All too soon, Granelle came into view, a tidy village where a respectably sized temple shared the center with the Producer Caste House. At Salomen’s direction, they flew over the town toward a small hill on its outskirts, where several homes and businesses were built on the hillside. Meadowgreen occupied the highest point, separated from the rest by a buffer of wild grasses and shrubs.
“Gorgeous location,” Tal said as she brought the transport down near two waiting Guards. “Ready to go public?”
“I’m ready to turn a few heads, at least. Walking in with the Lancer will either boost or bury my reputation, depending on who sees us.”
“Do you care if it’s the latter?”
“Not in the slightest.” Salomen’s dark hair brushed her bare shoulders as she shook her head emphatically. “I don’t run my life according to what others think of me.”
“Don’t I know it.”
They climbed out of the transport, but when Salomen turned toward the restaurant, Tal took her hand and urged her in the opposite direction. Together they walked to the edge of the hilltop, holding hands as they gazed at the landscape glowing in the last light of the day. Hol-Opah was easily visible atop its hill, surrounded by a quilted patchwork of fields and crops.
“It’s such a beautiful holding,” Tal said.
“I’ve always thought so, though it’s possible I’m biased.”
“A person would have to be biased not to think so.”
Salomen pointed. “See that break in the tree line there? Just across the river from our border?”
“Yes…?”
“That’s where the ground pounder came through.”
“What?”
The outburst earned her a surprised look. “You didn’t know a ground pounder landed here?”
Oh, shekking Mother, she’d had no idea. “I had so many damage reports…but I don’t remember seeing Granelle in them.” Then again, the name wouldn’t have meant anything to her then.
“It didn’t get a chance to cause any damage. At least, not to Granelle. We were terrified it was going to blow us off the hill, though. It was like a scene out of a horror vid. We watched it come down, and when it landed so close to our border, we thought that was the end. But it never seemed to care about what was behind it, only what was ahead. It wanted Granelle, not a little house on a hill.”
Tal realized she was squeezing Salomen’s hand too tightly and loosened her grip with an effort. “I have a lot to thank Fahla for,” she said. “One shell and I’d never have met you. Hol-Opah was well within range.”
“Believe me, I know. We saw what it could do. Those trees were in its way, so it just blew a hole through them. They were thousand-cycle-old molwyn trees, and it destroyed them in a piptick. And then there was a huge roar over our heads, and the Protectorate fighter came in. It hit the ground pounder with a laser shot, and we saw the shield light up and go out. Nikin was narrating the whole time; he knew all the weaponry and what was happening because he’d been reading and watching everything he could get his hands on about the Caphenon and the Voloth threat. Jaros was still sleeping, thank the Goddess.”
Tal looked at the break in the trees, imagining the fight. “Did the ground pounder fire any missiles?”
“Oh, yes. It was like a fireworks show. I saw it fire four. Nikin says it was five, but it was hard to tell with so much going on. The fighter was shooting them down as fast as they came out, and then it fired its own missiles and that ground pounder went up like a bonfire at the autumn feast. The whole thing took less than five ticks. The fighter flew off to the northeast and that was the sum total of the Battle of Alsea in our little corner of the world.”
Tal was silent, wondering which of the two Fleet pilots had saved Granelle.
“I saw the interview with Captain Serrado afterwards. I remember wondering at the time what motivation she could possibly have had to risk her ship and her people for us.” Salomen glanced over. “I think I might have a better idea about that now.”
Tal shook her head. “It’s not what you think. She risked everything before we ever met. That’s just who she is.”
Salomen hesitated, then said, “I worry, sometimes. I’m not a warrior. You and she fought that battle. I just watched it.”
But if she had been properly trained, Tal thought, she could have fought it quite well. Then she shivered as she imagined Salomen in one of those slapped-together high empath groups that had been decimated by the ground pounders, the ones where the rescue crews literally had to pick up the pieces.
“I don’t want a warrior,” she said. “I want you. Safe and happy and bossing around field workers like an ADF unit trainer.”
Salomen chuckled. “Field workers, or you?”
“Well, for the moment I am a field worker…”
“Not in those clothes you’re not. And not even out of them. You don’t carry yourself like any field worker or landholder I know. But speaking of bossing you around…” She pointed again, this time to the north of Hol-Opah. “That cluster of lights over there? That’s the distribution center. You’re going to become intimately familiar with it next nineday. Do you feel up to some endless transport piloting?”
“That sounds like a vacation after this last half-moon in the fields.”
“You won’t think so when you’ve made your hundredth trip.”
The horten crop could not be transported in bulk, due to its delicate nature. It had to be processed immediately after harvest, and even two hanticks could ruin the flavor. All growers reserved time at the distribution center, and that time was a frenzy of harvest and transport, harvest and transport, until the last of the crop was processed. It was a facet of producer life that she had never known about until now. In truth, Tal’s time on Hol-Opah had taught her more than she had expected.
Quite a bit more, she thought as she turned to look at her date. Salomen sensed her glance and smiled, though she didn’t take her eyes off the scenery.
“I notice we haven’t actually gone into the restaurant yet,” she said. “Did you really get a table, or did you just bring me here for the view?”
“I brought you here for the view.”
She did look then, her skepticism clear. “Are we speaking of the same view?”
“I think not.” Tal sighed theatrically. “One of the disadvantages of our bond, I suppose. Once we complete this, I’ll never be able to take refuge behind words with double meanings.”
“Yes, you will. Just not with me. And thank you for the compliment behind that double meaning.”
“I’ll be the envy of everyone in the room.”
“If they’re locals, I doubt that.”
Tal reached for her other hand and pulled her closer. “Anyone with eyes can see how lovely you are on the outside. If they don’t see the beauty you carry inside, it’s only because you don’t allow it. I count myself fortunate that you allowed me.”
Salomen glanced down at their hands and tightened her grip. “I’m uncertain as to who allowed what. Don’t give me credit for something I did without any awareness. I don’t even know when I ceased disliking you and began—” She paused, then looked up. “Loving you,” she finished.
Tal wanted to respond; she wanted to return Salomen’s courage in full measure. But she had never said those words before, and they did not come easily. It was ironic, really—a tyree bond was the ultimate vulnerability, and here she was, holding hands with her tyree, afraid to say a few words that would make her vulnerable. Ridiculous.
She opened her mouth to explain, but Salomen placed two fingers on her lips. “There’s no need,” she whispered. “Please don’t say it until it comes from your heart, unforced.”
Tal nodded as Salomen dropped her hand. “And you worry about not being a warrior? I’m not the courageous one here.”
“There are different kinds of courage. And d
espite what you thought last night, none could ever call you coward.”
“I think in this matter, some might.”
“‘Some’ meaning one Andira Tal.”
“Perhaps. But her opinion holds a great deal of weight.”
“Or so she thinks.” Salomen winked, lightening the mood. “Shall we dine, then? Or were you serious when you said you brought me here for the view?”
“I was quite serious, though when I arranged the evening I had no idea just how breathtaking the view would be.” Tal could be light as well. “Come on, let’s make everyone envious.” She acknowledged the Guards, who had remained at a respectful distance, and with a hand motion sent them to the front and back entrances of the restaurant.
“They’ll be out here while we’re dining?” Salomen asked.
“Yes. And two more inside.”
“So we eat in luxury and they stand outside in the night, watching for any danger.”
Tal gave her a sidelong glance as they walked down the path. “That’s their duty, yes.”
“You must tell Jaros about this the next time he wants a story about warriors. I’m quite sure his dreams of changing caste don’t involve standing guard outside restaurants and private homes.”
“No, I suspect his dreams involve a bit more glory.”
“Mm-hm. And it doesn’t help that you’re his role model.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, Lancer Tal, that my brother wants to model himself after the greatest warrior of our generation. It’s hard to convince him that most warriors aren’t covered in glory when all he sees is you.” Salomen mounted the steps to the restaurant’s porch and turned back. “Are you coming?”
Tal had stopped and now found herself looking up at the elegant picture Salomen made in her formfitting dress. “Is that what you think of me?”
Salomen smiled and walked inside.
Scrambling to catch up, Tal slipped into the foyer just before the door closed. “Is it?”
“You did save us from the Voloth.”
“But when we met, you acted like I was the biggest incompetent to ever sit in the State Chair.”
Salomen shrugged. “I disagreed with your policies.”
“You’re a hard woman to please, Raiz Opah.”
Salomen’s gaze dropped to Tal’s boots and made a slow trip back to her face. “Yes, I am,” she said in a smoky voice.
Both of them had their fronts up, given their public location, and Tal thought that might be a good thing. If the emotions behind that voice were even close to what she was imagining, she might spontaneously combust right where she stood.
Needing a distraction, she looked around the foyer, which was drenched in understated luxury. Hand-rubbed wood shone in the light from discreetly placed lamps, and the room exuded the kind of quiet charm that came only from age, excellent care, and considerable expense. The sounds of utensils on plates and many conversations drifted through an arched doorway, and the air was full of mouth-watering scents.
“Lancer Tal!” A man in formal dress appeared from nowhere and bowed. “Saunista Corsine. Welcome to my establishment; you honor us with your presence.” He bowed to Salomen in turn. “Welcome, Raiz Opah.”
“Thank you,” Tal said. “I have it on excellent authority that your restaurant is the best in the area and that a reservation cannot be had for bribery nor battle for less than half a moon in advance. I appreciate your making last-tick accommodations for us.”
Corsine waved that away. “It was no burden. If you will follow me, please.” He turned with military precision and led them into the domed dining area.
Tal spotted the other two Guards instantly, one on each side of the room. In civilian dress, they blended with the crowd quite well.
She and Salomen did not. Every head in the place swiveled to watch them as they walked to their table, and she was proud of Salomen’s regal bearing and confident walk. Automatically, she broadsensed the room, and while a few individuals were unhappy with her appearance in the restaurant, she detected nothing that gave cause for concern.
“You were right,” Salomen murmured. “His snobbery has clear limits.”
“So that means I’ve impressed you again?”
She laughed. “You have.”
“Twice in one night! But perhaps I should not have set the standard so high on the first date.”
“Too late. I expect every date from here forward to be equally impressive.”
“Damn.”
Corsine arrived at the only empty table in the dining area, which was slightly removed from the others and commanded an excellent view. Standing to one side, he bowed with a flourish. “I recommend a bottle of Tollisan while you consider your order. It’s a fine spirit.”
Tal hid a smile. Tollisan was the most costly spirit on all Alsea, and in her opinion not deserving of the price. Corsine was planning to sell her the most expensive meal he could.
“I’d prefer Valkinon, if you have it.”
“Very well. An excellent choice.” Corsine showed no outward reaction, but Tal could sense a rise in respect. He plucked the hyacot twig from its bowl on their table, snapped it in half, and replaced the pieces. With a short bow, he departed for the kitchen.
Tal brought a piece to her nose and happily sniffed it. “Why is it that these cost a fortune and I’ve seen them only in expensive restaurants, yet there’s an enormous hyacot tree on Hol-Opah and you don’t use them? You should have these at every meal.”
“We used to. When Mother grew ill, Father made sure their room always had hyacot in it. She loved the scent, and it soothed her when nothing else could, but no one in our family could abide it afterward.”
Tal dropped the twig back in its bowl. “I’m so sorry.” She picked up the bowl and began to rise, but Salomen put a hand on her wrist.
“No, please. I think…I would like to have some new memories to associate with that scent.”
Tal put the bowl back. “Then I’ll do my best to make this the first of many new memories.”
“You already have. So tell me, what makes Valkinon better than Tollisan?”
“Have you ever had either?”
“No.”
“Well, Tollisan is all name recognition and very little delivery. Personally, I think most people who buy it do so entirely for the ego boost. If they knew anything about spirits, they wouldn’t drink it. But they want to be seen spending an enormous number of cinteks.”
“And Valkinon?”
“Is a spirit from the Highmont district, produced by a maker who has very little name recognition because he doesn’t pay for advertising. But he doesn’t need to. Anyone who seeks out good-quality spirits will eventually hear his name. He charges less for his spirits because his own costs aren’t that high, meaning a less affluent Alsean can afford a better spirit than the type more affluent Alseans tend to drink.”
Salomen narrowed her eyes. “Did I just hear an economics lesson? Perhaps something you’ve been trying to convince my caste?”
Tal had to smile. “Not intentionally, no, but the principle is the same.”
Their waiter arrived with two glasses and a bottle. Silently, he set the glasses in front of them, braced the bottle with one hand, and pulled the tab with the other. The cap popped off, clattering to the wood floor as a puff of blue mist floated from the bottle. Tal watched in anticipation as he poured, picking up her glass as soon as he left. “I should warn you that you’re about to be ruined for anything less.”
Salomen raised an eyebrow that said We’ll see about that, and took a sip. The second eyebrow joined the first. “Oh, Fahla. This is wonderful.”
“Mm-hm.” Tal was enjoying her own drink. “I believe it’s your turn.”
“What?”
“I chose the spirits, but the food is another matter. You liv
e here. What would you recommend?”
“Andira, this is Meadowgreen. Everything is good.”
Tal shook her head. “Insufficient. Not to mention a startling lack of assertiveness on your part. You tell me what to do every day in the fields and now you won’t recommend a meal?”
Salomen leaned close. “Do you want me to tell you what to do?”
The low voice sent a shiver down Tal’s spine, and she leaned in as well. “I’ve already experienced that. But I do wonder whether you would take orders as well as you give them.”
“You’ll have to wait to learn that, my Lancer. I give up no secrets.”
Tal was now regretting the high-necked shirt, and Salomen gave her a slow smile.
“You seem a little warm. Perhaps we should begin with a cold soup.”
“An excellent idea,” Tal said, resisting the urge to undo a few buttons at her collar.
Salomen sat up straight. “Then let’s see what they offer.” She pushed the control on her side, and a small section of the table slid back to reveal the electronic menu. “Oh, look. Horten soup, this close to harvest? Corsine must have imported it from central Pallea. I could make this for us next nineday for a tenth of the cost, and it would be much fresher.”
“You can?”
“Certainly. Would you like me to?”
“‘Like’ is probably not a sufficient term. I adore horten soup. The last time I was in central Pallea during harvest, I brought back an enormous container of it and vacuum-stored it. I rationed it out to myself at the rate of one bowl every nineday, and was crushed when it was gone.”
“You vacuum-stored horten soup? Oh, no no no.” Salomen shook her head. “You must have it fresh.”
“All right,” Tal said quickly. “If you say so.”
“I see I have my work cut out for me. If you can wait a few days, I think I can promise something that will curl your toes with gastronomic happiness.”
“Then I can wait. But it won’t be easy.”
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