The Gift - I
“Trouble isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes it’s necessary for growth.”
Tyritha was on a pedestal, a narrow circle perhaps twenty centimeters above the floor of that cold room. Her head was foggy. She had a sense that time was missing, and she knew from the look and the smell of the place that she was somewhere else, somewhere foreign, and the woman nearest to her, stepping around her—inspecting her it seemed to Tyritha—that woman was no friend. The last thing she remembered, vaguely, was the thirst. She was thirsty, and she’d taken a drink. That was on a spaceship—she remembered now. They must have taken her somewhere, these people. Tyritha had no idea why.
She couldn’t speak. Or could she? As she focused on the sensation, Tyritha felt that it wasn’t that she couldn’t speak, nor was it that her head was too groggy to make sense of what was happening. Her head was clearing, but her voice felt heavy, almost as though something had been crossed up in her brain. She felt that she could speak if she needed to but that there was something heavy sitting on top of her voice—the strangest sensation. Instead of asking questions, she just listened.
“He got the height right, at least,” the woman said, looking Tyritha up and down. “Her figure is ...” She scowled and shook her head. “A little thin to my eyes.”
Tyritha couldn’t tell who the woman was talking to. But then she heard another female voice.
“Ninety-ninth percentile, Dione.”
“Her legs look long.”
“The metrics say the proportions are correct.”
Who is this woman? Tyritha thought. What is this place? What am I doing here? Are they talking about me?
“She is lovely,” the first woman said. “Very pleasant face.”
She reached up and turned Tyritha’s chin to the left and then to the right; then she looked her in the eyes. “Beautiful eyes. Are you hearing me, girl? Go ahead and blink if you are.”
“She’s scared,” the other voice reported.
Tyritha could feel her legs starting to shake. She blinked at the woman very deliberately.
“You’re safe here. No one is going to harm you. I just need to perform an assessment. Just a few minutes more.”
“Obviously those blemishes on the back need to come off, Dione. The chin is marginally prominent as well.”
The first woman took a few steps to Tyritha’s side. “Marginally?” She came around again to the other side. Tyritha could feel her eyes examining her. “I think it suits her face, but I’ll have to look at the composites. I don’t know why he brought this one in for Erron. There’ll be a lot of disappointed Sepps when word gets out. She is a beauty, though, this one. Get the gown back on her and bring her down to the theater. Have Mischa prep her.”
She turned to Tyritha and looked at her directly. “You won’t feel a thing, love. You’re in a very special place now.”
When she woke up again, Tyritha could hardly believe her eyes. The bed was enormous and felt like a cloud, the linens as soft and warm as any fabric she’d ever felt. The room was wide and beautiful, with dark red walls; luxurious art hung in gold frames, curtains, ornate rugs, flowers in vases; and a smell of rich floral perfume lingered in the air. She exhaled and rolled to her side, struggling to sit up.
“Oh, no, miss. Please go slow.”
Tyritha felt a dull ache along her back. There were two spots, and she began to reach for them. Then she felt a third.
“What is this place?”
Tyritha was visibly surprised to hear her own voice when she tried to speak. Her voice was working again.
“What is happening to me?”
“The doctor told me you’d be confused, miss. You might be hungry or thirsty? I’m here to get you anything you need.”
“I need to know where I am.”
The girl beside the bed looked confused.
“You’re in your home now. It must be the procedure, miss. I’ll get the doctor.”
“Wait, please,” Tyritha said. “Wait. Who are you?”
“I’m Naomi.”
“My name is Tyritha. It’s good to meet you, Naomi. What is this place? What are we doing here?”
“We live here, miss, of course.”
“I do not live here, Naomi. I don’t know this place. Do you live here? What ... what are you doing here?”
“I serve you, miss. That is my duty. I am to see to your needs.”
“Can you help me up?” Tyritha asked.
“Of course.”
The girl reached over, pulled off the covers, and helped lift Tyritha up to a seated position. She shifted forward until her legs were dangling off the bed. She felt a slight ache behind her right ear. Tyritha reached up and felt a bandage along the skin behind her ear.
“Careful, miss,” Naomi stated. “The doctor said it might take time for you to feel right.”
“I need you to answer some questions for me, Naomi.”
The girl shook her head at Tyritha. “I shouldn’t. Shaimi said you wouldn’t wake up yet. Not before she arrives, and now I don’t know what to do.”
“Why not just talk to me? You could answer my questions.”
“I don’t understand them, though, miss. You seem to know nothing. And the Issa tells us that all is known to the Odai before they prepare to take the rites, but I have never seen you before and it seems you do not know. Maybe it is an effect of the drugs.”
“The drugs?”
“Yes. The doctor has done something. I know I am not supposed to know, and I am certainly not supposed to say such things to anyone else. It is the most sacred duty of a servant to keep her mistress’s confidence, but I don’t know what I can say to you. I’m not even sure ...”
Now Tyritha was confused. “Not sure about what, Naomi?”
“Mistress, are you testing me?”
Tyritha shook her head. “You said there was another person? Am I misunderstanding? Did you say someone was supposed to be here before I woke up?”
“Yes. Shaimi.”
“Can you get Shaimi for me, Naomi?”
“Are you testing me now, mistress?”
“No. I am sincere.”
“That is a good idea. I’ll get Shaimi for you. Please do not try to get up or go anywhere, miss. Will you promise to stay right there? I’ll get in trouble if anything happens to you.”
“I wouldn’t know where to go. I don’t even know where I am.”
“Very good, mistress. Stay. Stay. I’ll be back with Shaimi. She will know what is right to do.”
Tyritha recognized the doctor first. Her eyes were unmistakable, even from across the wide room. Behind her, another woman entered, dressed ornately—a red and gold gown that sparkled in the white light of the grand bedroom. Suddenly, Tyritha felt insecure. She was wearing an elegant nightgown but had no idea who’d put it on her, and in the presence of this other woman who was dressed like an ancient queen, Tyritha felt almost naked. She crossed her arms involuntarily.
“Well, you’re awake,” the doctor declared. “Must have a strong constitution.”
The doctor came to the side of the bed and reached for Tyritha’s ear, examining the bandage before pulling it back to inspect the incision Tyritha deduced must be some form of implant. It wasn’t just the incision, but something felt funny in her head, even though it was clearer than before.
“What did you do to me?” she asked the doctor.
“Only what needed to be done, dear. I removed three moles from your back and one elsewhere, and I placed your implant, which looks to be seated nicely.” The doctor looked down at a band on her forearm, nodding, and declared, “Yes, Shaimi, she’s fine. That should do nicely.”
“Excellent,” the queen replied, locking eyes with Tyritha. “We shall never speak of this again, shall we, young lady?”
“Why not? And why did you do that?” Tyritha asked the doctor. “I didn’t give you permission.”
“Blemishes,” the doctor replied. “It was necessary to remove them.”
She gestured for Tyritha to stand up, and when she did, she inspected the bandage on her upper back and then the cut underneath it.
“What is this place?” Tyritha asked Shaimi.
“If you do as you’re told and as should be done, this will become your home. What is your name, girl?”
“It’s Tyritha. Does this place have a name?”
“For now, you will call it home and leave it at that.”
“I would like to go home, please. But to do that I need to know where I am. I don’t know how I got here. I just remember waking up.”
“It’s going to take some time,” the doctor said. “Once the implant is seated, she’ll be able to access the cultural base.”
“Where in the galaxy did Krishna find her?” Shaimi asked the doctor, who shook her head.
“I’m from Heinan,” Tyritha answered.
“I’m not familiar with the name,” Shaimi replied.
“It’s an outer-branch world, in the eastern boundary region of the Protectorate. My family will be missing me.”
“Is it a big family?”
“Not for Ceronka, where I’m from. I have three brothers and three sisters.”
“Oh,” the doctor replied, her eyes widening at Tyritha’s response.
“Zealots?” Shaimi asked.
“I’m sorry?” Tyritha replied.
“Are your parents religious, dear?”
“Not overly. I mean ... comparatively? Some of their friends I would say are much more devoted, but we are believers.”
“Believers in what?”
“God.”
“What God?”
Tyritha was shocked by the question. She even laughed.
“In God. There is only one God,” and met by skepticism at that response, Tyritha saw fit to clarify. “The Christian God.”
Her two visitors exchanged a look.
“Well,” Shaimi said after a long moment of dubious silence. “This is not Heinan. We have our own beliefs here, and you will need to be mindful of that as you get accustomed to our way of life. We cannot have you speaking out and disrupting the order of things, no matter who you are.”
“I don’t understand who you think I am. I’m Tyritha Ilanova, and I don’t belong here. I demand that you tell me where I am, who took me, and why, and I demand to be taken home.”
Shaimi shook her head. “Krishna.”
“She’ll adjust,” the doctor declared. “It’ll take a few days to integrate.”
“Right.”
“No. No she won’t adjust,” Tyritha replied, beginning to grow angry, her eyes tearing up. “I don’t want to be here.”
“You simply don’t understand yet, dear girl,” Shaimi replied. “I’m going to sit with you. I’ll explain as best I can for now. Then we’ll get you dressed properly and we’ll take you out to see your new home.”
She was shaking her head. She began to cry, and she was looking for somewhere to turn, some safe haven, some place of comfort. But those two strangers and their cold eyes were simply skeptical, perhaps uncaring, and certainly dismissive of her distress, so she simply turned and fell on the bed, face down, and wept.
Shaimi dismissed the doctor and sat on a couch along the room’s back wall while Tyritha cried. The woman didn’t say anything, merely waiting as Tyritha exhausted her emotions over a matter of minutes. Tyritha wasn’t even sure anyone was still there, she’d had her face buried in the pillow for so long, but when she looked up, the immaculately-dressed woman was still there, looking over at her blankly. The look didn’t seem dismissive to Tyritha, nor was it particularly caring.
“They’ve told you, haven’t they?” she said. “No harm will come to you here.”
“That’s what they said.”
“And it is true. Is that out of your system now, dear? We can’t have you carrying on like that outside this room, not even inside this room in the presence of your servants.”
“Why should I have servants? This is absurd.”
“You are foreign born, so I will be patient. But you should not be so dismissive of our way of life. It is not becoming for one of your station.”
“I don’t even know what my station is. I don’t even know where I am.”
“Dry your eyes then and we’ll get to the business of getting you accustomed to your surroundings. That is why I was sent for. The sooner you pull yourself together, the sooner I can answer all your questions.”
It took a moment for Tyritha to sit up and compose herself. Shaimi called her over to the couch and told her to wipe her face, instructing her that she was not to cry or complain in front of her servant, that the reasons for this would become clear but that she had to remain composed and demure in the presence of others. As confusing as that was to Tyritha considering the circumstances, she promised she would do her best, as she saw that as the clearest pathway to receiving answers to her countless questions about the place she’d come to be, why, and how she’d come to be there among these people. Tyritha did sense that they didn’t mean to harm her. She didn’t perceive malice in them.
When she’d wiped down her face, Shaimi called for her servant to return to the room, instructing Tyritha that the girl would help her to get appropriately dressed so she could be shown around. Around where? Tyritha thought to ask, but she was already starting to believe that such things would be revealed faster if she simply nodded silently and went along.
When Naomi returned, Tyritha decided to pretend as though she was a queen like Shaimi seemed to be, accustomed to having a servant, awkward as it felt in the moment. And as strange as it was for her, it seemed that it made Naomi feel much more at ease as the girl washed her face, her hands, her feet, and then brushed her hair, before helping her into a gown equal in elegance to the one Shaimi had worn into her room. When Naomi had finished with her, she escorted Tyritha over to a mirror for the first time. It was shocking. She nearly began to tear up again.
“I’m so sorry, mistress,” Naomi stated, lowering her head. “Mistress Shaimi is waiting. Otherwise, I’d have ... if I only had more time.”
“No. I’m sorry, Naomi. I wasn’t expecting ...”
Tyritha stopped herself from telling the girl the truth—that she’d never been dressed up like that before. Her people in Ceronka, they didn’t ever dress like that, even for weddings. They were humble people, true Purists. She thought it might be breaking character to reveal as much to Naomi.
“You’ve done your best,” Tyritha stated after a moment.
She took a deep breath and asked Naomi to show her the way.
Naomi brought her from the bedroom down a corridor to a sitting area where she was told to wait for Shaimi to return. Tyritha sat in silence with Naomi for several minutes. The light in the sitting room was warm, and the air wasn’t still. A warm, subtle, relaxing breeze wafted through every now and again. She heard leaves rustling. Then, when footsteps approached, Naomi said, “I think she’s coming, mistress,” standing up to peek around a corner to confirm; then she nodded, bowed her head excusing herself, and scurried away before the queen caught sight of her.
When she turned the corner and saw Tyritha sitting there, Shaimi stopped, clearly examining her as she approached.
“Stand up, girl,” she demanded, and her tone was so domineering that Tyritha didn’t even think to do other than obey.
The queen looked her up and down, at one point poking the small of her back to goad her into a tighter posture. Then she prodded Tyritha’s shoulders back before retreating two steps herself to take another look.
“Better than I’d imagined, but much work to be done yet. Krishna hasn’t the sense of it, but I can see what he sees at least.”
Tyritha was about to ask. She wanted to know why she was there. She swallowed the question on the tip of her tongue.
“Good,” Shaimi said, somehow observing that inner conflict. “You’re learning. Good girl. You’ll stand like that whenever you are seen. You’ll walk slowly and carry yourself with dignity. Your emotions are not for others to see. They will observe the very best version of yourself you can project at all times. Do you understand me?”
“I do.”
“Before we walk and I answer your questions, I want you to answer a question for me, dear girl.”
“I will if I can,” Tyritha said.
“How old do you think I am?”
It seemed almost a trick question. Shaimi looked elegant, beautiful, in the prime of a young queen’s life.
“You’re older than I am,” Tyritha answered. “I know that much. My mother would say that it’s rude to presume something like that about another person, especially an elder.”
“That’s wise. She must be a wise woman. But I absolve you of any offense you may give. Please. Venture a guess.”
Tyritha looked over at Shaimi. Now it was her turn to examine her examiner. She strained her eyes to find a wrinkle at the corner of Shaimi’s mouth, a hint of crow’s feet, a line across her brow. Not only were they absent, but she found that there wasn’t a lash out of place, a hair on her brows too long, nor a hint of gray.
“I’d guess you were twenty-six,” Tyritha finally answered. “And very beautiful.”
“You’re very wrong, young lady,” she replied, shaking her head. “Twenty-six?”
“Meaning no offense.”
“None taken. Walk with me. Shoulders back. And remember what I told you about your emotions. I will not abide a gasp or a wide-eyed laugh or a snort of disbelief. Everything I am about to tell you is true. I will give you one moment though before we begin to absorb the largest of the blows to your belief system. Do your best not to react in an unbecoming way.”
Shaimi paused, seemingly to allow Tyritha to prepare herself for some shocking revelation.
“I am ready,” Tyritha said.
“And I am one hundred seventy-five years old,” Shaimi replied. “Give or take a year or two. You stop counting so carefully after a while.”
Tyritha felt the urge to do all of the things Shaimi said she wouldn’t tolerate—laugh, scoff, gasp, go wide-eyed in disbelief. She stuffed down all of those urges as best she could and examined the elegant lady’s eyes for any hint of insincerity, and she found none. Not a hint of deceit or humor in the remark. Tyritha took a calm, gentle, deep breath, and she knew that it was true.
“Well,” Tyritha replied. “I wouldn’t have guessed it. I’m not sure if I look my age all dressed up like this, but I’m nineteen.”
“Of course you are, dear. Let’s have a look around, shall we?”
Tyritha’s first walk around the grounds, Shaimi explained, was only within the walls of the palace in Arnur. The palace was inside a space cylinder, which was only apparent from within the palace grounds at certain vantage points during the day when the light from the central bar obscured the grounds on the opposite side of the cylinder. She assured Tyritha that even at night no one was allowed in the forest opposite the palace except the family—they who’d brought her into their home, royalty of sorts, but more, all of them immortals. No one could see into the palace grounds without the family’s knowledge.
The children of these immortals were the only ones allowed into the home. Naomi, her servant, was one of Krishna’s girls. “Clumsy and not very bright,” Shaimi claimed, “but quite good-hearted and eager to please.” Their direct servants were the highest ranking among the mortals in their culture.
The society, Shaimi explained, were not Purists, and when Tyritha protested that every society in the Battery were Purists of some form, Shaimi agreed and revealed that they were not in the Battery. Tyritha had no memory of a long journey in space. Heinan was a great distance behind her now. She would have to learn new customs, new names and faces, new places, and most of all, she would need to learn her role.
According to Shaimi, Krishna had taken Tyritha to be the gift of his brother Erron, and she would pledge herself to him on the day of his apotheosis—a word Tyritha didn’t know, so she asked as politely as she could manage.
“He is a young royal coming of age in this household, and he has met with the approval of all the elders. Erron is a gem, dear, and there will not be a Sepp inside these walls or out who isn’t jealous of you, your position, and your proximity to him. They’ve all dreamed of that life.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t understand betrothal? Your duty? You are to be married to him. His consort, you see?”
“No, that much I understood. The word, though, apo-something. The long one. You said it before.”
“Apotheosis. It is the most sacred of our rites,” Shaimi replied. “I forget how little outsiders would know after all this time. That is the day he is to be made immortal alongside Krishna, Dreima, Sirrah, Yrsa and Altuliss, his immortal siblings in the West House. They are my nieces and nephews, so on that day, I will become your aunt by marriage, but you may not address me as such until then.”
Tyritha had a million questions, so many it somehow made it easier to do as she’d promised earlier and swallow her tongue while Shaimi attempted to explain everything.
She began by explaining that immortality wasn’t merely possible, it was a technology that had been mastered in the distant past by geneticists. It was rediscovered by their godhead—the word Shaimi used for the highest and oldest of their civilization—the one they called ΘeoTechnus, who resided in his keep in Arionidis, the first city of the string. That string referred to a line of space cylinders that were home to the houses of the immortal families who had founded the colony with the godhead. It was a select group of patriarchs and matriarchs whose family lines were carefully selected to protect the integrity and majesty of each royal house. Arnur, their house, which bore the same name as their cylinder, was neither an exalted nor a lesser house, though it was known to be presently in favor with ΘeoTechnus and his archons. A half million people resided outside the house in the city, and several thousand inside the palace walls. Including servants, only a few hundred were allowed inside the residential wings of the palace itself.
Shaimi further explained that immortality was a closely-guarded commodity, a carrot that was to be dangled over the children of the immortals and only bestowed on those who proved worthy. She instructed Tyritha to be coy about her background, her knowledge, and especially, her ignorance of their traditions and culture; to be gracious, courteous, and quiet; and by no means could she say any confusing things to Naomi, especially now that the anesthesia from the surgery could no longer be blamed.
At that, Tyritha involuntarily reached for her back and then stopped herself. Shaimi nodded at her graciously for catching herself before she did something that could’ve been perceived as suspicious or unbecoming.
“The consort of a god can have no such blemishes. The doctor will assess what further work might need to be done before your day arrives. I can see in your eyes from your reaction that you have doubts and questions, dear girl. All of those questions will be answered and your doubts put to rest. What has happened was not sanctioned by all of us. You have my assurance on that. Krishna will have much to answer for, I promise you. But for now, just know that you are in a royal house, our guest, and as such, you will be treated as one of us until such time as you are one of us. The protection of this house is no small matter.”
It was late afternoon by the time Shaimi returned Tyritha to her room again. Tyritha expressed that she was famished, and Shaimi responded with an apprehension about any sort of public appearances before she was presented. By “public” she clearly meant to the internal members of the family within the house. Instead, Shaimi told her that she would have Naomi bring dinner to her room and serve her accordingly.
Tyritha did her best to pace herself as she ate, mindful of the part she told herself she was playing for Naomi’s benefit as much as her own. But she began to wonder how far she could take the act before it became sinful. Getting the lay of the land was one thing. Participating in her own abduction was another. Her social obligations to this stranger, Naomi, and the people who had taken her from her family and home paled in comparison to her obligation to secure her safe return to her own natural place in Ceronka.
Tyritha didn’t notice as she sat silently after she’d finished eating, but she’d begun to rub the bandage behind her ear.
“Oh, mistress, I’ll send for the doctor,” Naomi said when she noticed.
“No. Please. It’s just ... There’s no pain. I need to leave it alone.”
“Can I help take your mind off it in some way, miss?”
“What do you suggest?”
“You must be very tired after such a day. I’d be happy to read to you while you relax. Or, perhaps I can put on some music while you read. I don’t know what types you like though.”
“Music or books?”
Naomi smiled. “Either, I guess. I suppose we’ll get to know one another. I hope you know how exciting that is for me, miss, to get to know you. You’re so very special.”
Tyritha had that feeling again. Resist it, she reminded herself as she smiled back politely at her servant.
“Perhaps you could read me something you enjoy, Naomi.”
Tyritha lost track of time soon after Naomi began reading. She tried her best to stay awake to humor the girl, but her eyes quickly grew heavy. She and Naomi migrated from the couch to the bed. Tyritha had a vague sense of the girl helping her out of her dress into a nightgown, brushing her hair, and sitting beside her on the bed, reading until the room was dark and absent.
At some point, when she woke alone in the dim room, Tyritha realized that she’d neglected a vital part of her day, especially on a day like that. She looked around the room to be sure she was alone, and she placed one of the bed’s many pillows on the hard marble floor, dropped to her knees, and began to pray.
The light that intruded was warm but bright. She heard laughter at the door and a female voice giggling as the stranger stepped inside attempting to remain quiet enough to avoid waking the sleeper inside, but as the woman peeked around the covers, she caught Tyritha’s wide suspicious eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re frightened, aren’t you? This is a strange place for you, isn’t it?”
Tyritha didn’t answer.
“What was I thinking? You’re safe, dear.”
Tyritha looked at the intruder as she approached the bed. It seemed she was just as curious to see Tyritha. The young woman didn’t seem threatening. In that dim light, with her long, flowing dark hair and elegant gown, the woman was stunningly beautiful, breathtakingly so.
“Such wide eyes,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t wait to see you. I should have let you sleep. You must be exhausted.”
“I’m all right, just a little confused. I’m Tyritha.”
It was clearly a in invitation for the woman to introduce herself, but she didn’t. She snapped her fingers, at which another girl came running in from outside Tyritha’s closed door. The woman nodded her head at the servant in an almost telepathic gesture that Tyritha didn’t understand but both visitors clearly did. The servant pulled a chair over to the bedside from the wall, nodding deferentially as she placed it, averting her eyes from Tyritha, clearly conscious of invading her privacy even if her mistress had little care for it.
Before she sat, the woman came right to the bedside and brushed the hair behind Tyritha’s ear, smiling at her approvingly. Then she sat.
Tyritha had been patient enough. “Who are you, may I ask?”
“My manners,” she replied. “My name is Dreima. One of the Odai of the house. We’re to be sisters. I understand Shaimi was your guide this afternoon?”
“She told me many things about this place, yes.”
“I’m told they brought you from Heinan, is that correct?”
“Yes. That’s my home. I’d love to know who brought me here and why.”
“Shaimi didn’t tell you? You’re to be Erron’s bride of course.”
“I’m sorry, Dreima, is it?”
“That’s correct.”
“I’m trying to be mindful that I’m just learning your culture, but in my culture, I would get a say in the matter. It’s not a small thing.”
“No, it is not.”
“Shaimi told me someone named Krishna abducted me, your brother if I understand correctly ...?”
Dreima laughed. At first it was just a giggle, but as she saw the earnest look on Tyritha’s face and the confusion as she began to snicker at her question, Dreima couldn’t control herself. She covered her mouth as an afterthought but could hardly keep herself in the chair she began to laugh so hysterically.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “Your face, dear. You look so shocked. I’m just ... Oh, you’re perfect!”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“First of all, I don’t want you to misunderstand. It’s not a joke. I do mean primarily for Erron to be happy. That’s why I brought you here. You two are going to be perfect together.”
“You brought me here? Not Krishna? Shaimi and the doctor seemed convinced it was him.”
“He’s a joker of sorts, Krishna, but he would never dare. It’s causing quite a stir, your presence. And they don’t even know the half of it yet.”
“I don’t either.”
Dreima laughed. “Oh, you have a sense of humor too. I am overjoyed, dear. You’re delightful.”
“I’m trying to be patient and to be courteous, Dreima. This does seem like a lovely place. I’m wondering, though, why I’ve been taken from my family. I had a life.”
Dreima grinned. “You had a life? And what you see before you?” She gestured to the room, and presumably, the gesture implied the palace and grounds beyond it as well. “This life? Perhaps this life is not up to your standards, dear?”
“It’s well above my standards, that’s sure. No. It’s just that I’m not sure ...”
Tyritha, as she looked over at Dreima, suddenly had the sense that any protest she uttered was certain to fall on deaf ears.
“I see, dear. You’re worried about fitting in. You’re sweet. I’m sure there will be a lot for you to learn. We’re just so different to all you Purists in the Battery, but that’s why I thought you would be so perfect for Erron. He’s so ... oh, I don’t know ... predictable. I thought he needed to have somebody in his life who wasn’t ... Erron needs someone exotic.”
“Exotic?” Tyritha replied. “Am I exotic?”
“For here you are,” Dreima laughed. “You’re the most exotic thing that’s come to this house in a hundred years, dear. Look at you with your bright, golden hair, pale blue eyes. You’re a treat to the eyes.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, Ms. Dreima. You’re the most elegant person I’ve ever seen.”
She smiled. “I promise I won’t tell Shaimi you said that.”
“She’s beautiful as well.”
“Look at you. A little politician.”
Tyritha smiled. “I’m overwhelmed by how beautiful everyone and everything is here. I’m only saying what’s true.”
“You’ll be fine here. I’ll make sure of it. And Erron ... Oh, Erron will love you. You’re just his type.”
Dreima could see hesitation creep onto Tyritha’s face.
“What’s wrong, dear?”
“I just don’t know. I haven’t even met Erron yet, and I—”
“Oh, God! You haven’t, have you? No wonder you’re so skeptical. I’m sorry. We take so much for granted, and we’re so different. I don’t even know what questions you must be dying to ask.”
“I was told I shouldn’t.”
“You can ask me. What are your reservations, dear?”
“I’m sure Erron is wonderful. Shaimi said as much too. But I have reservations.”
“I see. You’re worried about what? Marrying a stranger?”
“Or anyone, I guess. I haven’t even thought about it yet. Not seriously.”
“You have someone back on Heinan?”
“No. Not presently.”
“But you have? You had a boy there?”
Tyritha shook her head and nodded. “But marriage? A family? I’m not sure I’m ready for all that yet.”
Dreima laughed. “It’s nothing like you think of it. Do you see a husband here,” she shook her wrist at Tyritha. “It’s not like that here. A husband is an accessory here.”
“You don’t love your husband?”
“In our way. And it’s different for each of us, different couples, just as it is for your people, I’m sure. But a marriage of a hundred years in a house like this, it’s not what you think.”
“But I don’t understand. Do you have children together?”
Dreima smiled. “Many things are different for us. Just be patient and observant and you’ll catch on. Of course we have children. It’s very similar to your colony for the people outside these walls, but inside these walls, with us, our culture is unique. You’ll see. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re going to love it here.”
Tyritha smiled, but it certainly wasn’t a full smile.
“I should leave you to your rest. It was so nice to meet you.”
“I feel the same, Dreima. I look forward to knowing you better.”
She found out the following morning that Dreima was seventy-three years old. For some reason that was far more shocking to her than Shaimi’s age. Erron was twenty-one. He was one of sixty-one siblings. Only five of them had been made Odai, and of those five immortals, only one would be made Archon one day. Dreima had twenty-six children of her own, but, Shaimi explained, apotheosis changed the body such that the women of the family couldn’t carry their own children. They had nurses for that, and the mortal children, revered as they were by the people, were raised in the families of their birth mothers, who were held in next highest esteem to the royals themselves. Dreima was not a particularly involved mother. Shaimi guessed that she probably couldn’t name all of her own children if her neural implant were suppressed.
“How do you decide which children may join the house as immortals?” Tyritha asked.
“It’s fiercely debated. But there are standards. It’s been some time now, perhaps a decade ... was Yrsa ten years ago now, or was it eight? I think it was eight. But it’s a rare occurrence and even more rarely a foregone conclusion as it was with Erron.”
“Really? Why is he so different?”
“You’ll know when you meet him, dear. We should begin to prepare you.”
“Why can’t I meet him now?”
“This coup, I guess you could call it—whatever Krishna did to bring you here—it hasn’t been without some very ... Well, it’s not for you to worry about, but suffice it to say it was unexpected and has ruffled a few feathers. Tensions need to subside a little before we can introduce you two.”
“I see,” Tyritha replied. She wasn’t sure whether to disabuse Shaimi of her mistaken belief that Krishna was responsible for her abduction. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
Shaimi turned to her and looked at Tyritha’s eyes before looking away again.
“Trouble isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes it’s necessary for growth. The more we speak, the more I’m convinced of it. He shouldn’t have brought you here, dear girl, but I’m glad he did.”
“I’ll do my best to be patient.”
Tyritha spent a few hours each of the following days with Dreima and Shaimi, and she took walks with Naomi through the palace grounds, but only along a specific route at times that Shaimi approved. Tyritha needed to remain scarce for several more days while the furor over her arrival cooled.
As they were walking together in the inner grounds, Dreima explained that there was a well-established process for picking a consort of a rising immortal. That process was quite different depending on whether the new Odai needed a wife or a husband. In Erron’s case, house leaders had solicited other houses for worthy young women of the right age and disposition, and those whose profiles met with approval, were sent doctors to examine the girls and suggest alterations. When they passed through that stage of judgement, each candidate submitted profiles—genetic, personality, talent, and extraneous information—before the immediate family would meet to narrow down the many submissions to one. It was a years-long process that usually concluded roughly a year before the candidate’s apotheosis. In the case of Erron, Tyritha’s arrival meant that there would be a devastated third cousin from the house of Senat, which was seven cylinders down the string toward Ventu.
“I don’t understand. You can somehow overrule all those others who selected this other girl for Erron?” Tyritha asked Dreima.
“Krishna and I are Erron’s guides. We see him through the process. We have the final say. It’s rare for the guides to ignore the recommendation of the family, but we do have the final word.”
“I haven’t met Krishna yet. What if he doesn’t like me?”
“Don’t worry about Krishna. He will do whatever I tell him. You’ll meet him soon enough, and he’ll like you because Erron will like you. There is nothing to worry about.”
“This other girl, though, I suppose I’ll have to meet her someday.”
“Kira? Oh, don’t worry about her. Kira’s a peach. She’ll make it of her own accord. And she’ll get over Erron, and she’ll likely get to stay home in Senat with whomever she’s paired eventually.”
“Did you not care for her?” Tyritha asked, doing her best to ask subtly again what Dreima’s motivation was for abducting her. “Was she not right for Erron somehow?”
Dreima shrugged and grimaced. “Kira’s fine. Lovely enough for someone else, I suppose.”
“You must have been planning it for some time.”
A coy little smile appeared around the corner of Dreima’s mouth at the thought.
“Anything worth doing takes time,” she finally replied. “Just as you’ve been patient waiting to meet Erron. We’re going to see to that.”
Tyritha probed with a long look.
“Don’t fall asleep after dinner tonight, dear. That’s all I can say for now.”
That afternoon, on her walk with Naomi, Tyritha spotted a man wearing a strange mask. It looked to be almost decoration, like a costume. At first, she was far enough off that she thought her eyes might have been playing tricks on her. But she stopped for a few seconds, and then he reappeared from around the corner he’d walked behind.
“What is that man wearing?” she asked Naomi, and as soon as she’d spoken, she realized it was the type of question she should have held onto for Shaimi.
Naomi looked confused for a moment, and then she suddenly turned to Tyritha. “Don’t you have a keen eye? Yellow. It’s the wrong season for that gown. He must be one of Sirrah’s servants. She’ll let them get away with anything.”
The mask, though, was what she’d found strange. It was a full facial covering that was almost like a half-cylinder that wound from ear to ear from beneath his chin to the top of his forehead and projected a mosaic of colors outward, almost like he was wearing a floatscreen in lieu of a face.
Later that afternoon, when she saw Shaimi again, she asked about the mask specifically.
“The Arrdh, yes. Do you not have them in Heinan?”
Tyritha shook her head.
“What do you wear after you’ve had work done?”
“Work?”
“On your faces? Surely not bandages?”
“Do you mean he’s had his face repaired for some reason?” Tyritha asked.
Shaimi laughed. “Repaired is a strong word for it. Altered would be a more neutral term if the work isn’t particularly effective. But if the work is to standard, we’d usually say improved.”
“Really?” And the tone of Tyritha’s reply conveyed her deep shock at the commonality of the practice, for it seemed the cultural norm as Shaimi explained it.
“Did you not presume as much?”
“No,” Tyritha replied. “It’s unexpected.”
“Well, you’re a natural beauty, though, aren’t you? Which means everyone in your family must be fairly handsome as well. That’s not the case for everyone here.”
“Oh. I thought everyone was pretty enough.”
“Would you suppose I’d had work done?” Shaimi asked. “Or maybe I should ask you how much you think I’ve had done.”
“I don’t know. I’d have said none. I think none. You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t begin to guess. None, I think.”
Shaimi grinned. “You flatter me, sweet girl. I’m beginning to think you’re far cleverer than you let on. The answer’s seven. I’ve had seven facial enhancements.” Then she seemed to search her memory. “Five elsewhere, I think. Five? Roughly five.”
“We don’t do much of that on Heinan,” Tyritha replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone.”
“You may be the first. Sirrah and the doctor are still talking about that chin of yours, though. Krishna and Dreima may have the final word.”
“I didn’t realize.”
“For whatever it’s worth, I think it suits you nicely.”
“I’ve never really noticed my chin.”
“Let’s hope Erron doesn’t either. Anyway, we wear the Arrdh when we’re recovering. We don’t broadcast our blemishes here. It’s very common to see.”
She didn’t consider it a coincidence. Tyritha had figured out that all these people she hadn’t met yet were talking to each other. So when Dreima appeared at her door that evening with two men wearing those masks—the Arrdh, she didn’t know the plural—she figured it must have been quite a conversation behind the scenes. She imagined Shaimi’s laughter as she told the others: “You’ll never believe what she said this time. She didn’t even know the Arrdh.” Tyritha figured they’d all had a good laugh about it, and this ... this was just the natural extension of the joke.
The two masked figures who stepped in behind her were quiet, but both had a strong, regal bearing. They were tall but not too tall, each step measured and thoughtful, almost as though it were a performance. They were broad-shouldered with elegant posture, even in the long, flowing purple gowns they wore like ancient kings. Tyritha could tell these men were not servants.
“One of these gentlemen is my brother Krishna,” Dreima said with a wide smile. “The other is your betrothed. How are your instincts, dear? Can you tell which?”
Her first reaction was nearly to shake her head no, but instead she took a breath. Her instincts. She thought about those instincts at Dreima’s question. They’d been frayed from overuse in this place, each day a new social minefield concealing that she was clueless, that she was an outsider, that she was playing along until she sighted any hint of an opening. She’d hoped, she’d prayed, that this Erron they all held in such esteem would be her opening. And Dreima, with that beautiful wide grin of hers, had brought her two figures in masks. What could she see? What could she feel?
Tyritha put her hand on the first figure’s chest. She held it there for a moment. The man didn’t move at the touch of her hand, neither forward nor back. He seemed to understand what she was trying to sense from him. He didn’t give anything away. She looked at the second figure. Then she did the same, placing her hand on his chest. She knew it already, but when she felt his heart beating, the warmth of it in her palm, she knew for sure.
“This is Erron,” she declared with certainty. “You are my betrothed.”
“Clever girl,” Dreima said, and before he could lift his hand to remove the mask. “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, brother.”
At that, Krishna removed his mask to reveal a noble, gentle, smiling face. He crossed his arm holding the Arrdh across his chest and then bowed.
“Krishna Chandlin Dodonna of the House of Arnur,” he declared in a deep, soft tone. “A joy to meet you, miss.”
He was so strikingly handsome, Tyritha almost didn’t know what to think. She’d never seen a man so pleasing to the eyes, and the way they all talked about Erron, in the moment, she couldn’t fathom that Erron could possibly be more gorgeous than this elder brother.
“Tyritha Sian Ilanova of Heinan,” Tyritha replied, placing her right hand over her heart and bowing just as Krishna had done. “A joy to meet you as well.”
She could see Dreima suppressing a giggle. Krishna, though smiled back generously.
“She is learning,” Dreima explained, before turning her head to the masked figure. “Now, brother, you may remove the Arrdh and meet your betrothed.”
When he removed the mask, Tyritha couldn’t help but gasp. The first thing she saw were the most striking, radiant grey eyes looking upon her in a manner she didn’t know how to take. It was like Tyritha had never been seen before. She couldn’t help herself. As she felt the warmth of Erron’s gaze, she was overwhelmed. She’d told herself through every waking moment, in thought and in prayer, that she wouldn’t fall into anything of this place—that she would play along through each step of the charade until she found her way out of this place, to her home, back to Heinan.
Now though, she couldn’t find her breath. Her legs were weak. Erron stepped toward her, sensing that she might be unsteady on her feet, but he didn’t intrude on Tyritha’s space.
“You’re Erron?” she managed to say.
Tyritha felt herself beginning to cry, and it wasn’t merely because Erron was as beautiful or perhaps even more beautiful than they’d all been telling her, it was that she could feel deeply that he was connected to her. She didn’t know how it was possible that until that moment she’d lived her entire life in ignorance of that feeling, but she knew it instantly. He was meant for her as she for him. God would not lie to her about something so deep. She had no idea what to do about that.
Dreima came forward, as Erron didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t expected her to cry. And Tyritha didn’t have anything handy to wipe her eyes with. Dreima began to dab her eyes with a kerchief. She put her hand on Tyritha’s shoulders, directing her to stand straight and look forward. Then she gestured for Erron to come forward as well. He took Tyritha’s hand and kissed it.
“Erron Aireum Dodonna of the House of Arnur,” he said.
“Am I supposed to kiss his hand too,” Tyritha asked, turning to Dreima, who burst into laughter as did Krishna.
“No dear. Just introduce yourself as you did with Krishna.”
“Okay,” Tyritha replied, wiping her eyes one more time and taking a deep breath. “I’m Tyritha Sian Ilanova of Heinan. It’s a joy to meet you, Erron Aireum.”
“The joy is mine,” he answered. “Dreima told me you were beautiful, but I must say, even her colorful descriptions have fallen far short of the mark. You’re lovely, Tyritha.”
“He is smitten,” Krishna said, grinning. “I’ll never hear the end of it, but you’ve chosen well for him, sister.”
Their first visit was brief, and in Tyritha’s mind the whole encounter flashed by so fast she hardly had a memory of what happened after that introduction. She knew she’d done her best to act the way she perceived she should, but as Naomi helped her get undressed that night and as the lights went out when she was left with the silence before she slept, all she could remember was that deeply confounding feeling after meeting Erron. Erron the Magnificent, she thought. He couldn’t have been complicit himself, but Tyritha hadn’t expected to feel anything approaching attraction to him. In fact, she’d been worried about how she would feign genuine interest for long enough to build Erron’s trust. But what she’d felt had been much deeper than attraction. It was inevitability—that the universe had intended for them to be together.
She waited, as she’d been doing each night, until she was sure that Naomi was gone, and then she got out of bed and prayed on it. She had no idea how long she was there, her eyes closed, elbows resting on the mattress. All she had were questions, and the answers were not forthcoming. Tyritha wanted to know what to do, how to get out of there, but also how to interpret this unexpected turn—the connectedness she felt with one of her captors. These people had strange, off-putting ways, and as she prayed, she knew with certainty that the temptation toward immortality was a devil’s bargain. Even if it was a technology and not some mystical or magical bargain in the literal sense, it was clearly something all their ancestors had contemplated deeply and forbidden. She didn’t fully understand why yet, but she could feel that it was something she must reject. She also knew she couldn’t remain there in that fantasy palace pretending to be an immortal princess.
She might have been there half the night, struggling to understand, straining to listen for a hint of an answer.
Tyritha woke in the darkness suddenly, yelping involuntarily as she fell to the floor from that kneeling position. She’d fallen asleep for who knows how long.
She got up from the floor slowly and crawled into bed.
If the answer wasn’t forthcoming in prayer, perhaps it would be in her dreams.
Naomi came in the following morning like a tempest, exhorting Tyritha to get up and get moving. They had a full day. The doctor was returning with a specialist to look at her teeth. Then she was to meet the Archon and her consort in the great room, as word had finally gotten to them that Dreima and Krishna had circumvented the usual pairing for their brother. They’d demanded to meet this outsider. Shaimi was dropping by shortly to begin Tyritha’s preparations. To say she felt utterly unprepared was an understatement.
The dental specialist had come all the way from Maasi to inspect her teeth after reviewing the files the doctor had sent over. It couldn’t be rescheduled, as she’d already shuffled her schedule to clear enough time to see Tyritha in person. Nor did she appreciate being rushed by Shaimi and the doctor.
Like everything else—the moles on her back, her marginal chin, her acceptable hair—these people had a different standard for Tyritha’s teeth. She’d always taken good care of them, and they were fairly straight, though she hadn’t always been perfect about putting in the retainers the medical clinic had printed for her in Kmeno back on Heinan. Sometimes she just went straight to bed. It certainly never seemed as important as these people seemed to make it, especially the dentist, who declared: “The girl’s teeth need work before I’ll sanction anything. I’m appalled that you didn’t call for me right away.”
She was even more appalled that “the girl” was about to be presented to the Archon. “In this state?” she asked, Shaimi, who nodded. The dentist merely shook her head in disgust. “Try not to smile too wide, dear,” was all she told Tyritha.
Shaimi was far more reassuring. “She’s a specialist,” she told Tyritha. “They can only see the one thing they see. The Archon and her consort aren’t dental specialists, dear. They’ll love your smile far more than a dour demeanor, I’m sure.”
So Tyritha was brought into the house of Arnur proper for the first time with one more thing to be self-conscious about. She was fairly certain about the protocol, though. Not only had Shaimi walked her through everything, but she was beginning to know things. When she mentioned it to Shaimi, she instinctively pulled back Tyritha’s ear to have a look at the diminishing scar behind it. Only then did Tyritha realize that the knowledge she was rapidly acquiring wasn’t from exposure and osmosis as she’d suspected. For instance, when she overheard that the dentist had come all the way from Maasi, she had a sense of the distance—thirteen cylinders—about a two-hour trip on the tram. This civilization and its customs were beginning to map itself into her brain.
The Archon’s face was familiar as they entered the empty presentation room. She was seated as she would be for ceremonial functions. Tyritha couldn’t help but think the whole setting was archaic—palaces, thrones, walls, gardens—and this grand presentation room seemed like a throne room for an ancient monarch. The Queen of Arnur, or some such thing. But, she also reminded herself, this was Shaimi’s sister, Erron’s mother, and she was her elder and deserved to be respected as such. So, insofar as she understood the customs, she resolved to be as proper and polite as she could manage under the circumstances.
She knelt at the foot of the stairs, bowing to Nima, the Archon, matriarch of Arnur. Then she bowed to Spiros, her husband, father to all the siblings she’d met so far.
“All this fuss and you’re at the root of it,” Nima said, looking down at Tyritha, catching her eye and gesturing for Tyritha to straighten up and look her in the eye. “What do you make of that, young lady?”
“I certainly never wanted to cause anyone any trouble, Madame Archon.”
“No, I’ll bet you didn’t,” she laughed. “You were kidnapped by my children. They’re already forgiven and you’ll bear the resentment for it, I’m sure. How do you feel about that?”
“I will bear whatever I must.”
The Archon looked over at Spiros with a bemused smile.
“And no more, I’m sure,” he said with a slight laugh. “You are different. You don’t even have to talk for me to see the gears turning in that young mind of yours, dear. Perhaps they’re right, Nima. Perhaps this house could use some new blood.”
“Rumors are circulating about you,” the Archon said to Tyritha. “I don’t suppose you were ever the talk of the whole city where you came from?”
“Never, Madame. Though it would be generous to call Ceronka a city.”
“Just as well,” the Archon turned to her sister, who was standing behind Tyritha. “Keep her inside the walls for now. Let the servants see her and whisper. In a few days the rumors will be news and old news a few days after that. Then she may go out escorted.”
“As you say,” Shaimi replied.
“Welcome to Arnur, dear,” the Archon said to Tyritha. “You shall be treated as our honored guest until such time as you are treated as our family. We expect you only to act accordingly, which I have little doubt you will. See to it, sister.”
Tyritha kept her head bowed as the Archon and her consort exited. They had a busy day as well.
Tyritha was preparing for an afternoon lunch with Erron when the doctor returned with news. She’d consulted several of her colleagues as well as one of the Standards Board practitioners and the consensus was that Tyritha’s chin was too prominent.
“We’re going to have to perform a minor alteration, dear.”
“To my chin?”
“It’ll be very easy,” Dione replied. “Hardly anything at all. We’ll scrape the bone back a little and even out the contour. The incision underneath will be all but invisible.”
“But you think it’s necessary to cut me open and alter my face? That’s what you’re telling me?”
“Just this once. Believe me, you’re lucky. Most people go through at least five facial remediations before they even approach the standards for facial symmetry to be an Odai.”
Tyritha chose to forget it for the time being, but it was a reminder of the urgency. Her tone did little to mask her feelings about the matter. She didn’t want her face altered, not even marginally. She was thinking about it as Naomi escorted her to her lunch with Erron. It would be the first time she spoke with him alone. She’d gotten a sense for him, felt his energy and spirit, and she’d found it a kind one, but his thoughts, his personality, and his desires—these were all a complete mystery to her.
He had enough of a sense for her, though, that he caught a hint of anguish on her when she sat across from him in the garden that afternoon. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her angst over the doctor’s pronouncement that some standards board in a capital city of which she wasn’t even a citizen had declared that her face needed to be cut open. She had to gain his trust. Erron saw her try to tuck away her concerns before smiling, greeting him in the customary way, and sitting down across from him.
Tyritha looked over at Naomi, who was waiting for her to signal dismissal. It wasn’t second-nature to Tyritha yet. Erron looked over probingly for long enough to bring the tension to the fore. When he caught Tyritha’s attention, he gently nodded toward her servant.
“Yes, of course,” she said, gesturing for Naomi to leave them.
“Something on your mind?” Erron asked. “The menu perhaps?”
She smiled. “Not the menu. I’m sure everything will be delicious. Your house has excellent taste. Not just in food. Really, you have excellent taste in everything.”
“You’re too kind, Tyritha, and you’re troubled by something. I can tell.”
“We’re supposed to get to know one another, not fret over minor things. I’m sorry. I was in a rush getting ready. This is all new to me.”
“Which of those diversions should I take at face value? Perhaps none, I think.”
“You wish to talk?”
“I think I would. My siblings hatched this plan for me. I assure you I had no knowledge of it, meaning no offense, of course. I’m quite happy you’re here. And I’m looking forward to getting to know you, but I don’t suppose we can until we talk.”
“And which of those statements should I take at face value?”
He grinned back at her.
“I wonder. Was it just luck that they found you, or do you think they knew something when they brought you here?”
“That’s an interesting question. I’d need to know who the ‘they’ are to be able to answer. It would also be nice to know how I got here, how far I am from my home, and well ... I shouldn’t be saying any of this. Not according to the etiquette tutorials.”
Tyritha looked around the garden, and it occurred to her that even though she couldn’t see anyone in the area obviously listening, it didn’t mean there wasn’t anyone listening, watching, recording or otherwise. In fact, she decided they probably were.
“We have offended you,” Erron said. “I can see that.”
She nodded. “It’s not that you have, because in some ways you’ve been quite generous and hospitable. I don’t quite know how to react, because I hardly understand what you’re even aware of. I’ve decided our cultures are very different.”
“That much I can already see is true,” Erron replied.
“I’m trying to learn yours. It’s going to take time.”
“I’m hopeful that I can learn from you as well, but I’d like to know what’s bothering you first. Could we start there, Tyritha?”
He was looking in her eyes. Those bright eyes of his, the radiant skin, and the perfect hair. She almost didn’t know where to look, but she could see him looking back at her.
“Do you know you’re the first person to call me by my name, Erron. I didn’t even notice it until you did. But everyone else calls me ‘dear’ or ‘dear girl’ or ‘sweet thing’ or something like that.” She sighed. “I like that you do that.”
“And you don’t like that the others don’t use your name?”
“It seems a small thing now that I think of it, but no. I don’t appreciate it. Why do you think they do that?”
He grinned and tilted his head but didn’t answer directly.
“You know, don’t you, Erron?”
“They don’t like your name, Dreima especially. They’re going to have you change it before the ceremony. Shaimi thinks it should wait, on account of all the changes. She thinks it might be too much at once.”
Tyritha laughed. “Oh. I see. What would they like to call me instead?”
“They haven’t discussed it seriously, but your middle name is far more acceptable. Sian, was it?”
“It was,” Tyritha replied. “It still is unless your siblings and aunt have changed it on me since this morning. The dentist would like to change a few things about my smile as well. I didn’t catch her opinion on my name.”
Erron laughed. “You’re quite sarcastic. I didn’t expect that.”
“I didn’t expect they were going to change my name on me. But to be fair, I don’t really know what to expect. Does that happen often?”
“How do you mean?”
“When people go through this process—become an Odai. I presume you don’t have to change your name, Erron Aireum?”
He shook his head, grinning. “No. It’s because you’re an outsider. Parents would never choose an unfavorable name for a baby, because they’re going to grow up and have to go through so many evaluations. If you were from here, you’d have started with a name better suited to the evaluators’ tastes, something more fashionable.”
“Do you think my name is unfashionable?”
“It’s different. I would say it suits you and that I like it.”
“You like it? Why do you like it?”
“I like it because it means you, Tyritha, and I don’t know you well yet, but I know that I like you. So I guess it follows. Plus, if it makes you feel comfortable, I’d like to call you by your name if you’ll allow me.”
“By all means, Erron.”
As they were sitting, the servants approached with the first course. She knew that the conversation would be limited as they ate, as etiquette demanded. But before the servants could get too close to the table, Erron leaned over and whispered to her.
“I understand more than it seems, and I’m not entirely ignorant of your concerns. Please be patient with me, Tyritha.” Then he sat back, smiled, and spoke plainly. “I hope you’ll enjoy the meal. I’ve selected the full course for your pleasure.”
Like so much else, she wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it, but she still had a sense of him—that he might be that lifeline she had been blindly reaching for.
As they ate, Tyritha found herself performing again, practicing her new etiquette, drawing cultural cues directly from Shaimi’s lessons, but she also felt subtle instinctual pulls. She knew as she did that the neural implant was guiding her. It frightened her. She’d shown patience and willingness to at least play along, but just like the genetech these people were using in defiance of their ancestors, a neural implant like that was an affront to her human spirit. At least that was her people’s view. The fact that Tyritha had never given her permission for such made it doubly offensive. She’d nearly have forgotten its influence if it hadn’t been so obviously prompting her, and she wondered as it tugged on her will what other influences it might be placing on her mind without her detection.
When the meal ended, Erron walked her to her room, their servants trailing behind in the distance. After that initial conversation, she’d stuck to her etiquette, afraid to give too much away.
At her door, Erron kissed her cheek politely. “I don’t know exactly what changed. Perhaps you didn’t like the food, or perhaps you thought I wanted to see if you could act like a proper lady of the house, but you should know I’d very much like to get to know the real you. There is something truly rare hiding inside you, Tyritha Sian. What I sense beneath the surface is something as solid as stone, and I need to know what it is.”
Tyritha smiled. “The food was excellent, Erron. And I can’t wait to get to know you better as well.” And as she finished talking, she finished the thought in her own head: but only when the walls come down.
To be continued …