Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [76]
The comm established a link immediately; the harem was not as shielded as Lu Tung probably believed. “Beverly?” Deanna’s voice came over the comm clearly. “Wha—what is it?” She sounded rushed and out of breath, almost as though she was being chased. Beverly wondered exactly where Deanna was at the moment.
“I’ve run into a little problem,” Beverly said hesi tantly. Could the Pai be monitoring their communications? Could the G’kkau? “I was hoping I could talk to you about it.”
“Now is not a good time, Beverly,” Troi gasped. Beverly heard snatches of conversation—and ribald laughter—in the background. “Exalted One, please! Not now! … I’m sorry, Beverly, did you say something?”
It sounded to Beverly like Deanna had problems of her own. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Is anything wrong?”
“The Emperor,” Deanna said breathlessly, “has an enormous capacity for Romulan ale—among other things.”
“What’s that?” Beverly didn’t understand. “Do you want me to notify Security?”
“No!” Deanna practically shouted through the comm; the vibration literally rattled the badge pinned beneath her Oriental robes. “I mean, thank you, Beverly, but that’s not necessary. I can manage … I think.”
Beverly still couldn’t tell exactly what going on at the other end of the line, but she decided that Deanna sounded more embarrassed than endangered. If Deanna was really in serious trouble, she would have said so. Obviously, though, the Betazoid counselor was in no position to help Beverly wrestle with her own moral dilemmas. “Sorry to bother you. We’ll talk later.”
“Okay,” Troi’s voice answered. “Exalted One, wait! … That is, Troi out!”
So much for that, Beverly thought ruefully. Deanna would have a lot to explain the next time they shared an exercise session on the Enterprise, although it sure sounded like Deanna was getting plenty of exercise, of one sort or another, on Pai. That still left Beverly to face the reluctant bride on her own, something she wasn’t looking forward to. Stalling for time, she contemplated her reflection in the full-length mirror mounted on one of the bright pink walls of the Green Pearl’s private bathroom. Scores of gleaming pearls, uniform in their sheer lustrousness, framed the mirror; Lord Lu Tung must have raided every oyster in the Dragon Empire to decorate his daughter’s chambers. Beverly thought she looked tired; it had been a long night, with only a few more hours to go before the (she hoped) inevitable wedding. Her elaborate green gown, that had once seemed so elegant, now hung on her weary body like last week’s laundry strung out to dry. This mission was a hard one—and much more grueling than it looked.
In the end, she realized, there was no decision to make here. The Green Pearl had to marry the Dragon-Heir; there was no other way to bind the Dragon Empire together and save it from the untender mercies of the savage G’kkau. Foolishly, she had hoped that Deanna would somehow manage to pull another alternative out of the ether, but the fate of Yao Hu was locked in stone long before the Enterprise came within transporter range of Pai. Beverly just prayed that the Pearl would come to find peace in the life that had been chosen for her—and that future histories of the Dragon Empire would never forget the sacrifice this one young girl made for her people.
Beverly dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye, straightened her shoulders, and walked back into the plush, lush pinkness of the harem chamber. She stepped past a menagerie of discarded stuffed animals, heartbreaking mementos of Yao Hu’s swiftly departing girlhood, and felt her throat choke up. Get a hold of yourself, she thought silently. Bad enough the bride is crying her eyes out. I’m not going to be able to do anyone any good if I get all weepy myself.
She stepped briskly across the harem floor, then froze in her tracks, stopped dead by an unexpected sight.