Rogue (23 page)

He stumbled in a few places and didn't quite get the timing then either, which was something I felt could be easily corrected, but still, he was nothing short of amazing.

I couldn't quite believe it myself. Here I was, a bazillion kilometers from Earth, and I had finally found my prodigy—and he was a lizard, of all things!

My excitement was tempered by the fact that, as he grew, his fingers would widen, and he wouldn't be able to strike the keys individually, which made it most unfortunate that the folks at Steinway hadn't had Darconians in mind when they constructed this particular instrument. Then it occurred to me that his mother
was
the Queen, and as such, had the wherewithal to commission someone to make a piano with wider keys. In fact, considering the trouble that Zealon and Racknay were having, I ought to suggest it right away. I would have to measure Racknay's fingertips to get an idea of just how wide they needed to be, but I thought it was possible. For all I knew, such a thing might have already been made, for there were keyboard instruments all over the known galaxy. Just because I had never seen them didn't mean they didn't exist.

I hadn't noticed a
Musician's Friend
or a
Zzounds
catalog lying around anywhere—the interplanetary versions, that is—which meant that I'd have to get on a computer and check out the Net. I hadn't seen many computers since my arrival, but I knew Wazak had one in his office. The funny thing was that after being so intimidated by him on that first day, I now had no qualms about cornering him in his den and asking him.

I couldn't remember where his office was, though, so I'd have to get Tychar to take me—or one of the guards. I wondered what they would think of my new wardrobe.

I left Uragus playing his little fingers to the bone, and Tychar and I went down to find Wazak. On the way, we passed Dragus, who was guarding The Shrine. I must have been there long enough to change my opinions about Darconians, because while Wazak was just plain big, I thought Dragus was a hunk. Now, I know he was a lizard, but he was still a handsome devil in his own way.

"You have adopted our manner of dress," he remarked. "I approve."

"Thanks, Dragus. I wasn't sure it would work for me.

I may need a few more beads, though," I admitted. "I've never been one to wear more than one strand at a time, so I don't have many. By the way, what does it mean when you wear a lot of them? That you're rich, or what?"

He smiled. "It means that you have many admirers."

"Ah," I said archly. "So they're like Mardi Gras beads, then."

Not surprisingly, he didn't know what I meant, so I had to explain, but anyone from Earth would have understood the reference right away. Women had been flashing their boobs at men to get a string of beads on Bourbon Street in New Orleans for nearly as long as the city had been in existence. It was a great city for musicians, too, and I thought Uragus would fit right in with all the jazz pianists, though he'd have to learn from someone other than myself, since I'd always tended toward the classical or pop styles. I could just picture him playing the blues in some backstreet cafe—he would give the term "lounge lizard" a whole new meaning.

We arrived at Wazak's office to find that he did indeed have a computer with which we could access the Net. It was an older model, but usable. When I told him what I was looking for, he seemed pleased that I would consider the needs of the male children.

"It is good of you to teach them your music," Wazak said. "Males are not considered to be... musical... on this world."

"I've heard that before, but it's a bunch of Saturnian bunk, if you ask me," I declared. "I mean, you should hear Uragus! That little bugger would make a believer out of anyone, and I think Racknay would be a decent pianist if he had a piano that fit him."

Actually, Racknay tended to lean more toward the hard rock end of the music spectrum, as did most Darconian music, though it was performed exclusively by females. I had played him some songs from my collection and discovered that he liked Aerosmith a whole lot better than Mozart.

Wazak seemed even more pleased by this and offered the use of his computer without hesitation.

The connection was slow, but I finally got
Zzounds
online, and yes, they had a keyboard with extra-wide keys, though it was a synthesizer rather than a grand piano. The price wasn't bad, either—only fifty credits. Shipping was pretty pricey, and even though it wouldn't be coming all the way from Earth, it would still take quite a while to reach Darconia. I had no fears that Uragus would outgrow the one we had before then, but the price was a lot more than I had in my pocket. Someone else would have to pay for it.

"I will authorize the purchase," Wazak said, punching in some numbers. "I believe the Queen will be pleased that you have suggested this." Wazak, himself, appeared to be tickled to death by the notion, and I could only assume that it was because I was helping to dispel the myth that Darconian males were good for nothing but being grumpy.

On the way back to my quarters, I discovered that Darconian males were good at something else, too: they could make a Zetithian jealous.

As we passed The Shrine, Dragus smiled and waved us by, but after a moment, he called me back. I thought he might have looked a bit sheepish, but, being a Darconian, it was difficult to be sure.

"I would like for you to have this," Dragus said, holding out a string of beads. "And I would be honored if you would wear it." As he focused his attention on the necklace, I saw that some of the beads were beginning to glow. I stared at it in awe, realizing that fully a third of the beads were glows tones! What the other stones were, I couldn't have said, but his gift was easily worth far more than my pearls—on Darconia or any other world.

"Why, th—thank you, Dragus," I stammered. "It's very beautiful, but are you sure you want me to have it?

I mean, isn't there someone else you'd rather—"

"No," he said, drawing himself up to his full height— which was considerable—his earlier sheepishness seeming to have vanished completely. "It would look best on you."

I didn't know whether to take it from him or let him put it around my neck, so I just stood there, staring back at him.

"Will you wear it?" he asked.

I peered up at him suspiciously. "This doesn't mean we're sweethearts, does it?"

"No," he replied. "Only that I find you to be as lovely as the stones."

I wasn't sure, but I thought that maybe on Darconia, comparing someone to a stone was a compliment.

"That's very kind of you," I said. "Yes, I will wear it."

With that, he placed it around my neck with an almost ceremonial reverence. I got a little choked up there for a second, but then I remembered all the jewelry Dobraton wore and almost laughed out loud, for I couldn't imagine anyone, Darconian or otherwise, doing this same thing with her. The exchange with Dragus was sort of romantic, and Dobraton was anything but. No, what I
could
picture was Dobraton snatching the beads and then giving the man in question the boot for taking liberties.

As we walked on, I was fingering the beads, wondering if they would be worth as much as Tychar. Considering how much it had meant to Dragus for me to wear them, it would probably be tacky of me to trade them in for Tychar, but I was toying with the idea when he spoke up.

"He may expect favors from you now," Tychar warned.

"Favors," I echoed. "You mean like free piano lessons?"

"No," Tychar replied. "Sexual favors."

"But he said it didn't mean we were sweethearts!"

I protested. "If it had, I wouldn't have accepted it." I couldn't begin to imagine what sort of sexual favors a Darconian might ask for—and didn't want to, either.

Still, if he only wanted to have his tail tickled, I thought I could probably handle that, but if it was something more intimate... well, let's just say I wasn't any more interested in the Darconians than the Zetithians were.

I felt a pair of hands grab my ass and thought Dragus might have started already, but it turned out to be Trag. "Where you been, babe? My dick hasn't been hard all day!"

"It isn't even lunchtime yet," I said witheringly.

"You've still got plenty of time."

"Don't need it," he said. "All I need is a whiff of you and a glimpse of that ass. Wow! See, I told you you'd look great dressed like a Darconian!"

"I'm still not sure I care for it myself," I admitted.

"But I did get a necklace from Dragus, so I guess we can consider it a success."

Trag rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't consider it a complete success until you get one from Wazak."

"A hard man to get in the mood?" I ventured, remembering that I had just been in his office, and he hadn't mentioned anything about the fact that I seemed to have lost my dress.

"Something like that," Trag agreed. "Now, Dragus, on the other hand, is a real slut."

"Takes one to know one," I quipped.

"Look who's talking!" Trag sputtered. "You've done two of us at the same time. I'd say that was pretty slutty myself."

"Careful now," I cautioned him, "or I might decide to reform."

"Wouldn't want that," he grinned. "Guess I'd better shut up."

"Yes," Tychar said. "That would be best." He walked on for a few steps before adding, "And never call her a slut again."

Trag laughed. "He's so...
Zetithian.
No sense of humor at all."

"Tell me something, Trag," I said. "Are you the
only
Zetithian ever to have a sense of humor?"

"Well, no, probably not," he admitted. "It's just that he's so... stiff, don't you think? I'm a whole lot more fun."

"Ah, trying to get me to switch brothers, are you?" I said knowingly. "Well, you can just forget it, Trag. I'll ease your pain now and then, but you won't make me fall in love with you."

Trag shrugged and draped a casual arm across my shoulders. "Can't blame me for trying, can you?"

"No, but your brother might beat the shit out of you if you don't knock it off."

Trag looked at Tychar questioningly. "Any idea what she means by that?"

"Not really," said Tychar. "But it sounded like a warning."

"Uh-/?t//?," Trag said uncertainly.

Tychar slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. My God! If Nindala could only see me now!

The timid little piano teacher had been completely erased, and a woman unafraid to walk through the palace wearing nothing but some jewelry and two naked tigers had taken her place. This new woman wasn't even afraid of Wazak!

"So, when are we getting together again?" Trag asked eagerly. "You
did
say you would try it again tomorrow, and, in case you haven't noticed, it's tomorrow now."

"I think I've created a monster," I groaned.

"No," Tychar said gloomily, "he was already a monster."

"Why didn't you warn me?"

"It was foolish of me not to," he agreed. "But he
is
my brother."

You'd have thought Trag would have objected to being called a monster, but he actually seemed proud of it and made the most terrifying, snarling face, just to prove how monstrous he could be. The tigers were beautiful, but they could look pretty fierce, too: a pissed-off Zetithian probably could have put the fear of God in a Darconian.

I wondered if Scalia had ever thought about letting them take care of Dobraton for her, but then I remembered that she was trying to keep the tigers a secret.

"Tell me something," I said, changing the subject completely. "Ever hear of anyone by the name of Dobraton?"

"You mean that tough old lizard who gives Scalia so much trouble?" asked Trag.

"That's the one," I said with a nod. "Ever meet her?"

"No," Tychar said. "But I believe she knows we are here."

"What makes you think that?"

"Scalia has said so," he replied. "She believes that Dobraton has spies in the palace."

"That wouldn't surprise me a bit," I remarked. "She doesn't seem to like Scalia very much—or her policies.

Any idea who the spies are?"

"No," said Tychar. "We've tried to figure it out, but all the guards and staff seem to be loyal to Scalia. They could be lying, or the whole thing could just be our imagination, but sometimes... I wonder."

"Well, if Dobraton ever comes skulking around the music room instead of the Shrine," I said, "we'll know she's been tipped off."

"You're using too many Terran speech patterns,"

Trag complained. "Even / don't understand what you say a good part of the time."

"You'll get used to it," I said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm going to be here for a very long time."

Unless Dobraton had her way and threw all the offworlders off the planet, which would have meant that the slaves would be free to leave—or that they would all be dead. The tigers had escaped execution before, but they might not be as lucky this time—and I might not be, either. Shivering slightly, I thought I'd like to put my dress back on. Perhaps the new me wasn't quite so different from the old one, after all.

That night, I awoke from a dream with something calling out to me, beckoning me to come to it. Unable to resist, I rose from my bed, leaving Tychar sleeping in the moonlight. The night air was chilly, and I slipped into a robe as I stole silently into the music room.

The three Darconian moons were conjoined—surely a good omen—and shone down on the planet below with a brightness that cast shadows as though daylight had come early. The piano sat silently on the dais, but I could feel the pull and knew that this was what had been calling to me. The ancient instrument was ready at last; to tell me its story and to share its secrets.

Sitting down on the bench, I began to play one of the Zetithian love songs at first, but then the melody changed, seemingly of its own accord, to become something different, yet similar, as though inspired by the original song.

I'd never played like that before, and the music seemed to come through my hands straight from my heart. It was my love song to Tychar: how I felt when I was in his arms, how I knew he was my one, true love—forever and always.