From Part 4 ...
They ate in silence until the bowl was empty. “Kal?” Low-iss said.
“Yes.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Her question startled him. Did she mean now? Was she offering to clear away their breakfast? Didn’t she know there were servants for that? He resorted to what was becoming a standard response. “I don’t understand.”
“What does a concubine do all day? Am I supposed to help you, like I did with the disputes last night? Am I supposed to have a job? Am I supposed to help with food preparation? I just don’t know what you expect of me.”
“You can do whatever you want to do,” he said. “You are a Concubine of the House of El.”
Part 5
A Concubine of the House of El.
Which meant what? Exactly?
Because it didn’t seem to mean what Lois had always thought it meant.
“You said I can’t talk about you to anyone,” Lois said.
“That’s correct.”
“Do all concubines have the same rules about their ...”
“Masters,” Kal supplied for her. “Yes.”
*Masters*. That one stuck in her craw. With considerable effort, Lois moved passed it. “No concubine can talk about her ... master?”
“No.”
“Can I talk to the people who work for you?”
“Why would you want to?”
“I know nothing about this planet, this people. I don’t know your customs or your history or your rules or your values or what is important to you. If I’m to stay here ... and it seems I am for now ... I want to know these things.”
“You can talk to me.”
Did she sense a tinge of petulance in Kal’s monotone? His face was still impassive, but there seemed to be a shadow of displeasure there now – although Lois couldn’t have said how she had discerned it ... or even if her discernment was correct. Was he a jealous *master*? “You’re busy, Kal,” she said reasonably. “You have meetings and your people need you. You can’t spend all day helping me acclimatise.”
“You can talk to anyone you wish to.”
She wasn’t sure if he was telling her the rule or granting her some sort of regal permission. “Thanks,” she said, just in case. “Yesterday, I felt like I would die of boredom.”
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The final word didn’t translate for Kal. He understood the bit about dying though. “What is that?” he asked quickly. “And how do you die from it?”
His question earned him another mouth-twitch, although he didn’t know why. “You don’t die of it,” Low-iss said. “Not literally. It’s just a saying. Nothing to be concerned about.”
He still didn’t understand. “What is that?” he repeated.
“I’m bored.” Low-iss gestured to her face and as he watched, it smoothed of all expression, as if someone had drained the life from it. “I have nothing to do," she said. "Nothing to think about. I need *something* to do.”
Kal had never expended one single thought on what his concubines did. He ensured they were fed and clothed. But what did they *do*? “What did you do on Planet Earth?” he asked.
“I was a reporter.”
That surprised him. “You did Reports?” he asked.
“I wrote reports. I’d go to wherever something was happening and then write a report about it.”
“Why?”
“It would then be published in a newspaper and people would buy the newspaper and read about what had happened.”
Some words didn’t translate, but Kal understood enough to get the gist. What he couldn’t understand was why this would be allowed. “Who is able to buy the ... writing you do?” he asked.
“Anyone who wants to.”
“You write and then anyone can read?”
She did the up and down gesture with her head. The one that meant ‘yes’.
“What if the people you write about don’t want everybody reading about them?”
“Sometimes they don’t.”
This alarming invasion of privacy didn’t seem to concern Low-iss. “Do people ever try to stop you writing about them?” Kal asked.
“Sometimes.”
“But you still do it?”
“I did, until ...” Her hand brushed across her eye and Kal wondered if the moisture was there. When she lowered her hand, he couldn’t see any. “Don’t you have newspapers on New Krypton?” she asked.
“No.”
“I saw paper when we did the disputes.”
“We have paper.”
“Could I have some? Please?”
“What is that last word?”
“Please,” she repeated. “It is what you say when you ask for something. Then if you get it, you say ‘thank you’.”
“Tan koo?”
Low-iss’s mouth twitched – except it was bigger than a twitch – more like a stretch. And her eyes were shining – he was sure of it.
With a colossal effort, Kal extracted his eyes from the lure of hers. “You would like some paper?”
“Yes, please," she said, her mouth wide. "And also a pen. Or a pencil. Anything I can write with.”
“I’ll have them delivered to your room.” Then he had a better idea. “Would you like to write at my desk?”
“Would you mind?”
Kal moved his head left and right ... and again was rewarded with Low-iss’s mouth twitch. It had become a challenge. How many times could he make her do it? And how many different ways?
“Thank you, Kal.” She reached forward and put her hand over his. She laid it there, warm and soft. He felt a burning under her hand – a burning that shot up his arm. A burning that wasn’t painful – in fact it was the exact opposite of pain.
But Kal didn’t even have a word for it.
She gave a small squeeze and removed her hand. He looked down at his hand, expecting to see it red, or on fire, or branded ... something, anything.
But there was nothing ... nothing on the outside to signal the maelstrom of sensation swirling under his skin.
“You’re a good man,” Low-iss said.
Kal didn’t know how to respond. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. No one had ever looked at him the way Low-iss’s brown eyes were looking at him now. No one had ever stripped him of his ability to think coherently with one touch.
But it was more than one touch. It was the mouth-twitch that tugged on something inside him every single time she did it. It was the shiny softness of her brown eyes. It was the way she talked to him. Like she didn’t care he was the Supreme Ruler. Actually, not so much that she didn’t care, but that his position was not the reason why she talked with him. Almost as if she would talk with him even if he was lower than a Noble.
Kal had never felt that ... not with any other person.
It was all of that.
It was everything about her.
Everything.
Kal glanced to his watch. “I have a meeting,” he said. He abruptly arose from the chair. “You will get the paper,” he said, before leaving the room.
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Five minutes later a man arrived in Kal’s bedroom. The first thing Lois noticed was that he walked with a limp – not disabling, but noticeable. He was tall and lean, probably a few years older than Lois. His hair was lighter than Kal’s and longer too. He deposited a pile of paper and a thick pencil on the desk and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Lois said.
He turned.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Tek-Or,” he said.
“Hello, Tek. I’m Lois.”
Tek put his open hand on his chest, palm inwards. Did that mean he felt he was inferior to her? Equal? Status seemed important on New Krypton.
Just how much status did she have as a concubine? Was there status amongst the concubines? Was she equal with them, or because of her johnny-come-lately status, was she below them?
Lois thought it prudent not to attempt an answering gesture to Tek. “Thank you for bringing me the paper and pencil,” she said with a smile.
Tek stared at her, but didn’t respond. He probably didn’t understand ‘thank you’ either. Then he started, as if suddenly realising he was staring, spun abruptly and scuttled through the door.
Lois sat at her desk and picked up the pencil. Its bulkiness made her think of her early school days ... which led her to memories of her parents and sister.
Had they had a memorial service for her yet?
From the depths of her loss, Lois’s mind dredged up a detailed, uninvited image. Her father and mother, weeping and bereaved ... Lucy, shocked and stricken. Perry ... his gruffness overshadowed by grief from a heart she knew was as soft as velvet. Lois’s tears welled. She yearned to tell them she was alive.
Yet, even if they knew, would it alleviate their pain?
Lois resolutely erased the image. She picked up the stubby pencil and then paused again as a countering wave of gratitude swept over her grief.
If her life-pod had to land on any random planet, she could have done a whole lot worse than New Krypton. And although being someone’s concubine had never been a goal in her life ... it could have been so much worse.
Instead she had Kal ... Kal, who had demanded nothing and given her so much.
Including the means to write again.
But write what?
Her novel?
Her incomplete novel that had languished on her hard drive for years.
She supposed she could rewrite it – could try to remember the details. Actually, there would need to be some major changes ... the blond, blue-eyed hero ... just didn’t seem so enticing any more.
No ... he would need to be dark haired ... with mysterious brown eyes.
Her novel would be a best seller ... with a subsequent movie deal.
Who could be the male lead?
Lois considered the names of various male Hollywood stars and dismissed them one by one. None of them were right ... none of them quite hit the mark.
With a small chuckle, Lois pulled her mind away ... dreaming of winning a movie deal for an as-yet-unwritten story was schoolgirl stuff.
But at least most starry-eyed schoolgirls were on the right planet!
She, on the other hand, needed something to write.
But what?
A journal, Lois decided. She would note her perceptions and record her journey towards comprehension of Kryptonian life and people.
Then, if she ever got home, the Pulitzer would be hers.
And if she didn’t ... Lois didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she put pencil to paper and began her first sentence.
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Recounting her experiences on paper had straightened Lois’s perspective – and brought her to a place of reluctant acceptance. Lois Lane, citizen of Earth, reporter for the Daily Planet, daughter of Dr and Mrs Lane, sister of Lucy ... that person now existed only in her memories. She had become Lois, alien refugee, concubine of Kal-El the Supreme Ruler of New Krypton.
And, until she could unearth a possible way to get home, it seemed best to accept the unforeseen, unsought turn of events in her life.
Lois tidied her papers, noting with gratification how many were filled with her haphazard hand-writing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had written at such length – physically, on paper, in one sitting. Her right hand ached, just a little. She stretched it – again seeing the ‘S’ that now had the appearance of having adorned her hand for years.
How would she explain it if she ever got back to Earth?
I was an alien ruler’s concubine on a distant planet, she imagined herself saying. Shortly after that, she would be committed.
Lois rose from the desk and stretched. The restlessness of her mind had been appeased. The restlessness of her body had not. She decided to take her clothes back to her room.
Maybe she would see someone ... anyone.
One of her fellow concubines maybe.
Did they spend time with Kal?
How much time?
And were they concubines in the sense she understood the word?
That possibility lodged like a thorn inside her.
Lois picked up her clothes, left Kal’s bedroom, wandered through his chambers, along the corridor, past the sentries, through the courtyard and into her room.
She opened the door of the small closet. It was no longer empty. There were two grey blankets, neatly folded on the shelf. There was also a small pile of underwear. Lois examined the garments - the style was unusual, but the purpose was clear – feeling ridiculously relieved she wouldn’t have to ask Kal for them.
Hanging below the shelf were two more of the shapeless gowns, one white, one grey like her other two.
Lois straightened the sheet on her bed, wondering wryly if the blankets had been in the robe last night as she had shivered on the bed. She then smoothed both blankets over the sheets.
They were neither thick nor particularly soft – but they would certainly keep her warmer than the sheet alone. And Kal had said winter was coming, so it was going to get colder.
She hung her gowns next to the two recent acquisitions, pondering if she should change out of her jeans and shirt and into Kryptonian clothes.
What would Kal want?
He’d probably want her to be dressed like Kryptonian women. No one had said anything to her, nor seemed offended by her jeans, but possibly there was little to be gained from accentuating her differences.
Lois slipped out of her jeans and shirt and wriggled into the baggy grey gown. She looked down with a sigh. There was no shape at all to it. It reminded her of a sack, though the material wasn’t as coarse.
Lois pulled the belt from her coat and fastened it around her waist.
She opened the door of her room and ventured into the courtyard. There was no one in sight except the two sentries guarding Kal’s building. Could she talk to them? Kal had said she could talk to anyone, but these men were undoubtedly on duty.
Why not, she thought.
She approached them boldly. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Lois.”
There was nothing to indicate they had heard her.
Nothing to indicate they had even seen her.
With a sigh, Lois walked to the centre of the courtyard and surveyed her surroundings.
Kal’s building was made of stone. It had a high balcony overlooking the courtyard. A tall, wire-mesh fence enclosed the building and the two rows of concubines’ rooms. Curious, Lois looked beyond the fence. She could see other buildings – some made of timber planks, some of stone.
Did Kal’s wife live in one of those buildings?
Which one?
Lois would not have appraised Kal’s building as anything exceptional – but it was clearly bigger and more durable looking that anything else in sight.
To her right were large wrought-iron gates leading to the big world of New Krypton. They were open.
Should she ...?
Beyond the fence seemed deserted – silent and still. There were no children playing, no people moving around, no signs of life.
With a sigh, Lois turned away from the gates and towards Kal’s building. At least she could write.
Once in Kal’s chambers, Lois hesitated at the door of his bedroom. She was his concubine. In an Earth marriage, it was the wife’s bedroom as much as the husband’s. But she wasn’t his wife and it wasn’t her room.
She couldn’t recall anyone knocking – even Tek had walked in unannounced.
Her writing was on Kal’s desk and waiting out here seemed foolish, so Lois pushed opened the bedroom door.
She stopped abruptly, as her breath snared in her throat.
Kal was there.
He stopped, just as abruptly.
He was dressed in his usual pants, but instead of his dress-jacket, he wore a tight fitting, short-sleeved undershirt.
Kal gaped at Lois, motionless.
Lois stared at Kal, jaw dangling. His arms were amazing! Mouth-drying, can’t-drag-your-eyes-away amazing. His shirt sleeves stretched taut across the billowing curve of his biceps. The chiselled definition continued along his bare forearms.
His shirt was tight enough across his chest that she could clearly see the outline of his pectoral muscles and the jut of his nipples.
Lois swallowed. “I’m s.s.orry,” she stammered.
Kal broke from his stupor and snatched his jacket from his bed. Turning away from her, he put on his jacket ... but not before she’d seen the sculpted planes of his back and shoulders outlined under his shirt.
He was magnificent.
Did all men from this planet look like this? Or was Kal a particularly spectacular example of Kryptonian manhood?
Lois swallowed again – trying to loosen her throat and moisten her mouth.
Her heart raced on, unfettered.
She turned and scrambled out of Kal’s bedroom, hurriedly shutting the door between them.
“Lo-iss!” Kal’s voice came through the door – raised, flustered.
Had he ever called her by name before?
Had he ever spoken with such urgency?
Lois peered at the closed door, her heart hammering. “Yes?” she faltered.
“Are you hungry?” His voice was a little muffled, but she estimated it came from just the other side of door.
“Yes,” she said.
“I have our lunch.”
“OK.” Lois hesitated, unsure if she should open the door, or if she should wait for Kal to do it. She reached for it and was about to grasp it when it swung away from her. Suddenly, he was there, only inches from her.
His cheeks were tinged pink – still constrained within the mask of blankness – but enough colour that she could tell he was as shaken by her unexpected appearance as she was by his unexpected lack of a jacket.
She smiled, nervously – although fully aware that he probably wouldn’t pick up her nervousness. “I’m sorry, Kal. I didn’t know you were in here.”
“I needed to change my clothes,” he explained. “I do physical exercise.”
Yeahhh ... she’d realised that.
Not even Kryptonian men could look like that without a lot of effort.
Exerting significant effort of her own, Lois hauled her mind from the lure of his arms and chest. “Did you say you have lunch for us?” she asked.
“Yes.” Kal stepped back to let her in.
As had become their custom, she sat on the bed and he sat on the chair close to the bed with the food on his lap. He handed her a stick and Lois began to eat the green substance called vegetable.
They didn’t speak as they ate. Lois wondered why Kal always brought only one plate of food. Was there no provision for food for her? Without his generosity, would she not eat? But if the intention was to starve her to death, why had he bothered to make her his concubine? Why put the translator in her head?
Was he hungry, suddenly having to survive on less food? Lois lay down her stick.
Kal looked up at her. “You aren’t hungry anymore?” he said.
Lois shook her head. “No. Thank you.”
He finished the remainder of the food. Lois watched him, trying to do it surreptitiously. He had thick, black hair. What would it feel like to run her fingers through it?
He had brown eyes ... eyes she had dismissed as empty ... but, she realised, she had never seen them filled with anger or hatred or cruelty.
And they weren’t empty. They were profound. Enigmatic.
Lois felt as if she could look into them all day and still believe there was more to discover.
And as for that mouth ...
Lois cleared her still-parched throat. “Kal?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have time to answer a few questions for me?”
“I have some time before my meeting.”
She smiled and tried to organise her jumble of questions. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to do.”
“You’re my concubine, you have very few restrictions other that you cannot speak to anyone about me.”
“Am I allowed to go out of the gates?”
“Yes,” Kal said.
“Will I be safe outside the gates?”
Kal reached out and gently grasped her right wrist. He lifted her ‘S’-branded hand a few inches off her knee. “You will be safe because of this,” he said. Then he replaced her hand on her knee as if it were exceedingly fragile.
For the second time in less than thirty minutes, Lois’s heart was thumping out of control. Was that the first time he had touched her? Touched her when there was no need?
Or was it just the first time she’d noticed how every part of her body reacted to his touch?
She looked from her hand to his face and saw that Kal was still staring at her hand. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Had he felt something too?
But what?
He didn’t even have a word for love.
Suddenly her mind was bombarded with the full force a potent visual image. Lois blinked, trying to settle her cavorting imagination. Somehow ... she had no idea how ... she had to get Kal to smile.
If his smile was *anything* like the image her mind had created ...
She felt her own smile widen. Kal’s eyes darted from her hand to her face. He gazed at her mouth, and for a moment, Lois hoped he would return her smile. He didn’t. His face remained blank. Except for his eyes, which were dark and piercing ... and seemingly riveted to her mouth.
Lois forced her scrambled mind back to the answers she needed. “Is it all right if I leave my writing on your desk? Or would you like me to take it to my room?”
“I’d like you leave it on my desk,” Kal said. “It will be private. I can’t read it.”
Lois grinned. “Did you peek already?”
“Yes,” he said, face unmoved. Kal stood. “I have to get to the meeting.”
“One more thing, Kal,” Lois said. “Can I come into your room whenever I want to? Should I knock? Should I only come in if you know I’m coming?”
He thought for a moment. “Maybe you should knock,” he said. “It would be ... unfortunate ... if you caught me undressed again.”
That was *not* undressed, Lois thought, determinedly pushing away the picture that had sprung into her head.
Kal paused at the door. “I will see you this evening.”
He left and Lois stared at the closed door. Apparently, she was having supper with Kal tonight.
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That afternoon, Lois put the coat over the frumpy gown and walked to the courtyard. She hesitated, eying the gates. She had found safety inside them. But beyond them were unknown people and unfamiliar places. With the translator, she could communicate ... attempt to interact.
Yet still, she hesitated.
Lois heard a step behind her. Two women, probably younger than her, walked from the concubines’ rooms and passed her without even a glance in her direction. They approached the gates. “Hello,” Lois called. She hurried after them.
They turned, expressions blank.
“Hello,” Lois repeated.
There was an extended period of silence.
Lois smiled her friendliest smile. “My name is Lois.” Again they stared at her ... like she was from another planet, Lois thought wryly.
“Jib,” one of them said.
“Mo,” the other said.
“Would you mind if I walk with you?” Lois asked.
The women turned around and began walking. Lois shrugged and followed them. They hadn’t said she couldn’t.
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Kal contemplated the woman in front of him. Her head was down. She was shaking so violently, even the shapelessness of her gown couldn’t conceal her apprehension.
Her father stood on one side of her ... her husband on the other. Kal studied both of them, but his focus lingered longest on the husband ... the younger brother from the Dispute.
“I wish to speak to the woman alone,” Kal said.
Her shaking increased noticeably. Her father stepped from the Chambers. Her husband hesitated. His eyes met his wife’s and held for a fleeting moment. Then, he left.
When they were alone, Kal said, “What is your name?”
“Eb-Ur.”
“Eb,” Kal said, wondering if there was anything he could say to calm her agitation. “I want to ask you a question.”
There was no response.
“I want you to tell me the truth,” he continued.
Still no response.
Her head hadn’t lifted. Kal couldn’t see her face. He wanted to.
His mind was invaded by the memory of the last woman who had stood before him in this room.
Low-iss.
Two days ago. Only two days.
“Do you want to remain married to your husband?” Kal asked.
A sound emerged from the woman. Kal couldn’t discern the meaning.
Rising from the seat, Kal stepped down from its platform and went into his bedroom. He returned with the chair and placed it behind Eb. “Sit down,” he said.
She did.
Kal sat on the step of the raised platform. Now his head was lower than hers and he could see some of her face.
Strange how that had become so important.
“Eb,” Kal said. “I received a submission from your husband’s brother requesting I order your husband to return home. Do you know about that?”
“Yes,” she mumbled.
“Before I make my judgment, I want to know what you want to do.”
She was silent for a long time. So long, Kal was sure she didn’t intend to answer. Then, low and almost inaudible, she said, “I want to be with my husband.”
“Would you be willing to go with him to his family’s farm?” Kal asked.
“Yes.”
“Is that what you want?”
He head lifted. Just a few degrees. “I want to be with my husband,” she repeated.
Kal empathised. Completely. He wanted to be with Low-iss.
“I will order them to submit an arrangement for my approval.”
Very, very slowly, Eb’s face lifted and looked at him with timid eyes. “I can be with my husband?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
Eb stared at him. <Tan koo> Kal thought. That’s what she was saying ... not saying ... they didn’t have a word for it ... but that’s what she meant.
“You’re welcome,” Kal said.
There was no understanding in her face. Low-iss would have done the mouth-twitch.
Kal stood and pushed the button to summon Tek to escort Eb’s father and husband back into the Chambers. When they again flanked Eb, Kal looked at her husband. “My judgment is that you are to return to your family.”
The husband didn’t move. But Kal thought he sensed ... despair.
“Your wife is to return with you,” Kal said. “You are to protect her.”
The man’s face remained impassive. But his despair seemed to have eked away. “I will,” he said.
Kal’s attention swung to Eb’s father. “Your family will receive regular, on-going payments to compensate for the loss of your daughter ... these payments should be fair to both sides.”
“Yes.”
“The details of the agreement are to be submitted for my approval.”
“Yes.” Both men spoke. Eb said nothing.
“You may leave,” Kal said.
The three people turned and headed for the door. The father exited, followed by the younger brother. Eb hesitated at the door and turned, head still low, but eyes searching for Kal.
She held his gaze for a stretched moment, before following her husband.
