was sure Aethyr must at least be curious. He had planned carefully for the assignation, choosing exactly the right bottle of wine from the Sedra region of the coastal highlands. His servants set out a selection of chilled seafood caught by nomadic fishermen, fresh fruits drenched in nectar, and a braised fillet of gurn held in a thermal field to keep it warm. Everything was perfectly calculated and staged.
Aethyr arrived four minutes early—another surprise. Not early enough to imply anticipation, not stiffly punctilious, and not arrogantly late. When he opened the door, he was caught by her large dark eyes, like a robber bird trapped in the fine mesh covering an orchard. As before, Aethyr wore none of the ridiculously formal costumes other nobles loved to flaunt; instead, her clothes absolutely suited her, showing off her lean figure. She wore no jewelry, and her short, dark hair was unadorned.
“Welcome, Aethyr. Thank you for coming.” He gestured her inside, but she remained at the threshold of his penthouse.
“I came so that I could decline your invitation in person, Commissioner.”
She obviously expected him to reel, to protest, to react with indignation. Instead he smiled and answered in a neutral voice, “And why is that?”
“Because I don’t play political games, and this seems like one. Too many unanswered questions.”
“Such as?”
Aethyr arched her eyebrows. “What could the great Commissioner Zod possibly want from me? You gain no political clout with my family through making my acquaintance.”
“Maybe I have no interest in your family. Maybe I find you beautiful. Maybe I think you’re intriguing.”
“Maybe I think you’re used to getting what you want. I’m not a bauble in the marketplace to be had because you toss a few coins in my direction.”
He gestured inside again, slightly more insistent. “Why don’t you at least share a glass of wine with me while you explain yourself. Tell me what you have against me.”
She chuckled. “I’d be happy to drink your wine. I assume you’ve brought out a rare and expensive vintage in an attempt to impress me?”
“Absolutely.” Despite what Aethyr said, Zod could tell she was enjoying herself, pleased with the discomfiture she had inflicted. He poured her a glass of the ruby-red wine. She took a large sip without going through the motions of staring at its color in the light, sniffing its aroma, or swirling it around in the glass. He waited for her to make a comment, but she didn’t. “Do you like it?” he finally pressed.
“It’s wine.” She shrugged, then changed the subject. “I understand you’ve been busy, Commissioner. The funeral for your assistant?”
Zod frowned. He never wanted to think about that idiot again. “Poor Bur-Al is gone, and the vicious hrakkas have been destroyed. We have other things to discuss.”
“Do we?”
He was finding this quite amusing. “Most women in Kandor would leap backward off a cliff for the chance to have dinner with me.”
“I’m not most women.”
“I know. That’s why I asked you here.”
She looked down at the meal extravagantly spread out on the private little table. “I don’t like seafood.” She walked to the balcony and looked at the skyline. “I have no interest in the stuffy leaders of Kandor or the clumsy establishment. They always want to change me.”
Zod came to stand next to her. “How do you know I’m not different?”
She finished off her wine in a single gulp. “Since you haven’t proved otherwise, I can only assume that the great Commissioner has much invested in maintaining our stagnant status quo.”
“You might be surprised.” Zod’s eyes were gleaming. “If modern society is so distasteful to you, tell me what you would change. What do you want to do with your life?”
“I do whatever I like. I’m about to go off into the wasteland to study a large set of ruins. I think I’ve found ancient Xan City.”
“Where Jax-Ur made his
Aethyr arrived four minutes early—another surprise. Not early enough to imply anticipation, not stiffly punctilious, and not arrogantly late. When he opened the door, he was caught by her large dark eyes, like a robber bird trapped in the fine mesh covering an orchard. As before, Aethyr wore none of the ridiculously formal costumes other nobles loved to flaunt; instead, her clothes absolutely suited her, showing off her lean figure. She wore no jewelry, and her short, dark hair was unadorned.
“Welcome, Aethyr. Thank you for coming.” He gestured her inside, but she remained at the threshold of his penthouse.
“I came so that I could decline your invitation in person, Commissioner.”
She obviously expected him to reel, to protest, to react with indignation. Instead he smiled and answered in a neutral voice, “And why is that?”
“Because I don’t play political games, and this seems like one. Too many unanswered questions.”
“Such as?”
Aethyr arched her eyebrows. “What could the great Commissioner Zod possibly want from me? You gain no political clout with my family through making my acquaintance.”
“Maybe I have no interest in your family. Maybe I find you beautiful. Maybe I think you’re intriguing.”
“Maybe I think you’re used to getting what you want. I’m not a bauble in the marketplace to be had because you toss a few coins in my direction.”
He gestured inside again, slightly more insistent. “Why don’t you at least share a glass of wine with me while you explain yourself. Tell me what you have against me.”
She chuckled. “I’d be happy to drink your wine. I assume you’ve brought out a rare and expensive vintage in an attempt to impress me?”
“Absolutely.” Despite what Aethyr said, Zod could tell she was enjoying herself, pleased with the discomfiture she had inflicted. He poured her a glass of the ruby-red wine. She took a large sip without going through the motions of staring at its color in the light, sniffing its aroma, or swirling it around in the glass. He waited for her to make a comment, but she didn’t. “Do you like it?” he finally pressed.
“It’s wine.” She shrugged, then changed the subject. “I understand you’ve been busy, Commissioner. The funeral for your assistant?”
Zod frowned. He never wanted to think about that idiot again. “Poor Bur-Al is gone, and the vicious hrakkas have been destroyed. We have other things to discuss.”
“Do we?”
He was finding this quite amusing. “Most women in Kandor would leap backward off a cliff for the chance to have dinner with me.”
“I’m not most women.”
“I know. That’s why I asked you here.”
She looked down at the meal extravagantly spread out on the private little table. “I don’t like seafood.” She walked to the balcony and looked at the skyline. “I have no interest in the stuffy leaders of Kandor or the clumsy establishment. They always want to change me.”
Zod came to stand next to her. “How do you know I’m not different?”
She finished off her wine in a single gulp. “Since you haven’t proved otherwise, I can only assume that the great Commissioner has much invested in maintaining our stagnant status quo.”
“You might be surprised.” Zod’s eyes were gleaming. “If modern society is so distasteful to you, tell me what you would change. What do you want to do with your life?”
“I do whatever I like. I’m about to go off into the wasteland to study a large set of ruins. I think I’ve found ancient Xan City.”
“Where Jax-Ur made his
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