Voices of Chaos (26 page)

He could be all that to her; as a protector, however, he had failed. He still could not locate her family. Zhik's eartips quivered faintly as he hurried across the boulevard and eased into shadow against the doorway. He didn't want to tell her that-- but she deserved the truth--and he
must
see her.

The designer's marker was covered over by a plain plaque, a sign that Fahara was away. Before he could ease the plaque aside, the door slid into the wall and An-Lieye stood there, back in shadow, beckoning urgently. She was clad in simple, long-sleeved, hooded blue. He crossed the threshold and let the door slide to behind him, waiting until he heard it latch before following her down the lighted corridor. Just short of the patio, she turned to look up at him, her hands moving slowly.
Father... mother? My family?

He gestured a negative. "I have tried, An-Lieye. Everything I knew to try, I have attempted it. I have failed you, worse than Khyriz, because I was so certain I could find them, because they come from my--from Zhenu's lands...." His voice faded as she took another step toward him and laid her hands, palm up, against his dark gold robe.

You have not failed me,
she mouthed. What followed was too complicated for him. Finally she drew out the stylo and pad and wrote: "You tried; the
zhez
is more skilled at hiding than you or the Prince at finding." He forced a smile, handed back the pad.

"I will still search, I will find them, if it is possible. But now, I must return to my apartments."

Her fingers tightened on his upper arms.
Fahara... gone the night. Stay.

He gazed at her in astonishment. "An-Lieye--I dare not! If--if Fahara found me here, or my father's servant found me not in my apartments--!"

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Please ... stay.
She gestured again, then moved her hands, laying them across his shoulders--palms down. Suddenly, and before he could respond in any fashion, she rose to tiptoes and tipped her head sideways. Zhik's throat-fur hackled as she drew her whiskers backward across his.

No one in all Arekkhi space had ever made that loving gesture with him before now. An-Lieye's eyes held his as she laid her hand across his nose.

Gently. Palm down.

Those who trothed for affection rather than money or family ties made such a gesture, he knew.
Love.
What did he know about caring of any kind, let alone
love ?
She stood before him, eyes still fixed on his, hands clasped before her. Asking nothing ... and everything. When she backed away from him, a slow step at a time, Zhik followed ... across the patio, and into the rooms beyond.

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***

The day of the ball dawned sullen and humid. Magdalena, her hair in dozens of thin braids held back with a ribbon, prowled the main room, pausing often to peer out windows, where she'd seen heat lightning earlier.

Even the seas were unusually sluggish: low tide and no hint of wind.

Alexis, flat on her back in the talking-pit, elbowed her way up and smiled.

"Were you
this
jumpy before your last recital?"

The translator seemed to come back from a distance. "Hmmm? Oh--sorry, am I driving you crazy?"

"No. I'd've said so."

"It's the weather. I don't like lightning."

"It should be all right, the morning report said no storms this far east--no rain, and no wind." Alexis blotted her forehead on the hem of her loose shirt and scooped up the handheld comp-pad, where she was listing points for her upcoming FTL call to CLS headquarters.

"I know. It's a little about tonight, too. The uncertainty, plus knowing how much perfection counts."

"Tell me about
that,"
Alexis replied gloomily. "Watch me step on someone's feet. Like maybe the Iron Duke's--"

"The Esteemed
zhez
Zhenu--who does not dance, or participate in any pleasurable activity, according to Khyriz," Magdalena reminded her loftily.

Alexis grinned. "Oh? He seems to get enough fun out of thwarting us at every turn. But I'm thinking more kindly of

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the Esteemed, etc. Ever since late last night, when he finally agreed to sign off my flitter application."

Magdalena stopped pacing. "He
did?
When was that?"

"Late--but before you came down from Khyriz's apartments with that silly smile on your face.'' She scooped up the heavy Arekkhi two-handled mug and drank down cold coffee. "Ahhhhh. Wonderful."

"Silly smile, indeed. Caffeine addict," Magdalena murmured with sarcastic sweetness.

"Music fiend," the interrelator retorted with a crooked grin. "Dancing fool. Just because you spent
your
extra weight-allowance on those music cubes and dance-vids." Alexis had used a little of her allowance to bring two old-fashioned 2-D framed pictures of Dr. Stephanie Kim--one cheerfully smiling shot of Stephanie and Alexis on vacation at a Black Sea resort, the second an enlarged news-vid shot of the doctor grim and glowering at the destruction on Trinity after the Anuran invasion. The rest of the interrelator's

"free weight" had been taken up by vials of freeze-dried coffee, which she broke out on rare occasions to brew strong and drink cold, black, and unsweetened.

Magdalena, who had never seen or smelled coffee before StarBridge, wrinkled her nose. "Smells almost as wonderful as that
ghneris
from the fish market."

Alexis laughed. "Raw, or my deep-fried spiders? Hey, this is a lot better than my Great-Uncle Vlad's homemade beet booze!"

"I'll stick with
rih."

Alexis eyed her human companion more closely. "So, how well did
you
sleep last night? Or how long? Looks to me like you could use a nap already. And when do all those braids come out?"

"Ask when I finished putting the last one in."

"Sometime after you got down from
zhner
with Khyriz."

Lightning flashed in the distance. "It's not really
zhner.
Just--we mostly talk.

But I wasn't that late; he had to leave for Embriagha, some problem on the estate he couldn't delegate. He'll be back by midafternoon, though."

Magdalena smiled, her gaze distant.

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"I hope so. After all, he's the leader of our seven-male escort."

''Mmmmm. Same number as a royal would get--flattering. The braids come out after Fahara dresses me; I really thought a plain dancer's chignon would be better, but Khyriz insisted. Said everyone's fascinated with the length of my 'mane'--so I decided I might as well 'foof,' too."

"Good. Keep their eyes off my dancing," Alexis said as she turned her attention back to the electronic notepad and the growing list.

Magdalena came over to peer at the screen. "Didn't we already set up the points for today's call?"

Alexis glanced up briefly. '.'Minor addition. Zhenu didn't say in so many words, but I could tell the flitter approval was going to hinge on it: We get the flitter with no strings attached and no restrictions on travel--he's arranged that we'll get a report early each morning where the chance of rebels or fighting are, or any hot spots, so we don't go there."

Alexis drained the last drops from her mug. "In exchange, I said I would ask if the CLS will allow immediate import of three deep-search, heat-seeking satellites--something about there've been mining cave-ins and they don't have the tech to locate survivors from orbit. One of the Heeyoons on-station mentioned we have the tech, I guess. Anyway, Zhenu heard about it and thinks it would be useful."

"I can't see him being so altruistic," Magdalena began.

"He's not; he was very open about making a huge profit, he's had a lot of problems in his mines up in Mibhor, apparently--enough to warrant the expense of the outside tech. The Emperor cleared it, so everything's okay here. Zhenu says he'll pay for all three satellites up front, and he'll cover expenses for the techs who come to help get them in place and running,
and
he'll cover the cost of training the Arekkhi techs how to operate and maintain them."

"All that? Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe lost a bundle when one of
his
mines caved in. He wants it badly enough to turn us loose with our own flitter, though. The satellites aren't sensitive tech, so that shouldn't be a problem.

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"I sent him a message saying as much, and said I'd apply to CLS this morning. He sent back by return messenger that the flitter and my operator's identikit will be here tomorrow, an hour before sunrise."

The dark woman raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Efficient. Odd, though. The Arekkhi have satellites
and
they can build heat-seekers. After all, that's how the collision-avoidance chip in the flitters works. So why can't they make their own ...?"

Alexis shrugged. "I guess it's different--locating something through dirt and rock. Not my field. But remember, on this world it's creative types who get free rein, not engineers. Tech is tightly controlled." Alexis glanced at the watch-patch she'd stuck to the pit wall, just under the media-center control.

"Nearly time. With luck, I can get this out of the way by midday."

"Oops," Magdalena murmured. "Thanks for the reminder! I promised the master of clerks a special session in Mizari. I'll be back before Fahara comes!"

"You'd better!" Alexis called after her.

The translator returned to the second floor hot and headachy. She rinsed down in the showerlike
hruskeh-closet,
then slid into the enormous bathing pool. Rohf--seldom seen these days--had proven his existence by leaving the snack-basket filled with fruit and two kinds of bread--one sweet, and one made with smoked, dried fish. Alexis, already clean from her own soak, sat cross-legged on the edge of the pool to give her an account of the CLS call.

"So they'll get back to us tomorrow, but no one could find any reason
not
to ship at least one of the satellites, and a support crew. I'm expecting a yes."

"Good." Magdalena swallowed the last of a breadstick that tasted vaguely like bacon, and scooped cool, citrus-scented water over her shoulders.

"And Mahree said to tell you 'well done' on the translating classes.

Particularly for the Empress. Sounds to me as if you'll be here as long as I am. Oh--she passed on a short message from Ladessa, via Rob: She's out of regen and hopes you won't be too pissed if she heads for Ancestors' World as soon

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as she's able to travel." Magdalena smiled and shook her head. "And you're out of time in there; Fahara is past due."

The translator sighed faintly. "I know. All right." She eased over to the far edge, where the drying-booth and her robe were. Alexis mumbled something about her hair and left.

Fahara arrived moments later, Edhal carrying the long, flat robe-baskets; her silver-and-gold-painted eartufts quivered. She dressed both women herself, adjusting, fussing, tweaking-- hand-stitching when something didn't hang right. Magdalena stood motionless as Fahara worked on her robe for at least an Arekkhi hour.

"I don't know how you do that," Alexis finally said in English. "Play statue, I mean. If it's learnable, teach me."

"It's easy," the translator replied in the same language. "Madame--the ballet mistress on StarBridge--walked with a cane, and if one of 'her' dancers got jittery, the dancer got whacked." She glanced at her companion. "You don't need to look at me like that; it's not like being whacked in a 'spare the rod and spoil the child' commune. And it was good for me: I learned physical control, and by the end of the first year, I didn't associate getting hit with
anyone
but Madame. Thank you, Fahara," she added in Arekkhi as the designer-she bit thread and stepped back to observe the "Fringe of Dancer"

robe. At the designer's sharp gesture, the dancer moved her arms, swayed in place, performed the first sleeve-gesture of the slow
emloah.

"Wow," Alexis said, wide-eyed, as the fringes shimmered and changed colors.

The designer quirked her whiskers forward until they touched--Khyriz must have passed on his favorite English slang. "It would be truly 'wow,' " Fahara said, "if there had been time, and certain weaves--"

"It is a wonder, Fahara," Magdalena said firmly. "I only hope I do not shame the robe, or its creator." She stepped back from the holo-mirror as the designer beckoned Alexis to take her place. While Alexis tried to play statue and Fahara fussed with the pale blue
zhona-silk
that exactly matched the Ukrainian's eyes, the translator began unbraiding her hair.

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Fahara was still fussing with drape and flow when Magdalena shook out the last plait and began untangling the brown-black, kinked mass with her fingers, but as she progressed, the designer gave up all pretense and stared avidly at the cloud of hair. Finally she came over to walk all the way around the Hispanic woman. "True-fringe," she said in a low, awed voice.

"What?" Alexis asked. "Apologies, but I don't understand."

Fahara blinked; her eartufts quivered. "Apologies, Interrelator," she said briskly. "You are unfinished. The translator-she's mane took my attention."

"It'll take everyone's attention," Alexis replied.

Magdalena laughed; her cheeks were flushed. "Sure! Make me more self-conscious than I already am!"

Fahara left soon after so she could change for the ball; Khyriz had obtained temporary use of a small room on the third floor of the old palace for her.

Khyriz came in moments later with a five-sided box--the gems he had promised for the evening. "With my mother's hopes for a successful ball. She personally chose them. This, Alexis," he said as he drew out a small hide pouch, "to match your eyes, she said."

Alexis slid the contents into her left hand: silvery mesh and ice blue, rounded stones. In place of the usual adhesive used by Arekkhi to hold such pieces to their heads, two Earth-style hair combs had been attached with that adhesive to the underside. Alexis bent her head so Magdalena could lay the mesh on the crown of her head, arrange the stones to hang across her forehead, then shove the combs into place. Two long, dangling ropes of stones and fine mesh hung behind her ears, along her neck, and lay across her collarbones. She shook her head cautiously; the piece shimmered but stayed put.