Chapter 15

"Y OU CAN'T GO KISSING ME TO DISTRACTION EVERY time I ask you something that you don't want to answer. If it's secret, just say so. If I get fed up with hearing that, I'll say so. Okay?"

They were in Brittany's car on the way to City Hall. It was much later than they'd planned on getting there. She'd fed Dalden before they left, and was definitely going to have to stop for some groceries on the way home after that mammoth meal.

And there'd been an amusing moment when they left the apartment and she told him not to mind the rust-bucket look of her car, that she kept it in tiptop shape so it purred. He, of course, misinterpreted that and started looking around for buckets and fembairs, the latter being what she figured he called cats.

It was now almost noon, since their brief stop at the mall had turned into hitting every shop with men's clothing, after it had been apparent from the first shop that they were going to have trouble finding something to fit Dalden. In fact, they never did. There had been a few extra-extra-large T-shirts he could have worn, but they just didn't look right on him, and besides, leaving those arms of his bare would draw as much notice as his fancy tunic.

There was hope, though, at least for tomorrow. An on-duty seamstress in one of the larger clothing stores had felt challenged upon seeing Dalden, and after taking some quick measurements, had promised to have some jeans and a plain cotton shirt ready for him by the end of the day.

Brittany had expected Dalden to draw some notice, but experiencing it firsthand in the mall that morning went beyond even her own expectations. She hadn't noticed yesterday because she'd been unable to take her eyes off him herself. But he managed to affect everyone that way. No matter where she looked, people were staring at him open-mouthed, boggle-eyed; he was causing traffic pile-ups of the pedestrian kind. One young kid even asked him for his autograph and refused to believe he wasn't a celebrity. Keep a low profile? Yeah, right.

There hadn't been much time between her apartment and the mall for talk, and besides, she'd been too busy watching Dalden examining everything on the dashboard, as if he'd never been in a car before. Yet she'd wanted to wait until they were in the car, where he wouldn't dare try to kiss her again, to bring up the subject of his unique way of distracting her.

She wasn't expecting an argument. Her suggestion had been so reasonable that it didn't leave room for arguing. But he put a new twist to it.

"Yet is it much more enjoyable, for both of us, to kiss you to distraction," he said.

Undeniable, but beside the point. "Remember ‘getting to know each other'? Part of that is answering questions, not avoiding them."

"When I make you mine, Brittany Callaghan, you may have all the answers you seek. I am told, however, that you will not be happy with the answers."

Thank God the traffic light in front of them was red, because Brittany temporarily forgot how to drive. When he made her his? Again, that had such a ring of permanence to it, coming from him. Not when they made love. Not when her job was done. When he made her his. The effect that had on her was swift and primitive.

Driving down the boulevard was not the place for this discussion after all. She tried zeroing in on his second remark to get her mind out of fantasyland. Unhappiness. Answers she wouldn't like. Okay, that worked.

She gave him a quick glance, then glanced a bit longer at the box on his hip, trusting that Martha's camera views were working. "Are these ‘I am tolds' his opinion, or what you've been telling him, Martha?"

"You really don't want to hear his opinions, doll," Martha replied.

There was clear amusement in the older woman's tone, which rubbed against Brittany's nerves. "Actually, I do," she said stubbornly.

"Really, you don't," Martha countered, then elabo rated. "From the information I've assimilated so far, your culture and his are so far on opposite ends of the spectrum, the distance could be described in light-years."

"Bah, I know an exaggeration when I hear it," Brittany replied.

Some chuckling drifted up from the box before Martha said, "If it means anything to you, and Probables is starting to lean toward it will, his mother's and father's cultures were also light-years apart, yet they've managed to adjust—or maybe I should say, she's managed to adjust. There's not much budging with a Sha-Ka'ani male."

"Was that supposed to be a warning?"

"You betcha."

Brittany snorted. She was beginning to think that Martha was toying with her, and getting a kick out of doing so. But it did worry her that Dalden wasn't trying to correct the impression Martha was trying to give her. In fact, he didn't look too happy. Actually, he looked a bit green.

"Are you all right?" she asked him.

"I am familiar with transportation that moves on other than legs, but I am not accustomed to the many stops and starts of your rust bucket."

She ignored the name he'd given her car and asked with a bit of amazement, "You're getting carsick? We have hit a bit more traffic than usual, the lunch-hour crowd, I suppose. But we're almost to our destination. Another minute or so. Can you last that long?"

"Last?"

"Without dumping your breakfast all over the car?" she clarified.

His expression turned a bit indignant over that remark, pretty hard to do when he'd been cringing with nausea. "A warrior has more control over his body than to reject an excellent meal."

"Delete that" came out of the box in an exasperated voice. "What he means—"

"I got the idea, Martha, but let's not delete that warrior part just yet. He's in the military?"

"You could say that."

"I could, but you wouldn't? What's it called, then, in his country?"

"The men of Sha-Ka'an merely keep themselves in a constant state of readiness, sort of what you might term the national guard, or the national militia, or—"

"I get it," Brittany cut in. "Not military, but available if needed."

"Exactly!"

"And where is this country?"

Not just a little chuckling, but nearly thirty seconds of assorted humor sounds came out of the box before Martha said, "Tenacious, aren't you? But you've heard of classified info, haven't you? Yes, of course you have."

"Oh, come on, you've told me the name of it. I can go find an atlas and look it up myself."

"You can, but you'd be wasting your time. You won't find it in any atlas."

"A country so newly formed it's not on the maps yet?" Brittany said incredulously.

"Not new," Martha corrected. "But then, new is subjective. What would be new to you wouldn't be to him, and vice versa, of course."

Brittany could allow that there might be places in the world still unexplored. But to have an entire country tucked away in one of them? OK, so it was possible. Actually, Dalden and his people were proof of that.

" How have they managed to remain undiscovered?" Brittany asked.

"You could say their—borders—are closed to visitors. No one gets in without permission, and permission is rarely if ever given."

"Are we even talking about a country? Maybe you've got town and country mixed up?"

"Actually, you're working on assumptions," Martha told her. "You're the one who called Sha-Ka'an a country. Dalden never confirmed or denied that. Sometimes he actually follows my directives."

The last was meant for Dalden, but it got no reaction out of him. He didn't look like he was paying attention to the conversation at all. His eyes were closed, his skin still off-color, his forehead damp. Brittany didn't doubt that his full concentration was still on keeping his breakfast where it resided.

But she knew she'd get no answers out of him, anyway. And as long as Martha was spilling some beans, even if dried-up useless ones, she'd rather keep trying to get at least one whole kernel out of her.

She tried a different tack. "I'm not asking for any great secrets. All I want to know is who I'm helping. There happen to be factions in this world that I'd be completely opposed to, and I don't want to find out later that I've helped one of them."

"Okay, listen up, because I'm going to break my own rules, but only this once. Sha-Ka'an isn't a country. Let's call it a place, and where his people as a whole get their name. His actual country is Kan-is- Tra, and no, you won't find that on one of your maps either. His town is Sha-Ka-Ra. And none of the above have politics opposed to your people, so rest easy on that score. Now with no other information forthcoming about any of these locations, you'll agree what you've just heard has no meaning for you. Leave it at—"

"Damnit upside and down!" Brittany gave her exasperation free rein. "You can at least give me a region to relate to. Desert, arctic, tropics? Igloos, tents, what ?"

"Ah, so it's the carpenter that's going nuts with curiosity? Very well, their architecture is pretty impressive, some of it ranking right up there with a sultan's palace, and no, you won't find any Sha-Ka'ani in that part of the world," was added with a chuckle. "Now give it up, doll. If he chooses to enlighten you when this is over, it would be info you can't be allowed to keep, so all of this is pointless. Whatever he tells you, I'll have to erase before we go home."

"Erase?" Brittany gasped. "Are you talking about making me forget somehow?"

"Necessary."

Brittany was outraged. "Is that how they've remained unknown? Anyone who finds out about them gets their memory tampered with?"

"Are we getting disturbed by the concept of self-preservation?"

Brittany hissed, "Messing around with someone's memories is a dangerous—"

"Not even close," Martha cut in this time. "Meticulous, exact, no guesswork involved. Only what needs to be removed gets removed. Everything else remains intact."

"Are you talking about hypnosis?" Brittany asked, her tone only slightly calmer.

"Something like that. That relieve your mind?"

It did—and it didn't. "You aren't planning on erasing my memories of him, are you?" was asked in a small voice.

"Lucky for me, I don't possess a single sentimental circuit. You'd be better off not remembering him, kiddo, believe me—"

"You need have no fear that you will be allowed to forget me, kerima " came from a new quarter.

"Not another word, warrior, until we go over the facts of Sha-Ka'ani life again," Martha warned in a seriously annoyed tone.

"What Martha has to say will be listened to, but it will make no difference when the decision has already been made," Dalden replied.

"You can't do that."

"It is too late for denials."

"I swear, you're getting more and more like your father every day."

The disgust in that remark was thick enough to cut, yet Dalden replied with some pride in his own tone, "I am pleased to hear you say so."

"Where is the common sense you inherited from your mother? Never mind," came out in a low growl. "We'll discuss this later. Her rust bucket has stopped moving. Finish the task at hand, and then we'll talk about decisions that don't have a chance in hell of working."