B00CH3ARG0 EBOK (18 page)

“And what do you take for your excuse?” he asked, with a
crooked grin.

She shoved him sideways. He laughed and crushed her against
him with a thorough kiss. Then he stood and bowed to them all. “I must go,” he said.
“I have another meeting before the evening meal.” He popped out of sight, and
something in Laura clenched.

“Like a Latin lover ...” she said, feeling wistful.

Marianne giggled. Then she gave Laura a sharp look.

Cena did as well. “Are you struggling with your own appetites,
Laura?”

She frowned. “I’m too old for that.”

“No, you’re not,” Marianne muttered under her breath.

“Marianne!”

“You’re not.”

“Marianne is correct, Laura,” Cena said. “Age does not take
away the need. Even Storaas took a lover from time to time, and he has allowed
himself to grow very old.”

“I’m a widow!” Laura sputtered.

“That just makes it worse,” Marianne said. “You went from
full speed ahead to full stop.”

Laura opened and closed her mouth several times, blinking
furiously, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.

Marianne leaned toward her. “It’s all right, Laura,” she
said, her face and voice gentle. “Just remember that no one here will blame you
if you need to take a lover, even so soon after losing your husband. Especially
with all the randy goings-on that you can’t avoid hearing about.”

She stiffened and looked away. “I never would have
believed,” she said, fixing her gaze on a nearby tree, “that the Tolari were
such a – an
energetic
people.”

Marianne had the temerity to catch her eye before grinning
mischievously. “Not all are. You just have the misfortune of living among some
of the most ... um ... energetic. The Sural’s bloodline is already known for
its passion, and the Jorann’s grandchildren are infamous for their appetites. Cena
is the Sural’s natural daughter and inherited his passion. And me—” She grinned
again. “I’ve got years of repression to make up for, and on top of that, what
he feels, I feel. Poor Laura. You don’t stand a chance of withstanding all the
rampaging romance going on around here.”

Laura pursed her lips. “I was a ship’s wife. I should be
used to it.”

Marianne looked blank.

“Ships are full of young people,” she explained. “Affairs on
board are against regs, but they happen anyway, young people being what they
are. John hand-picked the crew of the
Alexander
, and the
Bellerophon
before that. Highly skilled, highly motivated young people also tend to be
highly ... interested in each other. Coming down hard on them for that makes
for no small amount of resentment. John turned a blind eye to it, as long as it
didn’t involve the chain of command and there weren’t any rivalries or bad
breakups.”

“But you had – forgive me for saying this – you had John,”
Marianne said, gentle again. “You had an outlet.”

“Yeah,” she said, starting to relax a little. “So did he. John
was also – highly skilled and highly motivated.”

“You’re climbing the walls, aren’t you?”

She inhaled sharply and stiffened again. This was getting a
little too personal. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

Marianne appeared to backpedal. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Forget
I said that.”

Laura swallowed, trying to clear the lump in her throat. Tears
spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t want someone new,” she whispered. “I want
John
.”

Marianne moved next to Laura and put an arm around her. “Of
course,” she said.

* * *

“What is a ‘Latin lover’?” the Sural asked that night,
spooning against Marianne’s back and stroking her swollen belly.

“Were you eavesdropping?” she murmured, her voice thick with
drowsiness.

“I monitor my guests. Laura is a guest.”

She grumbled and turned toward him, veering away from sleep.
“It’s more of a reputation than anything else.”

“Tell me.”

“During certain periods of human history, men from a region
of Earth called Latin America had the reputation of being expert, passionate
lovers,” she explained, the last word distorted by a yawn. “And they look a lot
like Tolari – black hair, dark eyes, light brown skin.”

His lips curved. “I approve,” he said.

Marianne made a rude noise and woke up a little more. “You
would!”

He chuckled.

“Anyway,” she continued, “Laura has made a number of wistful
comments to Cena and me about our ‘Latin lovers.’ I don’t think it’s envy,
exactly. Maybe she just regrets getting older. She is definitely lonely, but
she’s got very strict ideas about what kind of behavior a widow her age is
allowed to indulge in. She can’t avoid seeing all the romance going on here,
and she’s still living by the unspoken rules of the society she was born in. She’s
got no way to express what it’s making her feel.”

“You think it would benefit her to take a lover?”

“I honestly don’t know. It might only make her feel guilty.”

The Sural’s face was a picture of confusion. “I do not
comprehend humans, beloved. Truly, I do not.”

She laughed.

“I could arrange to put suitable ... potential partners ...
in her way,” he said. “How she would respond to them is, of course, her
choice.”

“Did you have something particular in mind?” she asked, her
interest piqued.

“Perhaps a conference of artists and musicians, with
exhibitions and concerts. It is the closest I can simulate to a human social
event.”

Marianne flashed a luminous smile. “She might take an
interest in the sort of men who’d take part in something like that,” she said.
“That’s brilliant!”

* * *

The next morning, at the Sural’s suggestion, Laura,
Marianne, and Cena wandered up to the top level of the stronghold, which he had
ordered cleaned and opened. He’d told them it included several large rooms full
of the stronghold’s private art collection and had not been opened in many years.
Laura was thrilled by the beauty of the art and sculpture on display. She rushed
ahead of her companions as they strolled from room to room and exclaimed over
particularly exquisite pieces.

“Why isn’t this floor open all the time?” she asked, amazed
that anyone would keep such beauty locked away. “Why would he close it up? If
this were mine, I would come here every day!”

Marianne just shrugged. “Don’t ask me.” Her voice was sour. “I
didn’t even know this was here.”

“The exhibits are clean and well-kept,” Cena said. “He does
not neglect them.”

“It would be a crime to let art like this fall into decay,”
Laura said.

“Indeed.”

“What a treasure!”

“The Sural’s coming,” Marianne said. A few moments later, he
burst into view, striding into the room.

“Are you enjoying my collection?” he asked as he joined them.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Laura’s enthusiasm was in full display,
making her nearly bounce on her heels. “Why do you keep it closed up and out of
sight? Art needs to be seen!”

He shrugged, a small smile flickering on his handsome face. “If
it must be open, it must have guards.”

She blinked, a little surprised. “Tolari would steal?”

“No, but open, unguarded rooms in my stronghold are a
temptation my enemies could not resist.”

“Oh.” Laura deflated.

His smile widened. “Perhaps it would please you to know that
I have called a conference of artisans and musicians to take place eight days
from now. There will be exhibits and concerts for three days. You may spend as
much time as you like on this floor until I close it again after the
conference.”

Delight flared through her. She felt like an excited child,
despite her age. “Wonderful!” Then she blinked. “But how could you get a
conference together so quickly?”

“There are always those among us who are ready to perform or
teach or put their work on display,” he replied in a bland voice.

She gave him a wry grin and turned to a life-size sculpture
on a dais in the middle of the room. It was carved from a black material that showed
every detail of the sculptor’s work: two Tolari, a man and a woman, clinging to
each other, nude and in ecstasy. The level of detail was beyond belief, down to
skin texture and individual hairs.

“Why aren’t you blushing?” Marianne asked, a sly grin on her
face. “It’s very ... well, it’s explicit.”

“It’s art.”

“It is the central piece of my collection,” the Sural said. “A
sculpture of the rapture of bonding, by the greatest sculptor who has ever
lived among us, Tarric. It was sculpted in place and cannot be moved.”

“Tarric lived a thousand years ago,” Cena added.

Marianne whistled softly. “A thousand Tolari years? It looks
like it was finished yesterday.”

“It is protected,” the Sural told them, reaching out until
gold sparks radiated from where his fingertips made contact with a barrier. “There
is inert gas within. Only light can pass through.”

As he finished speaking, Storaas came strolling into the
room. Laura waved, and beside her, Cena’s eyes lit up. The old man smiled and
headed for them.

“High ones, apothecary, Laura,” he greeted. “It is good to
see this floor open, however briefly.” He tucked Cena’s hand under his arm and
turned to the Sural. “I understand you have called a conference?”

“I have,” replied the Sural.

“To what purpose?”

“The entertainment of my guest.”

Laura found herself the center of attention. “Me?” she
asked, flabbergasted.

“Even so,” the Sural said.

“I’m flattered, of course, but you don’t have to do anything
like that for me!”

“No one requires it of me.”

“Don’t worry, Laura,” Marianne said in dry tones, “no one
can make the Sural do anything he doesn’t want to do, or keep him from doing
something that he does.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Just let
him do it. It’s easier that way.”

Laura laughed merrily. The Sural shot Marianne a fond smile,
and she beamed, a smug look on her face.

“Exhibits from the city will begin to arrive in a few days,”
the Sural continued. “We also have some coming from Parania. They will arrive a
day or so before the conference begins.”

“Parania?” Marianne asked. “Paranian is one of the Tolari languages
I can speak.”

“The Parania is sending her heir. You will perhaps have
opportunity to practice his language with him.”

“Are you quite certain you wish to allow other provinces
into the stronghold so soon, high one?” Storaas asked. “It is little more than
a season since the last attempt on your life.”

“The attempt was on Marianne’s life,” the Sural corrected,
“and yes, I am certain. I begin to see the Jorann’s wisdom in extending her
protection to the Marann.”

Six days later, the top floor of the stronghold was a riot
of color. Laura hugged a wall to stay out of the way and watched, Marianne
beside her, as artisans clad in dark purple directed laborers in deep green to
arrange stunning works of art in previously empty rooms. Indigo-robed scholars,
servants in black, musicians in mauve, and curious members of the stronghold
staff in science brown, apothecary yellow, or Suralia blue – those were
off-duty guards – wandered through the chaos.

The exhibits themselves, however, were as subdued as the
temperaments of the Suralians who had created them.

“It’s wonderful to actually see the art you told me about
when I was in orbit on the
Alexander
,” Laura said. “It looks like
they’re arranging the exhibits in chronological order within each category. You
can see the influence from earlier periods on later ones.”

Marianne eyed her. “You’re quite the art critic.”

“Ha! I’m not smart enough to be a critic. I’m ... well, I
used to be an art student, but I couldn’t pass the academic courses.”

“Really? You never mentioned that.”

She shrugged. “I’m out of practice.”

“There will be workshops – the Sural calls them sessions –
at the conference,” Marianne said. “Maybe you should find one to attend.”

Laura grinned. “Maybe. That might be fun.” Her smile drooped.
“Not that I’d understand the instructor more than one word out of ... a hundred.
Or a thousand.”

“Do it anyway! It would take your mind off things. What kind
of art did you do?”

“Mostly charcoals.” She shrugged again. “Pencil. Pen and
ink. Black and white media, basically, but charcoals are my favorite. I haven’t
done much more than doodle in recent years. I get very ... absorbed ... when I
work, or at least I used to, and being a ship’s wife didn’t leave me any time
for that.”

“Huh.”

Laura gave Marianne a sidelong glance. “Do you draw?”

Marianne snorted. “I can draw stick figures. Does that
count?”

Laura chuckled and turned back to examining a series of
landscapes. “So beautiful,” she said under her breath.

“I bet it would be easy to get you art supplies.”

Laura shook her head. “Let’s see how things go at the
workshops first. This is wonderful, though. It’s so kind of the Sural to go to
all this trouble.”

Marianne patted her shoulder and nodded agreement. “Let’s go
get some lunch.”

* * *

“When are the Paranians arriving?” Marianne asked as she
tore a roll in half and bit into it.

“Tomorrow in the morning,” the Sural said.

Laura looked up from the purple fruit she was dissecting.
“Where’s Parania?”

“Parania is on the other side of Tolar,” Kyza said. “When it
is day here, it is night there.”

“That’s a long way for them to come.” Laura frowned. “Do
they have to travel through any enemy provinces to get here?”

Kyza shook her head. “Artisans have no enemies.”

“They’re not legal targets, so they can go anywhere,”
Marianne added. “Only rulers and guards have to worry about being attacked.”

The Sural sipped at his tea. “We do not worry.”