by Sharon Rose
He drew her to a sofa and held her through a long silence. She could guess how much he wished to talk.
Finally, he said, “Do you need anything?”
“Thirsty.”
“They provided refreshment,” he said, getting up. “There is water and some kind of juice. I think you’d say ‘it’s really quite delicious.’”
Oh, this man knew how to make her feel comfortable. “Juice, please.”
He poured her a glass. As he handed it to her, his eyes darted toward the hallway door. “Their emfrel is intense.”
She felt it too, though it was more familiar to her.
The door slid open. YefRon halted, his lips parting. Perhaps they should be less obvious. Not stare at the door before it opened.
YefRon took a couple steps into the room. “I’m monitoring Pernanyen’s brain activity. Are you…finished?”
Kena sipped her drink. He’d said finished as though that was disturbing. “No, just taking a break.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Is it acceptable for me to ask of your progress?”
Kena nodded. “I’ve finished removing memories—those I deemed private. She wants me to investigate her perceptions, so I will begin that soon.”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “The rest of the constrained link. Normally, the first part would tire the subject, making the second part easier for the dominant…” He stopped talking and looked between her and Antony. “I’m sorry. I don’t…”
Kena shot a look at Antony’s face. His chin jutted forward, and his nostrils flared.
She licked her lips. “Could you just use our names instead of words like subject or dominant?”
“I ask your pardon. Kena, your telepathic energy did not tire Pernanyen adequately. You won’t be able to constrain her to show you any thoughts she chooses to hide.”
“She hides nothing.”
“I suppose so, but you still need to be able to constrain her.” His words rushed faster as his eyes skipped between their faces. “I realize you may not be able to tire her yourself. I am offering to do it for you.”
Antony stared at YefRon. “Kena, is he offering to torment Pernanyen on your behalf?”
“No!” YefRon shifted his stance. “I am offering to relieve Kena of the strain of dealing with a telepath who is much stronger than her.”
Kena huffed a breath but kept her voice smooth. “That won’t be necessary.” She drained her glass.
YefRon regarded her steadily. “Please don’t let Pernanyen sleep any longer.” With those words, he left.
Kena put her hand into Antony’s, and he helped her stand. “You looked like you wanted to slug him.”
Antony wrapped an arm around her. “He made me think of what they did to you.”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t him. Freltenloe exhausted me, under Pernanyen’s orders.”
“They don’t understand at all, do they?”
“Nope.” Kena drew a deep breath. “I better get back to Pernanyen and finish this before anyone else comes to tell me I’m doing it wrong.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Kena returned to Pernanyen’s side. She looked even more child-like with her golden hair mussed and the innocence of sleep on her face. Kena woke her. “Let’s finish.”
Their link connected almost instantly. “If there is anything in particular you wish to show me, now is the time.”
Kena got comfortable in her chair again as she absorbed the thoughts Pernanyen offered. Nothing new. The PitKreelaundun really had believed that the Collaborative directed tra-pentazine toward their space with intent to harm. She listened to past discussions through Pernanyen’s ears, often involving the tra-pentazine protectors. Proofs of the Collaborative causing harm, and arguments challenging those interpretations. Circular, heated debates. She sensed a younger Pernanyen doubting, wishing, hoping, never totally convinced that the Collaborative—at least, not all of them—could have such a desire.
Kena left that meandering path and inquired about the day they’d met. Again, Pernanyen opened fully, revealing the motives behind her decision. No surprises there, either. Just an honest desire to learn the truth with indisputable proof. Grief tainted the outcome. Kena wrapped it in forgiveness, like the binding of a wound, and held Pernanyen there until her amazement settled and she accepted the forgiveness…though not easily.
Kena’s breath whistled between pursed lips. This race was obsessed with stringent justice!
Pernanyen stirred on the lounge. Kena observed her reluctance to leave this sweet place, then her internal stiffening for the dreaded moment. Pernanyen opened her eyes and looked into Kena’s. They shared vision. Kena’s view of amber encircling ebony, and Pernanyen’s view of blueish, greenish hues radiating from Kena’s pupils.
Dread pulsed within Pernanyen. You must search me until you are certain I hide nothing.
I already am certain.
Pernanyen considered that while Kena watched. Yes, I see that you are, but you have only looked at what I’ve shown you.
Do you think I cannot see your motives, child? You withhold nothing.
Still—you should look for something I would not think to show you.
Kena considered this in the portion of her mind that she withheld from Pernanyen’s view. So strange that she wanted Kena to probe, yet she did. As you wish. The Frayunomen family, who would have been heir if I had not returned?
The convoluted answer pushed Kena’s brows high. Good thing she had returned.
I am curious about Jenarsig of Shennasee. Kena absorbed Pernanyen’s impressions of him. And NorGah of Pont? More impressions, but nothing definitive.
Kena asked about the primaries’ views of the Collaborative, then watched as Pernanyen sought memories.
She had such a remarkably organized memory that it took only seconds for her apologetic answer to form. They would not make public statements of that sort. It is my fa—Stabbing pain, swiftly pushed aside. It is Travannesal who attends private discussions among the primaries.
Kena wrapped Pernanyen in the mental equivalent of a hug.
Pernanyen rested in it, then searched further for something useful to answer Kena. Only hints arose, here and there, among her years of preparation at Travannesal’s side. He was prone to frowning over Jenarsig.
Interesting. Kena sensed Pernanyen’s building puzzlement and sought its cause.
Pernanyen had expected this to be uncomfortable…didn’t understand why it wasn’t.
Non-issue. There are certain laws…Kena followed pathways through Pernanyen’s structured memory, absorbing knowledge. Again, she paused.
Pernanyen prompted her again. “What more?”
Nothing, really. I am satisfied.
Nebulous worry shifted through Pernanyen. You only ask. You don’t search.
I can search without force. Don’t confuse gentleness with weakness. Be at peace, child. I have what I sought.
Kena withdrew. Her mind and spirit converged like merging waves. Kena released the tight grip she’d held on her emotions, letting the eddies recombine into the single current that was her, flowing within the ocean of her beloved. She’d done it. Her rapid breath slowed. She…had…done it!
Antony cocked his head toward a faint sound. Had Kena called to him? He strode to her side. Her gaze drifted, but she must have seen him, for she gripped his hand. He slid an arm around her waist, supporting her as she stood.
She released a long sigh and leaned into his side, then swayed in the direction of the sitting room.
He got her through the doorway. “Are you finished?” When she nodded, he closed the door to Pernanyen’s room and murmured, “Come, sit down, love.”
She let him guide her to the sofa, then settled against his arm.
Definitely not inclined to talk. Fine. He would sing. No words, just a melody. After a while, she merged her voice in harmony with his.
Kena met his gaze, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “You have the perfect technique to bring me gently b
ack. Are you sure you’re not trained as a telepath?”
He chuckled. “I just know you. How’d it go?”
“Not bad at all. It might not seem this way to you, but she really is a sweet girl, way down inside. Idealistic, a bit naive, but determined to live up to a lofty standard. She has a passion for her people.”
He leaned his cheek against her hair. “She can’t possibly be as sweet as you.”
“You are so biased. It’s time to let Travannesal know I’m finished.” She groaned. “I don’t want to stand up.”
Antony angled his head toward the hallway door. “A PitKreelaundun hovers out there. Probably one of those aides. I’ll get him.”
Sure enough, when he opened the door, a blonde man of slight stature straightened. “I’d like to talk to Travannesal,” Antony said.
“Certainly, sir. He is near, if you’d like to follow me.”
Not what he’d had in mind, but it shouldn’t matter. Antony followed the aide to an ornate room, spacious enough to hold fifty people. Only three occupied it, though, grouped at the far end. Travannesal, who faced the door, rose and strode toward him.
Another Laundun, his back to the door, spoke in his own language, Antony understood his every word.
“But if Pernanyen is executed, Kell’s permanent removal will have no impact on the balance of votes.”
What sort of creature would say that in her father’s presence? By voice and formal garb, he must be Jenarsig. No surprise!
The black-haired PitKree, also wearing a wide collar, said, “Are you suggesting I should negate injustice to the PitKree with another injustice to the entire Frayunomen family?”
“No. Pointing out that justice will negate the other problem before it forms.”
A sharp twinge pulled deep inside Antony at the word justice. Their understanding was so tiny and twisted out of context that he grieved. Travannesal reached him, so Antony could no longer listen. He must do what he’d come for. “Kena asked me to tell you that she is finished.”
“Is she well?” Travannesal asked, guiding him into the hallway.
“Yes.” Antony walked beside him. “We can meet with you whenever you’re ready.”
“I need to confirm completion with Pernanyen. We’ll let Kena rest for now.”
Antony parted from Travannesal at the door of their quarters. As it slid shut behind him, he paused, frowning. “That was…odd.”
“What?” Kena asked.
He told her the few sentences he’d overheard.
“Hm,” she said. “Did they wear those broad metallic collars?”
Antony nodded. “I’m sure the Laundun was Jenarsig. The PitKree wore green with a wide black collar. Not so glitzy and stiff. More like interlocked links.”
“Could be NorGah of Pont, I suppose.”
Antony snorted. “I still can’t believe what Jenarsig said. Who talks about executing someone’s daughter in front of them?”
Kena angled her head. “Careful about saying that. Technically, Pernanyen is not his daughter anymore.”
Antony grunted. “What does the rest of it mean?”
Kena frowned for a moment. “If they are removing Kell permanently from the ruling families, that would leave the PitKree with an even smaller minority in government. I guess if Pernanyen doesn’t govern, that could remove the Frayunomen family. The Laundun would have three votes to the PitKree’s two. So, essentially, the same balance as now.” She expelled a breath through her teeth. “Have they turned this mess into politics?”
“I hope it’s nothing like the politics in our history,” Antony said. “But would they be so extreme that they’d remove almost a third of their government over one person’s mutiny?”
“I don’t know.” Kena stood and paced. “Why is he talking about executing Pernanyen, when I’m here completing the link?”
As she spoke, Ghent rejoined them. “Did the link go badly?” he asked.
“No, it was successful,” Kena said.
“Then, what are you two frowning over?” After their explanation, Ghent shook his head. “Is this race stable enough to commit to a treaty?”
Kena tilted her head. “I checked their laws when I was with Pernanyen. There’s a problem if she is not reinstated as Daughter of Frayunomen. Choosing a new heir is not as simple as picking a different family member.”
Ghent’s brow fur pleated. “What’s their process?”
“Essentially, decades of training,” Kena said. “The children of the primary are raised to take on that role. Their entire education revolves around it. But Pernanyen only has one sibling, a brother, who is not eligible.”
“Why not?” Antony asked.
“There is a condition that affects some PitKreelaundun. It hampers their ability to control utilization of sairital energy. They may vent too much as emfrel, and it impairs their telepathic abilities. They cannot enter certain professions, such as medicine or government.”
“Oh, of course not,” Ghent said. “Those require strong telepathy.”
Antony raised his brows and asked Kena, “Does that make sense to you?”
She shrugged. “I understand their perspective. The condition may explain some oddities I noticed during Pernanyen’s trial…and Gwillenin’s poor telepathic control.”
“Ah,” Ghent said.
“The real issue, right now,” Kena said, “is that no one else is trained to be an heir to Travannesal. He would either have to train a distant adult relative or have more children, neither of which is ideal. This will mess up their cycle for changing between ruling and non-ruling families. It may push the Frayunomen family out a generation too soon. Maybe even worse…”
“But you have linked with her,” Antony said. “It was successful. Why is this a problem?”
“Completing the link prevents her execution.” Kena spread her hands. “A separate vote from primaries is needed to reinstate her as the Frayunomen heir. That decision is not guaranteed, which means, Pernanyen—our strongest ally for peace—may still be excluded from government.”
Ghent’s shurgs extended, and he gripped a chair back. “We come right up to the edge of peace. The question of civil war between the PitKree and Laundun is bad enough. Now, the Laundun side of government is crumbling. Who knows how long it’s going to take to get that decision?”
Kena lowered her pitch. “Could be much faster than you think.”
“Meaning?”
“As long as they have an odd number of primaries, a majority decision between them is as binding as if all seven primaries voted on it.”
“Then, what is the point of the seven?” Ghent asked.
“They are needed to change laws.” Her skirt swayed with her movement. “But, if it is a question of applying law, any odd number is adequate. The others will not override, because doing so discredits the authority of the primaries who originally decided.”
“Is this good news or bad?” Antony asked.
Kena shrugged. “We’ll get a binding decision, but we only get one chance. It comes down to whether we can persuade at least two of them.”
“Do they make treaties at this level?” Ghent asked.
“They would enter discussions, but not make a final determination affecting the entire race.” Kena paced slowly. “Today, we need two critical decisions. The completed link must be acknowledged. Pernanyen must be reinstated.”
Chapter Forty-Six
The door chimed, then Travannesal entered. Light flickered over the herringbone plates of his gold collar, and his stance declared authority, yet he spoke in a soft voice. “Are you able to converse, Kena Talgarth?”
Her full name. Now what? She straightened on the sofa. “I can easily converse.”
“Then, I will formally state that I have confirmed your constrained link with Pernanyen.”
Kena smiled.
Travannesal returned it. “I thank you, Kena, for I know this did not come naturally to you.”
“I value your thanks.”
&nbs
p; He relaxed his stance, turning to include them all in his next words. “NorGah of Pont arrived soon after you. He and Jenarsig of Shennasee desire to meet you.”
“Please invite them in.” This would be formal. Kena shifted forward to rise, as Travannesal nodded to an aide. Antony stood, offering his hand to help Kena up, and Ghent neared her other side.
The two primaries entered, and Leonfir followed in discreet silence. Another round of formal introductions ensued.
Jenarsig said the least. He managed to use distinct sentences, but his Prednian speech remained stilted. In some odd way, it matched his circular collar of office, a broad, spiky starburst of brass plates that looked like it could injure anyone who rubbed shoulders with him.
NorGah stepped nearer, two pear-shaped emeralds glinting at the center of his black collar. “I must thank you for the course plan, Kena. I would still be traveling if you hadn’t sent it.”
“I’m glad it was useful. Have you had enough time to learn of recent events on the Epri7?”
“Travannesal sent me recordings earlier. I have now conversed with my peers and linked with Leonfir.” NorGah turned to Travannesal. “I hope to link with Pernanyen soon. How long before she can tolerate another deep link?”
“Now. She is not exhausted.”
NorGah left, and Kena returned to the sofa, for the others were taking seats. Time to see if she could diffuse some tension with Jenarsig. “Distant discussions are often challenging,” she said. “Already, I find you easier to understand. Thank you for accommodating us in your speech.”
“I am pleased to do so.”
“After thinking about our previous conversations,” Kena said. “I have wondered if I misunderstood your goals. Do you have concerns that we can discuss and address?”
Jenarsig looked at her. The fine lines beside his nose deepened. “My concerns pertained to the triad’s stability. It is no longer relevant.”