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Darkness reached across the sky with long, skeletal fingers while we flew northward. I stood on the observation deck—unlike the commercial airship in which I’d flown earlier, Alan’s ship had its observation decks on the sides—and watched not only the sky grow darker and darker, but the shadows creep across the ripple of land beneath us.
“Honestly, if I’d known he was going north, I would have waited there for him,” I said to myself while I watched the land slip by. Two other crewmen were on the deck, dressed in the same gold uniform that Alan wore, complete with leather armor, turbans, and boots that went to the knee.
A third crewman joined us, standing close to me, well within the boundaries of my personal space. I edged along the railing to put a little distance between us, my mind busy with the memory of Alan standing in his tent, stark naked, flaunting his muscles and chest and arms and legs and that incredible ass at me. My fingers twitched at the memory of that ass, of the feel of it, the warm, thick muscles that gave it such lovely curves.
Then I remembered that I wasn’t there looking for a sexual relationship. Alan might be tempting as hell, but it was his fighting ability that was of paramount importance to me. Without the training that Alan could offer me, I’d be lost, and would quickly find myself back on Jack and Octavia’s ship, a helpless weight around their necks.
“I refuse to be that,” I said softly. “Alan is just going to have to get with the program.”
The crewman nearest me gave me a look, and scooted next to me.
Alan. Dear god, even now I wanted to touch him again. All of him. I slid farther down the railing, my eyes on the shadowed landscape, my mind pushing aside the problem of finding my place in this world to celebrate the glory that was naked Alan. Lord knew, the man’s chest alone could drive a saint to sin, with the curling dark hair that wasn’t overly abundant, but present enough to make it very clear the difference between his body and my own.
“Is there something about me that suddenly offends you?” the crewman asked, taking three steps toward me.
I stared at him in surprise, realizing it was Alan. “Oh, it’s you. Boy, you guys all wear the same thing, don’t you? No, there’s nothing about you that offends me. Why?”
“You kept moving away from me.”
He was wearing exactly the same outfit as the other men, his turban hiding his hair. His armor appeared to have a little more ornate decoration worked on it, but otherwise, he was indistinguishable from the others.
At least, he was to me.
“Have you ever heard of prosopagnosia?” I asked.
He frowned. “No. What is it?”
I shrugged, deciding that I wanted to appear in the best light, as someone who was worthy of all the things I wanted him to teach me. “It’s not important. Does all your armor look like that?” I gestured toward his leather breastplate.
He looked down at, one hand touching it. “For the most part, yes. Do you have an objection to it?”
“Not in the least. It’s very cool, and looks fairly comfortable. I just wondered if that design of lions and birds was something embossed on all of your armor. I take it you finally have time to talk to me?”
He was silent for a moment, his blue eyes unreadable. “You are unlike any woman I have known.”
“Yeah, that’s no surprise,” I said with a smile. “I’m kind of unique here. Well, not totally, but mostly unique. I have a business proposition to make to you. Er ...” I glanced over his shoulder at the two men who were now openly watching us.
Alan didn’t even turn to look at them. He simply said a word in what must have been his native language. The two crewmen hurriedly left the observation deck.
“I didn’t mean to run them off, but I really need to talk to you about what I’d like you to do for me.”
“Does it involve me standing still while you torment me by touching my body parts?” he asked, leaning an elbow against the railing.
Instantly, my eyes went to his chest. I liked his armor. It looked like something I’d seen at Renaissance fairs, with lovely curved lines, lots of rivets and straps, and touches of metal at the shoulders. In the center where a long piece of leather drew a straight line from the collarbone, embossed fantastical lions and birds of prey danced along the length. “I didn’t realize I was tormenting you. I did ask if you minded, and you said no.”
“I didn’t mind. Hallie.” His voice seemed thick, as if he was choked.
“Hmm?” I dragged my eyes from his chest, wishing I’d asked him whether he minded if I stroked the lovely muscles that rippled down to his belly.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I will take you to my cabin, remove that interesting but slightly improper garment you are wearing, and take my turn touching you.”
“Just because I like touching your behind—and really, you have to admit that any woman would want to once she’d seen it in all its glory—doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you. Assuming that’s what you were referring to with regards to your turn. Well, all right, I kind of do want to sleep with you, but that’s because you are really handsome, and you were nice to me, and I haven’t had a boyfriend in over a year now, and you know how it is. You’re by yourself, so you’re not getting any noogie regularly, but you have needs and urges and desires, and there’s no one to scratch those itches, so you just have to either distract yourself with something else or take care of business all on your own, and although I’m not opposed to doing so on a general principle, I’ve always viewed that as kind of a desert-island last-case scenario sort of thing, you know? Do you?”
A number of expressions flitted across his face while I spoke. He took some time before he asked, “Do I what?”
“Take care of business.” I gestured toward his groin. “Yourself, that is.”
He stared at me for the count of four. “Miss Norris,” he said in a lovely gravelly voice that skittered down my back, sending goose bumps along the flesh of my arms. “Did you just ask me if I indulge in onanism?”
I parsed the word, decided it meant what I thought it meant, and nodded. “It’s just idle curiosity. I never know how often men do that, you see. I mean, it’s not something I can ask my brother, because ew. He’s my brother. I don’t even like seeing him and Octavia lip-locked, other than I’m happy that they have each other. They really are madly in love, which is all sorts of sweet. I just wondered if you are hinting that you’d like to bump uglies because you were a bit needy, too.”
“Bump ...” He shook his head, muttering something before he said, “I would be happy to discuss my sexual needs, urges, and desires with you, but I will only do so in the confined space of my cabin, and then one or both of us will be naked.”
“Oh.” I made a face. “That’s kind of disappointing, but I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable with sexual talk. I know people here get all up in arms about that sort of thing.”
He looked heavenward for a moment, and I had a sense that he was praying for something. Probably patience, since that’s what Jack always said he needed around me. “Would you care to go to my cabin right now to discuss the matter?”
“Not really. Like I said, I’m all”—I lifted my hands and wiggled all ten fingers at him—“needy and such, but I really am not looking for a lover. I need a teacher. A trainer, really, and that’s where you come in.”
“You wish for me to teach you how to be a badass,” he said, nodding. “Would you care to explain your definition of that last term?”
“I want to learn how to fight like you do. Everyone says you’re the best,” I said, feeling a little pandering to his ego wasn’t out of place. “I want to be able to fight alongside my brother’s crew.”
“Why?” he asked. “Does your brother not have enough men to fight that he must conscript women?”
“Oh, you do not want to go down the sexist route,” I told him, giving him a potent look. “Because that crap won’t fly.”
“I wasn’t aware that crap could—”
“Women can do everything a man can do, except peeing while standing up, and we can do that if we have one of those little cup things with spouts that ladies use when camping. Plus we can have babies.”
He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, then made me a little bow. “The point goes to you, I believe.”
“The answer to your question is that, yes, my brother and his wife have people to fight. But I don’t have anything to do. Do you know how frustrating it is to see everyone else with a job, but no one will let you do anything?”
“Most women are content to find employment in areas other than that of combat,” he said.
“I am not most women.”
“I am coming to see that,” he said with a little twitch of his lips beneath the thick black mustache that was much softer than it looked. I spent a moment reliving the kiss he’d given me before we got on the airship, and felt unusually warm.
“If I could learn to fight, then I’d have a use.” I gave him a long look. “I don’t like being extraneous, Alan. My proposition is that you teach me to fight like you, and in return, I’ll give you the money I have. I can pay you in installments as we go along, if you like. But I’d like to learn three main things: how to fight with a sword, how to shoot the disruptors, and how to use daggers effectively.”
He was silent for an uncomfortably long amount of time, prompting me to ask, “Did I shock you? Do you not have any women in your company who fight? My brother’s crew has two women, including his wife, and she’s deadly with a gun. Er ... disruptor. They both fight whenever they are attacked by the Black Hand or the Mog—” I stopped, suddenly remembering to whom I was speaking.
Alan didn’t seem to notice my almost slip, however. “I am not shocked, and I count amongst my acquaintance women who have been known to pick up a sword, but that is not what gives me pause.”
“What does?” I asked, heartened despite the serious look on his face.
“Does your brother know your intentions in asking for my assistance?”
I pursed my lips, thinking back to the note I’d left. “Yes. That is, I left a note.”
“Ah. You do not, then, have permission to be here?”
“I’m not a child,” I snapped, irritation riding me at the insinuation that I needed permission to do anything. “I’m thirty-three. I don’t need to consult with anyone on decisions I make about my own future.”
“You most definitely are not a child,” he said, his gaze dropping to my chest for a moment. I felt a flush sweep upward from my breasts. “But I, too, have sisters, and I would not like to know that one of them went to your brother to ask for instruction without my knowledge or approval.”
“Then I’m very sorry for your sisters,” I said, lifting my chin to look down my nose at him. Which was basically impossible since he was taller than me. “I can assure you that I neither need nor seek my brother’s permission. Are you going to teach me, or do I need to find someone else? My brother said that Etienne guy with the Black Hand isn’t a fighter, but I bet he could point me to someone who is.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. After another few seconds being silent, he said, “I would be willing to teach you how to defend yourself if your brother gives his approval.”
“Dammit, stop being such a stick-in-the-mud!” I yelled, then realized it wasn’t going to do any good. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, aware of the narrowing of his pretty blue eyes. “It’s wrong of me to blame you for the society norms you were raised with, but put yourself in my shoes for a moment, Alan.”
“I understand that you wish to have an occupation—”
“No,” I interrupted, and moved closer to him, so close that my toes touched his. I put my hand on the part of his arm that wasn’t covered in leather armor. “Imagine you are a woman. You have no skills, no talents, are trained for nothing of any use in this world. Everything you worked for in the past is gone.”
“How—”
“It doesn’t matter, just imagine it.” I waited until he nodded. “You are an adult. You’ve lived on your own for more than fifteen years. You’ve been married, divorced, seen relationships come and go. You are a responsible, reasonably intelligent woman, and some man, a man who has had opportunities never given to you, tells you that he will not share some of his knowledge with you unless you get permission from someone else, another man who has also had opportunities denied to you. Now, how do you feel?”
His eyes seemed to see deep into me, straight through to my soul. “I would be frustrated.”
“Bingo.” I smiled.
“Your objection is against society, however, and not the individual from whom you seek training.”
“Argh!” I yelled, slapping both hands on his armor.
“You will write to your brother to tell him where you are. If he poses no objection to you being in my company ...” The muscle in his jaw worked a couple of times. “Then I will train you.”
Protest after protest rose, but I kept them behind my teeth. He was right in that I couldn’t change societal norms simply because I didn’t like them. I would just have to give in to the absurd notion that my brother had a say in my life ... and immediately pushed down the uncomfortable notion that Jack would never agree to letting Alan teach me.
I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. “As it happens, I don’t have to write to Jack. He should be at El Kef. At least, that’s where they were going, and I believe the plan was to spend the night somewhere near there before moving on.”
“Indeed.” His eyes turned speculative.
“If you were thinking about attacking my brother’s ship,” I said, buffing a fingernail, “you should be aware that they have some pretty big guns. They picked them up in Cairo. They’re some sort of superpowerful guns that are the latest in aether technology.”
He pursed his lips, which just made me look at his mouth, thinking about that kiss, and how soft his mustache was, and whether I wanted to be so hasty in my no-sex policy. Once I got the agreement from him to teach me, perhaps then I could indulge in a little dalliance. “Thank you for the warning. I will keep that in mind.”
“Plus they don’t have any valuable cargo,” I said hastily, feeling I’d better toss that out in case he thought I was exaggerating the firepower of the Enterprise. “They dropped that off at Annaba. Can we start now?”
“Start ... training?” He looked startled, but recovered quickly. “You have not yet spoken to your brother.”
“No, but come on. It’s going to take, what, another four hours to get to El Kef? Once we’re there, I’ll find Jack and talk to him, but what were you planning on doing until then?”
His eyes seemed to go liquid. “I thought we might go to my cabin and resume the discussion of sexual needs and desires.”
I thought about it. I really thought about it. I eyed the width of his shoulders (impressive), the strength of his neck going down to that chest (drool-worthy), and on down to the legs that were even now braced apart so as to move with the ship (his thighs were a work of art). “Would you be offended if I said I’d rather have you start the training instead?”
He laughed, actually tipped his head back and laughed a long, hearty laugh, one that was filled with so much humor that it made me smile. “My male pride is wounded, yes,” he finally said, wiping the corners of his eyes, “but I believe I will survive. Very well, we will have an introductory lesson, but if your brother does not agree to your plan, that will be the only one.”
“Deal,” I said, and followed him when he gestured. He didn’t take me to the hold, as I expected, but to one of the rooms in the crew quarters.
I hesitated at the doorway of the cabin when he strode in and looked around, his hands on his hips, before he said, “Ah,” following which he glanced at me. “Come in, come in.”
“We’re going to train in here?” I asked, reluctantly entering the small cabin.
“No.” His gaze raked my body. “You can’t fight in that bit of nothing.”
I brushed a hand down my silk and linen tunic. “This is a very nice outfit. I had several made based on the original. It’s flattering, and easy to wear, and yes, it gets wrinkled a lot, but nothing that a little steam can’t take care of.”
“I have no complaints about the aesthetics of it,” he said with what was very close to a leer, “but the practicality of it is another matter. Let’s see what Leila left.”
“Leila?” I felt annoyed just hearing the name. I had absolutely no doubt that a man as handsome as he was, one with such a fabulous butt, and who came damn close to steaming out my tunic wrinkles with just one kiss, had any number of castoffs left by old girlfriends. “One of your harem?”
He knelt down before a wood and leather chest, digging through the contents, pausing to slide me a speculative look. “What do you know of my harem?”
My eyes widened. I had been joking, but to have him confirm it left me feeling prickly and itchy. And spoiling for a fight. “The only thing I know is that I’ll never be one of them, your insanely gorgeous behind aside. I don’t really want to wear clothing left by one of your no-doubt countless lovers.”
“That’s a shame, because I think this might very well suit you,” he said, pulling out a leather breastplate, one clearly meant for a woman. He eyed me again, then gestured toward his chest with both hands. “Although I think she had bigger ... er ...”
I crossed my arms, just daring him to make a comment about my breasts. “My breasts are not lacking, if that’s what you’re about to imply.”
“I wasn’t. I happen to prefer women who fit nicely into my hands than those who overflow.”
I seethed at him, positively seethed as he laid a couple of long gauntlets on the bunk, digging around until he pulled out a scabbard and a narrow box.
“My breasts are not a subject of jokes,” I said stiffly, wanting to both yell and cry. I hated it when I was emotional like this, and wondered if I was hormonal.
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Take them that seriously, do you?”
“Considering I had one removed due to a cancer scare, yes, I do.” The words were out before I realized it. I rubbed my arms, looking away from him, asking myself what the hell I was doing telling him something so personal. It was a fact that only a few people knew.
I felt his gaze on me. “I meant no insult,” he finally said, and I looked back expecting to see ... I don’t know what. False sympathy? A glint of humor? What I saw instead was earnest regard. “Although I am confused. When I saw you in my tent, you appeared to possess both ... er ... attributes.”
“One was surgically reconstructed. It’s quite common where I come from. They even managed to save my nipple, which was nice.” I shook my head at myself. “I don’t know why I’m telling you. The only person here who knows is my brother.”
He was silent for another moment, then rose to his feet. “I see I was wrong about you.”
I stopped mentally yelling at myself, and frowned. “About what? That my breasts are worthy of your hands? Because let me tell you—”
“I was wrong in thinking you did not have it within you to fight. You have already fought and won a most valiant battle.”
A sudden moment of epiphany struck me. “You know someone who has cancer.”
“Had. My mother. It affected her elsewhere, but she, too, fought well.” His gaze dropped to the narrow wooden box he held.
I moved before I realized what I was doing, putting my hand on his. “I’m sorry. My mother died of breast cancer when Jack and I were very young, so I know what it’s like.”
He handed me the armor. “Leila is my sister. These belong to her, but I don’t think she would mind you using them while you train.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“There is clothing in the chest, as well. I suggest you utilize it lest you ruin what you are wearing. When you are ready, I will be in the forward hold.”
He left without saying anything more, leaving me feeling oddly deflated.
“You are not looking for a man. Just concentrate on what’s important, and stop thinking about his butt. And chest. And holy horticulture, his mouth,” I reminded myself while I took off my tunic and pants, sorting through the unfamiliar clothes bundled at the bottom until I found a pair of tight-fitting gold leggings, the material soft and slightly clingy when I pulled them on. Leila must be a little bit shorter than me, but I figured that Alan would just have to cope with seeing a bit of ankle. The tunic was a shorter version than the one the men wore, this one falling to midthigh.
There were also a couple of what looked like floor-length tunic-dresses, but those I ignored, pulling out an item wadded up into the bottom. There was a small red pillbox hat, the sort I mentally connected with Jacqueline Kennedy, but attached to it was a long swath of white material. I realized that it was very similar to the turbans that the male Moghuls wore, and promptly plopped it onto my head, wrapping the white cloth around in a fashion that I hoped emulated their headwear.
I found Alan standing in the hold, which was mostly empty, although he stood talking to Zand next to three dirty bales of hay that were stacked on top of one another. They stopped talking when they saw me, Zand blinking at me for a moment before he pulled the tail of his turban across his mouth. He made me a little bow, but before I could say anything, he hustled out of the hold.
Alan watched me with an indescribable expression. “What ... uh ... what have you done with the lay?”
“The what, now?”
“The scarf women wear instead of the turban,” he said, staring at my head. “It is called a lay.”
“Oh. I have a Muslim friend who said hers was called a shayla, but she didn’t wear it on top of her head. Is this not right? I tried to make mine look like yours.”
“It’s not meant to duplicate a turban.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, stopping him when he untangled the cloth from the top of my head and was about to fix it. “Women in the Moghul culture don’t cover their faces, do they? Because while I respect everyone’s right to do what they like with their body, I am not of that mind-set.”
“You surprise me,” he said in obvious amusement. “No, our women do not feel the need to hide themselves from view. The lay is used by women just as men use the turban: as protection in environments where it’s desirable to keep sand out of our noses and mouths. It goes around your face like this, with a tail that hangs down your shoulder, which you may pull across your face and tuck in when desired. My sister likes it because she says she has to wash her hair less often, but she doesn’t wear it often now.”
He did a little draping of the soft cloth, then stepped back and eyed the armor.
I ran a hand down the leather of it, doing a turn for him. “Does it look OK?”
“I am more concerned about the fit,” he murmured, tightening the straps on the sides. “I was wrong about the ... er ... front. It seems to sit well there.”
“That’s because I took a pair of her leggings and stuffed it there to fill it out. And provide padding,” I said, wiggling to adjust myself to the tightness of the leather. Like Alan’s, this one was ornately made, with a long inverted-triangular piece that ran from the breastbone to the bottom of the armor, but unlike his, which had three rings of leather that cascaded down his pectorals, this one had one ring, which ended at the under-breast mark. The rest of the armor, going down to the waist, was made up of leather scales, reminding me of dragon armor I’d seen at the local science fiction conventions. The gauntlets also had scales, and ran from wrist to elbow. “It’s very pretty. I hope your sister won’t mind me wearing it.”
He said nothing, just moved over to pull out the scabbard I’d seen him with earlier, handing it to me. I buckled it around my waist, beneath the bottom of the armor. “This is a falchion. Have you seen one before?”
“Yes, Mr. Ho, the assistant steward on my brother’s airship, has one. I asked her to teach me to use it, but she was always too busy. Hers was much plainer than this, though.”
He held out a short sword that was straight until the very point, where it had a curve to the tip. Birds were inscribed down the length of the blade, and it bore the same birds on a black-and-gold crosspiece. It looked deadly as hell, and my hands positively itched to hold it.
“This is the cross guard,” he said, pointing to the crosspiece. “Also known as a quillon. The blade only has one edge to it. That’s so that you can use the dulled side in order to block attacks. This sword is particularly good for hacking, less so for stabbing.”
“It’s pretty,” I said, doing a little anticipatory dance. “Can I hold it?”
“Not just yet. I’m going to show you a few basic attacks. These bales of hay will serve as your target.”
“Come on, Alan, let me hold the pretty sword,” I said, following him to the hay bales. “I promise I won’t gut you with it. Or geld you.”
He shot me a startled look.
My smile included a whole lot of teeth.
“A sword is not a toy. This is a weapon, a weapon that can take a life easily. You need to respect the power it can wield,” he said in a lecturing tone that Jack so frequently used with me. He went on like that for a few more minutes, showing me a few basic moves on the hay before handing it over to me.
“Right,” I said, saluting him with the sword in the best Errol Flynn fashion.
“No, not right! Hallie—” He looked exasperated, taking it from me. “I just finished telling you that it was not a toy. Do not raise it to your head unless you are parrying a blow. You could have injured yourself by treating it in such a frivolous manner.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to appear contrite. “Can I have my pretty sword back, please?”
He made mean eyes at me. “Do you promise to treat it with the respect due a weapon that could easily maim or kill you?”
I made an X over my heart. “Cross my heart. Please, Alan. I swear I will be absolutely serious and careful.”
“Very well.” Grudgingly, he handed it back to me. I eyed the hay bale, and tried to duplicate the slashing motions he had shown me, using my body to add power to the swings.
“If you attacked me like that, I’d have your arm off in five seconds,” Alan told me. “You’re not slashing at a tree branch—you’re trying to disable someone intent on harming you. Try it again, and remember to remain balanced. If you lunge forward, you leave yourself open to disemboweling.”
“Urgh. OK. No disemboweling lunge, keep non-sword-arm out of the range of attacker, and slash and twist, not twist and drag down,” I said, trying to remember just how Alan had showed me to use the sword to sever a muscle in the attacker’s upper arm.
Two hours later, Zand returned to find me flat out on the floor, my arm over my head as I struggled to breathe. I was a blob of sweat, exhaustion, and aching muscles, while above me, Alan paced, his voice going on and on. “—and if you ever try that spinning move again, I will not only take the falchion away from you for good; I will also tie you to a horse and deliver you to your brother with a sign pinned to your back warning that you are a danger to yourself. What is it?”
I moved my arm to see whom he was talking to, lifting a wan hand to wave at Zand. “Alan is pissed,” I explained to Zand when he looked from me to Alan.
“So I see,” he said, studying his friend. I could swear his lips started to make a smile, but evidently Zand had excellent self-control. “We’re about to arrive,” he told Alan.
“Good.” The two men exchanged glances that looked to me to be pretty fraught with meaning, but as I painfully got myself to my feet, I couldn’t interpret just what that meaning was.
I followed when they climbed the spiral metal staircase that all airships used to get between floors, sheathing my sword and hoping Alan wouldn’t demand I give it back because I was fairly inept with it. I had a horrible suspicion he was about to do just that when he turned toward me. I forestalled him by saying brightly, “Are we landing? I’ll go watch on the observation deck,” and then scurrying off to do so.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t object, and remained on the deck, watching as the airship descended toward a medium-sized town. The moon was high enough to glow dimly on the white stone buildings that were scattered around crooked streets in what seemed to be a haphazard manner. There was one large central square that I barely caught a glimpse of before the airship descended too low to see into it.
“And that’s my cue,” I told myself, straightening my borrowed clothing, shifting my leather breastplate so that it was a bit more comfortable, and putting one hand on the hilt of my sword.
