“I thought that was the story of your life?” Tigh ducked a good-natured slap from Jame.
Joul grinned. “I find your people rather refreshing.”
“I know one thing. This little celebration is going to be memorable,” Jame said.
“YOU LOOK REALLY good in blue.” Jame was stretched out on the bed, watching Tigh pull on the blue dyed leathers worn by peace warriors in training.
Tigh grinned at Jame. She was still adjusting to the incredible feeling of taking the first steps of their life together. She had just one small barrier to pass through, and she hoped the answer would be there when she was face to face with the question.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have some observers today.” Jame rolled off the bed to help Tigh tighten her bracers.
Tigh released the laces into Jame’s capable hands. “They’re just doing what they were sent here to do.”
“I can’t believe they still think you’ll turn into a monster once you have a weapon in your hands,” Jame said in frustration. “You walked around the compound yesterday holding your sword.” She looked up as Tigh went still. “You can’t possibly believe you’ll suddenly become Tigh the Terrible if you start fighting again.”
“That’s not it,” Tigh mumbled as her fears tumbled forward in her mind.
Jame frowned. “What then?”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to fight at all,” Tigh said. “I have the want to fight, but I don’t know if I have it in me to actually raise a hand against another person.”
Jame frowned. “What would you do if someone burst in here with a sword and came straight for me with it?”
Tigh stared at Jame. “I would have fought the Lindigan sisters, if they had given me the chance.”
“Right.” Jame smiled in relief. “Remember what Pendon said at the hearing? You have the natural impulse to defend who you love.”
“But how do I find the impulse to raise my blade against a sparring partner?” Tigh asked. “I can’t explain how I feel. It’s as if I’d rather be injured myself than risk hurting someone else.”
Jame captured Tigh’s eyes. “You were going into training with this uncertainty hanging over you?”
“To be with you and to be the one to protect you, I’d do anything,” Tigh said. “I’ll find a way.”
“And how many bruises and gashes would you come home with before you found that way?” Jame asked. “You’re not going to do me much good if you’re always injured.”
Tigh wove this new idea into her complex psyche. “I must learn to keep both of us safe from injury.”
“You’re a skilled warrior, you can fight without doing injury to yourself or a sparring partner,” Jame said. “Look at this training as a way of honing that skill.”
Tigh enveloped Jame in her arms. Once again, Jame’s simple logic had liberated her from a constricting barrier. “I love you.”
“How can I not help but love you?” Jame asked when Tigh released her. “You’re the only person I know who can leave me speechless. Not to mention turn my insides onto a quivering ball of mush.”
“And you’re the only person who can heal the wounds within my soul.” Tigh grasped Jame’s hand in hers. “I thank all the deities who oversee my destiny for sending you to me.”
“I always thought the deities sent you to me.” Jame brushed her lips against Tigh’s. “Either way, I’ll be thanking them forever.”
Tigh happily wrapped her arms around this walking miracle in her life. She now had something to fight for.
CALLING THE OPEN sandy yards behind the main fortress building a sparring field had always been a joke amongst the Guards. All the long practice they endured in the desert heat was against inanimate or imaginary opponents. The Guards would have killed each other if they had sparred.
Kartlin, a leathery-skinned woman in her middle years, strode across the sand, the wind picking up the puffs of dust produced by her determined boots. She stopped in front of Tigh and crossed her arms.
“We know you know how to fight,” Kartlin said. “We know you have the temperament for the job.” Tigh raised an eyebrow. “The proper temperament is the most important qualification for a peace warrior. It’s been a while since you’ve handled a weapon. You can work with that lot over there.”
Tigh looked at a half-dozen competent fighters practicing their formations. “I’ve never sparred with anyone before.”
Kartlin nodded. “I’ll get you warmed up.”
Tigh took in Kartlin’s desert-stung features, surrounding world hardened green eyes and nodded. “I don’t know how I’ll react.”
“Do any of us really have so much control over ourselves that we don’t experience a heartbeat of eagerness, fear, anticipation, uncertainty, and every other emotion in between when someone raises a weapon against us?” Kartlin asked.
Tigh followed Kartlin to a worn patch of ground. The students across the field stopped their practice to watch.
Tigh saw the three Emorans skirt the sparring pits until they stood along the edge of the area where she and Kartlin selected staffs from a long rack of weapons.
Tigh flipped and maneuvered the staff, reacquainting her mind and her body with its feel. It felt . . . liberating. She raised steady eyes to Kartlin, who watched her while twirling her own staff.
Kartlin lunged forward, caught Tigh on the calf, and landed her on the ground in a cloud of dust.
All noise around them ceased. Tigh climbed to her feet, oblivious to everything except she had let Kartlin hit her. She had to focus on fighting back yet couldn’t find the impulse to raise the staff against the waiting Kartlin. Her panicked mind tried to reach out for Jame’s words. Fight without doing harm.
Kartlin sprung forward and Tigh got her staff in place to stop the blow. She stepped back and allowed Tigh to get used to the sensation of weapon against weapon.
“Now come at me,” Kartlin said.
Tigh swallowed. The wood in her hands felt foreign and clumsy. She gave her head a rapid shake. “I can’t.”
Kartlin looked around at the spectators and lunged at the unarmed Poag, who stood apart from the others. Without thought, Tigh sidestepped in front of Poag, whipped around her staff, and knocked Kartlin’s weapon from her hands.
With her sword drawn, Tas rushed to Poag’s side and watched Tigh with a wary expression.
Kartlin retrieved her staff. “Now pretend I’m about to attack someone.” She swung her staff at Tigh.
Tigh knew what she had to do but her thoughts and her actions were not controlled by logic. She was controlled by whatever happened to her during her cleansing. Her blue leathers, once again, took on another layer of dust as she found the ground much closer to her body than she preferred.
“What’s the matter with you?” Everyone turned shocked eyes to Tas who was pointing her sword at Tigh. “How do you expect the queen and the Council to approve of you if you don’t have the backbone to defend yourself, much less Jame?”
The words stung Tigh, and she whipped her staff so fast that Tas found herself sitting swordless on the ground.
“All right.” Kartlin drew out the words. “I don’t think you have any problems putting off attackers. We just need to work on motivation.”
Tigh sighed and put a hand out to Tas, who stared at it before warily taking it.
“Sorry about that,” Tigh said.
“That’s all right.” A confused looking Tas picked up and sheathed her sword. “Nice move.”
“All right.” Kartlin studied the group of advanced students. “Who wants to work with Tigh?”
Much to Tigh’s surprise, all of the young fighters stepped forward. She anticipated a long day in front of her.
“I’VE NEVER SEEN so many bruises and scrapes on one person in my life.” Jame helped Tigh pull off her shirt and eased her into the low tub filled with steaming water.
Tigh let the warm water finish stinging and start soothing her battered body. “But I learned to fight back.�
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“It wasn’t easy was it?” Jame took a cloth and ran it over Tigh’s tight muscles.
“Not at first but I was getting it all worked out toward the end of the day.” Tigh closed her eyes at Jame’s tender touch. “I really think I can do it.”
“I’m glad you dumped Tas on the ground.” Jame added a salve to her cloth.
“What?” Tigh twisted around.
“Emorans respect skill with weapons more than skill with words,” Jame said. “Tas will spread the word among the warriors that you’re a formidable fighter. It doesn’t matter how many times you were dumped yourself, Tas felt the sting of your skill in her hands. That’s all that counts.”
“Do you really think it’ll help?” Tigh asked.
Jame scooted around to face Tigh. “How can they not help but accept you? You embody the Emoran spirit.”
Tigh grinned at the idea that she could contribute to Jame’s appeal for an Emoran joining.
Chapter 18
Argis stared at the Ynit delegation as they trudged across the square dappled by the late evening sun. Nothing about them suggested any kind of immediate action had to be taken. More baffling, Jame wasn’t with them. She followed the trio as they entered the palace.
Sark turned at the sound of Argis’s footfalls behind them. “We need to make our report to the queen.”
“This concerns me as much as it does her,” Argis said as she caught up to them.
“Not anymore,” Sark said.
“What do you mean?” Argis sputtered with indignation.
“You forgot to tell us Jame had broken off her relations with you,” Sark said.
“She was under the influence of that woman,” Argis said. “Where is she?”
Sark sighed. “Perhaps you should come with us.”
Panic swept through Argis. “Is she all right? Has she been hurt?” She turned to Tas.
“She’s fine, Argis,” Tas said. “Just come with us and listen to our report.”
Frustrated, Argis followed after the travel weary delegation.
JYAC AND HER consort, Ronalyn, sat in the private royal dining chamber. The smooth-walled room had a circle of leather and cloth cushions with a low-lying wooden bar arcing in front of them. The entrance to the chamber was cleared of both cushions and bar, allowing food to be delivered from the middle of the room to anywhere on the bar. A fire crackled in a small fireplace behind Jyac, warming the natural cool cavern air.
Ronalyn, a gentle dark-haired woman with soft brown eyes, filled Jyac’s plate.
“Eat.” Ronalyn captured Jyak’s attention. “Watching the door won’t make them arrive any faster.”
Jyac gave Ronalyn a fond look and gazed down at her plate. “Jame’s not with them.” She picked up a fork and pushed the stew around. “I should have made the effort to listen to what she was trying to tell me.”
“You had no way of knowing any of this would happen,” Ronalyn said. “I wish I could have been here.”
“Me too. But your sister’s needs had to be attended to,” Jyac said. “I kept thinking of Jame as a bright-eyed child, too idealistic for her own good. I didn’t know how to handle that mature young woman, struggling to find her own path to a long and happy life. Why couldn’t I just accept the fact she had fallen out of love with Argis? Why couldn’t I just accept that she wants to practice being an arbiter? She has a right to her dreams. Maybe if I’d been more reasonable, she’d have never gotten mixed up with that Guard.”
“On the other side of the blade, maybe she’s really in love.” Ronalyn laid a hand on Jyac’s arm. “Are we prepared to accept that possibility?”
“I must be convinced with my own eyes.” Jyac straightened at the noises in the corridor and tried to relax. “They’re here.”
Poag, Sark, and Tas filled the doorway and Jyac beckoned them in with a wave.
“Argis wants to join us,” Sark said.
Jyac knew it was better to have Argis where she could see her, no matter the news from Ynit. “Come in, Argis.”
The newcomers settled onto the cushions around the table. Ronalyn pushed welcomed mugs of spiced wine and dishes of food in their direction.
“Here is a letter from Jame.” Sark pulled a thick packet from her belt pouch and handed it to Jyac.
“No one has ever accused Jame of being short on words.” Jyac weighed the document in her hand. “Why don’t you give me your side first and then I’ll read what Jame has to say.”
The three exchanged glances.
“We’ll first tell you what we witnessed,” Sark said. “Then we’ll give you our personal impressions, if you desire to hear them.”
“Good strategy.” Jyac nodded and then spent the next three sandmarks being introduced to the mature, brilliant young woman her niece had become. She realized she had no choice but to give Jame a chance to prove her desire to pursue her chosen profession and to defend her choice of life companion.
DANERAN AND JADIK bounced out of the door of their former residence almost running into a startled Jame.
“We have our assignments.” Daneran pulled Jame into an impromptu dance. A laughing Jame allowed herself to be passed to Jadik for a turn before the three friends stood grinning at each other.
“So what are you going to be doing?” Jame asked, ready to explode from curiosity.
Jadik grinned. “I put in for a position in Ewit and it turns out that old Poark is retiring so I’m bound for Ewit.”
“That’s wonderful, Jadic. I know you really wanted to practice in your home,” Jame said.
“I’m going to Aregan,” Daneran said.
“On the northern coast.” Jame nodded, remembering seeing the town on a map.
“It’s two sandmarks from my mother’s farm,” Daneran said. “So you could say, I’m pleased with the assignment.”
“Congratulations to both of you for getting what you asked for.” Jame tried to keep a touch of apprehension out of her voice. Getting a desired assignment was more luck than design. “I’m on my way to find out where I’ll be going.”
“Good luck,” Jadik said. “At least you don’t have anything to worry about. I heard more places put in a request for you than for any of us ordinary souls.”
“What?” Jame was stunned.
Daneran laughed. “Come on, Jame. Not only are you the top of our class, you successfully defended Tigh the Terrible before a military and a civil Tribunal. Any place would want you.”
Jame sighed. “Any place but my own country.”
“I think those Emorans who visited were pretty impressed by you and by Tigh,” Daneran said.
“You’re right,” Jame said with a reassuring smile. “I’m just waiting to hear from my aunt. I hate waiting.”
“Don’t we all,” Jadik said. “So what are you still doing out here?”
Jame laughed and entered the place that had been her home for two years. She was surprised at the lack of nostalgia she felt. Her heart had truly moved on.
Jame rapped on Ingel’s opened door.
“Jame. Come in.” Ingel looked up from her work and waved a beckoning hand. She sorted through a stack of parchment and pulled out an official-looking document. “I hear Tigh’s training is going well.”
Jame settled into the visitors chair. “She’s doing wonderfully. It took a while for her to learn how to defend herself, but now she’s a sight to behold. All the other warriors want to spar with her just to study her technique.”
Ingel smiled. “You have no idea how pleased everyone is that she’s been able to make the adjustment. You’re going to make a formidable team.”
“I don’t know about the formidable part, but I know we make a good team,” Jame said.
Ingel studied the document. “You know we got an overwhelming number of requests for you.”
“Daneran just told me that.”
“When you first came here we envisioned the opportunity of having a permanent arbiter in Emoria,” Ingel said. “Your country has never al
lowed us to place anyone there.”
“If it wasn’t for the need of an arbiter when I was young, I’d have never known about them.” In her mind, Jame saw an enthusiastic little girl following the poor arbiter everywhere, asking enough questions to try the patience of an acolyte of Laur.
“And we have benefited from that chance encounter,” Ingel said. “If you ever decide to settle in Emoria before you become queen, we’ll gladly reassign you. For now, you want to be an arbiter-at-large and we have honored that request. But it’s my duty to tell you that many of the places that put in a request for you have offered a considerable wage for your services.”
Jame shrugged. “I have no use for money. Whatever Tigh and I make between us will be more than sufficient.”
Ingel nodded. “The only at-large assignment we have available at the moment is for the Southern Districts.”
“The whole Southern Districts?” Jame asked, astonished.
“Yes.” Ingel’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “We always need an arbiter with the ability to cover a wide range of jurisdictions. Lots of disputes happen between people in different towns and territories that can’t be legally handled by the local arbiters.”
“So we wait in Ynit for these cases?” Jame asked.
“Most arbiters can’t afford to do that,” Ingel said. “You travel around like the other arbiters-at-large and will only be called in if you’re needed to settle a special cross-jurisdiction dispute.”
“Sounds like what I had in mind,” Jame said.
“Good. Here’s your assignment document.” Ingel passed the parchment to Jame. “You have to sign it in my presence.”
Jame put her name to the document and Ingel signed it, rolled it up, and put it in a small leather pouch.
“We’re holding the peace warrior-at-large for the Southern Districts assignment for Tigh,” Ingel said. “Your duty will begin as soon as she has completed her training.”
Jame took the pouch holding her future. “This is so wonderful. I could have never dreamed any of this but it’s still a dream come true. I guess sometimes we don’t know what we want until we’re face to face with it.”
Future Dreams Page 19