Princess of Zenina

by Giselle Marks

  Charles decided to suggest a swim, at a quiet beach some miles up the coast. This innocuous activity took up the early half of the afternoon without any problems. Bromarsh was not ready to be thrown into the arms of willing women. Charles knew he’d get the blame if he took Bromarsh home drunk, so his options for entertaining him were limited. With that in mind Charles persuaded Vlama to give Bromarsh a tour of her Regimental headquarters. Placing Bromarsh in her hands, he was free to accept the hospitality of a Silver officer called Jarminza for some uninterrupted time together. Thus both men enjoyed their visit to the headquarters.

  Bromarsh was content to escort Vlama, to watch some cadets going through some intricate drills. What impressed him most was that no audible orders were given.

  “Is this the standard you expect of all your cadets, Colonel? They are very well trained,” he suggested.

  “They are barely adequate, Major. I expect more from a troop of telepaths. They manage to get through their paces, but there is no fluidity or smoothness in their movements. It is not as if any of them cannot follow their instructor’s thoughts. Standards are dropping, I am disappointed,” Vlama declared fairly loudly, unconcerned whether the cadets heard her or not.

  “By Markaban standards they would be thought very accomplished for cadets,” he muttered in their defence.

  “By Markaban, Zigan or Kurgian standards they are. That is what is so frustrating. Zeninan troops are expected to be better than the rest of the universe. I am not sure if it is laziness in the cadets or the fault of the instructor,” she repined.

  “Come along, I want to watch some of the hand to hand combat sessions,” she said marching off briskly. Bromarsh caught up and automatically fell in to step with her. As they reached a field set out in squares of beautifully manicured grass, a Golden woman clearly dressed as a Zeninan General hailed them. Her long plait was entwined with a shower of ruby enamelled metal flowers. In addition to her uniform she wore a white short sleeved shirt under her golden sash.

  “Ah good,” Vlama remarked to him. “There is General Stenlina, shall we go and join her?” Bromash replied correctly, “Yes of course.” Vlama continued talking, seemingly enjoying his company and an audience.

  “Stenlina is officially retired, but is still addressed by her former rank. She tends to spend most of her time at one of the regiments or other. She was an unarmed combat instructor in her youth and a very successful competitor in the Zeninan Games.”

  As they neared the general, Bromarsh could see that she was a much older woman, as she even had a few minor wrinkles on her face. They neared where the general was seated on a bench in the shade, watching separate pairs of naked girls, trying to batter each other into submission. They were using a number of different fighting styles, but Bromarsh found he was more distracted by their nudity than interested in their fighting skills.

  “Well met Vlama, introduce me to your new friend. Is he going to replace Kraneev? Oh, Marina’s is he?” Stenlina said standing up to shake his hand, having noticed Marina’s badge around his neck.

  “General Stenlina, may I introduce you to Major Heneran Bromarsh, formerly of the Markaban Army. Temporarily he is under her protection, I understand,” Vlama stated.

  “Pleased to meet you Major Bromarsh, absolute disgrace how the Markabans treated you,” Stenlina stated, making no bones about knowing his name. Bromarsh had tensed slightly when he had seen the recognition in the general’s eyes as she heard his name, but he relaxed as she smiled at him, offering her hand. He realised there were not going to be unpleasant misunderstanding about his supposed guilt among telepaths.

  “Pleased to make you acquaintance, General,” he said in reply and seated himself where she had tapped the bench beside her. Vlama sat on his other side as they ostensibly watched the girls strive against their opponents.

  “Colonel Vlama told me that you used to teach unarmed combat when you were younger General, and you were a Games’ winner,” Bromarsh tried as a conversation opener, assuming that Vlama had told him for a good reason.

  “I haven’t competed for over fifty years, young man. I‘m looking forward to watching this year’s Games, I get free seats at the Games because I still act as a judge. Marina will be competing, of course. She is a much greater athlete than I ever was. It is a shame that her position stops her from competing in the free fight. She used to compete in the fencing, but has dropped out of that discipline.”

  “The matches when she came up against Zadina were getting a bit serious. I think she felt that it could turn into a real fight far too easily,” Vlama replied.

  “Marina is the better fighter. She was not at real risk, but I understand her reasoning. Still even without fighting Marina is the real draw for the spectators. They all want to see her win,” Stenlina declared staunchly.

  “When is the Zeninan Games to be held, ma’am?” Bromarsh asked interested in the spectacle and beginning to believe that Zeninan women were as athletically gifted as was rumoured through the universe. He had not read much about the Games but he understood that wealthy tourists tried to attend them at least once in their lives.

  “They start in just under a month’s time. Vlama is going to spectate with me. I am really looking forward to them.”

  Bromarsh on hearing she would attend the Games wished he could attend.

  “I wish I could watch, I watched Princess Marina overtake a qumursk she is really fast, yet she seemed barely tired, even though she had been obviously running for some time,” Bromarsh said somewhat wistfully.

  “Well you would not be safe to go alone young man, but if Marina has no objections I think we could look after you. Would you like to come to the Games with us?” Stenlina invited.

  “I would love to see the Princess compete, thank you if I can I would love to accompany you, General,” he said gallantly.

  “Well that’s settled then, I am sure Marina won’t mind,” Vlama said.

  They sat and watched some more pairs fighting and Stenlina talked about Marina and her sporting prowess. She clearly doted on Marina, and told him tales of her childhood and youth. If some of the stories were at Marina’s expense, they were told with affection. Marina shone through as special even when her behaviour had been less than exemplary. Eventually the combat sessions ended and the girls trooped off to shower and eat. Charles appeared as they headed into the Regiment’s main building together. He looked cheerful and freshly showered himself.

  “Thank you Colonel, for watching over the Major for me,” he declared before escorting Bromarsh to the transporters. Charles’ need for exercise had been exacerbated by Marina’s company and non-availability, so the deepening of his acquaintance with Jarminza left him refreshed and in good humour. They went off for a drink and a bite to eat together. Charles considered that his companion might enjoy a gentle game of snooker at a bar intended for foreign merchants and space-crew. They set off for their evening’s entertainment in perfect accord.

  Chapter Twenty- One - Kitchens and Turmoil

  Marina’s visit to the Golden Palace was brief. She headed straight for the kitchens, to confirm that the cooks were satisfied with the quality of the qumursk meat. She found the kitchens in total turmoil. The Ebony head pastry chef was engaged in chasing a faster Ruby underling around with a meat cleaver, although cutting up meat had never been part of her job description. As a death in the kitchens would not advance the banquet preparations, Marina dealt with the matter.

  Moving up behind the pastry chef, she twisted the arm holding the meat cleaver up behind her and then removed the weapon from her clutching fingers. The pastry chef was shaking with rage and screamed at her before realising who had tackled her. Mentally summoning a couple of guards to restrain the now quieter Ebony, she then calmed the rest of the kitchen staff down.

  “Go and help the vegetable cook,” Marina instructed the quaking Ruby arbitrarily, on the grounds the vegetable cook was the most placid of the senior cooks. “The drama is over, please go back to wor
k,” she instructed the rest of the kitchen staff.

  “Would those who are in the patisserie section, please clean this storeroom and transfer everything you need to it for the time being. It has been used for culinary preparation before, so the room has power and water laid on.” Marina said summoning the patisserie cook’s underlings, who bustled to obey her orders. She then addressed the guards who were still physically restraining Vizenga, the head pastry chef.

  “Sergeant, I would like guards set on this door. Vizenga is not to set foot in the main kitchens until after the banquet is over,” Marina said before turning to the now trembling cook.

  “Vizenga, I am thoroughly appalled by your behaviour. I do not expect to have to personally break up fights in the palace kitchen. You won’t leave this room, except to visit the bathroom or go off shift until the banquet is over. Your staff can fetch supplies or remove your creations, but you won’t step into the main kitchen until after the banquet. If there are any further tantrums, I’ll have you be bound naked on the next Kurgian freighter to dock,” Marina told her.

  She thought that threat was sufficiently frightening to bring even the most temperamental Ebony to heel at least for a few days.

  “Don’t let her cross the threshold, except for bathroom visits, or going off shift, when you are to accompany her. Arrange reliefs as required and make sure they understood my instructions,” she instructed the guards. Marina finally checked that preparations were otherwise going well and that the qumursk meat was satisfactory before leaving the kitchens.

  She met Lahoda, on the way to visit her mother. Lahoda was Chamberlain to the Golden Palace and she therefore wore the bejewelled collar which was her mark of office. Lahoda was worried about Charles. Two years previously she and Charles had had a lengthy fling whilst Marina was on a diplomatic mission to the Kurgians. Lahoda was a pretty woman; Charles found her yielding softness and compliance a refreshing change to Marina’s more muscular frame and assertive nature. Lahoda had fallen deeply in love with Charles. When Marina returned, Lahoda made a nuisance of herself. She repeatedly offered to buy him, tendering huge sums, which Princess Marina politely declined. Charles begged not to be sold, finding Lahoda’s clinging embarrassing. Lahoda made excuses to see him, when Marina was elsewhere, and Charles tried to avoid her, because he knew Marina was no longer amused by her pestering. Charles had wanted to avoid Marina forcing a challenge on Lahoda, because although he would not weep for Lahoda, Marina would regret killing her.

  Lahoda was not a spiteful woman. Although Charles shunned her, she was genuinely concerned about his well-being. She now accepted that she had behaved badly. Charles’s actions had not been deliberately cruel. She understood he loved Marina. Lahoda loved her too and regretted causing trouble between them. So with some trepidation she had interfered over the petition. Marina thanked her warmly, extending an invitation to her home, from which Lahoda had been barred for over a year. Their friendship healed, Marina moved on.

  Lahoda was overjoyed. She could see Charles again. She knew it would be impossible to bed him for the heartache would be revived. She resolved to examine the slaves in tomorrow’s auction and purchase something fresh to while the time away. Lahoda knew as did all who loved her; Marina would one day be Queen. Marina would need a Golden fertile mate. Charles would be discarded and Lahoda hoped to ease his broken heart. It might be some years, but she could wait. In the meantime there were other men.

  Queen Kerina’s and Princess Marina’s meeting was less convivial. Kerina saw in Marina the promise she had shown herself, but failed to fully fulfil. If Marina’s rebellion towards her had been active, angry, they could have shouted at each other, making up in the lull after the storm. Marina’s loyalty to her mother remained unchanged, she could be trusted to obey any order the queen gave her. However, Marina’s love for her mother had died with her childhood. Marina saw her mother as a despot, not as a loving mother. Marina’s mind had built walls around her id, against her mother’s overtures of friendship. Kerina could not reach her. Marina’s meeting with her mother was made up of brief terse statements.

  “Thank you for the qumursk meat.” Kerina said.

  “I checked the kitchens and Vizenga was chasing a junior cook around with a meat cleaver. I’ve moved Vizenga and her staff to another room until after the banquet and left guards. I transferred the junior to the vegetable chef’s team.

  “Thank you for your timely intervention, I will confirm your orders. Please will you dance at the banquet for me? Prince Ga’Mikkal, a Kurgian emissary will be present.”

  Marina knew he was one of five princes currently jockeying for confirmation as heir to King Ga’Mishrin, who was a very wicked old man.

  “Plavina has agreed to pass the night with him, but you are a far better dancer, Marina.”

  “I retired from competitive dancing so I could compete in strength events. I am in training for the Games and it will disrupt my training, please don’t ask this of me. I do not want to dance, my body is no longer correct for classical dance, ask another dancer in my place, ma’am.”

  “I asked you to dance, not some other woman, Marina. I hoped you would dance to please me, but since you will not, I demand as queen, that you dance at the banquet,” Kerina stated.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Marina said bowing to the order with ill-disguised bad temper.

  Marina enjoyed dancing for pleasure, but she knew a command performance would exhaust her. There was so little time to rehearse and she had other things on her mind. Things other than the incipient headache, which had been building since she got back to Zenina, she acknowledged to herself that she had Charles and his friends to thank for it.

  She refused to be swayed by the outdated views of slave owners, despite the frequent mind calls she was receiving to try and influence her decision. Marina was determined to present the petition and to plead for the liberation of slaves. She knew it would be painful for her, the level of opposition she was already experiencing was giving her a headache, but she would not back down.

  Queen Kerina had not asked before, knowing the request would be resented by Marina. She had hoped some sort of harmony would finally be built between them. Her precognitive sense had been dwelling on her death for weeks, only the details varied as how she would die. Most of her dreams suggested violence. If she could not have her daughter’s love or friendship, then she would watch her dance one more time. Somehow she knew Marina’s life was tied up in her death. Marina, she prayed, would survive her, Kerina feared for Zenina and the Empire, if Marina died too.

  “I would like to invite Major Heneran Bromarsh to the banquet. He is temporarily under my protection, ma’am,” Marina asked.

  “Granted, how many florettes do you hope to win at the Games?”

  “All of them,” laughed Marina, which terminated their interview on a lighter note.

  Marina was uneasy as she left the Queen. Her mother did not seem as well as usual, she had no vitality and looked as if she had not been sleeping well. The poignancy of the exchanges did not escape her. When Marina rose to leave, her mother formally embraced her, something she never did except in public ceremony. Marina accepted the embrace with embarrassment, mumbled her goodbyes and left.

  A chill wind blew through Marina’s mind as she walked to her hover-car. She sought out Carina who was presently in charge of the Palace Guard. Marina told her the Queen seemed unsettled, and she felt there was some unseen threat to her mother.

  “Would you please increase security until after the Games and consult with the pre-cogs as to whether there are any specific threats we could protect against which have been predicted?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two – Pelozia

  Father Debenden’s wonderment at the absence of traffic was understandable. There was no traffic in the city of Hemithea itself, because it was illegal to drive there. Princess Marina’s personal vehicles were exempted, as were those of her mother and sister. Traffic and pollution problems in the city had been solved cen
turies earlier by the ban on powered conveyances in the streets. Although Marina disliked driving, she disliked the transporter system more.

  Marina was not bothered by the added time driving, she worked as she drove, hearing reports, giving orders, dictating her decisions to a secretary based at either the Ministry of Internal Security or the Ministry of Defence Departments, both of which she had offices at. She could transport herself without mechanical aid, but this drained her physical energy and she wanted to be fit for the pelozia match. The game of pelozia had sprung up after a picture of a man with a pelota hook had been found amongst some old papers. The picture had been labelled with his name and stated in Spanish that he was the Captain of the winning pelota team.

  So basket hooks were manufactured and some rules were thought up for the game. When they finally found out about the real rules, they preferred their own version. After a few years the correct rules for pelota were found, but they seemed so tame compared with the Zeninan version, pelozia continued unchanged. Referees were tried but no-one wanted to get in the way of the players or ball for long. After two referees were killed by “stray balls” in quick succession, they decided to do without them completely.

  Deaths during pelozia matches happened with great regularity, it has always been an extremely violent game. Tackling and belaying the other team members were quite acceptable, often becoming the prime aim of the teams. Balls were often directed at participants instead of at the goals, resulting in many injuries. To deal with the deaths and injuries, substitutes for fallen players were allowed, so sixteen players for each team turned out. Bad feeling between Zeninans was often beaten out on the pelozia court. Those who did not want to openly force a fight on a rival, had the satisfaction of laying into them without the long term hatred a challenge would ensue, assuming survival of both parties.