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= FAR WARS =

a novel in the Empire of Time series

by John Argo

9.

Her ladies in waiting stood on the colorfully tiled path, the one a study in billowing brown, the other in dark-red wine. They did not follow her, but maintained a respectful distance. Two or three young military priestesses in jet black joined them, with weapons visible in holsters; their faces looked pale as they glared in my direction. I started to realize that I was in august company. I was just young enough not to be much impressed, nor to care. After all, this beautiful young woman was no older than I was, and no doubt sat in the same seats and took the same techs and examinations as anyone else. That was the wonderful atmosphere at Holy Mother's University on Tulearth: Liberty, Equality, Sorority for all, regardless of personal accidents of birth or position.

"Your timing is good. The moon berries are in full bloom," I told her without using the formal address that would have subordinated me immediately. I was brash and sure of myself, just a shade shy of rude.

"Can you show them to me, Ranay?" She loved my freshness, and we both knew it. It was clearly what she wanted. "I wonder if the good brothers would object if my ladies carried off enough for a jar or two of fresh jam." She added with a twinkle in her eyes: "I would of course bribe you with a jar as well, so we are all in it together."

I set my hoe aside and waved for her to follow. "If heads must roll, let ours all roll together." The good brothers she referred to were the monks who tilled these gardens, just as they taught courses at the university. None of the mossy-green-robed friars dedicated to the Holy Mother was anywhere to be seen at that moment. I was already on punishment duty, and might have incurred more if the wrong brother saw me. Of course I didn't care. What was another day of toiling in the garden in exchange for a few moments of such exquisite company?

We laughed, as we did much in months to come. She followed, and stumbled. I quickly reached out. She extended a strong, dry hand and took my dusty fingers with her firm grip. It was impressive to see how she balanced and steadied herself, a study in gracefulness with her long, full, athletic limbs and soft flanks. We walked, like two dancers in a minuet, holding our hands high together, as I guided her to the shady wall of bushes at the monastery wall. She foundered just a bit, when I was already on the walk way, so I turned and offered her both hands. She almost fell into my arms, but quickly recovered with a somewhat sheepish look while her ladies looked on with blank expressions.

The shady side of the chapel wall was thickly carpeted with hollygloss, whose leafy shade was filled with juicy, pale mirabels or moon berries.

"You are not an ordinary monk, are you?" she said in a low, conspiratorial tone so only she and I could hear. Now we stood facing each other on the walkway at the edge of the labyrinth of flowers and trimmed hedges, pent in by high gray ways drowning in ivy and sunshine. Beyond the walls loomed the blue-black slate tiles of the university, and the attendant town and temples.

"Not at all," I told her. "I'm a third year cadet, doing penance for a night on the town when I should have been grinding for my astrotex."

"I thought so," she said with visible relief. The unspoken message was that she'd be mortified had she realized she'd been flirting with a young man of the noviate who would never taste nectar like hers.

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