The manager cupped his hands protectively about hers, kissed her wrist, and bowed. “Blood and line to serve and protect.”
“Your service here today will protect more than just my family, but the thousands of families of Ilkala,” Tis murmured in response, and handed him a credit gem embossed with the crest of House Ilkazam. “Have your people start loading immediately.” The manager bowed and motioned to his employees.
Soon pallets filled with canned vegetables, cured meats, and beverages were floating past. Tisianne eyed a pallet loaded with dark amber wine and contemplated snatching a bottle. She’d paid for it. Why not? She could wander the streets of Ilkala guzzling from the bottle. That would be elegant behavior for a princess. Even better if she could wrap it in a brown paper bag. Bring back memories of Hamburg, and her favorite alley.
Bat’tam, who had been mincing behind her, suddenly stepped to her side and gestured with his carved crystal flask. Tis nodded. The base snapped off to form a shallow, flower-shaped cup. Tis felt her mouth quirk and firmly banished the desire to smile. Bat’tam raised one plucked eyebrow and handed her the cup.
“No, it would show very bad breeding for you to drink from the bottle like a sailor on leave with his cronies,” he said softly.
“My breeding is of the very worst.”
“Physically, yes. But your spirit is still Tisianne brant T’sara.”
“I don’t think that counts, since you can’t mind- or soul-fuck.”
Tis instantly felt contrite for her sharpness. It wasn’t the Vayawand lord’s fault she was in her current predicament. He had been charming, supportive, and upon occasion useful as she tried to organize the defense of her home. If she ever did return to her body, Tis supposed she would have to sleep with him by way of thank you. She suppressed a shudder. It had nothing to do with a sexual taboo against homosexuality – Takis didn’t have one – the issue was whether she would ever be able to endure a sexual encounter again. She might find the terror of sexual assault too strong for even desire to conquer.
Zabb, surrounded by guards, came striding into the station, and there was the rising sound of excitement culminating in enthusiastic cheers. He handled it well, sweeping off his tall silver-and-white hat and waving it over his head. He then crossed to Tisianne and, picking her up in his arms, offered her to the crowd. The cheers intensified.
“They like us,” he said setting her back on her feet. Tis started to drop into a deep curtsy only to have him wave off the obeisance. “Forget all that.”
Eyes averted to hide the confusion into which he had thrown her, Tis said, “You should enjoy it, relish every bow, savor every curtsy. It’s what you’ve been waiting for.”
Zabb’s eyes fell on Bat’tam. “If you please, vindi, I wish to speak with my cousin in private.” Bat’tam bowed and withdrew. “Why is it,” Zabb said, as he tucked her hand beneath his arm, and they began to stroll down the platform, “that nothing is ever as good as you imagined it would be?”
“Possibly because you are perverse.”
Zabb studied her critically. “You’re looking better.” Tis shrugged. “That style suits you.” He wrapped one hanging tendril of hair around a forefinger. “Tell your maid to keep dressing it in this manner.”
Tis glanced up at that lean face. “You look tired.”
“I’m trying to redesign Ilkazam culture. Unfortunately I don’t seem to be as adept at it as your grandson.”
“Can I help?”
“You’ve already done so much… more than you can ever know.” Zabb was staring at her with uncomfortable intensity. He slowly drew a hand across his face, smoothed his sideburns, brushed at his mustache.
Tis didn’t know what possessed her, but she found herself saying, “Incidentally, I’ve always hated you in a mustache. It doesn’t suit you.”
Zabb gave a single sharp bark of laughter. “You haven’t changed all that much, Tis. Only a Takisian would worry about facial hair when the barbarians are at the gate. So how’s your boykisser working out?”
“Helpful and annoying. The man’s half in love with me… well, with a vastly different vision of me, from very long ago. And his every look and gesture makes it clear how very much he regrets my current sex. I just hope he doesn’t decide sugar water’s almost as good as jam.”
“I wouldn’t worry. You’ve got bumps in all the wrong places.” Zabb grinned down at her, and she found herself laughing.
“My, we’re in unaccustomed charity with one another. I think I’ll risk spoiling the moment and ask a favor.”
“You can ask.”
“It’s been three days since Jay and Illyana left. I should have heard something by now. Will you please have Baz check on the station? Make certain they arrived safely?”
“Why don’t you ask Taj? You obviously hold his first loyalty.”
“I tried already. He won’t do it. I think he’s decided he’s thwarted you as far as he prudently can.”
“And you are obviously not impeded by any such considerations?”
“I have nothing to lose.”
“The story of how you outwitted me has already grown in the telling, giving an immeasurable boost to your reputation. Why should I add to it?”
“Because it can’t hurt you, and because whatever else might be said about you, you have always been a good sport. You always get even later, but you take the initial defeat quite philosophically.”
Mark wandered up to them, his search for the lost child’s mother apparently a success.
“You mean like how I haven’t tried to murder your paladin here for thwarting my attempt to destroy the Earth.”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Am I, like, missing something, man?” Mark asked, his eyes blinking rapidly behind the thick lenses of his glasses.
“No, just Zabb being manic,” Tis replied.
There was a soft chime from the portable hololink carried by one of Zabb’s guards. He answered, listened for a moment, then coughed lightly.
“Raiyis, it is Lord Bazzakra.”
Zabb keyed the link, and the image of Baz sprang to life on the platform. He looked agitated.
“My lord, the Network’s arrived.”
“Not Nesfa and her little gang of crawlers again. I just got rid of them.”
“Well, they’re back, and they’re not alone. They’ve brought a Master Trader. Zabb, this ship is enormous, Baz blurted. “They’re demanding to talk to you. About a little matter of breach of contract.
Chapter Thirty-four
It had been a long, hard trip. Three changes of train, and a terrifying ride (to a claustrophobe like Jay) through an endless tunnel that linked the two continents. Jay had been perplexed by the lack of air travel on Takis. They had fucking spaceships, but no planes? Then Hastet had pointed out the obvious. The Takisians had rejected metal ships about the time they threw out the Network. It took a telepath to fly a living ship. There were no Tarhiji telepaths, and no psi lord was going to serve the Tarhiji. Ergo no airlines. Jay saw a potential gold mine if he did get stuck on this lousy planet and could convince any displaced aristocrats to dirty their hands with something as commonplace as a job.
The train was slowing, swaying from side to side. Lights were now visible through the tinted window, and an occasional flash of wall.
“We’re running out of milk,” Hastet said as she shifted the baby to her shoulder and started patting.
“Not too much longer now. Hope her highness the ground sloth will be happy with formula.” Illyana let out an absolutely obscene belch. “Guess that told me,” Jay said.
No one in living memory had ever seen a Network starship. Takis still traded with the Network, but the Master Traders had learned to send small ships, unlikely to arouse the hostility or paranoia of the psi lords, and carrying only those goods that would interest the arrogant and insular Takisians.