Inside the House that Jacq built

[Rochelle Riker 0]

Inside the House that Jacq built

Several months ago…

 

“Put her down over there,” Rochelle ordered Rualfo, nodding in the direction of a small bed against one wall. “Wait for me outside, and send Cabazon in.”

 

Rualfo bowed out of the room, leaving Rochelle alone with her most recent acquisition. She stood over the body, staring at it with a mixture of fascination and contempt.

 

“My lady Rochelle,” Cabazon broke her reverie as he entered with an extravagant bow and a broad smile, crossing the room to kiss her hand. His accent and the depth of his eyes made the gesture at once sensual and distant. From anyone else, such behavior would have seemed like mockery. Rochelle had known Cabazon long enough, though, to know that this was simply the affectation he had chosen to adopt, a personality inhabited long before he had come into her life.

 

“Mr. Cabazon,” she smiled graciously at him. “It is, as always, a pleasure to see you.”

 

“And you, my lady, are as beautiful as ever.”

 

The shallow flatteries thus discharged, Rochelle gestured toward the body on the bed. “I’ve brought you someone new,” she said, wandering away from the bed with affected ennui. Cabazon correctly interpreted this gesture as an invitation to more closely inspect this new merchandise. Rochelle watched him closely as he took the prostrate girl’s face in his hand, turning it to look her fully in the face.

 

Whatever his reaction to what he saw, his body language carefully concealed it. When Cabazon turned to face her again, his features were carefully composed. He bowed. “You never fail to surprise me, my lady.”

 

“I expect you to take very good care of her. She is for in-house use only, to be kept on the compound at all times. And you are to make exquisitely clear to her clients that any marks they make had best be temporary, and her face is completely off-limits.”

 

“My lady—does she know?”

 

“Know what? Of our mutual existence, or of her recent relocation?”

 

“Either, my lady.”

 

“Of the former, she certainly must have some notion. Of the latter, no, she does not. And she will not learn about it from you, or from any of your staff.”

 

“I understand, my lady.”

 

“And if and when she does manage to deduce where she is, I want you to notify me immediately—you, come to me personally. Not a messenger, not to the Captain. You, to me.”

 

“Lady Rochelle, may I ask—does the Captain know?” He bowed obsequiously in response to her dangerously narrowing eyes. “I would not ask, my lady, had we not known each other so well, and for so long.”

 

It was a card he played so rarely, Rochelle allowed it now. “And I would not permit the question, if not for the same. No, my father does not know. Should I be concerned that he might learn about it from you?”

 

“My lady,” Cabazon scolded gently. “I’ve known you since you were barely more than a child. What cause have I given you to mistrust me now?”

 

Rochelle laughed. “Mr. Cabazon, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone squeeze quite as much use out of charm as you do. When pressed, I imagine you make a rather formidable enemy.”

 

“Ah, lovely lady, that is nothing you will ever need worry about.”

 

“Why not?” She asked the question bluntly, directly, dissipating the congenial air of banter.

 

Cabazon shrugged. “Because I am content, my lady.”

 

“For the moment.”

 

“For a long time now, my young lady. I live comfortably, for the easily-paid price of my loyalty to you. And you understand, as your mother and Master Jacqualier never did, that loyalty rewarded, endures. I would have nothing to gain and everything to lose by raising a hand against you, Lady Rochelle. So it contents me to bow to you, instead.”

 

Rochelle stood silently for a long moment. “I will leave this in your capable hands, then. Thank you, Mr. Cabazon,” Rochelle inclined her head regally, accepting the man’s courtly bow and kiss on the hand before sweeping out of the room. She had trusted him before, when she had been the one with everything to lose. She would see that the reward he had slyly hinted at was delivered to him, and then she would rest assured—as much as she ever did—that he would manage this business for her.

 

She would tell her father, herself, when the time was right. Rochelle allowed Rualfo to lead her back to the shuttle Pontchartrain.

 

As the shuttlecraft was returning Rochelle and Rualfo to the Blue Note, Cabazon was turning his thoughts to his newest human woman. Woman, hah, hardly more than a girl, he thought to himself, beginning the mental checklists of what must be done to prepare her for market.

 

Still heavily sedated, Samantha Riker lay, silent and still, on the bed before him.

 

 

Rochelle Riker

Second-in-Command

aboard the independent vessel Blue Note