Bringing Stella Home (11 page)

“
What?”

He reached over and tugged at her
clothes. “Take off.”

Her cheeks went pale, and she kept her
arms wrapped firmly around her chest. “No.”

Engus put his hands on his hips and
clucked loudly at her. “You need wash. Take off.”

Behind her, the beads clattered.
Stella turned and saw another servant step into the room, carrying
a stack of bath towels. He was tall and lanky, with his long black
hair tied back in a ponytail. He bowed at her, then at
Engus.

While she was distracted, Engus
grabbed her tunic and started to lift it up. Without thinking, she
pushed him away.

“
No!” she
shouted.

Engus’s face turned red with fury. He
stood up straight, stomped the ground with one foot, and shouted a
string of incomprehensible Belarian obscenities. Stella cringed,
while the tall man set down the towels on a bench and put a hand on
Engus’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him.

“
I can wash myself,” Stella
said in Belarian, her voice a little shaky. “I don’t need you to
undress me.”

Engus shrugged off the other man and
stepped right up to her, placing his pointer finger only inches
from her mouth. His eyes were wide with indignation.

“
No,” he said. “You learn.
Take off.”

Stella hesitated, not sure
what to do. She would rather run away than undress herself in front
of these men, but she had nowhere to go.
Play the game.

While Engus fumed at her,
the new man gave her a friendly smile. He seemed harmless
enough.
They’re just eunuchs,
Stella told herself.
They
won’t try to do anything to me.

As if that made it any
easier.

She took a deep breath and pulled the
tunic over her head. As she dropped it by her side, flashbacks of
the prisoner ship came flooding back to her. She trembled from the
memories and covered herself as best she could.

Fortunately, Engus wasted no time. By
the time she had her tunic off, he already had the shower door
open.

“
In,” he said. Stella was
all too eager to comply.

The cylindrical shower
chamber was a newer model, with hundreds of water jets embedded in
vertical rows along the wall—many times more than the shower unit
on the
Llewellyn
.
It stood a couple of feet taller than her body and was narrow
enough that she could easily touch the edges with her elbows. A
small light fixture set behind smooth duraglass illuminated the
chamber from the top. The glass door was diffuse enough to give her
some privacy, but transparent enough for the men to see her. She
tried her best to ignore that.

All right,
she thought to herself, searching for a
waterproofed access panel.
What
next?

Hot, pressurized water shot out at her
from all directions, blasting her skin. She yelped in surprise, but
soon got over the initial shock. The soap had a wonderful, fragrant
smell, and the temperature was perfect—not too hot, not too
cold.

She raised her hands above her head,
letting the water wash over her. With her eyes closed, she brought
her hands down and rubbed the sweat and dirt out of her face and
hair, massaging her scalp with her fingertips. From there, she
moved down and built up a good lather across her body. The soap
penetrated her pores, flushing out the filthiness of the prisoner
ship and leaving her wonderfully clean. For a brief moment, she
forgot the war, forgot the prisoner ship, forgot the eunuchs and
the harem and all of her fears and anxieties and just closed her
eyes and let herself relax.

The rinse cycle blasted her from all
sides like a flood. She gasped for breath, tilting her head back to
keep her mouth and nose clear. The pressure was so high that all
she could do was sway from side to side as the shower water
pummeled her. It made her feel as if she were swimming up a
waterfall.

After what felt like an eternity, the
water died down and the chamber gradually emptied. A blast of hot
air hit her from above as a roaring vacuum opened in the drain
beneath her feet. She reached up with her hands and stretched her
whole body upward, standing on her toes. The precious water
streamed down her skin under the powerful hot wind, sucked into the
drain where it would be collected, filtered, and
recycled.

All too soon, the hot air died down
and the door slid open. Stella stepped out on unsteady legs, too
delirious to care that she was naked. The air in the room felt
surprisingly cold compared to the warmth of the shower, and she
began to shiver. Someone, either Engus or the other servant,
wrapped a towel around her. The fabric was soft and thick, like a
blanket. She pulled it close.

As she did, hands grabbed her through
the towel and started to rub her down.

“
Yi!” she shrieked, jumping
away.

Engus clucked and shook his head.
“No,” he said, stepping forward with his hands outstretched. “Need
dry.”

“
I can dry myself!” she
shouted, self-consciousness flooding back to her.

Engus’s face turned beet red, but the
tall man put a hand on his shoulder and conferred in a low voice.
After a few moments, Engus nodded and folded his arms.

“
We wait,” he said. “You
dry.”

With the men still watching
her, Stella turned her back to them and loosened the towel just
enough to dry herself.
Perverts.
She wished they would at least give her some
degree of privacy, but that didn’t seem to exist in this place. Not
for her.

When she was finished, she wrapped the
towel tightly around her body and picked up a second one from the
bench for her hair.

“
Come,” said Engus. He
motioned to a small, metal chair on the other side of the
room.

As she sat down, Engus and the other
servant pulled up stools. Engus took a seat at her side and started
filing her nails, while the taller man sat down directly in front
of her. Stella watched him reach down and gently lift her leg onto
his lap. He then took out a rough, sponge-like stone from a pocket
and gently scrubbed the sole of her foot. Even though it was
strange to have a man she didn’t know touch her that way, Stella
had to admit that it felt really good.

As the two men worked, they started up
a conversation. By concentrating, Stella found she was able to
follow along.

“
The girl is quite pretty,
if a little young,” said the tall man. He spoke much slower and
more clearly than Engus, probably because Belarian wasn’t his first
language.

Engus responded, but Stella didn’t
understand much of what he said. She picked out the name ‘Tagatai,’
and the word ‘captain.’

“
Yes,” said the tall man as
he filed her nails. “She seems shy, though I don’t blame
her.”

Engus snorted and made a glib reply,
which Stella didn’t catch.

“
Still,” said the tall man,
“she has a thoughtful air about her. I do not think she is as out
of touch as the others.” He finished with her right foot and set it
gently on the floor; Stella helped him by lifting the other before
he reached for it.

Engus answered. Stella picked out the
words ‘name’ and ‘need.’

“
You are right,” said the
tall man. “She does need a name. What should it be?”

“
I already have a name,”
Stella interrupted, mustering her command of formal Belarian as
best as she could. Engus coughed, and the tall man stopped and
looked up at her.

“
My name is Stella McCoy,”
she said. “That is who I am.”

The tall man smiled. “It appears that
our little mouse perceives more than we thought.”

Engus snorted.

“
My name is Narju,” said
the tall man. “But here, you must take a new name.”

“
Why?”

Narju’s face fell, but not in an
unkindly way. “You are starting a new life here, little mouse.
Trust me, it will be better if you leave your past behind and
forget it.”

Stella’s jaw tensed, and her eyes
began to burn. The faces of her family flashed before her mind’s
eye: Father and Mother; Ben, her big brother; and James, the
youngest. Did the Hameji expect her to forget about them? How could
she ever do that?

Shh,
she told herself, swallowing her tears.
Bide your time. Play the game.

“
Do not be sad,” said
Narju. “We will give you an auspicious name, one to bring you good
fortune.”

Stella bit her lip and nodded. Narju
resumed scrubbing her foot.

“
There is a star many
hundred years of light from the Hameji home system, called in their
legends
Sholpan
—the shy goddess. It is a white dwarf orbiting a much larger
super-giant. To most, the two appear to be one, but master
astrogators can tell them apart. Among the Hameji, it is said that
to triangulate one’s position by this star is to invite good
luck.”

Stella racked her brain for any binary
system she knew of that fit that description. As an apprentice
astrogator, she’d memorized the names and coordinates of several
hundred stars, but this one didn’t sound familiar. Maybe if she’d
studied harder, she would have recognized it. She wished she
had.

“
Good name,” said Engus in
New Gaian from behind her. “Master Qasar be happy with.”

“
I hope so,” said Narju, in
Belarian.

Master Qasar?
Stella’s heart beat a little faster.

“
Who is Master
Qasar?”

Narju smiled kindly, though Stella
thought she could see a trace of sadness in his eyes. “Master Qasar
is the commander of this ship. He is your lord now,
Sholpan.”

Sholpan
. The name sounded harsh to Stella’s ears. She formed her lips
around the word, but it felt strange and unfamiliar, like something
foreign. Something that was not her.

Engus finished with Stella’s nails and
rose from his seat. He uttered a string of commands to Narju and
stepped out of the room. The bead curtain clattered shut behind
him.

“
What does this ‘Qasar’
want with me?” Stella asked, more comfortable now that Engus was
gone. “What is this place?”

“
Peace,” said Narju,
finishing with her left foot. “You are safe—no one will harm you.”
He rose to his feet.

“
But where am I?” she
asked, rising with him. “Some kind of harem? And who are you
supposed to be—one of my servants?”

“
I am Narju, your personal
attendant,” he said. “You are on Master Qasar’s ship. You…belong to
him now.”

Even though it came as no surprise,
Stella’s whole body went rigid with shock.

“
So that’s it?” she said,
her voice cracking. “I’m supposed to be some kind of glorified
whore?”

“
Please, calm yourself,”
said Narju. “You are safe here. Master Qasar is busy and probably
will not see you for many days. You will be treated well. Do not
trouble yourself.”

Stella swallowed. She had a hundred
other questions, but before she could ask any of them, Narju
pressed a finger against her lips.

“
No more questions,” he
said. “I will answer them later.”

How much later?
Stella wanted to scream.
Why can’t you answer me now?
Instead,
she bit her lip and did her best to be calm. If Narju was right and
Qasar wouldn’t see her for a few days, she could afford to wait.
Play the game, bide her time. She’d find a way out.

From the open locker, Narju pulled out
a thin white gown. “Here,” he said, turning to her. “Take off your
towel. You need to see the doctor.”

Stella frowned. “Why?”

“
For your examination.
Please, let me put this on you.”

Stella tensed. “I can dress myself,
thanks.”

“
But milady,” said Narju,
bowing deeply, “I live to serve you.”

This so surprised Stella that she
could think of nothing to say to it. Still, she made no move to
comply.

“
Very well,” said Narju. “I
understand how you must feel, being new to this place. If you wish,
I will let you dress yourself.”

Stella let out a quiet sigh of relief
as Narju left the room, the bead curtain clattering behind him.
When she was satisfied that she had as much privacy as she was
going to get, she let her towel drop to the floor and slipped into
the sleeveless gown. It was open in the back, and although she did
her best to tie it shut, she found it difficult to reach behind
her. She arched her back to get a better angle.

“
Are you ready?” Narju
asked from outside the doorway.

“
Yes,” said Stella,
finishing up with the last tie.

Narju walked up behind her and
examined her work. Before she could protest, he busied himself
retying her knots.

“
You need not be so shy in
this place,” he told her. “The only men allowed on this level are
eunuchs such as myself. Our Hameji overlords have made it quite
impossible for us to do anything but serve you.”