Cold Blooded
by Robin MayhallOlla lay stretched out on the warm deck next to the sandbox, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the sun on her back. The weather was just right, not too hot or too cool. The afternoon was blissfully silent.
She opened one eye and peered at her chrono, splaying her claws slightly as she turned her hand to better see the time. She sighed. He'd be home soon, and there would be hell to pay if he found her lazing on the deck. She sat up and glanced around her, making sure none of the human servants were looking from the windows, and slid into the sandbox, rolling over several times to scour her scales thoroughly. When she was clean, she moved to the edge of the sandbox and then paused. With one more glance at the house, she quickly plunged one hand to the elbow in the sand at the corner of the box, twisting her fingers until she found the smooth surface of the egg. When she had reassured herself it was still there, warm and safe, she climbed out of the sandbox and reached for her wrap.
She pulled the light cloth quickly around her waist but paused just outside the door to brush the last traces of sand from her legs before entering the house. He would kill her if he found so much as a grain on the polished floors. Olla consoled herself by thinking of the egg. It would not be long now before it would be ready.
The egg was not her offspring. It was the key to her freedom. Her husband was of a different species, from a faraway planet he called Terra. He and Olla certainly could never reproduce, but perhaps Teggis would choose to sire children with surrogate mothers of his own kind. Olla could only hope she would not be with him long enough for that.
Olla's heart started pounding as it always did when she thought too long on her husband. She steeled herself for the shock of cold air and stepped inside the house, wrapping her arms around herself as she hurried toward the bedroom to try to pull on something more presentable before he actually saw her. Her claws made a nervous clicking on the hard, gleaming floors.
She reached the bedroom and dove into her closet, flinching at the sound of the front door slamming. She shed her colorful wrap and reached for a more formal dress of dark grey cloth; he liked her to maintain a proper appearance, which meant -- to him -- looking as close to human as she could manage. The heavy fabric caught on her long, slender tail as she tried to shrug into the dress, her movements already slowing as the bitter cold sank through her scales and settled into her bones. Her husband was warm blooded. He kept the house cold to keep her in line.
Breath whistled slightly through her nostrils as she reached around quickly to free her tail and then belted the dress securely around her waist.
"Olla."
His voice was always an imperative. "Yes?"
"What are you doing? Come out here." She emerged from the closet, smoothing the folds of her dress, and bared her teeth the way his people did to show happiness and approval. He was a good two heads taller than she, with the smooth pale skin of his kind, bare of scales but furred in random places that mainly showed when he was undressed: head, upper lip, upper chest, groin. His fur was a deep brown several shades darker than the bark of the nut trees that grew on the estate where they lived, the estate that had been stolen from the Audrian whose family had worked it for generations. Of course, he was dressed now, in an expensive suit of silvery grey. The suit, his pale skin and pale blue eyes contrasted nicely with his dark hair. She had found him very exotic and handsome when they had first met. Just as he had, no doubt, found her exotic and beautiful.
"I wasn't sure about this dress, darling," she said, trying to mollify him before he became more agitated. "Do you like it?"
His dark brows drew together. "You're hot as the driveway outside," he accused her. "You've only just come in, and you know we have a function to attend."
She knew better than to speak, but desperation provoked her. "Teggis, please," she said. "You know I have to sun. It's so cold in the house..."
"Shut up!" he exploded. He lunged forward, and before she could duck he'd punched her squarely in the torso, just under her ribs. She staggered back into the closet, half-falling against a row of somberly-colored dresses.
Olla lay half-hidden in a drift of clothing, palm pressed flat against her chest. She waited, gasping for breath. Teggis knew better than to hit her in the face or anywhere else visible, especially when they were due to appear in public. She stayed as still as she could, listening for Teggis to become disgusted with waiting and leave.
After a long silence, Teggis said softly, "We’re due at a party for Magistrate Sjo. You know what that means. You had better cooperate."
His voice was even more menacing in these soft tones than when he shouted and raged. Olla said nothing. She knew her role at the Audrian social functions to which he dragged her; he needed her to make contact with the Audrians who still held a sliver of power in the capital city, thanks to their superior native knowledge of climate, geography, agriculture and mineral deposits.
"Finish dressing," he went on. "And for God’s sake, try to look presentable."
He left the room abruptly. Olla waited several heartbeats before she crept out of the closet and over to the bed. She stretched out slowly on her side, holding her bruised ribs and listening to the breath whistle through her nostrils.
One of these days he would go too far and kill her.
She thought of the egg.
Her breathing gradually slowed, and she sat up straight, hugging herself again, tail curling forward to wrap around her knees. She knew he would return, most likely with some peace offering to ensure her cooperation at tonight's important event. She would, of course, cooperate. She was biding her time, just as innumerable Audrian females in the city and surrounding estates were biding their time…just as those who remained of her race were biding theirs.
After a few minutes Olla got up, intending to go to the closet to choose yet another outfit - this one more suitable for the grand occasion. She paused by the dresser, drawn by the enormous wedding photo in its ornate frame. As she gazed at it, she caught the almost noiseless step of her servant, Eym, behind her. She hissed softly to herself in spite of the sharp pain still biting at her ribs. She had never mastered Eym’s skill at walking soundlessly on the hardwood floors.
"Are you all right, my lady?" Eym asked softly.
Olla turned to the older woman. "Oh, Eym," she murmured. "When I agreed to this" - she glanced at the wedding portrait - "I had no idea I would be with him for so long."
The Audrians had discovered quite by accident that their transformative power would work as well on humans as it did on species native to the planet. The unfortunate human who had made a meal on precious Audrian eggs was, of course, not able to reveal the secret to anyone. But the news had spread like wildfire among the surviving females, and the plan had formed almost of its own accord.
Olla had understood, when Eym first approached her, that there was no guarantee how soon a suitable egg would be produced. But in her naïveté, she had believed the marriage would be a brief fling, something exciting, exotic and slightly dangerous. It had thrilled her to be part of the resistance, and it hadn't hurt that Teggis was from a rich family and considered handsome among his kind. It also hadn't hurt to find that Audrian females and human males made a particularly pleasurable combination in bed.
Teggis had insisted on a traditional human ceremony, and of course she had gone along with it; her family, what remained of them, had been only too eager to cooperate if it meant making Olla a good match. It was essential to their plans that she marry an influential man.
Olla and Eym stood silently for a moment, looking at the photo. Teggis and his family members and Olla were dressed in human-style formal clothes. Teggis had several brothers and a sister, all of whom were standing at his side. On Olla's side were only her mother and Eym. Olla's father and brother had been killed in the early resistance when the humans had colonized Audria.
She glanced away from the photo and looked at the aging servant fondly. Eym had mostly raised Olla while her mother had spent her days trying to cultivate favor among the new ruling class of the planet. "Oh, Eym," Olla whispered again, feeling a familiar ache of despair clutch at her heart, displacing even the sharp pain of her bruised ribcage.
"Courage," Eym whispered back. She reached out and took Olla’s hand. "It will not be long now. Many eggs are near to hatching."
"Are you sure?" Olla whispered urgently. "You are sure it will work?"
Eym nodded firmly. "We will survive," she said. She squeezed Olla’s hand hard, and Olla looked down at their entwined fingers, two pairs of scaled hands with neatly kept claws. It had been Eym who taught young Olla how to polish her claws in the warm grains of the family’s sandbox. "The aliens may have more soldiers and bigger guns, but Audria will survive," Eym said.
Olla mustered a flicker of her tongue as they turned away from the photo together. Eym helped Olla to finish dressing. When they heard Teggis's footsteps in the hall, the servant slipped out through the bathroom entrance, disappearing in her quiet way. Olla stood in front of the full-length mirror, waiting for Teggis to come and pronounce his judgment.
She suspected that by this time he had cooled down. Teggis was always absurdly tender toward Olla for hours, even days, after each time he hit her. She was right; he re-entered their bedroom a changed man, baring his teeth broadly, laying on the charm that had once thrilled her. "That's a lovely choice, my sweet," he said, taking her hand and twirling her around so he could admire her dress. Either he didn't notice how she winced when he lifted her arm, or he ignored it.
"I'm sorry we quarreled. Why don't you wear this tonight?" He handed her a small slender box, and she sat on the bed, head down, to open it. He knelt down like a suitor in front of her to watch. The box contained a gleaming necklace made of interlocking audrine links.
Olla raised her head and bared her teeth. "It's lovely, thank you," she said. Teggis showed his own teeth in return and nodded. He took the necklace from her and made her stand and turn around so he could place it around her neck. She watched in the mirror across the room. The silvery, almost liquid audrine -- the metal for which her planet had been conquered -- shone marvelously against her neck, looking like nothing so much as a collar. How appropriate.
His contrite behavior continued through the evening. He squired her into their car and escorted her to the party as if she were a new teenage mistress and not his boring, official wife. He kept one hand in the small of her back just above her tail throughout the evening, as if he couldn't bear to be parted from her. Olla knew better. He was working the crowd, paying special attention to the Audrians, introducing her deferentially and keeping quiet while she made small talk about matters of interest to them: local politics, marriages, hatchings, the weather.
Finally Teggis left her to seek out the guest of honor, an influential local magistrate. Olla was left free to talk with the other Audrian wives and mistresses. She made sure to show off the necklace, and the women flickered their tongues while the alien females made their strange cooing sounds of admiration. The Audrians managed to communicate much even as they pretended to chat with the human women. The plan was well underway, it seemed.
One Audrian male eyed Olla with more than just polite interest, but she rigidly ignored his gaze. She remembered the night Teggis had caught her near the bar at another party, talking - just for a moment - with the young ambassador from Ketch. She could only thank the heavens that there were so few males left.
She shivered a little, and her husband materialized at her side, leaning close. "Cold?" he asked, showing a brief flash of white teeth through his facial fur. Unlike hers, his fangs were so small as to be almost indistinguishable from his other teeth.
"No, I'm fine," she demurred. He nodded cheerfully and startled her by brushing the base of her tail lightly with his fingers. She felt a brief shock of intense pleasure and glanced at him nervously. He seemed in a high good humor. The whole evening had gone well for him. He had spoken with the magistrate, who had asked Teggis to call on her at the Magisterium, which he had wanted but would not have asked in such a setting. Teggis whistled softly to himself in the car on the way home, and the sound was soothing to Olla. It reminded her of her mother's soft breathing, and that made her think of the egg, and that helped her to forget her tiredness and the low but insistent throbbing in her chest where he'd punched her just a few hours earlier.
She acquiesced that night when he wanted to make love, but without the intense pleasure she had enjoyed when they first married. She was just glad when he was finally asleep and thus slightly less dangerous. She lay on her side, tail draped over her thighs, and stared through the sheer curtains at the night sky, where seven of Audria's thirteen moons made a half-strung necklace, broken but lovely. Olla's vision blurred somewhat and she blinked, surprised to feel tears wetting her eyes. It had been a long time since she had cried over any of this.
She turned slowly and glanced at Teggis's sleeping face. He looked peaceful, and she edged away from him carefully, easing her way out of the bed. She crept across the floor, keeping her tail high so as not to catch on anything, and doing her best to quiet the clicking of her claws until she was out of the room. She moved through the house on her heels, finding the door to her sundeck - the one concession on this entire estate to her inhuman physiology - and slipping out into the night. It was cold; she wouldn't be able to stay out for long without falling asleep, and he'd beat her half to death if he found her out here naked in the morning ... but as soon as the chilly night air hit her, she understood why she had felt compelled to come outside. She heard the song of the egg as clearly as if it were her own offspring. It was time!
She dove toward the sandbox, plunging her hands in and feeling for the egg. She trembled all over as she touched it and wrapped her fingers around it to pull it up toward her. She cradled it in her lap, feeling it rock a little as the creature inside made its small but insistent movements toward freedom. She scooped out a shallow depression in the sand, then laid the egg in it and tapped it delicately with a single claw, making a small crack. Immediately a tiny claw thrust aggressively through the crack and widened it. After only a moment she saw a miniature beak, which would eventually fall off if the hatchling survived to maturity. Olla slid her own claws into the crack and pulled the egg open very carefully, setting half the shell, filled with fluid, aside to keep and drawing the other half toward her.
The creature inside looked up at her with knowing gimlet eyes. "Hello, my little love," Olla whispered. "Welcome." He burrowed into her lap, emitting tiny squeaks. She held a bit of the eggshell and let the newborn suck some of the fluid from it. That would be enough to sustain him until morning.
She scrambled to her feet, holding the hatchling in one hand and the half-eggshell in the other. She re-entered the house, ignoring the spill of sand she left across the threshold behind her. She moved through the kitchen to the hallway that led to the servants' quarters. She whispered ever so softly on Eym's door, and the servant answered so quickly that Olla suspected the elder had heard the hatching-song too. "He's here at last," Olla whispered.
Eym nodded, her eyes shining. "You just let me take care of everything, Lady," she answered, reaching for Olla's treasures. "All will be done as it must."
Olla let the hatchling go reluctantly. "Go now, Lady," Eym urged her, patiently. "He must not suspect until it is done."
As hard as it was to leave the egg and its former inhabitant with Eym, it was harder still to return to Teggis's bed and lie down next to him as if nothing had happened. Olla remained awake throughout the night, trembling occasionally in anticipation and fear - what if it went wrong? What if it didn't work? - and staring out at the moons as they strung a slow caravan across the sky. She got out of bed before he did. He didn't like for her to lie about, and she couldn't stand the tension a moment longer.
She dressed and glanced at herself quickly in the mirror, only then realizing she had never removed the collar he had placed on her the night before. She reached up and touched it gently. The tip of one claw made a faint ticking sound as she tapped the audrine surface.
Not long now, my darling, no.
Olla proceeded to breakfast without waiting to see if Teggis was stirring. Eym and the other servants were there, cooking the usual hearty meal for the lord of the manor. Olla herself ate little in the morning. She took a drink that Eym handed her and sat down at the table with the newspaper, trying to ignore the small cage that now decorated a previously empty corner of the kitchen. The hatchling was curled inside, sleeping sweetly. It seemed best to keep him out in the open, rather than trying to hide him, thus invoking certain suspicion should Teggis take it in his head to inspect the servants' quarters. But hiding the newborn in plain sight strained Olla's composure. She found it terribly hard not to look at him, drawn to him as she was. But she must pretend, for at least a little longer.
Teggis finally made his appearance, irritable as always in the morning. He sat down, reached for the section of the newspaper he wanted, and unfurled it between himself and Olla, which satisfied her. It was actually made of paper, something he had told her was nearly obsolete on his own planet, but cheaper on thickly-forested Audria than the electronic news devices that required imported plastics, Terran metals, and fuel. Today, Olla was simply grateful for the large, greyish pages that made an effective barrier between her nervousness and her husband's foul mood.
He did not acknowledge Eym when she approached the table with a tray loaded with food, including a huge, stuffed omelet, grilled potatoes, toast with jelly, fruit, juice and coffee. Most of the food was grown here on their estate, but some was imported at great expense so that he could have the food he was used to.
Olla sipped at her drink and watched him out of the corner of her eye. He picked up his coffee mug and sipped from it, then set it down and absently nudged it back and forth with his fingers while he read the front page of the newspaper. After a few agonizing minutes, he set the paper down, picked up a slice of toast, and spread jelly over it in a thick layer. She averted her eyes while he ate it, glancing toward the cage where the hatchling slept. The omelet's aroma was deliciously appetizing. Olla's stomach muscles tightened, and she sipped again from her drink, knowing she was no longer keeping up much of a pretense, and that it was only a matter of time before he noticed her unease. His kind was terrifyingly acute at reading emotion.
Finally he reached for his fork. Olla held her breath. She glanced across the room and met Eym's eyes. The older woman inclined her head in the slightest of nods. Teggis speared the omelet with his fork and lifted a bite to his mouth. He chewed for a moment and then grunted in satisfaction and took another bite. "What is this?" he asked Olla through his mouthful.
"What, darling?" she asked in a strangled voice. He lowered his newspaper and looked at her narrowly.
"This," he answered, gesturing peremptorily toward the omelet. "Is this something different?"
"Perhaps the cook tried a different spice," she said. "Is it not good? We'll send it back - "
"It's fine," he answered, and attacked the rest of the omelet with relish, dismissing her ineffective replies. Olla watched and felt her tension slowly ebb as each bite disappeared between his dark-furred lips. When he was finished, he drained his coffee mug, shook out the paper, and continued to read in silence until he had made his way methodically through the day's news. Eym did not distract him even when she reached under his elbow to remove his tray and again to bring him a fresh mug of coffee. Not until he was good and ready did he fold the paper meticulously, set it down next to his tray and stand.
He spotted the cage immediately. "What in God's name is that?"
Olla bared her teeth at him with genuine warmth. "It's a gift from Magistrate Sjo," she said. By the time he discovered the lie, it would no longer matter.
Teggis peered more closely at the cage and shook his head. "It looks like one of your children," he muttered. "You people are such barbarians. I can't believe you keep your own kind in cages." Olla didn't dare respond, but she sat back in her chair and sipped serenely at her drink as he left the room. This time she did not let her eyes stray to meet Eym's. She didn't need to.
Teggis went to work that day as usual, but he arrived home much earlier than was his habit. Olla had anticipated this, and had long since returned the hatchling to his cage and cleaned all the sand from her glowing scales. She was sitting in the family room, dressed in her best, pretending to watch a satellite program with rapt attention when Teggis arrived. He didn't speak to her as he crossed the room, which was fine with Olla, but she watched him carefully, trying to note if there was anything different about his steps. He seemed to be all right, but when he came back through the room, instead of sitting down he opened the doors that led to her sundeck and went outside.
She followed him as far as the door. "Teggis?"
"What?" he asked irritably, his back to her as he stood at the edge of her sandbox. His head was tilted back as if he was lifting his face to the sky. In fact, as Olla moved nearer, she saw how the last rays of the setting sun lit him warmly, flattering his pale skin. Something around his eyes definitely was different.
"Are you all right?" she asked him.
"I'm fine," he muttered. "Why do you ask?"
"You're home early," she said. It should have been obvious; he was a creature of most meticulous habit.
"I was tired," he said in that same terse, weary mutter. Olla had to work hard to keep herself from crowing out loud; the very fact that he would admit tiredness told her something was very wrong. "Just leave me alone," he added, and Olla quickly complied.
She continued to watch him surreptitiously, though. The next day he overslept and went into work late, complaining again of fatigue. He continued to be irritable and tense, keeping the house in a state of constant uproar with an undercurrent of anticipation that even the human servants seemed to feel. After three days he went to a doctor, who drew blood for testing and promised to get back to him in a few days with the results. He fretted about losing weight, but he lost his appetite and couldn't seem to eat enough to make up the weight loss. He took to sleeping almost all the time, and when Olla raised the temperature in the house, he didn't appear to notice. She left it where she felt comfortable.
She also began spending as much time on the sundeck as she wanted, basking in the sun's rays with the young Audrian male, who was rapidly growing too large to be called a hatchling anymore. She hissed softly, warm and satisfied, as she watched him roll in her sandbox, sparkling grains raining from his glowing scales.
The doctor's calls after a few days went unreturned. No one else called. Olla suspected that most of Teggis's friends were in much the same shape he was, and had little interest in doing business or making social calls.
On the tenth day she found Teggis sleeping in her sandbox, curled in the middle of a sticky but spreading puddle of effluvium that smelled even fouler than it looked. She touched his shoulder with her claw, and he hardly moved. She shook him, and he turned toward her, one hand lifting in an instinctive warding-off gesture. His fingers splayed and she saw that small proto-claws had ruptured the tips. "Teggis," she said. "Teggis."
He tried to answer, but produced only a whistling sound through his nostrils, all that was left of the nose that had flattened against his face. Olla went in the house and called for Eym and some of the other Audrian servants. They came and helped her to strip the human clothes from Teggis's nascent scales, no difficult task, since he had been shrinking inside his garments for days. One of the servants went into the garage and returned with the large but lightweight cage that had been hidden there, and with little sign of struggle or even interest from the lord of the house, they lifted him into it and set it in a bright corner of the sundeck. Another servant fetched an armful of rakes and shovels that she handed around, and several of the Audrians began cleaning the sandbox. The adolescent male watched it all with interest.
"You'll make sure he's fed," Olla murmured. Unlike humans, her kind were not cold blooded killers. She touched her tongue lightly to the tip of one long fang. Just cold blooded.
"Of course, Lady," Eym answered dutifully.
"And keep the cage clean," Olla added. "I don't want him lying in what he sloughs off."
"Yes, Lady," Eym said.
"What of the alien servants?" Olla asked.
"They're gone, Lady," Eym answered. "They've been leaving one by one since the master's been unwell." Her face was guileless, but Olla hissed in good humor, flickering her tongue between parted teeth. She threw open the doors to the sundeck and walked into the house. She tore the curtains from the windows, then went from room to room doing the same until bright sunlight streamed into every corner. She went to the central thermostat and terminated the cold artificial airflow with a satisfying click of the controls.
The Audrian servants shed their drab clothing and raided Olla's closet for the bright dresses that Teggis had hated to see her wear. They piled into Olla’s sandbox, as many as could crowd in at once, reveling in the feeling of the hot grains scouring their scales. Others gathered in the kitchen, preparing their favorite foods festival foods; native foods. They plied the young male with Audrian delicacies, they drank the master’s Terran liquors and Audrian wines. An atmosphere of celebration reigned in the house, just as, Olla was sure, it did in many other houses throughout the city.
Throughout that day and the next, parties of Audrian women traveled from one to the other of the great estates, reporting on their successes and celebrating together. Olla wondered briefly if any of the alien invaders would try to join forces and retaliate, but the thought didn't frighten her. She remembered what Eym had said to her the last time Teggis had struck her. Whatever happened, her people would survive.
Two days later Olla came to her bed and found the young male lying upon it, tail twitching excitedly. She slid eagerly into his arms, wrapping her own tail around him, letting her claws trail deliciously all over his sleek scales. "My love," she whispered. "You are ready?"
"Yes," he answered eagerly.
She woke in his arms on a hot morning. The windows were open, and a little breeze found its way into the room. She slipped out of the bed and walked, claws clicking, through the quiet house to the doors that led to the sundeck. She glanced at Teggis in his nearby cage, now smaller than the length of her own arm, slumbering peacefully in the lulling warmth. Perhaps she would take him for a walk later, if she could find a suitable leash. In the meantime, she crouched at the edge of her sandbox and reached out to rake its surface delicately with her claws, looking for just the right place, the right weight and warmth of sand to cradle her own egg.
The author, Robin M. Mayhall, writes business articles and promotional copy by day and speculative fiction and poetry in her spare time. She lives in Baton Rouge, La., with four cats who indulge her hobby with only occasional attempts to sit on her laptop's keyboard. She recently saw her first poetry publication in Strange Horizons, and she has also had poems accepted by Astropoetica and Scifaikuest. You can reach her by email at robin@hieran.com.
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