chapter 27

 

 

By the time Tal and Salomen were able to retreat to Tal’s room, there was little left of the evening. “I’m sorry,” Tal said as soon as she closed the door behind them. “I really did plan to be here shortly after mornmeal, but it was impossible. Then I thought I’d be here by midmeal, and that was impossible as well. And I have to leave again after midmeal tomorrow.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I know the demands you must have on your time.”

“No, you don’t.” Tal picked up Salomen’s hand and ran her fingers lightly across the palm before clasping it close. “But you will by the end of your moon in the State House.”

Salomen made a dismissive gesture with her free hand. “It will be a lovely vacation. No field work, no equipment maintenance, no end of season labors, just a nice cushy moon in a nice cushy building. I look forward to it.”

“Ha. You won’t be singing this tune when you’ve been in meetings from dawn until well past evenmeal. You’ll be pleading for a break.”

“The way you have pleaded for yours?”

Tal’s teasing mood slipped. “I won’t be able to work the rest of the nineday as I’d hoped, Salomen. Tomorrow I’ll be gone from midmeal until evening, and depending on the results of my meeting, I may have to travel in the near future as well.”

“I understand.” Salomen’s voice was soft. “And you’re feeling quite guilty about it, aren’t you?”

“Well…this is not what we agreed to.”

Salomen squeezed her hand. “Then you should know that I never expected you to work here for an entire moon.”

“You never expected me to last a nineday.”

“No, Andira, it was not just that. I knew that your responsibilities would follow you here, and I expected that they would take you away at times. Frankly, I’m surprised that you’ve managed to work our fields as many days as you have.”

Tal reached for Salomen’s other hand and interlaced their fingers. “It’s good to know I’m not disappointing you or letting you down.”

“You could not.” Salomen stepped closer. “And now that we have our immediate scheduling out of the way…may I?” She pulled Tal’s arms around her back and wrapped her own around Tal’s shoulders. “Mmm. I’ve been craving this since I watched you give Jaros his warmron.”

“Me too.” Tal closed her eyes as she soaked in the warmth and comfort. “When you came running to greet me, I thought for a moment that you were going to do this in front of everyone.”

“That would certainly be the talk of Granelle, wouldn’t it?”

“I think it would be the talk of all Alsea.”

“I missed you,” whispered Salomen. “More than I expected, and I expected a lot.”

Before Tal could respond, she felt an alarming tingle. She and Salomen pushed each other away at the same moment, barely in time to avoid the full empathic flash.

“Damn it!” Salomen shook her hands, then tucked them under her arms. “This is too much. I have waited four long days to touch you and I can’t shekking do it!”

“Salomen…”

“I hate this.”

“I know. I do too. But we have to live with it until we’re comfortable with the idea of Sharing.”

“Would it surprise you if I said I’m a lot more comfortable with that idea now than I was before you left?”

Tal could sense her sincerity. “Yes, it would. What happened?”

Salomen moved to her chair and sat down. “You’d better take the window seat,” she said. “Fahla knows we can’t handle the temptation of sitting together.”

Tal took her customary seat, propping her forearms on her thighs as she faced Salomen. “All right, we’re safely apart. Now tell me what happened.”

“Nothing special. Just that I spent every day missing you more than I thought possible. And every evening glued to the vidscreen, watching you. And every night lying awake, wishing you weren’t so far away.” She shook her head. “I even caught myself looking out the kitchen window yesterday morning, watching for you to come running past the grove in that rag of a shirt you wear.”

“Careful. That rag is the most comfortable shirt I own. I’m extremely loyal to it.”

Salomen gave her a faint smile. “To a fault, I think. The point being that I’m not accustomed to feeling so…lonely. I’ve spent my entire life hiding a large part of who I am, but the problem with hiding is that it sets one apart. I always felt alone because no one I knew could possibly understand what it’s like to feel the things I do. But you understand, and not only that, you’ve helped me learn to control this. You gave me the first real freedom to be myself that I’ve ever known, and I…got used to it. I’m too used to the freedom I feel with you, and the friendship and affection you offer. And when you left, all of that left with you, and what remained was so little. I can’t live that way anymore.” She wrapped her arms around herself and looked at Tal unhappily. “All I want to do now is hold you, and be in your arms, and feel those amazing kisses you gave me after our date—but we can’t. And that’s driving me just a little insane.”

Tal could no longer tolerate the distance. She pushed off the window seat and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Salomen’s chair, resting her hands palm up on Salomen’s knees. Salomen relaxed as she covered them with her own. “Thank you,” she said.

“If we can’t hold each other’s bodies, we can at least hold hands,” said Tal. “And I missed you too, more than I can even explain. The only time in the last four days when I wasn’t thinking about you was during my speeches.” She lifted one hand to her lips and kissed it gently. “I’m glad I can give you something so precious as that freedom, because you’ve done the same for me.”

“Because I see past the lie?” Salomen reached out to caress her face. “I never saw that lie quite so clearly as I did while watching your speeches. You were every bit the Lancer. It reminded me of how intimidated I was when I first met you.”

“You got over it quickly,” teased Tal.

Salomen leaned over and gave her a quick, soft kiss. “Now I’m intimidated for a different reason,” she said. “How is it possible to want something so much and still be frightened of it?”

“The same way it’s possible to be frightened of something and still want it.”

Tilting her head, Salomen said, “Interesting. I never thought of it that way.”

“I remember being fairly frightened of my first physical joining. But I still wanted it, in a powerful way.”

“Ooo, I haven’t heard this. How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“You were not!” Salomen laughed. “I know you were a precocious child, but nobody joins before their Rite of Ascension. Your father would have killed your partner if that were the case.”

“True, he would have. Okay, I lied. We waited until the day after my Rite.”

“Impatient little things, weren’t you?”

“We thought we were doing well to last that long! Fahla, but she was beautiful. I’d wanted her from the moment she joined my training unit.”

“And what did she want?”

Tal understood the real question. “I wasn’t old enough then to have created my own name; any reputation I had was my father’s. And yes, she was attracted to it. But she was also attracted to me, and at that time in my life, that was enough.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So tell me what happened!”

“I’m shocked. You want details?”

Salomen smiled. “I just want to know that she treated you well.”

“She did. We were good for each other, for as long as it lasted. Which wasn’t long; we graduated from our training half a cycle later and were sent to different units. She eventually entered the Mariners. A few cycles ago she made Lead Mariner and was given her own ship.”

“And that joining you were so frightened of?”

“It was wonderful. But not nearly so wonderful as my first Sharing.”

“You were one of the fortunate ones. Usually the first joining involves more fumbling than wonder.”

“Is this the voice of experience?”

Salomen nodded. “I waited until two full cycles after my Rite, but it didn’t help. My first was a boy I’d gone to school with. We knew everything about each other and our families, but hardly a thing about joining. We tried our best, but agreed afterwards that nothing our instructors or parents told us was truly sufficient training. Fortunately we were both quick learners.”

“So the second joining was better than the first.”

“By a length. And the third was better than that. And then we had to stop and get something to eat.”

Tal roared with laughter. When she could speak again, she asked, “Was he your first Sharing as well?”

“No, that was a woman from the other side of Granelle. But I don’t think my Sharings have been quite as wonderful as yours.”

“Why not?”

“Because I could never fully let go. If I did that, my secret would be out.”

“Oh, Salomen.” Tal’s merriment vanished. “It’s not supposed to be like that. I’m so sorry you’ve never experienced a Sharing the way it’s meant to be.”

“I made my choice,” said Salomen, but it was obvious that she was merely repeating the words she’d used many times before. Tal could sense no real conviction behind them.

“You made a choice when you were ten cycles, for Fahla’s sake.”

“Yes, but it was hardly one I could take back again, was it? Even now I still haven’t figured out how to tell my family. Father and Nikin especially will want to know why I never said anything. They’ll be hurt that I didn’t trust them.”

“Would it be any easier if I was there when you told them?”

Salomen squeezed her hands. “It would. Thank you for offering. And this is precisely what I mean when I say I’ve grown too accustomed to this. Now that I know what it’s like to have this kind of support, I don’t want to go back to the way it was before. But I’m nervous about going forward, too.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere just yet. We’re still in control.”

“No, we’re not.” Indicating their hands, Salomen continued, “We can’t enjoy the most basic physical contact that should precede any Sharing. I’m craving it, Andira. If nothing else, that will force me into a decision.”

“I see. Were you planning to inform me of this decision? Just so I can put it on my calendar, of course.”

Salomen gave her a sheepish smile. “I meant our decision.”

“Ah. Right.” Tal nodded.

“Oh, stop. You know I cannot make that choice alone.” She tilted her head. “How are you feeling about it now?”

“Like you, I’m a lot more comfortable with it than I was before this tour. There is no doubt in my mind that we’re following the right path. I had a rather…interesting experience at the Whitemoon Temple after our call last night.”

Salomen narrowed her eyes. “Judging by what I’m sensing, it was more than interesting.”

“Fahla gave me a sign.”

“Really?”

As Tal described her experience, Salomen’s initial curiosity turned to astonishment.

“Holy shek!”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“When you said ‘a sign,’ I thought you meant something like a falling star over the top of the temple dome. Good Fahla! That’s…stunning. I’ve never known anyone who had an actual sign like that. That kind of thing happens in legend, not real life.”

“Believe me, it was real enough. I thought my hands were going to burst into flames.”

“What do you think she was telling you?”

“I don’t know precisely, but I’m sure it was about us.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it happened right after I asked for her help in making you happy.”

Salomen’s eyes grew suspiciously shiny, but all Tal felt from her was a sweet kind of joy.

“Andira, you don’t require Fahla’s help with that. You’ve been doing just fine all on your own.”

“I just wanted to make sure it stays that way.”

“Thank you.” Salomen gently pulled one of her hands away and swiped at her cheek. “Perhaps I should follow your lead and make my own offering. I have a great deal to thank her for.”

“Just watch out for that molwyn tree. It’s a killer.”

Salomen gave a short laugh and put her hand back in Tal’s. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I am too.” Tal needed more contact; holding hands wasn’t enough. She uncurled herself from her position on the floor, stood and pulled Salomen up with her. Bringing their clasped hands down and to the sides, she pressed her body into Salomen’s and dropped a gentle kiss on her throat. “Maybe…if we keep out of a warmron…and I just go one kiss at a time…we can stay under the threshold for a flash,” she murmured, punctuating her words with the lightest of kisses.

“It’s worth a try.” Salomen dropped her head back, giving Tal a great deal more to work with. She held herself tightly in check, tamping down her desire, and managed to cover nearly every bit of Salomen’s throat and jaw before a slight tingle told her she’d gone far enough. Stepping back, she reluctantly let go of Salomen’s hands. With a quiet sigh, Salomen raised her head and met Tal’s eyes. “Damn.”

“I know, but we got away with that much.”

“Always seeing what you can get away with, aren’t you?”

“Of course. And especially with you.” Tal backed up a few steps and sat down on the window seat, the better to remove herself from temptation. “If you never push the limits, you’ll never know how far you can go.”

“No wonder Jaros worships you,” said Salomen as she took her own chair. “That’s his philosophy as well.”

That reminded Tal of a conversation they needed to have, much as she didn’t want to at the moment.

“Salomen…”

“I know,” interrupted Salomen. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him, but I really didn’t want you to worry. There was nothing you could have done anyway.”

“It’s not just Jaros. You didn’t mention the demonstration either, and that’s something I did need to know.”

“It just happened last night. I planned to tell you first thing this morning, when I knew you were home and had gotten some sleep in your own bed, but then Colonel Micah called me with the news about doubling your Guard, so clearly you already knew.”

“No, actually I didn’t. It seems Aldirk was also letting me have a worry-free evening, so between the two of you, I managed not to hear about it until just prior to coming out here. And you know what? That worries me. I can’t do my job without information, and I can’t have my own tyree withholding it.”

Salomen’s eyes widened. “You’re hurt,” she said in a wondering tone. “Andira, I’m sorry; I was just doing what I thought was best for you. You carry so much; I didn’t want to add to that if it wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s my duty to carry all this. That’s the responsibility I accepted along with my title. You cannot protect me from what I need to know.”

“Because you’re the one who does the protecting.”

“Yes!”

Salomen shook her head. “No. Not anymore.”

Tal was so taken aback that she forgot what she’d been about to say. “No?” she asked incredulously. “What in—”

“I’m not talking about your title. I’m talking about you, personally. Or am I alone in enjoying the comfort of a partner, because you think you’re the only one who can provide that support?”

How did this get so turned around? Tal shook her head. “No, of course not. You of all people know how much it means for me to have your support.”

Salomen was looking at her as if she could see right through her, and Tal had a rather uncomfortable thought that perhaps she really could.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “You tell me how much it means for you to be accepted as who you really are, but in reality you only want part of that. You want it to end right at the point where I might see you as vulnerable, or worst of all, truly needing anything. You’ve built your life on being seen as invincible, and having anyone take care of you implies the opposite. What would you have done if I had told you about the demonstration in Granelle last night?”

“I would have told Micah and Aldirk,” said Tal, who was feeling more than a little defensive. “They need to know everything regarding my security.”

“Colonel Micah was with you, so I’m guessing you would have told him right away. When would you have told Counselor Aldirk?”

When would she? Their first stop after her call to Salomen had been the Whitemoon Temple. After that, the last thing she would have wanted to do was contact Aldirk. In fact, she had spent the flight to Blacksun relaxing and enjoying the satisfying feeling of a job well done. When she wasn’t analyzing her temple experience, that is.

“I probably would have told him this morning,” she admitted.

“Which is when I had planned to tell you.” Salomen leaned forward. “If I made a mistake in not telling you earlier, I truly apologize. The last thing I would ever want to do is cause you worry or distress. But from what you’ve just said, the only thing that would have changed if I’d told you last night is that Colonel Micah would have known earlier. Would that have made a difference in his actions?”

Tal considered it. “No,” she said. “He would have waited until the morning to issue orders to the Guards, and he certainly wouldn’t have bothered you with the details until then, either. Salomen, I know what you’re trying to say. And I do appreciate your intentions, believe me. But the fact remains that it isn’t your responsibility to decide whether or not I should know something.”

“I didn’t. I decided when I would tell you.”

“That is splitting a winden’s hair!”

“No, it’s not. That was me thinking of your comfort. But I see such consideration makes you more uncomfortable, not less.”

Tal closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I thought we were past this kind of arguing.”

Salomen’s smile was that of a woman who knows more than she shares. “I’m just as boar-headed as you are,” she said. “We’ll never be past this kind of arguing. This is the other side of having someone accept you as a whole person and not just the Lancer. I’m not going to concede because you have the final word; I’ll concede when you convince me to.”

“Well, that’s never going to happen.”

Salomen laughed outright. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It already has. You’ve convinced me of quite a few things, and taught me more than that. I just want to be recognized as an equal partner.”

“I recognize that equality, Salomen. How could we even be here if I didn’t?”

“I don’t believe you do.” Salomen leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “And I think I just figured out some of my own nervousness. When we Share, it needs to be a gift between equals. That’s when I’ll be comfortable with it.”

Tal leaned back as well. “So now we’re back to you making the decision regarding our Sharing. And here I thought I was just kidding about that.”

Salomen didn’t take the bait, instead giving her a long, measured look. “Are you not listening to anything I’m saying? I just told you that you’re the one who will bring us to that point.”

In the silence that followed, Tal realized that she was sensing nothing but sincerity and belief. Salomen wasn’t arguing for the sake of a debate; she was simply waiting for Tal to understand. Suddenly Tal felt ashamed of her own rather childish irritation.

“I thought I already saw you as an equal partner,” she said quietly. “But if you don’t feel it, then the problem lies with me. I haven’t had much practice at this, Salomen. But I’ll try to get it right.”

“Oh, Andira.” There was that knowing smile again. “You have no idea how many things you already get right.” Salomen stood up and walked over, not stopping until she was right between Tal’s legs. The intensity in her eyes mesmerized Tal as she leaned down, closer and closer, until their foreheads were almost touching. “Can we go back to the beginning of this conversation?” she whispered. “The part where I told you how much I missed you? Because I forgot to mention something else. I love you.”

Tal tried to say it, but the words wouldn’t come out. She felt Salomen’s arms go around her and prayed that Fahla would let them have a few pipticks before the flash this time, because she needed this. She needed the comfort and she needed to hide her face, because the truth shamed her. No, they weren’t equals. Salomen was far ahead of her.

 

 

 

 

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chapter 28

 

 

Micah woke in the gray light of dawn, a lifetime of training keeping him perfectly still in bed while he worked out what was wrong. As his brain came to full alertness and identified the pervasive drumming sound, he grumbled to himself. Great. The rains had come in the night; a day before they were predicted. That would make the morning’s field work a muddy, messy pain in the backside, and everything from now until the end of autumn was going to be a constant slog. This was Micah’s least favorite season, when the long summer ended abruptly with the autumn rains that seemed to have no end.

He rose and wasted no time pulling on trousers and tunic; the air was noticeably colder this morning. Picking up his belt, he wandered to the window while buckling it on and looked out into the back property.

“You’re insane,” he said, shaking his head. “And I am so glad I’m too old for your running detail.”

Tal was there, her only concession to the pouring rain a brimmed hat that kept her hair and face dry. The five Guards with her were wearing matching hats, but other than that, none of the runners seemed to have noticed the inclement weather. Tal preferred to get soaked rather than wear anything waterproof, which she dismissed as too constricting for her exercise. Micah didn’t know if it was pride or a similarly bent mindset that resulted in the Guards making the same choice, but he was quite content to be here, warm and dry, while they voluntarily drowned themselves.

As he watched, Tal laughed at something Gehrain had said to her and smacked him on the shoulder. Then she turned and set off, her Guards instantly surrounding her in the usual formation. They jogged out of sight, and Micah waited. Sure enough, a familiar figure appeared, following Tal and her Guards at a safe distance.

Well, I’ll be Fahla-damned. He’d never thought Herot would be there this morning. Not after last night’s little temper tantrum, and especially not in the cold and the wet. Micah felt a tiny bit of grudging respect; maybe Herot had something resembling a man inside him after all. Despite all his outward anger and resentment of Tal, he was still trying to prove something to her.

Micah smiled. Herot, you give yourself away. You wouldn’t be so keen on this if you didn’t care about her opinion.

He watched the figure until it was swallowed up in the rain, then turned and headed for the kitchen. A hot cup of shannel sounded perfect right now.

 

 

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For Tal the morning was an exercise in frustration. She hadn’t had nearly enough time with Salomen the previous night, and her assignment to transport duty this morning meant she didn’t see her during the day, either. The few glimpses she got while carefully maneuvering the large farm transport under the field cover and helping the field crew with loading were hardly sufficient. Salomen was everywhere at once, organizing and supervising an impossibly chaotic harvest. Tal didn’t know whether the horten harvest would be much easier if it were dry; the tight schedule of the distribution center and the fact that the horten had to be cut immediately prior to loading meant that stress levels were high whether it was raining or not.

As she pulled her boot out of the squelching mud, however, she conceded that the rain certainly didn’t help. It was impossible to keep anything clean; the inside of her transport already looked like a mud bog and they had only been working for two hanticks. She hated to think would it would look like by the end of the day.

“Done!” shouted one of the field workers over the din of rain pounding on the field cover. He hit the control for the rear door, watched it slide down, and slapped his hand on the side. “Get it out of here!”

Tal nodded and hopped inside, sighing with relief as she shut the door and sealed out the noise. She looked over at Varsi, who was pulling escort duty in the passenger seat. “Ready?”

“Always,” replied Varsi. “Looks like Herot is, too.”

Tal glanced up from her controls to see Herot waiting in the second transport, just beyond the field cover. As soon as she lifted off and moved out of the loading area, he zipped past her and settled in to receive a new load. They had been going back and forth from the field to the distribution center all morning, and the frantic schedule would continue for three more days until the harvest was complete. But the end was in sight. Once the horten harvest was completed, all field work was suspended for a full moon. Nothing could be done in the rains, so traditionally this moon was a time of rest, relaxation, celebration…and a lot of repair work on equipment. It was also the time when the landowner hosted a feast for all the field workers, which—judging by the conversations Tal overheard—was the main focus of everyone’s fantasies at the moment. Apparently Hol-Opah was known for its magnificent autumn feast.

As Tal flew toward the west boundary of Hol-Opah, two military transports rose up to flank her. She was reasonably sure that the workers at the distribution center had never seen anything quite like this, but the escort was necessary since she was flying off Opah land in a non-secure transport. She’d initially tried to talk Salomen out of assigning her this duty, reasoning that the number of Guards and military transports required would be overkill for the simple task of flying the horten a few lengths away. But Salomen was adamant; she wanted Tal to have “the full experience,” as she put it. After three hanticks of going back and forth, always rushed and under pressure, Tal was forced to admit she’d had no idea how stressful or numbing this kind of work could be.

Ten ticks later she was landing at the distribution center, where Nikin and his crew were waiting to unload. With the precision of a well-trained fighting unit, they had her transport cleaned out almost before the engines had fully spun down, and she was off again, passing Herot on the way back.

“Gives one a new appreciation for horten soup, doesn’t it?” asked Varsi.

“It sure does. And for a nice quiet duty shift guarding a warehouse somewhere.”

Varsi laughed. “Oh, no, give me a duty shift guarding you anywhere over that. I put in my time guarding objects and places, thank you very much. Guarding people is so much more challenging.”

“So you’re in it for the challenge?”

Any answer Varsi might have made was interrupted by Tal’s wristcom.

“Lancer Tal, Micah reporting.”

“Micah! How did Operation Bully go?”

“Very well. Gehrain said it took less than five ticks to track down all three boys; they were shaking in their shoes. He also said that Jaros grew half a bodylength while walking into the school with him.”

Tal could just picture that. “And the meetings with the parents?”

“They’ve all agreed. They were universally shocked and ashamed by their children’s behavior. Of course, it might have helped that I had Gehrain accompany Shikal as well.”

“Are you telling me you intimidated poor unsuspecting producers?”

“Not at all. I was protecting Shikal. If Jaros was beaten up, who knows what could have happened to Shikal? He was walking into potentially dangerous situations.”

Next to her, Varsi smothered a snort.

“I see. Then I must commend you on your foresight, Micah.” She glanced at Varsi and rolled her eyes, smiling when she sensed the other woman’s surprise. Varsi was still getting used to the idea of her Lancer being a real person.

“Actually,” said Micah, “they really were ashamed. They fully approve of this punishment and said that you had their authority to speak in their names. Especially the parents of a boy named Nilo; apparently he’s been in trouble before.”

“Excellent. Good work, Micah. I’m a mudball at the moment,” she continued, “so I’ll need to shower at the house before leaving for Blacksun Base. I’ll expect to see three scared bullies in my base office at mid-one.”

“We’ll be there. But perhaps you should forego the shower. A mudball Lancer might frighten them even more.”

“Thank you for the suggestion. Always thinking strategy; that’s why I value you so highly.” She heard a muffled laugh just before cutting the connection.

The military transports dropped to their staging area shortly after they crossed the boundary to Opah land, and soon Tal was maneuvering back under the field cover and into the scene of controlled chaos. She settled down in the loading area, where another large pile of horten had already appeared. Opening the door to the din of pounding rain and shouting workers, she shook her head. Truly, she would never look at a bowl of horten soup quite the same way again.

 

 

 

 

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chapter 29

 

 

Salomen never managed to break free of her duties that morning, leaving Tal to fly back to the main house without ever getting to speak with her tyree. She grumbled that she might as well have stayed in Blacksun; it certainly would have been far easier logistically. No wonder Aldirk thought she was cracked. Fortunately, her mood improved with a meal, a shower and a clean uniform. By the time she arrived at her Blacksun Base office she was actually looking forward to the rest of the day. If nothing else, it would be interesting.

It felt good to be back in this space. Her base office was more than just an office to her; it was a refuge from the social demands of her title. Here she felt the comfort and ease of being one warrior among many, in a place where everyone operated within the same social structure, with the same training, beliefs and expectations. It was this comfort, among other more practical considerations, that made the Caste Houses so essential. All Alseans, regardless of caste, needed a place where they could be solely among their peers. The State House represented the absolute opposite of this concept, teeming with people of all castes, too many of whom wanted something from her. In her state office she often counted the hanticks until she could leave and palm lock the door behind her. In this one, she never looked at a clock.

She walked to the curving outside wall, which was solid weapons-grade glass. Here, twelve stories off the ground, she had an even better view than she did from either her office or her personal quarters in the State House. In the foreground she could see everything in Blacksun Base, including the Borg scout ship which had singlehandedly changed the course of Alsean culture. Beyond the base perimeter was nothing but forest for several lengths, until the skyline of Blacksun rose in the distance. She could barely make it out today through the rain, but the State House and Temple always seemed to be visible no matter what the weather. And somewhere beyond Blacksun, well out of her sight, was a holding near Granelle where her tyree and a large field crew were currently working their legs off in mud and noise. She felt a little guilty for her current situation, in the clean comfort of the biggest office on base, but Salomen was right. This was her responsibility.

Her senses picked up Micah and Gehrain in the hallway outside her office, accompanied by three unfamiliar minds broadcasting a nervousness bordering on outright fear. For a moment she actually felt sorry for them, until she remembered Salomen describing Jaros coming home from school bloody, in tears and afraid. With a carefully blank face and front, she turned toward the door and called, “Enter.”

Gehrain opened the door and stood aside as three young boys in rain capes walked in, followed by Micah.

“Lancer Tal,” boomed Micah in his unit instructor’s voice, “these are the boys who assaulted Jaros Opah. What would you have us do with them?”

Tal had to work to keep the grin off her face; Micah was clearly having his own bit of fun. She looked at the boys sternly and demanded, “What are your names?”

They looked at each other for several pipticks, each apparently waiting for the other to speak first. Tal solved their problem for them. “You!” She pointed at the boy on the right, who stood half a head taller than the other two. “Speak up. I don’t have time to wait for you to find your courage. You’ve already demonstrated that you have none.”

The boy bristled despite his fear, standing a little straighter but still unable to meet her eyes. “Nilo Fortneza.”

Tal glared at the dark-haired boy next to him. “And you?”

“Silmartin Hantense.”

The third boy spoke up before she had to ask. “Pendar Fall.”

“Nilo, Silmartin and Pendar,” Tal said, “I will not call you by your family names. You have not earned them. You’re here because your parents are ashamed of your behavior, and with good reason.” She pointed to the large table on her right, at the other end of the office from her desk. “Sit down and wait.”

The boys shuffled off while Gehrain and Micah came up to Tal. “Anything I should know before I start?” she asked quietly.

“Nilo was apparently the ringleader,” said Gehrain. “Jaros recognized him right away; he was the one who did most of the hitting. According to the Head Scholar, he and Silmartin are schoolmates and have gotten themselves in trouble more than once—Jaros isn’t the first boy they’ve bullied. Pendar is a recent addition to their little group. He just joined the school this cycle; apparently his parents are ill and he’s spending this cycle with his uncles. I don’t think he likes his friends very much, but he craves their approval. Jaros said he hung back most of the time, shouting at him and egging on the other two. He only joined in briefly, and as soon as Jaros landed a blow he backed off again.”

Tal looked at the table, where three sets of eyes were immediately averted. Stifling a smile, she said, “Ten cinteks says Pendar is the first to look me in the eye.”

“I accept the bet,” said Micah. “It will be Nilo.”

Tal looked at Gehrain, who gave the boys an appraising glance. “Pendar,” he decided. “He has the least to fear.”

“You will both lose,” said Micah. “But I’ll accept a good drink in payment if you prefer.”

“Done,” said Tal. “Now, if you both wouldn’t mind standing behind my chair and looking intimidating? I know that will be a stretch for you, Micah, but do try.”

He arched an eyebrow at her as they turned and walked to the table. Tal took a seat across from the boys and watched their faces as Micah and Gehrain stepped into position behind her. They did their best to hide their fear, but their emotions were wide open. She let them stew in silence for an uncomfortably long time while staring at them.

“You’ve been extraordinarily stupid,” she said at last. “You probably could have continued beating up on other boys indefinitely if you hadn’t chosen your last target so badly. Jaros Opah is my ally, which means I’m sworn to defend him. By attacking him, in my eyes you attacked me. Apparently, that was precisely your intent. Jaros said you attacked him strictly because he defended my name. Is that true?”

They squirmed in their chairs and refused to look up or answer.

“I said,” repeated Tal slowly, in the tone that made experienced Councilors cower, “Is. That. True.”

Nilo mumbled, “It wasn’t like that. Just a stupid prank, that’s all.”

“A prank,” repeated Tal. “A prank that resulted in three boys ganging up on a child two cycles younger, and sending him home with with bruises, a black eye and a split lip. You three are quite an example for your peers. I’m sure they’ve learned a lot from you about how not to behave. I personally cannot recall facing three greater cowards in all my cycles. You can beat up a child three on one, but you can’t even look me in the eye.”

“It wasn’t a prank,” said Pendar. He raised his head and met her gaze. “You’re going to ruin Alsea, starting with the producers. My uncles say so. So does everyone in Granelle. Everyone except the Opahs, and Uncle says the only reason they aren’t speaking openly is because you’re there and they’re frightened of you.”

“I see,” said Tal. “Did Jaros seem frightened of me?”

He looked down.

“Answer your Lancer, boy!” roared Micah, and even Tal nearly jumped in her chair. All three boys looked up, white-faced.

“Well?” asked Tal. “Who was Jaros frightened of?”

“He was…he was afraid of us,” mumbled Pendar.

“Small surprise,” said Tal. “Did that make you feel powerful? Did it make you feel strong and brave?”

He dropped his eyes again, and this time Tal surged out of her chair, leaned across the table and pulled him up by his collar. “You will answer me,” she said coldly, staring into his wide eyes. “Even if you are ashamed of your words.” She pushed him back in his chair and resumed her seat, waiting.

“Yes,” he whispered. “At first.”

“At first. And after that?”

“After that it didn’t. He…he hit me pretty hard.”

“Did it hurt?”

He nodded.

“So, take that pain and multiply it by ten. How would that feel?”

“Not very good,” he said quietly.

“Then explain to me why you would make someone else feel that way.”

He shook his head.

“No, you won’t answer me, or no, you can’t explain it?”

“I…can’t explain.”

“Yes, you can.” He looked up in surprise, and she gave him a humorless smile. “I’m a high empath, Pendar. I know exactly what you’re feeling. You can explain, but you’re too ashamed. NILO!” she almost shouted, and the taller boy jerked in his seat. “Explain to me what Pendar cannot. Why would you hurt someone smaller than you, and why beat him three on one? Aren’t you brave enough to hit a small child all by yourself?”

“I told you, it was just a prank,” he said, but his trembling voice belied the aggressive persona he was trying to present.

“And Pendar said it was not. Try again.”

She stared him down, feeling his fear growing along with the desperation of a bully who is facing the truth.

“He was just a stupid little boy,” mumbled Nilo. “He wasn’t supposed to fight back. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“I see. So you’re blaming Jaros for the fact that the three of you beat him.” Nilo looked away. “No, you don’t,” said Tal. “Come on. Show a tiny bit of the courage you think you have. Look me in the eye and tell me your truth. Just say, ‘I blame Jaros for the fact that Pendar, Silmartin and I beat him three on one.’ If that’s truly what you think, then it shouldn’t be hard to say it.”

Several pipticks went by in utter silence. Tal said, “I will wait right here, and so will you, until you tell me your truth. And if we have to sit here for the next nineday, then that’s what we’ll do. You need to face yourself, Nilo.”

He glared at her, and she sat back in her chair with her arms folded across her chest. With every passing moment she felt his nervousness increase; he could not abide the silence and the waiting. It took less than two ticks before he burst out, “I thought he’d be an easy target, all right? We were just going to rough him up a little and send him home with the message that you’re not wanted in Granelle. But he fought back, and that made me mad, so I hit him harder.”

She nodded. “Why did it make you mad that he fought back?”

“Because he wasn’t supposed to!”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s just a little boy!” Nilo’s anger was beginning to overwhelm his fear.

“Ah,” she said. “You didn’t think he’d have the courage to face the three of you because he’s a little boy. How did it make you feel when he hit you back? Yes, I know it made you angry. But anger is just a symptom of something else. What is your anger a symptom of, Nilo?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. Why wasn’t he supposed to hit you back?”

“Because I’m bigger than he is! What kind of an idiot fights someone bigger than he is?”

“An idiot,” said Tal, “who is braver than you. And that’s what made you mad. He was supposed to be afraid of you, because that would make you feel powerful. But he fought back, which didn’t make you feel powerful at all. It made you feel something else. Silmartin?” She turned, watching the boy shrink into his chair. Clearly he’d been hoping she would focus her ire on the other two and forget about him. “What did you feel when Jaros fought back?”

“I, um…” His eyes darted back and forth between Nilo and her.

“Nilo is not asking this question,” she said. “I am. Look at me and answer it.”

He stared at her in desperation, and she nodded. “I can feel it. You know the answer. Just say it out loud.”

“I was afraid,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to get hurt.”

Nilo snorted, bringing Tal’s attention back to him.

“You have something to say, Nilo?”

He shook his head.

“Don’t worry, this time I’ll say it for you. You think that by scorning Silmartin for admitting he was afraid, nobody will be able to tell that you were afraid as well. You’re afraid of a lot of things. Afraid of getting hurt, afraid of not being feared by others, and most of all afraid that everyone will turn their backs on you if they ever figure out that you’re not what you’re pretending to be. You’re not powerful, Nilo. You’re afraid, just like your friends here—and now they know it.” She turned back to Silmartin. “And you have shown more courage than Nilo. You told me the truth right away, while he still cannot do it.” Shifting her gaze to Pendar, she said, “Now, do you want to try again?”

He swallowed hard and said miserably, “I was afraid they wouldn’t be my friends if I didn’t do it.”

She let that hang for a few pipticks, then said, “Pendar, when we started this, you looked me in the eye and told me what you thought of me. You told me you thought I’d ruin Alsea, starting with the producers. And do you know what I felt when you said that?”

He shook his head.

“I respected you.” She felt his surprise and nodded. “I respect any Alsean who speaks his or her truth. It doesn’t matter if I agree with it. You showed courage and you earned my respect by speaking to me, not just about me. Choose your friends more wisely. Choose the ones who respect you for who you are. Don’t do something against your better judgment just to win the approval of someone else. Approval isn’t respect. Nilo does not respect you. He can’t, because he doesn’t even respect himself.”

She sat back in her chair, looking from one boy to another. An emotional skim showed that progress had been made, though Nilo’s was minimal at best. “Micah,” she said without taking her eyes off the boys, “is the transport ready?”

“It is, Lancer Tal. And Lead Pilot Thornlan has been informed of the additional passengers.”

“Good. Come,” she said, “it’s time to go.”

“Are you taking us home?” asked Pendar.

“No.” She stood up. “I’m taking you to the pit.”

“What?” Nilo’s face was white again, and all three boys were aghast.

“You’re surprised?”

“You can’t take us there!” said Nilo.

“Of course I can. Don’t you remember what I said when you arrived? You’re here with the approval of your parents, because they’re so ashamed of your behavior. They know exactly where you’re going.”

“But they can’t!” Nilo began to cry. “They can’t! They wouldn’t do this to me! I don’t want to go to the pit!”

“Good Fahla, boy,” said Micah, going around the table and pulling him up by an arm. “Show a little courage. You’ve earned this, now face it.” He hauled Nilo out of his chair and marched him to the door.

Tal looked at the other two. “Are you coming under your own power, or do we pull you out as well?”

Though clearly terrified, both of them got up and came around the table. Gehrain put his hand on Silmartin’s shoulder and escorted him after Micah and Nilo, while Tal walked with Pendar. They’d gotten halfway to the lift when Pendar looked up at her, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway. You’re right, it was stupid and cowardly, and I won’t do it again. Please don’t take me to the pit.”

Even a half-trained empath could sense Pendar’s sincerity; the boy was scared half out of his wits and wishing with all his strength that he hadn’t done it. Tal leaned down and answered quietly, “I said I was taking you to the pit. I did not say I was leaving you there. Be careful of making assumptions, Pendar.”

As they continued down the corridor, his emotions underwent several shifts while he processed what she’d just said. Finally he looked back up at her. “Can I make the assumption that you won’t leave us there?”

She nearly laughed, but kept her face straight and squeezed his shoulder instead. “That is a safe assumption, yes. And I will ask you to keep it to yourself. Colonel Micah and Lead Guard Gehrain will tell the truth if asked, but Silmartin and Nilo must ask the question first. Or apologize.”

He nodded. “I won’t say anything, I promise.” They reached the lift and stepped in, where the enclosed space served to amplify Nilo’s sniffles all the way to the ground floor. As the door slid back and the others filed out, Pendar tugged at Tal’s uniform jacket. She looked down.

“Will you tell the truth if I ask, too?”

She nodded. “Always. Unless it’s a state secret.”

“Are you really going to destroy Alsea?”

“Can you think of a single reason why I would want to?”

That kept him quiet all the way to the building’s entrance. Over the general shuffling as Tal, Micah and Gehrain put on their rain capes and hats, Pendar leaned in to her and said, “I can’t think of any.”

“Neither can I,” she said, and led him out the door. The pouring rain eliminated any possibility of conversation until they reached the long-distance transport. Lead Pilot Thornlan stood respectfully by the door as they entered and shook off the rain.

“Lancer Tal,” she said, “welcome back. It’s been too long.”

Tal grinned. “I missed you and couldn’t stay away,” she said. “Two days was one too many.” She indicated their three passengers. “These boys will be accompanying us to the pit.”

Thornlan widened her eyes. “They’re young for that, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” agreed Tal, “but they ganged up on a boy two cycles younger and beat him.”

“Ohhhh,” said Thornlan. She looked over the boys, who all hung their heads. “So you have no honor and you believe that hurting others makes you strong. Then you will fit in very well in the pit. Most Alseans there were sentenced for the exact same reasons.” She gave Tal a quick smile and added, “If you’ll get them seated, we can lift off.”

“Put them in harness,” said Tal to her companions, leading Pendar to a nearby seat. She brought the crash harness over his shoulders and snapped it in at his hips. “Have you ever flown in a transport this size?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“We have a long way to go, and this transport will get us there quickly. The harness is necessary because we’ll be flying at higher speeds than normal.”

He nodded and looked out the window. She stood watching him for a moment, absorbing the youthful strength of his emotions. Damn if she wasn’t actually starting to like the boy. After checking on the others, she spoke into her wristcom. “We’re all ready back here, Thornlan.”

“Very good. Engaging Blacksun beacon now.”

Tal sat facing Pendar and pulled on her harness. Normally she only wore one during the beginning and end of a flight, but in the interest of setting a good example she’d keep it on for this flight. She glanced at Silmartin, seated across from them and facing Gehrain. Micah and Nilo were just ahead, and she smothered a smile at the expression Micah shot her. He was beyond exasperated with the sniveling child in his care.

“By the way, Micah,” she said, just to rub it in, “you owe Gehrain and me ten cinteks.”

If looks could kill she’d have been a stain on the seat, and it was all she could do to keep a straight face. Catching Gehrain’s eye did not help at all.

The children’s nervousness diminished somewhat after liftoff; a quarter hantick of nothing but engine and wind noise had a calming influence. Nilo stopped crying, to everyone’s relief, and the boys busied themselves with looking at the view out their windows. Even this grew less interesting over time, so Tal was not surprised when Pendar turned his attention back to her. She’d been reading the file on Heden Donvall, the smuggler she was about to meet, and looked up when she sensed Pendar’s eyes on her.

“Was there something you wished to say?”

He was embarrassed at being caught, and squirmed a bit in his seat before admitting, “You don’t…you’re not what I thought you would be like.”

“You’re not what I expected, either,” she said.

That distracted him, but not for long.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I already told you that you could.”

He squirmed a little more, then said, “If you aren’t going to destroy Alsea, why are you letting people say you are?”

“How would you propose that I stop them?”

“Well…can’t you just tell them to stop? You’re the Lancer.”

She knew Silmartin and Nilo were listening as well; though they were still looking out their windows, their emotions showed an interest that wasn’t due to the scenery.

“Yes, I am,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean I can tell everyone what to say or what not to say. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it would be wrong. As Lancer, my duty is to take care of the Alsean people. That means keeping them safe, guarding their freedoms, and doing what I think is best for them, now and in the future. It does not mean trying to control every aspect of their lives. Telling people what they can or can’t say is controlling them, and that’s not a right any Alsean has over any other, not even a Lancer.” She remembered her audience and added, “Except for parents. They can tell you what to do and what to say, because they’re teaching you to know right from wrong.”

“My parents aren’t,” said Pendar. “They sent me away.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I guess I was in the way.”

“Your parents are ill?” she asked gently. He nodded. “Did they ever tell you that you were in the way?”

“No…but I must have been or they wouldn’t have sent me to Granelle.”

“I can think of another reason.”

“You’re going to say the same thing everyone else does,” he said, with the weariness of a child who is tired of adults not understanding. “That my fathers need to get well, and they can’t take care of me at the same time. But I know they’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“How do you know that? It seems to me you’re making another assumption.”

He shook his head. “Because my fathers don’t need to take care of me. I could have taken care of them. I could have helped, but they didn’t want me to. That’s how I know.”

Tal could feel that he’d had this discussion before, and guessed that telling him he probably could not help his parents was something he’d already heard and did not believe.

“That’s not knowledge,” she said. “It’s an assumption. You’re assuming your parents don’t want you to help them. What if they did wish you could help, but could not ask you?”

This was clearly a new concept. “But…if they wanted me, why wouldn’t they ask?”

“Because they cannot. They’re your parents, and they have to do what’s best for you. And sometimes what’s best for you isn’t necessarily what they want.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Certainly it does. Tell me, do you think I want people saying I’ll destroy Alsea when it’s not true?”

“Nooo,” he said, drawing out the word.

“But I have to let them say it anyway. Because they’re free to speak what they believe, right?”

He nodded.

“So, what’s best for Alseans isn’t necessarily what I want. Do you understand?”

There was a long pause while he thought it over, broadcasting a kaleidoscope of emotions in the process. Children were so different from adults; so unconcerned regarding their open emotions. She often thought it was a shame that such openness was invariably lost with age. What a world it would be if they all retained their emotional guilelessness as adults! Then again, there were a few adults whose full emotions she wouldn’t want to be subjected to.

Pendar looked at her, a soft bloom of hope warming her senses. “I think I understand.” The warmth suddenly vanished under a spike of fear and worry. “I don’t want them to know about…about…this.” He waved his hand vaguely, unwilling to speak the words aloud. “Is there…I mean, can you ask my uncles not to tell?”

“You know I can’t do that.” Her voice was gentle, but she could see the words impact. He nodded miserably and looked back out the window, pulling his feet up onto the seat and resting his chin on his knees. Tal went back to her reader card, but found herself unable to focus on the text. How ironic was it that she was feeling sorry for one of the boys who had beaten Jaros? Two of them, actually; Silmartin was just as wretched as Pendar. He was feeling several levels of fear, and Tal suspected that some of it was because of his own friend. What an unhappy place for a child to be. Fahla, she was glad she’d left her childhood far behind her! And people thought the warrior culture was tough! She shook her head. Adult warriors weren’t half as terrifying as school tormentors or the self-imposed fears of childhood.

The rest of the flight was quiet; Pendar had no more questions and Silmartin and Nilo were apparently too afraid to ask any at all. They crossed the broad mountain range north of Blacksun, leaving the rain behind them. The northern tip of Argolis was an arid place, deprived of moisture by the mountains that squeezed all the rain out of the clouds. The scrub land was lightly populated, mostly by producers working to cultivate specialty crops that thrived in the dry conditions.

By the end of the second hantick they were descending into Koneza, the small town which existed solely due to the pit, its workforce, and its need for goods and services. Tal could not imagine living in this desolate town, far from the nearest city. It certainly had no scenery to boast of; the location of the pit had been chosen for its suitable substrate, not its aboveground charm. The area was a flat, windswept plain, with few trees and no physical relief as far as the eye could see. Tal had grown up in Blacksun, surrounded by mountains on all sides, and had a hard time understanding anyone actually choosing to live in a place like this. But the pit paid good wages—it had to, to attract a workforce willing to spend its days underground—and that in turn attracted merchants, builders and crafters who provided the means of spending those wages.

They landed on a pad far outside the town, in what looked like the middle of nowhere. The only landmark was a watchtower next to the pad, ten stories high and domed at the top. Its top floor housed six warriors at any given time, day or night. Four of them stood at the wraparound windows and watched over a quadrant, while the other two maintained electronic sweeps of the surrounding area. With simultaneous visual, heat and motion detection, any prisoner fortunate enough to escape the pit itself stood very little chance of escaping the eyes in the watchtower, or the squad of warriors serving duty shifts on the ground floor. In Tal’s memory, there had only been three escapes from the pit. None of them had made it one length beyond the watchtower.

She heard the engines spin down, and Thornlan soon appeared from the pilot cabin. “You’re clear to disembark, Lancer Tal.”

“Thank you, Thornlan. I don’t know how long we’ll be here, so please stay aboard.” Not that there was anywhere to go.

“Yes, Lancer.”

Tal, Micah and Gehrain helped their charges out of harness and led them out. As expected, all of the watchtower warriors not on top-floor duty were waiting in formation just outside the transport, along with the director of the pit. Tal reminded herself to not to fall into normal habit. This was not “the pit,” it was the High Security Detention Facility.

She left Pendar with Micah and walked ahead to meet the director, who touched his fists over his heart and bowed as she approached.

“Colonel Sedron, a pleasure,” she said, accepting his salute with a slight bow of her head.

“The pleasure is mine, Lancer Tal,” he said, straightening. “I’m confident you’ll find everything in perfect operation. If there’s anything I can do to facilitate your business here, please say so and it will happen.” His eyes strayed to the boys behind her.

“Yes,” she said, “I brought a few unexpected guests. They’re learning a lesson in honor, and the potential consequences of not having any.”

“I see.” He lowered his voice. “What did they do, if I may ask?”

“Bullied a boy two cycles younger on his way home from school. They sent him home bleeding.”

“All three of them?”

She nodded, and he made a tsking sound. “Well, this will no doubt scare them halfway back to their Return. I’ve arranged for you to meet Heden Donvall in a saferoom on Level Three. I would not recommend taking these children beyond Level Two.”

“Thank you; I’ll abide by your recommendation. If I may?” She indicated the formation of warriors.

“Please. They’ve spent the morning shining and polishing everything in sight. Do be careful or you may be blinded by the sunlight off their collar buttons.”

“Excellent.” Tal walked past him and stopped directly in front of the unit. “Warriors!” she shouted.

“ALSEA!” came the roar of thirty women and men. “FOR FAHLA AND ALSEA!” With a rustle, they saluted her in perfect synchrony.

“Be as you were.” They resumed their normal stance, and she began a slow stroll down each of the three lines of warriors, stopping here and there to check their uniforms. She plucked the cellular disruptor off one man’s belt, nodding at the crisp click it made as it came loose. That indicated a well-cared for attachment, and a weapon that would neither break loose under stress, nor stick when needed. “Perfect,” she said, reattaching it. Halfway down the last line, she stopped in front of a tall woman in surprise. “This is not regulation gear,” she said, slipping the woman’s sword grip off her belt. “Explain this.”

“My Lancer.” The woman bowed her head. “I carry my sword with permission of Colonel Sedron.”

“I see. And why do you wish to carry it?”

The warrior looked up and met her eyes with total confidence. “Because my skill at throwing a blade far outstrips my skill with a disruptor.”

“Which is why you were issued throwing blades,” said Tal, indicating the matching short knives sheathed at either side of the warrior’s hips. “That does not explain the sword.”

“Throwing blades are only good for shorter distances. A sword is heavier and goes farther with greater accuracy.”

“You’re telling me you can throw a sword with greater accuracy than a knife?”

“Not greater accuracy. The same accuracy, but for greater distances.”

Tal smiled. This she had to see. “What is your name, warrior?”

“Vellmar, my Lancer.”

“Then, Guard Vellmar, perhaps you would give me a demonstration of this accuracy.”

Vellmar’s expression did not change. “It would be my pleasure. I’ll need the assistance of a fellow Guard.”

“I assume such assistance will not result in any unwanted body openings.”

A tiny crack appeared in Vellmar’s serious face. “I promise not to hurt anyone.”

Tal looked at the man next to her. “Give her what she needs.”

“Yes, my Lancer.” He glanced at Vellmar. “The usual?” At her nod, he jogged toward the watchtower. Tal and Vellmar walked to the front of the unit and waited as the guard quickly returned with a tin of shannel leaves, slightly larger than one handspan in length. Tal raised her eyebrows.

“That’s a rather small target.”

“I would prefer something different,” agreed Vellmar, “but our shannel doesn’t come in smaller sizes.” Holding her sword grip in one hand, she faced away from the onlookers. “Benron, go.”

The guard threw the tin with all his strength. It made a high arc over the empty scrub land beyond the landing pad, and had just begun its descent when Tal heard the metallic sound of a sword being extended. Vellmar reared back and threw her sword in a two-handed motion, sending it tumbling end over end on an intercept course toward the falling tin. A cracking sound and an explosion of shannel leaves into the air confirmed the accuracy of her throw, and Tal barely kept her jaw shut. She couldn’t keep the grin off her face, however, and saw an answering smile on Vellmar’s.

“Good Fahla, I’ve never seen the like!” said Tal, who could barely restrain herself from asking for a repeat demonstration. “That alone was worth the flight out here. I commend you on your skill, and your colonel for recognizing its value.”

“Thank you, my Lancer.” Vellmar kept a professional look on her face, but Tal could sense the thrill and pride beneath.

“However,” she added, “you’ve wasted a perfectly good tin of shannel, and by the looks of it, this is something you do on a regular basis. I cannot have resources being tossed to the wind in such a fashion. Colonel Sedron?”

The director stepped closer. “Yes, my Lancer.”

“Order a case of throwing targets for Guard Vellmar; she may as well use something made for the purpose. And I can guess that your shannel stocks are rather low; we’ll need to redress that.” Turning to the watching unit, she said more loudly, “I will be sending five cases of high-grade shannel from my personal stocks to replace what you’ve lost. I expect it will be something of an improvement over what you’ve been drinking. Congratulations and well done.”

The roar of happiness was deafening. Tal knew from experience that nothing improved a long duty shift quite like a good cup of shannel, and nothing was less likely to find its way into an average warrior’s hand. The shannel delivered in bulk to most warrior units was high yield and low quality. By earning several moons worth of good quality shannel, Vellmar had just made herself the hero of her unit.

Tal turned back to Vellmar. “Where did you learn that?”

She grinned. “My birth mother was the champion blade thrower of last cycle’s Defense Forces Games. She taught me to throw a blade when I was barely old enough to wrap my fingers around the handle.”

“Of course.” Tal laughed. “Linzine Vellmar is your birth mother. Well, you have an honorable name, Guard Vellmar. Clearly you are adding to it. Very well done.” She raised her palm, and Vellmar touched it with some awe.

“Thank you, Lancer Tal,” she said.

“No, thank you,” said Tal. “That was, without a doubt, the highlight of my day.” She nodded at the young guard before turning around and beckoning Micah and Gehrain over, with three very wide-eyed boys in their tow. “Let’s go,” she called. “Colonel, if you’ll lead the way?”

Colonel Sedron dismissed his unit and led them toward what appeared to be bare ground. As they approached, however, a set of stone steps came into view, wide enough for eight people to walk abreast. They descended into into cool dimness, stopping at a large set of double doors. Colonel Sedron pressed his palm to the reader on the right side, waving his guests in as the doors slid open. “Welcome to the High Security Detention Facility,” he said.

 

 

 

 

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chapter 30

 

 

Tal monitored the boys’ emotions closely as they stepped through the doors and heard them slide shut. There was a finality about the sound that would make anyone uneasy, and she was expecting that the truth might be necessary soon.

“Colonel Sedron, some of my party have never been here before,” she said. “Will you tell us about the facility?”

“Certainly,” he said, leading them down a wide corridor toward another large set of doors. “We have five levels here. The first is for facility workers, offices, storage areas, cooking facilities and the like. The next four levels hold our prisoners, who are allocated to a specific level depending on their crime. Non-violent criminals are on Level Two, minimally violent are on Level Three, and violent offenders are on Levels Four and Five.”

“So the worse the offense, the deeper underground they go?” asked Gehrain.

“Precisely. Most of the violent offenders are powerful empaths. Since their empathic abilities are blocked by earth, the further they are underground, the less opportunity they have of empathic invasion of others, including other prisoners. We not only have to protect Alsean society from our prisoners, but we must also protect the prisoners from each other. For obvious reasons, all of our guards must be trained high empaths. But in the event that a prisoner overpowers a guard’s blocks and influences his or her behavior, the automated security systems will prevent almost any escape.” Colonel Sedron reached the doors, placed his palm on the reader and waved them through. Tal felt a shiver run through all three boys’ minds as the doors closed behind them and they saw yet another set ahead. The colonel moved past them and resumed his walk. “There are only three entrances to the facility,” he continued. “We’re in the main one, for workers and for prisoners. A second, smaller entrance is for emergencies only, in the event of this one being closed off for any reason. The third is a lift shaft for delivery of supplies and equipment. All three entrances are within a half length radius of the watch tower and easily viewed by the guards. In addition, each entrance is monitored by vidcams and automatic heat and motion detecting equipment. You have all been under surveillance from the moment you landed.”

They arrived at the third set of doors, which differed from the first two only in having a small control pad next to the palm reader. Colonel Sedron put his palm on the reader and entered a code on the pad. The doors slid open, revealing a large lift.

“We’re going to Level One,” said the colonel as he stepped in. “You’ll receive wristbands there that will identify you to the auto heat and motion detectors. The wristbands will not come off without a specific removal tool located in our processing office, so don’t forget to stop by on your way out.” He smiled at the joke, but only half of his audience was paying attention. The boys were staring through the transparent walls of the lift at the rock shaft surrounding them. Noticing their distraction, Colonel Sedron added, “The lifts are transparent to enable the security cams in the shaft to record anyone using the lift. There are also cams in the lift itself, but in the event they are disabled, the shaft cams are a backup.”

As the doors shut and the lift descended, Tal thought that the transparent walls were also an effective psychological tool. Watching the rock shaft slide away was a visceral reminder of where they were going, and she was not surprised to sense the quickly rising fear in both Nilo and Silmartin. It was time to step in.

The lift stopped, opening onto a short corridor with smaller doors at each end. As the group stepped into the hallway, Tal said, “Just a moment, Colonel.” She caught Silmartin’s eye, then looked at Nilo, who was on the edge of crying again. “That door,” she said, pointing to the right, “is where prisoners go when they arrive for processing. This one,” she pointed to the left, “is for workers and visitors. You’re going through here.”

It took several pipticks for the truth to dawn on them. “We’re not prisoners?” asked Silmartin, his voice trembling.

“Didn’t you learn civics in your classes?” asked Tal. “You couldn’t possibly be prisoners. You haven’t appeared before a court. You haven’t even been charged with a crime.”

Nilo’s tears were now flowing freely, partially from his overwhelming relief. “But…but you said you were taking us here.”

“That’s correct. And I did what I said I would do. But I never said you were prisoners.”

“But why…” Nilo stopped and choked back a sob.

“Why didn’t I tell you that?” she asked. He nodded, unable to speak. “Because this isn’t an academic field tour, Nilo. It’s a punishment for your appalling behavior. If it had occurred to you to apologize for what you’d done, I’d have told you the whole truth. But it never seemed to cross your mind, or yours, Silmartin,” she added, giving him a stern look.

“You should have said you were sorry,” said Pendar unexpectedly. His friends looked at him in surprise. “I apologized in the State House,” he added. “She told me then. I’ve known all this time that we weren’t staying here.”

Tal felt Nilo redirecting his fear into anger and rolled her eyes. This boy was not learning. She reached out and took his arm in a none-too-gentle hold, pulling him directly in front of her. “And now you’re going to be angry at Pendar for not telling you? Don’t be so stupid.” She shook him slightly. “Learn something from this. You’re not staying here today, but you could be in a few more cycles if you keep going the way you are. You think all the prisoners in here started out as murderers and empathic rapists? No, they started out just like you. Just like you, Nilo! Which means you’d better take a good look around today, because you may be coming back if you don’t learn to control your anger.” She pushed him back and straightened up. “Colonel Sedron, if you’re ready?”

He nodded. “This way.”

The door opened into a large room humming with equipment and people. After the sterile isolation of the previous corridors, the sudden noise and activity was a shock. A high counter blocked their entrance to the main room, staffed by two guards in uniform who bowed in a salute. “Welcome, Lancer Tal,” said the shorter of the two. “We’re honored by your presence.”

“Thank you,” said Tal. “I brought a few more guests than originally planned.”

“Yes,” said the guard crisply, “Colonel Sedron notified us upon your arrival and we have your wristbands ready. If you will each place your right arm on the counter, we’ll band you and you can proceed.”

Tal nodded and stepped to the counter, scanning both guards out of long habit. If she was going to present her bare wrist to anyone, she wanted to be certain of their intentions. Satisfied, she rested her arm on the counter and watched as the shorter guard snapped a metal wristband around it. He touched it with a small device, causing the band to glow red. Tal felt the heat and then a slight tightness as the band molded itself to her wrist like a second skin. Beside her, Micah was being fitted with his wristband, and as soon as they were done they stepped back to make room for the rest. When everyone was banded, the Colonel led them along the counter to a door on the right, into a corridor and another lift. They dropped down one level, passed through two more sets of doors, and found themselves in a long corridor that stretched off into the distance. One wall was solid; the other—which housed the cells—was transparent. The walls between cells were opaque.

“This is the Level Two detention unit,” said the colonel. “It currently houses ninety-four men and women, and is at approximately two-thirds capacity. Each cell holds two prisoners. Level Three also contains two-person cells, but the prisoners on Levels Four and Five are kept in isolation. Come, have a look inside.” He gestured toward the cell nearest them. After some hesitation, Pendar stepped up.

“Fahla,” Tal heard him whisper. He turned around. “It’s tiny!”

Silmartin and Nilo crowded around him, peering in aghast fascination as Tal said, “It’s not a suite at the local inn. It’s a prison cell.”

Pendar looked back at the cell, a horrified guilt coloring his emotions. “So anyone can come along and look at them?”

“Yes,” said Colonel Sedron. “Total visual access is required; most of the criminals in this facility are here precisely because they’re empathically abusive. They can’t be tracked by empathic senses alone, as in aboveground facilities. The guards check on them every third tentick while they’re in lockup.”

Nilo and Silmartin were shocked as well. “How long are they in lockup?” asked Silmartin.

“Prisoners on Levels Two and Three are normally allowed to intermix between morn-ten and mid-eight. Those on Levels Four and Five are only allowed out for two hanticks per day, on staggered schedules.”

“But it’s not mid-eight yet,” said Pendar. “Why are they locked up now?”

“Because I’m here,” said Tal.

Pendar looked back in. “It feels so wrong that anyone can just watch them like this. They don’t have any privacy at all. They can’t—oh.” He quickly turned away, as did Silmartin and Nilo. All three boys were radiating embarrassment and guilt.

“What’s wrong?” asked Tal, who had a pretty good idea.

Pendar couldn’t even say it, but Silmartin mumbled, “One of them is, uh, using the toilet.”

“Like we aren’t even here,” added Nilo. “But they know we’re here, right? The walls are transparent both ways?”

“Yes,” said Colonel Sedron. “But they’re long accustomed to it.” The boys looked at each other with mounting horror, which increased as the colonel added, “Privacy is something a prisoner leaves outside. You must remember that most of these individuals have already demonstrated a willingness to use their empathic skills to coerce or modify the thoughts and behaviors of others. They have lost the trust that law-abiding members of society enjoy, and since they cannot be trusted, neither can they be given privacy. They’re stripped naked upon arrival and searched thoroughly before going through biological detox and given prison clothing. They eat together, live together and shower together, with guards watching. Using a toilet in front of others is not an issue after a while.”

The boys moved away from the cell as if it were poisonous.

“You’re done watching?” asked Tal.

“We weren’t watching!” Nilo was offended.

“You were until a few pipticks ago. Are you glad you’re on this side of the door, Nilo?” Without waiting for an answer, Tal indicated to the colonel to continue their tour. For the next two tenticks, she kept tabs on the boys’ emotions as they saw the showers, the detox unit, the entertainment room, the exercise room and the meal room. The boys were simultaneously fascinated and revolted by the facility; it was certainly making an impression. While they were preoccupied by looking around the entertainment room, Tal made a quiet request of the colonel, who nodded and spoke into his wristcom.

At the end of the tour, they emerged into another cell-lined corridor where a guard was waiting. “This is where we separate,” said Tal to the boys. “I have business here, and you cannot accompany me.” She motioned to the guard, who stepped up to the group. “For your own safety, you’ll wait in these two cells.”

“What?” Nilo’s voice cracked. “I’m not going in one of those!”

“Why can’t we wait on Level One?” asked Pendar, who was equally shocked.

“Because Colonel Sedron does not have spare guards to watch over you for the next half hantick, and you can’t just wait alone.”

“What about Colonel Micah?” Nilo was desperate. “He could watch us.”

“I go where Lancer Tal goes,” said Micah. “So does Lead Guard Gehrain.”

“The cells cannot accommodate more than two people at a time,” said Tal, “so we’re going to have to split you up. Pendar, Silmartin, you’re in this one.” The guard put his palm to the lock, sliding the door open. Both of the boys looked at her in disbelief. “That was not a request,” said Tal. “And I don’t have time to argue. You’ll be safe, I assure you.”

“You’ll come back, right?” asked Pendar.

Tal nodded. “As soon as my business is concluded.”

He gave her one last unhappy look before dropping his head and walking in, followed by Silmartin. The guard touched his palm to the lock, sliding the door shut, then stepped to the next cell and opened it.

Nilo was trembling. “I don’t want to! You can’t put me in there alone!”

“Still in the habit of telling me what I can’t do? Remember, Nilo, the violent offenders are confined alone. Think about the boys you’ve beaten and bullied—you’re already violent. The only reason you haven’t been charged with a crime is because of your age and the fact that none of your victims have reported you. Once you reach your Rite of Ascension, all that changes. You could very well end up here, so consider this a practice run.” Her voice hardened. “Now get in.”

When Nilo didn’t move, Tal made a quick motion to the guard, who stepped up, took Nilo by the arm and marched him to the cell. With the door safely shut, Tal consciously relaxed. “Fahla, he’s a trial,” she said.

“Yes, and you gave him to me,” said Micah. “Thanks so much.”

“I didn’t give him to you; you took him. Don’t blame me.”

“Or me,” said Gehrain. “I gave you first choice.”

Micah grumbled as Tal turned to the colonel. “Is Donvall ready?”

“He’s been in a saferoom since your arrival.”

“Then let’s see what our informant has to say.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 31

 

 

The man waiting for Tal looked slightly more pleasant than his file image, and a great deal more pleasant than the last time she’d seen him. She well remembered his crooked nose and flat features, and thought with some satisfaction that she might have made that nose a little more crooked herself.

“You’re Lancer Tal?” he asked incredulously as she walked in the small room.

She drew out the single empty chair on the other side of the small table—the only furniture in the room—and sat down. “Yes, I am.”

“Funny. I didn’t recognize you then, but you were there.” He laughed. “You’ve got a punch like a dokker’s kick. I never saw it coming.”

“That was the point.”

He sobered, examining her carefully. “It never occurred to me that the Lancer herself would grace us with her presence. We weren’t important enough.”

“You were recruiting high empaths from the Sensoral Institute. That made you important enough.”

“I knew it! Spawn of a fantenshekken!” He looked up at Micah and Gehrain, who had taken positions on either side of the door. “Get rid of them. I’m not talking to anyone but you.”

“They’re my personal guards,” said Tal, without taking her eyes off him. “I trust them with my life. If that isn’t good enough for you, then this interview is already over.”

He glared at her, then her guards, and finally sat back in his chair. “Fine. Let’s just get the ground rules established. I tell you what I know, and you transfer me out of this Fahla-forsaken place, agreed?”

“If your information leads us somewhere, yes. If it’s a waste of my time, then you’ll learn there are worse places than Level Three.”

He raised his hands. “No need for threats. I know what’s down there and I have no intention of getting a personal look. My information is real.”

“If that’s true, I’ll authorize your transfer. If someone is betraying the trust of their office or title, I want them.” She felt a slight brush of her senses and gave him a knowing grin. “You must be joking. You’re trying to probe me? How badly do you want out of here?”

“Just checking to see if you’re telling me the truth.”

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing,” he said. “You’re like one of the walls in here.”

“Then you’ll have to take me at my word. I live by it, Donvall. Unlike most of your acquaintances, my word means something to me.”

He gazed at her in silence, then nodded. Resting his forearms on the table, he leaned forward. “All right. Here’s the truth. You didn’t get everyone in your raid.”

“I was expecting you to tell me something I didn’t know.”

“Yes, but the one person you didn’t get was my newest member. Don’t you find it interesting that you got every single person in my employ except one? Why did that one person escape the net?”

She waited silently.

“Would you also find it interesting that this individual is the same one who came up with the bright idea of recruiting Sensoral Institute students?” he added.

Now she leaned forward as well. “Yes, I would find that very interesting.”

He grinned. “I thought you might. His name is Telmurine Hallwell. He was recommended by my associate in the Anti-Corruption Unit.”

“So you have someone inside the task force.”

“Of course,” he said. “The moment it was created, I made it my business to buy someone inside it.”

“Who is it?”

“A merchant by the name of Falton Mor. Highly placed, very powerful. He made sure my name never came up in any investigations. So when he recommended Hallwell, I didn’t worry too much. I had my people check Hallwell out, but everything looked fine. He came into our group, made some good changes, helped us increase our profits. I wasn’t excited about his idea of recruiting empaths, but he talked all of us into it. Very persuasive man, Hallwell. And he was right; the empaths cleared our way through a lot of otherwise expensive hurdles. Our profits went up again.”

“But those same empaths brought you to the attention of the task force, without Mor having to give them your name.” Tal was following his information in a direction she didn’t like.

“That’s what I think. I’ve been thinking a lot down here. And I think I was set up, very neatly. Hallwell came in, learned the operation, magically missed the roundup that got every one of my trusted people, and is now back in Whitemoon running my business.”

“How do you know he’s in Whitemoon?”

He looked at her like she’d just admitted to flunking out of fifth level school. “I may be underground, but I still know what’s going on.”

“All right,” said Tal. “So he’s running your business. How does that amount to a setup? He might just have gotten lucky.”

“Would you call it lucky that he wasn’t even in town the day you raided us? But he was supposed to be at that meeting. You should have gotten him, too. But somehow he knew to stay away.”

She shook her head. “I’d call that either incredible luck or inside information.”

“I’d call it a shekking betrayal,” Donvall growled. “If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have been caught, and even if we had been caught we wouldn’t have ended up here. I want him in the pit and me out of it.” He took a deep breath and calmed himself. “Hallwell had powerful friends. He liked to drink his profits, and when he drank he liked to brag, and when he bragged, he always said the same thing. He said it wasn’t what you knew, but who you knew, and he knew the top people. He said even Mor bowed down to his friends, because they were the ones who made the rules and enforced them.”

“Meaning they’re on the Council.”

He nodded. “That’s what I think. That’s why I didn’t want to talk to anyone but you. If they enforce the rules, that means they’re warrior caste. The only people I can talk to here are warrior caste. They’d pass my information up the ranks until it reached one of Hallwell’s friends, at which point the information would vanish, along with me. So for me, the only safe warrior is you. Unless you’re one of Hallwell’s friends, in which case I’m shekked.”

He was telling the truth; Tal could easily see through his front. The man was fixated on his revenge. “Is there anything else I should know?” she asked.

“Just that you might want to take a second look at what your task force has been doing.” He gave her an unpleasant smile. “Hallwell may have powerful friends, but they didn’t set him up in my business just so he could take all the profits. They’re investors. I’d be curious to know what else they’re investing in.”

“So would I. Anything else?”

“No. If I knew any more names, I’d give them to you. I want these people taken down.”

She nodded. “Well, this might be the only occasion when you and honorable warriors are on the same side. I’ll do my best to take them down, Donvall. You’ll know I succeeded when you get your transfer.”

“Then I wish you every good fortune,” he said.

 

 

-----

 

 

Tal stalked through the corridors with Micah, Gehrain, and Colonel Sedron keeping a respectful distance. She’d held her reaction in check until she was out of the saferoom, and was now so furious that she could hardly see straight. That someone would pervert the Anti-Corruption Unit into a vehicle for more efficient law-breaking was a betrayal she took personally. The task force was supposed to prevent this kind of dokshin, not promote it! This was a slap in the face not only to her and every honorable warrior and merchant on the force, but to the three warriors of Redmoon whose deaths had inspired its creation. The efforts of the task force were a monument to their courage and sacrifice. Someone was spitting on their memories, and Tal would make certain that she avenged their honor.

They arrived at the cells where they’d left the boys and waited for the guard, who was making rounds. Tal was too angry to speak and impatient at the thought of dealing with these children any further. She had much bigger game to hunt.

“Why aren’t you authorized to unlock the cells?” Gehrain asked the colonel, filling in the uncomfortable silence.

“Because I’m the director,” said Colonel Sedron. “Which makes me the most obvious target for a hostage crisis. But if I can’t unlock any cells or the exit doors between levels, then taking me hostage won’t get a prisoner anywhere. I can get in alone, but I can’t get out.”

“Unless they demand a trade,” said Gehrain.

“That won’t help either. The facility has a no negotiation policy. I have no value as a hostage, and they know that.”

“What about the guards?”

“They have clearance for only one level. And the lift doors between Levels Two and One can only be unlocked by two palms simultaneously.”

The guard came through a door down the hall and quickly joined them, unlocking Pendar and Silmartin’s cell first. The boys stepped out, their moods quiet and subdued. A white-faced Nilo emerged a few pipticks later, walking directly to Tal and looking up at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything I’ve done. This place is horrible; no Alsean should have to live in a cell like that! I promise, I’ll do better. Just, please, take me home.”

Tal stared at him, trying to work past her anger and remember that this was an important moment in its own small way. She’d set up their temporary incarceration hoping for just this response. But the best she could manage was a curt nod and a brusque, “That’s good enough. We’re leaving now.”

The guard accompanied them to the lift doors and palmed the lock on the left while Colonel Sedron palmed the right. They trooped inside and crowded together far too closely for Tal’s liking; all she wanted was to get back in the transport and away from everyone else. Fortunately, the boys were subdued as the group returned to the main administrative room, had their wristbands removed, and retraced their steps back to the surface. Their silence ended when the final set of doors opened; as soon as Nilo saw the sky he whooped and scrambled up the steps, followed closely by Pendar and Silmartin. All three of them bounced off the final step as if they’d just been reprieved from a lifetime sentence. Tal and the others climbed the stairs a bit more sedately, but as the first cool breeze brushed Tal’s face, she understood exactly how the boys felt. Nothing made one appreciate sunlight and fresh air quite like being without.

The colonel stopped near the transport and gave Tal a salute. “It has been an honor to have you at our facility,” he said. “If there is anything else I can do, please notify me.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgment. “I will, thank you. I appreciate the time you’ve taken today, Colonel Sedron. Rest assured it was worthwhile.”

He clearly doubted that, and she didn’t blame him. With a farewell gesture she turned and boarded the transport, where Thornlan was waiting. The pilot saw her mood in an instant and said, “If you would like to have a seat in your private cabin, Lancer Tal, I’ll help harness the boys.”

Gratefully, Tal retreated to her much-needed solitude. A few ticks later Thornlan notified her by wristcom that they were ready for liftoff, and she watched the dry scrubland of Koneza fall away beneath them. For half the flight home she stared out the window, seeing very little as she focused on the ramifications of her meeting. Tellmurine Hallwell and Falton Mor would be easy to pick up, and she’d take great pleasure in breaking the Whitemoon smuggling ring a second and hopefully final time. But they weren’t the big game, and she was driving herself insane trying to guess who was. Which warrior on the Council was betraying every ideal of the Truth and the Path? Was it only one, or were there more? Did Lead Warrior Shantu have any clue? She pondered that thought for a while before deciding that he couldn’t. For all his flaws, and he had quite a few, Shantu would never condone or tolerate such a violation of everything their caste stood for. He was a proud warrior, and whoever was doing this had far more greed than pride. But by the same token, she couldn’t bring him in on her investigation. Shantu didn’t have the finesse required to do this quietly; he’d be more likely to go on a rampage after getting impatient with the pace of their progress. No, she needed someone who understood the value of restraint and dealmaking; someone willing to let the small prey lead her to the big predators. And that would be Colonel Razine. As head of the Alsean Investigative Forces, she had all the necessary resources at her fingertips, the ability to make discreet inquiries, and Tal’s trust. Tal had known Razine since they were in the same training unit.

After going around in mental circles one too many times, Tal finally shook her head, stretched thoroughly in her seat, and decided she could be social again. She walked into the main cabin, noting Micah’s and Gehrain’s caution, and gave them a quick smile as she took her former seat across from Pendar. “Had a few things to think about,” she said.

Micah nodded. “We’ve been doing some thinking here as well. The boys have something to tell you.”

“Do they?” Tal looked from one to the other, waiting for a spokesperson. Surprisingly, it was Nilo who spoke up.

“Colonel Micah was telling us what you could have done instead of bringing us to the pit.”

Tal raised her eyebrows at Micah. There was no telling what sort of tales he’d spun; the boys were probably glad they’d escaped summary execution.

“You were much nicer to us than you had to be,” continued Nilo. “And we realized that everyone in Granelle is just saying what they think about you, but we’re the ones who actually know you. So we’re going to tell everyone the truth. Maybe that will make people stop telling lies about you.”

Tal hid a smile; wasn’t it just too ironic that Nilo had transformed his earlier anger and fear into a sense of self-aggrandizement that he knew the Lancer and almost nobody else in Granelle did? Well, it could have been a worse outcome.

“And what is the truth?” she asked.

“That they’re wrong, and you’re not going to destroy Alsea, and they should trust you,” said Pendar.

“And they shouldn’t talk if they don’t know what they’re talking about,” added Silmartin.

Nilo and Pendar nodded in agreement, and this time Tal didn’t fight her smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I will definitely appreciate your support.”

They were full of pride and a sense of purpose, and it occurred to her that she shouldn’t discount these small victories. The governance of Alsea did not take the form of one momentous event or decision after another. Changing the minds of three young boys might well turn out to be as important as anything else she’d ever done—who could know?

She settled into her seat and looked out the window. They were just beginning to cross the mountains, and she felt a deep sense of contentment blossom as the familiar scenery unfolded beneath them. Within a few ticks they were in the high mountains, where long habit had her scanning the steep slopes from one side to the other. She didn’t expect to see anything—certainly not this soon or this easily—but there they were, a large herd climbing up a nearly sheer wall. Perhaps it was a sign. Or perhaps it was simply another small victory.

“Tell me,” she said, still looking out the window, “have any of you ever seen a winden?”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 32

 

 

“How did it go?” asked Salomen.

Tal had returned to Hol-Opah alone, leaving the task of dropping off the boys to Micah and Gehrain. Rank had its privileges. She was now basking in the pleasure of being greeted by the one person she’d most wanted to see all day, and it was all she could do not to pull Salomen into a warmron, right there in view of every back window of the main house and at least two Guards. She was also grateful that the steady drizzle was keeping the rest of the family inside. It was well past evenmeal, a time when anyone who’d put in a long day at harvest would be relaxing in a comfortable chair. Only Salomen was fool enough to be standing out in the rain, something which notched her up even higher in Tal’s regard.

“Better than I expected, and worse,” she said, gratefully absorbing Salomen’s affection through their palm touch. Neither of them would drop their fronts so close to the Guards, but the physical connection was all they needed. “Where’s Jaros? I thought for sure he’d be out here, rain or no.”

“We put him to bed early; he was a little overtired with all the excitement,” said Salomen. “And that was another politician’s answer.”

“But a true one.”

“It may be, but I’ll expect a longer version later.” Salomen lowered their palms and kept hold of one of Tal’s hands to lead her toward the house. “You’ll have plenty of opportunity to tell me about it on our date.”

Tal stopped walking, pulling Salomen to a halt as well. “Our date? Did I know about this?”

“Yes, we arranged it the night before last. Don’t you remember?”

Alarmed, Tal searched her memory of their last vidcom call and could not recall anything resembling an agreement to a date. Nor did she want to admit this to Salomen, until she saw the look in her eyes. Narrowing her own, she focused on the emotions transmitting through their touch and found a well-buried amusement. “Enjoyed that, did you?” she asked.

Salomen broke into a wide smile. “I couldn’t resist. You’re very endearing when you’re worried about disappointing me.”

“Nothing of the sort. I was worried about appearing fallible.”

“I’m holding your hand, Andira, so I know that’s a load of dokshin. Come on, let’s get you inside. I’d like you to change into something a bit drier and join me in the entry.”

“Salomen…” Tal found herself being pulled toward the house again. “I appreciate your intentions, but I’d really rather not go back out the moment I arrive home. Do you think we could do this a different night?”

Now it was Salomen who stopped, astonishment coloring her emotions. “What did you say?”

Puzzled, Tal repeated, “I said I’d rather not go out right away.”

“Not that part. You said ‘the moment you arrived home.’ Is that what you think of Hol-Opah?”

“I, ah…” Tal wasn’t quite sure what to say, but was saved from further speech when Salomen suddenly pulled her close and took her mouth in a kiss that was as unexpected as it was passionate. For one brief moment, Tal worried about her tyree’s choice to advertise the depth of their relationship so soon and so blatantly, but after that her brain gave up any effort at coherent thought. She returned the kiss with a passion that seemed always just below the surface whenever she was around Salomen, and it was only the warning tingle that brought her to her senses. Still, they couldn’t break off in time, and the flash propelled them half a bodylength apart. Tal bent over with her hands on her knees, waiting for her head to clear and listening to Salomen’s harsh breathing. Then she realized that those harsh breaths were actually sobs, and raised her head abruptly. “Salomen—” She stopped.

“I’m sorry,” laughed Salomen. “Fahla, that one hurt. But it was worth it.” She laughed again, and Tal shook her head in disbelief.

“You are a masochist,” she said. “Not only that, you’re a sadist. It’s fine if you want to suffer, but you inflict these on me as well.”

“I know.” Salomen chuckled as she straightened up, then reached for Tal’s hand. “I really am sorry. But you have no idea what it means to me to hear you call Hol-Opah home.”

Tal looked askance at the hand being held out to her. “I’m not sure I want to touch that right now. And I can’t sense anything anyway; it’s taking me longer to recover from these.”

“Then I’ll just tell you. It makes me deeply happy. It feels…well, right to hear you say that. Like this is precisely how it’s supposed to be. Thank you, Andira.”

With a show of great care, Tal took Salomen’s hand. “I’m glad you’re not offended. It’s rather presumptuous of me.”

“You tend to be a rather presumptuous person.” Salomen squeezed her hand. “In this instance, I’m delighted.”

They resumed their walk toward the house. “I feel a peace here that I don’t get in Blacksun,” Tal confessed. “I love the quiet of the landscape, and the fact that there aren’t a few hundred people vying for my attention. I love your house, and the history in it. I can feel those who were here before us. And I love coming back to find you waiting for me.”

“I love the fact that you come back to me.” Salomen gave her another beautiful smile. “And that you’re developing such an attachment to a place that fills my heart.”

They walked up the back porch steps, hung their rain capes on the hooks just inside the dining room entrance, and crossed to the staircase. Pausing at the bottom, Salomen said, “Will you please reconsider coming with me on a date? I promise you won’t have to go far. And I’m certain you’ll enjoy it.”

Tal took a deep breath. “Can you give me half a hantick to just…relax, before we leave?”

“Of course.”

“All right. Then yes, I’ll go. Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve been asked out.”

“That’s what I was thinking, actually,” said Salomen. “You made our first date wonderful for me. I’d like to make this one wonderful for you. It’s only fair.”

Who could resist that? “Then I’ll meet you at the front entry in half a hantick. Should I wear anything special?”

“Just be comfortable. And don’t worry about staying dry; we’re not going far.” Salomen looked her up and down. “Well…it would be all right if you wore something that showed a little more skin.”

Laughing, Tal said, “I’ll see what I can do. Guess that leaves out the uniform, then.”

“It does,” agreed Salomen. “No uniform. Definitely not.”

 

 

-----

 

 

A shower and fresh clothes did wonders for Tal’s state of mind, along with two tenticks of relaxing with the book she’d started five days ago. She’d thought about bringing it on her tour, but figured there would be little time to read anything fun. Besides, she really didn’t want to read this book in a transport or inn. It needed to be savored in the window seat of a room she had come to consider hers, and right now, with the rain streaming down the windows, she felt cozier than she had in a very long time.

With great reluctance she put a marker in the pages and set the book down. Time to go downstairs for her date. She really didn’t want to go anywhere, but Salomen had clearly planned something and Tal would sooner face an all-day bickering Council meeting than let her tyree down. Besides, she was looking forward to seeing Salomen dressed up again.

As promised, Salomen was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs in the front entry. Tal stopped on the last step, bringing their heads level. “Very nice,” she said admiringly. “You look wonderful, Salomen.”

“Thank you.” Salomen did a slow twirl, showing off the back view as well. She was wearing a high-necked sleeveless shirt tucked into loose trousers, and the clothes sat on her very well indeed. “With the rains here, it’s only a matter of another nineday or two before it becomes too cool to wear this. I wanted to take advantage of the moment.”

“And show a little skin,” said Tal with a smile. “I’m afraid I didn’t share quite as much.”

Salomen looked her up and down, her light expression vanishing under something far warmer. Her gaze settled on the open front of Tal’s half-sleeved shirt, where a nearly indecent number of buttons had been left undone. “In terms of quantity, no,” she said in a low voice that made Tal’s neck prickle. “But the quality is surely there.”

Tal had to clear her throat before she could speak. “So where are you taking me?”

Salomen smiled, holding out her hand. “Just around the corner.” She led Tal down the last step and into the parlor, where Micah, Shikal and Nikin were holding court around a bottle of spirits.

“This had better not be our date,” said Tal, just as Micah let out a low whistle.

“Blessed Fahla, what a sight. Going somewhere, Lancer Tal?”

“I have no idea, and at this point, if I did I wouldn’t tell you. I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”

“One of Pendar’s uncles was visiting Silmartin’s mother, so we were able to drop two off at the same time. Thank the Goddess, too, otherwise I would have missed this view.”

“And he was just starting the story of how our Lancer frightened three bullies halfway back to their Return,” said Shikal. “So you two run along now. You’re interrupting.”

The three men chuckled. “Don’t keep her out too late, Salomen,” said Nikin. “We need her tomorrow, and she can’t pilot a transport with her eyes half shut.”

They were clearly enjoying themselves, and Salomen rolled her eyes at Tal. “My apologies,” she said. “If I’d known we would run into the comedy club I’d have had you meet me at the back stairs. My mistake was in thinking that any of these men were mature adults.”

She pulled Tal through the room, accompanied by a few more whistles and offers of unsolicited advice. Once in the relative peace of the dining room she turned and pointedly banged the door shut, muffling the sounds of laughter in the next room. “Well, that was a strategic error,” she said. “It gets better from here, I promise.”

“I hope so,” said Tal with a smile. “You’ve already given Micah enough to keep him going for the next three days. I’m sure I’ll hear about this.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted the walk to our date to involve more than six steps.” She led Tal across the dining room and into the kitchen dome, stopping by the small table normally used as a staging area for the main meals. Tonight it had been transformed into an intimate setting for two, the handmade table cover adorned with crockery that Tal had never seen before. She guessed by its design that it had probably been in the family for several generations. Off to the side stood a miniature tiered bowl rack, holding three small bowls of brightly burning oil. At the top of the rack a fourth, more shallow bowl contained a hyacot twig.

“It’s perfect,” said Tal in relief. “You have no idea how perfect this is. Thank you.”

Salomen pulled her close, looking into her eyes. “Of course I have an idea,” she said. “I guessed you wouldn’t want to go out after the day you’ve had, and the state you were in when you arrived just confirmed it. I wanted you to relax tonight. This is just you and me.”

Tal closed her eyes, enjoying the comfort of Salomen’s emotions. When she opened them again, Salomen was watching her with a tiny smile, just big enough to bring out the lines at the sides of her mouth. Tal reached up and ran her fingertip over each line, basking in the beauty they lent to Salomen’s face. “You are such a lovely woman,” she whispered. “Inside and out.”

“So are you,” Salomen whispered back. They shared a brief, soft kiss before Salomen waved Tal to her chair. “I’d like to say I made this meal myself,” she said more briskly, “but that was completely impossible. But I did leave very specific instructions with Wynsill regarding what I wanted done. She did it to perfection. Can I keep her after you go back to Blacksun?”

Tal laughed as she sat down. “Not a chance. Wynsill is in great demand with my Guards. For good reason, as you’ve noticed.”

“Damn. Maybe I can make her a better offer.”

“Don’t even think of stealing my staff, producer.”

Salomen grinned. “You’re feeling more relaxed, then. Threats already, and we haven’t even started the meal.”

“That wasn’t a threat. That was merely advice.”

“Ah. In that case, perhaps you’d like to start the first course and see if you still feel like giving advice afterward.”

“I’m ready.”

“Good.” Salomen walked over to the wooden rack across the kitchen and came back with a large bowl, which she very carefully set on the table. “Your bowl, please?”

Tal handed over her soup bowl and watched avidly as Salomen lifted the lid. “Ohhhh,” she said as the scent hit her nostrils. “Horten soup!”

“Of course.” Salomen ladled out a sinfully large amount into Tal’s bowl, adding the same amount to her own before covering the serving bowl again. “It’s harvest time. Not having horten soup now would be an absolute crime. It doesn’t get any fresher than this.” She plucked the hyacot twig from its holder, snapped it in half and replaced the pieces. “There. We’re now officially on a date.”

Tal reached across the table and caressed her hand. “A very, very good date. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They stared into each others’ eyes for an embarrassing amount of time before simultaneously breaking it off and dipping into their soup. Tal’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head at the first taste.

“Oh, dear Goddess above. This is…indescribably wonderful. It’s never tasted like this before.”

“You’ve never had horten less than ten hanticks from harvest before. It makes a big difference.”

“Yes it does!” Tal happily consumed half the bowl at a speed considerably higher than polite manners allowed, then forced herself to slow down. “I hope you didn’t plan on conversation tonight. My mouth is doing other things.”

The look Salomen gave her made Tal drop her spoon right in the bowl. With her blocks down, Salomen’s instant desire was singeing Tal’s senses.

“I, ah…”

“Just eat,” said Salomen. “And don’t say anything more about your mouth, please.”

“Deal.” Tal didn’t want to go there any more than Salomen did. That way lay frustration and impotent arousal, and she was having a hard enough time as it was. Salomen looked edible in that shirt, with her hair brushing her bare shoulders. This was twice now that Salomen had tormented her with bare shoulders, and Tal was beginning to wonder if she had somehow felt that little fantasy of a few days ago.

“Perhaps now you can explain that short answer about your trip,” said Salomen. “What happened with those boys and your meeting with the prisoner?”

Tal shook her head. “I’d rather hear about your day first.”

“There’s not much to tell. I spent my day running back and forth like a fanten on slaughter day, and with considerably less purpose.”

Chuckling, Tal said, “I don’t accept the part about no purpose. From what I could see, you were keeping control of a very complex operation.”

“Well…” Salomen thoughtfully sipped her soup. “There certainly are a lot of details to keep track of, and a lot of people needing instruction and answers from me. Usually simultaneously.”

“I noticed.” It occurred to Tal that Salomen was a Lancer in her own right, simply governing a smaller world. “And speaking as one with similar duties,” she added, “you’re very good at yours.”

Salomen’s pleasure at the compliment warmed Tal’s senses, and the rest of that course was spent discussing the horten harvest. Tal was interested to hear that Herot had worked just as hard as everyone else, a noticeable change in his behavior which Salomen attributed to the fact that he preferred transport duty to the more manual labor of cutting or loading. Tal wondered if something else might be factoring into it.

The soup in her bowl was gone all too soon, and Tal was gazing sadly at its empty depths when Salomen asked, “Ready for the next course?”

“If it’s as good as this one, I’m more than ready.”

“It will be. Give me your bowl.”

Tal handed her bowl across the table, expecting Salomen to carry it to the dish rack and laughing when it was promptly refilled from the serving bowl. “Was I that transparent?”

“Andira, a sonsales could have seen your longing. It’s a good thing I had no other courses planned; I couldn’t have broken your heart by taking this bowl away. There is one other part to this meal, though.” She handed Tal’s bowl back and rose from the table, returning in a moment with a fresh loaf of grainbread. Cutting a piece and sprinkling it with the sweet powder made from crushed grain stems, she held it out while Tal met her reach with the small plate at her setting. “Everything on this table comes from Hol-Opah,” Salomen said, cutting her own piece. “Well, except for the oil.”

“It’s wonderful,” said Tal, savoring the incomparable flavor of fresh baked bread. “All of it. You most of all. Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming on a date with me, even though you were so tired you didn’t want to.”

“I didn’t want to go out,” corrected Tal. “I can’t imagine being too tired to want to be with you.”

She felt Salomen’s emotions go to a place they were both avoiding, and wasn’t surprised at the briskness in her tyree’s voice when she said, “All right, we’ve discussed my day. Now it’s your turn.”

It took the rest of that bowl, a second serving of grainbread and a cup of shannel for Tal to recount the story of her afternoon. By the end she was feeling relaxed and utterly content; even her anger over the perversion of the task force had become something of a distant memory. She knew it would come back as soon as she had to deal with it directly, but right now, with Salomen looking so beautiful and listening with such care, the warmth in her stomach had spread to her mind and she couldn’t feel anything but happy.

“It sounds as though you’ve converted a few more to your camp,” said Salomen. “And it worked both ways.”

“Meaning they converted me as well?” Tal drained the last of her shannel and replaced the cup on the table. “Pendar certainly did. Silmartin…a little. And Nilo is a thoroughly disagreeable little dokker, but he definitely learned something and who knows, perhaps he’ll really stay out of trouble. But I wouldn’t bet the holding on it.”

“Neither would I. Still, stranger things have happened. And you do seem to have that effect on people.”

“You mean you’re staying out of trouble, too?”

“Not a chance.” Salomen smiled, reaching out for Tal’s hand. She caressed it with a feather light touch, the smile slipping as her contentment showed a darker emotion winding through it. Tal put her other hand over Salomen’s and lowered her head, trying to catch Salomen’s gaze.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Salomen squeezed her hand. “I’m trying to forget that we only have eight days left, but it’s not working. I’m already missing you in advance.”

“You don’t have to miss me, and I certainly don’t plan to miss you. You’re coming with me, Salomen. You still have your part of the challenge to uphold.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But what happens after that?”

“Who knows? Look at how much has changed between us in just one moon. How much will a second moon do? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we should try to plan that far ahead. Just wait for the moment to arrive; we’ll know what comes next.” Tal smiled. “We have a lot of options open to us. And when it comes to my job, I make the rules anyway.”

“Within bounds of tradition and requirements of logistics and security,” said Salomen. “Andira, I can’t live in Blacksun. You know that. And you can’t live here, much as I want you to.”

“It’s not an either/or situation. We can work out something in between. I already divide my time between my base quarters and those in the State House; it’s not that hard to live in two places. Three is just one more.”

“For you. It’s two more for me.”

Tal rose from her chair and walked to Salomen’s side of the table without ever releasing her hand. Pulling her up gently, she grasped her other hand and said, “I know you’re a strategic thinker and you prefer to plan ahead. I do the same thing. But in this case, I really think we’ll drive ourselves crazy trying to plan something like this. It will work out. Let’s just see what the next moon brings and then revisit this, all right?”

“I’ll try.” Salomen gave her a half smile. “I’m not very good at putting off decisions.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Most of the time, it’s an excellent character trait.” Tal leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheekbone ridge, then nibbled her way down to her jaw. “Just not right now,” she whispered.

“Fahla,” Salomen breathed. “Don’t do that, or I can’t be held responsible for inflicting another flash on you.”

Tal pulled back reluctantly. “This, on the other hand, is a decision I’m getting closer to every day.”

“So am I.” Salomen’s gaze was heated. “I want this Sharing badly enough to start losing my fear of the consequences.”

“I’m beginning to forget I even have fears.”

They stared into each other’s eyes until Salomen swallowed and took a deliberate step back. “We need to cool down. And you have to stop looking at me that way. Fahla knows I want our joining, and I want our Sharing, but I’m not quite ready to permanently give up my emotional privacy just to satisfy this need.”

Tal dropped her head, breaking their gaze and using every bit of her willpower to wrestle her desire back under control. “I know. When I think that it’s been less than a nineday since I called Instructor Dalsen and found out what all this meant…”

“Seven days,” said Salomen. “Seven days since I kissed you in the field and thought that perhaps, in time, I could adapt to the idea of you as my tyree. And a few hanticks later I found out that being tyree with you was only the smallest of my concerns.”

“Well, at least we’ve moved beyond the tyree issue,” said Tal. “If anyone had told me it could happen so quickly, I wouldn’t have believed them. But I’m already at the point where I cannot imagine my life without you.”

She felt a sharp spike of surprise from Salomen, followed quickly by a warmth that reflected itself in a lovely smile. “Thank you for saying that. I can’t imagine my life without you, either. It was hard enough when you were on your tour.” She reached out for Tal’s hand. “I know you’re ahead of me in this. You have been since the first day. But it’s all happening so quickly; I need a little more time. I love our dates and I love the time we spend together, but—I’m not quite there yet. Do you understand?”

Tal intertwined their fingers. “Of course I do. You’ve never been alone in your fear. I’m not quite there, either, though I’m far closer than I would have thought possible in such a short time.”

“So am I.” In a much lighter tone, Salomen added, “If I’ve come this far in just seven days, I’ll probably be ready to have our bonding ceremony by the time we go to Blacksun.”

“Oh, no,” said Tal, playing along. “Impossible. The Lancer of Alsea does not plan a bond