by Cathryn Cade
He nodded. “Better than splitting up. I think so too, babe. But just so you know, if you’d gone, I would’ve been right behind you.”
Then he walked on through camp and left her standing there, gaping after him like a fool.
Qala snapped her mouth shut and looked around, embarrassed. But no one was paying her any mind, they were all in small knots of intense conversation, or in their tonts, breaking the news to their partners.
She felt punch drunk, as if she was back at the barbecue, downing cold ale. Hells of a day it was turning out to be and it was still morning.
***
Zaë spent the morning by the cata pens. It was cool in the shade of the spreading trees, and only one of the teen girls, May, was there with the boys this time. She smiled shyly at Zaë.
Zaë made friends with the mother cata and was allowed to pet the little one and even feed it from the pac of protein meal. She laughed as the creature butted its sleek head against her in a demand for more.
“You’re good with them,” said Tomo, the older of the two boys. “Want to go for a ride later?”
His partner elbowed him, and he flushed. Zaë smiled at both boys. “I would like to ride, if it won’t be an imposition. Although I’m not sure I’ve ever ridden before.”
“We can teach you. It’s easy.”
The younger boy, Yan, grinned. “Says the man who’s been bucked off more times than we can count. He’s broken his clavicle, his—“
Tomo shoved him. “Shut up. That was my little brother. Even you’ve been bucked off more than me.”
“They’re both good riders,” May told Zaë. “But the catas are twisty. Everyone falls off once in a while—except the Storm, of course.”
Zaë narrowed her eyes. “I would like to ride.” She would practice and become very good at it, and then she’d ride past the Storm and spare him a cool glance. She smiled at this agreeable vision.
“You can start in the pen,” Tomo said. “Come on.”
He showed her how to pass safely throught the crackling energy barrier.
Sitting on the back of a cata was exhilarating and a little frightening at first, but Zaë quickly found her balance, and learned to cling with her legs and just hold lightly to the pommel of the small saddle. Then she was allowed to take the reins.
Her mount promptly dumped her on the ground. She lay in the bed of dropped leaves and damp earth and blinked at the sky. “Ouch,” she muttered.
At least she hadn’t landed in a pile of manure. She struggled up and climbed back on, determined this time to pay more attention to the cata’s ears and demeanour.
***
The supply transports landed that afternoon. The huge crafts settled on the plain behind camp, and in a short time, the occupants were streaming out to meet them.
Zaë went with Nera, walking a bit stiffly after her riding lesson that morning. She’d showerdried the dirt and cata from herself, changed back into the dull but clean oatmeal ensemble and used a gesic pad on her worst bruise.
She didn’t bother chatting up the transport crews. She’d had time to think about her nebulous plan to catch a ride out of the camp. For now, leaving would do her absolutely no good, because she didn’t have the faintest idea where to go or what to do when she got there.
Maddening as the Storm was, he was at least protecting her from this wild new world on which she was lost. However, she reflected with some satisfaction, she had learned one thing—she could speak her mind and survive. He might get angry enough that those eyes shot silver sparks, but all he did was glare. And she had freedom here—she could make friends, learn new skills such as riding and spend as much time outdoors as she liked.
Soon, very soon, she would make another attempt at capturing her memories. And then she would thank him for his protection and walk away, head high.
The mood around the transports was ebullient. Everyone who wasn’t on guard duty crowded into the shade of the lifted hatches and walked up into the huge bays to view the crates and stacks of goods and foodstuffs. They haggled with the vendors, called to each other, laughing and talking as if they hadn’t seen each other in days.
Nera warned her about letting any of the transport pilots or their assistants get too familiar. “They have an eye for pretty girls,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t let them get you alone behind their craft. The Storm has warned them, but I don’t trust them.”
Zaë nodded, but after surveying the pilots and crew, she had to hide a smile. The transport crew’s flirting seemed designed more to sell their wares than anything else.
Zaë carried a capacious embroidered bag. She’d been instructed to stay within Nera’s sight, but to go ahead and choose anything that took her fancy, for Stark to purchase. Of course she wouldn’t follow this lack of stricture. A lady wasn’t greedy.
The scene was strangely not unfamiliar. She had a hazy vision of herself, walking through another market with two older males, one slim and blond, the other stout and dark, both busy selecting and haggling while she wandered close by. Of holding up a plump melon for their perusal and receiving an approving nod.
Then the other scene vanished, leaving her in the present, alone in the crowd except for Nera. Who had the men been? The feeling the memory brought was of comfort, closeness, and acceptance.
She waited by Nera’s side, massaging her aching temples until she felt steadier. Clothing—she’d been instructed to buy clothing. The second transport contained a crate which had been opened to display womens clothing, including underthings.
Just as she reached for a pretty set of soft knit panties, however, they were snatched from her grasp. She looked up, startled and irritated, into the sneering gaze of Stark’s blonde.
“These are mine, bitch,” the woman said under her breath. “Stark will love them on me.”
Zaë looked her over. “I’m sorry, but these are clearly not your size.” The blonde’s breasts and bottom were both bigger than hers.
The woman drew an outraged breath. “Are you saying my ass is big?”
“No,” Zaë said, her cheeks flushing with discomfort as she saw they’d drawn the notice of the other women, who were now crowded around, watching avidly. “I merely pointed out—”
The woman drew back her arm and struck at Zaë.
Instinctively, Zaë ducked back. Then her body moved, as if of its own volition. A part of her watched in shock as she grasped the woman’s arm and turned, using the woman’s own weight to flip her onto her face in the midst of a rack of underthings.
Letting go, Zaë stared down at her foe. She had done that? A spurt of triumph warmed her. She had done that—and it had felt good. Very good. She knew self-defense.
Someone gasped. The other women stared.
“Goddess,” a voice cried in her ear. “That. Was. Stellar!” It was the beautiful male Zaë had seen at the campfire. His eyes bright with mirth, he waved at Zaë although he made no attempt to touch her. “Honey, I’m Dano, and I’ve been waiting a long time to see someone take Fee down a notch or two.”
“Quarking bitch!” The blonde shoved herself up out of the clothing, a lacy bra hanging from one of her ornate earrings. She glared at Zaë around it. “I’ll snatch you bald. No one pushes me around.”
Dano slid between the two women, one hand on the blonde’s chest above her quivering cleavage. “Oh, cut the shit, Fee. See the collar? She’s under Stark’s protection. He may fuck you when he can’t find anyplace else to put it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let you mess with his guest.”
The woman’s face contorted in a sneer. She grabbed the bra and threw it down, then tossed her head. “She’s not worth messing with. He has her in his tont, but he’s not letting her have what I get.”
She waved the panties at Zaë in triumph, and then stalked away. Two other women followed her.
The others stayed where they were. Zaë watched them cautiously. Would they be angry with her? But Ringi moved into the group and slid an arm around Zaë�
�s waist. “Hey, everyone. This is Zaë.”
One of the women grinned back, another nodded and the third looked her over and smiled to herself.
“We’ll get together tomorrow,” Ringi said. “My tont.”
Surprised and pleased, Zaë thanked her.
“And maybe you can teach us some moves,” Dano teased.
Zaë tried to smile back at him. She had no idea if she had any more ‘moves’ or even where she’d learned that one.
“Meanwhile,” he added. “Watch out for Fee. She’s jealous and she’s not smart enough to listen to me, so ...”
Zaë kept her eyes open, but although she saw Fee and her two friends from a distance several times, the woman didn’t approach her. Zaë left the transport with three new pair of panties, a new bra, another pair of leggings and sleeveless tunic in a soft swirling blue pattern, and even some sandals. They were low-heeled but very flattering with their narrow straps. She also chose a soft pink nightgown, and a kimono with delicate flowers painted on the lii silk.
She loved her new things. They were light, comfortable and informal, and she had the very strong impression this was a novelty, like the ensemble she was wearing. They were revealing, yes, but she liked her body, so why shouldn’t she wear clothing that revealed as much as she wished? The other women here did, and no one frowned disapprovingly. The men certainly liked it.
With her new things tucked in her bag, she wandered through the rest of the stores, sampling fruit and choosing a package of nut crispies and one of chocolate truffles. She ate one of the truffles at once, stopping in her tracks to savor the rich chocolate melting on her tongue.She liked shopping.
She showed Nera the crate of cooking spices, but the woman shrugged her disinterest, so Zaë chose some on her own. Pepper, cinnamon and herbs would be good to flavor the foods Nera prepared. She could wait till the woman went home to her own tont, and then add a bit to the simple fare. She was, she realized, very particular about what she ate. Stark seemed to just eat whatever was placed in front of him.
Nera settled into haggling over the price of coffee beans, and Zaë wandered on to see what was in the next transport. She liked shopping.
Chapter 15
Joran was not happy. His crew recognized this immediately he neared the transports. One of them, headed toward him with a smile and her hand in the air, suddenly veered to her right, pretending interest in another crew member. A burly warrior on guard duty on his hovercycle above the camp, froze with hand in mid-wave. He hit the controls, zipping the cart higher above the camp, and resumed his watch thru his holovision goggles.
The target of his anger was not so wise. She continued her saunter through the crowd, mawwr on her shoulder, her long hair slipping loose from her braid to flip in the breeze, one hand lifted to wave at Pede, sitting his catamount pony and waiting for his leader. She carried over her shoulder an embroidered bag, bulging with purchases.
Pede lifted his chin to her, but then sat still, stoic, his gaze tracking Joran’s approach.
Joran saw the exact instant she became aware of his presence. Her shoulders stiffened and she stopped in her tracks. He did not, striding toward her, his boots thudding in the dirt.
She turned, just as he reached her. Her eyes widened as she took in his expression. She took half a step back, but he reached her, grasped her by the wrist and pulled her to him. Her soft, curving body collided with his hard frame and her head went back as she kept her eyes on him, curls blowing across her face, one sticking on her plump, moist lower lip.
“What is wrong?” she asked.
“Do you think,” he asked in a low voice. “that you might have the courtesy to inform someone before wandering off on your own like a complete immi? Nera’s been worried about you, beside herself with guilt because she let you slip away. Me? I’m just quarking angry that my work has been delayed to search for you!”
Her face flushed, and she bit her lip, her arching brows drawing together. “But, there are only three transports, and I just walked away for a little while—”
“Awhile is all you need to get in trouble, apparently.You’ve no more sense than a baby deerbbit. Yeah, there’re only three transports, but I don’t know everyone on them. Hells, I sent you shopping, didn’t I? Thought women loved to shop, thought it would keep you out of trouble.”
She prissed her lips. “I do enjoy shopping, but…not with stolen credit.” She gave him a look that said he couldn’t argue with that.
The hells he couldn’t. Joran opened his mouth to inform her any credit he stole was only from other pirates, and then gritted his teeth. He was quarked if he’d explain himself to her.
“Whatever. So from now on, you’ll have an escort. A keeper, since you like to put it that way.”
Yeah, there were only three transports, but that was like saying there was only one prairie and one river out there. She wandered off, she’d get into trouble faster than he could get to her. All it would take was one catamount, one gyre hawk or one pirate not from his band.
Next time, he was using the collar to rein her in. Let her see how she liked that.
He let go of her and she put a hand on his arm. “Oh, no. You don’t have to do have someone escort me. I don’t want to take one of your crew away from their duties. I’ll be more careful, I promise.”
“I know you will,” he said, and smirked. He beckoned with one hand. “Wega will see to it.”
The Occulan had fallen from her hovercycle when a gust of wind over a clifftop buffeted the craft, and injured her shoulder. Riley had put her through the regen but, still not satisfied, had given her strict instructions to rest for a few days, and bound her arm in a sling.
Zaë’s face fell. “No!”
Then Wega stopped at her elbow, scowling as usual and Zaë stopped talking. She stood there, staring at a point somewhere past Joran, looking miserable as a motion-sick immi.
“Keep her out of trouble,” Joran instructed the stout female.
“You can count on it,” Wega said.
Joran beckoned to Pede, who brought the ponies over. As Joran mounted up, he heard a musical giggle. He saw Fee and two friends, both of whom he’d had but hadn’t gone back for more, lounging in the shade, watching with glee. Fee gave him an intimate smile.
Joran glanced back at Zaë, not knowing what he expected, but not what he got. All penitence gone, she glared from the women to him, and then turned her back on him. His hands tightened on the reins, anger heating his gut at this blatant rudeness. He chucked to his mount, and the beast snorted and dashed to the few steps to Zaë, turning tightly to herd her backward.
She stumbled back with a gasp, mouth open, eyes now wide with a tinge of fear.
“You insult me in front of my people?” he said, just loud enough for her to hear. “You may beg my pardon—loud enough for everyone to hear, or spend the rest of the day somewhere safe, like an empty cata pen.”
For an instant, hurt and then fury blazed, turning her eyes to blue fire. He was startled by the show of spirit and even more shocked by what she did next.
Her long lashes veiling her eyes, she clasped her hands before her and bowed her head in a ceremonial bow, then straightened, her gaze cast down, face expressionless.
“I am sorry, oh great Zhazid, for your lowly servant’s impertinence,” she called, her voice ringing as if she were on a stage. “My master knows best. He is so great and powerful, surely even the sun basks in his presence.”
Joran didn’t know whether to laugh or sweep her onto his pony, ass up, and spank her right there. Perfect obedience, and yet underneath her anger burned as hot as the sun on his back.
He grinned down at her. “That’s more like it. Now why don’t you spend the afternoon staying out of trouble?”
Wega rolled several of her eyes but nodded, to show this would happen.
Good. Not that he was going to take the sex any further with Zaë, but he liked the feminine wariness blossoming in those big blue eyes. He enjoyed teasing
her, was all. She had a feisty side to her that he liked to bring out.
Even bunnies were dangerous in a corner, their big back feet laden with strong claws for digging. His Zaë was starting to show her claws, and that was good. She’d need them when she left here.
Joran wheeled his pony and rode out of camp, grinning to himself at the last sight he had of her. Standing there like a disgruntled princess, Wega looming at her side. She wouldn’t have a fun afternoon, but she’d stay where she was supposed to be—safe.
Outside the camp, Var caught up with him, and they rode side by side along the river.
“You afraid your rescue’s gonna disappear?” Var asked.
Joran grunted. “Already happened to her once, didn’t it? She’s as feckless as a desert bunny tossed out in a city.”
Var said nothing more, but Joran looked over to see the big man grinning.
Joran moved his shoulders restlessly, and the cata danced sideways under him, picking up on his tension. He held his seat, and reined his mount back in with the ease of long practice.
Okay, maybe he had over-reacted a bit. But she was vulnerable, and he was responsible for her safety until he passed her off.And now he’d wasted enough time on her.
“Any more sign of that craft?” he asked. One of the patrols had seen a strange craft moving through the rocks that rimmed the valley below where it narrowed into a canyon. They hadn’t been able to make out its method of locomotion, just that it moved through the rocks with ease and precision, more like a creature than a vehicle.
“No,” Var said in his bass rumble. “Could be a drone, you reckon?”
Joran grunted noncommittally. “We’ll look for tracks of some kind, then I want the sliders to patrol that area non-stop for the next few days. Whatever it is, we’ll find it.”
“Then see if we want to destroy it or steal it,” Var added, and grinned, his broad face creasing in lines that said he did so often.
Joran nodded. The catamount ponies, surefooted and tireless, reached the canyon a short time later. They loosed a pair of spybots, and the small winged orbs zipped away over the rocks to see what lay ahead.
