had intended. Thorn gave her a searching look, and she added, “I could do with some rest first. And a decent meal.”
He nodded, but didn’t look particularly enthusiastic.
“Steaks straight from Gaia,” Miala offered, and he raised an eyebrow.
“Where’d you get those?”
“Lost treasures of Mast’s refrigeration units,” she replied.
“Appropriate.”
“Dinner at nineteen hundred, then,” Miala said, and was gratified to see him nod. After all, they deserved a little celebration for their last night on Iradia…
She tried to make everything as perfect as she could. Cooking for her father all those years had certainly given Miala a certain level of skill, for of course they’d never been able to afford a mech to take on those sorts of tasks. But they’d also never had the funds to buy the sort of foodstuffs she was making now for Eryk Thorn, and she fretted over their preparation much more than she ever had over a meal for her father.
Of course there were the gorgeous pink beef filets, but along with the steaks she concocted a rich side dish of delicate rosy-veined tubers with cream, accompanied by fresh-baked bread and a salad of various off-world fruits that she’d found in a back corner of one of the freezers. The wine cellars located just below the kitchens yielded all kinds of riches, but Miala had no real idea of what she was looking at or what would work best with the meal she had prepared. After scanning the various labels (those that she could read; several were in alien scripts), she stood there for a moment, irresolute, and finally grabbed two bottles: one red wine and one pale straw-colored one. Thorn could decide which kind he wanted—if he drank at all, she realized suddenly. Still, from what she had read and what she had seen on the various ’net programs, wine was usually expected with dinner, and she did not want to appear ignorant.
Mast of course had had no real use for a dining hall, but the compound had first been built by a group of Buddhist monks…before they figured out that the frontier world had very little use for such a peaceful philosophy…and so the old dining room was still there, more or less intact. The other kitchen drudges had mentioned that it was used every once in a while, if Mast had important enough visitors, but that had never happened during Miala’s tenure at the compound.
She wiped down the old polished travertine dining table and dusted off the rustic wooden chairs, then found an ancient pair of carved stone candlesticks and a box of candles in one of the kitchen cupboards, along with some faded but clean table linens. The candles intrigued her; she’d seen lighted candles once years before at a friend’s home as part of their holiday celebrations, but they were a rarity in Aldis Nova, an archaic tradition that even then Miala had found strangely charming. Now she thought they would add an elegant touch to the table.
Allowing herself once last quick glance around the kitchen to make sure everything was in hand, Miala then ducked out and hastened up the steps to the slave girls’ dormitory. It was almost 19:00, and she’d told Thorn she would call him on the handheld when dinner was ready, but she had one last thing to take care of. Off went the serviceable but now stained tunic and pants she had been wearing, and she drew out of the wardrobe an outfit she’d spied several days ago but hadn’t thought she ever have a reason to wear. Like Genna’s other pre-slave castoffs, it consisted of a fitted tunic over narrowly cut pants, but this one was of shimmering copper-colored fabric, embroidered in black and gold around the deeply cut neckline and side-slit hem. It was sleeveless, and in the trinket box the slave girls had shared Miala found a stack of gold-colored bangles, five for each wrist, and a pair of dangling earrings to finish off the look. The flat sandals she had been wearing all along would have to do.
Once she was done, Miala paused
He nodded, but didn’t look particularly enthusiastic.
“Steaks straight from Gaia,” Miala offered, and he raised an eyebrow.
“Where’d you get those?”
“Lost treasures of Mast’s refrigeration units,” she replied.
“Appropriate.”
“Dinner at nineteen hundred, then,” Miala said, and was gratified to see him nod. After all, they deserved a little celebration for their last night on Iradia…
She tried to make everything as perfect as she could. Cooking for her father all those years had certainly given Miala a certain level of skill, for of course they’d never been able to afford a mech to take on those sorts of tasks. But they’d also never had the funds to buy the sort of foodstuffs she was making now for Eryk Thorn, and she fretted over their preparation much more than she ever had over a meal for her father.
Of course there were the gorgeous pink beef filets, but along with the steaks she concocted a rich side dish of delicate rosy-veined tubers with cream, accompanied by fresh-baked bread and a salad of various off-world fruits that she’d found in a back corner of one of the freezers. The wine cellars located just below the kitchens yielded all kinds of riches, but Miala had no real idea of what she was looking at or what would work best with the meal she had prepared. After scanning the various labels (those that she could read; several were in alien scripts), she stood there for a moment, irresolute, and finally grabbed two bottles: one red wine and one pale straw-colored one. Thorn could decide which kind he wanted—if he drank at all, she realized suddenly. Still, from what she had read and what she had seen on the various ’net programs, wine was usually expected with dinner, and she did not want to appear ignorant.
Mast of course had had no real use for a dining hall, but the compound had first been built by a group of Buddhist monks…before they figured out that the frontier world had very little use for such a peaceful philosophy…and so the old dining room was still there, more or less intact. The other kitchen drudges had mentioned that it was used every once in a while, if Mast had important enough visitors, but that had never happened during Miala’s tenure at the compound.
She wiped down the old polished travertine dining table and dusted off the rustic wooden chairs, then found an ancient pair of carved stone candlesticks and a box of candles in one of the kitchen cupboards, along with some faded but clean table linens. The candles intrigued her; she’d seen lighted candles once years before at a friend’s home as part of their holiday celebrations, but they were a rarity in Aldis Nova, an archaic tradition that even then Miala had found strangely charming. Now she thought they would add an elegant touch to the table.
Allowing herself once last quick glance around the kitchen to make sure everything was in hand, Miala then ducked out and hastened up the steps to the slave girls’ dormitory. It was almost 19:00, and she’d told Thorn she would call him on the handheld when dinner was ready, but she had one last thing to take care of. Off went the serviceable but now stained tunic and pants she had been wearing, and she drew out of the wardrobe an outfit she’d spied several days ago but hadn’t thought she ever have a reason to wear. Like Genna’s other pre-slave castoffs, it consisted of a fitted tunic over narrowly cut pants, but this one was of shimmering copper-colored fabric, embroidered in black and gold around the deeply cut neckline and side-slit hem. It was sleeveless, and in the trinket box the slave girls had shared Miala found a stack of gold-colored bangles, five for each wrist, and a pair of dangling earrings to finish off the look. The flat sandals she had been wearing all along would have to do.
Once she was done, Miala paused
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