PASSION FOR TINION (WIP Novel 120,000 words)
© Cupideros, October 21, 2006
CHAPTER 39: THE KING'S GAMBIT
© Cupideros, Saturday, May 16, 2009
Extrapolate. Harder. Lord Tweezer lay on Queen Morah's bed, still naked. His sex spent and satisfied. He'd placed his arms behind his head as he watched the Queen Bee, his secret name for his wife, busy herself selecting which Galan delicacy for them to eat.
‘Queen Bee. Worker Drone.
Nest filled honeycomb,
Each thing in its place.'
He forgot what antiquity earth poet phrased those words. They spilled from his heart effortlessly. I’ve found my emotional self. My heart beats alive! I must not think this way. He chided himself, laughing. I am playing the King's Gambit. I've offered some tiny pawns of my being, my sperm, rationalizing a greater return. Capturing the queen perhaps. Regaining my own kingdom from Rolith and SILTH? Mathematics simplified his unruly political equation, stripped the extraneous from view. Rolith wants my throne. I am safer in Quodarian than in my own land. From this place, I can reorganize and remanage Galan affairs. Lord Tweezer took up chess at an early age. Calculation, analysis and reanalysis came naturally. The rationale behind the gambit is time and space gained for pawns lost.
Queen Morah asked him, "I brought some Lani melons." She hadn't turned around. Her voice providing sweet surround sound.
"You are a Witch.” He rubbed his growing stubble beard. “Who did you bribe on Gian for them?”
She tasted everything, including the lani melons. “Yellow melons are in season—“ she couldn’t talk. “Mmm…Taste sweet and sour.” She turned back and saw him crossed his legs. She noticed his laser scars on his chest
Lord Tweezer caught her eyes on his hairy chest. He'd almost died because of this Queen Bee. His natural metal of honor balanced the fact of him basking in her romantic display of affections. Extrapolate. Harder. Is this time to launch my attack on Rolith? Is Akyria safe? The Hearldan Guard--Are they ready? Loyal? Still fierce?
Queen Morah wore a white silk robe decorated with diminutive purple flowers. She didn't bother to close it. Lord Tweezer eyes sponged in her breasts and her flushed-pink skin. Sex becomes her. A woman's afterglow. No man leaves signs he has had sex. Queen Morah turned around. Her long red hair disheveled like a medusa coming off the beach. She carried a tray full of food, whose scent reached Lord Tweezer first and wet his tongue.
"I'm starved,” he said.
She straddled the tray over his sex. "Up. Sit up." She gently climbed into the bed with him. "A few hours ago, you said two bowls of soup was enough." She laughed, as she picked up a piece of toast.
Lord Tweezer inspected his food. "Brunch." He picked up a Gian Steak strip on his fork. The juices softening his pecan nuts and Galan rotini noodles. His lani mellow seedless. "You've taken out the seeds."
Queen Morah stopped drinking her nessret brown tea. "This is too hot. I'll have to speak with Lady Lomara to make sure the cook keeps the temperature down on the tea. Oh, My Husband. Curled up seeds lack a certain esthetic." She looked upward to the ceiling trying to find the words.
"At home--" he said staring straight ahead.
"Biofiltered water." Her mouth was full. "Here let me." Queen Morah took a sip of his black coffee, mocha colored because of spoonful of creamer. "See, it's light too." She handed him back the cup. You can always tell Body Magnet (BMT) water by its heaviness."
Lord Tweezer hefted his cream black coffee. "Will you have to eat my entire meal?"
"It's all safe, my Husband." She threw her hair behind her back and stared into his soft, little boy's eyes. "What's bothering you, My Husband. My Soup King."
Lord Tweezer smiled. He trusted her now. "You want this marriage to succeed." He took a sip of coffee. "Perfect coffee. Ironically, I want this relationship to—succeed as well."
She remained silent.
He noticed Queen Morah understood not to badger a man with useless talk. She didn't reply half the time, when any other woman might have. This Queen Bee is secure in her honeycomb. I on the other hand feel danger on all sides. I am taking all the risks. And it's even a risk to be safe. Too much safety can make a man nervous too. He gobbled down another Gian steak strip. Extrapolate. Harder. This use to work well with Akyria. I manage to push Akyria’s softness, her scent, and her emotional needs into some tiny compartment seconds after the act. A man needs his compartments. He needs to separate love into a back closet corner of his life. He must concentrate.
Lord Tweezer's Moksha Slap spread out like a mysterious mist in is brain, in his compartments. Localizing the Moksha became a priority. But it would not localize. He found himself experiencing the Moksha again and again in his work life, his hobby life riding and hunting and even in his chess life. The meal went slow. His feelings and thoughts marinated. His soul, turned bread, dipped repeatedly in their sauce.
"I like how you don't talk too much." He finally said.
She swished around her warm runny egg on her toast spoon. "Would it make you talk more, if I talked?"
He fluffed up his pillow behind his back. "No."
She shrugged. "I'm feeling the same things" She stopped eating and looked straight ahead. "Is this right? Do we have time for this risk? What do our people feel about this? This," she pointed a black polished fingernail to Lord Tweezer, "we might ruined a war." She turned suspicious face to him.
She pulled a laugh from him again. “Every morning I eat to the rumbles and grumbles of Tinon. It’s quiet here. And yes, war employs thousands and thousands of people. We must not bore them to quickly." He wanted to half belief his last statement. Men find comfort in war. It’s a fact. The busyness of destruction brought a weird kind of satisfaction to males.
She gave him a calculated stare. "Yes. Our societies would be lost in peace."
"I think...I'm possible planning a way out of this war."
"How?"
His arm muscles stiffened. "You doubt I'm in charge of my own country!"
"I'm sorry--" She shook her head a tiny bit.
He rubbed the back of his head. "I'm not offended. I did tip my hand letting you see my brain imbedded device. It doesn’t hurt you know."
Queen Morah picked up banana a peeled the skin back. "You have Quodarian support. Let's end this war, Lord Tweezer?"
"Let's save the planet." He said as he spooned up pecan nuts.
"One societies in peace. But you Galan men must respect us women—all women.” Queen Morah gave him her decisive stare.”
How easy it was to lie, Lord Tweezer thought. Today, in her lair, I say things unspeakable in my own country. “It won’t be easy. We can change.” He nodded in the affirmative. “We believe the human will is everything."
Queen Morah turned toward him as she carefully controlled a sneer, "Science is will too." She ran her hand over his hair. “Does it hurt?”
“Not at all.” He kept eating. “Outpatient surgery, about thirty minutes.”
“That’s fast.” She stared at the top of his head. “You’re processes recorded or do they simply transmit?”
No woman ever asked him this question before. No Gian. Not even Akyria who had her own implant. “I am human, if you’re concerned. I control it. It does not control me!”
“I’m glad. I don’t relish the idea of you being controlled by technology.” She picked up his rough hand, callus along the fingertips and edges of his palm.
“The Heraldan Guard must be my verified shield against SILTH.” Lord Tweezer picked up her slim fingered hand. He brought up her curled fingers and kissed her black nails. "Tonight, we'll watch Holo "Kitty" Gram," he said breaking the developing chill.
Queen Morah let out a garrish laugh. "She's such a fucking atheist, bitch!"
"You love her anyway--we all do.
"What I wouldn't give to be like her, free." Queen Morah stared to the wall in the distance. She turned back her eye contact and placed her smooth leg on Lord Tweezer's hairy thigh."
"What My Queen! And avoid shaving your legs! Ugggh!"
"She doesn't shave her legs!"
"No." Lord Tweezer snapped. "She's some kind of Amazon, Court Jester."
"She's really belongs over here with us Quodarian women. Where she can asks men out. Slap them around." She giggled a bit.
“ Oh, sure,” he said rubbing his slapped jab. A lock of dark hair fell across Lord Tweezer’s right eye. "You noticed how she treats, John, her husband."
Her smile fell on his gorgeous face and lingered on his strong chin "He's happy though." She giggled. "Men like John, make a woman feel secure."
Lord Tweezer put his arm around Queen Morah as he leaned back on the bedframe. "I make you nervous."
"You make me happy."
He stared downward at his meal. "But I have things to do." He stabbed his lani melon with his spoon and tossed down the sunshine fruit. His chin munched and chew. Lord Tweezer thought. I have too many things to do. I'm not a gigolo. Akyria is probably fuming. She won't turn against me though. Finally, he'd made his decision. Rolith's attempted manipulation of Kinum may be the iceberg. If he'd corrupted or blackmailed all the other aristocratic society, this might be totally lost in Galan. Any victory over the Quodarians would prove pyrrhic. I won't allow that to happen.
End Chapter 39
Abyssarians discover in upward gaze
The Abyss, Goddess, Gods, and Angels.
Abyssarians discover in straight-ahead gaze
Humankind and your peers.
Abyssarians discover in downward gaze
Satina, Demons and your Shadow Self.
FROM THE 3,500 SAYINGS OF THE LAST PROFPHET CE
