Orinda's stateroom aboard the Arden's Daughter was hardly tall enough for Holdsclaw to stand up in. Another of Alfred's converted warships, she had not been designed to carry a diplomat. Orinda was often glad that she wasn't the daughter of a giant like Gerard on these trips; being cooped up like fish in a barrel was bad enough for her, but for a large fellow like Holdsclaw, or Gerard himself, it had to be murder.
And murder was close to what was on Holdsclaw's mind, from the look of him; something about his flushed face and the slight throbbing vein might have warned her even if Orinda couldn't feel the anger radiating off him like heat. It had been a little too hot for a long time aboard the Arden's Daughter.
Orinda sat down on the bed, which also passed for a chair for her writing table. Holdsclaw pressed in a little tighter, undoubtedly hoping to use his size and his anger to frighten or dominate her. This trick of his always amused Orinda; she'd learned from Dworkin, whose hunched frame was as small as hers, that size and true power were not identical. And she had a good gauge of Holdsclaw's own strength: she at least matched him, and her reflexes were faster.
Feeling petty, she let him wait as she shuffled papers and put away the sketches she'd done of the volcano over the last few days. Orinda felt rather than saw the tension mount in Holdsclaw. His nerves must be like bowstrings, she thought. When she decided that she'd reminded him of his place sufficiently, she deigned to address his business. "Have you disciplined Garret yet?"
As soon as the words left her mouth, Holdsclaw fell on them. "Discipline him, madam? What for? He didn't strike the first blow and he certainly wasn't the first one to draw a weapon. He was defending himself."
Orinda arched an eyebrow. "And since when does that matter? This crew knows better than to get in fights with people I'm trying to negotiate with, and so do you. Maybe I should address a complaint to the Regent about the Captain who was stupid enough to let Garret out on liberty."
"Maybe I should address a complaint about the diplomat who doesn't stay aboard as she was advised to and then doesn't want her men to take liberty," Holdsclaw retorted.
"We discussed that. The Queen offered me a chance to stay in the palace, and I decided it would be better for relations if I did. You're in command of this ship, but not of the mission or of my diplomatic decisions. I take your advice when it's good and I ignore it when I think you're wrong. That isn't going to change, so you can stop trying to second-guess me."
Apparently that wasn't enough. "You should never have agreed to stay in the palace, Orinda. How could I defend you if something went wrong?"
Orinda shook her head, impatient, wishing Holdsclaw would divulge his real reasoning. "There was no threat in that palace that I couldn't handle. I am not the warrior the Regent is, but that doesn't mean I can't handle myself in a fight. Captain, the potential threat in Thraxos is not the Queen and her toys, but that witch Phinea. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was ... but never mind about that."
"The Queen is dangerous, Orinda. I was watching from the crow's nest and saw some of the young men she had chained up--" and he stopped, as Orinda failed to stifle a giggle.
"Those young men," Orinda told him gently, "weren't there for military reasons, Captain. Thraxos has only women soldiers. Soldiers who need a little recreation occasionally, sort of like sailors who want their liberty." She let the import of that sink in. "Did you really think they were all lesbians?" she asked, still amused.
Holdsclaw's embarrassment overrode his fury for a moment, betraying the kernel of truth in her accusation. Then he spoke again, and Orinda knew she'd finally gotten to the heart of his anger. "And did you enjoy the company of one of those young men?"
Better not let him think like that, she thought. He'll start questioning my command competence. "Let's say I haven't done anything to disgrace the flag and leave it at that."
Holdsclaw purpled slightly, and Orinda suddenly realized that her command competence and her safety were not and had never been at issue. His complaint was much more personal. "Oh, come on," she said. "You take the offer of a wench at night often enough, and no one cares about that." Her own temper, never certain, was beginning to fray.
"You need a man to keep you in line," Holdsclaw finally managed.
The words were out of her mouth before Orinda could rein them in. "And you think you're the man for the job?" Something in his face betrayed him. "Unicorn, you do. You think Uncle Gerard is going to marry me to you." The thought of it took her breath away for a moment.
"And why not?" Holdsclaw asked her, leaning forward over her writing table: the intimidation trick again. "Your blood's not so good; you're mother's a lightskirt who never married whatever sire you claim. You're the Regent's niece; a good marriage would save you a lot of trouble when you get too old for this kind of thing."
Orinda leaned forward to meet Holdsclaw. Her face inches from his, she spoke slowly, as if to an idiot child. "The Regent doesn't have my marriage in his disposition, and if he did he wouldn't waste it on a man whose support he's sure of. I don't need a man to take care of me in my old age; I've more years than you already and I won't have aged significantly by the time you're dust in your grave. The Royal Gifts don't care which side of the blanket I was born on, and neither does the Regent. The reason I am in charge of this mission is my mastery of my Gifts and my inclination not to leave any man behind in Shadow, no matter how foolishly or offensively he behaves." She waited just long enough for all of that to sink in, and finished, "You are dismissed."
Holdsclaw stood for a moment, just breathing and recovering his temper, then turned to go. As he passed the threshold of her cabin, Orinda stopped him. "Captain, about Garret's punishment: the posted discipline for breaking shore leave rules."
She was right, and he knew it, and in the set of his shoulders she could see that he hated it. "Yes, ma'am. I'll see to it personally." And he stepped out of her cabin, his heavy tread sounding on the ladder up to the deck.
Jane Seymour is Orinda