Weeks ago, my master had asked me what I wanted, had tried to force me to accept that I had opinions of my own, outside of his desires. I’d spent a great deal of time thinking about that, trying to tease out the threads of why I’d flushed with joy at the idea of him sucking my cock, but shrivelled in disappointment when told to wash the dishes. If both things would have pleased my master, then why…?
And what did that mean about the possibility of being taken back to Eumad? It was easy to say that I didn’t want to go. If I went, then how could I please my master? But if I was given a new master, and told to goand please them… why was that such a frightening idea? I would still have a master. I would still have someone to serve.
But… would they cuddle on the sofa with me and watch chaotic sports races? Would I have someone who gave me orders with that beautiful blend of vagueness and clarity, making sure I understood his intentions, while giving me leeway about exactly how to fulfil the order? Would my new master let me sleep in their bed, or send me away to another room? Despite all of my protests on the subject, I was slowly realising that my master was right. Iwantedthings. Iwantedto stay with him.
I tensed and pulled myself back to the present, as I saw my master approaching me out of the corner of my eye. We’d been given instructions to remain as unobtrusive as possible, except in the case of an emergency, and I wondered why he was breaking that instruction to come to me now.
He stopped right beside me, turning to face the room, and leaned close. “Kade,” he said into my ear. “I know you’ve got a lot on your mind right now. But I need you to pay more attention to what’s going on here, and spend less time thinking about the court case. We can deal with that one tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, straightening my back and returning my attention to the room. The main course was being brought out now, and I kept a close eye on the waiters. It wasn’t likely that an estate as exclusive as this one would have anyone on staff with ill intentions, but it was just about possible that a nefarious interloper might try to infiltrate the room, in order to launch a protest about the Nwandu. Or, for that matter, an attack against one of the Associates. Politicians were never without their detractors, after all.
After a suitable amount of time, my master returned to his own post, thankfully with no one paying any attention to us. The meal continued uneventfully, with nothing more sinister occurring than one of the attendees complaining about having been served the wrong sort of wine, and a small commotion when one of the Nwandu aides dropped her fork on the floor.
After the meal was over, the guests migrated out onto the wide balcony, and the security teams were told to reorganise ourselves to ensure all the guests were appropriately guarded. I ended up just outside the balcony doors, watching with curiosity as the ambassador’s aides chatted with the administration staff. The particular one in front of me was doing a very good job of pretending to be interested in a discussion of whether planting trees or grasses was more beneficial for a first wave of terraforming. I watched as she surveyed the room, then smiled politely at her companion, then glanced over at the Ambassador, where she was talking to one of the Associates on the far side of the balcony. Actually, now that I thought about it, every single one of the Ambassador’s attendants was outside onthe balcony, spread out at strategic distances, and… I took a longer glance around the space. Yes, every one of them was performing the same slow sweep of the area and occasional check-in with their mistress.
The women were not here to attend to Ambassador Vendanu’s administrative needs or to bring her extra glasses of wine – though that was certainly one of the activities they had been performing throughout the evening. These were not ladies-in-waiting. They were security personnel. I recognised the subtle but constant surveillance of their surroundings, because I had been trained to do the exact same thing.
As I watched, Vendanu’s aide brushed a hand against her jacket – a nervous gesture to check that whatever weapon she had was still in its assigned spot. There was another hidden weapon – I guessed it was a knife – attached to her right ankle. The way she moved her foot brought just a fraction too much attention to the limb. She was right-handed, I deduced quickly, since both weapons were easier to grab with her right hand than her left. To any other soldier – even to someone as keen-eyed as Commander Preswood – the ruse would be undetectable. But if someone had wanted to employ me as an assassin, I would have been perfectly capable of it. And according to the subtle tells I was seeing, so would the six unassuming Nwandu women on the balcony.
That, in and of itself, was not necessarily a problem. There had been intense security measures in place ever since the Ambassador had arrived, and she was well within her rights to want to defend herself, visiting an unfamiliar and not necessarily friendly planet. But the fact that we hadn’t been informed of her aides’ abilities was disconcerting.
I spotted Bryce across the balcony and moved to intercept him. Even if there was no immediate cause for concern, it would be as well for him and Henderson to know about this.
But before I got even halfway there, a scream cut through the evening, from somewhere below us and off to my left. Before I could do more than look in that direction, a gunshot followed, and then, like a wave breaking over the crowd, every person on the balcony was screaming and running for the safety of the restaurant’s main room.
I spotted Henderson, herding guests back inside, and then Vosh, doing the same thing. Bryce was heading in the opposite direction from the guests, over to the edge of the balcony, in the direction the scream had come from. His pistol was in his hand, his eyes sweeping the darkness. I dashed in his direction, glancing around for my master, but unable to spot him for the time being.
A long barn sat off to the side of the restaurant, where the wine tastings occurred for casual visitors. The ground below us was lit with a smattering of small, orange lights – presumably just enough to let the serving staff fetch wine bottles from storage and ferry them back to the restaurant. Ipeered into the darkness, keeping my body low behind the thick stone pillars that supported the railing surrounding the balcony. I spotted the door to the barn, some fifty metres away. It was open, light spilling out onto the pathway, and I just caught the back half of a hunched figure going inside, their skin a blotchy mix of cream and brown.
“Geshtoch,” I told Bryce. “Why the hell are there Geshtoch here?” I had my own gun out by now, but there was no further movement outside the barn, giving us nothing to shoot at.
“Orders, sir?” Bryce asked Henderson, as the large man scurried across the balcony to join us.
“Get back inside,” Henderson said. “The Nwandu security team are dealing with the threat. Your job is to protect the Ambassador and the Associates. I want you covering windows and exits. And Preswood, get some of your team to cover the kitchens. Get the kitchen staff into the main room until we have this under control.”
The plan sat ill with me. We were letting foreigners defend our own territory?
“We need to go and see what’s happening out there,” Bryce argued, echoing my thoughts. “There are civilians in the barn. Our job is to protect them.”
But before Henderson could reply, my master arrived to join our group. “All the guests are safe inside,” he reported. I felt a flush of relief at seeing him safe.
“The Ambassador’s aides are actually bodyguards,” I told the rest of them. “There’s plenty of security inside already.”
“I was under the impression that I gave the orders around here,” Henderson snapped. Down in the gardens below us, I saw the stealthy figures of the Nwandu’s security team spreading out, checking the shrubbery and various outbuildings. But they weren’t heading directly for the barn, and yelling at them to let them know where to go could potentially get both them and us killed.
“There are Geshtoch in the barn,” I told Henderson and my master. Nichols arrived just as I spoke, breathless and sweaty.
“Geshtoch? Are they stealing more wine?” he asked, eyes wide and startled.
“What?” I couldn’t help asking, though it was a minor detail. “Why would they do that?”
“I want the lot of you back inside,” Henderson announced, ignoring my question, then he moved at a swift shuffle away from us, back towards the door.
Bryce rolled his eyes at the rest of us. “Yes, sir,” he said, managing to keep most of the sarcasm out of his voice. He led the way back to the door, keeping his body low, the rest of us falling in behind him.
Inside, a sergeant from Bryce’s team was conducting a rollcall of sorts, accounting for each of the Associates and asking them in turn whether all of their administration staff had been accounted for. There was a brief panic, until someone reported that three of the missing women were holed up in the bathrooms, but were safe and accounted for.
Bryce and my master were moving across the room, towards the stairs that led to the lower level. I followed them, and if anyone asked, I was perfectly prepared to use the excuse that we were checking the exits on the ground floor. There wasn’t much down there aside from a wide reception room and a few storage cupboards, so it wouldn’t take us long to secure the area. Nichols was on our heels, and neither Bryce nor my master seemed inclined to send him back upstairs.
