chapter 61

 

 

Aldirk strode across the Redmoon Base landing pad with Head Guardian Gehrain, thinking to himself that it felt quite a bit different than his early morning arrival. Then he’d been irritated with his abrupt summons, the lack of explanation and the uncomfortable flight; now he was a member of a very small and trusted team charged with a task of planetary importance. He was still reeling over the idea of a coup being planned right under his nose, but his discreet inquiries of the last hantick had uncovered more of an association between Parser and Shantu than anyone would have suspected. Different people had heard or seen different things, which meant little by themselves but which formed something quite a bit larger when added together. He’d called the Lancer as soon as he’d completed his last inquiry, catching her on her flight in from the healing center. She’d listened with a growing thundercloud on her face, and when he was done she’d asked him to join her, Raiz Opah and Gehrain for her call to Colonel Razine.

They walked up the ramp and into the long-distance transport, where Gehrain stood aside and motioned for Aldirk to precede him to the Lancer’s private cabin. Another difference from the morning. The door stood open; Lancer Tal and Raiz Opah were waiting on the far side of the conference table. Gehrain closed the door behind them and took the seat beside Aldirk.

“Are we ready?” The Lancer looked across the table at them.

Gehrain nodded. Aldirk said, “Yes, but before we start may I congratulate Raiz Opah? I saw your media conference on one of the local stations. Very well done, I must say. I think you gave the world something to talk about. Our new Bondlancer is clearly not going to be a meek and quiet arm ornament for the Lancer.”

Lancer Tal smiled. “ ‘Arm ornament’ is not the first thing anyone would imagine when they think of Salomen.”

Raiz Opah turned her head to smile at her bondmate, and Aldirk’s eyes widened as he saw the marks on her neck. A closer look at the Lancer revealed a similar, smaller mark on her own neck. He was certain it hadn’t been there this morning. Goddess above, when had they found the time? The woman really didn’t sleep. And judging by the size of the marks on Opah, she was an aggressive lover. He felt an embarrassed flush; that really wasn’t something he wanted to know.

“Thank you, Counselor,” said Opah. “I admit to being a bit nervous. But it’s really no different from addressing a Caste House meeting. In fact, they were a lot less combative than a roomful of producers.”

Aldirk couldn’t imagine a roomful of producers, but he’d take her word for it. “Then it sounds as if your Caste House meetings were excellent practice. I’ll enjoy watching your first Blacksun conference. I’d lay odds that the journalists there will be a lot more careful, having seen your performance here.”

“I look forward to it as well,” said the Lancer. “But we’ve got a little matter of a coup to deal with at the moment. Shall we?” She pressed a recessed control, activating the vidcom unit, and everyone turned to face the screen.

It took almost no time for Colonel Razine to appear; clearly she’d been prepared for the call. She took in the group at a glance and said, “Ah, you’ve already established Chief Counselor Aldirk’s loyalty. If you hadn’t I was looking forward to giving you at least that bit of good news.”

“That doesn’t augur well for the rest of it,” said the Lancer.

“That depends on what you hoped to gain from the extraction session.”

Aldirk concealed a shudder at her casual use of the phrase. He knew there was a need for people like the Colonel and her staff, but he preferred not to think about it. What went on behind the doors of the AIF office was better left unexamined.

“I’d hoped to gain enough information to cut Shantu’s feet out from under him,” said Lancer Tal.

The Colonel shook her head. “Then I won’t be able to give you good news. Parser doesn’t know what Shantu’s plans are. He was assured that in a worst-case scenario, if they lost their leverage with Herot Opah and could not pursue Parser’s alternative, Shantu would have an effective back-up plan. Beyond that he knows no details because he instructed Shantu to tell him nothing. It appears he anticipated that you might call his hand, Lancer. He’s carefully divided his resources so that if he were pulled off the game board, Shantu would still be a player.”

“That sounds like something he’d say.” The Lancer sighed. “Well, what do we know?”

“We know how he learned so much about your associations with the members of the Opah family.” Razine glanced at Raiz Opah. “I’m sorry, but this will probably be difficult for you to hear.”

Opah shook her head. “I can already tell it’s about Herot. Go on.”

“Parser had a Granelle merchant on his payroll as an informer. The merchant made a habit of frequenting The Harvester.”

“That’s the most disreputable tavern in Granelle,” said Raiz Opah resignedly. “The one where Herot went almost every night.”

“Which is precisely why Parser’s informer went there. He simply sat and drank and listened, and he collected a good deal of information. Your brother was not quiet when complaining about the Lancer’s presence on his holding.”

“Hol-Opah is not Herot’s holding,” growled Opah. “It’s mine.”

Aldirk looked at her in surprise; he’d never heard that tone of voice from her before.

“I understand that,” said Colonel Razine. “My apologies; I was quoting Parser.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Opah waved her hand. “I’m a little on edge about Herot. Please continue.”

Razine nodded. “It was through Herot’s conversations with his friends, mostly Cullom Bilsner, that Parser learned about the Lancer’s affection for Jaros. He knew that the Lancer pulled Herot off Jaros in a fight one morning and gave him a lesson in courtesy. Of course, Herot’s version of that was probably somewhat skewed. He also knew that Jaros walked to and from school every day at the same time, unaccompanied; and he knew all about Lancer Tal defending Jaros against the three boys who bullied him. The fact that she went so far as to take those boys to the pit for a lesson of their own is what cemented Parser’s initial choice. He planned to have Jaros kidnapped while the boy was walking home from school, knowing that Shantu’s mercenaries could be far from Granelle by the time Jaros was missed at the holding.”

Opah gave a perceptible shudder and crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her upper arms tightly. Behind her, the Lancer reached over and rested a hand on shoulder.

“He was a smart man,” she said. “For the first time I think I’m actually glad about that assassination attempt. That was what put Herot in Parser’s sights instead of Jaros.”

“Precisely. Parser saw at a glance that Herot could be your political downfall. He had his network looking for him from the moment the assassination attempt hit the news. I think it’s something of a testament to Herot that he managed to avoid Parser’s net as long as he did.” Razine cleared her throat. “We learned something rather…unexpected about that attempt. It appears that Cullom Bilsner had a little encouragement.”

“Don’t tell me,” said the Lancer. “Parser was behind that?”

“His informer was. Though Cullom certainly had the anger and the lack of clear thinking that made him believe it was even possible, we may never know whether he would have actually had the horns to take action on his own. It turns out that Parser’s informer occasionally sat with Cullom after Herot went home, feeding his anger and delusions and encouraging him to do something with them.”

“Too bad for Cullom that won’t affect his sentence. I assume you’re looking for this informer?”

“We are. He’s gone underground, of course. Everyone in Granelle believes he took a vacation in northern Pallea. But we know everything about him; he shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“What is his name, Colonel?” asked Opah.

“Reese Nessil Withernet.”

“Fahla.” Opah’s posture slumped. “He owns one of the equipment stores in town. We did business with him. I saw him just two ninedays ago. And all this time he was betraying us?” Her voice rose at the end.

“The betrayals just keep adding up,” said the Lancer grimly. “He’ll pay for it, Salomen.”

“He’d better pay dearly! How dare he?” Opah demanded. “How much did it take to buy his family name and honor? Did it ever occur to him that people might die because of him? His family won’t be able to hold their heads up in town. Herot may have smeared the Opah name, but at least he didn’t do it for pay.”

Razine looked uncomfortable at this outburst, and Lancer Tal smoothly put them back on track. “Was Withernet acting on his own when he encouraged Bilsner? Or was he acting on Parser’s orders?”

“On his own. He apparently shared the economist consortium’s opinions regarding the danger of implementing the replicators, and saw an opportunity to do something about it without getting his hands dirty. He also thought it might earn him a bonus from Parser. But Parser was furious about it.”

“Parser told me he didn’t want a new Lancer. He had the trap all set and didn’t want to have to do it all over again with someone else.”

“That was half of the truth,” said Razine. “He would have preferred to have you under his control and be done with it, and he was reasonably sure that his initial trap would work. He was more certain that even if it didn’t, if you were actually willing to fight it out with him in the public arena, a subsequent warning delivered via Jaros would be sufficient. That warning would not have been a mere ransoming but a contract killing, made to look like an accident.”

A blast of rage hit Aldirk’s senses, and he saw the Lancer lean toward Opah. “Salomen,” she whispered, and a moment later the emotion was cut off.

“Please tell me that extraction process hurts,” said Opah in a voice Aldirk would not have recognized. “I want to know.”

“That depends on how much empathic force is required for the desired results,” said Razine. “Lead Merchant Parser was very determined to resist. He is now recovering in the healing unit on base.”

Aldirk felt a shiver go down his spine, but all Opah said was, “Good.”

“What was the other half of the truth, Colonel?” asked the Lancer.

“One moment, please,” said Razine, taking a quick sip from a glass of water. Her hand shook ever so slightly, but Aldirk saw it and stared in gruesome fascination. He knew that tremor came from the extreme energy output required for empathic force, which meant Razine herself had done the extraction. Glancing from her shaking hand to her calm, stern face, he marveled at the kind of mentality a warrior must have to perpetrate so much harm on another being—and then go about her business with such a matter-of-fact attitude.

He was very, very glad to be on the right side of these people.

Razine put her glass down and said, “Parser knew there was a good chance that you could not be controlled, so he was simultaneously working toward putting Shantu in power. Shantu had no idea of Parser’s true corruption, but he was certainly amenable to the idea of taking the title and putting an end to your implementation plan for the replicators. Apparently he never stopped to consider that his direct involvement in the kidnapping and murder of a civilian—as well as several warriors, if the explosives had been used—was the very thing that would give Parser an unbreakable hold on him. He simply saw it as a necessary means to the noble end of saving Alsea from your misguided policies, and Parser played on that.”

Lancer Tal shook her head. “So he made Shantu his insurance policy by virtue of his involvement. I hate to admit it, but it was an elegant plan.”

“I don’t find it elegant at all,” said Opah. “That man is a heartless monster.”

“For him it’s just business.” The Lancer looked back at Razine. “If I hadn’t cooperated, Herot would have turned up dead, my Guards and I would have been implicated, and Shantu could have risen up as the righteous warrior who would sweep the corruption out of the State House. I’d have been fighting both him and Parser, and the warrior caste would almost certainly have swung behind Shantu if my reputation had been destroyed.”

“Precisely,” said Razine. “Parser had every possible path covered. He got his desired outcome whether you cooperated or not:  a Lancer who was under his thumb.”

“What a master manipulator,” said the Lancer. “No wonder he was so furious about the assassination attempt. If I’d died, Shantu could simply have stepped into the title and Parser would have had no hold on him. All that planning for nought.”

Razine nodded. “The explosives were his idea as well. He had great respect for your skills, Lancer Tal. He could barely credit the thought that you might actually find Herot, but he planned a way to turn it to his advantage just in case.”

“And if the alarm had been raised just two ticks earlier, that plan would have worked. Did you find out who owned the house?”

“Parser used one of his illegal enterprises to funnel cinteks to a representative who purchased the home for Shantu,” said Razine. “No financial trail to either of them, and Parser never knew its location.”

The Lancer took a deep breath. “Well, we can only hope that Shantu isn’t as good as Parser. Do you have any idea at all what he might be planning?”

“None. I’m sorry, Lancer, but I pressed particularly hard on that one. Parser simply doesn’t know. He didn’t want to.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room, and the Lancer turned to face Aldirk and Gehrain. “Any ideas you might have would be welcome. The only thing I can think is that it must have something to do with the replicators. That’s my only political vulnerability, now that we have Herot. But I just don’t see what he can do with it—I have public opinion firmly on my side.”

“Not all of it,” said Aldirk, and was instantly pinned by an intense gaze.

“What are you thinking?”

“You have the majority of the public on your side, yes. But the economic consortium’s statement had a powerful impact. There were dissenters before that came out, and there were more after. They’re a minority, but they’re a frightened and less educated minority. Those are the very people who are most easily swayed by simple rhetoric, which is what Shantu will offer.”

“That’s a good guess. But Shantu is in no place to be offering any rhetoric at all; he’s now a wanted criminal. I don’t think that figured into his plan. So how will he reach those people?”

“By privately reaching the Councilors who agree with them,” said Aldirk, and she nodded.

“You’re right. That’s the only route he has left.”

“He already has two Councilors on his side,” said Razine, and the Lancer turned back.

“Who?”

“Zalringer and Denson. Parser did know that much.”

“Not surprising,” said Aldirk. “Those are his two closest cronies on the Council. They would agree with him if he proposed changing the warrior caste color to purple.”

The Lancer was nodding. “I would have guessed those names as well; they don’t really help us. What we need to know is, which of the other Councilors might be in agreement with Shantu? Are there enough for him to make a stand?”

A discussion of the likely loyalties of the warrior Councilors ensued, with Gehrain and Opah staying quiet as the others tossed out names, political histories and voting records, and debated the strengths of each Councilor’s beliefs. Aldirk was keeping track on his reader card, and by the end of a hantick they had as clear a picture as they were likely to get with their current information. To go any deeper, he would have to put his information network in high gear.

When they had recorded the last name on his list, they had seven Councilors likely to join Shantu, thirteen considered completely loyal to both Lancer Tal and the replicator plan, and nine whose loyalties might be swayed regarding one or the other.

“It seems to me,” said the Lancer, “that the one thing Shantu needs more than any other is time. It takes time to line up loyalties, and he couldn’t start that process earlier without word getting to me. He had to wait for Parser’s plan to play itself out. If we hold an emergency Council meeting and share everything we know, including Herot’s testimony, we’ll almost certainly bring several of these nine to our side. And we only need three of them to break Shantu’s chance at a majority vote. Without that he’ll have a very hard time convincing the warrior caste, particularly given the charges against him.”

“Tomorrow is too soon,” said Aldirk. “Some of the Councilors need time to travel to Blacksun. The day after tomorrow will be the soonest we could do it.”

The room was quiet for a few pipticks as the Lancer considered.

“Tell your office to make the calls, Aldirk,” she said. “We’re heading back to Blacksun as soon as Healer Graystone will let us move Colonel Micah. And give me a list of calls to make to start rounding up our support. You and I can divide that between us.”

The meeting broke up soon after, with the Lancer thanking Aldirk and Gehrain for their time. She and Raiz Opah stayed to speak further with Razine—probably about Herot, Aldirk guessed—and Gehrain followed him down the corridor.

“Chief Counselor, a moment?”

Aldirk turned at the transport door. “Yes?”

The Head Guardian looked uncomfortable. “If Colonel Micah were here, would he have contributed to that discussion? Does he know the politics and history of the Councilors the way you and Colonel Razine and Lancer Tal do?”

Not nearly the way I do, was Aldirk’s first thought, but then he reminded himself where the colonel was at the moment. It was one thing to denigrate him while he was healthy and capable of fighting back; it was something else when he was injured and unconscious.

“He knows quite a bit, yes,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because all the time I was sitting in there with nothing to offer, I was thinking about how much I’d have to learn to fill the Colonel’s position.” Gehrain looked at him with clear gray eyes. “I pray it doesn’t come to that, but I may be knocking on your door someday for a few lessons.”

Aldirk stared at him. Until that moment, he hadn’t consciously considered the possibility of Colonel Micah actually Returning. Certainly he knew the details of his injuries and the ongoing effort to bring him back, but Shantu’s treachery had occupied all of his attention since his arrival. He simply hadn’t had time to think about it. Now he looked at the man who might become Chief Guardian, and knew without a doubt that for all his determination and effort, Gehrain would still need several cycles to come up to the Colonel’s level.

“If it does come to that, you’re welcome to knock on my door,” he said.

“Thank you.” Gehrain nodded courteously, stepped out the door and started down the ramp. Aldirk stared after him with a vague sense of disappointment, as if something were missing. A moment later he realized what it was: he’d been half-expecting the Head Guardian to make a snarky comment before leaving. Colonel Micah would have, and Aldirk had come to expect it after all these cycles. But Gehrain was so…earnest, and so damned young. For a moment, Aldirk found himself wishing for a little of Micah’s sarcasm and gamesmanship.

Just for a moment.

 

 

-----

 

 

As soon as the door closed behind Aldirk and Gehrain, Tal looked back at Razine. “I know you could use a rest, Colonel, so I won’t keep you much longer. There’s just one more thing I wanted to know.”

Razine took another sip of water, and Tal noted that her hands were still a little shaky. It had clearly been a long and arduous session.

“I can guess what you’re going to ask, and the answer is yes. It was personal.”

Salomen looked back at Tal with a furrowed brow. “What was personal?”

“Parser’s plan,” said Tal. “When the colonel said he would have gotten his desired outcome whether I cooperated or not, she wasn’t telling all of it. I asked her to keep that part private.”

“At the Lancer’s request I asked Parser specifically about his personal objectives,” said Razine. “It’s true that his main objective was a Lancer under his thumb. But he certainly had a preference as to which Lancer it would be. He wanted Lancer Tal in his power.”

“But why her in particular?”

“Was it really because of the Redmoon disaster?” asked Tal, and Razine nodded.

“That’s where it began. Ironically, it was because Parser assumed you knew more than you did. When you singled him out in front of the entire Council and ordered him to control the corruption in his caste, he thought you were sending a message to him personally. He already had half a dozen enterprises going by then, though none of them had anything to do with providing materials for the nuclear facility. So he assumed that you were warning him of his ruin unless he acted against his own caste.”

“He thought it was political blackmail?” asked Tal incredulously.

“Well, it was, actually,” Razine pointed out. “You threatened him with legislation against the warrior caste if they didn’t come up with a plan on their own. But yes, he thought it was personal blackmail.”

“He weighed your grain by his own half bin,” said Salomen. Both Tal and Razine looked at her in confusion.

“I haven’t heard that one,” said Tal.

“You’re not a producer. It refers to someone who puts a false bottom and a weight in a bin, then sells it as a full bin of grain. Anyone who cheats that way will assume others are cheating, too. Parser doesn’t deal fairly, so he assumed you weren’t either.”

“Then he realized that you didn’t know of his activities,” said Razine. “And for reasons I still don’t fully understand, that made him even angrier. He hated your ethics, and the fact that you would judge his lack of them so harshly.”

“So instead of cleaning up his own code of honor, he decided to bring mine down to his level.”

“And provide long-term security to his network at the same time,” added Razine. “Which of course had grown tremendously due to the very task force you’d ordered him to help create.”

“Fahla.” Tal shook her head. “What a mess. And I was oblivious. The only reason I found any of this out was because Parser finally made an enemy who was willing to talk.”

“Because he lost his entire business to Parser,” said Razine. “It was Parser’s idea to infiltrate Dunvall’s smuggling ring with a man of his own and plant the idea of recruiting Sensoral Institute students. He knew that would bring you running.”

“He was right,” said Tal, remembering how furious she’d been at learning of the student recruitment. “And I took out the entire ring, except for his man, and left him free to take over the business. Damn it!” She slapped the table. “I feel like a shekking tile. Parser played me wherever he wanted.”

Salomen slid her hand over Tal’s. “Parser’s in prison now,” she reminded her. “His plan failed. And Shantu will fail as well. It’s over, Andira.”

“I wish I had your confidence. It’s not over until Shantu shares Parser’s cell and I have the assured loyalty of my caste. Right now I’m too jumpy to assume anything. And I still have a nagging feeling that Shantu has more up his sleeve than I can see.”

“Perhaps you’ll see it better when you’re not so tired.”

Tal sighed. “Perhaps.” She looked up at Razine, whose own exhaustion was all too evident. “Perhaps we all need to take a break and look at this again when we’re more fresh. Colonel, I know you were up late last night and early this morning. Take the rest of the afternoon off.”

“Lancer Tal, this is hardly the time—”

“This is precisely the time when I need you at your best,” Tal interrupted. “Get some rest. That’s an order.”

Razine gave her a tiny smile. “I suppose I could use a nap.”

“You and me both. Thank you, Colonel. You’ve been invaluable these last few days.”

“It’s my duty and my honor.” The Colonel wished them a good afternoon and signed off, leaving the room in a silence that felt anything but soothing to Tal. She met Salomen’s eyes.

“Will the Lancer obey her own order?” asked Salomen.

“I’m not sure I can. I’m too wired and too worried.”

Salomen nodded. “Then maybe you should come with me to our quarters and let me try to relax you.”

“Tyrina, I don’t think—”

“That’s not what I meant. There are other ways to relax, you know. Or is that something I need to teach you?”

Tal pretended to consider it. “I’m willing to learn.”

“Good.” Salomen rose, tugging Tal up with her. “Because I’m an excellent instructor.”

Tal followed her out, thinking about instructors, which made her think about Micah, which wasn’t the best of ideas at the moment. Her worry for him, always active in the background, quickly came to the front and expanded until it overwhelmed everything else. It was so horribly unfair that he should be gone now, when she needed him so much.

“By the way, we still need to send Aldirk in to Share with Micah,” said Salomen.

The very thought of it lifted some of the clouds in Tal’s head. “It might be worth suggesting, just to see the look on his face,” she said as they stepped off the ramp.

“Whose face, Aldirk’s or Micah’s?”

Tal reached out for her hand and held it tightly. “Thank you,” she said.

Salomen glanced over and smiled, her understanding clear to Tal’s senses. Hand in hand, they walked across the landing pad, while behind them the two Guards at the base of the ramp fastened their coats against the late morning breeze.

 

 

 

 

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chapter 62

 

 

Vellmar thought the scene looked eerily familiar as Colonel Micah’s stretcher was brought into the transport and locked into the equipment rack. But this time there was no blood, no oxygenator and no pressure sack, and Lancer Tal looked rested and in control as she spoke to the healer.

Graystone hadn’t approved Micah’s move until this morning. They’d spent the remainder of yesterday continuing the Sharing rotation, and Vellmar had taken part twice more before giving up and returning to base early in the evening. She’d slept for eight straight hanticks, making up for the night before, and by the looks of her warriors they’d all done the same.

This time she was sitting in the front row, having no need for a quiet space to prepare for a mission. She was also feeling a great deal more confident about her role, and less inclined to remove herself from the group. Over the last three days these women and men had become her Guards, her unit, and she knew she’d already earned their respect. It was a tricky thing to come into an established unit and replace a well-liked commanding officer, but their mission had given her the opportunity to pack three moons’ worth of proving herself into a single day. Thank Fahla she hadn’t blown it.

She hoped she’d earned the Lancer’s respect as well. Most of the time she felt positive about it, but Lancer Tal had a front like a stone wall, and her face didn’t give much away either. Except when she looked at Colonel Micah or Raiz Opah. Especially Raiz Opah; anyone with eyes could see how the Lancer felt about her. Sometimes Vellmar wondered what it would feel like to have a woman look at her that way—a woman she admired and respected as much as she did the Lancer. Perhaps someday she would find out. At any rate, there was a far better chance of that in Blacksun than there had ever been in Koneza.

A large body crossed her line of vision, and a moment later Senshalon sat next to her.

“Every time I see him, I expect him to open his eyes,” he said, looking for the straps to his harness.

“I know. Me too.” Vellmar watched Senshalon struggling, and finally knocked his hands away. “How do you even function without normal-sized people to help you with things like this?” she asked, locating his strap ends and handing them to him.

“That’s why Fahla made small people like you.” He flashed her a smile as he attached the harness.

“I am not small.” Vellmar towered above every other Guard except Gehrain and Senshalon, and her height was something she’d always been a tiny bit vain about.

“You are compared to me.”

There wasn’t much she could say to that, so she contented herself with popping open one of his harness buckles.

“Why you—”

“You’re not about to say anything you might regret, I hope.”

He glared at her, but the expression soon gave way to an open grin. “No, Lead Guard.”

“Good.” She smiled back, but was distracted by the sight of the healer taking his own seat, as near to the Colonel as he could get. The Lancer turned and vanished into the fore corridor, no doubt to spend the flight in her private cabin with Raiz Opah. A moment later the engines spun up to full strength, and she felt the slight jar of the transport lifting off.

“It’s good to see her back to normal,” said Senshalon in an undertone. “The Colonel’s injury hit her hard.”

“I think it hit everyone hard.”

“Oh, it did. But you didn’t see her in that basement. Dewar said she looked absolutely lost. And when I saw her a few ticks later, she still seemed like someone had kicked all the fight out of her. I’ve never seen her like that, and I never want to again.”

“You really respect her, don’t you?” she asked curiously.

“Of course! Don’t you?”

“Are you joking? I would have given up my salary for the opportunity to work with her. For that matter, I’d have paid to do it. It’s just that…” She paused, trying to think of a way to put it. “I’ve never been in a unit before where the directing officer was so…familiar with her warriors. She doesn’t keep the kind of distance I would have expected.”

“Maybe not with you. She treats us like professionals, but she’s usually pretty reserved. I think that’s how she is with most people, though, not just us. But she’s been a little different lately. We think it’s Raiz Opah.”

“Different how?”

“A little more open. And she laughs more…and she even took the time to help Varsi over her newbie nerves.”

As a newbie herself, Vellmar pricked up her ears at that. “What did she do with Varsi?”

“Took her aside and told her that she valued her opinions. Varsi was walking a bodylength off the ground.”

Vellmar tried to remember any superior officer telling her that her opinions were valued, and came up blank. Then she remembered her first night in Blacksun, when Lancer Tal asked her how she would find something that couldn’t be found, and realized that the message was precisely the same. The Lancer wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t value the answer.

“You don’t keep much distance yourself,” said Senshalon, watching her keenly.

“I’m too new in the role. I haven’t had time to acquire my lofty superior officer airs yet.”

“Well, in case you value my opinion, I’d advise you to watch the Colonel and see just how lofty he is. There’s a reason we’re all breaking our backsides trying to wake him up, and it’s not because of his professional distance.”

“Senshalon, there’s nothing I’d like more than to watch the Colonel and learn from him. I just pray I have the chance to do it.”

He nodded soberly. “Me too.”

There wasn’t much to say after that, and they passed most of the flight in a comfortable silence, reading or watching the scenery out the window. Twice Vellmar saw the healer check on Colonel Micah, and once Chief Counselor Aldirk wandered up the aisle from his aft cabin and vanished into the fore corridor, no doubt to consult with the Lancer on something. He returned half a hantick later, staring straight ahead and meeting no one’s eyes. Vellmar knew nothing about the man, but it seemed pretty clear that he was a scholar caste snob.

By the time they reached the southern coast of Argolis, she was tired of her book and took a moment to make fun of Senshalon’s, which was a well-known historical romance set during the fall of Blacksun. Senshalon protested that he was reading it for the depictions of the battle, and Vellmar suggested he try nonfiction if he wanted accurate battle descriptions. They bantered back and forth, and just as Vellmar was returning to her view, Senshalon said, “Wait. I wanted to ask you something.”

His tone got her attention, and she looked back to see a serious expression on his face. “Go ahead,” she said.

“Is it true that you carry blades because you’re not accurate with a disruptor?”

Her guard went up instantly. “I carry blades because I’m more accurate with them than with a disruptor, and a good warrior always uses her best tools. Anything else you want to ask?”

“My apologies,” he said, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I, ah…shek, this isn’t working.” He took a deep breath and asked in a rush, “Will you teach me some of your technique?”

He waited nervously as she stared in surprise. “Why?” she asked bluntly.

“Because I’m not a perfect shot with a disruptor either. My best skill is hand-to-hand combat; I leave the long-distance accuracy to our snipers. And watching you and the Lancer in that house made me think that a better knowledge of blade-handling could be a real asset for me in close-range fighting.”

“It takes a lot of practice to get that kind of accuracy,” she said.

“I know. And I’m not striving for that—at least, not right now. It’s just that I saw an opportunity to expand my skills, and I was hoping you’d teach me.”

Her instinctive wariness finally retreated. “Are you talking about knife fighting?”

“Yes. To start with, anyway. Eventually I’d like to learn to throw, too.” He looked so earnest that she probably would have said yes even if she hadn’t liked him so much.

She nodded. “I can teach you. As long as you don’t mind getting a few holes at first.”

“Speedy!” An enormous, relieved grin lit his face. “Thank you!”

“You sound like you’re eighteen cycles,” she said with a laugh.

He settled back in his seat. “It’s not every day that a warrior gets the daughter of the world champion to agree to train him. I’ll be learning from the best. When can we start?”

“Today, if you want.” Lancer Tal had given them all the rest of the day as leave.

“I do,” he said instantly. “That would be great.”

“All right. Bring heavy gloves.”

His brow furrowed. “How am I supposed to handle blades with gloves?”

“Very carefully,” she said. “That’s the point.”

He looked at her suspiciously while she held a straight face for as long as she could. Then it cracked, and she laughed at his expression of disgust. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

“Wonderful, our new Lead Guard thinks she’s funny.” But he was smiling as well. “Were you serious about the gloves?”

“Very. I already found arm pads in the training room, but no gloves. You’ll need them until you learn some basic techniques. Remember your early sword training?”

“Oh,” he said in understanding. “That’s what you meant by a few holes.”

“Unavoidable,” she said. “Better to get them in training than elsewhere.”

He nodded, hesitated a moment, then asked, “Have you ever considered entering the Games?”

“And go up against my birth mother?”

“Hm. That is a problem.”

“Actually, I’ve thought about asking her not to enter one of the competitions for that very reason. But it seems a little selfish, asking her to forego a prize just so I can enter.”

“I think you should do it,” he said. “I can’t imagine your birth mother not being proud to see you accepting an award, even if means she has to give one up. She’s the one who taught you, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then she’ll be proud,” he said confidently.

“Is that your opinion?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“It is. If you value it.”

She caught the meaning and looked at him with new eyes. He wasn’t much younger than she, but she had the rank and the experience he was still dreaming about. And she was the one who could provide for him what Lancer Tal had provided for Varsi…and for her.

“I value it,” she said. “Thank you. Perhaps this winter I’ll get farther than just thinking about entering.”

He grinned. “Good! We’ll all be there cheering you on. You’ll be the first in our unit to be in the Games. Nilsinian almost got into the sniper competition two cycles ago, but he was knocked out of the final tryout round by half a point.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes, he sulked for days.”

“Why didn’t he try again last cycle?”

He shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him that. We tried, but he just growled at us.”

They got into a discussion of last cycle’s Games and who should have won, until Vellmar had a shannel craving and left to get a bag from the storage unit. By the time she returned, Senshalon was reading again. He looked up as she dropped back into her seat.

“I just got to the pivotal battle. This is a great book; you should read it.”

“Or I could just read Galness,” she said. “She writes fact, not fiction.”

“That’s not what I heard.” He turned a page and she settled into her seat, her own book forgotten as she watched the first outlying mountain pass beneath them. They were almost home.

“Vellmar?”

“Yes?” she said, still looking at the view.

“Thank you again. I appreciate your taking the time for me.” She turned to face him as he added, “And don’t be surprised if some of the others want to join up once they see what’s happening.”

“You’re welcome. And I’ll be happy to train anyone who wants it.”

He nodded and buried his nose back in his book. Vellmar watched as they approached the main range of mountains, a tingle of happiness buzzing through her. For once in her life, it looked as if she would not have to battle the prejudice of warriors who saw her lack of disruptor skills as a handicap. Senshalon had called her the best; he wanted her to teach him.

A smile crossed her face. Her first impression about this unit was right—this was her dream job.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 63

 

 

They landed at the Blacksun Healing Center first, to get Micah settled in his new room. Tal accompanied his stretcher on its final journey and watched as the Blacksun staff transferred him to his new bed. Part of her had secretly hoped that just being in Blacksun might have some sort of magical effect; after all, this was home. But of course it didn’t; this room looked just the same as the one in Redmoon. It simply had a different view out the window, not that Micah could see it. After the healer left to consult with the local staff, she went to his bedside and held his hand.

“We’re home, Micah,” she said softly. “And the dokshin is falling from the sky, and I really need you. Please, please come back.”

His eyes moved briefly under his eyelids, but she’d seen that before and no longer took it as a sign of impending consciousness. She stood with him for another tick or two, but she had a whole transport of Guards waiting to get back to their homes as well.

“I can’t stay,” she told him. “But I’ll be back. So will the Guards, including everyone who stayed behind, so don’t start thinking you’ll get to relax. We’re not done annoying you. And I’m bringing the entire Opah family here tonight, so you’ll be seeing some old friends. Well, except for Herot.”

It was hard to leave. Every single time was hard to leave, because she never knew if he would still be there when she came back. All she could do was hope, and that was getting harder every time she saw him.

Their next stop was the State House, where Aldirk, Gehrain and Vellmar disembarked. As ranking officers, Gehrain and Vellmar had dual housing in the State House and on base, sleeping where Tal did while on duty. Since their leave had taken effect the moment they’d arrived in Blacksun, neither of them had any obligation to be at the State House, but they both said they planned to use the time to settle into their new quarters. Vellmar hadn’t even seen her base quarters yet, but she’d decided to save that for later.

Finally they arrived at Redmoon Base, where the Guards piled out and scattered to their quarters. Tal, Salomen and Thornlan were soon the only ones left on board, and Thornlan was only there to finish her post-flight check. Tal poked her head in to thank her and wish her a good day off, then went back to her private cabin.

“Delaying is not going to make it any easier,” she said, leaning in the doorway.

Salomen looked up from where she was repacking several items in her bag. “I just wanted to get these put away.”

“And the four-hantick flight wasn’t enough time?”

When Salomen looked down without answering, Tal pushed off the door and walked over to crouch beside her. “I know you don’t want to do this. But you’ll feel much better afterward.”

“Is that a theory or a guarantee?” asked Salomen sharply, focusing on her packing. Tal was quiet, and Salomen’s hands finally stilled. Staring into her bag, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m nervous and upset and taking it out on you. You’re right, I need to get this done.”

Tal put a hand over hers. “I’ll be right beside you, tyrina.”

Salomen let out an inelegant snort. “It’s a sad statement when you have to support me while I speak to my own brother.”

“It won’t just be me.”

That brought Salomen’s head up. “What do you mean?”

Tal hoped she’d done the right thing. “You have company waiting for you outside. Shall I bring him in?”

Salomen frowned at her, then stood abruptly and left the cabin. Tal followed her to the transport door, where one of Salomen’s Guards was just arriving with Shikal.

“Father!”

He smiled at her as he stepped inside. “Hello, Salomen. Welcome back.”

She touched his palms and rested her forehead against his. “Fahla, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Tal breathed a sigh of relief and motioned for the Guard to make a discreet exit. As he tiptoed down the ramp, she turned and quietly went back to her cabin, pulling her reader card from its pouch and settling into a chair at the conference table to wait.

It took a while, but the Salomen who reappeared at her door was a different creature than the woman who’d left it twenty ticks earlier. She walked straight over, threw her arms around Tal’s neck and kissed her.

“Thank you,” she said. “This was exactly what I needed.”

Tal smiled up at her, happy that she’d guessed right. Any answer she might have given was forestalled by Shikal’s low whistle as he came in.

“Lovely,” he said in appreciation. “Now this is the way to travel.”

Tal reluctantly disentangled herself from Salomen and stepped over to offer Shikal her palms. “It definitely takes the sting out of getting from one place to another,” she said. “Well met, Shikal. It’s good to see you again.”

“Well met,” he said, curling his fingers around hers. “Andira, I really don’t know how to thank you for bringing my son back. And I’m even more at a loss to express my sorrow about Colonel Micah. I know we’re scheduled for a Sharing tonight, but do you think I’ll be able to see him this morning?”

“Of course,” she said. “He’d appreciate that. As for Herot, has Salomen told you that the only reason we were able to bring him back is because she found him?”

“We found him,” corrected Salomen. “And yes, he knows all about it. I called him from Redmoon yesterday, while you were sleeping.”

“Difficult times,” said Shikal. He squeezed Tal’s hands once more before letting her go. “There has been too much anger in our family, and too much betrayal for all of us. I can’t do anything about your political situation, but at least I can start the healing process for our family.”

Salomen went to her bag, tossed in the remaining items without a care for where they landed, and stood up with the barely-closed bag over her shoulder. “I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

“Salomen.” He shook his head at her. “We’re getting nothing ‘over with.’ That sounds as if we will see Herot once and be done with it. He is still a member of our family, and he needs healing just as much as the rest of us.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t agree, Father. His wounds were self-inflicted. Ours were not.”

“But they cause the same pain,” he said gently. “And don’t forget that the wound which began all of this is one we all share.”

“I think the time when Herot could claim Mother’s Return as an excuse has long passed,” said Salomen. “He has no excuses, and I don’t want to hear any. I just want to hear that he understands what he’s done.”

“And if you hear that, will you forgive him?”

“I don’t know.” She motioned toward the door. “Shall we go?”

Tal looked at Shikal, who nodded. She picked up her own bag and led the way out.

It was a somber walk into the AIF detention quarters, dampened even further by the light rain that began to fall. None of them said a word, and Tal felt helpless to comfort her tyree despite her acute awareness of Salomen’s renewed stress. Shikal was radiating sorrow and determination, but Salomen’s emotions were more complicated, and there was still a great deal of anger. Tal simply didn’t know what to do about it, and hoped that Shikal’s presence might smooth what was certain to be a confrontation between the siblings. This was one of those times when she was devoutly happy to be an only child.

After leaving their bags at the front desk, they were escorted through the various corridors and locking barriers, finally halting by a door that looked like any other in the long hallway. An AIF warrior unlocked the palm pad and stepped to the side. “We’ll be watching through the window. If Opah makes an aggressive move toward any of you, we will respond appropriately,” he said, and the tone of his voice suggested that he might welcome the opportunity.

“If Opah makes an aggressive move, I will respond appropriately and you will stay out of it,” said Tal firmly.

“Yes, my Lancer.” He lowered his head.

Salomen and Shikal stood unmoving, clearly unsure as to who should go first. Tal gently pushed in front of them, opened the door, and walked into the cell.

Herot was lying on his bunk, his back to the door. He didn’t move at the sound of her entry, though she knew he was awake.

“Herot,” she said. His whole body started in surprise and he quickly rolled over.

“It’s you! Did you—” he stopped, his mouth open, as Shikal and Salomen stepped in.

“Hello, my son,” said Shikal. “I would say well met, but…” He looked around the small cell, letting the implication finish his sentence.

Herot’s eyes were enormous as an extraordinary range of emotions flitted across his face. He started to rise, thought better of it, and slumped onto his bunk with a defeated air. “Father,” he said. “I hoped you’d come…and I wished you wouldn’t.”

“Why would you wish that?”

Herot mutely gestured at his cell, his face taking on the stony stillness of someone who is trying desperately to hold it together. Tal had to block her senses against the strength of his and Shikal’s emotions, but she could not block Salomen, who had not moved since her entry. Herot seemed afraid to look at her, alternating between staring at his father and the floor, and Tal knew he was sensing her anger. Salomen was barely controlling it as she stood there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“You are family regardless of your location,” said Shikal, speaking for Salomen’s benefit as well. “Will you not give me a proper greeting, or have you forgotten how?”

Herot stood instantly, limping to his father and holding up both palms. “I didn’t know if you would want it.”

“Oh, Herot.” Shikal clasped their hands. “I’ve been angry, yes. And hurt and grief-stricken and bewildered…but I’ve also worried about you, and I’m very, very glad you’re safe.”

Herot took in a shuddering breath of air. “I’m so sorry,” he said in a voice Tal barely recognized.

“I know. But tell me, exactly what are you sorry for?”

“Everything.” A tear slipped from his eye, but he was still holding on. “Every single thing. The way I treated all of you, the things I said, the way I saw only what I’d lost and never what I still had…and especially that night. I can never make up for that night.”

“No, you cannot.”

The words were cold and clipped, and Herot visibly shrank as he met the rage in his sister’s eyes. Letting go of his father, he took a careful step toward her. “I know I can’t,” he said. “I know, believe me.”

“What the shek do you know, hm? Do you know that we lost Mother’s portrait? And all of her books? Do you know that we had to throw the quilt in the trash, along with everything else? The quilt she made when she was Jaros’ age and her mothers taught her how to sew?” She closed the small space between them, standing nearly chest to chest with him. “Do you know that I burned just as much as Andira when I tried to help her with the pain? Do you know that I watched her pass out from it? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?” she shouted, and as he flinched she suddenly shoved him, sending him flying back onto his bunk. He landed awkwardly, pulling himself back into a sitting position as the tears streamed down his face.

“I’m sorry—”

“That’s not GOOD ENOUGH!” she shouted again, and Shikal put a calming hand on her shoulder.

“Salomen…”

“No!” She brushed his hand away, her eyes never leaving Herot’s as she advanced to his bunk. “Sorry isn’t good enough,” she said in a lower tone of voice that was somehow even more intimidating. “Sorry doesn’t begin to make up for what you put us through. And I know you’ve suffered as well, and I’ve hurt for you, Herot, and that made me even angrier. I don’t want to hurt for you. How can I still have any feelings like that when you’ve hurt me and Andira so badly?”

He looked up, a tiny blossom of hope on his face. “Because we’re family,” he whispered.

“We’re family,” she repeated. “So you do know that. Then tell me, please, how you could have done what you did to your own family? Because I really don’t understand. Family is something you love and protect. But you didn’t love and protect us. You sneered at us, and denigrated us in public, and told an outsider how to hurt us. And then when he did hurt us, you ran away. You saw the flames and you ran away. You left Andira and me lying on a burning floor, and you ran away!”

His face crumpled as he cried, but even in his distress he couldn’t take his eyes off his sister’s. She held him with the power of her fury, hammering him with every word.

“I know you were jealous of Andira. And maybe I was too distracted by what I was feeling for her to pay quite enough attention to you. But most people deal with jealousy a little differently, Herot. Most people don’t consider murder an acceptable solution. And if you thought that hurting Andira would change things between you and me, well, you were damned right about that. It has. I can never feel the same way about you, do you understand that? Never. You betrayed me, you betrayed your family, and the price is still being paid. Other people are paying the price, not just you, and you had no right to force them into that!”

He covered his face then, sobbing uncontrollably, but Salomen seemed unmoved. She stared down at him, bristling with anger, and Tal was shocked at the lack of mercy in a woman she thought she knew so well. Salomen had been afraid of what she’d say when she saw Herot, and now Tal understood why. Even Shikal was afraid to intervene. He looked at Tal helplessly and shook his head; his children would have to work this out themselves.

Herot cried for long ticks while no one in the room moved, and the silence finally seemed to get through to him. He uncovered his face, finding Salomen still staring at him, and wiped his cheeks.

“You’re right,” he said in a voice tight from weeping. “About everything. I did all those things, and even though I never intended the consequences, I’m still the one who made them possible.” The tears continued to stream down his face, but he was calmer now, merely wiping them away with every few words. “Lancer Tal said I’d have to tell you the truth, and I’ve been thinking about that ever since. The truth is…I wanted to hurt her.”

“Oh, Herot.” Shikal’s shoulders slumped.

Herot looked over at Tal. “I didn’t want to admit that even when you talked to me, because it means admitting that I did wish for at least some of those consequences. But not like that; never like that. Never in my wildest dreams did I envision Cullom acting on our stupid boasts; if I’d had an inkling that he was actually capable of it I would never have told him anything. I thought he was my friend. I thought I could speak openly to him; that’s what you do with friends. You can be an idiot and it doesn’t matter. But it did matter this time, and the truth is it’s my fault, and I cannot blame Cullom without blaming myself.” He took a deep breath. “The truth is, I saw you as a rival.”

“I know,” said Tal. “But do you understand that there was never a question of Salomen loving one or the other of us? She has a big enough heart for both.”

He gulped, fresh tears washing down his cheeks. “I know that was true then. I’m not sure of anything now.” He looked up at his sister, but she gave him no encouragement.

“As soon as she came to our holding, you changed,” he told her. “I’d never seen you so fascinated by anyone. You turned down five bond offers without a second thought, but the moment she set foot in our home, you were different. At first I didn’t think much about it, because…well, I was fascinated too. But she never gave me a second glance; it was always you she wanted. That wouldn’t have been a problem except that I could see you wanted her, too. And that made her a threat.”

“A threat to what?” asked Salomen, breaking her silence at last. “Did you think I would leave our home? Our family? Did you think I would forget everything else in my life?”

“I thought she would enjoy you for as long as you were convenient,” he said. “And then she would drop you.”

Salomen’s head went back. “Are you—” She stopped, visibly gathering herself. “Are you telling me that all this was some twisted way of protecting me?”

He took a deep breath. “That was part of it, and I wish I could say it was all of it. But I was even more afraid that she actually could be serious.” He met Tal’s eyes. “When you punched me on the porch—that’s when I saw it. You were defending Salomen’s honor. You were doing what I was supposed to be doing. I admired you for it, and I hated you at the same time.”

Tal nodded. “So part of the time you were trying to earn my respect, and the rest of the time you just wished I’d leave.”

“Something like that.”

“Do you know what the real irony was, Herot?” she asked. “I had planned to cut my usual run short on my last day and invite you to come with me. I’d been keeping track of your progress; you got further every day. I wanted to show my respect for your determination. But I never got the chance.”

He closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head. Then he looked back at his sister. “If you’re hoping I can explain everything I did, I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’ve been going over it and over it, and it all seems so far away now. I look back at it and sometimes even I don’t know what I was doing or why. But…I think I was afraid of change; afraid of losing you in any way. And afraid of being so much less than the Lancer.”

Salomen ran her hands through her hair in a motion of complete bewilderment. “If you were afraid of being less than her, why didn’t you try to be more?”

“I did,” he pointed out.

“And you didn’t. You were still unconscionably rude to her and to your family. You still went out drinking almost every night, with people you knew were not our friends. You still aired your complaints and anger loud enough for everyone in Granelle to hear, and you still told Cullom Bilsner exactly how to kill Andira. You acted as if our family was a burden to you, rather than the other way around.”

He winced at her last statement. “Because I was still angry about everything.”

“Just what do you mean by ‘everything,’ Herot? Don’t give me that vague dokshin.”

He took a deep breath, looking from her to Shikal. “I, ah…” He rubbed his hands on his pants nervously. “I don’t feel that way anymore. I know now that I just didn’t understand that you all showed your feelings differently, and you fronted different things. But…” He sensed Salomen’s ill-concealed impatience and finished in a rush, “I thought the rest of you didn’t love Mother the way I did. Because you all got over her Return so quickly.”

“Oh, that is the last straw!” growled Salomen. “How dare you, you shekking—”

“Salomen!” Shikal stepped up, laying a hand on her shoulder. “That’s enough.”

To Tal’s surprise she went silent, but she was nearly vibrating with renewed fury. Shikal looked down at his son and said, “And is this how you would honor Nashta’s memory? With anger and self-pity, disrespect for everyone who cares for you, and a betrayal that tore your family and your home apart?”

In just a few words he reduced Herot to tears once more. “I’m sorry,” he choked, and this time the tears flowed faster than he could wipe them away.

“Let me explain something to you, Herot. I loved Nashta more than I thought it was possible to love. I had a long and wonderful life with her, and when she went to her Return I thought it was a crime against Fahla that I should even be breathing. It hurt to be alive when she was not. The first time something made me laugh, it felt like a betrayal of her memory, because how could I possibly be happy without her?”

Herot mutely shook his head, pulling up his shirt to wipe his eyes. Tal cautiously opened her senses and was instantly battered by the strength of his grief; Shikal might as well have been describing Herot’s emotions.

He never mourned her, she realized, and Salomen looked up, her eyes wide with the same understanding.

“But life cannot be lived that way,” Shikal continued. “I had three sons and a daughter who missed her just as much, and needed me more than ever. I had to move past it; to go on with my life because there was no other way. I miss her every tick of every day. I talk to her at night, when I get into the bed that I shared with her for longer than you’ve been alive. Do you know that I still sleep on my side of the bed? A lifetime of habit cannot be broken so easily, and there’s still a part of me that would feel guilty for taking up her side. She’s with me when I go into the fields, and she’s with me when I come into the dining room and see my children at the table. She took a piece of my heart with her when she Returned, but she also left a piece of her heart in mine. As long as I breathe, that piece of her breathes with me.”

He reached down and touched Herot’s shoulder. “There’s a piece of her heart in you as well. And in Salomen, and Jaros, and Nikin. She loved all of us, and she would never leave us for good. Your mistake was in thinking she left you alone. She did not, Herot. She left you with her family. With the people she loved, and the people who love you.”

Herot leaned forward, burying his face in his father’s stomach as his shoulders shook. Tal had to block her senses again; she was too raw to handle this. These emotions were much too familiar to her, and she knew that if Micah Returned she would be in precisely the same condition as Herot.

Salomen looked at her with tears in her own eyes before sitting on the other side of her brother. “You stupid grainbird,” she said, touching his back. “How could you ever think we didn’t love her as much as you did?”

He pulled away and sat up straight, wiping his face with his shirt. “Because I was an idiot.”

“Yes, you were.”

“I was angriest of all with you,” he said. “Because you seemed to get over it before anyone else. You just buried yourself in the holding and took Mother’s place as if you’d been waiting for it.”

She shook her head. “I buried myself in the holding because it was the only thing I could do. And I took Mother’s place because she told me it was my responsibility. She asked me for three things: to take her role as head of the family, to watch over Jaros, and to remember how to be happy someday. I fulfilled her first two wishes right away. It wasn’t until last moon that I finally fulfilled the third.”

She smiled at Tal, who was startled by this revelation. Her feet moved of their own volition, carrying her to Salomen’s side where she reached out for her hand. “Once again I’m wishing I could have met her,” she said. “The pieces of her heart that you all carry tell me what a special person she was.”

“I think she would have liked you,” said Herot, surprising Tal for the second time in as many ticks.

“She would have,” said Shikal. “I’ve told her all about you. And I get a warm feeling whenever I do, so I know.”

“Salomen…” Herot hesitated. “You said sorry wasn’t good enough. I understand that. When Lancer Tal told me what really happened, I wanted to die. No,” he amended, “I wanted to kill Cullom first, and then I wanted to die. There’s nothing I can do to make up for it. I swear in Fahla’s name that if I could undo that night, I would. But I cannot. All I can do is ask your forgiveness.” He took a deep breath. “Please, Salomen. Forgive me for my blindness, and my stupidity, and most of all for betraying the people I love.”

The room held a charged silence as everyone waited for Salomen to answer.

“I cannot,” she said finally. “Because I’m not the first person you should ask. You betrayed me by accident, but you betrayed Andira intentionally.”

Tal felt a tingle at the words, and found herself unaccountably nervous about what she knew was coming.

Herot turned to her, and they looked at each other for a moment that stretched to an uncomfortable length. At last he mumbled, “I guess this is the rest of Fahla’s joke on me.”

For all the tension in the room, Tal couldn’t stop her smile. “I guess it is.”

He gathered himself and looked her straight in the eye. “I’ve done a lot of stupid things, I know. But the worst by far was what I did to you. Because I did it with a wish for harm, even while convincing myself that it wasn’t my fault. And if I were you, I’m not certain I’d ever forgive me. But I’m asking you anyway. Can you forgive me, Lancer Tal?”

There was no quick response, she realized, because he was really asking for two different things. But everyone was watching her, Herot was waiting anxiously, and Salomen had put the whole thing in her hands. She had to say something.

Slowly she answered, “I can forgive the physical harm you caused me, because I know it was more than your intention. And I can even forgive your intention, because I’ve done much worse myself. But I do not have it in me to grant absolution for the anguish you caused Salomen. You hurt the woman I love, and that I cannot forgive.”

To his credit, he did not speak a word in his defense, simply nodding in acceptance.

“My answer is the same,” said Salomen. “I can forgive what you did to me, but I still feel Andira’s pain in my dreams. She was hurt because of my own family, in my own home, and I will never be able to forgive you for that. So I guess you’ll have to settle for two halves of a forgiveness, Herot. Because it’s the best we can do.”

“It’s the best I can expect,” he said. “Thank you.”

An awkward silence ensued as everyone looked at everyone else, none of them having any idea what to say. Finally Shikal cleared his throat and asked, “What can we expect regarding Herot’s sentence, Lancer Tal?”

“The range for his crime is one to five cycles,” said Tal. “And I’m sorry to say that because of my title, the adjudicator will almost certainly declare the maximum sentence.”

“So much,” whispered Shikal in dismay. “I thought it might be less because of his lack of intent. I mean,” he amended, “his lack of intent to kill.”

“It would be if I’d been anyone else. The truth is that justice is not the same for everyone. It’s not a fact I approve of, but it’s also not something that can be easily changed. However, the title that will make Herot’s sentence longer is the same title that will give enormous weight to my statement.”

Herot gaped at her. “You’ll petition the adjudicator?”

“Yes, I will. And I’ll ask for the minimum sentence, on the basis of your apology, your understanding of your crime, and your request for forgiveness. I think the adjudicator will listen.”

He was still shocked. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Try ‘thank you,’” suggested Salomen.

“Thank you, Lancer Tal.” Herot was completely sincere. “That’s more than I had a right to hope for.”

“Yes, thank you,” said Shikal.

“Well, he is family,” Tal observed. “Not comfortable with that idea yet, are you?” she asked Herot, whose expression gave him away even though she still had her blocks up.

Before he could answer, Salomen said, “He’ll miss the bonding ceremony, won’t he?”

“Not necessarily. Leaves can be granted in the cases of bonding ceremonies or funeral pyres, so we should be able to count him among our guests…if he wants to come.”

“Of course I want to come! I wouldn’t miss Salomen’s bonding for the whole world.” He looked at his sister. “You really did keep this close. I knew you were fascinated by her, but I never had any idea you felt…well, like that.”

“You mean that I love her?” said Salomen pointedly. “Yes. I do.”

“You know,” said Shikal, “it just occurred to me that Herot missed the most startling news about our family.”

“What?” Herot looked up at him. “What else could possibly have happened?”

Shikal smiled at him. “There’s something you need to know about your sister,” he began.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 64

 

 

After leaving Herot—who had taken the news of his sister’s empathic gift surprisingly well—Tal sent Shikal’s Guard back to the State House in his transport so that she could fly Salomen and Shikal privately. Father and daughter were subdued after their meeting with Herot; other than Shikal’s appreciative comments over her luxury personal transport, the flight back to Blacksun was quiet. It wasn’t until they had cleared the outermost homes that Salomen finally said, “You were right, Andira. I do feel better. But I also feel worse, in a whole different way.”

“Why is that?” asked Shikal from his seat behind her.

“Because as long as I was angry, I wasn’t so upset about him being in prison.”

“Ah. And now the reality is coming home.”

“It came home already, Father. I just put it out of my mind when I was so furious with him.” She sighed. “I’ve wished so many times that none of this had ever happened. It still feels like a bad dream. I still want to go home and look at Mother’s portrait, or pick up one of her books, and then I remember that I can’t. Not anymore. And now Herot is in prison, and Colonel Micah nearly died in the rescue mission, and the consequences just keep rolling on.”

“Don’t forget what those consequences would have been if Herot had not given Cullom what he needed,” Tal reminded her. “Rescuing Jaros would have been much harder, and far more scarring to him.” She didn’t even want to think about having to kill a man in front of Jaros.

“Clearly I’m missing something,” said Shikal. “What’s this about Jaros?”

Salomen explained what they’d learned from Parser, and Shikal’s normally calm manner transformed into something altogether different. “This man will be in prison for a very long time, correct?” he demanded.

“Yes,” said Tal. “Not just in prison. In the pit. Fifth level.”

“Good,” he said shortly, and his simmering anger suppressed any conversation for the remainder of the flight. When they landed and had stepped out into the rain, Salomen invited him to see their quarters, but Shikal told her that he needed a little time to himself.

“I believe I’ll walk to the healing center and visit my friend Corozen,” he said, pulling his rain cape a little closer. “I miss his company, and perhaps it will help to have a chat with him. I do want very much to see your quarters, and the parts of the State House that aren’t on the normal tour. Perhaps this evening would be better; then you can show it to Nikin and Jaros as well.”

“Of course,” said Salomen. They touched palms again, and she kissed him on the cheek. He smiled at her, came over to touch Tal’s palms, and then walked down the curving path toward the main gate as his Guard unobtrusively joined him.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned Jaros,” said Tal, looking after him.

“No. No more secrets,” said Salomen. “Not about my family. Not even if the truth is something we’d rather not hear.”

Tal put her arm around Salomen’s waist and turned them toward the side entrance. “Come on, tyrina. I hear a soft chair and a good book calling my name. I still haven’t finished the one you gave me.”

“I swear I have never seen anyone read as slowly as you.”

“I don’t read slowly. I just don’t read often.”

They shook the drops off after entering the quiet, warm corridor. “I think I prefer the weather in Redmoon,” said Salomen as they walked toward the stairs. “It was so nice to be dry.”

“Didn’t you say you loved the rain?”

“I do. In moderation.”

They were passing the training room when Tal heard something unexpected:  Vellmar’s voice, loudly ordering someone to get his elbow up. Curious, she opened the door and looked in to find Vellmar attacking Senshalon, who was in full protective gear. Vellmar stopped short when Tal appeared, only to have her wrist nearly snapped by Senshalon’s blow as he disarmed her.

“Shek!” Vellmar held her wrist against her body, grimacing.

“Fahla, I’m sorry!” Senshalon sheathed his knife and reached for Vellmar, who twisted away from him.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” She looked up at Tal. “Lancer Tal, you surprised me.” Awkwardly she brought her fists together and saluted.

Senshalon turned around, seeing Tal for the first time, and saluted as well. “Lancer. We were just doing a little sparring.”

“I can see that.” Tal trotted down the steps and reached for Vellmar’s wrist, raising her eyebrows when the Guard hesitated before letting her take it. “I do apologize,” said Tal, gently checking the joint. “If I’d realized, I wouldn’t have just barged in.”

“Maybe we need a sign for the door when someone’s training,” said Vellmar. “That’s what we had at Koneza.”

Tal smiled. “Senshalon, did you forget something?”

He looked down at his feet. “We do have a sign,” he confessed. “A light over the door. I forgot to turn it on.”

Vellmar shot him a look of utter disgust. “Thanks for the helpful tip.”

“It’s still in one piece,” said Tal, releasing her grip. “He’s got a punch like a dokker’s kick, doesn’t he?”

“You’ve experienced it, eh?” Vellmar rubbed her wrist, clearly feeling better.

“Oh yes. More than once. Senshalon is our best at hand-to-hand. So he’s talked you into teaching him knife fighting?”

Senshalon raised his head and grinned. “I did. She’s already taught me two new moves I’d never seen before.”

“Don’t you people ever take time off?” asked Salomen, joining the group. “I’d think after these last few days you two would be…oh, I don’t know…maybe lounging around your quarters, enjoying a well-earned day of leave?”

“This is time off,” said Vellmar in confusion, and Tal laughed.

“Salomen’s not used to the warrior concept of leisure time,” she said. “She’s a producer. She’d never dream of going back into the fields as a means of relaxing on her day off.”

“Not in this lifetime,” said Salomen.

“Actually, now that I think of it, I haven’t had a good sparring session myself in too long,” said Tal. “How are you at sword fighting, Vellmar?”

“Not bad,” said Vellmar too casually.

“I’m going to take that as code for ‘I could enter a competition and win.’ Would that be about right?”

Vellmar smiled. “About, yes.”

“Good.” Tal felt a familiar thrill of excitement. “Because I need to get a few things out of my system. Perhaps later this afternoon?”

“It would be my pleasure, Lancer.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it. Senshalon, remember that we just got her. I really don’t want her incapacitated her first nineday.”

“A little credit, please,” said Vellmar good naturedly. “Now I’m going to have to take him apart just to prove myself.”

“You can try,” said Senshalon.

Tal and Salomen left them circling each other on the mats, and this time Tal made sure to activate the training light before shutting the door.

“You warriors really are a breed apart,” said Salomen as they made their way up the stairs. “One tick you’re talking about relaxing on a soft chair with a good book, and the next you’re making an appointment to pick up a sword.”

“It’s been half a moon since I last sparred,” said Tal. “And my normal partner is in the healing center, and tomorrow is going to be tense, and I need to blow some of the spinner’s webs out of my mind.”

Salomen shot her a sharp look, then wrapped an arm around her waist. “Come on, my warrior tyree. I’d like a chance to blow some things out of your mind.”

 

 

-----

 

 

As it turned out, Tal wasn’t allowed to relax. Blacksun had been electrified by the news of Parser and Shantu’s sudden fall from grace, the new Bondlancer, and tomorrow’s emergency Council meeting. The capital hadn’t seen this kind of excitement in two tencycles, and Tal’s vidcom unit never seemed to go dark. Given the political demands of her situation, she took every call and made the best of every opportunity to lay the groundwork she needed. But each time she had to explain she became a little more angry, until finally she called Aldirk and told him that unless there was a significant natural disaster somewhere, she did not want to be disturbed for the next two hanticks. Twenty ticks later she left Salomen reading under the windows, taking her sword grip and stalking downstairs in a frame of mind that did not bode well for Vellmar.

The Lead Guard was waiting for her in the training room, a well-worn sword grip in her hand. “Lancer,” she said, saluting.

“I should probably warn you that I’m looking at this session as a means of sublimation,” said Tal.

“I can handle it.”

“Good.” Tal held out her hand. “May I?”

Vellmar extended her sword before handing it over, and Tal examined it with a critical eye. “Nice,” she said in appreciation. “Then again, I’m not surprised.”

“Not as nice as yours,” said Vellmar. “But someday I’ll get there.”

“I have no doubt. Have you already warmed up?”

Vellmar nodded. “I’m loose and ready to go.”

“Then show me what you have,” said Tal, extending her own sword.

They started slow, in deference to Tal’s half-moon hiatus. Tal focused fiercely, cursing herself for every move that wasn’t perfect, but Vellmar matched every blow and made even Tal’s less-than-perfect moves seem better than they were. Gradually Tal relaxed into her own body, letting her muscle memory take over from her brain, and things smoothed out. They picked up the pace, with Tal leading and Vellmar quietly mirroring her, until they were finally at full speed. Tal’s full speed, that is; she really wasn’t sure what Vellmar’s top ability was. It was patently obvious that she was outclassed. Vellmar had already passed up two chances to disarm her, and Tal suddenly realized that her Lead Guard was an opponent she could fight, truly fight, without worrying about the delicate dance of balance that she always played with Micah. It was precisely what she needed, and she gleefully threw all of her normal caution to the wind.

The clanging of their swords came faster and faster, and then Tal threw in a kick just to see what Vellmar would do with an unplanned blending of fighting styles. Her Guard was surprised by it, but she deflected most of the blow by twisting away and still had her sword over her head in time to catch Tal’s next move. Tal grinned at her, and from that moment their sparring match became an outright battle. Vellmar gave as good as she got, her respect for her Lancer forgotten in the heat of the fight. She landed a glancing blow with her fist, and followed it up with another that snapped Tal’s head back. Tal ducked under a third and struck out with the hilt of her sword, feeling the shock travel up her arm as it found its mark. Vellmar’s mouth opened as the blow landed, but she made no sound even though it had clearly hurt. Her eyes narrowed and she came back low, pushing Tal’s abilities in a series of moves she’d never seen before. Tal deflected all but one, a sudden change of direction that caught her by surprise and slipped past her desperate block. The sharp, thin pain of the cut shocked her and they both stopped, staring at the blood trickling down Tal’s arm.

This was not a blood match; they were not equipped for it and they had not agreed to it. Vellmar had crossed a line. As Tal looked from the blood to her Guard, her shock morphed into pure anger. Without warning she fell on Vellmar, channeling every bit of the rage she’d been suppressing and unleashing her aggression in a furious blur of moves. Micah, Parser, Shantu…their faces and others drifted through her mind as she fought, holding nothing back. A lesser opponent would have shattered under the onslaught, but Vellmar took her on and even taunted her, driving her into a mental space she’d never experienced in a sparring session. She forgot where she was and who she was fighting, conscious only of a murderous need to do damage. Every blow was accompanied by a cry of rage and a desperate desire to hurt, and when Vellmar made a sound of pain as a particularly violent blow slipped past her, Tal was vicious in her glee. Her fury poured out, seemingly without end, and she drove Vellmar from one side of the room to the other. It wasn’t until she began to tire that she finally came back to herself enough to realize what was happening. Shocked at her own behavior, she stepped back and held up her hand.

“Stop!”

Vellmar lowered her sword, breathing hard as she wiped the sweat from her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Tal retracted her sword, threw the grip onto the mat and turned around. “Great…shekking…Mother,” she swore between gasps for air. What in the name of the Goddess did she think she was doing?

“Lancer? Are you all right?”

Tal turned back to face her. “Are you?”

Vellmar looked confused. “Of course. It was a good match. You’re an excellent sword fighter. Especially considering that you don’t do this as often as you should.”

Tal gaped at her incredulously. “Vellmar, I tried to kill you!”

“So? You warned me ahead of time. I told you I could handle it, and I did.” She clearly did not see a problem, and after another moment of disbelief, Tal finally laughed.

“I think I’ve met my match and then some,” she said. “I feel lighter than I have in days. Thank you.”

“Believe me, it was my pleasure. There wasn’t anyone at Koneza who could really challenge me. I’m delighted to have an opponent who actually makes me work.”

“If me wanting to kill you just makes you work, I’d hate to see what it would take to make you break out in a real sweat.”

“Oh, I’m sweating,” said Vellmar with a grin. “Who do you normally spar with?”

“Micah,” said Tal, and watched the grin drop off Vellmar’s face.

“I’m sorry, Lancer.”

“So am I.” Tal reached down and scooped her grip off the mat. “About a lot of things. But this felt good; really good. I’ve never been able to let go like that before. Sign me up for regular sessions. And show me that move you did when you used an inverted hold to deflect my overhead press.”

Vellmar’s eyes lit up. “Right now?”

“Of course right now.”

They spent half a hantick going over that move and two others, and when Tal finally returned to her quarters she felt positively languid. She walked straight into the shower, wincing as the hot water hit the cut on her upper arm. She washed it carefully, then soaped the rest of her body and spent several ticks just standing there, letting the water loosen her muscles. Finally she stepped out, dried off, and hoped that Salomen would not take it upon herself to check on her while she treated and skin-sealed the cut.

She didn’t, and Tal was able to hide the newly sealed cut under a robe before walking into the main room. With a sigh of near bliss, she poured herself onto the seat next to Salomen.

Salomen looked at her over the top of her book. “Well, that seems to have worked. I don’t even want to know what you were doing. Just tell me that everyone is still alive.”

“Oh yes,” said Tal in tired contentment. “It worked, and Vellmar still lives. Micah really knew what he was doing when he picked her. I’ll have to thank him.”

“Will you be ready to thank him in half a hantick? Or have you forgotten that we’re meeting my family at the healing center?”

“I’ll be ready.” Tal shifted position, laying her head in Salomen’s lap and closing her eyes as a gentle hand began brushing through her damp hair. “Just let me know when it’s time to leave.”

“I think I’d better let you know a little before that.”

“Mm hm.” Tal wasn’t even sure what she was agreeing to. She drifted in a comfortable haze, barely aware as Salomen picked up her book again, and a moment later she was asleep.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 65

 

 

The Opahs and their Guards were already in the healing center’s notification area when Tal and Salomen arrived. Tal barely had time to get through the door before a small body barreled into her.

“Lancer Tal!” Jaros looked up, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. “I knew you’d bring him back! Those warriors didn’t have a chance against you.”

Tal didn’t know if he was talking about Micah or Herot until Salomen crouched down for her own warmron. “No, they didn’t,” she said as Jaros threw himself into her arms with the same enthusiasm he’d displayed for Tal. “Hello, Jaros. Herot is safe, but he won’t come home for a while yet.”

“I know. Father said he’s being punished.” Jaros looked over at Tal. “He said you would get his punishment reduced, but not even you can take it away altogether. Even though Herot never meant for anyone to be hurt.”

Salomen’s ‘no more secrets’ policy did not apply to a boy of nine cycles. Jaros did not need to know the full truth about his brother.

“No,” Tal agreed, “and I think he’s learned a lot about how to choose his friends.”

“Cullom Bilsner is a dokker’s backside,” Jaros announced, and Salomen had to turn her head away. With Jaros’ eyes on her, Tal had no such option and managed to keep a straight face only with the greatest of effort.

“I couldn’t have put that better myself,” she said with a nod.

“The Bilsners have no name in Granelle anymore,” he said with the importance of someone holding great news. “Did you know that Gordense has put the holding up for sale?”

Salomen looked back at him in surprise, then up at her brother and father, who stood waiting for their own acknowledgment. “Really?”

Tal stepped over to Nikin, holding up her palms. “Well met,” she said warmly. “It’s good to see you.”

“Well met, La—Andira,” he said with a wry smile. “I haven’t gotten used to that name yet.”

“Take your time.” She clasped their hands and squeezed; Nikin’s calm presence was truly a pleasure.

He matched her grip as his smile grew. “We’ve missed you at the holding. But I hear you’ve been rather busy.” The smile dropped as he added, “Our family is indebted to you. When I thanked you for helping my brother that day, I never dreamed it might take this form. And I’m so very sorry about Colonel Micah.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “Just help me bring him back.”

“Father and I will do all we can. Have you seen the schedule for his Sharings? That poor man won’t get a moment’s peace.”

“I know. That’s the idea.” She turned to greet Shikal. “I hope you had a good chat with him.”

“I did,” he said. “But I missed his input.”

Salomen kissed both of them on the cheek as they touched palms. “Now what is this about Gordense selling the holding?”

They turned as a group, surrounded by seven Guards from two different units, and made their way down the corridor. Jaros maneuvered himself so that he was walking next to Tal, who put an affectionate hand on his small shoulder.

“Jaros said it best,” said Nikin. “The Bilsners have no name in Granelle.”

“They cannot hold up their heads,” added Shikal. “Even if their public shame were not an issue, there is also the fact that most of the other producers refuse to do business with them. Some of the merchants, too. It wouldn’t have been such a problem if Cullom had been acting all on his own, but Gordense made his beliefs loudly public. He said too many times that the Lancer had to be stopped. Those words have come back to haunt him.”

“It doesn’t matter how loudly he protests now,” said Nikin. “The fact remains that Cullom acted on his father’s beliefs, and no one in Granelle will ever forget that.”

“I told Andira about what he said at the Caste House meeting,” said Salomen. She turned toward Tal. “Do you remember asking me about Gordense’s intentions?”

“Very well,” said Tal. “You were convinced he wasn’t a threat.”

“But he was,” said Salomen. “Indirectly. And it never occurred to me to look past him to his son. I don’t think I ever realized until now how damaging words can be.”

“There is still an immense gulf between speaking and acting,” Tal reminded her. “It’s the same gulf that divides Herot from Cullom. Gordense deserves his shame, but he’s not the one who fired the plasma gun.”

“At least the shame is not limited to our caste,” said Nikin. “Word is already out about Withernet spying for Parser.” He caught Tal’s surprised look and added, “It’s Granelle. Nothing stays secret there. As soon as the AIF warriors came to ask about Withernet, people started putting it together. And of course the news is all over Alsea about Parser, so the merchant caste is carrying its own shame.”

“And the warrior caste,” said Jaros, eager to be a part of the conversation. “The Lead Warrior is a criminal, too. But Lancer Tal will catch him.”

Tal squeezed his shoulder. “I’m your bondsister now, Jaros. You can call me Andira.”

“I know,” he said seriously. “But I prefer Lancer Tal.”

Salomen winked at Tal and said, “It sounds better at school.”

“If I called you Andira, nobody would know who I’m talking about,” Jaros explained.

Tal wanted to laugh, but contented herself with pulling Jaros close to her. “Doesn’t the fact that you have your own Guard give your friends a clue?” she asked.

He grinned. “They are so envious about that!” Turning, he waved at one of the Guards behind them, who waved back with a smile. “That’s Daedan,” he confided, as if Tal wouldn’t know the name of the warrior she’d assigned to him. “She’s really good at kickball.”

This time Tal couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Is she?” she asked, catching the Guard’s eye and seeing the instant flush. “Don’t tell me she plays on your team.”

“Oh, no. That wouldn’t be fair. But she’s been helping our coach. She knows a lot of tricks.”

A few more steps brought them to Micah’s room, and the Guards took up positions in the corridor. Tal hesitated, suddenly unsure about taking Jaros inside. She didn’t know what was safe to say.

Salomen sensed it and took his other hand. “Before we go in, Jaros, do you remember what Father told you?”

He nodded. “We have to be careful about touching Colonel Micah because he’s hurt. And something happened to keep him from waking up, but you’re all going to Share with him to try to bring him back. Can I Share with him, too?”

“I’m sorry,” she said gently, “but it’s not a good idea. It’s not like what you felt when you Shared with Andira and me.”

As Jaros slumped in disappointment, Shikal said, “How interesting. That’s precisely what I said when he asked me.”

“Jaros!” Salomen’s tone made even Tal cringe. “Why are you asking me if Father already said no?”

He looked from his sister to his father in some alarm. “Ah…because…because…”

Tal took pity on him. “Because Colonel Micah is your friend too?”

“Yes!” He looked at her gratefully. “I want to help.”

“I know you do,” said Salomen, shooting Tal a look that said don’t encourage him. “And you can help just by being here with him. But don’t you ever try that trick again. Your father and I will know if you try to play one of us against the other. Just because I’m not at Hol-Opah every day doesn’t mean that you can take advantage of me.”

His head dropped as he shuffled in place, mortified at being scolded in front of his idol. Tal stayed quiet, mindful of her own near-scolding, and Shikal defused the moment by opening the door to Micah’s room. “Come on, Jaros. Let’s go see the Colonel.”

Jaros gladly followed his father, and Tal gave Salomen an appeasing smile. “I did that when I was his age, too.”

“So did Salomen,” said Nikin.

She gave them a mock glare, which soon dissolved into a smile. “Yes, but I was never stupid enough to do it in front of both of my parents. I expect better of Jaros.”

Nikin laughed. “You expect him to be just as devious as you were? Why would you wish that on us?”

“Nikin,” said Tal in a confidential tone, “perhaps you’d like to have a drink with me sometime later? When your sister is busy? I think you have stories to tell.”

“I do indeed,” he said, matching her tone. “You’ll be amazed at some of the things she got away with.”

“You’re both walking a dangerous line,” warned Salomen. She turned and entered the room, her head held high.

“That’s what makes life worth living,” said Tal, and Nikin touched her shoulder with a smile.

“Then your life with her should be extremely rewarding.”

True words, thought Tal as they walked into the room, but her momentary good humor vanished when she saw Shikal and Jaros standing by Micah’s bed. Jaros was already telling him about having a Guard at school, his small hand resting on Micah’s upturned palm. Salomen caught Tal’s eye and held out her own hand in invitation.

“Guess we’ll have to wait our turn,” she whispered as Tal came over.

“I don’t mind. Every voice helps, even the ones on the outside. I’ve talked to him, too.” Though Tal took Salomen’s hand, she kept her gaze firmly fixed on Micah and Jaros. She couldn’t bear to see in Salomen’s eyes what was already too clear in her emotions.

How could she keep her own hope alive when Salomen was already losing hers?

 

 

-----

 

 

The Opah family’s visit to the State House was an enjoyable affair, or at least as enjoyable as it could be under the circumstances. Nikin worked hard to keep the mood light, and Jaros’ complete awe at the size and luxury of their quarters was a delight to watch. But Tal’s vidcom unit continued to demand her attention, and she could not afford to take any more time away from it than she already had. Too much was riding on tomorrow’s Council meeting. So Salomen took over the duties of hostess, and Tal grew increasingly resentful of the whole situation. This was her family, damn it, and she deserved a few shekking hanticks free of political concerns. Her anger toward Shantu took on a new dimension as she discussed his actions with the various Councilors and powerful caste members who called her. The only consolation she had was that the groundwork she was laying tonight had already guaranteed tomorrow’s outcome. She had the votes she needed; Shantu was finished. But she was still obligated to play the political game; she still had to pile up as much support as possible to be certain that no other warrior would be tempted to take advantage of the rift Shantu had created.

By the time their guests returned to Hol-Opah, Salomen was tired and Tal was both tired and grumpy, a bad combination. They went to bed with a minimum of conversation, simply holding each other and taking quiet reassurance in the presence of their bond. Tal had so much whirling through her head that she found it nearly impossible to sleep, and when she finally managed to drop off her sleep was restless, punctuated by dreams that took her from one scene to another with dizzying speed. Nothing made sense, everything was disturbing, and at last she came wide awake, horrified at the single clear thought in her mind.

She knew exactly what Shantu had planned. And she had made it easier for him by scheduling tomorrow’s meeting.

She sat up, looking at Salomen by the light that filtered in through the windows. Fahla, she had so little time. She’d wasted too much of it on a strategy that was completely useless, because she and everyone else had been thinking like politicians. How many times had Salomen said it to her? That is a politician’s answer, and you are not a politician.

“Oh, Salomen, I’m sorry,” she whispered in the darkness. She leaned down to kiss her on the temple, her lips trembling. Then she carefully got out of bed, threw on a robe and went to her vidcom unit.

The call was answered quickly, and Tal looked into the face of the only person who could save her.

“I need your help,” she said. “Right now.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 66

 

 

Aldirk was taking a hurried breakfast when the call came in from the Lancer’s private contact number. He wiped his mouth and hastened to his vidcom unit, sitting in the antique chair as he accepted the call.

“Lanc—” He stopped, staring in surprise at the unexpected face on his screen. “My apologies, Raiz Opah. I expected the call to be from Lancer Tal. What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen her, Counselor? Do you know where she is?”

“She’s not with you?” he asked blankly.

“No. She’s not even in the State House, or anywhere in Blacksun. I can feel her, so I know she’s safe, but…she left me a note this morning saying she’d see me at the Council meeting, and this just isn’t like her. I’m worried.”

Aldirk was worried too, but she didn’t need to know that. “Lancer Tal never does anything without reason, Raiz Opah. I’m sure she’s simply making preparations for this morning’s meeting.”

“What kind of preparations involve leaving in the middle of the night?”

He shook his head. “I have no answer for that. Have you tried reaching Head Guardian Gehrain? Or Lead Guard Vellmar?”

“No. I thought it might look a bit odd if the future Bondlancer was calling around the State House looking for her bondmate.”

He approved of her political astuteness. “Then let me make the calls for you. May I call you back in a tick?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Counselor.”

He reached Gehrain in his State House quarters, but the Head Guardian was still officially on leave until morn-seven and fifty; he had no idea where the Lancer was. Vellmar was on the same leave and could be found neither in her State House nor her base quarters. It was too early for the support staff to have arrived at the Lancer’s base office, so Aldirk tried the contact desk next, getting a stern-faced warrior who informed him that the base never gave out information on the Lancer’s whereabouts.

“Check your contact code, you idiot,” snapped Aldirk, in no mood for this kind of blind bureaucracy. “I’m not some journalist; I’m calling from the State House.”

The warrior raised an eyebrow in remonstrance as he leaned forward and pressed a key on his console. The other eyebrow rose to join the first, and he straightened into a more formal posture. “My apologies, Chief Counselor. The Lancer is here. But she left explicit instructions not to be disturbed for any reason other than a crisis of government.”

Aldirk nodded. “Very well. Please inform her, if she accepts any messages later, that we in the State House are looking forward to seeing her in the Council Chamber.” He knew Lancer Tal would understand precisely who the message was really from.

“It will be done,” said the warrior. Aldirk ended the call and a moment later had Raiz Opah on his screen.

“She’s on the base,” he told her, and saw her visibly relax. “I don’t know what she’s doing, but whatever it is, she does not wish to be disturbed. I can only speculate that for some reason she needed to be alone and away from any possible interruptions before the Council meeting.”

“Even from me, apparently,” said Opah. “Thank you for your assistance, Counselor. I’ll see you in the VIP gallery.”

He wished her a good morning and stared at the blank screen thoughtfully.

“What have you figured out?” he said aloud. “And why don’t you want your bondmate to know?”

 

 

-----

 

 

Tal waited until the last possible moment before returning to the State House. She felt guilty and sad about Salomen; it had been hard to feel her so worried this morning. But she could not face her tyree right now; there would be too many questions, too many arguments, and she simply didn’t have the mental reserves to deal with them. So she slipped into a service entrance and made her way down back corridors to the stairs, where she waited until she could feel that most of the traffic in the hall above had thinned out. Salomen was already in the VIP gallery, and while Tal stood there she expanded her senses, identifying the people around her tyree. Aldirk, Razine, Gehrain, Vellmar, Shikal, Nikin—and Jaros. Great Goddess, why had they brought Jaros?

Because you didn’t tell her. She doesn’t know.

“Oh, shek,” she groaned. But there was nothing she could do, and her time was up. If she waited any longer she wouldn’t get to her dais before the meeting was scheduled to open.

She took the stairs two at a time, popping out into the corridor and striding through the remaining attendees with a stiff bearing and an attitude that warned off those who would have spoken with her. A few people still called greetings after her, but she made no response save to lift a hand over her head.

She unlocked her private entrance and ducked through, breathing a sigh of relief as the door sealed behind her. This was her sanctum, a small, sound-proofed room where she could gather herself before facing the Council. A pitcher of water and a bowl of fruit already sat on the low table, and she was dismayed to see her hands shaking as she poured herself a drink.

You’re just nervous, she told herself. They’ll be steady enough when you need them.

She drank down the water and held the cool glass against her forehead, taking a few precious moments to simply be still. Then she replaced the glass on the table, straightened her spine, and opened the door on the other side of the room.

The roar of hundreds of conversations assaulted her ears as she stepped out onto the dais, though the sound level immediately declined as people saw her. The usual swarm of vidcams rose into place as she picked up the Council Staff from its holder on the wall, walked to the bell, and gave it a sharp blow. All remaining conversations ceased instantly, and in the silence she looked up to the VIP gallery, meeting Salomen’s eyes with an almost physical impact. Her tyree sat in the front row, flanked by Nikin and Jaros, and an insurmountable distance away. Tal had made certain of that distance, but now that she was looking at her she wished she’d done it differently. She could only hope that Salomen would understand.

Breaking their gaze, she looked from one side of the chamber to the other, taking in the packed galleries and the nearly full attendance of Councilors. Two seats were conspicuously empty, and the sight of them sent a chill down her spine.

“This Council meeting is now open,” she said, her voice seeming extraordinarily loud to her ears. “I have called this emergency meeting to put the rumors to rest, and to shine a bright light onto the darkness that has deeply wounded our Council. Alsea has lost two of her leaders to their own worst instincts. Our former Lead Merchant has confessed to a corruption that will astound you with its breadth and reach; you will hear every detail before this meeting is over. And our former Lead Warrior is running from arrest, charged with kidnapping and conspiracy to murder. He was prepared to kill for political gain; a cold-blooded, premeditated murder for the worst of reasons. The victim of his crimes, Herot Opah, is here this morning to testify about his experience.

“We have a task of enormous importance before us today. When one-third of the Council leadership falls to corruption and murderous behavior, the belief of the Alsean people cannot be expected to stand. We must address this now, today, not tomorrow and not a moon from now. We are in crisis. Though it is not a crisis of our making, we are nevertheless bound to resolve it, or risk losing the trust of the people we serve. And that is why I will be proposing a swift and unmistakable response.” She paused, sweeping her gaze across the attentive faces of the Council. “When we have finished presenting the evidence to you, I will ask the warrior and merchant castes to consider the only realistic judgment they can make. I will ask them to strip former Lead Warrior Shantu and former Lead Merchant Parser of their caste.”

Gasps of astonishment filled the air; most of the people in attendance had never remotely considered such a possibility. But a number of merchant and warrior councilors sat with grim faces, nodding their agreement. Most of them had already promised either Tal or Aldirk their votes. Though a majority vote of the Council was not binding in internal caste matters, in this case its recommendation would almost certainly be followed. Parser and Shantu were about to lose everything that made Alsean life possible. They would be outcastes; Alseans of no identity and almost no rights. Even a sentence to the pit paled in comparison.

When the whispers had died away, Tal said, “We will begin with the case of Parser, as we already have his confession and full details of his criminal activities. I will no longer call him by his former title, since his crimes have rendered him unfit to hold it. Though these crimes stretch back many cycles in time, for brevity’s sake I will start his story with the Redmoon crisis of last cycle, when he cynically used the sorrow of our world to fill his own—”

She stopped as the great chamber doors were flung open, thudding back against the walls with a hollow boom. A solitary figure advanced onto the empty chamber floor, and the shocked whispers mounted in volume as he was recognized. The doorway behind him filled with Guards, but not one of them made an attempt to stop his progress. He walked to the very center of the floor and stood still, letting the wave of whispers crest and recede before speaking in a voice long used to reaching every part of the Council.

“Fellow Councilors, you know me. For those in the galleries, and for those watching in their homes, I will identify myself,” he said. “I am Lead Warrior Shantu, and I am here to defend my name and my honor against the egregious accusations the Lancer has already leveled. But I have no faith in the justice of our courts or even this Council; it is all too clear that I have been judged and convicted before my voice was even heard.”

He paused, letting the emotional effect of his announcement sweep the Council, and Tal had to admire his theatrical poise.

“Nice entrance, Shantu,” she muttered, not caring that the nearest vidcam had probably picked up her voice.

“If I am such a criminal, guilty of such crimes as to warrant a stripping of caste, then why do these warriors stand idle in the doorway?” he asked, turning to point back at the Guards who were indeed standing motionless. “I’ll tell you why. Because they know and accept my ancient right, the right I am invoking now. The only right I have left in a misguided Council, led by a Lancer with a personal vendetta, who would ruin my name and bury my honor under a stinking cloud of lies. The right of challenge.”

The entire tier of warrior caste Councilors burst into shouts of outrage, shock, and in a very few cases, support, while most of the other Councilors sat in stunned silence. Councilor Burnall stood up and shouted to be heard above the rest.

“You have no right of challenge! You threw it away when you stole the rights of your victim!”

“I have every right!” Shantu shouted back. “Has anything been proven? Have I been convicted in a fair hearing? No! But I am unjustly accused; I am pursued by the legal forces of the warrior who rules us! The right of challenge was created for precisely this situation, when an honorable warrior stands helpless before the overwhelming might of a sitting Lancer. It was created so that a single warrior might still defend himself, even with the accusation of crimes over his head. It was created so that I might stand here, without fear of being shot in the back, and look this Lancer in the eye to say I am innocent!”

He had turned to Tal for his last words, and she met his gaze evenly as the Council chamber erupted into pandemonium. It wasn’t easy, not with Salomen’s horror pulsing through her. Perhaps it had been a mistake not to tell her; not to give her what time she could to accept the idea and control her response. But she’d had so little time as it was.

The shouts were flying fast and furious as she and Shantu stared at each other.

“No one has invoked the right of challenge in four hundred cycles! It’s defunct!”

“The law still stands, it was never revoked!”

“He has no right!”

“He has every right!”

“We will not allow it!”

“This is an embarrassment! How can we even be discussing this?”

Tal saw the small smile of triumph on Shantu’s face; though he was fronting perfectly as usual, she knew this was going precisely as he’d hoped. She picked up her Staff and struck the bell.

The shouts died down as the tone reverberated through the chamber, and when they had faded Tal said, “Shantu is correct. He has the right of challenge, however cynically it is now being used. Counselor Aldirk, do you concur?”

She would not look at the VIP gallery; Aldirk was sitting too close to Salomen. Instead she held Shantu’s gaze as the entire chamber waited in breathless silence to hear what the Chief Counselor would say.

“This is a most…unexpected request,” said Aldirk at last. “And may I add, entirely unworthy of a civilized society. We left this type of barbarism hundreds of cycles in our past, and I think it is safe to say that very few of us here ever expected to see its return.” His voice grew stronger. “Shantu, your request shames this Council. Justice cannot be proven by might of arms, and no matter the outcome of this challenge, no Alsean alive today will ever forget that you have chosen to hold up a past that should have been left buried. Unfortunately…” he paused, and Tal saw Shantu’s smile return. “The right of challenge predates the formation of the Council. Nor was it ever made unlawful by a vote of the Council. It was thought to be an artifact of a barbaric past. To my eternal regret, that assumption does give you the right to challenge Lancer Tal.”

After a moment of utter silence, the whispers began. Tal silenced them with another strike of the bell.

“I also regret that such barbarism should have been returned to the seat of government. Shantu has ensured that this day will forever be remembered as one of deep shame for all Alseans. But if he insists on invoking an ancient excuse to shed blood on the Council floor, I will not deny him. I accept Shantu’s challenge in the name of his victims, past and present, and in the name of those who would fall to his ambition should it be left unchecked. You are defending an honor that is already lost, Shantu. But I am defending Alsea. I think we both know who Fahla will favor.”

“Thank you, Lancer Tal,” said Shantu in a mocking voice. “I knew you would understand the law and your own obligations to it. Though you have led this Council and our world down some unfortunate paths, you have always known your legal limitations.”

Tal ignored the double-edged words. “As the challenger, you have the right to choose the date and time of combat. What is your choice?”

“Right now,” he said, as she’d known he would. She felt an almost physical shock from the strength of Salomen’s response, and had to steel herself against it.

“I require enough time to have my sword brought, to change into appropriate clothing, and to speak with my bondmate,” she said. “I will not fight you before one hantick from now.”

He gave her a very short bow. “Agreed.”

Tal looked at her wristcom and said, “Then at morn-nine and fifteen, we will reconvene this Council to witness a ritual combat. By the ancient laws this combat will end only with the death of either challenger or challenged. May Fahla forgive me for what I must do.”

She turned and strode off the dais, closing the door behind her and sinking onto the nearest chair with a long expulsion of breath. “Goddess,” she whispered, putting her face in her hands. “I hoped I was wrong.”

She straightened and pulled off her boots, setting them neatly against the chair. Her jacket and pants followed, leaving her in a light bodysuit that would allow total freedom of movement. The material was tougher than it looked, and would not tear or puncture easily, but that really didn’t matter much in the kind of combat she was now entering. She had just wanted something that would give her some modicum of protection without restricting her in any way. The suit was black with a single red band running diagonally from shoulder to waist, a reminder for everyone watching that of the two fighters on the chamber floor, only one of them had the right to wear black. Shantu would almost certainly be dressed in red, the color of the warrior caste. Neither of them could wear armor or even padded fighting suits; the ancient laws forbade it. The ritual combat was designed to be a test of skill, not of who could afford the best equipment.

She had just finished folding her pants when she sensed them arriving outside. Dropping the pants on the chair, she went to the door and opened it, her heart skipping a beat as their eyes met.

“I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this,” said Salomen, in a ghastly attempt at hiding her terror.

Tal took her hand and drew her into the room, enfolding her in a warmron without a word. She heard Vellmar walk in behind them and close the door.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you,” she whispered.

“Why?” Salomen’s voice was choked. “Why did you leave like that? So I could spend our last morning alone, worrying about you? Vellmar says he was a shekking competition fighter!”

“I’m sorry, Lancer,” said Vellmar. “She asked how good he was, and I…don’t lie very well.”

“It’s all right,” said Tal. “Don’t ever lie to Salomen.” She pulled back enough to look into Salomen’s face. “He’s a very good swordfighter, it’s true. But his competition days are long past, and he doesn’t move as quickly as he used to. Besides, I have something he doesn’t. I have right, and honor, and you.”

“And is that enough? Is it enough against a man fighting for both his life and the biggest prize he could ever want?”

“It has to be.”

Salomen looked at her incredulously. “It has to be? That’s the best you can do?” Her fear was swiftly joined by anger, and Tal felt her struggling to hold it back. “How could you not tell me about this? You knew last night, didn’t you?”

“Salomen, listen. Please.” Tal reached down to clasp their hands together. “Yes, I knew last night. And I knew that the only chance I had was if I could get in enough practice to make what I do out there something that requires no thought. He’s not going to give me a warmup period; I have to be in top form from the moment this combat begins. I should have figured this out days ago; I should have been practicing day and night to get myself up to the very best level I can be. Instead I wasted time strategizing and rounding up votes I’d never need. That’s what Shantu was counting on; he planned to walk in here and catch me completely by surprise. You can bet he’s been honing his skills for the last two ninedays at least. By the time I figured it out last night, every single tick counted. Don’t you see, I couldn’t wake you up! You would never have let me walk out the door without an explanation and probably an argument, and I had no time, Salomen. I just had no time. And I couldn’t afford the mental distraction.”

“So you went to the base with Vellmar,” said Salomen slowly.

“Yes. We’ve spent every piptick practicing. She’s good, very good, and in just a few hanticks she’s already given me some tips and moves that might be the difference between living and dying.”

The word hung between them, and Tal cursed herself for her tactlessness.

“Three nights ago,” said Salomen, “you were almost ready to let a coup happen. You said you weren’t sure it was worth fighting. You talked about retirement, for Fahla’s sake. How can you stand here now and tell me that not only is this worth fighting for, but it’s worth dying for?”

“Because there’s a difference between retiring with full honor and forfeiting everything that makes me who I am,” said Tal. “If I walk away from this, it’s not just my rank that I’ll lose. I’ll lose all of my honor with it, no matter how unfair this is and how much everyone out there knows it’s a farce. It doesn’t matter, Salomen. I cannot walk away. I cannot live that way. I’d be one step short of outcaste. It’s not a life.”

“Not even if it’s a life with me?”

Tal closed her eyes. “Please don’t do this to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Salomen whispered. “I’m trying my best, Andira, I really am.”

“I know. I can feel it.” Tal reached out and caught a tear that was sliding down Salomen’s cheek, her own eyes brimming at the sight. “I’m sorry too, tyrina. We’re both trapped. There’s no way out. There never was.”

“What if…what if you chose a champion? Isn’t that your right?”

“Would you have me send someone to die in my place?” Salomen looked down, and Tal said gently, “Only scholar caste Lancers could choose a champion. That was never an option for a warrior, unless she was somehow physically incapacitated. And I don’t think anyone would believe me if I suddenly broke a leg.”

Salomen wrapped her arms around Tal and pulled her in tightly. The warmron had a desperate feel to it, and Tal held on with the same need.

“Lancer Tal,” said Vellmar, “your bag is on the chair. I’ll be waiting outside to take the Bondlancer back to the gallery.”

“Thank you, Vellmar. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.” Vellmar hesitated, then walked quietly out the door.

“She wanted to say it was an honor to know you,” said Salomen. “But she doesn’t want it to sound like she thinks you’ll lose.”

“Have a little faith, tyrina.” Tal turned her head and kissed Salomen on the throat, the jaw, and finally her mouth. “I need your faith,” she whispered, and this time when their lips met the kiss said everything they would not voice. When Salomen finally pulled away her face was streaked with tears, but she met Tal’s eyes with a calm that was startling in its depth. Somehow she had gathered all of her fear and pushed it into sheer determination.

“I have faith,” she said. “Because you have me. I’ll be there with you every moment. Shantu will not be fighting just one of us; he’ll be fighting us both.”

“Then he will lose,” said Tal. “Because I’ve never