But why would he be upset that I could eat his style of food?
“Is there any kind of food you particularly like?” he asked next.
That stumped me, and I was embarrassed at the way I stood there staring blankly at him. I didn’t understand the question. “I am here to serve your desires,” I replied eventually, falling back on the firmly ingrained truths of my training. “I would be happy to eat whatever you provide.”
He nodded slowly, and I knew that somehow, I hadn’t answered the question properly. But I didn’t understand what he wanted to know.
“I know that you’re very keen to provide me with what I want,” he said, slowly and carefully. “But I want to know whatyouwant. What do you like? What do you enjoy? What makes you happy?”
I had to smile at that last part. “Pleasing my master makes me happy,” I told him.
His optimistic expression faded, and my smile dropped. I had said the wrong thing again. I didn’t understand what he wanted. I didn’t understand what point he was trying to make. But I was not to question my master. If I couldn’t learn to do what he wanted, then I didn’t deserve any kind of pleasure or reward. I would have to work on that.
It had been simpler out in the jungle. Pleasing him had been so much easier out there. I stood quietly, waiting for him to tell me what I was allowed to eat. Or perhaps to tell me that I was no longer allowed anything.
He took a slow breath and turned away from me. “I would recommend the camel stew,” he said, facing the counter. “It’s actually a lot better than its reputation would suggest. Do you like bread?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied simply. I’d eaten a variety of different types of bread, and though I found it unremarkable as a food, I also had no objections to it. Not that I would tell my master that I disliked the food he gave me. But in this case, the happy coincidence was that my approval was actually true.
My master asked the man behind the counter for two bowls of camel stew and two bread rolls. He handed me one of each, then a bowl of what seemed to be some kind of chopped vegetable. Curious, I sniffed it. It smelled sweet, and I deduced that it was probably fruit. I wasn’t familiar with the fruits or vegetables on this planet, but I’d learned to eat almost anything, no matter how unpalatable, and this fruit smelled pleasant enough.
“Is that okay?” my master asked, seeing the attention I was giving the fruit, and I straightened quickly.
“Yes, sir,” I said. Balancing the food on my tray, I accepted the little wrapped package of eating utensils, then followed my master to a table. He chose one at the edge of the room, away from the main bulk of people. I made a note of that. Perhaps he preferred quiet and solitude to rowdy gatherings? Or small groups, as opposed to large ones?
We ate quietly, but my master seemed to be deep in thought. Every now and then he would frown, then tilt his head, as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. At one point, he broke a chunk of bread off his roll and waved it over his stew several times, as if deciding whether or not he should eat it. Finally, he looked up at me, abandoning his meal for the moment.
“Earlier today,” he began, “I told you that it’s fairly uncommon for a human to buy a dimari. Did that information concern you at all?”
I thought back to the conversation on the transporter. “No, sir,” I replied. “Given that I was not taught anything about humans during my training, that seems to make sense.”
“Uh huh. Right. Good.” He took another bite of food, chewing slowly. I hesitated, then resumed my meal, uncertain as to whether he wanted to continue the conversation. After a minute or two, he spoke again.
“You’ve seen the problems that can occur here because the Rendol system is on the fringe of Alliance space. So your combat skills areveryinteresting to me. And that was one of the main reasons I bought you. But I didn’t give a great deal of thought to what other skills you have. And I don’t know much about what your training process was.” He was speaking slowly, pausing between each phrase, as if to emphasise their importance. I paid close attention to him in response. “So over the next few weeks, I’m probably going to ask you a few questions about your training, or about what sorts of things I should be providing for you. And… well, first of all, would I be correct in assuming that you’ve been taught not to ask for things?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied. A dimari did not ask for things to fulfil their own needs. To do so was rude and self-serving. I was here to serve my master.
“So this creates a bit of a problem,” he said. “Because I don’t know all the things that you need, and you have been trained not to ask for them.”
He seemed to be waiting for a reply. So I said, “I am here to serve you, sir. I will be content with whatever you see fit to provide.” This time, I knew what he wanted me to tell him. I understood the question. But my training strictly forbade me from saying it. And somehow, it also forbade me from explaining that to him. I was here to serve my master. That was all.
“I suppose what I’m trying to say,” he went on, “is that I’m going to be asking you some odd sorts of questions, and most of them are because I’mtrying to understand more about you. None of these questions are meant to imply that you’ve done anything wrong, or that I’m not happy with you. I have beenveryimpressed with the way you handled yourself on our mission, and if I have any problems with your work, I will tell you plainly, rather than making vague insinuations and hoping you guess what I want.”
I was surprised by the relief I felt at his gentle announcement. I felt my shoulders relax, releasing a tension I hadn’t realised I was holding. Well, that certainly removed some of the burden of trying to adapt to his culture and expectations. And then I completely surprised myself by blurting out, “I would be very happy to receive any instructions you have on how to perform my duties.” Holy heck, I’d basically just begged him to give me some guidance on what I was supposed to be doing here. I was already supposed to know that! I may as well have just painted a sign on my face that read ‘Help me, I’m lost!’
My master was watching me closely, and I avoided his gaze out of embarrassment. But when I risked a quick peek at his face, I was surprised to find that he seemed… happy? Intrigued? Even satisfied, maybe? I hadn’t displeased him. I’d said something inappropriate, but he wasn’t upset about it. How very odd.
Once we’d finished eating, my master led me down a series of hallways into a different part of the base. We stopped at a small reception desk, where a short, furry creature with four legs and two arms was propped up on a wide stool. “Evening Lieutenant,” she greeted my master. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a guest for the night,” he said, gesturing to me. “Is there a spare room we can allocate him to? As close to mine as possible? And I was hoping I could get a uniform for him. He’s not on the staff here, but we’ve been trekking through the jungle for days and we’re both filthy.”
“Of course,” the woman chirped. “Let me have a look… Oh! You’re in luck. There’s a room right next to yours that’s empty. I’ll assign it to… What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Kade,” I replied.
She tapped something into her console. “Kade…?”
“Hill,” my master answered her implicit question, and it didn’t escape my notice that he had just given me a part of his name. There were presumably some unspoken cultural requirements at play here, and I was grateful that my master was navigating them for me, but… He’d given me his name! I was Kade Hill. I could hardly imagine a more obvious or more public announcement that I belonged to him. My heart skipped a beat, joy and desire warring inside me as I wanted to plaster myself to his side and grin like a lunatic.
