"Well, I think you should try harder," Windura said bluntly. "He doesn't deserve to be treated like that."
"I know," Micayla moaned. "But I just can't help it. The funny thing is, I keep thinking he should be doing something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know," Micayla replied. "Something to make me change the way I feel about him--but whatever it is, he's not doing it."
Windura stretched out on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Maybe it's a Zetithian thing. There's lots of things you don't know about them."
"Yeah, like damn near everything," Micayla agreed. "And it's for sure Trag won't enlighten me."
"Maybe you should talk to Kyra or Tychar," Windura suggested, sounding rather sleepy.
"Yeah, maybe," Micayla agreed. "But right now I'm too tired to think about it."
"Me too," said Windura. Snuggling down into her pillow, she added, "You know, this living in a palace could grow on me. I've never been on a more comfortable bed. It sure beats that cot of Hidar's--although, after seeing everything else around here, I was afraid we'd be sleeping on a bed of rocks."
"Me too," Micayla agreed. "Want to try the lights?"
"Go for it."
Micayla directed her thoughts to the glowstones set into the ceiling and wished it was dark. The stones slowly dimmed in response. "Now that's cool," she remarked.
Unfortunately, it was the only thing cool on Darconia, which they discovered the
next morning.
"My God, it's hot here," Micayla said over breakfast. "I'm already thinking about stripping down and the sun's barely up yet."
"It takes a while to acclimate," Kyra said, passing her a glass of fruit juice. "Just be sure to drink plenty of fluids and wear whatever you feel comfortable in. I'll be happy to loan you some beads if you like."
"I'll keep that in mind," Micayla said, pausing to take a sip. Just then, Trag walked in wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung, loose-fitting shorts, nearly causing her to choke on her juice.
Windura was less subtle, letting out a low whistle. "Damn, Trag, you look--well--
fabulous."
"Handsome devil, isn't he?" Kyra said proudly. "Overdressed, of course, but still very handsome."
"I, um, thought this was best, under the circumstances," Trag muttered as he took a seat next to Kyra. "Nice to feel warm again, though."
Kyra leaned over to give him a one-armed hug. "Nice to have you here," she said warmly. "We hardly ever get to see you anymore. You should visit more often."
"Yeah, I know," Trag said, piling his plate with fruit. "It's the only place I can feel warm enough and get decent food."
"You know, you don't have to leave," Kyra reminded him. "You could stay here from now on."
Trag shrugged. "I'll think about it."
Micayla was staring at Trag's bare chest as though her eyes were stuck to it.
Sitting at the table, he might as well have been naked except for the comstone hanging from a chain around his neck, and though his certainly wasn't the first perfect male body she'd ever seen, she felt an overwhelming urge to bite him. She'd just picked out a spot on his shoulder to sink her fangs into when she was distracted by the arrival of Lerotan, who was dressed in the same kind of shorts as Trag, except that his were made from a thin, gauzy material that left very little to the imagination and had a slit up the back to accommodate his tail. He was followed by Hidar who, having never worn clothing of any kind, looked the same as always, and by Rodan, who was completely naked. Windura let out a shriek and fled from the room.
"Was it something I said?" Lerotan inquired blandly.
"I think she's gone to find Dragus," Micayla said, noting that she had to swallow some excess saliva before she spoke. "They had an appointment. She must have just remembered it."
"Uh-huh," Lerotan said, sounding unconvinced. "Must have been important."
"Oh, it was," Micayla assured him. "Very important."
Lerotan was still staring out the open doorway at Windura's retreating figure, his tail lashing back and forth like that of an angry lion.
"I don't think Vessonians are comfortable with nudity," Kyra said, filling in the awkward silence. "We've had a few Vessonian traders here, but they never seem to stay very long."
"That must be it," Lerotan said absently. Frowning, he took a seat across from Micayla and bit rather savagely into a large peach-like fruit. Rodan sat down next to him--thankfully out of Micayla's line of sight, though it wouldn't have mattered anyway because her gaze was once again riveted to that succulent spot on Trag's left shoulder.
Deciding that Lerotan had the right idea, Micayla picked up a fruit that looked a little like an apple and, though it wasn't quite as satisfying as she'd hoped, sank her fangs into it, letting the juice run down her chin. She'd eaten several bites before she noticed Kyra's giggles.
She glanced at her hostess questioningly, but Kyra only shot a look at Hidar
before staring back down at her own plate.
Following Kyra's glance, Micayla saw that while all three of the men were
attacking pieces of whole fruit as if they were starving, Hidar was delicately slicing his with a knife and fork held in his claw-like forelegs. Skewering a tiny bit with the fork, Hidar then held it up to his bony mandibles, his antennae beating furiously as he nibbled off an infinitesimal amount.
"I cannot eat this," Hidar announced, putting down his fork. "I need cooked food."
"You ate it last night," Lerotan said, "didn't you?"
"I did not," Hidar said petulantly. "I was very hungry, but I did not eat."
"Sorry, Hidar," Kyra said, "but hardly anybody cooks their food here--not in the palace, anyway."
"Then I will starve," Hidar said, his voice sounding even more high-pitched and piteous than usual. "Or I must return to the ship for sustenance."
"You could go to the McDonald's," Micayla suggested. "I saw one on the way from the spaceport. I'm sure they can cook something up for you."
"After all we went through to get that McDonald's, I can't believe I didn't think of it first," Kyra exclaimed. "Great idea!"
At the mere mention of the name, Hidar's antennae had stopped waving and now
stood straight up. "A McDonald's?" he said. "I must have missed it. Where did you say it was?"
"It's not far," Kyra replied. "Just beyond the outer edge of the farmland that surrounds the palace. One of the guards could take you there in a hovercar."
Hidar stood up, fluttering his wings. "No need," he said. "I will fly." Perching briefly on the casement, he launched himself from the open window and was gone.
"Good thing there wasn't any glass in those windows," Micayla muttered.
"I don't remember this being a problem the last time you were here," Kyra said, clearly puzzled by Hidar's behavior.
"I think he's going through the change," Lerotan replied. "It's a Scorillian thing.
They get really picky when they're about to molt."
"Ah, I see," said Kyra. "Well, if he doesn't want to fly over to McDonald's for
every meal, we can have it delivered." Grinning at Micayla, she added, "It's one of the perks of living in a palace. Free delivery." With a quick glance in his direction, she went on, casually, "Trag, you need to take Micayla and show her The Shrine."
"The Shrine?"
"Yes," Kyra replied. "It's where the slaves used to live, but it's the most beautiful part of the palace. Actually, there are two of them; one is the oasis source and one is like a huge greenhouse. You need to see them both."
Micayla tried to think of a reason to say no, knowing that Trag wouldn't like the idea any more than she did, but couldn't come up with an excuse. Instead, she stammered out, "I--I don't think--I'm not sure he would want--"
"I'll take you," Rodan volunteered eagerly. "I know where it is."
The thought of being escorted through the palace by a nude Rodan nearly sent
Micayla into shock. "Don't bother, Rodan," she began, "I'm sure I can--"
"I'll do it," Trag said shortly, cutting off her protest as he got to his feet. "Come on."
He was quick on his feet--was almost to the door by the time Micayla got up to
follow him--but even so, she thought he was moving rather stiffly.
"I'm only doing this so you won't have to go with Rodan," he said over his shoulder as soon as they were out of earshot. "I wouldn't wish that on anybody."
"Even me?" Micayla said grimly.
"Even you," he said shortly. "Even though you were sitting there looking like you wanted to take a piece out of me." Scowling at her, he added, "I've already figured out that you can't stand the sight of me, but do you have to keep rubbing my nose in it?"
"I can't--"
"Help it?" he finished for her. "Yeah, I've figured that out too."
Micayla tried counting to three but only made it to two before retorting, "You're pretty damned obvious yourself. I saw the way--"
Rounding on her with fangs bared and eyes glowing like an inferno, he said
tersely, "Don't say it."
"Windura noticed it too," she went on. "You should be more careful."
"It's none of her business either," he said, turning on his heel to charge off down the corridor again. "Come on, Mick. Let's get this over with."
He'd already taken so many turns, Micayla was sure she'd never find her way back
to her room or anywhere else, so she had no choice but to follow him. He seemed to be walking better, but unfortunately, his shoulder looked like it needed biting again. She could almost feel herself running toward him, pouncing on him, digging into him with her nails and fangs. She was just about to lose all control and do just that when the guard posted by an ornate set of doors called out:
"Hey there, Slave Boy! I heard you were back. How the hell you been?"
"Just fine, Hartak," Trag replied, wincing as the huge Darconian pounded him on the back in greeting. "This is Micayla," he said, cocking a thumb at her. "Okay if I show her The Shrine?"
"Oh, yeah, sure," Hartak said. "Anybody can go in now. I've got the easiest job in the palace." Grinning at Micayla he added, "'Course, I used to have the best job in the palace."
"Oh," Micayla said with a questioning look at Trag. "Really?"
Trag laughed. "He was Kyra's guard."
"God, I loved that job." Hartak sighed. Shaking his fearsome head, he added longingly, "Those were the days."
"Well, for you, maybe," Trag conceded, "but I was a slave. Remember?"
"And now you're a pilot," Hartak said with frank admiration. "You always said you could fly anything. Looks like you've proved it."
"Yeah, I guess so," Trag said, seeming slightly embarrassed. "We're just going to have a look around. Is the stairway open?"
"Yeah," Hartak replied. "It's even clean." With a sweeping gesture, he added,
"Welcome to The Shrine of the Desert, Micayla. Enjoy your visit."
Micayla was already uncomfortably hot, but as soon as she passed through the
entrance, the heat became even more pronounced and the humidity level quadrupled. It was like trying to breathe through hot, wet cotton.
"You used to live here?" she said incredulously. "I can barely breathe! How did you stand it?"
"I lived here for twenty years," Trag replied, taking a deep, obviously satisfying breath. "You get used to it."
"Now I understand why you're so cold all the time," she said, fanning her face,
"but I don't think I'd want to spend much time in here myself." Walking toward the middle, she turned slowly, taking it all in. They were standing inside an enormous clear bubble set against the back of the palace, which afforded a breathtaking view of the distant mountains. Just inside the doors to the left, water cascaded from a carved niche high up in the stone wall, while blooming, tropical plants grew in profusion all around her. Beyond the glass dome was a walled patio sitting on top of the portico that encircled the palace, half of which was sheltered from the sun by a domed roof supported by six stone columns. "It is pretty, though."
"Yeah," Trag said with a quiet sigh. "A beautiful cage for Scalia's little slave boys. I'll say this much for her--she kept us alive and gave us a nice place to live. Too bad she had to die to set us free."
Something in his tone struck her, and she looked over at him, suddenly seeing him in a completely different light. "You were fond of her?"
Trag nodded. "We all liked her. Hell, Sladnil was in love with her--and he's a Norludian. I know it sounds weird for slaves to actually like their master, but we did. She was quite a queen."
"I can't imagine what it would be like to be a slave," Micayla said slowly. "It must have been horrible."
"Not really. We were well treated; we just couldn't leave the palace. That was the hard part." Laughing mirthlessly, he added, "Trouble is, now that I'm free, there are still places I can't go."
"The bounty?"
Trag nodded. "That and other things."
She thought she understood him, which prompted her to ask, "What do you think our chances are going up against someone like Grekkor?"
"Not good," he replied. "Though Jack's a tough one to cross. She knows an awful lot of people throughout the galaxy--some allies and some enemies--and with her on our side, our chances improve significantly." He paused, then added, "I don't know about
you, but I'd rather not have to spend every minute my life wondering when I'm gonna get shot in the back. I think we at least have to try."
Nodding, Micayla said, "Or end up in another cage."
"Yeah. No matter how big or how beautiful it is, it's still a cage." Motioning toward the outer doors, he said, "Come on, I'll show you the rest."
Micayla followed him down a spiral staircase built inside one of the gleaming
columns to ground level. Trag led the way underneath the portico to an open chamber below and to the east of The Shrine they had just left.
"I saw this for the first time the night we escaped from the palace after Scalia was assassinated," he said. "I'm not sure the effect will be the same in daylight as it was in the dark, but the whole room is lined with glowstone."