chapter 14

 

 

Tal returned to the house after midmeal for a hastily arranged meeting with Tophalamon and Ponsard, her top economic advisors, and Miltorin, her communication advisor. For the rest of the afternoon they worked on a plan to deal with the expected fallout from the economic consortium’s statement, and by the end Tal was satisfied that they had a firm grip on the situation. She just wished it didn’t involve quite so much of her time; there was no way to avoid the public appearances. And tomorrow she had to go to Blacksun for a Council meeting, which was sure to be full of posturing. Some of the Councilors would seize on this publicity to further their own maneuverings for power within their regions and castes, and she wasn’t looking forward to an entire afternoon of useless bickering.

Just before evenmeal she recorded a message for the citizenry of Alsea, calmly countering the consortium’s forecasts, reiterating her implementation plan, and assuring her people that if she had any doubt as to the benefit of the replicator technology, she would never use it. She also reminded them that she had pursued a carefully thought-out and timed implementation precisely to avoid such catastrophes as those predicted in the statement, and that the opinion of the consortium did not reflect the opinions of her top advisors. A reference to the qualifications of her advisors left the distinct impression that the consortium was composed of those who hadn’t been good enough to be selected for the Lancer’s team—a tidy bit of phrasing for which she could thank Miltorin. The man was a master manipulator, and Tal had originally brought him on her team not because she wanted him working for her, but because she wanted to avoid having him work against her. It had been a wise choice.

Though she sat in the parlor for the recording, viewers would not see Salomen’s furniture in the background. To ensure the Opah family’s privacy and to imbue the message with the authority of her office, the vid would be reproduced to appear as if she were speaking from her office in the State House, with the Alsean flag and the Seal of the Lancer behind her.

Technology has its benefits, she thought as the vid crew packed up and trooped out. Left alone in the house but for the Guard at each entrance, she looked around and smiled. Then again, so do generations of tradition. She had come to love this house, with its well-rubbed furniture and lived-in appearance. Salomen’s home breathed history and life, and Tal could sense the energy its previous inhabitants had left behind. Such a palpable sense of history in a home was a new experience for her.

She moved to the window and leaned against the sill, watching the trees swaying in a gentle afternoon breeze. It was a beautiful day, and she would far rather have spent it in the fields than in strategy meetings. On the other hand, if she’d been in the fields she would not have had the realization that had so shaken her during a break in the meetings.

They’d taken a few ticks to get drinks and stretch their bodies, not because her advisors wanted it but because Tal could never bear to simply sit in one place very long. Her body craved movement. And while she’d been stretching and letting her mind wander away from the task at hand, she’d suddenly tuned into Salomen’s emotions. For a moment she thought her hostess must be returning to the house. Tal was a powerful empath, but even her senses did not extend more than a few lengths. Yet when she examined the emotions and their source more clearly, she knew Salomen was still in the field, working on the irrigation project.

She could sense Salomen at nine lengths?

There had been no time to consider the implications; the advisors were gathering again and she’d had to refocus on their strategy session. But now, in the quiet house, the inevitable conclusion was knocking insistently at her brain. Long-distance sensing was rare among Alseans, occurring only in those who were extraordinarily gifted—or those who were bonded tyrees.

But we’re not bonded. And we are certainly not tyrees! 

An unexpected and rather shocking thought occurred to her.

Perhaps we are simply not tyrees yet.

Fahla! It’s not possible! I know something is happening between us—but it cannot be that.

She reached out with her senses, attempting to reproduce the connection she’d made during the meeting. Nothing. Just the emotions of the Guards at the doors, and faint emanations from the vid crew and advisors who were still loading up their transports and departing. But Salomen was beyond her range. It was as if a door had opened in her mind, given her a brief glimpse of what lay on the other side, and then closed again.

Do I want that door to be open?

She honestly could not say. Because if it did open, permanently—if this really was a symptom of a future tyree bond—then it would provide more than an unprecedented, almost unthinkable view into Salomen.

It would give Salomen the same view into her.

 

 

-----

 

 

“Your message was very well done,” said Salomen as she settled into her chair for their evening session. “You made me believe.”

“Good. One believer on my side, thirty-six million to convert. No, wait, make that three believers. I think Micah and Jaros are with me as well.” Tal pushed her reader card to the other edge of the window seat. She’d already received the preliminary assessments from her strategic team, who felt the message had been a success. But the information hadn’t assuaged the general poor temper that had left her feeling unsettled all evening.

“I don’t even have to skim you to feel your anger.” Salomen spoke carefully. “What happened between midmeal and now?”

Tal rested her head against the wall with a sigh. “Everything and nothing.”

“Now that is a politician’s answer. And you are not a politician.”

“Yes, I am.” Tal lifted her head and glared at Salomen. “If I were not, I would simply exercise my power as Lancer and inform my people that the replicators are being implemented in three moons whether they agree with my decisions or not. Instead I’m playing a game of approval, and it galls me that I should have to do so after more than one cycle of being so Fahla-damned careful with the concerns of every shekking caste!”

She closed her eyes, ashamed of her outburst and vividly aware of Salomen’s surprise. She was a bit surprised herself. Where had this come from?

In the long silence that followed, she felt Salomen’s shifting emotions and waited for the battle of words to begin. After all, it was what they did best; what they had done through their entire relationship. Last night and this morning had been different, but she wasn’t convinced that it signified a true shift in their interactions. And that, she suddenly realized, was what had been bothering her all afternoon. She didn’t trust Salomen to remain as open and…vulnerable, as she had recently shown herself to be. Salomen was a fighter in her own right, and an opponent such as Tal had rarely come across. But this afternoon’s connection had left Tal feeling exposed, and she didn’t care for it at all. Especially when the one she might be exposed to was a woman who had already proven herself more than capable of verbal battle.

“I think,” said Salomen at last, “that I believed the lie just like every other Alsean. And now I see the truth.”

Tal sighed. Here we go.

“And what is the truth?” she asked. It was almost like a ritual bow before the fight.

“You’re Alsean.”

“I think that particular truth might be self-evident,” said Tal, trying for a little humor.

“No, it’s not.” Salomen crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, regarding Tal with a steady gaze. “You work very hard to convince all of us that you’re omnipotent. The all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful Lancer Tal. Someone above and beyond a simple Alsean. But you’re not. You’re one of us. And yet you carry a burden far above and beyond what any Alsean should carry, don’t you? And so the lie is necessary. Because without it, we wouldn’t believe that you could carry that burden. It’s our very belief in your omnipotence that makes your office possible.”

While Tal was recovering her tongue, Salomen continued. “I’m thinking out loud, because I’ve never thought about it in these terms before. But your predecessor was removed by military coup because he could not sustain the lie. Not because he was incapable as a leader—he certainly was an idiot, but that alone would not have unseated him. The critical issue was the lie. Wasn’t it?”

They stared at one another until Tal felt an unwilling smile creasing her face. “Have you any interest in becoming an advisor? I have need of one who sees as clearly as you.”

Salomen smiled back. “Then I’m right.”

“Of course you’re right. Tordax was an idiot, but we’ve had idiots in power before. His true failure was in losing the faith of the warrior caste. When our caste ceased to believe in his effectiveness, we removed him.”

“And the warrior and scholar castes chose you to replace him.” Salomen’s curiosity regarding this secretive process was easily readable. “Why you?”

“Do you mean, why me as opposed to another more qualified candidate?”

“No, Andira, I do not. I mean, why you? How were you chosen?”

Belatedly, Tal realized that she’d slipped into fencing mode.

I expect a battle, yet I’m the one who swings the sword first. It was a disappointing revelation, and she strove to atone for it with an earnest answer.

“I was chosen in part because of politics—I had the support of some powerful families in both castes. Partly, I think, it was a sense of justice—my parents had been assassinated for a misinterpretation of Father’s intentions, and though that truth is not known by many, those who do know it wield a great deal of power. And partly it was a backlash against Tordax. He was scholar caste and had failed. That swung the favor to the warrior caste. But because I come from both castes, the scholars could also support me. It was ironic, really—my mother believed I would not rise to Lancer as a warrior, and in fact I wouldn’t have done so strictly as a warrior. It was her influence in raising me as both scholar and warrior that made the difference.”

“Hm.” Salomen shifted her legs. “You say nothing about strategy. Did you not strategize for much of your life to be in the right position when the time came?”

“I strategized to be as prepared as I could if the time came. I never wanted to fight that kind of battle—removing competitors and putting myself where I thought I should be. I’ve seen those fights, and defended myself against them, and I would not lower myself that way.”

“Perhaps that is another reason you were chosen.”

“Sometimes I think it might be. Other times, when I’m in a cynical frame of mind, I think it might actually have worked against me.”

“Are you in a cynical frame of mind now?”

The question was unexpected, and Tal paused to assess Salomen’s true motives. Salomen bore the inspection easily, looking back with an open expression—and, Tal realized, an open mind. By now Salomen was far more effective at fronting her emotions, but she was making no effort to do so. In a battle of words, it was the equivalent of laying down her shield. The wariness which had so marked their interactions until two nights ago was not in evidence, and it was this realization that gave Tal the courage to tell the whole truth.

“I am feeling cynical,” she said. “But more than that—I’m tired. I’ve spent more than a cycle trying to bring six squabbling castes into a united vision of the future, and just when I thought my efforts were coming to fruition, that consortium released a warhead. So now I begin a new battle, trying to make up ground I thought I’d already won, and I’m just…” She raised a hand and let it drop into her lap. “Tired.”

“I’m sorry,” said Salomen. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No. Thank you, but there’s nothing you can do.” Tal gave her a quick smile. “Unless you’d like to offer a public testimonial as to how you once opposed my policies but now believe in them wholeheartedly.”

“I could do that. Actually, I’ve already made plans to do so. The Granelle Producer Caste House has called an emergency meeting in three days’ time to discuss this new situation, and I’ll be speaking on your behalf. I know,” she added at Tal’s obvious surprise, “I’ve not been your greatest supporter.”

“You have a gift for understatement.”

A faint embarrassment surfaced. “I can be…stubborn, I know. But I like to think that I’m also willing to admit my error when facts prove me wrong. Which occurs very rarely.” A full smile creased her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes, and Tal could not help but laugh.

“Once per cycle, I’m thinking.”

“No, no, more like once every five cycles.”

“Then I am privileged to witness such a rare event.”

“Yes, you are.”

Tal had to know. “So you really believe in me? When did that change?”

“I said I will be testifying to a belief in your policies.” Salomen raised her eyebrows.

“Oh. I suppose that was too much to hope for. Perhaps in another five cycles, then.”

“Would it really matter whether I believed in you personally?”

With a single question Tal was disarmed. She could lie, but…

“Yes,” she said. “It would.”

“Why?” asked Salomen softly.

“I told you last night. I care.”

Salomen tilted her head to one side, her expression thoughtful. “I care, too. And I don’t like to see you cynical and tired.” She rose from her chair, walked the few steps to stand in front of the window seat, and held out her hand. “Come. I have a potential aid for you.”

Tal looked at her hand for a moment before taking it and sliding out of the seat. Salomen reached for her other hand and said, “Sometimes, when I was a girl and my responsibilities seemed too heavy for me to bear, I would tell my mother that I was too tired. Too tired to go into the fields, too tired to make yet another flight to the distribution center, too tired for school. And she’d tell me that she understood. Then she would say, ‘You need a little more strength. Here, take some of mine.’ And she would give me a warmron.” A sense of warmth and safety surfaced in Salomen’s emotions, the byproduct of her memories. “You need a little more strength, Andira.”  Salomen tugged gently on her hands. “Here. Take some of mine.”

Tal allowed herself to be pulled into the warmron, part of her marveling at the improbability of it, and part of her happily sinking into the freely offered comfort. Gradually she relaxed, feeling Salomen’s body become looser in her grasp as she did the same. They stood quietly in the peace of mutual trust—until a flash of Salomen’s emotions nearly burned Tal’s empathic senses. She pulled her head back in shock, her eyes squeezed shut in an instinctive effort to shut out the intrusion. This was a connection unlike anything she had felt before, even in a Sharing, and her senses were completely overwhelmed. It was the emotional equivalent of staring into the sun too long—an overdose of sensory input that left the viewer temporarily blind.

She stepped back, bumping into the window seat and sitting down a bit ungracefully. When her head cleared, she looked up to see Salomen staring at her, wide-eyed.

“What was that?” Salomen whispered.

“You felt it too?” But she knew the answer even before finishing her question. Oh, no. This is not possible.

“Yes…Fahla, I felt you. As if I were inside you.” Salomen seemed unsteady on her feet, and sat next to Tal. “And…I felt…” She met Tal’s eyes briefly before looking away. “Something I cannot put a name to.”

Tal buried her face in her hands. “Shek. Nor can I. But now I have to.” She leaned against the window, welcoming the cool glass on her back. “Salomen, did you sense anything unusual this afternoon? Sometime around mid-three?”

“No,” said Salomen thoughtfully, and Tal breathed a sigh of relief. “Wait. Yes. I remember now. Just for a moment, I thought you were there in the field with me. I actually looked around for you, but of course you were here in the house. I didn’t think much of it, but now…why do you ask?”

“Because at mid-three I was taking a break from my strategy meeting, and I connected with you.”

“What? You were nine lengths away!”

“I know. Don’t look so shocked, Salomen. I’m not the only one in this room who sensed another’s mind from nine lengths.”

“I didn’t…” Salomen’s eyes widened. “That really was you?”

Tal nodded.

“But…” The rapidly moving kaleidoscope of emotions settled into a single ascendant thought. “No. This is not possible.”

Tal couldn’t help her laugh. “Precisely what I was thinking.”

But Salomen wasn’t laughing, and when she stood up Tal was surprised at the strength with which her student was suddenly able to front her emotions.

“I require a break from our lessons,” said Salomen stiffly. “Please excuse me.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked out, shutting the door behind her with a decisive click.

Tal stared at the closed door, then up at the ceiling. “You do have a sense of humor, don’t you?” she accused. She jumped off the window seat and began to pace.

Spawn of a fantenshekken. I think this is really happening. Fahla, why? She’s the last Alsean I would have chosen, and she obviously can’t stay in the same room with me! She cannot be my tyree!

I need a run.

She stripped off her shirt and yanked her running clothes out of the drawer. Micah was about to become an unhappy man. Guarding her at night was a whole different prospect than guarding her in daylight, but she would not wait. Besides, she was on Opah land.

Though after this, she might not be welcome on Opah land much longer.

 

 

 

 

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chapter 15

 

 

It was a subdued Tal who made her way to mornmeal the next day. She’d skipped her morning run—having thoroughly exhausted both herself and her Guards the night before—and enjoyed a rare opportunity to lounge in bed. In fact, if she’d had a choice, she would have stayed there rather than face Salomen across the table. But she had never yet run from a challenge, and she would not start now.

Salomen was equally reluctant to appear at mornmeal. Her fronting no longer had the strength it had briefly developed the night before, and Tal could not prevent herself from skimming the emotions of the woman who had occupied her thoughts all night long. The head of Hol-Opah was hiding in the kitchen, delaying her entrance until the last possible moment. When it could no longer be avoided, Tal sensed Salomen consciously gathering her courage before walking through the doorway.

Their eyes met, and Tal felt an electric charge run down her spine. Fahla, it was like a pre-Rite crush! She offered a cautious smile, and was ridiculously gratified when Salomen responded in kind. Part of her was lost in contemplation of those lovely lines at the sides of Salomen’s mouth, and part of her was completely disgusted with the whole situation. This was not the behavior of Alsea’s highest-ranked and most powerful warrior. The only thing that made it remotely tolerable was that Salomen was just as affected as she was.

But then Salomen sat across from her, giving Tal her first close-up view since the previous night, and she forgot everything else in her appreciation of a pair of dark brown eyes. Until Micah kicked her under the table.

“Jaros,” she said, smoothly switching gears—or at least, she hoped it was smooth—“your father tells me that your class is studying continental movement. Did your teacher tell you that both of our continents were once one?”

“No!” Jaros was instantly fascinated. “Really? We just learned how they move. Will they come back together?”

“Not before you finish school,” said Nikin. Salomen gave him a playful push on the shoulder.

“Your brother is displaying just how much he has forgotten since his own days in school,” she told Jaros, and received a push in her turn.

“If I am, then I’ve forgotten more than you ever knew.” Nikin looked at Jaros. “Yes, they will eventually. But it won’t happen for a long, long time.”

“Oh,” said Jaros in disappointed tones. “I wanted to see it.”

The rest of mornmeal was spent on the topics of traveling and how alike or different Alseans were in other cities and holdings. Even Herot took part, with no signs of the sullen behavior that had so marked the meal yesterday. Tal was grateful for the distraction. But the reprieve lasted only until the meal ended and Jaros left for school; his departure was always the cue for the rest of the family to scatter to their various tasks for the day. Tal walked to the transport and leaned against it, wishing her heart would calm itself. It was really quite embarrassing, having so little control over her body!

With her gaze fixed on the landscape and her back toward the house, Tal gave herself every possible moment of delay as she sensed Salomen’s approach. Not until her hostess opened the door of the transport did Tal turn, catching Salomen looking at her.

They both froze in place, staring, and Salomen’s front slipped. Tal was horrified at what she felt.

“Salomen—”

“We are not discussing this now.” It was a tone Tal remembered well from their earlier interactions, before Salomen had opened up. She was well and truly closed again, and for Tal the loss was painful. She hadn’t realized just how much their nascent friendship had come to mean to her until it had been withdrawn again.

Salomen entered the transport without another word, and after a pause Tal followed suit. They lifted off and sped over the fields in utter silence, Salomen staring straight ahead and Tal watching out her side window. Finally she could stand it no longer.

“There is no reason for fear,” she said quietly, not turning her head.

“I’m not afraid.”

Now Tal did turn, not bothering to front her incredulity. “First you walk out on me, and now you lie?”

Salomen shook her head. “Andira…I need some distance from this. Please.”

“I can give you distance,” said Tal. “But I’m not certain our minds will cooperate.”

“That is what I’m afraid of.”

“Not having control over your mind?”

Salomen nodded.

“Then you’re in excellent company. I’m less than ecstatic about it myself.”

She felt the surprise right before Salomen said, “Do you know, that hadn’t occurred to me.”

Suddenly Tal was fighting down a surge of anger. She fronted it instantly, but had some difficulty keeping her voice calm as she said, “Yes, Salomen, there is another thinking, feeling Alsean on the other end of this connection.”

She faced forward again, crossing her arms over her chest. She’d had just about enough of women assuming her lack of emotion due to her title. The last woman who had not made that assumption, who had treated her as an equal, was Kathryn. And she had never even been available.

The very thought of Kathryn brought up an old pain Tal had thought was long buried, and she was stunned by how powerful it still was after more than a cycle. Letting her head fall back against the seat, she breathed deeply and focused on thoughts of running, free and alone, through a pristine wilderness. It was her place of serenity, the place she’d used during her mental training and which she still found necessary on occasion. By the time the transport landed she had boxed the unwanted memories and put them away, but the anger was still there. She barely waited for the transport to fully settle before leaping out, grabbing her gloves and soilbreaker from the back, and striding through the tall grasses to the pile of freshly dug soil that marked Salomen’s most recent efforts from the day before. She jerked on her gloves and seized the soilbreaker, her mind transforming it from a tool to a weapon. With a vicious swing she buried it to the hilt, tore it free, and swung again. The exertion was exactly what she needed, and she threw herself into it so furiously that Salomen, who was coming behind her with the spade, could not keep up. For two hanticks Tal sweated out her frustration, losing herself in the physicality of it, until a hand on her shoulder made her jump.

“Shek!” She twisted and glared at Salomen, who had stepped back in alarm. “Don’t ever do that! Fahla, I nearly knocked you flat.” She threw down her soilbreaker and put her hands on her hips, waiting for her breathing to come down to normal.

“Thank you for restraining yourself,” said Salomen, but the sarcasm did not match the tentativeness in her gesture as she held out a water bottle. “I just thought you should hydrate. You’ve been working very hard.”

Tal stripped off her gloves, took the bottle and drained half of it. “Thank you,” she said, handing it back. “I lost track of time.”

“I know.” Salomen held her gaze. “Andira…I’m sorry. I’ve been selfish, and I hurt you.”

“Surprising, isn’t it? I imagine you hadn’t realized I could be hurt.” Tal didn’t know where her anger was coming from, but even after two hanticks she hadn’t worked it out of her system.

“No, I didn’t.” Salomen’s voice was steady. “And that is your doing.”

“My doing!”

“Yes. Your lie. The lie of the omnipotent Lancer. I only discovered the truth yesterday; I need a little more time to fully realize it.”

Tal blew out a breath and wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Well, you have a point.”

“It’s not just the loss of control that frightens me.”

It took Tal a moment to catch up to Salomen’s thought, but when she did, her anger began to drain away. “What else?”

Salomen looked over Tal’s shoulder. “Them. And what they represent.”

“My Guards?”

Nodding, Salomen said, “You’ve dressed them like field workers during the day, and they keep their distance, but there’s no hiding what they are and what they do. They’re here because of you.”

“No, they’re here because of my title.”

“Is that not the same thing?”

Suddenly Tal heard Darzen’s words, heavy with betrayal. There’s just one problem with that, Andira. Your title is everything. 

“No, it is not.” Her voice came out in a growl, and she spun on her heel to walk away. Three steps later she reconsidered and spun again, striding right into Salomen’s personal space. “Yes, I am the Lancer,” she said furiously. “But I also have a name. And behind that name is an Alsean who eats, drinks, sleeps and loves, just like every other Alsean. I can be hurt, and you’ve become surprisingly proficient at it, Salomen! I’ve dreamed of a tyree bond my whole life, and now that dream looks more like some kind of sick joke. Why Fahla matched me with you I have no idea, unless it was to satisfy her damned sense of humor!”

Salomen glared at her, giving no ground. “How dare you call this a joke! Don’t you think I’ve dreamed of this, too? But in my dreams, my bondmate was someone who understood the joys and responsibilities of working a holding. Someone who understood stability, and tradition, and the rewards of growing something. Not someone steeped in violence, with blood on her hands. Not someone who lives and breathes power and politics, and goes nowhere without five or ten Guards to keep her from being killed by those who would usurp her! That is not what I want!”

“And this is your view of me? After all I have shared with you?” Tal didn’t know whether to spit or cry, she was so infuriated. “You don’t see the woman who loved her parents and lives their dream? The woman who showed you that warmrons should not be limited to pre-Rite children? The woman who—” She choked on her words, turning away. “Fahla. I would wish this away if I could.” The truth of that brought tears to her eyes. How could something she’d longed for all her life be so completely wrong?

“Andira…” Salomen’s voice was suddenly gentle, and Tal shook her head.

“Don’t. I cannot abide this. You pull me in and then push me away, and I will not play this game.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “Your front has improved dramatically; I can’t sense you. I’ve taught you the very thing that allows you to keep me on the edge.”

Salomen stepped around and looked her in the eye as she deliberately dropped her blocks. “I am not fronting now.”

Tal forgot her pain as she fell into Salomen’s emotions. Their strength was astonishing—as if she weren’t just sensing them but was being actively drawn in. This is not normal, she thought wildly.

“I am not trying to hurt you, Andira. Please—I don’t want it to be like this. I’m sorry for what I said, but…I’m drowning in this, just as you are, and trying to find my way back to solid ground. It scares me.”

With some effort Tal separated Salomen’s emotions from her own. She could hardly believe how combative their words had been when their feelings were so similar.

“What if there is no solid ground?” she whispered.

“Then perhaps we will drown together.” Salomen gave her an uncertain smile. “But…I would prefer that we hold each other up.”

The first breeze of the morning sighed through the grass, lifting a few wisps of Salomen’s hair away from her face. A nearby grainbird whistled its short, high call note, as if in response to the wind, and another answered from farther away. The bird closer to them instantly burst into song, and Tal remembered a time when she and Micah had stood toe to toe, just like this, in a forest ringing with birdsong. Then she had been running from the pain of a love she could never have; now she stood facing a love that might be hers—if only they could both accept it. In this matter they were equally unprepared; neither of them could take the lead. They would have to teach each other. The only alternative was to walk away, and for all her doubts, Tal knew she could not turn her back on this.

“I’m frightened too,” she said. “But the one thing that scares me the most is the way you wield your weapon. I don’t seem to have any defenses left.”

“What weapon?”

“Your words. They’re effortlessly damaging. I’m not ‘steeped in violence.’ That is not what the Truth and the Path is about. That’s not what I’m about.” She held up her hands between them. “I do have blood on my hands, yes. But I swear to you that none of it is innocent, and none of it was spilled lightly.” Her hands shook, a barely visible tremor, and Salomen reached up to interlace their fingers. The touch calmed Tal far more than it should have—enough for her to let go of her own front.

“Fahla.” Salomen’s voice was full of wonder. “It’s so strong…”

They stared at each other as their emotions flowed through them, and Tal’s own voice sounded distant to her ears as she said, “I do understand stability and tradition. Can you not feel how much we have in common, in the truest parts of our selves? We want the same things. What we see on the surface is not who we are.”

“I can feel it.” There was a slightly dazed look in Salomen’s eyes. “I think…I knew that before. But this feels so different.”

“Salomen…if you knew that, why did you say what you did?”

The dazed expression cleared. “You called this a joke. It hurt. You wield the same weapon I do, Andira. You’re very good with it.”

Tal shook her head. What was it about Salomen that made her forget all her own training? Warriors did not lash out in reaction to injury, whether physical or mental. Pain was simply something to be channeled into a controlled response…but she’d behaved like a raw trainee.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Believe me, I don’t think this is a joke. It couldn’t possibly be less humorous.”

Salomen lowered their hands and stepped closer. “Then why did Fahla match us if it wasn’t for her sense of humor?”

“Perhaps because we have more in common…than we thought.” Tal faltered as Salomen’s proximity registered on what felt like every nerve in her body, and watched the lips so close to hers curve into a slight smile. “I know that our caste differences will be hard to overcome, but…maybe that’s the point. Fahla does not choose many tyrees, and never bestows the gift without reason. But she has chosen us.”

“I know,” whispered Salomen. “I just don’t know why.”

“Maybe she heard us. We’ve both wished for this all our lives.”

“But you didn’t wish for me.”

“And you didn’t wish for me.”

“No…” Salomen was so close now that Tal felt the puff of her breath. “But I have a feeling that if I’d been given what I did wish for, I would have found it lacking.”

Such closeness without contact was too much for Tal. She released one hand and touched Salomen’s face, lightly running her fingers along a delicate cheekbone ridge. “I would never have known to wish for you, because I’ve never known anyone like you.”

Salomen smiled. “Coming from the Lancer, that’s saying something.” She reached out, and Tal’s entire body was vividly aware of the soft touch on her own face. “I think it goes without saying that I’ve never known anyone like you, either.”

“With you, I’m not certain anything can go without saying.”

“Yes, it can.” Salomen closed the tiny distance between them and kissed her. It was a slow, gentle, sweet kiss, and Tal wanted to spend the rest of the day exactly here. But she was too mindful of their fragile truce, and pulled back before she could cross some unseen boundary.

Salomen had other ideas. Tal felt a hand wrap around the back of her neck, firmly drawing her closer, and this time when their lips met there was less gentleness and more need. Then there was only need, and their bodies were molded together as she lost herself in the pleasure of exploring…until the sudden ignition of their emotions flashed through her, burning out her empathic senses with a painful intensity. With a gasp she pulled back and waited for her head to clear. When it did, she saw Salomen’s face mirroring her own thoughts.

“That is positively debilitating,” said Tal.

Salomen laughed shakily. “I’m glad to hear you say that. It makes me feel better. I didn’t even know that sort of thing could happen.”

“Neither did I.” Tal ran her hand through Salomen’s dark hair, brushing it off her shoulders. “Salomen…please don’t push me away again. Don’t block me out. I know this is not what either of us expected—or even thought we wanted—but it could lead to something beyond both our dreams. Isn’t that worth fighting for?”

“I’m not the warrior,” said Salomen. Then she smiled, a real smile that lit up her eyes and deepened the creases on the sides of her mouth. “But I know how to fight for what I believe in. And I think…I have to believe in this. It’s too strong to be denied.”

“Thank Fahla,” breathed Tal. She leaned in again, but stopped just before their lips met. “Shek.”

“What is it?”

Tal straightened up. “I feel like I’m facing a raised sword. I’m not sure how many more of those empathic flares I can handle.”

“And you think kissing causes it?”

“I don’t know what causes it, but it seems to have something to do with physical touch. The first one was during a warmron, remember?”

“Actually,” mused Salomen, “everything seems to have started with a warmron. Has it been only two days since you included warmrons in my lessons? No wonder I’m more jumpy than a fanten on slaughter day.”

 “Salomen…can we hold this back until I learn more about it? I think one of my old instructors might be able to help us make sense of this. I’ll call him after the Council meeting.”

“First you ask me not to push you away, then you push me away?”

“Only for a day.”

Salomen rolled her eyes. “Inconsistent. I suppose this is the part where I begin learning all of the less desirable things about you.”

“No, you already know all of those.”

They smiled at each other and then separated somewhat awkwardly. Tal pulled on her gloves, reached down for her soilbreaker, and straightened slowly as her muscles got her attention for the first time that morning.

“Sore?” asked Salomen, making no effort to front her amusement.

“Not at all.”

“And you were upset when I lied.”

“I do not lie.” Tal paused. “Except when it’s necessary.”

“Ah, so it’s necessary now?”

“Yes. I have no desire to spend the rest of my days hearing about how the warrior could not do a producer’s job.” Tal turned around and swung the soilbreaker up, only to have it caught and held.

“The warrior has already impressed the producer.” Salomen’s voice was low and right next to her ear. “And not by digging pipe.”

The hold on her tool was released, but Tal stood unmoving. Salomen chuckled quietly and walked back to her spade, resuming her work without another glance. Shaking her head, Tal swung the soilbreaker down, enjoying the satisfying thud as it sank in. “If this is how you treat your field workers, I have a sudden understanding of why they’re so loyal to you.”

“If I treated all my field workers that way, I would have had more than just five invitations to bond.”

Tal left her tool buried and turned in surprise. “You’ve had five bond offers?”

“Mm hmm. Why don’t you take a break and let me catch up with you?”

“Don’t try to distract me. Why didn’t you accept any of them?”

“Because I knew they came less from desire to bond with me, and more from desire to bond with my land.”

“Oh.” Tal could feel the hurt behind the simple words. “Well, I can’t say they were fools. Your land is beautiful.” Salomen paused, then resumed digging. Tal smiled. “But I can say they were blind to its greatest value.”

The shy pleasure that came from Salomen made Tal want to walk over and kiss her, but she was still feeling cautious about those empathic flares.

“And you?”

Tal almost didn’t hear the question as she watched Salomen’s smooth, sure movements. “What? Oh. None.”

She regretted the answer when Salomen stopped and straightened; she’d been enjoying her moment as a voyeur.

“None?” demanded Salomen incredulously.

“Until recently, I was convinced that I was bonded to Alsea. There was no room for others, and no one tried to convince me otherwise.”

“What changed?”

“I thought you were catching up with me.”

Salomen sank her spade into the soil and left it standing. “Shek the pipe. What changed?”

“Do you speak that way around Jaros?”

“Andira!”

Laughing, Tal gave in. “Micah gave me a different point of view.”

“Colonel Micah actually convinced you of something?”

“Well, he was pointing a disruptor at my heart at the time. It got my attention.”

“What?”

The outrage accompanying the single word made Tal regret her joke. “Not with serious intent. Micah has been my instructor and my friend, and though our roles have changed, he still instructs me on occasion. He…needed to make me listen to him. I had let myself go down a bad path.”

“What in Fahla’s name could you have done to deserve that?” Salomen was swiftly working herself into a protective fury, and Tal was guiltily enjoying it. It was rather pleasant to see that anger on her behalf for once.

“He had good reason. I was allowing personal issues to interfere with my duties as Lancer.”

“And he could find no better way of drawing your attention to this fact than threatening you with a deadly weapon?”

Ooo, Micah, pray she never hears about the immobilizer! Tal could only imagine what Micah might suffer if Salomen ever heard that part of the story.

“It was a demonstration of the potential costs of my behavior,” she said. “I had placed my need for solitude above my need for protection.” Salomen’s brows furrowed, and Tal rephrased. “I slipped my Guards. Repeatedly. Several times a nineday for two moons, actually. Micah was showing me how easy it would be for someone to kill me if I continued to disregard my own safety. It was…a memorable lesson.”

Salomen shook her head. “You warriors really are a breed apart, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think so. The methods of instruction might be different, but the lessons being taught are much the same:  responsibility, duty, proper behavior. And sometimes even the methods are not so different. Your brother received a rather physical lesson just yesterday, with your approval.”

“Hm.” Salomen regarded her appraisingly. “You are occasionally right.”

“I have a suspicion that I should be recording this conversation.” Tal grinned at her. “Will you ever say that to me again?”

“Certainly,” said Salomen, turning back to her spade. “The very next time you’re right. And you’ll have plenty of time to anticipate it, since it will likely be several cycles.”

Tal made no answer; she was occupied with watching Salomen’s body in motion. But as she stood waiting, a quick smile crossed her face. Salomen had just referred to their relationship in the long term.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 16

 

 

Sunsa Aldirk was quite convinced that he had the most difficult job on the planet. As Chief Counselor of Alsea he should have been the right hand of the Lancer, advising her on matters of state and knowing that his advice would be accepted for the wisdom it was. After all, he had been moving in the upper levels of Alsean politics for many cycles now, and spoke from a position of great experience. Unfortunately, Lancer Tal was notoriously inconsistent in her attitude toward his advice. Sometimes she accepted it. Other times, like today, she was obdurate.

“Find another way, Aldirk.”

“Lancer Tal,” he said, trying mightily to maintain his front and his calm voice, “you cannot respond properly from that holding. You must return to Blacksun permanently.”

“No, I must not.” She looked at him sharply, and he was certain that if she ever let loose of that impenetrable front of hers, he’d sense a great deal of impatience. But the Lancer almost never allowed others to sense her, so he was forced to rely on body language and tone of voice. Which, at the moment, were not difficult to read.

“I am quite willing to fly here for Council meetings or strategy sessions. And I will make the necessary public appearances. Schedule the appearances in Blacksun, Redmoon, Whitemoon and Whitesun together, so I can conclude them in a three-day tour. Otherwise, nothing on this agenda requires me to leave Hol-Opah for more than half a day, and the statements can be recorded there as well.”

“Given the behavior of some of the Councilors today, do you not think it would be wiser to keep a closer eye on them?” The Council meeting had been rancorous, and Aldirk had been surprised to see Lead Merchant Parser supporting Lead Warrior Shantu’s call for a delay on the replicator implementation. Those two were nearly always on opposite sides of an issue. For Parser to support Shantu meant he either had very strong opinions on the topic—which was doubtful considering his equally strong opinion at last moon’s meeting regarding instant implementation—or he was engaging in some sort of political maneuver.

“That’s what I have you for,” said the Lancer. “Most of that was useless arm waving anyway.” She paused. “Though I would like you to track Parser more closely. Shantu’s motion didn’t surprise me—he may be a little too in love with the power of his position, but he has always had Alsea’s best interests in mind. He’s doing what he truly believes is best. Parser’s motives are less clear—he doesn’t believe the consortium’s forecast any more than I do. He’s planning something, and I want to know what it is.”

Aldirk nodded, unsurprised that she’d seen through Parser’s front. The Lancer’s empathic abilities were a powerful political weapon, and she was not afraid to use them. It was one of the things he admired most about her.

And one of the things he least admired was her intransigence regarding certain issues when their opinions did not match. Today’s topic was trying his patience.

“The Council may be arm waving, but they are still a reflection of public opinion,” he said. “The people of Alsea are polarized. They need your guidance.”

“I’m aware of that, and they will receive it. I’m merely saying that I do not need to abandon my obligation at Hol-Opah in order to satisfy these latest demands.”

“What obligation? You owe that holding nothing.” Why was she so determined to stay at that useless little farm?

“I owe Raiz Opah a moon of my time. To date I have fulfilled a little more than half of that.”

“I hardly think you can be held accountable to this ludicrous challenge when our very society is threatened!”

Her gaze was level. “I hold myself accountable.”

 “Warriors!” Aldirk threw up his hands in disgust. “Honor above everything, while the world falls apart.”

She smiled for the first time since they’d begun their meeting. “The world is not falling apart, Aldirk. A consortium of economists has made a statement that received more attention than it deserves. That’s all. We will deal with it and move on to the next crisis, which will no doubt also be of planet-shattering proportions. And I won’t let that one dictate my life either.”

 When she spoke in those tones, he knew she would not budge. There was nothing left to do but accede and begin scheduling around her time on that ridiculous bit of land. At least he’d gotten a concession of half a day; he could work with that.

“Very well. My next item is the anti-Borg nanoscrubbers. I’m pleased to report that the fifth version is complete.”

“Excellent!” The Lancer’s eyes and tone brightened considerably. “I can cross that off my list. What about the law mandating their continuing development?”

“The draft is on my desk now. I expect it to be ready for Council debate by this time next nineday.”

“There will be no debate.” Her tone bespoke absolute confidence. “On this matter the castes are of one accord. My only concern was that our current understanding of this danger might fade with time, but as long as future Lancers leave the law intact, we’ll be ready for an encounter with the Borg.”

Aldirk shuddered. He’d seen the bodies of the Borg in Blacksun’s medical research facility and found them beyond repulsive. Their appearance was fearsome, but the stories of their behavior were even worse. An enemy of one mind, with one purpose, was frightening indeed. He was no warrior, but as a seasoned Counselor he understood the power of many minds devoted to a single purpose.

Methodically he went down his list, crossing some items off and making notes next to others. On the whole, it was a productive meeting. When he returned to his office he would begin preparations for the Lancer’s appearance at a State media conference, and her subsequent trip to Whitesun and Redmoon. He knew that the more visible she was in response to the economist crisis, the better the situation would be.

“One more thing,” he announced, setting aside his card reader. “The items you asked for.” Reaching into the blue satchel at his side, he withdrew two small boxes, identical in every way but for the designs etched in their tops.

“Thank you, Aldirk.” The Lancer took them and looked them over with a fond smile. “I’d actually forgotten about these with all that has happened in the last few days. Micah will be glad to see his, I’m sure.” The smile turned slightly wicked.

As she opened her sword case, Aldirk rolled his eyes. One thing all warriors seemed to have in common was their fascination with weaponry, no matter how outdated. Swords were useless in modern warfare and yet swordmakers still did a brisk business, manufacturing blades for enthusiastic warriors the world over.

The Lancer withdrew the grip from her case. It was heavy and well-worn; she had owned it for many cycles. Unlike many grips he’d seen, hers was not fancy or overly engraved; she preferred a plain grip with grooves designed for a secure hold, not decoration. Of that, at least, Aldirk could approve. The swords of some warriors were so ridiculously fancified that they could not possibly be of use in a sparring match. The only mark of distinction on Lancer Tal’s grip was her family crest, discreetly engraved in two places.

He twitched in surprise when the blade leapt out of the grip with a metallic shhinng. The Lancer grinned as she hefted the now fully extended sword in her hand.

“Oh, I’ve missed this,” she said. “I find myself looking forward very much to a little exercise.” She swept the sword through a few moves, then retracted the blade and replaced the grip in her case. “You always remember everything, even when I do not. I appreciate that, Aldirk.”

He blinked, pleased with the compliment. “I’m merely doing my duty.”

“You’re very good at your duty.” She nodded at him. “If there is nothing else, I have some calls to make.”

He knew a dismissal when he heard one. “There is nothing else. For now,” he added.

“Isn’t that always the case,” she said.

 

 

-----

 

 

“Lancer Tal! What a pleasure this is.” Sentis Dalsen’s delighted face grinned out at Tal from her wall-sized vidcom unit, and she knew her own smile was probably just as big.

“Instructor Dalsen, it’s a pleasure to see you again as well.”

He waved his hand impatiently. “I’ve not been your instructor for many cycles now. When will you call me Dalsen?”

“When I can forget the many times you put me in my place,” she said. “Do not wait for it.”

He laughed. “Well, you were a rather strong-minded student. You required a firmer hand than most. But you turned out beautifully, if I may compliment myself.”

“Far be it from me to stop you. Tell me, how is Verzal?”

They spent a few ticks catching up on their lives, and Tal thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to listen to her old instructor once again. They had been friends for many cycles now, but were not in contact nearly as often as she would have liked. It was good to hear him speak of his tyree, his children and their accomplishments, and of course his latest hobbies. Dalsen was always dabbling in something new, it seemed; his restless mind never let him do any one thing for long.

“I know it’s been too many moons since our last talk when you’ve progressed through an entire hobby without my even hearing about your initial interest,” said Tal. “We must speak more often.”

“I agree. You must tell your Councilors to speak less and listen more, and you would have a great deal more time on your hands to call me. I still haven’t recovered from my disappointment at not seeing you when you were in Whitemoon earlier this cycle.” Dalsen tilted his head to one side. “And why, precisely, have you called me today? I know it was not merely to visit.”

Tal was grateful he couldn’t sense her guilt through the vidcom unit. “It was not, but I’ve enjoyed it nonetheless.”

“As have I. What weighs on your mind, Tal?”

She didn’t quite know how to begin, and suddenly felt awkward. “I have questions regarding…the bond between you and Verzal,” she said, and watched his eyebrows rise.

“I see. Is it too much for a retired instructor to hope that his student has found the happiness she deserves?”

“I don’t know.” With him, she could allow herself to be unsure. “This is unexpected, and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced or even heard of.”

“Tell me about the one who has finally captured your heart. I assume it’s a woman?”

She smiled. “You assume correctly.”

“You were always very single-minded about that. I still think you should have tried both sides of the coin before settling.”

“We are not going to revisit this old argument. That tradition is for those who do not yet know themselves. I’ve always known. There was never a reason to try anything else.”

He waved his hand. “So you say. Well, it clearly doesn’t matter now. Is she warrior or scholar?”

“Neither. She’s a producer.”

Up went the eyebrows again. “Well! That’s a surprise.”

“It was to me as well. And to her.”

He nodded. “The tyree bond is special, Tal. Only Fahla may decide the match. If she has decided that a producer is the one for you, then obviously that is what you need. Though I could wish for your tyree to share your empathic strength.”

“She does.” Tal stifled a chuckle as the eyebrows made their third trip. “She’s extremely strong. As strong as I, but untrained. I’ve been teaching her for the last half-moon.”

“Untrained? And still a producer?”

“She did not wish to leave her caste, so she hid her powers.”

“And the testers did not detect it?” He made a clicking sound in his throat. “She must be strong.” At Tal’s nod, he frowned. “She should be in formal training. You know that.”

“I know. I also know that right now such a training is not possible. She’s the glue that binds her family and her holding together; removing her for training would be difficult for everyone involved. I’ve chosen the path that upholds the spirit of the law without penalizing her family for her gift.”

“How long will you be training her?”

“I will stay on her holding for another fifteen days, and then she’ll come here to Blacksun for a second moon. We’ve not spoken about what comes after, but I’m hopeful that she’ll agree to regular trips to Blacksun for further training.”

“Wait. You suspect a tyree bond but you’re contemplating separation? And occasional visits?”

“I cannot take her away from her holding and family. Nor can I give up my responsibilities. I don’t see any other option.”

“Tal…”—oh, she remembered that tone of voice!—“when it comes to a tyree bond, there are no options. You must be together or you will both suffer.” He touched his fingertips together in a characteristic pose. “Tell me what has happened that you suspect a bond.”

She explained the mutual antagonism that had eventually morphed into her extremely reluctant attraction, the long-distance connection of yesterday, and the empathic flashes. At this last his expression grew very serious, and when she finished he watched her silently. She sat still, waiting for his pronouncement.

“Well,” he said at last, “there is not the slightest doubt in my mind that you have found your tyree. Not only that, but your bond, when completed, will be of an extraordinary strength. I myself experienced an empathic flash just once, and that was during my first Sharing with Verzal. For the two of you to be experiencing them prior to Sharing is something I have only read about. It’s associated with bonds of the most rare type, and until now I’ve had no personal acquaintance with any tyree who can claim it.”

“Can you tell me about this type of bond?”

“I will tell you what I’ve heard and read. Your emotional bond will be different from that of normal tyrees. If you are the type that I suspect, then your bonding will be irreversible.”

She frowned. “All tyree bonds are irreversible.”

“You do not understand. I mean the emotional connection will be irreversible.” He sighed, seeing her still-blank expression. “It will be like a permanent Sharing. Once you bond, your minds will be permanently joined. You will not be able to separate yourselves. Ever.”

She stared at him as her brain stumbled over the word. Finally she repeated, “Ever? Ever as in, not even for one piptick will I be alone in my own mind?”

“You will always know her emotions, and she will always know yours. There will be no fronting. No concealment of any kind. You may eventually learn to reduce the intensity, but you’ll never be able to block. Not only that, but the connection transcends distance, Tal. You’ll be able to feel each other no matter where you are. What you felt yesterday is just a glimpse of what will happen.”

She remembered to breathe. “Fahla. Then I think we will have a long pre-bond. We’ll need time to adapt to this.”

He tilted his head again. “Pre-bond? No, no, putting off the bonding ceremony won’t make a difference. That has nothing to do with this.”

“But you said our emotions will be permanently joined once we—” She stopped as he shook his head emphatically.

“For tyrees the process is different. The bonding ceremony is nothing but ceremony for us; it was created for Alseans who need a bond minister to complete the connection for them. Tyrees have no such need.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the first time you Share, the connection will be made. Your bond will be complete.”

Tal stared. “Shek!” Too late, she realized what she’d just said. “My apologies, Instructor Dalsen.”

He smiled. “Tal, I have heard the term before.”

“I cannot believe it. Fahla! We’ll have to wait a long time for our Sharing, then. Damn, that will make this so much more difficult.” Why couldn’t anything be simple, just once in her life?

“You do not have the luxury of waiting. The empathic flashes will grow stronger and more debilitating with time; only your bonding will resolve them. Eventually you will be unable to even brush against each other without triggering a flash. You set this in motion the moment you joined, Tal. It cannot be stopped now.”

“But…” This was so damned personal! “We haven’t joined.”

Clearly this was stunning news. “You haven’t? Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she said, laughing in spite of herself. “I think I’d remember. We haven’t joined. It’s only been a few days since we stopped fighting each other.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. This type of bond does not simply initialize spontaneously. It must be set off by a physical connection; that’s what allows the empathic centers to recognize each other.”

“A physical connection?” Oh, no. “Would…a warmron accomplish such a thing?”

“I suppose it would, but that’s not—” He stopped, his eyes widening. “Tell me you have not done what I think you did.”

“We shared a warmron three days ago,” admitted Tal. “I initiated it.”

There was a long and profound silence, during which Tal felt about twelve cycles old.

“Andira Shaldone Tal, what in Fahla’s name possessed you? And why did she allow it?”

If she’d thought the conversation was personal before, now it had gone beyond uncomfortable and straight to outright humiliating. She lifted her head, determined not to show it.

“She allowed it because she trusted me. And I was not possessed. The Federation aliens have a very different culture, Instructor Dalsen. They share warmrons freely, all their lives. Nor do they limit them to pre-Rite family members or bondmates. For them, warmrons can be romantic or loving or merely gestures of good friendship. I received several as part of our cultural exchange, and once I experienced that, I questioned why our own culture sees them only as an artifact of childhood or the province of bondmates.”

“Do you have an answer to that question now?”

The censure in his expression rankled. “I see that in rare cases, such a physical connection will initiate the bonding process. But you said yourself you have never personally known anyone with a bond like ours. So do not attempt to tell me that an entire planet of Alseans are denied the comfort of warmrons simply from fear of this!”

“We are not debating this issue, Tal!” This was the voice of her instructor, not her friend, and she glared at him.

“No, we’re not,” she said stiffly. “We are discussing my life, and I called you for assistance.”

He sighed. “You always were a rulebreaker. I cannot even remember how many times I warned you that your disdain for any rule you didn’t agree with would someday cause you great sorrow.”

“I’m not sorry about this.”

“You should be. A tyree bond such as this is supposed to be a much more gentle and joyous process. But you’ve made yours into an uncontrollable avalanche.”

“Surely it’s not so uncontrollable,” she said. “We can’t touch without triggering empathic flashes; fine. Then we will be careful and not touch each other. That won’t be so difficult. This is still new to us; we’re not ready for a joining yet anyway.”

“Oh, Tal.” His censorious expression softened into one of sympathy. “It’s not your fault that you don’t understand this. I never taught it to you, and clearly none of your other instructors did, either. Not touching each other will slow the process, yes. But it will not stop it, and it will make you both miserable. More than that, eventually it will affect your mental faculties as the better part of your mind abandons you and reaches out for its partner. Tyrees are not meant to be apart, Tal. It will eventually incapacitate you.”

“I’ve never heard of a tyree bond being so debilitating.” Even as she spoke, she remembered her own words from earlier that morning, after the second empathic flash. This is positively debilitating, she’d said, and the memory sent a chill down her spine.

“Normal tyree bonds are not. Yours should not be, either, but it will be if you refuse to complete the bond. Tal, I cannot overstate this. Your ability to continue your life—and to govern as Lancer—depends on completing this bond quickly. If you would deny your tyree, you will also deny your future…and hers.”

They stared at each other until Tal dropped her head and rubbed her temples. “Fahla. I cannot believe this. So much from something so simple. If I’d known…”

If I’d known, would I have denied both of us the wonder of those warmrons? 

She couldn’t answer. Those had been truly beautiful moments, altering their relationship in a profound manner. She just hadn’t realized quite how profound until now.

“There’s more,” said Dalsen.

Speechless, she nodded to indicate that he should go on.

“The connection may also extend to the physical. There are cases of both tyrees showing symptoms when only one was ill. There are also apocryphal stories of injuries transmitting across the bond as well, though I have never seen actual evidence. In the most extreme of these stories, both tyrees die from a mortal injury to one. You will bear a very serious responsibility, Tal. When you bond with her, she will be your weak link. I’m certain those stories are exaggerations or even fabrications, but an enemy might believe them and think that you could be killed without even being touched. A producer untrained in any arts of defense would be an easier target than a seasoned warrior.”

Tal could not believe her ears. “You’re saying she would be a proxy assassination target?”

“That is precisely what I’m saying.”

“Spawn of a fantenshekken!” This time Tal didn’t even care that she was swearing in front of her instructor. “Salomen will hit the farthest moon! She already hates the part of my life that involves intrigue and danger. The risk associated with my title is one of the things that gives her the greatest pause.” She shook her head. “She won’t accept it. This will kill the bond. She will never consent to such a life, and even if she did, I could not allow her to make herself as much of a target as I already am.”

“So you would allow her to become mentally crippled instead?” He nodded at her silence, then continued more gently, “And if she loves you, she will never allow you to cripple yourself either. Your title will be the first thing to go when you can no longer hide your diminished mental capacity. You hold the support of the warrior caste only as long as they believe in you. After you’re deposed, then what, Tal? Will you allow the bonding at last? It will return you to your former capacity, and you can spend the rest of your life knowing precisely what you gave up. You can watch as someone else governs Alsea, probably not as well as you. And when your enemies learn that you are once again capable, you will still be a target. And so will she. The only way to prevent it is to never bond at all. Perhaps, once your minds have degraded beyond a certain point, you won’t care anymore.”

“Thank you for your cheery and charming prognosis,” said Tal. Despite her bravado, she was deeply shaken.

He gave her a serene smile. “The news isn’t all bad. In fact, very little of it is. Most tyrees would envy you; a door has been opened to you and Salomen that only a tiny handful of Alseans have been privileged to walk through. Fahla has greatly blessed you. You just…hurried her blessing along a bit. That is something you and Salomen must come to terms with, and you will. I have faith in you. Just remember that, as with all of Fahla’s blessings, this gift carries with it a commensurate responsibility. Be careful, be wise, and embrace your bond with a full heart. You are very, very fortunate, my friend.”

“Somehow I don’t feel very fortunate at the moment.” Tal was imagining Salomen’s reaction to this information; it was going to be explosive.

“You have much to think about and understand. Don’t worry if it takes time to settle.”

“I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about Salomen.”

He smiled. “Still an expert at fooling yourself, aren’t you?”

Shaking her head, she said, “Tell me again why I seek your advice?”

“Because you cannot fool me. And because I’m such a charming and likable person.”

“Ah, yes. How could I forget?”

“I have no idea; as my student you never seemed to forget anything. Perhaps age is creeping up on you.”

“If it is, then you’d better look to your own health.”

“Tsk. Such disrespect for your instructor.”

They smiled at each other, glad for the gentle teasing that had taken some of the sting from their conversation. When Tal ended the call a few ticks later, her heart felt a little lighter. But only a little.

“Shek,” she whispered to herself. “How am I going to tell Salomen?”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 17

 

 

“You must be joking.”

“I promise you that I am not.”

Tal was in her window seat, watching Salomen pace the room. She had flown back to Hol-Opah in time for evenmeal, but had been unable to maintain her normal level of conversation. Her new knowledge weighed heavily on her, and Salomen had plainly sensed it despite her front. Once the table was cleared, Salomen had wasted no time coming to her room and asking for the news. She didn’t seem happy to receive it, however.

“It was only after midmeal that I even began to get comfortable with the idea of being a tyree,” said Salomen. She stopped her pacing and fixed Tal with a glare. “And now I’m supposed to accept that we’re not even normal tyrees?”

“It’s difficult for me as well, Salomen.”

Salomen dropped into her chair. “I cannot believe it. Fahla! From the day you stepped onto my holding—” She stopped, turning her head away.

“I turned your life upside down? Destroyed your peace of mind? Made you wish you’d never taken Norsen’s place in the delegation?”

“That’s not what I meant to say.”

“Then what did you mean to say? Because I certainly did the first, and I’m almost certain I did the second.”

“But you did not do the third.” Salomen met her eyes again. “I cannot be sorry for meeting you. Nothing about my life is even remotely within my control anymore, but I have enough presence of mind left to understand that you…that we are meant to be here. I just don’t want it to be like this. Not like this, Andira. It’s too much.”

Tal understood Salomen’s discomfort all too well, and wished she could simply pull her into a warmron and tell her that they would both be fine. She also wished she could reinforce that assurance with a kiss, but their situation made physical closeness a risky proposition. It was ironic that they were apparently fated to be bonded at a deeper level than most Alseans, yet they sat a bodylength apart, afraid to touch each other. Afraid of taking one more step toward a connection they could not control.

Afraid even to show our emotions, she thought. Both of them were fronting. And when Tal asked herself why, she realized that her instinctive self-protection was denying Salomen the most important assurance she could give.

She hopped out of the window seat and in two strides was next to Salomen’s chair. Crouching down on her heels, she deliberately dropped her front.

“From the day I stepped onto your holding,” she said, “I was fascinated by the dichotomy between how you behaved with me, and how you behaved with your family. None of our previous interactions prepared me for the depth of love you show your father and brothers, or the quiet love you have for your land, or even the love you show your field workers. But I felt the distinction. I understood that in four moons I’d never seen the real Salomen Opah, and I think that’s why I chose to begin our instruction the way I did, by asking to know more about you. That was not the usual method; you were right about that. And the more I learned about you, the more I wanted to know. You run deep, and somewhere in those depths is a piece of you that speaks directly to my heart.” She took a chance and rested her hand on Salomen’s leg, relieved to feel nothing but body heat and surface emotions. Apparently they still had time before casual touch could trigger a flash.

“I never expected this connection,” she continued. “And I’m just as reluctant to cross that line as you are. But I think that even if we were not tyrees, our hearts would eventually have spoken to each other.”

Salomen dropped her front as she covered Tal’s hand with her own, gently enclosing it. Tal stared at their hands, absorbing the gift of Salomen’s emotions, and when she lifted her eyes she was caught in an intense, searching gaze.

“I think our hearts have already been speaking,” said Salomen. “I just don’t enjoy being forced to listen before I’m ready.” She squeezed Tal’s hand. “Thank you for letting me feel you. When you were fronting you seemed so unconcerned about this, as if it were a foregone conclusion and there was nothing to be afraid of. But now I can sense your uncertainty, and it makes me feel less alone.”

“You’re not alone,” said Tal, an unexpectedly fierce sense of protectiveness welling up. “We’re in this together. Whatever we decide, we decide together. And,” she added with a half-smile, “if all you sense is uncertainty, then we need to work on your skills.”

A familiar crinkle briefly appeared above Salomen’s nose as she concentrated, then smoothed out as her eyebrows rose. “You’re afraid,” she whispered, incredulous. “Of me.”

“I’m afraid of what you can do to me already. If you have the ability to hurt me now, I cannot imagine the power you’ll have as this develops. I won’t have any defense against you; you’ll be in my mind every moment of my life. And I am not practiced in giving others any kind of power over me, much less something like this.”

“No, I don’t suppose you are. But do you not understand that you have the same power over me? You’ve hurt me already as well.”

“I know. It was a stupid thing to say.”

“What was?”

Tal was taken aback. “That this bond was a joke.”

“Ah. And you think that was the first time?” Salomen shook her head. “You’ve hurt me since the day you arrived. It hurt when you showed me a glimpse of yourself on our first night of training, and then went back to being the Lancer. You gave me something precious, and then you took it away again. And every night after that you did the same thing. You have no understanding of how intimidating you can be—when you’re fronting it’s like nothing is there at all. I kept seeing glimpses of the real woman behind that front, and I found myself drawn to her, but then you would take her away and present me with that impenetrable wall…and then you asked me to tell you about a time when I was humiliated, to amuse you. You laughed. And I was already so divided by then; I loved seeing you laugh, but knowing you were laughing at me was painful. That’s why I told you that story.”

Tal dropped her eyes. “I was an arrogant fool.”

A gentle hand lifted her chin. “But you apologized. Arrogant fools don’t do that. And when you looked at me and told me you were ashamed, I felt…” Salomen shook her head and dropped her hand back in her lap. “I wanted to be close to you. To be allowed to know who you really were. But I didn’t think it could ever be a reality.”

“It can. It has already been happening.”

“But this reality is different. What you’re saying…it means I’ll have no protection once we Share. None at all. Ever.”

“I know.” Tal shifted their hands, turning hers over and lacing their fingers. “But neither will I. That’s the power. We both have to trust.”

“Andira…I have not practiced that sort of trust.”

“Do you think I have?”

Slowly, Salomen shook her head.

“Then we will practice on each other, yes? And when the time comes for our Sharing, perhaps we won’t be so afraid.”

There was a long silence, and while Tal waited she sifted through the emotions that were bombarding her senses. Fahla, they were so strong! Was this part of the bonding process, this sensitivity? There was still so much fear coming from Salomen, but she had no idea how to help. How could she make assurances when she felt the same fear? But it was all irrelevant; Fahla had chosen for them. All that was left to them now was to adapt as best they could.

“If we are to practice that trust,” said Salomen slowly, “then I must know something.”

Tal squeezed her hand. “I will tell you anything in my power.”

She felt Salomen gathering herself; clearly this was a critical piece of information.

“Who was she? The one you loved?”

The words impacted Tal with such force that for a moment she could think of nothing at all. And while she knelt there in silence, Salomen spoke again.

“How can you accept our tyree bond as you seem to when you have someone else in your heart?”

Tal let go of Salomen’s hand and stood, hoping that a little distance might unfreeze her brain. When she finally got her voice to work, it sounded hoarse to her ears.

“How much do you know?”

Salomen’s gaze was clear, but she had not renewed her front and Tal could easily sense the bewildered pain that lay behind her calm expression.

“I know it was one of the Federation aliens. I felt it when you shared your memory of the warmron. And I felt it again this morning, on our way to the fields—a love so powerful you still mourn it, more than a cycle after it ended.” Salomen drew a deep breath. “I don’t know how to compete with a memory.”

Tal could only shake her head. “There is no competition.” Salomen had sensed all that? Through her front?

Salomen said nothing, and Tal felt trapped. She ran her hands through her hair and looked out the window, waiting for some sort of inspiration. But nothing came, so she did the only thing she could.

“Come,” she said, holding out her hand. “Sit with me.” She pulled Salomen out of her chair and led her to the window seat, watching her settle in before taking her usual spot on the opposite end of the cushion. Leaning against the wall, she crossed her legs beneath her and faced her future tyree.

“Her name was Kathryn Janeway. She was the captain of the ship.”

“Fahla.” Salomen’s mental retreat was instantaneous. “Of course it was their leader.” Without her front, her feelings of inadequacy were painfully apparent.

“And she was a bonded tyree,” Tal continued, watching as all of Salomen’s assumptions ground to a halt.

“What?” Salomen whispered.

“The Federation aliens might not have been Alseans, and most of them were sonsales, but they were capable of tyree bonds. In fact, there were two sets of tyrees on that ship. One had an artificially enhanced form of telepathy, the other had no telepathic or empathic connection at all. Yet their bond was stronger than any I’ve seen.”

“Which…which one was she?”

“She was in the non-empathic bond.”

“You loved a sonsales?”

Tal allowed herself a smile. “I loved a woman who understood power and the demands of a heart that belonged to something bigger than herself. A woman who recognized the role I play, and still saw me as a woman. She was not just their leader, and she understood that I am not just the Lancer.”

“She saw the thinking, feeling Alsean.”

Tal recognized her own words from that morning. “Yes, she did. And I had never before had that experience. Not from someone I’d just met. My whole adult life I’ve borne a name that causes Alseans to treat me differently, and now I bear a title that sets me even further apart. Kathryn saw through it. She treated me with respect, but it was not the respect of one who owes it to a superior. It was the respect of one who gives it freely. And I respected her in the same way. I think that was the gate that opened up my heart.”

“But she was tyree.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

“Andira…” Salomen was stunned. “You committed a crime! I mean…does the law apply to aliens?”

“There is no precedent; the High Court would have to decide. But I didn’t break the law. Kathryn never knew.” Tal took a deep breath; this time she had to tell the whole truth. “At least, not until the very last moment, before her ship departed. And I would not have said anything even then, had her own bondmate not encouraged me.”

Salomen slumped against the wall. “I cannot believe it. Her bondmate told you to speak?”

“She knew, and was not threatened by my feelings. She said Kathryn would understand. And she was right.”

“But how could she do that? She gave you permission to endanger her own bond! Do they not love the way we do? Did she not care if you took her tyree from her?”

“Oh yes, she cared. But she knew I wasn’t a threat. There was simply no possibility of me taking Kathryn from her. That’s why there was no crime, Salomen. There could never be a threat to their bond; it was far too strong. And I’ve wondered ever since if our own law protects something that needs no protection.”

“So you told Kathryn…what? That you loved her?”

Tal’s guard came up instinctively, but she reminded herself that it was Salomen asking the question. This was the one person on Alsea who had the right to know.

“I told her that had she not been tyree, I would have pursued more than a friendship.”

“What did she say?”

“She said…” Tal stopped as the memory swelled, effortlessly piercing her heart. “She said that had she not been tyree, I would have succeeded.” She looked out the window, clenching her jaw in an effort to force back the tears that threatened. Taking slow, deep breaths, she tried to box up the emotions—and failed utterly. Speaking it aloud had made compartmentalization impossible, and it had also put her at enormous risk. She had just bared her throat and handed Salomen a blade, and all she could do now was wait.

Time stretched out in painful silence as she listened to the maelstrom of emotions that emanated from Salomen. Some of them, such as the jealousy and the pain, she expected. But they faded under the expansion of others she had not foreseen:  sympathy, caring, and—most unexpected of all—understanding.

“Oh, Andira,” Salomen whispered at last. “I do not wonder anymore why she’s still in your heart. I’m so sorry.”

Surprised, Tal looked back. “Why?”

Salomen leaned forward and brushed a lock of hair behind Tal’s ear, her expression impossibly gentle. “Because she is the dream you touched but could not hold. And sometimes that’s far worse than never touching the dream at all.” She continued her stroking of Tal’s hair, and Tal felt all of her bones turning to liquid. “Had she told you she could never have loved you, I think you would have been able to put her memory aside much more easily. You would only have had to forget your own emotion. But her words meant you had to forget both your emotions and hers. And you cannot do that, can you?”

“I tried,” Tal whispered. “And it worked, after a while. I really thought I was over it. But this morning it all came up again, as strong as ever.”

“In the transport.”

Tal nodded, feeling miserable. The way Salomen was touching her was unlike anything she’d ever felt, and she never wanted it to end. The fingers in her hair were gentle and affectionate. But her own history was a formidable obstacle to their nascent bond. No matter what Fahla might have intended, nothing could happen without Salomen’s full acceptance. And Tal herself had just made that acceptance even more difficult than it already was.

“Andira…” Salomen’s voice had changed, carrying a note of tenderness that Tal had not heard before. “That was my fault. And I’m truly sorry that my self-centered fears caused you so much pain. But I think it might have been for the best.”

Tal watched her, waiting for the explanation. Salomen gave her a sweet smile.

“I understand now,” she said. “I understand why I hurt you so easily, without even realizing it. But I can heal you as well, and that’s something Kathryn Janeway could never have accomplished.”

It seemed to Tal that Salomen was at least three steps ahead of her in this conversation. “Why not?”

“Because she could not love you.” Salomen’s fingers slipped from Tal’s hair and lifted her chin instead. “But I can.”

They were deep into the kiss before Tal’s dazed mind processed the last words she’d heard. In an instant her bones solidified, and she surged up to wrap her arms around Salomen and pull her close. The kiss turned passionate as they both forgot their fears and allowed themselves simply to feel the bond that pulsed between them. It was so strong, Tal marveled; almost physically palpable. How had she not felt it before? Why had—

This time the empathic flash tore them apart, sending each woman crashing back against her side of the window seat. They stared at each other, panting, unable to move until the electricity finally drained from their bodies.

“Shek,” groaned Tal, holding one hand to her throbbing forehead. “This is going to kill us. It’s stronger every time.”

Salomen couldn’t even speak, simply whimpering as she held her head in both hands. Tal pushed herself across the seat and reached out, then quickly let her hand drop. “I wish I could help you, but I’ll only make it worse.”

Salomen raised her head. “I know. I wish you could help too. We won’t be able to join, will we? If just kissing hurts this much, I think joining might cause serious injury. Even assuming we were physically capable of it, which I doubt given the way I feel right now.”

“I think you’re right,” said Tal. “Though I wish you weren’t.”

“It’s all backwards. We can’t join until we Share, and the moment we Share we’re bonded, and the moment we’re bonded we’re empathically connected for life. Great Fahla above, whoever heard of Sharing before joining? Much less bonding. It’s like buying a shipment of horten seed without ever seeing any of it first.”

“Thank you very much!”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” said Tal. “But I think joining is the least of our concerns. I have absolutely no doubt that joining with you will be worth the wait.”

That earned her an open smile, but it soon faltered. “If the flashes are this bad before we’re bonded, what will it be like when we actually Share?”

“I don’t know. Instructor Dalsen said he only experienced it once, and that was during his initial Sharing with his tyree. So I think it’s safe to assume we’ll get hit with something substantial.” She realized what she’d said. “If we decide to Share, that is. I don’t mean to imply that it’s a certainty.”

“Isn’t it?” Salomen dropped her head again, rubbing her temples. “We don’t seem to have any power in this. And even without the bond, what you said is true: our hearts would have spoken. They’ve been pulling at us for a while now, I think. It’s what brought you here.”

“The challenge is what brought me here.” But Tal was beginning to wonder.

“It was more than that, Andira. That’s what I sensed that very first night, when I accidentally probed you. I just didn’t recognize it then.” She sighed, resting her hands in her lap and meeting Tal’s eyes. “I’m trying to keep up with this, truly I am. My heart is already there; it’s just my mind that needs to catch up. Please be patient with me.”

“I’ll give you all the time that our situation allows,” Tal said, and even as the words left her mouth she saw a solution. Fahla may have put them on a collision course, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t reverse the engines and slow things down just a little.

Sliding off the window seat, she faced a surprised Salomen and straightened into a formal posture.

“Raiz Salomen Opah,” she said, “I have never before known anyone like you. And I would like to know you better. Will you have evenmeal with me tomorrow night?”

An amused comprehension spread across Salomen’s emotions. “Are you asking for permission to court me?”

“I am. For now, there is no bond and no pressure. No certainty of a fate that did not consult us. This is just you and me.”

“Just you and me? Now that’s a combination that intrigues me.” She stood up, her pleasure a welcome warmth to Tal’s senses. “I’m honored by your attention, Lancer Tal. But I must warn you, I have little respect for authority. I will not treat you as you are accustomed to being treated.”

Tal was delighted by her acceptance of the game. “Good, because I’m not asking you to evenmeal as Lancer. I’m asking you as Andira Tal.”

“Then you should not ask Raiz Opah, but rather Salomen.”

Tal bowed her head. “I’m honored in my turn. Salomen Opah, will you have evenmeal with me tomorrow night?”

“I would be happy to.”

They stared at each other with silly grins before Tal remembered something. “Shek. I have no idea where to take you. I don’t know where the good restaurants are in Granelle.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re courting a native. I know them all.”

“Which is the best one?”

“Meadowgreen, but it’s impossible to get a table there without reserving it half a moon in advance. We could go—”

“Never mind,” interrupted Tal. “We’ll go to Meadowgreen.”

“Are you not listening? I just said—”

“I know what you just said. And I’m telling you that we’re going to Meadowgreen.”

“Are you always this commanding?”

“In my public life, yes. In private, no. But I’m trying to impress you.”

Salomen laughed. “If you can get us in to Meadowgreen on one day’s notice, I’ll be impressed. I know the owner; he once courted my mother. I thought that connection might give me an edge in getting a reservation on short notice, but do you know what he told me?”

“What?”

“He said he could not change the schedule, not even for the Lancer herself.”

“I suspect that what he said to you and what he will say to a call from the Office of the Lancer might be two very different things.”

“Ha. You don’t know Corsine. He defines the word ‘snob.’”

Tal laughed. “No, I don’t know him, but I do know Alsean nature. We’re going to Meadowgreen tomorrow night.”

“Do you have a fallback plan, oh confident one?”

“I always do.” Tal winked. “May I return for you at mid-eight tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Salomen gave her a mock frown. “But I’d better see you in the fields long before that.”

“I won’t neglect my duties. You’ll see me in the morning.” Tal stepped forward to kiss her, thought better of it and gave her a short bow. Salomen returned the gesture, and a few ticks later Tal was knocking on Micah’s door. She had a lot to do between now and tomorrow, and poor Micah was going to have to come along for the ride.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 18

 

 

Micah hummed an old marching cadence as he buckled his belt and began clipping on his gear. Given the miniscule amount of sleep he’d gotten the night before, it was a wonder he was in such a good mood.

He smiled. No, it wasn’t. He’d rarely seen such excitement on Tal’s face as she’d displayed last night. His friend had been lit from within when she’d burst into his room.

“Micah! I need you.”

“Now?” Micah had been pleasantly full after another excellent dinner, followed by a few glasses of very good spirits served by Shikal in the parlor. The two men had found a common bond in their similar age, and though their life experiences had been very different, they found much to discuss as they compared views on politics, interpretation of religious text, family, history, and anything else that came to mind.

“Yes, now. I’m going to Blacksun.”

And so Micah had found himself flying back to Blacksun for the second time in one day, listening to an animated Tal happily explaining her plans and her hopes for the future. He’d been stunned by her revelation; Fahla had answered his prayers after all, and he owed the Goddess an offering of oil. A big one. Damn, he owed her an entire shipload of oil. Tal had found her tyree! In four lifetimes he would never have imagined her and Salomen together, but Fahla did not make mistakes. By the time they’d landed he was as enthusiastic as Tal, who seemed certain of her heart despite her nervousness about the accelerated bonding process. He’d never seen Tal quite like this; it made her behavior with Darzen seem subdued by comparison.

They’d met with Aldirk, whose initial pleasure at their reappearance swiftly altered when he realized Tal had not returned for good. He’d agreed to Tal’s request with a marked lack of enthusiasm, and Micah had barely restrained his snort when Tal clapped Aldirk on the back with a cheerful, “Don’t worry, Aldirk, you can still prop me up in front of the vid cams. My personal life will not interfere with your duty list.” Aldirk’s sour look was something Micah wished he could have recorded.

From there they’d gone to Tal’s rooms, where Micah waited while Tal packed up a new set of clothing. Once that was done, they should have returned to Hol-Opah like mature, sensible adults. Instead they’d opened up a bottle of spirits that Tal had been saving and spent most of the night drinking and talking. Which of course meant that neither of them could pilot a transport, so they’d had to wait until the spirits cleared their systems. By the time he dropped Tal off at her personal transport and waited for her to lift off, the stars were already beginning to fade.

They flew the two transports back to Hol-Opah and landed in a field behind the house, within easy walking distance but shielded from the house by a grove of trees. Tal shut her transport down and boarded Micah’s, and two ticks later they were settling at the usual landing site. They’d walked into the house in exhausted silence and gone immediately to their rooms. Micah had managed perhaps two hanticks of sleep, and had no right to be feeling as good as he did right now.

“And you,” he said out loud as he looked out the window, “are completely insane.”

There was Tal, in her usual running clothes, smiling and talking with her Guards. Even as he watched, she turned and set off, her smooth pace showing no signs of the long night she’d had. Micah shook his head. “It’s fortunate you cannot pursue a physical joining, my friend,” he muttered. “I doubt Salomen would be impressed if you fell asleep halfway through.”

His amusement faded when Herot appeared, looking after the runners with his hands on his hips. The young man was also dressed for exercise, but stood motionless as he watched Tal and her Guards. Once the runners had vanished around a curve in the path, however, Herot set off after them.

Micah rolled his eyes. “Surely not, Herot.” With a sigh, he strapped on his wristcom and spoke into it.

 

 

-----

 

 

“We’re being followed.” Gehrain’s voice was clipped. “By Herot Opah.”

“I know. I can feel him.” The last thing Tal wanted this morning was another encounter with Herot, but based on what she was sensing, she didn’t think it would happen. “As long as he keeps his distance, we’ll all be happy.”

“Shall I send someone back to make sure he does?”

“No. Let him be, unless he closes the gap.” She smiled. “Besides, I doubt he’ll be with us for long.”

Nor was he. Only a short distance past the point where he’d collapsed last time, Herot gave up. Tal sensed his receding presence. “He’s returning to the house.”

“Good.” Frowning, Gehrain asked, “Why do you think he followed us?”

“Perhaps he has something to prove.” Tal wondered if she’d actually had that much of an impact on him. She had no desire to be a part of Herot’s struggle, but he was Salomen’s brother, after all. A few days ago, that meant very little. Now it meant he would soon be part of her own family, and she would bear a responsibility toward him. She groaned internally. How unfortunate that she couldn’t pick and choose which of the Opah family she accepted! But then she reminded herself of why Herot had been behaving so poorly, and vowed to be a little more tolerant.

If Herot had something to prove, she would not stop him.

 

 

-----

 

 

“Jaros,” said Tal, “I brought something from Blacksun yesterday. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes!” Jaros’ answer was instant, and spoken around a mouthful of biscuit.

“Jaros,” warned Salomen. “Swallow first. And do you not even want to know what it is?”

Tal smiled. Jaros could always be counted on for total enthusiasm, even if he had no idea what he was agreeing to. She looked forward to mornmeal at Hol-Opah, if for nothing more than the chance to see this boy light up the way he so often did.

Jaros audibly swallowed his food and turned to Tal. “If it’s from Blacksun it must be something speedy.”

“It’s very speedy,” Tal assured him. “I brought my sword, and Colonel Micah’s as well. We’re going to spar after you come home from school.” She and Micah had discussed this the previous night, and Micah had suggested that a good sparring session might tire Tal out enough to relax her during her date with Salomen. Tal, mindful of the energy that seemed to crackle between her and Salomen, agreed that it might be a good precaution. Besides, she knew Jaros would be thrilled, which was why she’d ordered the swords to be brought in the first place. Not to mention that it had been too long since her last bout. Of course, they’d had this brilliant idea before staying up all night, but Micah hadn’t asked for a delay, and Tal would be damned if she’d be the one to admit that today might not be the best day. Besides, she really wasn’t tired.

“Really? That is speedy!” Jaros bounced in his seat. “Wow! I get to watch a swordfight!”

“There’s a difference between a swordfight and a sparring session,” said Micah. “When Lancer Tal and I spar, there is no acrimony between us, nor any wish to do harm. That changes the way we move.”

“Yes, but swords!” Jaros was fixated on one thing. “Where are they? Can I see them?”

“You can see them after school,” said Salomen, fixing Tal with a warning glare.

“But that’s a whole day. Can’t I see them now?”

Mindful of the glare, Tal shook her head. “No, Jaros. But when you come home you’ll get a good look. And if you’re very careful, you can hold mine.”

That sent Jaros into the atmosphere, and there was no holding him back. He thought and spoke of nothing else for the rest of mornmeal, and when he’d finally been pushed out the back door to reluctantly trudge to school, Salomen turned to Tal with a spark in her eye.

“You had to tell him that.”

“I just thought it would make him happy.”

“Oh, it made him happy all right. If he hears a word of his lessons today I’ll be shocked. Don’t you know he worships you and everything about the warrior caste?” While Tal blinked over that statement, Salomen came closer and took her hand. “You have so much power over his happiness, Andira. Please be careful with it. He does not need dreams that will forever escape him.”

Tal could sense an entirely different message behind the words. “His happiness is important to me, too. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Salomen nodded, and they probably would have stood there staring at each other until midmeal had Herot not walked into the kitchen. He stopped, shot Tal an evil look, then turned and left again.

“Well, at least Jaros worships me,” said Tal.

Salomen sighed. “You cannot expect him to be overjoyed to see you after you humiliated him.”

“I don’t think it’s just me he’s not overjoyed to see,” said Tal, who had felt more behind the look. “He’s not happy to see you and me together.”

“He’ll have to get used to it,” said Salomen with some asperity. “I have a date tonight.”

“Yes, you do.” Hopefully at the right restaurant. Tal couldn’t expect a confirmation from Aldirk until at least the midmorning, but she was reasonably certain the Counselor could make it happen. If he didn’t, then she would make a call. And if that didn’t work, she and Micah might just wander over to the restaurant in full uniform. “And I’m looking forward to it,” she added.

“As am I.”

They smiled at each other again, until Salomen shook her head and took a step back. “This is ridiculous. We’re never going to get anything done at this rate. Come on, Lancer Tal. We have work to do.”

“Yes, Raiz Opah.” Tal raised her eyebrows and followed obediently, laughing at herself as she did. I am the leader of the world everywhere but here.

Somehow the thought was a comforting one.

 

 

-----

 

 

It was a busy day, made no easier by the fact that Tal’s night without sleep had finally crashed over her. She’d been so wired after Salomen’s acceptance of their date that sleep really wasn’t an option, and even after staying up all night, she still had energy to burn on her dawn run. But by midmeal she wanted nothing more than a very long nap. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t twenty-one cycles anymore, for Fahla’s sake. And poor Micah! He’d looked quite a bit worse for wear this morning.

She held on by pure will power, until Salomen shook her head and sent her back to the house a hantick early. “I’ve never seen you so tired, Andira,” she said. “Go home and rest.”

“But we’re not done here.” Tal’s protest was half-hearted, and she knew Salomen saw right through it.

“You are. You’re asleep on your feet. And I would prefer my evenmeal companion to be able to make rational conversation.”

Tal hadn’t even tried to pretend. A Guard flew her back to the house, and she only paused long enough to check her vidcom unit for messages before dropping into her bed. But when her head hit the pillow, she had a smile on her face. Aldirk had done his job.

 

 

-----

 

 

All normal activity at Hol-Opah was completely disrupted that afternoon, due to everyone’s curiosity about the sparring match. Tal may have engineered it for Jaros’ sake, but it was plain that news had traveled. Besides the Opah family, nearly every one of the field workers had also arrived, making a considerable crowd. Though she hadn’t expected to be putting on an exhibition bout, there was certainly no changing it now.

Jaros was bouncing around like a ball, unable to contain himself. He’d made it home from school in record time, swollen with pride at the fact that most of his classmates were apparently dying of envy. Not only did he get to see the Lancer fight, but he was going to hold her sword as well! Or so Tal heard him telling Salomen, Nikin and every other person who would listen to him. Given his state of excitement, Tal was a little concerned about putting a sword in his hand. She’d have to be on watch.

The Guards had arranged the onlookers in a ring, leaving the center clear for the combatants. At the inner edge of the ring, all of the Guards stood facing outward, their expressions serious. This was a challenge to their ability to guard the Lancer. If anyone in this dense crowd wished to cause harm, it would be difficult to detect in time unless they could sense the intent before the action. For this very reason, many of Tal’s personal Guards had been chosen for their exceptional empathic skills. Though not quite as strong as Tal, they were certainly strong enough to go through the fronts of most Alseans.

Tal and Micah walked through the crowd together, sword grips clipped to their belts. The onlookers parted respectfully, closing the gap after they’d passed through. Once in the center of the ring, Tal eyed her opponent. Fortunately, Micah had been wise enough to schedule a nap for himself as well, and looked to be in about the same shape as Tal—which wasn’t saying a great deal. But at least they were both alert enough to not accidentally kill each other.

“I see word has gone out,” Tal said, using her Council Chamber voice. “Has anyone here ever seen a swordfight before? Entertainment vids don’t count.”

 Several hands, which had begun to be raised, promptly dropped at the last sentence. Tal nodded. “Then Colonel Micah and I will begin by demonstrating the basic moves at a slow speed, so that you can see exactly what we are doing. Once we’ve shown you the basics, we’ll gradually increase our speed until we reach the normal pace of a sparring match.” It was a great idea for pleasing the crowd, and had the added advantage of allowing the two sleep-challenged combatants a very long warm-up. As Tal turned back to Micah, she caught Salomen’s eye and saw the wink. Yes, Salomen saw right through her tactic.

Tal pulled her grip from her belt and pressed the switch, watching in appreciation as the blade extended itself. Fahla, but she loved this sword. She’d had it custom made at a tiny village on Pallea, back when she was a fresh young trainee. It had cost nearly two moons of her miniscule salary and had been worth every bit of it—the craftsmanship was impeccable, the balance absolutely perfect. Upon attaining her title she’d been offered far fancier swords by various makers who wanted the prestige of their product in the Lancer’s hand, but she had politely returned every one of them. They certainly had flash and shine, but they just didn’t compare to this one.

She heard Micah extend his blade as well, and a collective “ooh” rose from the crowd. Tal  smiled at her friend. If they were already impressed with that, they were going to love the actual match!

They began slowly, taking turns explaining their moves as they thrust, parried, blocked and attacked at a tenth of their normal speed. Tal felt her body settling into an old and familiar rhythm as she went through motions she could do in her sleep. When one trained in a physical art form long enough, the muscles themselves retained the memories, and Tal’s muscles were waking up and remembering their training. The very familiarity of the moves allowed her to block external distractions, and as they sped up she ceased to be aware of anything but her opponent. These moments, when she was fully engaged in a demanding physical sport, were the times when she was most vulnerable. Her Guards knew it, and as her focus narrowed, theirs expanded. She was dimly aware of this, then let go of even that awareness as she and Micah reached full speed. Their swords whistled through the air, clanging and sliding as they connected, and Tal gloried in the knowledge that they were both skating along the edge of harm, held back only by their own skill and trust in each other. She’d told Jaros that she was no fencing master, and that was true, but long cycles of training and an affinity for blades had made her very good. Fahla, this felt fantastic! Such a feeling of rightness, when nothing existed but the synergy between her body and her sword.

Micah grinned at her, plainly feeling the same physical and mental euphoria. Their speed increased even further as they began to push themselves to greater effort, each seeking an opening to exploit. Micah had the advantage of height, but Tal had long ago learned how to use her stature in ways that taller opponents found difficult to block. When the right moment came she cut low, forcing Micah to reach down. By the time his sword arrived at its low point, hers had already circled back up and around, crashing on top of his and sliding down its length to keep his tip pushed down. A quick kick to his wrist and Micah stumbled back, shaking his stinging hand as his sword fell to the ground. Tal picked it up and retracted the blade, then tossed him the grip as the crowd roared its approval. Over the shouts and applause, she grinned at him and called, “At least I didn’t slap you with it!”

“Eh. I let you do that, you lovesick fool. It would have been cruel to make you lose face in front of your mate.” Micah attached his grip to his belt and put an arm around her shoulders. “Next time I won’t be so generous.”

“You are so full of dokshin your lips are turning brown,” she said, and he laughed.

Jaros ran up, his eyes glittering with excitement. “That was fantastic! Wow! Can I hold it now?”

Tal knelt in the dirt, holding out her free hand. “Give me your hand.”

When he put his hand in hers she rested the base of her grip in his small palm, retaining the upper part of the grip in her sword hand. “Hold it very carefully, Jaros. Don’t try to swing it, and don’t touch the blade.”

“I won’t.” He closed his fingers around the grip, and the excitement that flooded her senses abruptly changed to awe. “This is so speedy! It’s still warm.”

“Bring up your other hand.”

He did, and Tal let go, her senses alert to any movement on his part. If he forgot himself in childish excitement, she’d have to catch his wrists.

But Jaros simply stood there, holding the sword in both hands, staring at it as if it were a vision. “Lancer Tal…”

She could feel it in him. This was more than hero worship.

He looked up at her. “Last nineday you said that I could challenge my caste. Is that true?”

“I would not lie to you, Jaros. It’s possible, but very difficult.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I want to be a warrior. What would I need to do?”

Tal felt Salomen before a shadow fell across them, and a moment later the producer was kneeling beside her.

“Jaros,” Salomen said, “that’s not a decision you need to make now.”

Tal felt the silent plea. “You cannot challenge until you are at least twelve cycles,” she said. “You still have time to think about it.” Well, she knew what she and Salomen would be discussing at evenmeal tonight!

“I have thought about it. I want to be a warrior. I want to be like you and Colonel Micah. You do things.”

“And your family does not?” The question came from Salomen, and Jaros was plainly caught. He looked up, his face reflecting his unfronted emotions.

“No, we do things…but not like this. Lancer Tal and Colonel Micah are different.”

“Jaros.” Tal’s voice was gentle. “Don’t judge all warriors by us. We’re not only different from you, but from most of our caste as well. And still we have paid a price for our duty. A warrior’s life is often demanding and lonely. As a producer you know where your home is, and where it will be until you Return. As a warrior you may not know from one cycle to the next where you’ll be.”

“That’s what I want! I want to go places and see things, and fight for Alsea. I don’t want to do what everyone else has always done.”

“Do you want to leave your friends and family behind? Never to see them for a whole cycle at a time?” asked Tal.

“I would miss you,” said Salomen, and Jaros was torn. At last he put the sword back in Tal’s hand and turned to his sister, who enveloped him in a warmron. “You’re only nine cycles,” she said as she squeezed him. “There’s still so much for you to learn.”

“And in the meantime,” said Tal, retracting her blade, “you handled my sword very well. Thank you for being so careful.”

His enthusiasm resurfaced, combined with pride at Tal’s compliment. “You’re welcome. Can I hold it later? Will you show me how to make it come out of the grip?”

“Because you were so careful this time, yes, I will,” said Tal.

“Okay.” Jaros bounced up and down. “You were speedy! Do you always win?”

Smiling, Tal shook her head. “Colonel Micah has taken my sword away on many occasions.”

“Wow. He’s speedy, too.”

“Yes, he is.” Tal looked up at Micah, who was happily discussing the bout with Shikal and a dozen of the field workers. “He taught me much of what I know.”

“Then you learned more from someone else,” said Salomen. “I saw his face when you disarmed him. He was surprised.”

Her pleasure was out of all proportion to the statement, Tal thought. “He hasn’t seen that move in some time; I think he’d forgotten. And you’re correct—I learned it from an instructor after leaving Micah’s unit.”

“That must have been strange for him,” mused Salomen. “Becoming your subordinate after being your superior and your instructor.”

“You’re presuming that he’s my subordinate,” said Tal. “Micah never quite accepted that.”

“What’s a subordinate?” Jaros wanted to know.

“Someone who takes orders from someone else,” said Tal.

“Oh.” Frowning in thought, Jaros said, “But I’ve heard you tell Micah what to do.”

“Yes, but did you actually see him do it?”

Jaros stared, and Salomen laughed as she rubbed his small shoulder. “Lancer Tal is teasing, Jaros. What she really means is that Colonel Micah is her friend more than her subordinate. But he still has to do what she asks.”

Further conversation became impossible as Nikin came up, followed closely by several field workers, and Tal was soon busy answering questions and explaining some of the history and details of traditional sword training. Now that she wasn’t so closely focused on her sparring, she could take in the emotions of those around her, and it felt good to be surrounded by so many people who saw her as someone approachable. The smiles were open and friendly, the questions unguarded—and with a start she realized that somewhere in the last half-moon she’d become a part of Hol-Opah. These people had seen her working in the fields with them every day, and it had altered their perception of her. They accepted her as an Alsean who simply happened to have a rather different life than they did.

Then she felt a sharper note, and looked over Nikin’s shoulder to see Herot on the edge of the crowd. He was watching her with a frown, and as their eyes met he turned and walked away.

Well, most of them accept me, she thought. There’s always an exception to the rule.

She just wished the exception wasn’t Salomen’s brother. 

 

 

 

 

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chapter 19

 

 

The crowd dispersed just after sunset, and Tal and Salomen separated to prepare for their evening. Tal washed off the dirt and sweat in a rejuvenating shower, her mind so focused on her date that she had her body completely soaped up a second time before remembering that she’d already done it once. She laughed at herself, figuring that at least her lapse of concentration just made her that much cleaner.

After drying off, she looked at the clothes laid out on her bed, so carefully selected the night before in Blacksun. That had been such a wonderful evening with Micah. His enthusiasm and joy for her tyree bond had nearly eclipsed her own, once he’d gotten over the shock of it. And then he’d pronounced that only one thing would do for tonight’s date, proudly pulling it from her closet. She’d protested that it was far too formal for evenmeal in a small village like Granelle, but Micah would have none of it. “The village is not the point,” he’d said. “Your evenmeal companion is.”

She pulled on the black trousers, tailored to fit perfectly into boots, then stepped into her shiniest and most formal dress boots. A high-necked crimson top, buttoned at the side of her throat, denoted her caste and rank by virtue of its design and the almost incandescent glow of the precious blue stones which served for buttons. It was doubtful that anyone in Granelle had ever seen its like. But the short white jacket was bound to draw the most attention, with its intricate gold patterning on the front, back and wrists, blue color bands across the chest, and formal braid at the right shoulder. It was a dress uniform that stated, in both color and design, exactly who she was and where she came from.

Feeling like a young trainee on her first date, Tal stepped out into the hall, hoping to escape any notice. Noiselessly she descended the stairs and headed for the back door, sensing Varsi, her youngest Guard, waiting for her. There was another and much less welcome presence on the porch as well, and Tal sighed. Squaring her shoulders, she went through the door, nodded at Varsi, and trotted down the steps with the Guard at her heels. There were more important things on her mind than a sullen young man.

“Well, now I know why you weren’t interested in me.” The words were venomous enough, but the surge of anger behind them was what made Tal stop and turn. Varsi turned as well, focusing her attention on Herot.

“Do you? Perhaps you might enlighten me.” Tal wondered if Herot realized that the Guard watching him was perfectly capable of causing him serious harm, and was having wishful thoughts of that precise thing. Herot had no admirers among her Guards.

Herot didn’t rise from his chair, instead staring insolently at Tal. “It was Salomen all along, wasn’t it? And what are you going to do after you shek her? I can’t imagine she’ll hold your attention for long.”

He was baiting her, of course, and she knew she should rise above it. But his words effortlessly short circuited her normal control, and she was unable to shut down the instant rage that sent her back up the porch steps. Herot sat, a smug grin on his face as he watched her approach, but the grin slipped when she grabbed him by his jacket and hauled him upright. Without pausing, she turned and slammed him against the porch rail, pushing him so that he was bent uncomfortably backward. With her face close to his, she growled, “Don’t think that I have any compunction at all about teaching you more lessons. You’re making it abundantly clear that you’re in desperate need of them. And if you ever speak of your sister that way again, the next lesson will be swift and painful.”

She let him go and took one step back, watching as he stood upright and with exaggerated care straightened out his jacket. “I knew you wouldn’t do anything,” he said. “Not in those clothes. Do you think they’ll help you get Salomen in bed?”

Her blow took him by surprise, and with a pained groan he bent over, holding his hands over his abdomen.

“I could have hit you just a bit lower, Herot,” she said. “But that would cause so much damage that I’m afraid it would interrupt my plans for a lovely evening. So you can keep that bruise as a reminder that my respect for your sister is the only thing between you and a visit to the healer—and that you should never make assumptions about what I will or won’t do.” She paused, waiting for him to look up. When he didn’t, she added quietly, “Do you think Nashta would be proud of you right now?”

The spike of anguish was the first real emotion she’d ever sensed in him, and she knew she’d just struck a blow that hurt far more than his stomach. With a quick nod at Varsi, who was poised and ready an armlength away, she walked off the porch and didn’t look back.

It took the entire walk to her personal transport bef