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“That’s a shame, Sherv.”
“Not sing like you anyway. My voice good sound for howling.” He waved her toward the closed door on Irene’s right. “Come see instruments.”
As the door opened, a couple of Kalquorians appeared on the other side. They grinned at Sherv, but their expressions of welcome vanished at the sight of Irene. Shouting exclamations, they flailed backward.
Clan Sherv glanced at Irene and exploded in laughter. She was confused and rather alarmed, then remembered she still wore her Odeergin headgear.
“Sorry!” she called to the still-yelling pair and an equally upset third stranger who’d emerged from a cabin to see what all the shouting was about. The trio bumped into one another in their frantic attempts to get as far from her as possible. She whipped the headpiece off. “See? Earther, not Odeergin.”
The new trio quieted as they realized they wouldn’t die horrible deaths due to her presence. Then their scruffed and bearded faces darkened, and they glared at the laughing bandmates.
Additional Kalquorian words aimed at Clan Sherv, as strongly expressed as when they’d thought Irene was an Odeergin, flew from the strangers. Irene had no doubt they dressed down Sherv, Jemi, and Rusp, who clutched each other in their mirth. She could imagine the Earther equivalent of whatever profanity filled the air.
As calm began to settle both parties, the unfamiliar trio offered Irene grudging bows. They muttered the wordMatarain their greetings.
“Our crew and friends, Nobeks Taru, Anez, and Lorj,” Sherv introduced them between chuffs of amusement. “They don’t know any of your words. They offer welcome to the ship and say you to find better friends than us.”
“They won’t tell anyone I’m here, will they? It could get me killed.” She hadn’t been aware anyone besides the band called the ship home.
All merriment left Sherv, Jemi, and Rusp. It was the Nobek who asked, “Who would kill you for come on ship?”
“It’s against Earther law for me to be alone with men who aren’t my family. Especially alien men.” Specifically Kalquorians, but Irene hated to admit how much her government despised them.
There was a long beat, then Sherv said, “I warn. They will not speak.”
He turned to the glowering crew and spoke in their language. Irene wasn’t sure what was said, but there was no denying the command in his tone. He didn’t yell, and there was no sign of anger. Nonetheless, everyone straightened. Their attention riveted on him, including Irene’s.
She was awed by Sherv’s sheer presence, though she’d already seen some of it on stage. Fausto couldn’t have drawn greater awareness.
When Sherv finished speaking, the three Nobeks nodded in obvious respect. They looked to Irene and bowed deeper than before. Their expressions, set in fierce features, wavered between determination and kindness. One, she thought it was the man Sherv had introduced as Taru, muttered to her in a low voice.
“He says you will come to no harm by their actions. He pledge protection on their behalf,” Sherv translated.
“Thank you.”
“Come on, we’ll show you music room.”
Sherv led her past the intent Nobek crew. She took in the cabins they passed where the doors were open. One vast room held equipment, some of which she recognized. The soundboard and stage-grade speakers were the most obvious. They had a large number of cannisters, sporting familiar warning icons.
“You do pyro and cryo during your shows?”
“For outdoor only. When permit granted. Taru and Lorj have license,” Rusp said. He tapped a knuckle on a closed door they passed. “Most sleeping rooms. Rest storage.”
“And music room,” Sherv said, stopping in front of an open door. He waved her to go in.
Irene gasped in happy surprise. There were more instruments than she could count. Drums crowded by the walls, leaving a small space in the middle of the room for three chairs and a large number of instruments. Some she recognized. Most were mysterious to her.
The upright piano was a joy to see. She sat immediately on its bench and lifted the cover. She played the opening bars to the opera’s overture. “You learned to tune it?”
Sherv propped his elbow on top of the piano. Rusp and Jemi hovered close. “Vid instruction teach me. You play.”
“I’m no concert pianist, but I can play, yes.” She smiled at him and wondered at the serious look he wore.
“We talk, Irene?” He was wearing the aura of authority again.
She drew her fingers off the keys and settled her hands on her lap. “Sure.”
“Why you here?”
