Resort Debauch

by Roxanne Smolen

  It's good that Cade knows him, she told herself. An officer of security would be a fine friend to have. But in her mind, she saw Harmadeur shaking the captured man like a doll, slicing his throat even as he pleaded....

  Suddenly, people converged upon the table. Every seat filled. Those without chairs sat upon the floor, lounging on cushions.

  Did they know they sat upon dried blood? Anneliese wondered. She shuddered, drawing her feet up the rungs of the chair.

  A group of boys emerged, struggling with oversized trays. They passed among the patrons.

  "You must try our tea, little naifa,” Harmadeur told her. He removed their cups from a server's tray. “It is brewed from a moss found only in this region."

  Anneliese stared at the muddy-looking liquid; bits of material floated on top.

  "Let it settle a moment,” Cade said, “and drink it slowly. It is rather bracing—keep you awake all night."

  Harmadeur laughed, blowing great puffs of foul smelling smoke. “Legends tell of feeding the tea to our armies. They would fight for days and never notice they were dead."

  Anneliese sipped from her steaming cup. The tea had a nutty-sweet flavor, surprisingly pleasant. She waited a moment but didn't feel any of the effects.

  "Very nice,” she proclaimed, taking another sip.

  Drawing deeply upon his cigarette, Harmadeur watched her. Anneliese leaned toward her husband, running her fingers over his arm, and he regaled her with his crooked smile.

  Her heart soared. She would endure anything, she thought, if only to see him smile.

  The young servers returned, bearing black vats of soup. They ladled the thin liquid into bowls. Anneliese turned toward the boy who attended her.

  "What kind of soup is this?” she asked.

  The boy bowed his head. He would not meet her eyes.

  "Lisa, don't confuse him. He's only a local,” Cade said.

  "But, I just...."

  "Take the soup."

  Anneliese felt flames leap to her cheeks. She accepted the bowl, glancing to see if anyone had noticed the reprimand. Harmadeur continued to stare, and she wanted to scream at him to stop. Avoiding his eyes, she wiped away a bit of soup that had dripped onto the tabletop.

  She blinked in surprise. Warmth emanated from the surface, as if the table absorbed the lamplight. A dark grain swirled in deepening layers. Looking closer, she imagined she could see shifting patterns, like a brewing storm.

  "Master Gendarme,” she said, “this table is exquisite. I've never seen anything like it."

  "Does it please you, little naifa? It is malpais, from the center of our world. This table is of the largest piece known to exist."

  Cade nodded. “Their artisans carve the stone into trinkets. It was their only source of commerce before the Resort arrived. Malpais has value, but the quality has diminished."

  Harmadeur leaned forward, his strange eyes shining. “If you were my woman, I would build you a house of malpais. You would be the richest woman in the galaxy."

  Anneliese met his gaze squarely. I am the richest woman, she thought.

  Cade picked up his bowl. “Try the soup,” he told her.

  Looking down, she realized there were no utensils.

  A roar escaped the crowd. Two men ran into the room, dressed only in flowing trousers. Goaded by the revelers, they danced about the table, parading a dead animal on a litter.

  "The animal is a stegort,” Cade told her. “It tunnels in the hills. Quite ferocious, I understand."

  Anneliese saw blue muscle, strings of yellow fat. She cried, “They can't expect us to eat that! It hasn't been cooked!"

  Harmadeur threw back his head, laughing. Anneliese glared at him.

  Cade said, “They cure the meat with spices then leave it in the sun. The heat out there would cook anything."

  The two men lowered the litter onto a dais before the table. With curved blades, they carved the beast, cutting thin strips from snout to rump. Brown liquid oozed from the slices.

  Anneliese gulped her cooling tea, washing back the nausea that threatened her. Looking up, she caught a glint of amusement in the huge man's eyes. She set her cup down noisily.

  "I saw you kill a man in the spaceport today,” she said. “You seemed to enjoy it."

  "It is my job to protect the patrons. I enjoy my work."

  "The other guards carry rifles. Why don't you?"

  Harmadeur dropped his cigarette into his water glass. “Sluice rifles are, shall I say, too impersonal. Your questions are quite direct, little naifa. I would enjoy discussing this further, but as you have reminded me, I have duties to attend. May you both enjoy your meals."

  He bowed then strode away, robes billowing behind him. Anneliese took a shuddering breath, torn between relief and fear of repercussion. She glanced at Cade, but he merely drank his tea.

  After a moment, she asked, “Why does he call me that?"

  "Naifa? The nearest translation would be pet.” Her husband leaned close, stroking her hair. “I believe you've made an impression."

  Suddenly, the room swarmed with servant boys, each brandishing a different food. They served the uncooked meat from a barrow.

  "Try some,” Cade said, lips glistening with grease.

  Anneliese chose from the vegetables she recognized. Her head buzzed and her tongue felt numb. She requested more tea, and a servant filled her cup immediately.

  The lanterns dimmed. Three women appeared upon the dais. Long strands of silver hung from bands about their necks. Catcalls and a smattering of applause rounded the room. Anneliese clapped, glancing about.

  The women raised their arms, their faces blank as if in a trance. Almost imperceptibly, they began to sway.

  "The dance is called moiru,” Cade said in her ear. “It is a test of endurance and timing."

  "But there is no music."

  Cade shook his head. “Listen."

  The women cupped their hands as if beseeching an angry god. Shifting their weight, they set their costumes in motion.

  Anneliese reached for her tea. Her ears rang, her head pulsing as if with the tolling of a crystal bell.

  "Their dresses,” she whispered, looking up. “They are wearing the music."

  The dancers swayed, rolling their hips. Their costumes poured over them like liquid metal. Lifting and sweeping, the long strands parted, allowing glimpses of naked flesh.

  Anneliese gasped. She looked to either side of the table. The diners watched avidly, noise diminishing as if they held their breaths.

  The ringing streamers switched the air, shimmering in the faded light, and the performers teased them higher with their movements, exposing the length of their thighs, the roundness of their buttocks.

  Anneliese slid her fingers along her throat, holding them to her breast. Her heart pounded erratically. She watched the undulating woman nearest her, watched as her thrusting movements set her costume ablaze. The dancer's amber skin glistened with sweat, running down the muscles of her stomach. Moisture shone upon a curly patch of pubes.

  Anneliese's head swam. The air vibrated with the ching-ching of music. Heat rose in waves, heavy with the smell of musk.

  Faster the women danced. Their costumes switched and flailed, sparks flying as the strands whipped their lithe forms. One woman cried out, sending the crowd into frenzied jeers and laughter. Anneliese felt those behind her press against her back.

  Then the woman in front started to spin, streamers standing straight from her body. The crowd called out, counting the seconds.

  Anneliese echoed their chant. Her body pounded with the rhythm of the dance. She pressed her thighs tightly together. With sidelong glances, she watched the men at the table, their wide hands drumming and their fervor unrestrained.

  The woman staggered, losing her balance to fatigue. A shrill whistle rose from the onlookers.

  Cade said, “It takes skill and concentration to dance the moiru."

  The dancer slowed, allowing the streamers to shed their mo
mentum until they again draped her body. Anneliese watched the heaving of the woman's breasts, felt the rising of her own.

  "Enjoy the dance?” asked Cade.

  Anneliese clasped her hands together. “Oh, yes! I feel exhilarated!"

  "I think that's the tea.” Her husband smiled.

  Anneliese leaned against his chest, and he wrapped his arms about her. She could stay this way forever, she thought.

  A woman's voice interrupted their embrace. Anneliese looked up to see the dancer who had been spinning.

  "Master Cade,” the woman said. “I did not know you would be here."

  She spoke in stilted Standard, still breathing hard from the dance. Wet hair plastered her forehead, and a scar creased her cheek.

  Cade said, “You know I couldn't miss your performance. Lisa, I would like you to meet Farin. Farin, this is my wife."

  The dancer's shoulders stiffened, her eyes narrowing.

  Anneliese smiled. “I'm happy to meet you, Farin. Your dance was thrilling. And such a lovely costume.” She ran her fingers along the silver strands, drawing back sharply. “They're like razors!"

  Cade laughed. “Skill and concentration. And a little blood."

  Sound crashed over Anneliese's head. She stared at Farin. Self-mutilation? Passed off as a dance? “Do they pay you?” she asked.

  Again, Cade laughed, slapping the table. “Spoken like the daughter of a shipping czar."

  Farin looked between them, eyes large with tears. “Gentle fantasies to you both,” she murmured, hurrying away.

  Cade got to his feet. “Enough excitement. I'd best get you to your room."

  "But, it's early.” Anneliese took her husband's arm. “I wanted to see their reproduction of a geyser."

  "I don't think you're ready for that."

  Cade guided her through the throng of people. Many of the diners were leaving, many more still coming into the hall. Jostled and crushed, Anneliese held fast to the neckline of her gown.

  They stepped into the lift, ascending to their penthouse suites. As the doors opened upon the courtyard, Anneliese sucked in her breath. Stars filled the dome above, brighter than any she had ever seen. A copper-streaked moon hung low in the sky.

  Cade sat upon a stone bench. “The moon is called Sikar, the Hunter. His sister will be along in a moment."

  "How do you know so much about this world?” she asked.

  Smiling, Cade said, “The first time I came here, I took the complementary tour. I had a good guide."

  Anneliese leaned into her husband's embrace. She felt the pounding of his heart, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His arm was warm about her shoulders.

  "Cade,” she said, “how do things like that happen? About Farin, I mean."

  "It starts in the streets. A city surrounds the Resort. Locals call it Enceinte, the Enclosed. The people there will do anything.” He sat back, looking at her. “I want to take you. I want you to see how they live."

  "Is this the only city?"

  "There is one other. It's a distance away. Then there are the Llaird, warring tribes of underground dwellers. They take to storming the cities every once in a while, hence the walls about Enceinte.” He kissed her forehead, pulling her into his arms, nestling his face in her hair.

  Her hair was what had attracted him, Anneliese thought. She knew she would never be a dazzling woman—she was too petite, her figure too childlike. Only her hair, her mass of silver tresses, set her apart from the others.

  Cade swept his lips across her bare shoulder. His fingers explored her gown. Anneliese closed her eyes, lifting her chin. She felt the rising throb of her heartbeat, felt his breath hot in her ear. Clutching his back, she drew him closer. Cade whispered her name. Moving his hands to cup her face, he kissed her.

  Anneliese's head swam. She opened her mouth to his seeking tongue. Her breasts tingled, and the insides of her thighs felt swollen and wet.

  He pulled away. She saw his face clearly in the moonlight, the intensity in his eyes. His fingers brushed her lips, caressing the cleft of her chin, the hollow of her neck, stopping at the curve of her plunging neckline.

  "I think we should say goodnight,” he whispered.

  "But, Cade...."

  Her husband laughed, the fire gone. “Come on, I want to get an early start tomorrow.” Taking her hand, he led her from the starry garden.

  Anneliese moved woodenly. She felt as if, with each step, she were shrinking. What had happened here? Had she done something wrong?

  "I had clothing sent to your room,” Cade told her. “Be sure to wear the hat tomorrow. It's hot outdoors.” He kissed her forehead, turning away.

  Anneliese called after him. “Cade, are you going to the games tonight, the ones your friends mentioned?"

  "No.” Cade smiled his crooked smile. “Of course not."

  CHAPTER 3

  Anneliese arose with swollen eyes and a headache. She'd had trouble falling asleep that night, and what rest she did obtain was fraught with dreams. Looking in the mirror, she wondered how she'd get through the day.

  She tossed her nightgown onto the floor, and then stepped into the hot tub in a corner of the lavatory, allowing the swirling water to rise to her chin. Pale yellow flowers surrounded the tub, filling the air with sweetness.

  Their scent reminded her of home: languid pools and crystal streams, lilies clinging to the rocks. She'd been foolish to think she could be happy anywhere else.

  Of course, if one were to believe her father, everything she thought was foolish and trivial.

  Did he miss her? she wondered, then pushed the wish away. Stretching her legs, she allowed the coursing liquid to untie her knotted muscles. A skylight showed the colors of early morning, and she watched the light dance in spectrums upon the walls.

  Where did Cade call home? She knew so little about him. When they finally settled, would he take her to a place held dear in his memory?

  She pictured Cade, remembering the intensity of his moonlit eyes, his hands touching her. She ran wet fingers over her lips. He had never kissed her that way before. There was something primitive, almost barbarous in the way that he'd touched her.

  Was that the way these barbarians treated their mates? Anneliese thought of the man she'd seen hiding in the spaceport, imagined him pulling her into his arms. Would he be gentle with her, or would he take what he wanted?

  Blushing with the suggestion, she got to her feet. Water crested the tub, splashing the flowers. She wrapped herself in a towel, stepping from her bath. The air chilled her damp skin.

  In a wardrobe, she found a red day suit and a wide-brimmed hat. She dressed quickly, standing before a mirror. The suit's puffy sleeves and fitted bodice accented the flatness of her bosom. She looked like a child at a masquerade.

  At least, he knew her size, if not her tastes. Sighing, she drew her fingers through her hair, allowing it to fall like a silver cape.

  What was she doing here?

  Then she heard a rap at her door, and her heart flew. Grabbing the hat, she hurried into the great room. The door opened before she could reach it.

  Cade leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, his hair spilling over his forehead. Anneliese dropped her gaze, remembering her wanton thoughts a moment ago. What would he think of her?

  "There you are,” Cade said. “You look rested."

  "Actually, I feel dreadful.” Anneliese laughed too loudly, avoiding his eyes.

  "You need a cup of coffee,” he said. “We'll get some in the marketplace."

  "There is a market? But, I thought you said the local people had no commerce."

  "That was before the Resort Debauch."

  Leaving the door open, Cade stepped into the room, urging her toward the window. Anneliese looked out upon flat roofs and narrow, winding roads. A bicycle traced a forlorn path.

  "It's so ... white,” she said.

  Cade laughed. “Everything is made of stone, their most abundant natural resource. Over there, you can see part of the
wall I was telling you about."

  Anneliese looked where her husband pointed, feeling the heat of his presence behind her. She leaned against him, a glow enveloping her.

  "Are you ready to leave?” he asked.

  She smiled. Taking his arm, Anneliese rode the elevator to the lobby. People filled the room, and she wondered if morning had meaning at the Resort Debauch. Cade pressed his key against a door, escorting her into a brightly lit corridor. The crimson lights caused her head to throb, and she pulled her hat over her eyes.

  "Stay close to me,” Cade said as they approached a huge door. “Enceinte is dangerous."

  Anneliese looked up. The door towered above her, forged of burnished metals and edged with hammered designs. The center bowed slightly, as if rammed from outside. She said, “They should have guards."

  "This is the only entrance from the city,” Cade said, “and it's under constant surveillance. If a local should get inside, they'd simply turn the lights up to roast."

  He slid his docking pass along a slot, entering his code. A dramatic clank sounded through the metal. Cade leaned, opening the heavy door.

  Anneliese gasped at a blast of heat, blinking at the light, cringing against a sudden clamor.

  Cade stepped out, waving his arms. “Get back, you dumb bastards! Nich! Nich!"

  A group of native-born men surrounded them. Goggles shielded their eyes. They hopped from foot to foot, calling loudly in their gibbering tongue, sweat streaming down their naked chests.

  Anneliese wriggled her nose against the stench. She folded her arms tightly, trying not to touch, to be touched. Behind the men, she saw a row of wicker carriages—jinrikishas drawn by bicycles—and her stomach sank with the thought of riding in such a primitive fashion.

  The men danced and shouted. One shook a tambourine. Cade nodded at him, then led Anneliese to his cart. Anneliese stared at the worn, mud encrusted wicker, wiping her hands as if already soiled. Cade boosted her up, then sat next to her, causing the entire contraption to sway.

  The man chortled. Placing his tambourine atop his head, he mounted the bicycle, leaning upon the pedals. Slowly, the cart pulled away. Gravel crunched beneath the wheels. Anneliese balanced upon the open seat, keeping her hands upon her lap.