And he also needs to survive so that he can actually walk away, added Horatio.
That’s not even an issue anymore. They’re dancing on eggshells as much as we are. As long as no one does anything too stupid, we’ll all walk out of here just fine. Justin glanced around the banquet room. This really isn’t any more dangerous than the corporate training getaways SCI used to send us on, except with weird accents and no women.
He’d been told the lunch had been prepared by women, but they were far removed from this space, with all the serving being done by teenage boys from prestigious families. That made Justin’s mind wander to Mae, and it was a relief when the presidential activities disbanded and he and the other Gemmans were sent on to their next stop. They found the praetorian women in the capital’s lobby, waiting to join in on the tour of the city. Mae wasn’t with them.
“She’s waiting for you in a car outside,” said Val as Justin approached. A grin lit her face. “She’s, uh, something else.”
“She always is,” said Justin.
But when he reached the waiting car and slid into the backseat, he immediately discovered what Val had meant. Mae—at least he assumed it was her—was literally covered from head to toe. It looked as though she had on a long Arcadian dress that was thick even by their standards. He couldn’t see many details because a long veil of heavy material hooded her and wrapped around her body, all the way to her feet. It had at least been done in a way that gave her partial use of her arms and hands, which were gloved. A thinner material, but still opaque, hung over her face, and he hoped she could see out of it better than he could see in.
“I thought it’d be black for some reason,” said Justin. “Maybe that’d be too chic.” The color—if one could call it that—was a muddy mix of gray and brown.
“They’re going for as unflattering as possible,” came her voice through the veil. “Just in case obscuring all feminine shape and even the ability to walk didn’t do it.”
The car merged into traffic, and Justin leaned forward to ask the driver how long until they were at the temple—in Mandarin.
“I beg your pardon?” asked the man, startled.
Justin switched to English. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking. How long until we get there?”
“Ten minutes.”
No matter how often he visited the provinces, actual drivers instead of automated cars were still odd to Justin. It just didn’t seem like a good idea to trust control of a bunch of large machines to humans alone. The RUNA and EA were the only places technologically advanced enough to have automated traffic networks or run their cars without fossil fuels. The smell of gasoline always grated on Justin. Still, he felt smug as he settled back in the seat.
“Oversight on their part,” he told Mae, switching back to Mandarin. Although it wasn’t used regularly in the RUNA, all children learned it in school, just as EA children learned English. “They should have a Mandarin-speaker out with every Gemman on this trip.”
“He could be faking,” she said.
“I saw his expression. He wasn’t, but I’m sure at least one of the soldiers wandering Carl’s halls knows it.”
“Probably,” she agreed. “Most of them took an extended break once you guys left, by the way. I guess they didn’t see us as much of a threat.”
Even with the language protection, Justin found himself lowering his voice. “How is that girl? She’s one of the concubines, right?”
“Hannah,” said Mae. “And yes, she’s his newest. From what I gathered, she’s been with their family six months, and this isn’t the first time Jasper’s had a problem with her.”
“You mean not the first time that she’s wickedly lured him with her charms?”
Mae’s expression was obscured, but Justin guessed she was scowling, judging from the way her gloved hands clenched into fists. “From the way he watches all of us, I’d say anything female lures him. He just stands there while we’re working—kitchen, dining room, whatever. Claims he’s ‘supervising,’ but there’s no question what he’s really thinking about. Sounds like his older brother—Walter—used to have issues too, but he’s mellowed out since getting engaged. I guess the promise of sex’ll do that.”
“No wonder. These guys are sexually frustrated, and their dad is hoarding all the women.” An alarming thought occurred to Justin. “He hasn’t threatened any of you, has he?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think he’d dare, at least without serious provocation, which we haven’t given him. Hannah’s the easier target. She seems to know it, as do a couple of the other women. They go out of their way to make sure she’s not alone. If something happened, and Jasper raped her, the blame would be put on her shoulders. She could be beaten, sold, or—in extreme cases—put to death. It’s disgusting. This whole place is.”
Justin said nothing because there was nothing to say. He couldn’t lie and act like things would get better. Reminding her she’d wanted to come here wouldn’t help either. Further conversation was put on hold anyway when they reached the temple, which left both of them speechless for entirely different reasons.
Although the RUNA technically allowed freedom of religion, most practitioners knew they were expected to be discreet. Those whose facilities actually looked like temples and churches kept them out of urban centers. Those within populated areas usually opted for brisk, modern business suites that didn’t call too much attention. The largest religious facility—if it could be called that—was the Church of Humanity, which was actually a secular institution that held services and sermons emphasizing the country’s social values.
But even that was dwarfed by the Temple of Nehitimar. It was bigger than the capital building, even with its additions, taking up more city blocks than Justin could see. He and Mae stood at the curb, gawking up at the temple’s spiraling heights and rich embellishment. It was literally decorated with gold and jewels, contrasting oddly with some of the rundown buildings and bedraggled pedestrians nearby, but the heavily armed and cloaked temple soldiers surrounding the grounds must have been enough of a deterrent against any would-be thieves.
“What is all this space for?” Justin asked the driver in English. “It can’t all be worship.”
The driver nodded toward an approaching man. “Ask him.”
“Dr. March?” The young man wore a gray and deep blue uniform, indicative of temple service. “I’m Deacon Hansen, here to take you to see His Piousness.” The man did not appear interested in meeting Mae, and Justin didn’t attempt an introduction. Instead, he repeated his question as Hansen led them up the temple stairs.
“The temple houses all sorts of uses,” Hansen told them. “Worship space, school, the priests’ homes. Nehitimar’s work requires a lot of space.”
He paused in his explanation and glanced back, realizing his guests had fallen behind. Mae’s tightly wrapped dress and veil made it impossible for her to take anything but the smallest of steps. Justin, not caring if she felt coddled or not, linked his arm through hers as she made her way along, half afraid she’d topple over. If the Arcadians had wanted to eradicate any sign of alluring female movement, they’d succeeded. They’d all but hobbled one of the most graceful and athletic women Justin knew. Hansen looked displeased at the delay, but whether that was simply from a woman going to see the Grand Disciple or Justin helping her, it was hard to say.
Justin soon saw that Mae wasn’t the only woman there that day— just the only woman going into the inner depths of the temple. When they cleared the grand, main doors, they found themselves standing in a huge open lobby with vaulted ceilings and a fountain nearly two stories high. Icons of various figures from the Arcadian religion decorated the walls, with Nehitimar himself always portrayed as largest and grandest. Worshippers knelt in front of the images, leaving offerings of various types behind—candles, flowers, incense, even bread. In a far corner, vendors in temple uniforms sold the offerings to long lines of petitioners.