Floating Worlds (29 page)

They painted each other with kakine and sucked and kissed and licked it off. Illy’s skin softened and warmed. Her voice fell, husky.

“I wish he was here now. Don’t you want him?”

“We don’t need him.”

Illy’s thighs stroked together. Her pubic hair was shaved. Her hips were smooth, full arches. Paula spread kakine over her slit and the tiny nub at the top. Illy opened her legs.

“Please—”

“Do it to me.” Paula ran her tongue over the soft folded flesh.

“It tastes bad.”

“It tastes fine.”

“Oh.” Illy moved, offering herself. Her hands slid down over Paula’s legs and rump and her claws worked. Paula drew back.

“Oh,” Illy said. “Don’t stop.”

“Do it to me.”

“I can’t—I—”

“Do it. Use the kakine, if you don’t like the taste.” Paula fingered Illy’s body, and the Styth woman reached for the jug. Paula put her head down between the other woman’s legs again.

Illy balked twice more. Paula thought she liked pretending to be forced. In the end she did so well that Paula sobbed and clung to her through a pulsing climax. Illy lay on her side, shaking the empty jug.

“That’s nothing like with him. He would never do that for me.”

“You can suck him. He might learn.”

Illy called her house slave in to give him the jug. Paula covered herself in the bedclothes, her head near Illy’s knees and her feet on the pillow. The eunuch avoided looking at them. He might tell Pedasen, but he would tell no Styths.

“Could we get drunk like that?” Illy laughed. The slave brought back the jug, full. “I think I’m drunk, a little. Did I do it right? Did you like it?”

Paula smiled at her. Illy moved over and cradled her head on Paula’s thigh. “I liked it.” Paula touched the long black hair. Against Illy’s black skin her skin looked warm: red brown. She put her head down, pleased to be in bed with such a beautiful woman.

In the high watch, Paula went to the rack in her bedroom and found her clothes hacked to pieces with scissors. Pedasen was with her. He picked up a bit of a sleeve. “That low nigger,” he said, under his breath.

“Who did it?” She wheeled on him. He stooped, gathering up the shards of her dresses, the back of his head to her, and mumbled something inaudible. She squatted beside him. “Who?” she said into his face.

“I don’t know, mem.”

He took the rags away. She followed him down to the kitchen. “Why, then? I don’t even know any of the other slaves.”

Pedasen fed the scraps of cloth into the shredder. “Because you keep with the blacks. Going to her like that.” His face was guileless. She realized he was destroying the evidence before Boltiko found it. She watched a long black ribbon disappear between the lips of the shredder.

“How can they hate me when I don’t even know them?”

“You stay with the blacks against your own people.”

Angry, she went away down the hall.

“You’re pulling my hair out by the roots.”

“Everything that makes you beautiful hurts a little.” Illy brushed hard at Paula’s hair. David was in his new crib, in the room across the hall from Paula’s bedroom, and he let out a wail. Pedasen came down the hall from the kitchen to the child’s room. In the mirror Illy’s hands fluffed the bush of Paula’s hair. Illy stooped and kissed her shoulder.

“There. Doesn’t that look better, darling?”

“It looks fine. Can I get dressed now?”

“You’re impossible,” Illy said, and kissed her again. “I guess all intelligent people are a little odd in some way.”

Pedasen was singing to David, in the room across the hall. Paula strained to make out the words in the low voice. While she was dressing, Saba shouted in the front room. Illy clutched her shoulder.

“What is he doing here? You told me he didn’t come here.”

“That isn’t what I said.” Paula poked her feet into her shoes and slid off her bed. She had told Illy that Saba never slept with her. Saba came in the doorway.

“Do you have any more questions? I’m leaving in three hours.”

Dakkar appeared behind him in the hall. His prima son would rule Matuko in his absence. Illy withdrew across the room, veiling her face with one long black hand.

Paula said to Saba, “No—as long as I can use your computer I can figure everything out, I think.”

“Get the contract advances as high as you can,” he said. He ignored Illy as if she were not there. “Remember, one-tenth of it goes to me. Where is Vida?”

“He’s asleep.” She could still hear Pedasen singing to him.

Saba waved his hand at Dakkar, standing in the doorway with one hand on the frame. “I’ve told him to keep watch on you. Make it easy for him, like a good girl.” He turned and walked out of the room, and with a backward glance at her Dakkar followed him.

Illy said, “All those instructions. You must be important.” She ran her hands down Paula’s arms. Her voice turned wistful. “He never once said how pretty you look.”

The collar of Paula’s new dress itched. David lay heavy in her arms. Boltiko stood directly before her, and the mob of younger children before her, blocking Paula’s view of the yard. She knew Saba was somewhere near the bilyobio tree because the steady murmur of voices came from that direction. This ceremony was obviously important, since Ketac had come all the way from Vribulo for it.

This was her family now, these people around her. David made her belong to them, to Boltiko and Illy beside her, the little children, the older boys having part in the ceremony, and the man taking ceremonious leave of them all. She felt no kinship with them. Sometimes she wondered how else she ought to see herself, an alien intruder, a guest, or a glorified slave. Maybe, like the man who rode across Lake Constance, if she saw what she really did, she would die of fright.

Illy turned her head slightly. Her face was covered, like Boltiko’s, only her beautiful eyes showing. Through the tail of her eye she glanced at Paula, and she moved a step backward and took Paula’s hand. Paula squeezed her fingers.

Saba took
Ybix
away to the Asteroids. Half the rAkellaron wanted contracts to trade with the Middle Planets, and they could not understand why Paula needed more time than a watch to draw them up. She began with Melleno, thinking that he would be easier to deal with because he was Saba’s ally. She was mistaken. He refused to give her information she needed and ignored some of her questions entirely. At first it made her angry, until she realized that he was not being arbitrary. He was simply acting like a man who could recite his pedigree back fifty-three generations to a mythical hero. To get his attention she had to assure him of his family’s glory and remind him of his duty to maintain it, and to convince him that trading with the Middle Planets was the way to do that.

With five cities and four million people under his rule, Melleno could demand three times the advances Saba had gotten, but the mention of money made him very short-tempered. She guessed he was afraid of seeming to be bribed; and anyway it was ignoble to need money. The payments had to be disguised as gifts and tribute, incidental to the real purpose of the contract which was to glorify Melleno among the fifty-three generations of Mellenos.

Tanuojin’s contract was much easier. Yekka was the newest city in Uranus and the biggest bubble in Styth. Only a hundred thousand people lived there, mostly small farmers. Although Tanuojin had been married to Melleno’s daughter, he himself had no family at all. Paula worked with his pitman and the man left behind in Yekka to rule in Tanuojin’s absence and they wrote a contract in plain language and straight terms.

The politics of the rAkellaron were actually simple: they bullied the weaker and obeyed the stronger; but they went about it with the formality of an Akopra. At first she thought that, if she could only find the right key, she could talk directly to the sense; but there was no key. The Styths responded only to the forms. She had to learn their diplomatic language phrase by phrase.

Slowly she grew confident in it. Matuko no longer seemed such a strange place. She walked in the city, she talked to Boltiko and Illy and slept with Illy, and she and Pedasen took care of David. The child was her clock in the timeless city. He walked, he ran, his babbling began to sound like words. She took him around the city with her, but once three or four slaves in the market threw street shales at her and chased her halfway home, and after that she left him in the compound.

“What did you bring for Paula?” Boltiko asked.

Paula looked up; Illy stopped pulling on her new gloves. The three women faced him across the little round glass table of Illy’s sitting room. He fussed with his mustaches. “I forgot.”

“Oh, Saba.”

“I’ll get her something in the White Market.”

Paula folded her legs under her. She sat deep in one corner of the sling chair. She was glad he had forgotten to bring her a present, which put her apart from the other women and the bawling horde of children. He had gotten everything in the Off-World Market anyway, before he left. Illy tugged the gloves off her hands.

“You can have these.” She thrust the soft leather handful at Paula.

“Don’t be silly,” Paula said.

Her arm extended toward her, Illy gave her husband a slashing look. “Take them.”

“Illy, they won’t fit me.” Paula tucked her hands in her sleeves. She glanced quickly at Saba, afraid he would suspect them. Illy’s eyes were liquid with tears. Slowly she put on the fawn-colored gloves. With a low cry she rushed into the sleeproom and shut the door.

“What’s the matter with her?” Saba said. Between them, Boltiko turned toward Paula. Her face brimmed with understanding. Paula stared at the prima wife a moment. Illy’s eunuch brought in a tray of cakes and fruit and set out the little dishes on the table. Boltiko turned away.

“Go ask Illy what she will drink,” Paula said to the slave. Saba was picking up a handful of cakes. Just after one bell he had come back from six hundred watches in
Ybix;
he had spent the whole low watch in bed with Illy. Boltiko caught Paula’s eye. Her small mouth was clamped shut, as if she bit on something foul. The slave poured whiskey for Saba and Paula and kakine for Boltiko.

“I have something for you,” Paula said to Saba. “A lot of money.”

“I saw Tanuojin’s contract in Saturn-Keda.” She had sent a copy of it with Melleno’s contract, since they were related. Saba swallowed a mouthful of cake. He picked up a white pala fruit. “He’s a little salty you know so much about Yekka.”

Illy came in and sat between them, her face stony. Saba ignored her, intent on the sweet juices of the pala fruit. Paula buried her fists in her lap.

“What does he expect—I can’t go to the Martians without knowing what I’m talking about.”

“If you brought him the five moons in a net he would call you a thief. He thinks you’re the kundra in the Akopra.”

Illy was staring at the table, her profile to Paula, her beautiful mouth swollen, her eyelashes tipped in gold. I use her the same as he does, Paula thought. As kindless as him. She said, “It’s amazing how much you find out—drawing up a contract like that.” Her voice sounded brittle. She cleared her throat.

“Are you keeping everything you learn?”

“Naturally. What happened on your mission?”

“Everything bad. The Martians were all running in convoys. We didn’t take a ship.” He picked up Illy’s hand in the soft skin glove and laid her palm against his cheek. To Boltiko he said, “Come feed me something that isn’t sweet.” She heaved quaking off the chair and followed him out.

Paula sighed. She smoothed her hair back from her face. Illy took off the gloves, her gaze on her hands.

“I nearly let him know about us, didn’t I?”

“Boltiko knows.”

“She won’t tell him.”

“Maybe we should—” Paula tried to judge what he would do if he found out about them. Unpredictable. She would not risk it. “Now that he’s back, we should break it off.”

Illy lurched around to face her. “No. You’re staying with me.” She flung the gloves down on the table.

Paula emptied her cup and put it down. She scrambled forward off the chair. Illy grabbed her sleeve.

“You can’t leave me.”

“You’re worse than a man.”

“If you leave me, I’ll tell him.” Illy gripped her arms. “I’ll tell him, and he’ll take your boy away.”

Paula wrenched loose. She brushed past her to the door and went out to the yard. Behind her Illy screamed her name. She ran back to her own house.

Saba gave David a robot that talked in pidgin Styth when it was wound up. After two watches of its screechy little voice Paula broke off the key. None of the women was talking to any of the others. Saba noticed it and made several remarks to Paula he obviously thought were the fine edge of wit. Everything he said convinced her that he knew about her and Illy. Whenever Paula was in sight, Illy hung on him. Paula could barely eat. Finally he went down to Yekka, and she went limp with relief, and the next watch woke up with a piercing pain in her belly.

The cramps bound her guts so that she could not straighten. She sent David for Pedasen. Certainly Illy had poisoned her. But the eunuch poked at her stomach and shook his head.

“No, it’s just slave-gripe.” He went down to the kitchen and came back with a pot of boiling water and the box of tea.

David climbed onto the bed. “Mama, I help you.” He pulled on her arm. Pedasen steeped the tea in a cup.

“I’m surprised you haven’t had it before,” he said. “Maybe because you spend all your time with the blacks. They never get it.”

“Pedasen,” she said, “don’t lecture me.” She doubled up, groaning.

“Here.” He pulled David away and gave her the strong bitter tea to drink. “You’ll feel better when you have the shits.”

She gulped the tea. Her forehead burst with sweat. David scrambled up beside her. “Mama, get up.” Pedasen lifted him away.

Feet hurried down the hallway, and Boltiko and Illy rushed into the room. They consulted with the eunuch. Paula lay on her side, breathing with pain. Illy sat down beside her.

“It’s all right, my darling, I’m here.”