“The food was too good,” Heris said demurely. He laughed.
“And I thought it was recognition of a hopeless cause. Tell me, though: royals, regulars, or ground forces?” He was not one to give up an inquiry.
“Regulars.” She would make it short and firm; would he take the hint?
“Ah,” he said. She could almost hear the gears twitching in his brain. “I met an Admiral Serrano once, at an embassy do on Seychartin.”
“If he was two meters tall, with a scar from his left ear across his cheek, that was my uncle Sabado. If she was my height, with lots of braids, it was my aunt Vida.” Actually there had been eight Admiral Serranos in the past fifteen years, but only two that she knew of had served on Seychartin while holding that rank.
“Your aunt, then. There’s a strong family resemblance.”
“So I’ve been told,” said Heris. She braced herself for more questions; she knew he was asking them in his mind. But his next words left the questions untouched.
“It’s unusual for Regular Fleet officers to have riding as a hobby,” he said.
“Lady Cecelia would convert anyone,” Heris said, relieved. Maybe she was safe, now, although this sort of colonel had a habit of making oblique attacks later in an acquaintance. “We had a wager, which she won; the forfeit was that I would take instruction from her. In the process, I discovered an interest.”
“Ah,” he said, this time in a different tone. “Do you know, years ago when I was a small boy, I happened to see her ride, one of her professional events. It was cold and wet, I remember, a nasty blowing mizzling rain that went right through whatever you wore. I had been bored, even though I rather liked horses, because I couldn’t see over the grownups. I would see the top of someone’s cap flash by, and that was it. People would groan or cheer, and I didn’t know why. My feet were cold, my neck was wet; I’d have gone home if I could. Then everyone was saying ‘Here she comes!’ and someone—I never even knew the man—set me up on his shoulders, and out of the murk came this huge horse with a red-headed woman on it, and they jumped something that looked to my child’s eyes to be four meters high and every bit that wide. Of course it wasn’t, but I was impressed anyway. For a whole term I wanted to be an event rider.”
“Were you ever?” asked Heris. She found she really cared; he had a gift for storytelling that Bunny’s poor cousin utterly lacked.
“Oh, no. I was too young to be faithful to dreams; the next thing I wanted to do was play a very rough ball game popular at our school, and since it was available and good horses were not, I learned to play that, and liked it. Real riding came later, and by then I knew I wanted a career in the military or possibly security forces.”
“I wish I’d seen her,” Heris said. “She’s shown me the cubes, of course, but now that I’ve ridden a real horse I can imagine that the effect is very different if you’re actually there, seeing it.”
“Magnificent,” he said, smiling. “But do you have your hunt assignment yet?”
“Blue,” said Heris. “Day after tomorrow, Neil said; tomorrow I’m to have another session over fences.”
“Good for you. If he’s scheduled you into the blue, you’re doing well. Let me introduce you to some of the other blue hunt members.” He led her to a cluster of people who were all talking about the day’s chase. Heris wondered which hunt he rode with. Cecelia had explained the system, but it still seemed odd. . . . For one thing, she didn’t understand why the hunt levels didn’t have names taken from the books, instead of colors. If they were all so interested in reproducing history . . .
“Ah,” said a tall lanky blond man. “Captain Serrano, Lady Cecelia’s new friend—we’ve heard about you.” Heris had no chance to wonder what he meant, for he went on. “Neil’s bragging to everyone—of course, she’s his pet example of what we should all aspire to, and now as a teacher as well as rider. Is it really true that you had never mounted a live horse until today?”
Heris allowed herself a slow smile. “Not at all. But it’s true I had ridden little, many years ago, and hadn’t been on a horse since I was . . . oh . . . perhaps twenty-three.”
“You’d never jumped?”
“No.”
“I told you, Stef, Lady Cecelia’s simulator is legendary.” That was a red-haired woman about Heris’s height, who wore a gown of mossy green with wide sleeves. . . . Heris realized why, when she saw the wrist brace.
“It must be.” Stef, the tall man, shook his head. “Maybe it would help me. It took me five seasons to work up from the red hunt to the blue, and I’ve been stuck in blue for ten.” Others chuckled; the red-haired woman turned to Heris.
“Tell me—did you find real horses easy after the simulator?”
“Not exactly easy, but much easier than I would have without it. And after the second ride, it was almost the same, a continuation of the same training.”
Cecelia appeared at her shoulder. “I hate to break this up, but you’ve got that early lesson, and I’m off with the greens at dawn—and there’s a message from the Station.” She smiled at the group around Heris, and they smiled in a way that let Heris know how much clout Cecelia had. She was almost tempted to refuse the suggestion just to see them react, but that would be cheap, so she said good night and followed Cecelia upstairs.
“Message?” she asked on the way.
“Nothing much—the ones you left aboard—”
“The standing watch,” Heris murmured.
“Whatever. Letting you know that the others arrived safely in Hospitality Bay, and that the new equipment is functioning correctly so far. Did you ask for regular reports?”
“Of course,” Heris said. “If they didn’t report, how would I know whether things are going well?”
“Oh. I’d assume they were—but before you even remind me, if it were a stable and not a ship I would be the way you are. When I was off competing, I spent incredible sums checking back with the home yard to see if they’d remembered things—and they always had.”
“Because you checked,” Heris said. “I’ll call back up—anything else?”
“Well . . . yes. I hope you won’t be offended—”
“I won’t.” Although she wasn’t entirely sure. On her home ground—and she treated Lord Thornbuckle’s planet as her home ground—Cecelia had some of the very habits Heris had feared when she first hired on with a rich old lady.
“Some of them are terrible gossips,” Cecelia said, speaking softly. “It’s not just that they’ll repeat what you said. . . . They’ll embellish it. It’ll be worse because you’re here as my guest; they’ve chewed my past to tasteless mush already, and you’re something new. I know you can deal with it, but don’t be surprised if you hear that we’re lovers or something.”
“Lovers!” Heris nearly choked. “Us?”
“Predictable gossip,” Cecelia said. Her cheeks were very pink.
“I’m sorry,” Heris realized that her reaction could be construed as unflattering. “It’s just—I mean—”
“We aren’t. I know. But since I never married, they’ve been trying all the theories about why not, one after another until the end and back again. That crowd that rides the blue hunt is the worst—Stef, in particular, would rather talk than ride, as you can tell when you see him mounted.”
“You know,” Heris said, as they mounted another flight of stairs. “I wouldn’t talk about you—or Ronnie.”
“I know. It’s not that. I just—I want you to enjoy this, Heris. Not as my captain, but as my guest. And it occurred to me that you might not have their sort of gossip in the military.”