“But she will only be walking,” Micah noted. “I distinctly heard Healer Tornell say that she could engage in gentle movement only. So you two won’t require a private room tomorrow night.”
“Weren’t you just leaving?” Tal asked.
“Actually, I was.” Micah stretched his legs first, his arms more carefully, and stood up. “I’m working with Salomen’s Guard unit in a hantick, but I need to check in with Colonel Razine first.”
Salomen’s mood shifted instantly; her worry was never far from the surface. “It’s not looking good for him, is it?”
“The longer he stays out, the guiltier he looks,” he admitted. “But we won’t know anything for certain until we can speak with him directly. He can’t be judged in his absence.”
Except that he already had been. After Gordense Bilsner’s ill-advised public statement the day before, Herot’s name was plastered all over the headlines, and the consensus was in: he wouldn’t have run if he were innocent. Salomen had been furious, stating that the only motive Gordense could have had was to spread the dishonor and divert some of it from his son.
“I keep hoping the truth favors him.” Salomen rose and rested her hand on Micah’s forearm. “Good luck with my Guards. I look forward to meeting them.”
He gave her a slight bow. “They have no idea what they’re in for.”
When they were alone, Salomen pulled her chair closer and sat down. “I finished reading their histories at midmeal. Imagine my surprise when I realized that seven out of the ten have a producer parent.”
“Is that right? What a coincidence.”
“Really, Andira, I can’t believe you even attempt that anymore.” But Salomen could no more pretend exasperation than Tal could fake surprise. “Thank you. It was very thoughtful, and it makes me feel more comfortable with the idea of having them. Though I admit I was already somewhat reconciled to the concept after coming a little too close to a plasma blast. What are you going to do about Colonel Micah?”
Tal sighed. “I can’t do anything. He’s trying very hard to front his feelings about that night, and it would be an invasion of his privacy to ask him about them when he clearly doesn’t want me to know. I’ve told him that I don’t hold him responsible and I don’t believe the situation could have been foreseen, and that’s all I can do right now. He’ll talk to me sooner or later. My guess is that he doesn’t want to do it in here.”
“I always thought one of the greatest things about being open with my talent would be not having to hide what I can sense,” Salomen said. “And yet you still hide your knowledge. You just do it to keep other people’s secrets instead of your own.”
“Only some of them.”
“Well, I’m tired of hiding it. When we started my training, the chance to be openly empathic with even one person was a dazzling freedom. Now it’s not enough. I want to tell my family.” She sighed wearily. “But I don’t think this is the time. Damn Herot for that, too.”
“Now might be the perfect time, tyrina. Maybe you’re exactly what they need right now: a good surprise. Once they get over the shock, that is.”
“Hm.” Salomen stared off into space, then met Tal’s eyes with a hopeful smile. “Maybe we’re exactly what they need right now.”
“Shall we make that our first stop after getting out of here?”
“I’d like that. And Father needs it. Your message didn’t convince him that you don’t blame our family. I’ve told him you’re seeing no one but your closest advisors right now, but…”
“I know, but I stand by my decision.”
“And I agree with you. It’s been difficult enough for me to see you like this; I don’t think Father or Nikin would soon recover from it. But for Father, truth lies in the action, not the telling of it. He says he wouldn’t blame you if you never returned to Granelle or Hol-Opah.”
“Oh, no. I have to go back and be seen going back. It’s the only thing that will clear the dishonor from your family name.”
Salomen didn’t answer, but the pulse of warmth hit Tal’s senses like a sunbeam in a shadowed corner. She rose from her chair and stepped to the side of the bed, and when Tal lifted her head from the ring to see her, Salomen bent down and kissed her with a toe-curling thoroughness.
“That’s for caring so much about my family,” she said. “And this is for caring so much about me.” Another deep, searching kiss made it difficult for Tal to get her eyes open again. When she did, Salomen was looking straight into them. “And this,” she said, “is because I love you.”
The third kiss started out more gently, gradually increasing in passion until Tal was surprised her gel packs hadn’t melted. “Are you trying to kill me?” she panted.
Salomen’s smile was sensual. “More like a sort of mutual annihilation.” She trailed a fingertip over Tal’s lips, her own arousal soaring as Tal sucked her finger in and ran her tongue over and around it. Slowly reclaiming her finger, Salomen whispered, “Definitely a mutual annihilation.”
Tal reached out to caress her face, still not quite used to being able to touch her without fear. “When I think of how close I came to losing you… I’ve been telling Fahla every day how grateful I am.”
Salomen laced their fingers together. “I’ll be a lot more grateful when you’re out of that bed.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Then hold this thought: in precisely one day, you and I are going to have all sorts of things to thank Fahla for. I plan to see just how loud your gratitude can get.”
Tal whimpered. “You are trying to kill me.”
“Not at all. Think of it as an incentive to finish up your healing. I’ve got plans for that body that involve a different sort of bed.”
“And no Healer Tornell to walk in on us.”
Salomen dropped her hand. “Well, that was a bucket of rainwater.”
“Good. Think of it as an incentive.”
“For what?”
“For not frustrating the shek out of me when I can’t do anything about it!”
Salomen’s smile was slow and entirely too knowing. “All right. I promise not to frustrate the shek out of you…until you can do something about it.”
Tal gave a resigned sigh. One more day.
CHAPTER 5:
Window to a bond
“The Lancer is expecting you. Please go through that arch.”
Lanaril thanked the clerk and walked in the direction he indicated, her nose wrinkling at the pungent smell of narnell root. She often came here as part of her duties, but that odor did not improve on acquaintance.
She had barely stepped through the arch before being stopped by an imposing warrior in the uniform of a Lancer’s Guard. Offering a palm, she said, “Lead Guard Gehrain, isn’t it?”
He had a kind smile. “Well met, Lead Templar Satran. Lancer Tal is waiting for you, but there are a few things you need to know before seeing her.”
“Is she going to be all right?”
When Chief Counselor Aldirk had refused access for three interminable days, Lanaril feared the worst. She had been around Blacksun long enough to recognize the scent of political dokshin, and telling the world that Andira’s injuries were minor while simultaneously preventing visitors from seeing her meant somebody was shoveling it into a deep pile.
“Yes. In fact, they’re releasing her tomorrow.”
“Thank Fahla. It wasn’t minor, was it?”
He shook his head. “Since you’ve been approved for a visit, you have clearance to know. She was badly burned and has been in a restriction bed for the last four days. Needless to say, this is privileged information and should not leave this healing center.”
She hardly heard his last words through the fog of horror. Badly burned? What had happened?
“She really is all right, L
ead Templar. But she can’t move, so you’ll have to do the moving for her. Please stand or sit where she can easily see you. If she needs to shift her bed, move yourself to stay in her sight.”
“Yes, of course. Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s it. If you’ll come with me?”
Two Guards flanked the door he led her to. Opening it slightly, he said, “Lancer Tal, Lead Templar Satran is here.”
Lanaril strained to hear Andira’s voice, but she must have given him a signal instead.
Gehrain opened the door fully and stood to one side. “Please enter.”
“Thank you.” She stepped through and stopped, her hand going to her mouth as the door softly closed behind her. “Oh, no.”
Andira was looking at her through a ring at the top of the angled bed. She seemed lost in it, her body buried under gel packs, and it was all so terribly wrong. The only part of her that was recognizably normal was the direct gaze of her light blue eyes, but even they seemed strange, framed in that ring that hid so much of her face. Lanaril’s vision swam with tears.
“I’m all right, Lanaril. Didn’t Gehrain tell you?”
She groped for the nearest chair. “Yes, but…Great Mother, how can you be? What happened?”
“I got in the way of a few hundred pieces of molten glass.”
Her voice, so strong and in such contrast to her appearance, helped Lanaril focus. “Don’t they teach you to avoid those things in your training?”
Andira chuckled. “Yes, but I was a poor student.”
“You were never a poor student at anything. I’d bet a barrel of temple oil on that.”
“If I hadn’t burned, it would have been Salomen.”
“Oh, no—”
“So you can see why I chose me.”
She certainly could. Andira’s natural protectiveness combined with a tyree bond? Salomen Opah would probably never get so much as a stubbed toe for the rest of her life.
“She’s a fortunate woman,” she said. “Are you sure you’re all right? Because—forgive me, but you don’t look like someone who’s being released tomorrow.”
“It looks worse than it is. I just can’t move while the new skin is growing. If I tear it before it’s fully formed, I’ll be in here twice as long and end up with scars. At least, that’s what Healer Tornell threatens me with on a daily basis.”
“You must be as frustrated as a child in a candy shop where all the jars are on high shelves.”
“As frustrated? Oh, no, it’s much worse than that.” Andira pressed a button on the bed, and it tilted slightly to one side. “Besides the fact that it itches like a shekker, you have no idea how much I envy every person who walks in this room.”
Lanaril moved to the next chair. “At least your room smells better than the corridor. I see someone is keeping you supplied with hyacot. Is Salomen all right?”
“She had a few burns too, but—”
“No, I know she’s fine physically. She was photographed in town yesterday. I’m asking if she’s all right here.” Lanaril put a hand over her heart.
“She’s distressed about her brother, obviously. And every time she walks in and sees me, there’s a wave of guilt. But other than that, she’s wonderful.”
“Wonderful?” Lanaril repeated. “Not the word I’d have expected to hear, given the circumstances.”
Andira smiled. “Remember when you bet me that once we completed our bond, I’d tell you I couldn’t imagine not having it? You already won.”
“You did it! Oh, I’m so glad. Surprised, after the way you sounded the last time we met, but very glad for both of you.” She frowned. “Wait. Tell me you didn’t do that here.”
“That would have been an improvement.”
She listened with increasing astonishment as Andira told a story that could have been torn from one of her ancient texts. Minus the plasma gun, of course, but that passage about conflagration could have been written for this. Andira and Salomen had burned both inside and out.
“Salomen got the worst of it by far,” Andira said. “My senses were too blown out to feel much of anything when we Shared, but she felt the full brunt of the bonding and took on some of my pain as well. I thought it was just the bonding at first, but…” She trailed off. “She was fine as soon as she let me go, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget hearing her. Or seeing it. I’ve never felt so helpless.”
“Helpless? What do you expect of yourself?”
“I was supposed to be protecting her! She should never have been hurt.”
“It sounds like she chose to take that on. She was protecting you. That’s what a tyree does, you know that. Or do you think the producer can’t protect the warrior?”
“That’s not—she can’t—” Andira closed her eyes. “She’s not trained for it. It killed me to see her hurting like that.”
“And it killed her to see you hurting. Andira, you’re physically connected as well as emotionally. You cannot protect her from that.”
“And I hate that. When we first started her empathic training, she told me I wasn’t a safe woman. I said I wasn’t in a safe line of work. But I never dreamed the choices I made half a lifetime ago would affect someone besides me.”
Lanaril chuckled. “Really? You wanted to be Lancer and you didn’t think your choices would affect others?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant. But Salomen made a choice of her own. She willingly shouldered your pain. Would you take away her power of choice?”
Andira glared at her. “Remind me again why I put you on the visitor list?”
“Because I tell you the things you need to hear.”
“Maybe I need a few more sycophants in my life.” She sighed. “No, I know you’re right. It’s just hard to accept.”
“That I’m right?”
That made her laugh. “Yes, that’s it.”
For half a hantick, their conversation was so normal that Lanaril almost managed to forget how badly her friend had been hurt. But it was driven home every time Andira moved her bed, and she had to change chairs to stay in her line of sight.
“I don’t know how you haven’t lost your mind in that thing,” she said after the fourth change.
“I might have, if I didn’t have Salomen in here with me.” Andira tapped her head. “It really helps to be able to reach for her when I need her. She’s always there.”
“Last time we spoke, you thought that was a nightmare scenario.”
“Last time we spoke, I was a shekking idiot.” A bright smile spread over her face. “And speaking of Salomen…”
Lanaril turned at the sound of the door opening.
A tall woman stepped in, water beading off her rain cloak. Her rich brown hair was loose, falling in soft waves past her shoulders and slightly damp around her face where wisps had escaped the hood. Her skin glowed with the color and health that came from a lifetime of working outside, and though she looked tired, she carried herself with confidence. Before she had fully entered, her dark eyes went to the bed, a beautiful smile forming as soon as she saw Andira.
“Hello, tyrina,” she said.
“Salomen, I’d like you to meet my friend Lanaril Satran, Lead Templar of Blacksun. Lanaril, this is Salomen Opah, head of Hol-Opah and my tyree.”
Salomen offered her hand. “Well met. So you’re the Lead Templar that Andira is teaching profanity to?”
“She tries.” Their touch gave her the impression of quiet strength, watchful care, and genuine enjoyment in their meeting. “I am beyond honored to meet you, Salomen. I hope I can call you that?”
“Please. That is, if I can call you Lanaril.”
“Of course.”
Salomen crossed the room and dropped a soft kiss o
n Andira’s cheek. “Nice to feel you enjoying the company of a friend for once, instead of another advisor.”
Lanaril watched Andira practically melt under her touch and wondered how these two had survived not joining yet. She wouldn’t lay odds on them making it through more than half a day once they left the healing center.
“Lanaril is at least as much advisor as friend. It’s one of her more annoying traits.”
“Then I’m quite sure I’ll like her.” Salomen returned to sit next to Lanaril. “What have you been advising her on this evening?”
“How to stay out of trouble. Unfortunately, she hasn’t been listening to me.”
Salomen smiled. “I’ve only recently begun studying the warrior’s code, but so far I haven’t found ‘stay out of trouble’ anywhere in the teachings. You might be choosing the wrong audience for that advice.”
“You’re studying the Truth and the Path?”
“Self-defense. I like to know what I’m getting into.”
So Andira had just spent a moon learning Salomen’s way of life, and Salomen was reading up on Andira’s. Interesting.
“Besides,” Salomen continued, “if she’d wanted to stay out of trouble, she would never have accepted my challenge.”
“Let’s not forget who issued the first challenge,” Andira said. “One which you still have to fulfill, I might add.”
“Oh, you mean my moon-long vacation in your magical dome? I do recall you saying something about that, but instead I’m spending my days and nights in a healing center.”
Lanaril listened to their gentle banter and remembered Andira’s description of the much harder-edged battles they had fought in the beginning. An old parable came to mind, about a child who found a studded metal sphere in a field and began playing with it, not realizing that it was a weapon of war left from a long-ago battle. But the sphere kept cutting her hands with its sharp spikes, until her father noticed. A metalworker by trade, he showed her how to put the sphere into his furnace, where he heated it until it became malleable. Together they pounded down every spike, and when it cooled, it had changed its nature. Once meant for injury and pain, it now provided joy and pleasure. And it could not be broken.
Without a Front: The Warrior's Challenge (Chronicles of Alsea Book 3) Page 4