The stern, matronly head housekeeper eyed the prospective servant over the lip of her padd. “You don't have much work experience,” she said coolly.

“I was in school,” the young man replied, lifting his deeply cleft chin. “Circumstances changed.”

The Cardassian woman sniffed. “I'll warn you that nobody here is going to care where you come from or what prospects you had. You will be expected to work hard for no more thanks or recognition than your regular paycheck.”

“I don't expect special treatment,” he answered firmly. “I'll do what I'm told when I'm told.”

“Will you work for a two week trial basis with no pay?” she asked.

He considered. No one had told him to expect such an offer. As he studied the woman, he thought he detected a mocking light in her cloud gray eyes. “No,” he said at last. “Good luck finding anyone who will.” He moved to stand.

The woman barked a harsh laugh. “Sit back down, Da'Rael. It's good to see you have some pride. The master of the house doesn't want desperate riff-raff from the inner city. I've decided to give you a chance. I expect you to report to the front gate tomorrow morning no later than one hour after curfew lifts. Understood?”

“Yes,” the young man said, inclining his head and allowing a small smile. “Thank you.” He allowed her to show him out, passing through a cavernous foyer with a vaulted, stained glass ceiling and lined with mounted hunting trophies. Some of the species of canids on exhibit had been extinct on Prime for at least three generations. She stopped at the door, but he descended the broad, shallow stone steps, their centers worn slightly concave by the feet of countless generations of the Dumarra family.

He could feel her gaze boring between his shoulder blades and took care to carry himself with the proper mixture of self-respect and awe at his surroundings. Enabran Tain had worked too hard to land this interview and position to throw it away with a careless slip of mannerisms. His booted feet crunched the fine pea gravel of the carefully raked drive on his way through the grounds to the imposing iron gate. The landscaping was impeccable. Every aspect of the Dumarra estate sent a message to the other families of Cardassia Prime that they were still a force to be reckoned with after all of these years and the gradual shifts of political power out of civilian hands.

With the gate in sight and the manor far at his back, he finally increased his pace, only nearly to be run down by a mounted riding hound for his trouble. He jumped out of the way of the large, powerful beast, biting back a curse. The rider looked to be close to his age, a young woman with elaborately coiffed black hair, a well tailored dusky green riding jacket, and gloves upon her fine boned hands. She wheeled the hound and drew it to a halt less than a meter away from Tain. “Who are you?” she demanded without a trace of self-consciousness.

He inclined his head to her respectfully and lowered his dark gaze. “Da'Rael,” he said. “I've just been hired as a house servant.”

“Hmph,” she huffed. “A word of advice for you then, manservant. Watch your step around your betters.” She turned the black hound, and the beast sprang away with her, spraying Tain with gravel from its broad, well arched feet.

You should take your own advice, he thought, both amused and irritated. He had no use for the pampered progeny of the moneyed civilian elite. He entertained himself with the thought that this one likely faced a dull future of state gatherings with a husband of convenience and a passel of brats to pull some of the hauteur from her finely sculpted brow ridges.

He walked the broad boulevard leading back toward the heart of Cardassia City and pulled his jacket tighter about himself. Winter was nearly upon them, the season of brief cold rains, biting winds and miserly sunlight. Already it was colder than he preferred, and he'd not make it back to his small flat until well after dark.

There was little enough to do to prepare for his new job once home. He kept few personal effects and had already packed them in anticipation of success. He left an encrypted message for his handler informing him of his progress, ate a hasty dinner, and went to bed, believing the next day would be taxing.

The head housekeeper didn't disappoint. From the moment of his arrival until very late in the night, she kept him busy. He polished blacksilver and fine crystal, helped move impossibly heavy densewood furnishings so that the floor could be swept and polished where no one ever saw it, beat rugs to within an inch of their existence, and spent three steamy, sweaty hours in the laundry room pressing shirts, pants, and enormous table cloths. He had two meal breaks that were supposed to last a half hour each, but he was lucky to get fifteen before being called for another task.

He attacked the work with will and attentiveness, never once allowing himself to entertain the thought that these things were beneath him, that in his former life, his family had servants to do these things for them. That was irrelevant and distracting. Such an attitude would prevent him from moving up in the household and gaining a closer perspective on the family.

At the end of the day he was shown to the basement where all of the servants lived and presented with a small, flat cot with a box at the foot of it. “This is where you sleep,” the housekeeper said. “You can put your things in there. No one will touch them. You're allowed one blanket. Have Gural show you where they're kept. Keep your bed made when you're not in it, or you'll have nothing but a bare mattress. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” he said. She left him then. It was exactly as she had told him during the interview. Not once during the day had anyone acknowledged his efforts, either to praise or to criticize, and no one had said thank you. He tracked down Gural, obtained a scratchy wool blanket, and fell into exhausted sleep on the hard cot.

Winter hit with a vengeance, giving Tain reason to be grateful he was a house servant and not one of the unfortunate groundskeepers or stable hands. He adjusted to the grueling routine of helping to maintain such an enormous estate, learning to eat quickly and get back to work before being told to do so. In small increments, he gained the head's esteem and grudging respect. He kept his head down and his mouth shut. Although he knew a great deal about his fellow co-workers, they knew no more about him than when he arrived. It won him no popularity contests, but it also kept him free of the occasional spasms of drama that swept the microcosm of the basement community.

Spring was little more than two final gasps of winter's breath before the oppressive, dry heat of summer descended. Damp was replaced by dust, dust that sought every possible ingress into the estate and settled into every nook and cranny. Some days they found themselves polishing the crystal twice, once in the morning, once in the evening. Tain tried to be patient yet, but it was getting harder. He had been told not to contact his handler until he had something to report. He wondered if he would be an old man before that day ever came and if he'd be left to rot if he never managed to improve his station at the manor.

He was sweating through yet another afternoon of steaming the laundry, the small windows shut by necessity of keeping out the dust, when the stern head appeared in the doorway. “Pack your things,” she told him.

He blinked at her in surprise, feeling panic swelling in his breast. What had he done to be dismissed so abruptly? How would this impact his job with the Obsidian Order? Would they throw him to the wolves?

“Don't just stand there gaping at me like a basking bank lizard, Da'Rael,” the woman snapped. “The family expects to depart within the hour, and they expect to be accompanied by three servants. Of course, if you'd prefer I pick someone else, there are plenty who will jump at the chance.”

“No,” he said, gathering his wits quickly. Relief flooded his limbs as he moved to obey. He didn't bother telling the woman he had misunderstood her. He suspected she was well aware and may even have chosen her phrasing to give the impression. She managed to keep those under her off balance with a variety of techniques that would make an inquisitor proud. If he got nothing else from this assignment, he believed he had learned some invaluable lessons from the woman that would apply in many future situations.

As he packed, he saw that he would be joined by the older and more experienced Gural and one of the female servants, a mousy woman named La'Hon. The three didn't bother speaking to one another. They stuffed their plain carpet bags with their meager possessions and assembled near the front door where they discovered a mountain of luggage and chests to be loaded into the family's personal transport shuttle. He found himself wondering where they were going and for how long, knowing better than to ask.

Just as they finished loading the luggage, the family made their appearance. Aside from dinner time, it was the first time Tain had seen the lot of them assembled together. Dumarra was a stout, no nonsense patriarch who seemed to have a soft spot for no one, not even his three daughters or his young twin sons. His wife overcompensated, indulging the children horribly, in Tain's opinion. The five of them were raging brats, the eldest girl the worst of the bunch by far. As she passed Tain on the way to the shuttle, she said loudly to her closest sister, “I hope the servants packed a change of clothing. I can't bear the stench of an unwashed body.”

Let's see how good you smell after three hours in the laundry room and almost an hour of packing luggage in the heat, he thought, keeping his eyes well averted in case any of the Dumarras managed to read his insolence there.

“Come,” Dumarra said to the three. “It is time to depart. You will ride in the back with the luggage.”

They had no choice but to follow and clamber into the cramped back compartment. It was separated from the family by an opaque barrier and possessed minimal climate control. Tain imagined that was more for the sake of the family's possessions and cosmetics than for the comfort of the servants.

Once they were settled and the shuttle got underway, Gural finally spoke. “I'm in charge now,” he said, “and I will be until we get back from the summer house. I don't want any cheek from you two. This assignment is a privilege. Don't forget that.”

Tain and La'Hon glanced at one another. He read hidden amusement in her expression, but the one she turned on Gural was properly respectful. “I won't,” she said meekly.

“Nor will I,” Tain said, not to be outdone.

“Good,” Gural said, folding his arms and leaning back against one of the chests. “I plan to get a few winks. Don't go waking me up with chatter, or it'll be the worse for you when we get there.” He tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

La'Hon subtly pointed at him and then flicked the tip of her nose, tilting her head back and pursing her lips. Tain smiled and nodded. Yes, the man was putting on ridiculous airs. He didn't imagine it would get any better once they got to the summer house. He could only hope it wasn't nearly as large as the manor, or the three of them would be run completely ragged in no time at all.

He couldn't look out the back window for very long without becoming motion sick, yet he was extremely curious to know where they were going. Minutes gave way to hours. Gural's snores nearly shook the compartment. Tain and La'Hon took to whispering back and forth as there was little chance their voices would carry over the terrible din. Despite her mousy looks, she was quietly charming and amusing. She made the slow passage of the day much more bearable and took his mind off of his physical discomfort.

However, both of them grew quiet when they saw the arid landscape giving way to more and more green and finally a lush display of dense rain forest. It crowded the narrow road from both sides, and at times they seemed to be passing through a cathedral of green light, for the tree tops met high over the road. Tain found it beautiful and disquieting, not being able to see beyond a meter or so to either side of them. Anything could be lurking in there, anything or anyone.

Green faded to purple and gray with the approach of dusk. At long last, they broke from the nearly claustrophobic tunnel of trees. It looked to Tain as though the land had been cleared here. He could see the signs of purpose, plantings arranged pleasingly, a few trees left for their graceful effect. The shuttle drew to a stop and descended fully to ground level, and the back door opened with a hiss of shifting air pressure. Gural awoke abruptly, first glaring at Tain and La'Hon as though they were responsible for his interrupted repose. “Don't just sit there like lumps,” he told them. “Get out and start unpacking the shuttle. We're here.”

Thanks ever so, Mister Obvious, Tain thought dryly. He unfolded from his cramped position and slid out the back, extremely grateful to be able to stretch his legs and hoping a toilet would be available very soon. La'Hon and Gural joined him, the three of them starting to unpack while the family disembarked and headed for the charming bungalow perched on a small bluff overlooking the sea. It had been years since Tain had seen the sea. He inhaled the salt tang with pleasure while he worked and strained his ears for the soft susurration of waves over sand.

“You,” Dumarra pointed at him. “Leave that to the other two. We'll be wanting dinner. I have a list for the replicator,” he said, beckoning Tain to approach.

Tain did so, ignoring Gural's scowl as he passed. Who was he to argue with the master of the house about who did what? He accepted the list and walked at a respectful distance behind the family up to the house. When they stepped onto the covered porch, Dumarra called the lights up and punched in the door code.

The interior smelled of musty disuse. The oldest daughters set themselves the task of opening windows and airing the place out while Tain made his way to the kitchen. The summer house was larger and nicer than many primary homes in Cardassia City. Tain allowed himself one small, smug thought, that it was nothing compared to his own family's lavish country estate. However, for all he knew, this was simply one of many homes owned by the Dumarras. They were certainly older money and higher tiers than the Tains.

Within a half hour, he had all of the food replicated and arranged on the large kitchen breakfast table set in a bay window that almost surely claimed a spectacular view during the daylight hours. As it was, Tain could just make out a soft glow at the curved horizon of the sea, the last remnant of daylight giving way to night. He left the kitchen to announce to the family that dinner was served. They filed past him and took their seats, noisily discussing their plans for the next day and acting as though he wasn't there.

He stood to the side, keeping an eye on drinks and pretending that he wasn't listening. If he was hoping for incriminating talk or rebellious sentiments, he was sorely disappointed. Their talk was so banal he thought he would die of boredom if he had to listen to these people all summer. Of all of them, only the middle daughter wasn't a complete chatterbox. She listened, holding her head at an elegant angle and occasionally chiming in with an observation that was always germane and thoughtful. Her oldest sister consistently contradicted and overrode her. Tain found himself annoyed, more so because the girl allowed it with a gentle sort of resignation.

The dinner dragged on interminably with the parents lingering after their children excused themselves to re-familiarize themselves with the house and stake their claims of the beds. Tain hoped that perhaps now the conversation would get more interesting. Instead, Dumarra dismissed him. “Go get settled,” the patriarch said. “If we need anything further, I'll call for you.”

Tain inclined his head deeply and stepped out of the kitchen. He felt frustrated. He had what he had been waiting for since winter, close access to the family, and it was for naught. He hadn't been given any listening devices, no tools to help him with this assignment because the presence of such was deemed too dangerous and likely to be discovered. What good was close access if he was to be dismissed every time Dumarra wanted to have a conversation of consequence? For that matter, how could he be sure it was a conversation of consequence and not just pointless bonding chatter with his wife?

He found the small, windowless servants' room down a narrow hallway. Gural and La'Hon already had their things unpacked and stored in their small trunks. “Where is my bag?” Tain asked.

La'Hon shot him an apologetic look, followed by Gural's snapping, “By the shuttle, Da'Rael. We serve the Dumarra family, not the Dumarra family's favored servant.”

Tain inclined his head, careful to keep his flash of anger at the man's attitude from his features. He had no doubt that La'Hon had tried to carry in his bag only to be thwarted by the jealous fool. He left them without a word and headed back down the hallway, slipping out the front door to go claim his things. Fortunately, he could see by the porch light, already thick with humming and fluttering insects, including a few moths large enough to cover his face with their powdery wings.

A willowy silhouette stood at the far side of the porch. Tain recognized the middle daughter leaning on the railing and looking out over the darkened sea. He wished he had the luxury to do the same, instead descending the steps to the drive and seizing his small bag. “Who's there?” she called out to him.

“It's just me, Da'Rael,” he said. “I had to get my bag.”

“They didn't bring it in for you?” she asked, sounding incredulous.

“No,” he said, not elaborating and starting back up the steps.

“How petty,” she observed.

“It's OK,” he said. “I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it.”

“Are you now?” she asked, this time sounding amused.

He hesitated before answering. “No, I'm actually sure they did, at least Gural did, but that's hardly the sort of thing that would be interesting to someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” she asked, letting out a laugh that sounded far more adult than her soft speaking voice. “Elaborate, Da'Rael. I positively insist.” She turned her back to the sea, facing him and leaning the middle of her back against the railing. Her dark eyes held intelligence and open curiosity, and possibly a hint of challenge in their depths.

“I just meant that the petty squabbling of servants is beneath the concern of their employers,” he said carefully.

“I see,” she said, sounding strangely disappointed. “Does that happen a lot?” she asked after a pause. “Squabbles?”

“No more than you'd expect from a group of unrelated Cardassians living together in close quarters,” he answered, hoping that would be enough to sate her sudden curiosity and let him get to the bathroom and then to bed. He was exhausted from the long ride.

“No more than that!” she said with another laugh. “I think I envy you. It sounds terribly intriguing.”

“Trust me. It's not,” he assured her. The tedium of his life as a servant had worn on him. With no relief in sight, he was hardly in the mood to banter with a spoiled brat who knew nothing of the people she discussed so readily.

“If I didn't know any better,” she said, approaching him with the grace of a dancer, “I'd say you were annoyed with me.” She stopped less than a meter away and tipped her head.

“No, Miss,” he said, falling back into the safety of protocol. This close to her, he realized she was a bit older than he initially believed. His intelligence briefing had been on the father and the mother, not the children.

“Come now, Da'Rael, it's just the two of us out here. Be honest with me,” she invited, her lips curving into a half smile.

“I'm not irritated with you, Miss,” he said once again.

She shook her head impatiently and turned away. “I see I'll get nothing more from you than from one of father's dumb riding hounds,” she said. “At least with the hounds, I know their feelings.” She whirled back on him. “Do you have any idea how horrid it is facing the prospect of being stuck in this house for the next three months with no one but my wretched family to keep me company? You heard them at dinner. It's like that all the time. It drives me to distraction!”

Tain shifted his weight, the pressure in his bladder growing more urgent by the minute. “I'm sorry, Miss,” he said neutrally.

“No you're not,” she said, waving him away. “Go on with you then. I can tell you'd rather be anywhere but here.”

He wasn't sure what impulse drove him to say it, but as he stepped for the door he said, “I haven't had the chance to avail myself of the facilities yet.” Before she could answer him, he headed back inside, found the bathroom off the small servant's bedroom, and felt his mood improve drastically afterward. It never ceased to amaze him how something as simple as the pressing need of a bodily function could color every perception. Gural and La'Hon were already asleep on their cots. He was all too happy to join them and forget about the frustrating day for a few hours of oblivion.

Tain couldn't tell why, but it seemed that Dumarra had decided that of the three servants, he was to give the most personal assistance. Perhaps the head had spoken good words of him in the master's ears, or perhaps it was just that he preferred consistency, and having made the decision on Tain the night before, he was sticking with it. He fixed and served them breakfast and was instructed to pack them all a lavish picnic lunch basket for the beach. At first, he was pleased with the idea of getting to spend time on the beach, until the sun beat down on him, and his livery, not designed for the level of humidity on the coast, clung to him in uncomfortable and unpleasant ways.

He watched the children and older girls splashing in the turquoise waves, never getting deeper than calf deep. He couldn't blame them. As the waves swelled and curled toward the beach, he could see dark shapes contained beneath them, enormous aquatic reptiles that avoided the shallows but would snap up anything that came within their reach. Every now and then, one would break the surface to try for a sea bird, launching itself halfway from the water and revealing a lean, gnarled slate gray body and a wedge shaped mouth lined with rows of serrated teeth. The twin boys screamed with fright every time it occurred and ran for comfort from their mother. Tain felt nothing but contempt for the infantile behavior and wondered why Dumarra didn't put his foot down about such things. His own father would have locked him in a closet for a week at such an embarrassing display.

Of course, the picnic basket was just the beginning of their expectations. Every time the boys decided they wanted another toy or the girls an iced drink, or some lotion, or any number of frivolous desires, Tain was sent marching back up the inclined path to the bungalow to fetch it, the sand shifting beneath his booted feet and making the walk that much more taxing. When he tried to be efficient and brought more toys than were requested, he was reprimanded for making a mess and sent back to the house with them. Never mind that over half of the rejected toys eventually made it to the beach anyway.

By late afternoon, the boys were cranky, the mother had a headache, Dumarra was tiring of the whole scene, and the youngest and eldest girl had a tremendous row over who saw a particularly large shell first. Dumarra insisted that the whole clan head back for the bungalow, but the middle daughter protested. “I want to stay a little longer,” she said. “Da'Rael can watch me. I'll be safe, and I won't go too deep.”

“You had better not,” Dumarra warned her. “If anything happens to her, I'm holding you personally responsible,” he told Tain with a jowly glower, sweeping past him and pulling his family in his wake with the sheer force of his personality.

She waited until they crested the bluff to turn to him and address him. “I wanted to apologize about last night. You must think I'm an extraordinarily selfish git.”

“I don't know what you mean,” he lied.

“Yes, you do. I assumed your wanting to leave was all about me. I never even considered that Father hadn't given you a chance to...well...you know,” she murmured. “We must all seem very shallow to you. I hate what Mother said about the toys earlier.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “You must be miserable in that jacket. You can take it off if you want.”

“I'm fine,” he said, having no intention of removing any part of his uniform in her presence. All it would take would be for Dumarra to see him, and he'd be dismissed or worse. Out this far from Cardassia City, it would be too easy for Dumarra to make him disappear and claim it was an accident in the rain forest.

She sighed again. “I get so tired of this. You have no idea what it's like. I'm sure I sound like a whiny brat to you, but nobody connects. We go to all these parties and meet all these people, and it's all the same. It's all one big show, who has what, who can get you what, what you can get somebody else. No one discusses anything of consequence, or anything interesting. Nobody says what they think or feel. You may not realize it, but you're lucky not to be subjected to that, Da'Rael.”

Tain couldn't stop himself from snorting a laugh. “Sorry,” he said. Maybe the humidity was wearing him down, he thought. His control was usually better than that.

“No,” she said, stepping closer, her dark eyes searching his. “Don't apologize. Tell me why you laughed.” Her black hair hung free down her back and fluttered in the sea breeze.

“You honestly think things are so different in the basement of your house?” he asked. “You think we servants are some sort of noble breed of Cardassians because we're the have nots instead of the haves? We're still Cardassian. Why would you think otherwise?”

For the first time, he saw uncertainty in her eyes, a hesitation. “I guess I just...hoped,” she said with a shrug.

“Something must have given you the idea,” he pressed.

She darted a glance around as though she expected someone to be listening on the deserted beach. Just to be sure, she stepped even closer to him, so close that he could smell the lotion on her skin and the sun warmth of her beneath that. “What I'm about to tell you you mustn't tell to anyone. Promise me,” she said, her eyes wide.

“I promise I won't tell,” he lied again, holding her gaze.

“Father has some books I think he's not supposed to have. He got very angry with me when he caught me reading one. I don't understand why, though,” she said. “They were interesting, not like the books they make you read in school. They talked about the class system and what's wrong with it. They talked about how our society has gotten stilted and stultified by our over emphasis on aggression and conquest. What's so wrong with saying these things? Lots of people think them,” she said artlessly.

Tain felt his heart pounding in his chest. Was it really so simple? Should he have been focusing on this young woman instead of the parents all along? Why not? She was willing to talk. He decided to encourage it. “Do they?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” she said with a nod, “lots of Father's friends. Sometimes I hear them talking in his study late at night when they think I'm asleep. I know I shouldn't eavesdrop, but it's the only time I ever hear anything that isn't ridiculously frivolous or an outright lie. But you say things are no different for you and the other servants. Now I don't know what to believe.”

“It's not that we don't want them to be,” he said. “But who are we to say such things? Nobody listens to servants.”

“I'd listen,” she said. “Come with me,” she added suddenly, seizing him by the hand and turning to run over the sand.

“What are you doing?” he asked in alarm, trying to extricate his hand. Her momentum abutted his immobility and she went down in a tumble of limbs. “Are you OK?” he asked, bending to help her back up.

She laughed and nodded, taking his offered hand to stand and tugging at him again. “Come on,” she said, her laughter in her eyes. “I want to show you something!”

“You're going to get me into trouble,” he said sternly. Getting information from her was one thing. Going off with her alone to who knew where was something else, potentially dangerous.

“You'll be in bigger trouble if you don't do what I say,” she said with an imperious lift of her chin.

“So much for understanding the servants,” he retorted.

“I didn't mean it that way,” she said. “I mean the way my parents will see it is that I gave you an order. It's what I'll tell them if they try to ask where we were or what we were doing.”

He didn't like it, but he hadn't had such a good opportunity or opening since getting hired. He feared that if he didn't take it, he'd be stuck in this assignment for a year or more. “Fine,” he said, feigning reluctance. “I'll come, but don't hold my hand like that, or you really will get me in trouble.”

“That's another thing,” she said with a scowl. “What's so wrong with touching? It's like we're afraid to exist, to really be in our bodies. Like contact would force us to acknowledge that we're all real, and we need each other.”

He kept his thoughts to himself. She had to be getting these radical sentiments from her father, possibly her mother, too, although she hadn't mentioned the woman yet. He had to give it to Dumarra. He was good at hiding what he really believed, well, not so good that he had avoided raising the suspicions of the Order, but in all this time, Tain had seen no hint of what he was seeing now in the daughter. He would've pegged Dumarra as a staunch traditionalist all the way.

They walked down the narrow ribbon of shell pink sand until the path that led over the rise was far out of sight. Tain kept a mistrustful eye on the tree line that hugged the beach. Strange cries came from the depths of the forest, and occasionally flocks of birds flushed from the treetops as though startled by something walking along beneath them. “It's beautiful, isn't it?” she asked him, mistaking his motive. “It's so hard to believe that once almost the whole planet was covered just like this.”

“Beautiful,” he echoed. He never had trusted beautiful things. They too often hid nasty surprises. The coastline curved inward, and Tain saw a cave opening. “Is this what you wanted to show me, a cave?” he asked.

“Not the cave, but what's in the cave,” she corrected him and sped up to a trot. “Come on. We don't have long before the tide starts to come in.”

He matched his pace to hers, miserable in the clinging jacket, and the two finally escaped the bright heat of the late afternoon sun for the cool twilight of the cave. Sure footed, she clambered barefoot over salt encrusted rocks. Light filtered down from a fissure in the ceiling, striking the dark basalt with golden shafts. Tain followed, taking care not to twist his ankle with the slick soles of his boots. She looked back at him and reversed her progress. “Sit,” she said.

Frowning slightly at her demanding tone, he did so. She squatted at his feet and started to tug off his boots. “Stop that,” he told her, but when he pulled his foot away, the boot and sock stayed behind in her hand.

“You're going to break your neck in these things,” she said, snapping her fingers for him to give her his other foot. “Father will be angry with me if I get you hurt.” When he refused, she frowned. “What are you so worried about?”

He felt a genuine flare of temper. “Is this some game to you? Do you have any idea what you're doing? The worst that happens to you if you get caught with me out of my proper livery is that you get a stern lecture from your father and maybe, maybe sent to bed without dinner. Do you know what happens to me? I lose my job! And that's all if I'm lucky. Not only that, I have no prospects of getting another. Have you ever even been hungry a day in your life?”

“You're lecturing me?” she asked, incredulous.

“Somebody should!” he thundered, jumping to his feet. Unfortunately, the slick sole of the remaining boot betrayed him. He went back down hard on his rear, his molars clacking together from the impact.

They stared hard at one another for the space of two breaths. She started snickering first. It was infectious. Before long, the two of them were roaring in laughter so hard that they had tears streaming down their cheeks. Every time one of them would regain control, the other would get started again. “You...your...face!” she said, flopping back on her back on the rocks and holding her stomach with both hands.

“So much for a stern...lecture,” he wheezed, reaching to pull off the other boot. He was almost too weak from laughter to manage it.

“That's what you get,” she said, sitting up and shaking a finger at him. She finally sobered and leaned her weight on one hand. “I wasn't trying to toy with you. I was trying to keep something like that from happening to you, you stubborn idiot.”

“Imperious wench, I don't need you to undress me like a child,” he retorted, no longer laughing. He never liked being called an idiot.

“Insolent whelp, how dare you talk to your betters like that?” she demanded.

“Whelp? I'm older than you. As far as my betters? If I see one, I'll show the proper respect then, not a moment before.”

They locked eyes, and hers flashed. “You're not that much older than me,” she snorted. “If my Father heard you talking to me like this, you'd be on your way back to Cardassia City on foot.”

“Your father isn't here right now. What are you going to do about it?” This was swiftly getting out of control. He was getting out of control, and it wasn't anger that was the problem.

She rose to her knees. “Apologize to me,” she demanded.

“I won't,” he said. “You're a spoiled brat too used to getting your way and hiding behind your family name to protect you from your attitude. You're the one who brought me to this cave and spouted platitudes about honesty. Well, I'm being honest, and you obviously can't take it. What's the matter? Did I hurt your feelings? What're you going to do about it? Run home and cry to your mother?”

She lunged at him, and for a confusing moment, he didn't know if he was trying to fight her off or pull her against him. She seemed to share his confusion until the two of them went down prone over the rocks, locked in a heated kiss and embrace that didn't let up until they heard waves lapping the mouth of the cave. His senses reeling, his body on fire, he managed to push her back and make eye contact. “We have to get out of here,” he said thickly, “before the water comes too high.”

She nodded, a little dazed, and the two of them climbed to their feet. She took one boot, he the other. They scrambled from the cave and slogged through knee deep water until they could get further inland and closer to the tree line. Tain's jacket hung loose, the shirt beneath unfastened halfway down. She didn't look any more respectable with her hair wild and the scales at her forehead and neck deep blue. “We can't go back to the house like this,” she said, raking her fingers through her hair.

“No,” he agreed, starting to straighten his clothes. “We'll have to wait until...” he gestured at her face.

Her hand flew to her forehead. “Oh, no,” she groaned. “Is it bad?”

“Let's just say there'd be no hiding that,” he replied. He wanted her so badly he ached. He forced himself to turn away to try to regain his badly needed composure. How could he be so stupid? Getting her trust so he could get information from her was one thing. Letting their argument get out of hand was something else, something he dared not repeat. It didn't help that he admired her high spirits and the fact that she wasn't afraid, or that her rebellious talk held a strange sort of appeal. Keep your eyes on your targets, he told himself sternly. There was a good chance that when he brought her father down, he could be bringing her down, too. Getting attached was the height of idiocy.

“I don't know what came over me,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Me, neither,” he said, fastening his jacket and sitting down on the beach to put on his socks and boots. He held his hand out for the boot in hers. “We can't do that again,” he said. “It's too dangerous.” Even as he said it, he wondered if he could hold himself to it, particularly when she knelt before him and put his sock and boot on his foot herself.

“I know,” she said, and he saw his doubt reflected in her eyes.

To be on the safe side, they waited until dusk to walk back to the house. As they crested the rise, the thought struck him. “What were you going to show me in the cave?” he asked.

She shot a mysterious smile at him over her shoulder. “You'll just have to see another time.”

The visit to the cave turned out to be merely the first of many over the course of that first month at the beach house. Tain saw the ancient Hebitian cave paintings Mevla Dumarra had discovered as a small child and kept secret from her family, one of the few things she said she had that she could truly call her own. He learned plenty to incriminate both parents from their tête-à-tête, even though he would still need the solid evidence of the books to back it up and give the Order enough reason to make a move.

To his chagrin, he also discovered that she was a much deeper thinker than he had initially credited her for, a genuinely entertaining companion who could hold her own in a heated debate and drive him crazy with even the lightest of touches. She was all too aware of this and took ample opportunity to do just that. Their trysts grew more frequent and more heated with the Dumarra parents seemingly oblivious to their daughter's affections. It truly was as though Tain were nearly invisible to them, a non-entity unworthy of any thought beyond the meeting of their needs and whims.

During the first week of the second month, the family took a short trip, leaving the servants behind at the bungalow. Although Tain enjoyed the unexpected leisure time and took advantage of the proximity to the beach, he found himself missing Mevla and wondering when she would return. He fantasized about figuring out a way to remove her from the family so that when the Order made its move, she wouldn't be directly affected. If he played it carefully enough, she may never even realize that he was the one responsible. The thought of her finding that out made him feel sick inside, but how to work it?

It was difficult to do it under the jealous and watchful eyes of Gural, but he managed to search the house thoroughly with the family gone. The only books he found were travelogues and holographic photo books of the rain forest and some of its more exotic plants and animals. He would have to wait until they returned to the city to tie up his investigation. For the first time since he joined the household, he wasn't looking forward to the end of the association. He had been warned repeatedly about making such attachments. He couldn't see how it was so awful, though. After all, weren't they managing to keep it a secret right under the Dumarras' noses? How much harder would it be to keep it from people who didn't know them at all? Not even the nosy eldest sister was any the wiser.

At the end of the week when he heard the hum of the shuttle, he felt his heartbeat and breath quickening. He had thought of her all week and could hardly wait to see her. He stepped onto the porch to await them, knowing they'd want him to unpack their bags. La'Hon joined him. Gural was nowhere to be seen, probably napping again.

Something was obviously wrong. When Mevla stepped from the shuttle, she didn't even look at him. Her eyes were swollen and red rimmed, although her face was dry. She walked with wooden steps. He didn't dare show a reaction. It didn't stop him from clenching inside. What had happened? None of the other Dumarras looked upset. The father looked a little grim, the mother a little tired, but beyond that, he couldn't figure it out. The oldest sister seemed somewhat sullen, perhaps, but that was common enough.

He and La'Hon unpacked their luggage and brought it inside. Tain took Dumarra's food order for the replicator for dinner. When it was time for all of them to eat, Mevla wasn't present at the table. Worry and curiosity both ate at Tain. He almost spilled hot tea on Dumarra's wife, apologizing profusely and accepting her verbal abuse without flinching or flaring.

When they finished eating, he asked Dumarra hesitantly, “Should I take a plate to your daughter?”

“No,” the patriarch snapped. “She can eat at the table with her family, or she can go hungry for the night.”

Tain inclined his head, not daring to say another word about it. He cleared the table after the meal and went through all of his chores on auto pilot. Why was she staying in her room like that? Didn't she know she was worrying him? Didn't she care?

He lingered in the front rooms as long as he could without raising suspicions before reluctantly retiring for bed for the night. Gural and La'Hon were already asleep. He didn't think he'd be nearly as lucky. He lay flat on his back staring upward into the blackness of the windowless room, for how long, he couldn't say. At first he thought he imagined a soft tapping at the door. It came again.

As quietly and carefully as he could, he made his way to the door, shuffling his feet so that he wouldn't accidentally kick one of the foot lockers on the way. He opened the door a crack and saw Mevla standing in the hallway in nothing but her sleeping shift. He swallowed thickly.

“Meet me outside,” she whispered, “behind the house.”

He didn't even think about his answer. “OK,” he whispered back.

The moon had waned down to a small sliver, close to the time known as the Blind Moon, when even sharp Cardassian eyes had trouble piercing the night shadows. He saw her as little more than a dark shape on the grass, only her white sleeping shift revealing her for what she was. “Hold me, Corbin,” she said in a broken voice.

He knelt next to her and gathered her into his arms. “What is it?” he murmured. “I've been going crazy ever since you got back. What has happened?”

“I've been promised in marriage,” she said, her throat clicking as it closed over the words.

“To whom?” he asked, feeling himself stiffen with indignation.

“That's the worst part,” she said miserably. “He's almost twice my age, a widower with three children. Father says it's a worthy m...match,” she said, breaking into tears. “I duh...don't want him. He's...he's awful. He just wants a muh...a mother for his kids.”

He tightened his hold on her, his mind racing. He wasn't without resources, nor was his family. However, if he let her know that, she would also then know he wasn't who he had said he was. Would she accept that he had lied to her? Knowing her, he believed the answer to that would be no. There had to be another way.

“Suh...say something,” she said.

“I don't want you marrying some old creep,” he whispered fiercely.

“It's not like I have a choice,” she said, her breath shuddering.

“You do,” he said. “We could...do you trust me?” he asked.

She drew back, trying to find his eyes in the dim light. “You know I do,” she said a little stronger than before.

“Then let me try to fix this. We'll have to get you out of here, though. You know the resort we passed on the way here?” She nodded, her hands tightening over his upper arms and her expression hopeful. “We'll have to get there first. We can leave during the Blind Moon. Nobody will see us then, even on the road. We can meet at the cave. I'll take some of your things there tonight.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You could be killed for this.”

“Let me worry about that,” he said, thinking that when he was done with her parents, there'd be nobody left to come after them.

“Corbin,” she said softly. “I...I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said, only slightly surprised to realize that he wasn't lying. He kissed her tenderly. “We only have to wait two days.”

“It'll be the longest two days of my life,” she said, resting her forehead against his.

He knew that if he could just get her to the resort, he could make some contacts, pull in a few favors owed him. He could then make her disappearance look like a suicide. Her family wouldn't have long to investigate the situation before he sent the Order in on them. Of course, keeping her existence secret from his cohorts would be more difficult. He believed that he could do it, though. He had been told ever since his first year at the Institute that he was brilliant, different from the rest. He believed he was confident, not arrogant, and that he could, would make this work.

When they went back to the porch, he waited while she got one small bag together. She brought it to him and kissed him again, more heatedly. Fueled by that fire, his feet veritably flew over the path and the sand. He made it to the cave and back to the house without anyone the wiser. The next two days were sheer torture. However, they passed, and at last, the night of the Blind Moon came. She said she'd go first. He was to meet her in the dark of the night when the tide was out, furthest from the shore.

Gural would get indigestion that night! The older servant tossed and turned on his cot, complaining and muttering. Tain considered suffocating him with his pillow, but the chance of La'Hon awakening was too great, and not even he had enough pull to hide an all out murder. Just when he thought it was hopeless, he heard the man's breathing even out and the snores begin. Like a flash, he was out of the bed, carrying his boots with him to the porch. He shook with nerves and excitement both, not allowing himself to relax at all until he reached the beach.

Each step away from the house saw his confidence grow. They had worked out the timing together. They should arrive at the resort before daylight broke. He could make his contacts and have them come for her then hire a shuttle to take him past the bungalow house so that no one would know his true destination. Vacation homes lined that beach, all spread from one another widely enough to allow privacy. He would set up the apparent suicide, her body supposedly consumed by one of the vast reptiles of the sea. She would be picked up the next evening, and they would rendezvous at a friend's house in Cardassia City.

The cave mouth was as dark as he imagined a black hole to be. “Mevla?” he called softly to her. “It's Corbin. Come on. It's time to go.” Ominous silence met his pronouncement. Concerned, he stepped closer. “Mevla?” he called more loudly. What if she had fallen on the rocks? What if, even now, she was lying there, able to hear him but unable to reply? He frowned and carefully crossed the cave threshold.

He heard phaser fire from behind him just as pain lanced through his entire body. He fell heavily to the sand, stunned and unconscious. When he awoke, he realized his hands were bound behind him, his arms curved back around the bole of a young tree. His legs were stretched out straight before him. A light shone directly in his eyes blinded him. “Who are you?” he demanded angrily. “What have you done to Mevla?”

Familiar laughter froze him. The light averted from his eyes. Blinking back white spots, he saw the young woman in question peering at him. “I'll ask the questions now,” she said coldly. “Who are you really?” she asked.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he said, feigning confusion.

She struck him across the face with the palm light. “Don't lie to me,” she growled. “Ever since you kissed me that first time, I knew you couldn't be what you said you were. No servant would ever be that stupid. Who sent you? The military? Intelligence?” He licked blood from the corner of his mouth and gave her a defiant stare. “Not that it matters,” she said bitterly. “I'm not going to give you the opportunity to hurt my family.”

He wiggled his hands. It was useless. He'd never work free of the binding in time to prevent her from doing whatever she wanted to do to him. “Well, if you want to stop me, you're going to have to kill me,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You think I won't?” she asked. Her voice remained cold, but he saw emotion flicker in her eyes.

“I love you,” he said, not having to feign that, even now. “Whatever else you may think about me, I want you to know that was real.” Of course, he spoke such things now to manipulate her despite his feelings. With his life at stake and his hands literally tied, it was all he had left.

“Damn you,” she said, straightening and shoving her hands back through her hair in a gesture he recognized as indecision. He didn't push his luck, staying silent and watching her hands. She pulled her phaser from its holster on her hip and aimed it at his chest. “Love is a weakness,” she said harshly.

“I know,” he said, nodding. He lifted his gaze from the phaser to her eyes. “Get it over with,” he said, resigned when he saw her expression. “It'll be easier for you if you don't think about it.”

Her lips twisted into a painful grimace. She made an adjustment to the setting of the phaser and leveled burning eyes on him. “I'm sorry,” she said, pulling the trigger.

He awoke to a stinging sensation. His mouth was dry, and sunlight filtered faintly through dense foliage. Looking down, he saw he was covered with insects, each about four centimeters long and a venomous looking red. They were eating him alive tiny bite by tiny bite. Sheer panic drove him well beyond normal strength. His wrists bloodied and raw, he finally snatched his hands free of their bindings and brushed the creatures from him. He stomped and stomped until every single one of them in his sight was pulp in the thick humus. Panting heavily, he passed a shaking hand over his face. It dawned on him that Mevla had shot him with the phaser on heavy stun, perhaps hoping some forest creature would finish him off before he awoke. So you really love me, too, after all, he thought a bit sadly.

He stayed where he was for the remainder of the day, thirsty, hot, and ill with insect venom but not daring to expose himself on the beach in case someone was waiting for him. When night fell, he darted out over the sand and splashed himself with salt water. It stung his bites dreadfully, but it also seemed to take some of the heat out of them. He swished the water around in his mouth as well and spit it out. Then he started walking.

No one at the resort questioned his cover story. Once he ditched the jacket, he didn't look so much like a servant in livery. He could be anyone who got lost hiking and then attacked by some of the dangerous rain forest dwellers. He contacted a friend and hired a room at the resort to rest for the day. By nightfall he had regained much of his strength and re-hydrated. His friend brought him a nondescript change of clothes, as he had requested. They drove through the night on the rural roads and arrived back in the city the following morning.

Even though it was a risk, he knew he had one final thing to do. He bade his friend farewell and hired a cab out to the manor house. He explained to the head that he had been fired, not offering any details, and claimed he had left a few belongings in the home. She insisted on accompanying him to the basement. Once they were in the bedroom, he swiftly turned on her and put her in a choke hold until she lost consciousness. Laying her gently on the bed, he closed the door behind him. He knew she shouldn't awaken until well after his departure if all went well. Taking a few breaths and calming himself, he retracted his energy, blended it with his surroundings.

Three servants passed right by him in the upper rooms of the manor and never even saw him. All he had to do was to be still while they passed him and keep his focus on disguising his presence. He located the books he came for behind a false panel in the massive library. He stuffed them in a sack he obtained from the kitchen and left boldly through the front door, getting into the cab and having the driver take him to the warehouse that sat atop his home node.

The Dumarras were arrested at the bungalow. Tain insisted on being present for the operation, looking each of them in the eyes as they were brought out. Of all of the family, only the youngest daughter and the twin boys were left alone. The boys wailed and clung to their sister, too young to understand what was going on and why they couldn't be with their mother anymore. The three eldest Dumarras looked black hatred at Tain, but Mevla's look, while incredibly sad, was also understanding.

“Love is a weakness,” he said to her, outwardly cold and inwardly dying.

“I know,” she said, bowing her head and allowing the security forces to load her into the transport without a fight. Even long after they had pulled away and everyone was back on the road toward Cardassia City, Tain heard the crying of the abandoned Dumarra children in his head and wondered if he would ever be free of it or of that most insidious of poisons, love.