way down to her toes.
She slipped in
the room and stood there dumbly, her mouth too dry for words.
“Yes?” he
prompted, and he motioned for her to take a seat in front of him. She sank
into the chair, grateful not to have to be upright any longer. She was still recovering from a pretty nasty space wreck.
“My things,” she
choked out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I was wondering what had
been done with the clothing and things I arrived in. I am not too concerned
about the coverall, it was only a disguise to make me appear as a boy.” She
silently thanked Clarissa for that story, even as she winced internally at the
lie. “But I had some other items as well, in the pockets.”
“No one would
have mistaken you for a male in that outfit,” he said softly, raising one
eyebrow. “Unless he was nearly blind.”
“I didn’t say it
was a good disguise,” she defended, lamely. So much for that idea.
“But it was convenient.”
He opened a
drawer in the desk he sat behind and pulled out a few objects. “I do not even
know what these are,” he said as he set them before her.
She pulled her
pocket spectrometer toward her. “And I do not know the words in your
language.” She turned on the small device and held it in her hand. “This does
not work without a few other parts, but it examines the matter of something
else, like a gem, and tells me what that gem is made of. The purity, the
clarity, that sort of thing.”
“So it’s a
jeweler’s loop? It is unlike one I have ever seen.”
“It is a bit
more complex than that, but in essence, that is what it is.” She reached for
another object that was long and pointy. “This is just a ratchet.” She turned
the handle, grinning at the mechanical clicks.
“A finely made
one, it seems.”
“It was one of
the few things I had to buy new.” She reached for the last object, her wallet,
which was locked with a fingerprint-pulse identification system. She held her
thumb over the latch and it made a chirping sound and popped open, revealing a
neat arrangement of tiny pockets and folds. “This is just a pocketbook.”
He looked on,
fascinated, as she pulled out coins, paper money, a few receipts, and some tiny
photos of Vaz and her mother, which she slid toward him, interested in his
reaction.
“These
miniatures are exquisite. But the artist painted their hair blue ,” the
earl said, staring at the tiny color photographs. “Was that some sort of
artistic license, or a tribute to your country, or what?”
“It is a family
trait.” She twirled one strand of her own seal brown hair, admiring the ice
blue highlights that picked up. The color was more of a trick of refraction,
like a bird’s feather, but it was still her best feature in many respects.
“I have never
heard of anyone with blue hair.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Although if
your story is true, you should have blue blood to match...”
Eneria paused in
her twirling, her stomach sinking. No one on this world had blue hair?
She was more unusual than she had wanted to be, apparently.
“These are remarkable miniature paintings.” He held up one fragile piece of photographic
paper, squinting at it. “I have never seen such minute detail. You can’t even
see the brush strokes.”
Eneria froze.
They were so primitive that they didn’t even have photography yet? Oh dear,
she shouldn’t have shown him the pictures after all.
This was not
going so well. She should take her things and flee this house before she did
any more damage. But where on this planet could she possibly go? Her ship was
in need of repairs, and she could not fly it more than a hundred feet in its
current state.
“There was one
more thing... a pendent.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“It was originally a brooch, but I changed the setting as the stone was too
large for anything else.”
“That would
She slipped in
the room and stood there dumbly, her mouth too dry for words.
“Yes?” he
prompted, and he motioned for her to take a seat in front of him. She sank
into the chair, grateful not to have to be upright any longer. She was still recovering from a pretty nasty space wreck.
“My things,” she
choked out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I was wondering what had
been done with the clothing and things I arrived in. I am not too concerned
about the coverall, it was only a disguise to make me appear as a boy.” She
silently thanked Clarissa for that story, even as she winced internally at the
lie. “But I had some other items as well, in the pockets.”
“No one would
have mistaken you for a male in that outfit,” he said softly, raising one
eyebrow. “Unless he was nearly blind.”
“I didn’t say it
was a good disguise,” she defended, lamely. So much for that idea.
“But it was convenient.”
He opened a
drawer in the desk he sat behind and pulled out a few objects. “I do not even
know what these are,” he said as he set them before her.
She pulled her
pocket spectrometer toward her. “And I do not know the words in your
language.” She turned on the small device and held it in her hand. “This does
not work without a few other parts, but it examines the matter of something
else, like a gem, and tells me what that gem is made of. The purity, the
clarity, that sort of thing.”
“So it’s a
jeweler’s loop? It is unlike one I have ever seen.”
“It is a bit
more complex than that, but in essence, that is what it is.” She reached for
another object that was long and pointy. “This is just a ratchet.” She turned
the handle, grinning at the mechanical clicks.
“A finely made
one, it seems.”
“It was one of
the few things I had to buy new.” She reached for the last object, her wallet,
which was locked with a fingerprint-pulse identification system. She held her
thumb over the latch and it made a chirping sound and popped open, revealing a
neat arrangement of tiny pockets and folds. “This is just a pocketbook.”
He looked on,
fascinated, as she pulled out coins, paper money, a few receipts, and some tiny
photos of Vaz and her mother, which she slid toward him, interested in his
reaction.
“These
miniatures are exquisite. But the artist painted their hair blue ,” the
earl said, staring at the tiny color photographs. “Was that some sort of
artistic license, or a tribute to your country, or what?”
“It is a family
trait.” She twirled one strand of her own seal brown hair, admiring the ice
blue highlights that picked up. The color was more of a trick of refraction,
like a bird’s feather, but it was still her best feature in many respects.
“I have never
heard of anyone with blue hair.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Although if
your story is true, you should have blue blood to match...”
Eneria paused in
her twirling, her stomach sinking. No one on this world had blue hair?
She was more unusual than she had wanted to be, apparently.
“These are remarkable miniature paintings.” He held up one fragile piece of photographic
paper, squinting at it. “I have never seen such minute detail. You can’t even
see the brush strokes.”
Eneria froze.
They were so primitive that they didn’t even have photography yet? Oh dear,
she shouldn’t have shown him the pictures after all.
This was not
going so well. She should take her things and flee this house before she did
any more damage. But where on this planet could she possibly go? Her ship was
in need of repairs, and she could not fly it more than a hundred feet in its
current state.
“There was one
more thing... a pendent.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“It was originally a brooch, but I changed the setting as the stone was too
large for anything else.”
“That would
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