AllFreeNovel
Share Us
EMMA
The chef loaded the dinner plates one by one onto my trays. There were five plates and a drink for each. Each plate was loaded with a spicy Valtor stew and a doughy substance I didn’t know the name of. Not the most disgusting thing that the Nazoks ate, but the acidic smell and red-brown color were pretty far from appetizing as a human.
What would Sherlock Holmes make of this meal, I wondered.
“You got everything?” the chef asked sharply. “I didn’t make extra, so you better not drop it.”
I picked up the two trays and nodded. “I won’t.”
“Wait, put ‘em back down. I forgot the garnish.”
Sherlock Holmes was a man who had lived on Earth before the Catastrophes and the Ardrik Federation offered us a way out. He worked as something called a detective. To me, he was a little bit of a hero.
I only knew about him because of an old battered book a scavenger found in the remnants of one of the above-ground cities. I don’t think the scavenger could read, but he brought it back because it had a hard, green cover and was pretty enough that he thought he could sell it. I was just a little kid, and my mother left me to wander the market while she haggled for algae to eat. When she found me, I was so caught up in reading it, I didn’t even see her coming to get me.
Two months later, on my birthday, she bought it for me, and I’ve carried it with me ever since. I held it in my lap for comfort when I negotiated one of the standard deals with the Ardrik Corporation: passage off the dying Earth in exchange for forty-five years of indentured labor to anyone who bought my contract.
Think logically.
I told myself that repeatedly as the ship lifted off into space.Watch for little details.Figure out things no one expects you to, and you’ll be all right.If Sherlock Holmes could do it, so could I.
The chef put on the last garnish, then stepped back to get a good look. He smiled, obviously satisfied. The grin made me shudder with relief. He was quick to lose his temper, so any expression of pleasure meant safety for the moment.
Meanwhile, I thought about the dishes. Four entrees with doughy bread to share meant four guests. Not exactly the kind of deduction one bragged about, but it was something. The garnish meant that the chef was trying to impress, which meant the guests were wealthy. On the other hand, there was no appetizer course, which meant they weren’t so wealthy or powerful that Conii needed something from them. She was out to show off, but the way you do for friends, not a boss.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” the chef snapped. “Get going before it’s cold!”
That was one thing Sherlock Holmes had that I didn’t. No one yelled at him if he stood thinking for twenty seconds.
I picked up the two platters and hurried towards the dining room. I heard the laughter of several voices through the door. Just like I thought, a friendly social occasion.
Valtor stew was a Nazok dish, but it wasn’t fancy. It was a comfort food, the kind of thing one ate when sick. Add in the spicy kick it had to it, and there was no way the guests weren’t Nazoks themselves.
They must have been the three Nazoks who Conii was on friendly terms with and wanted to impress, but wasn’t particularly intimidated by. Valtor stew was the least intimidating dish I could think of. Put all that together, and I had a pretty good idea of exactly who tonight’s guests were.
I backed into the door to push it open, and sure enough, I was exactly right. Atlon, Drytor, and Tarrack all sat around the dining room table. Conii, my owner, sat at the head of the table, waving a half-empty glass as she talked.
Nazoks looked a little bit like humans, except they had gray skin and large, sharp teeth. They were usually a little taller than humans but not much more muscular. In the places humans have hair, they had something much thicker, which they often grow longer. They also had brightly colored eyes that I’m told can see quite well in the dark.
Atlon, Drytor and Tarrack all worked for Conii. Atlon handled finances, Drytor dealt with the press and other organizations, and I wasn’t totally sure what Tarrack did. Whatever they needed him to, probably, but they didn’t talk about his work very often.
The three of them came over regularly, supposedly to discuss business but usually to get drunk and tell stories. If I was Sherlock Holmes, I would have remembered that Valtor stew is a hearty dish, and it’s supposed to go well with being drunk. Another clue I should have caught.
Sure enough, as I laid the plates down on the side table, Conii was just finishing one of her favorite stories. I heard this one a few times, including in front of these three guests, but everyone was in a good enough mood that it didn’t matter.
“And that’s when we realized the dart never actually got through his scales! He was completely awake the whole time and too shy to say anything!”
The table roared with laughter. I grabbed Conii’s plate and drink and laid them in front of her as quickly as I could. The less she noticed me, the better.
See, while there were many things Sherlock Holmes had that I didn’t, there was one advantage I had that he never managed. I didn’t just work for Moriarty. I lived in her house.
Conii bought my contract about three years earlier. I was fairly happy about it at the time. Housework definitely wasn’t glamorous, but it was far from the worst kind of work people bought humans for. Between having no special skills and average looks, it was about the best I could expect.
On paper, Conii was the head of the Nazok Cultural Advancement Fund. There wasn’t anything inherently suspicious about that. During the last big galactic war, the Nazoks lost a lot of their territory and influence. They mostly tried to remain neutral, but by the end of the war, that wasn’t an option anymore. Most of their territory was either conquered by the Ardrik Federation or by the Vinduthi and Mondians, who were, in turn, also conquered by the Federation.
Conii lost a husband and several members of her family in that war. She brought them up a lot, and her tone always made it clear she was going to make someone pay for it.
It took me about a week to figure out that the Nazok Cultural Advancement Fund wasn’t just interested in putting on concerts and festivals. There was always money and expensive things running through the house. Sometimes, even guns. The servants, including myself, all put on a show of not knowing anything, but we still did. Conii was a gang boss, and that was her headquarters.
