"Laren," he said gently. "Talk to me. What's upsetting you so much that you can neither sleep nor eat?"
"Nothing! You worry about the most ridiculous things, Del."
"Your well-being is not ridiculous," he retorted, anger replacing his concern. "People who love each other talk about things. Did you know that?"
"There's nothing to talk about," she told him in a voice barely above a whisper.
Karra watched him storm away, knowing he was angry, and wishing she could tell him what was bothering her. Her chest felt heavy. The times she had managed to drift into sleep had deteriorated into nightmares. More than once she had awakened gasping in fear. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear a child sobbing for comfort that would never come. Several times she had believed the child was herself, but when she touched her cheeks, she had found them as dry as a desert. Her mouth felt like dust.
She could not very well tell him she was upset because her sister had sold her soul for a few sheets of yellow paper.
Laren Demmita has no sisters, the beast reminded her, chuckling as it wrapped her in its stench.
Del returned home that evening, determined to make her talk to him. He stared, surprised to find her wearing her formal blue.
"I had your navy longsuit cleaned and pressed for this evening," she told him.
"This evening?"
"Did you forget we have company tonight?" She gave him an unreadable expression.
"Company?" He thought a minute. "The Ve Toohls and the Mu Aanames!" Tonight of all nights!
"Of course." Her face was as pale as alabaster.
He strode into his room to put on his formal navy suit with the pale blue trim. When he exited his room, he found her at the table rearranging a few blooms on the table runner.
He nodded his satisfaction. "Lovely."
She did not smile. Her steely eyes regarded him for several long seconds before she turned toward the kitchen.
Del stared after her, perplexed. Surely he had imagined that icy hatred. But just as he started to follow her, one of his Security guards let in his guests, distracting him.
"Captain Ve Toohl," A'nden said, bowing. "Master Mu Aaname and ladies. Welcome."
The next moment Laren was beside him, taking their capes. As beautiful as an ice sculpture.
An involuntary shiver touched his spine as he led his guests to the formal living room. He chatted with them in normal tones, making conversation he would never need to remember, but his mind kept seeing her hard eyes.
Presently she joined the party, carrying a silver tray with six drinks in crystal glasses. She placed a drink beside each guest and set the tray on a table next to her chair. Del tasted his. Water?
"You should have invited us to your home the first time," the Captain said as he sipped his drink. "Your girl mixed this perfectly."
"My Lady," he corrected, his eyes on Laren's hands folded neatly in her lap, her drink untouched.
"Laren," Del said, not quite hiding his annoyance. "Where did you get these drinks?" He had never allowed alcohol in his home before, a fact she knew extremely well.
"Ours are water," she informed him. "But your friends prefer other beverages. I remember what they ordered. Dinner is ready. Shall we go into the dining room?" She rose, taking the tray with her, expecting everyone to follow.
During dinner, the Captain and Mu Aaname carried most of the conversation, with their wives adding personal anecdotes. Del listened, politely offering his own comments where required. Laren remained silent unless addressed directly. She was the perfect Homelander hostess, Del observed uneasily. She had never acted this way before.
When the meal concluded, Del led his guests back to the formal living room where the Captain brought forward his plan of action against legalized prostitution. Del pretended to listen, but mostly he wondered where Laren had gone. She had not followed him as he expected. He wanted her to be a part of this discussion.
“Excuse me," he said once the plan's basic outline had been presented. "I will return shortly."
He found Laren in her private suite reading the same book she had tried to read last night. It was then he noticed she was still on the first few pages.
"I wanted you to be a part of the conversation," he said.
"I know." Leaving the book unmarked, she placed in on her desk and rose to face him. "A friend of mine just got herself a yellow certificate," she said. "She didn't need one. She already had a job and a future. At least she would have had a future had she not quit school the same year she would have graduated from a local Primary Basic school. But then, even in school she was not encouraged to work to her full potential. Area students never are. Are you aware of the segregation laws that separate Area students from Inner City students?”
“Of course, but…”
“And are you aware that no Area student can get into any of the professional academies unless they attend the Public Academy in the Administration Building on the First Level?"
"Yes. At least an education is provided for…"
"And are you aware that no Area resident may use an Inner City library except as a place to read? Not including an individual’s school library, of course."
"Yes, however…"
"And are you also familiar with the partial citizenship law that relegates most Area residents to menial jobs, that even as an office assistant I received scarcely a living wage, and that I made more with my yellow certificate?"
"Laren…"
"A person can buy a full citizenship, naturally, for an enormous price. I did. But the income from a menial job hardly allows it, especially if one has a family."
"Listen…"
"Then there are the Illegals whose identities are unrecognized completely as though they never existed. When unmarried women become pregnant, yet do not wish to become sterilized, they have illegal children. If these children, who cannot get hired, much less attend school because they have no legal existence, choose prostitution, they acquire the partial citizenship. Or if they choose crime and are caught and imprisoned, they can acquire an identity of sorts, not exactly citizenship, but enough of an identity to get a laborer job. The system keeps the market flooded with menial laborers, which certainly keeps us in our places, doesn't it?"
"I suppose, still…"
"Do you think I wanted my friend to get a yellow certificate and get to watch her become a Nevian's toy?"
"Is that what you think you are?"
"It's how the Mu Aanames and the Ve Toohls have treated me this evening."
"Are you angry because I insisted you talk about your past?"
"I'm angry because there is no way out, for my friend, for me. No matter what is finally adopted by the Sector Five Council, whether or not they approve the Anti-Certificate League's recommendations, nothing will change, will it?"
"I wish you’d…"
"Will anything I've told you just now help your discussion in there?"
Del was silent. He almost preferred last time's fiery rage to this cool, analytical choler.
"I'm not sure why you thought it important, but I resign as your advisor, Commissioner A'nden," she told him. "If you like, I will continue to be your Lady, your toy, or simply your paygirl. Personally, I don't care. But I will take no further part in this mockery."
Del could only stare.
"Shut your mouth, love. You look stupid. Go back to your guests, and please make apologies for me, will you? I have a splitting headache."
He found himself being pushed out of her room, then heard the click of her lock.
Chapter 32
Karra stirred the last bite of her salad in angry slashes.
Last night you gave me full opportunity to eliminate some of the enemy, she told the beast. But you did not use me. You got me upset enough to lash out, but nothing happened. I thought…
The problem is, I do not want you to think at all, the beast responded. I happen to love you when you’re upset. Your hatred flashes so beautifully. And,
oh, how you hated your enemies last night! You could have taken out all five of them and A’nden’s guards besides
Yes! I was finally willing, but you gave me nothing except a splitting headache.
Will you be as willing the next time?
Yes! And the next and the next, but I cannot…
Oh, you can and you will. You will only act when I allow it. You will beg me to act before I allow it.
At one time you promised to release Laren if I obeyed you, but that was a lie too, wasn’t it?
It was a lie. She died in the little box. It was so sad. Were you able to cry, you might have shed a tear for her. She shed many for you. And for Del. I think she was more worried about Del than she was about you. You’re all alone, Karra. No one exists for you except me. Do you finally acknowledge this?
Yes. She did. She had felt Laren’s absence long before the beast had told her she had been destroyed. All the good that had ever been in her life, absolutely gone. She wondered if she should feel something besides awful sense of emptiness.
Just then, the waiter took her empty plate. Jem, following him in, slipped into the seat across from her.
"Sorry I'm late," he told her. "I only have a minute. Do you have my disk?"
She shoved it at him.
He dropped an unused film disk in her hand. "How's the Commissioner?"
"Completely plasti-wrapped." But in reality she had no idea how she stood with Del. Since the visit of the representatives from the Anti-Certificate League, their relationship had deteriorated to polite formalities. "He gets upset when I print something, though."
"Speaking of that, your boy, Manroy Endisson, checks out. You now have a helper. Follow the same procedure for another one."
"All right." She pocketed the film.
"This is what we want you to print next." He handed her a sheet of paper.
She looked at him in surprise. "Now, wait a minute."
"No. You wait. You're letting your independence get out of control again. The Board has the final say on any Homelander Front activity. Otherwise we would have total chaos, with some people doing one thing here, and others doing another thing there. The Board sees to it that we all pull together for the common good."
"I understand that, but I have some important things to say."
“Then say them. But you're part of the Front now, so you print what we tell you. Look Sis, submit something. So far they've liked what you've printed. The Board will probably approve. Just submit it first. Doesn't that make sense?"
"I guess so."
"Good girl."
"Say, speaking of being a 'good girl,' why didn’t you tell me about Saril?"
"What do you mean?"
"Saril has a yellow certificate. Owning a yellow certificate is not the same thing as making sandwiches and cleaning Peet’s kitchen."
His eyes narrowed. "How do you know about Saril's yellow certificate?"
"I have my own sources. Now, tell me.” She refused to tell him about Suzin. His total commitment to the Homelander Front bothered her. She was beginning to guess he would sacrifice her, and anyone else, to his plans, whatever they were.
"You're in a sensitive position," he explained. "If I had told you about her, no telling which way you would have jumped, and I didn't want you to jump at all."
"But I'm your sister, and I need to know about things that affect the family. Don't you see? Chalatta lives there."
"I'm sorry. I guess I should have told you. No hard feelings, I hope." He grinned too easily.
She smiled in kind, hiding that she no longer trusted him.
He glanced at his watch. "I've got to go. See you the same time next handspan."
She left the Garden in a foul mood. More and more she felt her time was being wasted on nonsense. And Von was no better. How ridiculous to watch women wear clothes on a stage. Rich ladies did foolish, boring things.
At least Von seemed pleased to see her. "Come in, come in," she said as if her enthusiasm were contagious. "I was afraid we would be late."
Karra gave her a smile she didn’t feel. "Shopping," she explained. "Del never cares how often I spend his money."
"Well, there is quite a bit I can show you if we get there now. Have you ever been backstage, for example?"
She shook her head.
"Then this will be exciting for you. When Manwu sponsors these things, he likes to get there several hours early, but I never do. Right about now can be interesting, especially if you've never gone to a show before."
"Who will be there?" Why did it seem that Von got her into things that involved many Nevians?
"Not the general public, of course," Von began. "Designers wishing to show their lines will be there, also people wishing to compare their designs with another company's, even if they are not showing today. Three-quarters of the people will be buyers. They are the ones who make a show like this profitable. If they think an item shown will sell in their shops, they will buy it. There will be buyers from Second and Third Level shops, of course, but some of our buyers will be from outside Sectors, especially Sector Four since it is the closest."
Karra nodded. Von certainly knew her husband's business. If the few women she had met through Von were any indication, most Nevian wives did not.
When they arrived at the building, Karra was surprised to discover both she and Von had name tags. LAREN DEMMITA blazed in bold letters on her chest. The fear that someone would recognize her under another name returned. Once past the front gate, she promptly "lost" her name tag.
The first thing she noticed, though, was not a familiar face, but the largest buffet she had ever seen. Small plates and napkins were stacked on one end of the table. She wished now she had not eaten lunch.
She caught herself thinking of all the people who had never seen enough while these Nevians were completely surrounded with far too much. They were all around her, tall, gray-skinned, Third Level Nevians with manicured nails, dainty slippers, fashionable clothing, and styled hair. Karra stared at her own soft, long-nailed hands. Except for skin color and longer fingers, she looked just like them.
Not all, though, wore traditional Nevian. She witnessed stockinged ankles peeking several mins below hemlines, and naked wrists peeking beyond a band of lace or ruffles. One or two of the ladies even wore lowered necklines, although most of those carefully covered their skin in netting. Del would never approve.
She glanced around for Von to get her opinion, and saw her talking to someone a prem away. Just as Laren turned to join her, a young man stepped in her way.
"Why, Pama, I thought it was you. You have come a long way since Clive's Restaurant." He smiled.
Her heart skipped a beat. What she dreaded most had finally happened. But rather than revealing her fear, she stared back at him coldly. "Master, you are terribly mistaken. I have never been to Klyff's Restaurant in my life. Why, you don't even know my correct name. Please be more careful who you address from now on." She swung away from him, toward Von, leaving the young Nevian staring after her.
"Oh, Laren," Von said as she stepped beside her. "I would like you to meet Ma Ol'len. She is the company representative for that dress you're wearing. As a matter of fact, much of her line will be shown this afternoon. I thought you might be interested. Ma, dear, this is Laren Demmita."
Karra bowed formally, as was expected. "Mistress Ol'len, I am sincerely pleased to meet you."
"The honor is mine." Ma returned the formality. "You wear that dress well, Mistress Laren. Although not originally designed for a Homelander, it definitely compliments you. Perhaps," she added slowly, studying the fabric on Laren's body. "We ought to expand our line to include Third Level Homelanders. May I ask your occupation, Mistress?"
"I am the contracted Lady of Commissioner A'nden," Karra told her, irritated at her question. Everything seemed to irritate her anymore. And there seemed to be no release in sight.
Ma's eyebrows raised. "Indeed? Then I am honored. You have the right bone structure. Would y
ou ever consider modeling something from our line?"
"Laren!" Von was ecstatic. "What an opportunity! Of course you will agree!"
"No, Von, Mistress Ma. I'll wear the line, but I won't model it. Thank you anyway." All she needed was half the city recognizing her.
"But why? Laren, if I had your looks, I would jump at the chance." Von sounded indignant. "Maybe you will change your mind. I want you to see something. Excuse us, please, Ma."
Von led her backstage, probably, Karra reasoned, to see if the excitement of the place would infect her.
She did find it interesting. Everyone rushed with last minute instructions and last-minute changes. Models, not all of them in costume, adjusted accessories. Someone had misplaced a green dress and at least five people hunted for it. Von introduced her to some of the models who returned her nod with preoccupied ones of their own. They had no time to spend chatting with a Homelander.
Finally, after a long sigh, Von relinquished.
"You are impossible, Laren. Most women would be flattered at even being asked, and you will not even consider it. I thought you said you were just like other Homelanders."
"Sometimes I lie," she said, placing her mask.
Von spent the next several minutes in silence, simply watching the elusive Laren, Karra noted. She was careful to keep her face impassive, and it might have worked if the young Nevian had not approached her again.
He was fuming. "You! Pama!" He grabbed her arm.
"I told you…"
"I have no doubt about it, girl. You're Pama all right, no matter what you're calling yourself now. Some high-paid Hostess you've turned out to be. But when I met you, you were no more than a hungry paygirl off the streets, and that's where you still belong."
Karra noted Von's attention to his venomous words and that she watched the scene he made with interest. Her heart raced.
“What was that all about?" Von asked.
"That Drake!" Karra breathed, unsure of what to say.
Think fast, the beast mocked.
"Laren!"
"Von, do you really want to know why I won't model clothes in front of a group of people? It's because of Drakes like him. I guess I reminded him of someone he knew once. I don't know. But the idiot thought I was someone else and was upset that I'm not available now. Did you hear what he called me?"
Her Darkest Beauty: An Alien Invasion Series - The Second Generation Page 27
