T.J. Mindancer - Future Dreams

by T. J. Mindancer

  “I’d like a word with you,” the woman said in a voice that told Jame she was used to getting her way. “I’m Rantigar Wentis, the Federation Council representative for Ingor.”

  “Jamelin Ketlas,” Jame said.

  “Did I hear the Tribune say that you’re from Emoria?” Rantigar studied Jame as if she were a piece of merchandise.

  Jame nodded. “Yes.”

  Rantigar frowned. “There weren’t any Ingoran arbiters available?”

  “The choice of arbiter is up to the defendant.” Jame held back a rising anger at this arrogant woman.

  Rantigar turned to Tigh. “You didn’t ask for an Ingoran?”

  Tigh shrugged. “I rejected the Ingoran arbiter. I accepted the Emoran arbiter. No further discussion or explanation is necessary.”

  Rantigar opened her mouth, then shut it. Jame thought it interesting that she hadn’t been prepared for an argument.

  “Will Jamelin continue as your arbiter?” Rantigar asked. “There are several more hearings to go and perhaps the Ingoran would be better suited for those.”

  “Jame will continue as my arbiter as long as she consents to represent me.” Tigh sounded confident but Jame caught her questioning glance and, barely able to keep away a grin, nodded in agreement.

  “Don’t make too hasty a decision,” Rantigar said. “And don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. We’re all anxious for you to return to Ingor where you belong. Good day to both of you.” Not surprising, she went to Tigh’s parents who waited in the doorway.

  “Did you really mean that? About letting me represent you?” Jame asked as they ducked through the door to the defendants’ chamber where a pile of papers awaited their signatures.

  “Of course.” Tigh looked surprised. “As long as you want to represent me.” Her voice held a hint of uncertainty.

  “I want to continue to represent you,” Jame said as the happy realization she was going to spend more time with this intriguing woman washed over her.

  GOODEMER’S ENTHUSIASM WANED as the open top coach they sat in left the foothills behind and rumbled through a scruffy arid land. Although they were north of Maymi, the midday heat was sharper and the ground was not the rich black soil she was used to but dull tan sand that looked as if it had never been touched by rain.

  “What interesting looking plants.” Yana gazed at the oddly shaped low-lying vegetation covered with delicate brown needles. “I thought sand was only found on beaches.”

  “This is a desert,” Minchof said.

  “And people actually live in such a place?” Goodemer asked.

  “Ynit is on the southern edge of the desert.” Minchof rubbed her chin. “The dry climate makes it ideal for year around training of soldiers. The military compound was built first, and then the city grew up around it through the centuries. You’ll find the architecture much different than what we’re used to in Maymi. They’ve learned to fashion bricks from this sand. In fact we should be seeing the outer walls very soon.” Minchof held onto the top edge of the coach and lifted her stocky frame to see over the back of the vehicle. “Just as I thought. You can all look but don’t jostle the carriage too much.”

  Goodemer, Yana and a rangy young man named Tret, twisted on the hard bench and watched as the tall sand wall of Ynit rose from the desert floor.

  “It’s huge,” Yana said.

  Minchof smiled at their wide-eyed enthusiasm. “It’s not as large as Artocia or Ingor, but it’s a good size city.”

  The apprentices flashed inquisitive glances at Minchof when the coach veered away from the gaping front gate of the city.

  “Where are we going?” Tret asked, nervously eyeing the coach driver.

  “To the military compound.” Minchof grinned. “It’s on the south side of the city and has its own gate.”

  The architecture shifted from the ornamental display of the city buildings they had glimpsed over the wall to an austere uniform facade. The coach slowed and stopped next to the gatehouse. A sleepy-eyed soldier, squinting against the intense sunlight, stepped from the building. Minchof handed her a scroll with the seal of the Federation Council stamped onto it.

  “Quarters have been prepared for you,” the soldier said and gave the instructions to the driver.

  The adobe brick plaza that extended before them took Goodemer’s breath away. She had read that the immense brooding buildings that bordered the square had been built to accommodate both the armies and the military headquarters for the Southern Territories. It was eerily deserted, reminding her that the army was gone except for the small peacetime regiment.

  A disconcerting feeling clung to Goodemer as the coach, the only disturbance in the quiet, rattled toward a small lane between what looked like barracks.

  The doors of a larger building flung open and noisy, excited people surged onto the plaza where the coach passed close by. The jarring contrast to the previous emptiness and silence rocked Goodemer’s apprehension about this much too foreign place. Her nervousness increased when the coach had to stop as the crowd clustered unheeding around it.

  Goodemer could feel the people’s excitement vibrating in the air. Something extraordinary had just happened. She gently probed the random magic around them and determined that no spells had been cast. The atmosphere shifted and focused back to the building. She twisted around but saw nothing out of the ordinary in the trickle of people walking through the doorway. Except . . . everyone stepped away from a tall woman in white who kept her eyes on the ground. Another smaller young woman with shaggy light hair led the taller woman around the crowd.

  Minchof leaned forward and said, “It looks like a hearing has taken place. Hearings before the Tribunal are a part of the rehabilitation of the former Guards. That one must have been a member of the Elite Guard to be receiving this kind of reception.”

  A shiver ran through Goodemer despite the midday heat.

  “I didn’t know they were still rehabilitating them.” Tret eyed the passive looking dark-haired woman.

  “I don’t think all the Guards have been captured yet.” Minchof studied the white clad woman with interest. “But that isn’t our concern. We’re here to make sure something like this never happens again.”

  The coach lurched forward and Goodemer turned to watch the progress of the odd looking pair to the massive fortress-like building that dominated one side of the plaza. She didn’t need to open up her newly discovered skills at detecting changes in atmosphere to feel the flow of energy between them. Interesting, she mused. The desire to know their story washed over her and she latched onto it with the single-minded focus of a fourteen-year-old.

  TIGH STARED AT the enthusiastic counselor, wondering if she realized how crazy her words sounded.

  “I know you don’t believe me now but we’ve discovered that this is the best starting point for reintroducing Guards back into society,” Renat Yinga said.

  Tigh leveled a pained look at Renat. “By scaring the injury or illness out of the patient?”

  Renat blinked at Tigh then emitted an uncertain laugh. “A sense of humor is good. You’ll spend the first few weeks observing and assisting the healers. This’ll allow you time to get used to the infirmary and for the patients to get used to seeing you around. We’ll meet every other day and discuss how you’re doing.”

  Tigh found herself wishing that Jame was next to her murmuring reassuring words in her ear. Jame had a way of soothing away her uncertainties. Jame had a way of almost reading what she was feeling. The idea was both frightening and comforting.

  Renat scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper. “Give this to Bede Komlic. He’s in charge of the injury ward in the infirmary.”

  Tigh took the paper and stared at the strong handwriting. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  She had avoided people for two years and since her capture never had to deal with more than a handful in a single day. To be surrounded all day by people whose initial reaction was fear was enoug
h to fray her nerves to the point where she could fulfill their fears of violence. Remembering the blind uncontrolled rage that had supposedly been cleansed away, she was more afraid of herself than they were of her.

  “Every Guard begins their journey back to society by working in the infirmary,” Renat said. “There have never been any problems.”

  “You know my cleansing wasn’t like the others,” Tigh said. “How can you be so sure I won’t snap and do harm instead of healing?”

  “You’ve always been a unique case,” Renat said. “But I trust Pendon’s judgment on this. If the cleansing hadn’t been successful, your behavior would have reflected it by now. Go to the infirmary and give it a chance. If you need to talk between our scheduled meetings, my door is always open.”

  Tigh knew she’d rather talk to Jame. She was the only person who understood her fears and her ambitions. For that matter, Jame was the only person she had learned to trust. She all at once realized if things got too rough for her she could seek out Jame’s advice. The idea of approaching someone for help because she was a friend impacted on her mind and left her lightheaded. She had a friend.

  Bolstered by this wondrous thought, Tigh nodded. “I’ll give it a try.”

  “JAME.”

  Jame turned at the sound of quick light steps echoing in the main corridor of the fortress and saw Pendon Larke hurrying after her.

  “Good morning, Pendon,” Jame said.

  “Good morning to you, Jame,” Pendon said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the fine work you did in handling Tigh’s case.”

  “Thank you, but I was just doing my job.” Jame studied the floor to hide the rise of color to her cheeks. The last couple of days had been embarrassing for her, to say the least. She had to endure endless compliments and everyone seemed to want to get to know her better. Some of the more ambitious student arbiters were only interested in her abrupt notoriety, while others in the compound recognized that being friends with the skillful future Queen of Emoria was a sound political move. What surprised her was the shy worship she saw in the eyes of the young student arbiters who took to following her around, not to mention the numerous invitations to dinner or for an evening in Ynit.

  “That was more than just doing your job and you know it,” Pendon said. “I observed Tigh during the hearing and she responds to you differently than she does to everyone else. She trusts you and likes you. Consider these things a gift and handle them appropriately.”

  “I consider her a friend,” Jame said. “And thank you for not warning me to be wary of her and to not get too close.”

  “There’s a better chance of you hurting her than the other way around,” Pendon said, laying a thin hand on Jame’s arm.

  “I know,” Jame said. “I want to be her friend and I’ll do everything I can to help her through this ordeal. I would never hurt her.”

  Pendon studied Jame for several heartbeats. “I’m pleased she’s found a trusted friend.”

  Jame glanced at the sandmark clock at the end of the corridor. “Oh no. I’m almost late for class.”

  Pendon laughed and waved her on her way. “Get going. Can’t do for the defender of Tigh the Terrible to be late for class.”

  Jame grinned. “Thank you for having faith in Tigh.”

  She hurried down the corridor, rounded the sharp corner to a back wing of the building, and stopped as if an invisible wall blocked her way.

  Tigh walked down the corridor—slumped shouldered with hands hooked under a loose low-riding belt. She was oblivious to people passing her, off in another world as far as Jame could tell.

  “Tigh,” Jame said.

  Tigh looked up, startled. She straightened and shuffled to the wall, as if being out in the middle of the corridor was too conspicuous for her.

  “Hey,” she said.

  Jame was unexplainably happy to see Tigh again although it had only been two days since the hearing. “Have you met with the counselor yet?”

  Tigh nodded. “I have to report to the infirmary tomorrow.”

  “All the Guards start out in the infirmary.” Jame wondered why she felt tongue-tied.

  “That’s what the counselor told me.” Tigh scuffed the toe of her boot against the worn floor boards.

  “I’d like to hear about what you learn there.” Jame wanted to just spend time with Tigh and get to know her better. “Would you, uh, be interested in joining me for the evening meal tomorrow night? You can tell me all about your first day.”

  Tigh looked so astonished that Jame was afraid she’d say no.

  “All right,” Tigh said.

  “Great. I’m late for class. I’ll pick you up at the infirmary.” Jame trotted down the corridor. She glanced back several times at Tigh and smiled at the stunned gaze that followed after her.

  “I’M LOOKING FOR Bede Komlic,” Tigh mumbled to the assistant healer seated at a small table in the foyer of the infirmary.

  “Ah, we’ve been expecting you. I’m Pakar, assistant healer.” The young woman with the black hair and the healthy bronzed skin of the people of Ynit smiled at Tigh. “Bede will be here when the sand hits the quarter mark.”

  Tigh raised an eyebrow. “Can you foresee the future?”

  Pakar laughed. “Bede always walks through the door when the sand hits the quarter mark. He says ‘good morning,’ then he walks into the ward and checks the overnight reports. Then he comes back in here and asks if there’s anything that needs his attention. It never varies. Ular, who has worked here for thirty years, says she’s never known him to deviate from this routine.”

  Tigh pondered this for a heartbeat as a long absent hint of mischief lurked around the corners of her mind. She wandered over to the opened double doors of the long ward and peeked in. She saw the overnight reports and slipped them under a pile of papers next to them.

  “Please, have a seat,” Pakar called.

  Tigh wandered back into the foyer with a nonchalant expression. “I think I’ll wait outside.” She sauntered out the door before Pakar could respond.

  She knew she was acting like a mischievous child but it helped take away her apprehension. Besides, she’d have something amusing to tell Jame.

  She wanted to hear Jame’s laughter again. It rang so sweetly in her ears. She still couldn’t believe Jame had invited her to share the evening meal in a public place, even if was only a mess hall within the compound. But it also meant being with Jame for no other reason than two friends sharing a meal. The thought took her breath away.

  She snapped back to her current challenge and looked around, putting her solid problem solving skills to use. She wasn’t interested in the easiest solution to the challenge she set up for herself. That defeated the purpose of making the exercise as absurd as possible.

  Delicate vines that weren’t indigenous to the arid climate of Ynit clung to the adobe wall of the infirmary. Tigh noticed that all of the plants on either side of the doorway looked as out of place as a mountain cat in Maymi. Their neat arrangement and meticulous care told her that these were someone’s serious hobby. Her ability to absorb and retain much of what she read allowed her to make the connection between Bede’s name and the upper coast of the Nirlion Sea where these plants grew.

  “Let’s see what it takes to get healer Bede to forget about his daily ritual.” Tigh pulled several tendrils of the vine away from the wall. Much to her delight they were long and pliable. She found a few more vines on the other side the door and laid them on the ground so it looked as if the tendrils coming from opposite directions were reaching out to each other with the ends not quite touching.

  Satisfied with her handiwork, Tigh strolled to a small bench in front of the nearby visitors quarters and sat as if enjoying the clear morning air. She didn’t have long to wait before the object of her experiment strode out of a tiny lane that led to the cluster of houses where many of the people who worked within the compound lived. As Tigh had hoped, the thin, rather intense man of middle age, kept his eyes
riveted on the ground as if concentrating on not letting anything distract him from his morning ritual.

  Tigh wished that Jame were there to witness the comical expression on Bede’s face when he stopped in mid-stride and stared at the vegetation strewn across his path.

  “That’s impossible.” Tigh’s keen hearing picked up Bede’s mutterings. “Wizards. That’s it. Those young wizards are practicing their mischief.” Bede returned the vines to their proper places.

  Tigh ghosted to the door in time to see Pakar’s relief when Bede strode into the foyer. Instead of “good morning,” he muttered “wizards” as he walked through the doorway into the ward.

  Tigh sauntered in and grinned at Pakar’s astonished expression. Without pausing she followed Bede. The poor man stared at the small table where the overnight reports were supposed to be.

  “My reports. They’re always right there.” He looked up and down the ward as if he didn’t know what to do.

  Tigh saw that Bede didn’t adapt well to upsets in the daily ritual and felt a little guilty. Something, she realized, Tigh the Terrible would never have felt. She pulled the bundle of parchment from beneath a stack of ledgers next to the door. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  Bede spun around. His astonished brown eyes first took in Tigh and then focused on what she held in her hands.

  “My reports.” He looked as if his world had turned right side up. “Thank you. You have no idea what kind of day it’s been. Bede Komlic. You must be the new intern. Tigh, isn’t it? Come this way. We’ll get you settled in.”

  Tigh arched an eyebrow at the lack of reaction to her name and trailed after Bede.

  Chapter 9

  Jame tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach as she approached the infirmary. She shouldn’t feel nervous about meeting a friend for an evening meal. A friend she had spent the day thinking about in anticipation of this simple sharing of a meal. Argis never made her stomach flutter like this. She resolutely pushed Argis out of her mind. Her nervousness eased a bit when she entered the calm quiet of the infirmary foyer.