Tasha’s eyes opened a little more, her interest piqued. “Why? Was yours that boring?”
Cissy waved a dismissive hand. “We had a good time. Lemanthev concerts don’t allow for much conversation, though. I can’t say I got to know the clan I was with, but I do like the raw energy of that tribal-sounding stuff. I went more for the music than the company, in all honesty. So, that’s about it from me. What about that Clan Diltan? Were they as stuffy and boring as they looked?”
Actually, none of the three men had looked stuffy to Cissy’s eyes, not even Diltan. Nor boring. In particular, the Nobek had caught Cissy’s attention. Rolat had been an amazing eyeful of rough and ready. Big, bold, and delicious. Cissy had entertained the fantasy of grabbing him by the wonderfully muscled arm and dragging him to her bed. So what if he wasn’t the gorgeous equal of his Dramok? Cissy found such men much more fascinating to look at than the handsome ones.
Not that Diltan was conventionally handsome. He was gorgeous, damn the man. Someone needed to break his nose, just to steal some of that perfection away. Cissy thought that if he ever asked for volunteers, she’d be glad to offer her services.
Even quiet Wal had not committed the sin of being one-dimensionally pleasing to the eye. He was attractive, just nice enough to pass the gaze over. However, there had been the flash of a grin once, before the three men had seen Cissy in the pool – and then he’d been quite stunning, in an intelligent, sweetly nerdy way.
As Cissy mused about her sister’s dates, Tasha said, “They were okay. I don’t think we connected, but they were nice enough.”
Trying to sound unconcerned and believing she pulled it off, Cissy asked, “Do you think you’ll see them again?”
Tasha shrugged. She took a deep swallow of her coffee before answering. “I don’t know. They aren’t bad, but ... I don’t know. I might give it another shot. They all have that rank and status these Kalquorians are so crazy to show off.”
“That’s true.” A councilman, the director of the Empire’s prison system, and a judge. Rank out the wazoo, Cissy thought. If Tasha joined Clan Diltan, she’d never want for anything. If they could make her sister happy, Cissy would even try to be nice to Diltan on holidays and special occasions.
Thinking this, she told her twin, “You never know, Tash. Dramok Snooty and his boys might be your happily-ever-after.”
Tasha made a face. “It makes me feel bad that they only get to try five gals before they get shut out of the lottery. That’s not a lot of opportunity, is it? I suppose I should see them again. Maybe.”
Tasha was clearly ambivalent about Clan Diltan. Only her typical kindness made her consider seeing them again. It would probably be a waste of her time.
There’s no harm in them coming around one or two more times though,
Cissy thought. So they were uppity. They were still decent eye candy for her to enjoy as long as Tasha remained willing to give them a chance. Unlike the men, Tasha had no limits on the clans she could entertain before making a final decision.
Cissy wondered if a trio like Clan Diltan ever cut loose and had real fun. It was hard to imagine Diltan or his bookish-looking Imdiko attending a lemanthev concert. Rolat probably would like that sort of thing. Or maybe his clanmates had drained all the hedonism out of the big burly beast.
And why for heaven’s sake was she thinking about Clan Diltan so much?
They were not on Cissy’s list of potential suitors, at least not that she’d seen. Then again, she hadn’t looked at her prospects in about the last month either. Had Clan Diltan joined the lottery since that time? If they’d been there before, Cissy knew for a fact they weren’t on the first screen that held her most compatible choices.
What the hell, even her compatibility score was a joke. The lottery questionnaire had been an hours-long task, one Cissy hadn’t taken seriously for an instant. When Tasha discovered Cissy was posting sarcastic answers, she’d taken over her unrepentant twin’s profile. There was no telling what responsible Tasha had written about Cissy.
No doubt Tasha would have done her best to represent Cissy in a positive light, one that would attract the best possible clan. Cissy told herself it was for the same reason that she was interested in Clan Diltan on Tasha’s behalf. Her twin deserved mates who were successful and could funnel some of their prestige and money into Tasha’s dreams for the future. Tasha had been an interior decorator back on Earth, but she’d dreamed of being an architect using sustainable materials. Crowded, polluted Earth had needed people with such skills. Earth was gone, but with Kalquor’s insistence on pristine natural settings, their new home seemed the perfect place to study eco-friendly building. Tasha just needed the funds and schooling to pursue that wish. She was too proud to ask Jessica for such assistance, though their cousin would have surely given it to her. Tasha wanted to be a part of a clan to which she could repay any contribution made. Surely the finances of a councilman, judge, and head of an entire governmental department would allow for that.
First, Tasha had to get off her duff and be serious about finding a clan. She had been ambivalent about settling down all of her adult life. She was reticent given even the repressive rules on Earth when it came to interactions with the opposite sex. Tasha had never gone on more than one date with the same man. The last five years they’d lived on Earth, she hadn’t dated at all. Cissy had wondered if her sister was determined to be an old maid.
However, Tasha had been an absolute beast for sex on the Kalquorian transport – yet just like on Earth, she rarely saw the same men twice. She had shown no real interest in ever settling down. That Tasha had entered the lottery had been a surprise to Cissy. As cousin to the empress, she would have been allowed to stay on Kalquor without searching for clanmates.
If her sister held true to form, Cissy had the feeling Tasha would never see Clan Diltan again. That was too bad given what they could offer her. Plus it was fun to needle those guys. Making Diltan look horrified could have provided no end of amusement for Cissy. However, she couldn’t push Tasha to see three men just to provide her with entertainment.
Cissy mentally shrugged her shoulders, not thinking too hard about the stab of regret she felt. Maybe Tasha would make good on her guilty feelings to allow another date with the councilman’s clan. In the end, it came down to one thing: it was Tasha’s life and therefore her call.
* * * *
Two weeks later
Diltan sighed. His head sank down to where his arms folded on the surface of his desk. His head throbbed.
As with many things men aspired to gain, Diltan’s latest reward had turned out nothing like he had hoped. The honor of reviewing the late Imperial Father Zarl’s records truly was an honor. It was also sheer drudgery.
Diltan had known the review would have its share of boredom. After all, Zarl had been part of the Empire’s ruling clan for over 80 years. Only the months that followed the shuttle crash that claimed Empress Irdis’ life and caused Zarl horrific injuries had interrupted his reign. Even then, he had ruled from his bed with his son Clajak speaking on his behalf when needed.
It turned out that Zarl had been meticulous to the nth degree when it came to keeping notes on governing Kalquor. Every piece of legislation, every memo he’d sent to assistants and councilmen and ambassadors, every query to every committee, every scrap of research – he’d kept it all accounted for. To call the number of records staggering would be an understatement.
At first Diltan had found the work fascinating. With Zarl keeping such detailed records, Diltan got more than a glimpse into how the former emperor’s mind worked. Zarl had been just and fair in his dealings with people in public. His kindness was legendary, almost to the point where opponents named him weak. Yet from the private communications Zarl had exchanged, Diltan detected examples of a man impatient with those who didn’t see things his way, a crafty persuader who liked to tip the scales in his favor when possible. Slights might be publicly forgiven, but Zarl never forgot them. It was interesting to see how he’d often had to rein in his less kind impulses. One refrain Diltan saw repeated over and over in Zarl’s private messages was, ‘It is killing me to agree with these idiots, but they are right on this occasion. I must swallow my pride and do what is best for the Empire.’
He was just a man underneath it all. Few people saw the moments of indecision, the moments of anger. What Kalquor saw was the sage judgment that happened after Zarl privately vented his frustrations to those he trusted. Once he was able to share his angst, he let honor and duty dictate his course; never personal feelings.
Diltan was awed at Zarl’s iron control over his feelings.
Two weeks had passed since Diltan had been given the files to review. The Dramok had taken to skimming over the more mundane issues of Zarl’s day: budget issues, food and education regulatory matters, and other small items that meant nothing to the Empire’s current well-being. He’d been more careful when it came to border issues with Bi’is, Empire security against the always opportunistic Tragooms, and the first reports of Earther encounters.
Even though Diltan was deep into Zarl’s records about early discussions with officials about Earth, his thoughts kept drifting away. Most of it was the same boring thing over and over anyway:
We must keep offering help to Earth, must keep showing them proof we may have a common ancestry, must keep asking to test for breeding compatibility.
On and on it went, Zarl’s nonstop hope of coming to a peaceful accord with the other planet. Diltan had to re-read documents because he couldn’t keep his mind on the repetitive memos and missives.
He even switched off his com and all other vids from his three computers, save the one showing the current document he reviewed. Diltan liked to listen to music during his workday, especially the new rimnastin music that was coming out due to the fusion of Kalquorian and Earther cultures. He particularly liked to have it playing when those councilmen who protested the mixing of the two races dropped by to negotiate deals. It amused him to see them ask him for help while being forced to hear evidence that they could not stop integration from happening.
Unfortunately, removing all those diversions left more room for the biggest distraction of them all: Tasha Salter’s call a few days ago setting up a second date. Clan Diltan was getting another chance to impress her tonight.
Diltan’s excitement drew his attention from the files he should have been examining. His hopes of seeing the lovely Tasha again had been growing dimmer as the days passed with no word after their first meeting. Not that he’d expected to hear from her. She’d given no indication that she found his clan enticing. Rolat and Wal had spoken of finding her a bit boring and were more than happy to move on to other potential Mataras. Diltan had to admit he had felt the same way. Still, Tasha had been an acceptable choice of a mate. His urge to gain yet another status symbol signifying his success had wanted things to work out with the empress’ cousin.
It irritated Diltan that part of him still chased a higher standing among his peers. He knew full well it wasn’t others he wanted to prove himself to. He was still grasping for the inner knowledge that he was good enough to warrant the prizes and rank he’d risen to.
Only a fool would not make good on the chance to win Tasha’s favor, though. She was all the things Diltan had hoped for in a mate. Surely he could grow to love the woman if given the chance. Her family ties were secondary.
Yet as Diltan stared unseeing at his vid screen once more, it was Cissy in her scandalous soaksuit that kept popping up in his mind’s eye. Cissy with that spark in her hazel eyes. Cissy with her crude warnings. Cissy with her handprint blazing on a mouthwateringly round ass cheek.
Diltan realized he’d lost another five minutes contemplating the wrong woman. He squeezed his eyes shut and muttered between clenched teeth, “You little rambunctious rascal. I would not clan you in a million years, not that you’d give me the option. Get out of my head.”
The Dramok took a deep breath and opened his eyes to gaze at his small office bar with longing. Lounging on the comfortable seating cushions of the nearby conversation area with a drink in hand would be a wonderful escape from this review drudgery. Enough drinks and he might even be able to drown out thoughts of Cissy. The temptation beckoned.
Instead Diltan leaned forward in his hover chair and re-read the latest document of the review. Then he perused another file. This time he managed to get through some of the work. He scanned yet another list of Zarl’s concerns about proposed legislation that would ban Kalquorian men and clans from taking on AWOL Earther soldiers as live-in companions. Zarl had wanted to give all those Earther men sanctuary since homosexual relations were a death penalty felony on Earth. His wishes had prevailed, thank the ancestors. Who knew how many lives had been saved because of Zarl?
Another document came up, one that concerned a memorial for those killed in past skirmishes with Bi’is. Zarl had signed off on it, probably without a second’s hesitation.
Next came notes on the assignment of a new ambassador to Joshada, made seven years ago. Diltan scowled. He thought he’d already cleared out the small stuff like this and the veterans’ memorial. These nitpicky documents kept slipping through the cracks, however. At least they were easy to get through, he consoled himself.
Who knew that being an emperor was so damned boring? Diltan wondered how much more awful it was for the Nobek of the Imperial Clan. If former emperor Yuder and the present emperor Bevau were forced to deal with so many administrative bits and pieces, it was a wonder they didn’t go crazy and murder the entire Royal Council.
Diltan chuckled to himself a little about that. His own Nobek often came home grouchy when he’d been stuck in the office all day, meeting with staff and regulators. Fortunately Rolat had a couple of Dramok assistants to foist the most meaningless drivel onto. If Diltan remembered correctly, Emperor Bevau’s assistant was also a Dramok. That couldn’t be an accident.