Chapter Forty‑two
BRITTANY MIGHT HAVE BEEN PICKING HER JAW UP OFF the floor again after walking through the mammoth steel doors of the castle if she hadn't had prior warning‑‑pools in bedrooms had been a clue‑that inside wasn't going to look like a castle, but more like a palace. Even so, the bright, open airiness of the place made it unique: high ceilings, huge rooms, everything predominantly white, even the floors, which were marblelike granite.
Potted plants and flowering trees added greenery and other colors, and a blue carpet runner about twelve feet wide extended down the center of the hall where they entered. Two big rooms on each side of it were divided by arches, but arches so wide they were barely divisions, so that standing at the end of one room you could see clearly across to the end of the other. Tall open windows at the ends of these rooms let in soft breezes that kept the place
cool, as well as so much daylight they might as well have been still outside. More trees in great urns were in the two rooms, along with backless couches, tables....
Brittany's interest perked yet again. Tables meant carpentry, but her kind or‑bah, there was only one kind. Yet Kodos had said there was no one around here who could teach him how to work with wood, that most of the buildings in town had been built by the Darash so long ago that the knowledge of how to do so had been lost. A challenge loser could be made to build a building in punishment, but it tended to be of such poor quality that it would never be used.
"You expect to lose some challenges?" she'd teased her young friend.
He'd replied a bit indignantly, "I want to show a challenge loser how to build something properly so it can be useful, rather than task the next challenge loser with tearing it down, as is usually the case.
She hadn't asked much about these challenges, figured they were just another warrior sport. But that conversation had illuminated the early one she'd had with Dalden when he equated her job with punishment. Warriors apparently could be merchants, could direct Darash in farming, but the only thing they did with their own hands was sword‑wielding. Amazing how these people managed to connect and combine their stories into a whole tale without loose ends.
The party divided then, with plans to gather again for dinner: Challen off to attend to shodan business, Tedra off for a catch‑up session with Martha, Shanelle and Falon off to her old room, and Dalden pulling Brittany along to his: down one hallway, then another, through a tower, then a garden outside with a covered walk that passed down the middle of it, into the next building, a few more hallways, some stairs, some more stairs. She was absolutely lost by the time they reached his room, which was so far away from the main sections of the castle that it might as well not be considered part of it.
The room covered the whole upper floor of the building it was in, so the balcony that surrounded it surrounded all of it. And yes, there really was a sunken pool in it, about eight feet round, like a miniature oasis with potted trees around it and a stone bench next to it. An extra‑big bed was against the only wall that didn't have those open, arched windows. Not a normal bed as she knew it, it seemed to be a thick, stuffed mattress that fit into a full boxlike frame with no springs. Although it was very old‑fashioned looking, the bedding appeared soft and comfortable.
There were a few more of those backless couches around a long, low table. Did they eat lying down? Carved chests sat between arches‑detailed woodworking! The floors were again white marblelike stones but lightly veined with blue. Sheer lightblue curtains stirred at the windows, their only covering. There were no windowpanes or shutters.
"Tell me something, how do you keep out the files and mosquitoes?" she asked Dalden.
"The what?"
"Insects, bugs, you know, tiny things that fly around in the air and make a habit of biting people."
"You will find such things in the lowlands, not up on a mountain.
"Ah."
"What think you of your new home?"
She knew he'd been eagerly awaiting that answer, though his expression was guarded. It was truly beautiful, his room, uncluttered yet lavish. But the whole place made her think of a sultan's harem. It brought home clearly that she was nowhere near her own home.
"It's big," she allowed.
"Indeed, a warrior has need of space to not feel confined," he agreed.
"I suppose."
"You do not like it," he remarked, clear disappointment in his tone now.
"I didn't say that," she said quickly. "It will Just take getting used to."
"What do you not like about it?"
"Dalden, stop it. It's beautiful, really."
"You are mine, thus do I know you well, kerima, and you are not pleased with where you will live."
She held out her hand to him. When he clasped it, she brought his fingers to her mouth and bit one of his knuckles, hard. He raised a golden brow at her, though he barely felt any pain. He then grinned at her and pulled her to him. She pushed away.
"Bah, that wasn't an invitation. I was just proving you'll never know me as well as you think you do, which is a good thing. Surprises add spice to life, after all. As for these quarters, I will get used to them. But you saw where I lived. The house I had planned to build for myself would have been four times as big, but it still wouldn't be a castle. This place is like a‑a fairy tale to me. Fairy tales are nice, but they are to be enjoyed temporarily, not permanently. I can't see staying here forever."
"You wish to live elsewhere?"
Instead of answering that, she asked him, "Did you plan to always live here, even after you took a lifemate and started your own family?"
"There is ample room here for more than one family," he stated.
"Yes, but you're missing my point. You have no desire to spread your wings? To have a place that's exclusively yours, rather than your parents'? Where I come from, people tend to leave home as soon as they're done with their schooling, to get out and start their own lives. Parents nurture up to a point, then turn their creations loose and hope they become productive adults. You are an adult, right?"
That got her a scowl that she couldn't help chuckling over. It was so rare of him to display frowns of any sort, other than in confusion.
"Sorry," she said. "But I had to ask, when nothing else around
here is what I'm accustomed to. Do women even work on your planet, you know, make things, build, create? Do they have occupations.
"Not in the way you mean."
"Take me home."
"Yet they do have hobbies."
"Doesn't suffice for a working woman," she mumbled. "And yet you do have industry here, craftsmen, woodmills. Evidence is all over your town. Where do you hide it?"
"Kan‑is‑Tra has not these things. We do not tamper with nature above the surface of the ground, other than to add to it in the growing of food."
"And below the surface?"
"The gold metal Is extracted in many areas of the world, including here in Kan‑is‑Tra. Usually Darash who live near each mine have the knowledge of crafting and shaping the metal into useful objects."
"And the furniture I've seen?"
"It is made in countries to the south. Twice a year we get huge caravans of merchants who bring these things to us. There are potters in the north. Most all Darash are skilled in weaving, sewing, and dyeing. Glassmaking is known in the east, but is generally not transported by caravan because it rarely survives the trip."
"I guess that's something," she said with some relief "How hard is it going to be for me to commute to one of these craft countries to get a job?''
No answer and a really blank look. Brittany sighed, but recalled that there was a better information source attached to her hip.
"Martha, what wasn't to understand about that question?" she asked.
"He understood it, doll, he just didn't understand it, if you get my drift. Sha‑Ka'ani women have simply never had a need to work. They go from one protector to another all their lives, so they never lack for support‑which doesn't mea
n they don't have responsibilities. If you need an example, think of them as the
medieval lady of the keep who keeps everything running smoothly, supervises the servants, and makes sure things get done and done right."
"That isn't work, that's home chores."
Martha chuckled. "The culture you came from had evolved in leaps and bounds in just the last hundred years, and took giant leaps where women are concerned in Just the last fifty years. So I know your women didn't always have this 'gotta work' attitude. You have it because you were born when it was already starting, and by the time you reached adulthood it was already fully in place. You expected to support yourself, expected to continue doing so even after you married, because your people have let their economy go bonkers, forcing them to hook up to combine incomes in order to get anywhere."
"And your point?"
"Look back just fifty years ago, when your culture expected women to stay home and be housewives as soon as they married, and work in only menial, unimportant jobs until then, and your women were happy in this role. Like the medieval women before them, they didn't bring home the bacon, but they worked: they ran the home front, which was often harder work than their mates were doing elsewhere. Now look what you have here: a lot of 'housewives' comfortable with that position just as your women were a few decades ago, something you can adapt to because it's not so far off the mark from your own history."
"Inactivity is going to drive me up a wall," Brittany insisted.
"That's a distinct possibility, and one that Dalden will have to think hard to rectify," Martha said. "Paying attention, big guy?"
He was, and replied stubbornly, "Hobbles will occupy her as they have my mother."
Martha all but snorted, "Don't kid yourself. Tedra's job had been in security. There was strenuous exercise to keep fit, and the occasional head‑bashing to do, but for the most part it was a boring job because Kystran was a peaceful planet. So she's happy to putter about with a few crafts here, but she doesn't spend much
time at it. She spends more time involving herself with people, and to a degree, security at the Visitors' Center. In other words, Dalden, she's active in things she enjoys. Everyone needs that kind of activity."
" My lifemate will have it."
"But not enough, if I know you, and I do," Martha warned. "She needs to build things, useful things. It's what she enjoys doing and she does it damn well. Her craft could also be a benefit to your people, since she can create things unknown here. Like this, for instance."
Brittany had been really impressed with Martha's speech, so it was a bit of a shock to have the double rocker that she had built on the ship suddenly appear before them. No one had carried it In. It was just‑there.
"By the way, Brittany, my girl," Martha said now in smirking tones, "if that's an illusion, then you probably won't want to try sitting on it or moving it out to the balcony where it would be ideal for enjoying the view. On the other hand, if you would like to sit on it, you'll probably have to accept that I just Transferred it to you, huh? just like I did with all your belongings, now piled into Dalden's closet."
"What belongings?" Brittany said resentfully. "You people didn't exactly give me time to pack."
"Your things weren't needed aboard the ship. But Corth II collected all of what was yours, with your roommate's help‑all except your rust bucket. There was no point in bringing that here when its fuel source is unique to your world."
"All of my things?"
"Yes, not that you'll get much use out of your own clothing, though you can probably convince the big guy to let you wear some of it in private. "
Brittany didn't remark on that demeaning "convince." She noted the two doors on the wall without windows, The larger one led to the stairs they had mounted to get to the bedroom. The other she moved to now, and saw that it was a room a bit bigger
than her bedroom at home, filled with standing racks that had local clothing draped over them, so just about everything was seen at a glance. And there piled on the other side was her own suitcase stuffed to the brim, and some boxes she and Jan had been storing in case they were needed come Christmastime, filled with what hadn't fit in the suitcase. Even her tools!
The room had no windows in it, yet it was well lit. She had to visually search for a moment to find the source of the light, a small wooden box high up on one of the shelves where Dalden's boots and belts were laid out. For that matter, there had been short ledges in his room between the windows with identical boxes on them. This one was open on top, light pouring out of it.
She was able to reach it and lowered it until she could see inside. A small blue rock was in it, about the size of a silver dollar, a single stone, the rough edges smoothed, but not perfectly round. She brought her other hand close to it, but there was no heat coming off of it as there should have been, considering this was what the light was coming from. Closer still and still no heat.
It took a moment for her to gather the nerve to actually touch it, then clasp it in her hand. Cool it was, and almost weightless.
She was fascinated, wanted to examine it closer in daylight to find the seams she couldn't manage to see just by turning it around. There had to be some. There had to be a battery inside it, making it a light.
She brought it with her back into the bedroom. The rocker was gone, but a glance around showed that the sheer curtains had been opened on one wall, revealing an archway out onto the balcony where Dalden had moved the rocker. He was out there, too, sitting in the rocker. She gritted her teeth. Obviously, the real thing had been there before they got there, transported ahead of them along with her belongings. Transfer my ass, she thought to herself.
She'd figure out later where they had the cameras hidden that could project illusions. just now she was too interested in the gaali stone in her hand. She started toward the balcony to join Dalden where it was brightest. She was maybe ten feet away from the large arch when a cat landed on the balcony from somewhere but couldn't stop from the momentum of its jump. It slid into the bedroom, coming to rest at her feet, whereby she promptly fainted. Understandable considering that it was as big as she was.
Chapter Forty‑three
DALDEN'S SIGH WAS NOT A STRENUOUS ONE AS HE LAID
Brittany down on his bed. He sat down beside her and carefully smoothed her hair back from her face. Such a glorious color her hair was, unknown on his world.
"Did she hurt herself in the fall, Martha?" he asked, concern thick in his voice.
"Like intoxication that deadens natural reflexes, fainters drop without trying to break their fall so they tend to suffer less bruising and breaking in the falling than someone who was fully alert."
"You did not answer my question."
"Oh, you wanted specifics?" Martha's voice turned dry. "She's fine, really. "
He could be grateful for that, if nothing else. It was everything else that was frustrating him to barely tolerable levels.
Martha had asked him to not follow his warrior instincts with his lifemate until she finally accepted him for who he was. But when would she? She was to have opened her eyes and accepted the truth when they arrived home, but still she wouldn't. Even the hataar she had discounted, claiming it an animal from her world in disguise. And the fembair had frightened her so badly she fainted, yet which animal would she claim it was from her world?
He was beginning to think his sister had truly cursed him all those months ago, when he'd helped to put her in Falon's control where she didn't want to be. She had been too furious to fully consider her words when she had shouted at him, Stars, I hope the female you finally want for yourself isn't Sha‑Ka'ani, and that she never gives you any peace! It had been the worst thing she could wish for him, and it had already come half‑true.
His woman wasn't Sha‑Ka'ani. And her own stubbornness was going to keep an insurmountable wall between them. She loved him, yes, but not completely, nor would she as long as she continued to doubt who he was. This was already disturbing his pea
ce. He had bided his time, though, had taken Martha at her word that Brittany would accept the truth once he got her home. That hadn't happened.
"Martha, have Shanelle come and collect her pet," he ordered.
"Not a chance," Martha declined. "The arrival of that furball was a good thing. I couldn't have planned it better myself."
"I will not allow her to be frightened again," Dalden said adamantly.
"She wasn't frightened, she just got a dose of shock too big for her to handle, no pun intended," Martha added, though she chuckled a bit. "But if you take Shank out of there before she wakes up, she'll just chock him up to another illusion. Let her get to know him, and there's no way she can deny him. Done deal. "
"Our arrival here was to have been the 'done deal,' " he reminded her with clear annoyance.
Martha injected a sigh. "So I was a bit off on my estimate on
the extent of her stubbornness. But she's borderline. She's clutching at straws now, and far‑fetched ones at that, to maintain her disbelief As soon as she realizes that the excuses she's coning up with to keep the wool over her eyes are more ridiculous than the truth, she'll open her eyes."
"How long?" he demanded.
"Practice some of that warrior patience that you men are renowned for. Give her one more week. Her 'project' scenario is like a security blanket to her. She clings to it because the truth frightens her."
"There is no reason for it to frighten her," he replied in frustration.
"Yes, we know that," Martha agreed. "But she can't see that far ahead. "
"I happen to have perfect vision," Brittany mumbled in a groggy, testy voice as she came awake. "Which is a good thing, since this culture probably doesn't have eye doctors or glasses, does it?"
"Welcome back," Martha said cheerfully.
"I'm not sure I want to be back."
"Do you even think before you say things designed to inflict pain on the warrior?"
Brittany's eyes flew open in horror as that question sank in. She located Dalden next to her. She sat up immediately, and wrapped her arms around him.