Chapter 1
“I apologize for the poor condition of our domus, Per Afrane.” Per Bolet, the inn’s owner, spoke in his most unctuous tone. “He’s original to the house, and we kept him for authenticity’s sake. But it’s so hard to find anyone who repairs these old androids.”
That was a lie, Dom thought as he hefted Per Afrane’s heavy suitcases out of the transfer pod parked in the courtyard. There were a lot of people on this moon who knew how to work on antique equipment, but because they charged more than Bolet was willing to pay, Dom had been gradually decaying. For now, most of the damage was cosmetic. But he was also slower and weaker, and his joints ached, and sooner or later he’d simply be too worn out to operate at all.
Per Afrane, her silver hair shining in the light of the twin suns, was an older woman whose maturity sat as comfortably on her as a ruler’s stole. She looked Dom up and down. “In my experience, a domus holds up quite well over time if he’s properly cared for.”
Bolet looked somewhat uncomfortable and gave a little sniff. “Well, we inherited this one when we purchased the property. Can’t be responsible for what previous owners have done.”
While not exactly a lie, it was a misdirection. Dom’s previous master had cared for him well—until the end, anyway—and it wasn’t until Bolet and his family took over that the neglect began in earnest.
“I certainly hope my rooms are in better condition,” said Per Afrane, looking at the grand structure in front of them.
“Oh, tip-top, I assure you.”
Only years of discipline prevented Dom from rolling his eyes.
The inn had once been among the finest houses in Mainport, but like Dom, it was showing the consequences of age, limited finances, and negligence. That wasn’t entirely Per Bolet’s fault. Dom’s previous master had lost a lot of money due to unwise investments, and afterward his health had suffered. Eventually his mind had weakened as well, and he’d let the house slip out of his hands for far less than it was worth. If he’d been stronger, he’d never have subjected Dom to Bolet and his family.
But here Dom was.
The pod hatch closed with a tiny whoosh, and the pod rose smoothly to cruising altitude. Within seconds it had disappeared behind the rooftops.
“Let me show you to your quarters.” Bolet gestured toward the front door.
They all set off, with Dom in the rear managing the luggage. Pers Afrane and Bolet walked side-by-side as Bolet droned on about the inn’s various amenities. He made them sound much more luxurious than they were, and Dom suspected from the set of Per Afrane’s shoulders that she knew it. She was doubtless accustomed to a much higher-class lodging. But she’d made her reservations late, when the fancy inns of Mainport were already booked solid. Dom had overheard one of Bolet’s sons comment that guests had come from as far as six worm-jumps away to attend the Betucom masquerade gala. Dom couldn’t fathom those kinds of distances.
When they reached Per Afrane’s suite, Dom set down the heavy bags with some relief. His shoulders and back ached, but he forced himself to stand straight as Afrane looked around.
“See?” said Bolet. “Deluxe accommodations.”
Per Afrane sniffed but didn’t say anything, apparently leading Bolet to conclude that she was satisfied enough. He rubbed his hands together. “Well, I must see about dinner arrangements. Please let the domus know if you need anything. He doesn’t look pretty, but he can handle whatever tasks you require.” He scurried out of the room, probably to go count the credits that Per Afrane had just shifted to his account.
While Dom stood silently, Per Afrane spent several minutes inspecting the rooms. She peered out windows and into cupboards and ran her finger along furniture tops and windowsills. Finally she turned and regarded Dom. “Well, once upon a time I suppose they were deluxe.”
For some odd reason, Dom was pleased to hear her say so. He gave her a small smile. “Yes, per. For several generations this suite was for the head of the family.”
The three spacious rooms—bedroom, sitting area, and bath—all had big windows overlooking what had once been lovely gardens but had more recently been paved over. The enormous shelving unit was made of real oak imported long ago from Old Earth. Per Bolet likely would have sold it if he could have removed it without damage.
“Everything is of the finest quality,” said Per Afrane. “Most people would consider it dated, I suppose, and it’s all a bit worn. But antiques have charm and character you’ll never find in newer things. And everything’s very clean. I’m assuming that’s your responsibility. Well done.”
At the praise, a warm feeling bloomed in Dom’s processors. “Thank you,” he said, ducking his head. “Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ve business to attend to before the gala and won’t be here much anyway.”
“Of course. Just call if you need anything.”
She tilted her head and looked at him carefully. “What’s your name?”
The circuits that permitted him to blush had failed long ago, but he could still feel shame. “I’m just the domus. Dom for short, if you like.”
“Well, that’s lacking in originality.”
He didn’t know how to respond. His original master had been a supremely practical man with little time to spend on household details and little interest in frivolities such as naming his household appliances. The subsequent masters—the original’s daughter and then grandson—had grown up referring to Dom as such, and it hadn’t occurred to them that he might be called anything else. Now and then Dom had thought about asking the grandson to give him a real name, but he’d never quite worked up the courage. And of course Per Bolet would be enraged if Dom raised the subject.
Per Afrane shocked Dom by taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I bet you have a lot of work to do, so I won’t keep you. Oh, but please tell Bolet I won’t be eating here tonight. Unless the food is very good?” She looked at Dom inquiringly.
Although he felt a bit treacherous, he gave his head a small shake. “Not really. My masters tend to buy cheap ingredients.” And demand that he make repetitive, uninspired meals from them.
She laughed, squeezed his hand again, and let it go. “I would have guessed as much. Thank you, dear.”
Dom left as she was starting to unpack. She was right—he did have a lot of work to do—but he dawdled as he made his way down the hall, allowing the sensation of Per Afrane’s small kindnesses to linger.
“That’s not the right one, you idiot!” Per Netra stomped her bare foot and hurled the necklace to the floor. The string broke, sending silvery beads rolling everywhere. “I said I wanted the long one with the multiple strands. The one you brought doesn’t look remotely right for the time period. Are your circuits too fried to know the difference?”
Dom gave a conciliatory little bow. “I apologize. I misunderstood. I’ll go fetch—”
“I’ll get it myself. You clean up this mess. I assume you can manage at least that much?” She marched out of the room imperiously, although she likely wished that she were wearing hard-soled shoes so as to make more noise.