But finally and conclusively, behind those eyes there dwelt no soldier. That was the surest evidence. Not even a captain's yeoman aboard some man-of-war. Nor a schemer; that surprised the Kalif as much as her beauty. Behind those eyes was an innocent child.
"I've heard a lot about you," he said, and she answered nothing. Of course, he thought. She knew nothing to say. "I'm told you've lost your memory," he went on.
"Yes, sir."
"How do you like what you've seen of this world?"
"I've seen very little of it, sir. But what I've seen is beautiful-the buildings, the gardens…"
His gaze had caught an unspoken addition behind the violet eyes. "The buildings and gardens," he said. "And what else? You almost said something else."
She looked down at her hands on her lap. "Your cape, sir. It is beautiful, too."
Despite all logic, her comment pleased him. "Ah! Thank you. I'm glad you like it. I wear it by virtue of my office; I'm the Kalif, you know."
"A man told me that, the man who brought me here. He said he was taking me to see the Kalif."
He smiled. "And what did you think the Kalif would be like?"
She blushed slightly. "Sir, I had no idea. Someone important, I supposed, like the sultan."
He'd known that an effort had been made to keep her ignorant of things here, but still her answer surprised him. "When DAAS taught you to speak our language," he said, "did you learn the word emperor? "
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Kalif is another word for emperor. Long ago, the eleven worlds were ruled by an emperor. Then the throne was given to the Kalif, and Kalif and emperor have been one ever since, but called simply Kalif."
He gazed at her for several seconds before speaking further. "Tain, we want to find your memory for you. We have an artificial intelligence, SUMBAA, who may be able to help. I know you've already spoken with the SUMBAA on Klestron, but perhaps ours here can help where theirs did not."
She nodded, saying nothing.
"Meanwhile, I'll have you taken back to your suite. Perhaps we'll talk again." He spoke to his commset. "Partiil, send in the young lady's guide."
When her guide had led her away, the Kalif looked at his lieutenant, whom she'd seemingly never noticed. "What do you think of her, Jilsomo?"
"Aside from her obvious and remarkable beauty? Your Reverence, I doubt she was a soldier."
The Kalif's eyebrows shot up. "Really? That makes two of us. Peculiar that everyone else assumed she was. I suppose it was her uniform. And she was captured on a battlefield. They didn't look further than that.
"What do you think the odds are that we'll learn anything of value from her?"
"I do not wager, Your Reverence. But if I had to, my bet would be that she wouldn't remember."
"I'd bet that you're right, Jilsomo," the Kalif said. "And that is a pity, for her as well as us."
Later, eating a solitary lunch, the Kalif found Tain Faronya on his mind again. He'd never been a man with much attention on women. As a bachelor marine captain, he'd kept a mistress for a time, a practice tolerated in the military if carried on discreetly by a bachelor. She'd been a very accomplished girl whom he'd enjoyed considerably, and who'd taught him more than a little. But as an ambitious young officer, he'd found her a distraction, besides which, she'd become a bit demanding. Or perhaps demanding wasn't the word; she'd assumed certain things, expected certain things. Nothing unreasonable; he'd recognized that at the time. But after a bit he'd discontinued the relationship, and had felt no need to replace her.
Later he'd had a few liaisons, then had received his appointment to the Prelacy. Since then, somewhat to his surprise, the professional challenges had sufficed.
This Tain Faronya, though-She was so damned lovely! If it were practical… But it wasn't. The man who could least get away with having a mistress was the Kalif. Less, even, than an exarch could. Of course, most exarchs were married; married and well beyond youth. In addition, a Kalif could marry only a virgin, a woman whose reputation was unspotted. Absolutely not some other man's ex-mistress.
A flash of animosity startled a low whistle out of him: for just a moment he'd hated Veeri Thoglakaveera for what he'd done! A sign, he thought, of how irrational a man could be, even himself, when influenced by a woman.
He wondered if he'd regret having seen her. Perhaps for a day or two, he told himself. He'd put someone else-Jilsomo-in charge of her interrogation by SUMBAA, and avoid seeing her again. He'd tell Jilsomo not to bother him with any problems about her, and soon other things would preempt his mind.
This afternoon there'd be Leolani, the colonel's wife, to see and question. Initially, he hadn't intended to see her; there'd seemed no point to it. What could she have learned from the female prisoner through casual conversation that SUMBAA and instrumented interrogation had not? But before lunch he'd decided he might as well. It could do no harm, and after all, Rashti had thought it worthwhile to send her. He'd see how it went; perhaps he'd be surprised.
The female prisoner was on Jilsomo Savbatso's mind at lunch, too, a lunch considerably larger and more epicurean than the Kalif's soldierly meal. She's like one of Yogandharaya's angels, he told himself. It's almost as if he'd used her for a model.
The exarch seldom thought about women. For one thing, he found strong satisfactions in his profession and its challenges-his profession and the best foods. Always had. Another reason was that, to the extent he felt sexually attracted to anyone, it was and had always been to men. Notably, these past five years, to Coso Biilathkamoro, first as a junior prelate on staff, later as Kalif.
Conveniently, these attractions had never been strong, and he'd felt no urge to pursue them. Nor at his age and condition did he expect to. Jilsomo had never indicated his predilections to anyone, either as boy or man. And Coso, alert and perceptive as he was, had never suspected, nor ever would. Jilsomo was sure of that.
But the female prisoner… It seemed to him that having seen her, he could understand, a little, what other men felt when they found a woman desirable. And if she made him desire to touch her, see her, perhaps do more…
It made him worry about the Kalif.
Twelve
The Kalif watched as Leolani Thoglakaveera stepped into the room. For a moment her uncertain eyes were on him. Then, walking toward the chair obviously meant for her, she glanced around, finding no one else.
He'd sent out not only his guard but Jilsomo as well, a last-moment act he couldn't have explained, except that it might help her speak more freely.
She stopped beside the chair, and he gestured. "Please be seated, Lady Thoglakaveera."
He watched her sit down, which she did as any well-trained aristocratic young woman might have: with the grace of a practiced act, but without the deeper grace of the accomplished dancer or gymnast. She was pretty, and more. Even ill-at-ease as she was, he sensed an obvious strength of character that was more than willfulness and the assurance that so often comes with noble birth and nurture. And he was confident that, unlike many other aristocratic young women of nineteen years, she could talk intelligently about things of relevance.
The colonel chose better than he may have realized, the Kalif told himself, and threw away more than he thought with his lust.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked.
"Yes, Your Reverence."
"Good. I understand you're a friend of the alien woman, Tain Faronya, who was brought to Klestron by Sultan Rashti's exploration force. Is that true?"
"Yes, Your Reverence."
"We suspect that her lost memories may include some of considerable interest and importance to Klestron and the Empire. It may be that these memories are lost irrevocably, but perhaps they're not."