Chapter 17
"A flute." Gillie tugged Mack's hands out of his pockets. She knew what he'd thought he'd seen when he'd come up the stairs, found Tobias kissing her hand. A chance meeting of lovers, like one he'd thought he'd stumbled on in his office. And again in her repair bay.
Most men might have simply walked away, or said something cutting, something hurtful, then walked away.
But Mack, Gillie was beginning to understand, wasn't like most men she'd met. His sense of honor ran deep, was strong. It encompassed her, even when he thought she'd hurt him.
He frowned but didn't pull away when she twined her fingers through his. "Flute?"
"You probably passed a man carrying his son as you came up. They were at the healing service. The boy, Izaak, has been ill. But he'll get better," she added, remembering that the child would recover. If she made his illness sound dire, there might be questions later. "He's been too sick to attend music classes. I told him I'd bring him a flute. Tobias seemed to find my offer an extraordinary gesture."
"You play the flute?"
She grinned. "Badly. All the more reason to give the flute to the boy. He called Tobias Mister Toby, by the way. I guess they know each other."
Mack curled his fingers around hers. She could feel the tension ebb out of him. "One of Fitch's weight lifting buddies works in a downlevel second-hand store. Fitch helps out, but doesn't use his rank when he's there because some spacers-especially those who feel Fleet's presence is taking up commercial freighter space-aren't too fond of us."
"Izaak's father had a shipsuit, but no patches."
"They're probably one of the families he's been gathering odds and ends, supply overruns for." Mack arched one eyebrow. "He thinks I don't know."
"Lucky for you, or he'd be kissing your hand, too."
Mack's face finally creased into a wry smile. He glanced in the direction Tobias had gone. Clearly, he was beginning to feel his initial judgment was in error. "Sometimes Fitch can be a little too intense."
"I think he's trying very hard to be nice to me, because of you," Gillie offered. That was partly true. Tobias had the highest regard for Mack. His regard for the Kiasidira was just a little higher. "Unless, of course, you really did send him here to spy on me, and you're just trying to cover that up." She arched an eyebrow.
Mack opened his mouth to respond, closed it again. A wry smile played across his mouth. "You have a definite skill at turning tables. Ever consider a career as a negotiator? Or a lawyer?"
"Me?" Her shock was only partly feigned. She had been trying to throw Mack's suspicions back at him. It had worked last time.
"Gillie, Gillie." He squeezed her hands, released them. "Pay no attention to me. I know you're not the type to play games."
No, she wasn't. And that's why all this was starting to feel like a weight around her neck.
"I'd better go catch up with Tobias before he thinks he has parrot duty. Dinner?"
"Your office, shift's end?" The more she kept others away from Simon, the more repairs he could effect.
"Barring any more crises." He brushed her forehead with a light kiss. "Door will be unlocked. Stay out of trouble."
She tried to. She really did. Or rather, as Simon pointed out to her about four days after the healing service, it wasn't so much that she was staying out of trouble, as she was making sure the trouble she caused was in no way traceable to her.
Like the inexplicable malfunctions of the newsvid holocams during the magefather's two subsequent attempts to inform the people of Cirrus of his latest intimate chat with Lady Kiasidira. She'd been with Mack, both times, when that happened. He'd slanted her a questioning glance, but only briefly. Suspicion warred with logic, and logic won. She couldn't be in two places at once.
Nor had she been anywhere near the bank of lifts in which the portly magefather was trapped for over two hours, drawing much attention and a few quiet comments that perhaps the Lady was making her opinions known through other channels. Gillie had gone downlevel to check on Izaak, brought back a short holovid of the child playing a tune he'd written for the parrots. She was clearly visible sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Izaak. He looked, Mack commented, considerably better. And the child did have a definite talent with the flute.
And Gillie obviously had been nowhere near the lifts.
She almost gave herself away with the incident with the incense, however. When Mack didn't mention it all through dinner she thought he hadn't heard. Or perhaps, didn't see the connection.
But he had some suspicions. Empathically she picked up on them every time he touched her, brushed against her. They were small, but they were there.
He waited until she was snuggled against him on his couch before broaching the subject. "I heard another unusual thing happened to the magefather during last night's service."
"Petrina mentioned something. I didn't pay much attention."
"Oh?"
She was getting used to Mack's "ohs." It was amazing how one word could carry such a deep tone of innocence, and an even deeper tone of disbelief. She wondered if he used it on his staff, or his crew when he was captain. No doubt they lived in fear of it.
"If I told you I thought it was fitting, you'd think I had something to do with it."
"Did you?" he asked.
"Think it was fitting?" She was deliberately toying with him and they both knew it.
His eyes narrowed slightly but a grin played over his mouth. "No. Did you have something to do with what happened at the temple?"
"Me? Saturate ten cases of incense so none would light?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "How would I ever do that?"
"How'd you know there were ten cases?"
Shit. She had to remember that specificity was often the death of obfuscation. Maybe add that to her Guidelines while she was at it. "Petrina." She hesitated. "Or was it Lissy?"
Mack let out a rumbling sigh.
She chuckled. "I'm flattered. You must think I have magic powers."
"I know you have. Every time I'm with you, all my troubles, all my worries disappear." He cupped her face, kissed her. "That's magic."
No, he was magic. At least, his kisses were. Warmth started at the base of her throat as his lips brushed across hers, flared between her breasts as his tongue toyed with her own. She wrapped her arms around his neck, delighted in the solid feel of him against her.
For the rest of the night, all her worries disappeared.
A few resurfaced on schedule in the morning.
There were now many more people who questioned the magefather's self-proclaimed designation as consort for the Lady. But not enough that Fleet or CQPA overturned their decision to grant him the space for the shrine. Or the uncontrolled docking bay adjacent to it.
You may have to consider an alternate plan, Simon suggested as Gillie sipped coffee on her bridge. Mack had an early meeting scheduled with Captain Adler and, via vidlink, several important people at Fleet HQ. She'd risen when he had, even though he told her to stay, get another few hours sleep.
But she liked watching him dress in his formal uniform, his proper admiral's Fifth Fleet uniform now. Looked forward, she told him, to taking it off later.
That had almost made him late for his meeting. It did leave them no time for coffee. Simon had coffee, and advice, waiting when she'd returned to the Serendipity.
We've discussed several times that our current location is not happenstance, Simon continued. Perhaps an admission of your identity won't be as traumatic to the Khalar as you believe.
She'd considered that. But every time she did, a small voice inside her added-but what about Mack?
It would be a lot less traumatic than the loss of Cirrus One to the Fav'lhir.
"I know, but..." She didn't finish her sentence. That little voice kept finishing it for her. Though she agreed with Simon's point-an attack by the Fav'lhir, even if she were somehow able to lessen its impact, would shock and disrupt the Confederation.
Almost as much as the sight of Mack kneeling in the temple late yesterday had shocked her.
"I prefer to do my reverences privately," he'd explained when he'd found her waiting outside the temple doors. "Not during open services. On the Vedri I had a meditation corner in my quarters."
Simon evidently plucked the image from her mind, sensed her disquiet. He's Tridivinian. And Fleet. Did you think he'd do otherwise?
She took another sip of coffee before answering. It was cold. "He wasn't lighting candles to Tarkir or Ixari. He was praying to someone who doesn't exist."
Would that someone who doesn't exist like another cup of hot coffee?
"Please."
Tobias was waiting outside her repair bay when she'd finished lunch with Mack. "A moment of your time, My Lady Captain Gillie."
She waved him inside, but not before first checking to make sure the Serendipity still appeared to be nothing more than a damaged and disreputable starfreighter. She suspected that if Tobias found out what her ship was, he'd steal the crystal section and try to return it to her.
She motioned to a set of servo-stairs near the doorway. "Sit."
"I'd feel more comfortable standing, My Lady."
So she sat. "Izaak's okay?"
"Wonderful, but I wouldn't expect otherwise."
"Then...?" she prompted.
"I'm very concerned over the magefather's shrine. Renovations are more than halfway completed, as you know. But there's one thing you may not know, and I don't mean to impugn your abilities in any way. But the shrine, and its docking bay, will open a few days before our official inspection. And the subsequent dedication ceremonies. For security reasons, identities of attendees have been-"
"Prime Hostess Honora Syrella and her daughter, Roannan Charity," she said quietly.
"You know. Of course you would. My apologies."
"I take it you have reasons to believe they might be in jeopardy?"
"Aside from the fact that we're on the rim of civilized space, have already suffered one attack by a ship believed to be Fav'lhir, and had an inexplicable security grid failure?" Tobias rocked back slightly on his heels, continued his recitation. "And our magefather is a blatant liar, station security will be flawed by the existence of an unsecured, unmonitored docking bay and the Fav would have much to gain if they can take control of the Rim Gate-you know about that project as well, I assume?"
"I do."
"Then no. Aside from those things, I have no reasons."
"I'll do everything in my power to keep your people safe," she told him, softly. "I always have."
"I have no doubt of that, My Lady. I'm just wondering what else Admiral Mack and I can do to help you."
"Mack?" She straightened. "You've talked to him about me?"
"Only obliquely. I did mention that just because the magefather was a fraud didn't mean all our meditations were equally invalid."
Now she understood what Mack had been doing in the temple.
"He still has no knowledge of who you are, I take it?"
"No."
Tobias nodded. "By Your Will, of course."
No. Not by her will, she realized listening to Tobias's sincere concern. By her selfishness. Her relationship with Mack was more important to her than her relationship, and the safety, of the Khalar. Again, she had to face the fact that neither she nor Simon could stop an incoming fleet.
"Your vigilance is the greatest help right now," she told him. "If and when I have need of something more concrete, I'll advise you."
"I await your command." He bowed slightly, managed to depart without grabbing her, stumbling into her, or kissing her hand. And without Mack walking in on them.
She hoped it was a good sign. She needed a sign right now, some definite guidance. The Shrine of Communion was only days from completion. The docking bay already existed. Rendering it unsecure or uncontrolled was simply a matter of assigning an open passage code to all vessels requesting one at Cirrus's outer beacon. And gaining nothing, not even ID, in return.
She toyed with the small runestones in her pocket, careful not to drop her mental shields. Rigo would be aware of her then. Come looking for her.
She didn't want him to do that, yet. But she knew now it was something that would have to happen.
Time. She'd told Mack they had time when he'd been afraid she'd leave Cirrus after two weeks. So she'd stayed. But time was running out, anyway.
Mack seemed to sense something troubled her. He was his usual self when she showed up at his office, shortly before shift's end. The conference with HQ had gone well. They were finally taking some of his concerns seriously. An additional supply ship would dock tomorrow. And no, thank Ixari, he didn't have to be there to supervise that one. This was CQPA. Hebbs would handle it.
Then he stopped in his informal report, studied her as she perched on the edge of his desk. "You're tired. And here I am rambling on."
She let out a long sigh. "I'm fine."
He drew her into his arms. "You're working too hard."
She absorbed his warmth, let it melt into her. Gods, how she would miss this. Miss him, if he ever found out who she was. It would leave a gaping hole in her life, in her heart, larger than the one the Fav'lhir had left in her ship's side. "I'm glad Fleet's finally paying you some mind." She was. Every little bit helped.
"I'm going to pay you some mind now. Where do you want to eat tonight?"
"How about the club?" It was quiet. Because it was where he'd asked her to marry him, it was her favorite. Always would be.
"Good. I'm in the mood for a steak. Then I've got some things to show you when we get back to my place." He locked up his deskcomp and ushered her out the door.
"What things?" she asked as the lift chugged uplevel.
"Some boxes I had in storage. They came in on the supply ship the other day, but this is the first chance I've had to get around to them. I'll only show them to you if you promise not to laugh."
"Holovids from your academy days?"
"Even before that."
Sweet heavens. Childhood holos of Mack, perhaps. She glanced up at him, tried to picture him as an angelic child. Failed. Started to chuckle.
"Get it out of your system now," he warned, taking her hand as the lift came to a stop. "No laughing once I show them to you."
He would tell her nothing more all through dinner, tortured her by making her wait, insisting they have coffee at the club. When they returned to his apartment, he pretended he'd forgotten where the boxes were.
"I'll find them tomorrow," he said.
She grabbed a handful of his uniform jacket. "Tonight, Admiral. Now."
He pulled them out of a storage cabinet in his small kitchen, unstrapped them. Put them on the low table in front of the sofa.
"That's Trevan, Alec and me." He handed her a holo of three boys, ranging in age from ten to fifteen. Mack and his brothers. Tallest and eldest, he was in the middle. Gangly, young Mack glared at the camera, sporting a noticeable black eye.
"What happened?"
"Brotherly love. Trevan's a year younger than me. He's better at squareball. I was a better skater, better at ice shot. We were playing squareball that day. On opposite teams."
She smiled broadly. "And this?" Three younger boys, amid lots of foliage. Mack still the most serious of the group.
"Years before that. We had a tree fort. My first command."
There were more than just old holos. Some team medals, a piece of fossilized rock, a small jar of coins. Old music vids.
"Can you believe I used to listen to that stuff?" He handed the thin slats to her. Gillie looked at the unfamiliar names and song titles and shook her head.
"Me either." He took them back, tossed them into the box.
"Where did you suddenly find all this?" It seemed like something he might have kept on board the Vedritor. Yet he'd said it had come in on the supply ship.
"Alec had it. I told you he's an archeologist with the Novidian Museum, didn't I?"
He had. And that Trevan was with Fleet medical, on a station near the Ladrin colonies. "No offense, but this stuff's hardly museum quality."
Mack smiled. "These are things my parents had. After the shuttle accident, Alec ended up with them because, well, he's usually dirtside. Easier for the lawyers to track down."
His parents' death five years before had brought the three brothers closer together. Mack had told her how he looked forward to her meeting Trev, and Alec and his wife.
"What else do you have in there you don't want me to see?"
He rummaged, came up with a narrow metal case, the kind that usually contained a set of lightpens. An expression of delight crossed his face. "Praise the Lady, I knew I hadn't lost this. My grandfather gave it to me. Trev always said it wasn't real. That's probably because I got it, and he didn't."
"Brotherly love?"
Mack jiggled the lid carefully. "Brotherly jealousy." He flipped the lid back, turned the case toward her. "What do you think?"
She didn't have to think. The crystal's presence sang through her the moment the lid cracked open. She sucked in a short breath and slid abruptly backward on the couch. The purple glow spread from the slender piece of true crystal like wine spilling from a goblet. It flared outward, found her, enveloped her in a light cloak of lavender. Then settled, its spellform merging with her essence, and faded to a muted glow.
Mack stared at her, his knuckles whitening as his fingers tightened around the case. She could feel confusion, apprehension and fear churn through him.
Her own mind reeled. Her heart felt as if it had stopped beating, and would never start again.
"Gillaine?" His voice rasped.
She closed her eyes briefly as if by doing so she could erase the lavender mist between them. Sought for a way to explain it all to him, to make it right. Something Mack would know how to do. Her own skills in that regard had suddenly dissipated.
But she knew she had to start. And decided to start with the least amount of information. Never volunteer more than is absolutely necessary. Lady Kiasidira's Guideline Number Twenty-two.
Her whole life hinged not only on her next words, but his response to them. She took a deep breath, hoped she had the right words. Hoped her voice would carry over the pounding of her heart.
"I'm Raheiran."