Taken (6 page)

"Well, this is what Marka looks like everywhere. We are a prosperous planet, and we consider the land our most precious resource. We are good stewards."

Lyzette nodded, turning away and gazing at the landscape. After they had driven in silence for about twenty minutes, the Markanor tapped the coachman on the shoulder and gave him some instructions.

He continued along for some time and then turned onto a road that was no longer dirt but cobblestone. They were in a city, but it was like no city Lyzette had ever seen before. There was greenery everywhere. Flowers spilled out of window boxes. Trees and gardens were all over the place. The houses were tall and had gardens on their roofs.

"How is it that everything looks rustic, and yet you have advanced computers, communications, and space travel?" Lyzette asked in confusion.

"It's by design," the Markanor explained. "When technology and modernization started developing at a rapid pace, our society made the conscious decision to keep our planet unchanged. And so that's why you'll see a farmer on his wagon using a computer to talk to his granddaughter who lives four thousand miles away."

"Wow, that's so clever of you," Lyzette said, wiggling around happily. "It's amazing that you managed to take care of your planet and still have all the conveniences of modern life. It seems to good to be true."

"Too good to be true on your planet maybe, but Marka and many others have made the transition without destroying everything. It can be done."

They continued to ride through the city with the Markanor pointing out points of interest for her. And then, unexpectedly, Lyzette's stomach rumbled. Her cheeks turned pink.

"Excuse me," she said.

"You're hungry. Why didn't you say anything?" he said.

She didn't tell him that she had been so afraid at lunch that she hadn't been able to eat. She guessed it would be inappropriate to say she was pretty sure slaves weren't supposed to demand supper. She tried to convey all this information by shrugging her shoulders expressively.

The Markanor tapped the coachman again, and he stopped outside an ancient-looking bar. It reminded her of the night she had been abducted, but she immediately put the thought out of her head. It wouldn't do to think about that right now. Everything was different.

They sat in a booth, and the Markanor ordered for both of them after asking what sort of meat was her favorite.

"How is it that everything is so much like Earth?" she said.

"The Great Race colonized all of the planets in the galaxy, and so we are all genetically identical. Sometimes the Great Race brought plant and animal species that they liked from one planet to another."

Lyzette nodded, trying to look like she knew all about this.

"If the planets they colonized didn't have much food, the people brought their favorites. Earth was colonized first and those who arrived here decided to plant and raise similar food."

He looked at her for a moment before going on.

"Of course, that was before Earth had the catastrophic event that sent it back into the dark ages and before it got left behind by all the other planets."

Lyzette had no idea what he was talking about and was afraid that if she said something, she would look stupid. She got the sense everything about the Great Race was known, and she was uneducated. How had she missed that in school? She had flunked out of most classes, but surely she should have heard of this Great Race before now?

She sighed internally at her stupidity and decided not to ask any more questions about Marka. She didn't want to show off her ignorance, so she would ask him about himself. Her mother had always told her that men liked to talk about themselves.

"What exactly is the position of Markanor?" she said, picking up a chip and gently dipping it in ketchup before she bit off the end.

"It's like a king, I guess, you could call it. But of the whole planet."

No wonder everyone was deferential to him. She was frozen with food in her hand, staring at him.

"Don't start looking at me like that again," he said. "Today, I'm just Mikael. You can call me that, okay? Forget about the Markanor thing, unless I order you to do something."

"All right, I will," Lyzette said. She was slowly melting. His cajoling tone and the sweet look on his face pushed her fear away. "If you'll call me by my name, too. It's Lyzette." She had noticed that he hadn't addressed her directly.

Of course, Lyzette hadn't called him by anything either, since she couldn't remember any of the instructions that Raimey had given her on the proper way to refer to the Markanor.

"Okay, Lyzette," he said.

"Okay, Mikael," she said.

He lifted his glass, and she clinked it with her own.

As they finished their meal, Lyzette smiled happily. Now that she was getting to know the Markanor, she liked him. Their forearms passed close together again when they touched glasses, and she felt another shiver go through her. It ended up somewhere surprising. For the first time since the attack in the alleyway, Lyzette felt that things were looking up.

The feeling lasted for about three seconds and stopped when a man came up to Mikael and punched him hard in the face, knocking him off his chair.

Lyzette screamed and jumped up, pushing her chair away. Mikael was already back on his feet. He and his assailant faced off in a small area between the tables. Mikael attacked quickly, throwing his shoulder into the man's stomach, making his breath audibly leave his body. Mikael flipped him over his shoulder, and the man landed flat on his back.

Lyzette palms sweated as she watched. She placed her hand over her mouth when Mikael spun around to face his opponent. He got up slowly and appeared to be winded. Mikael threw a sharp punch to the face. He must have had a lot of experience fighting.

His opponent reached up weakly to block the punch, but the blow had enough power to knock him to his side. Mikael followed his punch with two uppercuts to the chin that looked like they nearly took his head off.

Mikael grabbed his attacker by the hair and kneed him in the face. The knee was finally enough. His enemy fell to the ground, unconscious and bleeding. Mikael watched him fall and then nodded to himself. When he looked back at Lyzette, she was staring at him. She wasn't sure if she should be more afraid of Mikael or his assailant.

"Come on, Lyzette. We should get out of here. I'll explain what happened."

As they approached the exit, the owner of the restaurant waved Mikael past him. Apparently the Markanor didn't have to pay for his meals, or he didn't have to pay for them when he beat up a potential customer. Lyzette wasn't sure which one it was.

He took her by the elbow and steered her out the door and onto the street. When he didn't see the carriage, he cursed. Mikael changed his mind, guiding her towards a nearby park instead. They sat down on a bench next to a finely crafted stone wall.

"Jol will be back momentarily. He's probably doing an errand," Mikael said.

"Sure," Lyzette nodded. "What happened back there? I feel like someone could randomly attack me at any time."

"You have to understand that you're not on Earth anymore, Lyzette, and this is a different culture. There are different rules."

"Yes, of course," she said, trying to look like she knew what he was saying.

"On Earth, I'm under the impression that you place value on one's intelligence."

"Yes." Lyzette knew being smart was important because she wasn't, and that had been hard for her.

"It's not like that on Marka. We prize strength and valor in battle more than anything here. You've seen our civilization is extremely peaceful, but that's on the surface. Below our polite society is a roiling, seething mass of men, fighting to come out on top."

Lyzette leaned forward and listened to him with rapt attention. She had seized on the words roiling and seething but hadn't heard anything else.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Okay, let me explain. There are clans. Everyone belongs to a clan except the Clanless. Without a clan, you might as well leave the planet. These clans are peaceful during everyday life, most of the time. But there is always jockeying for position at the top. Right now our clan is in the best position. That's why I'm the Markanor. But I could be ousted tomorrow if another clan showed enough strength."

"Really?" Lyzette said feeling worried.

"Well, it's possible," he admitted. "But not probable. Usually, a clan holds the power for years or decades. It's not easy to overthrow the clan that's in power because of all the allies involved."

"Do you have wars?"

"No. It's generally small skirmishes. I gained points for our side today. And the points keep me in power."

"From having fights in restaurants." Lyzette said, trying to understand.

Mikael sighed.

"When you say it like that, it sounds a little crazy," he said. "Yes, fights in restaurants or on the street. They could kidnap you, for example. That would give them points because I failed to protect you."

Lyzette blanched.

"I was kidnapped already and sold into slavery," she said, staring down at her hands. "Did that give you points?"

"No, I didn't get any points from that. I'm sorry. I didn't know." He looked at her with troubled eyes and tried to move quickly to another topic. "Anything that reveals my weakness gives them points. There is one house that's a particular thorn in my side — the Delanor. They've always been trying to weaken us, but they haven't been successful. Every point they gain we get back. The man who just attacked me was a Delanor. Who knows what he might have done to you if he had knocked me out," Mikael said. "All in the name of honor for his house."

"It doesn't sound like your culture is very respectful of women," Lyzette said, quietly.

"On the contrary, we prize our women greatly — even slaves. That's why if we fail to protect them, we lose a lot of points. It's a sin for a man to be unable to protect his women."

At that moment, Jol drove up, and they got into the carriage. He was full of apologies for not being there waiting when Lyzette and Mikael needed him.

The Markanor excused Jol, and they made their way home without further incident.

Lyzette learned that Mikael was going to be away from home for two days. He needed to inspect his property and lands in the Northern Hemisphere. She wouldn't have to worry about him for a whole forty-eight hours. As much as she had liked spending time with him, the burden of never knowing when he might make her have sex with him had been draining.

Now she didn't have to worry, and she could enjoy herself for a couple days. It was like a vacation, as long as she forgot she was a slave. She hugged herself and danced around her room when Delia told her the news.

"You're HAPPY he's going? You're crazy, girl, if you don't want a piece of that man. I wish he still wanted me," she said.

"You were a consort, too?" Lyzette said as she finished making her bed. She started helping Delia wash the windows in her room, and all the rooms in the hallway.

"I was."

"Did you..." Lyzette didn't know how to phrase what she wanted to ask.

"Like it? You bet, girl. Easy days. No big work parties. Just spread my legs and come three or four times a day. I loved it."

Lyzette looked at her open-mouthed.

"I was going to say hate it. Did you hate it."

"Hate it? That's crazy. Are you religious or something, Lyz? You let him touch you once, and you are never going back to your nun-ish ways. I have a feeling that there is a very passionate woman in you, waiting to come out. Look at how quickly you came in the practice session."

Lyzette blushed as she thought about how the women had coached her and showed her how to understand her body. Still, it was an important lesson if her new life revolved around her private parts. She considered it part of her education. It had been horribly embarrassing, though. The mortifying feeling when she felt the rush of orgasm for the first time, and knowing all the women had witnessed it, made her blush even now.

But she didn't expect to feel that way with the Markanor. He was a stranger. She couldn't let him touch those parts, ever.

She still thought that she had a choice.

Two days passed quickly, and Lyzette got anxious when the gossip passed through the slaves that the master had returned. She was asked to dress for a formal dinner. The master wanted to dine with her.

Lyzette nervously did up the front of her dress. It was crimson and had a tight bodice that stayed up with hooks. The corset pushed her breasts up into some incredible cleavage, of course.

The dress had a full skirt that draped all the way to the floor, covering her chunky heels that were red as well. It reminded her of a dress she had wished for back on Earth when she had been window shopping. Becoming a slave, however, was not part of her dream.

The fancy dress had frilly sleeves that tightened along her forearm. She was glad about the tight fit. Lyzette had been deathly afraid that her dress would have trailing sleeves that might trail through her soup. She didn't want to be humiliated again in front of her master. Raimey came and curled her hair, pinning it up in a way that made Lyzette look lovely.

When she felt ready, she made her way downstairs to the formal dinner room. There wasn't a long table like she had expected. It was big, but there were only two places set at one end. Mikael wasn't there when she walked in, so she adjusted her dress and waited, trying not to fidget.

"Lyzette." She heard his voice behind her and the feelings his voice evoked in her were surprising. She turned, smiled, and managed a graceful curtsy. She had practiced all day. Maureen had taught her.

"Hello," she said, politely.

"How have you been?" he said, and she took his arm the way Raimey had tutored her. He led her to the table, and a servant pulled out her chair for her.

"Fine," she said, feeling tongue-tied.