chapter 20

 

 

Granelle was less than fifteen lengths from the east boundary of Hol-Opah, making the flight a short one. Tal wished she could take Salomen to Whitesun instead, just for the pleasure of sharing the transport with her for several hanticks instead of just a few ticks. The sense of uneasy truce which marked so many of their transport rides to and from the fields of Hol-Opah had been replaced with one of charged anticipation. They were attracted to each other and not bothering to front it, resulting in a mutually-reinforcing enjoyment of each other’s presence regardless of any conversation. Indeed, neither of them spoke a word during the flight, though Tal nearly went through the roof of the transport when Salomen rested a hand on her thigh. She saw the smile on Salomen’s face and knew her reaction had been far too apparent. On pure instinct she raised her blocks, but at Salomen’s quizzical look she dropped her front again, a little embarrassed that she’d fallen so easily into the habit. Then she laid her own hand atop Salomen’s and smiled to herself as she felt a distinct jolt in her companion’s emotions.

All too soon Granelle came into view, a tidy village with a respectably-sized Temple of Fahla sharing the center with a Producer House. At Salomen’s direction they flew over the town toward a small hill on its outskirts, where several homes and businesses were built on the hillside. Meadowgreen occupied the highest point, separated from the rest by a buffer of wild grasses and shrubs.

“Gorgeous location,” said Tal as she brought the transport to a stop near two waiting Guards. She smoothly set the craft down, deactivated the engines, and looked over at her date. “Ready to go public?”

“I’m ready to turn a few heads, at least. Walking in with the Lancer is either going to boost or bury my reputation, depending on who sees us.”

“Do you care if it’s the latter?”

“Not in the slightest.” Salomen’s hair brushed her shoulders as she shook her head emphatically. “Anyone who would judge me for dating you is already beneath regard.”

From any other Alsean this might be bravado, but Tal knew she meant it. “What would you think if you were in there right now, having never personally known me, and saw me come in with one of your neighbors?” she asked.

Salomen gave the question serious consideration. “I’d probably think she was out of her mind,” she admitted.

“Then perhaps you should not judge your neighbors so harshly,” suggested Tal. “They don’t know me the way you do.”

That earned her a slow smile. “And for that, I believe I’m quite grateful. Shall we?”

They climbed out of the transport, but when Salomen turned toward the restaurant Tal took her hand and urged her in the opposite direction. Together they walked to the edge of the hilltop, holding hands as they gazed at the lights dotting the landscape.

“Can we see Hol-Opah from here?” asked Tal.

“Barely.” Salomen pointed. “See that little cluster of lights over there, by itself?”

“Ah. Yes, I can. So that must be the distribution center over there.”

“Yes. We’ll be making quite a few trips there next nineday. Do you feel up to some endless transport piloting?”

“That sounds like a vacation after this last half-moon in the fields.”

“You won’t think so when you’ve made your hundredth trip.”

Tal nodded. The horten crop could not be transported in bulk, due to its delicate nature. It had to be processed immediately after harvest, and even two hanticks could ruin the flavor. All growers reserved time at the distribution center, and that time was a frenzy of harvest and transport, harvest and transport, until the last of the crop had been processed. It was a facet of producer life that she’d never known about until now. In truth, her time on Hol-Opah had taught her more than she’d expected.

Quite a bit more, she thought as she turned to look at her date. Salomen sensed her glance and smiled, though she did not take her eyes off the distant lights.

“So you really did get a table?” she asked. “Or did you just bring me here for the view?”

“I brought you here for the view.”

Salomen did look then, her expression one of skepticism. “Are we speaking of the same view?”

“I think not.” Tal sighed theatrically. “One of the disadvantages of our bond, I suppose. Once we complete this, I’ll never be able to take refuge behind words with double meanings.”

“Yes, you will. Just not with me. And thank you for the compliment behind that double meaning.”

“You are beautiful, Salomen. I’ll be the envy of everyone in the room.”

“If they’re locals, I doubt that.” There was a trace of bitterness in Salomen’s tone, reflected in her emotions.

Tal reached for her other hand and pulled her closer. “Anyone with eyes can see how lovely you are on the outside,” she said. “If they don’t see the beauty you carry inside, it’s only because you don’t allow it. I count myself fortunate that you have allowed me.”

Salomen glanced down at their hands and tightened her grip. “I’m uncertain as to who allowed what,” she said softly. “Don’t give me credit for something I did without any awareness. I cannot even determine when I ceased disliking you and began—” She paused, then looked up. “Loving you,” she finished.

Tal wanted to respond; she wanted to return Salomen’s courage in full measure. But she had never said those words before, and they did not come easily. It was ironic, really—a tyree bond was the ultimate vulnerability, and here she was, holding hands with her tyree, afraid to say a few words that would make her vulnerable. Ridiculous.

She opened her mouth to explain, but Salomen placed two fingers on her lips. “There’s no need,” she whispered. “Please don’t say it until it comes from your heart, unforced.”

Tal nodded as Salomen dropped her hand. “Never let it be said that warriors set the standard in courage,” she said. “Some producers appear to put some warriors quite to shame.”

“There are different kinds of courage. And none could ever call you coward.”

“I think, in this matter, some might.”

“ ‘Some’ meaning one Andira Tal.”

“Perhaps. But her opinion holds a great deal of weight.”

“Or so she thinks.” Salomen winked, intentionally lightening the mood. “Shall we dine, then? Or were you serious when you said you brought me here for the view?”

“I was quite serious, though when I arranged the evening I had no idea just how breathtaking the view would be.” Tal could be light as well. “Come on, let’s make everyone envious.” She acknowledged the Guards, who had remained at a respectful distance, and with a hand motion sent them to the front and back entrances of the restaurant.

“They’ll be out here while we’re dining?” asked Salomen.

“Yes. And two more inside.”

“So we eat in luxury and they stand outside in the night, watching for any danger.”

Tal gave her a sidelong glance as they walked through the grass. “That’s their duty, yes.”

“You must tell Jaros about this the next time he wants a story about warriors. I’m quite sure his dreams of changing caste do not involve standing guard outside restaurants and private homes.”

“No, I suspect his dreams involve a bit more glory,” Tal agreed. “Though the truth is that for a warrior, glory is within reach at any time, on any duty. No one can guess when Fahla will send an opportunity. They can only train and hope to be ready when one appears.”

“I prefer more immediate goals myself. And I suspect that most young warriors would as well.”

“They do; hence the training. Good instructors know that the key to working with young, impatient warriors is to keep them busy with smaller goals.”

“Then I imagine your instructors kept you very busy indeed.” Salomen kept her eyes straight ahead, and her blocks were raised in preparation for their entry to a public space. But Tal saw the smile.

“Not at all,” she said. “I was a model student.”

“I see,” said Salomen as they mounted the steps. “How odd that Colonel Micah does not share this same memory.”

They entered the restaurant foyer and paused to admire its understated luxury. Hand-rubbed wood shone in the light from discreetly placed lamps, and the room exuded the kind of quiet charm that came only from age, excellent care and considerable expense. Through an arched doorway Tal could hear the sound of utensils on plates and many conversations.

“Lancer Tal!” A man in formal dress appeared from nowhere and bowed. “I am Saunista Corsine. Welcome to my establishment; you honor us with your presence.” He bowed to Salomen in turn. “Welcome, Raiz Opah.”

“Thank you, Reese Corsine,” said Tal, using the honorific for a member of the merchant caste. “I have it on excellent authority that your restaurant is the best in the area, and that a reservation cannot be had for bribery nor battle for less than half a moon in advance. I believe it is we who are honored. I appreciate your making last-tick accommodations for us.”

Corsine waved that away. “It was no burden. If you will follow me, please.” He turned with military precision and led them into the domed dining area. Tal’s practiced eye spotted the other two Guards instantly, one on each side of the room. In civilian dress, they blended with the crowd quite well. Tal and Salomen, on the other hand, did not. Every head in the place swiveled to watch them as they walked to their table, and Tal was proud of Salomen’s erect bearing and confident walk. Automatically she broadsensed the room, and though there were certainly a few individuals unhappy with her appearance in the restaurant, she detected nothing that gave cause for concern.

“You were right,” said Salomen, in a voice low enough to prevent being overheard. “Corsine’s snobbery has clear limits.”

“So that means I’ve impressed you again?”

Salomen laughed. “You have.”

“Twice in one night! But perhaps I should not have set the standard so high on the very first date.”

“Too late now. I expect every date from here forward to be equally impressive.”

“Damn.”

Corsine arrived at the only empty table in the dining area, which was slightly removed from the others and commanded an excellent view. Standing to one side, he bowed with a flourish. “I hope you’ll enjoy the view. I recommend a bottle of Tollisan while you consider your order; it’s a fine spirit.”

Tal concealed her smile; Tollisan was the most costly spirit on all Alsea and, in her opinion, not deserving of the price. Corsine was planning to sell her the most expensive meal he could.

“Thank you,” she said, taking her seat, “but I’ve spent the entire day thinking about a bottle of Valkinon.” She looked across the table at Salomen. “What is your preference?”

“I’d love to try the Valkinon, thank you.”

“Very well. An excellent choice.” Corsine showed no outward reaction, but Tal could sense a rise in respect. He plucked the hyacot twig from its bowl on their table, snapped it in half and replaced the pieces. With a short bow he departed for the kitchen.

“It’s ironic,” said Tal, bringing a piece to her nose and sniffing it appreciatively. “These cost a fortune and I’ve only seen them in expensive restaurants, yet there’s an enormous hyacot tree on Hol-Opah. You should have these at every meal.”

“We used to. When Mother grew ill, Father made sure their room always had hyacot in it. She loved the scent, and it soothed her when nothing else could, but no one in our family could abide it afterward.”

Tal dropped the twig back in its bowl. “I’m so sorry.” She picked up the bowl and began to rise, but Salomen put a hand on her wrist.

“No, please. I think…I would like to have some new memories to associate with that scent.”

Tal put the bowl back, feeling a little self-conscious. “Then I’ll do my best to make this the first of many new memories.”

“I know you will. You already have. So tell me, what makes Valkinon better than Tollisan?”

“Have you ever had either?”

“No.”

“Well, Tollisan is all name recognition and very little delivery. Personally I think most people who buy it do so entirely for the ego boost; if they knew anything about spirits, they wouldn’t do it. But they want to be seen spending an enormous amount of money.”

“And Valkinon?”

“Is a spirit from the Highmont district, produced by a maker who has very little general name-recognition because she doesn’t pay for the merchant caste’s advertising services. But she doesn’t have to. Anyone who seeks out good quality spirits will eventually hear her name. She charges less for her spirits because her own costs aren’t that high, meaning a less affluent Alsean can afford a better spirit than the type more affluent Alseans tend to drink.”

Salomen gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Did I just hear an economics lesson? Perhaps something you’ve been trying to convince my caste?”

“Well…not intentionally. But the principle is the same.”

They ceased speaking as their waiter arrived with two glasses and a bottle. Silently he set the glasses in front of them, braced the bottle with one hand, and carefully pulled the tab with the other. The cap popped off, clattering to the wood floor as a puff of blue smoke floated from the bottle. Tal nodded in satisfaction. Spirits were best when freshly opened, and having a bottle opened right at the table was a mark of a fine restaurant. She dismissed the waiter and poured their spirits herself. “I should warn you,” she said as she picked up her glass, “you’re about to be ruined for anything less.”

Salomen raised an eyebrow that clearly said we’ll see about that, and took a sip. The second eyebrow joined the first. “Oh, Fahla. This is wonderful.”

“Mm hm.” Tal was enjoying her own drink. “I believe it’s your turn.”

“What?”

“I chose the spirits, but the food is another matter. You live here. What would you recommend?”

“Andira, this is Meadowgreen. Everything is good.”

Tal shook her head. “Insufficient. Not to mention a startling lack of assertiveness on your part. You tell me what to do every day in the fields and now you won’t recommend a meal?”

Salomen leaned close. “Do you want me to tell you what to do?”

The low voice and obvious overtones sent a shiver down Tal’s spine. She leaned in as well. “It’s an interesting thought, isn’t it? I also find myself wondering whether you would take orders from me as well as you give them.”

“You’ll have to wait to learn that, my Lancer. I give up no secrets.”

Tal was now regretting the high-necked shirt, and Salomen gave her a slow smile. “You seem…warm. Perhaps we should begin with a cold soup.”

“An excellent idea,” said Tal, resisting the urge to undo a few buttons at her collar.

Salomen sat up straight. “Then let’s see what they offer.” She pushed the control on her side, and a small section of table slid back to reveal the electronic menu. “Oh, look. Horten soup, this close to harvest? Corsine must have imported it from the south of Pallea.” She shook her head. “I could make this for us next nineday for a tenth of the cost. And it would be much fresher.”

“You can?”

“Certainly. Would you like me to?”

“‘Like’ is probably not a sufficient term. I adore horten soup. The last time I was in southern Pallea I brought back an enormous container of it and vacuum stored it. I rationed it out to myself at the rate of one bowl every nineday, and was crushed when it was gone.”

“You vacuum stored horten soup? Oh, no no no.” Salomen shook her head. “You must have it fresh.”

“All right,” said Tal quickly. “If you say so.”

“I see I have my work cut out for me. If you can wait a few days, I think I can promise something that will curl your toes with gastronomic happiness.”

“Then I can wait. But it won’t be easy.”

“Nothing really good ever is.” Salomen winked at her before resuming her inspection.

Tal couldn’t keep the grin off her face as Salomen went through the menu, discarding various dishes as too expensive or too common— “I could make this at the holding as well; why is Corsine asking a Lancer’s ransom for something this easy?”—and finally settling on a soup, entree and dessert. When Salomen slid the cover back over her menu and looked up, a self-conscious heat suffused her cheeks. “What?” she asked.

“I was just enjoying watching you concentrate. You develop an adorable crinkle right here.” Tal pointed at her own forehead, just above her nose.

“I do not crinkle.”

Tal laughed outright. “You do. I’ve watched it for nearly three ninedays.”

“Thank you very much; now I’m completely embarrassed.”

“Is that all it takes?”

Now it was Salomen who laughed. “Always looking for the tactical advantage, I see.” Abruptly she sobered as her gaze shifted to the door. “Well, the air in here just became a great deal more stifling.”

Tal had already sensed it, and could see the new arrivals from the corner of her eye. “Who are they?”

“The overweight pompous one is Gordense Bilsner. His equally pompous bondmate is Iversina, and the obnoxious boy is Cullom, Gordense’s son by his first bondmate.” Salomen looked back at Tal. “You’re surprised.”

“The last person I heard you describe so…unkindly…was me. Usually you’re less judgmental.”

“I was wrong about you because I didn’t know you, but I know the Bilsners very well. Believe me, the descriptions are well-earned.” Salomen’s expression hardened as she added, “They don’t treat their field workers well. Many of them have come to Hol-Opah to ask for employment, and they’ve told me stories to raise your hair. I’ve taken all that I could, and only wish I could rescue them all. No one deserves the treatment that passes for normal at Hol-Bilsner. Gordense and Iversina are insufferable at Caste House meetings; they think that owning more land makes them better than anyone else. It’s particularly annoying with Iversina because she should know better; she comes from a poor family. Apparently her memory is extremely short. Unfortunately, Cullom has absorbed their self-inflating beliefs and mixed them with the arrogance of youth.”

“A bad combination.”

“Very bad. And he and Herot have become friends.”

Tal shook her head. “Now I understand your concern.” She watched the Bilsners in her peripheral vision as they were led to a table near the center of the room. Gordense did not appear pleased with the location of his table, making a motion toward the tables by the windows. Then he appeared to see her and Salomen for the first time, and Tal felt a swell of anger and outright hatred. He spoke to his bondmate as they sat, causing a surge in the negative emotions from his family.

“They clearly don’t like one of us. Which one is it?” Tal took a casual sip of her drink, her senses alert to the nuances of the emotions in the room. She could also sense her Guards’ response; they were tracking the newcomers as well.

“That’s difficult to say. Gordense has made a point of snubbing and undermining me at every opportunity since I turned down his bond offer. But he—” She stopped as Tal abruptly thumped her glass to the table.

“That little fanten made you a bond offer?”

“No, he made my land a bond offer. Our holdings adjoin; if we had bonded we would have controlled most of the land in this district. I never deluded myself into thinking it was anything more than political or financial, which is why I could never understand his anger when I said no. It was business to him, not personal, but he took the rejection personally.”

“The rejection meant he didn’t get what he wanted, and to a man like that it becomes personal.” Tal knew the type; she’d dealt with far too many of them on the Council.

“The odd thing is that, on the surface, he’s been very friendly to me since I began speaking out against…” Salomen trailed off as a sharp nervousness colored her emotions.

“Against me?” It was not unexpected, after all.

Salomen took a steadying drink of her spirits. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I did not agree with your policies and I thought they were an extraordinary danger to our caste. I said what I thought at our Caste House meetings. Andira, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You were true to your beliefs, and I respect that.”

“Do you forgive everyone so readily?”

“I forgive based on truth,” Tal said. “When you were convinced that my policies would destroy your caste, you spoke your truth. I would never judge you for saying what you believe. The important thing is that you’ve learned a new truth, and tomorrow you’ll be speaking it before your peers. That’s courage, Salomen. Why would I need to forgive that?”

Salomen shook her head. “Every day I learn something more about you, and every day I wonder how I could possibly have been so wrong.”

“We were both wrong. We both misjudged, but we’ve both learned new truths. I’m happy with where we are now.”

Smiling, Salomen reached across the table and took Tal’s hand. “I am, too. For all my fear of this, I’m very happy.”

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of their soup. Salomen released Tal’s hand and sat back, smiling sheepishly. As the waiter departed she said, “Caught holding hands like a pair of pre-Rite lovers.”

“Oh, no,” said Tal, “this was much worse. You were caught holding hands with the single most dangerous person to your caste. Not only that, but one of the most powerful landowners in the district saw it. You’re in trouble tomorrow.”

“Gordense saw it?”

“He can’t keep his eyes off this table.”

“Damn. I didn’t think about that.”

“About what?”

“My word will mean less tomorrow if Gordense can accuse me of personal involvement.” Salomen picked up her spoon and took a sip of her soup. “Oh, this is good.”

Tal sampled hers as well, and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. “Fahla! Corsine should have a restaurant in Blacksun. He’d have every wealthy Alsean at his door, begging for a reservation. Why is he here in Granelle?”

“Because his bondmate was born and raised here. She hates Blacksun.”

They both paused, and by mutual unspoken agreement decided not to pursue that line of conversation. Tal redirected them.

“I think your personal involvement could be to your advantage. Surely everyone who knows you knows that you are not easily fooled, nor do you say anything you don’t mean. If you tell your peers that you and I have come to know each other very well, and that because of this knowledge and the additional information that came with it, you’re reversing your opinion—will they not respect that?”

“Hm. They might.” Salomen thoughtfully sipped her soup. “In fact…” Another sip, and her face brightened. “That might just be the key. I had planned to avoid all mention of our relationship, but perhaps I should do precisely the opposite. Acknowledge it so that it can’t be used against me, and use it to strengthen my testimony.”

Tal couldn’t help but smile. “Who knew that producers could be such strategic thinkers?”

“If you haven’t learned by now that strategy is a part of our daily lives, then I’ve taught you nothing these last three ninedays.” Salomen frowned. “But if I had my wish, I wouldn’t be wasting my time thinking about this. Neither would you. It’s so unfair that after all your work, a few individuals could jeopardize everything.”

“Actually, it’s one individual.”

“What?”

Tal took a deep breath. “I think I need to tell you about Darzen Fosta.”

The explanation took the rest of the soup course and all of the entree, and if Tal had been concerned about discussing a past relationship with her tyree, by the end she was more worried about Darzen’s physical health should they ever meet. Salomen was spitting mad.

“I cannot believe she would take such a drastic, damaging path just to revenge herself! What kind of a woman would put her personal feelings above the well-being of her entire culture, for Fahla’s sake? Can she not see beyond her own shekking ego? Does she have any idea how much damage she’s caused?”

“It’s her truth. I honestly don’t believe she’s doing this for revenge.”

Salomen stared at her incredulously. “You really do live your beliefs, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And what if you find that it was deliberate?”

Tal took a moment to drink the last of her spirits. Setting the glass to one side, she said, “I hope it never comes to that, because I never want you to see that side of me.”

The silence at their table lasted long enough for the waiter to clear their plates and bring dessert. When they were alone again, Salomen spoke far more calmly.

“I keep thinking that should frighten me. But the strange thing is, it doesn’t. I know you’ve been ruthless in the past, and you probably will be in the future. Surely it must be part of your position. But I also know you to be fair almost to a fault. If someone earns your wrath, then it must be well deserved.”

“Thank you. That means a great deal to—oh, shek.” Tal put her face in her hands.

“What is it?” The concern in Salomen’s voice made Tal dread what she had to say even more.

“I nearly forgot. Someone did earn my wrath tonight. I don’t even know how to tell you this.”

“Herot.”

“Wha—How did you know?”

“Andira, he’s my brother. I felt it. Both of you. Well, you not so much.”

Tal stared at her. “You felt that and you just let it happen? And then you kissed me in the transport! How could you even…I mean…good Fahla, you’ve learned to front well!”

Salomen smiled. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“Thank you very much. I’m not flustered, I’m shocked.”

“I know. I probably should have said something earlier, but I didn’t want Herot and his problems to be in the middle of our date.” Salomen sighed. “But now that he’s here anyway, I guess we need to discuss it. What happened? I know he was angry and bitter, which is a normal state of mind for him these days, and somehow he managed to make you angry as well. Then his emotions were everywhere at once, but the strongest I felt was sorrow and regret. I have no idea what you said to him, but it had a spectacular effect.”

Tal’s initial relief vanished. She didn’t know after all. “I…well, there wasn’t much of a conversation.”

Salomen’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

“I hit him.”

“You hit him?!”

Tal straightened in her chair. “He said something I could not overlook. I’m sorry, Salomen, truly I am, but I do have limits and he went well over them.”

Now it was Salomen’s turn to put her face in her hands. “All right,” she said to the table, “I think you’d better tell me what he said.”

“I’d rather not.”

Salomen lifted her head. “That was not a request. If you hit my brother because of something he said, I need to know what it was.”

After a long pause, Tal said, “He made an extremely crude reference in regards to my intentions toward you. It impugned both my honor and yours. And that is all I will say.”

Salomen sighed. “Oh, Herot, you idiot. Never mind, I don’t need to know any more. He was just pushing as hard as he could.”

“Yes, well, I think he pushed a little further than he’d intended.”

“Where did you hit him?”

“In the stomach. He’ll be bruised and sore, but it won’t cause any damage. But I think my last words hurt him more than the blow. I asked him if he thought Nashta would be proud of him.”

“That’s what I felt. Oh yes, you hurt him.” Salomen took a thoughtful bite of her dessert. “Well, perhaps that will make a difference. I’ve tried everything I could think of, and so have Father and Nikin, but none of us can get through. He’s been angry at the world and everyone in it since Mother’s Return, and you’re just fortunate enough to be included in his vision these days. I’m sorry that you’ve been pulled into this.”

“I think I’d be involved anyway. Varsi gave me a new point of view while we walked to my transport, and it made a great deal of sense. She suggested that Herot is afraid of losing you to me. Long term.”

“Oh.” Salomen put her fork down. “Oh, shek. I didn’t think of that. For all his anger and disrespect toward me, I’m still the closest thing to a mother figure he has. If he’s afraid of me going away with you, then…”

“Then he would lash out at me in any way he could,” Tal finished. “And by losing my temper, I played right into it. But I couldn’t do otherwise, Salomen. I could not let that insult stand.”

“I know. I’m not blaming you. He’s been pushing all of us to our limits, and insulting my honor and yours—oh, for the love of our Goddess, what was he thinking? He insulted the honor of our Lancer!”

“You just now noticed that?”

“Agh!” Salomen made a gesture of utter frustration. “What are we going to do with him? If we don’t pull him back onto a path of decent behavior soon, he’s going to be lost. Not everyone is as forgiving as you, and even you were angry enough to hit him. What if the next person is not so forgiving? Or so good at landing a minimally damaging blow?” She looked at Tal’s expression of surprise and added, “I listen when you tell me your stories, Andira. I know how easily you could have hurt him. I also know that you intentionally chose not to. Thank you for that.”

“You don’t seriously think I would have done real damage, do you? To your brother?”

“Of course not. My point is that someone else might.” She sighed. “I wish Mother were here. Fahla, but I miss her. She would know what to do.”

“I’m sorry.” They were supremely inadequate words, but there was little more that Tal could say.

“I know. And I know you understand, and that helps.” Salomen paused. “Hm. Maybe he’s pushing you because you’re the next best thing to Mother.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, think about it. The one person he truly respected was Mother. She would never have let him get away with a tenth of this behavior. She’d have told him he wasn’t too big for a stripping, and it would not have been a bluff.”

Tal already respected Nashta Opah, but this information gave her a whole new outlook on the woman. Stripping was a last-resort punishment designed to shame children into proper behavior. Taking away a child’s clothing and replacing it with the clothing of a much younger child forced the miscreant to dress the age he or she was acting. The public humiliation factor was very high, rendering it a punishment so effective that usually the mere threat of it could bring a recalcitrant child into line. But it was never used once a child reached the Rite of Ascension; for Nashta to actually back up such a threat was astonishing.

“You’re the only other person he hasn’t been able to bluff,” Salomen continued. “You turned down his advances, left him in the dirt on your run, took him down like a small child when he tried to hit you, and actually struck him tonight. Every time he’s pushed you, it hasn’t worked. You consistently make him pay the consequences for his actions, and I think he keeps coming back for more because somewhere deep down inside, he needs what you’re doing. You’ve earned his respect.”

Tal laughed. “You had me on that line of reasoning right up until the last sentence. Herot does not respect me. If he did he would never have spoken the way he did tonight.”

“He does, Andira. You’re just accustomed to respect being displayed in a different manner. I grew up with three brothers; believe me when I say their notions of demonstrating respect don’t quite coincide with those of trained and loyal warriors.” Salomen leaned forward. “You’re the Lancer. You are an authority figure, by your title alone, and you’ve demonstrated that authority on several occasions now. I think you are precisely what he’s been missing since Mother went to her Return.”

Tal sampled her dessert in silence as she considered Salomen’s theory. The pastry was excellent, as everything else had been, but she barely noticed while turning recent events over in her mind.

“If you’re correct,” she said at last, “and I think you probably are, then I’ll do whatever I can to be the figure Herot needs. But I’m new at this, Salomen. I’m bound to make mistakes.”

Salomen shook her head. “Please. My whole family would be indebted to you if you can help with Herot. Don’t worry about any mistakes. Besides,” she added with a smile, “I’ve seen you make very few mistakes so far. All in all you’ve been an excellent student on the holding.”

“Thank you very much, oh great producer.”

Salomen’s smile became self-deprecating as she picked up her fork and took another bite. “Bet you never pictured a family like ours when you were envisioning your tyree.”

“I can’t say that I pictured anything quite like this, no. But then for me, any family at all is something new. Our times at table, with everyone gathered in one place and all the emotions interlacing…those have been a wonderful experience for me. Barring Herot’s black moods, of course.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

Salomen reached out for her hand. “I’m so glad. You and Colonel Micah have both been a very welcome addition to our table. I haven’t seen Father so animated since Mother’s Return; he looks forward all day long to his evenings in the parlor with Colonel Micah. And I looked forward all day long to my evenings with you, even before we called our truce. It’s difficult to believe you’ve been here less than a moon.”

“It’s even more difficult to believe I have so little time left. I’ll miss Hol-Opah. But at least I’ll be taking the best part of it with me next moon.” Tal watched in some surprise as Salomen sat back, a suspicious flush rising to her face. “Are you blushing?”

“No, I’m just warm.”

Tal made no answer save for a very wide grin, and eventually Salomen broke into a rather large smile herself.

“I swear you make me feel things I never have before,” she said. “I am not the blushing type.” She took a drink of water and added, “Nor do I particularly want to be. It’s embarrassing.”

“So I should refrain from complimentary observations, then.”

“I didn’t say that. Perhaps, with practice, I’ll become accustomed to them.”

“Then we should begin our training right away.”

“Hm.” Salomen raised a brow. “Who is training whom, I wonder?”

“I used to know the answer to that question.”

They finished their meal with a pot of shannel that turned out to be divine. Tal swooned over it, and when Corsine arrived at their table to inquire after their meal, she informed him that he had surely gotten his recipe from Fahla herself. She had certainly never tasted shannel so good in Blacksun. Corsine sniffed that very little in Blacksun was as good as its inhabitants thought it was, and Tal concealed her smile. He really was a snob, but she found herself liking him. After all, the man had every reason to feel superior regarding his cuisine.

The other diners were more polite during their departure than they had been earlier. Though everyone still watched them, they were a good deal more discreet about it. Except the Bilsners, Tal noticed, all three of whom glared at them with no pretense of politeness.

“I really thought Gordense was going to say something nasty,” Salomen commented as they stepped into the fresh evening air. “He certainly wanted to.”

Tal nodded at the Guard, who fell in step at a discreet distance behind them. “His courage doesn’t go quite so far as speaking directly to me. But I’m afraid you may be in for a difficult time tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about me. I know how to handle Gordense and his ilk.”

“I know you do. In fact, part of me feels sorry for them.”

“What does the other part feel?”

“Happy that I’m not them?”

Salomen laughed. “Thank you for your faith in me.”

“This isn’t faith. Faith occurs in the absence of evidence. I’ve seen a great deal of evidence regarding your ability to verbally flatten anyone requiring it.”

“Would that by any chance include yourself?” Salomen reached the transport first and pressed the sensor pad.

“You didn’t flatten me,” said Tal as they settled into their seats. “You just…opened my eyes a bit.”

The flight back to Hol-Opah was just as quiet as the trip out had been, but this time the edginess was absent. Whenever Tal had a free hand, she reached out to hold Salomen’s. They traded glances now and again, accompanied by smiles that existed for no particular reason, and though Tal recognized their actions as being laughably stereotypical, she didn’t care. It felt too good.

Sooner than she would have wished, she brought the transport to a soft landing in front of the main house and shut down the engines. Varsi, stationed on the front porch, gave the transport a salute before studiously averting her eyes.

“Do you suppose she’s afraid of seeing something?” asked Salomen.

“She cannot. I never turned off the privacy screen. But she knows we can see her, so she’s showing respect by not looking at us directly.” Tal shifted in her seat, facing Salomen. “That way we won’t feel awkward if we…” She trailed off, reaching out to slip her fingers beneath the thin strap of Salomen’s dress. “…do what I’ve been thinking about doing all evening,” she finished in a whisper. “Fahla, but you are stunning in this.”

Gently she pushed the strap off Salomen’s shoulder and stroked soft skin, running her fingertips from shoulder to jaw and back again. Salomen tilted her head to one side, her eyes closing, and Tal wondered how it could have taken her so long to see this woman’s beauty. There was so much she wanted now, but none of it was possible except this simple caress. And perhaps…

Her lips touched just above the low neckline, and she heard Salomen sigh as she brushed the other strap down. With both hands she gripped now-bare shoulders, exerting just enough pressure to convey her desire while countering it with gentle kisses. Slowly and with great concentration she covered every part of Salomen’s upper chest and shoulders, never pressing too hard, keeping her emotions tamped down, always mindful of a potential empathic flash. Her focus was broken, however, when a hand against her cheek guided her upward. Salomen was looking at her with a heat in her eyes that was twice as arousing in reality than it had been in Tal’s fantasy.

“If you wished to test my fronting skills,” said Salomen hoarsely, “you could devise nothing more difficult.”

“Then let go.”

“And have my family sense this? No, thank you.”

“Ah.” Tal kissed her cheekbone ridge from temple to cheek. “In that case,” she said between kisses, “I’ll get back to my examination.”

“Is this what any instructor would do?”

“I am not ‘any instructor.’”

“Thank Fahla for that.” Salomen turned her head and met Tal’s lips with a passion that soon released everything Tal had been so carefully controlling. For a glorious few pipticks they sank into their bond, too deeply and too quickly. Neither had time to pull back before the flash slammed into them.

“Shek!” Tal sat back in her seat, frustrated and breathing hard as she waited for the tingles to subside and her sight to clear. Beside her she heard Salomen laughing. “What could possibly be so amusing?”

“This! It’s like a curse. The more I want you, the more I can’t have you. I’m beginning to think you were right about this being Fahla’s idea of a joke.”

“I’d have preferred to be dead wrong.” Tal was a little grumpy after the jolt to her libido.

“No, you had it figured out from the beginning. I think this is how she makes eternity a little more interesting for herself. How boring must it be otherwise?”

“Good question. Well, if our lives must be thrown into chaos and our greatest desires dangled in front of us like forbidden treasures, at least we know that we’re entertaining Fahla.”

In the ensuing silence, Tal looked over to see Salomen smiling at her. Warm pleasure flooded her senses as Salomen dropped her front.

“That was a fine compliment. All the more so because I’m certain you didn’t realize what you were saying.”

Tal held out her hand in invitation. Closing her fingers around Salomen’s, she said, “It was not a compliment. That was my truth.”

“Which is precisely what makes it a compliment. I do not confuse truth with flattery.” Salomen squeezed her hand. “Thank you for tonight, Andira. I truly enjoyed your company. And I wish it didn’t have to end here, but…”

“I know. May I at least walk you to your room?”

“Given that it’s on the way to yours, yes, I’d be delighted.”

Varsi brought her fists to her chest and bowed as Tal and Salomen mounted the steps. “Lancer Tal, Raiz Opah—I hope you had an enjoyable evening.”

“We did, thank you. Good night, Varsi.” Tal moved forward, but Salomen had stopped in front of the Guard.

“Guard Varsi, I understand that you gave the Lancer some advice regarding my brother.”

Instantly nervous, Varsi nevertheless stood straight and answered crisply, “Not advice, Raiz Opah. Just what I saw.”

Salomen nodded. “You saw something I did not. I appreciate your concern and your words. Thank you.” She reached out for Tal’s hand and led her toward the door, missing the expression of surprise on Varsi’s face.

“You’re welcome, Raiz Opah,” Varsi said after her.

“You realize you just stunned my Guard,” said Tal when the door closed behind them.

“I did?” Salomen started up the staircase, still holding Tal’s hand. “It wasn’t intentional. I just wished to thank her.”

“Members of the Lancer’s Guard are not accustomed to being thanked by producers. You just turned her expectations on their collective ear.”

“Good.”

Shaking her head, Tal said, “I have a suspicion that you’ll be turning a great many expectations on their ear once you arrive at the State House.”

“I certainly hope so.” Salomen stopped just before the top step and looked back with an impish smile. “And I hope most of them are yours.”

Tal stepped up next to her. “Be careful what you wish for. I have a few expectations of you that I wouldn’t want to see turned upside down.”

Salomen tugged her hand again. “We’ll see, Lancer Tal. I promise nothing.”

They took the last step and turned down the hall. Too soon they stood in front of Salomen’s door, in the awkwardness of ending that neither quite knew how to resolve. “I’d kiss you goodnight,” said Tal, “but I’m too frightened of the possible consequences. At least with the last flash we were already sitting. I have no desire to find myself lying on your hall floor.”

“Perhaps a different sort of kiss, then,” said Salomen. She leaned in and dropped a very gentle kiss beside Tal’s mouth, then moved her lips softly over her jaw and up to her ear. “Thank you for the best date of my life,” she whispered, then turned, opened her door, and stepped through. “Good night, Andira. I’ll see you at mornmeal.”

Dazed from the breath in her ear, Tal could only nod. “Good night,” she said, just as Salomen closed the door. She moved down the hall without conscious thought.

The best date of her life?

By the time she arrived at her own door, Tal was walking half a bodylength off the ground.

 

 

 

 

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chapter 21

 

 

“May I sit here?”

Tal looked up to see Nikin standing beside her, midmeal in hand. “By all means,” she said. “Find a comfortable patch of dirt.” She was sitting slightly apart from the rest of the field workers, but still within the trees at the edge of the grain field. After a morning’s work in the full sun, the shade—and the rest break—was absolute bliss. Harvest was hard, frantic work, and she had developed a great respect for every person sitting in that grove with her. They would put quite a few of her warrior friends to shame for sheer endurance and determination. She actually felt guilty about her upcoming absence; it seemed wrong somehow to leave everyone else to the task of harvesting the last two grain fields while she flew around the planet in luxury. She’d said as much to Micah, who had pointed out that she could offer to trade tasks with anyone in the field and not get a single taker.

Nikin sat cross-legged, lowering himself in the graceful motion of a man accustomed to sitting on the ground. “Did Salomen go back to the house? I saw her in the cook’s transport just as I was arriving.”

“Yes, she needs time to prepare for tonight’s Caste House meeting.” Tal took a bite out of her stuffed pastry and rolled her eyes. “Thank Fahla I work so hard out here; with these meals I would double my size in a moon otherwise.”

“I have a difficult time imagining that.” Nikin bit into his own pastry and made a happy mumbling sound. “Everything just tastes better when you’re hungry.”

“I’ve been hungry before, and I can assure you that field rations did not taste this good.” Tal took another bite and chewed slowly, savoring the flavor. “We missed you out here this morning. How is the horten crop doing?”

“Good. Perfect if the rains hold off, but I think we’ll be lucky as it is to get the grain in. Thank Fahla we’re nearly done with the harvest; I have a feeling that we’re on borrowed time.”

Tal looked up at the clear blue sky. “Difficult to imagine, seeing that. But the Whitesun forecasters predicted an early autumn, and my instincts say they’re right. I can smell it.”

“So can I. Damn, I wish it would hold off for just one more nineday. But we need to be ready for the worst.”

“What can you do?”

“What I’ve been doing—preparing the field cover. The horten needs just four or five more days of growth. If the rains start before that, we’ll cover the field and use artificial light. It’s not ideal, and it’s a mess during harvest, but it has saved our crop more than once.”

“Tell me if I can help. I won’t be here for the next three days, but I’ll be back as Hol-Opah’s most poorly-paid field worker after that.”

Nikin grinned. “You’re not paid at all.”

Tal gestured her agreement and took another bite.

“Where are you going? If I can ask?”

“Of course you can ask. I’m scheduled for several appearances to speak about the replicator technology. Blacksun first, then Redmoon, Whitesun, and Whitemoon. I need to calm this latest furor, so once again, the actions of others dictates my own.” Tal didn’t try to hide her disgust; she hadn’t been pleased to see the message from Aldirk this morning. Yes, it had to be done, but she had been hoping for another day or two with Salomen before the speaking engagements started. Damn Aldirk’s efficiency.

Nikin shook his head. “I wish you didn’t have to go. For your sake, but for ours as well.” His emotional ease rippled, and Tal looked at him curiously. “I, ah…I wanted to thank you for what you’re doing for Herot.”

Tal put her pastry down and gave him her full attention. “You want to thank me for striking your brother?”

Nikin shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly, but…Herot was going to get hurt sooner or later. It actually took longer than I’d expected. And of the people who could have hurt him, I would much rather it was you. He’s been going to the worst tavern in town these last few moons, with some of the worst people. I worry about him every night he’s out. And based on what Salomen told me this morning, you just might be the one to deflect him from this path.”

“Nikin…” Tal sighed. “I told Salomen that I would do what I could. But I’m not Nashta, nor a parent of any kind. I can make no guarantees, and I won’t even be here on Hol-Opah beyond the end of this moon. Please don’t place so much hope in me.”

“You’re the Lancer of Alsea,” said Nikin seriously. “You’re the hope for all of us.” He looked past Tal. “I believe Colonel Micah wishes to speak with you. Thanks for sharing your patch of dirt with me.”

“It was my pleasure. Come sit in my dirt anytime, Nikin.” They touched palms, and Tal was still looking after him when Micah sat down.

“What has put this expression on your face?” he asked.

“Nikin tells me that I’m the hope for everyone. I’m not certain if he meant everyone on Hol-Opah or everyone on Alsea.”

“I would guess the latter.” Micah watched the retreating producer. “He’s a good man. Carries a lot of his father in him.”

“And Salomen carries her mother. I wonder who Herot carries?”

“Perhaps that’s the problem.” Micah settled himself more comfortably. “I heard you had company on your run again.”

Tal nodded. “He made it a little further this time. I was impressed, actually. By now he must truly be feeling the effects of that first run, but he’s pressing on. The real question is, will he run tomorrow?”

“I bet not. He’s proving something to you. If you’re not here, what’s the point?”

“I’ll counter your bet. Yes, he’s proving something to me, and what better way to do so than to demonstrate upon my return that he can do more than when I left?”

“Hm. You might be right.”

“Too late. The bet is mine.”

Micah stretched his arms and sighed happily. “I will miss Hol-Opah. Guarding you in a remote field on a private holding has been a vacation. And now I must return to work.”

“Believe me, I’m even less happy about it than you.”

“I would imagine so. You have much better things to be doing, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” said Tal. “The horten crop is nearly ready for harvest.”

Micah grinned. “Even with that impenetrable front, my friend, I can see the truth on your face. The horten crop is the last thing on your mind. So when were you planning to tell me about your date? I’ve waited all morning with admirable patience.”

“Your patience is neither admirable nor even in existence, and since when is my date your business?”

“Tal.” Micah assumed a look of official gravity. “I am the Chief Guardian of the Lancer. Everything you do is my business.”

“I suggest you reread your position duties. Tracking the Lancer’s romantic life is not part of them.”

“Ah, so there was romance!”

“You’re impossible. I’m finishing my midmeal now; don’t expect me to talk.” To illustrate her point, Tal took a huge bite of her pastry.

“Let’s review the facts,” said Micah, ignoring her. “According to last night’s duty reports, you and Raiz Opah made a rather stirring entrance to Meadowgreen, and were seen thereafter publicly holding hands across the table. You were also holding hands when you returned from your date, and there was a considerable period of time in which Varsi was guarding an occupied transport that was going nowhere. Given the earlier reference in her report to a physical altercation between you and Herot Opah, such friendliness seems quite significant. Had you punched Herot two moons ago, I suspect Raiz Opah would have sliced you to ribbons and dropped the pieces in the fanten food dispenser. It is my considered opinion, therefore, that you were exceedingly wise to wait this long before giving the little dokker what he so richly deserved. I can also draw the conclusion that your romance is proceeding at the usual pace, indicating that you might actually get beyond holding hands sometime next moon.”

“Enough!” Tal laughed in spite of herself. “I’ll have you know that we got beyond holding hands last night. Though not by much.”

“Details, please.”

“Micah, I am not giving you details. I have no idea why you even ask.”

“Because sometimes you slip. More than holding hands, eh? In the absence of facts, I shall simply turn my imagination loose.”

“It won’t do you the slightest bit of good.” Tal popped the last of her pastry in her mouth and dusted off her hands.

“Oh, I’m quite certain I can come up with something. That was a rather eye-opening dress Salomen wore last night. I suspect your eyes were opened considerably. Well, yours and everyone dining at Meadowgreen.”

“My eyes couldn’t have been opened too far. I didn’t see anyone but her,” said Tal, leaning back on her elbows and crossing her legs at the ankles. “Ah, that’s nice.”

Micah settled himself as well, a broad smile on his face. “There’s hope for you, I think. True romance has finally hit you over the head.”

Tal nodded. “Literally. Which is why turning your imagination loose won’t do you any good.”

“Eh? Are you saying Salomen really did hit you over the head? Damn, she was angry about Herot, then.”

“No! Good Fahla, she didn’t hit me.”

“Then what?”

Tal hesitated. After reading the information she’d received the previous night, it was clear she had to tell Micah part of this. The difficult decision had been to tell him all of it.

“Remember when I told you that our bonding process was accelerated?” she asked.

“On the way to Blacksun, yes. And I told you it was clearly a miracle of Fahla that for once you were proceeding faster than the normal rate instead of slower. Which does make the hand-holding issue a bit odd, now that I think of it.”

“It won’t when you have all the pieces. The bonding is faster, but the rest is not. Salomen and I risk actual injury if we try anything physical. You have no idea what negative reinforcement is until you’ve had your empathic senses burned out from just a kiss.”

“What?” Micah frowned, all levity gone from his emotions. “Now I do need details.”

“It’s nothing dangerous. Well, not yet, anyway. I’m told it could get worse, but I hope we’ll have it resolved before then.”

“If that was supposed to reassure me, it failed. And why did I not hear about this earlier?”

“Because it’s personal! It has nothing to do with my title or your duty. You cannot protect me from this, Micah. But I was thinking about it last night, and I decided that I want you to know.” Tal pulled herself into a sitting position, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. Micah was quick to follow, his concern shimmering at the surface of his emotions.

“I hope this is not as serious as it sounds,” he said.

“Well…it might be. I don’t know. This is new territory for me, and there’s no one I can safely ask for advice, not even the people who might best understand it. The tyree bond that Salomen and I are developing is different. It will be completed the first time we Share, and from that moment on we’ll be empathically inseparable. As far as Salomen is concerned, I’ll be without a front. Permanently. You can imagine how that scares the shek out of me.”

“It would scare the shek out of anyone,” he said in astonishment. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I hadn’t either until two days ago. Apparently it’s very rare. And it scares Salomen, too, so for obvious reasons we’re reluctant to initiate a Sharing. The problem is, this type of bond proceeds at its pace, not ours. Even as we’re holding back, our bonding is not, and one of the effects of this is an empathic shock generated by physical touch.”

“How bad is the shock?”

“Bad enough to throw us backwards, give us nasty headaches, and temporarily burn out our empathic senses. And that’s from kissing. I don’t even want to consider what might happen with…more advanced forms of contact. Joining is completely out of the question; I don’t think we’d survive it. The symptoms will cease upon our first Sharing, but until that occurs, they’ll get progressively worse and progressively easier to set off, until even a casual touch will hurt us.”

“Fahla! Andira Tal, I cannot believe you kept this to yourself!”

“And how exactly will this information affect your duties?” she asked, somewhat nettled at his outburst. “Can you tell me one single thing you would change as a result of knowing this?”

“Well…” He looked down. “All right. You’re correct, you had no obligation to tell me. As my Lancer, that is. As my friend, I would hope that you would confide in me.”

His earnestness melted her momentary irritation. “That’s precisely what I did.”

“There is one thing I would change,” he said. “Now I’m regretting teasing you so mercilessly. I apologize for my insensitivity, Tal. This is not a laughing matter.”

Tal shook her head. “Don’t you dare. I’m so accustomed to your teasing that I wouldn’t know how to function without it. And I certainly won’t stop teasing you.”

“I never give you anything to tease me about, so that’s not an issue.” He looked at her closely. “There’s more.”

For all his empathic limitations, Tal thought, Micah could read her very well. “Yes, there is. And this part has everything to do with your duty.” She took a deep breath. “Tyrees of our type share such an extraordinary link that we will both show the same symptoms if one of us is ill. There are even stories of both tyrees dying from a mortal wound sustained by one. I had Aldirk do a records search for that data; he sent me the results last night. He could find no confirmed cases of physical injury or death being transmitted across the bond; apparently the effects are limited to the immune system. But he did locate several distinct stories, and the existence of the stories alone is enough to cause concern.”

Micah was already shaking his head. “Great Fahla above. She’ll be targeted.”

“I need you to start strategizing, Micah. Her security must be trained and in place before our Sharing. Instructor Dalsen said we must keep the true nature of our bond a secret, but you and I both know we can’t conceal it forever. And I would rather be prepared for the inevitable than simply hope it won’t happen.”

“Agreed. I’ll begin selecting the Guards today.” He looked at her regretfully. “I’m sorry, Tal, but your Sharing just became my business.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I’ll tell you as far in advance as I’m able. But I’ve had little control over this process since the moment it was initiated. It’s like riding a winden bareback—holding on is the best I can accomplish. Steering seems to be out of the question.”

He put a comforting hand on her knee. “Hold on as long as you can.”

“Believe me, I will.” She shook her head. “It’s ironic. With Darzen I put off Sharing because I was worried that the truth would end our relationship. Salomen and I have based our relationship on nothing but truth, and still we must delay our Sharing. I can’t seem to win either way.”

“Fahla has a twisted sense of humor, my friend. But she has also given you a precious gift. Do not complain too loudly or she may think you ungrateful.”

“Actually,” said Tal, “I was considering a visit to her temple in Whitemoon. I wanted to thank her, and…well, that seemed appropriate. And the Whitemoon temple is much more intimate than Blacksun’s.” She was fairly certain that if she walked into the Blacksun Temple, the entire city would know about it before she exited.

He clutched her knee in pretended shock. “You would darken the door of a temple? What is the world coming to?”

“According to Darzen Fosta, the end of our culture as we know it.”

“Well, that’s just about what I thought it would take to get you to temple.”

“We all honor Fahla in our own way, Micah.” She removed his hand from her knee and ostentatiously dropped it. “You light oil bowls and pray for female companionship; I go to the woods and allow her message to reach me directly.”

“I do not pray for female companionship. I pray for my good friend Andira to be shown the true worth of her loyal Chief Guardian.”

“You’d better light a few more oil bowls, then. Clearly the offerings have been too small.”

“I have also prayed for her to give you your dream. Perhaps I will accompany you in Whitemoon; I have my own thanks to give.”

His sincerity caught her by surprise. “There you go again, ruining a perfectly good tease,” she said, but the sudden blurring of her vision made her fronting rather pointless.

Micah held out his hand, palm up. Without hesitation Tal pressed her palm to his, watching his expression change as the connection allowed him to feel her gratitude.

“Above all else,” he said quietly, “you are my friend.”

“Above all else, you are mine. Thank you, Micah. I have no words.”

His smile held the understanding of long experience. “Nor do you need them,” he said.

 

 

 

 

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chapter 22

 

 

Evenmeal was a noisy affair, with Jaros eager to share what he’d learned in school that day and the adults all discussing the upcoming Caste House meeting, the imminent rain and potential crop damage, and Tal’s speaking tour. Only Herot was quiet, picking at his food and excusing himself as soon as was marginally polite. After the meal, Shikal, Nikin and Micah retired to the parlor with a bottle of spirits, Salomen left for her Caste House meeting, and Jaros and Tal both went upstairs to do homework. Tal found herself wishing she could trade with Jaros; geometry calculations sounded far more enjoyable than checking Miltorin’s notes and finalizing her speech. Judging by the emotions she could sense down the hall, however, Jaros himself did not share her opinion. She stopped for a moment to focus on him, smiling at the indignant color to his emotional presence. Jaros was clearly put out that a calculation hadn’t worked properly. She knew exactly how he felt.

Three hanticks later she had given up all pretense of working and was spread out in her window seat, a book in one hand and a cup of shannel in the other. Hol-Opah’s shannel didn’t taste nearly as good now that she’d been spoiled by Corsine’s, but it was still refreshing, and since the evening had become a little brisk she appreciated the warmth.

She’d honed that speech until her eyes were crossing, and concluded that it was good enough for now. She could look at it again tomorrow, on the transport. Her subsequent efforts to read through the day’s reports and dispatches were also of limited success, until finally she rebelled and tossed the reader card aside. She was done being the Lancer for today. Of course, throwing over her work left her with little to do except think about Salomen, and though that was normally a pleasant occupation, tonight it left her unsettled. No sooner had she let her mind wander than she’d begun receiving glimmers of Salomen’s emotions, frustration and irritation being the strongest. It wasn’t surprising—Salomen had anticipated a loud and difficult Caste House meeting—but it made relaxation impossible. In an effort to banish the tickling emotions, she’d gone to the kitchen for shannel, come back upstairs and begun perusing the bookshelves for something to read. One title caught her eye; she remembered Aldirk referring to it as “dreck and drivel.” Figuring that was precisely what she needed, she’d made herself comfortable and begun to read. The book was indeed dreck, but Tal was guiltily enjoying it nevertheless.

Focusing on the adventures of the warrior protagonist enabled her to shut out external emotions to such an extent that she didn’t feel Salomen’s approach until the producer was right outside her bedroom door. For the first time since Tal’s arrival at Hol-Opah, Salomen actually had to knock.

“Enter,” Tal called, sitting up and looking around for a place to put her empty shannel cup. She was just tucking it onto a bookshelf when Salomen opened the door.

“You must be preoccupied,” Salomen said. “Still working on your speech?”

“Ah…no.” Tal shamefacedly held up the book. “I was sick to death of it, so I found something to take my mind to a more interesting place.”

Salomen walked across the room, plucked the book out of Tal’s hand and smiled. “This is a classic! Mother must have read this nine times. She had a soft place in her heart for strong, adventurous warrior types.”

Tal accepted the book back. “And how many times did you read it?”

Salomen laughed. “Caught. I shall never have any secrets again, I can see that. All right, I may have read it once or twice.”

Tal cocked an eyebrow and waited.

“Fine. I think I’ve read it four times.”

“Four. Really? How interesting. One might think you have a soft place in your heart for strong, adventurous warrior types.”

“One might,” agreed Salomen. “Do you know any? Perhaps you could introduce me.”

Tal brushed the backs of her fingers across Salomen’s cheekbone ridge. “As soon as I meet one I’ll be sure to tell you. In the meantime…it’s good to see you.”

“Did you miss me?” Salomen’s tone was teasing, but she sobered when Tal nodded.

“I felt your frustration, and it just reinforced the fact that you weren’t here. This is the first evening we haven’t been together since I arrived.”

Salomen sat beside her in the window seat, and Tal shifted over to make room. “You felt me in Granelle? It’s getting stronger.”

“I know. How did the meeting go?”

“Not good.” Salomen rested her head against the window and sighed. “Nothing I said convinced them. I was counseling patience and trust, and pointing out that the mechanics of the transition are far more complicated than we’re seeing, so we shouldn’t draw simple conclusions. But Gordense was counseling anger and righteousness and the clarity of simple judgement, and that’s always more attractive. He said that even if I could convince them that we are not seeing all the complexities of the transition, the economist consortium certainly is, and if they’re saying it will be the catalyst for a global economic meltdown, who are we as simple producers to question that? I said that we ‘simple producers’ were capable of thinking for ourselves, and not only that but we had a moral obligation to do so. He said he was thinking for himself, and the conclusion he’d drawn was that you would lead Alsea into destruction, and that our moral obligation was to stop you.”

“Stop me? Do I need to send Micah and Gehrain to question Raiz Bilsner?”

“No, no, no.” Salomen shook her head emphatically. “He didn’t mean it that way. I misspoke. He meant stop you from releasing the replicator technology without taking the steps outlined by the consortium.”

“Are you certain? If that’s an assumption, it’s not one that I can safely accept.”

“It’s not an assumption. I’m not yet good enough at blocking to keep out the stronger emotions, and Gordense’s emotions tend to be strong regardless of what he’s feeling. He’s a pompous fanten, but he’s no danger to you. He just loves the sound of his own voice. The only thing he loves more than that is a good crowd to listen to him bloviate, and tonight was a good crowd. He was in his element. I was not.”

Tal reached for her hand. “You’re tired.”

“Dead tired. Do you suppose I could rest my head on your shoulder without killing both of us?”

“I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

Salomen nodded and scooted up next to Tal, who pulled her in close. Resting her own head against Salomen’s, Tal projected serenity and calm. She could sense Salomen relaxing as she gently brushed the hair away from her face. “Safe so far,” she whispered.

Salomen nodded, her eyes shut. “Just so you know, I can feel exactly what you’re doing.”

“Touching your hair?”

“Don’t be obtuse.”

Tal smiled. “You’re such a sweet-talker.”

Now Salomen smiled, too. “Only with you. And thank you; it feels wonderful.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Do you know what the best part of this is?”

“What?”

“I can actually feel it. I mean, that doing this is making you happy. And that feels almost as good to me as the rest.”

Tal dropped a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Then we’re both happy.”

“Mm hm. Which is an enormous improvement to my evening, I can assure you.”

They sat together in silence, enjoying the closeness. Tal lightly caressed Salomen’s arm and side, feeling her gradually slumping even further, and thought she could stay here for a very long time.

“It came up,” said Salomen.

Tal pulled her head back. “What came up?”

“Our relationship. Before I could utter a word about it. Gordense was on the offensive from the moment the meeting began. He asked me what would possess me to risk my good name just for the thrill of being your local entertainment.”

Tamping down her first reaction—which was to look for her disruptor, Micah and a transport—Tal said, “And what did you tell him?”

“That the only reason my name was still good was because I’d had the sense to reject his bond offer.”

Tal grinned; her tyree could take care of herself! “Ouch,” she said. “That must have hurt him right where he’s most sensitive.”

“Oh, it did. He sputtered a bit. It went downhill from there.” She sighed. “I had such good intentions of keeping at least my part in that meeting on a higher level, but…I’ve never been very good at turning away from a fight.”

“Did Bilsner walk out under his own power?”

Salomen lifted her head and met Tal’s eyes. “You’re enjoying this!”

“Well…” Tal tried to tamp down the grin, but was largely unsuccessful. “I’m proud of you. You don’t back down and you don’t let anyone else push you. It’s what attracted me to you in the first place—you have the heart of a warrior and the soul of a producer. I think Gordense Bilsner saw the warrior tonight. In fact, I’m willing to bet that’s all of you he’s ever seen.”

“You’d be right about that. He does seem to bring out the worst in me.”

Tal schooled her expression into a frown. “The warrior part of you is the worst part?”

“Did I say that?”

“Quite clearly.”

“Hm.” Salomen leaned forward and kissed Tal with a slow, soft touch, pulling away before any possibility of a flash. “Which part do you think is the best?”

“Oh, no. I’m not getting trapped by that. You forget you’re talking to the woman who runs Council meetings; I recognize verbal baiting when I see it.” Tal pulled Salomen in and reclaimed the kiss, then nibbled her way across Salomen’s jaw before releasing her. “I also recognize diversion tactics. This is a very good one.”

“Thank you. I’ve had an excellent instructor.”

“In diversion tactics? I think not.”

Several pipticks went by while they looked at each other without a word. Tal was noticing the richness of Salomen’s dark brown eyes and the beautiful lines around her mouth, and thinking to herself that it was truly a joy to have the right to stare. Not only that, but Salomen was staring right back. Tal wondered what she was seeing.

“I’m going to miss you,” said Salomen suddenly. “I was thinking about that on the way home—how when you first arrived, I was counting the days until you’d take your annoying self and your entourage and get off my land…and now you’re leaving for three days and all I can think about is what a damn long time that is.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing. I already missed you tonight; three days will be interminable. And on top of that, I feel guilty for leaving Hol-Opah right at the worst time.”

Salomen straightened and pulled away. “You must be joking. Andira, Hol-Opah is not your responsibility. Alsea is.”

“I know. But I made a promise.”

“You did not; you made a challenge.”

“True. But when I agreed to your counterchallenge, to me it was a promise.”

“Are all warriors as relentlessly hard on themselves as you?”

“Some of them, yes.”

“Warrior Caste House meetings must be a jolly time for all, then.”

Tal laughed. “You’d be surprised. Someday I’ll have to take you as a guest.”

“Perhaps I should have done that tonight,” said Salomen. “You would have been a more convincing speaker than I.”

“I disagree. I’ve heard you speak many times; you’re very convincing. And in this instance I think a defense of my policies made more of an impact coming from you than they would have from me.”

Salomen sighed. “I don’t know if it made an impact at all.”

“Give it time. People often need to think about something before it really sinks in. I don’t expect my speaking tour to bring about instant results, but in a nineday the general opinion could be entirely different. In that same nineday you may find your peers thinking differently as well.”

“I hope so. Of course,” Salomen added darkly, “none of this would be necessary if Darzen hadn’t been so jealous. If I ever meet that woman, she would be wise to walk the other way.”

“I don’t think jealousy was the issue,” said Tal. “She was angry at my deception, and rightfully so. And you’re still assuming that a carefully considered academic statement was rooted in emotion.”

“If it really was purely academic, then I’d retract my opinion. But I don’t think it was. And if emotion was involved, it was not anger. You may be the leader of our world and a powerful empath, but when it comes to yourself you don’t always see clearly. She was jealous of your title.”

“I assume you plan to explain your reasoning for this rather interesting conclusion.”

“Of course.” Salomen pulled away, bringing her legs up on the cushion and resting her back against the opposite wall of the window seat. “Ah. Better.”

Tal watched her in some bemusement. “Is this going to take so long that you have to get comfortable for it?”

Salomen ignored her. “We’ll begin with Exhibit A. When your relationship began, she thought you were merely a Lancer’s Guard. A respectable rank for a warrior, to be sure, but otherwise not too challenging for a highly placed economist who advises the second largest city council in the world. You were of a manageable intellect and rank, or so she thought.”

Tal opened her mouth to object, but was silenced by Salomen’s upraised hand. “You asked me to explain, so do me the courtesy of allowing me the floor.”

“Yes, Raiz Opah,” said Tal with a grin. “You’re bringing back fond memories of our delegate meetings.”

Salomen’s serious expression broke for a moment before she recomposed herself. “Exhibit B. The night of your breakup, when you began discussing replicator issues, she assumed that you had gotten your ideas from the Lancer. She did not credit you with the necessary education or intellect to have produced those ideas on your own.”

“Now, that—”

“Exhibit C,” continued Salomen, speaking right over Tal. “When you proved that you did indeed have the intellect to have expanded on those ideas, she told you that you were wasted as a warrior and would be better suited as a…what?”

“Economist,” answered Tal grudgingly.

“Rather patronizing, don’t you agree? Moving along to Exhibit D. When your true identity was revealed, what did she tell you? That you had shown her only a small part of yourself and that she had made a fool of herself. Implying that she felt foolish for not knowing the true breadth of your capabilities, and perhaps implying that she would not have accepted you as a potential mate had she known that those capabilities were so advanced. After all, what did you hide? Your personality, your character traits, your intelligence?”

“Well, there was the little matter of my hair and eye color,” said Tal, crossing her arms and trying not to look as if she were enjoying herself.

Salomen waved that aside. “I’m talking about real characteristics. Things that make you who you are. You would still be Andira Shaldone Tal if your eyes and hair were brown. You would not be Andira Shaldone Tal if you were less articulate or intelligent, or if you were boorish or judgmental or unfair. Did you pretend to be any of these things?”

“No. Quite the contrary, I was more myself during that moon than I was for some time before or after. But I did pretend to be something I was not. I pretended to be an ordinary warrior.”

“My esteemed Lancer Tal, you make my point for me.” Salomen was now in full Caste House speaker mode. “You pretended to be ordinary. And Darzen was upset because she found, to her dismay, that you were not ordinary at all. What did she tell you at the end?”

Suddenly Tal wasn’t enjoying herself any more. Those words still hurt. “She said that my title was everything.”

Salomen watched her for a moment, then said quietly, “She made the same mistake I did. She didn’t know you well enough to understand the distinction between who you are and what you do. Which brings us to Exhibit E, my last point. When she understood that she was outclassed in rank and accomplishments, and that you would be a continual challenge to her sense of herself as a superior being, she walked out the door. You were more than she would ever be. If her motivation had been simple anger, why wouldn’t she have responded to your repeated attempts to make contact? Most people move beyond anger with enough time. But Darzen could not move beyond her jealousy.”

Tal could only stare. She went over Salomen’s points again, seeing her time with Darzen from a radically different point of view. It all made perfect sense. Had she really been such a poor judge of character?

No, she thought suddenly, I saw what I wanted to see, and so did Darzen. We are all hiding something, aren’t we?

“You’re wrong about one thing,” she said at last. “I am most certainly not a more convincing speaker than you. Your debating skills are second to none.”

“Thank you. But have I convinced my most important audience?”

“Well, you’ve certainly given me a great deal to think about. Perhaps it was jealousy; you make an excellent case for it. Perhaps it was anger at perceived betrayal. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. Either way, it’s done and I can no longer feel any regret for it. Darzen left me free to be here.”

“Not for much longer. She may have left you free, but she’s the reason you’re leaving tomorrow.”

Tal nodded. “True. But we still have tonight.”

“Thank Fahla. I was looking forward to this during that entire interminable Caste House meeting.” Salomen tilted her head, smiling at Tal. “Darzen threw this away with both hands. She could have been the one sitting next to you, sharing this time. I dislike her by reputation alone, but I’m grateful to her idiocy.”

Laughing, Tal said, “I’ll be sure to pass that along if I ever speak to her again.”

“While you’re at it, give her my contact code and ask her to call. I have other things I’d like to tell her.” Salomen stretched, making a tiny “eep” sound of satisfaction. “Oh, I’m feeling so much better now. Are we going to have a lesson tonight?”

“Do you want one?” asked Tal in surprise. “I thought you’d be too tired after your meeting.”

“I’m not that tired. Besides, we had no lesson last night, and we won’t have any for the next three. We cannot miss this one.”

“All right. Then let’s—”

“Wait.” Salomen sat up and swung her legs off the window seat. “I have to move.” Tal watched in bemusement as she hopped off, went to her usual chair and sat down. “Now I'm ready.”

“What was that about?”

“I cannot be sitting next to you. It’s too distracting.” Salomen crossed her legs at the ankle. “What are we working on tonight?”

Oh, this was too easy. “Broadsensing,” said Tal with a grin. “And tuning out distractions.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 23

 

 

Micah stood to the side of the stage, listening to Tal while watching the crowd. As a Lancer’s Guard, he was atypical for his lack of empathic talent, but he had learned to make up for it with the other senses Fahla had given him. He was very skilled at reading facial expressions and body posture, a physical language which sometimes told him things that higher empaths could not see. Sensing deadly intent in a crowd was one thing; localizing it to an individual was something completely different. However, being a believer in utilizing all available tools, he also had ten of his most powerfully empathic Guards stationed around the auditorium and ten more on the outside, watching all entrances from various hidden positions and constantly broadsensing. This was not a private holding; it was a public auditorium in the second largest city on Pallea, and anything was possible.

Though the tour had gone well, he was very relieved to be in Whitemoon. After tonight’s speech they would be on a transport back to Blacksun, and he would get a decent night’s sleep at last. Guarding Tal on tour was the most stressful aspect of his job, and relaxation was impossible whether he was on duty or not. Even while sleeping he was on alert, and could go from dead asleep to fully awake and on his feet in two pipticks. It was a skill almost all warriors developed, though the majority of warriors at his stage of life had moved on to less demanding positions and allowed their training to lapse. At times Micah could see the attraction, but for the most part he thought they had simply put themselves out to pasture. It was a fate he could not imagine enduring, much less inflicting on himself. As long as he was useful to Tal, he would be here at her side.

He glanced at her briefly, appreciating the picture she made on the elevated podium. Tal was an imposing figure in her blue and black dress uniform, and knew exactly how to present herself as larger than life. People meeting her for the first time were often surprised at her lack of stature, but they soon forgot it when she began to speak in those calm, measured tones. At the moment she was addressing an audience of five thousand Alseans—plus unknown millions watching the realtime vid in their homes—and she had their rapt attention. Tal had risen to the occasion during this tour, her confidence and thorough grasp of detail invariably shifting the general mood of the crowd. At each speech she had methodically decimated the economist consortium’s forecast, using explanations and examples that even the least educated Alsean could understand. Even Micah could sense the growing belief and support in the audience at each city, and he was forced to agree with Aldirk for once in his life:  this tour had been absolutely necessary.

Not that public opinion had been entirely reversed, of course. Many chose not to watch the speeches, or simply ignored everything Tal had to say. She had been driving a radical change for over a cycle now, and there were those who would resist it no matter how much evidence piled up in its favor, simply because it was change. These were the people who had pounced on the economic consortium’s statement as absolute proof of Tal’s folly, and continued to shout their belief to anyone who would listen. Over the last two days, that shouting had become louder, not quieter, and Micah knew it was because they sensed a loss of attention. There had even been demonstrators in Whitesun during Tal’s speech yesterday, though a unit of Whitesun Base warriors had blocked their access to the auditorium.

Micah turned his attention back to the crowd as Tal ended her speech and invited questions. This was always the interesting part.

An older Alsean stood up, the mobile microphone immediately flying to him and hovering as he spoke. “I am Gilmorian Stander, merchant caste. I’m able to support my family and the families of my children because I believe in selling only quality products, and my customers seek me out for that quality. If the replicators can produce anything, will all products be of the same quality? And if not, how will the distinctions be preserved?”

“An excellent question, Reese Stander,” said Tal. “All replicator products will not be of the same quality for the same reason that products are not of the same quality right now:  cost of materials. In this case, the cost is energy rather than raw materials, but the principle is the same. Certain materials require more energy to create. Now, it may be that the more energy-expensive materials are not the same materials that cost more to us now, but…” she paused for emphasis, “…the pricing structure has been built around our current raw material costs, not the energy costs. Over time that will change—it must, or we will not be able to recover our energy costs. But that is far too radical an adjustment to impose now. We have planned a gradual phase-in of the energy pricing structure over a period of ten cycles; more than enough time for all of us to adapt. So, esteemed Reese, your cost of doing business will be relatively unchanged, and your customers will still seek you out for the quality you provide.”

Amid applause, the merchant nodded and took his seat, smiling as his bondmate kissed him on the cheek.

A woman stood up across the auditorium as the mobile microphone zipped over to her. “I am Venuzandra Mil, crafter caste. I have no question, Lancer Tal. I simply wished to express my gratitude, and that of my friends and family, for your care in seeing this change through with minimal disruption to the people. Our history tells us that we’re fortunate to have you as Lancer in this tumultuous time; past Lancers would not have been so careful. I know that you’ve been vilified for your attempts to do the right thing, and I wish to say that not all of us share the opinions of those who would speak against you.”

She sat down abruptly, her seatmates on either side patting her on the back as the crowd burst into applause. It appeared to Micah that the woman was not accustomed to public speaking and had just scared herself halfway to her Return by standing up.

Tal had either seen the same thing he had, or she could sense the woman’s nervousness. “I’m grateful for your words, Artisan Mil, and admire your courage in speaking up such a venue. Your support means a great deal to me.”

The crafter nodded shyly as two people stood up, one in the second row and one several rows back. Micah frowned; had there been a fault in the computer program responsible for speaker selection? Each seat in the auditorium had a small button beneath it, allowing its occupant to request an opportunity to speak. In order to control the chaos of multiple people attempting to speak at the same time, a computer recorded all requests and made random selections, then routed the information to the mobile microphone and the seat holder. The latter received notification of selection by a five-piptick vibration of their seat, and a second one just before it was their turn to stand.

As Micah watched, the microphone flew to the man standing in the second row, clearly indicating which was the authorized speaker. He looked more closely at the other figure and groaned. They’d expected her to show up in Whitesun yesterday, and when she hadn’t, Micah and Tal had dismissed her from their list of immediate concerns. Damn her for coming to Whitemoon! She was already drawing attention and no doubt planned to stand until Tal was obligated to call on her. Well, she’d have to wait until the end.

“I am Toller Jansom, builder caste,” said the man near the front. “I repair transport engines. It’s not a job many want, and a lot of people think I do it because I’m not smart enough to find anything better. But I take pride in my work, and it helps to support my family. My question is, how am I supposed to keep my living when a customer can simply replicate a new engine if the old one breaks?”

“I’ve also worked on transport engines. And it’s quite true that anyone can take them apart.” Tal smiled. “But it takes a smart Alsean to put them back together again.” The builder grinned toothily as a murmur of laughter rippled through the crowd.

“It’s also true that a customer may simply replicate a new engine,” Tal continued, “if that customer is willing to pay the cost. Replicating an entire engine will be prohibitively expensive, due to the raw material costs now, the energy costs later, and the complexity of the programming. It will be far, far less expensive to replicate the part or parts that are broken. Tell me, Kyne Jansom, how will your customers know which part to replicate?”

The man’s face lit up. “I’ll still have to diagnose the problem.”

“Yes, you will. Anyone not intimately familiar with transport engines will still require your expertise. Not only that, but once they’ve replicated the part, they’ll almost certainly need you to install it. And it’s quite likely that they will also ask you to replicate the part for them, both as a means of avoiding potential mistakes and to keep them from making multiple trips to your shop. Since you will be charged a slightly lower cost for your replication of a part, due to your registered status as a transport repair shop, that will also represent a profit for you. Your future is not in jeopardy.”

“Thank you, Lancer Tal.” The builder dipped his head and sat down. Micah watched the microphone move off and followed its trajectory, raising his eyebrows as he spotted the small girl standing on her seat. Well, this was certainly a first! Judging by the expressions on the faces of what must have been her parents, they were rather startled as well.

“I am Falerna Nael,” said the girl in a high but very determined voice. “My parents are scholar and builder caste, and I haven’t chosen mine yet.”

“It’s a difficult decision, isn’t it?” asked Tal.

“It is,” agreed the girl in a tone that reminded Micah very much of Jaros. “I’ve been thinking about becoming scholar, but in school yesterday we learned that you came to Whitemoon because you disagree with a whole group of scholars who say the replicators are a bad idea. So I want to know why you aren’t listening to the scholars.”

“I do listen to scholars, every day,” said Tal. “I’m surrounded by them in Blacksun; nearly all of my advisors are scholar caste. But you’re really asking why I’m not listening to these few scholars who don’t agree with me, right?”

The girl nodded, and was poked by one of her mothers, who leaned over and whispered to her.

“Yes,” said the girl to the microphone.

“Falerna, what’s your favorite subject in school?”

“Geography,” was the instant answer.

“So if your instructor divided your class into teams for a geography contest, I’m betting that everyone would want you on their team because you’re very good at it, right?”

“Yes.” Micah could sense her pride; children were delightfully open with their emotions.

“I pick teams, too. They’re called advisors. And I only want the people who are very, very good at what they do, because the decisions I make with their help are important. I picked a team of economic advisors, Falerna. Of the scholars your teacher mentioned, can you guess how many are on my team?”

Falerna shook her head and was again poked by a parent. “No,” she said loudly.

“Exactly none. Why do you think I wouldn’t pick any of them?”

“Because they weren’t good enough?”

The audience roared with laughter, and the girl looked embarrassed.

“They’re not laughing at you, Falerna. They’re laughing because you got the answer right, and it really is kind of funny. Yes, I’m here because I didn’t listen to a group of scholars. But why would I, if they weren’t good enough to be on my team? I do listen to my advisors, very seriously. They helped me create the plan for the replicators, and believe me when I tell you that we did our best to think of everything. What that other group of scholars are saying is nothing my advisors didn’t consider an entire cycle ago. But their conclusions were different. If I have to choose between believing my best advisors, and believing others who aren’t on my team, who should I believe?”

“Your best advisors,” said Falerna, confident once again.

“You’d make an excellent Lancer,” said Tal. “That’s the most important part of the job. Pick the best people, and listen to them. Thank you, Falerna. Your question was a good one.”

As the girl sat back down, a huge swell of applause rocked the auditorium. Micah grinned; Tal couldn’t have done better with that if she’d had it scripted. This exchange would surely make all the news outlets by the morning, and the economic consortium would have a time of it trying to combat their new image as “not good enough.”

He glanced back to his right, but the standing figure was gone and the seat was empty. Quickly he scanned the aisles, and found her making her way toward the exit.

“Keep walking,” he muttered.

 

 

-----

 

 

“What did you think, Micah?” Tal was gulping down an enormous container of water. Between the speech and the question and answer session, she’d been talking for nearly two hanticks and her throat was beyond dry. But this was it; she was done. Now all they had to do was wait for the crowd outside to clear somewhat before making their own departure. In the meantime, she and Micah were resting in a small prep room behind the auditorium’s stage.

“I think you should send that little girl a token of your appreciation. Maybe a new transport.”

“Wasn’t she something? She reminded me of Jaros with all that attitude. And then she gave me the perfect opening. Damn, I enjoyed that.”

“And I enjoyed seeing Darzen Fosta slink out of the auditorium with her battle flag dragging behind her.”

Tal abruptly set the container on the small table by her chair. “So that was her.” Micah nodded. “I thought it might be when I saw two people stand up at once, but I couldn’t see with the lights in my eyes. When did she leave?”

“Right after you publicly humiliated her.”

“Oh, Fahla.” Tal laughed. “She must really hate me now. She probably knew we were ready for her in Whitesun and chose Whitemoon for a sneak attack. Well, I’m sorry I have to fight this dirty, but she’s dragged me through the dirt already.”

“I don’t see any need for apology. There were demonstrators in Whitesun, Tal. That’s well beyond dirt. Whether Darzen envisioned this or not, she set off a chain reaction.”

“I know. I have to admit, I never thought it would go as far as people chanting in the streets. Aldirk was right.”

“Are you going to tell him that?”

“Are you joking?”

Micah snorted.

They passed some time in companionable silence, with Tal idly twirling her water container and staring at nothing in particular.

“Do you think there’s any possibility she was here to talk to me?” she asked at last.

“Not a chance,” said Micah firmly. “If she wanted to talk to you she wouldn’t be trying to jack in on a question and answer session on a worldwide broadcast.”

Tal nodded. “Salomen was right, too. I really didn’t want her to be.”

“Right about what?”

“She said Darzen didn’t leave because I lied by omission. She left because she didn’t want the person I truly am…because I would have been too much of a challenge for her. She liked the idea of me as an ordinary warrior.”

“It’s possible. Not everyone is ready for a challenge like you. Salomen being a notable exception.” Micah reached out for his own water container.

“Lancer Tal, we’re ready to depart when you are.”

Tal tapped her wristcom. “Thank you, Gehrain. We’re coming out now.” She stood up. “Ready for temple, Micah?”

“The question is, are you? Do you remember which door to enter?”

Tal pretended confusion. “Is there more than one?”

Micah opened the prep room door, verified the presence of his Guards in the hallway, and turned back to Tal. “Just watch me and don’t do anything I don’t do.”

“If I restricted my activities to the things you do, Salomen would have a very boring future in front of her.” Tal grinned and walked out, leaving Micah looking after her and shaking his head.

“Someday Fahla is going to deliver a healthy dose of humility to your front door, and I’ll be there to see it,” he called after her. She raised her hand behind her in a rude gesture, and he laughed as he followed her down the hall.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 24

 

 

Tal craned her neck to see the top of the temple dome, marveling at the beauty of its construction. The temples in Alsea’s biggest cities had been built long ago, before modern technology had made such things simpler. She couldn’t imagine the builders hauling these stones in carts, cutting them by hand and laying them in place with nothing more than their eyes and crude measuring tools to establish the angles. And yet these domes were so perfect, the stones matching with such precision, that a small machined sphere released near the top would roll straight down, neither bouncing nor deviating from its course.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Micah was beside her, peering up as well.

“It is. And a perfect evening to set it off, too.” Tal gazed beyond the dome to the spectacular sunset turning the clouds into crimson fire. The ocean had already gone dark, its silver sheen vanishing when the sun dipped below the horizon. Blacksun's Temple was impressive, but the Temple at Whitemoon was widely revered as the most spectacular in the world. Standing on a hill at the center of the city, it commanded a view that left many visitors breathless. This was a location and a building to inspire wonder, and Tal was not immune.

“Now remember: enter the front archway and exit at the rear. To do otherwise is to insult Fahla.”

“Micah, I do know a little about temples. Are you going to be this annoying all evening?”

“Just trying to save you from embarrassing yourself.”

“More likely you’re trying to save yourself from being tainted by my lack of piety.”

“That too.”

She shook her head and stepped forward, her boots crunching in the gravel path. As they mounted the stone steps that led up to the entry, two Temple Guards flanking the opening stepped forward, bringing their fists together against their chests and bowing their heads. Tal walked between them and through the arch, stopping just a few steps inside. The few Alseans in the temple glanced toward her and just as quickly looked away again; here in Fahla’s sacred space, even a Lancer was just another worshipper.

An enormous glassed opening at the top of the dome lit the temple during the day, but at sunset a band of lights set at the junction of dome and wall were ceremoniously lit. In the old days the lights had been torches, rendering the ceremony quite a bit more time-consuming, and the modern lights still mimicked the color and shape of a torch flame. They were lit now, a circle of fire ringing the temple and emphasizing its enormity. A temple had no divisions breaking up the interior; no seats nor any other visual distractions. All of the soaring space was left open to the worshippers, who stood at small, transparent bowl racks which held clear bowls of oil in several tiers. When a bowl was lit, the effect was that of a flame floating in the air. The racks were scattered throughout the temple, allowing visitors to worship away from others if they wished, since there was no single location where the Goddess was thought to receive the prayers of her people. But Tal had always felt that the true heart of a temple was at its center, where a molwyn tree grew in bare soil beneath the skylight. The only tree on Alsea with a solid black trunk, molwyns were sacred to Fahla and grew in every temple of decent size. The tree in Whitemoon was massive, gnarled and very old.

While Tal stood taking in the beauty of her surroundings, Micah moved to a bowl rack some distance away and stood facing the molwyn tree. He dropped a handful of coins into the offering box, causing the rack to retract the covers over its bowls. The larger the offering, the more bowls were released. Tal watched curiously as he picked up the eternal flame at the center of the rack and began lighting bowls. When every bowl in the top tier was flaming, he began on the second. Although Tal knew she should not be staring—an offering to Fahla was between the goddess and her worshipper—she couldn’t turn away as Micah methodically lit bowl after bowl after bowl, until every single one on all six tiers was alight. He’d made a substantial offering indeed!

Micah replaced the eternal flame and stood quietly, his lips moving as he spoke a quiet prayer. Abashed at her own rudeness, Tal was about to step forward and leave him to his privacy when he looked up and caught her eye. With slow, deliberate movements, he turned to face her, placed his fists against his chest, and bowed his head. She found herself fighting a lump in her throat—that offering was for her. Micah had lit an entire bowl rack in thanks to Fahla for sending Tal her tyree.

She straightened her spine, brought her fists to her chest with a thump, and returned his salute. It was a breach of tradition that left Micah blinking in surprise, but she knew it was the right thing to do. She was not Lancer here; she and Micah were equal in the eyes of Fahla. And he was more deserving of her respect than anyone else on the planet, save one special person.

Then she smiled, realizing that with the precedent he’d set, her own hand was forced. She couldn’t just light a bowl or two now! If Micah had lit an entire rack in her name, then how could she, the actual recipient of Fahla’s gift, offer any less?

It was a good thing she’d planned on a large offering.

Pulling her coin pouch from her belt, Tal strode toward the center of the temple. At the bowl rack nearest the molwyn, she dropped in enough to unlock the whole rack. When it was completely alight, she moved on to the next. Several ticks later, five bowl racks ringing the center of the temple were burning so brightly that the molwyn tree glowed in the flames. Tal stepped to the base of the tree, laying her palm on its trunk and gazing into its branches. If she concentrated, she could actually feel the life pulsing beneath her hand.

“I know I don’t come here often,” she said quietly. “And I’ve always thought you understood why. I see you more easily in what you created than I do in these temples, and the only place that feels right to me inside this dome is here. This tree carries your spark. It’s closer to you than anything else in this building.” She paused, looking at her hand in puzzlement. Was it her imagination, or was the bark under her palm growing warm? No, it had to be her own body heat. She looked up again.

“I wish there was something I could say to convey how grateful I am. But I don’t think I need to. You must know. You must feel it. You’ve given me my dream, and though I admit to…well, to questioning your choice, I understand now why you made it. Salomen is unique in so many ways. She sees the world through different eyes, and I see differently through her. We’ve talked every day of this tour and every time we end the call, I feel like a better person. A more worthy person. I always thought what I wanted most was someone to love me for who I really am, but I think…I think she loves me not just for that, but for who she knows I can be. And I want to be that person. I want to be her dream as well. So I guess I’m here not just to thank you, but to ask for your help. Please, help me to get this right. I don’t know what I’m doing. I trained all my life to be a good Lancer, but there’s no training for this. I just…” She stopped as a vision of Salomen came to mind, her eyes crinkling as she laughed at something. Tal smiled at the image. “Yes. That’s what I want. I want to know that she’s happy because of me. She’s spent her whole life suppressing who she is, and acting for the good of others. She deserves her own happiness. Fahla…help me give that to her. Please.”

Her eyes dropped back to her hand in shock. This was not her imagination; it was warm. She raised her other hand and touched the tree in a different spot, finding it cool to the touch. But no sooner had she thought it then the wood under that hand became warm as well. “Holy shek,” she whispered, too stunned to even notice her profanity. She tried to pull back and found herself immobile; it was as if she had become a part of the tree itself. Strangely, she felt no fear or even concern; instead she watched with fascination as the heat in her hands increased exponentially. They were burning now, so hot she should have been on her knees from the agony, but there was no pain at all; only awareness of the heat. Impossibly, the burning increased even more, and Tal’s jaw dropped as her hands began to glow red. It was as if they were on fire from the inside, lighting up her veins…and for just a piptick she could actually see her own bones.

She blinked. It was all gone. The tree was cool; her hands looked like they did every day. She stepped back and held them in front of her eyes, checking for any sign of what had just happened. Other than a pronounced trembling, they were perfectly normal. Looking around, she saw that the flames in her bowls were burning well below the level of the rim. But that made no sense; they’d been full when she lit them.

For some time she stood there, trying to make sense of what had just happened. That Fahla had given her a direct message, she had no doubt. The only question was, what did it mean? What was the Goddess telling her? No matter how she examined it, she came no closer to a solution. The only thing she knew for sure was that it was about Salomen.

She looked at the tree one last time before shaking her head and turning toward the exit. Micah was waiting.

“About time,” he said as she walked up. “If I’d known you had that much to say to Fahla, I would have brought something to eat.”

“Micah, how long have we been here?”

He looked at her oddly. “More than a hantick. Why?”

She walked past him without answering. A hantick. She would have said it was perhaps a fifth of that.

Micah caught up with her at the bottom of the steps, and they strode down the gravel path in silence. When it joined the larger path circling the temple, he asked, “Did something happen?”

She nodded.

“Did she…did she speak to you?”

“No.”

“Well then, what happened?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. But…I think she gave me a sign.”

“A sign! What was it?”

They walked all the way back to the inner gate of the temple grounds before she answered him. “I don’t know how to interpret it,” she said slowly. “But my hands…they burned where they touched the molwyn tree. Except it didn’t burn, it was just hot. So hot that I could see right through to the bone. And then it just stopped, all of a sudden, and the bark was cool again. I thought the whole thing had lasted maybe a few ticks, but when I looked at my oil bowls, they were burned down too far for it to have been that short a time. I have no idea what that was.”

“Nor do I. But there is no doubt that she was telling you something.” His voice was hushed with awe.

She stopped and looked at him. “You believe me?”

“Of course. Why would I not?”

“Because I hardly believe it myself.”

He smiled. “That’s because you’ve never believed in anything you could not define. Fahla is beyond definition.”

“Now that I believe.” She resumed their walk. “Has anything like that ever happened to you?”

“Once, though my experience wasn’t quite so spectacular. I must say, Fahla certainly favors you. You walk in her Temple once every few cycles and she gives you a sign. It must have been those five bowl racks—that was quite a sight.”

“Can you tell me about your sign?” She could feel his instant discomfort and added, “No, that’s personal. Forget I asked.”

“No. I asked you; I cannot repay your confidence with silence.”

“Micah—” She stopped when he held up a hand, and they walked several steps before he spoke again.

“My experience happened many cycles ago,” he said quietly, “when I was a much younger man. I went to the Redmoon Temple for help during a particularly difficult time. I was having some personal issues, and could see no way out without losing two of the most important people in my life. And while I stood there in front of my bowls, Fahla sent me a vision. She showed me that loss was unavoidable; that it was nothing I could control, but that through loss I could gain. It was many cycles before I truly understood that vision. Perhaps you will simply have to wait before her sign becomes clear to you.”

“It seems to be a lesson she teaches often,” Tal said. “I lost the first woman I ever loved, but through that loss I gained so much more. My experience with Kathryn changed me in ways that left me open for Salomen. I think it had to happen that way.”

He nodded. “I’ve certainly railed at Fahla as much as the next Alsean, but beneath it I have always understood that her job is only to give us the tools we need. It’s our responsibility to pick up those tools and make something with them.”

They had arrived at the enormous archway that marked the entrance to the temple grounds. Beyond it was the small transport used for local travel; tonight they would load it into the cargo space of her long-distance transport and leave the southern continent behind. Tal paused at the archway and turned to look back one last time at the beauty of the Whitemoon Temple. The night sky was ablaze with stars and Alsea’s largest moon was full, its light adding to the natural glow of the temple dome in a blaze of white that could be seen for tens of lengths.

“Such a beautiful place,” murmured Tal. “I can think of only one thing that could add to the beauty of this scene.”

“What is that?”

“A red moon.”

Micah nodded. “Perhaps we should return then, when the moon is red.”

“Perhaps we should…and perhaps I’ll bring someone with me.” She turned away with regret. “Micah?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s go home.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 25

 

 

Despite her best intentions, Tal was unable to leave for Hol-Opah the next morning. Her presence in the State House had resulted in a veritable line of people seeking her for an audience, and since she had been so rarely available over the past three ninedays, she could not rationalize leaving without giving them her time. Besides, she could often get a great deal done in a quick face-to-face meeting. Vidcom calls and messages could only accomplish so much; a personal encounter often took care of more business in less time.

After meeting with twelve different Councilors and seven advisors, she sighed in relief as Aldirk walked into her office. “That’s it, then? You’re the last one?”

“As always,” said Aldirk. He sat down, reader card in hand. “May I first extend my congratulations on an extremely effective speaking tour. Particularly your devastating use of a small child to trivialize the economist consortium.” Tal looked at him in surprise; Aldirk was radiating…mirth. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt that from her always-serious Chief Counselor.

“The news outlets thought that was a gift from Fahla herself,” Aldirk went on. “The coverage was more than thorough and repeated at all major news reports. I doubt there’s an Alsean alive today who hasn’t heard about the economists who weren’t good enough.” At this he closed his eyes and laughed quietly. “Ah, that was the highlight of this cycle. Well done, Lancer Tal. Well done.”

“Thank you,” said Tal, who was still recovering from the sight of Aldirk laughing. “I wish it hadn’t been necessary, but the demonstrators in Whitesun convinced me that I had to hit back a little more firmly.”

“Indeed you did.” Aldirk was all business again. “Unfortunately, the demonstrations were not limited to Whitesun. We had one here in Blacksun as well, and at a few of the larger rural towns. Including Granelle.”

“Granelle?” Tal stared. “Blacksun and Granelle? Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“They took place after your speech began in Whitemoon; I had no way of contacting you at that time. And after your speech it didn’t matter; there was nothing you could do about it. I thought you would appreciate an evening to relax before learning of it.”

But I spoke with Salomen after my Whitemoon speech. Why did she not tell me? “I would have appreciated knowing the facts, Aldirk. How am I supposed to do my job if you’re withholding information? You’re my Chief Counselor, not my gatekeeper. You don’t decide what I should and shouldn’t know.” She stopped at his look of surprise, realizing that she had overreacted.

“I apologize if I overstepped my duties,” said Aldirk stiffly. “I believed that I was acting in your best interests. Colonel Micah was informed first thing this morning, since the most pressing concern was one of security.”

“Good, thank you.” Tal tried to backtrack without making it obvious. “I cannot fault your motivation. And given the coverage of last night’s speech, perhaps past demonstrations are not a concern. If they continue, then we have a bigger problem.”

“Agreed. Shall we move onto my next item?”

Nearly a hantick later, Aldirk announced to a weary Tal that they had reached the final entry on his list.

“Thank Fahla,” said Tal, and hid a smile at Aldirk’s disapproving look. The man’s front was very good, but his facial expressions often gave him away. “I know, I know. All of this is necessary. I was just expecting to arrive at Hol-Opah earlier than this.”

“Do you really think it wise to return to a holding near a town where Alseans were demonstrating against you just last night?”

“Aldirk, I’m in a city right now where Alseans were demonstrating against me last night. What is the difference?”

He harrumphed and returned to his reader card. “A prisoner in the pit has requested an audience with you.”

“And this is important because…” Not a moon went by when a prisoner of the pit didn’t ask for an audience. Incarceration in the pit often meant the prisoner was beyond any option of release other than a State pardon, which only Tal could give. She hadn’t given many of them.

“Because this particular prisoner was the ringleader in the Whitemoon smuggling case. He has informed the prison guards that we did not capture the most powerful person involved.”

“And he’s willing to trade his information for a pardon? Absolutely not.”

“He did not ask for a pardon; merely a transfer to an aboveground facility.” Aldirk paused. “He indicated that his information might lead us to a highly-placed individual. Lancer Tal, if our investigation left the most responsible person free, we have an obligation to pursue this. Other high empaths may be at risk of recruitment.”

Tal sighed. “Call Colonel Razine and have her send one of her investigators to speak with the prisoner. If his information plays out, I’ll authorize a transfer.”

“If it were possible to delegate this to the Alsean Investigative Force, I would have already done so. The prisoner states that he will speak with no one but you.”

“Why?”

Aldirk looked troubled. “He states that this individual is too powerful and will suppress his information if it is given to anyone else.”

The office was dead silent. At last Tal said, “He’s going to point to a Councilor. It would take that level of power to control an investigation. Which means it’s almost certainly a warrior, since criminal investigations are our caste responsibility.”

“That is what I’m afraid of as well.”

“Spawn of a fantenshekken!” Tal stood abruptly, pushing back her chair. “This is the last thing we need! I’ve just spent three days rebuilding the people’s trust in this office; a corruption case reaching all the way to the Council will undermine everything. Dammit, Aldirk. Why now?”

“Better now than never,” said Aldirk. “If we have a corrupt Councilor, then he or she must be found and removed immediately.”

Tal paced her office. “Is that prisoner in a protection cell?”

Aldirk checked his notes. “Yes, he was placed there two days ago.”

“Good. Make the preparations and inform Colonel Micah. Send me all the records on our informant. I’ll go to the pit tomorrow after mid-meal.”

“May I assume that you will be staying in Blacksun tonight, then?”

“You may not. If there is nothing else, Aldirk, I’m leaving for Granelle.”

With a sigh that was clearly meant to be heard, Aldirk made a note on his reader card and slipped it in its case. “Very well. I will tell Lead Pilot Thornlan to prepare your long-distance transport tomorrow morning.”

“Poor Thornlan.” Tal shook her head. “She just got home.”

“So did you.”

Not quite yet. But Tal would not voice that thought aloud, instead thanking Aldirk and walking into the hallway with him. She’d been Lancer long enough to know that unless she physically left the office, someone else would come along needing to see her. As she palm-locked the door, she said to Aldirk’s retreating back, “One more thing.” He stopped and turned with an inquiring expression. “Please take sufficient funds from my personal expense account to purchase five bowl racks at the Blacksun Temple. Tomorrow, if poss