Dedicated (Chapter 1)

Derren sipped his coffee and tilted his head toward the sun, letting his gaze slide over the top of the newspaper held before him.

He didn’t need to hide in the shadows to conduct surveillance, although his young informant no doubt expected him to. Gazes slid over him like clouds slid over the moon, courtesy of his Dedication.

So he didn’t worry about sitting at a seedy sidewalk cafe in the sketchy part of town. Not that he ever considered any neighborhoods sketchy, himself. He enjoyed the vibrancy of life here. He had very little to fear, really, from any human threat.

Derren had more than one set of useful skills.

This was the third morning he had ordered a surprisingly delicious cup of coffee and read the morning paper at this hole-in-the-wall. The proprietor had given him a friendly nod, the acknowledgement due someone who might become a regular. Derren would need to change his cover soon.

Sunlight flashed on a door opening across the street. Derren flipped the page on his newspaper and willed himself to indistinctness.

The lady coming out of the door would never be able to do that.

The sun broke free of a passing cloud as she stepped out, and the whole street seemed to brighten with her presence. That alone told Derren all he needed to know. A quick glance, the merest flick of his eyes, confirmed the golden skin and the glossy dark hair that flirted with the light like a lover.

She might be able to run far from home. She might be able to hide here in this city--large enough for anonymity, but small enough to have no social high life or nobility to recognize her--but she could never outrun her Dedication.

Anywhere she went, she would light up the room. She had no choice. Her parents had made that decision for her, even before her birth.

He wondered that other people didn’t recognize it. She should be easy to find, yet her trail had gone cold and Derren had had to act on intuition, using his gut to guide him in the right direction.

Another of his blessings, that intuition.

But maybe people around here minded their own business better than those at home. Maybe they just didn’t care when an obviously sun-Dedicated stunning young woman moved in next door.

Or maybe they did, and they just chose to ignore that fact, or--even better--protect her from those who would seek to find her.

That would be the best answer of all.

In any case, he had answered a question of his own today. Now he had to decide what to do with that answer.

“So, is that her?”

The voice at his elbow startled him, though he was well trained enough not to show it. He turned to the grinning face of the boy beside him.

“You’re up early this morning.”

The kid shrugged. “Not really. The best jobs come early.”

Derren fought the urge to grin back. This kid had half a dozen hustles going, from street performer to errand runner, to some that were not quite legal. And he knew everybody. Derren had a gift for finding the best local help; his intuition had told him that this kid--out of the dozen urchins he’d seen that first day in the city--would be one to cultivate.

Derren always listened to that intuition.

“So she’s the one, right? You got the package for her?”

“She is, yes.”

“So, aren’t you going to deliver it?”

“Not now.” Derren sipped his cooling coffee. “I’ll bring it to her later, when she’s back home. A good courier knows not to rush his deliveree.”

Jin’s quick wit figured it out. “Yeah, I get it. So she has time to send another message back with you, right?”

“Exactly right. If she so chooses.”

“Do you think she will?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. Of course, I’m just the courier. I’m not privy to what’s in the message I’ve got, or what she might say in reply.”

“So what if she doesn’t?”

Derren downed the last of his coffee, stood and stretched, and gazed at the golden figure now a block away. Of course she hadn’t seen him.

“I’m kind of getting to like this town. I might stick around for a while.”

“You need a place to stay? More permanent-like? I can find you one.”

“For a finder’s fee, of course, right?” Derren winked at the young man’s enterprisingness. “I’ll let you know if I need to hit you up.”

“Cool. So, I gotta split. Money waits for no man, and all that. See you ‘round.”

“Sure, kid.” Derren turned his gaze to the brick storefront the woman had just exited. “See you around.”

Jin paused in the act of flight, turned back to Derren, and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “So, is it true she’s a lost princess?”

Derren laughed out loud. “Who told you that?”

“Well...you know. Here and there. You hear...things.”

“And I don’t have to tell you that not everything you hear is true, right? Tell me, would a princess live in a tiny apartment above a garage in this part of town?”

“No...suppose not.”

“Good lad. Tell whoever’s saying ‘things’ to use some common sense. Now, you’d best get going.”

Jin nodded and was gone.

Derren sobered and folded his newspaper. No, he thought, watching the kid go. She’s not lost.

~~~~~~~~

Some hours later, after finishing business in another part of town, Derren once again approached the garage. He knew through backchannel communications that the registered name of the place was Becker’s Garage, though the sign hanging above the windows simply said “Mechanic.”

The large overhead door was open and industrial fans circulated air through the shop. Derren glanced inside as he walked past, glimpsing various men in grease-stained overalls working on cars in various states of repair. One of those men looked up and met Derren’s eyes as he passed. Derren was checking the names on the post boxes bolted to the far side of the building when someone came up behind him.

“Can I help you?”

Derren’s courier uniform and messenger bag should have allayed suspicion. He noted with approval that the man--Becker, he assumed, but wouldn’t say it out loud--still retained a healthy skepticism. Appearances could be deceiving.

“Yes, sir,” he said diffidently, “and I thank you. I’ve got a package to deliver for a Ms. Cadi Aiselth.” He pulled the large envelope from his bag and let Becker see it briefly before tucking it back in. The name on the label was similar enough for a quick glance; Derren had had to guess at the spelling she would use. “I believe she lives here.”

“Now who would be sending her a package?”

“Courier guild rules respect privacy,” Derren said regretfully. “But I can assure you the contents are legitimate and safe. Integrity is our core value.”

“I know, I know.” Impersonating a courier was a crime punishable by death. The guild protected both their own and their clientele. “Well, you’ve found the right place. But she isn’t home right now.”

“That is unfortunate.” Derren glanced again at the two post boxes. One was blank, but the other had two names written on it. “Is her roommate home, this T’qars-alek Hal? At least, I assume they share the apartment?”

“They do, yes. And yes, she’s home.”

“She’s not from around here, is she?”

“T’qars is a perfectly nice girl, and she and Cadi make a good pair.”

Derren was impressed at Becker’s pronunciation. Not many people could properly shape the Anisopteran syllables; he himself had deliberately mispronounced the name.

“Oh, I meant no offense!” Derren said hastily. “I was just hoping to wait until Ms. Aiselth returns. I don’t want to miss her. And I could wait upstairs, or I could wait down here if you prefer.”

Becker glanced back into the shop, and Derren had the distinct feeling that some of his business pursuits were also on the grayer side of legal. “You might as well go up. She should be home soon. And me and the boys will be right down here if any more assistance is needed.”

Becker didn’t say who would be needing the assistance, Derren noted. He was becoming more pleased the more he learned about the situation. In most places, two women living above the workplace of disreputable men would need to be watchful in their own home. This was not one of those places.

“Thank you,” Derren replied. “One last thing, a personal one. I noted that there are no names on the other box. Is the second apartment currently occupied?” He noted the narrowing of Becker’s eyes and hastily added, “I will be in town for a while, you see, and I’m looking for a place. The hostel where I’ve been staying is comfortable, but leaves something to be desired for privacy. Good apartments are difficult to find, and it’s obvious you care about your tenants, if I may say so.”

Derren was very good at speaking sincerely, especially when the statement was true. The other man nodded. “Yeah, it’s empty. I’m selective about who I rent to. You have to be careful around here.”

“Yes, I understand. If you would possibly consider me, I’d be honored and pleased to discuss the details after my business is concluded, Mr--”

“Becker.”

There it was. “Mr. Becker. Derren. Derren Apini. May we talk later?”

The older man almost smiled. “Yeah. I’ll be here. Come find me.”

“Certainly.” Derren sketched a bow. “Thank you,” he said again, and walked up the steps.

~~~~~~~~

Warned by the name on the post box, Derren had known who--what--would be opening the door to the apartment. As it turned out, the woman in the doorway was the least startling thing that crossed his vision.

The apartment was drenched in color, the burgundy walls of the kitchen giving way to the yellow of the living room, all with accents of orange and fuschia on the curtains, the windowframe, the furniture.

And in the center of this stood T’qars-alek Hal. The brightness of the walls diminished the green tint of her skin, but nothing could hide her pointed ears or tip-tilted eyes or the translucent double-wings that hung from her back.

“Yes?” she said, sizing him up in an instant and dispensing with small pleasantries. “Whom is the package for?”

Interesting, thought a small part of his brain, that she would ask that. She knew it could go either way. After all, she had used her own name, likely gambling on the fact that Anisopterans were rare enough, this far from home, that no one would recognize that name or what it meant.

He wondered if she recognized him.

“I have a letter for Ms. Aiselth,” he replied. “I was told she would be home soon.”

“Yes, I suspect she will. Becker told you that?”

“Yes, ma’am. If you would prefer, I can wait downstairs, or even here in the staircase.”

“No, come in.” She stepped aside, and he entered. “If I’m not safe with a courier, who am I safe with? Please, have a seat.” She motioned at the worn chairs surrounding the kitchen table. “Can I get you anything?”

His mind was quickly casting back to Anisopteran social conventions, the diplomatic details the court etiquette instructor had drilled into him. Rude to not offer refreshment; ruder still to refuse once offered.

“A glass of water, please, if it’s not too much trouble. It is warm out.”

He watched as she filled the glass, moving about the room with a regal grace. They make a good pair, Becker had said in an unsubtle monition. He had wondered, at first, if T’qars knew who her roommate--her partner--actually was. Foolish question, and her reaction upon opening the door had confirmed it.

Of course she did.

It seemed there was more than one lost princess living in this tiny apartment above a garage in the bad side of town.

“I appreciate this. Thank you,” he said as he took the glass of water and she settled herself smoothly into the opposite chair. She inclined her head in reply, and Derren noted that her wings hung relaxed the whole time, never so much as twitching. She was either supremely confident of being in charge of the situation, or highly trained to pretend she was.

“Forgive me for saying,” he said, “but you seem to be very far from home.”

“I was, once,” she replied. “Now, this city is home. It suits me.”

“Yes, I see the appeal. I am also relocating here, and I’m looking forward to it.” He paused, as though considering his words. “I have noticed that Melefran has a more diverse population than other similar cities in the Empire.”

“I’m sure there are many reasons for that, and a sociologist could tell them to you. My reasons are my own.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ve only been here a short time; but I am accustomed to quickly taking the measure of a place. And the atmosphere is vibrant here. It is a refreshing place, a lively place.”

“I’m sure you’ve traveled extensively with your career.”

“Not as extensively as you, I am sure. No offense meant; I have never been to your country.”

She smiled, a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “Zygoptera is very far from here, and very few people travel that far, but you are mistaken. This is my country now.”

“Of course.”

It could have been awkward, it could have been uncomfortable, but it was not. She was perfectly poised, smoothly in control. He couldn’t have asked for a more perfect demonstration of her heritage.

A small corner of his mind wondered, abstractly, if Anisopterans practiced Dedication. He could usually tell eventually, among the Askov, if someone was Dedicated. This species was a mystery in more ways than one; but T’qars-alek was so smooth, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that water was her potentate.

“Let me ask you another question, if I may. Your landlord, Becker. He seems a good man?”

“I would not discuss his business practices with an imperial courier, but he keeps us safe here. We are allowed to appreciate the ‘diverse’ nature of the city, rather than fear it.”

“That is good, then.”

Her ears twitched, giving him the warning an instant before he heard the footsteps on the stairwell himself. The door opened and she entered, dominating the space unintentionally. She tossed her purse on the counter and shrugged out of her jacket with an exaggerated sigh, reaching for T’qars.

“It’s been a day, let me tell you!” And the golden girl wrapped her arms around her partner’s neck, pressing close, claiming the Anisopteran’s face with her hands and pressing ruby lips to green, seeking comfort through rising heat and leaving no doubt as to the nature of their relationship.

T’qars pulled back just slightly and whispered something against her partner’s lips.

The change was immediate as the golden girl dropped her arms and turned to Derren, all business.

She was good. Not even a flicker of an eyelid betrayed her as she took in the courier.

“Yes. You have something for me?”

He slid off the chair, dropped to one knee before her with head bowed, and proffered the envelope he had carried for so long.

“Madame Cadias de nu Aiselth Stratham, Dauphine of the Heteran Empire, I deliver this to you.”

She lifted one eyebrow as she took the envelope and cracked the elaborate wax seal. The letter was not a long one; no one spoke as she carefully scanned the lines. Then she daintily folded it again, her fingers lingering just momentarily on the seal, before walking across the kitchen and unceremoniously depositing the letter in the trash.

Derren was still on his knees. “Have you a reply?” he asked.

“No.” No equivocation. “We are done here. Thank you, courier.”

He bowed his head again, stood, and walked to the door. He paused on the threshold and sketched another bow, towards T’qars-alek Hal.

“Ma’am.”

And then he was gone, knowing he had left a storm in his wake.

Intrigued? Read Chapter 2: Moon.