T.J. Mindancer - Future Dreams

by T. J. Mindancer

  “You really want to do that rather than come home and start a life with me?”

  The desperate look in Argis’s gray eyes wrenched at Jame’s soft heart. She wished Argis would just understand instead of reacting to her words as if they were mortal blows.

  The image of another emotionally wounded warrior colored Jame’s thoughts. She’d caused the pain of two warriors that night. How did I get myself into this mess? She admitted it was her softheartedness that had stopped her from breaking off with Argis when she first realized she wasn’t sure of her feelings anymore. Except the only rival for Argis’s affections at that time had been her desire to become an arbiter.

  Now it was different. She couldn’t deny she enjoyed Tigh’s company in a way she had never experienced with Argis.

  “At this time, yes.” Jame held up a hand before Argis could respond. “What if you were told you had to give up being a warrior because it wasn’t what everyone wanted you to be?”

  “This is different,” Argis said.

  “In what way?”

  “You’re our princess. You need to be where we can protect you.” Argis ran a hand through her short-cropped hair.

  “That’s not true and you know it,” Jame said. “I do have a choice as to how to live my life. Many Emoran princesses have gone out to experience the world before settling in Emoria. It’s just the recent idea of isolationism has made this tradition less common. Jyac didn’t send you here. You took it upon yourself to come here and try to impose your will on me.”

  “Impose my will?” Argis choked on the words. “We’re to be joined. I think I have some say in your decisions for the future.”

  “Would you be willing to come with me while I pursue being an arbiter?” Jame asked.

  Argis looked as if she’d been slammed in the face with the flat of a sword.

  Jame sighed. “Go home, Argis. I appreciate your concern for my safety but I’m in no danger. I’ll visit Emor when I’ve finished my schooling. We’ll see how I feel after I’ve received my arbiter’s medallion.”

  “I’ll return home under one condition.” Argis straightened in an attempt to restore her dignity. “Be careful around that woman.”

  “I’ll be careful around her,” Jame said.

  Argis captured Jame’s eyes. “And you’ll return to Emor before you take any arbiter positions. So we can talk.”

  “I’ll return to Emor and we’ll talk.” Jame nodded, feeling relief they had come to some kind of agreement. Maybe by that time she’ll have thought of a way to make everyone happy.

  Chapter 10

  “Your friend is out back,” Otlar said before Jame had a chance to open her mouth.

  “Thank you.” Jame gave Otlar a grateful look. “Did she let you take care of her cut?”

  “She did.” Otlar nodded.

  “This is for the meal and for the disruption.” Jame held out several pieces of silver.

  Otlar shook her head at the money. “She took care of it.”

  Jame frowned. “Tigh?”

  “She paid for the meal and apologized for the commotion,” Otlar said.

  Jame chuckled. “I didn’t know she had any money.”

  “Have a good night, my princess,” Otlar said.

  “You too, Otlar,” Jame said.

  She negotiated the back corridor into the cool dark air. As her eyes adjusted to the gloomy alley, she focused on Tigh slumped against the opposite wall, knees pulled tightly to her chin.

  Jame crossed the small alleyway and sank cross-legged next to Tigh, who looked as if she was bracing herself for another blow. The tension from her confrontation with Argis flowed out of her. Something about the passive Tigh, even in her tense state, had a calming effect on her.

  “I’m sorry we were interrupted like that.” Jame studied Tigh’s tight features, half hidden in shadow, and knew she had to work hard to bring Tigh back to her. “I haven’t enjoyed myself like that in years.” Tigh blinked but kept her eyes focused on the scuff on her knee. “I have to tell you, I don’t know if I’m more angry at Argis for ruining the good time I was having with you or for punching a stranger in the mouth.”

  Tigh swallowed and glanced at Jame. “I’m sorry I acted like I had some kind of . . . You know what I mean.” Tigh cast an agonized gaze at the safe house door.

  Jame stared at Tigh for several heartbeats before she understood the strange apology. Instead of being angry about having to sport a ripened bruise and cut lip for the next several days, Tigh was preoccupied by what she thought was an inappropriate reaction to the woman who hit her. Tigh was mortified that she was jealous of Argis.

  Jame knew she was about to step into the same territory she thought she had inhabited with Argis, except this one had more vivid and realistic landscapes. She let that thought seep through her consciousness.

  “I didn’t feel you were out of bounds with your reaction. And you do have some kind of hold on me.”

  Tigh stared at her, stunned. Jame was certainly getting a lot of practice in hitting warriors on their blind side that night.

  “Come on, let’s take a walk.” Jame stood up and held a hand out to Tigh, who still looked as if the evening was going to leave her miserable, in spite of Jame’s words. “I promise my story will have a happy ending.”

  “For you or for me?” Tigh asked.

  Jame took Tigh’s hand. “For both of us.”

  TIGH WAS AMAZED at how the events of a single evening could go from wonderful to miserable to utterly magical. Sauntering through the quiet back streets of Ynit hand in hand because Jame refused to release her hand once she had a firm grasp of it. Listening to Jame’s soothing voice as she told her life’s story. Understanding it more than Jame probably realized. At least understanding the essence of it as far as family expectations and how narrow the sheltered worlds where they were raised could be. Standing in awkward shyness outside the arbiters’ residence and covering the disappointment that the long evening was ending too soon with the promise of sharing the next midday meal. The quick kiss to her cheek that set fire to her senses . . .

  “Tigh?”

  Tigh cast a sheepish look at Bede. “Sorry.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Bede asked. “Maybe you hit your head when you fell—”

  “I’m fine. I didn’t hit my head,” Tigh said. “I’m just tired.”

  Bede studied her for a heartbeat then nodded and turned back to the young boy on a cot. “Now once the wound has been stitched, we put this salve on it to ease the pain and prevent infection.”

  Tigh wrinkled her nose at the bitter odor of the herbs in the salve. Guards, being nearly invincible in battle, never spent much time in infirmaries during the Wars.

  A familiar voice reached her keen hearing and she turned to see Jame enter the ward. She looked at the sand clock. Too early for the midday meal.

  “Excuse me,” she mumbled and met Jame halfway down the ward.

  “Hey,” Jame said. “I know, I’m early. Pendon wants to see both of us about the little incident last night.”

  “Pendon,” Tigh said.

  “He just wants a full report. For the records,” Jame said.

  Tigh shook her head. “They’re going to make a fuss over it.”

  “It wasn’t your fault and you weren’t the one who exhibited violent behavior,” Jame said.

  Jame’s indignation soothed Tigh’s fears. “I’m glad you’re my arbiter. I have to tell Bede.” She trotted past nearly empty beds to Bede.

  “Pendon wants to see me. About last night,” Tigh said.

  “If you need a few good words, just let me know.” Bede placed a fatherly hand on her arm.

  Tigh was stunned. She never expected anyone to volunteer to say kind words about her. “Thank you.”

  Still a bit dumbfounded, she joined Jame and they left the infirmary.

  “Why do you think they’re going to make a fuss about this?” Jame asked as they strode across the plaza to the fortress.


  Tigh shrugged. “Because he wants to see us both.”

  “I’m a witness to the incident,” Jame said.

  “You’re also my arbiter,” Tigh said. “As a witness, you would have been asked to submit your statement in writing.”

  “They can make as much fuss as they want,” Jame said. “They can’t do anything because you didn’t react with violence.”

  Tigh could almost see Jame’s keen mind working out the arguments in her defense. The idea that someone would stand up for her took her breath away. The fact that it was Jame filled her with a disbelieving wonder.

  They entered the fortress and strode down the wide main corridor to Pendon’s office.

  An assistant healer met them at the door. “Please come this way.”

  Tigh exchanged glances with Jame and they followed the healer to a consulting chamber. As they stepped across the threshold, Tigh no longer needed to speculate on the nature of the meeting. Pendon, looking apologetic, sat at an oval-shaped table. Leona and Tribune Sitas flanked him, neither a surprise to Tigh. But the presence of Rantigar, raking cool eyes over Jame, put Tigh on her guard.

  The irony that she was going through the same pressures from home as Jame wasn’t lost on her. But for the first time she was possessed with the urge to fight for both their rights to lives of their own choosing. Besides, she didn’t like the disdain in Rantigar’s eyes when she looked at Jame.

  “Thank you for coming.” A subdued Pendon motioned them in. Tigh and Jame sat in the chairs closest to the door. “I’ll turn it over to you, Tribune.”

  “We’re here at the request of Representative Rantigar, to reevaluate Tigh’s choice of arbiter,” Sitas said.

  Tigh and Jame looked at each other, stunned.

  Sitas turned to the Rantigar. “Please state your case.”

  “Thank you, Tribune Sitas.” Rantigar nodded. “I’m here at the request of the parents of Paldar Tigis. They feel an Ingoran arbiter would be more suitable in handling their daughter’s case through the rest of the rehabilitation process. An Ingoran arbiter has the knowledge of how merchant families protect and nurture their members and can use this insight to ultimately convince the Tribunal that Paldar Tigis can be safely released into Ingoran society.”

  “I’m perfectly happy with my choice of arbiter. Can we go now?” Tigh placed her hands on the table and half rose out of her chair.

  “You don’t understand.” Rantigar kept her voice even. “The Federation Council has agreed to accept these conditions for your rehabilitation.”

  “For the House of Tigis to shelter me? Keep me hidden behind the scenes, doing inventory and balancing the books? Slinking in the shadows as the family’s embarrassing little secret?” Tigh asked. “I’ll take my chances with Jame.”

  “And put yourself at further risk of violence from your arbiter’s people?” Rantigar asked, incredulous. “The Emorans are a tribe of warriors and, unlike Ingorans, their way of dealing with displeasure is with violent confrontation. We agree on one thing, though. They’re as against having their princess represent you as we are.”

  “That’s not true,” Jame said. “My aunt, the queen, has not expressed an opinion, one way or another, on any of my cases.”

  “But the incident last night,” Rantigar said.

  “Was the reaction of an old, misguided friend,” Jame said. “It was just an unfortunate coincidence that my friend arrived in Ynit on the same evening Tigh and I were sharing a meal in the Emoran safe house.”

  “Where she shouldn’t have been in the first place,” Rantigar said.

  “Why not? The Ingoran cuisine is excellent.” Tigh leveled a passive gaze at Rantigar.

  “It’s not the proper environment for you right now,” Rantigar said.

  “Isn’t that for me to decide?” Tigh still pinned Rantigar with her gaze.

  “Right now, your parents know what’s best for you and you should honor that,” Rantigar said.

  “My parents seem to have forgotten that I’ve passed my twenty-second birthday,” Tigh said.

  “What?” Sitas turned to Rantigar. “You gave the impression her parents still have a legal hold on her.”

  Rantigar’s smug expression faltered. “They feel that they do, given the fact she’s still the legal ward of the state until she’s considered safe for society and if this can’t be done, they’re ready to take over the legal responsibility for her.” Rantigar recovered her confident smile. “It wasn’t lost on them that, after two years of alluding capture, you were caught within a week of your birthday. They accepted it as a coincidence and you had lost track of time.” The words were laced with a strong cadence of warning to Tigh that her parents were willing to forgive her if this was a minor act of rebellion.

  “It was no coincidence.” Tigh allowed the shocked silence to settle over the chamber. “Before I was recruited into the Guards, I was secretly studying what I needed to know to pass the entrance exams to get into the University of Artocia. I was going to run away on my sixteenth birthday—the youngest age they let students into the University—if my parents didn’t grant my wish to go there. I was still underage when the Wars were over and the last thing I wanted was to be cleansed and sent home to a life that I didn’t want in the first place. I hid where no one would think to look for me and counted off the days until I was legally my own person.”

  “That’s not possible,” Leona said. “You were still Tigh the Terrible.”

  Tigh clasped her hands together on the table. “I also had a brain. That’s why you recruited us. Remember? If Paldar Tigis didn’t want to become a merchant, what makes you think Tigh the Terrible wanted to return to that? I may have been ruthless and cruel but I wasn’t crazy and irrational.”

  “Your parents aren’t going to let you go that easily.” Rantigar’s mouth hardened and her tense straight body trembled as the rage she tried to control fought to be released. She glanced at Jame.

  “They have two other daughters who will make excellent merchants.” Tigh shrugged, not missing the speculative look Rantigar cast at Jame. “As for making it successfully through the rehabilitation process, I’m confident Jame will be able to present a convincing case to the Tribunal when the time comes. But if not, I’ll choose to remain a legal ward of the state.”

  Before Rantigar could respond, Sitas held up a warning hand. “Tigh is within her legal rights to make whatever choices she wants.” She stood. “I want to thank the representative from Ingor for wasting our time this morning. I apologize for taking you away from your studies, Jame. And Tigh, I’m sorry for this misunderstanding.”

  Tigh bowed her head. “Apology accepted. If I’d known Rantigar was being retained by my parents to intervene in my rehabilitation process, I would have warned you about it.”

  Rantigar stood up and looked as if she was ready to fly over the table at Tigh.

  Tigh stood, allowing the full power of her physical strength to saturate her body, and crossed her arms. “Give my parents my regards, Rantigar.” She turned to Sitas. “I’d like to put in a request to have bodyguards assigned to Jame until my rehabilitation is completed. I wouldn’t want any harm to come to her because she’s my arbiter.”

  Jame put a hand on Tigh’s arm. “Now wait—”

  Tigh silenced her with a serious glance.

  “A most prudent precaution, Tigh,” Sitas said.

  “Queen Jyac will appreciate your concern,” Tigh said. She turned and strode out of the chamber, followed by Jame.

  Tigh paused outside the door in the corridor filled with people going for their midday meal and raised an eyebrow at Jame. “Hungry?”

  Jame’s expression was a jumble of indignation and confusion, until it relaxed into resignation. “There’s one thing you’re going to have to learn about me. I’m always hungry enough to eat.”

  Tigh laughed and led the way to the nearest mess hall.

  WITH RELIEF, JAME scratched out the last sentence of her essay. Finishing it meant she could spend mor
e time with Tigh after the evening meal.

  “Done already?” Daneran looked up from her desk across the room. “I can’t come up with a third argument for Pilor’s Contradiction.”

  Jame stood and stretched out the long sandmarks of sitting. “It’s a contradiction. That means any argument can fit into it. You just have to follow Pilor’s formula for presenting the case.”

  “But it won’t make sense.”

  “It may not make sense, but it’ll still be logical.” Jame grinned.

  Daneran laughed. “That made no sense.”

  “But it was a perfect example of Pilor’s Contradiction,” Jame said. “I think the purpose of this exercise is to teach us to extend our minds beyond the predictable so we can tackle the more complicated cases.”

  Daneran crossed her arms in mock challenge. “This coming from the woman who won a case using Bailikon’s procedure.”

  “It was a gamble,” Jame said.

  Daneran snorted. “Now that’s an understatement. If she had struck back at your hired assailant that would have been it.”

  “There was never any doubt about that,” Jame said. “The gamble was whether the Tribunal was under pressure from the Federation Council to keep Tigh from advancing through her rehabilitation.”

  “I can’t believe you weren’t a little apprehensive about the attack,” Daneran said.

  “I had more confidence in Tigh’s ability to control her violence than Tigh did herself,” Jame said. “In the end, I had to prove it to her.”

  Daneran frowned. “Prove it?”

  “We tested it.”

  “You tried to attack her?” Daneran’s shocked expression was almost comical.

  “Several times until she realized she’d been truly cured of the impulse to strike back,” Jame said. “The moment of realization had been a wonderful sight to witness. She finally started to believe the cleansing was successful.”