Madame Nerala explained the finer things they could expect from life on their new home.
Vashia hung back, trailing at the rear of the group and sneaking peeks at her data pad. She read while the others sighed and ran their fingers over the silks. When the group started for the next shop, Tarren tugged on her elbow, and she followed without glancing at the fabrics. She’d seen silk before.
She’d seen gemstones too. So when the women clustered around an open shop to watch the cutters faceting, she flipped to the next chapter and read about her new legal status as a citizen of Shroud. She’d already covered the safety section, though it would take a little study to understand the flag system and breathability. Vashia imagined she’d be wearing her breather regardless for some time. She’d skimmed the bit on magnetism, skipped the section on language for non-Genish speakers and flipped straight to the first section that she felt held direct relevance to her predicament.
“Do they mine them on Shroud?” Murrel’s voice broke her concentration. The girl had pushed her way to the front again, and stood closer to Madame Nerala than Vashia would have felt comfortable with. “Then there must be a surface.”
“Yes, of course.” Nerala beamed at her, easily won over by Murrel’s enthusiasm. “Underneath the Shroud.”
“I thought the planet was called Shroud,” Tarren said. “Or is it The Shroud?”“Both.” Nerala placed her hands together and touched her lips with her fingertips. “The Shroud refers to the gaseous atmosphere, Shroud to the entire planet.”
“But—” Murrel leapt in with another inquiry, but Vashia didn’t hear it.
Instead, she shut off the pad and straightened. She scanned the mall to either side for the man she knew had just walked into range of her “allergy.” She’d almost gotten used to the sensation. This time, when she spotted him, a whisper of disappointment joined the static. It was the wrong one.
He wore his hair shorn everywhere except for the single, long braid that somehow she’d missed the first time. But then, she hadn’t really been looking at him. She’d been right about the build though. This prince might have been Dolfan’s twin—only the hair differed much. Both were built like a barge sled, wide and chiseled for hard work.
He stared at her with the same hazel eyes, but the look sent a different sort of reaction through her. A predatory possessiveness lurked in that gaze. She wanted to bolt from it, her legs moving instinctively. She backed straight into Tarren.
“Hey.”
“Sorry. I just—”
“Look who’s coming.” Tarren brushed her short hair into order. She grinned at Vashia and stuck out one hip in a pose that brought to mind a dark brothel doorway.
Vashia cringed and slid past her. She worked her way deeper into the group and tried not to make eye contact with the Shrouded Prince again. He continued past them without stopping, but he favored Madame Nerala with a nod before turning into a hallway that branched to the right between the jewelers and a display of spooled rug yarns. The bright colors cast him into a darker picture, all black braid and billowy Shrouded clothing.
He looked like a cutout standing there, like a flat, stand-up model. Fake. The idea had nagged at her all morning. The moon base with its distant view of Shroud, perfectly displayed under glass, the pristine mall displaying all the wonders of the planet that almost no one shopping here would ever get to see. The whole thing was a façade. The Shrouded had crafted Moon Base 14 as a decoy, and it featured only what they allowed outsiders to see.
“I have an idea.” Tarren moved in beside her and spoke quietly. “Let’s stop bathing.”
“What?” Vashia spun to face her and they almost bumped noses. “Why would we?”
“So we don’t get picked.” Tarren held up her data pad and grinned. “If you don’t get picked, you’re set for
Vashia hung back, trailing at the rear of the group and sneaking peeks at her data pad. She read while the others sighed and ran their fingers over the silks. When the group started for the next shop, Tarren tugged on her elbow, and she followed without glancing at the fabrics. She’d seen silk before.
She’d seen gemstones too. So when the women clustered around an open shop to watch the cutters faceting, she flipped to the next chapter and read about her new legal status as a citizen of Shroud. She’d already covered the safety section, though it would take a little study to understand the flag system and breathability. Vashia imagined she’d be wearing her breather regardless for some time. She’d skimmed the bit on magnetism, skipped the section on language for non-Genish speakers and flipped straight to the first section that she felt held direct relevance to her predicament.
“Do they mine them on Shroud?” Murrel’s voice broke her concentration. The girl had pushed her way to the front again, and stood closer to Madame Nerala than Vashia would have felt comfortable with. “Then there must be a surface.”
“Yes, of course.” Nerala beamed at her, easily won over by Murrel’s enthusiasm. “Underneath the Shroud.”
“I thought the planet was called Shroud,” Tarren said. “Or is it The Shroud?”“Both.” Nerala placed her hands together and touched her lips with her fingertips. “The Shroud refers to the gaseous atmosphere, Shroud to the entire planet.”
“But—” Murrel leapt in with another inquiry, but Vashia didn’t hear it.
Instead, she shut off the pad and straightened. She scanned the mall to either side for the man she knew had just walked into range of her “allergy.” She’d almost gotten used to the sensation. This time, when she spotted him, a whisper of disappointment joined the static. It was the wrong one.
He wore his hair shorn everywhere except for the single, long braid that somehow she’d missed the first time. But then, she hadn’t really been looking at him. She’d been right about the build though. This prince might have been Dolfan’s twin—only the hair differed much. Both were built like a barge sled, wide and chiseled for hard work.
He stared at her with the same hazel eyes, but the look sent a different sort of reaction through her. A predatory possessiveness lurked in that gaze. She wanted to bolt from it, her legs moving instinctively. She backed straight into Tarren.
“Hey.”
“Sorry. I just—”
“Look who’s coming.” Tarren brushed her short hair into order. She grinned at Vashia and stuck out one hip in a pose that brought to mind a dark brothel doorway.
Vashia cringed and slid past her. She worked her way deeper into the group and tried not to make eye contact with the Shrouded Prince again. He continued past them without stopping, but he favored Madame Nerala with a nod before turning into a hallway that branched to the right between the jewelers and a display of spooled rug yarns. The bright colors cast him into a darker picture, all black braid and billowy Shrouded clothing.
He looked like a cutout standing there, like a flat, stand-up model. Fake. The idea had nagged at her all morning. The moon base with its distant view of Shroud, perfectly displayed under glass, the pristine mall displaying all the wonders of the planet that almost no one shopping here would ever get to see. The whole thing was a façade. The Shrouded had crafted Moon Base 14 as a decoy, and it featured only what they allowed outsiders to see.
“I have an idea.” Tarren moved in beside her and spoke quietly. “Let’s stop bathing.”
“What?” Vashia spun to face her and they almost bumped noses. “Why would we?”
“So we don’t get picked.” Tarren held up her data pad and grinned. “If you don’t get picked, you’re set for
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