Chloë (13 page)

Chloë
found it amazing how hard one could push oneself, especially when there was
nothing else to do.  Honestly she had expected to spend an hour or two
sparring and then cool off and just be mellow for the rest of the day. 
Doing the same thing over and over again all day ought to have gotten dull
pretty quick, right?  Well, tiring it was even if it wasn’t dull: 
Heather was an excellent teacher and kept things moving.  They’d practice
throws and tumbles, courtesy of the futon for padding.  Then they shifted
to sparring and finally dance. 
Why dance? Is it just something in her
comfort zone just to pass the time? 
Looking back, the reasons for
dance were obvious: exercise without being boring, practicing coordination and,
most importantly, timing. 

With
no small amount of coaxing, Heather got Chloë to teach her what few dances she
knew from the palace at Bevrik III.  Chloë was terribly embarrassed;
inside half an hour, Heather was better at said dances than she was.  And
she had grown up with them.  Chloë just marveled at Heather’s natural
sense of rhythm and motion.

To
their humor, the main lights inside the apartment seemed to be on a
timer.  “Night” was soon upon them and they took the cue to clean
themselves up and
finally
relax.  The shower felt wonderful, but if
only the apartment had a tub…  Heather washed their clothes in the sink
and then hung them to dry.  Chloë was embarrassed to realize that the
kidnappers had provided neither with a change of clothes.  Heather was
just practical about it all and Chloë took comfort in Heather’s utilitarian
attitude.  Modesty gave way to practicality, and that was that.  She
only hoped that the kidnappers wouldn’t suddenly rush in on them.

That
concern was ill placed.  Night came and went with no interruption by the
kidnappers.  They woke, dressed and ate, and started up their routine from
the day before.  With one minor change:  Heather introduced Live
Steel.

“Here
take this,” offered Heather as she held her hand out and produced an elegant
short sword out of thin air.  “Teaching you to use Live Steel from first
principals would take months, but using an existing blade, freely given, acts
as a linchpin and makes this go at in a far more reasonable amount of
time.  It is yours to keep, and by the end of today, I hope to make sure
no one can ever take that away from you.”

Chloë
took the weapon from Heather gingerly and stared back at her wide eyed, “Um,
but if I have this, then what will you use?”

Heather
laughed as she held out her arms and slowly spun in circles.  As she did,
a waterfall of blue sparks rained down onto the floor of the cargo
container.  Clanging to the floor were a cornucopia of weapons large and
small: swords, axes, glaives, bows, crossbows, slings and spears.  They
all lay out on the floor around her as she smiled with an evil grin, “I have
spares!”  With a simple snap of her fingers the entire arsenal disappeared
in an instant: just a flash of blue and they were gone.  Not even a sound
on their departure.

“The
most useful aspect of Live Steel we are going to concentrate on is the
summoning and dismissal of the weapon.  Once the weapon is truly yours,
then people are going to be hard pressed to take it away from you; you can
always summon it back.  While it is possible to destroy ones’ connection
with a weapon, that is very hard to do and not a skill base we are likely to
encounter.”

Chloë
nodded as he head swam, “Uh, got it. Maybe…”

Heather
laughed and beamed, “You’ll get it.  Don’t worry!”

Chloë
smiled, that was the brightest laugh she had heard from Heather in two
days.  It made them both feel better.  “Then teach on!  We seem
to have made time for it!”

The
day pressed on and they cycled between their activities much like the day
before.  Chloë was unable to grasp control of the Live Steel blade their
first session, or even the second.  But as the day wore late and the call
of dinner started to wear on their stomachs, Chloë was finally able to summon
and dismiss her blade!

They
took that as a hint to call it a day and both were happy with the days’
accomplishments.  Heather started to cook dinner while Chloë sat about a task
of her own: sewing nightgowns out of the extra bed linens.  Heather
fabricated Chloë a needle by shaving down a tine on a fork.  Piercing the
end for the eye of the needle took some doing.  Well it might have been
easier and faster if she hadn’t been trying to cook at the same time! 
Needle fabricated, linens cut, edges unraveled for thread, Chloë sat about her
work.  She had been taught to embroider, not sew properly, but she made
good work of it none the less.  The garments were simple and far from perfect
but they appealed to both her sensibilities and it kept her busy and out of the
way of Heather cooking!  Food, shower, laundry and a change and they both
felt much more civilized.

“Tomorrow
we’ll start with sword basics,” began Heather as she sprawled on the edge of
the bed, letting her hair dry.  “The most common thing people get wrong
with hand weapons, is they strike too short.  You don’t want to hit the
surface of your target; you need to aim two inches or so
into
your
target or you will not strike firmly enough.  This is swordplay, it is
serious.  You aren’t there to give them paper cuts!”

“I
don’t know if I could actually ever kill a person,” grimaced Chloë.

“Maybe
not, but they don’t need to know that!”

Chloë
laughed, “True, very true!  A good stab in the arm or leg ought to let
them know to back off.”

Heather
nodded, “That and with a bit of practice and you should be able to cut through
more sincere things: locks, doors, far more than a bit of rope or sinew.”

Chloë
nodded but her confusion was still obvious, “Okay, once I
have
a sword
in my hand, how is it that it can cut through things like that?”

“Like
sinew?” grinned Heather.

It
was Chloë’s turn for a raspberry, “You know what I mean!”

“Okay,
let me see if I understand the question right: you are comfortable with a sword
sliding back and forth, from one dimension to another at your command, and the
thought of cutting off a lock with said sword is your hang-up?”

Chloë
laughed, “Well, when you put it that way, it is kind of preposterous.”

Heather
grinned, “Well, yes!  But to answer your question: I have no clue. 
You can ask my dad the next time we meet.  I can tell you this: the only
things that such a blade can’t cut through, with practice of course, is another
Live Steel blade or a wormhole.  That should tell you something.”

“So
what happens when you carry a Live Steel blade through a wormhole?  What
happens to my blade if we are in a starship and we go through a wormhole?”

“Not
a lot really, it will fold itself out and then back again.  On a starship
the effect will be a hiccup.  The only place where it would get weird is
if you were trying to throw a blade through a wormhole or gate.”

Chloë
grinned, “Outside of the Highlands, that seems unlikely.  So what of
armor?”

“Patience,
girl! That’s much harder.  Let’s get you to handle your sword properly
first.”

Chloë
grinned, “I think I can handle that.  Good night, Heather!”

“Goodnight,
Chloë!”  grinned Heather back.

Morning
came early enough and Heather set about making breakfast while Chloë sat
playing with her Live Steel blade.  She kept invoking it and dismissing
it, over and over again, gaining confidence and speed as she practiced.

“You
do that too many times and the mass of the sword will start to diminish. 
You don’t get to move things back and forth like that for free, you know,”
grinned Heather as she started to serve breakfast.

Chloë
looked aghast and quickly dismissed the blade. “Um… how many times do I have
left before I start hurting the blade?”

Heather
grinned broadly, “A hundred thousand or so!”

“You
fink!” laughed Chloë.  “Not happening any time soon!”

“Keep
practicing,” encouraged Heather.  “You are really starting to get the hang
of…”   Suddenly Heather clamped her eyes shut and almost doubled
over.  A quick catch from Chloë kept her from having to use the stove as
support.

“Are
you okay?”

“Yeah,
we just went through a wormhole.  Normally gates and things are no big
deal.  That just caught me off guard more than anything else,” Heather
tried to reassure Chloë.

“I
didn’t notice a thing.”

“Lucky
you,” countered Heather as she quickly downed two glasses of water in rapid
succession.  “The stale air is probably not helping my tummy either.”

“Is
something wrong with the oxygen scrubber?”

Heather
shook her head, “Don’t think so… the air is stale, not ‘bad.’  I’m just a
sucker for fresh air it seems.”

Chloë
nodded.  “Well, at least we are finally getting
somewhere
. 
I’m just worried where that might be.”

“Concerned,
not worried.  I would have been worried if I hadn’t taught you at least
the basics of Live Steel,” replied Heather as she started to regain her poise.

“So
let’s get on to the next lesson!  We don’t know when school is going to be
canceled!” grinned Chloë.

“Good
plan!  But first, breakfast!”

Practice
went well all morning. They were beginning to think they’d have another entire
day to themselves when the container seemed to shutter and moan.

“I
think the ship we are in is starting to decelerate.  Maybe prepping for a
landing,” speculated Chloë.

“Then
let’s shower and change right quick.  We don’t want to look out of sorts,
now do we?”  grinned Heather.  “Remember, whatever happens, try
waiting as long as possible before they find out you know Live Steel.  I’m
going to try to delay my own displays, but push come to shove…”

Chloë
nodded as she started to appreciate the seriousness ahead.  She quickly
changed subjects, “If we change now, won’t our clothes be all wet?”

“Isn’t
that what the oven is for?”  mused Heather.

“Just
don’t burn my clothes!”

Chloë
and Heather sat on the steps of their apartment and watched calmly as the
pressure door of the outer compartment opened.  Four Taiks entered and,
with one quick look at the two girls, started arguing amongst themselves.

“What’s
that all about?” asked Heather, thoroughly unable to follow the language at
hand.

“The
short one there is apparently the ship’s captain.  He’s more than a little
grumpy about us being cargo,” offered Chloë.  “Don’t feel bad, I can
barely understand them myself.  They have a most horrid backwater accent.”

No
small amount of pushing and yelling quickly escalated.  With the sudden
appearance of large sums of cash, frayed nerves were soon calmed.

“Great,
there is the moral high ground for you: the Captain wouldn’t stand for us being
part of the… entertainment industry, but he is fine with a good old fashioned
political kidnapping.”  Chloë rolled her eyes.  “I guess no-one likes
politicians no matter where you go…”

“Lucky
us,” replied Heather flatly.  Suddenly her fur churned. “Oh crap, I forgot
to hide the lock!  If they see it’s been cut smoothly, they’ll get
suspicious!”

Chloë
grinned and elbowed Heather lightly, “For once I’m ahead of you; I tossed the
pieces of the lock down the toilet.   Not likely they’ll want to look
for it there.”

Heather
snuck a quick smile to Chloë, “Sharp thinking, girl!”

The
Captain soon departed, counting his money, and the remaining three
entered.  The most sharply dressed of the trio nodded and addressed Chloë,
“I do apologize for the sorry state of your accommodations, Lady Chloë
Amsterval.  We will do our best to do better.  While we cannot
provide you the level of servants you have grown used to, at least you do have
one.”  He finished with a gesture at Heather.

Chloë
glared at the man and began speaking in the Old Tongue, “Are you well educated
at least?  Do you understand this tongue?”

The
man nodded and with some effort replied, “Yes, my Lady.  If you prefer, we
can converse in this language.”  His accent was thick, but his grammar was
clean; he had an air of culture about him.

“Good,
then you will start by apologizing to Lady Heather Stratford.  She is my
friend, not my servant.  Her father is the Baron of Threedales in the
Highlands.  He is but one of many enemies you have now cultivated.”

He
bowed in Heather’s direction, “My apologies on several levels, Lady
Heather.  It was not my intention to involve the Highlands in this
situation.”

“My
family offered Chloë sanctuary, so the involvement of the Highlands was
inevitable,” groused Heather diplomatically.

He
brightened, “Pardon me, but it is quite melodic to hear a Highlander speak the
Old Tongue as it was meant to be.”

“I’m
glad to be a source of your entertainment,” replied Heather drily.

“Not
entertainment, ma’am: enlightenment,” he offered back.  “Oh, where are my
manners? I am Sir Reinhardt of the Beyscones.”

“Well
that explains his education,” murmured Chloë.  The Beyscones…  a
small province there on Bervik III.  What were
they
doing involved
in this?  Chloë suddenly
really
wished she had known more about her
father’s politics.

“Your
manners,” began Heather with fire in her voice, “were bobbed, combed backwards
and burnt to a crisp when you had us drugged and then kidnapped us!”

“I
do, and most sincerely, apologize for that, Ladies.  But it was necessary
to get you out of there before rougher hands played their cards.”

“So
your brand of kidnapping is somehow better?” growled Heather.

Reinhardt
laughed, “Well my ladies, there are a great number of people interested in Lady
Chloë.  A great number, each with their own reasons and motivations.”

“So
what are your motivations?”  asked Chloë plainly.  “Are you here to
curry favor with my father?  Or am I to be a bargaining chip as you press
some political agenda against him?”

“My
motivations are,” began Reinhardt with a pause, “complicated.” 

“So
what is this guy,” asked Heather with an evil grin, “a court eunuch?”

Chloë
giggled to herself as she watched Reinhardt squirm at the suggestion. 

Reinhardt
regained his composure and offered with a smile, “Well, what I can be is a much
more obliging host.  Come, let us move you two lovely ladies to some more
suitable quarters.”

Chloë
looked at Heather as the pair stood.  “What’s the plan?” she whispered.

“Roll
with it, so long as we aren’t separated.  We need to find out where we are
and how bad the odds are before we try doing anything.”

Chloë
nodded as the pair approached the trio at the front of the cargo hold. 
Reinhardt bowed again before turning to lead the way.  They nodded civilly
and followed the man out of the container and across the long belly of the
cargo ship.  An airlock and an elevator later and they had descended to a
far more elaborate and festive complex of buildings on the surface of some
small moon.  The artificial gravity was at a comfortable enough level, if
not a little uneven across the complex.  From the brief view of the
outside that Chloë had glimpsed, she guessed the native gravity on whatever
distant rock this was had to be noticeably lower.  Probably a fourth or
less of normal gravity.  Much effort, power, and expense was being used to
make this outpost comfortable.

“I
apologize once again, Lady Heather, that I did not correctly know your
station.  Your room will be made more appropriate later today.  It
shares a room with the Lady Chloë.  Is that acceptable?”

“If
you want to apologize,” began Heather in a cheerful voice, “you can return us
to our home world.  If you then cut your own tail off, we’ll call it
even.”

Reinhardt
eyed Heather suspiciously, “A rather violent young lady are you?”

“Actually,
she’s normally all sunshine and roses,” offered Chloë.  “But Highland
girls are made of far sterner stuff than you are used to.  If you wanted
her to be cordial, polite, and nice, then maybe you shouldn’t have kidnapped
her.”

“It
was an error, I do confess.  It was supposed to be all neat and
tidy.  This is what I get for hiring out help; I should have conducted the
operation myself.  Live and learn.”

“You
better be learning very quickly…,” offered Heather with the cutest but most
sinister smile Chloë had ever seen.

Reinhardt
looked at Heather nervously again, “Um…  I’ve been told that Highland
ladies were… different…”

Heather
cocked her head and batted her eyelashes at Reinhardt.

His
ears flushed as he turned away, “
Mea culpa
.  I think I like you
better surly.”

“His
loss,” smirked Chloë as she gently elbowed Heather.

Reinhardt
ignored the girls as he led them to one of the more elegant buildings, “And
this, my dear ladies, will be your new dwelling.  Heather’s room will be
upgraded by dinner time.  I’m afraid you will find the windows bolted and
locked and there are guards at every door.  Come night time, you will find
the regular guards have been replaced by a unit of Shukurae warriors that I
have hired.  They have excellent night vision and are quite bribe
proof.  Please be good guests and try not to escape.”  His grin was
broad and triumphant.  “And oh, who do we have here?”

All
eyes turned to the pair that approached: one was a guard, not unlike all the
rest they had seen.  The second was Raymond, bound with shackles that
engulfed his forearms entirely.

“Well
it seems the palace guard who was following you didn’t fare so well either,”
gloated Reinhardt.

Raymond
hung his head in shame, “I’m sorry I failed you, my princess.”  Suddenly
his face contorted as he recognized Heather.  “Lady Heather!  You are
here too!  If your father…”

Heather
leaned forward and silenced Raymond by kissing him square on the lips, “Hush
silly boy.  Come by this evening; we’re going to be having a party.” 
She gestured to Reinhardt.  “Don’t worry, the sourpuss isn’t invited.”

Raymond
looked troubled, confused and embarrassed all at once.  He started to say
something, cutting himself off several times before settling on, “I’d be
delighted.”

Reinhardt
cocked his head, “I’m not sure that can be arranged.  But we will
see.  And now, my Ladies, enjoy your new home.  If things go well,
you should only be bothered by this quaint place for a week or so.”  He
opened the door and gestured the two inside.

Heather
and Chloë smiled as they entered the very elegant building.

“A
party?” asked Chloë with no small amount of curiosity.

“A
‘going away’ party!” replied Heather!