From Part 7 ...
Lois laughed. “Great work, Kal,” she said.
Kal smiled. “Thank you.”
Then ... without ever deciding to do it ... Lois closed the distance between them and kissed him.
Fully flush on his still smiling lips.
Kal didn’t move. Hot humiliation flooded through Lois as she realised that he’d remained completely unresponsive to her kiss. He hadn’t moved. She wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing.
She jolted back, knowing her face was a dark shade of crimson.
They probably had the death penalty for a whole lot less than the unsolicited seduction of the Supreme Ruler.
Kal brought his fingers to his lips and held them there as he contemplated her with such intensity, her heart stopped. Had she just crossed the line? Was she about to be ejected from his bedroom? His chambers? His life? His planet?
Kal swallowed roughly. Then his mouth opened. Lois awaited her sentence.
“I don’t know what you just did, Lo-iss,” Kal said. “But I’d really like you to do it again.”
Part 8
Low-iss’s mouth-touch scorched through Kal’s veins.
Such a small touch – not more than the merest brush of her lips on his – but the effect was ... mind-blowing.
Kal wasn’t sure his legs could have supported him.
Wasn’t sure his heart would ever regain its composure.
Low-iss was staring through wide eyes. Her mouth was open just a little, her lower lip shiny with moisture. From his mouth? Or hers?
Kal frantically sorted through his mind. He needed the other word. Not ‘thank you’, the other one; the one she said when she was asking for something. He swallowed, preparing his dry mouth for speech. “Pleesss,” he said.
She didn’t move. Kal inched forward, his eyes fixated on her mouth. Then ... he didn’t know if he’d moved or if she had or if it had been a combination ... but then her lips were on his again.
Her hands spread across his face and slid to the back of his head. They guided him through ever-changing depths of connection. Her lips were not still, they pushed, they probed, they withdrew, they came again.
He was on fire. From her lips, she drove heat and life into him and it surged through every part of his being, burning him, thawing him, drowning him.
Then, her hands left and her lips had gone and by the time Kal opened his eyes, Low-iss was half way to his door. “I have to go,” he heard her mumble.
She didn’t turn around.
Didn’t say anything else.
Just left.
Left him.
Kal again felt along his lips with the pads of his fingers. “Thank you,” he whispered.
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Lois scurried to her room, opened the door, slammed it shut and collapsed against it – her heart pounding like a jack-hammer.
She’d kissed Kal!
Kissed him!
She was in love with him. And she’d kissed him. And it had been amazing.
It felt like her body had been dormant for her entire life – just waiting for him.
But how was that possible? He wasn’t even from her planet. He was an alien.
Or maybe she was the alien.
Either way ...
She loved him.
And kissing him had been ... the most phenomenal experience of her life.
She dragged her thoughts from the kiss and to the man. He’d said he didn’t know what she’d done.
Had he never kissed anyone before?
She supposed it was possible that when he had married, he and his wife hadn’t kissed. She had begun to suspect that the physical relationship between Kal and his wife was non-existent – but had it always been that way? What about at the very beginning? Hadn't they consummated their marriage?
But how could they produce an heir if they didn’t have a physical relationship? Without an heir, what was the future of New Krypton? Were they so sure their water would run out, an heir was deemed unnecessary?
Kal’s forefathers were important. He was the Supreme Ruler of New Krypton because of them – the only one both houses would accept. So why was it not important that he have a child?
What about with his concubines?
Had any of his concubines had children?
Would those children be allowed to rule New Krypton?
Lois hadn’t seen any children. None around the concubine quarters – none anywhere else. No children.
But Tek had said he had two children.
So Kryptonians must have some way to reproduce. Maybe it didn’t involve kissing.
Lois crawled into the coldness of her bed. As she had expected, the moment her eyes closed, she felt their kiss again. Then her mind created the image of Kal’s smile and her body quivered in response.
It took a long time for sleep to come.
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Kal wasn’t sleeping either.
He lay on his bed, recalling the feeling of Low-iss’s mouth on his.
Why had she done it?
Had it affected her the way it had affected him?
Did people from Earth do that to ... to whom? Everyone?
Kal could not imagine a world where people did that to each other.
The world would not function – not if everyone felt like he had when Low-iss’s mouth was on his ... like he still felt now.
Why had she left him?
Had he done something wrong? Something that on her planet was unacceptable? Was there a set response? Asking her to do it again ... was that the wrong thing to do?
He hoped he hadn’t been improper, but he could not regret his request.
The first touch had surprised him. The second one had bombarded his senses – blitzed them with such force, they would never be the same again.
Kal had a multitude of questions, but from the chasm of his confusion, he realised only one thing really mattered.
Would she do it again?
He wasn’t sure he could survive if she didn’t.
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The next day, Lois washed, dressed and waited in her room.
If Kal wanted her presence, he could send for her.
Overnight, she had tried to achieve some perspective. She didn't think there was any chance she would be punished for her rashness. He’d *asked* her to do it again - but Lois couldn’t shake the feeling that she had been very bold with the Supreme Ruler. Probably bolder than was prudent.
Definitely bolder than was prudent.
A knock sounded on her door and Lois’s heart lurched. Kal?
No. He didn’t come to the concubine quarters. He would send for her.
It was Tek. With her breakfast.
Had her breakfast come to her room because she wasn’t in Kal’s room? Or because she wasn’t welcome in Kal’s room?
Tek handed it to her and seemed about to walk away without saying anything. “Tek?”
“Yes.”
“I’m really confused about a whole lot of things and I was wondering if you’d mind if I asked you some questions.”
He turned so he was fully facing her. Lois took this as his agreement.
“You’re married?” she questioned.
“Yes.”
“How did you choose your wife?”
“She lived two doors from me.”
“Did you and your wife choose to get married?" Lois asked. "Or did your parents choose her for you?”
“I am not a Noble.”
“You chose her?”
“Yes.”
“You have children?”
“Yes.”
“You’re their father? Your wife is their mother?”
Did she imagine the flicker of bemusement in Tek’s impassive eyes? Lois had to admit that if their positions had been reversed, she would consider it a dumb question. “Yes,” he said.
“Your wife got pregnant?” Lois used her hands to indicate a rounded fullness in front of her stomach.
“Yes.”
“How did the baby get there?”
Lois was sure she didn’t imagine the discomfort in Tek’s eyes. He said nothing.
“I’m sorry to embarrass you,” Lois said. “But I have no one else I can ask. If I tell you how it happens on my planet, would you tell me if that is how it is here?”
“Yes.”
“You and your wife connect and then a long time later the baby comes from the place where you connected with her. Is that how it happens here?”
Tek had definitely reddened and his eyes were cast low. “Yes,” he mumbled, not looking at her.
“Thank you, Tek.”
He looked up then, clearly eager to escape.
“Does the Supreme Ruler have children?” Lois asked.
“You are not allowed to discuss the Supreme Ruler,” Tek said primly. “I am not allowed to discuss the Supreme Ruler.”
So, the rule extended beyond the concubines and to the servants. “Is it a secret whether he has children or not?” Lois persisted.
“No.”
“Then maybe it’s all right to tell me?” she said hopefully.
“He has no children.”
Lois was about to thank Tek. Instead she granted him what he clearly wanted. “You can go now.”
He did. He limped away with a level of relief even Kryptonian impassivity couldn’t hide.
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Kal ate his breakfast alone.
He had gone to the Dining Room to get it.
Low-iss had not come.
He had wanted to send for her, but had hesitated. What if she didn’t want to come?
Of course, she had no choice if he ordered her to come. But if she didn’t want to be with him ...
Kal had decided he would eat his breakfast in the Dining Room. There was no reason to take it back to his bedroom if Low-iss wasn’t there.
But after one mouthful of the oatmeal, he picked up his bowl and took it to his room. Once there, he pulled the chair close to his bed and settled the bowl on his lap.
His bed was empty.
The oatmeal tasted truly awful.
He’d ordered his cook to put sugar in it instead of salt.
He’d already imagined Low-iss tasting the sweet oatmeal for the first time. He was confident she would smile. He’d been looking forward to it since he’d sent the order to his cook yesterday afternoon.
Now he was eating breakfast alone.
Stuck with sugary oatmeal.
It was disgusting.
But eating alone was worse.
He ate less than half. He drank the blue to overcome the lingering sweetness and wandered to his desk. The Disputes pile had never been smaller.
Would Low-iss help him with them tonight?
Would she help him speak more of her words?
He wanted to learn how to say the mouth-twitch word. And the noisy one. And ‘please’.
Kal picked up the top page of Low-iss’s writing.
What a strange custom. To pry into the business of others, then write about it and let everyone else read it. She’d even admitted that sometimes people did not want their events written about.
Kal stared at her writing.
What did it say?
Was she writing about him?
He had told her the Rule that she was not to speak about him. He hadn’t told her she couldn’t write about him.
It didn’t matter, of course. No one on New Krypton, including him, could read Low-iss’s writing.
Kal extended his forefinger and slowly drew it across the top line of her writing. When he reached the end, he dropped to the second line and continued along the strange script.
He’d never seen anything like it.
He was sure he’d never seen anything like it.
He couldn’t have.
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Lord Nor had not slept well.
His mind had refused to rest; refused to relinquish its obsessive preoccupation with the possible ramifications of the arrival of the alien woman.
Yet in the cold clarity of daylight, it was difficult to see how her possible impact could exceed capturing the attention of the Supreme Ruler.
And that, surely, had to work in Nor’s favour.
Yet, his apprehension refused to be silenced.
The plan was perfect - meticulous, all-encompassing, flawless. It was the plan of a master strategist, the consummate warlord ... Nor’s father.
But a little insurance was no bad thing.
And it would grant Nor some peace from his nagging anxiety.
Yes, Nor thought, with satisfaction. A little agitation was definitely called for.
And agitation was Nor’s speciality.
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Lois lingered over her salty oatmeal.
Salty oatmeal reminded her of Kal.
Would always remind her of Kal.
Eating breakfast with him.
Doing the disputes with him.
Teaching him words.
Kissing him.
Kissing ...
She leapt from the bed and paced her room.
What now?
She needed to work.
Work had always been her escape.
She couldn’t work – but she could write.
No, she couldn’t write either - her paper and pencil were on Kal’s desk.
And he had not sent for her.
She could not remain confined in this small room – she was sure she could feel the creeping calcification of her brain.
Lois stepped out of her door and saw a woman - one of the women she had followed out of the gates – about to enter the middle room on the opposite side of the quarters. “Jib!” Lois called.
Jib turned, although she didn’t release her grip on the door handle.
Lois strode briskly to her, smiling, despite knowing her smile would mean nothing to Jib. “Hello, Jib,” she said.
“Hello.”
Lois searched for a topic ... something ... *anything* to prolong their conversation. The only thing they had in common was Kal and the rules said he could not be discussed.
“Are you really from another planet?” Jib asked.
“Yes.”
The full extent of her curiosity apparently satisfied, Jib turned the handle and pushed open the door.
“My planet is called Earth,” Lois said hurriedly.
Jib glanced sideways. “Do they speak Kryptonian on Earth?”
“No. I have a translator.”
There may have been a glimmer of surprise on Jib’s face. “They gave you a Translator?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think they wanted to know if I had any useful information.”
“Is that why you’ve spent so much time over yonder?”
Over yonder? Is that how they talked about being with Kal without breaking the rule? “Yes.”
“We wondered why.”
So they *did* talk to each other. “You and Mo discussed it?”
“Yes. And Bel. She’s the Mistress of Concubines. That’s her room.” Jib pointed to the first room on the same side as Lois’s room.
Lois had a question, but a lifetime of conditioning made it difficult to actually speak it out, even for Lois Lane. She forced herself to do it. “Are you a concubine?”
“Yes,” Jib admitted readily. “I am C2.”
“Mo is C1?”
“No, Mo is C3.” Jib pointed to the room to her left. “She lives there.” She swung to the room to her right. “Ard is C1; that’s her room.”
“I haven’t met Ard,” Lois said.
Jib pushed open the door and entered her room. Before she could close the door, Lois stepped into the doorway. “Jib,” she said on a swiftly expelled breath. “I don’t know what is done on New Krypton, but on Earth sometimes women like to spend time together and talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“Like you and Mo talked about why I was over yonder.”
Jib didn’t respond.
“Could I come in?” Lois asked, not caring that desperation laced her words. “Or would you come into my room? There is so much I don’t understand and it would be so good to know something about what it means to be a concubine and what is expected of me and what you do all day.”
“You want to talk with me?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“I come from another planet,” Lois said, still a little breathless. “Aren’t you even the tiniest bit curious about that? Aren’t there things you would like to know?”
“Not really.”
Lois chose to disregard the indifference of the reply. She was on a mission here. “Well, there’s plenty I would like to know about your planet,” Lois said frankly. She softened her tone. “Can I come in? Please?”
Jib moved fully into her room. Lois followed and shut the door behind her.
Jib’s room was identical to hers. It had the feel of a cheap hotel room – small, cramped, bare, utilitarian. Jib sat near the head of her bed. Uninvited, Lois sat at the foot, grasping for a question that would open a sustainable conversation.
“Do you like being a concubine?” Lois asked.
Jib didn’t answer for a long moment. “I don’t know.”
“Did you want to be a concubine?”
“No.”
“You didn’t have a choice?”
“No.”
“Do any concubines have a choice?”
“No.”
No more closed questions, Lois reflected grimly. “How does a man choose a concubine?” she asked. “What if two men both want the same concubine?”
“When a woman turns seventeen years, for three days, only the Supreme Ruler can take her. If he chooses not to, for the next four days, the Regal Nobles can take her. Whoever takes her first gets her. For the week after that, the Nobles can take her.”
“And if no one takes her?”
“She is free to marry. Or not. But as long as she remains unmarried, any Noble can take her.”
“But once she’s married she’s ...” Lois wanted to say ‘off the market’, but sufficed with, “... unavailable?”
“To all except the Supreme Ruler,” Jib replied. “He can take any woman, married or not.”
Lois figured this could seem like an inflaming question, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “What if the woman really doesn’t want to be a concubine?”
“She has no choice.”
That’s what Kal had told her. “What’s to stop one of the nobles taking every woman who becomes available to him?”
“If he takes her, he has to feed and clothe and house her.”
Did that mean there *wasn’t* enough food for her? Is that why she ate from Kal’s plate? “What if he chooses not to feed her? Can he keep her imprisoned? Who would know whether her needs are being met?”
“He can’t keep her imprisoned,” Jib said. “He is honour-bound to feed her. She can’t talk about anything she sees or hears or does in her master’s household, but she can say if she is not being cared for properly.”
The term ‘master’ still grated. “Did you become a concubine when you were seventeen?”
“No.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty.”
“Why did K -? Why?”
“Mo and I were taken on the same day. She was nineteen.”
“Why?”
“Mo is my sister.”
Lois felt her frustration rise. The rule about not discussing Kal was restrictive when she just wanted to know why he had suddenly decided he needed two more concubines. Maybe she should approach it from another angle.
“Why didn’t you want to be a concubine?” It wasn’t a question Lois had imagined she would ever ask. “Were you in love with someone else?”
“I don’t understand.”
So Kal wasn’t the only Kryptonian who didn’t understand love. “Did you know a man you wanted to marry?”
“No. I wanted to stay at home with my mother. Mo did too. Our mother has no one else.”
Lois took the time to frame her question without direct reference to Kal. “Why were both you and your sister taken if your mother needed your care?”
“Our mother wasn’t sick.”
“Was there a particular reason why she needed you?”
Again Jib didn’t speak. For a long time, she stared into nothingness. Lois waited. “My sister had just passed away.”
Now that she knew, Lois could read the sadness on Jib’s face. Not overt sadness ... not even the hint of tears ... but more a ... shadow ... a shadow of loss. “Oh, Jib,” she said. “That is so sad. Did she become ill?”
“No.”
Lois wanted to know what had happened. It must have been some sort of accident. How traumatic for the mother, mourning the death of one daughter and having the other two taken from her, leaving her alone.
Had Kal known about the other sister? Taking two daughters from a grieving mother seemed out of character for him. “Was it an accident?” Lois asked, as gently as she could. Although she wasn’t sure the Translator allowed for expression.
“No.”
“Then how?”
Lois expected another long silence, but Jib answered immediately. “She was bashed by her master.”
“She was a concubine?” Lois said, horror rising in her throat.
“Yes.”
“Who was her master?” Lois asked. It couldn’t be Kal. The assertion thumped through her head like a pounding drum roll. It couldn’t be Kal. It couldn’t be Kal. Surely ... it couldn’t be Kal.
You’ve known him less than a week, a harsh voice inside her taunted.
If it *was* Kal, Jib wouldn’t be able to tell her because of the stupid rules.
But it couldn’t be Kal. She would not believe that of him.
She could not believe that of him.
“One of the Regal Nobles,” Jib said.
It wasn’t Kal. Lois had known it couldn’t be Kal. “Is he in jail? Has he been punished?”
“He’s a Regal Noble. She was his concubine.”
“But surely that doesn’t mean he can kill her?” Kal wouldn’t allow that. Surely.
“He said it was an accident.”
“But ... you said she was bashed.”
“Yes.”
“How could that be an accident?” Lois demanded.
“He said it was an accident,” Jib repeated. “I didn’t say we believe him.”
“Your poor mother. And then to lose you and Mo so soon.”
“The same day.”
“The same day?” Lois swallowed. Surely Kal could have left them with their mother for at least a few days.
“Mother wanted us to go.”
“She did?”
“Because if we hadn’t come here, we could have been taken by the master of our sister.”
The horror permeated deeper through Lois. But with it came the soothing salve of understanding. She knew why Kal had taken Jib and Mo. And with it came fresh appreciation of his goodness. “The man who had just killed your sister could have taken you and Mo as concubines and no one could have prevented it?”
“Only someone higher and only by taking us for himself.”
“Who was the Regal Noble? What is his name? Are you allowed to tell me?”
“There is nothing in the concubine vows to disallow speaking of other masters. It is only one’s own master one is not permitted to speak of.”
“So who was he?”
“Lord Nor.”
Lois swallowed as she remembered asking Kal why he had taken her as a concubine. He’d replied with ‘to stop Lord Nor taking you.’ Then ... she had thought Kal saw her as a prize ... a bizarre trophy to add to his collection ... taken to gain bragging rights over an associate.
But it hadn’t been like that at all.
Within hours of having her dumped on him, Kal had taken steps to protect her. Lois touched the crest branded on the back of her hand.
Even as she had come to know Kal, to love him, a part of her had railed at being forced to permanently carry a badge of humiliation. But it didn’t represent humiliation ... it represented love. Kal hadn’t known it at the time ... he may never know it, may never fully understand it ... but taking her as his concubine was an act of love.
Her love for him blossomed further.
He had saved her. He had saved Jib and Mo.
He was a good man.
A wonderfully good man.
And she loved him.
Totally.
Craved his love in return.
Exclusively.
“Jib?” Lois said slowly. “How often do you see –?“ She stopped herself just in time. “How often do you go over yonder?”
“I’ve never been there.”
“Never?” Lois gulped.
“Never.”
“Do you feel bad that I go there?”
“No.” Jib stood and opened her door. “I don’t want to talk any more.”
Lois stopped in the doorway. "Do you see your mother sometimes?"
"We visit her every day."
Lois smiled. "On Earth when someone does something kind for us, we say the words ‘thank you’ to show we are happy about what they did.”
Jib stared, but said nothing.
“Thank you, Jib,” Lois said. “Thank you for talking with me. I hope we can talk again.”
Lois stepped outside and Jib shut the door. To Lois’s right was her room – lonely, boring, mind-numbing. To her left was Kal’s building.
Kal.
Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by an urgent need to see Kal.
She turned left.
As Lois passed the sentries, she felt the surge of joyful anticipation. She was going to Kal.
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The mother stared ahead.
She heard the familiar footstep behind her.
Then she felt the touch on her shoulder. The gentle, understanding touch of her husband.
He’d given up his hope, she knew that.
He wished she could give up hers, she knew that too.
He believed acceptance would bring a measure of peace.
But she could not let go.
Could not let go of the child she had lost.
