EnforcersCraving (4 page)

Chelsea was struggling and she was woman enough to admit it.
The whole space-alien thing had totally done her head in and now she was
standing on a flat field of grass, watching a shuttle being towed away by two
enormous creatures that would have looked at home in
Jurassic Park
. They
were the size of a small house, green, scaly and strong. The dragon’s heads
were big and oval-shaped, and a ruffle of leathery skin ran from their small
pointed ears, along their spines and down to their foreshortened tails. They
were harnessed separately and there didn’t seem to be a handler nearby, but
they pulled in unison, straining every muscle to get the shuttle moving. Eventually
it creaked forward and they leaned into their harnesses, their clawed feet
sinking deep into the grass as they lumbered away.

Her attention shifted when she felt a firm, masculine arm
circle around her back and she looked up to find Tarkan stepping into her
personal space. He pulled her against him, lowering his head so he could
whisper in her ear, fast and quiet.

“I will help you look for your friend and I will help you
get her back if we find her—but there’s a price. If you decide you want to pay
it, I’ll be at the lake every morning after breakfast. Come and find me when
you’re ready.”

And he was gone. In the moment it took to register his
presence and process his offer, he’d disappeared from sight, which should have
been impossible for a man of his bulk and stature. She tried to peer over the
confused mass of women but her five-foot-six frame wasn’t doing her any favors,
and when the group surged she was too busy keeping her feet to worry about
where Tarkan might have gone.

As she righted herself, she turned to see what had caused
the excitement. She only had a half-view from her position at the back of the
mob but she wasn’t sure a full view would have helped her anyway. Approaching
them at an angle were a team of six horses pulling a vehicle that looked like a
tram on wheels. It was ornate at the windows, rooftop and doorways, painted an
old gold with a company logo proudly displayed on the side panel. The windows
were opaque but Chelsea suspected a passenger would be able to see out without
the rest of the world seeing in. The horses pulling the vehicle were sturdy and
long-barreled. They had brightly colored feathers instead of a mane and tail,
and more feathers fanned out over their hoofs.

Several outriders followed the vehicle and as it slowed to a
halt four well-dressed men pushed their horses forward to array themselves in
front of the rescued women. They wore high boots, trousers and long jackets
spilt at the back to accommodate the saddle. Two were older, perhaps in their
mid-fifties but the other two looked to be in their thirties. Chelsea studied
them, trying to absorb as much information as she could. In this world she had
no frame of reference and no way to tell what information was important and what
was useless so she tried to absorb everything.

One of the younger men nudged his horse forward a step. “My
name is Tollanare Ghananstall and these are my colleagues Medalyn Consbaregh,
Davetscore Fenningsbar and Willersby Lochmehdyhn. We are members of the ruling Council
here at Sapphire and we’ve come to officially welcome you to Ivasta.”

Chelsea crossed her arms in silent defiance. The Enforcers
might have called their intervention a rescue, but she still felt kidnapped,
and if it quacks like a duck…

“You’ve all been through a harrowing ordeal,” Tollanare
continued, “and we want to make your transition to your new surroundings as
smooth and painless as possible. If you’ll board the transit, we’ll escort you
into town and get you settled into your new home. You’ll be given time to
freshen up in your quarters, then a hot meal will be served in the dining room.
After that we’ll begin orientation, so I’ll ask you to please save your
questions until then.”

The four Council members moved their mounts to one side, the
doors on the transit snapped open and the riders behind the women edged their
mounts forward. Chelsea wanted to rebel, to protest at being rounded up like
sheep but the men were all business and she knew instinctively her protests
would fall on deaf ears. Trapped, with no one to turn to and nowhere to go, she
shuffled forward in reluctant submission.

They piled onto the transit and Chelsea sat next to the
fiery redhead from the shuttle. She offered her hand. “Chelsea McMullin. I’m from
Melbourne, Australia.”

“Sorcha Meehan, Boston and the good old US of A.”

Chelsea nodded. “I want to say ‘pleased to meet you’ but I’m
not sure that’s appropriate.”

Sorcha offered her a wide smile. “Honey, we’ve slipped down
the rabbit hole. Being appropriate is the least of our problems.”

She was right and Chelsea had a feeling she was going to be
overwhelmed by the new rules of this world and the Earth rules she’d have to
leave behind. She also figured the “rescued” women would be stronger if they
stuck together and she decided to treat every woman as a potential ally. Starting
with Sorcha.

Chelsea engaged her in conversation and they talked quietly
as the transit rolled along. They shared information about themselves, their
homes on Earth and their observations of the world gliding along outside the
window. Or what they could see of it at least.

The road was smooth and well maintained but the vegetation
on each side was tall, lush and green. It had a distinct rainforest look about
it but there didn’t seem to be any humidity in the air. Either it was the dry
season or Chelsea was looking for similarities that didn’t exist on this world.

The transit turned a corner and the town seemed to appear
out of nowhere. One moment they were surrounded by green, the next there were
stone buildings flanking the road. Modest and close-packed at first, as they
drove further into town the buildings became larger, more ornate and spaced
further apart. Stone walkways and colonnades connected the buildings and many
were topped with spires, lookouts, domes and some even sported detailed
sculptures. White marble predominated but there were flashes of pink, green,
blue and gray marble in the architectural flourishes.

People wandered the streets, mostly men but there were a few
women scattered about. The men wore boots and frock coats of various colors and
designs, and Chelsea spied the occasional hat. The women looked as though they’d
stepped out of an Edwardian period film. Without exception, their hair was
intricately upswept, their bodices tight and fitted, and their long A-line
skirts seemed to cover a mass of petticoats. Most wore bustles and flounces,
and while the fabric of the gowns looked serviceable, the colors were brightly
jewel-toned and the patterns ornate.

Sorcha pointed to the view outside. “I hope they don’t
expect us to dress like that.”

Chelsea grinned. “More of a jeans and T-shirt girl?”

“And boots. I love boots.” She stared at a woman with a
particularly elaborate hairstyle. “I can guaran-damn-tee I won’t be getting
around looking like that, either. A ponytail is my absolute limit.”

“Do you think we’ll get a choice?”

Two finely plucked eyebrows arched in challenge. “What do
you think they’ll do to us if we refuse? Chain us to a chair in the beauty
parlor?”

Chelsea leaned closer and lowered her voice. “We’re on an
alien planet with no support and the only things we know is what they choose to
tell us. I think we’re going to have bigger problems than clothes and
hairstyles.”

“Damn, you’re right.” Sorcha sat back, folded her arms and
looked out the window in contemplation. “We’re going to have to stick together
if we’re going to survive.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking.”

Sorcha nodded and turned her clear, green eyes to Chelsea. “Allies?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” Sorcha looked like the kind of woman who
wouldn’t fold easily, one who would and could stand up for herself. Chelsea
just hoped she could bring the same traits to the table.

Eventually they passed through a set of large gates, which
closed the moment the transit and outriders slipped through. This place was
different from the town. Here order ruled and spaces were open, the flowerbeds
neat and restrained. The huge expanse of emerald lawn was clipped carpet-short
and the trees grew tall, strong and elegant.

Chelsea twisted in her seat, craning her neck to take in as
much as she could. “It looks like one of those old English estates from the
eighteen hundreds.”

Sorcha grunted. “Well, sure, if you can ignore the whole
Other Planet thing.”

Chelsea smiled at the dry observation. “Yes, there is that.”

The transit turned to make its way around the white mansion
and Chelsea felt her mouth drop open when she got a good look at the size and
scale. Five stories high and at least a city block long, the vast expanse of
aged marble was breathtaking and so ornate it put the best baroque facade to
shame. Every doorway, balustrade, windowsill and awning was carved and
embellished. Inlays of colored marble provided a delicate accent to the
carvings and detail. She couldn’t see the roofline but she assumed it was as
ornate as the rest of the house.

The transit skirted the building, revealing it to be even
longer than it was wide. It seemed to take ages before they finally halted at a
side entrance and a set of double doors. After a few moments one of the riders
dismounted and entered the transit.

It was Tollanare. “Welcome to Addestet House, the ancestral
seat of the Ghananstall family. For now, this will be your home and where you
will learn about our world. My staff will provide all your domestic support and
men from each councilman’s security team will share protection duties. Your
quarters are designed for dual occupancy so you may pair up as you wish. The
maids waiting inside the reception hall will escort you to your rooms and sort
out any immediate or urgent problems.” He gave a sharp nod. “I shall see you
all later this evening.”

Before anyone could ask a question, he was gone and the
women were being urged to their feet by the transit driver. They shuffled out
of the wheeled tram, up an imposing set of stairs and into a vast chamber
guarded by armed sentries. In the center of the hall stood over a dozen
middle-aged women wearing long gray dresses, their hair pulled back into tight
buns. They were clearly the domestic staff Tollanare had mentioned.

The double doors thudded shut behind them and the sound
galvanized the gray-clad women into action. Chelsea and Sorcha were swooped up
by a woman called Clemense and herded up a large winding staircase to the
second floor. They were propelled along a corridor until Clemense flung open a
door and harried them inside.

The room they entered was a large sitting room with six-meter
ceilings and wide windows that let in an abundance of light. To Chelsea’s eye
the furnishings looked like beautiful antiques, from the ornately carved sofas
to the large oil paintings on the walls.

“This is your sitting room,” Clemense said, barely pausing
in her stride as she crossed the room. “Through here is a bedroom which exactly
mirrors the bedroom on the other side of the sitting room. You can choose
between yourselves which one you prefer.”

Chelsea meekly trailed along and found herself reluctantly
impressed with their accommodations. The bedroom was even bigger than the sitting
room, with a four poster bed—its brocade curtains tied neatly back—and a full-sized
writing desk. A chaise longue and sofa bracketed the currently unlit fireplace
and thick, jewel-toned rugs covered most of the floor.

Clemense stalked forward to another door and beckoned them
to follow. “Bathroom. The shower stall has soap-sand for your body and
soap-lotion for your hair. Bath towels are in the cupboards under the sink as
are face creams, hair brushes and various hair ornaments.” She eyed Sorcha’s fire-truck-red
hair. “You might want find a good alchemist if you want to wear that particular
shade.”

“What’s an al—”

Sorcha didn’t have a chance to ask the rest of the question
before Clemense cut her off. “The bath is here. Use the spigots like this,” she
turned a handle and water streamed out. “Do this if you want it hotter, this if
you want it colder.” She flipped the water off. “Toilet is here. This button is
to wash yourself, this one is to dry. Make sure you close the lid after each
use.”

Good god, a wash and dry instead of paper. At least it was
hygienic. And the convenience of their own bathroom was a big plus—no midnight
shuffle down the hallway in her dressing gown.

Clemense continued on through the bathroom and they exited
from a different door into the second bedroom. The first bedroom’s color scheme
was gold with red accents, this bedroom was much cooler in colors of cream and
blue. Sorcha wrinkled her nose. “You like this one?”

Chelsea nodded. “Much better than the other one.”

“Thank god. It’s all yours.”

That was easily settled but Chelsea didn’t have a chance to
look around her new room. Clemense was on a mission. “There is new clothing in
your wardrobes, all of varying sizes. After you bathe just put a robe on and
wait for my return. I’ll help you dress. Someone will bring a tray of food up
for you at some point and they’ll leave it in the sitting room for you. I’ll be
back in a couple of hours. Feel free to explore your quarters but do not step
outside the sitting room door. The guards have been ordered to make sure you
all stay in your quarters.”

A short time later Chelsea and Sorcha wrapped themselves in
robes and head towels, and sat down at the table to enjoy what turned out to be
a delicious dinner. They lingered once the meal was finished, speculating about
their situation, sharing their histories and discussing the questions they
wanted to ask Tollanare if they got the chance. Chelsea took the opportunity to
tell Sorcha about Tansy and the Enforcer’s cryptic offer.