by Rachel Ford
“Yes. Kudarian spiritualists hold that water is the purest element. It’s supposed to purge negative energies, and heal the soul.”
“Oh. Well, it’s pretty.”
Frank grinned. “Yes. Less fun when it rains, though. Then the stream floods into the sidewalks. It may purge the soul of negative energy, but it also soaks the feet.”
I laughed, and Maggie offered, “A small price for spiritual equanimity.”
He snorted. “I’ve yet to meet the man whose soul is quiet when his feet are sodden.”
We passed through a series of streets, broad and paved with gray brick, until we reached a kind of square. It was an enormous intersection of streets, with a great statue in the center, surrounded by trees and – I wasn’t surprised to see – a decorative moat of water. The statue depicted a Kudarian warrior, decked out in medieval scale armor. In one hand he held a doffed helmet, and in the other a long broadsword. His head was bowed, and a single tear glistened on his cheek.
The figure was carved from some sort of pale stone, similar in hue to Frank’s complexion. The tear, though, was a gem set into his cheek, and it glistened in the morning sunlight.
“That’s the Ascendant,” Frank said, catching my gaze.
“The Ascendant?”
“A slain warrior, bidding his brothers-in-arms farewell as he ascends to heaven.”
“Ah. It’s gorgeous.”
He nodded. “Yes. It’s a thousand years old, too.”
I whistled. “No way.” It looked freshly commissioned. The stone was clean, the carvings seeming unweathered by time or neglect
He nodded, though. “It is. The tear has been stolen twice in its history. The one you see is four hundred and some years old. There’s some patchwork on the back, where a storm damaged the scales about two hundred years ago. But it’s Kriar’s pride and joy. It has been since he was put up.”
“It’s remarkable,” Maggie said appreciatively. “Not just the figure – it is, though. But the park is perfect too.”
It was. The greens and blues against the alabaster stone, the soft natural beauty of foliage and water, swaying and rippling in the breeze, contrasted with the unflinching permanence of stone in a way that was surreal. Breathtaking.
Frank grinned at us. “You think the Ascendant is something else? Wait until we get to the capitol.”
There were more than enough distractions in the meantime, though. We turned right at the intersection, heading southwest out of Kriar. The city’s businesses and homes fell away, its long streets and artificial streams making way for rolling hills and pretty forests. Here and there homes dotted the landscape, some of them grander than others.
Kudarian design, I was quickly seeing, emphasized openness and natural spaces. Open courtyards, open squares, open yards abounded. Even in the smaller residences we passed, I saw remarkable courtyards with burbling fountains and lush green growth at the center. Willow trees leaned over pools, dipping long, dainty fronds into the water. Tiny lily pads and electric orange flowers dotted the surface of some pools, while others remained pristine, their tranquil surfaces shimmering in the light.
The homes themselves had an almost Mediterranean villa-feel to them, though the angles were sharper and the ornamentation softer. The stone block from which these buildings were constructed was smooth, almost polished on the finer homes. There were no curved archways here, though. Precise forty-five and ninety degree angles defined every intersection of the architecture. There was as much logic to the design as there was art.
It was fascinating to behold, and I studied the landscape in rapt awe as we passed.
Frank and Maggie, meanwhile, were talking, and as the conversation turned to his family, my attention was drawn. “It’ll be good to see everyone,” he said. “Haven’t been home in…what? Three years now?”
“That sounds about right. Which – to be honest – kind of surprises me. How come you haven’t been back before?”
“You know how it is.” He shrugged. “We’ve always got a run somewhere.”
“Ah bollocks,” she said. “People take leave all the time. If you wanted off, you only had to ask. You know that.”
“Touché,” he smiled. “But, as far as my folks know, we were busy.”
Maggie snorted with laughter. “Oh, I see how it is. I get to be the bad guy, eh?”
He nodded briskly. “You better believe it, Captain.”
“Great. So I’m starting my second trip to Kudar already hated.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, you’ve been a lifesaver. Got me out of all kinds of uncomfortable situations.”
She shot him a dirty look, and he grinned a little broader. “You’re awfully excited to see them, for someone who has been so earnestly avoiding them.”
“It’s different. I’m here for a reason now: my little sister’s getting married. That’s different than generic visits.”
“How?”
“Well, for one thing, mother will be too busy planning F’riya’s wedding to worry about why I haven’t had one yet. Or to bug me about grandkids again.”
Maggie and I laughed at that. “Well, there’s a bit of common ground between humans and Kudarians: mothers are the same across species.”
“And for another…” He paused. “Actually, that’s pretty much it.”
“That bad, eh?” I snorted. “And I thought my mom was bad.”
“She is,” Maggie teased, nudging me. “Do you know what she said, when Kay told her we were dating?”
I flushed, and it was Frank’s turn to laugh. “No, what?”
“‘You can’t be dating a woman. I want grandkids!’”
I shook my head at the memory. My mom was many things, but tactful was not one of them. The Kudarian, though, seemed to enjoy the story immensely. “Well, our mothers would probably get along well,” he declared. “Other than the whole Kudar wars thing.”
The Kudar wars had been a turning point in the history of the Union and the Kudarian people. A brutal, bloody, years long conflict that ended a good century ago, its memory was still fresh in the minds of human and Kudarian alike.
That some of the more traditional Kudarian clans had eaten the flesh of human prisoners, sometimes still-living prisoners, during the later, more brutal periods of the war had never quite been forgiven or forgotten, despite Kudar’s entry into the Union. And the rationalization that had led to that consumption of human flesh, that mankind was a weak and lesser animal better fit for food than to stand on equal footing, hadn’t entirely vanished among some segments of Kudarian society either.
“Right,” I nodded. “As long as they stuck to grandkids, I’m sure they’d be fine.”
Maggie grinned. “My mom came to terms with it when I started bringing home girls instead of guys. Hell, I think it was almost a relief to her. She didn’t want a repeat of the Bill incident.”
“The Bill incident?”
She laughed. “My brother got a girl pregnant in high school. At least, we all thought it was Bill. Turns out it was her ex, which came out a few months later when she dumped Bill and reconnected with the ex. I think my mom was almost as happy as Bill – and he was over the moon. She was not ready to be a grandmother. So when I started dating girls…” She shrugged. “No risk of accidental pregnancy.”
I smiled and squeezed her a little tighter. Mags didn’t talk about Bill much. He’d died in an accident in the service, and it was one of the most painful moments of her life. Seeing a memory of her brother come to her and bring a smile rather than pain filled my heart with gladness.
An impish gleam lit her eyes now. “So, if you want, I can drop hints to your mom that you’re gay.”
“Good gods, no,” he said. “That wouldn’t stop her – she’d only redouble her efforts then. She’d think she was ‘curing’ me.”
Maggie groaned. “One of them, eh?”
“Yup.” Now, it was his turn to smirk. “But, on the other hand, you’ve given me a good idea. I might drop a few
hints of my own.” His grin broadened. “Like, that I’m dating the captain.”
She laughed. “I deserved that, I suppose. But – if you actually do it, know that I will kick your ass.”
Chapter Eight
The car pulled down a long private drive, past rows of stately trees and long, lush meadows. Its metallic voice sounded in Kudarian in one ear, and English in the other. “Welcome to the Inkaya estate.”
“Holy shit. She’s not saying – this is all yours?” I asked, spreading my hands to indicate the expansive fields and forests around us.
He shrugged. “My family’s. But yes.”
“Holy shit,” I repeated. “Your family’s loaded.”
“Our House is an old one,” he nodded.
Part of me wondered what Frank, the scion of a family that owned the vast acreage around me, would possibly be doing on a privateer vessel, running cargo and tracking down outlaws on commission.
But the sight of the Inkaya family home pushed such musings far from my mind. I felt my jaw slacken. We’d just turned a bend in a moderately wooded area. The sunshine filtered down in broken patches here and there, warm but not hot. A broad, deep river stretched out in front of us, crossed by a picturesque stone bridge.
And there, just beyond the bridge and against a backdrop of tall, stately broadleaf trees stood a palatial gray-stone home. It was three stories high, with a cobble drive running through the center of the house, under the top two stories to form a kind of porte-cochere that admitted visitors into the courtyard beyond.
My eyes were drawn to the gray slate roof and snow-white window frames, but the fact was every aspect of this building was impressive: from its size, to the almost mathematical precision of its design, to the decorative stonework adorning the mansion face.
I’d barely got a glimpse of it all when we passed into the courtyard, and hadn’t even begun to take in the grounds.
“Holy shit,” I said again, my eyes taking in a miniature of the square we’d seen in Kriar. Instead of a dead soldier, the likeness of a Kudarian lady stood tall and proud at the center of the Inkaya courtyard. She was wrapped in the elegant, flowing silks of a traditional gown, her long, braided hair secured to the top of her head in a bun. I knew all of it – the lady, her hair, her gown – was carved in stone, but the workmanship was exquisite. It seemed so real, so lifelike, that I could almost see her gown moving in the breeze alongside the trees that surrounded her.
Two small, stone Kudarian children, a boy and a girl, stood at her sides, peeking out from behind her skirt; and in her hand, she held a sword. The fiercest of expressions was spread across her face, and I knew instinctively that whoever had dared to cross this woman, whoever she was meant to be, would not have fared well.
“Frank, this place is amazing.”
He seemed pleased with the comment, though – to judge by the flush of color that entered his cheeks – a little embarrassed. “It is. I forget, sometimes. But it is.”
“Who is that lady?” I asked. “The one with the children?”
“One of my ancestors. The founder of our House, Grilka arn inkaya. She was a widow, and it was a time of war. As the story goes – and…” He spread his hands to indicate his own uncertainty. “I have no idea how much of it is true. But, it was before the reunification of North Kudar. There were a lot of warlords and regional conflicts. It was a chaotic time. As the story goes, one of the warlords, F’er the Fatherless, was riding through. He’d just lost a battle, and his supplies were low. Winter was coming on.
“Grilka had a house – a small house – and garden here, on the site of our home. When he arrived, he had a thousand men in tow, and they started tearing the place apart for food. Her daughter, Fiar, started to cry, and one of the soldiers hit her.
“Grilka drew her sword, and killed him on the spot. F’er was so impressed, he asked her to marry him. She agreed, but on the condition that he took her name, since he had none of his own.”
“I take it she agreed?” Maggie smiled.
He nodded. “And he went on to defeat most of the other warlords in the area, and unify the region. He and Grilka had six kids together, and House Inkaya was born.”
I whistled. “Wow. That’s a lot of kids.”
He grinned. “Kudarians do nothing in half measures, Kay.”
I laughed. “It’s a good story. Weirdly romantic – yet, also, bloody.”
Frank shrugged. “So, basically, a typical Kudarian saga.”
The car, now, rolled to a stop in front of a covered entrance. “You have arrived,” it informed us.
“Well,” he said, getting out of his seat and holding the door for us to follow, “welcome to House Inkaya.”
Frank’s family came out to meet us at about the same time we reached the door. A tall, broad chested Kudarian, as tall as Frank though not quite as fit anymore, surveyed us with wary eyes. He stood with an arm wrapped around the shoulders of a similarly aged Kudarian woman, whose frame was thinner. I saw with a measure of astonishment that she was taller even than Frank. They were, I gathered, his mother and father.
Beside these two, there were a pair of young Kudarians: a woman, slight like their mother but with Frank’s eyes; and a man, a little shorter and thinner than either of them.
Frank placed the cases on the step and bowed respectfully. “Mother. Father.”
They, though, beamed at him. The elder woman wrapped him in a hug. “F’er,” she said, “how tall you’ve gotten.”
He smiled affectionately at her, placing a kiss on her brow. “Not as tall as you, Mother.”
His father, now, clapped him on the back, drawing him in for a firm hug. “Welcome home, son.”
“Thank you, Father.” Now, he turned to Maggie and me. “Katherine, Magdalene, allow me to present my family: R’ia arn inkaya, my mother. Dre ark inkaya, my father. F’riya arn inkaya, my sister. And F’rok ark inkaya, my brother.”
He turned back to his family. “And allow me to present my very good friends, Katherine Ellis and Magdalene Landon. Katherine is the Black Flag’s chief engineer, and Magdalene is our captain.”
I’d been prepared to be on my best behavior, but Frank’s formality took me a little by surprise. Gone was the laughing, informal prankster I knew; and in his place, a thoroughly formal Kudarian.
I bowed, as Frank had told us we should upon meeting our hosts, and said, “I am honored to meet you.” Maggie did the same, and then, one by one, the Inkayas bowed and returned the greeting.
“Come in, please,” R’ia said. “Our home is yours.”
An awkward exchange of small talk was cut short when R’ia suggested, “Well, let us get our visitors settled, and then, Magdalene, you can tell us about your ship.”
“I’ll show Katherine and Magdalene to their rooms,” F’riya volunteered. She added, the hint of a smirk on her lips, “Brother, I trust you can find your way to your own room. Even if it has been years.”
He glanced askew at her, grinning. “I think I’ll manage.”
Their mother seemed uninterested in this exchange, taking her eldest son by the arm. “F’er, you did bring your keltar?”
Frank’s reminder that he’d already promised her that he would, was lost to me as F’riya took our bags and guided Maggie and me toward a grand staircase. “Come with me, please,” she said. “I hope your trip here was pleasant?”
I nodded. “Very. Kudar is beautiful. And Kriar is an impressive city.”
“Is it your first time here?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“No,” Maggie said. “But it’s my first time on North Kudar.”
“Oh.” F’riya surveyed her with unreserved curiosity. “You’ve been to our world before?”
“Yes. I have a friend from South Kudar. Someone I served with in the Union Army.”
“Oh.” The young woman seemed impressed, for she nodded briskly. “F’er had mentioned you were former military. Are you from a warrior clan on your world?”
“
Something like that. My brother was in service. So was my father, and many of my aunts and uncles.”
She nodded again. “No wonder F’er serves aboard your vessel. We are honored to have a warrior under our roof.”
Maggie flushed. “Thanks,” she said.
F’riya smiled, and I found myself taken aback by how much that toothy, good natured, dimpled smile reminded me of her brother’s. We’d reached the landing, and now were making our way down a richly paneled hallway. “And what of you, Katherine?”
“Me?” I colored, feeling – for neither the first nor last time, I was sure – vastly inadequate compared to Maggie.
“Yes. Are you a warrior too?”
“Oh, no. I’m just an engineer.”
“Really?” The Kudarian woman surveyed me with surprised eyes, and I flushed deeper. “You are Kay, aren’t you?”
I blinked at the question. I had no idea what the relevance was. “Well, yes. That’s what my friends call me. You – you can call me that, if you wish.” I hastened to add, “I’d be honored.”
She smiled at me, a curious expression on her face. “Well, Magdalene, here is your room.” We’d stopped outside a heavy door. “You will find everything you need, I think. But if you don’t, you need only ring for one of the housekeepers.”
One of the housekeepers, I repeated in my mind. Damn, this family is loaded.
I stepped to follow Maggie, but F’riya said, “Your room is this way, Kay.”
“My room?”
“Yes. This way.” She was gesturing for me to follow her.
“Oh.” I glanced at Maggie and could see the same surprise on her expression. But, I remembered Frank’s words from earlier, about how his mother would react if he was gay. I guess he’d neglected to mention that we were in a relationship to his family. Just like he neglected to mention that they were homophobic to Mags or me.
“I’ll see you later, Kay,” Maggie said with a wink. Then, she closed the door, and I turned back to the Kudarian.
“F’er has told me a lot about you, you know,” she said as I joined her.
