chapter 55

 

 

Vellmar looked at her wristcom one more time and gave up. She’d been in the notification area for over half a hantick and the healer’s assistant kept telling her the same thing, over and over:  “We cannot know anything until the surgery is complete.” Which was a lie; of course the Healer could know by now whether Colonel Micah was likely to survive or not! But the healers here were just like the ones in Whitesun, apparently. They all seemed to feel that false hope was better than none.

“I’m going back to the transport,” she told Senshalon. “At least the seats there are more comfortable.”

“True words,” he said, rolling his eyes. “These were made for pre-Rite children.”

She hid a smile as she rose. The chairs weren’t that small, but Senshalon was a big man. “Join me if you want.”

“No thank you,” he said. “I’d rather be here.”

She understood. Every Guard not on watch was crowded into the notification area, waiting for the first whisper of news. They were being given a wide berth by the other Alseans in the area, who continually cast sidelong glances at the Guards as if they were some sort of exotic species. Vellmar thought they should have charged some sort of viewing fee.

Turning away from the “Main Arch” sign, which pointed toward the public entrance, she walked down the curving corridor toward the back of the huge dome. A “Landing Arch” sign marked a smaller side corridor, which opened onto the healing center’s brightly lit landing pad. Their transport took up most it; she expected that they would be asked to move it by sunrise.

Before the Guards posted at the bottom of the ramp could ask, she shook her head. “No news,” she said, moving between them.

“That’s probably good,” she heard one of them say behind her, and had to agree.

The transport felt like home after the crowded, pungent confines of the notification area. Healing centers always smelled like narnell root, the plant extract used for sterilization. She’d hated that smell since childhood.

“Vellmar! Any news?” asked Corlander from the back.

“No. They won’t tell us anything. Although we did learn that Gehrain has a mild concussion, which was no surprise. He’s under observation now and complaining to anyone who will listen. And Herot is getting his ankle properly wrapped. I saw his torso; looks like someone held a village dance on top of him.” She took a bag of shannel from the storage unit and squeezed it to activate the heating reaction. As soon as it was done she pulled off the top and sucked on the mouthpiece. “Aggh,” she spluttered. “I forgot how much I hate bagged shannel.”

“It’s probably still better than that dokshin in the healing center,” said Wellernal.

“I didn’t try it, but if it’s the same here as it is in Whitesun, then yes. They must import it straight from the fanten farms.” She walked to the back of the transport and sat in the row facing them. Still sucking on her shannel—which at least was hot and energizing—she eyed the prisoners. “They’ve been out a while.”

“This one twitched just before you walked in.” Corlander reached across the aisle and poked the man in the nearest seat. “I think he may be coming around.”

“Did you tell the Lancer?”

They exchanged uncomfortable looks.

“What?” she asked.

“Well…” Corlander began.

“She’s in her cabin with Raiz Opah,” said Wellernal.

“So? Did she ask not to be disturbed?”

“No…she told us to come in even if she didn’t answer a knock.”

The man groaned and shifted his head. Vellmar looked from him to her Guards. “And the reason you’re sitting on your hands instead of obeying her order is…?”

They looked like pre-Rite children caught with their pants down, and she rolled her eyes. “Are you afraid of seeing something that might burn your retinas?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Fahla on a funstick, what a pair of grainbirds. I thought you were sworn warriors.” They all looked at the prisoner, who moaned again. “I’ll tell her,” she said. “But you owe me.”

They nodded quickly, and she made her way back through the main cabin. Walking down the short corridor leading to the two forecabins, she stopped in front of the Lancer’s door and rapped sharply. “Lancer Tal?”

No response. She tried again, counted to five, and touched the palm pad. The door slid open silently, revealing a spacious room with large viewports. In front of her stood an empty conference table surrounded by six chairs that locked into place, and the bulkhead at the left end of the cabin was dominated by a large vidcom unit above a rather ingenious pull-down desk and another locking chair.

She stepped in and turned, taking in the waist-high preparation cabinet right by the door, with its plates and glasses in polished wooden racks. Next to it was a sink and full-sized storage unit for food and drink, and the whole bulkhead at the right end of the cabin was solid drawers and cupboards. Four wide, very comfortable-looking seats sat in two facing rows by the outer hull. Two of those seats were reclined into a horizontal position, forming a bed.

Vellmar was suddenly glad that she was the one standing here and not either of those two grainbirds outside. The scene in front of her was far too intimate for their eyes, and she felt immediately protective of the two women lying together, oblivious to their watcher. The Lancer was on her back, one arm over her head and the other wrapped loosely around Raiz Opah, whose head was resting on her shoulder. Opah was lying on her side, an arm and leg draped over her bondmate’s body in a casually possessive position.

Quietly Vellmar crossed the cabin and knelt next to the Lancer, whose breathing indicated a deep level of sleep. She put a hand on her shoulder. “Lancer Tal,” she said, and jumped as her wrist was caught and held in a tight grip. Alert blue eyes bored into hers.

“What is it?”

“Goddess, you wake up fast. One of the prisoners is coming out of it.”

The Lancer nodded as she released Vellmar’s wrist and rubbed her eyes. “I thought that might be it. No news about Micah?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“How long has it been?”

“About forty ticks.”

“Too early anyway.” She stroked Opah’s hair away from her face. “Salomen. I need to get up.”

“Hmm?” Opah tightened her grip on the Lancer and snuggled in deeper. Vellmar felt her face grow warm.

“Salomen.” Lancer Tal kissed her forehead. “You can stay here, but I have to go.”

With a sudden intake of breath, Opah raised her head. “Colonel Micah?”

“No. One of the prisoners is waking up.”

“Oh. Damn.” She rolled over onto her back, rubbing her eyes as Lancer Tal sat up and swung her legs over the edge. “I’ll come with you.”

“There’s no need, tyrina. Just sleep.”

“Not without you.” She opened her eyes and saw Vellmar for the first time. A moment later her lips curved in a knowing smile. “You look a little red, Lead Guard. We weren’t doing anything compromising, were we?”

Vellmar flushed even more. “I’ll be in the main cabin,” she said, and fled.

 

 

-----

 

 

“Stay here,” said Tal, putting a gentle hand on Salomen’s chest as she tried to rise.

“Why?” Salomen settled back on her elbows.

“Because I’m about to question two men who have no motivation to tell me anything.”

“I don’t—”

“So I’m going to have to give them motivation.”

Salomen’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“You said you’d learned more about the world than you wanted to. I don’t want you to learn this. Please stay here, and don’t open the door until I come back.”

Salomen watched her in silence, then nodded. “All right.”

“Thank you,” said Tal, relief washing through her. She pushed off the bed, but was halted by a hand around her wrist.

“Andira?”

“What?”

“I know you will only do what you have to, and no more.”

Tal heard the unspoken request. “I promise,” she said.

By the time she entered the cabin, Vellmar had recovered sufficiently to have a normal skin tone again. Tal nodded as she passed her, then dropped into the seat directly opposite the conscious prisoner. He sat straight, his eyes wide and his fear soaking her senses, though he was clearly trying to front it. Beside him, the other man was groaning and rolling his head from side to side. She eyed the bandage across his nose before turning her attention to the man in front of her.

“Welcome to my transport,” she said. “I’d have offered a ride to your friends as well, but unfortunately we’ve killed the rest.”

He swallowed hard. “Are you…”

She watched him silently, until he finally answered his own question. “You’re Lancer Tal.”

“Yes, I am. And you’re a man whose life depends on what he says in the next few ticks.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“That was the wrong answer. I can feel exactly how much you know. And you’re going to share it with me. You can either do it now, voluntarily, or you can do it later, under a warrant of empathic force. Now would be better for you.”

The other man opened his eyes and looked at her blearily. A moment later his eyes widened. “Shekking—” He tried to lunge from his chair, then gazed in confusion at his arms, only then seeing that they were bound to the armrests.

“I was just telling your friend that you’re the only two survivors of your little club,” said Tal. “And suggesting to him that it would be better to tell me everything now, instead of having it forcibly pulled out of him later. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The man looked nervously at his partner.

“Who was the guard in the room with Herot Opah?”

They watched her, saying nothing.

“He’s already dead,” she said. “I hardly think you can betray him by telling me his name. I just thought it would be easier to refer to him by a name when I tell you how he died.”

Their fear was a salve to her own worry about Micah. In this, at least, she had control. In a conversational tone, she said, “I killed him with an immobilizer. A nasty way to Return. The two guards at the door got a much quicker death, but we couldn’t take any chances with your friend in the room. I watched him die; he was in agony.” She leaned forward and spoke more quietly. “My intent is to turn you over to the AIF in Blacksun, but I have an entire unit of Guards traveling with me. None of them are very happy about my decision to keep you alive. I’ll be spending the trip to Blacksun in my private cabin, which means I won’t be here to watch you. It’s soundproofed, so I won’t be able to hear you, either. If any of my Guards develops an itchy finger on an immobilizer, I’m afraid you’ll find out just how agonizing a death that is.”

“You won’t do that,” said the man on the right. “You have to obey the law.”

“Who told you that?”

He looked away.

“You’re correct, actually. I do have to obey the law. Which is why I’ll be somewhere else when you tragically die in transit. My Guards won’t see a thing, and my report to the AIF will be very short. Clean and quite legal. Would you like a preview?”

Their eyes widened in terror, and she smiled. “No, not like that. That would be illegal. I’m just offering you the chance to honor your fallen comrade, by feeling what he felt.”

When they still refused to speak, she gestured for Wellernal to stand behind the man on the right. “Hold his head back,” she said.

“Wait! What are you going to do?” The man craned his head around, trying to watch Wellernal, but the Guard wrapped two strong hands around his head and forced it back against the seat. “You can’t do this!”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to do. How can you object?”

He tried to struggle, an effort rendered useless by the bindings on his forearms and shins. “No…”

“Are you going to answer my questions?”

“No!”

Without further warning she lunged from her seat, slapped her hands on his energy points and pressed her forehead to his. The act disgusted her, but she needed answers. She called up her memories of the guard she’d killed; his abject terror, his despair at dying alone, his agony at being caught without a breath in his lungs; knowing that because he’d exhaled just before being immobilized, he’d lost that many more pipticks of life…all of the horror she’d absorbed from him, she threw toward the man under her hands. He struggled, screaming, his own terror blending with the memories she was sending until she wasn’t sure which was which. Revolted, she pushed herself away and sat back, watching the man sob.

“Fahla, no, I don’t want to Return…”

“Get me a wet cloth,” she ordered. The man with the bandage looked at her in panic.

“What did you do to him?”

“Exactly what I said I’d do. Remember that. I do not lie, and I do not bluff. Wellernal, you can release him. For now.”

The other man had stopped sobbing, but his breathing was harsh and panicked. His friend leaned over as far as he could. “Burlone, are you all right?”

His friend shook his head.

“Burlone,” said Tal. “Finally, an answer. And I hadn’t even asked the question. Burlone, you know I couldn’t have done that if I hadn’t experienced those feelings myself. That kind of terror cannot be manufactured. What you just felt is precisely what your friend felt. The difference is that you’re still alive, but he felt that way until he died. As I said, a nasty way to Return.”

Vellmar held a wet cloth in front of her, and she took it without looking up. “Thank you.” She wiped her forehead and her hands. It helped, but she would not feel clean again until she’d showered. “Would you like to answer a few simple questions now?”

His breathing calmed, and he looked at her with a mixture of fear and hatred. “You said you had to obey the law. That was not legal!”

“Of course it was. I offered you the opportunity to honor your friend. You agreed.”

“I did not! I said no!”

“You said no, you would not answer my questions. Not no, you did not wish to honor your friend’s death. Now, let me ask you again. Will you answer my questions?” She felt the answer, but before he could utter it she turned to the other man. “Or would you like to honor your friend?”

“You can’t do that to him!” shouted Burlone. Tal held the man’s gaze.

“Is keeping someone else’s secret worth it?” she asked quietly.

He licked his lips, glancing nervously at Burlone and back at her. “No,” he said.

“Rissen!” warned Burlone.

“Seal his mouth,” said Tal, never looking away from the frightened man staring at her. “Your name is Rissen?”

“Yes,” he said, and she knew she had him.

“Don’t you tell her—” Burlone’s shout was cut off mid-sentence, and she knew from the sounds that one of her Guards had taped his mouth shut.

“What was the name of the guard in Herot Opah’s room?”

He glanced at Burlone again, but seemed unable to stop himself from looking back at her. Her unwavering gaze was making him uncomfortable. “Swift,” he said. “Toller Swift.”

“Thank you, Rissen. I appreciate your willingness to cooperate. You know that I did not lie when I said Swift died a terrible death. What I didn’t tell you was how much I regretted that death. We killed the guards on the ridge tops and the ones outside Herot’s room quickly and with a minimum of pain, but we knew that Swift was assigned to kill Herot Opah if anything went wrong.” She noted his surprise and continued, “Yes, we’d been watching you. We knew quite a lot about you already; that’s how we were able to plan such a clean mission…except for Swift’s Return. I wish it had not been necessary. But you made it necessary.”

“It wasn’t me; I was just a guard! I didn’t have anything to do with how this was set up.”

“Who did?”

“Hed Culsander. He was in charge of everything. I just did what I was told.”

“Culsander was with you in the house?”

He nodded. “He was the one who hired me. He said it was just a guarding job. I didn’t know it would involve anything illegal until I got there.”

She let him sit in silence for a few moments. “Of course you knew it was illegal. You don’t have a very strong front; don’t even attempt to lie to me. The more truth you share, the better it will be for you in Blacksun.”

He looked down.

“He must have offered you a lot of cinteks; that was a dokshin job in the middle of nowhere. You must have been bored out of your mind.”

“I was,” he said. “We all were. Some of us were talking about leaving.”

“A pity you didn’t. Did Culsander pay Burlone and everyone else, too?”

“Yes. I told you, he was in charge.”

“So he’s the one who kidnapped Herot from the Napoline transport station?”

“Him and…” He paused, trying too hard not to look at Burlone.

“And Burlone,” Tal finished for him, sensing the truth of it. “Was Burlone was the second in command?”

“In a way. Culsander didn’t trust any of us, really. He was a paranoid shekker.”

“Which room was his?”

He looked at her oddly. “The one next to the office, why? Is that important?”

She’d known it before he said it, but it was nice to have the confirmation. “In a way,” she said. “Did you know there was a basement under that house?” His eyebrows drew together, and she nodded. “The access was in Culsander’s room. There was only one other access to the basement; a blast door leading to an escape tunnel. Here’s something else that might surprise you: the entire basement ceiling was wired with explosives. You were living on top of a bomb. Culsander was killed right by the escape tunnel as he was trying to set them off, with you—and Burlone, and everyone else—still in the house.”

“What?” He gaped at her, then narrowed his eyes and tried to present an unconcerned front. “You’re lying.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “Ask me if the house was wired to blow.”

He stared at her hand, then at her. Shakily he asked, “Was the house wired to blow? With all of us in it?”

“Yes,” she told him, and his jaw slackened. Even Burlone was shocked into belief; Tal could feel it.

“That spawn of a fantenshekken!” spat Rissen. “He was using us!”

Drawing her hand back, she said, “Yes, he was. You were just tools in a high-stakes political game.”

“I’m glad he’s dead!” He was burning with the fury of betrayal. “And I hope you kill Shantu as well. Damn them to Fahla’s worst nightmares!”

Tal went still. “Did you say Shantu?”

“He’s the one who wanted Opah kept alive. Culsander was sworn to him. The rest of us were just hired guards. That’s why we were expendable, I guess. Shekking dokkers!”

Tal looked at the ring of stunned faces around her, then back at Rissen.

“Thank you,” she said in a voice that didn’t seem to be hers. “I have no other questions for now.” Slowly she rose and walked back through the cabin, her shock gradually melting into anger. By the time she reached her own cabin she was incandescent.

Salomen looked up when she entered. “How did it—”

“Damn them!” Tal shouted, startling Salomen into silence. “Fahla damn them all, those shekking excuses for Alseans! How far does this go? Is there anyone left on the Council who isn’t betraying me?” She wanted to break something, but everything in the room was bolted down.

“Andira—”

“Not now, Salomen!” She threw herself into the chair and began to punch in Razine’s code, but Salomen’s bewildered pain stopped her. She lowered her head, breathing hard, trying to wrestle her fury under control. “I’m sorry,” she said, grinding out the words. “I’ll tell you in a tick.” Entering the rest of the code, she hit the Engage key so hard that it was a wonder her finger didn’t break the transparent cover.

Razine came on almost immediately. “Lancer Tal! Do you have new—”

“I’m not calling about Micah,” said Tal. “I just finished questioning the prisoners. They’re not Parser’s men.”

“What?”

“They were hired by Shantu.”

Razine’s intake of breath was audible. “Great Goddess above.”

“My sentiments exactly. Though I’m a little more homicidal than you.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes I’m certain!” snapped Tal. “The Lead Warrior of Alsea is colluding with the Lead Merchant, and I can only think of one reason why. Those two hate each other. They must have a common goal.”

“A coup.”

“Good guess, Colonel.” Tal knew she was being unreasonably rude, but she could not get her rage back into bounds. “I want him brought into custody one hantick ago.”

“Lancer Tal.” Razine’s tone was overly calm. “I cannot bring the Lead Warrior into custody without cause. Your word, however trustworthy, is not sufficient.”

Tal closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Now she wanted to kill Razine, but the part of her that was still logical knew the Colonel was right.

Think. What do you have for cause?

Her eyes popped open. “Check the caste records for a warrior named Hed Culsander. He’s sworn to Shantu. He was the one in charge of the operation with Herot; the others were just hired mercenaries. He’s also the one who shot Micah and got away. Culsander and a mercenary named Burlone—one of my prisoners—are the ones who kidnapped Herot out of the Napoline transport station. I can get Herot to confirm that. And I have two mercenaries here who will finger Shantu under questioning. One of them will probably need empathic force, but the other will talk without a warrant.”

“That will work once we get them here and can conduct a properly witnessed empathic scan,” said Razine. “In the meantime, I’ll work on the caste records. But until we have corroboration of Culsander’s connection with Herot, the fact of his being sworn to Shantu will not be sufficient.”

“You have the connection already.” Salomen’s voice came from right behind her, and Tal turned in surprise to see her tyree looking intently at Razine. “The news vid,” she continued. “If Culsander and this other man are the ones who kidnapped Herot, then you have them on a vid. One the whole world has already seen.”

Razine looked from Salomen to Tal. “She’s right.”

“Of course she is,” said Tal. “Is that sufficient cause?”

“Yes. If the vid shows their faces, that is. I imagine it was recorded from an angle to avoid that, but all we need is one frame with an identifiable profile. Send me images of your prisoners, just in case I can’t find them in the caste records. They may not be using their real names. We won’t be able to hold Shantu for long without the corroboration of witnessed testimony, but we’ll have enough to bring him in.”

“Then do it. Put those two fantenshekkers in the same holding cell. Maybe Fahla will smile on us and they’ll kill each other.”

“I’ll let you know the moment we have him. And I’ll put a search out for Culsander as well.”

“Thank you.” Tal ended the call and turned in her seat. “And thank you, too. I—” She stopped at the thunderous expression on Salomen’s face.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

Tal’s anger had been so strong that it had actually blocked Salomen’s. But she certainly felt it now.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shrinking under her icy glare.

“You should be.” Salomen wasn’t letting her off easily. “I’m on your side, Andira. I understand your anger, and I know you’ve had a dokshin day, but even that does not give you the right to treat me like some annoying underling clamoring for your attention. I deserve better.”

A cloud of remorse settled on Tal’s shoulders; she could barely meet Salomen’s gaze. “You’re right. I have no defense; just excuses. I’m sorry, tyrina.”

Salomen’s anger melted away. “I know you are,” she said in a softer tone. “And I think you’ve been amazing through all this. Truly; I’ve been in awe. I suppose something had to crack. It just hurt that what cracked was how you treat me.”

The cloud threatened to rain out of Tal’s eyes; she blinked it back. “I know,” she said. “I felt it the moment I said it, and you’re the last person on Alsea that I want to hurt. Please forgive me.”

Salomen bent down and kissed her softly. “Of course I do,” she whispered, resting her forehead against Tal’s. “And I’m sorry about Shantu.”

Tal put a hand up to Salomen’s cheek, needing the connection. “I don’t know who to trust anymore. Shantu would not plan a coup without support, which means there are other warriors on the Council standing ready to betray me as well. And I don’t know who any of them are. I never saw this coming, tyrina. That’s what frightens me. I thought I had the support of my caste. I don’t understand how something like this could have gotten this far without me getting even a hint of it.” Another thought occurred to her. “Fahla—Aldirk!”

Salomen crouched down in front of her, resting her hands on Tal’s knees. “What about Aldirk?”

“I asked him to track Parser after the last Council meeting. I thought he was up to something then, after he switched sides and supported Shantu in a call to halt the implementation of the replicators. But Aldirk never reported back on anything unusual. He couldn’t possibly have missed this. There is simply no way Parser could be colluding with Shantu and a majority of the high-powered warriors on the Council without Aldirk picking up on something.”

“Oh, no,” breathed Salomen. Tal looked at her in growing horror.

“Salomen, Aldirk knows everything. Absolutely everything. If he’s in on this, I…I can’t even calculate the damage.” She put her face in her hands, a sudden weariness overtaking her. Micah might be dying, Aldirk could be a traitor, she had a coup on her hands and no idea how far it reached, and everything seemed to be caving in on her. Salomen wisely said nothing, simply communicating her support through her touch.

“I am so tired of playing catch up,” said Tal at last. “Parser was right; I didn’t even know the game had started before it was already half over. I’ve been behind every step of the way. I’m not even sure I want to fight back a coup. I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

A gentle touch pulled her hands away, and she raised her head. Salomen was looking at her with absolute conviction. “If you really want to retire, then you know I’ll gladly take you onto Hol-Opah and turn you into the best warrior-producer on Alsea. But I don’t think that’s what you want. And I know for a fact that Alsea is far, far better off with you than with a criminal like Shantu, who would kill innocent citizens to gain power, or any warrior who would follow a man like that. I don’t believe you can turn your back on your people; not without a fight. We need you. So start counting the ones you know you can trust without question. I’ll top the list, though I’m not much use in an internal caste battle. But you have Colonel Micah, Colonel Razine…all your Guards…Councillor Burnall, too. And those are just the ones I’ve met so far.”

Tal laughed without humor. “Yes, at least Burnall is on my side. That’s one warrior out of thirty on the Council.”

She considered Salomen’s words. Her reading of Shantu was certainly true; how could Tal let him take control of Alsea without doing her best to prevent it? She had always believed him to be far more principled, but she’d never been in doubt as to his lust for power. That lust had apparently overwhelmed his caste ethics, which made him unfit to rule. If she could make the charges of kidnapping and conspiracy to murder stick, she could put him in prison and cut the head off the coup, but that didn’t necessarily mean the coup would die. It all depended on who else was involved. She needed information, she needed it now, and she would start with Aldirk.

A smile crossed her face as she realized where her thoughts were going. She was already planning her next move. Salomen was right; Tal was not the retiring type.

She looked back at her tyree. “You’ll top the list?”

“You know I will,” said Salomen warmly.

Tal squeezed her hands. “Then that’s all I need. If they want my title, they’ll have to fight for it.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 56

 

 

While waiting for news on Micah and Shantu, Tal took care of a few more immediate needs. First came a call to Aldirk, who was startled to learn that he was needed in Redmoon immediately. He’d sputtered and protested, but she would tell him nothing other than to pack for two days and be on the next transport out of Blacksun. It was too bad she hadn’t learned about his possible involvement earlier; he could have caught the transport Razine had sent. Aldirk had naturally pointed out that fact, but if he’d hoped for additional information he was sorely disappointed. As far as Tal was concerned, her Chief Counselor was guilty until proven innocent. She could not afford to act otherwise.

After a call to Colonel Spalldon, the director of Redmoon Base, she recalled all of her Guards—including Gehrain, who was delighted to be released from observation—and had the transport moved to the base. Her Guards were housed in guest quarters and given spare uniforms to wear until their own supplies arrived. Shantu’s men were still being held on the transport, since Tal did not want them in holding on Redmoon Base. After considerable discussion with Salomen, she’d decided to hold Herot on the transport as well, but had given him her own cabin to keep him separate from his captors. Gehrain and Vellmar swiftly set up a duty rotation schedule with two Guards keeping watch over the prisoners, two stationed outside the transport, and four guarding Tal and Salomen in their VIP quarters. Not surprisingly, every one of the off-duty warriors had opted to take local transports back to the healing center, where they kept vigil through the night. It was Dewar who called Tal from there, at morn-three and seventy. Micah was out of surgery.

Tal flew her short-range transport to the healing center, creating something of a stir as she exited with Salomen and the four Guards. The local journalists had gotten wind of her presence and had camped out on the landing pad in hopes of something exciting. Seeing the Lancer entering a healing center with her lover in the middle of the night certainly qualified, and they clamored for news. When Tal simply walked through them without answering, they turned their attention to Salomen. Tal felt her tyree’s dismay at the chaos; this was a far cry from their carefully planned announcement of her new status. Putting her arm around Salomen in a clear display of intimacy, she informed the journalists that they’d learn everything they needed to know about Raiz Opah from today’s State House announcement. Then she swept past them and into the health center, where the peaceful environment was rigorously enforced by healing center staff. In the past Tal had often run afoul of the famously stubborn mentality of healers and their support staff, but on this occasion she welcomed it as they repelled the eager journalists and closed the doors in their faces.

“I suppose that was my first taste of the future,” said Salomen as they followed a healing assistant toward Micah’s room. “No wonder you assigned me my own Guards; I’ll need them just to push through the crowd.”

“It’s not always like that,” said Tal.

“Sometimes it’s worse?”

Tal squeezed her hand in reply; she knew Salomen was trying to lighten her mood. “Look on the bright side,” she said quietly enough for only Salomen to hear. “If there’s a successful coup you won’t have to worry about the crowds.”

“Every flood brings new growth,” said Salomen, quoting an old aphorism.

The assistant led them to a closed door, stood to one side, and gave Tal a short bow. “Healer Graystone is waiting,” he said.

“Thank you.” Tal touched the palm pad and entered the small room as her Guards took up positions outside the door. She was so focused on the figure in the bed that she didn’t notice the tall, slender man sitting in the corner until he stood up.

“Lancer Tal,” he said. “This is an honor.”

“Well met, Healer Graystone,” she said, touching his palm. “Though I could wish to have met you under better circumstances.”

“As could I. You made this place possible; I’d always hoped to give you a tour someday. But this was not what I had in mind.”

“This is Raiz Salomen Opah,” she said, as Salomen came forward and touched palms with him.

“Well met, Raiz Opah.”

“Well met, Healer Graystone. How is he?”

Graystone moved to the foot of Micah’s bed while Tal and Salomen stood on one side. Tal tried to focus on the healer’s words, but the sight of Micah made it difficult. He looked so much better now that she felt real hope for the first time that night. She stared at his face, noting the pink skin and the fact that he was no longer being aided by an oxygenator, and for just a moment she expected him to open his eyes and give her a knowing smile. Did I make my point? he would say. There’s still some usefulness in this old warrior.

“—a strong man,” the healer was saying. “He sustained significant bone and soft tissue damage, as well as damage to his right torill organ and parts of his digestive tract. He now has an trialloy hip joint and several spans of synthetic intestine, and we had to reconstruct all of the major muscles in the affected area. Your team did a commendable job of minimizing the blood loss and getting him here quickly.”

“That sounds positive,” said Tal. “Do you expect a full recovery?”

Like all healers, Graystone had a perfect front. But his dark eyes were more expressive than he probably knew, and Tal did not like the sympathy she saw there.

“We only finished surgery thirty ticks ago,” he said. “It’s still early in the healing process. I really cannot answer that question just now.”

“But you can make an educated guess.”

“Healing is not about guessing, Lancer Tal. It is about observation and response.”

“And what have you observed that prevents you from giving me any kind of answer at all?”

He pressed his lips together, glancing at Micah.

“Did someone on your surgery team Share with him?” asked Salomen.

Graystone looked at her in surprise. “You’re familiar with this procedure?”

“Not until tonight. Lancer Tal and I both Shared with him on the flight here.”

“You’d never heard of that until tonight and you performed the procedure? You’re either extremely courageous or blissfully ignorant of the usual myths. Most people believe that sharing with a dying person is a one-way trip to a Return.”

“Put me down for ignorance, then. And I notice you sidestepped my question.”

Tal almost smiled at the expression on Graystone’s face. “I’m also curious about your response,” she said.

After a pause, he said, “Yes, we did. We were losing the patient almost before we got him into the surgical room. I called in a colleague who is known for her skill in retrieval. She held him, but afterward she told me that he was not willing. It was a forced hold.”

“But he’s stable now, correct?” asked Tal. “Does a forced hold matter once the physical danger is past?”

“Now you’re moving into an area that has eluded our science since the First Healer. Sometimes, for reasons we still don’t understand, Alseans simply do not wish to be healed. Their bodies recover, yet they never regain consciousness. Sometimes they Return for no physical reason we can find. Other times they lie dormant for days or ninedays or even moons, and wake up as if nothing had ever kept them away. I know of cases where Alseans awoke as much as five cycles after their original injury. In all of these cases, the patient had to be forced to stay immediately after the injury.” He held his hand up in a placating gesture. “It is far too early to determine whether Colonel Micah will fall into this category. Please do not take this as any sort of diagnosis on my part; I’m merely sharing information. It’s just as possible that his forced hold was necessary because he believed his injury was fatal. Once his body understands that it was not, and transfers that information to his consciousness, he may awaken almost immediately. That’s why I’m reluctant to guess, though I understand your desire for answers. Physically his body will heal, though it will take time. As to the rest, I simply cannot say.”

Tal looked back at Micah. His square jaw and short, bristling hair belied the frailty of the body beneath the cover, but she knew that his true frailty was not physical. Healer Graystone could not touch the real injury.

“Is there any issue regarding my Sharing with him now?” she asked.

“No, not at all. In fact, it might help.”

“Would you like me to join you?” asked Salomen.

Tal shook her head. “What I’d like is for you to Share with him after me. Healer Graystone may be reluctant to guess, but I’m not. Micah is content with his Return. We need to let him know that the rest of us aren’t nearly so happy about it.”

With the healer’s assistance, she tilted his head slightly to enable a better match of their forehead ridges. Slipping her hands into place, she lowered her head and soon found herself in a familiar darkness. This time, however, she quickly broke through it. Micah could be awake right now, she realized. He was just on the other side of the barrier. He was tired, but the utter exhaustion that had marked their prior Sharing was gone.

Come back. Please.

She felt his sorrow; a sense of longing for something. Whether it was for his final release or something else, she wasn’t sure.

I need you. She projected her fear, her grief, her love, her own longing for his safe awakening. But she never felt a direct response. It was as if she could not quite make the connection, and with a sinking heart she understood why. Micah was no longer allowing her to touch him. He’d been held back against his will, and was now keeping his distance.

She tried again and again, each time getting the same result, and finally withdrew in defeat. The first thing she became aware of was Salomen’s hand on top of hers where it touched Micah’s jaw. She straightened, pulling both of their hands back, and grasped Salomen’s in her own.

“He’s not listening,” she said, her voice raspy with disappointment. “I can’t make the connection. I don’t even know if he’s aware of me.”

“Do you think it will make any difference if I try?”

“It can’t hurt. Maybe we can just take turns until we annoy him so much he’ll be forced to listen.”

Salomen gave her a sad smile before stepping into place. Tal watched her eyes close as she rested her forehead against his. “Good luck,” she whispered.

But Salomen had no better results, and Tal was forced to leave Micah in his self-imposed isolation. After thanking Healer Graystone and accepting his invitation for a later tour, she and Salomen walked to the notification area to break the news to the Guards.

They crowded around as soon as she appeared.

“How is he?”

“Will he recover?”

“They won’t tell us anything, the dokkers.”

Half of them were talking at once, and Tal raised her hands. When they’d quieted down, she said, “Colonel Micah came through his surgery just fine. The healer said that we did a commendable job stopping the blood loss and getting him here. Though he didn’t say it in so many words, I know the colonel would not have made it without Guard Dewar’s quick thinking and efficient treatment.”

Dewar looked a little embarrassed as her fellow Guards clapped her on the shoulders. “But how is he now?” she asked pointedly.

“Physically on the mend,” said Tal. “I just Shared with him, and he’s right on the other side.” She paused, wondering how much to say.

“There’s a very large caveat coming,” said Vellmar, and the Guards nodded, looking at her expectantly.

“You might as well tell them,” whispered Salomen. “They already know.”

She was right, but Tal needed a moment to find the best way to say it.

“The colonel is not responsive on the emotional plane,” she said at last. “He’s there, but he’s not allowing a connection. Healer Graystone gave us some possible explanations, the most common being that Micah doesn’t yet realize his injury was not fatal. Once he understands that, he may wake up immediately.” Their expressions were still expectant, and she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the case. I think Micah has simply decided that his time has arrived. He suffered an injury in the line of duty that sent him a long distance down the path of his Return, and the fact that we prevented his Return may be irrelevant to him. Salomen and I both attempted to persuade him to come back, but he’s not listening right now.”

They looked at each other, a few of them murmuring quietly. Gehrain caught Tal’s eye and said, “Colonel Micah can be a little stubborn.” Amid a few chuckles, he added, “I would like to Share with him as well, if the healer doesn’t think that would cause any problems. Perhaps he simply needs to hear that we don’t accept his resignation.”

Smiling at his choice of words, Tal said, “It won’t cause any problems. Healer Graystone suggested that a Sharing couldn’t hurt and might help. Thank you, Gehrain.”

“Then I’d like to Share with him too,” said Dewar.

“Me too,” said Senshalon. “I’ve been serving under Colonel Micah for nearly four cycles, and in my opinion we’ve just now got him broken in. Starting all over again with someone else is not an option.”

That set off a chorus of voices as nearly every other Guard in the room pressed forward in their eagerness to take part. “All right, all right!” Tal called, and they settled down again. She looked them over with considerable pride. Her Guards were just as stubborn as Micah; they weren’t about to stand quietly and do nothing.

“You just hate waiting around, don’t you?” she asked, causing another chorus of agreement. The vibration of her wristcom distracted her, and she checked the screen to find an alert that Colonel Razine had sent a message to her reader card. She needed to wrap this up.

Looking at the one Guard who had held herself apart from the requests, she said, “Vellmar, I’d like you to be the liaison with Healer Graystone. Find out what he says is advisable regarding the number and duration of Sharings, and then set up a schedule. In the meantime, there’s no need for all of us to be cluttering up the notification area. I suggest that once you’ve established your Sharing times, you head back to Redmoon Base and get some sleep.”

Leaving Vellmar surrounded by Guards trying to establish their place in the lineup, Tal walked over to a window and pulled her reader card from its pouch. A quick tap brought up Razine’s cryptic message, carefully worded against interception.

Vid yielded enough frames for identification. We have a match for both individuals. Guards found an empty house and no sign of the occupant. Request immediate consult.

Tal tapped her reader card against her thigh as she stared out the window. Shantu must have known about Herot’s rescue; Culsander had probably told him. And now he’d gone underground.

The head of the coup was free to organize his followers.

She turned around and found Gehrain in the crowd of Guards. Feeling her gaze, he looked up and immediately came over to join her.

“Lancer?”

“We need to talk,” she said.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 57

 

 

Aldirk spent the entire flight to Redmoon fuming over having to travel in a citizen transport. Since when did the Chief Counselor of Alsea fly in the same crowd-carrier as everyone else? And how did anyone fly this way? The seats were narrow, the food disgusting, and someone nearby had not taken a shower in far too long. The Lancer was going to get an earful when he arrived. He understood her concern for Colonel Micah, but that did not excuse the high-handed treatment he’d been subjected to.

He was somewhat mollified to find that she’d at least sent her highest-ranked Guard to meet him. Head Guardian Gehrain was waiting at the bottom of the transport ramp, his uniform causing nearly every passenger to look at him while trying to appear unobtrustive. Aldirk marched up to him and deposited his gear bag in Gehrain’s hands. “Please tell me you have a military transport for the rest of this trip. I have no desire to cross Redmoon on some public transport smelling of old fanten.”

“Yes, Counselor. Please follow me.” Gehrain turned smartly and led Aldirk around the nose of the large transport, revealing the small military craft behind it. Aldirk felt an enormous relief as he entered the familiar confines of the Lancer’s short-range craft, with its wide seats, large viewports and best of all, complete lack of people. Settling into a seat in the front row, he sighed with relief at the quiet.

“Thank Fahla, breathable air,” he said.

Gehrain closed the door and deposited Aldirk’s gear bag in the holder beside his seat. “We’ll be at Redmoon Base in ten ticks,” he said. “The Lancer is waiting for you.”

“Yes, I’d rather imagine she is, since she put me on that damnable flight in the middle of the night. Does the woman never sleep?”

Gehrain paused, then turned toward the pilot’s cabin. “Make yourself comfortable, Chief Counselor.” The pilot’s door shut behind him, and Aldirk reveled in the glorious silence. Barely a tick later he felt the craft rise, and watched as the enormous transport station fell away beneath them.

Redmoon was an attractive city, he admitted. Particularly now, with all of the domes flushed a light pink in the sunrise. But it was too small for his tastes, and much too far from the center of power. He’d lived in Blacksun all his life, and could not imagine being anywhere else.

True to Gehrain’s word, they were descending to the landing pad at Redmoon Base in short order. Aldirk had no trouble picking the Lancer’s long-distance transport out from the rest. Beside it was another military transport with Blacksun markings; that must be the one Colonel Razine had sent. The one he’d missed by a bare hantick, thus consigning him to the horror of public transport. Well, at least he’d be returning home in a more appropriate manner.

They settled lightly to the ground between the two larger Blacksun transports, and with excellent efficiency Gehrain was out of the pilot’s cabin, picking up Aldirk’s bag and escorting him down the ramp. To Aldirk’s surprise, he was led directly to the Lancer’s long-distance transport rather than the VIP lodgings on the base. Gehrain laid his palm on the external pad, opening the door and motioning for Aldirk to enter first.

It was cool, dim and completely empty inside. Aldirk turned to Gehrain to ask what was going on, but the Head Guardian was already walking down the short corridor to the Lancer’s private cabin. Aldirk caught up with him just as Gehrain gave two sharp raps to the door, which immediately slid open.

“Lancer Tal,” he said, “Chief Counselor Aldirk is here.”

“Good. Bring him in.”

Aldirk stepped past Gehrain and found the Lancer sitting at her conference table, facing the door. “Greetings, Lancer Tal,” he said. “I’ve come as ordered, though I must protest the manner of transport I was forced to take. You would not believe—”

“Sit down, Aldirk.”

He closed his mouth and sat across from her. Her front was perfect as usual, but her expression was disturbing. Not for what it showed, but for the careful lack of showing anything at all. She simply watched him, and in the uncomfortable silence he heard Gehrain moving into the room behind him. With a quiet whisper, the door slid shut.

“I have an unusual request to ask of you,” she said at last. “I would like you to submit to an empathic scan.”

He gaped at her. Criminals submitted to empathic scans, not Chief Counselors. He’d only been scanned twice in his life: once when he became a member of the Council and was being given his clearances, and again when Lancer Tal had named him her Chief Counselor, requiring new clearances. The only reason she could possibly have to ask him for another submission was if she suspected him of criminal activity, but this was clearly not a criminal investigation. He wasn’t in the offices of the AIF.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I’ve done nothing.” Suddenly the silent, empty transport felt threatening. He was locked in here with two people who could make him disappear.

“I wish I could take you at your word. I cannot tell you why I’m asking, Aldirk. I can only ask. Will you submit?”

“What am I accused of? I have a right to know.”

“Will. You. Submit.” It was no longer a polite question, and for the first time in his association with her, he saw a ruthless warrior under the Lancer’s uniform. The chilling blue of her eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

“I will submit,” he said quietly. “But only because it appears that I won’t be leaving this transport unless I do.”

She made no response other than to narrow her eyes slightly, and he felt the intrusion. Not just her, but the Head Guardian as well. Instinctively he blocked their probes, and had to force himself to relax and allow them. It was a constant battle to keep his natural response tamped down, and his nervousness did not make it any easier.

“Where do your loyalties lie, Aldirk?” she asked.

He frowned. “With you, of course. Why would you doubt it?”

“Are you working for or providing information to anyone else?”

“No! I have never betrayed you. What is—”

“Did you mention anything, to anyone other than Colonel Razine, regarding our mission yesterday?”

“Yes, I spoke of it with Guard Varsi. She was very distressed to have been left behind.”

“What do you know about the relationship between Parser and Shantu?”

He blinked at her. “You mean besides working together on the corruption task force? They have no relationship beyond that. At least not that I know of.”

She watched him for several pipticks, then sat back with a sigh and rubbed her forehead. “Let him go, Gehrain.”

Aldirk sagged with relief as he felt them retreat, then stiffened, his anger bolstering his courage. “Do you mind telling me what in Fahla’s name that was about? Did I pass your loyalty test?”

The face which had been so cold moments before now looked weary. “Yes, you did. Please accept my apologies, Aldirk. I never thought I’d be in the position of questioning your loyalty, but it’s been a difficult day and a worse night. Gehrain, have a seat.”

Gehrain came around to the Lancer’s side of the table and sat beside her. “I apologize as well, Chief Counselor. It was necessary.”

A retort was on the tip of Aldirk’s tongue, but another look at the Lancer’s obvious weariness stopped him. “You haven’t slept, have you?”

“Not more than a couple of hanticks.” She gave him a tiny smile. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re on my side.”

“I didn’t realize there were sides.” A sudden suspicion blossomed. “Parser and Shantu?”

She nodded. “Shantu is planning a coup. He’s the one who was holding Herot Opah, not Parser, though they’re working together. And he was fully prepared to kill Herot and frame me for the murder, in order to expose me as a leader bent on personal revenge. We’ve upset his plans by extracting Herot, but he’s gone underground now and I don’t know what his next step will be. I assume it will be to contact his supporters and initiate action. Since there’s a warrant out on him as of early this morning, he can no longer afford to wait. He needs to get me out of my position so that the criminal charges can be conveniently dropped.”

Aldirk was shaking his head, trying to come to terms with the impossibility of it. “Are you sure of all this? Because if he’s truly planning a coup, it’s the quietest one I ever heard of.”

Her gaze sharpened. “You haven’t heard anything?”

“Absolutely nothing. If Parser and Shantu are working together, they’re showing no sign of it at the State House or at social functions in Blacksun. The only time they’re together is when they’re working on the task force. And if Shantu has been rounding up support on the Council and among Blacksun warriors, then he’s found a way to do it without raising even a breath of gossip. I find that especially difficult to believe. When the warrior caste was preparing to unseat Tordax, I knew about it nearly three ninedays prior to the event. And I was only a Councilor then; I have more sources now as Chief Counselor. Nothing is happening, Lancer. I’d stake my good name on it.”

She looked from him to Gehrain. “Maybe I’ve overestimated his timeline. Maybe he hasn’t gotten support yet.”

“He doesn’t have the political capital for it,” said Aldirk. “If you hadn’t turned around public opinion on the replicators, he might have. But you’re stronger now than you were before. He would need for you to make a public stumble that he could pounce on, and you have not stumbled.”

“Fahla,” she said, a light dawning on her face. “Is something going to go right at last? I may faint from the shock of it.”

“Herot was your public stumble,” said Gehrain. “We pulled out his most valuable source of political capital.”

“I would advise an emergency Council meeting.” Aldirk was already strategizing. “We can eliminate what political capital he has by laying everything out in front of the Council. The Councilors will wake up this morning and find that the Lead Warrior is now pursued by the AIF; that will be the biggest news in a tencycle. If we follow that up with the details of his plan regarding Herot Opah—perhaps even have Opah testify before the Council—we can make it nearly impossible for Shantu to find support. No one wants to associate with a known criminal. An unknown one, perhaps, but not a known one.”

“Hm.” The Lancer rested her head on the back of her chair and gazed at the ceiling. “There’s one major piece missing, and I don’t like it.” Raising her head again, she looked from Aldirk to Gehrain. “Parser’s plan. Given the way he seems to have covered all possibilities, I cannot believe he wouldn’t have planned for the possibility of losing Herot.”

“He may have,” said Gehrain, “but he probably didn’t plan for the possibility of losing Shantu as well. Even the Chief Counselor didn’t know of their association outside the task force. The only reason we know is because we collected two prisoners along with Herot, and how could Parser possibly have planned for that? As you said, that was Shantu’s show. Parser didn’t even know where Herot was being held.”

“It’s not likely,” conceded the Lancer. “But I’m still not comfortable. I don’t want to make a move until Razine has her warrant and takes Parser apart.”

Aldirk felt a little ill. “Empathic force?”

The Lancer nodded. “I need to know what he knows. We should have the information by midmeal today.”

Aldirk had no great love for Parser, but he wouldn’t wish empathic force on anyone. He’d heard stories of people who never fully recovered from it. “That’s a nasty procedure,” he said.

“Yes, it is.” The Lancer’s eyes chilled again. “And I’ve learned that Parser is a rather nasty person. He brought this on himself. It’s not as if he made a single bad decision. He planned all of this, far in advance. Herot Opah nearly died simply because he was a tile for Parser to play. And if it hadn’t been Herot, it would have been Jaros.”

“What!”

They looked at Gehrain, who appeared embarrassed by his outburst. “You didn’t mention that in my briefing,” he said.

Lancer Tal shook her head. “Put it down to a lack of sleep. Yes, Parser made sure to tell me, when he thought he’d won the first time, that his original target was Jaros. It was a message.”

“A very pointed message,” said Aldirk. “None of the Opahs would be safe unless you turned a blind eye to him.”

Gehrain’s face darkened. “Now I’m sorry I can’t be there to personally assist in his questioning.”

“Perhaps you can personally escort him to the pit,” said Lancer Tal. She looked back at Aldirk thoughtfully. “I like the idea of Herot testifying before the Council. Putting a face and a personal history to the situation will make matters even worse for both Parser and Shantu.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” asked Gehrain. “Can we be certain Herot won’t damage you as much as them?”

Aldirk had to concede his point. “This is the man who nearly got you killed. Perhaps my idea was ill considered.”

“I think Herot can be motivated to do the right thing.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “I need to speak with him anyway. And the prisoner transport is ready to leave, so I suppose now is the time. Aldirk, when the hantick is more reasonable, see if you can find anything out about Shantu without letting anyone know why you’re asking. And depending on what Colonel Razine gets from Parser, I may be asking you to assemble that emergency Council meeting for tomorrow. I’ll let you know as soon as I can. In the meantime, we have accommodations ready for you on base.” She smiled briefly. “The VIP quarters, not the detention block. I was hoping for this outcome for more than just my own peace of mind. Gehrain, please escort Aldirk to his quarters. I’ll be on the other transport.”

Gehrain stood immediately. “Whenever you’re ready, Counselor.”

Aldirk pushed his chair back on its floor slide and looked around for his gear bag.

“Counselor.”

He looked back to find Lancer Tal standing next to him. He hadn’t even heard her chair move.

She held out her palm. “I truly am sorry for the necessity of scanning you.”

He touched her palm, feeling for himself the sincerity of her apology. “As Head Guardian Gehrain said, it was necessary. I cannot say I enjoyed the experience, but I understand why you had to do it.”

“Do you?” she asked. “Do you realize that of all the people in the State House, you’re the one Shantu should have recruited? He overlooked the best resource in Blacksun.”

He smiled. “Shantu is not a fool. If he’d tried to recruit me, his coup would have been over before it began.”

There was appreciation and respect in her eyes as she returned his smile. She stooped to pick up his bag and handed it to Gehrain. “Get a few hanticks of sleep while you can.”

“You should take your own advice.”

He walked out the door ahead of Gehrain, and thought that the transport seemed rather peaceful in the early morning light.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 58

 

 

Tal nodded at Nilsinian and Dewar as she entered the military transport. While Razine’s AIF Guards were taking a break, her own Guards were continuing their watch over the prisoners. They would rotate out when the AIF Guards returned, but Tal was not about to leave Herot alone with anyone but her own people, not even Razine’s warriors. She’d chosen the two most well-rested of her Guards to accompany the transport back to Blacksun, with orders that they were not to let Herot out of their sight until relieved by fresh Guards from the State House.

“Any trouble over here?” she asked.

“No, Lancer. It’s been very quiet.” Dewar yawned and turned red. “My apologies.”

Tal shook her head. “People who draw the dawn rotation shouldn’t be holding all-night vigils at healing centers. And yes, I know that’s the knife calling the sword a blade.”

“You should get some rest, Lancer,” said Nilsinian.

“I keep hearing that. Don’t worry, I’m going back to my quarters as soon as I have a talk with Herot.” She noted that the Guards had wisely separated Herot from his captors by the entire length of the cabin. Burlone and Rissen were bound to the front row seats, where they studiously avoided looking at her. Herot was asleep in the rear-facing back row, his seat reclined as far as it would go. “Nice to see that someone is getting some sleep,” she said as she headed down the aisle.

He didn’t move as she took the seat facing him, and she used the opportunity to study him more closely. According to his medical report, his injuries showed evidence of two separate beatings, one considerably harsher than the other. Tal guessed that the second, nastier beating had been after his escape attempt. Other than the broken ankle, the injuries were limited to bruising and scrapes, though some of the bruises were quite deep. Dermal treatment had healed all but the deepest, and his ankle had been treated with a temporary fusion and rewrapped. She suspected that he was now enjoying the first pain-free sleep that he’d had in six days, and felt almost guilty about waking him. Almost.

“Herot,” she said in a low voice. “Wake up.” She put a hand on his thigh and shook him. A sudden stiffness in the muscle under her hand told her that he was awake, though he kept his eyes closed.

“Herot. We need to talk.”

“Fahla,” he mumbled, opening his eyes. “I thought I was back there.” He yawned and stretched, and she wondered if he was aware that it had been her order that left him unbound. Prisoners were not normally left to run around free, but she knew he wasn’t going anywhere and besides, he’d already been shackled to a bed for several days.

Pulling his wrapped ankle into a more comfortable position, he looked up at her with an expression of resignation. “Is this the long talk you threatened me with last night?”

“Probably not. But we need to get a few things out of the way.”

He twisted in his seat, looking toward the front of the cabin, then settled back with a sigh. “She didn’t come, did she?”

“She’s asleep.”

He bit his lip. “Is she ever going to talk to me again?”

“Knowing Salomen, yes, she will, eventually. But not this morning. She’s having some…mixed emotions about you.”

Salomen was right, she thought. That irritating edge of arrogance and entitlement was gone. In some ways his emotions felt younger, less jaded. There was a bewilderment mixed in with his guilt and fear; the longing of a child for comfort. Salomen was the closest thing Herot had to a mother figure, and she had made her anger abundantly clear. For the first time, Tal felt a tiny stirring of sympathy for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for days. I tried last night but you wouldn’t let me. I tried to tell Salomen, too, but she hardly even seemed to see me.”

Her sympathy vanished. “Perhaps you might have noticed that we were a little busy trying to save Colonel Micah’s life.”

“I know, but Salomen wouldn’t look at me afterwards, either. Even when we flew the transport to the base. I thought maybe she’d come talk to me when I was moved to this transport, but she hasn’t.”

“Great Goddess, Herot!” Tal saw her Guards look toward her, then quickly away again. She lowered her voice. “In all those days you were a prisoner, didn’t you spend any time thinking about what you’d done?”

“Of course I did! What else did I have to think about? I even prayed to Fahla for the chance to see my family one last time, just so I could tell them how sorry I was. I never really believed that she answered prayers, but here I am, she gave me the chance, and Salomen won’t even see me!”

Tal took a deep breath and tried to reign in her impatience. After all, Herot had missed a few details in his absence.

“Salomen prayed too. She was worried sick about you.”

“She was?” The hope that bloomed through his emotions startled her with its intensity. “I didn’t know. She was so angry last night.”

“It’s possible to be angry and worried at the same time,” she said. “You’ve put her through Fahla’s own nightmares. You have no idea how much damage you caused.”

He looked down. “Yes, I do. Believe me, I do.”

“No,” she said firmly. “You don’t. Because you think the worst thing you did was act like a fantenshekken when you were drunk, and say some stupid things that had unfortunate consequences. You think a simple apology will fix it, but it won’t. Not until you understand.”

“What else can I do besides apologize? I can’t change what happened.”

“But you can change your understanding of what happened. You didn’t just talk like a drunken dokker. You betrayed a trust. You betrayed the hospitality of your home. In some ways that’s even worse than betraying me personally, but you did that, too. I watched your message, Herot. You said you were glad I only sustained a minor injury. Do you realize what you were saying, even while you were trying to apologize? You were saying, ‘I’m glad she was only hurt a little.’ Not, ‘I’m so sorry she was hurt; thank Fahla it wasn’t worse.’ There’s an enormous difference.”

She felt his shame. “I didn’t think of it like that. It’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” She held his eyes, willing him to face it. “Can you tell me that you were truly sorry I was hurt at all? Or were you sorry about the destruction to your home and the fact that you had just turned yourself into a criminal and hurt your entire family?”

There was a long silence. “I was sorry about everything,” he said at last. “But…you’re right, I was more sorry about the rest than about you. But you weren’t hurt badly.”

She wanted to shake him. “For Fahla’s sake, will you listen to yourself? Whether or not I was badly hurt is not the point!” He looked away, frowning, and she forced herself to calm down and regroup. “Let me ask you this,” she said more quietly. “When you were telling Cullom which window to shoot at, did you ever stop to think that I wouldn’t be the only one in the room? You told him I was there at a certain time every night, but the reason I was there at those times was because I was meeting with your sister. You knew that. But you were being such a selfish dokker that you didn’t think beyond your immediate desire of hurting me. What if you’d hurt Salomen instead?”

He stared in dawning horror. “She was there?”

“She was the one sitting in the windowseat. Not me. She almost died, Herot. That plasma shot was aimed at her, and you’re the one who told Cullom where to aim it.”

“Wh—” He clutched his stomach with both hands, a groan of almost physical pain escaping. “Oh, Fahla. Oh, Fahla; I didn’t know, I didn’t know…Salomen…”

“You didn’t know because you didn’t think! You turned selfishness and self-pity into an art form, and it nearly killed your sister. Do you suppose a simple apology will fix it now?”

His eyes were brimming with tears. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know how to apologize for that. There’s nothing I can say. Fahla forgive me, I never thought…”

“No, you didn’t.” Her voice was harsh. “And then you ran like a coward instead of facing your family. They were cleaning up the destruction, Salomen was at the healing center with me and Micah, and on top of everything else they had to worry about you. For six days you let them wonder whether you actually meant to cause so much damage or whether you’d just done it because you were thoughtless and dangerously stupid.”

The tears overflowed. “I know I was a coward. I’m sorry, Fahla, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

“You can start by telling your sister the truth. Not the dokshin you just tried to feed me. Don’t tell her you never meant for anyone to get hurt, because she knows better. That’s why she’s so angry. She spent four nights in the healing center with me, knowing that her own brother helped put me there. It wasn’t a minor injury, Herot. That’s just what the media was told. You succeeded in hurting me; I was severely burned over half my body. But you hurt Salomen more. My injuries were just physical, but hers go far deeper. She lives every day with the knowledge that you almost got her killed through sheer spite and small-mindedness. Her own burns were nothing compared to that. And you didn’t even stay around to see how badly she was hurt.”

A great, gulping sob escaped and he clutched his stomach again, bending over as he cried. She watched him with very little pity, but as he continued to sob she finally felt her own anger giving way to a quieter sorrow over the whole situation.

“There’s something you need to know, Herot,” she said more gently.

“Wh…what?” He took a deep breath, trying to get himself under control.

“In about three hanticks, Counselor Miltorin is going to hold a media conference to make a special announcement. Salomen and I have set a bonding date for the fourteenth of Rosslin.”

His sobs stopped, along with his breathing. He stared at her uncomprehendingly. “A bonding date? You and Salomen?”

She smiled for the first time. “My intentions were always more honorable than you gave me credit for. Your sister will be the Bondlancer of Alsea.”

Though the incomprehension faded to understanding, he was still incapable of speech.

“I love Salomen more than I can possibly express,” she said. “I petitioned your father for inclusion, and he accepted me. Your family is my family now, so you’ll have to get used to the idea. I’m not going away. Ever. That’s another reason Salomen is so angry. She would have been furious if you’d hurt anyone under her roof, but you happened to hurt her chosen bondmate.”

“Shek,” he whispered. “Bondlancer?”

She nodded, and he sagged back against his seat. When nothing else was forthcoming, she dropped the topic.

“I have to send you back to Blacksun soon. Before you go I’d like to know what happened after you were taken from the Napoline transport station. How did those two warriors convince you to go with them?”

He looked as if he’d eaten something sour. “They told me you sent them, and that you’d worked out a deal with the High Court so that I wouldn’t face charges. I thought the whole world had magically righted itself.” He gave a derisive snort. “I was an idiot. I believed them. So I went with them, and as soon as we got into the transport I knew it was a mistake, because it was filthy. Your Guards don’t even let their boots get dirty; they’d never allow their transport to look like that one did. So I tried to get out, but Burlone punched me in the face. I fought him back, but he was too big and too fast. And when we got to that house, he put me in the room and told me that I needed to learn a lesson about touching them.” He stopped, unwilling to continue.

“A memorable lesson, I take it.” Tal gestured toward the fading bruises on his face, and he nodded.

“Part of me felt like I deserved it. I didn’t think I could get any lower. But every tick from that point on, there was a guard in the room with me, holding a disruptor. One of them—I think his name was Nelsik—told me that he had no idea why they wanted me alive, since their orders were to kill me if anyone other than them tried to get to me. I kept looking at that disruptor and thinking I didn’t want to die. After two days of it, I snapped. Rissen was the one holding the disruptor then. I waited until he was distracted and jumped him. I thought if I could get his disruptor, maybe I could escape. But I wasn’t good enough.”

“You jumped Rissen?” A light dawned. “Are you the reason his nose is bandaged?”

“I broke it. He paid me back by breaking my ankle. I thought he broke my ribs, too, but the healer said they were just bruised. I gave up hope then. It was just a matter of time before I died. And then yesterday, you came.”

“And you thought I was there to kill you.”

He looked away, embarrassed. “I hate that you can feel everything.”

“Actually, I couldn’t feel you then,” she said. “Guard Vellmar wrapped her front around you to keep your emotions from warning any of your other captors. But it was written all over your face.”

“You killed Swift,” he whispered. “You killed him and your expression didn’t even change. It was nothing to you. You even shushed me while you were doing it—and then you smiled afterward. I thought I was next.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” she said. “At least you’re consistent in always expecting the worst of me.”

“Does Salomen know what you do?”

“Does she know I’m a cold-blooded killer, is that what you mean?” She was getting angry again. “No. She knows that I’m a warrior, and that I do precisely what I have to. And you should thank Fahla for that, because if I and fourteen other warriors hadn’t been prepared to kill in order to save you, you would have Returned yesterday and we wouldn’t be having this conversation about my killing instincts. Salomen knows exactly what I am, and she knows exactly what I did yesterday, and what it cost me. If you want to know any more about that, you’ll have to ask her.”

“What do you mean, what it cost you?”

She looked at him for several pipticks as he grew progressively more uncomfortable.

“Just think about it,” she said. “Put yourself in someone else’s place for once in your whole damned life and try to imagine it. I never saw that man before, but I had to watch him die. I had to feel him die.” She shook her head. “We’ve gotten a little off track. I came here to ask if you would be willing to testify to the Council about your experience.”

“Ah…do you need me to?”

“It might be helpful, yes. The man responsible for your kidnapping was Lead Warrior Shantu. He’s one of the most powerful Alseans on the Council. Since I’ve put out a criminal warrant on him, the other Council members are going to be questioning why. Your testimony will make it very clear.”

He furrowed his brow. “Why would the Lead Warrior want to kidnap me?”

“For the same reason you told Cullom Bilsner where to aim. He wants to hurt me. Though he’s after a political wound, while you were after a physical one. It’s ironic, don’t you think? You became a weapon, and the reason you were chosen is because of what you did.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Shantu was going to kill you and frame me for your murder,” she said. “Then he could lead a military coup against me. You were his ticket to the title of Lancer.”

She felt a dawning understanding, punctuated by a sudden pain.

“That’s why you rescued me,” he said. “To save your title.”

“I was already looking for you before you were kidnapped, Herot. Before I had any idea about Shantu and his scheme. But if you were hoping that I rescued you just because you’re an innocent man who was treated badly, then I’ll have to remind you of something you seem to have overlooked. You’re not an innocent man.”

His eyes dropped as a wave of shame washed through him.

“Will you testify?” she asked again.

“Yes,” he said, still not meeting her eyes. “I owe it to you.”

Tal started to correct him, but changed her mind. “Thank you. I’ll tell Salomen you asked after her.” She rose and was halfway down the aisle when he called after her. “Lancer Tal!”

She paused, her back to him.

“Please,” he said. “I need to know something.”

With a sigh, she turned around. “What is it?” she asked when she reached him.

“You said Salomen was in the window seat. But you were the one who was hurt. What happened?”

His dark eyes reminded her of Salomen’s as he stared up at her, and she finally realized why. For once in his life, he was showing concern for someone other than himself.

“I felt Cullom on the property,” she said. “His emotions gave him away. I pulled Salomen out of the window seat just in time, but I couldn’t get us far enough back to avoid the molten glass from the window. One of us was going to be burned…and I couldn’t let it be her.”

“But you said she was burned.”

“She was. But only on the parts of her legs that I couldn’t cover. I couldn’t save her from everything, though Fahla knows I tried.”

He stared at her for a long moment before looking out the viewport. “I never took Cullom seriously. He was so angry about everything, all the time. I think that’s why we became friends, because I was angry too. We fueled each other. At the end he was furious about what he thought you were doing to our caste, and about Gordense losing face after he’d made such a public stand against you and saying you had to be stopped. It made all of them look stupid.” He turned back to her. “But I think he always hated Salomen, too. Because she refused Gordense’s bond offer, and everyone in Granelle knew it. Everyone knew Iversina was the second choice. And then word got out about Salomen dating you, and Gordense tried to throw that in her face at the Caste House meeting, and she reminded him in front of Iversina and every landowner in the region that she’d turned him down. Gordense lost a lot of respect. Cullom said the whole town was laughing at them. And I wonder…I just wonder if he didn’t care who he hurt, you or Salomen.”

“If that’s the case, then I have even less pity for him now than before. And I had none before.”

“I want to tear his throat out,” said Herot flatly. “You’d better make certain we never meet or my sentence is going to be a lot longer. I think that’s Fahla’s joke on me—someone I thought was my friend almost killed my sister, and someone I thought was my enemy saved her. I will never, ever be able to thank you enough for that.”

Tal raised her eyebrows in surprise. She’d have thought the world would come to an end before Herot thanked her for anything. Then again, in a way Herot’s world really had come to an end.

“You don’t have to. I did it for her. And for myself,” she added. “It would have destroyed me if anything had happened to her.”

“Me too,” he said. “It kills me just thinking about it. I don’t blame her for not wanting to talk to me; I wouldn’t either.”

A few days ago, Tal thought, Herot would have been angry at Salomen for being angry at him. His sad acceptance of her reaction showed more maturity than she would have thought possible. It was also the one thing that could have induced her to offer comfort.

“She’ll talk to you eventually,” she said. “Probably sooner rather than later. You hurt her and you disappointed her, but you have one very important thing in your favor. You’re her brother, and Salomen does not let go of her family. She’s the most loyal person I have ever known.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I took a lot for granted. I hope I never do again.” He gave her an intent look, a sudden shyness coloring his emotions. “Can I ask you something?”

She nodded, wondering if she was ready for it.

“Do you…” He paused before finishing in a rush, “You really love her, don’t you?”

She smiled; that was an easy one. “How could I not?” she asked. “When someone like Salomen loves you, it’s impossible not to love her back.”

“True words,” he said. “I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to warn you against ever hurting her, but…” He shrugged, embarrassed. “I know you’ll take care of her.”

“I’m doing my best.” Tal hesitated, then held up her palm. “Goodbye, Herot.”

His touch was firm. “Goodbye.”

This time she only got a third of the way down the aisle.

“Lancer Tal!”

She turned in place and stood looking at him. He was struggling to his feet, using the seat back as a crutch.

“I know this doesn’t mean much, coming from me,” he said. “But I’m glad to have you in our family.”

Surprised, she gave him a brief smile. “It means something.”

The sun was well over the horizon as she stepped off the ramp, but she could feel that Salomen was still asleep. Her steps lengthened as she walked toward their temporary quarters, already imagining herself curling around Salomen’s warm body. She wouldn’t have long, but she meant to make the most of it.

And Herot was glad to have her in the Opah family.

Maybe Micah will wake up today, she thought. We’ve already had one miracle. Why not two?

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 59

 

 

“Andira.”

Tal reached out, her hand settling on a sleeve. “Why are you dressed?” she mumbled. Salomen needed to be in bed. The sooner she got undressed and climbed in, the sooner Tal could snuggle up to her and sleep again.

“I’m dressed because we have to get up.” Salomen pushed Tal’s hair away from her face and dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I let you sleep as long as I could. But it’s our turn with Colonel Micah.”

Tal groaned as she sat up, the vestiges of sleep still gumming up her brain. Her head dropped in exhaustion. “Didn’t I just get in bed?”

“You’ve been sleeping for over two hanticks.” Salomen kissed the back of her neck.

“Really?” Tal couldn’t believe it. She checked her wristcom just to be sure. “Damn. I would have sworn I laid down five ticks ago.”

“You’ve been dead asleep. I wanted to let you stay that way, but you told me to wake you up at morn-nine.”

“I know,” said Tal. “But did you have to listen?” She threw the coverlet back and slid her legs over the side, the movement helping to clear her head. “No, you’re right. We need to check on Micah, and Colonel Razine should be getting some results soon.” She stood up and took a single step, right into Salomen’s arms. “That’s far enough for now,” she said into her shoulder.

Salomen squeezed her gently. “I’ve never seen you so tired.”

“I think I’m better off just staying up all night than getting a hantick of sleep here and a hantick there.” With a sigh, she pushed herself away from Salomen and padded through the doorway into the bathroom. Salomen followed her in.

“Would you like a cup of shannel?” she asked.

“I’d sell my title for one.” Tal activated the water shelf and stood under it gratefully. “Ahhh. That’s helping.” She rinsed her hair, slicking it back with her hands, and opened her eyes to find that Salomen hadn’t budged.

“I know you’re not in the mood, and we wouldn’t have time to do anything about it even if you were,” said Salomen. “But watching you do that is killing me. You’re truly beautiful.” Her eyes made a slow trip down and up again. “And very sexy when you’re wet.” She pushed off the doorway and turned. “I’ll get your shannel.”

Tal watched her go, her skin tingling. “All right,” she said to the empty room. “I’m awake now.”

 

 

-----

 

 

The Blacksun military transport was conspicuous by its absence. Salomen said nothing, but Tal saw her looking out the viewport as they strapped into their seats. They were in the pilot’s cabin, while the four Guards sat in the back. Tal wasn’t about to be chauffeured around Redmoon when flying her own transport was an option. She did a quick check of her flight controls, engaged the engines, and said casually, “He asked after you.”

“Did he?” Salomen was trying for casual as well, but it didn’t go below the surface.

“He wanted to know if you would ever talk to him again.” Tal lifted off the landing pad and moved into the base’s transit airspace.

“Did you tell him I haven’t decided yet?”

“I told him you were having mixed emotions.”

They crossed the base border and turned toward the city, covering nearly half the distance before Salomen said, “What a tiny little term for it. Makes me sound as if I can’t quite decide which shirt to wear today.” She intercepted the hand Tal held out, intertwining their fingers. “I just couldn’t talk to him. I’m not ready.”

“I know,” said Tal. “You’re not under any obligation.”

“Of course I’m under an obligation.” Salomen looked at her. “He’s my brother. And I know it probably hurt him terribly that I let him go back to Blacksun in a prison transport without even saying goodbye. But I’m afraid that if I see him before I get a handle on my anger, I’m going to say something that can never be taken back.”

“Good thing I didn’t have to worry about that. I said quite a few things that can’t be taken back.”

“Do I want to hear this?”

Tal glanced at her. “I told him you almost died. That he’d hurt you and didn’t even have the courage to stay around and see how badly. I think it was the first time he truly understood what he did.”

“What did he say?”

“He broke down completely. Fahla knows I haven’t had much use for Herot, but I’ll give him credit for one thing: he loves you very much.”

“Sometimes I’ve wondered,” said Salomen darkly. “Did he tell you that?”

“I don’t think that’s a message he would want to convey through me. It’s not hard to sense, though. And I suspect it will be the second thing he tells you when you do talk to him. Right after ‘I’m sorry.’”

“Yes, but is he sorry for the right thing?” Salomen stared straight ahead as the domes of Redmoon approached. “I never doubted that he regretted hurting his family and throwing his life down the fanten feeding chute. And I’m sure he’s sorry about what nearly happened to me. But is he sorry for what he did to you? Is he sorry that the whole world now associates the Opah name with betrayal and attempted murder? Is he sorry for turning his back on everything of value our mother tried to teach him?”

Tal banked around to skirt the city, skimming over the outlying homes toward the shining dome of the new healing center. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I think he’s on the road toward some self-examination. Something has clearly changed—he actually thanked me.”

“He did?” Salomen was startled. “So he can see beyond his own nose. That’s encouraging. Did you tell him that he also owes a debt of gratitude to twenty other people?”

“He didn’t thank me for saving him, Salomen. He thanked me for saving you.”

“Oh.” Salomen offered nothing more, but a tiny blossom of happiness whisked across Tal’s senses. She glanced over in time to catch a small smile on her face.

“And you forgot one thing,” she added. “Exactly half a hantick from now, the whole world will associate the Opah name with you, not Herot.”

“Shek,” groaned Salomen. “I’m not certain that’s an improvement.”

 

 

-----

 

 

The quiet of the room was stifling. Vellmar had never been fond of healing centers; they gave her the spine crawls. She had seen more than one fellow Guard go through the front archway and never come back out again, and even though she knew nothing could have been done to prevent their Return, she still associated healing centers with death. It didn’t appear that this time was going to be any different. Colonel Micah had not yet Returned, but he certainly wasn’t living, either.

Carefully she walked to the colonel’s bedside, then realized she’d fallen into the same automatic response everyone else did. People instinctively tip toed in these places, even though a patient like the colonel wouldn’t wake up if the Whitesun Symphony played an entire windhorn suite in his room. If it were that easy, the Lancer would have had the symphony playing at morn-four.

Every Guard had now taken a turn Sharing with him, and the rotation was starting over. In a quarter hantick the Lancer and Raiz Opah were due to try again, and after them she had already scheduled all of the other Guards with the exception of the two who had flown back with the prison transport. Vellmar had never seen anything like it. She’d known the Lancer’s Guards were a unit apart from all others, but had never imagined just how far apart they really were. Warriors owed loyalty to their superiors, but this was more than just something owed. This was a loyalty earned. Colonel Micah’s warriors seemed to see him as partially a unit leader and partially family.

She looked around to make sure no one was in the doorway before placing her hands on his energy points. It felt odd and a little wrong for several reasons, but she’d made her decision and she was sticking with it. With a deep breath, she bent over and rested her forehead against his.

Darkness. Heavy, liquid darkness, pushing and constricting. It was so different from Sharing with a conscious person, and she instinctively wanted out. For a few moments she thrashed around uselessly, until Dewar’s description came back to her.

Right. I need to relax.

That was far easier said than done. Eventually she managed it and then smiled to herself as her consciousness floated upward. Moments later she popped out into a light, airy space above the darkness. It wasn’t difficult at all.

Colonel Micah was here, though her sense of him was faint. She had no idea how to connect with him or bring him to her; he certainly didn’t know her well enough to respond to just her presence. But she knew from prior experience that a Sharing created such an intense exchange that simply thinking about an emotion was often enough for one’s partner to sense it. Of course, she’d never tried this with anyone other than a lover. But she had no other way of communicating with him; she hadn’t known him long enough to feel the same emotions that the other Guards did.

Feeling a bit like a trespasser, she focused on what she’d seen and felt in the others.

Colonel Micah, I know you can’t hear me, but you really need to come back.

Come back.

You have twenty worried Guards out here. Lancer Tal and Raiz Opah are beyond worried; I think the Lancer is already grieving for you.

She’s worried and afraid.

Don’t do this. We all need you.

Come back, please.

A simple set of thoughts, repeated over and over. With each round she recalled the emotions she’d seen and sensed in her oath holders, as well as the Guards, and reflected them outward. If the colonel was paying any attention at all, he could not miss them. She focused in particular on the grief she’d seen in the Lancer, thinking that if anything would get Colonel Micah’s attention, surely that would. Again and again she called up her memory of the look in Lancer Tal’s eyes as she’d led the evacuation of the colonel, and as she’d stood just inside the transport door, staring at him while Dewar checked his readings. Grief and fear and determination…Vellmar felt the strain of projecting someone else’s emotions, but she pushed on. She recalled the way the Lancer had unhesitatingly dropped to her knees and Shared with Colonel Micah to hold him during their flight; the way Raiz Opah had joined her despite having no prior experience; and the way they’d both needed to be helped to a seat afterward, having given so much of their strength to him.

After several repetitions she was growing tired, but forced herself to complete just one more cycle of memory and emotional projection. When it was done, she focused on her own feelings.

You have people here who would give their all for you. I have never seen anything like it. This is not just honor. This is family. And I just joined the family, so please don’t leave before I’ve even had a chance to know you.

At last she backed out, sinking willingly into the darkness again. She was more than ready; this had been tiring beyond her expectations. She wanted to see through her own eyes again; to feel the vivid senses of her own body. And she wanted a nap.

The darkness rushed in on her, pushing her down deeper and deeper until she hit the bottom and came back to herself with a start. The muffled sounds from the corridor, the feel of the colonel’s skin beneath her hands, the slight current of air from the open door; all were welcome signs of her own consciousness.

She raised her head, keeping her eyes half-closed against the too-bright light—and froze in place as a pair of ice-blue eyes looked back at her.

“Are you all right? I was just about to come after you.”

Vellmar relaxed at the concerned expression on the Lancer’s face. “I’m fine; thank you.” She turned her head to find Raiz Opah on her other side, watching her with a similar expression. “I, ah…I hope this was acceptable.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” asked Opah, furrowing her brow. “Every voice helps, I would think.”

The Lancer took her arm and steered her toward the chairs in the corner. “Sit down; you look a little drained.”

Vellmar sat gratefully. “I feel a little drained. What time is it?”

“Morn-nine and sixty,” said Lancer Tal, taking the seat next to her. “We’ve been watching you for a tentick.”

She’d been Sharing for thirty-five ticks? Vellmar groaned to herself. They’d come at their scheduled time and had been sitting here waiting for her to get out of the way. “I apologize for making you wait,” she said.

The Lancer shook her head. “There’s no need; I was glad to see you here. Why would you think otherwise?”

Vellmar looked from her to Raiz Opah and back again. How to explain?

“I didn’t feel it was my place. This kind of Sharing…” she gestured at Colonel Micah, “…it’s only done with family. It was obvious last night, when everyone was signing up, that this whole unit is more family than anything else. And I’m new here.”

“And you don’t feel like family yet,” said Raiz Opah, walking over to stand beside the Lancer’s chair. “Well, you did just arrive two days ago. I can understand your feeling.”

“Was it only two days ago?” said Lancer Tal. “I’d swear it was a nineday at least.”

“I can tell you that this post is a good deal more exciting than my last one,” said Vellmar. “You people pack a lot into two days.”

The Lancer gave a short, unamused laugh. “Believe me, this is not the norm. And I pray to Fahla we never have two days like it again.” She gave Vellmar a keen look. “What changed your mind?”

“My entire unit has Shared with the colonel. I’m their Lead Guard. That means I don’t sit in the back while they get things done. I’m supposed to be in front of them, not behind.”

Lancer Tal nodded. “And the other reason?” she asked shrewdly.

This was more difficult. Vellmar looked down briefly before meeting her eyes and admitting, “He’s not just your Chief Guardian. I saw it in your face last night. I hope that’s not too personal, but it was clear that you were…you are worried about him. More than you would be for someone who was merely a good warrior.”

There was a rather uncomfortable silence in the room as she waited to see if she’d taken one step too far. The Lancer was letting nothing slip past her front, but her expression showed that she was taken aback. Finally she quirked an eyebrow and said, “Welcome to the family, Vellmar. I know it’s difficult to come into an established unit like this one. You feel like everyone has a history that doesn’t include you. But history is made at different rates of time, and as you said, we’ve packed a lot into two days. You’re a part of this unit now. Everyone who came on this mission shares a common bond with him, and that includes you. You were one of his stretcher-bearers. Your Guards won’t soon forget that. Neither will I.”

“Nor I,” said Vellmar, casting a glance at the colonel’s bed. “I told him that he needs to come back so I can get to know him. I think he has a lot to teach me.”

A slow smile crossed the Lancer’s face. “Yes, he does.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 60

 

 

Tal waited until she was sure Salomen had connected before walking over to take the seat beside Vellmar, who had stayed through her Sharing with Micah. She was more and more impressed with her new Lead Guard. Vellmar was a confident, accomplished warrior, yet for all her experience she still showed an endearing desire for approval. Tal had the feeling that Vellmar cared less about advancement and more about doing the best job she could possibly do for her oath holders—which, of course, guaranteed her swift rise in the ranks.

Vellmar was watching Salomen with a slightly puzzled look on her face as Tal sat beside her. “You might as well ask,” said Tal, settling herself more comfortably for the wait.

“Ask what?”

“Whatever it is you’re trying to figure out about her.”

“That obvious, eh?”

Tal raised her eyebrows, earning a slightly sheepish smile.

“I was just wondering how a producer could have the kind of empathic strength she does,” said Vellmar. “Why isn’t she scholar caste?”

“Why not warrior caste?” countered Tal, just to see what she would do.

“There’s not a doubt in my mind that Raiz Opah could hold her own in our caste,” said Vellmar. “She’s a protector. But…” She trailed off, and Tal took pity on her.

“But she’s not a killer,” she said.

“No.”

“The warriors who haven’t killed far outnumber those who have,” Tal pointed out.

“Yes, but the caste responsibility requires a readiness to commit that act. I cannot see Raiz Opah accepting that responsibility, no matter how remote the chances of an actual obligation.”

“No,” Tal admitted. “It’s not in her character. You’re right; if she’d changed castes she would have been a scholar.”

“Then why is she not?”

“Because she beat the testers and never told a soul until just last moon.”

“You’re joking!” Vellmar burst out. Seeing Tal’s smile at her reaction, she lowered her voice and added, “Children don’t have that kind of power! If she beat the testers, then she must be—” She stopped, unable to articulate it.

“In a class of her own,” finished Tal. “Yes, she is. I don’t know exactly how powerful she is yet; she’s never been assessed. And I suspect she may have some abilities we haven’t tapped into yet.”

Vellmar shook her head. “Fahla hides her seeds in the most unlikely of places. How did she acquire her skill if she never told anyone?”

“I’ve been working with her for the last moon,” said Tal. “She won’t leave her holding to attend any of the institutes, so we worked out a compromise.”

“She has an impressive front for someone with only one moon of training. You must be an excellent instructor.”

From anyone else Tal might have interpreted that as flattery, but she really didn’t think Vellmar was the type. “It has more to do with the student than the instructor,” she said. “Salomen learned quickly because she worked hard at it. I would love to see just how much she can really do, but for now she’s content with fronting and blocking and a little focused sensing.”

“But you don’t think she’ll stay content with it,” said Vellmar, watching her closely.

Tal shrugged. “It’s not for me to say. When and if she’s ready to move to a different level, she’ll tell me.”

“Beating the testers…I’ve never even heard of that. I can think of several instructors who would be tripping over their own feet to be the one working with her.”

“That’s an interesting image.” Tal spent a moment visualizing the calm, controlled instructors of her training days falling over themselves to get to Salomen. Then the face of her favorite instructor came into focus, and she wondered if she should extend an invitation to Sentis Dalsen to visit Blacksun. It would be something to watch him and Salomen together. If Instructor Dalsen thought she had been a handful, she would love to hear his opinion of Salomen! She owed him an update anyway; it had been over half a moon since she’d called him for advice on the strange bond she’d been feeling with Salomen. Of course, he would certainly figure it out on his own, given the fact that—

“Shek,” she muttered. Vellmar looked surprised, and Tal waved her hand in a ‘not you’ gesture. “I just remembered; the media conference is happening right now. I hope we can get out of here before it starts raining journalists.”

“I’m sorry,” said Vellmar immediately. “If you hadn’t had to wait for me, you wouldn’t be running so close to the conference time.”

Tal gave her Lead Guard a level stare. “Are you apologizing again, after I already told you there was no need?”

“Ah…” Vellmar was clearly trying to decide which way to jump. “No?”

For all her stress and worry, Tal couldn’t help but laugh at her Guard’s tone of voice and expression. “Good answer. I hate repeating myself.” Sobering, she added, “I’m truly glad you Shared with him. As Salomen said, every voice counts. Fahla knows I’m not reaching him; maybe a new voice will.”

“Do you sense any response at all?”

“No.” Tal rested her head on the back of her chair. “In a way, he’s less there now than he was on the transport. He doesn’t drain me like he did then, but…he’s further away.”

Vellmar looked uncomfortable. “Has Healer Graystone mentioned anything to you regarding his opinion?”

“You mean since the surgery?” At her nod, Tal said, “No. Why, has he spoken to you?”

“Not really, but…I overheard him a hantick ago.” She paused. “I think it would be better coming from him, but something tells me it’s not an opinion he wants to share. He told his assistant that there was no physical reason why Colonel Micah is still unconscious.”

Tal nodded slowly. She wasn’t surprised at the news, or the fact that Graystone didn’t want to tell her. The healer would probably wait another two or three days before admitting his own lack of hope. “I could wish for better,” she said. “But my instincts tell me Graystone is right.”

“I don’t understand it,” said Vellmar. “He’s at the top of his caste; he’s your Chief Guardian; he holds your trust and friendship…” She held her hands out, palm up. “He lives a life the rest of us can only hope to achieve. Why would he not be fighting to come back to it?”

“That’s a question only Micah can answer.” Tal reasoned that it wasn’t quite a lie; though she was fairly certain she knew why, it was still a guess. Her next words died in her throat as her wristcom vibrated, showing an incoming message from Colonel Razine.

Interrogation completed.

“She certainly wins the prize for brevity,” she said to herself, clearing the message. She looked at Salomen and Micah and considered her options. “As soon as Salomen is done, I want you to accompany us back to the transport. I need to get back to base, and we may require you to help clear the way.”

“You mean if it’s raining journalists?”

“Exactly.” Tal got up and poked her head out the door, unsurprised to find a few healing center personnel lingering at the end of the corridor. They were in a tight huddle, speaking softly, but as soon as one of them glimpsed her the whole group went quiet and looked at her with wide eyes. Graystone’s assistant was among them. Tal crooked her finger at him, hiding a smile as his coworkers subtly moved away. The assistant came down the hall and carefully skirted around the four Guards outside the door.

“My Lancer, what may I do for you?” he asked.

“You can bring Healer Graystone,” she said. “I need to speak with him.”

He bobbed his head and whisked down the hall, clearly relieved that Graystone was the one on the spot and not him. Tal rejoined Vellmar and remarked, “Sometimes I wonder what sort of reputation I have. The support staff here act as if I’m about to eat one of them.”

“It’s not every day the Lancer brings her top Guard to a healing center,” said Vellmar. “Especially one halfway around the planet from Blacksun. Besides, do they know for sure that you won’t eat any of them?”

“No,” said Tal. “Do you?”

Vellmar gave her a quick smile. “I’m new to the unit. I haven’t learned your dining habits yet.”

“It doesn’t include healer staff,” said Tal. “Though I’ve been known to chew up a warrior now and then.”

“So have I.”

They sat quietly for several ticks until a rustle outside the door heralded the arrival of Healer Graystone. “Lancer Tal,” he said in greeting. “My assistant said you asked for me?”

“I did.” Tal rose from her chair and stood beside Salomen. “In your opinion, do you think it would be safe to move Colonel Micah tomorrow morning?”

“That depends,” said Graystone. “Move him to where?”

“Blacksun.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s quite a distance.”

“Yes, it is. But I can’t run the government from here, and I’d rather not return without him. Is he stable enough to be moved?”

Graystone walked to the other side of the bed and checked Micah’s wrist scanner. Tal suspected it was more to give himself time to answer than any need to know Micah’s readings.

“I believe he is,” he said at last. “I’m not enthusiastic about the idea of moving him, but frankly we’ve done all that can be done. The staff at Blacksun can handle his current needs.” Seemingly unaware that he had just denigrated an entire city’s worth of talented healers, he added, “I’ll send one of my healers with him to monitor the transport and brief the Blacksun staff on his situation. What time do you wish to leave?”

“I’ll share that with you when I know it myself. There are—” She stopped, her empathic senses suddenly flooded with Salomen’s renewed presence.

“Damn him,” Salomen muttered, raising her head and massaging her forehead. She blinked her eyes open, saw Tal watching her and frowned. “If anything, he’s farther away than he was last night. Is that what you sensed, or is he just running from me?”

“That’s what I sensed,” said Tal. “I didn’t want to tell you before, just in case you had a different reaction.”

Dismay and sadness radiated from Salomen as she reached for Tal’s hand. With her throat suddenly tight, Tal turned toward Graystone. “Are we fighting a losing battle?”

He pursed his lips, looking from Micah to her. “Where there is a beating heart there is hope,” he said. “It’s still too early to draw fatalistic conclusions. I’ve seen much worse cases than this pull out of the darkness, so I would not assume that the battle is lost.”

Tal nodded; she hadn’t expected him to say anything definitive. Needing to get back to something she could actually control, she asked, “Is there anything we should know about his transport?”

Five ticks later Graystone had exhausted his supply of advice and bade them farewell, leaving a rather quiet room behind him. The silence stretched out as Tal stared at Micah, until Salomen finally squeezed her hand and said softly, “Shall we go, tyrina?”

Tal nodded reluctantly. “I need to get back to base.” Tearing her gaze away, she looked up to see identical expressions on both Salomen’s and Vellmar’s faces. “Don’t look like that,” she said. “You heard the healer. Micah’s heart still beats.”

“Yes, it does,” said Salomen. “And until it stops we’ll be in his mind, annoying the dokshin out of him until he has to wake up.”

It was a blatant attempt at lightening the mood, and Tal brought her hand up to kiss it. “If annoying him will do the trick, maybe we should get Aldirk in here for a turn.”

“Maybe we should.” Salomen smiled at her, and Tal felt just a little bit better.

The four Guards fell into step as they left the room, with two ahead and two behind. Vellmar walked just behind the front Guards; far enough from Tal and Salomen to be unobtrusive, but close enough for instant action.

“Be prepared for a possible media storm,” Tal said as they walked down the corridor. “The announcement was made while you were with Micah. It’s still early enough that most of the journalists in the city probably haven’t arrived yet, but…” She trailed off.

“I know,” said Salomen. “I’m ready.”

Tal nodded, feeling a surge of pride for her tyree. “Just don’t hurt any of them,” she said. “You need to establish a good image first. Then you can start abusing them.”

“Right.” Salomen nodded. “First the false advertising, then reality.”

They went out the arch to find that the number of journalists had doubled since they’d entered the center. “Damn,” groaned Salomen. “How did they get here so quickly?”

“They knew we were in town,” said Tal in resignation. “They were probably in their transports before Miltorin got past his first three sentences.”

As the journalists caught sight of them, a swarm of vidcams rose into the air.

“Lancer Tal! Will your bonding ceremony be public or private?”

“Raiz Opah! How does it feel to be the future Bondlancer of Alsea?”

“When did you first know how you felt about the Lancer?”

“Have you heard from your brother?”

“Are you concerned about the warrior caste’s reaction to your choice, Lancer?”

Tal paused at that last one before continuing toward the transport as her Guards kept the journalists at a distance. Only when they were two paces up the entry ramp did she turn to face them, all five Guards lined up below like a breathing wall.

“We can give you five ticks,” she said, and pointed toward a man she recognized from the night before.

“Thank you, Lancer Tal.” Pleased at being chosen, he stepped forward to the front of the crowd. “Raiz Opah, as the first producer Bondlancer in sixteen generations, do you see your position as striking a blow for caste equality?”

“I wasn’t aware that my caste was unequal to the others,” said Salomen. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Ah…” he fumbled for a moment, and Tal put an appreciative arm around Salomen’s waist. “Of course the castes are equal in name and theory, but the reality doesn’t always match, does it?”

“Perhaps your reality does not. Mine does. I’m an Alsean first and a producer second, and I’m proud of my caste. If someone gave me the opportunity to change castes I would say thank you, but no.”

If the journalists ever dug up the truth in that statement, thought Tal, Alsea would be talking of nothing else for a nineday. She watched as Salomen took the initiative and pointed at a woman toward the back.

“Raiz Opah, your brother is the object of an investigation regarding the assassination attempt—”

Salomen interrupted, “I will not comment on a continuing investigation. Is there something else you wish to ask?”

Instantly switching gears, the woman said, “You met the Lancer when you became a delegate for the replicator planning meetings. Did you form a bond then? Is that why the Lancer spent a moon working on your holding?”

“Lancer Tal spent a moon on my holding because she’s almost as boar-headed as I am,” said Salomen, and there were a few muffled chuckles. “If we formed a bond during the delegate meetings,” she continued, “we were both unaware of it. We didn’t understand our attraction until the Lancer’s challenge moon was more than half over. The nice thing about her bond offer is that for once I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am wanted for myself rather than my land.”

“You’ve had bond offers before, then?”

“Five,” said Salomen, to the audible surprise of the crowd. “As you can see, I was waiting for the right person.” She pointed toward a man to the left.

Having obviously learned from his predecessor’s mistake, he said, “The title of Bondlancer is far removed from the experience of most of us, regardless of caste. How are you preparing for this new responsibility?”

“Lancer Tal has already assigned Colonel Corozen Micah as my Chief Counselor, to help me learn what I need to know. He’s…” Salomen’s voice caught, and she covered it by clearing her throat. “He’s the reason we’re here in Redmoon.”

Tal felt her panic; she’d just gotten herself onto a topic she didn’t know how to handle. “Colonel Micah was injured on a mission,” she said smoothly. “The full details of that mission will be available later, when we’ve had a chance to bring it to its final conclusion. Are there any other questions for Raiz Opah?”

She squeezed Salomen’s waist, silently telling her to take over again. Salomen got the message and pointed toward the woman directly in front of them.

“Is it true that one of your rejected bond offers came from Gordense Bilsner, the father of Cullom Bilsner?” asked the woman with a deceptively pleasant expression.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Is it possible that family honor might have been a motivating factor in the assassination attempt?”

“That’s a question for Cullom Bilsner, not me,” said Salomen, and Tal silently cheered her. “I cannot even begin to put myself into the mind of an assassin.” She pointed to a man at the far edge, effectively ending the topic.

“Raiz Opah, since no one else has said it, please allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your upcoming bonding.”

Salomen smiled for the first time. “Thank you. I was wondering how long it might take before someone offered congratulations. But then I’m new to media conferences; I thought perhaps journalists simply didn’t operate under the same codes of courtesy that the rest of us do.”

Tal fought back the grin that threatened to break over her face. Salomen had just slapped down the entire lot of them, and with a perfect courtesy of her own. Fahla, she loved this woman! She had an overwhelming urge to kiss her, but satisfied herself with squeezing her waist again.

The journalists shifted on their feet, a palpable sense of discomfort arising from most of them. The man in the back smiled broadly. “Some of us tend to forget the courtesies in our enthusiasm for the story,” he said. “I think they won’t soon forget again around you. Will your ceremony be public, I hope?”

“The ceremony itself will involve only our friends and family. We’re somewhat limited by the capacity of Whitemoon Temple. However, it will be recorded and aired in real time, so that anyone who wishes can share in it.”

“Whitemoon Temple is beautiful,” he said, “but rather far from Blacksun and Granelle. Why not Blacksun Temple?”

“Because Whitemoon holds special meaning for both of us. For me it will be fulfilling a dream of my mother’s; she always wanted to see it but was never able to before her Return.”

“And for you, Lancer Tal?”

Tal was not above using the moment for a little political strengthening. “Whitemoon is where Fahla herself chose to communicate with me.”

Several audible gasps were heard. “Can you tell us about that?” asked the man.

“I went there after my speech last moon, to show my gratitude for the gift Fahla had given me.” Tal kissed Salomen on the cheek, making it clear exactly which gift she was referring to. “I prayed to her for the wisdom to make Salomen happy, and to give her the kind of life she deserves. Fahla gave me a very clear sign that she was listening.” She raised her hand to stop the questions. “No, I’m not going to share the precise nature of that sign. It’s personal. But I can tell you that I’ve seen it several times since then, always in connection with Salomen, and there is not a doubt in my mind that Salomen and I are both on the path that was chosen for us.”

A chorus of voices rose, but Tal called out, “That’s all we have time for. Good day.” She slipped her arm from around Salomen’s waist, caught her hand, and held their clasped hands up in a farewell gesture that caused the entire swarm of vidcams to swoop in. Leaving the Guards to hold back the journalists, they made their way up the ramp and into the transport, where Salomen waited only until the doors closed behind the last Guard before turning to Tal and resting her head on her shoulder.

“You did beautifully, tyrina,” said Tal as her Guards discreetly found other places to look.

Salomen took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, and raised her head. “Thank you. I felt like a fanten on slaughter day.”

“But you looked like a Bondlancer in full control.” Tal gave her an encouraging smile. “I particularly enjoyed watching you slap them down for their lack of courtesy. I think you’ve already established your reputation.”

“Might as well start now,” said Salomen, and Tal found herself unable to wait any longer. Tugging Salomen into the pilot’s cabin, she shut the door and immediately pulled her into her arms.

“You’re magnificent,” she said, holding her tightly and stroking the back of her head. “And you make me so damn proud. Those journalists thought they would be dealing with a meek little dokker, but they learned a quick lesson about the Bondlancer.”

“Will they always think of me as the producer Bondlancer?” Salomen pushed herself back far enough to look in to Tal’s eyes. “Am I going to be fighting caste prejudice for the rest of my life?”

Tal gently brushed her hair away from her face. “Perhaps in the beginning,” she admitted. “But to be honest, I think you’ll give your caste a brand new face and reputation. When Micah had his first dealings with you, he was instantly impressed. He told me that you’d make an excellent unit trainer. And I told him that if you trained units, we’d have an entire Alsean Defense Force cowering at the sight of a producer.”

Salomen laughed,