by TylerRose.
He left her sitting alone at the table, leaving out the front door and speaking to someone there waiting for him. She finished her meal and dressed, remembering the brooch, and set out for the temple.
Seeing how people worshiped their deities (or didn’t) was a good way to learn about a people and their culture. Temple was temple from the outside, no matter the planet she was on. They all looked more or less the same, with straight lines and formal entry.
“What does this sign say?” she asked someone waiting for a loved one to come out.
The words had several meanings depending on context, and she didn’t have the appropriate context.
“Temple of the Immaculate Soul,” the teenager replied.
“How long as it been named that?” Tyler had to ask.
“Forever.”
The mother came out and the two walked away, ending the questions.
Inside, at the far end, was a place for someone to speak to a congregation that knelt or sat on blankets brought in. Off to one side was a stone replica of part of the Emperor’s crystal. Worshipers placed a hand on it while walking by, saying or thinking their prayers as they walked. On the other side were hundreds of candles the entire length of the wall. Each person lit one while in the line to the crystal. Young attendants replaced burned out candles with fresh ones as needed.
“Might I help you with the ritual?” asked a male voice to her left.
“No, thank you. I am not going to participate,” she replied offhand, and turned around to leave.
She went directly to the library next door, the other best place to learn about a society. She spent hours browsing through book after book, then hours more in the market looking at everything in her own time and making several purchases. She found a place to sit and enjoy a cup of hot tea, have a small plate of food, and watch the people.
The man from the temple sat in the other chair when she was about halfway through her meal. She recognized his clothes though she had not seen his face. He had gray fur around his jowls and ears, similar to the Mayor but the rest was short fuzz like Shestna’s. White and black streaks broke up the monotony of gray on the back of his hands.
“I understand you are a guest from the Congress, staying with our good Prince.”
“What of it?” she asked, not pleased by his presumption to sit with her without asking. “Who are you?”
“Our Prince does not have guests that are not his family or former wives. I don’t see a set of wedding beads and I know you’re not a former. If he’s offered a Psala flower, you’ve not accepted. Has he taken you to the mating?”
“Whether he has or not is none of your damn business. Who the hell are you, other than some entitled asshole sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong and invading my personal space? Get lost.”
He chuckled that condescending sound she had learned to hate to the core of her being. “Ahh, that is why he is intrigued. Would you accept the Psala if he offered it?”
“I won’t be accepting any Psala from you, so just get that thought right out of your stupid head.”
He reached for her hand. She captured his instead and twisted outward. With a bit of psychokinesis to help, she flipped him out of his seat and onto his back on the ground before his next breath.
“I suggest you leave me be,” she said, and poured herself a fresh cup of tea.
With a dozen eyes watching to see what he would do, and not willing to risk further humiliation, he skulked off into the market and toward his own home.
Tyler signaled for her bill to be brought.
“It is on me, Mistress,” the younger of the two women running the stall said. “He takes great advantage of any woman he can. You are the first I have seen stand up to him. Thank you.”
Tyler smiled and left a tip equal to half the bill.
“There you are.”
Shestna’s voice approaching as she was getting up from the table. She smiled at him and he was gratified by the expression.
“Did you have another destination?” he asked, picking up her packages to carry for her.
“I couldn’t find some of what I was looking for in the library since the library pertains only to Voran’s history. There’s nothing about the Congress.”
“No, there wouldn’t be. Mine is not that kind of library. Our general populace knows little about the Congress except that we get visitors now and again. The facility you want is in the city, outside Father’s palace.”
“Is it connected to the Congress in anyway? Or Sistarian computers? I need resources that are entirely independent and will not shut me out when I start asking the sticky questions.”
“Is that what happened?” he asked.
“Yes. A while ago, I was asking when the Congress moved to the station, why the station was really made and who lived on it, and was suddenly shut down.”
“We’ll go tomorrow. It’s far too late in the day to go there now. How are you liking my little city?”
“It’s lovely. Most of the people are very kind. Some guy sat at my table and tried to play Twenty Questions with me, asking if we’d had sex, if I would accept a Psala if you offered one.”
“What did he look like?” Shestna asked, voice hard with displeasure.
She described him to the best of her ability, including his entitled nature and stupid grin and how she threw him to the ground when he’d tried to touch her.
“He seemed to know an awful lot about you. After he left, the tea shop owner thanked me and wouldn’t bring me a bill. She said he takes advantage of a lot of women.”
“I think I know who he is. Do your best to not have any dealings with him.”
“He sat down without being invited and I told him to get lost. He sat there grinning like a doofus. It’s not like I sought him out.”
They’d reached his home and the Neverseen opened the door.
“You did nothing wrong, Femina. If he was who I think, he is not above tricking a woman into holding the Psala. Simply be mindful.”
“You are a worrywart.”
“A what?”
“Someone who worries over things that don’t need worrying,” she said, and went to her own room to freshen up and change clothes for the evening.
When she came out, she found him half under the sink in the kitchen.
“The drain clog up?” she asked.
“Yeah, hold this for me,” he said, thrusting a blind hand up toward her.
She opened her hands and he dropped a small fluff of something into her palms. A red flower that looked rather like a long-petal mum.
“What the hell is this?” she demanded as he came out and stood to lean against the counter.
“A Psala flower. It’s in your hand because you let me put it there. You accepted it. It is red, so it means I am asking you for a permanent marriage. Because it is red, you can refuse. Were it white, you would now be my Seven-Day bride, mine to couple with as pleased me. Mine to command, to use, to punish, to impregnate, and there would be nothing you could do about it because those seven days could just as easily begin after you were returned to me for running away. That is how easy it is, Tyler, and it’s perfectly legal.”
She threw it at him. “Fucking bastard.”
He caught her upper arm as she tried to stomp away, pulling her close to get her full and undivided attention. Her angry blue eyes and his calm but determined yellow eyes.
“Cursing at me would change nothing. Things are not always as you want them to be. You cannot change or ignore everything you do not like about other cultures, especially when other planets and the Congress itself respect and uphold them. It is not my aim to be an authority over you personally; but I am the authority over everyone and everything within my own Principality. Respect my people. Respect our ways or you can no longer be my guest.”
Her breath caught in her throat, that same sensation as when she’d pissed off Nails.
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend.”
He released her slo
wly, just like Nails used to do. “You are forgiven of course. The matter is put aside. Our supper waits.”
Unsettled, disconcerted, the young goddess within knocked off her balance, she was quiet through most of supper. She brought up no topics to discuss, ate little, kept her answers short when he brought something up, and immediately after the meal retired to her own room. She wrote in her journal about the event in the kitchen and how it reminded her of Nails. That steely calm in his eyes when he was most angry with her…how much she still missed him, like a piece of her own soul and heart had been ripped out. She confessed to her journal that she felt real physical pain remembering him.
She had to put the book and pen down and press a fist against the center of her chest, where it hurt most. He had been her shelter. The one person with whom she felt she was home. He let her roam, let her have her fun and her pursuits, let her return to him in her own time for that invisible thing she needed from him.
Why she had so easily accepted him as an authority, and no one else, she couldn’t say. Was it because, while he exuded authority, he didn’t exert it unless he had to? Like Shestna had done with the flower?
She fell asleep on the short sofa and dreamed Nails was there, wrapping his arms around her to be that shelter and she was safe once more.
A dream from which she wanted never to wake.
Come dawn, Hades kissed her cheek and left her in peace.
Chapter Three
Shestna took her to the planetary archives building as promised. As Voran was a founding member, one whole wing was dedicated to the history of the Congress. Original documents bound into books and also stored on computer memory were at her disposal on his order.
To her disappointment, she could not find any references to the station already being behind Pluto when the Congress moved. All she could find was a statement that, for neutrality’s sake, the Congress would be moved away from the planets that had membership. It would not be located on any member planet. It would not orbit any member planet. No member planet would claim ownership or control over it.
As ordered by the office of the Administrator.
“What about the Guardians of Time?” she asked.
“Query unspecific,” the computer replied.
“When did the Guardians of Time come into being?” she tried again. “How many years ago?”
“The Guardians of Time formed as a secondary body within the station but aside from the Congress four hundred and three years ago.”
“Why?”
“Query unspecific.”
“Why was the Guardians of Time formed?”
“There is no information provided.”
“No information provided? Because it doesn’t exist? Or because someone is hiding it?” she asked.
The computer remained silent. She hadn’t really asked it anyway. Why in the world would an agency be started up and no reason given?
She got out her phone to call Julian and ask him.
“To keep track of criminal activity conducted through time travel,” he replied.
“Was that the real reason or is that a smokescreen? Was it really such a big problem at the time?”
“Some technology was stolen now and then. You know that question? If you could go back in time and kill Hitler, would you? They were afraid something like that was going to happen and substantially alter—“
“What if that was the cover story and they were really the ones going back in time to kill someone?” she cut him off. “Or sending someone to do the deed? You said I’ve had numerous other lives I don’t remember, none of them successful in getting me to Widen even once. What if Earnol made the Guardians in order to be able to legally send someone back in time? To find and eradicate me or make it so I couldn’t develop?”
He was silent a moment too long. She had his attention.
“I’d tell you that you are just being paranoid if that didn’t make perfect sense,” he had to admit.
“That would mean Earnol himself has been trying all along to prevent me not only from developing but existing in the first place. Not just stop me this time, but for hundreds and hundreds of years. I just can’t prove it.”
“If it could be proved, Tyler, we’d have him. We could legally remove him from office and try him without staging any sort of coup. He’d be a criminal.”
“Why don’t you get to work on that for me,” she said.
“I have to do it quietly. We’ll keep that for face to face conversations.”
“Agreed.”
She ended the call, and sat there so long in thought that the attendant asked her if she was done. She left the computer station, finding Shestna in a reading nook with a volume of something.
“Find what you were looking for?”
“Yes and no. I’m too annoyed to talk about it right now. You’re not going to take me to meet your father are you? I don’t think I’m in any mood for anything like that.”
“I was not. I do have to go by the transport garage, however, and pick up something. You will likely meet one of my sons there.”
A son named Emeril, about 35 years old, who was in charge of the Emperor’s fleet of vehicles. Hands covered in grease, he bowed his head to her rather than shaking hands.
“Is it ready?” Shestna asked.
“Yes, finished an hour ago,” Emeril gestured to the other side of the six bay garage.
It was an open ground vehicle not unlike an Earth sports car. They had teleported to the Archives and Shestna drove them back to his home.
“Is he your oldest?” she asked when they were underway.
“Yes. Able to work in the peripheral of the court rather than the heart of it. If it rolls or flies, he can service it.”
“You know that sounds dirty, right?”
“Does it? Or do you simply have a dirty mind?” Shestna shot right back.
“Okay, that might be it. I think I’ll head back to work as courier tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“You wanted to show me your planet. I’ve seen your planet. I’ve had plenty enough time away to get my head on straight again. I want to learn more about what Earnol is hiding.”
“I see,” he said, too dryly and trying not to reveal the depth of his dissatisfaction.
“Is that disappointment?”
“I had expected you would stay a few days longer; but you are welcome to come back another time.”
“Anytime I want, I would imagine. I want to go to the market. There was a dress I wanted to get before I go.”
“Later tonight. We have an early dinner party with the Mayor and will have to prepare and leave rather quickly.”
“Dinner party? How many people?” she asked.
“I do not know. At least ten.”
Make that a total of sixteen guests. The Mayor’s residence was the same basic design as Shestna’s home, with the sunken central area and the open dining room. The kitchen was closed off. To the right of the entry, what was a bedroom in Shestna’s home, was an open-walled patio to enjoy the small garden between the house and the front wall of the plot of land. A pleasant space to enjoy warm late-daylight hours. Fruity cocktails helped conversation along.
Drinks also helped her to hear the thoughts of their host, as he became less in control of them with each sip. Every time he looked at her, he could only think about getting his hand between her legs at the table to know what her sex felt like.
Taking her drink with her, Tyler crossed back over to the dining area, where Shestna was talking with someone. Seven chairs sat on both sides of the long table and Tyler’s place card (which read Prince’s Consort) sat at the host’s right. Shestna was on the end to the host’s left, three seats away. On the other side and across from her were females. An overt attempt to keep her apart from Shestna so the Mayor could have her to himself for the duration of the meal. The menu card showed ten courses. A very long meal to paw on her and he looked forward to it far too much.
Using teleportation,
she moved her card to be at Shestna’s left, on the other side of the table from the Mayor, and moved that person’s card to the Mayor’s right. He would just have to sit next to his own wife for a change.
The butler came around to stand several feet from the Mayor. Making eye contact, a slow nod told the Mayor all was ready.
“Shall we sit?” he gestured, and was perplexed when Tyler went around the table to sit at the far corner.
Eyes darting to the place setting to find the name marker, annoyed to see his own wife taking the seat he had intended the Off-worlder to occupy.
[What did you do?] Shestna asked her telepathically. [You’re supposed to sit next to him.]
She smiled, flicking the napkin open to lay across her lap. [To have his fingers between my legs through the entire ten course meal? Forget it.]
He said nothing more, and telepathically steered her away from the more exotic foods. She didn’t want to try the unhatched baby chicks, and spent most of the second course staring into her wine glass wishing the night could be over.
Shestna’s hand on hers brought her eyes up to his.
“Are you unwell?”
“I’m fine,” she lied behind a tight smile.
[What do you hear?] he asked.
She opened her mind enough that he could hear everything she was hearing. The women hating her, the men wanting her and thinking the most crude language about what they wanted to do to her. Their curiosities as to what her sex looked like, felt like, smelled like, tasted like. Every last one of them, even the elderly Councilman.
Disgusted, Shestna reached into his pants pocket under the table, to his phone. He pressed the button that had been on standby since leaving his own house. Half a minute later, his phone rang and he excused himself to answer it by the door.
“Calling to rescue you from whatever function it is that you can’t stand being at one minute more,” Pisod said.
“Thank you, Royal Brother. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
He returned to the table.
“Forgive us, Mr. Mayor, but we must be going. I’ve been summoned by the Emperor.”
