Justice Keepers Saga--Books 10-12, page 87
He studied her with a puzzled frown, clearly trying to decide whether he believed her. “You know Admiral Ethran?”
“Who do you think reads my reports?”
He just stood there, dumbstruck. Melissa could almost see the gears turning in his head. “Wait,” he said at last. “Confederate Intelligence doesn’t have any agents on this planet.”
Tossing her head back, Melissa stared up at the sky with a gaping mouth. She blinked a few times, trying to appear shocked by his stupidity. “Right,” she said. “Because we share our plans with every glorified button-pusher in the fleet. Why do you think I’m dressed like one of the locals, you twit?”
“I want your name and serial number to-”
“And I want you out of my sight in the next ten seconds, or I promise you that by the time I’m through with you, you’ll wish you had been demoted to ensign and left to scrub the cargo bay with a toothbrush.”
He hesitated, looking to his friends for guidance.
“Go!”
Melissa was startled by the way her voice cracked like a whip, but not nearly as startled as the three men who turned and ran as if the hounds of Hell were chasing them. She almost gasped at the sight. A few months ago, she would have never imagined that she was capable of such a performance.
The frightened woman sat in the grass, staring up at Melissa with wide eyes. “Henath,” she mumbled. It meant gratitude, their way of saying thank you.
Melissa offered her hand, pulling the other woman to her feet. “Are you all right?” she asked, switching to Leyrian without thinking.
“You’re Leyrian.”
“Actually, I’m from Earth.” When the name of her world provoked a confused stare, she added, “We’re new to the galactic community. How is it that you can speak Leyrian?”
Glancing over her shoulder, the woman checked to see that her three assailants were really gone. Satisfied that they were out of earshot, she nodded. “It’s fairly common among the aristocracy,” she explained. “The Leyrians first visited us over a century ago. Their language is a sign of culture and sophistication on my world.”
“Right, because that doesn’t sound at all like colonialism.”
“You don’t understand. The Leyrians have been nothing but kind to us. They taught us the secrets of antibiotics and how to harness the power of winds and tides. How many of you are there?”
Melissa backed away with her hands raised defensively, wincing and shaking her head. “I really shouldn’t-”
The Salusian woman advanced on her with a determined stride that said she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “If you can remove these ruffians from our soil, then I would have you do so post-haste. And I am prepared to commit every resource at my disposal to that cause.”
“Every resource at your disposal?
Stooping to retrieve her hat, the woman set it atop her head. “Yes, of course. How silly of me,” she said. “The Lady Eliza Braynar at your service.”
5
DAY 8
Fastening the last button on the back of her dress – it was a tricky one right between her shoulder-blades – Melissa grunted with frustration. This garment was not designed to be donned without assistance. She snorted when she realized that she had just thought the word “donned.” Salusian culture was rubbing off on her.
She turned to check her reflection in the full-length mirror.
A stately woman stared back at her: tall and prim in a blue dress with square shoulders and a collar that went all the way up to her chin. Her long, black hair was done up in a bun with two sticks crossing through it. The perfect image of a Salusian heiress.
Eliza Braynar had given her accommodations to fit the role. This bedroom was larger than the one she had back home, complete with paintings on the cream-coloured walls. Her huge, four-post bed was topped by a canopy, and thin, diaphanous curtains hung on either side.
The sheets were still rumpled. Melissa was sorely tempted to just fix them herself, but Eliza had been scandalized when she did that on her first day here. Such chores were to be left to the cleaning staff. Donnel would see to it as soon as she left the room.
A knock at the door made her flinch.
“Are you sure you don’t need some help with those buttons, milady?” Risa asked from the other side. The woman spoke in Leyrian. Apparently, Eliza had ordered her staff to do so whenever they waited on “the Lady Melani Terria.” Melissa would have thought that the servants would be put out by such a cumbersome demand – and that they might start to wonder why their mistress thought it was necessary – but they seemed to take it in stride. Salusian aristocrats went to great lengths to impress their peers. So, this was hardly unusual.
Standing by the mirror with arms pinned to her sides, Melissa closed her eyes and steadied herself. “No, thank you!” It might take twice as long to do it herself, but she wasn’t comfortable being undressed in front of anyone. Not even another woman.
A rectangular window next to the mirror looked out on the garden, and with the pane open just a crack, Melissa could hear the birds chirping. Square flowerbeds were positioned in neat rows just outside the house, and beyond them, a vast expanse of green grass went on for maybe a hundred metres before meeting a line of trees.
Melissa turned on her heel and glided around the foot of her bed, making her way to a large, wooden door with ornate, brass handles. She pulled it open, and Risa poked her head into the room.
The young woman was short and pale with a round face and big, green eyes, She fidgeted awkwardly upon seeing Melissa. “You seem to have managed it, milady,” she said. “Though, if you don’t mind, I’d like to check.”
Sighing, Melissa turned around. She felt a pair of hands on her back as Risa examined every button. Spatial Awareness let her sense the tight frown on the other woman’s face. “Well done, milady.”
“Where’s Kara?”
Completing her inspection, the young woman retreated into the hallway and stood with her hands folded behind her back, her shoulders square, her lips pressed together. “Your butler had to go down to the kitchens, milady,” Risa replied. “Something about a minor scuffle between two of the cooks.”
Touching fingertips to the side of her head, Melissa scowled at the thought of more infighting between members of the squad. “I do hope it was nothing serious,” she said. “I would hate for Lady Eliza to hear of this.”
“I’m sure it was nothing.”
Melissa was less optimistic. The tensions caused by Bryse’s attempt on Anna’s life weren’t entirely gone. Most of those who had been loyal to him now accepted Anna’s authority, but there was still hostility brewing beneath the surface. And being forced to take jobs as cooks and maids and footmen certainly didn’t help matters.
The hallway had blue carpets and cream-coloured walls the exact shade of those in her bedroom. Tables stood between the wooden doors on either side, some supporting vases full of flowers, others paired with framed mirrors.
Anna came around the corner, dressed in Eliza’s household livery – black pants and a matching vest over a white, short-sleeved blouse. She moved with a purpose, clutching a leather-bound folder to her chest and stomping through the corridor as if she meant to trample anyone who got in her way.
“Ah,” Risa said. “There’s Kara now.”
“I swear,” Anna growled, “if I have to tell those idiots one more time-”
She cut off abruptly, noticing Risa for the first time, and then averted her eyes in feigned chagrin. “Apologies, my lady,” she muttered. “There was a bit of excitement downstairs. Nothing that need concern you.”
“I should hope not,” Melissa replied. “Risa, I would like a moment alone with my butler, please.”
“Of course, milady.”
The young woman hurried away and then scooted down the stairs, leaving them to converse privately. At least, Melissa hoped it would be private. She had the feeling that this was one of those houses where the walls had ears.
Anna stood in the middle of the corridor with one hand on her hip, a playful smile on her face. “Nice job,” she teased. “You’ve pretty much got this role down. I’m almost ready to believe that you really are a snooty, stuck-up bitch.”
Melissa lowered her eyes, a flush setting her face on fire. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m not trying to be mean; I swear.”
Anna put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I meant it as a compliment, but once again, my foot has taken up residence inside my mouth.”
“It’s okay.”
“So, what have you found out?”
Jerking her head toward the door, Melissa guided her friend back into the bedroom. That would give them a little more privacy. Donnel might come by at any moment to make up the room, but he would not think too much of Lady Melani speaking with Kara. Not when Kara was her butler.
With a heavy sigh. Melissa crossed her arms and frowned down at herself. “Not much,” she admitted, pacing a line in front of the bed. “Lady Trysa stayed for tea after dinner last night and made the obligatory noises about organizing a resistance…”
Anna sat on the edge of the mattress, staring thoughtfully at the wall. “But you think it’s just talk,” she said. “Pointless posturing.”
“That’s all it ever is,” Melissa lamented. “They’ll boast about freedom and liberty, shake their fists at the sky. ‘How dare those aliens trample their God-given rights? The people of Salus won’t stand for this.’ And then, once the fervor dies down…”
Anna nodded.
Spinning around, Melissa fell back against the wall. “I swear,” she grumbled. “It’s all puffed up chests and strutting around, trying to look tough. These women are like…men!”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“Anna, I don’t have a macho bone in my body,” Melissa protested. “I don’t know how I’m gonna blend in.”
Chuckling softly, Anna hunched over with an elbow on her thigh, her chin resting on the knuckles of her fist. “Melissa,” she began cautiously. “Do you remember what you said when you suggested this plan?”
Day 3
“Let me get this straight,” Anna said.
Standing by the concrete wall in black pants and a t-shirt, her strawberry-blonde hair a mess of flyaway strands, she watched the Lady Eliza like a hawk. “You want us to come and work as servants in your house.”
Melissa had been hoping for a little more enthusiasm; after all, this was a way to get food without having to steal it. They were stuck on this world for the foreseeable future. They were going to have to adapt.
When she looked around the room, however, she could see that most of the squad shared Anna’s reservations. It wasn’t that they were afraid of scrubbing dishes and making beds – at least, Melissa didn’t think so – but taking a job of any kind increased the odds of exposure. There was always a chance that one of your coworkers might wonder about your accent and report you to the Ragnosians.
Prim and proper in her brown suit, Lady Eliza stood in the middle of the room. She seemed to be unbothered by the fact that she was in the musty basement of an abandoned building, surrounded by soldiers with advanced weaponry. “I treat my servants well,” she said. “You would have comfortable beds, good food to eat and most importantly, a place from which to plan a rebellion against these invaders.”
Anna leaned against the wall with a hand over her stomach, shaking with bitter laughter. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, my lady,” she said. “But we’re two dozen people against an army of thousands. Their tech is as good as ours.”
“Would you rather remain here?” Eliza replied. “Exhausting your food supply and constantly wondering if today will be the day that the Ragnosians find you?”
“You make a compelling argument,” Anna conceded. “How would this work?”
Eliza seated herself on a wooden box, folding hands in her lap and facing Anna with all the dignity of a queen on her throne. “Many of my staff fled the city when the Ragnosians invaded,” she said. “Others were killed.”
A tear threatened to slide down her cheek, but she wiped it away and regained her composure in an instant. “The story will be that a distant cousin of mine is visiting from Tarnadon. She will assist me in hiring new cooks, maids and valets, some of which will be members of her personal staff.”
Stepping away from the wall, Anna sauntered toward the noblewoman. “And let me guess,” she said. “I get to play the cousin.”
“Actually, I was thinking of Melissa.”
What?
That couldn’t be right. Anna was currently leading the squad. She was already in a position where she had to give orders. Why shouldn’t she be the one to play the cousin? Melissa opened her mouth to protest, but Eliza spoke over her. “Melissa’s colouring is similar to mine,” she said. “It would be easier to believe a family resemblance between the two of us.”
“One small problem,” Anna said. “No one here speaks Haloren.”
“Not so long ago, it was common for the aristocracy to insist that their households speak Leyrian,” Eliza explained. “The practice has fallen out of favour, somewhat, but it is not entirely unheard of. We could say that my dear cousin Melani is something of a traditionalist. Though I do suggest you learn Haloren to better converse with any guests who might arrive. I mean to teach Melissa myself.”
Melissa could feel the anxiety building within her. She knew what was going to happen next. They were all looking at her, all waiting for some kind of confirmation. She would be the central figure in this plan; so, it would fall on her.
Anna spun around to face her, striding across the room with a warm smile. “So,” she began. “What do you think of this plan?”
Melissa closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “I think it’s dangerous and reckless,” she answered. “But Lady Eliza is right. It’s this or sit here and starve. I’m in.”
Day 8
The parlour was illuminated by sunlight that came through a large, rectangular window with brown muntin. When she peered through it, Melissa saw a line of distant trees with leaves fluttering.
She sat in one of the two large, blue chairs on either side of that window, listening to three ladies argue over the Ragnosian occupation. The tall woman in the chair across from her was Megara Potorin, the member of parliament for this district.
Tall and leggy in a gray suit, she gave off a studious air with her thick-rimmed glasses and blonde hair tied back in a braid. “The sentiment in the lower chamber is quite unanimous,” she said. Or rather, that was what Melissa thought she said. “Most agree that this occupation cannot be allowed to continue.”
Five days of lessons in Haloren had given Melissa a basic grasp of the language, but there were gaps. Ilia had helped to reinforce the neural connections so that Melissa could learn at a slightly faster rate, but the Nassai was not willing to go too fast. That could be dangerous. At least, there were no headaches this time.
Eliza had told her that the federal government here in the nation of Halor had two chambers, one for the commoners and one for the nobility. In that way, it seemed similar to the British Parliament. As an MP, Megara served in the lower chamber. She had come here to get a sense of how willing the aristocracy was to mount some kind of resistance.
6
The Lady Braynar sat on a loveseat that faced the window, looking resplendent in her yellow dress. She expertly balanced a cup and saucer in her lap, tilting her head as she raised an eyebrow. “Nearly unanimous, you say,” she replied. “I do hope you haven’t been too vocal about such sentiments. We wouldn’t want our new guests to think that we were planning something…reckless.”
That was what the aristocracy had taken to calling the Ragnosians. New guests. They seemed to think that a comfortable euphemism could reduce the sting of realizing that they were now a conquered people.
Megara scowled, shaking her head. “Of course not,” she barked. “Nobles…You really do think the rest of us are idiots.”
“I said nothing of the sort.”
The fourth member of their little group was Shinra Boliveer, a plump woman with a round face, long, brown hair and large, dark eyes. She sat beside Eliza, peering wistfully out the window. “Frankly, I don’t see why we should bother,” she said as if talking to herself. “Oh, there was all sorts of hurly-burly when our guests first arrived, but since then, they have been content to leave us alone.”
“Content to leave you alone,” Megara spat, leaning over the arm of her chair and squinting through the lenses of her glasses. “They’ve already begun commandeering food shipments to feed their armies. When the markets have nothing to sell, who do you think will feel the sting? Your people or mine?”
Lifting her cup with a delicate hand, Eliza watched her over the rim for several seconds. “We are all the same people,” she insisted before taking a sip of her tea. “Daughters and sons of Salus.”
Megara snorted disdainfully. “How easy it is for you to claim unity when you get the lion’s share of the wealth.”
“Regardless,” Eliza pressed on as if the other woman hadn’t spoken. “The point stands. The danger here is real. Our world’s resources belong to us. If they were to be commandeered by another party through force of arms…”
“What do you propose we do about it?” Shinra asked.
Without warning, Megara twisted around in her seat and focused all of her attention on Melissa. “What does the newcomer say?” she asked. “I’d like to know what Lady Melani thinks of all this.”
Drumming her fingers on the chair arm, Melissa frowned as she stared out the window. “I think that moving too fast is dangerous,” she said. “If we attack the guests, we need help from the military and others.”
Inwardly, she cringed. Her rudimentary grasp of this language meant that she probably sounded like a toddler. She was already having visions of Megara suspecting that something was amiss, of rumours spreading and the Ragnosians finding their way to this house.
