Princess of Zenina

by Giselle Marks

  After showering, he visited the kitchen. Lunch for two would be special. Dismissing his first idea of preparing the meal himself, he gave the cook instructions for a leisurely meal. Selecting the wines, he set them to chill then inspected the house for anything out of place that could displease Marina, finding little to be dissatisfied with. Elated at seeing her again, his mind buzzed, acknowledging he was nervous about her return. She always knew when he had been up to anything and the petition was certainly something. He did not fear that she would disapprove of their cause, but he was wary about how she would react to his actions.

  Another thought intruded, “Why should it take that long to get from the space-port? Even dropping Chilka off in town, it should take no longer than fifty minutes. Marina did not mentioned guests, but she would not, would she? I’ll not call back for detailed instructions. If she wanted to tell me, she’d have done so. I assume she is bringing a man back. For more visitors, Marina would have given instructions about having rooms made ready and would have mentioned a female guest.”

  He returned to the kitchen where he ordered extra dishes, more bland than his previous selection for one extra person. Deciding not to dress, he thought to himself “If Marina wants me to think no guest is arriving, I’ll behave like I expected her to be alone.”

  Smirking to himself, he re-checked the premier guest bedroom. All was in order. Then he mentally turned up the air conditioning, so it was a little cooler than he preferred and settled down with a gory historical tome of the Zeninan wars of the Klarian period.

  ***

  Marina also called Father Niall O’Flaherty about her arrival, but her call to him had been more informative. He should expect to welcome three guests in an hour and forty minutes, they were a young fellow priest and two children, a teenage boy and his younger sister. They would be staying with him until Marina could reunite them with their parents. Although looking forward to conversing with a fellow priest, Niall worried he might be shocked by the laxness of his household.

  Like most Zeninan males Father Niall was dressed in only a loincloth and sandals. Regretting the necessity, he put on a knee length tunic of thin white cloth. As old as he was, he found wearing full canonical vestments in the heat of Hemithea too much. It was not unusually hot. The temperature varied little from one day to the next, as they were close to the planet’s equator. There was barely a breeze that day, making it feel oppressive. Like Charles, he increased the air conditioning for the comfort of his guests. He ordered lunch and laid out a spare tunic for Father Debenden. He would remember to arrange the decontamination of his vestments and luggage as per Marina’s instructions.

  Sitting down, he wrote a report on the state of Catholicism in Zenina for his Cardinal, whoever he might be.

  “Was it still the same Cardinal? There had been eight I have heard of since I came to Zenina; I might have missed a few. It’d been a hundred and fourteen years ago and I had been only in my seventies then...”

  Modulating his silver skin back to the insipid flesh tones he had been born with, so his guests would feel more at home. He checked with his servants that bedrooms were already prepared, then began to write...

  ***

  Bromarsh flew over a country of poetic beauty, passing by immaculate fields and dwellings with gardens in natural and formal styles. His eyes took in fountains, avenues of fruit trees and woodlands of statuesque hard wood. Nothing jarred the eye or disturbed his mind. It was not a uniform or regimented land, he could see it represented a contract between nature and humanity, in which neither had the upper hand.

  Chilka drove, as Marina sat next to Major Bromarsh. Everyone was quiet, except for the children excitedly pointing out some new wonder. Major Bromarsh was still brooding about his treatment at the space-port. Marina had not warned him, yet had clearly expected it. She surprised him by replying to his unspoken grumble directly to his mind.

  “Warn you? And spoil Ketla’s fun? It’s her favourite game. She strips all my men. I allow extra time for it. Pulling rank would avoid it, but then Ketla would win so I refuse to rise to it. I sent your belongings straight to her, reporting automatically. It irks her that I won’t show annoyance or punish her harassment. It made a change for her to have such an interesting haul, but she was spinning it out far too long.”

  Bromarsh speculated on Ketla’s reason for playing games. But Marina did not elucidate, so he returned to studying the scenery. Reaching the suburbs of Hemithea, the outlook included more houses with gracious gardens. Thirty feet below them a few people strolled by on foot. The road they were above was empty, except for pedestrians and a couple of unfamiliar riding beasts with riders. They sped on past candy floss mansions and then were into the centre of Hemithea. There magnificent buildings of marble, and translucent bricks of woven metal wire, and crystal turrets lined the streets still surrounded by gardens and greenery.

  Elaborate structures of many styles and influences jostled together for attention, whilst blending pleasingly as a whole in pastel shades of pink, lilac, grey and white. Gold and silver, ruby, and amethyst reflective surfaces picked out details. Most of the windows seemed to have some polarized tint, allowing light in but cutting the glare of Zenina’s sun.

  Finally they landed at a peach-blossom coloured, marble edifice whose mottled lilac windows betrayed nothing of its interior. A sign in a dozen different languages, none of which were Zeninan, stated the building was ‘the Headquarters of the Department of Zeninan Internal Security.’ Marina went inside and returned with a slim royal blue brief case. As she was nearing the car, a Silver woman delayed her. Bromarsh noted she wore an indigo uniform with a wide collar necklace of green and red stones, which were the size of boiled sweets. The woman gave Marina a large envelope; they stood silently together before Marina got back into the car.

  Chilka continued to drive until they reached a residential district. She stopped in front of a dove grey building with rosy windows and gilded balconies. Chilka got out the car and Marina took her place behind the wheel. Chilka retrieved her luggage, thanked Marina for the lift and said her goodbyes to the rest.

  Father Debenden was ruminating on why there was no other traffic. Was there a special religious observance which meant they avoided driving on that day? Although there were now many people around, the streets were not crowded, being wide enough to take four streams of traffic. He had seen no traffic lights or signs either. What struck him as most peculiar was the silence. The car’s roof was open, but apart from the sound of bird song and feet walking quietly on the paved road, no noise could be heard. No music, no conversation.

  Marina had not found Hemithea quiet. Since her arrival at the space-port she had been surrounded by chatter. Friends had been welcoming her back or inviting her to join some activity. Some filled her in on what she had missed while off planet; others bewailed how dull it had been in her absence. A few sought instructions from her in their official capacity, others canvassed her vote in some scheme of theirs at the Imperial Council. Still more sought reassurance that it was not her intention to support the abolition of male slavery at the forth-coming Council meeting.

  The hover-car turned rising over the sights of Hemithea.

  “Over there is Hemithea’s concert hall,” Marina said pointing out a vast ivory complex to her guests. Bromarsh compared it to a cluster of gorgeous butterflies with their wings pointing upwards.

  “That rose coloured dome belongs to Hemithea’s Opera House,” she said gesturing towards a building. Although the productions put on there, were not opera as Bromarsh understood it, but perhaps Marina was being diplomatic in her translations.

  “The salmon pink and gold building is Hemithea’s university, over there,” she gestured westwards, “is the main sports stadium,” Marina pointed out.

  Bromarsh had rather liked the design of the university which despite the garish pink was slightly gothic in an ornamental style; it had been surrounded by smaller buildings set in a lush park. Marina pointed out theatres
and museums as they drove. They landed in front of a magnolia pink building with columns and telamones in classical poses, the design of the facade was restful and satisfying. Bromarsh looked twice at the supporting statues, noticing that they were of muscular young men posed naked, and definitely were not the classical caryatids he had first assumed they were. He was slightly amused to notice they were better hung than most classical statues he had seen before.

  Here Marina lifted Tippy from the car and handed him to two attendants in white Zeninan uniform. The attendants wore no jewellery or weapons. Tippy was carried inside and Marina followed, but returned shortly, “That building is Hemithea’s brain hospital. They will take good care of Tippy,” she explained as she climbed back in the hover-car.

  Marina resumed driving, arching in a wide curve over the river, which they had seen on the other side of Hemithea. They were headed towards a lush enclosure adorned with artificial pools, slides, fountains and wave machines which echoed to the sound of childish laughter.

  Naked youngsters of bright jewel hues swam and splashed each other. The hover-car slowed as a Golden lad of about fourteen came up from the water below. The hover-car swept low to the water and the dripping naked boy clambered aboard. He found a towel in the rear of the car with which he dabbed at his hair.

  “Sebie” said Marina, “May I introduce you to Father Debenden, Major Bromarsh, Floren and Jessina Callabam. This is Sebie, my nephew. Is it all right if I drop you at the palace, Sebie?”

  There was no answer aloud to the question but Sebie took over the job of tour guide, concentrating on the sights which would most attract youngsters.

  “The fairground over there is pretty fabulous, young visitors love it. Down there is the entrance to the Ice caves, which is an absolute must for youngsters to visit. It is really cool too, so you get out of Hemithea’s heat, we should all go tomorrow,” Sebie declared. The children enthusiastically supported that suggestion.

  “I’ll invite some friends and make arrangements then,” Sebie replied.

  “What is that over there?” Bromarsh asked noticing the ruins of a fairy castle in blood red hues on the horizon

  “Those are the ruins of the fabled Queen Skaldina’s castle,” Sebie declared. This was the first building Bromarsh had seen in ruins or unfinished. Ahead of the hover-car appeared a semi-circle of golden onion shaped domes backing a large curving palace, with ornate balconies and spires flying pennants lethargically in the warm air. A couple of soldiers in the grounds below saluted the hover-car. Marina returned a small wave acknowledging the salute. Bromarsh excused her from her casual hand signal while driving the hover-car. She manoeuvred the hover-car close to the walls and Sebie jumped off onto one of the balconies. The children wanted to emulate him.

  “If Sebie breaks his neck, one week later he will be able to do it again. You’d require help with regenerating, if help came quickly enough. You’ll see local children doing dangerous things, please don’t copy them.” She pointed out responsibly.

  However she failed to dampen their spirits as they were looking forward to the ice caves and meeting his friends. Floren hoped Kazimira would join them, with cheerful memories of his bed mate. But Sebie had already decided to invite her, having read those thoughts.

  Another ten minutes and they were at the door of a more modest residence; a three storey building in lavender stone with a scattering of silver detail around the windows. At the door stood an upright, but skeletal old man wearing a white knee length tunic, open toed sandals and a plain black rosary and cross. Despite his painful thinness a mischievous grin spread over his face and a wicked glint lit up his eyes.

  “Welcome children, welcome Father Debenden. I understand from her royal highness, Princess Marina, you are to stay with me for a while. I trust you will enjoy your stay in Zenina,” he declared in his melodious lilting voice, then without more ado he ushered them inside.

  Father Debenden would have been appalled if he had overheard the mental exchange which had flashed between Marina and her chaplain. Father O’Flaherty expressed mock terror at the young priest’s intrusion into his household. Images of Debenden lecturing him, discovering him in compromising situations and rejecting Zeninan food crowded for split seconds into Marina’s mind. Her reply expressed false sympathy by offering to arrange Debenden’s seduction to salve O’Flaherty’s conscience. Both of them knew Father Niall was not indulging in a life of lechery, so the jokes were old between them.

  Chapter Fifteen– Father Niall

  Marina was fond of her chaplain and had adopted his faith mainly to please him. Technically he was her slave, although neither of them ever mentioned it. He had been given to her when she was eight, by her mother, along with a Kurgian linguist. Marina swiftly learnt all the Kurgian languages he could teach and exchanged him for an ancient tome of arcane hypnotherapy techniques, which she had failed to persuade her mother to part with funds for. The older Zeninan she sold the Kurgian to had not needed a linguist. Marina felt no guilt in dispensing with a servant she had found tedious. The slave had already offered to serve her in ways she was too young to be interested in, better he served his new owner instead.

  Niall O’Flaherty had lived a remarkable life, leaving his birth planet in his early thirties at his Bishop’s most urgent demand. Their Chinese overlords had not appreciated him preaching openly for their overthrow. If he had done more than talk about sabotaging their occupation, no evidence reached the Chinese, only rumour. So he had lived to tell the tale. If he had been a cat he would have used up his nine lives several times over. Although he had faced death many times and had lived a harsh life, he had somehow always managed to survive which he put down to God’s will or the luck of the Irish.

  Niall spent the next 21 years peacefully in the Chirius colony devouring all the available literature of his native Earth. Having read the Earth literature, he continued his studies by consuming any other books in the colony. His new Bishop decided to send him as an envoy to the newly discovered and possibly dangerous people of Planet Aresk. By then he had read his way three times through everything available and had acquired four extra languages.

  Father O’Flaherty reached Aresk without incident. His actions there were miraculously circumspect and merited his Bishop’s approval. The felicitations of the Vatican were extended and accepted. An offer of diplomatic representation was welcomed and missionaries in the form of lecturers on the Roman Catholic faith would be tolerated, if only for their curiosity value. No one had expected it from him, so he hoped the Bishop would consider favourably his request to return home, so he could finish his declining years in the green lands of his birth.

  While he returned to Chirius, Niall’s optimism persisted but his hopes were not realised. His ship came under attack from Kurgian fighters three days from the colony. Their surrender was so swift, Father O’Flaherty’s first intimation was the entrance of a Kurgian Officer into his cabin. He had been accompanying himself on his Irish harp while singing an old ballad. His life was saved by this peculiar circumstance. The officer was overseeing the search for people aboard the ship; those others he discovered had not remained living. Ga’Zirak heard the priest’s song before finding him, while considering how to placate his wife as he was in trouble with her. Mrs Ga’Zirak had discovered he was keeping a Sclurian beauty and was threatening divorce.

  A divorce for immorality would hinder a Kurgian officer’s career. Men often kept mistresses, but their wives must never know. Ga’Zirak had been seeking a present to appease her. He decided the harpist would make a suitable present, a musical oddity his wife would appreciate. After he left the Ga’Ziraks, Niall had a number of other owners, where he worked as a harpist, tutor or scribe. He was travelling with his owner between planets, when their vessel was attacked by Blengarian pirates. His owner was killed along with most of the crew and passengers, but Father O’Flaherty lived his charmed life and was taken alive by the pirates. He said prayers for their dead and for a few months, surviving fro
m day to day, in imminent fear for his life.

  The pirates captured a slaver taking 230 slaves, mostly female, whom they decided to sell in Razanash. They were foolish enough to take a short cut across a small area of Zeninan space. An army patrol spotted them, followed and called in support. The pirates were captured; the slaves were taken to Zenina for repatriation together with Father O’Flaherty. The pirates were flogged, their ship confiscated and they were scattered across a planet which was being newly colonised. There they settled down resentfully to lives as farmers, miners, builders and labourers, or until they could save enough to get off the planet.

  The female slaves were swiftly freed; a few opted to stay in Zenina. Others accepted travel vouchers to their planets of origin or to a destination from information provided. A few young male slaves were found new owners, which left Father O’Flaherty. He was now 71 and far too decrepit to consider using as a bed slave. Housing an elderly, celibate priest in a society which had none of those things was quickly solved. A wealthy Zeninan with a large brood of bored children found his story-telling beguiling. He was invited to stay in her home. Niall wished to return to his native land, Zenina’s government was prepared to fund the journey, but if he returned without his Bishop’s permission, he might be sent back into space. He felt at his advanced age he could not face arriving home only to be turned back.

  So a letter was sent to his Bishop outlining the priest’s request. The delivery of the letter all the way to Earth even by fast Zeninan vessels took over four months and the reply took as long to return. Time did not stand still for Father O’Flaherty whilst he awaited a reply. Colour change occurs if a non-Zeninan remains on the planet averaging at six months spent in the Zeninan sun. Zeninan scientists had spent millennia studying the factors causing colour change, had proved that the peculiar qualities of the Zeninan sun combined with local low grade radiation made up half of the solution and a microscopic symbiote the other half.