Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed.
Bridget knew deep down that getting a private lunch with Oratt was always a long shot. Thankfully Sorak didn't volunteer to supervise them, or send Skel or Sirak to act as chaperone. V'Lar accompanied them instead, waiting patiently outside the conference center for them with a hired flitter, and the doctor directed the driver to a restaurant about five minutes away.
The place operated almost like a to-go deli, but there was the option to sit inside and eat. They picked a table in the corner and Oratt took it upon himself to go get their orders (she didn't recognize anything on the menu and so entrusted the doctor to choose something she might like). As he waited in line, Bridget looked around the establishment. Any place like this on Earth may have chosen white and chrome accents to decorate, but she was noticing a pattern of neutral shades for the décor, and not just here. The restaurant they had visited the first night was also decked in earth tones; something about the abundance of stone made her feel this place was ancient, even though Oratt had mentioned the deli had opened only about forty years ago.
He came back with their food and placed a plate of white, string bean-like vegetables in front of her. She plucked one out of the bright red sauce they laid in and took a cautious bite. It was starchy and savory, and the sauce was slightly hotter than she anticipated. She reached for her water glass and took a deep swig, then thanked him for the food. V'Lar quietly agreed, already enjoying some sort of casserole, and Oratt picked up his fork and dug into his plate. He had ordered the same thing for himself that he had gotten for her, and she asked him what it was.
"These are balil roots," he explained. "Their seeds are bright red, and when simmered in water, will produce a bright red dye. The sauce is simply that substance reduced until it is thickened, and of course spices and other flavors are added. Is it agreeable?"
"Very much so, thank you," she whispered. There was a slight murmur of conversation in the building, but not nearly as much as would be in a restaurant on Earth. And there were no other humans in the cafe. She fell silent and focused on taking tiny bites of food, avoiding eye contact with her dining companions or anyone else around her.
"Sirak would like for you to meet with the Council of Education tomorrow," V'Lar said suddenly, drawing Bridget's gaze away from her food. Oratt looked up too, his warm eyes quickly narrowing. The ambassador had addressed Bridget, not the doctor, and it seemed he understood the implications of Sirak's request perfectly. But before he could speak, she raised her concerns.
"I thought we were going sight-seeing tomorrow."
"Indeed, I had planned to give her a tour of the city," the doctor said.
"The Council apparently wishes to test her in person and observe her," V'Lar replied simply.
Bridget stared down at her plate. "How long would this test last?"
"It could take up to six hours. They will most likely test you in a learning pit, as our children learn. It would not be an oral exam as you know it."
She shook her head. "I'd fail. I'd do poorly, and the doctor would look bad for taking on such a stupid pupil."
"Do not insult yourself in my presence," he growled quietly. "I understand that you are apprehensive about the prospect, but you are not stupid. I know you are not, and Sirak knows it. You would do well."
She still shook her head. "I don't want to take the risk. Besides...this was supposed to be something you and I did together, doctor. I feel...I feel they would take that away from us somehow."
"They could never do that," Oratt insisted. "Our lessons are too important, and they will not interfere with that, no matter if you take their test or not."
"I don't want to do it."
Oratt nodded immediately, and V'Lar bowed her head, her eyes sparkling in what looked like amusement. "I will tell Sirak you will not subject yourself to this."
She frowned. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," the doctor repeated gently. "We would never make you do something you do not wish to do. And in any case, you came to Vulcan to help our contingent, and then relax and experience more of our homeworld."
They finished their meal, and Oratt rose and walked towards the counter to pay the tab. Bridget dared not make eye contact with V'Lar, but the ambassador spoke up anyway.
"Do not be afraid or ashamed, girl, you have nothing to fear. Sirak can do nothing to make you take his test, and you owe nothing to the Council of Education. They have no hold over you, or over Oratt."
"Thank you," she whispered, then paused. "Are you going to come with us to go sight-seeing tomorrow?"
"As much as I wish to, I cannot. I have business to attend to with the head of our clan."
"Ok," was all she could think to say. She fiddled with the silverware she hadn't used, then stared out the window. She was excited for what the next day would bring, but she worried that these new feelings would be obvious to everyone, including Oratt. She sighed to herself and smiled at the doctor as he gestured for her to join him at the door, and she followed V'Lar out into the bustling city street.
…
"As you can see up ahead, the Historical District intersects with the Legislative District here."
Oratt stepped closer to his assistant and pointed to the location on the map. She squinted into the distance, perhaps trying to catch a glimpse of the Ministry of Information's headquarters. He could see it just fine, but the heat and dust, and the fact that she had human eyes, made it harder for her to make it out. It was no matter. They would be passing through that district later today, and he would point out the building properly to her then.
He edged a little closer to show her the route they would take once they had finished at the North Shi'Kahr Art History Museum, but he sensed her stiffen slightly, her pulse increasing by twenty percent. He frowned down at her, wondering if his presence was adversely affecting her; the thought displeased him.
"Bridget, are you all right?"
She turned and smiled at him, her posture easing back to softness. "I'm fine," she said, but as he held her gaze, she blinked and looked down at her shoes. "So the art here...is it just from Surak's time or from then till now?"
"They have art pieces from Surak's time to present day displayed for the public, but if you wish...we could see some of the...less graphic pieces from pre-Surakian times," he replied smoothly, taking the map from her.
"Do they have those stashed away in the basement or something?"
"They are in a separate room, and one must be of age to see them, or else have special permission," Sorak offered. "We could see it if you wished, but be warned...it is not pleasant."
"Well, I've already sort of seen a piece from back then. It's a painting of some warlord's palace...I can't remember his name...he built it over an aquifer, and then Solek...was that his name? Solek the Terrible?"
"Yes, Bridget-am, that was his name, and the warlord you are thinking of was V'Hesh," her uncle said calmly.
"Yes, that one. Solek destroyed V'Hesh's palace and his family and built a military outpost there or something...? Is any of this ringing a bell?"
He nodded, as did Sorak. "I know the piece you are speaking of. Perhaps they have it on display here in the museum."
"I'd love to see it, if they'll let us in," Bridget said finally with a sigh. He watched a bead of sweat slide down her temple, and he gestured for the three of them to go inside.
"Which exhibit would you care to see first?" he asked her gently as Sorak browsed the brochure PADD.
"I guess let's start with Surak's time and move forward."
They followed the map and took the turbolift to the sixth floor, and stepped out onto a long, dark hallway. A heavy silence hung over the room, barely disturbed by the rustling of robes of the few people in the hall. They moved quietly forward, pausing every fifteen feet or so to look at a new piece or sculpture.
His assistant was especially captivated by the paintings of the Time of the Awakening. The Rebuilding of Ra'al had her spellbound for over two minutes (he supposed because her father hailed from that region). He translated the inscriptions for her, and Sorak looked up extra information in the brochure.
Finally they came to the end of the hall, and under a glass cage before the exit was a bust of an older man, about his age.
"Who is he?" she whispered to him. He leaned forward and read the inscription.
"It is a bust of Surak," he replied.
Her eyes widened slightly, and her look of awe intensified at Sorak's information. "It was carved fifty years after his death, by the son of one of his closest companions. It is considered the most accurate portrait we have."
She stared at the bust for a good five minutes before tearing her eyes away. "What's next?" she asked quietly, and they moved on to the next hall.
His assistant was fairly quiet for the rest of their tour, and though the curator threw a dark look at Bridget, he let all three of them into one room of three where pre-Surakian works were stored. A bright flush spread across her cheeks as her eyes found the first painting housed in the hall. It depicted a warlord about to seduce his concubine, and Oratt could sense his assistant's discomfort. She tore her eyes away and focused on a tapestry of a battle scene (though he could tell from her gaze that she was only pretending to study it).
Sorak did not notice, absorbed in some ancient carving in the middle of the room, but Oratt turned and examined the painting. From his studies as a young man, he knew the scene depicted was relatively tame, but even so...the intensity in which the warlord gazed at his conquest made the tips of his ears feel warm. The concubine was setting down a goblet of port, and her eyes seemed distant and foggy, hooded as if she were half-asleep. No doubt the warlord had planned it to be so; the thought made him feel slightly ill.
"Who painted it?"
He glanced briefly at his young companion before replying. "A man named Renakar, who was in the employ of the warlord of Gol five hundred and seventy-two years before Surak's time. Renakar was very prolific, painting portraits and making statues of the warlord and his family...but the artist and most of his work disappeared when a distant nephew led a coup and overtook his uncle's throne. This is one of his only surviving works."
She swallowed thickly, clearly still uncomfortable. "It's very...realistic."
He grunted in agreement. "He was one of the finest painters of his age, and remarkably resourceful. His patron often spared no expense on commissions, but considering the materials he had at hand..."
Bridget nodded absentmindedly, her eyes darkening as she stared at the warlord. Something about that displeased him.
"The tapestry you were looking at...did you know it was made only two years before Surak began spreading his teachings?"
As if waking from a trance, she started, but eagerly latched onto his explanation of the tapestry and its origins. The rest of the exhibit didn't seem to bother her, and soon they were out on the street again for the next phase of the tour.
…
V'Lar nodded politely to her nephew as he opened the door for her and Sirak; the three of them had been summoned by their clan mother, and the reason for their summoning was unknown to them. However, V'Lar had a very plausible idea as to why the three of them were here.
The atrium was quiet, and the home guards led them straight through the house to a back room, where their clan mother's office was located.
The old woman did not look up when they entered, but rather kept her eyes on her PADD. She did, however, wave them towards the chairs before her desk, and they took that as a sign to be seated.
"My sister's children," she said somberly, putting her reading to the side. "This meeting is long overdue."
V'Lar bowed her head. "I trust you received my report?"
V'Nor held up another PADD. "My nephew, unruly and headstrong as he is, who has ignored all of my suggestions for a match, has finally found a viable mate?"
"Not yet viable, but I have seen their interactions. The girl is more fond of him than her own bondmate, though Skel's neglect of her has put our alliance with Ra'al at stake."
"Indeed." The ancient woman set her gaze on Skel, who, despite his disciplines, rightfully squirmed in discomfort.
"You can assure me of the girl's attachment to Oratt?" she finally asked V'Lar. The ambassador allowed a slight smirk to touch her lips.
"She hardly leaves his side when we are out or in Sorak's home. She seeks out his company above all others, and I am fairly certain she has professed love to him on more than one occasion. She does not realize it yet, but if you do not arrange this match, Oratt will. I can see in his eyes that he will not be deprived of her."
V'Nor was not placated with this news. "Son of Sorak," she said coldly, fixing her dark blue eyes on her great-nephew, "your father and I arranged an acceptable match for you. An ambassador's daughter should not be so lightly thrown aside. Had you done what was proper, we would be introducing the girl into our clan by now. You put yourself above your clan, and brought shame on us all. What have you to say for yourself?"
"She has found a better mate in my cousin. I was never right for her. Oratt will bring her into our clan, and she will be happy."
V'Nor's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Insolent boy...do you not see what you have done? Oratt cannot lay claim to her until she comes of age, and he may yet shame us all or die before that happens! And all the while other clans will hound after her! You were young and available, and we gave you a chance to prove your worth to the clan. You have failed, and we must now turn to alternate means to secure her. I have half a mind to ban you this instant for failing us."
Skel bowed his head and stared pointedly at his lap, and the old woman's gaze fell on Sirak.
"Oratt may be too unstable to complete this task. You should take it upon yourself to secure the girl."
Her younger brother's eyes lowered. "She does not want me. I can see it in her eyes."
"She may not want you now, but you are a more logical match for her than Oratt. You are younger, stronger, and you are not subject to a boy's whims." She threw another dark look at Skel. "And it has only been twenty years since you have had a mate. Oratt is too unstable."
"Oratt may have already fixated on her," V'Lar offered, and their clan mother's eyes narrowed again. The ambassador pressed on. "It may not be wise to offer up Sirak. We do not wish discord among the clan. You will see, honored mother, the affection I speak of. Tomorrow night at the feast, you will see it. Oratt is the logical choice for her."
"Other clans have made bids for him," V'Nor retorted. "He would do much better to marry a woman of a higher clan."
A moment of silence reigned over the gathering, until the ambassador spoke again. "I humbly submit to my honored clan mother that it would be unwise to separate Oratt from the Forrest girl. If I am correct in my assertion that he has fixated on her, then at his age, with so many years unbonded, would it not be dangerous to try and give him to another? He would refuse even the most logical bond, and we would most likely lose him in the process. He is determined to have her, and if she is taken away from him, or if he is forced to take another, would we not risk raising his more violent tendencies? A man who has spent the last seventy-five years alone will not suffer his only chance at contentment being snatched away. We would lose him, or his outrage would bring shame upon us. Is it not better to let things occur as they will? I believe the girl and Oratt will come together without outside intervention."
V'Nor stared shrewdly at her niece, then bowed her head. "I will see their behavior at the gathering tomorrow night, and then declare my ruling." Her eyes turned to Skel. "And since my great-nephew has failed me in this matter, I will be generous and allow him a second chance to prove himself. You will aid either your cousin or your uncle in securing this girl, son of Sorak, or your match with clan T'Yen will never come to pass. They are a lower house. They offer us nothing. Unless we raise our station with Ra'al at our side, there is no purpose in allowing them to take my kinsman."
Skel swallowed thickly and nodded, and the three of them were dismissed.
