Agent in Distress Ch. 01

Lana had a mischevous look on her face and she reached up and untied her bun, shaking her head to let her dark, silky hair fall down to her shoulders. "How is that?" she asked, giving the warrior a smile.

The look on his face was near comical, but he quickly recovered, giving her a smile. "Now that you've gone and done that . . . yes, you could pass for a Calambrian." He gave her a strange look. "You are certain you are not from Calambria?"

Lana laughed softly. "I'm quite sure."

He nodded, as if realizing how silly his question had been. He quickly changed the subject. "So, Miss Torina, are you a negotiator then?"


Lana was glad for the distraction as well. "Master Warrick," she answered diplomatically, "I am a Telepathic Arbiter. We are warriors and diplomats. We seek peace and harmony, both within ourselves and for the universe, but we are trained for combat, should the need arise."

"I'm afraid I do not know this word, Tele—" responded the huge warrior, looking puzzled.

"Telepathic," said Veers, interjecting. "They can move things with their mind, and use it to read the minds of others."

The warrior suddenly looked concerned, and Lana quickly raised her hands in a placating gesture.

"The ambassador listens to too many legends, I'm afraid," she said with a disarming smile. "We cannot read minds, we only sense things . . . deception for example. Or intent."

"I see!" said the muscled warrior. "So this is how you are able to fight a larger opponent, by sensing his moves before he makes them?"

Lana raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Why yes, sir, that is exactly right." She smiled sheepishly. "Some would call it cheating."

Warrick shook his head. "There is no cheating in combat. Any edge you can gain on your opponent you would be foolish to ignore." He showed no sign of condescension, and Lana looked at him. She'd underestimated the muscled warrior, he seemed intelligent as well as massive.

Warrick returned her smile, clearly pleased at something. "I must say, I am thrilled that the Alliance would send one of its legendary warriors to our small nation. And a woman. That will be most interesting!" he added, showing no sign he was mocking her. The warrior seemed genuinely excited to see a female warrior in action.

Or so she hoped. Her sense could usually tell her much about a man's sincerity, but for some reason, this warrior was completely unreadable. It happened sometimes - even with individuals with no telepathic ability. The mind was anything but predictable. The girl realized the powerful Warrick had expected some sort of answer from her, for he was frowning a bit. "Master Warrick, I--I am hardly deserving of comparison to our Elder Arbiters, but I will do everything I can do help you in your troubles."

Warrick nodded, bringing his hand to his chin. "You will excuse me, young Arbiter," he answered, appraising her. "My people are unaccustomed to seeing females . . . as warriors."

"Then how do you view women, Master Warrick?" said Lana, her curiosity piqued.

The warrior paused, as if sensing a trap. "As a gift from the gods," he said, recovering quickly. When Lana made a face, he winked at her, which only added to her confusion. Without her abilities to sense his thoughts, she was dying to know if he was mocking her.

Lana gave up and retreated. "So Dellune has no female warriors, I take it?"

Warrick laughed, a deep rumbling sound. "Oh yes, we do indeed. The Great Forest is home to a race of barbarian females, who have taken the lives of many men who underestimated them. They prefer the bow and arrow to the sword of course, but still they are fearsome warriors."

The Arbiter grinned in appreciation. "I would like to meet one of these warriors."

Warrick nodded, obviously expecting that answer. "It may cost me my life but I will try to arrange that," he said with a grin. Then he looked thoughtful. "So, you cannot read minds, but you can read people's intentions?"


Lana nodded. "Yes, if I look at your . . . well, someone's mind, I cannot see words, but more like images or emotions. The stronger the thought, the more easily I am able to interpret it."

She glanced to her side to see Max Veers fidgeting, and she was tempted to reach out to touch his mind, but Warrick was speaking again.

"I have an idea, if you will indulge me?" He was looking intently at Lana.

Suddenly Lamare, the administrator, spoke up in alarm. "Warrick, what are you intending?"

Warrick turned to look at him, his expression not as gentle as what he showed Lana. "Why not? She could be very useful for us." He turned to Lana again. "Milady, in a short while, we happen to be hosting a visit by a diplomat from our unfriendly neighbor to the south. Perhaps you could join us, and . . . interpret this man's intentions?"

Lana hesitated. It was all happening so quickly. Yet again, this is what she was trained for, so why not? "I would be happy to assist you in that manner," she said, forcing a smile to hide her slight anxiety. What if she failed, would they send her home?

"Excellent!" said Warrick, smiling at her. Then he thought for a moment. "Miss Torina, how close do you have to be to the target for this to work?"

"The closer I am the clearer the images," said Lana, impressed that the warrior had thought of the issue of range.

"Hmm, we'll have to get you to the table then," nodded the warrior.

Lamare, was frowning his disapproval. "Wait a minute," said the administrator. "We cannot just bring a female to the negotiating table. It would raise suspicion."

"I don't understand," said Lana.

Warrick sighed. "He is right of course. Perhaps it is different on your world, Lana, but on Dellune, we have no female diplomats. Meetings between nations are a strictly male affair." He looked at her, placing his hand to his chin in thought. "I don't suppose you have any experience serving tables?"

Lana perked up. "Well, I did used to work as a waitress, before the Institute . . ."

"Wait—ress?" said Warrick. "Is this like a serving wench?"

Lana giggled softly. "Umm . . . yes . . . I suppose it is."

Warrick nodded. "That might work, we will have you go in with the serving girls. It's entirely normal to have a couple of servants present in the room."

Ever the spoiler, Lamare protested again. "Look at her, Warrick, dressed in her cloak, hiding no doubt a manly tunic and pants, does she look like a serving wench?"

Warrick laughed. "No, of course not. Lana, would you mind if we dressed you appropriately?"

Lana felt her heart flutter. She felt comfortable and secure in her Arbiter's uniform, especially around these handsome, rather imposing males. But even where she came from, a waitress would never be dressed that way. "Uh, of course, that would be fine," she said, forcing another smile.

"Good," said Warrick. "Lamare, fetch Nika, will you? She can get Lana prepared, I must get ready myself."

Lamare grumbled something unintelligible, but he quickly turned and left through one of the doors, returning after a moment with a petite young woman trailing behind him. Lana was momentarily surprised to see that the dark-haired girl was dressed in what must have been a slave uniform - a low-cut thin tunic that only covered from the middle of her breasts to her navel, and a very short skirt that was barely decent. The girl rushed to her side.

"Lady Torina," she said in a low voice, as if afraid of being heard by the men. "Please follow me to the baths, we don't have much time."

Lana looked about the bathing room where the slave girl had led her. As befit a palace, the room was massive with a high domed ceiling, separated into smaller baths behind silk curtains. The main area contained benches and baskets for clothing, as well as a large pool of steaming water. The pretty girl directed her toward one of the curtained areas.

"Milady," said Nika, "this is a private bath, just for guests of his lordship. Please freshen up after your journey, but please hurry, we must prepare you for the negotiations."

Lana shook her head. "I don't need a bath, my journey consisted of sitting in a transport."

The girl looked agitated. "Milady, serving girls must look fresh for the guests. Please, I'm begging you . . ."

Lana looked at the girl. "What is your name?" she asked, quietly.

The girl answered shyly, "My name is Nika. Master Lamare assigned me to be your servant during your stay."

Lana frowned. She didn't want a servant, and she said so.

The slave girl looked agitated. "Milady, please, I must serve you, or I will be punished."

This didn't make the young Arbiter any happier, to think of this innocent girl getting punished, but she sighed and nodded.

"Ok, Nika, I will take a quick bath. But you are not my servant - think of yourself . . as my assistant during my stay." The girl beamed at her words and nodded. Her smile made her look even younger, and Lana guessed the girl had not passed her 20th year. Yet she had an unusually voluptuous body, with long, luxurious dark hair that came down in a braid to the middle of her back. Lana couldn't believe how revealing the girl's clothing was; she could never imagine wearing such a thing.

"Milady, please hurry," said the girl. "We must not keep my masters waiting."

Lana nodded with annoyance. Must not keep the men waiting, she thought, rolling her eyes in very un-Arbiter-like fashion. This planet could get tiresome quickly. The girl brought her some towels, which Lana found to be remarkably plush, as well as some soap and liquids in jars, which the girl said was to be used for her hair. Lana hesitated until the slave girl gently pushed her through the curtain. Inside was a small bench and table, and another curtain, which led to a small bath, big enough for two people.

Then the girl closed the curtain, saying she would return after Lana had bathed. Peeking through the curtain, Lana watched as the slave girl left the main room, and then she relaxed. The bath looked warm and inviting, and she was rather tired and stiff from sitting. She began to remove her Arbiter robes, placing them in the basket on the table, along with her shoes, the flat-soled type made of natural material that she preferred. Then she stripped off her tunic and pants, folding them neatly and placing them in the basket.

Finally, she removed the tight wrap about her chest that she always wore. Lana looked down at herself as her ample breasts all but sprang out of the confining wrap. She shook her head, for she sometimes envied the flat-chested Arbiters. She'd more than once considered having them reduced, but cosmetic surgery wasn't something Arbiters did, apparently. Arbiter training involved a lot of sparring and athletic maneuvers, meaning she was forced to wrap herself tightly so her breasts didn't get in the way. Even more important, she didn't want the male Arbiters to think of her as a woman, that would just mean extra meditation time to purify their thoughts, and she was sure her fellow students would resent her for that.

The wrap was uncomfortable, and removing it was always a welcome relief. She grinned to herself as she stretched and yawned. If the male Arbiters only knew what she really looked like. But she was careful never to venture out of her stateroom without her chest wrap and full robes.

Lana removed her underwear, and then noticed her reflection in one of several mirrors in the bathing room. She'd almost forgotten herself what she looked like. Back at the Institute, she didn't keep any mirrors in her quarters, nor did most of the Arbiters. Obsession with one's appearance often led to vanity, or jealousy, unbecoming of an Arbiter. Lana had forgotten how pleasing it was to see her naked form, and she felt the familiar pride rising as she posed, admiring her toned curves.

"Stop this, Lana," she murmured out loud, reluctantly drawing her eyes away and purging her mind of such thoughts. Her body had gotten her into enough trouble back at the Institute. With renewed focus, she stepped into the bath, and began washing herself. The bath felt wonderful, but she tried to hurry, thinking about the poor servant girl so fearful of being punished. When she was done, she stepped out, grabbing a towel to wrap around her hair, and a second to dry herself off. She was nearly finished when the curtain parted suddenly.

"Oh, pardon me, mistress," said Nika, seeing Lana clutching the towel to her chest in alarm. "I'm afraid we must go, please get dressed immediately!" The girl was clutching a small stack of clothing which she placed on a stool for Lana. Rather than leave as Lana expected, the girl remained standing there, expectantly. Lana wondered if it was customary in Dellune for women to go naked in front of other women. Or perhaps even in front of men? The thought gave her an unbidden thrill. In any case, she needed to start acclimating to the local culture, so she began toweling herself off, acutely aware of the slave girl watching her with interest, while pretending not to watch.

It was quite out of the ordinary for Lana to be naked before a stranger, even a woman, but she tried to put it out of her mind. As she bent over to dry her legs, she reached out with her mind to the slave girl, curious. Nika was projecting appreciation, and something else, a sort of kinship. Lana stood up and looked at the girl. "Is something wrong?" she asked suddenly.

Nika looked startled. "Oh no, mistress!" she assured her. Yet it seemed like she wanted to ask something. Finally, the slave girl was no longer able to contain herself. "Mistress, are you from Calambria, like me?"

So that was it, Lana thought. Nika was Calambrian. The dark hair, soft features, her demeanor, was as the men had described. Lana felt sorry to disappoint her.


"I'm afraid not, Nika," she said softly. "I may look like you, but I am from . . . another place."

"I understand, mistress, I am sorry," replied the girl, visibly disappointed. 

"It's alright, Nika," said Lana, reaching out to put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Are there few people from your homeland here?"

"Yes, I am the only one I know," said Nika with a sigh. "I was . . . sold, by my parents . . . to a trader who brought me here, when I was only a child."

Lana gasp, horrified. Who could do such a thing? "I'm so sorry, Nika," she said, truly sorry. "How . . . could they . . .?"

"I had four brothers and sisters, and I was the oldest. I volunteered, so my family could eat." The girl was looking down at her hands. "I am treated well here, but I miss them so much . . ."

Lana bent down and placed both hands on the girl's shoulders. "I have not seen my family in a long time, either," she said. "How about we be sisters?"

Nika looked up at her, her eyes misty but smiling. "I would like that very much, mistress."

Suddenly the girl frowned. "We must hurry mistress, please! The negotiations begin soon! Please, sit here and I will dry your hair."

Lana turned to sit on the stool, and the serving girl took the towel from Lana's head and began rubbing vigorously. When she was done drying, she applied some liquid to her hands and began arranging Lana's hair with great skill. When she was done, Lana looked in the mirror, her eyes widening. She'd never seen her hair look so beautiful, and sexy even. The slave girl could have made a fortune as a hair stylist back home.

"I'm sorry, mistress, if I had more time . . ." said the girl after a short while. "Quickly, let's get you into your serving outfit, I still have to give you a few lessons on serving!"

Lana stood, handing the girl the towel around her torso and reached for the stack of clothing on the stool, unfolding a simple but pretty white shift and tan skirt. She pulled the shift over her head, shimmying into it and pulling it down to her hips. It left her arms bare and fit snugly against her still damp skin, and it contained some stitching that provided support for her chest and formed a generous cleavage, for the men's pleasure no doubt. But unlike the slave girl's shift, it was thicker and not shear, for which Lana was grateful.

"Mistress!" said Nika suddenly, and Lana nearly jumped. The girl was staring at her hips, as if she'd just noticed something. Lana reflexively covered herself with her hands, but Nika shockingly reached out and pulled her hands away. "You are shorn of hair!" said the girl. "But you are not a slave?"

Lana pulled her hands away and covered herself again. "Nika!" she whispered. "It's not polite to stare!"

"Oh, pardon me, mistress," said the girl sheepishly. But she couldn't stop looking. "But I don't understand, only pleasure slave are shorn of hair. You are not a slave girl . . ."

Lana blushed. "No Nika, I haven't shaved. . . my race . . . I mean, my people . . . well, the women . . . don't have hair down there. Or much body hair at all." It was an embarrassing subject, and Lana couldn't believe she was discussing it.

"None of them?" said Nika, incredulous.

"Well, many do, on my world," said Lana, still embarrassed. "Just not my people, you know?"

Nika finally smiled. "I understand, your people, who look like my people. We are sisters, after all, then! Please, mistress, put these on." The girl handed her a small white triangle of soft linen with a string attached. "Here, let me show you."

Lana was glad to move on from the subject of her private parts, so she let the girl help her into what were a form of panties, only instead of elastic material, it used a soft string to tie off on one hip. It was quite comfortable, if skimpy. Then Nika handed her the skirt, which she stepped into and pulled up over her hips. Once tied on at the hip as well, the skirt fell almost to her knees. Grateful that Nika's world didn't seem to have high heels, she put on the pair of sandals that Nika provided and stood up, adjusting her skirt, and arranging her hair and clothing in the mirror.

"Good, we are ready," declared Nika, "please follow me!"

Nika grabbed her hand and led her out of the changing area and down a maze of hallways dimly lit by the fire of sconces until finally they reached what looked like a kitchen. "Mistress, the meeting has started already, so I am to send you in through the kitchen. Warrick wants you to bring wine to the table, and speak to him discretely when you are doing so. I don't understand, but those were his words."

"I understand, Nika," said Lana, squeezing her hand. The girl smiled and brought her through the kitchen. They passed several cooks, cutting slices from a large roast animal with a horned snout and curly tail. The hectic but orderly atmosphere instantly reminded her of her waitressing days. Further in, Lana spotted a serving girl in the same outfit she wore, carrying a pitcher through an open doorway. Nika stopped and pulled Lana into an empty storage room, then closed the door.

"Mistress," she said, "here is what you will do. Your job will be to make sure the men's wine goblets are full, we'll leave the serving of food to the other girls. While you are not serving, you will sit on a square cushion, waiting for the men to signal you. Watch carefully, if they have to signal you twice they'll get annoyed." Nika pulled a red cushion off of a shelf and placed it on the floor of the storage room. "Here, I will teach you how to sit."

Lana sat down, tucking her legs underneath her as Nika instructed, so that she was kneeling, resting on her heels. "Keep your thighs together," Nika was saying, "and your back straight, yes, that's right. You will have a pitcher, you can place it on the floor next to you, and place your hands here, yes, like that." Nika stepped back to look at Lana, then smiled. "Yes, you look perfect. Ok, let's go! And mistress, try not to speak, but if they speak to you, answer 'yes, master' and 'no, master', okay?"