smoke or pollutants floating on any of the horizons. Where on earth had they found such a place?
And then she saw the three airobuses, sitting on a paved landing pad, and what looked like a winding road leading up the mountain. They were too close to the mountain to see the town of Sha‑Ka‑Ra, which sat halfway up it, or so she was told.
"Are we going to walk up it?" she asked.
"My father has arranged transportation."
"Where?"
He took her hand and led her around the airobus that had been blocking a bit of the view. A small herd of hataari were now visible, about forty of them standing placidly off to the side of the pad. Some of the warriors were already mounting them; others standing there showed her just how big the beasts were, when their heads were barely a foot above the animals' backs, which meant those backs had to be as high off the ground as Brittany was tall. They were shaggy‑haired, most of them black, a few brown, one tan, but all with white manes and tails that nearly reached the ground. Thin legs, extra‑wide bodies, too wide to be horses‑perhaps what prehistoric horses might have looked like? But even that was pushing it. They were like horses, but nothing like horses.
They were so funny‑looking with their long shaggy coats, she started to laugh. They had to be made‑up, Clydesdale horses probably‑didn't they get that tall? But someone's imagination had really gone wild in the creation of their costumes. The padding for the extra‑wide trunks was a weird touch; it just made them look silly.
"What amuses you?" Dalden asked as he led her to one of the hataar and tossed her up on its back.
The suddenness of being on top of one of those things ended her amusement. There was no saddle, just a blanket covering its back and a harness contraption with reins and a post for gripping, which she did now while Dalden mounted behind her.
"Sure," she said, disgruntled. "Don't give me a chance to find the zipper on this costume."
His arms came around her, pulled her back against him. That easily did she relax and put aside her brief annoyance. He didn't ask her to explain, though if he were for real, he wouldn't have understood her remark. Martha did.
"I'm disappointed in you, doll," came the voice at her hip.
"You know you're reaching now, grabbing at crumbs to explain away the obvious."
"Your obvious is so far‑fetched, it's gone beyond silly now. If anyone's disappointed, I am. I expected better after such meticulous details on your spaceship."
"Hasn't it occurred to you that there's no choice in the matter of what's real? Yes, they are visually silly‑looking. I've seen the animals you have in comparison that are sleek and beautiful. Not every world is so lucky in their beasts of burden. Believe it or not some worlds have hataar‑like creatures even more silly‑looking than these."
"Sure, and I own a fantastic bridge I'll be glad to sell you."
"This habit you have of saying things you do not mean must end, kerima.
Brittany stiffened at Dalden's serious tone, but she caught her breath when Martha said, "Heads up, girl. He's home now and starting to sound like a warrior."
Brittany swung around to give Dalden a hard look. "What'd she mean by that?" No answer from him. "Martha, why'd you make warrior sound like a bad name?" No answer from that quarter, either, which caused her temper to erupt. "Damnit upside and down, don't you people dare spring any surprises on me at this late date! Have I fallen in love with a man who's only shown me half of himself? Is the other half some monster I'm going to hate?"
Dalden's expression softened, probably because she'd Just admitted she loved him for the first time. She hadn't meant to own up to that yet. She didn't want it laid on the table if the end of the "project" wasn't going to be to her liking. But it was too late to take it back. She did love him‑at least, she loved the man she'd come to know. But who was that? A man pretending to be an alien? A man so brainwashed he really believed he was an alien? Or a real alien who'd restrained his alien tendencies up until now, but now that he was home was going to release them? Just why were these people called barbarians?
Her barbarian put his hand to her cheek to draw her mouth to his. His kiss was soft, so tender. One of the things she loved so much about him was that despite his incredible size and strength, he was always so gentle with her. He wasn't a barbarian. No way in hell.
Chapter Forty
IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE BRITTANY HAD BEEN SO embarrassed that all she wanted to do was hide her face. Dalden was almost purring with satisfaction. He'd managed to distract her so thoroughly she forgot what they'd been arguing all
bout, forgot that she should be watching things around her, forgot she was on the back of an animal and other people were riding along beside them.
He was proud that he could do that to her. He'd turned that sweet kiss into a raging inferno of passion‑at least on her part. She'd turned all the way around to face him, her legs spread and laying over his, clinging to him, devouring him, lost in the moment....
Until Martha's voice intruded dryly, "I could have sworn you were interested in architecture."
Kodos, riding next to them, was chuckling at Brittany. Shanelle, on the other side riding double with Falon, rolled her eyes at her. Thank heavens their parents were sharing an hataar up ahead and hadn't noticed, or her mortification would have been absolute.
She hissed at Dalden, "If I thought that was deliberate, you'd be in big trouble."
He was seriously amused, if his grin was an indication. "Define big trouble."
"For starters," she said, stabbing a finger against his wide chest, never speaking to you again."
"That would not be allowed," he said simply.
"Would not‑!" she choked, unable to finish. "To paraphrase Martha, wanna bet? And don't think you can tease your way around it. They don't come much more stubborn than an Irish American, which I happen to be. Stubborn is often our middle name."
"I thought your middle name was Tomboy."
"Oh, cute, real cute. Pretend you don't know what the hell I'm talking about."
He disagreed. "You are telling me it is your nature to be stubborn. This is the nature of most women, so warriors expect it and find it amusing."
"Why amusing?"
"Because it is not a thing women succeed at very well‑here."
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"You might want to readjust that statement a little bit to include, until now."
He chuckled, then hugged her, then explained why he was suddenly so pleased with her responses. "You‑and Martha‑insist that you are different because you were not born here, but truly, kerima, your reaction to an unwanted lesson is no different from that of a Sha‑Ka'ani woman."
She pushed out of his arms, narrowed her eyes on him. "Lesson? just what were you trying to teach me there? That if I do or say something you don't like, you'll embarrass the hell out of me?''
"It was not meant to embarrass you."
"Then what was I meant to feel?"
"Exactly what you did feel."
What she'd felt was raw passion and a desire to make love with him right then and there. "I don't get it."
He didn't respond, which managed to infuriate her enough to say, "Martha, you and I are going to have a long talk before the end of the day, and you're coming clean this time."
But Dalden objected to Martha enlightening her, insisting, "Lessons are better learned by example than in the telling."
Brittany bristled, but before she could reply, Martha lit into the warrior. "DaIden, did that Sha‑Ka'ani pure air muddle your brain all of a sudden? You've done fine until now, keeping it in mind that she's not Sha‑Ka'ani. Don't blow it just because you're home, and don't make some assumptions based on one reaction when she's capable of reactions you've never seen before. Some of the things that you see as natural and right and your responsibility, she just isn't going to tolerate. That cultural difference I warned you about better be ringing a big bell, because it's real, it's huge, and it will cause problems of the like no warrior, even your father in dealing with Tedra, has ever faced before."
Brittany stiffened, feeling an ominous dread that frightened her. Dalden stiffened as well, though for different reasons. She didn't like hearing that she, specifically, was going to be the cause of trouble between them. He didn't like hearing that Martha was so certain he wouldn't be equipped to deal with it.
Brittany clutched him suddenly, the fear getting to her. "Whatever happens, we can work it out. Whatever it is she thinks I'm going to hate, I'll‑I'll try to understand, I'll try not to hate it. We will work it out, Dalden."
He hugged her back, squeezing a bit harder than usual. "I am grateful, yet do you not need to make promises based on the unknown. We will indeed 'work it out.' I will allow no other thing to be."
His indomitable will managed to truly amaze her sometimes. They'd be fine because he said so. No matter what, no matter the obstacles, no matter anything. He'd have it no other way, wouldn't allow it. She wished she could grab hold of that certainty and take it to heart. But it was reassuring and took the edge off her fear.
"Did I mention architecture?" Martha's voice intruded in another really dry tone.
Brittany burst out laughing, the rest of her tension fading away.
Chapter Forty‑one
BRITTANY HADN'T MISSED TOO MUCH OF THE TOWN, just the approach. And Sha‑Ka‑Ra was bigger than she'd expected after Martha's remark that their towns didn't come in sizes she was used to‑not so much in head count, but in the buildings being spread out with plenty of breathing space between each one. It was perched on a flat plateau, so nothing was built on the slopes of the mountain.
The main street was very wide, lined at regular intervals with trees of different colors‑none that she actually recognized, though a horticulturist she was not‑and lampposts. The posts were similar to what was used in the nineteenth century, when someone came by each night and lit the candles in them, but these used gaali stones that supposedly didn't need lighting, just uncovering, to reveal their soft glow.
She was looking forward to seeing one of these gaali stones she'd been told about up close and personal, a small one, though, since she'd been warned that large chunks were so bright they could blind. Yeah, right, something they couldn't prove to her, but she'd like to see how they were going to hide the seams of a battery compartment on the smaller stones.
just now, though, she was experiencing some disappointment in finding that none of the buildings in the town were built of wood. Everything was light tan in color, either plaster or stone, she wasn't close enough yet to tell which. Mostly one‑story houses, a few two‑story, many with lovely arches, windows in all kinds of different shapes, each with its own yard and stable, its own garden. There were even some with balconies on their flat roofs, like sun decks. And clean. There wasn't a single piece of rubbish on the ground anywhere.
It was an even mix of old and new. The buildings were modern-looking, but the people weren't, and plenty had turned out to view the homecoming. Fifty men from this town had been absent for a long time, so their families were on hand to welcome them home. The procession started breaking up as each warrior was met by two or more members of his family. Oddly, never just one member, or more specifically, a lifemate. Even more oddly, now that it was noticed, there wasn't a single woman on the street standing alone.
Each woman there had a man with her. Each one was wearing one of those scarfy outfits they called chauri, each with a cloak draped behind them. They came in a wide range of colors, but an solid colors. There wasn't a single garment on anyone that was a mix of colors.
She found out later that the only reason she hadn't been given a cloak the color of the house she now belonged to was because her white T‑shirt and blue jeans were already the two colors representing Dalden's house. That he'd let her wear her jeans, when the women of his town weren't allowed to wear pants of any kind, had been an exception made just for her because she wasn't Sha- Ka'ani and he'd wanted his people to see that plainly. It wasn't such a strict rule anymore though, now that his country knew that other countries like Falon's didn't even follow that rule, so exceptions for visitors did get made now, when that didn't used to be the case. It was still their rule though, which was why she was going to be supplied with a full new wardrobe and was expected to wear it.
She didn't mind. She was definitely tired of jeans after wearing hers for three months, even though they'd been cleaned and returned to her each day by that thing DaIden called dial‑a‑closet. She'd been offered ship's uniforms but had declined. She had never felt that her height looked good in one‑piece jumpsuits of the clingy sort.
Old‑style again were the marketplaces‑they looked like something out of a medieval fair, with small tents with tables in front of them, or goods laid out on rugs. Then a beautiful park with a pond in it and children playing, that could have been in any American hometown.
The streets were laid out in even, straight lines. Turning one brought the biggest building in the town into view, a towering white stone castle. Brittany's jaw dropped. It wasn't a castle as she knew them; it looked more like something that could be found in a fantasy picture book. It wasn't one big building, either, but built in sections, some round, some square or rectangular. All of the sections were in different heights and shapes so that none of them were the same, yet they grew in height pyramid fashion, the shorter towers on the outside, the tallest at the center. There were conical roofs on some, spiral roofs, normal roofs, and flat roofs on others, even crenellated walkways on top of some of the towers.
Tall white walls surrounded the castle, with a wide‑open archway spanning the street to enter the inner castle yard. And they were heading to it. This was where Dalden and his family lived.
It was too much. They couldn't have built something like that just for this project; it had to be something they'd found and were going to make use of The whole town, for that matter. Maybe
somewhere in Russia or that part of the world. Didn't they have strange‑looking buildings like this? And beautiful untouched countrysides? And towns so different‑looking from anything she was used to?
She felt better with that conclusion, on firm ground again, and ready to be impressed as they rode through the archway into the castle yard. There was a long rectangular building right in front, with step
s spanning the length of it, and at the center, a tall pair of steel‑looking doors flanked by two warriors guarding it.
There was a stable for the hataari out front, and she got her first sight of small men that worked in it. They weren't really small, just not giant‑sized like the warriors, and they dressed differently, too, in thin white pants and shirts. Darash males of the servant class apparently, whom she'd been told about. They were descended from a people conquered so long ago that no one had the date of it anymore.
They weren't slaves, but were more like a mix between a medieval serf and someone from the servant class of eighteenth-century England. They were the working class, the ones who did all the menial labor warriors snubbed their noses at, though they didn't get paid for it. There were laws to govern them, they had some rights, but they couldn't just pick up and move like normal working‑class people. For the most part, she'd been told, they were a happy lot who knew their worth in as much as the warrior society would probably collapse without them.
Dalden's parents led the way inside. Shanelle would be staying a few more days, but then would be leaving for Ba‑Har‑an, a country that used to take a good three months to reach by hataar, but now was just a few minutes away by airobus. The distance, or prior travel time, was why not much had been known about Ba‑Har‑an before Challen had been asked to contact them for trade with the League, plentiful deposits of gold having been scanned in that region that other planets were interested in.
But it wasn't really the distance that had kept the two countries virtual strangers for so long, but that the Sha‑Ka'ani were a sedentary warrior species. They might differ here and there in each separate country, but they pretty much universally weren't explorers. By nature, they preferred to stay, grow, and prosper in familiar surroundings.
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