Ascending (The Vardeshi Saga Book One)

Chapter Eleven

On my third day I began to do what I viewed as my real work aboard the Pinion: carrying out my novi duties. These began early in the day. Zey and I met an hour before the morning briefing to prepare the senek. This wasn't as difficult as I was anticipating, as senek was a steeped beverage like tea. We brewed it in the galley, then carried the silver senek pot to the axis chamber. After arranging the trays, Zey went over to a cabinet and opened the door. He removed several gray stoneware jars and placed them on the table. "This is the important part."

"The sugar," I guessed.

"Right. People get irrationally angry when you get it wrong. You'd better write this down."

"Way ahead of you." I smoothed down the page of my notebook.

"There are six different flavors. It would help if you could taste them, but for now I'll just tell you the combinations." He rattled off the personal preferences of each member of the crew with such practiced ease that I stopped writing and stared. He grinned at my expression. "Remember, I've had six months of practice."

After I'd assembled the various combinations, I replaced the jars in the cabinet. As I did so, I noticed a seventh jar, smaller than the others, with a matte black finish. I lifted it inquiringly. "What about this?"

Zey took it out of my hand and replaced it on the shelf. "Not that one." It was unlike him to be so abrupt, and I could see that something about my question had unsettled him. He turned away from me, ostensibly to double-check the arrangement of sugar pellets on each plate. I had the feeling that he was deliberately avoiding my gaze. Discomfited, I went to my seat and pretended to look over the notes I'd made until the others began to arrive a few minutes later. I hoped I hadn't inadvertently hurt his feelings. I had no idea how I could have done so.

When the senek ritual began that morning, I watched anxiously as each crew member in turn poured out a measure of delicately green liquid and stirred in the tiny sugar tablets. Zey's comment about irrational anger was still fresh in my mind. When the silver vessel had traveled the full circuit of the room and Zey was serving himself, I began to relax. The rest of the meeting passed without incident until Hathan asked for Zey's report on our training. Zey said that I was adapting well—which I appreciated—and was ready to assume my formal novi duties.

"And when will she attend senior officers' dinner?" asked Khavi Vekesh.

"Tonight, sir," said Zey. "Just to observe, of course."

The khavi nodded. "Good. While we're all assembled, I'd like to amend our expectations of Novi Alkhat." I looked at him, startled. He continued, "It will be in your best interest to practice your Vardeshi as much as possible. As of this moment, your command of the language is passable, but no more. I expect more from my crew than minimal competence. Until you attain full fluency, you will restrict your communication to Vardeshi only." He looked around the table. "This policy applies to the rest of the crew as well. No crew member will address Novi Alkhat in English without my permission." He looked back at me. "I trust that's sufficient motivation to make your language skills a priority."

I knew I had to say something, so I said, "Yes, Khavi." My mind was whirling. Could he do this? Did my contract allow it? I reached back in memory to the conversation I'd had with Councillor Seidel on the night he informed me of my change in role. You have the right to refuse any command that violates your ethical obligation to Earth. Being required to speak only Vardeshi didn't conflict with my ethical obligation. But there was no question in my mind that it violated the spirit of the exchange.

The meeting had moved on without me. I said tentatively, "Khavi?" half raising my hand in a gesture I knew looked as awkward as it felt.

Hathan, who had been speaking, fell silent at once. The khavi's dark eyes narrowed. "Yes, Novi?" he said coolly.