"Is this punishment the reason why Cynara left her House on this world to create her own?"
"There are so many reasons. I used to look up through the haze of Low Town and try to see the stars, imagining places where a woman could be anything she chose, and the people who lived there. Now I don't have to imagine. I think the captain felt the same way." She flushed, as if she had revealed more than she had intended.
Ronan probed lightly, feeling the artless sincerity of her words. He tried to remember when he had last experienced such naive joy about the future. If he ever had.
"Can I help you in some way?" she ventured after a silence humans always felt so obligated to fill. "Would you like me to show you the grounds? There are some lovely views from the garden."
"I have come for guidance, An Lizbet. Human ways still confuse me."
"What do you need to know?"
"How human females desire to be approached for mating."
She sprang from her chair, skin very red, and subsided back into it. "Oh. I…"
"Have I offended?"
"No. Not at all. It's just… It's strange to be able to talk to a man as an equal, especially—" She placed her palms against her cheeks.
"Are there no males on the Pegasus who speak to you as an equal? Others of your Path?"
"The Dharmans ignore me. Kord… frightens me. But you don't." Her throat moved. "Do you… do you love her?"
"Love." The word so startled Ronan that he was unable to speak.
He knew roughly what it meant. There were equivalents in Voishaaur, one which described the affection between a child and a nurturer, and another used only to express the bond between lifemates. It did not apply to mating-for-pleasure, or even to mating-for-children. The relationships among those of the same Line, or close childhood companions, were described in different ways.
"I do not understand 'love' as humans define it," he said. "When do humans love other humans?"
She frowned. "I never thought about explaining it. We love our mothers and fathers, sisters, brothers, and friends. And if we're lucky, we find one person to love above all others."
"Humans also lifemate?"
"You mean stay together for life? On Dharma, in Middleton and High Town, parents still arrange marriages, and those are usually not based on love. They're made to increase wealth or political power, and for children to bind two families."
"Your culture compels male and female to remain together as lifemates even when there is no true bond?"
"We would consider it… immoral otherwise." She radiated apology, shoulders tucked in and head lowered. "A woman who bears a child out of wedlock is outcast."
" 'Wed-lock' is a ritual of binding?"
"Under the eyes of God and Dharman law. Shaauri don't have marriage?"
"There are what you would call 'contracts' between Houses and Lines for the creation of children," he said. "Shaauri mate at will only as be'laik'in on Walkabout. It is expected. After Selection, mating-for-pleasure usually occurs between shaauri of the same Path. Only those of Will and Blood produce children except by rare exception."
"Young humans are usually forbidden to… mate… and anyone can have children," Lizbet said. "But in some ways our cultures aren't so different. There are still many walls built to keep people apart. It's the rules that change."
"Then what rules must I follow with Cynara?"
"I don't know. Cynara was never like other women. And she changed even more, after—after she became captain of the Pegasus. Until she met you, I didn't think… she was interested in love at all."
"Should I send gifts to her House?"
"Poseidon, no!" She slapped her hand over her mouth and stifled a laugh. "Magnus and Matrona D'Accorso would die of shock."
It was becoming evident that Lizbet, in spite of her willingness to speak, had no useful advice in the matter of human courtship. But there was another topic of even greater importance.
"You said that Cynara changed when she became captain of the Pegasus," he said, pushing beneath the surface of Lizbet's thoughts. "Is it because the Pegasus is not like other ships?"
She blinked. "It's… it's not just—" He felt her deliberate effort to evade his question, but under the confusion he found… nothing. No shield such as he had discovered in the guards outside the engineering section. No evidence of knowledge that must be protected at all costs.
"I'm sorry," she said, scraping her hands across her face. "I'm very tired. I'm sure that Magnus Jesper will be calling us for dinner soon."
Lizbet was no telepath, but she had enough sensitivity to react when her mind was probed by one.
"I, too, feel unwell," Ronan said, rising. "Please tell Va Jesper that I will sleep in my quarters, and beg him not to hold the meal for me."
Lizbet only stared at him, trembling.
He listened again for movement in the hall. Finding all quiet, he slipped out of the house and crossed the grounds, moving among the shrubs until he had reached the outer gate.
There were still many things he must learn about this world and its ways, and he could not do so confined to his room.
When Cynara returned, he would be ready.
Cynara was hardly surprised when the tall, ornate gates of Palace D'Accorso swung open before she reached them. One of the garden servants had seen her coming—she did not recognize his face, but he must have known hers as well as every other resident's, baseborn or noble. He bowed and moved quickly out of her way. Another servant dashed ahead to alert those within.
Old Tesar, her father's majordomo for the past twenty years, awaited her inside the pearl-inlaid double doors. He smiled as he bowed, and she was absurdly grateful for such a small and friendly gesture.
There wouldn't be a great many more of those today.
"The Magnus is in his library," Tesar said, "and the Matrona in the conservatory. Will you wish refreshments first, Filial"
Unlike the drunks in Middleton, Tesar meant no offense by the word. He addressed her as an unmarried adult female—a man's daughter—but he did so with the affection of long familiarity.
"I'll go directly to my father, Tesar," she said, and touched his hand. "It's good to see you again."
"And you, Filia." He straightened and led her through the immense entry hall, where the stained-glass skylight painted rainbows on handmade tile, past the portraits of former D'Accorso Magné, and into the wood-paneled fastness of her father's realm. Here women, even her mother, entered only by permission.
Cynara had been five when she first penetrated this forbidden domain. Papa had scolded, and then he'd laughed and lifted her up on his knee.
He hadn't laughed with her in a very long time.
The doors to the library were nearly as imposing as those at the entrance, heavily carved with mythic scenes of ocean deities. Tesar knocked, and a moment later he let Cynara into the room.
Magnus Casnar D'Accorso sat in his thickly padded chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Cynara slowed her pace to a more decorous creep. The captain of the Pegasus felt like a postulant begging the bishop's favor.
"Daughter," Casnar said in his deep voice. He swung the chair about to face her. "You are well?"
"I am, Father." She touched her knee to the carpet in the ancient convention of respect and brushed his knuckles with her lips. "The Pegasus has completed another successful mission."
"I am happy for you." He sighed and waved her to a smaller chair.
"How is Mother?"
He was slow in answering, gazing about at the many shelves of books as if he hadn't spent most of his life in this very room. "She is not as she once was, but you know that, Daughter. She dotes on Elendra, as if…"
As if she had no other daughter. It was strange and almost frightening to hear her father hesitate, even to spare her feelings.
"You know that Elendra is to take the veil in a week's time," he said.
She had forgotten. It was not something she liked to dwell on. "I doubt I'll be here in a we
ek, Father. The Pegasus—"
"You may explain that to your mother." He touched the buzzer on his desk. "You were visiting Jesper?"
"Yes." No surprise that he knew; he and Jesper had been close since the day the Persephonean married his sister. "Ship-related business."
"Is this alien stranger the business in question?"
That startled her. Jesper would have kept the matter confidential. Casnar had received that intelligence from some other quarter.
D'Accorso spies on the Pegasus. No one beyond the crew, Janek, Jesper, and now the Council knew of Ronan's origins.
"Since you've heard," she said, "you undoubtedly know that I've asked Uncle Jesper to speak to the Council on his behalf. The man is in a delicate position, having just escaped the shaauri who held him prisoner for most of his life. He may be of great service to us."
"Or he may be dangerous. I would hear everything you have learned of him, Daughter."
"If your concern is for me—"
"I fear your foolishness in taking such risks."
"But you would not fear if Tyr did the same thing."
'Tyr thought first of his duty and less of sentiment. His one great error…"
Once more he fell silent, tempering his words. Scrupulous courtesy and strict custom forbade her from entering his thoughts, or him hers, but she could not help but feel what he meant.
Tyr's only great error was in believing I was strong enough to take his skills, his knowledge, his very self, and carry on for him, for Dharma, and for the Alliance.
He believed I could withstand the stigma of his gift. And I have, Father.
Casnar's skin darkened under his meticulously groomed beard. "We will speak no more of this now. You will wish to see your mother." The library door opened, and Tesar entered with a bow.
"Escort Filia D'Accorso to the Matrona," her father said.
Cynara could have refused the dismissal. Every rebellious instinct she had harbored in childhood rose up again. But now, of all times, Tyr's confidence deserted her. She turned on her heel without farewell and followed Tesar to the conservatory.
Zurine Casnara D'Accorso half reclined on a chaise with a tapestry frame beside her. The stiffness in her posture told Cynara that she was already well aware of her daughter's arrival and had girded herself for battle in the only way she knew. Her eyes were shadows under an embroidered veil much heavier than required for any woman in her own home.
I will not see you, the veil said. You are a stranger.
"Mother," Cynara said, bowing her head. She would not seek a benediction her mother would refuse. "It is good to find you well."
"You have seen your father?"
No pleasantries, of course—no affection for the family pariah. "Yes."
"And you have seen Jesper."
"I have. Lizbet Montague is staying with him."
Zurine's lips curled. "That lowborn creature—"
"—can hardly pollute someone already beyond the pale."
Her mother sat up on the chaise. "Do not speak with such pride of our family's shame." She recovered and settled back again, but the bodice of her gown rose and fell with each rapid breath. "Have you come for some reason other than to disturb the peace of this house?"
Cynara was gathering a reply when Elendra sailed into the room. She was fine-boned and petite, like Mother, with Zurine's dark beauty as yet unobscured by the veil.
"Cynara!" she cried, and then drew upon her adolescent dignity. "I am glad to see you. Have you come to witness my veiling?"
It was a reasonable assumption for anyone who did not know Cynara well. But Elendra had taken after Mother. She refused to accept what did not accord with her view of the world.
'The Pegasus has just returned," Cynara said gently. "I don't know when we'll be leaving again. I may not be able to stay, Sister. I am sorry."
The lightness left Elendra's bearing. "It is my veiling, Cyn! How can you—" She scrubbed furiously at her eyes, displaying a last hint of childhood spirit. "You don't care about me!"
"Stop that at once, Elendra," Zurine snapped. "You will ruin your complexion."
Cynara met Zurine's hidden gaze. "It would not be advisable for me to stay, El. I wouldn't be welcomed by your guests."
"Because you're not a real woman." Elendra stopped, shocked at her own pronouncement. "I… I—"
"Never mind, El. Most of Dharma would agree with you."
Elendra flushed. "Do not call me El ever again. It is Elendra. Elendra D'Accorso-fila."
"Be silent!" Zurine cried.
Elendra lowered her hands and grew very quiet. She, at least, was biddable. A proper female who knew her place, and what the future held in store for her.
"I came to give my respects, Mother," Cynara said. "Now I will leave you."
"You will not." Casnar entered the room without hesitation, for the lord of the house considered even the Women's Hall his own. 'Tonight we have guests, Cynara. It would appear most peculiar if you left almost as soon as you arrived—as if we did not support the work you do on the Pegasus and the great hope it brings to Dharma and our allies."
"Does that consideration outweigh the shame of my tainted presence?"
Tyr's voice. It must be Tyr, returning to support her and face Father's anger.
Perhaps Casnar recognized it as well. His expression registered disgust and then confusion as he joined Zurine beside the chaise.
"I cannot expect you to remember manners when you're among riffraff and foreigners, but you will watch your tongue in this house. And you will attend us at dinner."
"Veiled, Casnar." Zurine grasped his sleeve, a familiarity permitted only a wife of many years. "She must wear a veil."
"I'm sorry, Mother," Cynara said. "I won't."
"Then you are not welcome at our table."
"Zurine." Casnar shook her off and turned to Cynara. 'Tyr would have dined with us tonight."
She knew exactly what he proposed. She would be permitted to sit at the table with his guests—doubtless men of influence whom he had courted with great skill and diplomacy to overlook the stain upon the D'Accorso honor—and reinforce his efforts to consolidate D'Accorso power. Unlike Tyr, she would not be allowed to let her authority and rank speak for itself.
"I will not wear the veil," she said.
Casnar beat at her with his stare. "Perhaps it might interest you to know that Fico Nyle Beneviste and his parents will be among our guests."
Never in a thousand tides would Cynara have expected her former betrothed to visit this house again, or for Casnar to use him as an argument against her. Did he think her shame so great that she would feel compelled to don the veil in Nyle's presence?
"You cannot believe he will wish to see me, Father."
"I will be able to show his father that your actions have not in any way weakened House D'Accorso; to the contrary, the Pegasus brings great prestige to us and to our allies. Your presence will also remind Fico Beneviste that the breaking of your betrothal was essential for the well-being of himself and his family."
Cynara felt as if she'd been slapped. "He has known since shortly after I left Dharma that marriage was impossible. Why does he need further evidence?"
"They have not seen you since you took up the captaincy. Any lingering doubts or resentment on his family's part will be laid to rest, and our future alliance will be secured once more." He placed his hand on the back of the chaise like an ancient emperor posing for a state portrait. "You owe this debt, Cynara. You will pay it."
Of course he would use any means to further his schemes to expand D'Accorso influence, which could never be taken for granted in Elsinore or anywhere on Dharma. He must simultaneously reinforce his position as one of the Pegasus's supporters, firmly ensconced as a patron of the Council, and at the same time placate his traditional and more backward allies.
"What you suggest," she said, "will hardly be effective if I wear the veil."
He inclined his head slightly. Zurine breathed so hard that h
er veil lifted away from her face, weights and all.
"I have also invited members of the Council and its supporters. It should be a most interesting gathering."
Interesting, yes—at her expense, caught between those who regarded her as a loathsome freak and those who continued to doubt her ability to captain the Pegasus. Her father would stand at the head of the table as the benevolent, reasonable mediator.
"Very well, Father," she said. "I'll stay for dinner, but I will spend the night aboard my ship."
"As you wish." He swept from the room without even glancing at his wife. Zurine, expressionless, rose and hurried Elendra away.
Cynara stood alone in the conservatory, smelling the greenery she had once loved so much. Now it seemed to stink of decay. She strode from the room and found Tesar waiting for her. He conducted her to her childhood quarters. Elendra had been given Cynara's room with its adult sensibilities.
Cynara didn't mind. There was comfort here, and memories of a time when veils and women's duties were far in the future.
Tesar opened the dusty drapes to let in the light. "You will wish refreshments, Filia, and an appropriate gown for tonight. I will send a servant to the Matrona's couturier with a message to bring her finest selection."
"By all means send for a tailor, Tesar, but don't bother with the gowns. I have my own plans."
The majordomo was experienced enough to regard her with wariness. "Your father—"
"Has asked me to attend as captain of the Pegasus, and captain I will be." She smiled to take the sting from her words. "I would very much appreciate a light meal, Tesar."
He nodded dubiously and went to the door. "Filia—"
"I know what I'm doing. Thank you, old friend."
And she did know precisely what she was doing. When a tailor arrived—one of the modiste's assistants and not the maestro himself—she described exactly what she wanted and asked if it could be done in a matter of hours. The scandalized assistant, already distracted by her unveiled eyes, took her tip and agreed to do his best.
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