The Galactic Mage (45 page)

As the five of them stared across the room, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dim light, the disparate styles of dress became immediately apparent to them all. The assemblage was an odd shuffling of dissimilar cultures and opposite styles of dress. The contingent from Earth all looked very much the same, their uniforms nearly identical excepting for ribbons and other demarcations of rank and acts of valor. But the denizens of Kurr were an entirely different lot. Their baroque style and opulent elegance seemed a luxury stolen from another time, at least it did for Orli, and the visual feast of all this color and pageantry was rapture in her eyes.

As she came in, she spotted her father standing with the admiral and Altin’s mentor, Tytamon, whom she’d met the day after the Earth ships had come down. The trio of wizened men all stopped to wave at her and her entourage across the sea of heads, the colonel giving her an adoring wink just before the herald’s announcement that “Altin Meade has arrived” got the attention of everyone in the hall. The crowd fell silent, eager to turn and pay respect to the man who had “discovered” outer space, but that silence was broken by a wave of murmured awe. The crowd gawked as they turned as one and froze, amazed in the discovery of Orli standing at his side. Her cheeks reddened as she heard the intake of at least a thousand breaths and felt the heat of twice as many eyes. She was humbled and exhilarated all at once.

A second herald began the long-winded announcement of titles and honors again, during which time Orli glimpsed Doctor Singh in conversation with the immensely large man Altin had introduced as his own doctor, Doctor Leopold. Doctor Singh gave a subtle wave and smiled at her as the enormous fellow raised his goblet high in lieu of being so discreet. He grinned broadly at her before taking a long draught of the Queen’s expensive wine.

When the herald had finally introduced them all, the Queen summoned them to the throne, staying the resumption of noisy socializing amongst her guests for just a moment more with a gesture of her hand. The crowd parted before their small company, making way as they approached. Even the musicians playing in the corner let their tune fall temporarily away.

After the appropriate genuflections, the Queen came forward on the dais and began to speak. “At last,” she said. “The guests of honor have finally seen fit to arrive, trusting to the patience of the monarchy.” She winked at Orli, having personally arranged the timing of her arrival for maximum impact. “I won’t bore you all with a long and ceremonious speech, as I know most of you are eager to get back to drinking all my wine.” There was a round of collective laughter. “Fortunately for you all, the more humdrum aspects of the early diplomacy between our two worlds have already taken place safely behind closed doors, sparing you all the trials of my stubborn attitudes.” She turned her gaze to the portion of the room where the admiral and his chief advisors stood. “Except for you, you poor man,” she said looking directly into the admiral’s eyes. “I do appreciate your patience with my blunt questions and ignorance of your world.” He bowed deeply to show his mutual respect.

“Which means there is really only one other matter to attend to before we can all find the bottom of a glass.” She turned to the small group standing before her on the steps. “Altin Meade, come forward.”

Ugh, he thought, swallowing hard as he mounted the singular step between himself and the Queen. He was already being watched more closely than he liked.

“Kneel,” she ordered as he approached. She turned and drew her sword from the scabbard hanging on the back of her throne. As she laid the shimmering blade upon his shoulder, he felt his stomach fall out through the bottom of his boots. “I dub you Sir Altin Meade,” she said, picking up the blade as she spoke and moving it to his other shoulder. This can’t be happening, he thought. “Knight of the Realm,” she concluded as she took the sword away. “Rise and be recognized.” It
was
happening. He had to hide his trembling hands behind his back as he complied with her command.

She took him by the upper arms and turned him towards the assembly. “I give you, Sir Altin Meade,” she said. “Kurr’s first galactic mage.” The entire chamber exploded in thunderous applause. Altin smiled, embarrassed and thrilled together, then looked down at Orli whose face shone brighter than a universe of suns. Her eyes were wet, glistening with tears of pride that she could not stop from running down her cheeks. He wanted to kiss the watery gems from her soft skin, to taste the salt upon his lips. Imagining it gave him some respite from the discomfort of a cheering crowd.

But he would have to wait; both of them would, until they’d done their service to the meeting of two distant worlds. And they did their duty too, all of it: Orli had to dance at least three dozen dances, and were it not for her runner’s heart and the months she’d had to recuperate from her malaise, she’d never have made it through. Altin was not so lucky, and after dancing with what felt like every woman in the realm, not to mention no small number from the fleet, he found himself nearly gasping for air as he collapsed into a chair at the table ostensibly reserved for him and Orli and their retinue—a table that had seen little use since the dancing began. The truth of the matter was, he’d only spoken to Orli twice since the music had resumed, and he’d only gotten to dance the first dance in her arms, from there diplomacy had taken the upper hand.

Grateful for at least a moment’s rest, he sat and gulped down a cup of wine, willing his heart to stop pounding and vowing to get more exercise when he got the time. He saw a flash of yellow in the churning mass of dancers and began to smile as he recognized Orli by her dress. But then he saw who was holding her and found himself rising from his seat. Thadius.

“Easy now, Sir Altin,” came the Queen’s voice unexpectedly from behind. Her hand on his shoulder prevented him from getting up.

He turned and tried to rise again. She stayed him with a look. “If she can be taken from you so easily as that, she never was yours to begin.”

“Anyone but him.” Anger began to burn within him as if some wicked alchemist had poured acid into his heart and now stirred it with a stick.

“Oh, I know him well enough,” Queen Karroll said. “I’m the Queen. It’s my job to pay attention to such things.”

Altin grunted and glared into the dancing throng. The Queen sat down next to him in a casual, familiar way.

“Believe in her, Altin. Relax and enjoy the night.”

Fear of losing her was not what gnawed at Altin’s heart. Loathing did. The very idea that that man’s hands could violate even a strand of Orli’s silken hair infuriated him; that his vermin fingers might press against her flesh was too much to bear. He felt the rage starting to build inside and he had to fight desperately to keep it from rising up, but the Queen was looking straight into his soul. She gave him a look that only a queen can give. He growled silently as he pushed the emotions down. He should say something to his monarch, but he couldn’t think of anything appropriate, so he sat quietly and ground his teeth instead.

Queen Karroll smiled, genuinely amused. “Youth,” she seemed to lament. “Firm bodies but soft heads.” She laughed. “Cheer up, the song is over now. Put on a knight’s face, here she comes.”

Altin shook himself and forced a smile.

Thadius accompanied Orli back to the table, but the smug look he’d been about to drop in Altin’s lap melted away as he saw the Queen reclining comfortably beside Altin and grinning back at him as he approached. “Master Thoroughgood, you dance divinely,” said the Queen. Altin was amazed at how her words could say the one thing while her tone so clearly stated something else, seeming instead to say, “You are an embarrassment to your family, and I hope some day you might grow up.” Altin didn’t have to say a word as Thadius bowed deeply and made excuses, retreating back into the crowd.

“He is an amazing dancer,” Orli agreed after a draught of wine. “He simply glides across the floor.”

Altin did not allow himself to grimace, or at least he tried to hide it behind a swallow of his own wine. He could not be angry with her, she was only pointing out the truth. And though he didn’t want to dance anymore, he did want her next dance to be with him if she decided to go again. Hating to have to follow up the skill of Thadius’ nimble feet, but unwilling to risk Orli to yet another of the endless dance requests, he asked her anyway, making a preemptive strike. “Would you like to dance again?” he said. “I can’t dance as well as Thadius, but I do love staring into your eyes.”

Orli beamed, and the Queen nodded approvingly, smiling as if her job was done. “I’ll leave you two a moment’s peace,” she said. “Having the Queen hanging around has to be worse than having one of your parents sitting here.” She paused long enough to cup a hand on Orli’s cheek. “You look beautiful, my dear. The jewel of Earth. Your people must be proud.” She didn’t wait for Orli’s reply, turning instead and barking at the Earl of Vorvington who had just gone staggering by. “Don’t you run from me, Vorvington. Where’s my six thousand crowns?”

Apparently the earl had not expected the Queen to be loitering amongst the crowd. Before the Queen moved to chase the indebted earl down, she paused long enough to add, “Altin, make sure you and Aderbury come see me in the next day or two. You boys have a lot of work to do.” And with that she was gone.

At last they were alone.

“Well, do you want to dance again?” he asked.

“Do you?” Something in her eyes suggested that she already knew the truth.

“I would walk across the Lava Seas of String if that’s what you wanted me to do.”

“Well, I hope my dancing’s not that bad.”

“No, no,” he stammered. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

She laughed. “I know, silly. I’m teasing you.” Her expression softened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t do that to you. Your people are so different than mine. Your people seem to say what they really mean.”

He shrugged. “Some of us do. Not all. I expect our two peoples are very much alike, even where we’re different.”

She nodded and took another sip of wine. “Ohh,” she gasped suddenly. “Who is that Roberto is dancing with? Wow. She’s gorgeous.”

Altin followed the direction of Orli’s eyes out onto the floor where he saw Roberto whirling about gracefully with the buxom Lena in his grasp. Both dancers seemed rapturous, laughing as they spun, twirling and weaving amongst the other couples like a pair of feathers bobbing on a breeze. Altin grimaced but followed it with a laugh. “Oh dear,” he said. “That’s Lena Foxglove. Roberto’s got his hands full with that one.”

Orli laughed back. “I’m sure that’s exactly what he has in mind.”

The twinkle in her eyes made Altin reach once more for the concealment of his wine. Perhaps Lena and Roberto were perfectly suited for one another after all. As a means of escape to more comfortable conversational ground, he observed, “Roberto’s been here for barely a week and he already dances better than half the people in Crown.”

Orli smiled, seeing that it was true. “Yes, he’s got great rhythm. Ask him and he’ll tell you that dancing is the gift of his Spanish heritage.”

“While I do not know precisely what that is, I can see no reason to dispute the claim. He is amazing.”

She laughed and let her eyes follow Roberto and the lovely Lena as they whirled through the center of the room. Altin just watched Orli. There was nothing else to see.

He could tell as he regarded her that she was tired, her breathing still quick from the exercise of a long night on the floor, and perspiration glistened on her bosom as her chest heaved intoxicatingly with every indrawn breath. The delicate bones and soft curves of pale flesh were highlighted by the glow of the chandeliers above, stirring his desire.

His palms grew moist and his heart began to thump against his chest as a daring plan came into his mind. He sent a thought to Taot, wanting to find out exactly where the dragon was. He learned that the dragon was just finishing off a fat and juicy elk.

Altin grinned inwardly, and placed his hand on Orli’s warm, damp arm. “Have you ever ridden a dragon?” he asked.

She stared blankly at him for a moment, and then her eyes widened as she grasped what his question implied. She blinked at him, hope and disbelief mixing with raw emotion to set her perfect face aglow. He gazed back, his pulse racing as he sensed something opening in the depths of those limpid blue gems, something deep beneath, allowing him inside as if the last tissue of restraint was torn away. A purely sensual expression came upon her face. “I’d love to.”

They snuck out together, hand and hand, giggling and darting from column to column like giddy thieves skulking through the night until they found a shadow safe enough to allow Altin time to cast. A few moments later found them in the moonlit meadows not far outside of Calico Castle’s ancient walls. Taot was still crunching on a bone.

Ignoring the shockingly lewd assumptions Taot’s thoughts imparted as Altin communicated his desire for the dragon to take him and Orli for a ride, he arranged for conveyance with little trouble at all. Well fed, the dragon was happy to oblige.

Soon they were soaring along the treetops of the Great Forest’s endless canopy, just barely above, and so close that the tip of Taot’s tail dipped occasionally into the uppermost branches, slapping noisily at the broad leaves as they glided by. Orli screamed with delight at first, her face thrust into the wind until tears ran from the corners of her eyes into her slowly unraveling coiffure. At no point in her life had she ever been so rapturous as this.