Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One (39 page)

Ampris had no idea of what things cost, so she said nothing.

“I will suggest it to the mistress,” Hama said. “We cannot bring home such an expensive item from market without her permission. Kevarsh would never authorize it if I ask him.” She bared her teeth and glanced warily at the closed door of the steward’s office. Ampris knew that he napped inside it every afternoon instead of overseeing the work as he was supposed to. “He is such a fool.”

Ampris grinned, and Hama gave her a brief smile in return.

“Thank you, Ampris,” she said.

“When will I be allowed to work upstairs?” Ampris asked, hoping that Hama was softening toward her at last.

But Hama’s expression closed at once like a slammed door. “You are not ready to be seen by the family. Your training is not good enough.”

“But I—”

“Get back to work,” Hama snapped, and hurried away.

Sighing, Ampris rinsed another pot and set it aside. She was determined to get upstairs, because she wanted to find the opportunity to call Israi on the linkup. It was the only way she could think of to reach her friend and beg for mercy. She knew that if she could only talk directly to Israi she would be able to persuade her beloved companion to relent and let her come home.

But first she had to reach the equipment, and to do that she had to be allowed inside the family’s quarters. If the mistress wasn’t so besotted with her new hatchling, she mused, probably she would have sent for Ampris by now, just to see what she looked like.

Work harder
, Ampris told herself.
Keep finding ways to be useful to Hama. She has to relent
eventually
.

The specially made civa cakes pleased the hatchling, who began to eat more and thrive. Hama bustled back and forth, grinning to herself. Ampris waited for a sign of gratitude, but Hama gave her nothing.

As Ampris settled into the routine of the household, she soon saw how inefficiently Kevarsh ran things. The amount of waste in food, materials, and labor appalled Ampris. He forgot details, could not schedule duties efficiently, made poor decisions or procrastinated until a crisis was created. Then he screamed and whipped and punished, blaming the servants for his own mistakes. Because of this, the servants usually listened to his orders, then waited until he was out of sight before trying to do their tasks differently. Even so, Ampris often saw ways to streamline their tasks.

“If Ralvik set out the ingredients ahead of time, grouping them next to the correct pot, here, here, and here, in a line in the order that you would need them, could the preparation for the family’s dinner not be shortened?” Ampris asked the cook one evening during general cleanup.

The cook glared at her. “Who asked for your interference? Are you trained as a cook? Do you know how to tempt Viis appetites?”

“No,” Ampris said quietly. “Forgive me for my interference.”

But the next day while she was carrying out rolled rugs into the courtyard to beat the dust from them, she saw the cook instructing Ralvik to group pots and foods ahead of time as Ampris had suggested. Smiling to herself, Ampris went outside with her heavy load.

Now that she was allowed outdoors occasionally, she felt as though her dreary life had improved greatly. The court-yard was a utilitarian square lacking any ornamentation, a space to buffer the back of the house from the cloth warehouse behind it, where the master’s business was conducted. Although the warehouse was sealed, with all its equipment carefully vented, now and then a noxious odor escaped from the dyeing vats to poison the air and cause some member of the family upstairs in the house to slam the windows shut.

Today as Ampris finished carrying her rugs outside, she saw Faln and Gur at work in the courtyard, unloading long, massive spools of cloth from a cargo flat floating on its antigrav unit and fitting the spool bolts onto robot carters that lumbered back and forth between the courtyard and the warehouse.

Spying her, Gur waved and ambled over to grin widely in greeting.

“Hello, Gur,” Ampris said shyly. Although the big Aaroun was much older than she, he was always kind. She considered him her only friend in this place.

He gave her a friendly rub between the ears and tapped her amulet with his fingertip. She held it up on its chain, making the sunlight flash through the clear stone in the center, and Gur watched it in simple delight. He never lost his fascination with the Eye of Clarity. She had asked him once if he knew what it was, but he’d shaken his head.

“Gur!” Faln called impatiently. “Do you want a flogging? Come back to work.”

Gur waggled his broad rump in cheerful insult and fingered the amulet a moment longer. Then he gave Ampris his gentle smile and by way of thanks shook out the largest of her rugs with an effortless snap that made dust fly in all directions.

“Gur!” Faln shouted again, but Gur ignored him.

Faln switched off the robot and came hurrying over. Grabbing Gur’s muscular arm, he pointed at their load of cloth. Gur ignored him and went on shaking the rug.

Faln turned to Ampris in visible disgust. “A mountain I might as well ask to move. You come and help in his place.”

Ampris stopped grinning and blinked in dismay. “But I can’t lift one of those spools.”

“Try then. It’s the only way to get him back where he belongs, the oaf.”

Hoisting her end of the spool with a grunt, Ampris found that it weighed as much as she feared. Her shoulder joints popped with the strain, but she was able to handle her end without dropping it. They got it fitted onto the robot, which Faln switched on and sent lurching into the warehouse.

While they waited for the other robot to return, he gave Ampris a nod of approval. “See? You can do more than you think, golden one. You are growing fast. This kind of work will make you grow more.”

Basking in his praise, she reached more readily for the next spool of cloth, although its weight made her muscles shake.

“Good,” Faln said while she panted and blinked the dizzy spots from her vision. “One more—”

“What is this madness?” Kevarsh shrieked across the courtyard. He came striding toward them, his rill a crimson frame around his face, his hands uplifted to the air. “The gods take my reason before the lot of you drive me to madness! Gur shaking rugs like a housemaid, and the table server unloading cloth? Stop it! Stop it at once!”

Ampris came around the robot and stood beside Faln, silent and with lowered eyes. Kevarsh grabbed her by the arm and yanked her away from Faln.

“I knew you would be trouble,” he muttered as he pushed her back across the courtyard. “Were it up to me, that golden hide of yours would be hanging on the wall as decoration right now.”

Ampris glared at him, but kept silent. This old Viis was a fool, and every day he proved it more.

“Get inside,” he said. “Report to Hama at once.”

“Hama is upstairs in the nursery,” Ampris said. “It is her time with the—”

“Silence!” he said, striking her with his baton. “Did I request your opinion? Will you never learn obedience? Go! Go!”

Ampris hurried past Gur, who still stood in the midst of the rugs. Behind her she heard Kevarsh scolding him, then the angry whistle of the baton striking him again and again. Her heart burned with anger against this petty tyrant, and she wished Gur would pick him up and break him in half as he deserved. But she knew Gur would stand there, docile under the abuse, offering no resistance. Without looking back, for she could not bear to see the beating, Ampris ran inside.

Much to her surprise, however, Hama was downstairs looking for her. Ampris had finally received her summons to the upper floors of the house.

“Here,” Hama said, rushing about to thrust a clean, embroidered tabard at Ampris, who came to a halt, thrilled to the tips of her ears by the chance of finally being taken to the family.

At last everyone would see that she wasn’t stupid and untrained. No indeed. Ampris understood how to be a companion, how to fetch pretty cushions for a lady’s back, how to applaud the efforts of musicians, how to follow discreetly during strolls in the gardens. Not that the Hahveen family had a garden really large enough to stroll through. But at the moment, nothing mattered except the chance to return to a form of life that was familiar.

“Hurry! You must not keep Sana Mashaal waiting,” Hama ordered, and with a thumping heart Ampris changed tabards and smoothed her golden fur.

She couldn’t stop herself from grinning, and she barely listened to the stream of instructions coming from Hama. No one had to teach her etiquette or protocol. She had mastered those intricacies in the imperial palace, and now all her recently lost confidence was returning to her.

Holding her head high, she rejoined Kevarsh, who had finished beating Gur and come inside. He glared at her, inspected her tabard just to delay matters, then finally led her upstairs.

If the first floor of the house held workrooms and servants’ quarters, the rest of the house was reserved exclusively for the family. The second floor held public rooms where guests were received and family members spent their leisure hours. The third floor held the private baths and bedchambers.

Kevarsh walked proudly before her, his rill extended high and his fat tail swaying slightly from side to side beneath the long hem of his coat. As she followed, glimpsing rooms through open doorways, some of Ampris’s initial excitement began to fade at the obvious and surprising lack of taste, refinement, and wealth.

The displayed art was mediocre at best. Carpets underfoot were faded, worn, and far from the best quality. The furnishings, of great age and thus clearly inherited, stood about in gloomy rooms. The hangings were out-of-date, in colors that made Ampris wince. Flower bouquets made a pretty detail, except that they should have been changed daily and clearly had not been.

Ampris looked at her surroundings in disappointment that quelled her excitement. It seemed that Kevarsh was as incompetent at running the household abovestairs as he was below. Had he been a steward at the palace, he would have been dismissed long ago.

Their gazes met and locked. Hers must have revealed her thoughts too much, for a red stain crept up his rill. Hatred puckered his face, and he flicked out his tongue.

“Come at once,” he whispered in a scornful tone. “Do not dawdle when the mistress is expecting you.”

Ampris walked forward, following him into a receiving room where three adult Viis females and one vi-adult female all reclined on couches around a tray of sweets and tall drinks of fermented melon juice. This room was brightened by a tall window overlooking the street, opened to let in a warm breeze that stirred sheer gauze hangings in a pleasing way. The furnishings here were more delicate and modern than what Ampris had seen before, yet her discerning eye detected cheap construction disguised with faux gilt.

Kevarsh made his obeisance to the gathering while one female—blue-skinned with a rill in variegated hues of green, blue, and lavender—broke off her conversation and deigned to look at him.

“Ah, my steward,” Mashaal said. She spoke Viis in the accent of the southern continent, reminding Ampris of Lady Zureal. “You have brought our new acquisition? Good. Come forward.”

Still bowing, he sidled forward, beckoning for Ampris to follow. She approached, head erect and shoulders straight in the court fashion. Meeting Mashaal’s startled yellow eyes directly, Ampris smiled and made her obeisance with perfection as Lady Lenith had taught her.

“Ah.” A sigh circled the Viis females, and Mashaal preened and flicked out her tongue with pride.

“As Aarouns go, she is a beauty,” Mashaal pointed out. She gestured to Kevarsh, who in turn whispered to Ampris.

“Turn around for the mistress,” he said. “Display yourself.”

Ampris blinked, and a hot tide of humiliation surged through her skin beneath her fur. In silence, she pivoted as directed, then stood there with her gaze lowered while Mashaal boasted.

“She was the pet of the sri-Kaa, you know. Quite spoiled, I am sure, but my husband spares no expense to please me, and when she was put into private sale, I had to have her.”

“But she looks nearly grown,” one of the guests ventured, fanning herself. “Is it wise to have an adult female Aaroun on the premises? You know how they can be.”

Mashaal shrugged and smoothed a fold of her garish pink gown of synthetic silk. Her jewels were real, but of very poor quality, glittering cheaply in the sunlight. “I am assured that she is large for her actual age. When she matures, we will test her temperament then. Should she cause trouble, she can always be sold.”

The vi-adult female, as slender as Israi but with skin a dark shade of green streaked with yellow, left her couch and approached Ampris to examine her more closely with spoiled, petulant eyes.

Her gaze shifted to Kevarsh. “Will she bite?”

He bowed. “No, indeed, Misa Lameel. She is most gentle.”

Lameel smiled and extended her slim fingers to give Ampris a tentative stroke. Ampris did not move, and Lameel’s caresses grew bolder. She wore a gown of plain cloth that was fashionable but poorly cut. Her rill collar was imitation gold and far too ornate for one her age. She wore skin oil perfumed with cheap synthetics, a copy of one of the fashionable fragrances. The smell tickled Ampris’s nostrils, and she struggled not to sneeze.

“Her fur is pretty,” Lameel said. “She shall be my pet.”

Ampris’s heart sank a fraction. Companion to this ill-dressed, gawky female, who couldn’t approach Israi’s perfection no matter how much she tried? The Hahveens were nothing but middle-class Viis lacking rank or taste. They pretended to have the wealth and sophistication of the true aristocrats by copying their betters with cheap imitations and giving themselves airs far beyond their actual standing. They were tawdry and pathetic. Ampris despised them on sight.

“My pet,” Lameel said more insistently. She tugged Ampris’s ear hard enough to hurt.

Ampris glared at her, swallowing the involuntary growl that filled her throat.

Lameel met her gaze with one like steel. “You are my pet now. You will adore me. You will crouch at my feet when I receive callers. You will follow at my heels, faithful and true.”