Kiera's Home

"Let me talk to him before you do anything crazy," Kiera said with a sigh, cutting off the meltdown she heard coming. "Okay?"

Gage looked at her blankly.

"Is this acceptable?" Kiera rephrased. "Promise me you won't do anything until I've had a chance to find out what's going on."

The woman frowned. By the hesitant nod, Kiera guessed she didn't have much time before the pregnant woman took matters into her own hands.

"Ah, darn," Kiera said suddenly. "I'm supposed to go to the medics. Go get some rest. After the midday meal, I promise I'll talk to A'Ran and let you know what he says."

Another nod, this one distracted. Gage's eyes returned to the rendering of Earth. Concerned yet irritated she hadn't had time to work on her project, Kiera left Gage and hurried through the house and into the backyard. More dwellings were built in the open field where A'Ran's warriors had once sparred. Kiera waved to the few Anshans who stopped to stare at her, aware A'Ran's sisters were usually accompanied by an escort wherever they went.

"Hello, nishani-mani!" a little boy called as she passed. She acquired the nickname - nishani doll - after Mansr introduced her to a few of the newcomers as a doll from another planet.

The child's mother hushed him quickly.

Kiera waved in response and crossed the grassy areas to the cluster of buildings that marked the alley designated for Anshan artisans and the professional caste. The medics were located beside the Anshan metal-smiths, whose massive equipment was used to mold grey metal into household items and weapons at the touch of a button. Spacecraft designers were housed next to a contingent of miners, and technicians that kept the Anshan technology humming faced the building dedicated to storing Anshan records and history.

She entered the building holding the medics. Light spilled through naked windows and skylights and was absorbed into the cold grey metal of the machines Anshans used for their advanced medicine. Kiera eyed her least favorite - but most useful - of the machines: the cell-regenerator, a device capable of repairing wounds and broken bones in a matter of minutes.

It was shaped like a massive coffin and managed to freak her out every time she saw it, even knowing what it did.

"Nishani," one of the medics emerged from another room with a bow.

"Hi, Zanan," she said. "I'm probably early."

"A nishani is neither late nor early," he said solemnly. The tall, middle-aged Anshan was thin almost to the point of gaunt with the characteristic dark eyes and olive skin of his people.

"Do I just tell you everything right here?" she asked, looking around self-consciously. Anshans were strange about privacy. There were no windows anywhere. The disciplined, general populace trusted that no one would listen who wasn't supposed to hear. For Gage to dare eavesdrop on her brother was a sign of how upset she was.