Chapter 10: The Night the Cheese Melted
“Tython?” Zara didn’t know what to do. For a moment, her brain froze. No, this couldn’t be the Tython she’d met at the Festival, because that Tython exploded. And yet, what if it wasn’t? What if the authorities had been wrong, and something or someone else had exploded, and this Tython was the one she met? And now he was here to… To what?
“Right. Sorry. I reckon that you’re a bit confused by me jus’ showin’ up like this.” He had a wide-brim hat that he removed, holding it to his chest as he bowed. “I’m not the Tython you met before. Them what blew up were the ones that attacked me in my house and tied me up so they could go to the Festival in my place.”
“Oh.” That made sense, and yet it still took Zara several more seconds before she could fully process the situation. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, yes. I… I was a bit shocked. Come in. Trisla? Tea?”
Trisla nodded and headed to the kitchen to get some tea together. Though, Zara did notice that Trisla gave Tython a longer look than could be construed as polite. Zara assumed that Trisla didn’t trust him.
“I won’t keep ya none, Lady Zara. I jus’ wanted to come by and apologize fer the trouble you went through on my account. Well, I know it weren’t me exactly, but still… I heard you got targeted by that explosive fella, so I thought it would be best to come an’ say hello.”
Zara blinked a few times, but then forced herself to ask, “Won’t you sit?” She motioned to the divan and waited for him to take a seat before returning to her own chair and asking, “You said you were tied up? I hope you weren’t hurt?”
“Well, I can’t say it was pleasant, but I still got all my limbs and whatnot. They put me in the basement of Petunia House, and I didn’t get no food fer days. Thought fer sure I’d died a couple of times. I didn’t even see ‘em comin’ really. They just knocked on my door late one night and then shoved me inside my house when I answered and roughed me up..” Tython shook his head and removed his hat, nervously keeping it on his lap, fidgeting with it now and then. “Were you hurt bad, Lady Zara?”
“Not terribly. A few bruises, a few stitches.” She watched the Real Tython closely. He seemed like a bashful, gentle sort of fellow, and his rough accent pushed through his command of the Galactic language. She did note Xaz standing up straighter than she’d seen him stand in months, his arms crossed as he watched the newcomer with as steely a gaze as he could muster. “Did they say who they were? The ones who tied you up? Were the Korkudai able to apprehend them?”
“They didn’t say. I thought maybe they were pirates, at first. My colony, back before I was brought to Viverides, we always got into scraps with pirates out on the edge of the Empire. Ain’t a lot of soldiers out there keeping the peace. But, that don’t make no sense here on Viverides. The Korkudai said they were prob’ly some Spiral Alliance guys, but I ain’t never seen the Spiral Alliance, so I can’t say fer sure.” At about that moment, Trisla returned with a tray of tea, which she served first to their guest. “Thank ya fer the tea, Miss.”
Trisla signed in reply and Zara translated. “She says you’re welcome.”
“I am sorry about not really followin’ protocol to come meetcha. Sendin’ my card ‘round first an’ all. I jus’...I don’t know how much longer I’ll be around. There’s been some talk of sendin’ me home.” He sipped his tea with immense care, and Zara watched as he used both hands to place it back on the saucer, taking deliberate measures not to spill or clink the glass. She assumed he hadn’t had much training in etiquette, and that he likely didn’t come from a noble family.
“You’ll no longer be a Hostage Concubine? Is that what you want? Surely they are not trying to punish you for something that wasn’t your fault.”
“No, not really a punishment. I’m gonna be honorably retired. Nice pension an’ all, on account of me gettin’ targeted on behalf of the Emperor.” Tython shifted his weight a little. “Not sure if it’s what I want. Ain’t got much to go back to. My homeworld’s a tiny minin’ colony on an asteroid. Maybe I’ll stay here on Viverides, find m’self some work. Hard to go back to nowhere after bein’ somewhere. But, at the same time, they may make me leave, just on account of not wantin’ me aroun’ no more. I don’t really know.”
“Well, if you do stay, please let us know. We’ll send you an invite to dinner sometime. I hope you don’t think me too rude, but I am afraid I just received a letter from home before you arrived, and I have a few things to attend to.” Zara said it with as much kindness as possible. She felt that the young man likely had as few friends as she did in this place, as he seemed quite different than most Hostage Concubines that she’d met.
Tython hopped to his feet, and in the process, almost knocked over the teacup. The jostling did manage to spill it a little, and both he, and Trisla, noticed at the same time. Tython whipped out a handkerchief and Trisla immediately stepped forward with a napkin, and the two of them attempted to clean the mess simultaneously, leading to their fingers brushing against each other. In that moment, Zara was certain she saw some blushing.
“I’m so sorry,” Tython said, “I’m a bit clumsy.”
“Not at all. Happens to everyone now and then. Trisla will show you to the door.”
“Thank you again, Lady Zara and… Like I said, I’m so sorry about what happened. If there’s ever anything I can do to make it up to you, just let me know.”
Zara waved as Trisla showed Tython to the door and, Zara noticed, didn’t come back for a few more minutes than the task would really necessarily take.
-*-*-*-*-
“Thank you so much for seeing me, Lady Astrid. I know your social calendar is often booked well in advance,” Zara said as she perched primly on the edge of the rather elegant but terribly uncomfortable high-backed chair that Astrid had offered her. “Are your wounds healing well? Your hair looks to have made a great recovery.”
“Yes, it does look good, doesn’t it?” Astrid cooed, bouncing her hand against the curls of what was, incredibly obviously, a pink wig. “I’ve always had excellent genes. My people are genetically engineered, you know?”
Magnolia House wasn’t much larger than Begonia House, but what it lacked in size it made up for in furnishings. Zara knew with certainty that many of the decorations in Astrid’s house rivaled the rarity and expense of ones she’d seen in Lady Kessandra’s place, though Astrid’s collection was much smaller. The decor’s main colors of gold and stark white, occasionally cut with brilliant red accents surprised Zara. She’d expected Astrid to gravitate towards her signature color of pink. Astrid received her in a parlor with grand sliding doors that opened onto a deck surrounding an incredible garden courtyard with an enormous oak at the center. A delicate incense teased the senses, borne on the faintest breeze coming through the open doors into the room where the ladies sat. If the relationship between herself and Astrid was less tense, Zara knew she would have delighted in the atmosphere of the place.
“I’d heard something to that effect.”
“Pardon?” Astrid looked up from the tea she hadn’t sipped.
“That your people were genetically engineered. Your planet is Panmedicalist, is it not?”
The color drained from Astrid’s face, making her unable to hide her shock at Zara knowing this fact. She tried to cover it by clearing her throat and finally lifting her gold-rimmed teacup to stall by taking several sips. When she was done, she cleared her throat a little and said, “Seliora’s original colonists were Panmedicalist, but we no longer hold any allegiance to Polonia. We’re a free and independent society now. Praytell, how do you know so much about me, Lady Zara?”
“Oh, I’d just heard a rumor.” Zara could tell that Astrid was displeased. The pink-haired woman believed herself the purveyor of gossip, not the subject of it. “Actually, it’s the reason I’m here today. I think we may be able to help one another.”
Even though Zara knew Astrid bore little desire to assist her in any way, shape, or form, she knew that the other woman would at least hear her out. Getting information about what Zara wanted and then figuring out a way to prevent Zara from achieving that aim would be one of Astrid’s top delights.
“Help each other? How so?” Astrid kept her question light, but the sugary tones of trying to bait Zara into giving her more information swam just below the surface.
“Have you heard of Coral Lung?”
“Of course.”
Zara tapped one of her fingers against her teacup as she examined the other woman. She’d have to word this exactly right in order to elicit the response she required. “My homeworld of Ankali has a terrible outbreak of Coral Lung. They’re getting some supplies from the Galactic Empire in order to fight it, but the supply is minimal. I thought perhaps, as a representative from a Panmedicalist world, you might have ideas on how to increase the supply?”
Astrid shifted from side to side, her gaudy neo-Rococo dress made from holoweave making excessive crinkling noises and as she did. “I mean, there are ways, of course, ways for anything to be accomplished. But, it can be so tricky. And expensive. And I am quite busy with so many other projects.”
“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t ask you to do anything without adequate compensation.” Zara could feel a tiny grin try to tug at her lips, and she forced herself not to smile, demanding that her face obey her and remain completely without glee. “I’ve recently found an interesting locked book at Begonia House. At first, I thought it might be the poetry book that you mentioned, but no… No, it appears to be Lady Noralina’s journal. Maybe you’d be interested in it, considering how close both of you were? Would you be willing to trade for that?”
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Immediately, Zara could tell that Lady Astrid’s interest was piqued. Although she tried to hide her reaction, the color drained from her face so rapidly, Zara worried the woman might faint. Her fingers curled against her teacup, and Zara pretended not to hear the faint squeak of her fingernail polish scraping against the porcelain. “Ah, well. I think…” Lady Astrid took a sip of her tea to calm herself and stall for time. Eventually, she continued. “I mean, it is a rather large ask. But, Lady Noralina was ever so precious to me. I’m sure she spoke of me in her journal in absolutely glowing terms. Did you read it?”
Zara waved one hand and did her best to craft the most expert lie she could, “No, of course not. It wouldn’t be right to read someone else’s journal. Besides, it’s locked.”
Learning that the journal contained a lock put Lady Astrid at visible ease. She let out enough of a breath that her shoulders visibly sunk, and some tension in her hands smoothed itself. “Yes. Very private woman, that Lady Noralina. Absolutely, we can make arrangements right away. I’ll get my majordomo to send an express shipment of the Coral Lung medication to your world immediately. We don’t really keep it in stock on Seliora, as we’re genetically engineered not to get such common diseases, but I’m certain our medical professionals could whip it up easier than chocolate cake.”
“You’re so very kind and understanding, Lady Astrid,” Zara cooed, playing to the woman’s narcissism. “Once I hear from Ankali that the medication has arrived, I’ll send one of my servants right over with the journal.”
A slight twitch in Lady Astrid’s face let Zara know that the woman definitely didn’t like the idea of having to wait on the journal until she’d completed her end of the deal. But, Astrid had no real bargaining chips to convince Zara otherwise. So, in the end, she forced a bitter smile and said, “Of course. I’m only glad I can be of help to the less fortunate.”
Zara left swiftly after that. Any additional time spent in Astrid’s presence would only allow the woman to gain more ammunition for whatever attack she might try next against Zara or those she cared about. A rush of energy jolted through Zara as she rode the pedicab back to Begonia House. Finally, she had managed to not only comprehend how the world of the Concubines operated, but she successfully maneuvered something into her favor with little more than a scrap of knowledge and a dead woman’s journal.
That night, she and the entire household went into Ebonrue to celebrate with a fancy dinner, so that Trisla might enjoy herself as well, instead of having to cook. They ate at a seafood restaurant that Madame Olendra had suggested a few weeks prior, trying the purple kerring fish of Viverides’s similarly purple oceans as well as crackling kelp cake that gushed honey and nuts from between each layer. On their way back, the group purchased sparklers from a street vendor, and wrote words in the air in front of each other. Zara knew the evening, filled with such laughter and camaraderie, would be one she’d not soon forget.
By the time they made it back to Begonia House, Zara’s exhaustion kept dragging her eyelids downwards. “Rowan, ah… Go early tomorrow and bring Lady Astrid the coordinates for Ankali so she knows where to send the medical supplies. With the core-net beacon down they’ll need to navigate manually.”
“They should be able to download the coordinates from the corepedia.”
“Yes, but…” Zara sighed, “I don’t want to give her any reason to say we didn’t hold up our end of the bargain in some way. You remember what she did with the dress. I’ll give you a gift to bring her as well. It’s important to go the extra mile to be conciliatory until we’ve managed to get the medications.”
Rowan shrugged and grumbled an agreement, before trudging off to bed.
-*-*-*-*-
The next morning, Rowan set out to Magnolia House with not only the coordinates in question but an excessively large vase of pink blooms from the most expensive florist in Ebonrue. Between the flowers and the fancy dinner the night before, Zara knew she’d stretched their budget slightly, but considering it might save lives, she declared it justified expenses. They’d just have to be a bit more frugal in the weeks to come. Although Hostage Concubines received a monthly allowance, most of the noble-born ones also received money from home. Zara knew her parents would have contributed to her upkeep, but she felt too guilty about using money that could be put towards the rehabilitation of Ankali.
The rest of the day passed quickly. Zara had been invited to join Lady Vivienne’s book club, which met twice a week at Zinnia House. Although Zara had expected the book club to be quite the affair, it appeared that the only members were Lady Vivienne, Madame Lisette, and a veiled Hostage Concubine in all black named Madsieur Adrian of the Nor gender. Madsieur was the polite title for a Nor Concubine of common birth, with Laird being the title of one of noble standing.
They discussed their next book to read, and Zara found that she couldn’t really be bothered to care. It was just nice to finally be making friends her own age, not that Lady Kessandra wasn’t wonderful company.
After the book discussion, they moved on to discussing Lady Vivienne’s plans for an augmented eye to replace the one that had been damaged during “the event”. Everyone now referred to it as “the event”, since they couldn’t talk about it openly, but obviously still needed to refer to it in occasions such as these. Lady Vivienne expressed her desire to get a light-projecting eye that would allow her to read in the dark, and Madsieur Adrian said she should get a creepy all-black one to spook people. Madame Lizette had no opinions on the subject, but found the cookies Lady Zara brought “delightful” and hoped she could get the recipe.
After returning home, Zara helped Trisla make dinner. After such a fancy meal the night prior, they went with a simple Ankali staple, spiced Zekan dumplings with red cheese and dates. Xaz excused himself early from dinner, an unusual event for the normally ravenous creature, though he mentioned that “the most blessed stars have aligned for communicating with the Lost Ones”, which trumped seconds or dessert, apparently. Before bed, Rowan mentioned that, when delivering the flowers earlier in the day, they may have played a bit of a prank on Lady Astrid. Zara halted the conversation immediately, not wanting to know anything about it, and telling Rowan that it best not be something troublesome that she’d have to sit through a yelling-about later.
Sleep came easily to Zara. More content than she’d been in a while, she prayed that the medications would get from Seliora to Ankali quickly. The fact that her upsetting fate as a Hostage Concubine may have allowed her to find a way to do some real good for the people of Ankali filled her heart with pride. Perhaps she could find more ways to contribute to the advancement of her homeworld. It would certainly help to quell her homesickness.
-*-*-*-*-
Zara woke to movement and noise, light and heat.
“Is she in there?” Rowan’s voice called from some distance away.
She opened her eyes to find Xaz looming over her bed, ripping blankets and pillows off to throw them aside. “Xaz?” she asked groggily, trying to shake off sleep. “What’s…?”
“No time. Untime. Timeless,” Xaz muttered, swiftly shoving his clawed hands underneath her to heft her up and hold her to his chest. “Cling. Cling to your Xaz, Lady Inkblossom.”
She did as commanded, both because she really had no choice, and because she finally had managed to wake enough to notice the fire climbing the wall of her bedroom, her curtains turning to blackened mush as the flame ate through them, and her ceiling becoming a habitat for billowing smoke.. “Merciful gods!” she exclaimed, leaning into Xaz as he rushed her out of the room. “Is the house on fire?”
“Nothing escapes your keen eye, m’lady,” muttered Rowan as Xaz hurried down the flaming hallway toward the perpetually irascible youth. Together, the three of them dodged cinders and tried to hold their breaths against the increasing haze as they made their way to the door.
“Where’s Trisla? We need to get to her! She won’t be able to call out, and the smoke will…”
“I got her out already,” Rowan replied, just as they made it to the front door, “And sent Xaz to get you.”
A wave of relief spread over Zara, but it was one she couldn’t even enjoy. Despite the trio making it out to the front garden, she found herself overcome with a spate of coughing so intense she temporarily was unable to see properly.
“Lady Inkblossom?” Xaz’s concerned voice barely reached her as he placed her down on the cool grass. The pain in Zara’s lungs ballooned to fill her upper torso with the searing remembrance of inhaling conchem. Inside her, tiny micro-fissures reopened, agitated by the smoke and coughing. She choked on nothing, unable to gasp through the coughing and pain enough air to feed her body’s needs. Another gasp. Nothing. No air. Panic rose as dizziness swirled inside her.
To her left, someone knelt in the grass. It was Trisla, and without fumbling she pressed an inhaler to Zara’s lips. The cool relief of her medication hit her within seconds. The coughing lessened, little by little, and she managed to take some breaths that, while painful, did manage the delivery of air. A hand rubbed her back. Trisla. Always Trisla. The fact that Trisla had, in the chaos of the fire, managed to remember to grab Zara’s inhaler, astonished her. The woman saved her life. She deserved a massive raise that Zara couldn’t afford to pay her.
“Fire brigade is taking their damned time, aren’t they?” Rowan asked.
Finally able to get her wits about her enough to turn and look, Zara beheld the roaring conflagration that Begonia House had become. The entire eastern side was engulfed in smoke through which the occasional flame could be seen.
Random onlookers began to amass on the road, both Hostage Concubines and various serving staff from nearby homes. Lady Kessandra and her housekeeper Madame Marie showed up as well, bringing blankets and bottled water.
“You’ll all stay at Wisteria House tonight, and until you can get sorted,” Lady Kessandra said, holding up a wrinkled hand to deny any protests they might offer. “I’ll hear no refusal of my hospitality. There’s more than enough room and I’ll be delighted to be helpful for once.”
After thanking her, Zara broke into another round of coughing, leaving her unable to respond as the fire brigade finally arrived. Rowan handled it instead, letting them know that nobody should be in the house and that they had all been sleeping when the blaze erupted.
“Oh,” Rowan added, “And be careful if you go into the basement. I’m sure all the cheese has melted.”
Members of the fire brigade rushed into the house and began to put out the blaze as Zara finally managed to get, albeit unsteadily, to her feet. The warm night air, made even warmer by the flames, caused faint perspiration to cling to her skin. But, she could at least find herself glad for the rather fancy nightgown she’d sewn all those months ago. She looked vaguely respectable for someone who had been rushed out of her house at midnight.
“How could this have happened?” she asked everyone and no one. “We didn’t have any candles burning. Do you think it was electrical?”
“I’m sure the fire brigade will figure it out,” Trisla signed in reply.
“Well, however it happened, it’s not that big of a loss, hm? It’s not like anything expensive or rare will be lost.” The saccharine voice came from behind Zara, and she immediately recognized it without even turning around. Lady Astrid Astor.
Zara spun and found Astrid and her brother Lord Vander Astor standing side by side on the road next to a Korkudai emergency vehicle, one of the few electric conveyances allowed in Ebonrue. Right. Zara had forgotten. Lord Astor was the Commander of the Ebonrue Korkudai. Of course, it would be a possibility that he’d show up to an emergency situation such as this. It didn’t explain Astrid’s presence, but she assumed the woman had simply been with her brother when he’d received the call.
“Rare and expensive, no. But definitely some things of sentimental value,” Zara lamented quietly. “I suppose we can’t complain, as we all escaped without too much harm.”
The glow of the fire made Astrid’s tiny smile easy for Zara to see as the pink-wigged woman clasped her hands together. “How unfortunate.” She jutted out her bottom lip in a pronounced pout. “I suppose this means Lady Noralina’s journal is gone, too. Wretched luck, isn’t it? But that’s ok. In understanding of your sad predicament, I’ll just cancel the shipment of medication instead of forcing you to find some other way to pay for it.”
A shiver went down Zara’s spine as she realized Astrid had set the fire to rid herself not only of the journal, but her rival as well.