"That's understandable. As Shamal informed me in his letter, the Bluebloods may know your location. He also informs me of Jehan's," Karen's voice quavered, "Of Jehan, and his relations with the Seakings."
"Karen?" Shamal said.
"Shamal, you were never great friends with Jehan, but I was. And he could have killed me, or any one of my lasses. He could have killed Patti. He was like an older sibling to me," Karen said.
"I know, it was the same with me," said Patti, "But what he was and what he is are two totally different things! He's changed. You should have heard him speak. 'Twas if he were being spoken through; as if he was merely a body with a host. I shall not quiver when I kill him. Bluebloods killed Chely-Martina; they sent their chief after her. I believe she was rather a test. She was strong, but young. I believe that her power would have rivaled yours, be she three-and twenty and you two years. You are stronger, but she was strong. And their chief killed her. Her blood is on their hands! We must re-" Here, Patti was interrupted. "We revenge not the life of the soldier who died in war, but that of the babe who died at home. But first, let me contact your humanoid pilot and recourse your ship." Karen suddenly stared straight ahead, as if an unknown predator was lurking behind the young King and Queen. Patti and Shamal spun round quickly, but saw nothing.
Patti looked at Karen, and noticed that her eyes seemed different.
"They're glazed over, her eyes! And they're black!" Patti exclaimed. All of this happened in a matter of twenty or so seconds. Then it was over. "That was a rare bit o' magic you showed there, Empress."
"I study hidden magic, none that you need never know. I study the stars, which speak among themselves. I study the waters that cover the soil, which are not known better by the Seakings. I study life, which changes with each passing moment. Much more, I am born with. Much more, I learn not, but know. I must leave you now, and speak to my generals of war. We are recapturing Torrave. Miss Carrie Hanson has refused leadership, but I shall prevail, I shall find one worthy of that first colony. Though, the blood of those true Torravians, as you and I are, is special. Magic comes quickly, and love of life and dance is great. Good-bye, my friends. Good-bye!"
"Wait! Your hair is cut short! It's, well, blonde-white! Why?" Patti called.
"Because I am as safe as the Queen of Solastra with it streaked," the Empress whispered.
Karen left the screen as quickly as she came, and Shamal and Patti departed toward the other end of the ship, where their prisoner was.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Emily sighed. It was morning, she was tired, and her parents were dead. She looked quickly, and saw only Trialine was risen. As soon as Corder poked its head over, the bell would ring, and she would be expected to be dressed in two minutes. She got up, wearily, and slipped off her overnight gown that she had changed into after she reached her cabin. It was of a thicker material than her dance ones, but glowed decidedly white. It was made that way so that the garment could not be used to escape in. Her outfit of choice for that day (she had three) was white, as was the snow. She had on white undergarments made of cotton, and long white shirt, and trousers that covered her white dancing shoes. With exception of the shoes, all were flimsy and cold. She shivered, and waited patiently by her door. If she were caught outside her room, she would be punished. "Twice in one night is enough for me," she whispered.
The bell rang, she waited impatiently as the morak placed the mark on her hand, and she bolted from the door and ran toward the call center. She arrived first, and showed the smear of a green arrow, that days sign, to the man at the door.
Grunting approval, he let her pass. She ran past him and then went to her mat to stretch. Doing the rhythmatic exercises always brought the blood pumping. She was twenty minutes in preparing, not wanting to injure her muscles by working them too much too quickly.
"You are early, as usual. Get ready to serve His Royal Highness Prince Anihandadia-Aleahleah. You'd better practice your routine," a voice said. She turned, and saw Breeauna, one of His Majesty's favorite narrators, speaking. Breeauna usually narrated Emily's dance routine.
"You are correct of course," Emily said absently.
Breeauna laughed, and said, "Emily, you have lapsed into the language of the Ruokians again! Please, speak Seaking with me!"
"Oh, I am so sorry! I was just thinking of my homeland," Emily replied.
"Oh! Emily, please don't! You and I both know any talk of that kind can get you in trouble!" Breeauna exclaimed.
Then they heard a voice they dreaded over all others, the voice of HRH Anihandadia-Aleahleah. "I am extremely hungry this morning! If I do not receive my food and entertainment in no more than ten minutes, I believe I shall get violently ill!"
Emily knew that she had better start practicing the routine, or she wouldn't be in her best shape when she preformed. Breeauna, she could hear, was already warming up her voice, saying her lines over and over again, first loudly, and then softly. Emily decided to lose herself in the dance, let her consciousness be not in Seaking, but in Imperial Ruok, of her palace hidden with snow. Of her cousins, and comrades.
When Emily was younger, dancing took all of her energy, she had to concentrate extremely well, or else the dance wouldn't be done correctly. But now, after almost two and one half years of dancing some of the most intricate dances she had ever seen, over and over again, day after day, never letting up, she could almost do them in her sleep.
The bell rang. Breeauna and Emily raced to the counter, where they grabbed the platters of food. Emily's stomach ached with hunger, as if someone had taken a knife and slashed through her abdomen. Her lunch and breakfast would be coming at eleven twenty-three, as always. Emily slowly walked toward the table of HRH, the Prince, and son of His Majesty Zoqan, the Chief of First Command of all Seakings. Little Anihandadia-Aleahleah, age five and ten, was just as ghastly as his father. She looked at his breakfast of choice for that day, and shuddered when she recognized several squid, lobsters, and rats on the plate. His fruit of preference was the same as always, dama-fruit. Though the fruit only grew in Imperial Ruok, the bratty prince had taken a liking to it, so that on the island colony of Torrave he had issued huge orchards of the fruit to be grown.
Emily sighed, and then, as Breeauna stated Emily and her name, she curtsied carefully, and set the dish on HRH's table. Right on cue, she started her dance, and was lost in the word of almost forgotten of the Emperor Alan and Empress Marilynn, and of their daughter and her playmate, Princess Karen.
