1.
Panya bobbed in the ocean, miles from shore and perfectly calm. Streaks of green, red and brown striped her hair clumping in the water like seaweed. The woman in the boat who had promised to take Panya onto the boat for a ride was no where in sight and the boat was gradually going under the water.
Panya gurgled into the salt water. “The boat-lady lied.”
The boat kept sinking, but Panya watched unconcerned. She lifted her chin out of the brine when she saw a different lady covered in black kneeling in the water. A stream of red flowed behind her, damp, long, and brilliant. This lady, red-cloth lady, was prettier than the boat lady. Panya swam closer, her eyes so close to the water that foam clung to her eyebrow.
Waves lapped over the boat and a white flower floated past Panya’s face. Her eyes darted towards it, then her hand as she snapped the flower below the water to keep. After a few minutes she lifted the flower and began to push it into her knotted hair.
Panya watched as the water pulled around the ship. She had seen this before and was not alarmed. She smiled when the red-cloth lady began to dance. She was singing too, but the song stung Panya’s ears and was not as graceful as her waving arms. Panya worried when the woman disappeared below the waters. She was not wearing any gills.
As Panya dove under the waves her bare legs and brown flippers replaced the red and green hair. She swam beneath the waving currents of the surface until she could wrap her arms around the woman sliding into darkness. The red-cloth lady was heavy and her black skirts billowed like the fins of a delicate fish.
The red-cloth lady made an ugly gasping sound when she broke the surface and sagged back into Panya’s arms. Panya didn’t care about her ugly voice, she cradled her face out of the waves, amazed by the pale features. She pulled her own seaweed hair away from the woman’s face and stared at her as if seeing for the first time.
2.
“Hey, you over there.” Panya held the red-cloth lady tighter when she heard a man’s voice. She did not trust the fishermen, but this man was no fisherman. He was in an air machine and his mouth was dropped in surprise. “What the hell are you?”
“Panya.” She answered with a voice deep and smooth. “From Atlantis.”
Panya could not see his eyes because he was wearing dark glasses. He reached out his arms and commanded. “Give that girl to me.”
“No.” Panya protested, holding the woman closer and sinking far into the water. “Panya will keep red-cloth lady.”
The man reached out his hand. “Get her head out of the water! You want her to drown?”
Panya kicked her legs harder and pulled the red-cloth lady out of the water again. She looked at the woman’s dark clinging hair and brushed it away sadly. “Drown…”
She swam over to the edge of the air machine and lifted the woman out of the waves. His hands reached down and as Panya held her towards him he ripped the black cloth weighing down the red-cloth lady’s body. Before he could untie her cap, the woman moaned and Panya gasped and pulled her back. “Red-cloth lady is awake. Panya keep now.”
In the water, the black fabric fell away and left her body smooth and glistening in Panya’s arms. Panya lifted the edges of the red cloth around the pale body as if the sheen would burn her.
The man in the air machine said, “You can’t keep her. She’ll drown. She’s not… not like you.”
Panya considered and then lifted the limp body towards the man again, memorizing the curve of her spine. “When red-cloth lady is better, Panya can see her again?”
The man pulled the woman into the air machine and then panted and stared at the woman swimming before him. Panya narrowed her eyes distrusting the look of awe. “Man in air machine bring red-cloth lady back when she is better.”
The man pointed to the misty distance of the shore. “See that port over there. Meet me there tomorrow at this time.”
Panya nodded. “Panya wants to keep her. Man will bring her back?”
The man in the air machine laughed and shook his head amazed. “I’ll bring someone to help you. His name is Ice.”
She nodded again. “This is good. I will speak to Ice and he will help me keep red-cloth lady.”
Panya flipped away in the water, swimming deep. She touched the white flower in her hair to make sure she still had the pale reminder and she smiled at the amazing kindness of the land people.
3.
“When does Ice bring Sarah to see Panya?” Panya dropped the dice onto the sand next to her head, splashing the water at her elbow.
“I’ve already explained, Panya.” Ice leisurely sat in the shade of the craggily rocks, one hand draped over his raised knee. “She wouldn’t survive in the water. Just like you wouldn’t last out of it.”
Ice’s tone lightened. “And just like I won’t survive in this sun. Maloup. Will you bring that bag I packed? I left it under the seat.”
Panya looked over her shoulder at the man who drove the air machine. She wasn’t interested in his grumbling and turned back to the dice. “Sarah will love me.”
She rolled a two and a four and then clapped and pointed. “Look! Snake eyes.”
Ice regarded her roll and then said. “No, that’s a two, Panya. Snake eyes is two ones.”
Panya snorted, sweeping the dice back into her hands. “Sarah will still love Panya.”
When Maloup dropped the bag on the rocks next to him, Ice casually reached for a bottle of sun block inside. “I could bring you to her, I suppose. But no… never mind.”
Maloup had been stepping back towards the volex, but he hesitated to listen.
Panya was even more interested in the casual remark, jolting her naked torso out of the water, sliding on the mud. “How! Monsieur Ice have way for Panya leave water?”
Ice waved his hand, ushering her back. “Not yet. So go back in, Panya. You don’t want to dry up and burn.”
She slammed her hand on the stone. “Ice will say how.”
He did not say anything uncapping the bottle of sun screen and dropping it like an expensive cream into his hands.
Panya gurgled back to the water and muttered. “Please, Monsiuer Ice will say how?”
“Such a change won’t be easy. Going from a water person to a land person, is not easy.” Ice leisurely rubbed the sun screen over his hands, petting it against his cheeks as he spoke. “I’ve already had to make arrangements with Sorcier. He’s a very powerful man, but he’s also very dangerous. I wouldn’t want to work with him if I had the choice. He could get you settled on land. And, of course, there’s payment. Sorcier won’t make a change like that for free.”
Panya reached under the water and pulled out a plastic bag. “I do more swimming for you. I forgot to give today’s swimmings.”
Ice looked into the plastic bag at a handful of pearls, considerably more coins, and one beer can. He handed the bag to Maloup and said. “You could not swim for us if you were to live on land.”
Panya’s voice melted into the waves. “How pay?”
“Perhaps you could waitress.” Ice shrugged. “Do you sing by any chance?”
Against her dark smiling lips, her teeth looked like the pearls she had brought to him. She pulled her waist out of the water again. “Panya will sing for Ice. Ice will melt to hear Panya sing.”
The man straightened a bit curious if she realized her own wordplay. He decided that she did not and added cautiously. “And you have to make her love you. That’s part of the contract.”
“Or Panya goes home?” She wondered.
“No. You stay with Sorcier at La Masque. You can’t leave.” Ice reached into the bag, Maloup had brought over and pulled out a slender paper. “I have it all written here. Can you read English?”
“Better than Panya speak English.” She reached out her hand. She did not read too far before she said. “Give pen.”
Ice held out a pen. “Why don’t you consider it overnight and-”
“I want my Sarah.” Panya elbowed her way on shore. “Give me pen.”
Maloup leaned against the stone and muttered to Ice. “That was easier than you thought.”
Ice shifted his eyes to the tall man. “I never said it would be difficult for me.”
Panya signed the contract and climbed out of the water. “No one on land wears gills or fins.”
She pulled a scaly vest away from her neck and shoulders and threw it onto the rocks, then bent forward to pull at the brown flippers that clung to her ankles and feet. Ice picked them up and put them into his bag. “I’ll save these for you.”
“Panya notice boat lady, and Sarah, and Ice, and Mal-person all wear fabrics.” She crouched on the rocks, and struggled to stand. When she felt her feet firmly beneath her, she waved her hand commandingly. “Panya will take Mal-person’s for now.”
Maloup scoffed at the suggestion until the woman walked up to him, seeming very sure of her feet. She stood taller than him and was nearly as broad. She wasn’t prepared to back away from her request. “Panya will take Mal-person’s for now.”
Ice slung the bag over his shoulder and walked towards the volex. He patted Maloup’s shoulder as he passed. “I never said she wouldn’t be difficult for you.”
4.
Panya shivered at the cold air, still wearing the clothing she had taken from Maloup. She was humbled into silence by the tall rooms and glittering hallways, by the people dancing and talking, and mostly by the quiet surrounding the dark hall Ice had lead her too.
“Miss Huntington?” Ice knocked on one of the walls. “Sarah, are you in there?”
Sarah answered, muffled. “I’m in prayer, Gagé. Come back later.”
“Who is this Gagé?” Panya whispered.
“No one.” Ice scowled and then called back to the bodiless voice. “I brought you a roommate. Come meet her.”
“I’ll have no roommate.” Sarah replied, starkly. The lock on the door rattled.
“Ah, but she’ll have you; her first mistake.” Ice laughed. “We found her in the water. Praising no one for her rescue. A desperate optimist in need of conversion.”
“Gagé, stop trying to belittle my beliefs. “ The door opened. And there stood Sarah swathed in luxurious black cotton from her neck to her ankles. Her hair was unbound and her red cape hanging beside the door.
Panya swallowed her tongue when she saw her and stepped behind Ice as if the slight man could possibly hide her. She was far taller and broader than he and her shrinking body looked like a background for his pale distaining look.
Sarah nodded politely to Panya and held the door open wider. “Hello.”
“She won’t give you trouble.” Ice promised. “But try not to damage her. She is wonderfully happy as a heathen.”
Sarah stepped out of the doorway to allow Panya to shuffle through. “I’ll pray for her soul as I pray for yours, Gagé.”
Ice hummed and closed the door.
Panya took a seat on the floor, tired of standing. She crossed her legs, flapping her knees and getting used to the feeling of sitting. She smiled up at Sarah who had lifted a hand to her mouth and was studying her. “Are you really a heathen?”
Sarah seemed to like the idea, so Panya nodded.
“Come sit up here.” Sarah sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion as an instruction. “Tell me about yourself.”
“I am Panya.” She moved to the sofa, giggling when she sank into the cushion and pulling her knees against her chest and rocking from side to side. She remembered Ice’s advice and lied. “Panya is from the Caribbean Sectors. We grew coconuts.”
5.
Panya stared hard at herself in the mirror as she wrapped her costume, a sea-green piece of cloth, around her dark body. She had not covered her chest when the door to the dressing room opened. Panya glanced over, unflinchingly immodest as another performer entered. “Hallo, Monique.”
“My dear Panya, you’re positively naked.” Monique laughed, acknowledging her as the other performers did, by treating her like some oddly communicative pet. Monique swept by her to hang up her dark cloak. “You really ought to dress inside a booth.”
“More flowers come.” Panya nodded to the bouquet on the vanity. “Always people sending flowers to Monique. Why?”
Monique laughed at the question and stopped before a mirror to toss her curling blonde hair. “Because I’m irresistible.”
“People send flowers to show that they will not defend against you?” Panya recognized a lily in the bouquet and touched the petals.
Monique stepped before her to take the bouquet, the top of her head slightly below Panya’s shoulder. “My dear naïve Panya, men send flowers as a sign of their interest in doing battle with a woman. It’s a declaration of affection. Not one I have any intention of returning.”
“A declaration of affection?” Panya watched the lilies as Monique dropped the bouquet, vase and all, into the nearest garbage can. Panya held her costume at her waist and reached into the garbage to pick out a handful of the lilies. “So people gives flowers to people they love. Panya loves someone, so she gives someone flowers.”
“I should like to see the man who receives flowers from you, Panya.” Monique giggled and reached behind her to untie her corset. She struggled and waved Panya over to help. “If you want some flowers wait until after the show; you can take all you want. Now come help me out of this corset.”
Panya tucked the sarong in at the waist and came behind Monique to unlace the corset. Monique continued. “When a woman is in love, all she has to do is kiss the gentleman. If he kisses back, he’s in love… or at least interested.”
“Kiss the gentleman.” Panya’s brow furrowed with confusion. “Monique, please, explain gentleman, again? Is Sarah is like gentleman?”
“Oh that’s so much better!” Monique sighed the corset away. “Now what does Sarah have anything to do with anything. Oh that’s right. The withering plum is your roommate. She’ll have to deal with your gentleman callers, Panya. I’m sure she expected them.”
“Panya is confused. Doesn’t want gentle Man callers.”
“Well, gentle or not. What sort of men you want isn’t really my business, Panya dear.” Monique turned around the room, looking for something. “Where did I put my costume? Oh, I never brought it out, did I? How silly of me.”
Panya tried again. “Monique, a gentleman sends flowers to a lady.”
“Of course, they do. That’s where I get my flowers from, Panya. You’re talking in circles, dear.” Monique yanked her cloak back over her dress and held it tight over her loose underdress. “No one can tell I’m not wearing the corset can they? I must find my dress. We’ll talk after the show.”
Panya took Monique’s arm to stop her. “What happens if gentleman does not kiss back?”
Monique looked up into Panya’s eyes for a moment, her lips falling apart in a sort of daze. “You’re serious aren’t you? About this love thing?”
Panya nodded, gravely. “Panya is very serious and in love.”
“Well.” Monique glanced down Panya’s body, still naked except for the sarong that was slipping. “A woman like you might as well club him on the back of his head and drag him off. I mean it’s all a question of type, really.”
“A club on head?” Panya hummed in her throat. “That sounds hurtful.”
Monique corrected herself at once. “No. I didn’t mean to actually do that. Panya, my dear creature, you are very pretty and very… exotic. Any man who doesn’t kiss you back is a fool and you shouldn’t waste your time on him. After all, a person either loves you or they don’t. Simple.”
Panya worried when Monique hesitated and she didn’t know what ‘exotic’ meant. When Monique had bustled out the door again, the room seemed quiet and nervous. Panya looked back at the bouquet in the garbage and returned to picking out the lilies.
6.
“Panya brings Sarah flowers.” Panya swayed into their apartment. After the show, she had returned to the clothes she was comfortable in, the loose baggy kind, like Maloup wore, but she had not taken off the make-up because Ice told her the glitter made her pretty. “A declaration of affection.”
“Oh, how thoughtful.” Sarah looked up from the book she was reading, an ancient text about Christian Martyrs.
“They is lilies.” Panya sat down on the couch besides Sarah.
“My favorite flowers.” Sarah smiled and took the flowers Panya aggressively held out to her. Panya watched Sarah set the flowers into the stand beside her, dropping them into the vase with the same energy that Monique had used to throw her bouquet into the garbage.
Sarah said. “You’re a wonderful friend for bringing them.”
The couch squeaked as Panya fidgeted. She was going to kiss Sarah, she just didn’t know how. Panya leaned closer, withdrew again, raised her hands off her lap, and dropped them back again.
“Panya, darling, are you feeling ill?” Sarah noticed Panya’s unusual awkwardness and lifted her hand to Panya’s forehead to feel her temperature.
Panya resisted the mothering tone and took Sarah’s hand in her own. Sarah’s eyes, glazed from the reading, opened wider, her lips parted but spoke no words. Panya squeezed her hand tighter and closed the space between them.
The kiss felt almost accidental to Panya. She was reminded of suddenly discovering the surface of the water, when she thought she was swimming downward. Sarah’s lips, chapped with the taste of a colorless balm, were as sweet as the unexpected breath and felt welcoming. Panya sighed into the kiss, and still clutching Sarah’s fingers in her right hand, lowered her left hand down to Sarah’s waist. Sarah’s blouse felt deceptively cool, but when Panya slipped her hand beneath the cotton, Sarah’s skin was warm and seemed to reach back towards Panya’s searching fingers.
Sarah’s nails suddenly pierced into Panya’s hands and Sarah jolted away, standing, as if she had seen something dirty and wanted to leap onto the nearest chair to keep it from crawling on her shoe.
Panya sank when she saw Sarah’s dread.
They either love you or they don’t. That’s what Monique had said.
7.
“Panya what are you doing here?” Ice sat down beside Panya. Her large frame slumping over the counter made this bar the darkest in the low Parisian Sector.
“La Masque should carry Atlantis’ wine.” Panya tilted a tall vase of wine in one hand. Her face was drawn tight so the tears would not fall. “Sarah doesn’t love.”
Ice glanced away from her hardened jaw. “Oh… I see. Well, Sarah is a troubled individual.”
“Shut up, Ice.” Panya took a drink from the slender vase of wine and glared harder at the mirror stretching over the bar. “Ice hates Sarah. She is religion.”
Ice said nothing and the silence continued until Panya scowled. “Stupid differences in people up here. He, she. Tall, short. Womans are short and thinners and palers, yes?”
“Well…”Ice glanced at their reflections. “Not necessarily.”
“Panya is not much of a woman, but she is too much a woman for Sarah.” Panya’s long moan of anguish may have been a word in her language.
Ice averted his eyes. “Panya… there may be another way. Not for you and Sarah. But to get you home in Atlantis.”
Panya looked over at him, the tightness of pain relaxing slightly.
“When Sarah first came here, she witnessed a crime. We don’t think she’ll do much about reporting it and even if she did it’s not likely they could tie it to anyone, but Sorcier does not like chances.” Ice spoke carefully to make sure she understood. “Sorcier would be very grateful to anyone who removed that problem. He might even null your contract.”
“Sorcier wants Sarah to die?” Panya said.
Ice nodded. “He would null your contract if you killed her.”
Panya did not speak for a long moment. “Up here. People’s houses are broken into sections?”
“Do you mean the sectors?” Ice asked.
“Which sector is Sarah?” Panya nodded.
Ice shrugged and answered. “The Vatican.”
Panya drained the wine from her glass. “Sarah has fancy to make merry. Man she enslaved too.”
“I think you mean fiancé. “Ice corrected. “Marriage isn’t slavery.”
“It sounded like slavery.” Panya muttered. “This fiancé is in Vatican place?”
“Most likely.” Ice replied.
“Panya will bring him to Sarah and he will take her home.” Panya looked over at him and met his gaze. “Then Panya will come back to La Masque. And Panya will stay in La Masque. Like she said.”
Panya left the bar before Ice could offer any negotiation. He did not watch her leave.
8.
Ice rarely came to the shows in the Preferential Lounge. He trusted those girls to know their price and he was never disappointed by their performances. He sat at the table closet to the accompanist, a man of passing elegance who could play the omni-piano as if it were an entire orchestra. Ice did not speak to the musician until the instrument poured out a sound that reminded him of sailors, seas, and mysteries.
“Is Panya singing next?” Ice wondered, only able to see the half-naked girls in the wings huddling beneath the blue and white sheets that make up their costumes. “How has the audience liked her lately, Phillip?”
The man cast Ice a look that told him conversation with taxing to a musician at work. The dancers fluttered in shock when the music became simpler, a light-noted play on the melody that the girls had not practiced. The accompanist replied. “Her music has changed, but the audience likes her as much as ever. I never really liked abstract songs until I worked with Panya.”
Ice nodded indifferently. “Panya has that effect on people. She doesn’t even know it.”
Phillip noticed the man’s unusual pensiveness. “I liked it better when she sang happy songs.”
“We sing best what we know.” Ice shrugged and sat back when Phillip’s reply was to change the settings on the omni-piano and return the music to its swelling heights. The dancers were relieved and found their cues without difficulty, sweeping onto the stage in their white and blue sheets, emulating the shrinking swirl of the ocean.
Panya entered from the mid-center stage, a drifting siren draped in pearls and reeds. The tall dark woman belonged on a different stage, but this stage, even with all the frail dancers swirling around her, belonged to her. Her song was about loss, but the vocalizations were in a language that no one else in La Masque could speak.
But Ice, his hands folded and trembling on the table, heard every word.
