Tyra faces the Lords and changes the valley's future. Lady Katrina makes a proposal. Ketrick returns as Tyra's consort. Merton's time as a man comes to a close.

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The Legal Stuff: The Warrior from Batuk  © 2004, 2007 Aardvark
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 

 
Photo Credit: 3.bp.blogspot.com

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Chapter 21
 
 
My wounds had festered, and I had a fever that evening. Reyfer decided to treat me and call my physician rather than risk moving me on the rickety horse cart Turcote had procured. Lees’n arrived the next afternoon. A coach with a suspended carriage followed him a few hours later, and we left the next morning with Lees’n in attendance.

A few hours before we arrived, I’d recovered enough to look at my consort with a different sort of interest. He knew my needs well enough to proscribe a healthy dose of himself, which he administered with a peculiar passion:

“Majesty, the coach climbs the hill. Yum, yum, yum,” Lees’n described with an air of authority. He spoke from a superior position above me on our makeshift bed while he attacked my right breast, climbing its contours with tongue and mouth as I lay back panting, as an aroused hill ought.

“Majesty, the coach has found the top! Yum, yum, yum!”

I gasped, pleased at its arrival.

“Yes, Majesty, and so the coachman rides around the pink temple as it rises tall and proud; he is anxious to pay homage!” Bending to his task, he worshiped at the temple as its base heaved and quivered.

“Oh, Lees’n!”

Rapturous moments spent at the twin temples of the Queen were followed by excursions to dangerous sharp curves at my neck, then the rose gardens of my lips, and finally the soft shifting sands of my inner thighs.

“Majesty, I am desolate; the coach is nearing the end of its journey.”

I stared at him, frantic. My passage was hungry and feverish, and it could be unforgiving in its demands. “Lees’n, continue. Roll the wheels; whip the horses. Your sovereign needs a ride!”

“No, Majesty,” he said sorrowfully. “The fare has been paid; the tour concluded. All that remains is the docking.”

His voice remained unreasonably calm, but his fingers showed me the intended terminus, sending shivers through that tender nodule between my upper folds. My hips rose on their own accord, affording the coach easy access to its final rest. I sighed as it found its way safely home.

“Majesty, the way is tight and dark! It rolls, it moves! The floor is wet and slippery. Be patient, for this docking may take some time.”

I laughed, delighted, and held on. “Oh! Get it right,” I insisted. “Pay attention to detail. Time is no factor. Perfection, Lees’n, perfection!”

My desire to yield became at long last overwhelming and I bucked and heaved, rolling sinuously with each effort. I finally shuddered, clamping the coachman tightly, whereupon he proclaimed his satisfaction with a cheerful series of hot spurts ending with a tapering sigh, later kissing me, careful to avoid pressing my abused stomach.

It wasn’t the all-consuming glow of a complete submission, but it would do. He'd taken me like a freewoman for the first time. I wondered why until I realized that Elli was free; and he would have made love to her like that. I decided to take it as a compliment.

“Majesty. You should sleep now,” he said seriously. “You need your rest.”

“Yes,” I said drowsily, and slept all the way back to the palace.

***

Lees’n’s gentle hand took my shoulder at the palace gate. “Majesty, wake up. We’re back.”

I rose to a sitting position from the bed, taking care not to disturb my new dressings. Lees’n opened the curtains for me. Under the bright light of midday, just outside the entrance to the main building, stood a cluster of about two dozen nobles and noblewomen. Nikolai and Franco were among them, as well as all the castle lords and Lady Katrina. They wore a bleak countenance, as well they might: they must have heard something from the guards when they'd returned for help.

To their left stood my own officials, Selmin, Kernel, and Gherome. They were as gloomy as the rest, like three crows at a funeral.

“I’ll need your help to look strong,” I told Lees’n. “I can’t be carried in.”

“I’ll assist you.” He opened the door of the coach, climbed out, and swung me to the ground. The pain in my leg was bad, as the blood swelled to my injury, but bearable. With my face swollen on one side, and without a proper bath in two days, I must have made a sorry sight.

I touched my physician’s arm as he made to help me inside. “A moment, Lees’n.” He complied, pausing to let me speak. “I’ll have a meeting in the audience chamber with the family and castle heads in two hours. All questions will be answered then. In the meantime, enjoy the courtesy of the palace.”

Most scattered, but Franco and Katrina followed me to the door.

“Majesty, are you all right? I’ve heard some terrible things,” Franco said. He winced as he had a closer look at my face, and took in the thick bandages beneath my dress, all the while managing to ignore my consort.

“Thank you, Franco. I’ll be all right now. It wasn’t pleasant, but the man who did this to me resides in a hot place. I’ll tell you all I know at the meeting.”

“Very well, Dana. I’ll see you then.” He moved off, but not before passing Lees’n a disapproving glance.

I smiled at Katrina, although the pain was getting worse the longer I remained on my feet. “What can I do for you?”

“Majesty, I wanted to apologize for my behavior at the last meeting.” She lowered her head. “I implied that you would use trickery to keep the throne. I was wrong.”

“It was a natural question. I never took offense.”

“Thank you, Majesty.” She said in a softer voice, “I know something of what happened. I thought you might want to talk about it.”

My throat tightened too much to speak, but I nodded gratefully. Ketrick and my father comprehended torture, but neither would have been comfortable discussing it with me now, and neither could have understood the terror of a woman helpless in the hands of a maniac.

***

I made it to the infirmary, bracing myself on my consort's shoulder. There, Lees'n and Beti helped me to an operating table, where they redressed my wounds, and Sherry washed my hair while Teresti hurriedly modified a dress to accommodate the bandages around my stomach. While they were occupied, I rehearsed in my mind what I was going to say for the most important audience of my life. The lords would not like it. Dreams of conquest and rule for half of the valley would die today if I succeeded, and there was still the possibility that a spy had escaped to provide damning witness against me, or something unknown could surface to bring down our careful construct of lies.

With that happy thought came a discreet knock on the door. Beti left my side to find out who it was while Lees’n covered my waist and breasts with towels.

“Majesty, it’s Chief of Staff Kernul. He would like to speak with you.”

He wouldn't have come if it weren't important. “Come in, Kernul.”

Kernul entered, his face as expressionless as carved oak, holding a black leather folder in his hand. Its inlay was a gold eagle with its talons outstretched, and it bore stamped seals.

“Majesty,” he said, “this diplomatic pouch arrived early this morning from Batuk. You should read the contents before your meeting.”

I did, holding the single sheet over my head. It was all I could do to keep from breaking into smiles and laughter.

At the appointed time, I entered the audience chamber from the rear. Lees’n walked with me to the throne in case I required him, but I needed no more than a touch when I ascended the dais and eased onto the throne. My ministers stood to the left and right of me, with a new addition, Praule, a ferret of a man, normally the third in the nearly defunct Spy department behind Thermin and Donal.

I nodded to them all. “Lords and Lady, we have a problem in Batuk.”

It was a wonderful story. I stuck to the truth as much as possible, telling them of the dead couriers, Gar, the deceased spymaster, the details of reestablishing the network, finding the administrator missing and the conclusions Thermin had taken from that.

From there, I departed somewhat:

“Thermin wasn’t sure. We returned to Batuk a few hours after we had left.” Leaning forward as far as my wounds would allow me, I said, “Lords, Lady, we found disaster. We found our new spymaster’s shop suspiciously dark and locked. We went to check on the members of his cell and discovered two dead and one missing. I waited outside, across the street of the shop, waiting in case someone returned while Thermin looked for the last cell member, a man named Decker. Decker spotted me in the darkness and dropped a loop over my neck.

“I woke in a basement with a knife through my leg. He questioned me, demanding to know why I had returned. I told him I was alone and was waiting for the new spymaster to return; that I was to be a courier. I think he believed me, but it amused him to give me pain, and it became clear that I was to die. As he carved his name into my stomach, he talked. He told me that he had already killed the members of his cell. He said that he had killed the old spymaster and administrator, and decided to betray Tulem for an enormous sum of gold.”

I closed my eyes, and let my face ease, as if I were retreating from the memory of horrible events to enter a private garden, or wherever women are supposed to go for spiritual replenishment. Opening my eyes, I took stock: Nikolai stood impassive and cold. Franco clenched his fists and burned with fury. The other castle lords were a mix; and Katrina covered her mouth with her hand.

“Of course, I managed to escape,” I said, “else I would not be here.”

“Thermin did not rescue you, Majesty?” Nikolai asked.

“Not then.” I lifted my hand, still covered in bandages. “Decker let his guard down for a moment. I thrust my hand into his mouth and triggering his poison tooth. I managed to crawl to the street in the dark. Some citizens found me and brought me to a physician who treated my wounds.

“After I disappeared, Thermin tried to warn the other cells, but they were being killed off at the same time. He returned, searched for me, and found me the next morning. They must have spotted him because when we tried to leave Batuk, they pursued him. No one knew my face, so he left me alone at the gate and led them away from me. I saw brave Thermin fall, an arrow in his back.”

I wore the slave pose “sorrow” to honor the ideal mundane, a fallen hero and loyal servant to the end, then re-addressed my audience: “That is the way I left Batuk, Lords and Lady, in complete disarray. And just this morning, not long after I arrived, came a missive from Batuk.” I nodded to Kernul, who removed a dark red folder, thick with seals and inlaid gold. He opened it and began to read:

From Blut t’Oh, Senior Administrator, speaking for the Batuk High Council:

Greetings, Queen Dana of Tulem, and congratulations on your ascension. The High Council and the citizens of Batuk wish you a long and prosperous reign.

You may be interested to know that Batuk has recently executed a den of spies. I provide a list of the names they used in Batuk on the principal that information is often useful:

With the beginning of a new reign brings hope that the border conflict will soon be ended and Ashtar’s peace will once again settle to smother our differences.

With all our considerable regard, I am,

Blut t’Oh

I turned to Praule, who had been weeping for his dead compatriots as Kernul went through the list of names.

“Praule,” I said quietly, “is that list accurate?”

He cleared his throat with an effort and bowed uneasily. “Majesty, it is.”

“So…” I gazed at my Lords, all cold and tense, anxious and furious. To be thwarted at the last moment by an opponent whom they had, while not exactly held in contempt, had considered vastly inferior, was a cruel blow. Yet, someone had to say the words, and I did, with infinite satisfaction, my heart pounding so proudly and hard that I wondered that it didn’t burst my chest:

“The war with Batuk is over.”

“No!” cried Nikolai, holding his fists before his face.

I pitied him little. Without a doubt, he’d been thinking how he would rule my people, and how they would serve him.

“There must be another way,” he cried. “If we attack now, we can still catch them off-guard, overwhelm them quickly…”

“Of course, we could attack now,” I responded reasonably. I twisted to my left as far as I could without risk of further injury. “War Leader Prator, what are our chances for victory?”

“Poor, Majesty. We could still take the city with difficulty, but if the Fortress is secure then it becomes a very long siege where they can raid us at will and we can’t get to them. We never planned on a siege; our levies were only supposed to be retained for a few months. Their farms and shops would remain idle for a year or more.”

I tapped my staff against the throne. “The reason for this war was to solve a vexing problem of too many lords in the valley with too little authority. I believe I have a solution.”

I told them their future.

“No!” shouted Nikolai.

“Impossible. Nobility does not have a price,” Franco said.

“Really? I disagree. The Borodins will provide a third of the funds. The Giovannis will provide a third and the crown, in its generosity, will provide the rest. The starting price for a lord to leave Tulem will be five hundred golds. We will increase the amount fifty golds a month until a lord decides to leave. Then we will do it again until we reach our goal.”

“Majesty, what is our goal?” Katrina asked, her arms crossed in front of her.

“To have fifty lords in the valley with the vast majority of departing lords coming from the Giovanni side. That should give rough parity to both families.”

“And what will become of the ladies? There are nearly one hundred in Tulem,” she asked.

“Suitable dowries will be given to any adventurous enough to marry outside the valley.”

She started in surprise, but settled back to think about it.

“I don’t like this, Majesty,” said Franco, shaking his head. “A natural ruler, a noble, cannot be unmade.”

I didn’t remind him of Gina, who would be, by now, pleasing a master in collar and slave tunic -- or less. “Anyone leaving will be very wealthy. If he’s truly a noble, then he will find a way to build his own legacy.”

“But … The costs…” Nikolai said.

“Do you know how much gold it takes to feed fifteen thousand levies?” I asked. “Over time this will save money. I’m sending all my levies home immediately.”

Nikolai snapped his head around. “There was an agreement, Majesty. The Borodins were to have Batuk to rule.”

“A pity, but circumstances have determined another course.”

Nikolai slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead and ground away, as if to destroy a nightmare. “Batuk cannot win,” he mumbled, his face wan. “We are stronger than they. Our honor is at stake.”

“I grieve for your lost city, Nikolai, but I do not go to war to lose. It’s finished.”

Franco stepped slowly to his side, and clamped a bracing hand to Nikolai’s shoulder. “You must admit that we can’t attack Batuk if they are prepared for us. Come, Nikolai, let’s make the best of it. You still have your castles. Surely after spilling blood together, Borodins and Giovannis can trust each other -- for a while, anyway.”

Nikolai shrugged off the arm and glared at me. “So, the agreement is finished; the Borodins stay in the valley. Then all parts of the agreement are void. The alternating line of succession is reinstated and the next King will be a Borodin.”

Franco looked to be in shock. He had never wanted to be King when he stood far back on the list, but when one is actually next in line to the crown, the right, formerly undesired, can become dear. I liked Franco more than Nikolai, but I had no choice, nor did I care extremely as long as Batuk was saved.

“You’re correct, Nikolai. All returns to the way it was. As head of the Borodins, you are next in line for the crown.”

The rest of the audience went well enough. Nikolai bowed correctly and uttered the proper phrases, but I didn’t trust his tranquil veneer. There is little worse than to have a dream snatched away in the final hour. Nikolai had been a pair of weeks away from a kingship. Now he was once again a vassal to a serum girl.

For all his buried frustration, Nikolai was predictable. Franco was the odd one. From him, I was used to a range of glances, from concern to lust. I was accustomed to it by now; it quickened my natural slave heart to be desired, even as queen, I’d catch myself posing occasionally, but, through side-glances, I perceived in Franco a new willingness to appraise me in disconcerting ways -- not disrespectful, exactly, more as if I were being weighed and measured.

***

Wanda announced Katrina an hour after the meeting was over. The dressings around my stomach made me warm, and I was naked. I hobbled to my feet, and wrapped a heavy purple robe over my body, cinching it with a thick white belt. I nodded to Wanda to let her in.

Her well-remembered smile lit the room. Like all Borodins, she was blonde with blue eyes. At my height, she was a bit taller than most, comfortable as an aristocrat and lady, but she was more than that when necessary, as she had shown that night we'd attacked the palace. She had changed for her meeting with me, and wore a dress of gray, so soft and shiny it might have been silver, with the broad blue hem of a castle ruler that set off her eyes.

Despite her offer to confide in her, I had the impression that I was still on probation, which was still more than I could say for most of the noblewomen. It occurred to me that practically the only woman in the valley I could remotely call friend was my “sister” Daphne, and that was based on a lukewarm relationship Drago had.

“Katrina, I’m glad you could come.”

She smiled. “I couldn’t turn down the invitation of the Queen, Majesty. Besides, it’s well known that the finest wines are in the palace.”

“After what we’ve been through, please call me Dana, at least in private. I haven’t been here long enough to go through the wine cellar, but I like Tiresian.”

“Tiresian is a good choice, Dana. I’d enjoy a glass or two.”

“As would I.” Nodding to Wanda, she left to comply. I walked stiff-legged to my favored place by the balcony overlooking the city and sank into a thick chair, bracing my injured leg on a footstool and smoothing out my robe with a sigh.

“Dana, you're in pain.”

“It’s not so bad as long as I don’t move around too much, and Lees’n assures me that he can remove the scars. In a few months, it will be like it had never happened.”

Wanda returned with a bottle and two glasses, and poured for us. We each took a sip before she spoke again.

“The physical scars may be gone, but those in your head won’t be dealt with so easily; you wouldn’t have taken me up on my offer otherwise.” She pulled a chair closer and sat forward, facing me, hands under her chin and light blue eyes concentrating on me. “Tell me what happened, Dana.”

Even warriors sometimes have to share the horror of war, but this was a first. Katrina wasn't a warrior, but she and I had seen death together. If she hadn’t killed anyone, she had been a part of the battle for the palace. That helped. But most of all, as I relived my desperation, and wept, I felt that she would understand what bothered me most, being helpless in the hands of men. I hated being weak! I used to be strong, and now I was soft and pretty. She listening sympathetically, and wiped a few tears away with an embroidered handkerchief when I finished.

“You're extremely fortunate that you killed him, you know. It means that you'll have fewer bad dreams. Really, you’re lucky just to survive. If he had simply wanted to kill you it would have been easy.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s over, Dana, and you're still here. Most women learn early on to leave the dangerous, violent things to men; it’s what they do best.”

“I know. Compared to any healthy man, I’m weak; I have to look at every man as a potential master -- in a manner of speaking.”

She took a sip of her wine, regarding me as I lay back. “Dana, may I give you some advice?”

“Please.”

“You’re confused. Women are naturally pleased to be women. We accept the role that life has chosen for us. Men fight, build cities, do heavy work, protect us, and, on occasion, please us. They are uniquely designed to do these things so that we don’t have to. We pay a small price deferring to them sometimes, really, showing them respect for what they do. In return, men are bound by custom to give us our due and to provide for our needs. If you are a woman, then learn what it means to be a woman.”

“I’m the Queen. I can’t afford to be a woman.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Even in my castle, I’ve had to confront angry men and make decisions most women never face. I have a capable chief of staff who does most of it, and if he doesn’t do the job, then I will choose another. I have my duty to the castle and take my responsibilities seriously, but I’d gladly give up my castle to be the wife of a fine, brave, nobleman who could run it as well or better than I. A Queen can be lonely. Consorts are well and good, I suppose, but you know deep down that they are your inferiors.”

Thoughts of being married to Ketrick swept away my dark reflections. It was certain who would be dominant in that relationship, as well as who would protect whom. I wouldn’t have minded being his wife and lady, granting him the lead -- well, in most things, anyway. I imagined his strong arms around me, and my nipples formed hard cones, only the thick cloth of my robe keeping me from being embarrassed.

“It’s possible that I might find a man like that, but no ordinary man would do.”

Her smile became a glow, and she reached out and poked my arm. “Of course, the man must be worthy and to your tastes, but you see the advantages.”

“Someday. So far, my consort pleases me very well, and I have things I must do before I permit any thoughts of ceding power to a man.”

“Perfectly understandable, but when that time comes, will you be able to give up your ego, built up so high as Queen, to a man?”

“To the right man. I’ve done it before. There’s something I didn’t tell the lords at the audience.” I explained my role as a spy in Batuk under Thermin’s authority.

“You let a mundane tell you what to do?” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock.

“A queen’s obligation is to her city, and she who overrules her spymaster doing his job is a fool. You'd better re-think what a mundane is, Katrina. When ladies marry outside Tulem they are likely to marry mundanes.”

“Truth,” she said sadly. “Is it true that mundanes outside Tulem are different from our own?”

“As hard as it is to believe, most cities don’t recognize that Tulem’s nobility are self-evidently superior to their own citizens. I’ve seen men in Batuk that seemed as strong and respected as any noble here. I lay with Thermin when I needed it, and, truth be told, the twyll of a mundane feels much the same as a nobleman’s when he is making you squirm in the silks.”

“Goddess!” she blushed.

“I’m sorry. Don’t think about squirming, and try not to think of being penetrated for hours. Above all, you should not consider a man’s hands at your breasts, or his lips and tongue between…”

“Majesty!” she squealed, holding her hands over her ears.

I smiled. Her face was a shade darker and her forehead glowed with a patina of moisture, although it was not warm.

“More wine?” I suggested.

Her face warred between a severe frown and laughter. Eventually she compromised, and she exhaled slowly through pursed lips. “Dana, your language is atrocious! You, of all people, must watch your mouth. Your kingdom is secure; you are safe from overthrow. It’s time you acted as the Queen. With lack of respect goes lack of authority.” She gave me a look full of self-assurance and nodded firmly.

“But…” But she was right, and I had promised my father. “I’ll try harder.”

“Thank you. Might I speak to you of rule? I’ve ruled for a shorter time and certainly with fewer consequences, but I’m at least sixty years older than you are, and all of those years were lived, not coincidently, as a woman.”

“Go ahead.”

Taking another sip of wine, she set the glass to the side and shifted forward.

“A ruler, man or woman, rules from respect, but respect for each is won differently. A man who rules like a woman is effeminate. Neither men nor women could respect him, for it is not in the tradition, nor is it natural for men to behave like flower-sniffing, nurturing creatures. Men would despise him for being weak and would hesitate to follow him. Women would be suspicious, for what use is a man without the strength to lead and defend us?”

She shuddered and made an expression of distaste. I concealed a smile behind my hand; it seemed that she had taught children at one time.

“A woman who tries to rule like a man is seen as a hypocrite. Men have rituals of violence, and a successful man is respected for his personal bravery. A woman, physically weaker, and having been protected from harm all her life, doesn’t have the authority of the male tradition. Her armies might be respected, but never she -- not in the same way. Men are not pleased to follow a woman who pretends to be a man, and women look upon such a woman uneasily, as she threatens the natural order.”

“How can a woman be a strong ruler if she can’t rule from strength?”

She smiled broadly, with warmth and satisfaction, “Dana, a woman rules from the inside out, bringing her castle or city within herself, becoming a part of it. She is uniquely qualified to do this, for a woman feels the world around her as part of herself, whereas a man tends to think of the world as his playground with him in the center. When she rules well, she becomes a conduit for her city. She’s a caretaker, or mother, doing what’s right for her child.

“Her advisors are extensions of herself. She relies on them as a woman would a strong man. When she speaks, she is the symbol of the city proclaiming the city’s will. A man speaks as himself, as the ruler of the city. It’s my opinion that both ways are valid. Give me a man’s strength and decisiveness during a time of war or turbulence. Give me a woman’s care and patience during a time of peace. But neither a man nor woman can rule well if he or she is not respected, and the ways of respect, like those of rule, vary by sex: a man gains respect by being a strong, honorable man; a woman, by being a lady.

“You’ve been treading a treacherous course since you came to power,” she said, looking at me sternly. “It’s a miracle that you’ve survived. What on Zhor was in your mind when you decided to attack the King? Challenge a man to combat? Killing Marco, and this latest stunt -- were you insane?”

I was sure she had taught children now; I shifted in the chair as if I had been caught napping.

“I had reasons for all of that. Well, maybe not challenging the King -- that might have been insanity -- but for the rest. Would you believe me if I said that I have no intention ever again of doing that kind of thing?”

She nodded slowly after some reflection. “Possibly. This last episode may have cured you.”

“I promise not to do it again. I’ll even swear to it.” I raised my left hand and made a motion across it.

“Ah!” She pointed. “And that’s another thing. A woman does not cut her palm to…” She laughed when she saw my face. “Stop teasing me, Dana! This is serious. Oh!” She put her head in her hands and shook it slowly back and forth.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’d forgotten about the first time you cut your palm. Goddess, you were even abducted.” She sighed. “Your reputation is in tatters -- at least among the ladies -- although the men love you for the moment. You seem to meet their adolescent ideal of some mythical warrior-woman,” she said with disgust.

I thought of myself as a warrior-woman, beautiful, able to defeat men with a sword or spear, and being taken by a lusty warrior in a torrid frenzy after the heat of battle. It was a grand picture, but warriors would never accept me as one of their own. A woman like that belonged in a man’s dream of someone he’d like wrestle to the ground and force to admit her female self. Decker had taught me reality.

“I’m not a warrior-woman. Men are bigger, faster, and stronger than I am.”

She took my hand and squeezed it. “Yes, true for all of us, and I’m glad of the inequity, for it relieves us of the burden of having to fight them.” Katrina retrieved her near-empty glass and glanced over the top. “You know, some of the ladies are worried that you might marry them off just to get them out of the valley.”

“Wha...? That was fast. I thought I was very clear. It’s voluntary.”

“They don’t know you. Rumors are starting.”

“By the Gods,” I mumbled under my breath. “Well this is no rumor. The valley will provide a one hundred golds dowry for each lady that leaves.”

“The lords are getting at least five hundred. Are ladies worth so much less?”

“A lord must provide for himself and his family, while a lady might recover her dowry and remarry. She might also return to her family after a poor marriage; a lord could not.”

“Hmm. If that’s the case, then it's a reasonable offer.” She tilted her head to the side and considered me for a moment. “Have you thought of how you are going to find husbands for them?”

Me, as a matchmaker? It was all I could do not to laugh. “Why not invite all the single noblewomen to the palace? We’d have lunch together and afterwards I’d tell them all about the dowry to help find them husbands. That should stop the rumors, too.”

“Oh, that would be a disaster! Ladies must be brought around slowly to the idea of marrying outside the valley. They are not men, ready to rut and propagate anywhere.” She extracted a fan from a hidden pocket, snapped it open and started a breeze.

This is absurd. “Katrina, curb your indignation for a moment. I only want to speak with them directly and allay their fears, if they have any. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s doomed from the start. What you are proposing is radical. You simply won’t be able to convince a group of more than fifty women who don’t know you except through reports of your appalling behavior. The very attempt would make your idea scandalous, and once that happens ...” She swept her wrist causally. “... poof! Your pretty innovation will have all the charm of a dead parakeet.”

“Ah, yes, my reputation again. Assuming for the moment that ladies make the sign of Ashtar at the mention of my name, how could I possibly help anyone find a husband?”

“I can help you with your reputation by passing on a good word about you. Naturally, my reputation is spotless.” She looked at me significantly and waited.

“Thank you?” I ventured. “I’ll try not to soil your spotless reputation with my appalling behavior?”

“Oh, Dana!” she laughed. “Normally, the Queen sets the standards for the ladies. As a serum girl, that is likely impossible, although you could achieve a measure of trust. I’ll be with you at first to assure them that it is all quite decent and honorable. But ladies who have lost their husbands and fathers need strong reassurance; and you are the only one who has the power to field suitable men and convince reluctant fathers to allow their daughters to visit other cities and have men visit ours. This will not be easy; it will not work in a large meeting, but only in small groups, or even one lady at a time.”

Anything to get this moving. “I’ll right, Katrina, I’ll try it.”

She smiled beautifully. “Dana, you are kind. Most kings would take those women without parents under his royal wing, and marry them off at leisure to his advantage. When I first heard what you proposed, I was shocked, but I now understand your intent. You actually believe in marrying for love. You must tell me: is this because you are a woman now?”

“I want for them what I want for myself. You know, Katrina, if you became a man for a time, you might understand men more than just as creatures created to serve women’s needs.”

She shivered. “Fortunately, there’s no chance of me becoming one. I’m not saying that men were created to serve our needs, exactly, just that if you allow them to be themselves, they usually do -- as being ourselves, we serve theirs. And why should I try to understand a man, or he, me? The attempt would be imperfect; we’d only confuse each other.”

“Perhaps you’re right. But what will happen when you fall in love? I doubt you’ll be so emotionally uninvolved.”

“I don’t know,” she said sadly. “I’ve never really been in love. You know the way the nobility marries; you almost married Alanna and you despised each other. I suppose that I’m as foolishly romantic as you, for I, too, want the ladies to find the right man and not merely the right marriage. Why don’t you come to my castle around lunch the day after tomorrow? I have ten unmarried ladies within my walls, four of them without immediate family. We can start with them.”

“You want me to be open and direct, let them get to know me?”

“Goddess, no. You’ll need to be a lady to do this well. They need a reason to look up to you. Violence, bluster, and obscenities will not carry the day.”

I poured a glass for both of us and handed one to her. Raising my glass, I declared, “Violence, bluster, and obscenities are behind me! For Tulem, and for the sake of the women, I will become more of a lady.”

She nodded in approval. “Queen Dana, a lady by any measure!” We touched our glasses and drank. I remembered at the last second not to drink it in one gulp.

***

“No! No!” I cried.

“Hah!” laughed my abductor, beating his chest above me on the bed. “I will bring you home, my sweet little rosebud. I have stolen you from your father and killed your brother. You are mine now and forever! Hah!”

I wept. Stripped, tied at all four corners, and soon to be branded, all I could do was admire the strength of the man who was to be my master. Still, I had to try to get away.

“Master, please release me! I am a freewoman. I’m sorry for teasing you in the market. Truly, you do know melons and your twyll is indeed much bigger than that cucumber!”

He lowered himself to just above me, his goatee near to tickling my hot, fevered breasts. His grin was disconcerting.

“Too late. Observe how you yield to me and become your true self.” He whipped out a long pink feather from somewhere and flashed it before my face.

My eyes went wide in horror and I recoiled, thrashing my limbs about in panic.

“No!”

He threw back his head and chortled at my dismay. “Oh ho! You resist me. It will avail you naught. Lo! Your juices will run like rivers of succulent nectar; your love button will present itself, quivering, a taut beacon for my attention; your breasts will cry and dance under my incredibly knowledgeable and talented fingers; your saer will speak my name in understated moans.”

As I pondered my terrible fate, he lowered the feather of my destruction slowly, pulling it over heaving hillocks and anxious depressions until he found my gate, already trembling and leaking promise. My will waning rapidly, I could only lift my head and plead with him through eyes already streaming tears of possibly misplaced joy.

“Please! Stop! Please! Stop!” I cried, but there was no give in this powerful force of prime manhood.

After reducing my inner thighs to whining masses of frustrated meat, the feather finally licked my inner parts, forcing me to wail goodbye to my father, mother, and pet bird, Jennifer. I would be a slave forever to this most unforgiving of masters. “Yes! Oh, yes. I’m a natural slave,” I wept. “Master, please take me like the lowest slut in Tulem or elsewhere!”

His face appeared, grinning intriguingly. “No, little Dana, for I have decided to call you Dana after the Queen in Tulem as punishment for something as yet unnamed, I have special plans for you. You will be my love slave, for we are obviously compatible.”

“Thank you, Master!” I would have hugged him except that I was still firmly tied.

“No thanks necessary, Dana,” he said softly, stroking my hair. “Some things simply are the way they are -- for some reason.”

I couldn’t deny it. “Release me, Master. I would like to please you.”

He shrugged. “All right,” he said, and cut my bonds.

A few minutes later, just as his eyes were rolling, he stopped me, pushing me back. “My turn, Dana.” And then he took me in earnest. An hour later, at the tail end of a wave of powerful slave orgasms that brought me very close to my female core, his hot essence exploded inside me.

I reached to pull him closer, but he extended his arms. He stopped and looked down at me for a while, not speaking. He brushed my hair once more, caressed my cheek, and kissed me tenderly, more like a man might to a lover than a slave.

“Truly, Dana, you are beautiful. I almost wish…” he said in a whisper.

I looked at him quizzically. “Master?”

“Go to sleep, Dana,” he said, kissing me again.

Snuggling against his side, I replied, “Yes, Master.”

When I awoke with the morning light, Lees’n was already awake. His warm brown eyes gazed at me sadly; his hand stroked my hair. It was a moment I’d have cherished at any other time.

“It’s all right, Lees’n,” I said quietly. “I know you miss her. I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

I sighed. The title was like a wall sliding into place between us. “Is there something I can do for you, some favor?”

“No, Majesty. Anything you give me would be like payment.”

I’d known he wouldn’t demean what we had, and the words struck deep, filling me with pride -- for both of us.

“Then tell Elli, from me, that she is a very lucky woman.”

He grinned. “I’ll do that.”

Ketrick returned to Tulem two days later, or rather, “Nestor” did. The guards at Tulem’s outer gate sent a messenger to the palace on his arrival. Wanda and I met him in the evening just outside the northeast palace gate in front of the guards and thanked him for his service. I handed him a small sack of coins as a token of my appreciation and dismissed him. “Nestor” promptly went into a dimly lit tavern on the sometimes unruly south side of the city, made himself as drunk as a southern monkey, bragged sloppily about his new wealth from the Queen and disappeared forever.

In the early afternoon, I left Gerhart and Zhok outside The Queen’s Cup and ascended the backstairs slowly, my left leg still being stiff. My hands shook as they reached for the door. I rapped a few times and Ketrick answered the door himself. I searched his face, satisfying myself that it was really him. He looked the same, with the same confident grin and rugged handsome features. I waved to my guards that everything was fine then crossed the threshold. Two seconds later I was in his arms, crying like some lovesick girl. I didn’t care. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

“Careful, Tyra, you’ll tear your wounds open.”

“I’ll be careful. Gods, I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you.” He gazed down on me with those dark eyes, and seeing the fire inside made me warm. “So, you stopped the war. I saw some of the troops leaving for their farms outside the gate as I arrived.”

“I had something to do with it, but we stopped it, you and I -- along with my father and the men of Eagles,” I said with some pride.

“I’d be glad to talk to you about it, but I’d rather brol you first.”

“Men. Always thinking with their twylls,” I scoffed, but I was already wet.

My words did not deter him, for he picked me up and carried me away, heading towards his room. “Life is simple, Tyra,” he explained on the way. “When a man wants a woman, he takes her. Both are happier for it. I admit; it does tend to work better with slaves.”

“I can see how that might be true.”

“By the way, Tisa did what you told her. You are free, and I am divorced.”

"As easy as that? She didn't give you any trouble ... there was no hesitation, no second thoughts?"

"Who knows what thoughts form in a freewoman's mind? All I know is that she cooperated fully. There was no trouble at all."

I laughed in joy. “Thank the Gods!”

He was more careful than normal, but he took me like Tyra, freewoman. I gave him myself freely without holding back. Lying in his arms afterwards, I longed to say the words in my heart, but I could wait. There was something on his mind, something important that he had to work through, and I knew enough about men to let him tell me when he was ready.

But there was something I had to ask him that couldn’t wait, and to my delight, he agreed. Late that afternoon, I informed my Chief of Staff and my personal guards that Ketrick was my new consort. That night I left the palace with blond hair and mundane clothes with orders for the guards to stay away, knowing that this was one of the last nights I could get away with such a simple disguise before my face became too recognizable.

I walked out the gate slowly and painfully, making it a block before Ketrick joined me. We walked the rest of the way with my arm on his shoulder to a small restaurant just off the main street that smelled of sharp spices. The sign on the arch façade, proclaimed it to be Glint’s Spicy Hot.

We arrived in a tweener hour, after dinner but before the late crowd. A woman with short brown hair in an apron, from their banter, the proprietor’s wife, showed us to the back booth.

She took our order without comment, but angled her head towards me just before she left, as if I were an acquaintance she couldn’t quite place. A minute later, heavily spiced fish and beef slapped the grill, and soon, mouth-watering smells of dinner pervaded the small establishment.

I sat back, arms draped over the backing, and smiled, relishing our freedom. There was no penalty here, no death or torture if either of us were recognized.

“You haven’t told me yet how you stopped the war,” he prompted.

“The delay in the telling was your fault. I’m bribing the nobility to leave. Reducing the numbers of nobles in the valley will get rid of the original cause of the war.” I went on to explain the details and the plans to marry-off nearly fifty women.

“Impressive. Do the Borodins support this? Sometimes it isn’t so easy for a man to relinquish his dreams of power.”

“Nikolai is a concern. I had to make him next in line for the crown, but with Batuk warned and the nobles departing, I see no chance of him attacking Batuk when I leave Tulem.”

“True. Why should he? He has a kingdom waiting for him right here. All he has to do is wait, or get rid of you if he’s impatient.”

“I know,” I said, chewing on my lip. “I don’t know how far I can trust him.”

“As consort to the Queen, I’ll do what I can to protect you, of course.”

My heart fluttered to hear the words. I reached across the table and laid my hand over his larger one. “But what are you protecting, Ketrick? Am I an investment, or, perhaps, something ... more?” I smiled hopefully.

He rolled his eyes. “Freewomen, always wanting you to explain how you ‘feel’ about them. Given an infatuated man’s propensity to give every word he utters to a freewoman the weight of an oath, all too often his words are used by the woman as a bar to pry commitments from him. This strategy can lead the hapless male down a path of her choosing, needing only a few explanations of how he feels from time to time to make the appropriate fine adjustments.”

“Horsesh…” I winced. I was trying to cut down, damn it. “Nonsense! You haven’t been a hapless male for centuries. I’d just like to hear something…” I smiled, recalling a certain phrase. “Did you say that you were ‘infatuated’?” I held up my hands airily and relaxed, pleased again. “Don’t worry, I don’t need to hear more.”

“Errr!” he said, growling like a bear. “Feelings! Would you like me to tell you how I felt when I’d thought I’d lost you in Batuk? The frantic searching, the bitter belief that I would have to carry on without you; my incredible relief when your father told me you were alive and safe?”

It was exactly what I wanted to hear, and I put my hands to my face and wept silently. And while I wept, I thought of other times: when he had comforted me in the woods after the massacre in the castle; his sense that he had betrayed me by not managing somehow to start an impossible war on his own; his rage that I might face the slaughter alone than let him die with me. After a minute, Ketrick handed me a napkin; I dried my eyes and blew my nose in it.

“I’m sorry. I won’t ask you again.“

“I’ve always believed more in actions than words. I’ve found that, too frequently, words are used as an insincere substitute, but you’re right, there is a time for everything, including talk of love.”

I let it lay there. He had said the word and that was more than enough, for now.

***

“Majesty,” called my Minister of Protocol, as I walked through the lobby in the mid-morning. I stopped, and waited for him to catch up. I smiled brightly, something Katrina had suggested that I do more of.

“Selmin. Nice to see you.”

He blinked. I was usually somewhat more blunt. “May I see you about an important matter?” His right arm offered a meeting in a private side room.

“Of course, Minister.”

I had decided, finally, that he was on my side. Once he realized that I was going to be Queen for some time, he had often provided me with excellent advice. I left the guards outside; he wouldn’t have chosen a private room if he’d wanted a chance of palace gossip.

“Majesty, it’s about the consort.”

“Yes?”

“Your choice, that is to say the man you have selected…” He sighed. “There is talk about his suitability. Some say that he wasn’t what was meant in the edicts for consorts.”

“Enough to cause problems?”

He looked me straight in the eye. “Yes. Mainly it comes from the Temple, and there are a few of the lords and ladies -- stirrings of impropriety.”

Damn. “What are the objections?”

“That he’s not a citizen. It has the potential to be a great scandal. I’m forced to ask you to reconsider your consort; I could not be your minister if I did otherwise.”

I cursed the High Priest, who, I was sure, was trying to spoil my happiness in revenge for the edict I’d forced him to accept. It was completely unfair. King Bruno had had no restrictions on whom he could take to the silks; it was only because I had a saer that anyone cared at all. But instead of exploding, I thought of Katrina and how she would have handled it.

Giving Ketrick up at that point would have been unthinkable; I’d have left Tulem to Nikolai first. “Minister, Ketrick was a citizen of Gerras, a city that was destroyed two hundred years ago. Does that help?”

“That intriguing. Tulem has never adopted citizens before, reasoning that a citizen of another city would inevitably have conflicting loyalties. On the other hand, there is no precedent…”

“I won’t give up this man. I’d like you to create a procedure to make him a citizen, and invent, if need be, a pledge of fealty for a new subject. It doesn’t matter if it has any precedent. I’ll do whatever you require and back whatever you bring me with the force of the crown.”

“This may not be legal, Majesty. There will be protests.”

“As long as it allows me to keep him.” While I looked at my minister, something Katrina had said told me that more was necessary.

And so I let my feelings show. My love for Ketrick rose from my breast, rising to my face. My naked appeal met astonishment; his Queen had previously produced little besides orders, anger, and annoyance.

“My happiness is in your hands. There is no one better in the entire kingdom to find a way to keep him.”

He drew himself up and bowed.

“By tomorrow, Majesty! Even if I must work all night.”

I didn’t give him a hug; that would have been too much for him, but I looked like I might have. “Thank you, Selmin.”

When he was gone, I wondered at what I’d done. I had depended on him, appealed to him for help as a woman might. And he was there, full of honor and pride to serve his Queen.

Far from the strength-based male bonds of duty I had known at Eagles, this male-female connection was softer. I imagined a rule based on it. To be successful, I’d need to uphold my part, to become a woman worth admiring, and, at least in appearance, a lady. Even keeping my consort might depend ultimately on my conduct. Katrina had been right.

“Goddess!” I said, the feminine appellation Katrina was trying to get me to use.

I groaned at the daunting task ahead. Katrina was the ideal lady, but I couldn’t be her. Born a man, and with the needs of a submissive slut, it was too much to ask, even from Ashtar. But maybe, if I tried very hard, I could at least act like one -- except in the silks, of course.

But the day was far from over.

No sooner then I finished lunch, Beti Kane appeared in the hall, her long blonde twin tails skipping on her back as she shuffled quickly to my side. “Majesty, please come to the infirmary! Physician Lees’n asks that you come quickly.”

It could have been any number of things, but I had a special feeling about this. The last time I’d seen Merton, I thought that he’d looked weaker, but I hadn’t been sure. If it were what I thought it was, it was no time for dignity. With my stiff leg it would have taken me more than twice as long to get there. I looked to the closest guard.

“Gerhart, pick me up and carry me to the infirmary.”

“Majesty.” After a short pause, when Gerhart battled with how much of his sovereign he could decently hold vs. the fear that he might drop me, we were on our way.

Merton lay in a bed behind gray curtains against the wall, where it was unlikely a visitor would wander. He looked terrible; Selyf-Digon was not a disease for the weak-kneed.

“Majesty, it’s time to make the final arrangements,” Lees’n said. “The drugs can’t hold back the progress any more.”

That was only too obvious: Merton’s cheeks had sunken, and his skin had taken on a pallor that matched the curtains. Eyes too bright to be natural stared at me, terrified, from darkened sockets.

“Majesty,” he said.

I took his hand and nearly recoiled: his skin was already sickly-smooth, like a snake.

“It’s all right,” I assured him softly. “You won’t die, and your centuries-long constancy has won my trust. I’ll make sure you have what you asked for.”

“Thank you, Majesty.” He lay back again, his worst fear relieved for the moment.

“Lees’n, do you have any Ruk’s serum?”

He shook his head rapidly. “No, Majesty. The drugs failed early and unexpectedly. But Abul of the Slavers Guild is just two blocks away. He would have a variety. Beti knows the way.”

“Excellent.” I took Beti to the other side of the infirmary door where my guards waited. “Zhok,” I said, “go with Assistant Physician Beti Kane to Abul the Slaver. Have him return here as soon as possible with Ruk’s serum. I’d like a wide assortment -- preferably a hundred or more.”

“Majesty!” He bowed and left at a jog. Beti yelped and ran after him.

When I returned, I motioned Lees’n to a far corner of the room, away from Merton’s ears. “What are his chances?” I asked.

“If they return within the hour, Merton will be fine. If I may ask, why is everything so secretive? It’s not that unusual for a man to accept Ruk’s serum for Selyf-Digon.”

“I want Merton’s new appearance to stay secret.”

“Do you mean that Merton should be covered during the transformation?”

“More than that, I think. Move him to a private room and post a guard, and I'd like Merton to awaken in my quarters.”

“I can arrange that, Majesty.”

“I’ll leave instructions for the guards. By the way, how is Elli?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Surprisingly pleased to see me, Majesty. It seems that I am ‘mysterious’ again.”

Shortly afterwards, the slavers had arrived.

Like all sane adults, I support slavery. The joy a natural slave feels with a fine master is undeniable, indeed, necessary for her happiness. The Slavers Guild serves a need, providing suitable discipline, training, and, of course, their main business, matching slaves with masters. Their monopoly on the trade provides them with a steady income and keeps the slave population low and stable. A slaver generally has a discerning eye for those things that make a girl a potential commodity: intense dislike of men; perpetual dissatisfaction with her lot; and haughty displays of superiority.

Freewomen normally have little to fear from the Guild. The Slavers Guild very rarely takes slaves, preferring to breed from stock when necessary to increase the numbers. The danger more often comes from a man who might mistakenly abduct a girl thinking that she was a natural slave. Tragedies like this have happened too often, and the man may only realize he’s made a mistake after hours and days of heavy discipline, when a girl refuses to admit her nature, or merely breaks through despair and becomes a slave but never achieves rapture in her master’s arms.

Women, especially those who have doubts of their true natures, are often uneasy in a slaver’s presence, feeling that their deepest secrets are on display. When Abul looked at me, he might have seen the Queen, but he measured me in ways most men would not, judging the best discipline, my feeding requirements, the ways I might respond to the whip, and, of course, he calculated what I was worth. As a serum girl, I was generally less valuable than a born woman, but I was also a Queen. As a novelty, I might have fetched a dozen years’ income.

Above all, however, I was an abomination, a serum girl who had resisted her urges successfully, and was potentially a danger to the entire slave trade.

Abul the Slaver was a man of few words. Behind cool gray eyes, used to buying and selling women who cried out for help, lay indifference to Merton’s plight. From the way he looked at me, languid and penetrating, I wondered if he knew the exact strain of Ruk’s serum that had made me.

He was big with large hands, meaty paws that could grasp a girl and drag her away without difficulty. His thick body wasn’t built for the practice field, but could absorb womanly blows without complaint. He bowed, sweeping his arm towards his assistant, an attractive woman in somber black leather, who stood by a cart of carved woods more suited to interior display than transport. It held a layered array of vials and pictures behind glass.

“Majesty,” he said, “I came with my complete stock of Ruk’s serum: more than four hundred beauties.” He produced a thick leather volume from within his guild’s black robe. “Here is a catalog of thousands. All choices are cross-indexed by hair color, body type, height, and skin coloring. The serum girls marked in red are available here. Others I would have to order.”

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Slaver Abul. Wait here.” Taking the catalog, I went around the curtain and sealed it from prying eyes.

Merton looked even worse than before; the skin had taken on a grayish-green tinge. Soon, the hideous wasting would begin.

“Merton, what have you decided? Who will you be?”

“Majesty, I haven’t … I put it off. I … I didn’t think the disease would strike so soon.”

“Oh, Merton! Well, you have to decide now. Blonde, brunette, redhead?”

He stared back at me, his face choked with terror. “It’s hard to concentrate… Something in my mind…” He swallowed, and blinked rapidly a few times. His hands began to tremble. “Oh, Gods!” he cried.

I looked towards the ceiling, and then I was at his shoulders, shaking him. “Hold on, Merton. Quickly! You must give me something, or I’ll have to choose for you.”

“Then choose, Majesty,” he said desperately. “You know me well. Pick a girl for me.” He lay back and closed his eyes.

I covered his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I will. Rest now.”

He wouldn’t want to be the usual serum girl who served men in taverns, I decided, although, in time, she would enjoy being attractive to men, so I rejected the majority of beautiful, large-chested, curvaceous women, flipping the pages rapidly. Many choices presented themselves, yet one picture stood out that I kept returning to, a woman whom I almost could say I knew, a woman who might have much in common with the man beside me. I looked down at the dying man, and hoped he liked who he would soon be; Merton would likely be her for a long time.

“Merton, I’ve made my decision. Would you like to see your new body?”

His eyes fixed on the woman I thought he might have been had he been born female. He stared at her, imagining, no doubt, himself as her, this fine-featured woman, smaller than most. She did not have the type of beauty that makes men drag a girl to the alcove: her allure was distinctly different, calm, a vulnerable woman capable of passion and feeling. Merton drank of her, as a man might a cool siolat on a hot day. Yet, he said nothing for a long minute -- long enough for me to grow concerned.

“Do you like her? Would you like to choose another?”

He finally tore himself away from the page to look at me. “This is who you think I am?” he asked in wonder.

“I imagine you growing to fill her.” I shrugged. “Of course, if you want a body that makes men drool, think of rape, and plan abductions, there are many in the catalog…”

“No, Majesty. I’m sure you chose well. It’s just... What if I can’t do what you do?” he exclaimed, his eyes filling again with fear. “I don’t want to be a slave.”

I leaned forward and smoothed his sweaty hair as I would a child. “I won’t abandon you. The road may be difficult, but we will see the end of it together, you and I. Instead of dying, you’ll have a chance at a new life, and largely on your terms. The Gods have been very kind.”

I left the enclosure and pointed out the woman I’d selected to the slaver. Abul made no comment, just turned and found the vial.

“Abul,” I said as I took it, “this choice is a private matter. I would be displeased if anyone could match the new body with his old life.”

He expression grew pained. “You wound me, Majesty. Our business is built on confidentiality.”

“Just so,” I replied. “Forgive me for mentioning it.”

A moment later I held Merton’s hand as Lees’n thrust the needle into his shoulder. Merton watched me relentlessly the entire time, doing his best to lose himself in my eyes, so much so, that he barely winced when the drug bit.

“Majesty!” he said, but his breathing eased, his terror waned.

I placed a finger to his lips. “Sleep now. I’ll be there when you wake up.” I stayed with him until his eyes closed and his fingers went slack in my hand. Giving him a last caress on the check, I left.

While Lees’n and Beti prepared him, I took a moment to look myself up in the catalog. I was one of the special orders. Small script by the picture told me that I was a twin to a woman who had lived over two hundred years before. My former self was nearly as exotic. Of the more than ten thousand varieties of serum girl, neither of us was listed as common. We were, in fact, quite rare and much more expensive than the norm. Both of my bodies were noted for having superior coordination and strength. I had no reason, and it was silly and irrational, but I felt proud.
 
 

 
The characters, Lady Katrina, Merton, and Abul come to play a major role in the saga. Watch for them. :) Next chapter reveals Ketrick's secret.

Keep those comments coming! ~Aardvark