by S. L. Viehl
This time Reever caught up with me and took my arm as I made my way through the assembly toward the flowery platform at the head of the hall. “Darea has apprised you of Xonea’s emotional condition.”
“She did.” I felt the brush of his thoughts against my mind and glanced down at his hand. “Just so you know, if you try to link with me, ever, I will kick you in the groin.”
“Have you forgotten that I can control your body?” he asked, as politely as if he were asking about the weather.
“You have to sleep sometime, Duncan. I can wait and cripple you after I come out of it.” I stomped up the steps of the platform and walked to the center. I couldn’t stop Reever from accompanying me, and it was probably best that we show a united front, but I didn’t have to stay up there all night.
The crowd immediately fell silent, which made my voice ring out through the hall. “I’ve never been very good at making speeches,” I warned them, “so this will be brief.” I sounded too loud, too harsh, and took a moment to clear my throat. “I’ve been away for a long time, and I’m still trying to catch up on what’s happened since I last left Joren. I want you to know how much it means to me, to be able to come home, here, to the Torin. I never had a family of my own on Terra, and I never expected to find a new one. When I lost Kao”—I tried to smile—“I felt as if my one hope of happiness had died. Here, tonight. . . .”
I knew I had to say more than that, but my throat didn’t want to cooperate.
“Gratitude and honor overcome my bondmate,” Reever said. “HouseClan Torin rescued Cherijo, protected her, and brought her into their hearts. You have done more for me and my bondmate than simply providing a new homeworld for us and our ClanDaughter. You have taught us what it means to be part of something bigger and better than ourselves.”
It wasn’t only self-pity that made tears stream down my cheeks. In that moment I could have killed him. “Duncan is right,” I said, the words rasping past the constriction in my throat. “You have done so much for us, for me. You saved me from loneliness and despair by accepting me as your kin, and for that, I will honor HouseClan Torin forever.”
The applause nearly deafened me as Reever guided me down from the platform. I was passed around from one Torin to the next as my family embraced me and murmured words of encouragement. Somewhere between the fiftieth and sixtieth hug Reever took charge, gently extricating me and making excuses as he guided me out of the hall. In our wake I heard Xonal telling Xonea to let us go.
I managed to compose myself by the time we reached the guest quarters the Torin had allocated to us. “Is Marel here?”
“She is staying with Fasala in her family’s rooms tonight,” he said. “I thought we should have some time alone.”
“What for? We’ve already adequately dissected the situation. It’s a dead issue.” I reached for the door panel controls. “I need to rest. Go away.”
He put an arm across the opening panels. “How will you convince Xonea that our bond remains strong if we occupy separate quarters?”
I didn’t have an answer for that, so I ducked under his arm and went inside. The rooms were decorated in Torin colors but with Terran-sized furnishings, and the prep unit had been programmed with all my old favorites. I dialed up a server of chamomile, added a touch of spice, and carried it to the nearest single chair. Reever made his own cup of something vile-smelling and came to stand beside me.
“Don’t look so smug,” I advised him sourly. “We’ll have to keep up appearances until Xonea stops obsessing over me, but as soon as he settles down, we’ll be going our separate ways.”
“I do not want a separation.”
“What a shame, then, because you don’t actually get a vote.” I sipped my tea, but the usual relaxing effect it had on me wasn’t happening. “You need to spend some time with Marel,” I added when he opened his mouth to respond. “It’s clear that she seriously bonded with your alien girlfriend while I was gone. Since I’m back in the same body, I really can’t help her adjust to the fact that Jarn is dead. While you’re at it, you might remind our kid that I’m her real mother.”
“I overheard what she said to you at Main Transport.” He touched my hair. “I regret that her affection for Jarn has hurt you.”
I got up and faced him. “Don’t pretend you feel anything for me, Reever. You’re no good at it. Just shut up and play your part. And while you’re doing that, keep your damn hands off me.”
“You still love me.” He sounded slightly amazed.
My rage finally boiled over, and I threw the lukewarm remains of my tea in his face. “I never stopped, you bastard.”
I went into the sleeping chamber and secured the door before I stripped out of my tunic and trousers. Inside the tunic were odd loops I hadn’t noticed before, and I realized it had been altered to accommodate and conceal a blade harness. I tore the tunic apart before I flung the ragged pieces across the room.
Then I collapsed on the sleeping platform, buried my face in a pillow, and wept myself into unconsciousness.
I slept like the dead thing I felt I was inside, and woke an hour before dawn to cleanse and dress. Fortunately none of Jarn’s clothes had been brought over from the Sunlace, and what I found in the storage container looked newly made from an array of gorgeous Jorenian fabrics, cut down and tailored specifically for an adult female of small stature.
“Thank you, Xonal,” I murmured as I sorted through them and selected an outfit made of dark amethyst and deep green.
After last night’s ugly scene I dreaded another confrontation with Reever, but when I came out of the bedroom, he was gone. The only sign he’d stayed was a pillow and a neatly folded coverlet left on one of the lounges. Good riddance, I tried to tell myself, but it didn’t do anything to loosen the knot in my chest. All I could do was hope that Xonea got over his stupid crush soon and I could bury what was left of my marriage before it started to rot.
Despite my complete lack of appetite, I made myself eat a light breakfast. The delicious morning bread, one of my favorite native foods, tasted like chalk, and the more I tried to eat, the more it choked me. If this kept up, I’d have to start infusing myself with calorie supplements.
Shon arrived just as I finished tidying up. He’d dressed in plain, light-colored garments that offset his dark pelt and made him seem a little less menacing. He didn’t say much, although he noticed the bedding Reever had used and gave me a sharp look.
“Don’t ask,” I advised him.
I collected my medical case and accompanied him to the glidecar waiting at the front of the pavilion. He manned the controls, which was fine with me, and from there we drove across the province onto the throughway used by the HouseClans to travel from one territory to another.
I tried to take an interest in the scenery, but the silvery yiborra grass fields all looked dull and gray to my jaundiced eye. I caught myself counting t’lerue as we passed the Torin pasturelands, and closed my eyes. I needed to pull out of this depression before we reached the capital, or I’d never be able to face what was waiting there for me.
“They still speak of you on Kevarzangia Two,” Shon said, his voice startling me. “You are greatly honored for what you did to save the colony.”
The faces of all the people who had died during the Core plague flashed through my mind, merging into one much-beloved face: Kao Torin’s. “I didn’t save all of them.”
“Jadaira—a female ’Zangian pilot who befriended me—nearly died of the effects of the plague on her dam. She was pregnant with her when the infection spread to the native inhabitants.” He went on to describe the damage the Core had inadvertently done to Dair in utero, and the drastic measures taken to alterform and save her after her mother died. “You would like her, I think. She is as stubborn and independent as you.”
“Must be the Terran parts they stuck in her. We’re not known to be sweet and submissive.” He’d gotten my interest, though. “How does an aquatic who can’t be out of water for more than
a few hours become a pilot?”
Shon began to explain the ’Zangians’ evolutionary problems—they were making a slow and difficult transition from an aquatic to a land-dwelling species—and how the young ’Zangians had been alterformed by the League in order to defend ’Zangian space and fly patrol missions around their homeworld. I was happy to hear that the former military starjocs were currently using their expertise to help rescue civilian ships in trouble, although from some of Shon’s stories it sounded at times as if it was as risky and dangerous as fighting the Hsktskt had been.
After a brief lull in conversation, Shon glanced at me. “Would you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
That instantly put me on my guard. “How personal?”
“It is related to your professional philosophies.” When I rolled my hand, inviting him to go on, he added, “After all you have experienced and suffered since leaving Terra, why do you continue to help others?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I wished he would go back to being the strong and silent type. “I’m a doctor. It’s my job.”
“During your medical career, you have accomplished extraordinary things, and yet you have never personally profited from it.” He decreased speed as we reached the exit from the throughway for the capital. “From what I have observed, few seem to appreciate what you have done.”
“Obviously you’re not counting the welcome-home party the Torins threw for me last night,” I snapped. “Or the fact that they rescued me from being taken back to Terra and treated like a lab rat there. Hell, I was even made one of their rulers for a while.”
“What if their true motive was not to express appreciation at all?” he asked. “What if the Jorenians wanted to control and possess you? What better way to accomplish that than to maneuver you into devoting yourself to their species through such a blanket cultural inclusion as formal adoption?”
No one had ever suggested such a thing, not even Reever, who wasn’t especially fond of the Jorenians.
“I don’t like the way you think,” I told him. “You came to Joren not just to practice medicine but to hide out from the League. You used them for your own purposes, Shon, and now you’ve got the nerve to suggest that they’re using me?”
“It is only a thought.”
I hmphed. “On Terra we call that living in a plas domicile and throwing rocks.”
“You have a point,” he conceded. “But consider this: The Jorenians have never before offered to adopt me. Yet as soon as we arrived back from the sojourn to oKia, I received a formal offer from ClanLeader Xonal to join his House.”
My temper simmered a little higher. “Maybe he was being nice.”
“The crew almost certainly reported to him the facts about my abilities and immortality, which were revealed during the expedition,” Shon said. “Having two immortal kin instead of one to serve his people would greatly elevate the Torins’ status among the other HouseClans.”
“You know, almost everything in my life has happened because of someone else’s selfish desires, private agendas, or dastardly plans,” I told him. “The only people who have ever treated me like a person have been the Jorenians. Call me an idiot, but I’d like to keep on believing they actually care what happens to me.”
“I cannot blame you for that,” he said. “Only keep an open mind, Healer. There is more at work here than the kindness of strangers.”
Mercifully he shut up after that, leaving me to wonder if he was simply being paranoid, or I didn’t want to accept another painful truth.
All the HouseClans on Joren lived together with their kin in huge, communal pavilions that were strategically located in the center of their territories. These communities had evolved from a massive cultural shift in the past, when the first Jorenian tribes had abandoned their nomadic existence as hunter-gatherers and instead had settled down and laid claim to the most fertile and favorable areas on the planet.
The Adan had a slightly different situation, in that they were both a HouseClan and the hosts of Joren’s ruling government, which comprised members from every HouseClan. To provide for the various council members and representatives as well as the visiting merchants and officials from other regions, they had built around their pavilion various accommodations, business centers, and other communities. Over the years these satellite structures had expanded out from the original pavilion in a series of rings—hundreds of them.
I had seen a few vids and images of the capital, but until now I’d never realized the size of the developments surrounding the Adan pavilion. The gratis guest quarters and offices had grown into a small city.
“We’re supposed to meet ClanLeader Adan and his men at the Center for Planetary Peace,” I said to Shon. “How are we going to find it?”
“I signaled the HouseClan last night to obtain directions.” He tapped the vehicle’s console display, and a detailed glidemap appeared. “The meeting place is here, at the north curve of HaloFourteen.”
Suddenly I wanted him to reverse the glidecar and take me back to my HouseClan. “I don’t suppose you could take a wrong turn or something.”
“If that is what you wish.” He slowed the vehicle and pulled off the glidepath into a curving park planted with unfamiliar, brilliant orange and white flowers. He coasted to a stop beside a crescent-shaped reflecting pool and shut down the engine. “You do not have to meet with the Hsktskt, Healer. You do not have to do anything.”
I didn’t want to talk about it, so I got out of the glidecar and walked across the short blue green moss that served as decorative grass on Joren to stand at the edge of the pool. Thin flashes of light sparkled on the surface, and I crouched down to look at the small aquatics stocking the pool. I couldn’t remember the Jorenian name for them, or if they were native to the Adan territory, or why I’d agreed to come here when the safest, sanest thing would have been to conduct this meeting over a console.
Shon sat down beside me. “Cela’dnor.”
“What?”
“The name of the creatures in the water.” He looked more comfortable on the ground than he had behind the controls of the vehicle. “It is Cela’dnor.”
I felt suspicious. “Can you read my mind?”
“I have a sense of you, but it is not telepathic in nature.” He leaned back on his elbows. “When you meet with the Hsktskt delegation, I will remain at your side. I will not leave you alone with them.”
“I’m not afraid of the lizards.” The past I thought was long dead and gone, however, was terrifying me. “Why are you being so nice to me? What do you want? Another shot at romance and true love? I’m not Jarn, and I’m not interested.”
“My younger brother was murdered by the League,” he said instead of answering my questions.
“So were a bunch of my friends.” I sighed. “What happened?”
“They drowned him. Like many of my people, he feared water. The only time we go into it is when we are dead. They knew this.” He stared at the pool. “They wanted him to die in terror. They wanted me to know that he did.”
I got to my feet. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reminded you of . . . I’m sorry, Shon.”
He looked up at me. “I do not think of you as I did Jarn, Cherijo. When I look at you, I think of my little brother. So know that for as long as I breathe, you will never again go into the water alone.”
I didn’t understand, and at the same time I did. “And what if I jump in and start to drown?”
He stood up. “Then I will breathe for both of us until I can bring you back to the shore.”
I glanced at the water, and then walked slowly back to the glidecar with my oKiaf brother.
Five
I expected to see a lot of Jorenians inside the stately building that served as the Center for Planetary Peace, but when Shon and I entered the reception area, we were greeted by only one young male wearing a fitted gray robe over a white tunic and black trousers. His attire seemed so unusual for a Jorenian—all the HouseClans had vivid, distinct
colors that they used in everything from decor to garments—that I couldn’t help staring a little.
“I am Apalo Adan, Healer Torin.” He made a modified version of the elaborate formal gesture of greeting between members of different Houses. “On behalf of the Adan, I welcome you to the capital.”
“I’m happy to be here.” I covered the lie with a smile as I introduced Shon. “Is everyone here, or are we early?”
“The Hsktskt delegation and our negotiators are presently in conference on the summit level.” He gestured toward a lift. “Would you care to rest after your journey? We have arranged rooms for you and Healer Valtas at the pavilion.”
I almost leapt at the chance to put off seeing the Hsktskt dressed in my dead lover’s DNA, which made me all the more determined to get it over with. “No, I think I’ve kept them waiting long enough.”
Apalo’s eyes gleamed with discreet approval. “Then if you please will accompany me?”
The lift took us to the top floor of the building—where else would they have put a summit level?—and opened to a gallery of Jorenian sculptures of various historic figures, all carved from gleaming sapphire-colored stone in life-sized proportions. Most were in benign poses, but here and there were famous warriors armed to the teeth, claws extended, and looking as if ready to disembowel someone.
“Impressive,” Shon murmured, pausing to study a statue of Tarek Varena, sculpted in an attack stance over a fallen enemy.
“Sure,” I muttered back. “If you like serial killers.”
Shon eyed me. “Tarek Varena effectively put an end to the ancient territorial wars between the HouseClans.”
“Which he did by one hundred straight days of single-handed combat in the quad, during which he slaughtered the best warriors from every House on Joren,” I reminded him. “I think the final count was somewhere around six hundred, seven hundred men?”
“I approve only of his results, Healer,” the oKiaf said. “Not his methods.”