Comets and Corsets

by Anthea Sharp

  “I could come with you partway,” Jenny said. “There looks to be an open market along the way.”

  Liza was about to say yes, when a flash of red caught her eye. She turned, and her lungs clenched as she saw two soldiers wearing the uniform of the British Galactic Army. They were working their way down the portside street, pausing to speak to passersby. The taller one had his handheld out, displaying an image, and Liza quickly tugged her hat lower.

  With six million and a land grant offered for her return, she had a sick certainty in her gut that they were showing the Wanted holo featuring her face. Or Princess Saxe-Roth’s face, not that there was any difference.

  So far, everyone the soldiers talked to had shaken their heads—but the redcoats were getting uncomfortably close to the Star Palace II’s berth.

  “We need to go,” she said in a low voice, drawing Jenny further into the crowds.

  “Oh!” The girl glanced at the redcoats. “Your family is looking for you? Don’t worry—I won’t say a word.”

  When she found out the scope of the reward, though, she might change her mind. If not immediately, then once she thought about it…

  As if sensing the increased tension running through Liza’s body, the cat stirred, claws lightly pricking her skin.

  “I’m getting married in three days,” Liza said, trying not to wince at the needle-sharp digs. “After that, I don’t care if my family finds me.”

  Lies, of course, but if Jenny could at least hold her tongue that long, it would give Liza time to cover her tracks.

  “I’m sorry, Jenny,” she continued, “but it’s safer if I travel alone from here. Thank you for your friendship.”

  “I’m going to miss you,” the other girl cried, grabbing Liza’s hand. “I’ll always think of you, married to your prince and living happily ever after. He is a prince, isn’t he?”

  “Of course.” Liza gave her a weary smile. “And I’m a princess. Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Never.” Jenny’s eyes were wide. “Goodbye, Your Highness. And good luck.”

  She made to bob a curtsey. Liza stopped her, then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “Goodbye, Jenny. Follow your dreams.”

  Then, before the girl could do anything else that might give her away, Liza pivoted and hurried away into the crowd. A trickle of sweat ran down her temple, not only from the danger but the fact she was sweltering in her pelisse in Turmeric Central’s warm climate. Still, she didn’t slow down, determined to put as much distance between herself and the redcoats as possible.

  Of course, leaving the port area meant she was stuck on this planet for the time being. Now that the authorities were showing her image everywhere, she dared not go back until she’d figured out a disguise that would pass deep security. Then she could go into space again.

  And go where?

  Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? One place was as good as the other, she supposed. She could get work here in New Turmeric, away from the spaceport. Probably nothing as comfortable as playing keyboard in the Galactic Bulgogi House, but she didn’t have the luxury to be picky.

  Beggars squatted on the corners, rattling their pans for credit chips. Liza swallowed dust. It wouldn’t come to that, she swore it.

  The cat tucked next to her ribs quieted as they left the noisy jumble of the marketplace abutting the spaceport. Liza paused and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Consulting her map, she turned the opposite direction from the gardens she’d mentioned to Jenny. Just in case.

  The roar of departing spacecraft overhead faded as she walked into a neighborhood with little shops on the ground floor and apartments above. The smell of garlic and frying meat made her mouth water. The cat gave a mew, thin and piteous.

  “I know.” Liza patted the lump. “I’m hungry, too.”

  “Then you should come with me,” a creaky voice said.

  Liza whirled to see an old man leaning against the wall, his robes and skin the same dun color as the stucco. Even the wispy tuft of hair on the top of his head blended with the earthen tones, as did the stout staff he rested his weight upon. If he hadn’t spoken, she never would have noticed his presence.

  “What do you mean?” She shifted her weight, ready to dart away.

  “The Temple of Vishnu welcomes weary travelers, no questions asked.” His gaze dropped to her midriff, concealed by her pelisse. “And their companions.”

  She hesitated. As the daughter of a royal, destined to be the future wife of a high-ranking galactic diplomat, she’d been trained to quickly and accurately read people. That skill had stood her in good stead when she’d escaped from Earth, and since then she’d learn to rely even further on her well-honed instincts. This old man presented no threat—at least, not an immediate one.

  “What does the temple require in return?” she asked, giving him a suspicious look. The offer seemed too good to be true.

  The priest laughed, his eyes crinkling closed in his mirth. “You’re a wary one, I see. Not to fear, youngling. Scrubbing the steps, changing the flowers on the altars and dusting the statues, fetching water from the fountain—there are many tasks waiting for open hands. Will you come?”

  “Do you provide sanctuary?” Her voice nearly cracked on the last word, to her surprise.

  It had been so long since she’d felt safe.

  He opened his eyes wide and swept her with a look, then gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “The elders would want to know what you are running from.”

  “Nothing that will bring harm to you or your temple,” she said, perhaps a bit too hastily.

  “We will be the judges of that. Now, come.” He gestured with his staff. “It is not far.”

  After nearly an hour of traversing the winding streets of Wali, the priest finally pointed out the pale dome of the Temple of Vishnu ahead. It floated like a cloud over the smaller buildings, and Liza caught the sweet waft of incense in the air. The cat stirred beneath her blouse, at least as hot and sweaty as she was, and she privately thought the priest’s estimation of distance could use some refining. Claws pricked her skin as it shifted irritably.

  “Come inside,” the priest said as they mounted the wide steps leading into the cool recesses of the temple. “Freshen up, and I will speak with the rest of the elders.”

  Ranks of statues lined the edges of the huge, high-ceiling space. They were adorned with garlands of bright flowers—marigolds, daisies, and other blooms she did not recognize. Altars at the statues’ feet held fruit and bowls of coin, and glowing clusters of incense that hazed the air with tendrils of sweet smoke.

  She wanted to ask if it was customary for priests to lurk on street corners, waiting for hungry travelers to talk to themselves, but he shooed her down a side corridor to a room that held a sink and commode.

  “I will wait here for you,” he said, lowering himself onto a bench where the hallway opened back into the domed main temple. “Take your time.”

  He shut his eyes and leaned against the cool white stone at his back, seemingly settling in for a nice nap.

  Liza regarded him a moment, then went to wash up and use the facilities. She closed the door behind her, sorry to see there was no lock, then shed her pelisse and pulled the decidedly unhappy feline, still wrapped in the pillowcase, from her shirt.

  “Mrow,” the cat said, squirming to be released from her prison.

  Liza set her down and opened the mouth of the pillowcase. The cat stalked out, gray fur matted down, eyes narrowed.

  “I’m sorry,” Liza said. “It was the best I could do.”

  She took care of her needs, then went to the sink and splashed cool water on her face, giving the cat a modicum of privacy. As Liza had suspected, the animal knew how to use the commode. She’d heard cats could be trained to do so, and the lack of feline droppings in Suite Four had certainly seemed proof enough.

  With a quick flap of wings, the cat alighted on the edge of the sink basin. Craning her neck, she stuck her head beneath the flow of wa
ter and began to lap at the running stream.

  “I could get you a dish, instead,” Liza said, amused.

  The cat stopped long enough to give her a disdainful look, then returned to drinking. Liza stoppered the sink anyway, so as not to waste water. She could rinse off in slightly cat-saliva-tainted water, after all. She’d done worse.

  Finally, feline thirst assuaged and the worst of the sweat and dust washed away, the two of them went back to where the priest waited. Valise in one hand, Liza carried the cat cradled in her other arm—outside her clothing, this time. After all, the old man had already indicated he’d sensed the animal’s presence.

  “There you are,” he said, opening his eyes and sitting up at their approach. “My, what a lovely creature.”

  He held out a gnarled hand. The cat sniffed at it, then leaped gracefully from Liza’s arms to the old man’s lap. She turned about three times, then lay down, purring loudly. Liza tried not to feel a stab of betrayal.

  “Jealousy is one of the basest emotions,” the priest said, running his palm over the cat’s fur. “And so often unwarranted. Not to worry—this creature still owes you her primary loyalty.”

  Liza swallowed back a tart reply, along with her questions. Holy men and mystics were notoriously difficult to get solid answers from.

  “I’m ready to meet with the elders now,” she said, instead.

  “Ha.” The priest’s cackle of laugher made the cat glance up at him. He resumed petting her, but his gaze stayed on Liza’s face. “We’ve already spoken, and are willing to offer you sanctuary, Princess Elizabeth Calloway von Saxe-Roth.”

  She stared at him, her blood and breath freezing.

  “What…” She moistened her mouth, then spoke, with effort. “How do you know who I am?”

  “We know many things.” He smiled placidly up at her. “Also, our nanotech is the best in the galaxy. Within moments of meeting you, I’d contacted the rest of the temple, sent your image to be processed, and identified the cat hidden in your clothing.”

  “Damnation.”

  “I believe your mother taught you it isn’t ladylike to swear.”

  “Is there anything you don’t know about me?” Liza scowled at him, anger heating her cooled blood. She preferred the warmth of her temper to the chilling knowledge that she was completely found out. “I suppose you’ll turn me in for the reward, now.”

  “Not at all. Calm yourself, youngling.”

  She struggled to draw in a breath. The priest had had plenty of time to contact the authorities. If the temple wanted to claim the reward, they would have had redcoats waiting for her on the steps.

  A thought occurred to her, and she narrowed her eyes. “How roundabout a route did we take to get here?”

  He let out another cackling laugh. “Clever as well, Miss Roth—I understand that is what you call yourself?” She gave a short nod, and he continued. “Had we gone directly, we would have reached the Temple of Vishnu in under half an hour. But I wanted to make sure we had plenty of time to access all your information.”

  “And the cat?” She nodded at the contented creature on his lap.

  “She is your companion now,” he said, giving her another stroke. “Her past history does not matter. It is the future that counts, and how one goes into it.”

  Very philosophical.

  She hesitated a moment, torn between taking to her heels, or accepting the priest’s offer of hospitality. But she was tired of running.

  “How long can I stay?” she finally asked.

  He looked up at her, his gaze steady. “As long as necessary. When it is time for you to leave, you will know it.”

  Unexpected gratitude stung the corners of her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You might not be so grateful, once you see your quarters.” He lifted the cat gently from his lap, then levered himself up with the help of his smooth wooden staff.

  “I’m sure I’ve seen worse,” she said. Her miner’s quarters had not been particularly luxurious, and between her small berths aboard various ships and on the station, she was no stranger to cramped spaces.

  The priest led her back into the echoing main temple. The cat trotted at her heels, making occasional winged forays to inspect the statues lining the walls. Along with the sweet incense smoke, a sense of peace filled the temple.

  Liza’s breathing eased. Whatever lay ahead, at least she was not in custody of the British Galactic Army, being dragged home to be a pawn in her father’s machinations.

  “Mrow,” the cat said, swooping in from one of her explorations to land on Liza’s shoulder.

  Liza winced as the cat’s claws dug in momentarily. She’d need to add padding to her blouses, but it was a small price to pay.

  “What shall we call you?” she asked, giving the feline’s forehead a rub. She was rewarded with a soft purr as the cat half-closed her bright purple eyes.

  The priest glanced over with an impish look. “She was formerly referred to as Hyacinth.”

  “Hyacinth?” Liza gave her head a disbelieving shake. The cat breathed lightly into her ear. “I can’t call you Hyacinth.”

  No, the clever escapee perched on her shoulder was something darker and more elusive than some sweet-blooming mainstay of an English garden. A belladonna perhaps, or…

  “Nightshade,” Liza said.

  The cat let out a soft chirp that Liza took for agreement.

  “Shade, for short,” she continued.

  “Appropriate,” the priest said, “considering the color of her fur. Names should carry multiple meanings, don’t you think, Miss Roth?”

  He was laughing at her, she was certain, but she did not take offense.

  Shade leaped off her shoulder to soar, gray wings extended, beneath the domed ceiling of the temple. Liza watched her, and a strange warmth kindled in her belly, as though she’d swallowed a small, bright ember. It took a moment for her to identify the unfamiliar feeling as the first stirrings happiness.

  Whatever the next chapter of her future held, at least she would not be facing it alone.

  ~*~

  Yes, Shade and Liza will have more adventures ahead! Meanwhile, discover more Victorian Spacepunk stories in Anthea Sharp’s Stars & Steam collection, available at all ebook retailers. Join her mailing list and be the first to know about STAR COMPASS, her first full-length Victoria Eternal novel - coming in mid-2018.

  About the Stories

  As mentioned on the copyright page, all of these tales were published in prior anthologies. I owe a heartfelt thank you to Kris Rusch and Dean Wesley Smith for the many opportunities to work on my short story craft through the years. A Splendid Wedding was written during one of Kris’s short story workshops, while The Clockwork Harp and Lady Elizabeth’s Betrothal Ball were products of the Anthology workshop.

  The Clockwork Harp is based on the old ballad of The Cruel Sister, with a futuristic steampunk twist, of course.

  One More Star, Shining, is dedicated to the memory of the many lives lost in the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando, FL, September 2016. The conversation in the story between a mother and her trapped son were inspired by the heartbreaking texts sent between Mina and Eddie Justice. Proceeds from the sale of this story were donated to the Wilhelmina Justice GoFundMe.

  There will be future installments of Liza Roth’s adventures, as well as full-length novels set in the Victoria Eternal universe. Make sure to sign up for my mailing list to catch all the news~

  Also by Anthea Sharp

  Don’t miss the first collection of Victorian Spacepunk tales, STARS & STEAM

  And if you enjoyed the genre mashup of the Victoria Eternal universe, try FEYLAND, where high-tech computer gaming meets the treacherous magic of the Realm of Faerie. THE FIRST ADVENTURE is free!

  THE FIRST ADVENTURE

  THE DARK REALM

  THE BRIGHT COURT

  THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

  SPARK

  ROYAL

  MARNY

  About the Author


  ~USA Today bestselling, award-winning author of Fantasy-flavored fiction ~

  Growing up on fairy tales and computer games, Anthea Sharp has melded the two in her award-winning, bestselling Feyland series, which has sold over 200k copies worldwide.

  In addition to the fae fantasy/cyberpunk mashup of Feyland, she also writes Victorian Spacepunk, and fantasy romance. Her books have won awards and topped bestseller lists, and garnered over a million reads at Wattpad. She’s frequently found hanging out on Amazon’s Top 100 Fantasy/SF author list. Her short fiction has appeared in Fiction River, DAW anthologies, The Future Chronicles, and Beyond The Stars: At Galaxy’s edge, as well as many other publications.

  Anthea lives in Southern California, where she writes, hangs out in virtual worlds, plays the fiddle with her Celtic band Fiddlehead, and spends time with her small-but-good family. Contact her at antheasharp@hotmail.com or visit her website – www.antheasharp.com

  Anthea also writes historical romance under the pen name Anthea Lawson. Find out about her acclaimed Victorian romantic adventure novels at www.anthealawson.com.

  Be the first to hear about new releases and reader perks by subscribing to Anthea’s newsletter, Sharp Tales.

  AntheaSharp

  www.antheasharp.com