Chapter 6
SEREYA
Sereya went looking for tea before Roemary woke.
She had slept badly, her hand ached, and the service panel offered drinks she couldn't pronounce. The guard directed her toward the breakfast gallery.
At the carved archway, she heard laughter. Dhomhes stood with a younger male carrying a practice weapon. He was smiling without the polite expression he had used in the hall.
He looked tired. There was a crease in his jacket and the same dressing around his hand. But he was smiling, and when the younger male started to leave, Dhomhes caught his shoulder and said something that made him stay.
Sereya slowed.
The exchange became more serious. She was too far away to hear it clearly, and the last thing she needed was to be found lingering around a Gol-Vett's private conversation.
She slowed, then turned into the gallery before anyone could find her lingering.
An attendant helped her choose tea.
As she took it to a table overlooking the courtyard, the younger male passed the doorway walking backward, making a gesture omitted from the Galactic Alliance's etiquette lessons.
Dhomhes followed and collected bread. When she looked up, he was watching her. His fingers flexed beside the plate, a hard ridge showing briefly at his wrist.
Sereya lowered her cup. He had looked at her like that on the ramp, before everything broke.
Someone called to him from the service door. He turned, caught his sleeve on a chair, and paused to free it. She hid a smile against her cup as he left.
Sereya drank her tea while it was still hot.
When they returned for breakfast, Roemary chose the table by the pillar.
“There.”
Sereya had been hoping for the little table she had used earlier. It looked toward a courtyard where water spilled quietly into a shallow pool. From there she couldn't see the ruined landing site.
The pillar table faced the main doors.
She sat.
The gallery smelled of warm bread and something sharp and sweet being cut into slices at the serving counter.
Most of the volunteers wore the same supplied clothes in different colors.
One had rolled her sleeves nearly to the elbows.
Another was attempting to fasten a belt that had plainly been made for someone twice her width.
Roemary had found a cream tunic that suited her. She had made Sereya change out of a russet one into gray.
“It brings out the mark on your face,” she had said.
Sereya had liked the russet.
An attendant brought plates and showed them which dishes had been cleared for their species. Sereya took bread and a piece of pale fruit with red seeds inside. The first bite was tart enough to make her mouth water.
She took another.
“He comes through here,” Roemary said.
Sereya swallowed. “Who?”
Roemary gave her a patient look.
“Dhomhes. Between the upper rooms and the guard station. The staff say he's been using that passage all morning.”
Sereya looked at the doors.
“He seems busy.”
“They all do. It's a very effective way of making themselves important.”
“People are still—”
“Don't begin that again.”
Sereya lowered the fruit to her plate.
Roemary leaned closer.
“When he comes through, I'll be at the window. You stay here until he gets near, then go and find something you need.”
“What do I need?”
“Tea. Another napkin. Use your imagination.”
“And leave you here alone.”
“Exactly.” Roemary smiled. “You do understand.”
Sereya looked down at her cup. She had already refilled it once.
“Don't rush,” Roemary added. “He should notice you leaving. Otherwise there's no point.”
Sereya nodded. Across the room, two women laughed over a belt that wouldn't fit. She watched them longer than she should have.
“Finish eating,” Roemary said. “You can't get up with your mouth full.”
Dhomhes arrived with an aide and a guard.
He stopped just inside the gallery to listen to an attendant. Sereya couldn't hear the question, but the attendant pointed toward a service door. Dhomhes nodded, spoke to the guard, and waited while the male checked something on his wrist display.
Roemary rose and walked to the window.
Sereya folded her napkin. Unfolded it. The pale fruit had left a spot on the corner.
Dhomhes started toward them.
Five steps away, Sereya got up.
She had done this often enough to manage it without appearing hurried. Turn a little toward the serving counter, cup in hand. Give the approaching male room. Leave an empty chair where he could see it.
She hated how easy it was.
“Gol-Vett.” Roemary's voice was warm with surprise. “At last. Have they allowed you breakfast?”
“A portion of it.”
“You should sit down. We have room.”
Sereya kept walking. Behind her, the aide began to speak, then stopped.
“Thank you,” Dhomhes said. “I have someone waiting.”
“Surely they can spare you a moment.”
“They've been waiting longer than a moment.”
His footsteps continued toward the other door.
At the counter, Sereya set down her cup too hard. The attendant reached for the pot.
“More?”
“Please.”
She did not need more tea. She needed a reason to remain here until Roemary stopped watching the door.
Dhomhes hadn't sat. He hadn't even slowed enough to make it look as though he might.
Perhaps he had seen exactly what they were doing. Or perhaps he had meant what he said and someone was waiting. Sereya found she wanted the second explanation to be true. A male allowed to be busy. A refusal that meant only that he could not stop for breakfast.
Roemary would never accept it.
When Sereya returned, the empty chair had been pushed back beneath the table.
“You went too early,” Roemary said.
Sereya sat down.
“You said when he was near.”
“I said he should notice.”
There was still fruit on Sereya's plate. She picked up the last piece and ate it.
Roemary watched, displeased, but did not correct her in front of the attendant who had come to collect the dishes.
For once, having her mouth full was useful.
The medical room was two passages beyond the service stair. Sereya had the dressing on her hand changed, let the medic examine the scrape on her jaw, and asked about the woman she had helped outside the hall.
Resting. No further treatment expected after the afternoon check.
Sereya thanked him.
She had been carrying that question since she woke. With it answered, the walk back seemed less urgent. She could stop at the courtyard for a few minutes. Roemary was occupied with the communications service and had told her not to interrupt.
At the next junction, Sereya took the passage she thought led toward the fountain.
It ended at a row of closed offices.
She turned around.
“You're going the long way.”
The young male from that morning stood behind her with a piece of fruit in his hand. The practice weapon was still slung over his shoulder. His hair was damp at the temples, and there was a dusty mark down the side of his tunic.
“I appear to be going the wrong way.”
“You can get there from here. Eventually.” He pointed back toward the junction. “The short way's through the arcade. Nobody trusts it the first time because it looks like it's outside, but it's not. It just has a very confident ceiling.”
She looked where he was pointing.
“A confident ceiling.”
“Painted with the sky.” He took a bite of fruit. “Which is strange, because the sky is right there, doing it for free.”
A small laugh escaped her.
He smiled as though that were exactly what he had intended.
Up close, he was taller than she had thought, almost as tall as Dhomhes. Young, though. He seemed to have grown before he had decided what to do with all the extra reach.
“You're one of the Gol-Vett ladies?” he asked.
She could have told him she was part of the program. Or that she was staying with Roemary. Those answers usually sent people in the proper direction.
“I don't know yet.”
He grinned.
“That's a good answer. Everyone else I asked said yes very fast.”
“Perhaps they know.”
“Perhaps.” He considered this, then nodded at her hand. “Is that better?”
She glanced down at the fresh dressing.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He didn't ask what had happened. Didn't look at the scrape on her face and wait for an account of the platform. She had answered his question, and he appeared to believe her.
“Are you going to the fountain?” he asked.
“I was trying to.”
“Left, then down through the arcade. If you reach the clerks, turn around. They make you carry things.”
“Only if you let them.”
“You haven't met these clerks.”
He stepped aside to let her pass, then stopped.
“There's a pool in there. The shallow one is for feet. The other one isn't. Someone should tell you before you have a very unpleasant conversation with the gardener.”
“You sound experienced.”
“I was much younger.”
“How much younger?”
He gave the matter a moment's thought.
“Several days.”
She laughed again, and he went off looking pleased with himself.
At the arcade, Sereya tilted her head back. Blue sky had been painted between the arches. A flock of birds crossed it in a pattern too even to belong to anything living.
Very confident.
She followed the passage down to the courtyard and found the shallow pool. A pair of empty chairs stood beside it.
Roemary had not asked her to come straight back.
Sereya sat down.
For a while she kept her shoes on. Then she took them off and put her feet into the cool water.
Roemary was waiting when she returned.
“Where have you been?”
“The medical room.”
“For all this time?”
Sereya closed the suite door behind her.
“I went to the courtyard afterward.”
Roemary sat at the communications panel. The screen had gone dark, but an unfinished cup stood beside it. She had been tapping one fingernail against the rim. Now her hand was still.
“With whom?”
“No one.”
“Was Dhomhes there?”
“No.”
“Did you look?”
Sereya stared at her.
Roemary rose from the communications panel. “This morning should have been easy. You spoke to him outside the hall yesterday. What did you say?”
“He said a medic was coming.”
“And?”
“That was all.”
“You must have said something.”
Sereya could picture his face more easily than her own words. Another female had been bleeding beside her. “I don't remember.”
Roemary waited.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” Sereya said. Usually, that helped.
Roemary came closer.
“I want you to understand that we do not have unlimited mornings to waste. I am the one accountable for how this goes, to people you should be grateful you'll never meet.”
Sereya looked at her.
Roemary stopped. Her eyes flicked toward the dark communications panel.
“Another delay? Your uncle is losing patience.” The male voice came from the panel.
Roemary struck the control. The screen stayed dark, the voice gone.
“An old connection,” Roemary said. “It should have closed.”
“My father,” she said. “He has put a great deal into this program.”
People, Sereya thought.
She said nothing.
Roemary touched the sleeve of her gray tunic and smoothed a wrinkle that wasn't there.
“I'm tired. It's been a wretched two days. And you know how he worries.”
“Of course.”
“There will be other opportunities. A reception, once they remember they have guests. We will try again.”
Sereya nodded.
Roemary studied her for another moment, then let go of the sleeve.
“Don't wander off without telling me. If someone asks where you are, I need to know what to say.”
Sereya waited until she was in her own room before taking off the gray tunic.
The russet one lay folded where she had left it. She picked it up, held it for a moment, then put it back.
She had understood Roemary's ambitions on the ship. At least she had thought she did. An important mate. A place everyone else wanted. The satisfaction of being chosen in front of an audience.
Someone to answer to had never been part of it.
Sereya sat on the edge of the bed. The skin beneath her dressing was beginning to itch, and her feet still felt cool from the pool.
She thought of Roemary at the communications panel. The untouched drink. The sudden need to know exactly what Sereya had said to Dhomhes.
There were questions she could have asked downstairs. Questions someone responsible for their safety might have answered.
She had come back to the suite instead.
On the service panel, she found the courtyard on the residence map. It was inside the guarded boundary. Open to guests. No appointment needed.
She traced the route from her door until she was certain she could find it again.
Then she laid the russet tunic over the chair for morning.