No Words Alone (8 page)

Brirax was silent, and she suddenly felt
tired. “I’m done. Let’s go back.”

Lord Ryven himself came to fetch her in the
morning. She was told they had landed at their destination.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Harris-d,” he said
in her language.

“Lord Ryven,” she greeted him, noting the use
of her rank, and the way his eyes warmed when she used his own
title. It seemed they had both been studying, for she had never
taught him a morning salutation. The Scorpio never used time
references in their greetings.

“We have landed on Rsik. It is cold out this
morning. You will want to put this on.” He handed her a coat.

She studied the dull gray material. It was at
least two sizes too big, and she wondered whom he’d borrowed it
from. Was it his? She noticed he wasn’t wearing one. “Am I supposed
to go to my room to put this on, or is putting on clothes different
from taking them off?”

He actually grinned. “You may do whichever
you like in my presence, but no one objects when a woman protects
herself from the cold.”

Was he flirting? Confused, she shot him a
suspicious look, but she couldn’t tell. Alien humor was hard to
fathom. She put on the jacket and wrapped it closed over her middle
to accommodate some of the extra fabric. The sleeves swamped her
hands, but she didn’t push them back, knowing it would protect them
from the chill.

He sized her up, amusement still lurking in
his manner. “Come. Let us have you out and done with the cold
before the coat swallows you. We have transportation waiting to
take us to my father.”

She wondered at his good mood. Was he just
happy to be home, back with his people and safe?

Captain Shiza and Toosun appeared, as well as
a handful of others. She kept her eyes open as they walked, never
knowing when observations might serve her later. There wasn’t much
to see along the route other than long hallways and a lift. In no
time they were at the ramp. A blast of cold air from outside made
her shiver.

Xera walked down the ramp and then froze in
surprise. It was snowing, with banks surrounding the landing area
and gently mounded on rooftops. That wasn’t the surprise, though.
The snow was pale lavender.

Ryven had stopped by her side. “What is
it?”

“The snow is purple!” she blurted, unfamiliar
with the word for the precipitation’s exact hue.

He exhaled in amusement and gave her a slight
nudge in her back. “Take a closer look.”There were ranks of
soldiers on each side, but it was hard for Xera to care about that
when she was busy looking at snow swirling around her feet. She
held out a hand and caught a few flakes on her coat, but they
quickly melted into nothing. “Weird,” she said under her breath.
Weird but wonderful. She wondered if the snow stained things when
it melted. Maybe that’s why these people wore so much gray.

Then again, she was on a military base; or
assumed she was. There were no civilians to be seen on the tarmac,
only buildings like fat silos with decks and mushroom roofs. A
transport was waiting for her party at the tarmac edge, and she
stooped to grab a handful of snow before she climbed in. As it
melted in her hand, a lavender cloud of gas was released.

“I give you a coat to ward off the chill and
you choose to bring it with you,” Ryven remarked, but he sounded
amused.

A glance at him confirmed it. “It melts
clear! What is this cloud that comes from it? It’s not
contaminated, is it?” She dropped the snow to the floor in sudden
consternation.

He laughed. “It won’t hurt you. The gas is a
natural part of our planet and often colors our snow.”

“No, it won’t hurt you; unless you get lost
in it,” Toosun added, after he finished chuckling. “Or it gets
under your collar when thrown at you.” He and Shiza grinned at each
other, probably recalling childhood exploits. It was odd to think
of these soldiers as carefree youths.

“Is it always this color?” Xera asked. A
glance out the window of the transport showed loads of freshly
fallen snow, with more continuing to fall, making the world a
lavender blur.

“Sometimes it’s pale blue or even white,”
Ryven said. “I have seen it pink once or twice.”

Pink snow. Xera shook her head and stared out
the window.

It was only another moment before they pulled
to a stop. They got out at the entrance to a steel and glass
building. She didn’t get a good look at the busy city around them
before she was ushered inside.

A delegation was waiting for them in the
lobby. A man of middle years and middle height bowed to their
group.

“Kenji,” Ryven acknowledged him. “How is my
father?”

“My lords. Lord Governor Atarus is eager to
see you. He bids you to come to him directly. He has refreshments
waiting.”

Ryven nodded. They all walked to the side of
the room and rode an elevator to the top floor. As they stepped
out, he told Kenji, “Toosun and Shiza will go with you. I will be
there shortly.”

“Of course, my lord.”

While the rest of them headed for the set of
golden doors directly in front of the elevator, Ryven took Xera two
doors down. Three women waited for them inside. He nodded to them,
then looked at Xera. “This is your aide and two of her assistants.
They will help you to make a favorable impression on my father.
Listen well and do whatever they tell you. You have one hour.”

Xera watched the door close behind him, then
turned and looked at the females. Awkward. Guessing she was
supposed to be the senior member of the group, she said warily,
“Hello.”

A graceful young woman in a burnt orange robe
stepped forward. “My name is Namae. We have little time. If you
would come with me?”

Since she had no desire to upset the Lord
Governor and blow her chances to be something other than “spoils of
war,” Xera nodded and followed along. Though she had recently
showered, she took a bath to “get the smell of space off her.”
Namae had a toiletries kit and gave Xera a crash course, then
dressed Xera’s hair, murmuring about its lack of length as Xera sat
wrapped in a sheet of fabric. “Still, it is thick and wavy. It will
grow,” she said consolingly. The aides were dismayed by the
condition of her hands and nails, and murmured over her poor feet
as they gave her the world’s quickest pedicure. Xera wasn’t sure
what they’d been told about her, but the women exuded sympathy.
Maybe they thought she’d had a rough life.

Whatever the case, Namae was full of helpful
tips about how to handle the governor. “Allow him to speak first,
of course. He appreciates feminine grace and beauty like any man,
so that will help you. You are handsome in an exotic way. Lord
Ryven also said you were to look to him if you were unsure. He
intends to guide you.” A current of excitement went through the
ladies as she said that.

Xera wondered what was afoot. She decided to
play the sympathy card. “I know little about your culture, and I
admit to being nervous about Lord Ryven. He won’t...hurt me, will
he?”

Namae looked horrified. “Of course not! Lord
Ryven is known as a champion of women. He is adored! You will be
safe with him.” She blushed. “Well, as safe as you wish to be.”

“He’s a womanizer, then?” Xera made sure to
sound tentative, unsure. She didn’t want to offend these
ladies.

“It is more often the women that pursue him,”
Namae offered. “He is very handsome, and rich, of course. He is
known for his bravery in war. Not only is he a lord, but a
commander of a starship as well. Who wouldn’t want him?”

Xera added “spoiled” to the list of things
she knew about Ryven. Clever, ruthless, a killer, a womanizer. The
adjectives concerned her.

“We have clothes waiting for you,” Namae said
as she completed applying Xera’s makeup. “The ship’s medics sent
your measurements here after they completed their scans. I have
never chosen colors for such fair skin and unusual eyes, but it was
an enjoyable exercise. Everything should be the right size and the
colors flattering, but we will know better when you try things on.
Let’s attempt this one first.”

She moved to a rolling clothes rack filled
with garments in dark pumpkin, russet, emerald, white with sky
blue, indigo and pink. Xera seriously doubted she’d look good in
anything on that rack. She hadn’t worn pink since she an infant,
surely, and had unilaterally rejected it since adulthood.

Namae held several garments up to Xera’s face
and murmured to herself. She finally chose a sapphire blue tunic
with slit sides and sleeves. It had a silky sky blue pajamas-type
garment that went underneath and gently swirled around Xera’s legs
and torso. After months of wearing a serviceable uniform, the
clothes felt indecently silky and light. There was a wide gold sash
for the waist and a wide collar made of brilliant blue, gold, green
and red beads, bracelets and rings. Even Xera’s slippers glittered
with beads.

“Where did all this jewelry come from?” she
asked, bewildered. “This seems extravagant.”

“We want the lord governor to see you as we
wish you to be,” Namae said as she fixed a headdress with long
trailing beads in Xera’s hair. “Never underestimate the power of
dazzling beauty.”

Xera was allowed her first look in the
full-length mirror. She gasped, hardly recognizing the image. She
looked exotic, frighteningly feminine with her waist cinched with
the sash and her irritatingly large breasts tamed by the wrapped
top. Why hadn’t she tried harder to find clothes that made her look
this good before? Maybe she’d told herself that she was too busy,
or maybe she didn’t have Namae’s talent. “You’re good,” she said
frankly.

Namae smiled. “Our hour is up. There will be
an escort to Lord Ryven now.”

Xera wasn’t surprised to see Brirax outside
the door, but she didn’t recognize the other three men. Brirax
didn’t say anything, but his eyes made a quick scan of her as he
bowed slightly. “Come this way, Lieutenant Harrisdaughter.”

She didn’t feel like a lieutenant as she
moved along in her slippers, trying to relax. The silky
underclothes were terribly distracting on her bare skin. She prayed
that didn’t show.

The golden door opened. Xera walked as
gracefully as she could through a foyer and into an inviting living
room. Three of the four men inside rose to their feet as she
entered. She couldn’t tell from Ryven’s eyes what he thought of her
transformation, but he moved forward and took her hand in a
proprietary manner. “Dangerous woman,” he murmured. “Come, meet my
father.”

Chapter 7

The rough timbre of his voice made Xera shiver. His
slow, deliberate movements, as if he were savoring the moment,
didn’t help. Ryven led her before the older man sitting on the
throne. Frankly, the man looked old enough to be his grandfather
and must have sired him at a late age. He had a surprising amount
of white hair neatly tamed on his head, and a thin, delicately
groomed Fu Manchu that trailed down past his chin. He looked
somewhat like a tanned catfish with fiery eyes.

His robes were simple brown, with a
black-belted waist and a cream-colored undertunic. The room was
decorated with similar, Zen-like simplicity. The floors were tiled
in tan stone with a black mosaic, and pillows for sitting lined the
room. The chamber featured light filtering through the rough-hewn
beams, giving it a tranquil look.

Those keen old eyes, so like Ryven’s, studied
Xera. “If this is a sample of the women that serve on human
battleships, I think we will be more careful about taking our
prizes. You are a beautiful woman, Lieutenant Xera
Harrisdaughter.”

She lowered her face as heat fired her
cheeks, unable to help herself. She wasn’t used to compliments or
such frank appreciation. “Thank you, Lord Governor.”

“Hm. Sit. Refresh yourself.” The Lord
Governor Atarus looked at Ryven. “I think you have not told me the
half of your adventures, my son. You mentioned her spirit, but not
those magnificent blue eyes.” He looked back at Xera. “I am told
that your captain attacked you, that you broke his knee. Why did
you allow him to live?”

Caught off guard, she had to think about
that. “Our laws...if we had been rescued by a ship of our own and I
had killed him, I might have been found guilty of murder. It would
have been my word against the rest of the crew’s.”

Those eyes bored into her. “But you were not
found by a ship of yours.”

“No...Lord Governor.” She was beginning to
see this man for the canny old warrior he was. She’d have to be
careful and guard her tongue or he’d trip her.

“You hesitate when using my title.”

She frowned thoughtfully. “I have to remind
myself to not simply call you ‘sir.’ We do not have lord governors
where I am from. Also, I feel I am pronouncing the words badly and
am trying to do a better job.” There
were
some awkward
syllables in there.

“Is that how you would address the ruler of
your country? As ‘sir’?”

“Yes...Lord Governor.”

He relaxed into his chair. “You may call me
‘sir.’”

She also relaxed, relieved to have gotten so
far without mortally offending him.

“Drink,” Ryven said, and handed her a chilled
glass. “He has not eaten you yet, and I suspect he will not.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said rather
gratefully. She couldn’t detect any spirits in the drink, but
decided to go slowly, just in case. She didn’t need to make a
drunken fool of herself, especially now.

The talk turned to lighter things. She let
the men speak and merely observed, trying to learn more about them.
That worked for perhaps five minutes.

“I have never known a woman to be silent
unless she is frightened or angry,” Lord Atarus observed. “Which
are you, Lieutenant?”

She blinked. “I am observing, sir. There is
more to being a translator than speaking the language.”