chapter 41

 

 

The morning dawned gray and rainy as usual; a perfect day for staying in bed. Tal wished she could do just that, but unfortunately she and Salomen weren’t on a bonding break. Since no one knew they were recently bonded, they had no excuse for not going about their days as normal. And Tal’s day had quite a bit packed into it.

But that didn’t start for a few hanticks yet. She still had time to indulge in her current favorite activity, and accordingly she propped herself on one elbow and gazed at the slumbering form next to her, taking the opportunity to study Salomen in every detail.

She’d never seen Salomen asleep before. In a way, it seemed an even greater vulnerability than a Sharing. When they Shared, they were in it together, but a sleeping Salomen was alone and without defenses. Lying on her side facing Tal, her dark hair spread on the pillow behind her, she appeared innocent of all knowledge of an imperfect world. This relaxed face could not belong to someone who had nearly died at the hands of an assassin. Nor could it belong to the experienced and professional head of one of the largest holdings in the district; a woman responsible for over fifty field workers as well as her own family. No, thought Tal, this face belonged to a different woman altogether; one whom the rest of the world would probably never see. And that woman was her tyree.

She reached out to caress Salomen’s shoulder and arm, half wishing she would wake and half hoping she wouldn’t. She was enjoying the intimacy of the moment and the protective feelings that filled her heart. Salomen had shown time and again that she could take care of herself, but right this moment she could not, and Tal felt a guilty pleasure in her guardianship.

Her fingers brushed an errant lock of hair away from Salomen’s cheek, causing a slight twitch and a sigh. Salomen’s eyes blinked open, taking a moment to focus. Slowly, her face lit with the most beautiful smile Tal had ever seen.

“Good morning, tyrina,” she said in a sleep-roughened voice.

“Good morning.” Tal continued her caresses. “Did you know that you’re exceptionally beautiful when you’re asleep?”

Salomen shook her head slightly. “Never heard it before.”

“Then your past lovers were fools, every one of them.”

“Not all of them woke up with me.”

“Ah.” Tal understood. “You don’t care to share your bed when the joining is done.”

“Not usually.” Salomen rolled onto her back and stretched luxuriously before turning to her side again, looking far more awake. “Sleeping is a whole different game than joining.”

“I know precisely what you mean. Joining doesn’t necessarily involve any intimacy at all. Sleeping does.”

Salomen nodded. “Besides the fact that I don’t sleep well with another body in my bed.”

“We have that in common, then.” Tal leaned down to kiss her shoulder. “But I slept like a rock last night. It might have had something to do with being so worn out.”

A smile of pure satisfaction crossed Salomen’s lips, and Tal’s earlier image of her as a slumbering innocent vanished. “I did notice that the warrior had a hard time keeping up with the producer,” she said.

Tal pushed her onto her back and pounced, tickling her mercilessly while Salomen squirmed and laughed. “Stop it!” she cried. “This isn’t fair; I just woke up!”

Tal held her wrists down against the bed. “That didn’t stop you from making nasty aspersions before your eyes were even all the way open,” she said. “Why should it stop me from an appropriate response to them?”

“Because I’m your tyree, and I had a very hard night.”

“That’s a pathetic excuse. You’re lucky I’m so in love. That will wear off, you know, and then you’ll have to do a lot better.”

“By then I’ll be more in practice,” said Salomen unrepentantly.

Tal leaned down to kiss her. “Juice?”

“Is that a hint?”

“Not at all. But I need it, so I’d be happy to bring back a glass for you if you’d like.”

“I’d love it.” Salomen wrinkled her nose. “Don’t you have staff to wait on you hand and foot?”

“No,” said Tal as she threw back the covers. “Not in my own quarters. I don’t want anyone coming in here unless I invite them. Especially not when I’m asleep.” She padded through the living area into the kitchen, pulled several pre-cut fruits from the bin in her cooler, and tossed them into the juicer. Half a tick later she was making her way back to the bed, surprised to see Salomen out of it. “What are you doing?”

Salomen straightened from her crouch at the head of the bed; she’d been rummaging in the clothing organizer. “Looking for this.” She held up a small wrapped package as she climbed back into the bed.

Tal joined her, handing over one of the glasses as she sipped her own.

“Thank you,” said Salomen. “Ohhhh, that’s good.” She gulped down half the glass, then nudged the package toward Tal. “This is for you, in case you needed something to do some evening when you aren’t swamped by your duties…or by me.”

Tal took the package. “Thank you, tyrina. I didn’t expect anything like this.”

“I know. That’s the point.”

“May I open it now? Or do I have to wait?”

“Would I be so cruel as to give you a gift and tell you that you have to wait to open it?”

Tal just looked at her, and they both burst out laughing.

“All right, don’t answer,” said Salomen, still chuckling. “Just open it.”

Tal gleefully tore off the paper, then went quite still. “Oh.” She opened the elegantly bound book to the first page and read the inscription in bold handwriting.

I always did have a soft place in my heart for strong, adventurous warrior types.

~ Salomen

She looked up, the tears rising to her eyes. “I never finished it.”

“I know.” Salomen brushed a hand across her cheek. “I wish I could have given you the one you were reading. Mother would have liked that. But it burned along with your bed, so this was the next best thing.”

“Thank you.” Tal turned the book over, running her fingertips along the beautifully tooled binding. “This is a gorgeous edition.”

“I wanted it to last a long time.”

“It will.” Tal caressed the binding again. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t think I’ve ever received a more thoughtful gift. You’ve taken something from that night and made it…special.”

“The most special thing about that night is sitting right here,” said Salomen softly.

“I could argue that,” said Tal, putting the book and her glass on top of the clothing organizer. “But I’m too busy.” She pushed onto all fours and kissed Salomen slowly and deeply, pulling back just enough to say, “Mm. Juice.”

Salomen laughed. “I knew you had an ulterior motive.”

“Of course.” Tal went back to those soft lips, breaking off to nibble her way down Salomen’s throat. “What a wonderful way to start my day.”

“I agree.” Salomen’s mood turned serious. “I meant what I said about that night. As horrible as it was, it also brought me the gift of understanding just what I have in you. Remember our first night of training?”

Tal nodded as she sat back. “Do you think I could forget it?”

“You told me about your parents, and that you avenged them, and it frightened me. I saw you as a creature of violence, and for a while I thought I’d made a big mistake bringing you under my roof.”

“You told me part of that. And you hid your fear very well.” Tal felt a pang at the memory of Salomen calling her a “terrible enemy.” But it was true; that was part of her nature. She would not bear the title of Lancer without it.

“And you said you were also a good friend and ally. I didn’t understand then how those different identities could exist in harmony. And though I’ve never personally seen the warrior part of you in true violence, I have seen the other side of it now. I saw it when you saved my life.” She picked up one of Tal’s hands and examined it, running her fingers over the palm as she spoke. “You’ve said that was pure instinct, as if you deserve no credit for it because you didn’t think about it in advance. But I know without a doubt that you’d have done the same thing for anyone else in my family. Colonel Micah, too. He may be your Guard, but I think you guard him just as much as the other way around.”

“Don’t tell Micah,” said Tal, trying to lighten the mood.

“I won’t.” Salomen gave her a knowing look. “Sorry to be embarrassing you, but I need to say this. It may have been instinct to pull me off that window seat, but you made a deliberate decision to roll us over. You chose to burn so I wouldn’t. You cannot dismiss that as some sort of warrior-trained reaction, Andira. That’s simply who you are. And that’s what I mean when I say that night gave me a gift of understanding. I have never in my life felt so loved and so protected. I once feared you as someone with blood on her hands, but now…” She reached out for Tal’s other hand. “…these make me feel safer than I ever thought possible.”

Tal squeezed her hands. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That means everything to me.”

“I know. I’m just sorry I ever hurt you by saying otherwise.”

“It’s all right.” Tal lifted a hand to her lips and kissed it gently. “That was before. This is now, and I just want to bask in the knowledge that you’re here.”

“In your bed?”

“In my life.” Tal pulled their hands out to the sides and pressed her body forward, nudging Salomen onto her back. Settling herself on top, she held Salomen’s head reverently as she covered her neck and face with slow kisses, pausing now and then to tug on an earlobe. The relaxed arousal she was sensing complimented her own desires; she wanted a physical connection but not necessarily a joining. “I love knowing what you want,” she whispered directly into Salomen’s ear. As Salomen squirmed, she gently bit her lobe and added, “I love our bond. I hate the way you were forced into it, but I cannot be sorry for what we have now.”

“I’m not sorry for any of it,” Salomen said. “And I wasn’t forced.”

Surprised, Tal lifted her head. “What?”

“I Shared willingly, Andira. I was ready.”

Tal stared. “I know you’re not joking, but…you were terrified of it just the night before.”

“I was terrified of it that night, too.” Salomen smiled at Tal’s confusion. “I was getting closer to it every day—every hantick, actually. I loved you, I knew you loved me and you were ready, and you’d said you could not imagine your life without me. Everything I wanted was there, except one thing. And I kept telling myself that it wasn’t important, I’d have it eventually. But apparently I wasn’t convincing myself.”

“What thing?”

“The knowledge that you saw me as an equal.”

“Salomen—”

“Don’t tell me you already did, because I know better. In some ways you still don’t see it even now, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I know you’ll get there. It’s just going to take a while for you to overcome a lifetime of training to be the Lancer.”

A prick of familiarity flitted through Tal’s mind; she’d used almost the same words in her prayer to Fahla at Whitemoon. I trained all my life to be a good Lancer, but there’s no training for this, she had said. Salomen knew her as well as she knew herself, it seemed.

“What changed your mind?” she asked.

Salomen’s eyes were soft with the memory. “You said you needed me. You were burning; you should have been thinking of nothing but that. But you looked at me and said you needed my strength to find the assassin.”

“You’re not going to tell me you wouldn’t have Shared if I hadn’t said that. I know that’s not true.”

“Of course not. A herd of winden couldn’t have kept me from giving you everything I had no matter what you said. What I’m trying to tell you is that in that moment I was no longer afraid of it. I was afraid of everything else, but not that.”

Tal remembered all too well the look of terror in Salomen’s eyes. “I’m guessing you’ve figured this out after the fact.”

She nodded. “I did a lot of thinking while you were asleep in the health center.”

“Then how can you say you Shared based on that, when you didn’t even understand it until afterwards?”

“Do you understand everything you do when you do it?”

“No,” admitted Tal after a pause, and Salomen smiled.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“Your honesty. You gave that to me from the very first day. It’s one of the things I love about you. So tell me this, tyrina:  how would you feel if you’d never been able to do anything for me? If you hadn’t been able to train me, or help with Herot, or teach Jaros’ bullies a lesson? How would it feel to know that I never needed or wanted your help?”

Tal had to think about that one. “I’d feel like I had very little to offer,” she said. “I’d probably be looking for a chance to prove myself to you.”

“Precisely.”

“Salomen…” The very thought was painful. “You never had anything to prove to me. I cannot even recall how many times I watched you and thought to myself how proud I was of you, and what an amazing woman you were. Fahla, I admired you even when I was arguing with you at our delegate meetings. Did I do such a poor job of showing you that?”

“No.” Salomen reached out to lightly caress her face. “But admiration and pride do not add up to equality. It meant everything to me that I could be there for you when you needed me. It still does.”

Tal wrapped her arms beneath Salomen’s back and held her close. “My tyrina,” she whispered. “I hope I never need you that way again. But I will always need you. Always. You’re a part of me now.”

Salomen made no answer save to squeeze her more tightly.

 

 

-----

 

 

With a hantick left before the first meeting, Tal and Salomen finally dragged themselves out of bed, showered and sat down to the breakfast that Tal had ordered earlier.

“I could get used to this,” said Salomen as she broke open a fresh, steaming biscuit. “You call on your wristcom, the food magically appears, and when we’re done the dishes magically disappear, yes?”

“Yes,” said Tal. “Rank does have its privileges. I still have strong enough memories of kitchen duty to never take this for granted.”

“The idea of you peeling panfruits all day just doesn’t go with my image of you as the glamorous warrior.”

“That’s because warriors peeling panfruits don’t make it into those stories,” said Tal, indicating her book on the clothing organizer. “Or nights guarding a warehouse in the rain, or sleeping while sitting on a cold boulder to train your body to ignore its environment.”

“The part about the boulder gets in there,” said Salomen. “Mmm. Whoever makes this biscuits knows their business.”

“So physical privation is glamorous?”

“Of course. Because it’s all part of training yourself to be a ranking warrior. Now, producers working all day in the rain, or rubbing salve into their screaming muscles because they spent a day throwing grain bundles into a transport, and then going out to do the exact same thing for another day—none of that is glamorous physical privation. It’s just hard work. So we don’t get our own stories.”

“You are a snob, did you know that?”

Salomen popped another piece of biscuit into her mouth and smiled. “To be a snob, I’d have to be convinced that my caste is better than the others.”

Tal raised an eyebrow as she lifted a cup of shannel to her lips.

“I’m not convinced of that,” said Salomen. “But I know my caste is just as good as the others, and that’s a perception I find in rather short supply among some castes. Particularly scholar. Now there you can find some true snobs.”

“My mother was scholar caste, thank you very much.”

“So was Darzen.”

“Ouch. You really do have a warrior’s heart. You have an unerring instinct for where to land a blow.”

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant to be a blow. Just a point.”

Nodding her acceptance, Tal reached for her own biscuit and was sprinkling grainstem powder on it when Salomen asked, “What was your mother like? You’ve never spoken much about her.”

Tal took a thoughtful bite. How could she describe her mother in a few words? Swallowing, she said, “She was driven by a thirst for knowledge. Mother loved to learn new things; she collected information like other people collect souvenirs or memorabilia. I’ve never known anyone so informed in my life. I could go to her for anything at all; she always knew the answer. And it was always right. But more than that, she had an understanding of life, a wisdom, that I always thought was just part of being a mother. It wasn’t until I was grown that I realized her wisdom wasn’t the norm for adults or parents. It was unique to her.”

“What a wonderful resource,” said Salomen. “It must have been very hard to lose that.”

“It was. But oddly enough, I found it again in the strangest place.” Tal watched Salomen’s expression change as her meaning sank in.

“She sounds remarkable,” said Salomen, valiantly ignoring her rosy cheeks. “I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have loved you.” Tal knew that without a doubt. “You would have kept her challenged forever. Once she knew all about something or someone, she tended to lose interest. The challenge was gone. Simple people bored her, but she enjoyed people with depth and complexity.”

“You carry some of that tendency. I’ve seen the way you absorbed the workings of Hol-Opah; you soaked up every detail. And Fahla knows you love a challenge in any form.”

Tal nodded. “True, though I cannot say that came entirely from Mother. Father loved a good challenge, too.”

“Why were you so much closer to your father than your mother?”

“I was close to both of them. But Mother was a little more unreachable for me, I think. And I don’t mean that in any negative way; it’s just that she was a parent first and a friend second. But Father was more of a friend first. He was my playmate. And Mother could get lost inside her head. She taught me a great deal, but I don’t think she understood that for me, especially when I was young, learning something just for the sake of knowledge wasn’t all that important. I wanted things to mean something. When Father taught me, it was because the knowledge was very practical, or he felt I needed to know it, or because it was just fun.” She smiled at the memories. “We had a lot of fun together.”

“Doing what?”

“It seems like we were always playing when I was a girl. Looking back, I see that he was teaching me even then, but at the time it just felt like a game. We played Hunter and Prey, and I became very, very good at closing myself down so that he couldn’t find me empathically. I remember being crushed the first time he opened the door of the closet I was hiding in, only a few pipticks after the game started. I’d been so certain he’d never find me, and when I asked how he had, he told me he could feel me. Then he told me what I could do to keep that from happening, and I sweated for a couple of moons practicing the technique with him. I’ll never forget the day he found me by accident instead of by my emotions. He was so proud of me.”

“Goddess, I’m envious.”

“I’m sorry, tyrina. I wish you’d had the same kind of childhood.”

“Well, I’m only envious about that.” Salomen plucked a second biscuit from the bowl. “Other than hiding my powers, I had a wonderful childhood. And I was allowed to keep my parents for longer than you. If I could change anything about your life, it would be that.”

Tal suddenly found it difficult to swallow, and had to chase her panfruit down with some shannel. “Thank you. I know you would.”

Salomen reached across the table and gently clasped Tal’s hand. “I think your parents would be enormously proud of you right now. You’ve brought so much honor to their names.”

“Fahla knows I’ve tried. I had to make their sacrifice mean something.”

“You’ve done more than try. You succeeded in a very big way.” Salomen tilted her head. “May I ask you something that might be sensitive?”

“Of course.” Tal hoped it wasn’t too sensitive.

“Are you Lancer because you want to be, or because you owed it to your parents?”

With a slight exhale of relief, Tal said, “Micah asked me that a long time ago. The answer is both, but mostly the first. I’ve wanted to be Lancer all my life. Now if you asked me whether that was truly my dream, or whether my parents instilled it in me, I’d have no response. I’ll never know that. Nor do I need to.”

Salomen squeezed her hand before releasing it and picking up her shannel cup. “I’m glad. And now I have another question.”

“Clearly I didn’t tire you out enough last night.” Fahla, but she loved the way Salomen’s eyes crinkled when she smiled!

“How odd; I seem to recall that you were the one pleading for rest.” The cup clinked back to the table rather emphatically, but Salomen’s expression quickly grew soft. “Is there anyone that I can petition for inclusion into your family?”

Tal sat back in her chair. “Not really. My father was the youngest child; his parents and all of his siblings preceded him to his Return. One of my maternal grandmothers died when I was still a baby; I have no memory of her at all. And we lost Grandmother Neltowin just after my Rite of Ascension. She was a sharp blade right up to the end; I wish you could have met her. The only living elder relative I have is my Aunt Sima, but she and Mother weren’t close and I never really knew her. The last time I saw her was at my parents’ funeral pyre. I would not give her the power of granting you inclusion; she’s not truly my family.”

“Andira…I’m so sorry. I wish it were otherwise.”

“It is.” Tal smiled at her. “I have an entire family now, thanks to you.”

They traded childhood stories over the rest of the meal, and Tal nearly choked on her last bite of panfruit at Salomen’s tale of climbing into the composting bin as a tiny child, then crawling onto her parents’ bed for a nap afterward. Her parents had not been pleased at the disgusting mess she’d made of their sheets.

“I’d have tossed you into the wash right along with the sheets,” said Tal. “You were a problem child!”

“That’s not the half of it. Mother and Father weren’t that upset about the dirt. They were upset about the smell.”

“What smell? It was just field compost, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, no. That was the special compost bin. The one where we process what the fanten leave behind.”

Tal roared with laughter, then gasped, “Did the sheets grow after you fertilized them?” Salomen broke up too, and they sat helplessly in their chairs, clutching their stomachs.

“Goddess, don’t make me laugh so hard right after I’ve eaten!” Salomen snorted again, then groaned. “Ow. My sides hurt.”

“Mine too.” Tal wiped a tear from her eye. “I can just see you toddling up the stairs with fanten glop falling off you at every step.”

Salomen laughed again. “That compost bin magically sprouted a child-proof cover the very next day.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Tal’s vidcom unit beeped, and she sighed. “Well, that’s the end of our morning. I’d hoped Aldirk would have the decency to leave us alone, but clearly he couldn’t resist.” She pushed her chair back and walked across the kitchen to the unit, punching the activation button. The face that filled the screen was not Aldirk’s.

“Good morning, Lancer Tal,” said Colonel Razine. “I apologize for disturbing you so early, but this could not wait.”

“Is this about Herot Opah or our other investigation?”

Razine glanced over her shoulder. “It’s about Herot Opah.”

“Have you found him?” she asked, hearing a chair scrape back. A moment later Salomen arrived beside her, and Tal wrapped an arm around her waist.

“No. But he made contact with Hol-Opah a few ticks ago. The message was sent on a two-day time delay from Napoline.”

“Has my family seen it?” asked Salomen.

“They are most likely viewing it right now,” said Razine. “A copy has been downloaded to your unit, Lancer Tal. I’m available to discuss it whenever you wish.”

“Thank you, Colonel. I’ll be in contact.”

The Colonel nodded once before the screen went black. Tal turned to Salomen, who was already tense with dread. “Are you ready?” she asked softly.

“No.” Salomen tried to muster a smile. “But that doesn’t matter.”

Tal kissed her on the cheek. “Then let’s see what he has to say.” She kept her arm around Salomen’s waist as she pulled up the file and activated it. Herot’s face appeared, stress showing in every line and in the dark circles under his eyes. He was in a vidcom stall with significant background noise; Tal guessed it was in the public transport station, where the high traffic flow would give him anonymity. He looked as if he hadn’t taken a shower since the night of the assassination attempt.

“Hello, Father,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Salomen, Nikin, Jaros…before anything else, I need to say I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I was stupid, and a fool, and if I could have five ticks with that fantenshekken Cullom I’d tear his throat out. It was just talk, for Fahla’s sake! It wasn’t real. I mean—” He paused at a loud knock. “Occupied!” he called, then turned back to the screen. “I went home that night, but before I even got to our property line the medical transport flew past me. It scared the dokshin out of me; I thought something had happened to Father. I chased after it and saw it landing in our yard…and then I saw the plasma glow around the window. I’ve never felt so sick in my life. I thought she was dead. You have no idea how glad I was to see the news report that it was only a minor injury. Shek, I may not have liked her but I never, ever wished her dead! Please, you have to believe that. I know that dokker Gordense has been blaming me too, but it wasn’t a plot. I was just angry…about everything, I guess, and she was a good target. Someone I could blame, and I blamed her for things she had nothing to do with. Cullom was angry too; he and his family were looking like fools now that public opinion was turning back to her, and he believed everything Gordense said about her destroying the economy. So we were both angry, and drunk, and saying stupid things, but I thought it was just talk. It made me feel better. Until I went home.” He took a shuddering breath. “My face is all over the news. I don’t know how much longer I can hide. But I can’t go back. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t mean for this to happen; I told Cullom how to kill the Lancer and he tried to do it. I’m not going to the pit. I can’t. I’d rather die.”

Another knock sounded. “Shek off!” he shouted in sudden fury. Tal watched carefully, recognizing a man who was in deeper than he could wade and very close to cracking.

“I wish I could see you all again,” he said. “I know I’ve been a pain, and I’m sorry about that too. You’d be amazed at how clear everything became all of a sudden. I thought I’d lost everything when Mother died, but you were all right there, waiting for me to notice I still had a family, and I never did. And now—” His face twisted into a bitter smile. “Now I’m glad Mother went to her Return. I’m glad she’s not here to see this. It would have broken her heart, and that’s the worst thing of all, knowing I’ve broken your hearts.” Another knock. “I have to go. I love you. And Salomen…tell Lancer Tal to take good care of you.” He looked as if he wanted to say something else, then shook his head. The screen went dark.

The tension in Salomen’s body had climbed with every word, and now she was almost humming with suppressed energy. “I need to sit down,” she said faintly.

“I know.” Tal injected every bit of calm that she could into her voice, projecting it empathically at the same time. Keeping her arm firmly around Salomen’s waist, she escorted her to the living area and helped her into the widest chair. Salomen sat stiffly, staring straight out the window, and as Tal lowered herself onto the cushion next to her, she couldn’t help but think that only a few ticks ago this same woman had been helpless with laughter.

“It’s the best news we could have gotten,” she said gently. “When we find him and corroborate his story with an empathic scan, the charge will be direct enabling, not attempted murder. He won’t go to the pit.”

Salomen turned her head. Her eyes were haunted. “But he’ll still go to prison.”

“Yes, he will. But the sentence will be far less.” Tal didn’t add her next thought: She had the authority to pardon Herot after three moons served, but that could be a political firestorm. Blatant nepotism was not the way to maintain good public opinion, nor—more importantly—the support of the warrior caste. She needed to have a long chat with several advisors before mentioning a word to Salomen.

“I can’t think of Herot in prison,” said Salomen. “I was praying so hard that he hadn’t done it intentionally, but I never let myself think beyond that.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll help him in any way I can, but…my options are limited.”

“I know.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence, Salomen’s body still rigid while her emotions roiled both of their minds. Tal was holding her hand loosely, letting her know she was there through the most unthreatening physical touch she could think of.

“I hope you won’t think less of me for saying this,” said Salomen quietly. “But I want Colonel Razine to be unsuccessful for a good long time.”

Tal looked at her in sad understanding. “I don’t think less of you,” she said. “I think you love your brother.”

Salomen slumped in the chair, put her face in her hands, and cried at last.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 42

 

 

Tal felt like a traitor when she met with Colonel Razine later that morning. She’d reluctantly left Salomen in her quarters; it had been obvious that she wasn’t up to seeing anyone just yet. It was amazing to think that Salomen had sat in meetings with her for only one half of one day, and yet it already seemed normal. Tal missed her presence.

She’d spoken with Miltorin about the latest media stories, met with her economic advisors Tophalamon and Ponsard about the market impact of the last moon and specifically the assassination attempt, and was now seated opposite Colonel Razine at her conference table. And it was only morn-ten.

“I was very pleased to be the bearer of good news this morning,” said Razine. “Raiz Opah must have been tremendously relieved.”

“She was,” said Tal. “Though she’s still concerned about Herot’s future.”

“His future is brighter now than before. And if he would turn himself in instead of running, it would be brighter yet.”

Tal sighed. “I won’t hold my breath for that.”

“Neither will I.”

“Was there anything at all that you could use?”

“We already checked the public transport station, but I’ve sent a team of warriors back to go over the vidcom units with a magnifier and a toothbrush. If there’s anything there, we’ll find it.”

“But you’re not hopeful.” Razine’s front was impeccable, but Tal could see it in her face.

“No. And after watching that video, I’m more convinced than ever that Opah cannot be doing this on his own. That was the demeanor of a man who knows he will soon be caught. Yet he’s vanished with the ease of a well-trained covert investigator. Something is not adding up.”

Tal rubbed her forehead. “I really did not need any more mysteries.”

“Then perhaps this will make you feel better.” Razine gave her an almost feral smile. “Last night our friend Hallwell finally met someone worthwhile.”

“In Whitemoon?” Tal sat up straight, all attention.

“Barely. He went to a dirty little inn on the outskirts of the city. The sort of place where blindness can be bought.”

“I know the type. Did your team have enough cinteks to cure the blindness?”

“Yes, it was only temporary.” They shared a look of understanding; both of them had been in these kinds of investigations before. Alseans with loyalty only to their coin pouches were the best sources of information.

“So what did our cinteks buy?”

“A room number. To a top-floor room with no direct line-of-sight into the window.”

“Someone is experienced at avoiding observation.”

Razine nodded. “But most observers don’t have the latest cambot. My team sent one to the window and watched the vid feed. I wish we’d gotten sound, too, but at least we had an excellent look at Hallwell’s contact. And we thought it very interesting to watch a smuggler meeting with a warrior from the anti-corruption task force.”

Tal did a slow burn. “So now we have both a merchant and a warrior using their task force positions to pick up some extra credit. Who is it?”

“His name is Vass Nelwyn.” Razine pushed her reader card toward Tal; its screen showed an image of a warrior who looked to be around Nikin’s age.

“He’s not our man,” said Tal, examining the image and the data beneath it. “Too young and not enough power.”

“Agreed. But Nelwyn works for Councilor Burnall. May I?” She reached out and touched a control on the reader, changing the image to one of a much older warrior.

“Burnall…” muttered Tal, staring at the face. “He’s been on the Council for what, six cycles? I don’t know him well; he’s not one of the shouters.” She scanned the data below. “Almost seven cycles now. Fairly undistinguished career; he’s not on any of the powerful committees. Well, if this is our man, he’s done an admirable job of hiding his ambition.”

“We’re doing a search on his financial records right now, and I have a team following both him and Nelwyn. I wish we could simply bring Burnall in for an empathic scan and save ourselves the time and trouble, but if he’s not our man that would put the investigation right down the sewage pipe.”

Tal drummed her fingers on the table. “I could ask him to meet with me. Some sort of new program I’m implementing, of getting to know the Councilors I don’t ordinarily interact with. All it would take would be the right question.”

“That seems a bit transparent.”

“You’re right.” Tal drummed her fingers more rapidly, then stopped. “However…I just happen to have a producer on site who is quite famous within the State House for having the horns to challenge me. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for me to want to introduce her to a cross-section of Councilors.”

A slow smile spread across Razine’s face. “No, I don’t believe that would be out of the ordinary at all.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Tal hadn’t even touched her palm to the lock when the door opened. “Hi,” said Salomen. “I missed you.”

Stepping inside, Tal drew her into a warmron. “I missed you too,” she said. “But you were with me all morning.” Salomen was soft in her arms, her body draped over Tal’s in a way that bespoke mental exhaustion. “I’m sorry I had to leave you. It was damn hard feeling you hurting in here while I was in meetings out there.”

“It would have been harder for me to be in meetings, and you couldn’t possibly skip them all.” Salomen lifted her head, her face showing signs of a difficult morning. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Oh, tyrina.” Tal cupped her cheek. “It doesn’t require understanding. Family is important.”

Salomen dropped her head back to Tal’s shoulder, squeezed tightly, and stepped back. “So,” she said too briskly, “I want to know what it was that had you so pleased with yourself earlier this morning.”

“Interesting that you should ask.” Tal shed her jacket on the way to the kitchen, stopping in surprise when she saw the dining table. “You already ordered midmeal?”

“Not exactly.” Salomen led her to the table and lifted the lid of a serving bowl. “It’s not in my nature to sit around doing nothing, so…I made this.”

“Mmm.” Tal sniffed happily. “Fanten with sweetfruit—fantastic. I don’t suppose you have any horten soup to go with it.”

“You’re joking. Aren’t you tired of that yet?”

“Are you serious? I’ve never had anything like the soup you fed me on our date. I’d eat it every day if I could.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I had this brought from home.” Salomen lifted another lid, a very satisfied smile on her face.

“I think I love you,” said Tal. “Will you bond with me?”

“Already did. Got anything else to offer?”

Tal plucked the lid out of her hand, placed it carefully on the serving bowl, and spent a good five ticks showing Salomen what she had to offer. When she finally pulled back, Salomen’s eyes fluttered open slowly.

“I’ll take it,” she said.

Tal kissed her one more time for good measure before letting her go. “Who brought the soup?” she asked as they pulled out their chairs.

“Nikin. He called and asked if he could visit. I called Colonel Micah and he took care of it.” She took Tal’s bowl and began serving the soup as Tal poured water for both of them. “We met in one of the smaller conference rooms.”

Tal almost overfilled a cup while looking at Salomen in surprise. “Why didn’t you bring him here?”

“Because these are your quarters and I hadn’t asked you.” She put Tal’s bowl down and reached for her own, but Tal stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

“Tyrina,” she said, “these are your quarters too. Your good breeding is showing, but in this case it’s not necessary. The moment we bonded, my home became yours.”

“Is that how you feel about Hol-Opah? That you can bring anyone you want there without asking?”

“No,” admitted Tal. “But you cannot compare the two; Hol-Opah is as much your family’s as it is yours. My quarters are just mine.”

Salomen acknowledged the point with a nod. “Thank you. I’ll need some time before I’m comfortable with that concept, though. I don’t even know the procedure for getting access for a guest.”

“I guess we did skip over quite a bit.”

“Such as the entire pre-bond period? Yes, we did.”

“Then the first thing we should do is put you and Aldirk in a room together. He knows absolutely everything about protocol and procedure.” Seeing that Salomen was ready to eat, Tal took a sip of the soup and closed her eyes. She felt Salomen’s amusement even before hearing the laugh.

“I think I saw that same expression on your face several times last night,” Salomen observed with a lift of her eyebrow.

“Can I help it if I appreciate good food?”

“I hope not. I like that expression.”

Tal shook her head. “I’ll be sure to tell Aldirk that you need remedial training in appropriate conversational topics during State banquets.”

“He’ll have plenty of time for that while we’re sharing a transport.” Salomen sipped her own soup. “Damn, I’m going to be sorry when this is gone. It’s never the same after it’s been vacuum stored.”

“I wanted to ask you about that. Your trip, I mean. Do you still want to take Aldirk to Hol-Opah? Perhaps today isn’t the best day to discuss a bonding ceremony.”

“Today is a better day than ever. That’s one of the things Nikin and I talked about this morning. Our family needs something positive to focus on. Herot’s message doesn’t change that.”

“How are they doing?”

“Father is putting up a brave front, but Nikin says he’s just covering up. In a way, it was harder to know that Herot did this out of stupidity and anger than to think he did it intentionally. At least if it had been intentional it would mean he made this mess because he actually believed in something.” Salomen stopped with her spoon halfway to her mouth, looking at Tal in some alarm. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“I know.”

She nodded once. “So on the one hand, we’re all furious that he made such a dokshin pile of his life, and of our lives—and that he hurt you so badly—but on the other hand, we’re relieved that he’s finally snapped out of that self-pitying stage. He’s finally realized that he has a family, but it took losing us to make him realize it. And that hurts in so many ways—especially for Father, because he feels responsible. He thinks he should have been able to break through.”

Tal was certain that Shikal wasn’t the only one feeling that way, but she knew enough not to say so. “How is Nikin doing?”

“Better than Father. He’s more angry than anything else, and it’s easier on the heart to be angry than shattered. Right now he’s more concerned about the rest of us than about Herot. He says Herot planted this crop and he’ll have to harvest it, and the rest of us need to go on with living our lives. Herot will have to pay for his actions regardless of what the rest of us do. Suspending our lives while worrying about him will accomplish nothing.”

“Nikin sees very clearly.”

“He always has.”

“And Jaros?”

Salomen held her hand up in a not good gesture. “He doesn’t understand how any of this happened. He has no idea why anyone would want to hurt you, least of all Herot. So he’s floating off the ground about being your bondbrother, and simultaneously upset and bewildered about Herot saying he won’t come home. Nikin says he goes up and down like a ball at a competition. At least when we’re talking about the bonding ceremony, he’s up—so bringing Aldirk to Hol-Opah will help him a great deal. For a few hanticks, anyway.”

Tal curled her fingers around Salomen’s free hand. “Then I’ll look forward to hearing about Jaros’ impressions of Aldirk.”

“And vice versa,” said Salomen.

“Good luck with that. Aldirk is the definition of discretion. He doesn’t usually give personal opinions.”

They finished their soup in a comfortable silence, holding hands until Salomen needed hers to serve the fanten. “Oh,” she said, “you never finished explaining what I felt this morning. You just said it was interesting that I should ask.”

“Right. Sorry, I was too overcome by the horten soup.” Tal grinned at her and took her first bite of the fanten. “And now I’m in danger of being overcome by this. Salomen, this is terrific. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So, this morning?”

As they ate, Tal gave her an overview of the meeting with Colonel Razine. “Your presence here gives us the perfect pretext,” she concluded. “Would you be comfortable taking part in a little clandestine skimming with me?”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“I said skimming, not scanning. We’re not going to probe Burnall. We’re just going to ask him a question that will make him think about corruption in the task force. According to his file, he’s not a strong empath and he’s never been through any formal training, so I’m fairly certain he won’t be able to front well. If he really is our man, he’ll have strong emotions when thinking about the task force. Maybe smugness, maybe concern about being caught. Maybe even guilt; we could only hope. Those will be right at the surface, and easily detected in a legal skim.”

“And you trust me to be able to keep it to a skim and not go any deeper?”

“Of course. Why would I not?”

“Because I haven’t had much practice at it.”

“You’ve had enough. You’ve worked on it consistently for a moon.”

“Yes, but only with you.”

“Are you telling me you’ve never skimmed anyone besides me in the last moon? While restraining yourself from probing?” She saw the answer on Salomen’s face and added, “You have the control, Salomen. I’ve seen it growing like a thornstalk over this last moon. But more importantly, you have the discipline. I never had to teach you that; it’s always been a part of you. I just taught you how to apply it to your gift.”

A tiny smile appeared on Salomen’s face, a small reflection of the far larger shift taking place in her emotions. Though Tal hadn’t intended it, the request seemed to have been just what Salomen needed.

“Then I’ll be glad to help,” she said.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 43

 

 

Micah paused just outside Tal’s office, unconsciously straightening his spine before rapping his knuckles on the door frame. Tal was standing behind her desk, shuffling papers into piles with the haste of a person on her way out. She was clearly distracted; normally she called for him to enter long before he had an opportunity to knock. But he’d gotten the same notification she had, and knew precisely why her mind was elsewhere.

“Micah, hello, enter,” she said, barely looking up. “I was just going back to my quarters. Salomen is on her way.”

“I heard,” said Micah. “I was hoping you might have a few ticks before she gets back. It won’t take long.”

Her hands stilled as she raised her head to look at him directly. “For you, always,” she said, striding out from her desk to close the door behind him. “Sit with me?” She didn’t wait for the answer as she led him past the conference table to the more comfortable chairs beneath the bank of windows.

Micah took the seat beside her, trying his best to keep up a good front. Based on her body language, though, she already knew what he had to say.

“I’ve been trying to find the right time to do this,” he said, watching her carefully and seeing a subtle shift in her expression. Yes, she’d been waiting for it.

“When you were in the health center it was impossible,” he continued. “And yesterday I wanted you to have your time with Salomen. But I cannot keep delaying, as tempting as it is, and I know you understand why this is necessary.” With a deliberate movement he pulled his disruptor off its clip and laid it on the small table between their chairs. A moment later his wristcom followed. “I’m resigning my title as Chief Guardian due to failure to perform my duties.”

Whatever she’d been waiting for, it wasn’t this. He could actually feel her shock, which meant she wasn’t even trying to front it. “What?” she demanded. “Are you insane?”

As bad as he felt, her reaction made him smile. “I’m going to miss that attitude,” he said.

“Micah! What in Fahla’s name are you thinking? I’ve been wanting to discuss that night with you, yes, but not because I thought you failed. You did no such thing.”

He really hadn’t expected her to argue. Her silence on the matter was simply a courtesy, he’d thought; a way of allowing him to resign on his own terms rather than being summarily dismissed. He’d been agonizing about when to do it—too soon would have been just as inconvenient for her as not soon enough—but not how to do it. He had never considered that her silence might actually be an absence of judgment.

“The fact that you spent four nights in the health center is ample proof to the contrary,” he pointed out. “And if you hadn’t been as quick as you were, Salomen would be dead. You don’t call that a failure of security?”

She sat back in her chair, her earlier emotion now undetectable behind an impenetrable front. “I call it the result of a betrayal that none of us could have expected. You had the empathic net set for an appropriate distance to catch a sniper. You anticipated the possibility of a professional attack, and doubled my Guard after the demonstrations. You did everything right, so how can I hold you responsible for not considering that my own tyree’s brother might be handing out instructions on how to kill me?”

“Because I knew he was a danger,” said Micah. "He was arrogant and quite open in his dislike of you. He resented you and everything you stood for, and he especially resented your relationship with Salomen.”

“This I know,” she said calmly. “Now tell me how that added up to anything other than him taking a swing at me.”

“He also drank almost every night in town, and by the admission of his own family, his drinking buddies were the dregs of Granelle. Drunkenness, bad company, youthful indiscretion, anger and arrogance make a volatile combination. The signs were all there. I should have put them together.”

Tal shook her head. “You’re not convincing me. All I’ve heard so far is that Herot was likely to get himself in trouble, which we all knew. You haven’t explained how that translates to Herot getting me killed. I do not and cannot believe that you could have foreseen this. Failure to do the impossible is no failure at all.”

“I’m not here for a debate,” he said, and watched her eyes narrow. Deliberately softening his tone, he added, “Your words are no less than I would expect, and they do you credit as a compassionate friend. But in this you are not my friend. You are my Lancer, and your compassion can only result in tragedy. You know the truth. If I feel that I’ve failed, and if I feel that you would be better served by another Chief Guardian, then you cannot argue. My own conviction disqualifies me from serving you.”

She eyed him for a moment, unable to counter that statement. “Every single one of us has failed at some point or another,” she said, effortlessly changing direction. “That doesn’t end our careers. It’s what we do after the failure that counts. Are you telling me that you won’t live what you taught? You’re going to let this dictate your actions, instead of acting to overcome it?”

“I’m fifty-eight cycles,” he reminded her. “My days of striving to overcome are behind me. At this point in my life I should not be starting over. I should be taking this as a warning that I’ve reached the end of my abilities, and that I need to retire before any real damage is done on my shift.”

“Dokshin,” she snapped. “Total, unadulterated, steaming dokshin. If I’d suggested retirement one nineday ago you would have been horrified at the thought. If I’d suggested that you were nearing the end of your usefulness you would have set some sort of ambush for me to prove that you still have a few tricks up your sleeve. I’m not buying this one. Try selling me something else.”

His throat tightened. Fahla, but he loved this stubborn woman, and leaving her service was the last thing he wanted. But it had to be done, and she was making it so much worse. “Tal,” he said quietly, “can you not just let me go? Please don’t make me fight for this. It’s hard enough as it is.”

Her expression softened, but she shook her head. “I cannot. And not because of the security issue. Do you think that a Chief Guardian is all you are to me? You’re my advisor and my closest friend as well. You know that; you admitted as much when you said you didn’t resign yesterday because you wanted me to have some time with Salomen. You knew that your resignation would be personally upsetting for me, and you were right. I don’t want this, Micah.” She laid her hand on the table between them, palm up, inviting a connection. He looked at it, part of him not wanting to feel her, knowing it would make an already difficult task close to impossible. But to ignore such an invitation was a personal affront; he could not do that to her. Carefully he laid his hand on top of hers, closing his eyes as he sensed the very things he would have given anything to prevent. She was hurt, worried and afraid, and instinctively he tightened his grip.

“I can’t function nearly so well as a Lancer without you,” she said, “nor would I be as happy in my personal life. I depend on you for far more than security. If you resign, you will leave a hole that I cannot fill. Denying your services is detrimental to me, to this office and to Alsea by extension. You know this.”

“But you’ve already filled that hole,” he said. “You have Salomen now. She’s proven her worth and she certainly makes you happy; more so than I ever could as your friend.” The words were hardly out of his mouth when he felt a sharp edge cut through her emotions.

“I see. So now that I finally have two people in my life that I can trust completely, and be myself with, you think that’s one too many? Good of you to make that decision for me.”

They stared at each other in a shared pain. “I have always been honored to be your friend,” he said. “And I will gladly keep that particular title for as long as you want me. But I cannot keep this one.” With his free hand he took his card reader from its holder and slid it across the table toward her. “I’ve been training Gehrain with an eye toward his eventual promotion; he’s qualified to take my title. You could do no better for a Chief Guardian.”

She didn’t even glance at the file on display. “Yes I could, and I already am.”

“He advised me to move our empathic net further out.”

Tal had been about to say something else; now she closed her mouth. This she had not expected.

He nodded. “You say it was impossible to anticipate Herot’s betrayal, but in a way, Gehrain and I both did. We knew that if we were going to spend an entire moon in one place, we should account for the possibility of inside information on your movements reaching someone with malicious intent. I was more concerned with you being in the middle of fifty field workers; I thought if there was any danger, it would be closer in. So I focused inward. Gehrain said we should also focus further outward. But even with twenty Guards I couldn’t have set the net that far out and simultaneously maintained my watch closer in. I made a judgment call, but it was the wrong one. The only reason Salomen didn’t die is because you had the capacity to look further out than any of the rest of us.”

There was an uncomfortable silence while Tal processed this new bit of information. Finally she said, “You’ve trained him well.”

He inclined his head. “He already had good instincts. I’ve just worked with natural talent.”

“Nevertheless, he wouldn’t be as good as he is without your instruction. In time, I think Gehrain will be an excellent Chief Guardian. But not today.”

“Tal, I—”

“I want you to continue training him,” she interrupted. “With the understanding that he’s in line for a promotion when you retire from active service. But I’m not comfortable with Gehrain in that role just yet. Give me a compromise. Stay in my service for a while longer while you finish Gehrain’s training. Start delegating some of your duties to him. I’ll have the benefit of two sharp warriors looking after my security, and you’ll have more free time for your new duties.”

“I’m sensing a trap,” he said. “What new duties?”

“Chief Counselor to the Bondlancer.”

“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “No, no, no. I don’t think—”

“She needs you, Micah.”

That stopped him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s here in the State House with absolutely no idea of what it means to be a Bondlancer. She’s here because of a one-moon challenge that just turned into a lifetime, and I haven’t prepared her. No one has. She had to call you today to get clearance for Nikin’s visit; how appalling is that? She shouldn’t be feeling like a guest; she’s the second highest title on Alsea—or will be, once we hold our bonding ceremony. And she needs to know a lot more about that. She needs a guide.”

Tal was right, of course. When Salomen had called him that morning, he’d been ashamed that she’d found it necessary. In the chaos of the assassination attempt and its aftermath, no one had remembered that Salomen didn’t have State House protocols etched in her brain like the rest of them. And Salomen had never brought it up.

“Wouldn’t Aldirk be a better choice?” he asked, even though the very thought made him cringe.

“Aldirk is my Chief Counselor. I did ask him to start working with Salomen, but that can’t be a permanent solution. He doesn’t have time and I don’t think he and Salomen will mix all that well. He’s a snob, and if I know her, she’s probably already put him in his place once or twice today.”

“She probably has.” Micah couldn’t help a smile as he envisioned the scene. “I’d have paid to see that.”

“And I don’t mean that you should be taking over the organizational aspects,” she continued. “We’ll bring a scholar in for that. But Salomen needs someone she can trust, someone she likes, someone she can find comfort in while she’s learning a whole new life. And someone who can protect her. That’s you.”

“Tal…” Suddenly he felt very tired. “How can you say that when I’ve already failed you once?”

“Because I still trust you with my life. More importantly, I trust you with her life.” She raised her eyebrows, letting that sink in before adding, “If you force me to accept your resignation, fine, but give me this much. Don’t make me do without you now; of all the times you could leave me, this is the worst. Stay with me, train Gehrain, advise Salomen, and plan your retirement with a little more forethought. And if you don’t trust yourself, then trust your backup. Gehrain will make an excellent Head Guardian of both Salomen’s Guard and mine. You can work around this, Micah. Walking away hurts both me and Salomen; please don’t do it.”

She was sincere; their palm touch made fronting impossible. He could hardly believe that she still trusted him that much, but it was there in the emotions that she was freely sharing. He wanted to tell her no, to protect her from his limitations, to do the right thing…but her counteroffer was seductive, and he didn’t seem to have enough strength to fight it. Perhaps he’d never had that much strength to begin with; Fahla knew he didn’t want to leave. What if he could work around his limitations? Then he could stay in her service. He could still be of use. And he could help guide Salomen through the pit of zalrens she was now living in; keep her from becoming a tool to those who would attempt to use her naiveté. Salomen was intelligent and tough; she’d soon understand the machinations that were always taking place beneath the surface, but in the meantime she needed advice and protection. And those were things he could provide.

“If I delegate some of my duties to Gehrain,” he said slowly, “I’m going to need a new Lead Guard for you.”

Tal made a show of thinking about it, but their touch made it impossible for her to hide her relief. “There’s no one qualified for that position in my Guard yet. We’ll have to look outside.”

“Agreed. And I already have.” He shrugged at her expression. “I was planning to retire. I had to find someone to take Gehrain’s place anyway.”

“Who did you find?”

He tapped his card reader to activate the second file in the queue. “I looked up her record after our trip to the pit. She has the experience and the leadership qualities. And you liked her, which is a recommendation all by itself.”

Tal smiled as she read the file. “But can she run?”

“Yes, she can. And her empathic rating is slightly higher than Gehrain’s.”

She thumbed the card reader and read to the end before looking up with a raised eyebrow. “Damn. She certainly does have the qualifications. I think she’d fit in very well; you have my approval to promote her.” Squeezing his hand, she asked, “Do we have a deal?”

After a slight hesitation, he nodded. “We have a deal.”

“Good.” They released their palm touch and clasped forearms to close the negotiation. “Thank you, Micah. And I want to be there when you give Gehrain his promotion.”

“That’s a given.” He released her arm. “I just hope you won’t live to regret this.”

“I know I won’t,” she said firmly. “Now if you’ll tell Guard Vellmar she’s just received a promotion and a transfer, I’ll tell Salomen about her new Counselor. She’ll be thrilled.”

“She’s been with Aldirk all afternoon; she’d be thrilled if you assigned her a talking grainbird.”

“Oh, I think I made a better deal than that.” Tal pushed the disruptor and wristcom to his side of the table. “I assigned her the one man in all of Blacksun that she likes and trusts. She respects you, Micah.”

He clipped the disruptor to his belt and picked up the wristcom. “From Salomen Opah, that means something.”

“Yes, it does.”

“It means something from you, too.” He settled the wristcom in place and met her eyes. “I’ll do my best to earn what you’re giving me.”

“I expect nothing less. But it’s not my gift you need to earn. It’s yours.”

He nodded, appreciating her quiet understanding. She caught his arm as he began to rise, pinning him with an intense blue gaze.

“Fahla is the only perfect one among us,” she said. “Everyone else makes mistakes. And everyone else must learn to forgive.”

Sometimes, he thought, Tal showed an innate wisdom that seemed to have been conferred at birth. Usually he saw her father in her, but at moments like these she reminded him very much of her mother.

“True,” he agreed. “But not all mistakes are equal, nor do they have equal results. My mistakes carry greater consequences both because you gave me greater responsibility, and because I accepted it. And I accept this new responsibility you offer, but with great care. There is a limit to forgiveness.”

He rose and saluted her, bid her good night, and left.

 

 

-----

 

 

“He did what?”

“My reaction exactly.” Tal settled herself more comfortably on the wide seat next to Salomen. “I thought I was prepared for a serious talk, but I certainly wasn’t ready for that one.”

“You refused, of course.”

“Not quite.” Fahla, but she was tired. The meeting with Micah had taken a toll, and she was grateful for the refuge waiting for her in Salomen’s arms. She’d been scooped into a warmron almost before the door shut behind her, and it had taken her half a tick to find the strength to let go.

Salomen looked at her with narrowed eyes. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t have right of refusal. Micah can leave my service any time if he feels it’s best; you know that from studying the oath ceremony. Service is a gift, not a contract. So I had to convince him that it wasn’t best for me…or for you. And it wasn’t easy, believe me.”

“But you did talk him out of it,” Salomen said with relief. “Wait. Where exactly do I come into this?”

“How did you get along with Aldirk today?” asked Tal, who knew the answer perfectly well.

Salomen didn’t miss a beat; she was used to these sorts of non sequiturs from their training. “He has a severe case of scholar caste superiority complex. If we have to spend much more time together, one of us is going to get his ego pruned. And it won’t be me. What does that have to do with Colonel Micah?”

“How would you like to work with Micah instead of Aldirk?”

Salomen’s eyes widened. “You’re making him my Chief Guardian?”

“No, there’s only one Chief Guardian, and that’s still Micah, thank Fahla. Gehrain is being promoted to Head Guardian of both Guard units—yours and mine—which means he’ll be directly supervising the two Lead Guards. Eventually he’ll replace Micah, but I’m hoping that will be a long, long time from now. The best part is that Micah will now be working with you on a daily basis, helping you learn about the title you’ll be accepting at our bonding ceremony. He’ll teach you everything you need to know about being a Bondlancer. Well, not quite everything,” she amended. “We’ll still need Aldirk for a few lessons. Try not to prune him down too far.”

She could almost see the wheels turning in that dark head as Salomen considered her answer.

“I thought he was trying to retire. Isn’t all this more work than he was doing before?”

Tal allowed a slow smile to cross her face, and Salomen laughed. “Poor Colonel Micah! Do you think he’s realized what you did to him yet?”

“He knew what I was doing when I was doing it,” said Tal, her amusement abruptly gone. “That was a close call, Salomen. I could have lost him today. I still might.”

Salomen picked up her hand and threaded their fingers together. “I don’t know what happened, but I know what I’m feeling from you. Will it help to talk about it?”

Tal rested her head on the cushioned chairback, taking a moment just to be still. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “This would be so much harder without you.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” Salomen’s voice was soft. “I was thinking about that on the flight from Hol-Opah. I’m never eager to leave my holding, Andira, but I was happy to fly out today. Hol-Opah isn’t the same without you. And I have to admit, I’m already getting used to these nice, spacious quarters.”

Tal smiled and squeezed her hand in lieu of a verbal answer. They sat in silence for a tick or two, absorbing the simple pleasure of each other’s presence.

“He thinks he failed,” said Tal. “No, he doesn’t think that. He’s certain of it, and he won’t see it any other way. Especially not from me.”

“Why not from you?”

“Because I’m the one who was hurt.” Tal met her eyes. “It’s not the assassination attempt itself that’s caused this. It’s the fact that I was hurt, and he couldn’t take it away. He burned himself trying, but it wasn’t enough. And he can’t forgive himself for that. He wouldn’t accept absolution from you either, and for the same reason. You almost died and he wasn’t able to prevent it.”

Salomen nodded thoughtfully. “That explains what I felt while we were in the health center. I kept getting echoes of anger from him when the healers worked on his hands.”

“As if he didn’t deserve the care?” Come to think of it, Tal had felt that on her last two days as well, but she hadn’t made the association between the emotion and the timing of it.

“That might be it,” said Salomen. “That poor man. Why are you warriors so hard on yourselves? There was nothing more he could have done.”

“He thinks there was. He’s looking back with perfect clarity, now that everything has played out, and thinking he should have made some different decisions about how to deploy the Guards. Even though the decision he did make was the most reasonable one given what he knew at the time.”

“Anybody can make perfect decisions in hindsight. That’s a sure path to misery. I thought Colonel Micah had more wisdom than that.”

Tal sighed. “Usually he does. But this isn’t a usual problem. He’s looking at an effect and seeing only one cause. And when it comes to my security—and now yours as well—there is only success and failure, and nothing in between.”

“But he didn’t fail. You’ve told him that.”

“It doesn’t matter. Micah reminded me that if he thinks he failed, I cannot argue it. And he’s right. It’s one of the first things we all learn in training, that failure starts in the mind. Visualize your success and achieve it; focus on your failure and sink. The question of whether or not he failed is moot; I had to take it off the negotiation table and work from there.”

“So what comes after failure?”

“Redemption. And I’m praying he finds it.”

“That sounds like there’s a possibility he won’t.”

“There is. And that’s what frightens me. Micah has given himself a second chance by accepting my proposal and staying in my service. But it’s a self-imposed probation. He’ll be judging himself exceptionally harshly now, and if anything happens that he can take even partial blame for, it won’t be good. I really, really need for things to be quiet for a while.” Tal knew better than to hope nothing would ever happen again; it would. She just hoped it would wait for a good long time, until Micah had rebuilt his sense of worth.

Salomen was watching her with concern. “You really are afraid. I think I’m missing some details. What would be so terrible if Micah decides he’s failed his probation? Can’t he just retire from active service?”

“He could, but he’s not your average warrior. He’s a career field warrior, still heading up a unit at an age when most of his contemporaries have been behind a desk for ten cycles. His title and caste are his entire identity. Micah never bonded; he has no family of his own. I think he adopted me instead; we’ve never been simply instructor and student, or Lancer and Guard. There has always been a deeper connection. So retirement for him wouldn’t be a matter of leaving a position in order to enjoy something else, especially if it was due to failure of performance. It would mean giving up his chosen family, his honor, and all his sense of self-worth.” She met Salomen’s eyes. “I’ve attended funeral pyres for warriors who thought they’d lost everything and had nothing more to offer. I’ll be damned if I’m attending Micah’s.”

She wasn’t sure what she expected; perhaps a denial of the possibility, or an argument against it. Salomen wasn’t a warrior, and no one outside their culture could really understand how crushing the loss of honor or self-worth could be. She’d heard Councilors from other castes commenting on some of the funerals she’d attended. What a waste, was the usual comment. Only a warrior would make an early Return over that. More than once she’d had to stop herself from saying something she’d regret later, but it was never easy.

“Then we’ll have to make sure he cannot lose it all,” said Salomen.

“I wish it were that easy.”

“Part of it is. We may not be able to directly help him with his honor or sense of self-worth, but we can offer him a family that would still be there even if he retired.”

“Are you talking about us?” Tal shook her head. “It’s not the same. Micah sees us every day now because of his duties. Without that, he’d be an outsider. Certainly not through anything we would say or do, but because of his own perceptions. The connection wouldn’t be there.”

“It would be if we made it a different connection.” The half-smile on Salomen’s face would have given her away even without their empathic link. Tal watched her, trying to figure out what she had in mind.

“All right,” she said. “I give up. You’ve got something up your sleeve; let’s see it.”

The smile grew broader; Salomen was quite pleased with herself. “If Micah has adopted you, that makes him the only elder family member you’re currently in touch with. And I need an elder to petition for inclusion into your family. I think you and I should petition him.”

Tal stared at her. “You’re serious?”

“You know I am.”

Yes, she did, but she still couldn’t quite believe it. What Salomen was proposing was highly unorthodox, but…

“That could work,” she said.

Salomen nodded. “I’ve only known him for a moon, but that’s long enough to see what kind of a man he is, and just how special you are to him. I’d be honored if he would accept me. And I would have no difficulty in petitioning him, because I’ve seen for myself that he’s family to you. There’s no rule that says the family connection must be by blood.”

“No, there’s not.” Tal was thinking furiously. Would Micah accept it? Or would he see it as a well-meaning ploy? “We cannot petition him now,” she decided. “He’ll know why we’re doing it. We need to wait a few ninedays. And it’s to our benefit that he’ll be working directly with you; that will help him build his own relationship with you and—”

“Stop that,” said Salomen sternly. “Listen to me very carefully.”

“I’m listening.” Tal stifled a smile at her fierce expression.

“Family is sacred. It is the thread that holds our entire world together. I would never use it as part of a strategy, so get that out of your head. Yes, it might help Colonel Micah, and I hope it will, but even if it were the only thing between him and an early Return, I would not petition him if I did not believe he truly is your family. This is a real proposal, not a trick.”

Suddenly ashamed, Tal said, “I didn’t mean to imply that it was. I was just—”

“Working out a strategy,” Salomen finished. “Don’t. I know that’s part of your nature, but you cannot kneel before Colonel Micah with that on your mind. It must come from your heart, or it won’t work.”

Tal shifted her gaze to the window, watching the rain slowly streaking down the glass. “He mentioned you when he was trying to convince me that I didn’t need him anymore. He said you had already filled the hole he might leave by retiring. I couldn’t believe how much that hurt—the idea of him stepping aside because I had you.” A warm hand enclosed hers, and she looked into Salomen’s eyes. “He is my family. He has been for as long as I can remember; we just never spoke about it openly. I’ve been so happy these last few ninedays, but not because I have you instead of Micah. It’s because I have you in addition to him…and the rest of your family, too.”

“Most of it, at least,” said Salomen.

Tal squeezed her hand; there was little she could say to that. “I can petition Micah with a clear heart. And I’m grateful that you can as well. It’s a wonderful idea, tyrina.”

“It will be my pleasure, believe me.” Salomen snuggled into her, and Tal kissed the top of her head.

“When would you like to petition him?” she asked.

“I think we should wait a few days,” said Salomen. “Otherwise he might think he knows why we’re doing it.”

Tal laughed. “Excellent advice.”

They relaxed on the seat, both watching the rain stream down the windows.

“I love that sight,” said Salomen quietly.

“Do you? I only love it when I know I don’t have to go out in it.”

“I love it because it means I’m free for a whole moon. It means harvest is over and I can focus on other things. And it means the autumn feast.”

Tal had nearly forgotten about that. “Have you set a date?” Fahla, she hoped she would be able to schedule it in. Her calendar was tight this moon due to her absence the previous moon.

“Don’t worry, I already talked to Aldirk. He found a free afternoon.”

“You scheduled your feast around my obligations?”

“Yes, I did. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Ah…” Tal hesitated as Salomen lifted her head and looked at her. “No, of course not. I’ll be delighted to attend, and I’ll try to forget that a feast honoring your field workers has been planned around my calendar.”

“You were a field worker too,” Salomen pointed out. “And you’re my bondmate. But you’re not quite used to thinking of yourself as part of Hol-Opah, I see.”

“Not yet,” Tal admitted.

“Don’t worry; we’re even. I’m not quite used to thinking of myself as a Bondlancer, either.”

There was another long pause as they watched the rain.

“I really do like the sound of that,” said Tal eventually.

“The rain?”

“No. ‘Bondlancer.’ It’s a lovely word, don’t you think?”

“I’ll let you know in two moons.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 44

 

 

It was two days before Tal and Salomen could meet with Councilor Burnall. In the meantime, they’d met with Councilors from four other castes, just to throw off suspicion. Tal had thoroughly enjoyed watching Salomen put the Councilors at ease, asking them questions about their work in the State House and listening with an air of active interest that invariably resulted in a final invitation for her to “please call if there is anything else you wish to know.”

“I must congratulate Micah on his instruction,” said Tal teasingly, once Councilor Treslen from the builder caste had shut the door behind him. “You already know how to play the role of Bondlancer. They’re eating out of your hand.”

“They’re meeting me with you sitting beside me,” Salomen pointed out. “It would hardly be to their benefit to treat me rudely.”

“Believe me, if they wanted to be rude, my presence wouldn’t stop them. There are ways to do it while appearing polite and respectful, and some of our Councilors have that down to a fine art.”

“And you think that’s a skill limited to Councilors? Come to a Producer Caste meeting in Granelle sometime. You politicians may have invented the technique, but rural producers perfected it.”

Tal didn’t doubt it. “I suppose Alseans are Alseans the world over.”

“Good and bad,” agreed Salomen. “So far I’ve seen a lot of good here.” The smile she gave Tal told her exactly where she thought most of the good sat, and for the next several ticks they managed to forget why they were there. The presence approaching Tal’s office door was an unwelcome reminder.

“Hold that thought until tonight,” said Tal, reluctantly pulling away. Then, more loudly: “Enter!”

The door slid open, admitting Councilor Burnall. He was an average man in both height and appearance, and unable to completely front his nervousness at being asked to a private audience with the Lancer. Though Tal had met with him several times in the past, it had always been in group meetings with other warrior Councilors. He had not attained a high enough rank to be among those she met with more regularly.

“Lancer Tal,” he said, standing just inside the doorway and delivering a crisp salute. “This is an honor.”

“Well met, Councilor Burnall.” Tal indicated Salomen, who sat next to her at the conference table. “I would like to introduce Raiz Salomen Opah. Salomen, this is Councilor Tehron Burnall of the warrior caste.”

Burnall walked up to the conference table and gave Salomen a short bow. “Well met, Raiz Opah.”

“Councilor Burnall, a pleasure,” said Salomen, reaching across the table for a short palm touch. “Please, sit with us.”

Burnall sat a little stiffly. “I’m honored to meet you.” A quick smile crossed his face as he added, “I’m honored to meet anyone who directly challenged the Lancer.”

“And look where it got me,” said Salomen. “An entire moon of meetings. So much for the glamour of rank.”

Burnall visibly relaxed at her response, and Tal watched in fascination as Salomen worked her magic once again. She could be extremely charming when she wished, and after yesterday’s meetings Tal had teased her about the vast difference between how she behaved now and how she’d acted in their delegate meetings. Salomen had given her an arch look and commented that her behavior was entirely reactive: if treated courteously, she responded in kind; if treated with arrogance and condescension, well, Tal had seen the results of that. Such an insult could not be allowed to stand, and Tal had pounced on her, instigating a largely sleepless night that had left them both a little stiff this morning.

With some effort, Tal pulled her thoughts away from her pleasant memories and focused on the present. For half a hantick Salomen asked questions on several topics and listened keenly to the answers, creating such a casual atmosphere that even though she was expecting it, Tal was still surprised when the real question came. Salomen worked it in after a discussion of how the honor system of the warrior caste sometimes clashed with beliefs of other castes in lawmaking sessions.

“As a producer, I’ve had similar conflicts with merchants whose values don’t always match mine,” she said. “So I’ve been quite interested in the anti-corruption task force. I know you’re not on the force, Councilor, but I wonder what your opinion is regarding what looks to me like a potential disaster in the making. How do the merchants and warriors work together when their value systems are so different? If half the members value honor and the other half value profit, isn’t there a potential for corruption within the task force itself?”

Burnall shot an uncomfortable glance at Tal, who nodded encouragingly. “We’re in a private conversation, Councilor; there’s no need for politicking here. Raiz Opah’s opinion about a potential disaster is her own, but I’d be interested in your thoughts on this as well.”

Shifting his gaze back to Salomen, Burnell said, “It’s my understanding that the merchants on the task force were chosen for their known integrity. Corruption hurts the merchant caste more than almost any other, I think, because it’s already expected of them. They have to work harder to achieve the same level of respect that the other castes have by default. So most of the merchants on the task force are just as committed as the warriors to stamping out any corruption that they can.” He radiated nervousness as he continued, “That said, I believe your question is very perceptive, Raiz Opah. There is potential. One of my own warriors is on the force, and he tells me he’s heard a few rumors about favors being exchanged. But is it possible to completely avoid dishonor in a situation of this type? I don’t believe so. And I believe that the task force is doing an excellent job overall. It’s better to have the force, with some minor issues inside it, than not have it at all.”

While he was speaking, Tal had been skimming him with an intensity that was just barely this side of a probe. She could not detect anything approaching what they were looking for, and knew from her link with Salomen that she hadn’t felt anything either. Burnall was not their man.

On the other hand, he had just given them the perfect justification for bringing in the next best thing.

“I agree,” she said. “Given Alsean nature, some internal corruption was probably unavoidable, and the accomplishments of the force overshadow it. However, I would be very interested in hearing about these rumors you report. Which of your warriors is on the force?”

“His name is Vass Nelwyn. He’s an honorable warrior, Lancer Tal. He only spoke of these rumors to express his distaste for the possibility. I’m certain he would be happy to speak with you, though his information may not be of much help. Rumors are rarely accurate.”

“But sometimes they are. And the information from someone on the ground level is often of better value to me than the reports I get from my normal sources. Please instruct Kiral Nelwyn to report to Chief Counselor Aldirk,” she said, using the general honorific for warriors who served neither in the Guards nor the Mariners. “He will schedule a meeting.”

“Yes, my Lancer.” Burnall showed no unease at the prospect, but Tal suspected the order would unsettle Nelwyn to the extreme.

“Thank you,” she said, then looked at Salomen. “Was there anything else you wished to ask Councilor Burnall?”

“Of course,” said Salomen with a smile. “I’ve been studying the Truth and the Path these last few days, Councilor, and I wonder if you might give me your thoughts on a few of the teachings.”

“With pleasure, though my thoughts are just that. The Truth and the Path can be interpreted in different ways, so my opinions may vary from those of other warriors.”

“I’m counting on it,” said Salomen, and led Burnall into a lively discussion of the warrior code that Tal found herself drawn into in spite of the original purpose of their meeting. By the time Burnall made his departure, Tal quite liked him. Too bad he had poor taste in the warriors he chose to serve him.

“Not what you’d hoped for,” said Salomen when the door closed behind their guest.

“Actually, I’d have been sorry if Burnall turned out to be our traitor,” said Tal. “And this was more profitable than you think. You were perfect, tyrina.” She kissed Salomen quickly, then got up and moved to her desk. Activating the encrypted channel on her vidcom system, she put a call through to Colonel Razine. It was picked up immediately; the Colonel had been waiting.

“It’s not him,” Tal told her without preamble. “But he volunteered the information that Vass Nelwyn had told him of ‘rumors’ of corruption in the task force. I asked to speak with Nelwyn and Burnall seemed to think he’d be happy to assist.”

Colonel Razine smiled grimly. “Somehow I don’t think Nelwyn will be nearly so happy as Burnall thinks.”

“Neither do I. Burnall should be passing on the instruction soon.”

“Then we’ll hope that Nelwyn will be nervous enough to seek advice. Both his personal and his office vidcom units have redirects installed. If he contacts anyone, we’ll be watching.”

“Good. Let me know as soon as you hear anything.”

“Of course, Lancer Tal.” Her expression shifted. “Is Raiz Opah still with you?”

“Yes, she is. Do you wish to speak with her?”

Salomen was already walking over as Razine said, “Yes; I have an update regarding her brother.”

“What is it?” asked Salomen, standing next to Tal’s chair. Though her voice was calm, the tension hummed through their empathic link. Tal put a hand on her back in silent support.

“We located a witness at the public transport station in Napoline. She commutes through the station on a regular basis, and recognized the footage of Herot. She remembered him because she thought it odd that someone so dirty and unkempt would be walking with two well-dressed warriors. At first she thought they were escorting him out, but he was smiling.”

“What?” said Salomen. “Herot doesn’t know any warriors! I mean, other than Lancer Tal and her Guards.”

“Are you certain of that?”

Salomen’s bearing slumped slightly. “I’m not certain of anything anymore, Colonel Razine.”

“At least this moves us one step forward,” said Razine. “Before we only suspected that Herot had help. Now we know it. We have descriptions of the two warriors and an entire team of investigators looking for them. We’ll find your brother, Raiz Opah.”

Salomen gave her a tiny nod. “Thank you, Colonel.”

“Was there anything else?” asked Tal.

“One more detail that you may find interesting. The warriors wore the uniform of Lancer’s Guards. Someone was planning ahead on this; they wanted to make sure no one asked them any questions.”

“What is he doing?” asked Salomen, looking from the screen to Tal. “That sounds as if the whole thing was prearranged. But Herot’s message was real; he didn’t plan any of this.”

“With respect,” said Razine, “we can no longer accept that as fact. It’s possible the message was meant to raise your sympathies and possibly influence the Lancer through you.”

“Herot is not that good an actor!”

“At this point in the investigation, we cannot assume anything. The truth will only be known when we can subject Herot Opah to an empathic scan.”

Tal felt Salomen’s wince; Razine’s words were a forceful reminder that no matter what happened, Herot was considered a criminal and would be taken into custody the moment he was found.

“Good work, Colonel,” she said. “This puts us in a far better position. Two Lancer’s Guards can’t have strolled through that station unnoticed.”

“Agreed. It will be easier to find people who saw the warriors than people who saw Herot. That may have been a mistake on the part of whoever planned this.”

“I hope so. Keep me apprised of any change, no matter the time.”

“Yes, my Lancer.” Razine nodded a moment before the screen went blank. Tal stood up and reached out, only to let her arm drop as Salomen deliberately turned away and walked to the window, where she crossed her arms over her chest and stared wordlessly at the rain-shrouded city.

Tal stepped up next to her, keeping her hands to herself while she monitored Salomen’s churning emotions. The air was thick with tension and silence, but Tal would not be the first to break it.

“It’s hard to hear you say that.” Salomen didn’t take her eyes off the view. “Congratulating Colonel Razine on hunting down my brother.”

“Colonel Razine is doing her job,” said Tal. “And no matter what his final intentions, Herot betrayed a trust. I’m sorry, tyrina, but you know that’s true.”

“I have no idea what’s true. The only thing I know for sure is that Herot won’t be coming home.”

Tal carefully wrapped an arm around her waist, feeling the stiff bearing give way slightly. “If his message was real, he’ll be coming home. Not right away, but he will. And I’ll do what I can to help.”

With a sigh, Salomen turned and burrowed in for a warmron. “I’m sorry too. I know this is difficult for you as well.”

“You have a right to your feelings,” said Tal, grateful for the contact. “I understand.”

“I wish I did. They’re shifting from one moment to the next. And who in Fahla’s name are those warriors? Does Herot have a secret life that none of us ever knew about? Is he even who I thought he was?”

Tal held her silently. Two of those questions were unanswerable with their current information, but the third had evoked a suspicion that she was not about to share.

Warriors as a caste did not take kindly to assassination attempts on their highest ranked member. It was entirely possible that those two warriors were not there to help Herot at all.

And if that was the case, Tal had a much bigger problem on her hands.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 45

 

 

“That is not good news,” said Micah.

“I know.” Tal looked at him from across the table, the stress evident in her face. “I didn’t even think to put out a message, Micah. It never occurred to me, and now—”

“Don’t blame yourself. Nothing has happened yet, that we know of. There’s no sense in borrowing trouble if you don’t need to.” He’d been surprised by Tal’s visit to his quarters; by this time of evening he’d expected her to be enjoying Salomen’s company, not his. But the moment she’d voiced her suspicions he understood the urgency. “You’ve sent the message now?”

“Yes, but it’s been eight days. Eight days, Micah! If Herot turns up dead, I have no defense. Not a believable one, anyway.”

“Four of those days were spent in the health center,” he pointed out, but his heart was sinking. He’d failed her yet again. She’d been in no condition to be worrying about a vengeance killing; it was his responsibility to think for her when she could not. Instead, he’d spent the time worrying about her, Salomen, the Opah family, and himself. So no message had gone out to the warrior caste; no directive from the Lancer warning against unauthorized action. And for any warrior bent on avenging the Lancer’s honor, a lack of orders to the contrary was tantamount to permission. Such a killing would have been legal had Tal died in the attack. But since she had not, the rules were very different. Tal herself would be held partially responsible for Herot’s death, and the ramifications to her career were enormous.

“Yes, and the other four were spent at the State House in full health and full visibility,” she said. “I even had my first run yesterday morning. I don’t think the ‘new lover’ excuse will fly in the face of a public outcry. And given the fact that I’ve only just recovered public opinion after the economist debacle, I think my chances of surviving Herot’s death are pretty small. Even if I had put out a directive, I’d lose a lot of respect for not being able to control my caste. The fact that I failed to send that message only makes it worse.” She put her head in her hands. “Shek, shek, shek! I could lose my title and Salomen, all at the same time.”

“Nothing has happened yet. And it may not. The important thing is that you’ve sent the message now.”

“No, the important thing is that we shekking find Herot! There must be a way. I can’t afford to wait any longer.” She gave a sudden short laugh. “What an irony. When you first told me about Herot’s involvement, I really wanted to kill him myself. And now everything depends on him being alive.”

“I’m sorry,” Micah began, but Tal held up a hand.

“Don’t you even start with that. I do not want to hear it. Gehrain didn’t think about it either, so don’t try to convince me that this is one more failure on your part. We all created this pile of dokshin.” Her spine slumped as she added, “And now I have to go back to my quarters and explain to Salomen why I’m so upset. She’s already upset herself, just feeling it.”

“Tal,” said Micah, “even if the worst happens, you will not lose Salomen. She’ll understand. She won’t judge you.”

“No, she won’t. But every time she looks at me she’ll know I’m at least partially at fault. And that will change everything.”

Not knowing what else to do, Micah raised his glass. As Tal frowned in confusion, he said, “Then let’s drink a toast to Herot’s vibrant health. He’s the only man I know who’s an even bigger pain in the backside dead than alive.”

Tal’s frown turned into a wry half-smile. She lifted her glass as well and said, “True words, Micah. May Fahla witness them.” They drank their glasses dry and smacked them back on the table, and when their eyes met he could see that some of her normal fight had returned. “I needed that,” she said. “Damn him anyway.” She pushed herself out of her chair and turned toward the door. “I’m open to suggestions, Micah. Anything at all.” With a final nod she was gone, and Micah was left staring at his bottle of spirits. He poured a fresh glass and held it up, peering into the dark green depths as if the answers might appear there.

“Where are you, you little fantenshekken?” he murmured.

 

 

-----

 

 

Newly promoted Lead Guard Fiana Vellmar dropped her travel bag on the floor of her assigned housing and looked around with an appreciative smile. “Nice,” she said.

“Bigger than your old quarters, eh?” Head Guardian Gehrain, smiled back. “The pay is better, too.”

“Who cares about the pay; I’m just happy to have somewhere to spend it. Koneza isn’t exactly a shopping metropolis.” She poked her head into the bedroom. Fahla on a funstick, it was huge! Curious, she trotted toward the bathroom. “So, are your new quarters even bigger than these?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” he said from the living room. “But take good care of this unit, all right? I have a special attachment to it.”

“How long were you here?” she called. Goddess above, the bathroom was big enough for herself and two or three friends.

“Six cycles.”

She walked back into the living room and eyed him with increased respect. “Then you’ve been with the Lancer since her ascension.”

He nodded. “I joined her Guard eight cycles ago and made Lead Guard right after her ascension.”

“I can’t imagine being in one place that long.” She felt a twinge of envy; his career had been very different from hers.

“Show her loyalty and respect, do your job well, and you’ll be here as long as you want to. Lancer Tal keeps good warriors forever. But she has no patience at all for warriors who don’t live up to her expectations, so make sure you keep discipline tight.”

“That won’t be a problem. Discipline was almost the only thing that stood between my unit and utter boredom at the pit. We used to pray to Fahla for an escapee, just so we could have a little excitement.”

“I believe it.” He chuckled. “That’s not exactly a prime action spot, but it’s high prestige. And your post there is what brought you to the Lancer’s attention.”

“I know.” She still couldn’t believe her luck. “When she stopped in front of me and told me to explain my sword grip, I had just one thought in my head.”

“What was that?”

“Don’t shek this up.”

He laughed. “You really impressed her. She mentioned on the flight home that she wished she could have seen you do it a second time.”

Vellmar couldn’t help but feel a little proud at that. “I’ll be happy to show her any time she asks. Fahla, I’d be happy to train her if she’s interested.” For a moment she entertained a dizzying fantasy of actually teaching the Lancer something, but sternly told herself to get realistic.

“She might be,” said Gehrain, promptly kicking her fantasy back into full flight. “She’s better than any of the rest of us with throwing blades; I can easily see her wanting to expand into something bigger. Do you spar with that sword as well, or just throw it?”

“I’m pretty good at sparring,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes. “Pretty good, eh?”

“Mm hm. I’ve had a few rounds here and there.” She met his gaze with all the innocence she could muster, but he grinned and shook his head.

“Your front is perfect, Vellmar, but your confidence is leaking out through your skin. If you’re just ‘pretty good’ then I’m Fahla’s latest lover.”

“What’s she like in bed?” she asked, and they both broke up laughing. “My mother trained me in blade handling,” she added when they’d caught their breath. “Anything sharp, she loved. It was either learn it or lose body parts.”

He looked her over in frank appraisal. “Everything still seems to be attached, so I’d guess you learned.”

“Eyes elsewhere, Gehrain. I’m not your type.”

He smiled. “No, you’re not. I like them less curvy.”

“Perfect.” The best of all possible situations, she thought. It was always easier when you could get the sexual issues out of the way right from the start.

“And even if you were my type,” he continued, “I’m taken.”

“Is he local?”

He nodded. “A crafter. Actually, I was heading to his house as soon as I got you settled in.”

“Consider me settled,” she said, waving him off. “Go see your lover.”

“Are you sure? There’s a lot we need to discuss yet.”

“Does any of it need to be discussed tonight, or can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Oh…” He pretended to think, then flashed her a smile. “I suppose it can wait, actually.”

“In that case—” She stopped and stared over his shoulder. “Lancer Tal!” Stiffening, she thumped her fists to her chest and bowed her head.

Gehrain turned to face the figure in the doorway. “Lancer,” he said more calmly. To Vellmar’s surprise, he did not offer a salute.

“Gehrain.” The Lancer flicked her eyes to Vellmar. “Welcome to Blacksun, Lead Guard,” she said. “And congratulations on your promotion.” She made no attempt to cross the threshold, and Vellmar’s initial excitement faded as she saw the tension in the Lancer’s bearing. Not only that, but—what in Fahla’s name was she wearing? That shirt looked like it had eight holes in it.

“I’ll get changed,” said Gehrain.

Lancer Tal nodded as Gehrain walked to the door. “My apologies, Vellmar,” she said. “I forgot Gehrain doesn’t live here anymore. And for future reference, I don’t require salutes in the living quarters. This is your home, and you’re off duty. We’ll leave you to get unpacked and relax. I’ll see you tomorrow at the oath ceremony.”

“Wait,” said Vellmar, before she had a chance to second-guess herself. “Are you on some sort of training mission?” She gestured toward the ragged shirt. To her embarrassment, both the Lancer and Gehrain laughed.

“That’s her running outfit,” said Gehrain. “Colonel Micah and I have tried to convince her to wear something a little more dignified, but she refuses.”

“I wear dignified clothes all day long,” said the Lancer. “When I run I want comfort.” She gave Vellmar a mock glare. “So don’t even think about trying to pick up where Gehrain is now leaving off.”

“I won’t,” said Vellmar, who found even that mock glare a bit intimidating. “But may I accompany you tonight instead of Gehrain? I’ve spent the day in transit; I’d love the chance to stretch out my legs.”

Gehrain gave her a surprised, grateful look, while the Lancer’s expression was much harder to read. She nodded once. “Get changed. But be warned that I’m not in the best of moods.”

“Yes, my Lancer.” Vellmar picked up her bag and hustled into her bedroom, leaving her enigmatic new employer at her door. Realizing her lapse, she poked her head back out and saw Gehrain and the Lancer in quiet discussion. “Please, Lancer Tal, come inside. I’ll be just two ticks.” Damn, she swore as she pulled off her tunic and threw it onto the bed. Way to make a good first impression.

You already made a good first impression, she reminded herself while digging into her bag for her workout clothes. That’s why you’re here. Now go make a second one.

Nervousness made her fumble a bit getting dressed, but she was back out the door in the promised two ticks, though there hadn’t been enough time to get her running shoes on. Gehrain was gone and the Lancer was leaning against her now-closed front door, arms crossed over her chest.

“Slow down, Vellmar,” she said in some amusement. “You’ll end up with your shoes on the wrong feet.”

“Yes, my Lancer.” Vellmar sat on the nearest chair to put her shoes on.

“And stop with the ‘my Lancer.’ Just Lancer is fine.”

Vellmar nodded as she focused on her shoe straps. “Yes, my—I mean, Lancer.” She flushed with embarrassment, though she fronted it instantly. “I’m ready,” she announced a few moments later, standing up and bouncing a little in place. The Lancer was watching her with a half smile on her face.

“Thank you,” she said.

Vellmar frowned. “For what?”

“For making me feel better already. Let’s go.” She hit the palm pad and walked out into the corridor, with Vellmar one step behind her. They strode through the unfamiliar halls of the State House in total silence, eventually emerging from a side door into the cool night air. The usual rain had diminished to a mist, for which Vellmar was eternally grateful. She wasn’t used to the constant autumn rains of Blacksun Basin; Koneza was much drier.

The Lancer didn’t even wait for the door to finish closing behind them before breaking into a jog. Vellmar was momentarily surprised, but caught up instantly with her longer stride. “Lancer Tal,” she said, “we’re staying on the State House grounds, correct?”

“Yes,” said the Lancer. “Don’t worry, I learned my lesson quite some time ago about leaving secure areas without a proper escort.”

Vellmar sensed a story there, but she didn’t know the Lancer nearly well enough to ask. Instead, she concentrated on taking in her surroundings in as much detail as possible. Her mothers were both warriors, and they’d taught her from childhood not to depend on any one sense too much. So she watched, listened, took in the scents, and felt the air currents as they moved. The sooner she established a familiarity with what was normal for this environment, the sooner she’d be able to do her duty properly.

The Lancer picked up speed after the first half-length, and soon Vellmar was stretching her stride to quite a respectable degree. Lancer Tal might be short, but she moved quickly. A length later and Vellmar was revising her opinion—the Lancer was going flat out now, and Vellmar’s long legs were no longer helping. She was up to her aerobic limit and desperately hoping that this was as fast as they would go, since she had no more speed left in her.

After nearly a hantick of nothing but hard breathing, Vellmar had figured out a few things. One, the Lancer used running as a stress release. Two, something had her very stressed tonight. Three, there was clearly not going to be any need for awkward conversation, which was something of a relief. And four, a circuit of the State House grounds was about two lengths. They were now on their fifth circuit, and she was praying to Fahla that it was the last one. She wasn’t used to running full speed for such a distance, and it would be embarrassing beyond belief to drop out. She’d rather die. Then again, at this rate death might be a real possibility.

As if in answer to her prayers, the Lancer slowed from her all-out run to a more relaxed jog. Vellmar tried not to whimper in relief, but her lungs were planning to hold a celebratory dance as soon as they recovered.

They had gone halfway around their fifth circuit when the Lancer finally spoke.

“Are your legs stretched out yet?”

“Shek yes,” blurted Vellmar before she could stop herself.

The Lancer laughed so hard that she had to stop and put her hands on her knees. “Oh, Fahla,” she gasped, and laughed again. “I really, really needed that. Thank you. I’d apologize for doing that to you, but damn, it was worth it. I feel so much better.”

“I’m glad I could help,” said Vellmar, a little dazed at her reaction. Feeling emboldened by what was so far turning out to be a rather extraordinary first day on duty, she said, “If you want to talk about what’s bothering you, I’m a good listener. And I don’t know anyone here, so I can’t make any judgments.”

Lancer Tal straightened up and gave her a keen glance. Then she turned and began a cool-down walk, and after a full tick of silence, Vellmar knew she’d put a foot wrong. She wanted to apologize, but thought it might make her sound even more stupid than she already did.

“Tell me something,” said the Lancer unexpectedly. “If you wanted to find someone who couldn’t be found, how would you go about it?”

Vellmar thought furiously. This had to be about Herot Opah; everyone on the planet knew that the Alsean Investigative Force was looking for him as the accomplice in the assassination attempt. And they had the best investigators on Alsea at their disposal, so if they couldn’t find Opah, he was well and truly hidden. How in the name of the Goddess was a newly promoted Lead Guard supposed to come up with a different angle than the AIF?

A breeze blew her hair off her face, and she absently noted that the wind had backed around. Then she remembered her parents’ training.

“I’d find out how everyone else had looked, and then look a different way,” she said. “Sometimes it’s not where you look, but how.”

The Lancer came to an abrupt halt. She stared a hole through Vellmar, her eyes intense even in the darkness. “Fahla,” she whispered at last. “I wonder if that would work?”

Vellmar kept quiet; it was clear that the Lancer wasn’t speaking to her. Finally those eyes focused on her. “Vellmar,” she said, “I require your services.”

“I’m at your disposal,” said Vellmar instantly.

Lancer Tal nodded. “Then I’d like you to meet my bondmate.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 46

 

 

Tal led her new Lead Guard through the State House and up to her personal quarters. For just a moment, as the door opened at her palm touch, she thought that perhaps she should have given poor Vellmar a chance to shower. But then Salomen was in front of her, looking at her with fear in her eyes, and Tal forgot all about how sweaty they were.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not caring that she had a witness. Vellmar was sworn to her service, or would be in a few hanticks anyway; and Tal instinctively trusted the woman’s discretion. “I know you were worried,” she added. “I just needed some air.”

“I know,” said Salomen, standing a handspan away, clearly wanting more but too aware of their guest.

“Salomen, I’d like to introduce Lead Guard Fiana Vellmar. She’s just arrived, and I’m afraid I didn’t even give her time to unpack before dragging her out on a ten-length run. Vellmar, this is my bondmate, Raiz Salomen Opah.”

“I’m honored to meet you,” said Vellmar politely. “Ah, I’m a bit sweaty, but…” She held out her palm tentatively.

“The honor is mine,” said Salomen, touching Vellmar’s palm without hesitation. “And I could wish that you’d had a more leisurely arrival, but I’m glad Andira had your company.”

“So am I,” said Tal, moving them all into the living area. “Vellmar, would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.”

“Sit down. I’ll bring it over.” Tal filled two glasses with chilled water while Salomen made their guest comfortable in the chairs facing the windows. She walked over, handed Vellmar her glass, and sat down while drinking her own. Fahla, she was thirsty. When half the glass was gone she paused for breath, then shrugged and finished the rest of it. Setting the empty glass down—and noting that Vellmar’s was empty as well—she looked at Salomen and wanted nothing more than to pull her into a warmron.

“Vellmar gave me an idea,” she said. “About finding Herot.”

Salomen paled. “You mean if he’s alive.”

Sometimes, Tal thought, honesty wasn’t always the best thing for a relationship. But Salomen had known something was very wrong when she’d returned from Micah’s quarters, and lying simply wasn’t an option. The truth had not been much better.

“I think he is,” she said gently. “While I was running I remembered that vengeance killings aren’t usually done in secret. The whole point is to advertise that honor has been reclaimed. If someone killed Herot, they’d want the world to know. So I don’t think it’s happened.”

“Yet,” said Salomen.

“Excuse me,” said Vellmar, who was watching them with wide eyes. “Are you saying you’re worried that a warrior might exact a vengeance killing in your name?”

“Yes, I am,” said Tal. “You just got here, so you’re a little out of touch. But I sent out a directive today forbidding all warriors from vengeance actions on my behalf. The problem is that it took me eight days to realize that the directive might be necessary.”

“Ohhh,” said Vellmar. “But it shouldn’t be necessary. You didn’t die; there’s no vengeance to be gained. It’s not legal.”

“You and every normal warrior know that, but it’s the fringe I’m worried about. Herot Opah has stayed out of sight too long to be doing it on his own. Today we learned he was seen leaving a transit station in Napoline in the company of two warriors wearing the uniform of Lancer’s Guards. That doesn’t sound promising to me.”

Vellmar nodded. “So you want to find him before anything can happen.”

“Exactly.” Tal met Salomen’s eyes again. “I asked Vellmar how she would go about finding someone who couldn’t be found. She said she’d look a different way. And she’s a powerful empath.”

Salomen looked from her to Vellmar and back again, a sudden excitement marking the moment she realized what Tal was thinking. “Yes,” she said. “I’d like to try, if Guard Vellmar agrees.”

“Agrees to what?” asked Vellmar.

Tal faced her. “A Sharing,” she said. “With me and Salomen.” At her open-mouthed shock, she added, “Listen, Vellmar. This is important. You said you’d look a different way, and Salomen and I can do that. When we Share, we have the ability to extend our empathic senses a very long way. But we have limits to our range. I think your empathic strength might help us extend and focus that range. If you’re willing to join us, I’d like to see how far this can go. Until now we’ve never tried to use our powers to locate an individual—not unless we already knew that person’s general location—but your comment made me think it might be possible.”

Vellmar stared at her. “Exactly what kind of range are you talking about? I can sense people in this building, but that’s it. I’ve never heard of anyone going much further than that. I don’t see how this is going to help you.”

“We’ve sensed as far as three hundred lengths,” said Tal.

Vellmar was speechless, and Salomen took pity on her. “I’m sorry, Guard Vellmar,” she said. “I know this must feel surreal to you, especially given that you just arrived and you don’t know us. But somewhere out there, my brother might be in mortal danger, and you may be able to help us find him. Fahla knows nothing else has worked so far, and I’m worried that our time is running out.”

After a few pipticks of uncomfortable silence, Vellmar straightened in her chair. “I came here to serve you, my Lancer,” she said firmly. “I will do so in any manner you see fit. If that means Sharing, then I will be honored to link with you and Raiz Opah.”

Tal had already decided she liked her new Lead Guard when the poor woman had uttered not a single word while Tal ran them into the ground. Now she found her respect notching up several levels. “Thank you,” she said, and meant it.

“Yes, thank you,” Salomen added. “But I have one thing to ask before we begin this.”

“Of course,” said Vellmar.

Salomen sniffed delicately. “The two of you really need to take a shower.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Vellmar looked around the Lancer’s bathroom in total awe. She’d seen entire barracks that would fit into this space. If someone turned off the lights while she was showering, she might never find her way out.

Kicking herself for wasting time staring, she walked to the tile shelf and activated the water. The shelf was broad, sluicing warm water over both her front and back at the same time, and the effect was luxurious beyond belief. She’d never had a shower before where she didn’t have to turn one way and then the other to rinse off.

She wished she could stay and enjoy this incredible experience, but the knowledge that Lancer Tal and her bondmate were outside waiting made her take an even faster shower than normal. Within a few ticks she was toweled off and wrapped in the thick, warm robe that Raiz Opah had offered her. Padding across the vast tiled floor, she paused in the arched doorway to watch the two women in the living area.

They were huddled close together on the wide seat, facing each other with knees touching and hands clasped. Lancer Tal was saying something in low tones, and Opah was nodding, the stress and fear evident on her face. But she was fronting it perfectly; Vellmar could detect nothing from either woman.

Wait a tick. She’s a producer! She couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to make the connection. What in Fahla’s name was a producer doing with a front like that?

Both women’s heads turned, and Vellmar found herself flushing hotly under their gaze. She was well and truly caught. “The shower was wonderful, thank you,” she said lamely as she walked to the living area.

“You’re welcome,” said Opah, but her tone was a little cooler than it had been earlier, and Vellmar felt it keenly. She sat in the chair opposite them and leaned forward.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” she said. “I just never expected to be in the Lancer’s personal quarters on my first night.” Damn, that sounded even worse. “I mean, ever,” she amended, and closed her mouth in frustration. She was making a complete dokker out of herself.

To her immense relief, Lancer Tal smiled at her. “Nervous much?” she asked.

Not trusting herself to say anything intelligent, Vellmar simply nodded.

“So am I,” said Opah. When Vellmar looked at her in surprise, she added, “I’m nervous that this won’t work.”

Vellmar’s own worries were almost instantly subsumed beneath a desire to be of service. “If my empathic strength can help make it work, then you have all of it I can give,” she said.

“Thank you.” The honest gratitude in her eyes touched something inside Vellmar. For someone who had spent her career surrounded by warriors trying to prove their toughness, Opah’s vulnerability was a revelation. And yet, Vellmar did not doubt for a piptick that this woman was as tough as any warrior she’d worked with. In that moment, she decided that she served two women, not just one.

“Pull up your chair,” said Lancer Tal. “Have you done a triad Sharing before?”

“No,” admitted Vellmar. “I’ve only Shared with lovers and at bonding ceremonies. So I don’t quite know how this works.” And she really didn’t want to do anything wrong.

“Salomen and I will make the core connection,” said the Lancer. “You’ll extend it by touching our backs. So get close enough for an easy reach; you may be holding your arms up for a while.” As she and Opah crossed their legs beneath them, Vellmar stood up and moved her chair over until it touched the front of their seat. Sitting crosslegged herself, she hesitated, unwilling to make the first move.

“Put your hand on my back,” said Opah gently. Vellmar nodded and reached out, tentatively resting her hand on her spine.

“I won’t break, Fiana.”

Startled by the use of her first name, Vellmar let the full weight of her hand come down, and Opah nodded. “Better,” she said, and gestured toward Lancer Tal. With slightly more assurance, Vellmar laid her other hand on the Lancer’s spine, feeling extremely awkward as she sat there.

“Ready?” whispered the Lancer, but her eyes were on her bondmate.

“As I’ll ever be,” answered Opah. They lifted their hands toward each other.

“Vellmar,” said Lancer Tal without looking at her, “don’t worry if you see something unexpected. Just remember that for us, it’s normal.”

Before Vellmar could ask the question at the tip of her tongue, their hands slipped into place and the connection was completed. Vellmar pulled her head back in shock at the explosion of sensation, barely managing to keep her hands in place. What in the name of the Goddess…

She could feel everything. Not just the emotions of other Alseans in the building, but the life force of all the creatures around her, from the mi