"Colonel?"
The marshal of the guard turned to see who'd called; rarely did a female voice speak to him inside the Sreegana. It was the kalifa. He'd never before seen her closer than eighty or a hundred feet. She was even more beautiful close up; it was almost intimidating.
"Yes, your ladyship?"
"I was right then. Those are a colonel's insignia."
"Yes, your ladyship."
Her smile, though subdued, froze his brain for the moment. "You're the guard commander, aren't you?" she asked.
"Yes, your ladyship."
"May I speak with you?"
"Of course, your ladyship."
She turned and led him down the broad corridor to a small, open-sided room, a largish alcove in the side of the broad corridor, with a simple, backless bench. He felt ill at ease, receiving the private attention of the Kalif's beautiful wife. When they were seated, she spoke again, and her smile was gone.
"There are people who dislike my husband very much, aren't there?"
"I—suppose so, your ladyship. But there are more who love him."
"Are there also some who hate him then? Enough to do him harm? To kill him?"
"There are always such, your ladyship. It's part of being a ruler."
"Is—my husband in danger of his life?"
Her question made him want to assure her. Without lying. "Your ladyship, every man is in danger of his life; simply some more than others. As for the Kalif, I do not think his danger is anything to worry about. No man is better guarded. No one can even enter the Sreegana without a pass." He paused, then spoke in a tone of confidence. "You know, of course, that the Kalif was once a marine colonel."
She nodded. "He's mentioned it."
"The Kalif is still a young man, younger even than his years, and he drills almost daily with the saber. With Sergeant Yalabiin. And he carries a stunner with him at all times. He's strong, his reflexes are quick, and his eyes miss little. Between the guard regiment and his own self, your ladyship, I wouldn't worry for his life."
She nodded absently, as if thinking of something. "Colonel—Do people like him less because he married me? A foreigner? And perhaps not a noblewoman?"
"Your ladyship," he said carefully, "I don't know. But I can tell you his guard doesn't like him less. And his house servants don't: I've heard them say you're courteous and considerate at all times."
Again she sat silent for a moment, then: "I overheard someone mention that the old Kalif was murdered. How did that happen, guarded as he was?"
Inwardly the marshal winced. "Your ladyship—Kalif Gotsu Areknosaamos was a cruel and evil man. Very unlike your husband. He had many people killed, mostly by impaling, and many hated him. Also, he'd become a heretic."
"Was his murderer caught?"
The colonel's stomach tightened. "He wasn't actually murdered, your ladyship. He was executed."
She sat looking thoughtful. Thoughtful and beautiful. At last she got up.
"Thank you, Colonel." She smiled then, a wonderful smile, it seemed to him, though still subdued. "Will you tell me your name? I prefer to know people by name as well as title."
"I am Colonel Vilyamo, your ladyship. Vilyamo Parsavamaatu."
He watched as she walked away down the corridor, a walk graceful yet strong. He would have a hard time keeping her out of his mind. It seemed to him that the Kalif was a very fortunate man to have such a kalifa, and somehow he liked and respected him more for it.