Valiant Dust

16

Silver Sea, Gadira II

Sikander reclined on the cushioned bench with his eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on his face, the creaking of the rigging, and the endless whispering of the water against the boat’s hull. He’d never actually sailed before, and he loved the experience. All of his previous boating had been aboard powered vessels of one sort or another—usually sport fishing—and generally involved racing to the best or most scenic spots at whatever speed he could manage. The idea that people might take pleasure in going somewhere slowly, or not really going anywhere at all, had never taken hold of him, but a few hours on the sultan’s royal yacht Shihab had changed that. Sikander was a romantic at heart, and the sheer extravagance of sailing gracefully over a blue sea beneath a brilliant sky just as his ancestors had a thousand years ago on Earth was overwhelming.

“Are you well, sir?” Darvesh Reza asked him. The valet stood nearby, busying himself with arranging sliced fruit and iced drinks provided by the yacht’s crew at a nearby table.

“Never better,” Sikander answered. “Why do you ask?”

“You were lying with your eyes closed; I wondered if perhaps you were seasick.”

“Merely enjoying the elements, Darvesh. And you should know that I have never had any trouble of that sort, or I wouldn’t have taken up fishing.” Sikander propped himself up on his elbow and glanced over the low wooden rail ringing the yacht’s expansive stern. The brown jumble of Tanjeer’s buildings and factories had long since vanished over the horizon behind Shihab; the line of barren mountains and sea cliffs outside the capital slowly receded to the north as the yacht glided out onto the Silver Sea, leaving land behind.

Idly he wondered for perhaps the tenth time in the last hour or so why Ranya had invited him to come for a sail. A simple desire for companionship outside her customary circles? A quiet effort to ascertain more about the Commonwealth’s interests in Gadira, or perhaps a subtle message to Montréal or Dremark that the sultan’s allegiance might be flexible? Or was it a romantic overture—in which case, how exactly should he respond to any intimacies that were offered? Sikander had been surprised to receive the invitation to spend a day or two on the sultan’s yacht without the rest of Hector’s officers along, and a little uncertain of how to reply, but Captain Markham hadn’t hesitated. “If the amira enjoys your company and wants to spend some time with you, consider yourself under orders to attend,” she’d told Sikander. “It offers a unique opportunity to gain the ear of the sultan. But don’t sleep with her, Mr. North. We don’t need any more complications here.”

Of course, not sleeping with someone might also cause complications, Sikander reflected. Which order took precedence—avoid physical intimacy, or avoid diplomatic complications? And if a romantic situation developed, how would it complicate matters with Lara Dunstan when he returned to New Perth? He was fond of her, too, and hoped to renew their acquaintance after his deployment. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sikay,” he muttered. So far the outing appeared to be perfectly chaste, and in fact it was hard to imagine how he could initiate anything else with two dozen Royal Guard sailors and stewards aboard.

“What was that, sir?” Darvesh asked. He, of course, had to come along as well. Sikander had been surrounded by Aquilan officers at the sultan’s garden party and at dinner aboard the Panther, but traveling unaccompanied on a planet in such turmoil as Gadira was out of the question, especially after the recent attack on the sultan’s skycade.

“Nothing,” said Sikander. “Just reflecting on complications.”

“The entire point of sailing is to simplify things for a time,” said Ranya, stepping through the companionway that led to the main cabin below. She had changed into a light, gauzy sundress, and tied her hair back in a long dark ponytail. “That’s why I love it so much. The palace is busy around the clock, and there is always more to do. Getting away on Shihab compels me to set aside my concerns for a time. It’s good for the soul, I think.”

“In that case, I am gratified by your concern for mine. Thank you for inviting me.”

“I’m glad you were able to break away from your duties when I called.” Ranya crossed the sitting area at the stern and sat near Sikander; Darvesh finished rearranging the tray of refreshments to his liking, and left the two of them alone. “I see you’re sitting in the sun. Most offworlders find this part of Gadira to be too warm for their liking.”

“I grew up in the tropics of Jaipur. This is a pleasant change from New Perth, Hector’s home port. It’s a rare day that gets above twenty degrees C in Brigadoon.” Sikander smiled at Ranya, and nodded up at the great sails and slanted masts that loomed overhead. “I’m not very knowledgeable about sailing ships. What kind of vessel is Shihab?”

“She is modeled on an old Terran type called a dhow. They were common in the Red Sea and Indian Ocean during the preindustrial centuries, or so I am told.” Ranya gazed up at the clean white sails, bellied out in the afternoon breeze. “Of course, most dhows were working vessels—the trading ships of the ancient Mideast. Shihab is built for pleasure sailing, although she has power turbines belowdecks, satellite navigation, and a variety of hidden defensive systems. The Royal Guard wouldn’t dream of allowing the family to set foot on her otherwise.”

Sikander nodded. “My family’s Srinagar estate is similar. It looks like a rustic Terran lodge on the outside, but it’s fitted with the most modern comm and security systems my father can afford. I spent many summers there when I was a boy, riding and hunting in the hills near the Kharan Desert. It’s a good place to get away from things, but the realities of our situation demand that my father is never out of touch for emergencies.”

“Do you have any sailboats in Kashmir, Sikander?”

He shook his head. “No sailing yachts like Shihab, at least not on Jaipur. There just isn’t a yachting culture on my homeworld. The coastal regions are subject to powerful storms during cyclone season, so most settlements grew up well inland. On the other hand, Srinagar—the larger and more densely populated of Kashmir’s planets—is home to quite a few pleasure craft. But most of those are powered boats.”

“A shame,” Ranya said. “It’s not the same experience at all.”

“I am beginning to appreciate that.”

They passed most of the afternoon comparing more stories of their upbringing and the customs of their homeworlds. It was a pleasant way to spend the day, watching the mountains of the coast recede behind them, surrounded by the creaking of the rigging and the cool spray of the small waves slapping against the hull. Ranya was an only child, and Sultan Rashid’s two daughters were a good ten years younger than her, leaving Ranya without any relations close to her own age. She told him about the servants’ children she had played with when she was small, the gentle and good-humored side her otherwise fierce father Kamal had shown his family, and how much she had missed him over the last seven years.

“My circumstances were a little different,” said Sikander when they finished a late lunch. “The Norths are more of a horde than a household.”

“You come from a large family?”

“Oh, yes. I have four siblings: my older brothers Gamand and Devindar, my older sister Usha, and my younger brother Manvir. Not to mention a dozen or so close cousins who are more or less about my age.” Sikander smiled ruefully. “The only time I seemed to get my father’s attention was when I did something bad.”

“I find that hard to believe. Like what?”

Sikander glanced up at Shihab’s sails. “Well, there was the time Devindar and I stole the family yacht.”

“I thought you said you didn’t sail!”

“Ketu is a powerboat, and a very fast one at that. I was twelve, and Devindar was fourteen. Our parents were away visiting colleges with Gamand and Usha, and the two of us decided to take the boat out on Long Lake to impress Hamsi and Jaya Lawton.” He smiled. “The Lawtons had a handsome estate fifty kilometers down the lakeshore, and we were both quite smitten with Hamsi. I think we had some idea of zipping down to their place and asking the girls to join us for a boat ride.”

“And the household staff let you just take the boat?”

“Of course not. We weren’t supposed to be on Ketu without an adult, but we told them Father had given us permission to take the boat out to fish nearby if we wanted to. We simply bluffed our way on board.” Sikander shook his head. “Apparently our confidence was quite convincing.”

Ranya laughed. “Your father must have been furious when he found out!”

“We were sentenced to landscaping work for the whole summer. My father had the head gardener rip out a perfectly good sprinkler system and install a new one just so the two of us would have ditches to dig. Although Devindar had it worse than I, since he was supposedly old enough to know better.” Sikander grimaced. “I’m afraid Devindar and my father still don’t get along.”

That led to stories of other escapades and punishments, which occupied them for the next hour or more. In the middle of the afternoon, the green hills of an island crept into view ahead of the yacht. It steadily grew higher and clearer, until Shihab sailed into a magnificent half-moon bay surrounded by headlands covered in dense foliage. Sikander smelled the rich scents of exotic blooms, and listened to birdsong echoing in the forest. He glanced over to Ranya, who stood by the rail beside him. “I was led to believe that Gadira was a desert planet,” he said to her. “What is this place?”

“This is the island of Socotra, named after a similar place on Old Terra,” she told him. “It belongs to my family. The el-Nasir sultans have used it as a sort of getaway and refuge for a couple of hundred years. There is a small villa just past that headland over there, but I asked our crew to stop here for an hour or two before continuing on. There is something here every visitor to Gadira should see.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sikander admitted.

“Oh, I am not talking about the island,” Ranya laughed. “Go below to your cabin and put on a swimsuit, Sikay. We’re going in the water.”

He shrugged and did as he was told. In a few minutes, he returned to the deck in his swim trunks and a T-shirt. The afternoon was drawing on, and the harsh Gadiran sun was mellowing to a golden twilight. He admired the scenery until Ranya joined him by the rail. She wore a demure green one-piece that showed no cleavage or midriff—a pity, in Sikander’s estimation, since Ranya looked quite good in a swimsuit otherwise. A formfitting suit with bare legs and arms fell within acceptable bounds for Gadiran swimwear, but local custom frowned on the notion of a bikini or, God forbid, the topless suits popular on some Coalition worlds.

If Ranya guessed anything about the direction of his thoughts, she gave him no sign other than a slight smile. She handed him a diving mask and a pair of fins. “It’s easier to put these on in the water,” she said, and then she stepped off the side, disappearing into the bay with a silver splash.

Sikander pulled off his shirt, then hopped over the side to follow her. The deck was about two meters above the surface; he sank into warm, startlingly clear water. He could see the entire length of Shihab’s dark hull, looking like a toy sitting in a bathtub. Ranya hovered in the water a few meters away, already dressed in her mask and fins. Her green suit shimmered like emerald, rippling with dappled light from the wavelets above. It complemented her olive skin and dark hair perfectly.

Sikander surfaced to clear his mask and fit it to his face, slipping the rebreather tube into his mouth. More modern masks used a nasal rebreather and fitted a subvocal pickup so that you could talk to your companions underwater, but it seemed those hadn’t yet reached this corner of the Montréalais empire. Then, pulling on his fins, he dove again and swam down toward Ranya. She waited a moment to make sure he was following, then led the way over the sandy bottom to a large reef head. Hundreds of tiny, brightly colored fish cruised and darted around the rocky outcropping, which was covered with flowering plants like an aquatic meadow. The fish seemed much like those Sikander had seen on other worlds; convergent evolution selected for streamlined, gilled, finned body plans, although the Gadiran species were beautifully colored. The sea plants, on the other hand, were something Sikander had never seen on any other planet. He decided that it had to be a combination of the Gadiran sun’s particular spectrum and the clarity of the water. Green plants in Gadira’s waters managed just as well in the shallows as they would on land, and the water chemistry explained how the colors remained vibrant to great depth. But the flowerlike structures he could attribute only to the randomness of evolution.

Ranya waved an arm to gain his attention. He glanced over, and saw that scores of small fish were circling her body. The shimmer of her emerald swimsuit drew their attention, just like the flowering plants of the reef. The fish evidently had no fear of humans; in fact, Sikander noticed that quite a number of the tiny creatures followed him as well, swimming lazily around him. One variety featured a striking combination of scarlet and gold with a black chin-strap marking, reminding him of the uniforms the Khanate Guard wore back in Kashmir; they bumped softly at his fingers when he reached out to touch them.

They swam together for a long time, exploring more of the reef. Sikander found new things to look at every minute, and slowly came to realize that the reefs of Gadira might be one of the most interesting and beautiful environments he’d ever wandered into. Of course, his company might have colored his experience somewhat. In their last stop before heading back to the boat, Ranya removed her rebreather to grin at him, at which point he removed his to grin back and pull her close for a stolen kiss. The kiss itself was not particularly great—he tasted nothing but salt water, and their masks got in the way—but the feel of her slim body pressed close to his and the soft firmness of her breasts against his chest more than made up for the logistical problems. Her hand wandered down to give him a playful tug before she broke away to surface.

He glided up to surface beside her. “What was that?” he said, stripping off his mask.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she primly replied, and swam over to the ladder to climb back onto the yacht. Sikander made a point of swimming vigorously back and forth across the stern of the ship for a few moments more, mostly so that he could climb out of the water without announcing a conspicuous erection to everyone on board. When he judged it safe, he scrambled up the ladder and gratefully accepted the towel offered by a steward waiting for him.

“That was amazing,” he told Ranya, who was toweling off nearby. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like a field of wildflowers underwater.”

Ranya nodded. “We call them zahrabarh, sea flowers. Every planet has its own unique treasures, of course. The reefs are one of ours.” She finished with her towel, and slipped on a long white robe; Sikander realized that the air was growing chilly, and that the sun was already touching the horizon. “This might be my favorite place in the world.”

“I can see why.” Sikander toweled himself. “So what’s next?”

“We’ll be at the island villa in half an hour. We’ll have dinner and spend the night there—you’ll have one of the guest bungalows, of course—and perhaps swim or hike in the morning before sailing back.” Ranya’s smile faded a little. “Unfortunately, I really can’t stay away for more than a day or so right now.”

Shihab weighed anchor and got under way again, although this time she motored along slowly on her turbines—they were in the lee of the island, and there wasn’t enough breeze for the sails. Sikander rinsed off the seawater in an abovedecks shower, then went below to change into casual evening wear. By the time he finished and returned to the deck, the sun had sunk below the horizon, and the yacht was approaching an estate spread out along the beach of yet another bay. Some of the wooden buildings stood on piers extending out over the bay, while the palm trees and forested hillside screened the others. Festive lanterns hung from the trees.

Ranya personally showed Sikander and Darvesh to his bungalow when the yacht moored to the dock. They ate a leisurely dinner of Gadiran seasoned seafood kebobs and fine white wine on a veranda of the main house. “It’s sort of frowned upon in the more observant quarters, but the Montréalais can’t go anywhere without importing their wines, and many city-dwelling Gadirans have become enthusiasts,” Ranya explained. “In public functions at the palace, the sultan usually does not serve alcohol. Privately, wine in moderation is considered acceptable, and Socotra is a place where we may enjoy our privacy.”

After dinner, Sikander and Ranya strolled out to an open-sided bali hut perched at the end of a pier. Gadira’s moon gleamed low in the eastern sky, striking yellow-white reflections off the water. Sikander noticed that the small staff of servants remained in the main house, allowing the two of them quite a bit of space. They sat together for a long moment, gazing out at the moonlit bay.

“Thank you for sharing Socotra with me,” Sikander said. “The sailing trip, the swim at the reef, the dinner, and this beautiful place … I think my shipmates would be very jealous of me.”

“You are welcome, Sikay.” Ranya glanced back at the buildings and verandas of the sultan’s retreat, and sighed. “I shall miss it when I leave.”

“You are leaving?”

“In a few months. My uncle wants me to travel. He is sending me on an extended visit with distant relations in different parts of the Terran Caliphate.” Ranya shrugged. “I will have a chance to visit Terra, which I am looking forward to. How many people get a chance to see the homeworld of us all?”

“I haven’t yet, but I hope to one day,” said Sikander. “You sound as if you are not entirely satisfied with the arrangements, though.”

“I may be gone for two or three years.” Ranya gestured at the villa. “I worry about what I will find when I return.”

Sikander studied her features in the dim light. “What do you fear?” he asked.

“I worry whether my uncle will be in power much longer, and who will replace him if House Nasir falls,” she said in a quiet voice. “If it was just a matter of balancing the interests of the caids and the beys, I think we could manage it. But the offworld influences complicate everything. Someone is arming the Caidists with modern weapons. The Montréalais have supported our own forces for years, but now their own internal politics leave them unable or unwilling to help us meet this new threat. And I don’t know what to make of the sudden interest other powers have developed in Gadira.” She glanced back at him. “In fact, I have to admit that one of the reasons I asked you to join me on Shihab was to see whether I could learn something about Aquila’s intentions from you.”

Sikander smiled in the shadows. He had half an idea of what some of the other reasons might be, but he wasn’t particularly offended if she chose to mix some business with pleasure. One of the things he admired about Ranya was her intelligence. She was nobody’s fool; he suspected that things on Gadira might not be in such a state if her countrymen had been just a little more progressive about the notion of a female head of state.

“I don’t know what new insights I can offer, Ranya,” he answered. “Keeping in mind that I am not a diplomat … it’s my understanding that Aquila prefers the status quo. We want to see Montréal and Gadira continue their relationship, and we want to see an end of the current unrest so that Gadira becomes a safe place to do business again. I think that the el-Nasirs represent the best instrument for preserving the current balance of power, and helping you would be the easiest way to achieve our goals. Others think we ought to wait and see which faction or combination of factions gains the upper hand, and make them our new friends. I don’t agree with that point of view.”

“I am just an instrument for your goals?” Ranya asked with a mischievous smile.

“Well, you’re the one who lured me down to the ground so you could extract my secrets with your feminine wiles.”

“Feminine wiles?” she laughed. “Who says that?”

Sikander grinned. “I confess, I’ve been waiting for years to find the occasion to use that turn of phrase.”

She laughed again, and Sikander joined her. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry, Sikander. I suppose this wasn’t what you anticipated when we wandered out here. I wish I could put these things from my mind.”

“You are who you are, Ranya,” he said to her. “And I wouldn’t say I anticipated anything. Well, perhaps I hoped a little, but I wouldn’t have wanted to presume.”

“A few centuries ago, your head would have been struck off for entertaining those sorts of notions about the daughter of a sultan.” Ranya got to her feet and glanced back at the veranda; no one was in sight. Then she leaned down close over Sikander to kiss him soundly. He drank in the taste of her lips, the lovely scent of her perfume—and her sudden soft gasp as he slid one hand up under the hem of her dress to boldly caress her, counting on the shadows to conceal his movements.

“Presume, indeed,” she breathed, and leaned into him for one long, delicious moment. Then a clatter of motion from the main house interrupted them; two of the serving staff came out onto the veranda to cover the table and adjust the shutters for the night. The servants seemed absorbed in their duties and Sikander didn’t think they had seen anything, but Ranya pulled away with a nod in their direction.

“Well, turnabout is fair play,” said Sikander. He stood and moved closer.

“I know.” Ranya set a hand on his chest, keeping her distance as she watched the house for a moment. “Still, perhaps we had better call it a night. The staff is very discreet, but…”

He started to reach for her, but stopped himself. “I understand,” he made himself say. “I do not want to put you in a difficult spot.”

Ranya gave him a smile, and kissed him once more—a much more chaste brush of her lips against his. “Thank you,” she said. “Sleep well, Sikander. I’ll wake you early for breakfast, and show you around the island before we set out for home.”

“Good night, Ranya.” Sikander watched her walk slowly back down the pier toward the main house, and allowed himself a sigh of regret. Ranya el-Nasir was rapidly becoming a lot more interesting to him than a sultan’s niece ought to be, given the trouble that could come of any indiscretions here. After all, Captain Markham had given him clear instructions on that score.

“Keep your head clear, Sikay,” he murmured aloud. Sleep well, indeed! He knew what he would be thinking about once he was in bed. Did she expect him to presume just a little more, and find his way to her room? Or did she intend to visit him? And what would he do if she did?

He returned to his bungalow, changed for bed, and slipped beneath the sheets. The bungalow’s bedroom featured a louvered wooden sliding door leading out to a deck and a view of the sea; the moonlight glimmered on the water, painting the ceiling with a pale glow. It did not take him long to recall the feel of Ranya’s body pressed close to him, the fleeting touch of her hand on him, the soft brush of her breasts against his chest as he stroked her between the legs for that one delicious moment … He sighed and got up, walking over to the door and stepping out onto the balcony. The air was cool and humid on his bare torso. He watched the waves break on the shore, but when he looked away, he noticed that the sliding door two bungalows down stood open.

That was Ranya’s room.

Before he could think better of it, Sikander padded down the steps of his own deck and made his way along the path behind the bungalows, half expecting to be confronted by scimitar-wielding harem guards. There was no way the Royal Guard would not be keeping an eye on their amira … but Ranya had told him that Socotra was a place where Gadira’s royals could enjoy their privacy. His heartbeat quickened as he considered the implications of that remark, and before he knew it, he was climbing up the stairs leading to her door. I hope this is what Ranya intended, he thought. Otherwise this is going to be very hard to explain to the captain.

He paused in the open doorway, silhouetted by the moonlight but momentarily unable to see much in the deep shadows of the bedroom. “Ranya?” he called softly.

He heard a rustle of sheets. In the silver gloom he saw her sit up in her bed, the sheets pooled around her waist. She wore a thin sleeping shift that clung to her breasts, her nipples barely veiled. “I wondered if you would come,” she answered.

Sikander advanced into the room, feeling the familiar excitement in his loins. His silken pajama pants wouldn’t do much to hide what was on his mind. “Do you want me to go?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I am not entirely sure this is a good idea … but no.”

“Good, because right now, I am.” He clambered onto the bed beside her and covered her mouth with his, kissing her long and passionately. Ranya sighed and seemed to melt into his kiss with a soft sound, sinking back into her bed as he leaned over her on his hands and knees. With one hand he brushed aside the sheets; she gasped softly when he caressed her again, and lowered himself down beside her. Sikander devoted himself to the task of undressing her one gentle move at a time, and exploring her lovely body as he kissed her neck and nuzzled at her soft breasts. When he finally entered her, she quivered and cried out, clasping him close.

Afterward, they lay in a tangle of arms and legs, the moonlight shining in through the louvered door. Ranya idly stroked her hand across Sikander’s well-muscled chest, while he caressed her back. “Did I say you were a little too bold for your own good?” she murmured.

“That might have come up, but I’m not always good at taking advice,” he admitted. “The sultan’s guards aren’t going to behead me now, are they?”

“I do enjoy some privacy. What happens behind closed doors is nothing to concern them, especially in a secluded retreat like Socotra. But it might be best if you allowed your bungalow attendant to find you in your own bed in the morning.”

“Which is still quite a few hours away, the last I looked.”

Ranya smiled. “You may not be good at taking advice, but you seem to be able to take a hint,” she replied. Her hand wandered downward, and of course, that was just the sort of hint that Sikander needed to stop talking again.