“Tomorrow we’ll start with sword basics,” began Heather as she sprawled on the edge of the bed, letting her hair dry. “The most common thing people get wrong with hand weapons, is they strike too short. You don’t want to hit the surface of your target; you need to aim two inches or so into your target or you will not strike firmly enough. This is swordplay, it is serious. You aren’t there to give them paper cuts!”
“I don’t know if I could actually ever kill a person,” grimaced Chloë.
“Maybe not, but they don’t need to know that!”
Chloë laughed, “True, very true! A good stab in the arm or leg ought to let them know to back off.”
Heather nodded, “That and with a bit of practice and you should be able to cut through more sincere things: locks, doors, far more than a bit of rope or sinew.”
Chloë nodded but her confusion was still obvious, “Okay, once I have a sword in my hand, how is it that it can cut through things like that?”
“Like sinew?” grinned Heather.
It was Chloë’s turn for a raspberry, “You know what I mean!”
“Okay, let me see if I understand the question right: you are comfortable with a sword sliding back and forth, from one dimension to another at your command, and the thought of cutting off a lock with said sword is your hang-up?”
Chloë laughed, “Well, when you put it that way, it is kind of preposterous.”
Heather grinned, “Well, yes! But to answer your question: I have no clue. You can ask my dad the next time we meet. I can tell you this: the only things that such a blade can’t cut through, with practice of course, is another Live Steel blade or a wormhole. That should tell you something.”
“So what happens when you carry a Live Steel blade through a wormhole? What happens to my blade if we are in a starship and we go through a wormhole?”
“Not a lot really, it will fold itself out and then back again. On a starship the effect will be a hiccup. The only place where it would get weird is if you were trying to throw a blade through a wormhole or gate.”
Chloë grinned, “Outside of the Highlands, that seems unlikely. So what of armor?”
“Patience, girl! That’s much harder. Let’s get you to handle your sword properly first.”
Chloë grinned, “I think I can handle that. Good night, Heather!”
“Goodnight, Chloë!” grinned Heather back.
Morning came early enough and Heather set about making breakfast while Chloë sat playing with her Live Steel blade. She kept invoking it and dismissing it, over and over again, gaining confidence and speed as she practiced.
“You do that too many times and the mass of the sword will start to diminish. You don’t get to move things back and forth like that for free, you know,” grinned Heather as she started to serve breakfast.
Chloë looked aghast and quickly dismissed the blade. “Um… how many times do I have left before I start hurting the blade?”
Heather grinned broadly, “A hundred thousand or so!”
“You fink!” laughed Chloë. “Not happening any time soon!”
“Keep practicing,” encouraged Heather. “You are really starting to get the hang of…” Suddenly Heather clamped her eyes shut and almost doubled over. A quick catch from Chloë kept her from having to use the stove as support.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we just went through a wormhole. Normally gates and things are no big deal. That just caught me off guard more than anything else,” Heather tried to reassure Chloë.
“I didn’t notice a thing.”
“Lucky you,” countered Heather as she quickly downed two glasses of water in rapid succession. “The stale air is probably not helping my tummy either.”
“Is something wrong with the oxygen scrubber?”
Heather shook her head, “Don’t think so… the air is stale, not ‘bad.’ I’m just a sucker for fresh air it seems.”
Chloë nodded. “Well, at least we are finally getting somewhere. I’m just worried where that might be.”
“Concerned, not worried. I would have been worried if I hadn’t taught you at least the basics of Live Steel,” replied Heather as she started to regain her poise.
“So let’s get on to the next lesson! We don’t know when school is going to be canceled!” grinned Chloë.
“Good plan! But first, breakfast!”
Practice went well all morning. They were beginning to think they’d have another entire day to themselves when the container seemed to shutter and moan.
“I think the ship we are in is starting to decelerate. Maybe prepping for a landing,” speculated Chloë.
“Then let’s shower and change right quick. We don’t want to look out of sorts, now do we?” grinned Heather. “Remember, whatever happens, try waiting as long as possible before they find out you know Live Steel. I’m going to try to delay my own displays, but push come to shove…”
Chloë nodded as she started to appreciate the seriousness ahead. She quickly changed subjects, “If we change now, won’t our clothes be all wet?”
“Isn’t that what the oven is for?” mused Heather.
“Just don’t burn my clothes!”
29
Chloë and Heather sat on the steps of their apartment and watched calmly as the pressure door of the outer compartment opened. Four Taiks entered and, with one quick look at the two girls, started arguing amongst themselves.
“What’s that all about?” asked Heather, thoroughly unable to follow the language at hand.
“The short one there is apparently the ship’s captain. He’s more than a little grumpy about us being cargo,” offered Chloë. “Don’t feel bad, I can barely understand them myself. They have a most horrid backwater accent.”
No small amount of pushing and yelling quickly escalated. With the sudden appearance of large sums of cash, frayed nerves were soon calmed.
“Great, there is the moral high ground for you: the Captain wouldn’t stand for us being part of the… entertainment industry, but he is fine with a good old fashioned political kidnapping.” Chloë rolled her eyes. “I guess no-one likes politicians no matter where you go…”
“Lucky us,” replied Heather flatly. Suddenly her fur churned. “Oh crap, I forgot to hide the lock! If they see it’s been cut smoothly, they’ll get suspicious!”
Chloë grinned and elbowed Heather lightly, “For once I’m ahead of you; I tossed the pieces of the lock down the toilet. Not likely they’ll want to look for it there.”
Heather snuck a quick smile to Chloë, “Sharp thinking, girl!”
The Captain soon departed, counting his money, and the remaining three entered. The most sharply dressed of the trio nodded and addressed Chloë, “I do apologize for the sorry state of your accommodations, Lady Chloë Amsterval. We will do our best to do better. While we cannot provide you the level of servants you have grown used to, at least you do have one.” He finished with a gesture at Heather.
Chloë glared at the man and began speaking in the Old Tongue, “Are you well educated at least? Do you understand this tongue?”
The man nodded and with some effort replied, “Yes, my Lady. If you prefer, we can converse in this language.” His accent was thick, but his grammar was clean; he had an air of culture about him.
“Good, then you will start by apologizing to Lady Heather Stratford. She is my friend, not my servant. Her father is the Baron of Threedales in the Highlands. He is but one of many enemies you have now cultivated.”
He bowed in Heather’s direction, “My apologies on several levels, Lady Heather. It was not my intention to involve the Highlands in this situation.”
“My family offered Chloë sanctuary, so the involvement of the Highlands was inevitable,” groused Heather diplomatically.
He brightened, “Pardon me, but it is quite melodic to hear a Highlander speak the Old Tongue as it was meant to be.”
“I’m glad to be a source of your entertainment,” replied Heather drily.<
br />
“Not entertainment, ma’am: enlightenment,” he offered back. “Oh, where are my manners? I am Sir Reinhardt of the Beyscones.”
“Well that explains his education,” murmured Chloë. The Beyscones… a small province there on Bervik III. What were they doing involved in this? Chloë suddenly really wished she had known more about her father’s politics.
“Your manners,” began Heather with fire in her voice, “were bobbed, combed backwards and burnt to a crisp when you had us drugged and then kidnapped us!”
“I do, and most sincerely, apologize for that, Ladies. But it was necessary to get you out of there before rougher hands played their cards.”
“So your brand of kidnapping is somehow better?” growled Heather.
Reinhardt laughed, “Well my ladies, there are a great number of people interested in Lady Chloë. A great number, each with their own reasons and motivations.”
“So what are your motivations?” asked Chloë plainly. “Are you here to curry favor with my father? Or am I to be a bargaining chip as you press some political agenda against him?”
“My motivations are,” began Reinhardt with a pause, “complicated.”
“So what is this guy,” asked Heather with an evil grin, “a court eunuch?”
Chloë giggled to herself as she watched Reinhardt squirm at the suggestion.
Reinhardt regained his composure and offered with a smile, “Well, what I can be is a much more obliging host. Come, let us move you two lovely ladies to some more suitable quarters.”
Chloë looked at Heather as the pair stood. “What’s the plan?” she whispered.
“Roll with it, so long as we aren’t separated. We need to find out where we are and how bad the odds are before we try doing anything.”
Chloë nodded as the pair approached the trio at the front of the cargo hold. Reinhardt bowed again before turning to lead the way. They nodded civilly and followed the man out of the container and across the long belly of the cargo ship. An airlock and an elevator later and they had descended to a far more elaborate and festive complex of buildings on the surface of some small moon. The artificial gravity was at a comfortable enough level, if not a little uneven across the complex. From the brief view of the outside that Chloë had glimpsed, she guessed the native gravity on whatever distant rock this was had to be noticeably lower. Probably a fourth or less of normal gravity. Much effort, power, and expense was being used to make this outpost comfortable.
“I apologize once again, Lady Heather, that I did not correctly know your station. Your room will be made more appropriate later today. It shares a room with the Lady Chloë. Is that acceptable?”
“If you want to apologize,” began Heather in a cheerful voice, “you can return us to our home world. If you then cut your own tail off, we’ll call it even.”
Reinhardt eyed Heather suspiciously, “A rather violent young lady are you?”
“Actually, she’s normally all sunshine and roses,” offered Chloë. “But Highland girls are made of far sterner stuff than you are used to. If you wanted her to be cordial, polite, and nice, then maybe you shouldn’t have kidnapped her.”
“It was an error, I do confess. It was supposed to be all neat and tidy. This is what I get for hiring out help; I should have conducted the operation myself. Live and learn.”
“You better be learning very quickly…,” offered Heather with the cutest but most sinister smile Chloë had ever seen.
Reinhardt looked at Heather nervously again, “Um… I’ve been told that Highland ladies were… different…”
Heather cocked her head and batted her eyelashes at Reinhardt.
His ears flushed as he turned away, “Mea culpa. I think I like you better surly.”
“His loss,” smirked Chloë as she gently elbowed Heather.
Reinhardt ignored the girls as he led them to one of the more elegant buildings, “And this, my dear ladies, will be your new dwelling. Heather’s room will be upgraded by dinner time. I’m afraid you will find the windows bolted and locked and there are guards at every door. Come night time, you will find the regular guards have been replaced by a unit of Shukurae warriors that I have hired. They have excellent night vision and are quite bribe proof. Please be good guests and try not to escape.” His grin was broad and triumphant. “And oh, who do we have here?”
All eyes turned to the pair that approached: one was a guard, not unlike all the rest they had seen. The second was Raymond, bound with shackles that engulfed his forearms entirely.
“Well it seems the palace guard who was following you didn’t fare so well either,” gloated Reinhardt.
Raymond hung his head in shame, “I’m sorry I failed you, my princess.” Suddenly his face contorted as he recognized Heather. “Lady Heather! You are here too! If your father…”
Heather leaned forward and silenced Raymond by kissing him square on the lips, “Hush silly boy. Come by this evening; we’re going to be having a party.” She gestured to Reinhardt. “Don’t worry, the sourpuss isn’t invited.”
Raymond looked troubled, confused and embarrassed all at once. He started to say something, cutting himself off several times before settling on, “I’d be delighted.”
Reinhardt cocked his head, “I’m not sure that can be arranged. But we will see. And now, my Ladies, enjoy your new home. If things go well, you should only be bothered by this quaint place for a week or so.” He opened the door and gestured the two inside.
Heather and Chloë smiled as they entered the very elegant building.
“A party?” asked Chloë with no small amount of curiosity.
“A ‘going away’ party!” replied Heather!
30
Chloë laughed at Heather as she groused at their prepared lunch. It was a gorgeous and well-prepared meal with everything one could have expected from a private court lunch. The problem was the timing: their new lodging had a local time offset by several hours from that of the apartment in the shipping container.
“You figured they could have slowly rolled clocks during our trip,” groused Heather as she wolfed down her food. “It was supposed to be dinner time…three hours ago…”
“Well, it is lunch now,” grinned Chloë as she daintily enjoyed the lavish display. “You should be delighted—that means you get four meals today.”
Heather cocked an eye at Chloë curiously and then broke out laughing. Good! Chloë needed to hear Heather laugh!
“So what do you think about our odds of getting off this rock?” asked Chloë seriously.
“First off,” began Heather, “I have no clue, none whatsoever, if there is even a starship in dock that could take us somewhere. Second, and most importantly, it is highly probable that this room is bugged.”
Chloë gritted her teeth at the obviousness of the statement; if she had been bugged back at the palace, odds were even stronger that they were bugged here as well. “Crap. So what do we do?”
“Apparently not a whole lot today. Maybe if they let Raymond come by this evening, at least we’ll have someone civilized we can talk to.”
Chloë nodded, “And he has a reasonable chance of at least knowing what Reinhardt may be planning, or not planning. Either case is useful information.” She paused and thought a bit. “You like Raymond don’t you? There were far easier ways to shut him up than kissing him,” teased Chloë.
Heather grinned and her ears flushed. “Well, he is a nice guy. He tries to do the right thing. He’s just in an awkward position.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that he’ll probably get knighted if he can help us escape.”
Heather shrugged, “Never even thought about that.”
Chloë laughed, “Oh, so you really do like him!”
Raspberry! The both laughed at that.
A lazy afternoon soon gave way to evening. Chloë and Heather walked their new lodging several times learning the ins and outs of the complex. It was a gorgeous and fabulously furnished dwelling. The only dark cloud was their
obvious captivity: locked windows and guards at every door. Chloë laughed to herself at the security, a well placed chair would make short work of the locked windows, and she was positive Heather could force her way past the sentries. The problem, of course, was they had no idea if there was any available transportation, and Chloë doubted she could figure out the controls on a given ship even if they had the chance. Heather made no pretenses about being able to pilot a ship; all the buttons looked the same to her. That left Raymond as their best hope for a sympathetic pilot. While Chloë was unsure if Raymond would try to take them back to Bevrik III rather than back to Afon, he could at least be convinced or cajoled. The same could not be said for their present captors.
Chloë racked her brain as she tried to stir up anything she could on Reinhardt or the Province of the Beyscones. Geographically she knew of the Beyscones, and she knew that it had passed back and forth between several of the principalities over the centuries, but she had no clue where they stood in modern politics. More importantly, she didn’t know if they were for a unity government or if they preferred to remain part of the old network of principalities. Every few generations there had been talk, and war, of unifying various principalities into a larger centrally controlled empire. It seems that all the great houses liked the idea of an empire; the centuries-old question, of course, was which house would take the title of emperor. There had been a bloody war just before she had been born that had brought the force of arms to that very question. The war had weakened most of the lands, but somehow Chloë’s father had actually come out on top. And now with war’s hideous reminders still stirring in the collective consciousness, back room alliances and politics were the tool of choice. Chloë’s ears burned at the thought, but she was a tool for her father. Most of her life she was just scared and lonely at that thought; now it just made her angry.
Chloë Page 12
