Agent in Distress Ch. 02

Warrick shook his head, "That is the Somarian fruit," he explained. "It is given only to females." Lana was poking and pulling the skin of the fruit trying in vain to remove it. He reached out then, frowning, as she struggled with the skin, and peeled it for her with a deft movement. He then split it into wedges and gave it back to her. Seeing her obvious question, he added, "of course men can eat it, but it's traditionally given to women. In some remote regions, the Somarian fruit is used by oracles to help them with their visions."

Lana giggled, for reasons she couldn't explain. "Ok," she shrugged, placing a wedge in her mouth. It was quite delicious, and she ate another, and another.

Warrick laughed and held up his hand, "where does all that food fit in such a slender person?" he pondered out loud, shaking his head and grinning at her. "Remind me never to get between you and your plate."

Lana blinked at him, her mouth filled with the last two wedges of the Somarian fruit. "What was that?" she mumbled. Her eyes had trouble focusing, and she reached for her wine goblet.

Warrick gently stopped her, "I think you've had enough, young lady," he whispered. "I don't want to have to carry you." Then he looked apologetic. "Not that you look heavy . . ."

Lana was just opening her mouth to protest when her head began to hurt. She felt dizzy for a moment, and then a vision flooded into her head. "Oh," she gasped, looking out past the table, not seeing the walls of the hall, but past them, out into the city and beyond. She heard a strangle rattling sound from all around her, mixing with the buzzing in her head that was deafening. Her vision was blurred, but she thought she saw dishes, forks, goblets, all floating an inch or two off the table before her. Then the moment passed, and the pain in her head subsided and the rattling sounds ceased, but the visions remained.

Warrick was touching her shoulder in alarm, speaking to her, but she didn't hear, instead concentrating on the visions swirling about her. Normally for a telepath, the minds of others needed to be in close proximity for her to sense them. Yet at that moment, Lana felt the presence of many minds, far more than were present in the room. The city was teeming with minds, she could sense them, feel them. She tried to relax, not hard to do with all the wine in her belly, let her senses take in everything. She felt like she was in a crowded room, filled with voices, only these were emotions: anger, love, fear, elation. It was an incredible feeling. Then she saw Max Veers across the table looking at her oddly. She focused her mind on him, and a flood of thoughts struck her. Desire came first, she saw herself as he saw her: haughty, yet desirable.

"I am not haughty!" complained Lana. Max's mind was projecting a considerable amount of lust, and she let out a gasp, but that only increased the projections emanating from the diplomat. Then she sensed something else: guilt, deception . . . related to his desires. He didn't want her to know something . . . slave girls . . .

"Max," she said, a bit drunkenly. "Have you been ker-cavorting with slave girls?"

There was a snort, and a bit of wine ejected itself from Max's wide nose.

"I—I beg your pardon?" blurted the diplomat, his eyes wide. Lana's mind was flooded with more guilt, from a man caught in the act.

"Is that . . . um, why you love this assignment so much?" said Lana. "You get to play with all those young ladies?"

She realized all eyes were on her, and Lana blushed as she realized she was acting very strangely. Max looked horrified, and guilty, while Warrick was looking concerned. "Are you ok, milady? While you were . . . lost there for a moment . . . our table goods started . . . floating."

"What?" said Lana, blinking in confusion at him.

"It was truly extraordinary, milady," said Lady Verona, looking at her with awe.

Lamare grabbed her attention by suddenly reaching across the table to snatch her wrist. "Now look here, Lady Torina, if you can't control that . . . ability of yours, you will get us all killed. What if others had seen what you just did? What if there were servants here in the room?"

"I don't understand," said Lana, pulling on her captive wrist, but the administrator was deceptively strong.

Warrick spoke to her gently, "My dear, you were . . . floating the plates, the silverware . . . in the air, and you didn't even know it."

Lana realized what they were talking about, what she had thought she'd imagined. "Oh no!" she exclaimed. "I—I'm sorry! I don't know what happened. My head hurt, and I had these visions . . . I'm sorry, I didn't even notice!" She clamped down her shield, and the visions stopped instantly. "I think the wine is making my telepathic ability stronger."

As Lana's heart rate returned to normal, she noticed a strange warmth in her belly, and an odd heightened sense of Lamare's hand on her arm. She tugged her wrist again, and he finally let go. She also noticed a few at the table exchanging nods. She looked at Warrick for explanation. It was Lord Khan who spoke, however.

"It is not the wine, my dear," he said, looking at her. "The Somarian fruit has the effect of heightening the senses, although the effect normally takes a day or so to appear. We've never seen the fruit have an effect so quickly. Quite remarkable that it seems to work for your abilities, as well."

Lana blinked at him. "But that's impossible, a fruit?" There was no denying it however, for only minutes after she'd eaten a rather large portion of the fruit, her telepathic sensitivity had increased considerably. She was being flooded with mental images, almost overwhelmingly so.

Warrick chuckled, "our people don't normally eat so much of it. Or perhaps you are not used to it, not being from our world?"

That was very possible, she thought, the locals might have some immunity that she lacked. "I think maybe it's the wine," said Lana sheepishly, "I'm having trouble seeing straight."

She heard Warrick and Lord Khan chuckling. Then in a serious voice, she asked Lord Khan, "Milord, if it's no trouble, I'd like some of this fruit to help me . . . in my training? I promise not to drink wine along with it."

The leader didn't immediately respond for some reason, instead it was Lamare who answered, without his usual dry manner. "By all means, milady, I will see to it you have all the fruit you need."

Warrick was frowning. "Are you sure that is wise, milord," he said, addressing Lord Khan. Then he explained to Lana. "The fruit has other side effects—"

"Which will be useful for her mission in Nikos' palace," interrupted Lamare, eyeing Warrick. With her mental shield still closed, Lana had only a vague sense that there was something they were not telling her, but with all the wine she'd drunk, her concern quickly slipped away from her grasp like a slippery bar of soap.

"It is ok, boys," she said, shrugging like a small child not interested in the adult conversation. Then for emphasis she took another wedge of fruit and popped it in her mouth, enjoying the explosion of flavor. "This fruit is delicious."

Khan shrugged as well. "We will provide as much as you need, milady. Just please . . . try not to overindulge."

Lana giggled, putting her hand to her mouth and nodding. Lana felt ready for bed, but it was not even dark outside; she could see the sun setting through an enormous multi-colored glass window. A young woman entered the room with a new pitcher of wine, and headed toward Lana's empty goblet. Lana held up her hand.

"No, thank you," she said kindly to the girl. The servant bowed her head, and Lana noticed the thin bronze-colored collar around the girl's delicate neck. As the servant walked away, Lana turned in alarm to Warrick.

"Is she a slave?" she whispered, her soft green eyes wide in concern.

Warrick shrugged, "Yes, she is a servant. You can tell by the collar; hers is simple, bronze, unadorned."

Lamare across from her was smirking slightly. "You needn't whisper, Lady Torina; the slave is not ashamed of her position."

Lana looked up the table toward Lord Khan. "Nika is also a slave, is she not? I thought you had banned slavery?"

The large man looked back at Lana, gesturing his hands broadly. "We have started releasing slaves just recently. Since it is a disruptive process, we are doing a few at a time. There are also some exceptions, such as criminals. Slavery will remain as one form of punishment available to our-."

Lana interrupted, "Is that poor girl a criminal?"

Lamare spoke up sharply, "Do not interrupt his Lordship, Ms. Torina!" he scolded, his eyes not hiding his distaste for her manners.

"It's alright, Lamare," said Lord Khan, waving his hand. He turned back toward Lana again. "My dear, when we free our slaves, some of them choose to remain in their position."

Lamare interrupted. "Milord, Nika's turn hasn't come up yet, but I suspect she may choose to remain."

"Choose to remain a slave?" said Lana, not sure she'd heard right.

He nodded as he saw her shock, "Yes, yes, it may be hard for you to comprehend, but some slaves, particularly the pleasure slaves, have not found their new freedom to be very . . . fulfilling. Quite a few of them came back, and asked for their former . . . positions to be returned." He laughed suddenly. "Of course we took that as the typical fickleness of the female creature. But we found some of the men felt the same way.

"In any case, we couldn't very well have slaves who could choose on a whim to be slaves, or not slaves, as their mood struck them. We came upon a compromise, in which any free person could choose to serve one full year as slave, at the end of which they could choose to renew their contract or leave, free once again. They can also renounce their freedom permanently if they so choose. Some find they are only at ease after doing so. The servants you see here are mostly ones who have permanently renounced their freedom."

Lana was stunned. She opened her shield again, reaching out to the men at the table. Lord Khan, as well as the other table guests, showed no signs of deception, so she knew it must be true. She couldn't imagine someone choosing to be a slave, even for a year. A pleasure slave even. It was inconceivable. The Institute had left this out of her briefing materials, if they even knew.

Lana jumped when she felt a hand on her arm. It was Warrick, looking at her with concern. "Oh, I'm ok," murmured the girl, "I've just had a bit too much wine."

Lord Khan nodded, "As have we all. Warrick, why don't you give our young guest a tour? Perhaps some fresh air would do her good."

"Milady?" said Warrick gently.

"Yes, a walk would be nice." What she really wanted was a bed, but her curiosity won out. It was not even dark yet. Before she stood up, she grabbed another wedge of fruit, and popped it in her mouth, smiling sheepishly at the chuckle from Lord Khan.

The meal adjourned, Lord Khan gave his regards, and stood up to head for his chambers. Seeing all the others stand, Lana got to her feet, and felt her head spin. She put her hand on the table to stabilize herself.

Lord Khan chuckled. "Warrick, perhaps you should help our guest. I believe our infamous Dellune berry wine has gone to her head."

Lana blinked at Khan. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her thought processes moving a little slowly. "No, I'm fine, really, uh, milord," she protested, trying to focus on the large man's face, which seemed to be moving in circles. "I . . . have not had a glass of wine since . . ." Her eyebrows furrowed comically as she tried to think. "Since I was last drunk!" she announced, laughing. Feeling a hand at her elbow, she looked up and was surprised to see Warrick at her side, an almost fatherly look of concern on his face.

"I'll take care of her milord, please take your leave as you wish," said the man, looking at his lord.

Lady Verona was also leaving, and she looked over her shoulder at Warrick. "Oh, master Warrick, do be gentle with our guest, will you? She wears the Vallana dress, you know."

Lana looked at the tall woman, not sure what she was talking about, and she said so to Warrick, who simply patted her on the shoulder and told her not to worry about it.

"The wine was . . . delicious . . ." muttered the girl, teetering and putting a hand out onto Warrick's broad chest. "Let's . . . go get that breath of fresh air."

After the guests had all exchanged pleasantries, Lana found herself walking in a courtyard with the powerful warrior at her side, narrating patiently. They were inside the palace walls, yet it was open to the reddish evening sky. With the cool fresh breeze rustling by, she felt refreshed already, if still more than a little drunk. She tried with difficulty to concentrate on her host, who was telling her about Lord Khan's father, a great warrior and leader, who had ended a hundred years of war and brought peace to the kingdom. A peace that had lasted many years, and only now was being threatened by their bellicose neighbor. Times were frightening again, and Lamare was pressuring Lord Khan to declare martial law.

"He's quite severe, isn't he," noted Lana. "And he doesn't seem to like me very much."

Warrick snorted, "Perhaps he likes you too much, and that explains his harsh demeanor."

"I don't understand," said Lana, looking up at him. The looks that Lamare gave her didn't look very pleasant to her. "And Warrick, how do they . . . train a pleasure slave?"

Warrick smiled down at her, a sort of crooked grin that made her want to smack him. "I guess female Arbiters are just as curious as regular females, no?" When her surprisingly strong grip tightened on his arm he relented. "All right, all right! Well, it's a complicated question."

"Complicated in what way?" said the girl. Warrick thought her eyes looked as big as saucers and he couldn't help laughing.

"Well, they train them to do . . . what pleasure slaves do . . . look, why are you so curious about slaves?"

Lana made a dismissive noise and let go of his arm. "I'm not curious," she said, squaring her shoulders defiantly. "I was just . . . worried about my assistant, Nika."

"Nika is not a pleasure slave, well not exactly," said Warrick. He instantly regretted it.

"What do you mean, not exactly?" burst Lana, her hand going to grab his arm again. "Tell me what you mean! Has she been trained?"

Warrick sighed. "I thought you were not curious?"

"I want you to tell me how it's done!" Lana gave him a look that said she wouldn't take no for an answer. Unfortunately, that was the answer she got.

"I'd show you, but they don't let just anyone in there," said Warrick, flinching slightly at the squeezing of his arm. "You're welcome to sign a one-year contract, if you're that curious."

Lana ignored his joke and pressed on, "So there's a training place? Take me there! Lamare said when I go to Lord Nikos' castle I may have to pose as a slave, so I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into."

Warrick looked serious for once. "Lana, it's probably not very pleasant. If I know you, you would try to free those poor girls, and get me in a lot of trouble. They'd never let us in anyway. Now let's continue with the tour, shall we? Look, there's a fountain."

As he walked away, Lana stood her ground, hands on her hips, snorting in most unfeminine fashion. "I refuse to be distracted by a fountain. Look at you, Warrick, do you always follow the rules, like a good little soldier? Can't go in, it's against the rules!" she taunted in a mock deep voice, her diplomatic training forgotten in her drunken frustration. She cocked her head, "I'd never have guess the powerful warrior was so . . . obedient!"

Warrick stared in awe at the slender, stunningly attractive woman in the tight fitting white outfit. Her hands-on-hips, defiant stance enhanced her curvaceous but toned physique. Nor did she seem remotely aware of how she looked, or she'd likely blush and cover herself as she had earlier. The warrior moved closer, his powerful body dwarfing the petite female Arbiter.

"And I'd never have guessed the talented and deadly warrior could look so beautiful," he replied, moving to stand before the girl. His eyes moved down, leisurely taking in her curves.

Lana blushed. Men where she came from simply didn't look at a woman that way. Or talk that way, come to think of it. So why then did it make her feel warm inside, instead of full of indignation?

"Do not use your silver tongue to distract me," she said, her voice husky, but still tinged with annoyance. Lana was having trouble even remembering what she'd demanded, as she looked up into the deep color of Warrick's eyes. Her body tingled, as if waiting for his arms to reach down and take her in his grasp. What was that look in his eye, was he going to kiss her? Lana for all her gifts could never read a man that way. She found her heart was thumping, and her breath caught in her throat.

Lana shook her head. There was no room for romance in an Arbiter's life, it led to complications, or worse. She needed to meditate, which she would, as soon as her head stopped spinning from the wine . . . and the closeness of the handsome Warrick.

"Why do you shake your head, milady?" said Warrick, looking down at her curiously.

"Hmm?" murmured Lana, blinking. "Oh, I . . . I really should go . . . I must do my meditation exercises . . . I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," nodded Warrick. "Max gave me a book about the Institute, I know all about your traditions."

"You do?" said Lana, her mouth open in surprise.

"Yes," continued Warrick. "I know that tele . . . telepathic Arbiters take a vow of . . . what do you call it, chastity? Have you taken such a vow, Lana?"

Lana felt her face reddening again, and she cursed her own inability to control her facial expressions. "I . . . no! Is that what the book said? I mean, yes, a telepath must remain pure of mind and spirit. Exercising our abilities requires a calm and pure mind. That can be difficult when . . . romance is involved. But there is no vow, we are free to . . . do as we please. But I always tried to avoid romantic entanglements . . . to focus on my studies."

Warrick looked at her intently. "It must be difficult for a young lady of your age to avoid men. Do they keep you locked up somewhere with the other female trainees?"

Lana gasped, indignant, her hands flying to her hips again. "Of course not! And . . . and for your information, it is . . . not difficult at all! I've been quite successful, if you must know."

Warrick shrugged. "That's because you've been sheltered within the walls of your monastery. It is easy for me not to eat, when there is no food around." His tone was not mocking, but rather matter of fact, and that irritated Lana even more.

"It is not a monastery!" she protested. "I . . . we train to . . . control our emotions . . . so we won't be distracted by frivolous pursuits, like normal people."

"So you consider yourself better than normal people?" he observed, an eyebrow raised.

"No!" shouted Lana, before lowering her voice. She found the warrior to be maddening. "I mean . . . our gift, telepathy . . . it requires us to focus. And avoid distractions. We meditate every day." She narrowed her eyes, remembering his comments. "And there are plenty of men in the Institute. I don't find it difficult to maintain my focus. If it can help me defeat my enemy in combat, or outsmart my enemy, it is a small price to pay to keep my mind off men! Look at what I was able to do with that diplomat? That makes it all worth it."

"Yes, that was most impressive, and helpful," said the warrior, nodding in approval.

Lana smiled self-consciously. His compliments made her feel as awkward as his teasing.

"However, I was not as impressed by your ability to avoid distraction," added the warrior, giving her a mischievous look. "It appeared that you found his hand quite distracting."