"I know you are attracted to someone; I saw it while I was working not long ago," Kaldill pounded dough onto the smooth, floured surface of his wood countertop.

"So? I have been attracted to several, over the years."

"Not like this."

"I still don't understand why you contacted me about it." Lendill was feeling grumpy with his father, who treated all matters as if they might be trivial. As a general rule, anyway.

"I contacted you because, in the words of some of your mother's race—I still love her, even though she is gone from me—you are fucking this up." Kaldill's cursing was legendary among his race, but he seldom used Alliance Common during profanity-laced outbursts.

It was early and Lendill had a difficult time following Kaldill's convoluted speech for a moment. "You're saying I'm fucking this up? Father, I'm not sure I've ever heard you use that humanoid term before."

"It exists; therefore I will use it if it applies. It does not alter the fact that you may be ruining any chance you might have with the woman who is your breath, your heart and your soul."

Lendill's eyes widened. Breah-mul, Cheah-mul and Deah-mul were popular phrases on Wyyld. Few knew that those words were Elvish in origin. Many Elf words permeated the native language of Wyyld. "You can't know she is those things," Lendill scoffed, although he felt worried. His father was seldom wrong about these things. Actually, his father had never been wrong about these things.

"You are fucking this up," Kaldill repeated, shaking a flour-coated finger at Lendill. "Make it right or make your peace with being alone for the rest of your life."

"Father, what are you doing?" Lendill directed the conversation away from himself.

"Making bread. It is my new hobby. I like it. Go back to bed." Kaldill punched the button on the comp-vid, terminating the call.

Lendill cursed. One never won an argument with Kaldill Schaff. Kaldill was right all the time and he knew it.

Chapter 11

Grish had a battalion of cooks, kitchen helpers and medical assistants, all busier than ants when something attacks their nest. It made sense—Grish being in as poor health as he was. We'd been awakened by servants—Ry and Tory had spent the night in my suite but in an adjoining bedroom. Grish's plantation palace was quite large, but my suite was one of the smaller ones. The reptanoids were quartered nearby—Farzi, Nenzi and two others slept in Farzi's suite, the rest of them inside a second suite. My suite was squeezed between both. I would have welcomed Tory in my bed the night before, I think—I felt cold, although the air was warm on that portion of Zephili. Sleep hadn't come easily, either.

Ry says there aren't any cameras; I'll be there tonight, baby. Tory was sending mindspeech as we sat down at a huge table, waiting for breakfast. Breakfast was almost intolerable—the food was bland and unseasoned, likely prepared so Grish could digest it. He hadn't made any accommodations for his guests—we all received the same meal he was having. At least the juice was good—freshly squeezed. The citrus must have been grown on Grish's plantations. We appeared to be near the equator again, just as we'd been on Urdolus. Grish didn't feed himself, either, he depended upon the monkey-like creature to lift the spoon and drop mushy food in his mouth. Much of it dribbled down his chin. An assistant stood by to wipe Grish's face regularly with a napkin. I'd seen Grish move his hands and arms to gesture while he spoke, so I failed to understand why he refused to feed himself.

I didn't want to watch Grish eat lunch later, so I asked for a sandwich and went outside on Grish's patio. He had a beautiful pool, but I had my doubts that he ever used it. Plenty of comfortable chairs were set beneath umbrellas, with small tables sitting nearby. Farzi, Nenzi and the others came out to join Ry, Tory and me.

"I am Darzi," one of the reptanoids sat at the foot of my lounge chair. Chazi, Perzi, Yanzi, Bekzi and Hirzi introduced themselves as they sat nearby. Ry was smiling. The last six had never given me their names before. Now we were all sitting around Grish's pool, having lunch together.

"Master Arvil wishes to see fields this afternoon," Farzi frowned as he stared into the distance. "We all go."

"Then we'll all go." I gave Farzi a small smile.

"Yes, we all go," Farzi nodded to me. I didn't know if Arvil wanted me along, but Farzi did. A hoverbus took us after lunch—one of Grish's staff drove but I could see Nenzi clenching his hands—he wanted to drive. I rubbed his back in consolation as we got off the bus. The fields around us had been harvested, but the plowing hadn't been done for the next crop. Arvil hadn't failed to notice that. Grish didn't come with us—a lesser assistant held a comp-vid with Grish in constant contact on the other end.

"How long will it take to plow this field?" Wilffox asked Grish's image.

"Two days for this one, two to three days for similar fields," the assistant relayed the message.

"And how many do you have that are this size?" I looked around at the field—I could see trees marking the boundaries far off in the distance.

"More than a hundred," the assistant smiled.

"How many fields can we plow at once?"

"We have the equipment to plow fifteen fields simultaneously," Grish's voice came over the comp-vid. "This allows for planting and harvesting the same fields at the same time. It is a rotating schedule—as soon as the crops planted first are harvested, the next fifteen fields are ready. We get optimum use out of the employees and the machinery. I have a repair staff to take care of any breakdowns. The only thing that might slow us down is the weather."

"We could have these fields plowed and planted in a moon-turn or less," Arvil was smiling at Wilffox and Wilffin.

"We'll give you fifteen percent of the take," Wilffox offered.

"Twenty-five," Grish counter-offered. I listened, wanting to sigh at the haggling going on via comp-vid. They were discussing lives and the future of the Alliance, while we stood on a field that should be planted with legitimate crops to feed hungry people. The most deadly drug known to the Alliance would be raised there instead. I schooled my face into non-expression and kicked at the clods of dirt beneath my feet.

"Farzi—how often does it rain here—do you know?" I asked him. He turned his brown, slitted eyes to me.

"It rain often here. Perhaps once or twice each eight-day. Seldom do sprinklers need use."

"The nearest village or city?"

"Two clicks that way," Farzi pointed to the north. "By hovercar. Large city—find what you need there."

"Reah is missing something?" Nenzi looked hopeful.

"Not yet, but if I do, I want you to drive me," I grinned at him.

We flew the hoverbus over many other fields—I saw them stretching out as far as I could see. More fields extended beyond that, even, with citrus groves and nut trees interspersed. It made me wonder how much of the fruit and vegetables Grish supplied to non-Alliance worlds and if there would be a shortage as a result of the fields being used to grow drakus seed instead. I posed my question mentally to Ry and Tory on the way back to Grish's plantation.

No idea, Tory replied. Ry didn't know either.

Ask somebody to get Chash to work it out for me, I suggested. Tory sent mindspeech to his mother.

Mom says it's a good problem for him to focus on, Tory lowered his head to hide the smile. Gav misses you.

We had dinner with Grish, and once again the food was bland and certainly not what we were used to. Grish wasn't concerned for his guests; we were served what he would eat and nothing more. That's why I answered the knock on my bedroom door later in my pajamas with Ry and Tory right behind me. Thankfully, they were still dressed. Wilffox, Astralan and Stellan stood outside my suite.

"Reah, we would very much like for you to prepare dinner for our party tomorrow evening," Wilffox said.

"I'll be happy to, but I don't want to offend our host."

"As long as he gets what he wants, I don't believe Grish can be offended." I covered my mouth—I didn't want the snicker to escape at Wilffox's words. "His kitchen staff, however, may be a different story."

"Yes, if they're anything like his personal assistant, then there could be a problem," I agreed. "I get the idea that they are running things—Grish is kept around as a figurehead only—he has the contacts. He no longer runs his business, I think."

"Interesting concept—I'll have my people work on that," Wilffox nodded to me. Astralan winked at me before he turned to follow Wilffox. I closed the door and put my back to it, staring at Tory and Ry.

What was that about? I sent.

I think they like your food, Ry returned.

Baby, can we get in bed now? Tory was a little impatient, I think.

"Let's go." I took Tory's hand and pulled him toward my bedroom. Ry was muffling laughter when we closed the door.

"Avilepha, I don't know how patient I can be," Tory was busy unbuttoning my blouse. "The first time after the claiming is the linking. My mind links with yours. You feel my desire and vice-versa." Tory was kissing whatever he uncovered, paying special attention to my neck. He kissed the back of it, where his claiming marks were and I began to feel flushed. It wasn't hot in the house—Grish had the best air-conditioning anyone could hope for. Either he or his staff liked the temperature to be much cooler than most people preferred.

"It's starting," Tory whispered against my mouth. It was; whatever it was. I was on fire, suddenly, and Tory couldn't get my clothes off fast enough. I couldn't get his clothes off fast enough. I wanted him—was ready for him—right then. Tory was frantically kissing me and pushing me back on the bed at the same time. He used his hands. He used his mouth, his teeth, his body—I wanted everything. I was almost begging him there at the end, until we were joined. If I'd thought the fire had come earlier, I was very wrong. I was clawing him and that only served to make him more frenzied. I wanted him to thrust himself into me. Hard. I learned later that Ry had to throw a sound-dampening shield around our bedroom; otherwise, everyone might have known what we were doing. It was very, very late—or early, depending upon your perspective, when we finally wore ourselves out and fell asleep.