"Do not for a moment think that I have forgotten my pledge to repay you personally, Wilf Brim," she whispered without aiming her head. "I never—how do you Imperials say—'renege' on a promise."
Then she giggled in her husky voice. "Especially when Lady Fortune practically ordained such an assignation for us tonight."
Brim felt a surge of excitement. Did she mean what he thought she meant? He took a deep breath and waved off Barbousse waiting in the staff skimmer. Then he turned to look the beautiful Consort straight in the eye. "An assignation with you, Raddisma, would be the crowning glory of a man's life," he said. "But if something of the sort ever came about, I should certainly hope that it was not granted entirely in a spirit of... compensation—especially for a debt that I shall never acknowledge in the first place."
She stopped and raised her eyebrows for a moment. "Why, Captain!" she murmured with a look of astonishment. "You saved my life. Remember?" Then, while a tall, alluring chauffeur with fiery red hair and long, gorgeous legs held the door of her limousine skimmer, she stepped gracefully into the passenger compartment and smiled with an expectant look in her huge, almond-shaped eyes. "Come in here, Wilf Brim," she urged, patting the seat beside her, "I want to make certain you understand about my so-called 'debt.' "
Frowning, Brim stepped inside, and as soon as the door had shut, she took his hand and looked deep into his eyes.
"Do you have any idea what it is to be a Consort?" she asked.
"No," Brim admitted. "I suppose I'd never thought much about it."
She smiled, this time a little sadly. "You are not alone, my handsome Captain," she said. "We Consorts are taken more or less for granted throughout the court—most glamorous and successful of all the courtesans. And I am the most successful of all—for I have clawed and scratched my way to the top." For a moment her eyes grew hard. "You must understand that one does not reach my position by being a lady, Captain. I used the word 'courtesans' with great care, because Consorts are first and foremost whores. And one maintains her position by competing with other whores—on whore's terms."
Brim felt his eyebrows rise. Of course, he'd guessed as much. It was just that, in Fluvanna, Consorts were considered as a rather extraordinary class. Like wives, only much more significant, in a political sense. It was simply astounding to hear the Principal Consort calling the shots as he imagined they really must be.
"Oh, don't get the wrong idea," she continued. "Each of us who holds the title of Consort is also highly educated. We have to be. I myself have earned three academic degrees." She said this with a proud little nod. "One of them in Avalon itself—at your prestigious Estorial Library near the Imperial palace."
"Impressive," Brim said, "but not at all surprising, not after watching you in conversation with the Drive engineers this afternoon. No wonder you so completely mesmerized them. Your long metacycles of study certainly manifest themselves well."
She smiled sadly. "But after all that brain work, it was still only vigorous application of a far different organ that first installed me in Mustafa's court."
Brim pressed her hand. "You can't blame him for that," he said. "You are a most beautiful woman."
"Thank you, Captain," she said. "I know I am. And—strange as it must sound in light of my, er, profession—I still find myself with very normal urges in the proper circumstances, and with the proper man."
"Such a man would be very fortunate indeed," Brim said. He meant every word.
"That," Raddisma said with a smile, "brings us back to our original conversation, then—about debts."
"It does?" Brim asked.
"It certainly does," she said with a little smile. "Because, while your eyes tell me that you obviously crave my body, you also evidence at least some respect for Raddisma the woman. And that respect makes you very special, my friend. It also changes the whole complexion of our relationship."
Brim raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, not that kind of change, silly," she said with a little laugh. "You must certainly realize you are very attractive in your own right, Wilf Brim, and that alone was enough to draw me to you in the beginning." She laughed in her husky voice. "While your body covered mine in the palace that day, I found myself becoming... intensely stimulated. And I decided that very day that we, someday, should share a bed, as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Which, of course, it did today. The kind of 'debt' I spoke about this morning had to do with sex, pure and simple. However," she said with a very serious expression, "my attitude changed radically when you invited me to tour the hospital this afternoon. It turned our relationship into something very much more deeper and meaningful—at least to me. Do you understand?"
Brim frowned. "I think I may, Raddisma," he said, recalling most of the other women in his life.
Her intellect made her even more desirable—high intelligence nearly always had that effect on him.
"We seem to have arrived at the Officers Club," she said presently, peering out the window. "I feel most fortunate that Dame Fortune has granted us time for this little conversation before we dilute our intellects with... hormones, and the like. It has become somehow very important to me that you understand."
Brim had no words for the rush of emotion he felt for the beautiful woman who had just bared her soul to him. He scarcely had time to kiss her hand before the door opened and a blast of cold air stung his cheeks. Stepping to the pavement, he took a deep breath and bowed with all the dignity he could muster. "Madame Raddisma," he said, offering his hand, "please allow me."
Gently taking his fingers, she stepped gracefully from the limousine and nodded regally. "Thank you, Captain," she said in her public voice. "I look forward to continuing our conversations later this evening." Then she winked. "In somewhat more private circumstances," she added in a whisper. With a surreptitious rise of flawlessly plucked eyebrows, she then swept regally through the door as if she were the Nabob himself.
Brim followed in her perfumed wake with an internal frown. Just whose "private circumstances" did she have in mind, he wondered. Then he grinned to himself. Lady Fortune would work something out. She'd already invested too much in this particularly magical evening to miscarry so late in the game.
Commodore Atcherly's reception was a small but quite gracious version of a thousand-odd receptions Brim had attended all over the galaxy. He endured a receiving line consisting of Calshot's senior staff officers and their wives—most of whom were anxious to brag that they had spoken to officers from Mustafa Eyren's now-celebrated IVG. Commodore Atcherly occupied the position of honor with his charming and famous wife, a thought creator known far and wide for her delightful historical treatises on the curious artifacts left behind by Fluvanna's previous civilizations.
Tissaurd had clearly stationed herself near the end of the line, and was in deep conversation with a handsome Fluvannian Army officer who sported great bushy mustaches, wide shoulders, and a huge chest. The man was, of course, as good as seduced already. Brim fought back a grin as he passed them on his way to the bar. Suddenly Tissaurd reached out and snagged his arm. "Captain Brim," she said, as if she were surprised to see him, "may I present... er."