Cover by D. Denise Dianaty
The snow swirled dizzily outside the transparent pane, twisting into eddies and then blowing out in a fierce stream of blinding white. Sabrina Devon paused to take in the view from her tower window, grateful that the city planners had seen fit to locate the diplomatic compound under the climate-controlled dome in Meskath's planetary capital complex.
"Ambassador?" Thadran Meera ventured, clearing his throat. "Do you have any other changes?"
Sabrina sighed. "No. Leave it alone for now."
Her diplomatic aide frowned at her. "You aren't planning to extemporize again, are you? Because the last time—"
Sabrina turned to face him. "Yes, I know. Don't worry. This is merely the victory speech, Thad. To tell you the truth, I don't have any strong feelings about it one way or the other. Let's all just pat each other on the back and be done with it."
"Why aren't you happy about it?" he asked, puzzled. "You've had a great success here. No one thought this treaty could work, and you've made it."
"How many people died while I did it?" she asked, and then realized that her all-too-literal Praxatillian aide might well tell her. "No, don't answer that. I know, Thad. I really am happy about it. I think I'm just worn out, that's all. We'll go to this big party tonight and then head for home. I need a vacation."
"Somewhere warm," Thad grinned.
Sabrina groaned. "The next time Rassir sends me on a mission, I'm going to download the planetary weather stats first! This is the darkest, coldest place I've ever been. No wonder the indigenous peoples can't agree—they've all got seasonal affective disorder."
Thad, having previously been treated to Sabrina's theories about the Earth diagnosis and its relation to planetary diplomacy, merely smiled. A knock at the door saved him from thinking up a reply. "Ah, that must be Ranja."
"Well, if you're finished poking at my words, I'll let her poke me with pins," Sabrina sighed again. "I hate these grand formal occasions."
"But you must be used to them," Thad protested. "You live at court at home."
"Not really," Sabrina said, in a tone of voice that discouraged further inquiry.
Thad opened the door to admit Ranjalla Hariley, Sabrina's personal aide. Ranja smiled at Sabrina's expression. "Just one last fitting, I promise," she said, carrying an armful of gleaming silver fabric into the room. "And I want you to try on the tiara and make sure the stones didn't come loose during the cleaning process."
"Thad, save me," Sabrina appealed. "There must be some last minute crisis that preempts costume design! She's making me wear a tiara, for pity's sake!"
Thad tried in vain not to laugh. "I think you'll look very fetching in it," he managed to say with a fairly straight face.
"I'll get you for that," Sabrina retorted as he made his escape.
"Has he moved up on the list?" Ranja asked, opening a ridiculously large jewelry case and removing the tiara that Sabrina had inherited through her adopted father, Queen Maratobia's uncle Rayland.
"Hah. He's not even in the top ten. First I have to get Rassir for giving me this assignment—"
"But getting the hardest assignments is a compliment!" Ranja recited, grinning.
"Watch it or you're going on the list too," Sabrina said. "Then I have to get Mara for insisting I take the assignment when I tried to decline it."
"But whatever will happen to Praxatillus if you kill off our Queen and Prime Minister?" Ranja asked, setting the tiara carefully on Sabrina's head. "Hm. This is no good. I need the actual hairstyle."
"No you don't. I'm not letting anybody stack my hair on my head until the last possible moment."
"You're going to look beautiful."
"I'm going to look like a little girl playing dress-up in her grandmother's clothes," Sabrina grumbled. "I used to think the Miahns were old-fashioned, but the Meskathans take the cake. That's not a gown. That's three or four gowns on top of each other!"
"It's beautiful," Ranja insisted.
"You've been on this planet too long."
"We all have."
Sabrina noticed the wistful note in Ranja's voice, and remembered belatedly that her aide was actually engaged. "Sorry it took so long. We'll go home on the next possible transport."
"Don't apologize. This was important," Ranja said. "Besides, it does my career good to be in on the big successes. Four months away from home is a small price to pay."
Sabrina grimaced. "My cat will have disowned me. He's not as forgiving as your fiancé."
"Nerrill knew what he was getting into when he accepted my proposal," Ranja said. "Your cat never signed a betrothal contract."
"A good thing too. I think that might actually be against the law," Sabrina said, sending her aide into giggles. "Are you really going to make me put all that on, Ranja?"
"Every last layer. You'll be glad for it; in the spirit of winter, they've turned down the temperature in the dome."
"Have they? I haven't been outside in...." Sabrina trailed off. "No, I won't count it up. It'll only depress me."
Sabrina struggled into the first layer of the gown, which would have been considered an elegant sheath-style dress on Earth. Ranja walked around her, scrutinizing the drape and hem. "Hm. Yes, that'll do. Now for the inner tunic."
A knock at the door made Ranja scowl. Sabrina called, "Come in!"
Thad stepped through the door as it slid open. "There's someone from the local constabulary to see you, Ambassador. I told him it wasn't convenient, but he insists it's an urgent matter."
"Very well. Ask him to come in," Sabrina said. Ranja threw up her hands in defeat.
The Meskathan who entered was tall for his race, without losing any of the stocky build. It made for quite an imposing combination, Sabrina noticed, which was probably a plus in law enforcement. His complexion had the same pallor of the others she had met from the northern hemisphere; his bright yellow eyes stood out starkly, in contrast to his pale lips. The white uniform was the Meskathan equivalent of camouflage, she supposed.
"What can I do for you, Constable?" she asked.
"I'm very sorry to interrupt, Ambassador," he replied, coming to stand at attention precisely four paces from her. He spoke a heavily accented form of the Lthosyenne language, which was the common diplomatic tongue for the Realm. Sabrina had struggled to learn it in the year since she had returned from Earth and taken up her diplomatic career. "But we have a situation we hope you could help us with."
Sabrina was surprised. Her role on Meskath was to mediate between warring factions, and she had had little contact below the top leadership of each party. "I'm not sure how that could be. The treaty—"
"It's nothing like that, Ambassador," he assured her. "We arrested someone for vagrancy and illegally landing on our planet. He refuses to identify himself, so we ran a genetic check, since he's obviously an alien. The results came back Miahn."
"A Miahn vagrant?" Sabrina exclaimed. "You must be mistaken."
"I wish I were, Ambassador. We were hoping you might be able to identify him for us."
"Constable," Sabrina explained, "I sincerely doubt that this person is in fact Miahn. And even if he is, there are hundreds of thousands spread throughout the Realm. I know only a tiny percentage of them."
"I realize that, but we don't want to offend Her Majesty or the Council of the Realm, after they've given us so much help by sending you here to bring the peace. If we could possibly remand him to your custody, we'd be happy to dismiss the charges."
Sabrina wondered if she should set him straight about her role in the treaty negotiations, which was not so much bringing peace as knocking heads together until they saw mutual sense. "I'm not sure I have the authority to accept custody of anyone, Constable."
"Please, Ambassador. If you don't recognize him, he might recognize you and tell you who he is. At worst, I can tell my superiors I've tried everything."
Sabrina sighed. "Very well. I'll come down and see him." She took off her tiara and handed it to Ranja.
"Ambassador," Ranja protested, "the fitting!"
"I'll just wear this. I won't hurt it, I promise," Sabrina said.
The Constable cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Ambassador, but you'll want a coat. We have to go outside the dome to reach my stationhouse."
Sabrina sighed. "My coat, please, Ranja."
Ranja shot her a disapproving look, but went to the closet and returned with a huge furry monstrosity. She helped Sabrina into it without providing much in the way of actual assistance. Sabrina was just glad Ranja wasn't involved in the actual diplomacy; it would have been a terrible handicap to the peace process.
"When I get back," Sabrina said, "I'll stand still to your heart's content. All right?"
"Please don't get the dress wet, Ambassador," Ranja replied.
——————————
Going outside was highly overrated, Sabrina decided. Her months spent in the diplomatic compound, with its warmed, purified air and pleasant plant life, had ill prepared her for the arctic conditions outside the dome. She huddled into her coat and wished she had thought to demand that Thad accompany her. It would have been a fitting revenge for his tiara remark, and probably a prudent security move, too. Oh well, she told herself, the odds of getting into trouble while in the care of the capital constabulary were surely small. Most of the fighting had gone on in the southern hemisphere, and the latest cease fire had held for a record-setting two months.
The stationhouse was an unassuming building in the middle of what looked like a residential neighborhood. The blizzard had reached blinding levels, and the buildings served to channel it into a concentrated force. Sabrina kept her head down and followed the constable into the station as closely as possible without stepping on his heels.
The lack of wind inside was almost a shock, but Sabrina quickly realized she wouldn't need to take her coat off. Meskathans had evolved in the cold, and they tended not to heat their buildings except in deference to offworlders. She hoped this poor vagrant had a coat. She was sure her hair had frozen solid.
"This way, Ambassador. Er—may I get you a hot drink?" the constable asked, taking in her chattering teeth.
"Yes, please." Sabrina followed him to a small kitchenette, where he poured her a cup of the Meskathan beverage that was their equivalent of coffee. It was a sweet herbal drink she wasn't terribly fond of, but she was so cold that anything hot was welcome. After she finished the drink, they proceeded through a maze of corridors until they reached a security door.
"He's in here. Would you rather see him from the one-way viewing room?"
"Not unless you think he's dangerous. I'd like to be able to talk to him."
"He hasn't tried to hurt anybody. I think he was glad to come in from the cold," the constable said, with a glint of humor. "After you, Ambassador."
Sabrina stepped through the door as he held it open, and paused. She could actually smell the person sitting on the other side of the small table; he was covered in a visible layer of grunge, and it was impossible to tell whether his hair was dirt brown or just dirty. He sat with his face tucked into his collar, probably to keep his face warm. She tried to breathe through her mouth, but had to give it up when she began speaking in Praxatillian. "Do you know who I am?"
The figure shrugged. It was a male, she decided, although not a very brawny one. "I am Ambassador Devon, Queen Maratobia's cousin. As ranking Praxatillian official on this planet I ask you to identify yourself and explain your unauthorized presence here."
She could have sworn she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle as if he smiled, but he did not look up at her. Sabrina folded her arms and considered. Then, on a hunch, she said, "Liar."
Involuntarily, his eyes moved up to hers for a split second. Sabrina stiffened, but managed not to react in any other way to the flash of bright blue she had seen. She switched to English. "Slipped your leash, did you?"
He shot her a rueful glance. "Damn it," he said, also in English, relaxing his posture. "Just my luck to get stranded where someone actually knows me. Think before you speak, cousin—whatever you're doing here, do you really want to add me to it?"
Sabrina sighed and regarded her cousin Niavar, Prince of Bathir—also known as Ford—with a suspicious eye. "I'm done here," she said. "It's all over but the party. Literally. Are you going to be an embarrassment to my hosts?"
"Not if I can help it," he said. "I was on my way back home anyway. Can't be late for the wedding. I'll hitch a ride home with you. If it's not too much trouble."
"That's probably the best way to deal with this," she said. "Aunt Imari will have kittens when she finds out, though."
Ford snorted. "All the more reason to. Going to spring me, cousin? I'd love a bath."
"You need one," Sabrina agreed. She turned back to the constable, who was shifting his weight restlessly from foot to foot, and took a moment to reorient herself in Lthosyenne. "I will accept custody of this person and be responsible for him until we can leave the planet. Thank you for calling on me in this matter."
The constable beamed at her. "Thank you, Ambassador. I'm glad to have resolved this. It'll just take a moment to process him out of the system, and then we'll give him to you."
"I'll wait in the lobby," Sabrina said. "If it's not too much to ask, could you give him an opportunity to wash up a bit?"
The constable bit back a grin. "Certainly, Ambassador. If you'll come this way, I'll show you to somewhere warm where you can wait."