by Sharon Rose
“Absurd,” NorGah scoffed. “That doesn’t mean he can’t touch her.”
Antony stood and offered his hand to Pernanyen. “May I help you rise, ma’am?”
Her lips trembled into a faint smile as she looked up at him. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, in the PitKreelaundun custom, and rose, as Jenarsig snapped, “What are you doing?”
Antony maintained support as Pernanyen rotated one ankle and then the other. “Demonstrating that Humans do not condemn her.”
Aw, Antony…Kena’s heart embraced him. She joined them, pressing her hand to Pernanyen’s back and letting joy shine through her eyes. The only way to communicate, since Jenarsig wouldn’t stop talking.
“Do you hope she will support the Collaborative’s position in future negotiation? We will judge her reinstatement now, that you may know reality.”
“Why wouldn’t that determination mirror the decision already reached?” Ghent asked.
“Though there are three of us,” NorGah said, “Travannesal can only request reinstatement. He must abstain from voting, because he could benefit. Jenarsig and I must agree in our judgments, in order to provide the majority needed to change the current state of affairs. This issue relies on its own merit, not on the resolution of another.”
Ghent’s shurgs skimmed his fingers. “What issue compares to the need to pursue peace?”
Jenarsig adopted a bored tone. “The Collaborative already has the means to achieve peace through the existing treaty.”
“Why claim that,” Kena asked, “when it has produced no peace in all these years? It simultaneously guarantees and forbids access to resources in the ejection arm. How can borders exist when no reference point exists?”
“The ejection arm exists, does it not?”
Ghent shook his head. “A collection of objects in unstable motion is not a solid reference point. Borders change within days, leading to constant dispute. The Collaborative agreed to the treaty because of the clause promising access, not because border calculations were practical.”
“Even if they were,” Kena said, “the treaty fosters separation, not relationship. Only relationship can bring peace.”
Leonfir gestured to Kena, Antony and Ghent. “These three of the Collaborative have effectively demonstrated her point. Consider the resupply mission. We maintained peace by conversing and exchanging data, not by debating a border. More recently, Ghent invited us to approach his ship. We engage peacefully at this very moment, where neither of us claims any border. We need leaders who will embrace and continue this successful approach.”
“Pernanyen,” Kena said, “risked her own life to bring about drastic change.” She met the amber eyes that Pernanyen raised to her. “We cannot doubt her pursuit of actual peace.”
Jenarsig sneered. “Do you now claim to approve of her decision to constrain you?”
“Not at all,” Kena said, “but she is no fool. She’ll not make the same mistake twice. It is her motive I commend. We need her to continue her education and, ultimately, help us extend the long-term peace she initiated. Her understanding of Humans already surpasses that of any PitKreelaundun.” Kena paused, considering TarKeen. “Although, I should mention that TarKeen knows more than the rest of you.” Kena turned to NorGah, then Jenarsig, as she spoke. “For these reasons, I ask that you reinstate Pernanyen as the Daughter of Frayunomen.”
NorGah said, “Ghent, will you share your views?”
“The Collaborative never dictates to the government of any race.” Ghent stood as he spoke. “But we do observe. We have much negative history to overcome. Consider the impression you would create if you exclude a strong advocate for peace from your future government. We do not seek a short-lived treaty. We want a foundational peace that becomes the normal state of affairs.”
NorGah inclined his head. “Your perspective is encouraging.” He shifted position. “Travannesal, you may feel that your words will hold no weight, but I wish to hear them.”
“I will speak.” Travannesal’s shoulders swayed. “I request that Pernanyen be reinstated as heir of Frayunomen on the following grounds. First, her mistake was born of inexperience. She will not repeat it. Second, she is well suited to the role of primary, for she loves the PitKreelaundun people and longs to serve them. Third, the dynamics of Human interactions are going to be…very foreign to all of us. It would be foolish to discard the advantage of her knowledge and relationship. Fourth, the judgment that required our separation is no longer relevant, for Pernanyen is no longer accused of a crime.”
NorGah let a moment pass. “Our law allows reversal of the disownment, and this is a good example of the reason. Separation no longer serves any purpose, and potential advantages are strong. I judge that Pernanyen should be reinstated. Jenarsig, do you—”
“I judge that Pernanyen—”
“Excuse me, Jenarsig,” Kena said. The hypocrite looked ready to slap her for interrupting. She’d better soothe his ego. “Forgive me if I was abrupt. Will you please share your views with us before you state your judgment?”
“I will state my judgment according to law alone, not according to personal views.”
Kena slowed her words. “I would like to understand your application of law in this situation. Before you state your judgment.”
Jenarsig’s sneer crept back into place. “You speak as though you are a dignitary sent from Earth. In reality, you are an insignificant navigator, here by chance. Earth itself is so far distant and so slightly involved in the Collaborative, that the Human race is irrelevant to us. Make no more demands!”
Antony’s pitch dropped. “You are mistaken. Kena is, indeed, a Human ambassador, sent to the PitKreelaundun people.”
“The Human race,” TarKeen said, “is far more important to us than you perceive.”
NorGah eyed Jenarsig. “If only you would voice reason as fluently as disrespect. If you cannot support your own judgment, abstain.”
Jenarsig shifted back and softened his tone. “Kena, I apologize. Ghent, I honor your views. We will work toward improved relations, regardless of the outcome of this decision.” After a rare pause, he said, “A judgment such as this must be based on our law, which forbids someone who has committed a crime from holding the position of primary. Pernanyen initiated a constrained link, which I am still convinced has not, and can not, be completed. That is a crime, and it dictates my decision. Therefore—”
“Just as I suspected,” Kena said. “You use the question of reinstatement to negate every action and decision that cleared her.”
Jenarsig held his firm stance. “Their decision is not negated. She will not be executed. But I saw no evidence that you constrained her.”
Oh, he was stubborn, but he didn’t know who he’d come up against. “No one ever said that I had to bludgeon her for the information. I directed her thoughts to what I sought. I was effective without harm. Gentleness is not weakness. It is strength controlled by skill and love.”
She took a step nearer. “The very structure of our inner beings enables us to adjust to the needs of every race. Where you can only overwhelm like a gale, I can accomplish the same with a gentle breeze.”
“No matter what poetic terms you use,” Jenarsig said, “you lack the strength to constrain her. This fact has been a point of contention throughout this debacle. The only reason the delay was allowed was the faint chance that you could constrain her. But you don’t have the strength. The proof is in the link, which should have exhausted her. Instead, she was capable of three deep links immediately afterward.”
“That may be what you believe,” Kena said, “but it is not true. My strength is the reason she was still capable of the following links.”
He opened his lips, but she said, “No, listen! Those who link with me obtain what they seek or need…all that they are willing to receive. Pernanyen wanted completion, so that is what she obtained. She benefited from my peace, even though she didn’t realize the reservoir it springs from. She did not seek
proof of my strength, so she did not perceive it.” Kena lowered her pitch. “And now, after it is over, you come with a new demand.”
Jenarsig’s chest swayed rapidly. “It is not a new demand. We all knew it, Pernanyen included. Humans simply cannot equal our strength.”
Kena held her lips tight. All those times during their link, Pernanyen had worried that Kena wasn’t doing enough. They recorded something, too. YefRon even offered to tire her, so Kena could constrain her. Absurd, but they didn’t know that.
Antony leaned forward. “After everything Kena has—”
She rested her hand on his arm. “He believes this is true. He believes his law justifies his action.”
Jenarsig produced his thin smile. “I do honor law, Kena, even though you do not.”
Energy tingled through Kena’s muscles. She swung away from the group and began to pace. “Again, you speak of law as though it is powerful. In fact, it is helpless to do anything but punish those who falter. It never empowers a person to recover or achieve future success. Even though she is cleared of guilt, you still use the strength of law to condemn her. Is this your definition of strength? The ability to harm? To control?”
Jenarsig smiled, smug as always. “None of your words will change our law. You do not have that authority, just as you do not have the strength to constrain.”
Kena continued to pace as energy permeated her being. “That is all? Your only objection?”
“It is the only one that matters.”
“So, if I prove my strength, you will acknowledge that Pernanyen has committed no crime and may be reinstated as the Frayunomen heir?”
Jenarsig snorted. “Yes.”
“Think carefully,” Kena said, “and say that in full, so your peers know your judgment.”
“Enough ranting,” he snapped. “If you prove your strength, I will acknowledge your completion and agree to Pernanyen’s reinstatement.”
Still he sneered, But that would not last. Energy was pulsing through her, from spirit to mind to body.
“Kena, hold a moment,” Travannesal said. “Are you suggesting another link with Pernanyen?”
“Certainly not. She already knows we completed. Jenarsig, alone, demands to see my strength. YefRon, can you monitor him?”
“Yes, but what are you planning to do?”
“Link with him.”
“Do you mean to constrain him?” NorGah asked.
“Never! He must come to it willingly. Nor will I permit him access to my mind.”
Antony stepped into her path and halted her pacing. The instant his fingers contacted her shoulders, they twitched away. “Oh, I see.” He gripped her arms. “My love, this is spirit. You can’t let it touch him.”
“All life energy flows from spirit, some to my mind and body. Once I differentiate, he will be protected.”
Ghent and TarKeen joined them. “Is this wise?” Ghent asked.
“For Pernanyen, yes. For Jenarsig…” Kena shrugged. “He may learn, if he chooses to.”
“Will it harm him?” TarKeen asked.
She looked at Jenarsig, standing between YefRon and an aide who now held his collar of office, but it was the voice within that gave her the answer she sought. “No harm, although his speed of recovery depends on him.” She moved away from the crowd.
Travannesal’s urgent whisper reached her. “Do you know what is going to happen?”
Ghent answered. “She will show him what he asked for.”
Kena said, “Jenarsig, I am waiting.”
He strode toward her, but TarKeen stopped him, gripping his arm. “Humans are far stronger than you realize. You could simply acknowledge that and avoid experiencing it.”
“P’fah!” Jenarsig jerked his arm free and strode to Kena. “Where is this shocking first-touch?”
Kena closed her eyes. So much power pulsed through her, it was tangible. She differentiated her mind from spirit. The effervescent sensation departed, but energy continuously wafted from her body. She controlled the amount she would release. Just a little more than needed to meet the demand of a Laundun.
Jenarsig’s words slid like oil. “Nothing impressive yet.”
He must be looking for a sensory connection point. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. The first wave of her energy caused his body and sairit to reel. Far greater shock than the startled surprise most felt. He tried to react, to pull away. His struggle drew more power from her, increasing the overwhelming affect. A violent tremor coursed down his body, and he dropped to his hands and knees at her feet.
She stepped back. “Calm down. You are making it worse.” His sairit reminded her of the thrashing winds of Erondur. She pressed stillness on him, as though she grabbed the entire atmosphere and shoved it to the ground.
His visible shaking continued.
“When you have enough proof, acknowledge my strength.” Even her voice held inflexible stillness.
Silence. Was he refusing or trying to answer within?
“Oh, come,” she said. “You can use your voice.”
YefRon frowned at a device in his hand.
Not a sound from the primary at her feet.
She lifted the pressure slightly, felt his telepathic energy thrash against it, then pushed it back down. “This is not stressing me, Jenarsig. I can do it for hours.”
YefRon turned the device toward her. “It’s obvious you’ve subdued him. You could stop.”
“It was always obvious to me. He is the one who wants to experience my strength. Once he is certain, he need only acknowledge it aloud.”
NorGah took a step nearer but stopped when words scraped through Jenarsig’s throat. “She is…stronger than I.”
Kena began drawing away, giving him a chance to communicate. He didn’t take it. Too busy trying to reorient. Discovering that he was on his hands and knees, he drew back to sit on his heels. His arms shook. Kena withdrew the last touch of the link and let her mind and spirit reconnect.
Jenarsig made no attempt to rise. Shaking. Head hanging. His proud tongue, now silent.
Much as he angered her, compassion began rising. She held it off with gritted teeth, but that couldn’t last, for she knew where it was coming from. What should I do for him, beloved?
Physical energy shifted and flowed to Kena’s hands. She walked around behind him and ran a palm down Jenarsig’s spine. Soothing, much like when she had touched Jorlit’s arm. His muscles relaxed. She rubbed his shoulders, and his shaking arms settled to faint trembling. She ran a hand down one of his arms as she moved around and knelt in front of him. Her hand reached his. She stared at his lumpy knuckles, shrinking beneath her fingertips.
YefRon sucked in a breath and leaned closer.
“Why were they big?” she whispered.
YefRon swallowed. “A-age related.”
Jenarsig’s right arm was now whole. She reached for his left shoulder.
He stared at his fingers, making a fist then extending them. He gaped at Kena as she slid her hand down his other arm, stilling the tremors.
She knew he made the connection—that the healing was flowing through her. Softly she breathed words, “You need not fear to see truth. This power can also heal the pain of Kendimarr—”
“No!” He jerked away.
Sad. She dropped her gaze. His fingers came into focus. The last two on his left hand still had bulky knuckles. “Look at your hands.”
Jenarsig extended them, lifting the left to look closer.
“When you try to hate me,” she said, “you will see your hands and know that this”—she touched between healed and lumpy fingers—“is when you chose to reject healing. For now, that is. The future is still yours.”
He clambered to his feet and stomped out the door. YefRon followed him.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Kena straightened, sighing.
Antony gripped her arms beneath her bent elbows, and he lifted her to her feet. “You all right?” he whispered in her ear.
“Mm-hmm
.”
He guided her back toward the sofa and sat beside her.
She felt oddly distant, as though the energy tingling through her had pulled her ever-so-slightly out of her own dimension. Aides were bustling around, though most had left. Travannesal, with a hand on Pernanyen’s back, stood near the door, giving instruction to his eldest aide. NorGah stood in rapt attention with a PitKree woman, apparently linked. A moment later she strode from the room. Ghent conferred with Leonfir. YefRon returned and murmured something to TarKeen.
Antony held Kena close, a hand draped over her shoulder. The others cast veiled glances at her but kept their distance. That was one good thing about these telepaths—they would give her time for silence.
NorGah summoned TarKeen to his side then included Travannesal in a quiet discussion. TarKeen nodded and left.
Not what Kena wanted, but all the vibrant energy faded, and asking that he remain was too much trouble.
An aide returned and handed Travannesal two jeweled chains. He slid one over his forearm and uncoiled the other. “Come here, Daughter of Frayunomen.”
Oh, those were sweet words to hear. And sweeter still to watch Pernanyen approach Travannesal—her father. Her eyelashes batted—at tears perhaps—as she looked up at him. The top of her head didn’t reach his shoulder. He smoothed his fingers down the side of her face and whispered something. Her heaving chest calmed. He passed the chain over her head, allowing it to cross her chest, from shoulder to hip. The oval-cut topaz and amber within the gold chain glinted on her cream tunic. The same chain she had worn when Kena first met her.
Kena’s chest swelled till it almost hurt.
Pernanyen turned to NorGah as he offered his forearm. She laid her hand on it, her smile trembling as he inclined his torso to her.
“Please tell me, NorGah,” Travannesal said, “that we have nothing else to decide.”
NorGah laughed. “It does seem that we’ve done enough for one day.”
Travannesal reached to the back of his gold collar as he addressed Ghent. “You’ve never seen me without this, have you? We only wear them when conducting the affairs of state.” The herringbone plates chinked, as he removed the collar and handed it to his aid.