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Posted on June 5, 2016 at 02:33:45 AM by anapa
Anapa had lived in the royal court his entire life, but he had never met an aristocrat like this one.
That the man was an aristocrat was obvious from his poise and the way the others regarded him. He slouched in a particularly handsome way, expressing the kind of upper class boredom characterised by the teenage sons of lords and kings. He could have been a man of Canidia, with a skin tone similar to Anapa’s, although he wore all-black clothes of a similar style to the other inhabitants of this world. Little else could be gleaned from looking at him, but Anapa had learned long ago not to judge a person by their own self-expression. The way others reacted to a man revealed far more about his character.
The reactions in this case were telling indeed. The accompanying guards were alert, but not because of Anapa; their cautious eyes were directed at the aristocrat. Here was a man who made other people wary. Anapa supposed, by default, that he ought to be wary too.
A repeat of the previous night followed. Careful not to express any of the weariness he felt, Anapa and the man conversed in their own tongue for a few moments, neither able to make sense of the other. After what felt like an age, the man finally lifted an eyebrow.
“Ah,” he said clearly in Anapa’s language. “There we go.”
“I am Anapa,” Anapa repeated stiffly for what felt like the hundredth time. “Lord of death, prince of the Canids. I seek passage back to Canidia.”
The man eyed him. “Interesting.”
“I beg your pardon?” It was Anapa’s turn to raise an eyebrow now.
“You didn’t call it ‘home’.”
In that moment, the prince made a very conscious decision that he didn’t like this man.
“I’m Mallos,” the aristocratic man added easily. Anapa noticed that he left off his titular. He had to have some, since nobody looked at a nobody the way those guards were looking at him. “I can get you home if you tell me where you’re from.”
“Canidia,” Anapa repeated, slowly, as one might to a child. Mallos raised the other eyebrow.
“Where is Canidia?” Mallos asked in what Anapa felt was a deliberately patient tone.
“South of the Gulli, west of Scorpia.”
“What’s the name of the planet?”
“The… planet?” Anapa’s brow creased.
The conversation hit a wall. Mallos tried unsuccessfully to explain what a planet was while Anapa made some small effort to understand him. The black-clad aristocrat even pulled a papyrus and an unusual looking reed-brush from nowhere to try and sketch out his words visually, but the circular designs made no sense. Anapa had never seen anything like this before.
“Well, if we can’t establish where you’re from,” Mallos said finally, “then I’m afraid I can’t take you back.”
He didn’t sound too torn up about it. Anapa gritted his teeth. Why did that frustrate him? It made sense – it should be obvious – of course he couldn’t go somewhere if no one knew the way. Something about this man made his blood pressure rise, though.
Mallos reached out and touched him gently on the forehead. Anapa was too well-bred to duck or back away, but he did stiffen slightly. His finger left a warm, lingering feeling; it was like being touched by the desert. Otherwise, he felt no different.
“English is the dominant language here.” Now that the exciting prospect of travelling across the stars had faded, Mallos had reverted back to his bored tone of voice. “Good luck, I suppose.”
ugh ugh ugh.
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