A/N: Another pretty long chapter, for those still reading. Review, please! Pretty please! The more actual plot I have to think up, the trickier this exercise gets ...
Thanks to those who have reviewed! In particular,
Wildmagelette -- Thanks, I hope you're still reading and enjoying!
Dolphindreamer -- I'm trying to do that ... it's tricky. Let me know how I do ;)
Tawnykit -- Thank you! Writing, I'm good at ... it's the thinking-of-something-to-write that gets me into trouble. Glad you like the fluff. I adore fluff ;).
Disclaimer: Nobody really thinks I invented these people, do they?
6: Tourism
The Royal Zoo was a short walk from the palace, and though Kaddar offered to call a car to convey them there, Daine insisted on walking. She had been conducted to a marvellously furnished cloakroom to change her bedraggled clothing and straighten her hair, and had re-emerged five minutes later to find Kaddar settling into an armchair and opening a thick book in Arabic.
At her cheerful "Ready when you are, Your Highness!" he had jumped a foot.
As they walked—at the leisurely pace dictated by Daine's reaction to the heat and blazing sun—they quietly discussed Kaddar's uncle and his birds.
"I'm rather surprised—very surprised, in fact—that none of the Zoo staff were able to tell him what was wrong with the birds," Daine said. "It was quite straightforward really, at least the diagnosis was. Any qualified vet ought to be able to diagnose lead poisoning."
"You are a better judge of such things than I," her companion answered, with a little bow. "But—" here he lowered his voice and stepped a little closer to her— "I am somewhat better acquainted with my uncle, and I should not like to be the servant of his who informs him that his prize possessions have been tampered with."
"Servant? Possessions?" Daine did not immediately understand what he meant.
"All who are employed by him are, in the end, his servants," Kaddar pointed out, gently. "And since he keeps the keys to the aviary himself, and feeds the birds himself …"
Comprehension dawned. "I see."
They continued in silence for a few minutes.
"So, then," Daine said at last, "is that why I was asked to come here? So that I could tell him what his own staff didn't dare? Will they be blamed for the birds who died before I got here?"
Kaddar's face assumed a careful lack of expression. "My uncle does not confide in me thus far," he said.
"That boy you've been seeing," Onua says, "What's his name? Perry?"
"Perin," Daine supplies. "Perin Clarke. What about him?"
"Is it serious?"
"Not specially. He's nice enough, but a little ... I don't know." Daine studies her friend; there is an odd look on Onua's face. "Why d'you ask?"
Onua shrugs: "No special reason." Then she adds, "Do I need to have a talk with you about—"
"No," Daine says, very firmly. "Because, one, I am not sleeping with Perin, and I don't intend to; and, two, I've had that talk. I'm eighteen, Onua, not twelve."
"Oh," says Onua. Is it Daine's imagination that she sounds relieved? "Well, that's all right, then."
From one point of view—that of simple variety—the Royal Zoo was indeed impressive. It included creatures from nearly every continent (Antarctica excepted) and of every size and family. To Daine, who knew far more about animals and had seen far more zoos than most people, it lacked certain essential characteristics of the modern facility. The animals were almost all housed in ornately decorated cages, rather than in the sorts of purpose-built, naturalistic enclosures considered the norm in European zoos; no attempt had been made to create the kind of environment enjoyed by the birds in the palace aviary, for example, and many of the animals, while well fed and in adequate physical health, appeared frustrated, listless or bored.
Kaddar asked her what she thought, and she struggled to form a reply that would be both truthful and polite. Diplomacy never having been her strong suit, she eventually gave up the struggle and said, "They aren't happy."
"I beg your pardon?"
"They aren't happy," she repeated, more firmly. "They're given the proper foods, their cages are kept clean and they're cared for when they're ill, but they aren't happy." And nor would you be.
"They do not have the advantages of my uncle's birds," Kaddar acknowledged.
"No," Daine agreed. "The birds are happy. Some of them don't even realize they're captives. These animals …"
They had paused before a cage housing a lion and lioness. It was a large cage, but boxy and nearly bare, the concrete floor covered in straw. The male paced irritably along the bars, while his mate dozed in a corner. "You see?" Daine said. "They've nothing to do—they're bored. They haven't enough space to exercise their muscles. And lions live in large family groups in the wild; they're probably lonely as well."
Impulsively, she stepped over the low railing edging the footpath and approached the lions' cage, murmuring soothing and admiring phrases under her breath. Ignoring her companion's protests and his sharp intake of breath, she put out a hand toward the pacing lion, her face against the bars.
"It's dreadful, isn't it?" she said, her voice low and sympathetic. The lion paused; his great, regal head turned toward her, and he lowered his huge muzzle to her hand and sniffed it delicately. "You are a beauty," Daine breathed. "I'm so happy to have met you, sir."
She stroked his mane and laid her face against his muzzle, sending him all the thoughts of peace and contentment she could muster. Finally he sighed, sending a great hot gust of carnivore-breath into her face, and stalked majestically across the cage to lie down with his mate. Smiling, Daine backed away from the cage and hopped back over the railing.
Kaddar had sat down on the path, silk suit and all, and looked as though he were about to faint. "You—you—" he stammered.
"I'm sorry," Daine said, meaning it: she had evidently given the prince a serious fright. "I ought to've warned you I was going to do that." She reached down to give him a hand up, surprising him again, she saw, by the ease with which she pulled him to his feet.
"You certainly ought," he said, dusting himself off. "I should have stopped you."
"Oh, well," she grinned, "it's a good job I didn't, in that case. Look," she went on, "I wasn't in any danger. I was just doing what I do—my job in Edinburgh is mostly looking after big cats. It really …"
Her voice trailed off; she blushed under his gaze.
"I've heard you called 'Beast Whisperer,'" Kaddar said softly. "But I did not realize what that meant. I never imagined you could do anything like that. You are a woman of astonishing gifts, Daine Sarrasri."
Oh, bugger. Now look what I've done. But that poor lion … I had to.
Daine raised her head and looked around for something else to talk about. In the distance she glimpsed a tall—a very tall—figure; her heart leapt and, grinning, she raised her hand to wave at her husband.
Then she saw the woman following him, and her arm dropped back to her side.
When taking up her place in the Bachelor of Veterinary Medicine & Surgery course forces Daine to give up her paying job in the stables, Numair organizes for her a part-time and summer post as his research assistant. He has never had one before, and he is not the sort of researcher to leave the work to an assistant while taking credit for the results himself; during term time he is not at all sure what work to assign her. Daine, ever practical, sees what needs to be done and does it: organizing his two offices on campus and then the one in his house; backing up his computer files on a strict schedule after discovering, to her horror, that he has never done so at all; restoring him to the good graces of the library staff by searching out and returning all his overdue books and making sure his fines are paid; and, when he is involved in some particularly absorbing experiment, ringing his mobile at mealtimes to remind him that body as well as intellect requires sustenance. More and more often she goes with him to lectures and conferences, where she organizes his lecture slides, handouts, and lab demonstrations and makes sure all his equipment does what it is meant to do.
During the summers, when she is not on extra-mural studies, they travel together, on foot or by bicycle (occasionally even on horseback), throughout the UK, observing populations of hedgehogs, tawny owls, wood mice, pipistrelle bats, ospreys, foxes, red squirrels, and other native species. They camp or, occasionally, stay in hostels; often their targets are nocturnal, and so they sleep by day and wake in the late afternoon to eat bread and cheese and apples, put on heavy jumpers, and sit up all night in the woods or at the edge of a pond or stream, two silent watchers who communicate in a language of economical gestures. By the middle of the second summer they can pitch or strike their camp in less than fifteen minutes, going about their separate tasks equally without argument and without overlap or collision.
"It's like watching a ballet," remarks Onua, who has joined them to share Daine's tent for a few days by way of a holiday. "Or an old married couple," she adds under her breath.
Daine straightens up from setting up the campstove, and Numair from fitting together tent poles. "What?" they say together, and then they turn to each other and grin.
"Nothing," says their friend, hiding her own knowing grin.
"Miss Kingsford."
"Dr Sarrasri."
While the two women exchanged chilly greetings, Numair and Kaddar shook hands with every appearance of relief.
"Daine," Numair said, kissing his wife's cheek, "Varice dropped round for a chat while I was swimming, and I suggested that since she knows the Royal Palace and its environs so well, she might give me a tour while I had some free time."
Daine nodded, slightly mollified. At least here we all have to be fully clothed, and I can keep an eye on her. If it occurred to her that the revised programme also gave Numair an opportunity to keep an eye on Kaddar, this seemed a perfectly reasonable compromise.
"Daine was just demonstrating to me why she is called 'Beast Whisperer,'" Kaddar remarked. He still wore a haunted look. "It was a quite … enlightening performance."
At this Numair grinned, enjoying the other man's discomfiture just a little: "She frightened you out of your wits, you mean. Lions, was it?"
The prince nodded.
"You never do anything by half measures, do you, vetkin?" He kissed the top of her curly head. Daine's answering smile vanished when she saw Varice's expression, knowing the older woman saw Numair's gesture as amusingly paternal. But Numair's attention was elsewhere. "I did try to warn you, the other night. Imagine how I felt the first time I saw her confront an angry three-hundred-pound Siberian tiger."
"An Amur tiger." Daine elbowed him in the ribs. "You make me sound like a circus performer, Numair. Natasha wasn't angry," she explained to the others. "She was in labour, and having a lot of trouble."
Kaddar and Varice were goggling at her. "Look," she said, with a touch of impatience, "we've all got jobs. This is mine, and I happen to be rather good at it. Now, Your Highness, shall we go on with our tour?"
She saw Kaddar smile in apology and, with a little bow, gesture toward the path ahead; she heard Varice's small sound of disdain. She did not see Numair beam with pride in her or imagine that he was picturing the rough-edged, timid stable-hand she had once been—had once imagined herself being more or less forever—and admiring what she had made of herself since then. But she did feel his long fingers twining into hers, his thumb stroking her wrist, and it was almost enough to make her forget Varice's unwelcome presence.
Their route took them out of the zoo and down into the Old City, where a sprawling marketplace offered everything from burlap sacks of rice and dried legumes to exquisitely wrought gold and silver jewellery. Not to mention hordes of other people, shoppers and gawkers and beggars and, Daine suspected, the necessary complement of pickpockets.
"Have an eye to your purse," Kaddar murmured to her, confirming her suspicions. She had no purse, but she took the precaution of shifting her wallet from the outer pocket of her rucksack (where it was, she now saw, foolishly accessible to all and sundry) to the left front pocket of her trousers. In the right-hand pocket she stowed a fistful of local change, which she dispensed, bit by bit, to begging children when Kaddar and Varice weren't looking. Numair, she saw out of the corner of her eye, was doing the same.
This evening's dinner was a more standard sort of conference banquet, with an address by a famous expert on bioterrorism and a blessedly dull menu (rice pilaf for the vegetarians, and chicken for everyone else). Free to decide their own seating arrangements, Daine and Numair placed themselves, with considerable relief, in adjacent chairs at a table with Alanna, Lindhall Reed, and two acquaintances of Alanna's from the University of London.
"I know we're supposed to use these things to network," Numair confided in a low voice, "but if I have to do any more networking I think I may short-circuit."
"And here I thought you'd been having such fun," Daine teased him. She had once envied him his ability to mingle easily and make polite conversation with strangers; but she knew now that what she called his "party face" was only a mask for a dislike of crowds and false camaraderie as great as her own.
She had planned to avoid the topic of Varice Kingsford until they could discuss it in privacy, but Alanna rendered her decision moot by inquiring, midway through the salad course, "So, Numair, who is the blonde bombshell who stalked you into the swimming pool this afternoon?"
Numair blushed, Daine cringed, and Lindhall Reed shook his head ruefully. The Londoners looked politely intrigued.
"An old friend," Numair said. "She works for the king. I shouldn't imagine we'll see too much more of her."
His tone warned Alanna not to pursue the matter further. "Nick, Andrea," she said instead, looking across the table, "what did you think of the panel on anthrax this afternoon? Rather alarmist, didn't you think?"
"You wouldn't answer Alanna," Daine began, "but you are going to answer me." She stood in front of the sofa where Numair sat, her arms folded, her expression forbidding.
She didn't explain what the question was; they both knew well enough.
"Of course, vetkin," Numair said. "Only—"
"I'll make it easy for you," she continued calmly. "I'll tell you what I think, and you can just nod. Right?"
He sighed. "Right."
Daine took a deep breath. "You knew her in Cairo, at the university."
A nod.
"She's the friend who patched you up after you fought with Ozorne."
"That's giving both Ozorne and me too much credit, but yes."
"You were in love with her."
A long pause, then, at last, a reluctant nod.
"And now?"
Numair looked up at his wife, puzzled by the question; and as he looked, the contrast between her mouth, set in a defiant line, and her wide, pleading eyes explained it all. "And now, nothing," he said firmly. "Sweetheart, this isn't like you. You've never been jealous before—"
"I've never met anyone you were in love with before."
"Were. In the past tense. Daine, for heaven's sake, until yesterday I hadn't seen the woman in fifteen years."
"She's your own age, nobody would mistake her for your student. She's blonde and gorgeous and—" she heard the bitterness and need in her voice, and despised herself, but she couldn't seem to stop.
"Daine." He stood up abruptly, forcing her to take a step back and tilt her chin up to see his face. "Daine, stop it. You're being silly and childish." She drew breath to retort, then let it out in a whoosh when she realized how right he was. Why are we having this conversation? This isn't like us at all. "Listen, vetkin. Arram Draper loved Varice. He was young and didn't know any better. But I am not Arram Draper any more—and Numair Salmalín loves you."
"I know," Daine said in a small voice.
He sighed again, pulling her into his arms. "Sweetheart, there are real dangers here. Varice Kingsford isn't one of them. I understand how her behaviour—and, frankly, my own behaviour—could inspire jealousy. Believe me, vetkin, I know exactly how you feel." His arms tightened around her. "This place … we're both on edge. But if you can forgive me for—for all those other things, surely you can trust me not to abandon you and run off with Varice?"
She leaned against him silently for a long moment, savouring the uncomplicated pleasure of his arms around her and his heartbeat thudding under her ear. "Of course I trust you," she said at last. "I'd trust you with my life, 'Mair. I just don't trust her."
To her astonishment, he began to laugh—an honest, full-throated sound that rumbled in his chest against her face. "Of course you don't," he said. "I've told you, vetkin—I know exactly how you feel."
"Onua, what do you know about this boyfriend of Daine's?"
"Not much. Perry, is it? Or Percy, or something? He's in her year—I think he's in her final project group."
"Are they … do you think it's serious?"
"How should I know? Have you asked Daine whether it's serious?"
"I thought perhaps you could ask her."
"Numair, I really don't think—"
"If I ask, she'll only be annoyed with me. She thinks I'm too protective."
"Are you?"
"Whose side are you on?"
"I'm not on anyone's 'side.' I'd prefer not to be involved in this at all—that was my point."
"I don't want Daine to be hurt, Onua. That's all."
"Is that likely? Do you know something about this boy that I don't?"
"Well, I do know something about boys, full stop—"
"Daine can take care of herself, Numair. She may be only eighteen, but she's very steady, and you know well enough that she isn't stupid. She won't thank me for interfering."
"I didn't ask you to interfere. Just to—you know—ask a few questions."
"Right. Not interfere, just interrogate."
"If you're going to be like this—"
"I'm … puzzled, that's all. You and Daine are close friends—as close as she and I are, at any rate. I'm trying to work out why, if you're worried, you don't just tell her so."
"It's more complicated than that. And I'm not precisely worried. Just—interested. Concerned."
"I see."
"Onua!"
"All right. I'll ask. One time. But that's all—and don't think I won't sell you out if I have to."
