Rogue (22 page)

or maybe Wazak could tell me..."

"She's babbling," Trag said with a chuckle.

"She never did that before," Tychar commented.

"Never gotten it from two of you before," I mumbled from my dazed, but enviable, position between the two brothers. "So, how 'bout it, Trag? Feel better now?"

"Kyra, my dear, you have no idea," he said sincerely.

"Well, actually, I think I might. I mean, if you think you feel any better than I do right now, well, I just don't see how it's possible. It's pretty hard to compare notes on something like that, but let me tell you, it's an incredible feeling! Don't know how I'll feel in an hour—by the way, what
are
the time divisions called here? We call them hours in Stantongue, but what do the Darconians call the time it takes for one stone to go dark and another one to light up?"

"A tourade," Trag replied. "Though it's fallen out of use since the Darconians switched over to Stantongue a few years back. They say hours now, just like everyone else. Hey, would you believe I had to give classes to the palace staff, since I was the only one around who was fluent?"

"That must have been weird," I remarked. I could just imagine the irony of a slave teaching his guards how to say "Get back in your cell" in Stantongue. "No, I never heard tourade, but I guess it just never came up in conversation. I'd still like to find a calendar and figure all this out, though—and, yes, I'm babbling again. I think maybe it's best that I don't do this double-team thing more than once a—what do they call weeks, months, and years here?"

"Weeks, months, and years," Tychar said. "Those are the Standard divisions of time, though the lengths differ on each planet, depending on the time it takes the planet to rotate and orbit its sun."

"Oh... yeah... right. Standard. I knew that."

"Uh, which one were you going to say just now?"

Trag asked anxiously.

"Huh?"

"You know, once a... what?"

"Oh, yeah. Once a week, I think."

"But Tychar's been getting it more than once a day,"

Trag protested.

"You said you wouldn't keep score," I reminded them.

"No," said Trag. "Tychar said that; I didn't."

"Oh, well, shit. He's my boyfriend, remember? So he has to get more."

"There is logic in what she says," Tychar agreed.

"And she must be the one to decide." If his expression was anything to go by, he wanted to be the one I decided on—all the time.

"Logic, my ass!" Trag exclaimed. "I think you're just saying that because—"

"Hey, now! No fighting, or the deal's off!" I said severely. "And remember that, because I will
not
have you two bickering all the time!" I was feeling more like myself as the moments passed. Maybe I
could
do it more often—maybe I'd even get used to it. "I'll tell you what, I'll give it a try again tomorrow, and if it kills me, we'll know we have to wait a few days in between."

"If it kills you?" Trag repeated. "I've never heard of sex killing anyone." He looked at his brother. "Have
you
ever heard of it killing anyone?"

"Oh, you know what I mean!" I grumbled. "Right now, I don't even know if I can walk."

Tychar's smile was slow and satisfied. "We will bring you anything you need, or carry you, if necessary, Kyra. It is our pleasure to serve you." The look in his eyes told me he'd like nothing more than to carry me everywhere I went—peel my fruit, feed it to me, rub my feet. Oh, yeah, another foot massage... After all, they couldn't do it continuously—even
they
would have to take a break sometimes...

"Hmmm, that's nice," I said drowsily. "But maybe I should just sleep for a while."

"And I'll go practice the piano," Trag said, sounding far more eager than he ever had before. Guess that's what a little nooky will do for you after a long dry spell.

"I said I needed to
sleep"
I pointed out.

"Oh, yeah," he said, looking a bit crestfallen. "Hey, I know I'm terrible, but at least I'm trying!"

"I will close the door," Tychar said, but I had an idea that he wasn't doing it just to shut out the noise.

Moments later I heard Trag running up and down the scale with more speed than accuracy. "How is it that you can sing so well and yet, your brother is completely tone deaf?"

Tychar shrugged as he closed the door. "We're brothers, not twins."

"True." It occurred to me that by this time he might be regretting having given Trag his permission, and if so, I would withdraw my own consent, whether Trag liked it or not. My first responsibility was to the brother I loved.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. Tychar got me a drink of water and curled up beside me, purring quietly. "Thank you for allowing my brother to join us,"

he said. "It was very kind of you to allay his suffer-

• »»

ing. "He
was
pretty miserable, wasn't he?" I said. "It was nice of you to let him, too. Not every man would do that."

"Our situation is unique," said Tychar. "In other circumstances, it would not have been necessary."

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's fairly obvious he did a bit of messing around before he was captured. Must not have had much trouble finding willing females."

Tychar grinned. "He used to laugh at the rest of us for being so... inexperienced with women."

"Well, I guess you're one up on him, now," I commented. "But I don't believe you were all that inexperienced, yourself. You didn't get that good just by thinking about it—did you?"

Some other emotion washed over his features—one I couldn't quite identify. "No," he said slowly. "I have known others."

"On Zetith?"

He turned away from me for a moment before returning his bright blue gaze to my own. "We were at war,"

he began. "A war unlike others, because we were not fighting against each other, but against many worlds, and our defeat was inevitable. No one felt that they could love as was customary—one man, one woman, forever. We mated when we could, but it was seldom with love."

"Those songs you sang for me were love songs, weren't they?"

"Yes," he replied. "They are the only songs I remember—perhaps because they are the only ones to have any meaning for me."

I now thought I understood why he wanted me to love him so badly—even if I lied to him and broke his heart—and also why he had charmed every female in the palace, whether he could mate with them or not. The kind of love he craved had been denied to him all his life, and he was starving for it.

I was beginning to wish I hadn't given in to Trag. Tychar seemed to be far more vulnerable than I would have guessed. Trag didn't love me—he had said nothing of the kind—only remarking that I felt like love. Tychar hadn't said he loved me, either—at least, not yet—but I had a feeling he was simply waiting for the right moment.

"What about Trag?" I asked. "Doesn't love have any meaning for him?

"Possibly," Tychar admitted, "But he is different."

"Well, I did notice that I didn't have to tell him I loved him before he went ahead with it."

"No," he conceded.

"So that isn't a Zetithian rule of some kind?"

He shook his head. "No," he replied. "I... it was something I needed to hear."

"Even if I was lying and broke your heart?"

"Yes," he replied.

"But why?"

"Because I needed to feel something," he said. "Anything—even pain."

"You two have been bored to tears here, haven't you?" When he nodded, I went on, "So you charmed all the Darconians, just for something to do?"

Smiling sheepishly, he said, "I suppose I did."

"And now you let Trag—? You could have said no, Ty, I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't agreed."

"Are you saying you didn't enjoy it?"

"Of course I did! And I'm sure he did too, but no matter how good it feels, getting some out of pity now and then can't quite compare with being with someone you love, can it?"

Tychar's lips twitched seductively as he began to purr "No, it cannot." His fingers trailed over my shoulder and down to my hip.

"Why is it that I think I'm about to get nailed again?"

"Because you are," he said. "My brother's snard still fills you, and I am... intrigued... to discover what it will feel like to mate with you now."

"Sounds kinky," I remarked.

"You may explain that word later," he said as he turned on his side and pulled my leg up over his hip.

"Mmmm," I sighed as he pushed inside me. "Feels really good, doesn't it? Slick, creamy..."

He nodded. "I like it."

The presence of Trag's semen seemed to diminish the orgasmic effect of Tychar's coronal fluid, but I didn't mind a bit; I just lay back and let my lover rock me to sleep. No dream could have been sweeter than he, but they were still some very nice dreams...

Uragus woke me up bright and early the next morning, saying he wanted to get an early start on his piano lesson. As he was hopping up and down with excitement, I didn't have the heart to dissuade the little bugger. Realizing that I was still nude and had not so much as a sheet up over me, I sent him on to the music room.

"Go for it, big guy," I said sleepily. "I'll be there in a minute."

I sat up and looked around for Tychar, but realized he must have gone to get breakfast. It was then that I decided that one thing they really needed on Darconia was coffee, at least in the morning—and especially those mornings after two Zetithians have had a go at you. Ordinarily, chocolate would have been my first choice of things to add to the menu, but with those two around, I'd probably never crave it again. I could vaguely remember being fed some supper at some point after dark, but that's about all. Scalia's wine had nothing on Zetithian snard for knocking a girl out.

The day was already quite hot, and as I reached for my dress, which someone had laid over the back of a nearby chair, I wondered what would happen if I just didn't put it on. Would anyone notice? I'd always worn clothing up to that point, but no one else around there did. They wore lots of jewelry, though. Maybe if I put on a necklace or two—a string of pearls, perhaps—and some bracelets as Trag had suggested.

I tried it, but it felt weird. There was something strange about being naked with a child in the next room, too, though he'd already seen me once and hadn't seemed to notice. In my dilemma over what to wear, I hadn't been paying attention, but I could hear him playing, and it sounded almost too good to be true. I peeked in on him, and there he was, playing scales to beat the band, his nimble little fingers simply flying over the keys. I stood staring for a moment before exclaiming, "By George, I think he's got it!"

Uragus gave me a quick glance over his shoulder and smiled. "Pretty beads," he remarked and went right back to playing.

Well, obviously
he
didn't give a damn...

I was able to justify it further with the fact that when Nindala's troupe arrived, there would be more skin showing than anyone around here had ever seen before, even if it was blue. I'd never go out of the palace like that, of course, because I'm sure the sun would have fried me to a crisp in minutes. Then it occurred to me that, since my arrival, I hadn't been out at all, except for the occasional venture out onto the portico from the slave quarters. I couldn't imagine running around it at night, let alone in the daytime. The tigers must have been bored out of their minds even to think of doing it themselves.

I wondered what they would do if given the freedom to go their own way, though it was a safe bet that they wouldn't have remained on Darconia. Tychar claimed never to have been anything but a soldier, but with his voice, I thought he might have had a successful career as a singer. Trag had once been a pilot and given a ship of his own, he could roam the galaxy looking for other Zetithians. With any luck, he might even find a female...

Tychar came in with breakfast and smiled his approval of my dress—or lack thereof. I took little notice, however, being more excited about Uragus.

"Would you listen to that!" I said with awe. "He's better than anyone I've ever taught!"

Tychar listened closely for a moment. "He's not playing a song."

"I know, but... wow!" I grabbed a crafnet (which were the closest thing Darconia had to apples) from the tray and hurried into the music room. I had to be sure this wasn't a fluke. He might have been playing scales well, but could he also read the music?

"Play this note," I said, picking one at random on the pad.

Uragus hit it without any hesitation whatsoever and picked up the scale from that point.

I skipped ahead to a short song. "Try this."

His timing might have been off slightly, but he didn't miss a single note.

"Damn!" I exclaimed before remembering the "Great Mother of the Desert" thing. I guess there are some habits you just can't change overnight. I flipped to the left hand scale of bass notes. "Try this." It came as naturally to him as the other one had. "Uragus, how in the world are you
doing that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I... had a dream last night, and the whole thing began to make sense," he said in his squeaky little voice. "That's why I came so early.

I wanted to see if it was real."

"Oh, it's real all right!" I assured him. "You've got all the makings of a child prodigy."

"What's a child prodigy?"

"A natural born musician," I replied. "One that grasps the concepts at a very early age—and progresses much more quickly than other children."

He grinned at me. "I'm good, then?"

"You are
very
good," I said, sitting down next to him. My first impulse was to hug him, and I wondered if Darconian children liked to be hugged. Experimentally, I put an arm around him and squeezed. His scales felt surprisingly smooth and warm—not like hugging a lizard at all.

He smiled up at me, but asked me why I'd done that.

"That, my little prodigy, is called a hug," I replied.

"Humans do that when they're glad to see someone, or happy for them—that sort of thing."

"I have never been hugged before," he said. "But I like it."

"I like it, too," I said. "So you can expect plenty of hugs from me from now on." I scrolled ahead in the tablet and found the song I was looking for. "Now, try this one. It's pretty easy, but you have to use both hands to play it."