“Tilly,” I said, smirking when she gave an answering chirp. “What do you think? Want a good cleaning and new paint job?”
Tilly’s engine began to purr, which I knew to be a positive response. “That should be fine,” I translated.
“And maybe upgrade the internal components,” the valet said hopefully.
“We’ll see what Tilly thinks,” I said. Then a thought struck me. “What about cavalry boots?”
“What about them?” the valet asked.
“I could wear them with my mess dress uniform,” I said. “It’s not regulation. Cavalry boots and riding breeches will set me apart from the officers in court shoes and trousers.”
The valet considered. “I’d have to do the boots in black. And you couldn’t have thigh cargo pockets on your breeches – they’d get in the way of the seam piping, but it’s not like you’ll need extra shells or field gear. And the boots, maybe patent leather with silver buckles, red heels, yes. Yes, I could make that work.”
“All right, then,” I said. “One non-regulation mess dress, coming up.”
“First, we must wash the dust of battle from you.”
It was a fair critique. The rain had done little to clean the mud, oil, and sap from my clothes, and I radiated the stench of an unwashed man in near-visible waves. I looked around for the bathhouse, but the valet snapped his fingers, and a pair of black-clad footmen appeared as if from nowhere.
Suddenly realizing what was about to happen, I took a step back. “I can bathe myself, thank you very much,” I said, but my intended commanding statement came out as a frightened squeak.
The valet arched his dark eyebrow. “Not to my standards, you can’t.” Then, to his two aides, he commanded, “Scrub him.”
Before I could dart away, the footmen snagged me by the arms, holding me with surprising strength despite my protests. Tilly growled, a menacing rumble of old-style piston engines, but I shouted, “Tilly, stay,” and she quieted down. I could tellby her twitching aerovanes that she was unhappy with me, but my current problems would not be helped by an enraged Synthetic Intelligence.
To prevent my hoversteed attacking the Royal Guards in my defense, I allowed the footmen to lead me away to scrub me down like an errant schoolboy in what would surely be one of the most humiliating experiences of my adult life.
COURTLY INTRODUCTIONS
“AH, SKY CAPTAINBoylan, I presume?”
A stout, sturdy, dark-skinned colonel stood in my way, oozing friendly charm. I took her offered hand and shook it, still unnerved by my newly promoted rank, the sudden, scalding scrub-down, rapid re-clothing, shot of stim, hurried hustle through yet another portal, and the familiar way senior officers addressed me since my visit to the palace, but the smiling, round-faced colonel was far less threatening than a grand marshal, even if her hand felt hard as ironwood. She had the dense, broad-shouldered frame of an unmodified human born and raised on a high-gravity world, and her casually crushing grip confirmed it.
“I’m sorry, Colonel, but I don’t know your name,” I said as I tensed my fingers and tried not to wince.
The colonel’s teeth flashed in a disarming grin. “Colonel Boleslaw. Tikuma Boleslaw. I’m Prince Aureli’s aide.”
“Aren’t we all?” I replied.
Colonel Boleslaw threw her head back and laughed. “Right you are. And I see you’ve acquired a court uniform already. Good show. I see you’ll fit in well here.”
At the mention of my new mess dress uniform and the word ‘fit,’ I twitched my hips, trying to get my blue-black breeches to release their grip on my leg hairs. Despite its open front, the short green jacket kept my shoulders well back, and the shawl-collared white waistcoat was tight enough across my abdomen to keep me from overeating. Colonel Boleslaw eyed me with concern. Hoping for an ally against the pressures of fashion, I obliged her with an explanation. “The tailor took ‘skintight’ more literally than I’d like. I’m afraid I’m slightly indecent.”
“Nonsense,” Boleslaw said, her eyes expertly running over my breeches. “It shows off your assets. Some diplomats here will appreciate that, especially the Noble Federation ladies, if I don’t miss my mark. Some gentlemen, too. But you’ll have time for all that later. Let’s get you a drink and introduce you to everyone.” Placing a hand on my elbow, she led me from the arrival room and into a gigantic hall.
“How was your portal?” Boleslaw asked as I discreetly marveled at the polished multicolored stone pillars, four-story vaulted ceilings, baroque paintings, and ornate gold scrollwork.
“I’ve had worse,” I said.
“I’ll bet you have, dropping in on New Dunsmere, Caledon, Old South Wales, hot spots all of them.” Boleslaw’s tone was matter-of-fact, but this colonel’s knowledge of my military record was remarkably thorough.
“Some of those were Lightbridge inserts,” I said, “but how do you know my record? I don’t believe we’ve met before.”
Boleslaw winked and tapped the side of her nose with afinger. “It’s my job to know everything about everyone, you know. Need to know something about anybody here, and if I don’t know it, then it isn’t worth knowing, or so important it’s liable to get you killed.”
“So what do you know about Astrid?” I asked.
Boleslaw’s smile faded slightly. “Very little, I fear. Filling that gap in my knowledge is why you’re here.”
