He beamed at the room with his trademark smile.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Got waylaid by some lobbyists who just couldn’t seem to understand that our country’s security was more important than setting up a golf date.”
There were polite chuckles around the room, and from the shining eyes in some of them, Justin found it hard to believe Lucian had anything to worry about in the polls. These people were eating out of his hand.
A man named Atticus Marley soon took charge—after making sure Lucian was comfortable, of course—and Justin learned he was the closest the RUNA had to an ambassador in Arcadia. He’d been instrumental in many negotiations and was an expert in their culture and social systems. Lucian might be the mascot in their party, but Atticus was the unofficial leader and guide. Most of the suits in the room were advisers staying in the RUNA, and he introduced them to the other key personnel who’d actually be traveling to Arcadia. One was a man named Phil Ramirez, who would be working on some technology and trade issues as a sign of good will toward the Arcadians. The other man, named George Yi, was posing as a professor of comparative cultural arts but was, in reality, a military analyst hoping to spy out any illicit doings on the Arcadian side. He seemed pleasantly surprised that Justin was, in fact, a real religion expert.
“Here,” said Atticus, turning on a screen at the front of the room, “is where we’ll be staying. Although there are inns and hotels in Arcadia, it’s considered bad form to put high profile guests there.” A satellite image appeared, showing a top-down view of a cluster of buildings around some land covered in yellowing grass. He chuckled as he glanced back at the group. “So you can take pride at being shown this regard.”
Phil Ramirez looked dubious. “I’d rather have a high-rise with room service.”
Justin silently concurred. The compound looked like a glorified farm to him, and he listened as Atticus explained how their host was a high-ranking government official who’d go to the trouble of displacing his wives and children in order to accommodate them.
“Wives?” asked George Yi. “And here I thought that was just something out of the movies.”
“Not among the more powerful members of Arcadian society,” said Atticus. “They can afford multiple wives and concubines. Some among the lower classes have the brute force to kidnap them.”
One of the praetorians crossed her arms. “What’s the difference between a wife and a concubine?”
“Alimony?” suggested Phil.
“Not far off,” said Attitcus. “A wife is forever in Arcadia—barring rare examples of divorce. A man has certain obligations to provide for her and her children, though you’ll find some fulfill those responsibilities questionably. Wives are also afforded certain status and protection. Concubines are more transient. Sex and other labor only. A man can share or sell his concubine. He can sell her children. And although an Arcadian wife has few rights, as we view them, a concubine has even less.” His eyes fell on Mae and the other three praetorian women in turn. “And you, I’m afraid, are going to be fulfilling the roles of concubines.”
“I beg your pardon?” demanded another praetorian woman.
Atticus actually flushed. “I should be clearer. You’ll be, uh, playacting. Not actually performing any duties. The gender disparity you’re seeing here isn’t an accident.” He nodded to Lucian, Phil,
George, and Justin. “They—and myself—are the principle players on this trip. This is what the Arcadians will expect. It wouldn’t even occur to them that important, powerful diplomats would be anything but men. And, although their military will certainly outnumber ours, they also would expect us to show up with our own protection—which is what you gentlemen and a number of regulars will be doing.” That was to a group of praetorian men.
“Where do we fit in with our ‘playacting’ then?” asked the first praetorian woman.
“Arcadians would consider it perfectly normal for high-powered men to travel with concubines. Not wives—at least not into dangerous territories. But, they figure men have needs, and if a man can bring his concubine along, then why not?” Atticus let his rhetorical questions hang for a few moments. “Posing as concubines will provide an extra level of security behind closed doors when we aren’t out on official business. You can stay in our bedrooms all night, awake, on guard.”
Mae leaned forward. “Two questions. First: they must know we don’t have the same social order as they do with these wives and concubines. Won’t they think it’s suspicious if we show up matching their customs?”
Atticus smiled. “Yes, they know we don’t have that same formal structure, but they also know we have much looser mores when it comes to sex outside of marriage. Honestly, they all think we’re sinners and whores, and if we’re traveling with women for sex, then they’re concubines whether we call them that or not.”
“Fair enough,” said Mae, hiding any distaste she might feel. “But even if the Arcadians don’t have women in their military, they must know we do in ours. Don’t you think it might occur to them that maybe we’re playing them and sending trained soldiers undercover?”
“Some might,” he agreed. “But they won’t take you seriously. No offense.” He narrowed his eyes as he regarded Mae, seeming to truly notice her. “You’re a patrician, praetorian? Some northern European group?”
“Nordic,” she said warily. “Why?”
“The group makes no difference. It’s more your recessive genes I’m noticing—and the Arcadians will as well. They had no pre-vaccine defense against Mephistopheles, and Cain runs rampant among them. A woman with your coloring who’s also so, pardon me, attractive will draw attention.” He glanced at the other praetorian women and frowned. “Honestly, in my opinion, you’re all too attractive for this mission, plebeian or patrician. A healthy brunette might not be as rare as a healthy blonde, but you’re all going to be head and shoulders above many Arcadian women.”
“Worried the Arcadians will steal our women?” asked Justin. Atticus didn’t laugh at the joke. “This group of women? Not
without a fight. But I’d rather you four didn’t attract any unnecessary attention. I don’t suppose we could find any praetorians marked with Cain? No, I don’t suppose such a thing even exists.” He sighed and focused back on Mae. “At the very least, it might be worth swapping you out for a plebeian. We’re waiting to get another woman assigned to us as it is. I could ask for two.”
Justin stiffened in his chair and sensed a similar reaction in Mae as well. This whole ordeal he’d gone through for her would be worthless if she got cut from the mission. “No. Praetorian Koskinen has to go. I need her. That is, she’s not just here for security. She’s also essential to my work specifically.”
Phil frowned. “What exactly is your work? Are you seriously here just to learn about religion?”
“It’s classified,” said Justin. “Internal security stuff.”
It sounds so official when you put it like that, said Horatio.
That pleased Phil, who seemed to read it as a subtle way of saying Justin was some sort of ballistics expert planning strikes against Arcadia. That seemed to be much more reasonable than anyone being truly interested in local culture. Atticus looked unconvinced, but Lucian preempted whatever protests he might make.
“Best not to interfere with Internal Security’s plans,” he said. “And I’ve seen Praetorian Koskinen’s work in the past. I don’t think we need to worry about some ill-behaved man doing something she doesn’t want.”
Justin wondered if that was a subtle reference to Lucian’s own lack of success with Mae. If so, he seemed to be taking it in good humor. Mae had on her usual poker face, and Justin couldn’t help but think that whatever reason Odin had had for having Justin encourage the two to go out, it apparently wasn’t strong enough to have an effect on her.