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"I would truly like to meet the . . . formidable lady who organized that evacuation," Matsugae said honestly. "And I believe my calendar is open."
"Okay," she agreed, pulling out an invitation scroll and making a note on it. "That's that one filled."
"Excellent. And, if I may, I believe I might have an appropriate suggestion for Roger's companion, as well."
* * *
"Christ on a crutch," Roger grumbled as he tossed his helmet on the bed the following afternoon. "I just came back from the harbor, and I see what Poertena means about tubs—those things must roll in a bathtub!"
"Well, some of us weren't able to go gallivanting about the city," Matsugae sniffed, and Roger smiled as he took in the valet's appearance. Matsugae wore a suit of dark blue velvet that was both extremely handsome and much too heavy for the local weather, and the glittering MacClintock crest of a palace servitor in personal service to the Imperial Family sparkled brightly on his breast for the first time since they'd arrived on Marduk. Its brilliance would have been sadly out of place on a chameleon suit, but it was also a proud award very few could claim, and the valet brushed it absently with his fingers as he returned the prince's regard.
"Nice outfit, Kosie! I take it Eleanora shanghaied you for the guest list, too?"
"I would scarcely choose the term 'shanghaied,' " Matsugae said primly, "but, yes, I will be attending one of the di
Roger's smile turned into a grin, and Matsugae sniffed again.
"It's certainly an evening out which I've earned," he said, pointedly. "While you were out playing in the harbor, I've had half the platoon cycling through my own private tailor's shop." Roger's eyebrows rose in surprise, and Matsugae gave him a triumphant smile. "I am—justifiably, I feel—quite proud of it, since I created it in a single day. And it's undoubtedly the largest tailor's shop I've ever seen, since I had to buy an entire idled sailmaker's loft to put it in!"
"Good work, Kostas! I knew we could count on you. Now all we have to do is replicate your outfit a few dozen times over, and we'll be able to attend all the boring di
"You will no doubt be happy to know that you won't require a fitting, despite the fact that you chose to spend the entire day playing hooky down at the harbor instead of assisting with the preparations. As it turns out, the St. John twins are both very nearly your size and build, so I was able to use one of them as a breathing manikin. You now have a new suit. Congratulations."
"Man, you were really upset at getting this dumped on you, weren't you?"
"Not as much as it might seem. You are, I believe, attending the small di
"And Tor Flain," Roger agreed, unbraiding his hair and stripping off his chameleon suit. "I don't suppose there's time for a bath?"
"One has been drawn, Your Highness," Matsugae assured him. "And who are you taking to the party?"
"Eleanora, I'd presume," Roger said with a suddenly wary expression, one foot still in his trousers as something about the valet's tone sounded warning signals. "But you said you were going with her, didn't you?" he asked suspiciously.
"Actually, I did. The two of us are going to meet with Sam Tre and Fullea Li'it, the lady who arranged the D'Sley sealift."
"Oh." Roger finished stepping out of the uniform. "Kosutic, then?"
"Being accompanied by Sergeant Julian to a meeting with Bistem Kar, I believe."
"That should be interesting," Roger observed. "Too bad I didn't draw that one. So if not Kosutic, who? Gu
"Accompanying Captain Pahner to his di
"Okay," Roger said, turning to face him and planting his hands on his hips. "Spit it out, Kosie. Who?"
"Actually, I believe Sergeant Despreaux is the next most senior female Marine," the valet said with a bland expression.
"Oh," Roger oofed, his expression remarkably like that of a poleaxed steer. Then he shook himself. "Oh, Kostas Matsugae, I had no concept of the depths of wickedness lurking in your soul. You are an evil, evil person!"
"Moi? Well, perhaps. I can state without fear of contradiction, however, that she cleans up pretty. For one of the 'help.' "
* * *
"Such an evil person," Roger whispered to himself as Despreaux came through the door.
The sergeant's blouse was a lovely shade of off-white. The sleeveless and collarless garment was made of an opaque, white linenlike material that was almost paper thin but had an odd translucence, like mother-of-pearl. The base fiber was something called halkha, and it came from the pods of a hemplike plant unknown on the east side of the Tarsten range. The locals used it very much as Terrans had used cotton in the days when there were no synthetic fibers, for everything from wall hangings, to sacks and coarse-woven bags used to hold tubers and grains, to sailcloth. There was, however, an enormous difference between those rough, sturdy utilitarian fabrics and the fine threads and tight weaves required to make such lovely cloth, and Roger wondered where Matsugae had found enough, on no notice, to create several outfits.
Rather than buttoning up the front, the blouse was sealed with soft, beautifully ta
The simple peasant skirt that accompanied the blouse was also white, although a shade darker than the blouse. Its pleats swirled around her long legs, and Roger winced as he looked at her footwear.
"Court shoes? Where in the hell did he find court shoes?"
"Is that all you have to say, Your Highness?" the sergeant snapped, fiddling with the unfamiliar weight of the skirt. It was the first time in months that she'd worn anything but her uniform and skivvies.
"Uh," Roger replied, suddenly tongue-tied.
"I hope your 'associate' meets with your approval," Despreaux said in tones of deadly sweetness, and Roger grimaced.
"Look, I wasn't at my very best that evening, and that wasn't the word I really wanted. But neither was 'servant,' 'help,' or 'slave.' Sometime, maybe, I can explain what I did mean to say, and why. But right now, we have a mission. If it helps, I didn't ask for this, either."
Despreaux's eyes flashed, and she threw her hands up in the air.
"Oh, sure, that makes me really happy, 'Milord'! Now I'm not just stuck with you all night, I'm stuck with somebody who doesn't want his 'associate' to sully the evening!"
Roger grabbed his hair and started to pull it, then drew a deep breath and shoved the disarranged strands back into place.
"Sergeant Despreaux. Truce, okay? I'm sorry. Does that help? I'm sorry for offending you. I'm even sorry for not taking you up on your implication, or at least seeing if what I thought was an implication was, in fact, an implication at all. I am very attracted to you. Was, am, and will be. I was that night. I am tonight. I will be at some future date when perhaps we can sit down and discuss the . . . problems of one Roger MacClintock and why they cause him to keep making an ass out of himself in front of beautiful women."
He drew another breath and held a hand up before Despreaux could get a word in edgewise.
"But tonight, we have a mission to complete. A very important one. And that requires that we not be clearly at odds for the entire evening. Now, can we manage to act like we like each other? A little? For a few hours?"