The door swung open and Danielle tumbled inside, somehow triumphantly. "Whew! Home at last. Not that it wasn't like the funnest thing I've done in a long time-I'm so glad our waitress told us about the Crystal District. For tourists, my foot! That was the coolest collection of shops I've ever seen, bar none!"
Qui-Gon, nearly invisible as he was under a mountain of shopping spoils, found he simply didn't have the energy to reply, so he merely collapsed and allowed himself to be buried.
Danielle set her own considerable heap of packages and bags on the floor, saying, "Now, we really should find a place to put all this. Since it seems I'm going to be with you for a while, I need a designated place to sleep, too. And since we somehow ended up with some things other than clothing, we'll need to-" So saying, she turned, only to stop short. There was a heap of packages, but no Jedi Master. "Qui-Gon?" she asked, surprised.
The pile of packages swayed ominously, and Danielle leapt back with a mild shriek. After a moment, her wits returned. "Qui-Gon? Is that . . . you?"
The mountain gave a great shake, and packages flew off, revealing the Jedi. "Never again," he said unsteadily, but with conviction.
"Beg pardon?"
"You heard me, you minx. I. Am. Never. Doing. This. Again."
Danielle's face fell slightly. "But it was fun, I thought. I mean-I had piles of fun. Didn't you?"
He froze, with that deer-in-headlights look again. "I-fun? Not-not really-"
Danielle was not fooled. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. "Ha! You did so have fun! First lunch-you laughed like you might never stop-"
Qui-Gon flushed. "All right. Lunch was fun, and tasty, and informative-"
"Then, at Marejjji's-in the sensor-activated fountain garden, out back-"
He gasped audibly. "How dare you use that as an example? They threw us out, and swore we'd never be allowed back, and that they'd contact the Jedi Temple to complain-"
"But, as I recall, at the time you didn't care, because you were laughing like a little girl and were quite happily every color of the rainbow from the special rainbow fountain that caught you-you know, when you tripped on the sensor rail-"
He wrinkled his nose at her. "I was 'laughing like a little girl', as you so aptly put it, because what they failed to inform us was that the deceptively pretty 'sparkly' fountain contained an extremely potent anti-depressant-an 'upper', if you will-that can be absorbed into the skin-and I, as I recall, was shoved into that fountain by yourself-"
"That was an accident! And the colors all came out in a few minutes-how was I to know the drugs wouldn't, too?"
"And then-when I was still high-you dragged me into-of all sadistic places-the modern art gallery, where I would have been insanely confused even if I wasn't extremely drugged, but since I was I thought the world was coming to an end-"
"But we found the gorgeous table there, and the rotating particle sculpture, and-"
"IT WAS NOT WORTH THE HUMILIATION!"
Danielle narrowed her eyes at him. "You know what your problem is? You have too much pride. You're so obsessed with being the Perfect Jedi, the Superior Role Model, that you can't even handle a little embarrassment! You have to shunt the blame onto myself, deny that you had any fun, and relegate the entire day as a Hideously Embarrassing Mistake! You seriously need to loosen up and stop being such an honor-obsessed, uptight fussbudget!"
Qui-Gon opened his mouth-but nothing came out. He simply stared limply at the aggravated young woman before him, absorbing the implications of the fact that she was totally, absolutely, correct.
After a long moment he rallied feebly. "But still-I represent the Jedi Temple. I should have-"
"Bah! You've represented them well enough and often enough to last several lifetimes. Today, you let loose, had a darn good time doing it, and by God you're going to admit it!"
For a long moment there was silence. At last, Qui-Gon muttered, "All right. Parts of the day were fun."
"Balderdash. The entire day was fun. Come on! You weren't still high when we went into the High Tech Party room at the music store-you danced like you'd been born to it!"
The Jedi Master went red again. "I-I-I couldn't help it! The floor that lit when you stepped on it-the wall with the silhouettes-the strobe lights-music everywhere, so loud I couldn't think properly-and that dizzying smoke, and all the glitter, everywhere-"
"We both still sparkle, even after the wind tunnel in the Mad House," Danielle remarked amusedly, examining herself. "Of course you couldn't help dancing. That was the entire point of the room. And we got an awesome new sound system at a great price-and you got to pick out some music crystals-and I bought that awesome collapsible harpsichord-whatsis-"
"Not harpsichord, for the hundredth time, harpsiforte. And yes, that was a wonderful bargain, even if I've no idea where we'll put it-"
"That's why it's collapsible, dear."
"Whatever. Well. I don't know how we ended up with food-and furniture-and musical instruments, of all things-and art-and . . . aren't there fish in this heap somewhere?"
"No, they're being delivered tomorrow with the new couch and the wall-sized mural and all the other stuff we couldn't carry. But we did get a lot of clothes, which is what we went for. Besides, you needed some stuff to spruce this place up. You'd think it was a hotel room, from as little as you've personalized it. When you were 'high', as you so quaintly put it, you lost a lot of inhibitions and actually told me what stuff you liked, so it's not like I picked everything-"
"What in the name of all the gods will Obi-Wan think?" Qui-Gon moaned.
"I think he'll be shocked half to death, but will appreciate the changes we have wrought," Danielle said with great dignity. "I mean, we got so many beautiful things-the chandelier, the rugs-and, do you remember, we were the thousandth customer in the door at the florists, we get a fresh bouquet of exotic flowers once a week for a lifetime, and they gave us that gorgeous vase to put them in-"
"Force help me, I'd forgotten the flowers. I remember the caterers, though. I forget why they offered you free cooking lessons and daily delicacies-"
"Because they idolize Jedi, and none had ever visited them before, especially not with the intent to buy anything. They were so flattered Wolfgang himself came out to meet you in tears-luckily, you weren't high anymore by that time-"
He shook his head despairingly. "And all the art supplies-"
"You said yourself Obi-Wan needs a hobby. Now he can paint, sketch, sculpt, play harpsiforte, and create culinary masterpieces, or even arrange flowers. And he'll have all the new arty stuff to inspire him, and your music, too. Oh, yeah-I forgot the composer program for your terminal-and the channels-"
Qui-Gon moaned. "Danielle, what are you doing to me? I feel-somewhere between violated, humbled, overjoyed, and enlightened. It's like-like the Force is speaking to me in a whole new way. I can't fathom . . ." His voice trailed off as he realized Danielle was smiling at him gently. How odd, he thought randomly. The same smile that could be so terrifying could also be so . . . beautiful.
"I'm bringing you to life, dear," she said softly. "You've been just kind of obliviously drifting along, being nothing and no one but a Jedi, denying yourself every aspect of living. I know some things are forbidden to you, but this-" she gestured expansively at all their packages, "-along with all the things you did today that you've never done before, all that money you had that you'd never thought to spend . . . It's like you're waking up after a long time asleep. You're living Qui-Gon. It's terrifying, bewildering, battering, and exhausting, I know, but-isn't it beautiful?"
For a moment total silence reigned, and Qui-Gon stared at Danielle like she were the living embodiment of the Force itself. "So it is, Danielle," he said at last, wonderingly. "So it is." Then he grinned. "And I owe it all to my little enigma."
Danielle just opened her arms, as though she were the wise and comforting master and he the lost and homeless waif. And he, no longer one to question their respective roles, went into her embrace willingly, and in it knew a completion like no other.
It took the better part of three days to unpack, arrange, rearrange, return, argue over, misplace, find, and get used to all the new additions to their little apartment. It was indeed a transformation. When they were done, it was hardly recognizable.
The once-bare floors were now adorned with a variety of throw rugs, jeweled inlets, and brilliant tiles, some of which changed colors when trod upon. The walls were coated with art (paintings, sculptures, curios, fascinating clocks, etc.), but somehow not clutteringly so; they gave off an impression of busyness but not chaos. The kitchen, once bare of all but the absolute necessities, was now stuffed to overflowing with exotic, wholesome, unique, or downright sinful foodstuffs, and a bizarre plethora of cooking utensils, as well as its own share of interior decorations. The ceiling of the living room had been given wooden support struts, carved to be works of art themselves, and atop them grew plants that cared for themselves: fly traps that caught any unwelcome residents, blooming violet flowers that smelled like champagne, herbs that could be cut and used in food. Among these were nestled glowing white lights, and crystals hung at random intervals as well, refracting the light all over the room. The musical setup had speakers scattered the room and could provide ambience at a voice command any time day or night. A huge, gorgeous antique couch reminiscent of Earth's Victorian furniture had the spotlight position in the middle of the room while supporting a bevy of luxurious pillows and throws, and a glass table comprised of machinery that kept colored glass balls in constant, noiseless motion sat innocuously in front of it, whirring busily away. Even the bedrooms had not been spared-they too were art-coated, with new sheets, rugs, furniture, and clothing for everyone, even the non-present Obi-Wan. Danielle had really and truly converted it from a 'home base' where they refueled but didn't really live to a home, personal, eclectic, and more than a little magical.
She was prouder than words could express. If only the others could see her now! She had clothing like she'd never dreamed-boots, cloaks, dresses, robes, sandals, scarves, everything under the sun, jewelry (though not much), amenities, and such a beautiful place to live-it was like a dream come true. All it required for perfections was her friends . . . and a cat. Home was not home for Danielle without a cat, she thought wistfully. Perhaps one could be attained . . .
When they'd finally finished and acknowledged their apartment had reached mutual perfection, they took a celebratory drink Danielle had gotten the recipe for-spiced chilled Anaro juice-out on the balcony, reclined in their new lawn chairs, and admired their handiwork through the open glass doors.
"It's . . . stunning," Qui-Gon said, in total awe.
Danielle just sipped her juice serenely. "Yes, it is."
For a moment, Annie was sure that if she pinched herself hard enough, she would wake up.
She could not be here, on stage, in this ridiculous getup, supposed to be singing in a few moments. It just-it just wasn't possible!
Well, even if she was dreaming, she didn't want to humiliate herself. So, drawing again on that store of sheer nerve she hadn't even known she possessed, she lifted her chin, threw back her shoulders, and strode to the waiting microphone with every ounce of panache she possessed.
Every eye was on her, and even though that probably amounted to a total of no more than fifty, it was enough to dry up all her saliva instantly and send hot and cold chills all over her body. However, she heard herself saying, as if from a distance, "Sorry, friends, the incomparable Cassandra is ill-poor darling has heat stroke. Tonight, you'll have to make do with my inferior skills instead. So, relax, nurse those drinks, and enjoy the music!"
She shot a glance at the band, all of whom winked or grinned at her approvingly. Feeling slightly relieved that she hadn't botched anything yet, she nodded-and the music started.
Keeping her eyes strictly fixed on the wall across the way and the words materializing there, she forced her mouth to open and words to emerge.
"So that's what I said, I said love ain't no dream; it's real as this life, no matter how strange it seems."
The words may have been slightly croaky, off-pitch, and quieter than normal, but at least she was coherent and audible. Drawing in a huge breath, she kept reading, forcing her volume to increase and her voice to not tremble.
"This dream that we're livin', this joy that we've found, it's a magical feeling, known the galaxy 'round."
She must be doing better; the band was embellishing a little and some of the patrons had begun to nod their heads in time to the music. Summoning her courage, she put on hand on a hip and even began to sway a little.
"A daydream we wake to, as days pass us by; I don't know much but I know this dream's no lie."
Now for the chorus. Praying for a sudden gift of vocal talent, she pulled the microphone out of its stand and began to sing passionately into it, a la Diana Ross or some other such diva.
"Sweet dreamin', it's a whole way of life. A new religion-husband and wife. A kinda magic-it's perfectly true . . . It's no daydream, I truly love you."
Annie dared to open her eyes-and saw that Cassandra, who had snuck down the stairs across the way from her, was grinning and giving her two thumbs up. Stunned that she might actually be doing well, a little more adrenalin flooded into her veins and she really started to get into it.
The song ended with a crescendo, and Annie, offering up a silent prayer to God, just flung up an arm and went with it-and, to no one's surprise more than her own, emitted a sweet and only slightly wavering note of pure perfection.
When it was over, she stopped, panting, and realized that she was being applauded. Not with any marked enthusiasm, but no one was booing or laughing either. She'd-she'd done it. She'd pulled it off. She could sing.
Then, the band struck up another song, and it dawned on her that the night was just beginning.
Halfway into her sixth song, just as she was starting to be able to ignore the crowd and enjoy herself, the door burst open-and an entire squad of stormtroopers entered.
In her shock, she missed an entire line, but when one turned to look at her, she picked right up on the next one, and no one seemed to even notice anything. Fixing her vision on the prompter and nothing else, she sang and danced her heart out-nearly literally. Her vision was spotted, her ears were ringing, and her whole body was shaking. She had no doubt that her singing was suffering, but the stormtroopers didn't even spare her a second glance. They swept throughout the entire bar, behind the counter, upstairs, even backstage-and then, with a last contemptuous glance and a brisk nod to Essra, who'd watched them, hawk-like, the entire time, they left.
She'd pulled it off. She'd really and truly fooled them. Across the room, she saw Cassandra and Essra exchange a tight hug of triumph, and relief made her giddy. She threw herself into singing with a new fervor, and this time, when she was done, she even got some whistles.
After that, she could have gone on singing the whole night. She was safe. She'd managed it. She was singing reasonably well. Now she had a place-allies-even a job. She could look for a way out of this mess without risking her life daily.
After some time had elapsed, she was filled with such unreal euphoria that she did something she would never fully understand-so she turned to the band and said, "I'd like to try something you guys probably don't know. Do you suppose you could keep up with me? It pretty much follows the melody of the words, with the occasional fanfare at appropriate moments. I bet you could figure it out. Wanna try?"
They exchanged amused glances. "Anything for you, dearie," the keyboardist said with a wink.
Annie grinned. "I love you guys. Well . . . here goes nothing!"
Returning to the mike, she smiled down at her expectant audience. "Be patient with us; we're going to try a little experiment. This is a song I'll bet none of you have ever heard-but I hope you'll love. So . . ." And she signaled the music.
As requested, they started out with a little introductory spiel in the key she'd requested, and she took a deep breath and started singing.
Jeremiah was a bullfrog
Was a good friend of mine
I never understood a single word he said
But I helped him to drink his wine-
He always had some mighty fine wine!
A wave of surprised murmuring swept over the bar's patrons, and many who'd formerly ignored her looked up and fixed her with intent glances. Swallowing, Annie continued, hoping she wasn't making a serious mistake.
Taking a deep breath, she swept on.
Joy to the world
All the boys and girls
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea
Joy to you and me!
Absolutely everyone was listening now, she noted. No, not just listening; they were riveted. Even Jiano, at the bar, had stopped cleaning the counter to stare at her, transfixed.
Feeling a little more certain of herself, she plunged ahead.
If I was the king of the world
I tell you what I'd do
I throw away the bars, and the cars, and the wars
And make sweet love to you.
The band by this point had picked up on her tune and when they could elaborate, and were apparently having the time of their lives doing so. Many people in the audience were bobbing in time now, or swaying, or mouthing the rather easy lyrics.
Joy to the world
All the boys and girls
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea
Joy to you and me!
Feeling encouraged, she continued, and with the last repetition of the chorus she had most of the bar singing along. When she finally finished, triumphantly, she stopped and waited-and then noise erupted over the bar.
Among the shouts and whistles, she could barely discern shouts of "More! More!" and "Brava!" Apparently, her technique had worked.
"You'd like another?" she asked sweetly.
The tidal wave of noise was response enough for Annie.
After another quick discussion with both the band and the light operators, she humbly walked back to the mike, bowed her head, and waited for her intro.
Ignoring the anticipatory whistles, she listened until the appropriate note, then began:
At first I was afraid, I was petrified . . .
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side
But then I spent so many nights in thinking how you did me wrong . . .
And I grew strong
And I learned how to get along . . .
They liked this was already. Even Essra was grinning in open astonishment as the audience moved closer to the stage to hear her better, totally enraptured.
So now you're back
From outer space
I just walked in to find you here with that sad upon your face
I should have changed that stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I'd've known for just one second you'd be back to bother me . . .
The band was seriously getting into it now; she could tell they were dancing around behind her and trying to anticipate her next move. The lights kept slowly getting brighter and someone had, very appropriately, turned on the Star Wars equivalent of a disco ball. Brace yourselves, she thought giddily, the best is yet to come . . .
Go on, now, go!
Walk out the door!
Just turn around now, cuz you're not welcome any more!
Weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye?
Did you think I'd crumble?
Did you think I'd lay down and die?
Oh no, not I . . . I will survive!
As long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive!
I've got all my life to live, and I've got all my love to give
And I'll survive, I will survive!
The crowd went absolutely insane. Cassandra mimed fainting. Annie couldn't believe she was actually up her, doing this, singing this well-and having the time of her life.
This time, when she finished the song, the patrons surged up to the edge of the stage, blowing kisses and demanding more. She would have happily obliged, but she was abruptly aware of the bass guitarist behind her snatching the microphone.
"I'm so sorry, folks, but that's all we have time for tonight. Yeah, yeah, I know-but she'll be here tomorrow! And, if you tell enough of your friends, maybe the day after that! Who knows how long she might keep singing if enough people keep coming? It's entirely up to you! So bring some flowers, buy some drinks, and spread the word! The hottest music in the town is at Essra's Nightclub, every evening from eight to midnight! So long, folks!" And, so saying, he took Annie around the shoulders and forcibly dragged her away from her worshipful audience.
Backstage, Essra and Cassandra awaited her with incredulous grins and applause. "Girl, that was magnificent!" Cassandra exclaimed. "I've never heard such music in all my years. And the audience-they loved it! Do you know more stuff like that?"
"Of course," Annie said, still dazed. "I can write some of it down for you guys-I'm not very good with music, but I can try-"
"Write it down?" Essra said, puzzled. "Why would you need to write it down?"
"So you can play it after I've left."
"What?" Cassandra exclaimed, taking Annie's hands. "Girl, after what you just did to that audience, do you seriously think we're letting you out of our sight?"
Annie, realizing what they were saying, gave them both a stunned look. "D'you mean-"
"Do you have anywhere else to stay?"
Annie shook her head slowly.
"Then your home is with us now, if you like. Our doors are always open to you, and Cassie has
an extra cot in her room, don't you, dear?"
"And you are more than welcome to it."
Annie shyly smiled back. "I-I don't know what to say."
Essra smiled. "Welcome home, dear."
"Never-never-in all my years of living-have I laughed that hard," Amidala wheezed.
Krista, seated on a couch in the corner, frowned more deeply than before, but said nothing.
"The king-choking on that little shell-the prince trying to come on to you-the lizard still alive-" Amidala choked, obviously fighting a relapse. "Oh, God-"
"I think Rabe's permanently traumatized," Sache remarked drily. "Not that I blame her, though.
If my dinner had come to life and attacked me and leapt down my dress, I'd be a raving lunatic by this point."
In point of fact, Rabe was still in the other room, being comforted by the stalwart Yare. She hadn't ceased gibbering yet, and might not for some time, despite Yare's compassionate care.
"But it wasn't her dinner," Eirtae pointed out, looking very sorrowful. "It was Kristae's dinner."
"It did seem to be Kristae's night in the spotlight, didn't it?" Sabe asked, helping take the Queen's hair down. "The hiccoughs, the prince, the lizard-"
"At least the King choking wasn't your fault," Sache said, a malicious gleam in her incredibly blue eyes.
Krista suddenly found the ceiling immensely fascinating.
"Well, you certainly seem to have made an impression on Prince Edouard," Amidala said, recovering somewhat. "So much for him wanting to court me."
Krista glared daggers at the young queen. "Oh, easy enough for you to laugh at; you didn't have to endure it."
"And you're not done enduring it. After the negotiations tomorrow, there's to be another feast, and a dance."
Krista choked. "A dance?"
"Yes. You know, music plays, you find a partner, and you move in time to it. Dancing."
"Yes, thank you for the definition, now all I need are instructions," Krista said sarcastically.
They all looked at her wide-eyed. "You mean . . . you don't remember how to dance?" Eirtae asked wonderingly.
"Just like I don't remember how to get dressed properly, or courtly manners, or how to get those damn shellfish open-"
Sabe laughed. "Does anyone really know how to do that?"
Amidala looked at her seriously. "So you need dancing, banquet, and politics 101?"
"That's right."
"Well, I think we can manage. Sache here is our resident physical expert, so she'll handle the dancing."
Sache bounded to her feet. "Before all of that, however, I think you should get a little self-defense training. You've forgotten that, too, haven't you?"
Krista brightened. "That's right."
"Okay, that's pretty important. Next time some attractive royal young man tries to grope you, you'll be able to put him in the dirt. Tomorrow, we can take you to a range and give you some shooting practice."
"Awesome," Krista said, ecstatic. Maybe this whole Handmaiden bit wasn't going to suck as much as she'd feared.
"So, first off-self defense," Sache said enthusiastically. "Get up here, this isn't a spectator sport. Now, if-"
"Sache!" Amidala said reprovingly, stopping the handmaiden mid-instruction. "This is not the time or place for such an instruction. Wait until Kristae's out of her dress, and refreshed, and you have plenty of room to move without killing anyone or anything, then give her instructions. Tonight, dance."
Sache grinned and saluted. "Yes, your highness! All right, girly, get off your pretty little behind and get up here." Krista did as she was ordered, grinning insanely. "Now: the conventional waltz. You get to play my partner, so I suppose I'll be the hunky male in all these. This one's really simple; all you have to remember is that you always start with your left foot, the one step is a rock, not a real step, and that it's all based on four-four time."
Krista, a surprisingly enthusiastic learner, was just beginning to get the hang of the basics and learn how to spin while holding her skirt attractively aloft when the door chimed. Breaking off their practice, the girls watched as Eirtae went to open the door. "Yes?"
A small, shifty-looking courier in bright Gerogonian pink stood there. "A message for the lady Kristae," he said sullenly.
Feeling suddenly disgusted, Krista walked over, ripped it open, and read it in growing horror. She imagined that ripping it to shreds wouldn't go over well, so she merely clutched it tightly in her hand and said sweetly, "Could you inform the prince that I am busy this evening and cannot see him? Thanks ever so much. Bubbye now!" She shut the door, almost rudely, in his face.
"What's up?" Amidala asked, intrigued.
Now Krista did shred the letter, disgustedly. "Mr. Gerogonian Prince wanted me to take a moonlit stroll in the garden with him."
The other handmaidens burst into laughter. "That boy really has it bad for you, doesn't he?" Sache asked, amused.
Krista glared at them. "I don't see what's so funny about all this."
"You wouldn't, but we, being the impartial observers, are free to realize it's funny as hell," Sache fired back. "Our amnesiac handmaiden has a stalker! It sounds like some kind of terrible holo-film."
You have no idea, Krista thought, vastly amused herself now. "Geez, no kidding. So tell me, girls; how do I get rid of this creep?"
"Give him to me," was Sabe's succinct suggestion, which elicited another round of laughter.
"I'll do my best," Krista promised, rolling her eyes. "But first I have to get him off my tail. I suppose I could act really stupid, or make myself ugly, or something else to make myself unattractive."
"Just be yourself," was Sache's cheerful suggestion, for which she received a pillow in her face.
"Continue with the dancing lessons," Amidala said regally. She fixed Krista with an intent stare. "You want to be prepared for tomorrow, don't you? In every way that you can . . ."
For a moment Krista simply stared at her, then she nodded slowly. "Yes . . . your majesty." Amidala was right. Not only did she want to be able to dance, she wanted to be done learning that so she could also learn self-defense . . . which was far more important.
By the time the evening was through, Krista could waltz, manage a weak tango, and do something that reminded her of old English dances or country reels called a Promenada. When she woke up the next morning (an unpleasant experience, since Sache dragged her out of her sumptuous featherbed by the ears just after dawn, forced her to get dressed and choke down a mug of coffee-like fluid, and stumble into the world), she was dragged into another saccharinely beautiful meadow for her first self-defense lessons.
"The trick to being a lady," Sache told her promptly, before Krista was even fully awake, "is having secrets. You can act, I assume?" She paused a moment, then smiled uncertainly "This is so strange, asking you things that I knew you knew just two days ago, you know? Anyway. You need to be able to simpler and twitter at a man like you're overawed by his superior skills while silently snickering that you know every scandal his family's had in a century and that you could gut him in two seconds."
Krista's eyes popped. "Gut him?"
Sache shrugged expansively. "Well, that's a little extreme, I'll admit, but you'll have the skills nonetheless. See, not only am I going to pound weaponless defense moves into you in the course of the day, you're going to get minor weapons training, too."
"Kickass!" Krista returned happily, at which Sache frowned. "Yes, it is, but remember: you are a lady. Ladies, my dear, do not cuss. They do not have embarrassing bodily functions. They have exquisite table manners and do not scratch themselves, pick their noses, or bite their nails in public. They know which fork is used to eat which dish and how to make smalltalk with a creature who speaks another language. They can dance-"
"Stop," Krista wailed. "You're intimidating me. I'll never learn all this!"
"You knew it before," Sache said implacably. Then she gave an evil grin. "Besides, it's only my job to teach you self-defense. Yare will probably give you the etiquette, and then Eirtae will drill the politics into you. Soon you'll be a proper handmaiden again."
Krista grimaced. "I had no idea there was so much to it."
Sache gave her an odd look, and Krista mentally smacked her forehead. No prior knowledge of any of this, remember? she chided herself silently. You're an amnesiac, not a girl from another galaxy!
"Well," Sache said, "here's a rough outline of the day. I have you until about three, and then Yare gets you for the mannerly stuff. The politics can wait until another day, thank the Force. For starters, you'll learn how to get away from someone who grabs you, the most vulnerable spots on the human body, and a few dirty tricks that you should never hesitate to employ when overpowered. Then we'll teach you how a proper lady also always keeps a knife in her stockings and carries a fan that doubles as a switchblade, along with many other personal specifications. The Queen's huge adornments have another purpose-there's always a semi-automatic somewhere on her person. Yare's infamous for her skill with the laser-whip she likes to tuck into her sleeve. Rabe always slips a cannister of petrifying spray into her bodice. You always had a tiny blaster in an arm holster, whenever your dress permitted."
"Wow . . . I think I remember that," Krista bluffed. "But that's awesome. I would never have guessed that we were so prepared for anything. What do you carry?"
Sache gave a dazzlingly sweet smile. "I know the location of roughly sixty galdeckas hidden throughout the building disguised as ornamental staffs-one of which I carry with me when we travel-or chair backs, or inside hollow columns. Once an assassin came into the queen's bedchamber at night, about six months ago. I was nearest the window, which was her method of entry, and a single blow from my galdecka took her down instantly. Pity about the wallpaper-it was a lovely shade."
Krista was torn between being impressed and shocked at this gruesome side to the prim and pretty little handmaidens she'd always pictured. "Cool. But-what's a galdecka-whatsis?"
Sache's expression was grimly satisfied. "A four foot long wooden staff with a double-bladed end. I keep mine sharp enough to hack through durasteel."
For a moment Krista was silent, pondering the implications of this. Somehow, her little excursion into a nonexistent universe wasn't feeling nearly as much like a game as it had before. While something in her rebelled at the thought of taking lives (especially gutting people), knowing how to defend herself would be infinitely useful, and it would certainly help her find Qui-Gon in one piece (if she ever got started looking for him, that is . . .)
Finally, she took a deep breath, and said, "All right. Teach me how to defend my life and my Queen."
With a huge grin, Sache complied.