by Karen Lord
“Well,” I said breathlessly, looking over his shoulder at Maria’s beaming face, “just for a little while.”
He stepped back suddenly, looking anxiously at my uniform. “Man, I’m filthy. Sorry about that.” He brushed at a few reddish stains on my shirt and trousers where the clay soil had transferred and left its mark.
“Don’t worry. Time I changed out of this, anyway,” I said, gently pushing away his hands.
After changing clothes, I started for the kitchen, hearing the familiar clatter of meal preparation. As I passed the door to the small pantry, something made me turn my head. There was Gracie, standing on a stepladder, glaring at the top shelf, where a cookie jar sat just out of her reach.
“What are you doing up there? Come!” I demanded.
She tumbled from the stepladder into my outstretched arms for a hug. I squeezed her skinny four-year-old frame with a gleeful grin. She may not have been my favorite, but she was my namesake and it was early days. Maybe if she learned to write long letters …
“Hey, you two.”
The voice was close enough to make me jump. Ioan stood behind me and wrapped his arms around both of us, bending past my cheek to smack a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. The slight stubble of his jaw grazed my skin. I took a half step sideways, trying to keep our bodies from brushing together. He didn’t seem to notice, or care, because he moved with me in a slight sway, appearing to relish the lengthy embrace.
“Two of my favorite girls,” he murmured, then finally let go.
I turned around and set Gracie in his arms. “I’ll go see if Maria needs any help with dinner.”
He put Gracie down. “Sweetie, go see if your mother needs any help.”
She dashed off silently.
“She’s so obedient,” I said accusingly. “Did she even have the terrible twos stage?”
“Not really, no,” Ioan said, looking after her with a smile.
“Not like her mother, then. She drove me mad when she was two.”
“Shadi,” he said, and that was all he said, but something in the tone made me duck my head down and walk to the door, which, unfortunately, meant going past him.
He seized me by the wrist. “Shadi, look at me.”
“No, Ioan. That doesn’t work on me, remember?” I tugged my hand free and kept going, trying to ignore the echo in my head … Shadi … Shadi.
At dinner, Maria kept talking about how long it had been. The first few times, it was heartwarming, but then it became almost nagging. When she started talking about how I could have stayed a homesteader rather than going to university, Rafi and I exchanged weary, eye-rolling looks. Maria missed it and made the mistake of trying to enlist Rafi’s help.
“Rafi’s always talking about how much he misses you, aren’t you, dear? Wouldn’t you like it if Auntie Grace lived with us on the homestead?”
I was startled. How did we get from “visiting more often” to “moving in entirely”?
“I think she should live her own life,” Rafi muttered.
Maria was furious. “Rafi! You apologize to your aunt right now!”
“It’s all right, Maria, he—”
Ioan overrode my protests. “Your mother’s right. Apologize.” Rafi glared at him. “You’re always messing things up. I hate you!”
Now I was shocked. “Rafi!”
He pushed away from the table and stood up, giving me a look that was both anguish and reproach. Then he shook his head in frustration and ran out of the room.
Little Gracie looked wide-eyed from parent to parent, jaws motionless, her last mouthful still bulging in her cheeks.
“Teenagers,” Ioan said carelessly with a reassuring smile, smoothing his daughter’s hair. “They hate everybody at that age.”
He looked at me, still smiling. His foot gently bumped mine under the table, and for a full second I didn’t feel inclined to pull away. Then something buzzed on my wrist, distracting me. I slapped at it absently, and it went away.
I kept up my mask of indifference pretty well, but that night Ioan haunted my dreams in a way he hadn’t done in years. Memories and might-have-beens tangled in a mad jumble. I remembered how it felt when our hearts and minds came together at a time when I thought I love you meant forever. I dreamed I had never left; I was in Maria’s place, and Rafi was truly my son. It made me angry and confused. The ability to know another’s mind does not preclude the likelihood of misunderstanding it. That was true. I knew that all too well, and that’s why I hadn’t married him. Then why was I dreaming about him again?
I avoided him by spending more time with Maria. It was her I’d come to see, anyway.
If anyone had asked me what I was looking for, I couldn’t have answered them. Some things you know more by intuition than by reasoning. I told myself that I just wanted to be reassured that Maria was happy and Ioan was behaving himself, but to tell the truth, her unwavering contentedness was beginning to aggravate me. What with that and the dreams, mostly I just felt guilty and mad at myself. Then one afternoon, after a large Sunday lunch, when we were sitting in the living room with the children sprawled on the carpet playing cards, Maria tried a little too hard.
“You know, we could use another pair of hands on the homestead,” Maria said. “You’re helping those Sadiri with their homesteadings. Don’t you think family should come first?” Her smile was oddly fixed.
I frowned a bit at that. “Why would you say that? You know it’s not like that.”
“Then explain it to me. Here you have people who love you, who want you to be part of the family, and you act like you can barely stand to see us!” Her voice cracked.
Rafi stiffened, not looking at her but listening hard. Gracie stood up and went to stare out of the window. Ioan sat straighter and made a movement as if about to rest a pacifying hand on his wife’s shoulder, then seemed to decide against it.
“Maria, you’re not making sense!” I said, aghast that she looked on the edge of tears. “What’s the matter with you?”
“You can have him if you want, you know. That’s the only thing keeping you away. You can have Ioan,” she cried out, right in front of the children and all.
I was thunderstruck. Then, when she finally burst into tears, I knew. Ioan went to her, speaking to her quietly. She got up and left the room without looking at anyone, and after a moment, still silent and expressionless, Gracie followed her. Rafi stayed, eyes wide with something like fear as he stared at his father.
I knew how he felt as I too stared at Ioan. “That was you. I know that was you.” I got up and backed away from him.
“I didn’t mean for her to get that intense. She always was a little too susceptible,” Ioan replied with a sad, sweet smile.
“You bastard,” I said. “I warned you: if you hurt her, if you hurt any of my family, I will deal with you!”
“I’m not hurting them,” he protested. “I take good care of them. They’re happy.”
“Happy little puppets,” I spat, gripping my right wrist in an effort not to slap him. “I should report you to the authorities.”
“You won’t,” he said simply. “You love me. Never stopped.”
“It doesn’t work on me, Ioan. It never did, and that’s why you couldn’t keep me. That and a small problem you have with honesty. You like life to be easy, don’t you, with everything and everyone exactly as you like.”
“It was just a mistake, Shadi, but I do love you. I shouldn’t have given up on us. I want you to stay. We all do. Can’t you see that?” He was pleading now, using words and gestures alone, unpracticed and desperate.
My gaze rested on the one person in the room I trusted. He looked up at me helplessly.
“Rafi loves me so much that he’s willing to let me go,” I said. “That’s what I see.”
Rafi jumped up and grabbed my hand, and we ran out of the house. I didn’t know where we were supposed to be running to or why, but it seemed like a good idea to get as far away from Ioan as possible. Unfortun
ately, when I glanced back, I saw that he was right behind us, moving at a leisurely pace, knowing we had nowhere to go.
But Rafi knew where to go, and in a little while a growing, humming vibration that had been pressing on my ears turned into a recognizable noise. It was the shuttle, landing once more in the field near the orchard. Fergus disembarked first, looking moody and suspicious as usual. Dllenahkh followed. He wore a novice’s robe with the hood up, which I thought rather suited him and gave him a very peaceful air. They came walking briskly toward us over the grass.
Dllenahkh looked almost relieved to see me. “We have been calling you for some time. Did you forget our departure date?”
I looked at the comm on my wrist. Fourteen missed calls—when the hell did that happen? And was it really Sunday already? “Fergus, Dllenahkh, I’m sorry! My comm must have malfunctioned, and then I forgot. I don’t know what to say.”
Ioan came to my rescue. “I’m sorry. The reception out here is so variable. And we’ve been completely monopolizing her—it’s no wonder she forgot.”
“No problem,” Fergus said. “We’re hours early. The Commissioner won’t expect us till evening.”
I looked at him anxiously. His face was relaxed, smiling even, in fact, completely unlike him. “I can leave now if you like,” I said, suddenly frantic.
Fergus waved a hand. “No worries. Stay a while with your family. I can run the Councillor back to Ophir now, pick you up whenever you like. It’s only a half-hour trip.”
“An hour round trip,” I tried to remind him, a firmness to my voice that I did not feel. I felt hemmed in and scared.
“I wouldn’t want to keep the Councillor waiting,” hinted Ioan helpfully.
Dllenahkh, who had been silent for all of this, quietly put back his hood and stared at Ioan. “No. I don’t think so.”
Ioan literally faltered, taking a step back. Dllenahkh continued to look sternly at him, then rested a hand on Fergus’s shoulder, an uncharacteristically tactile gesture. “Sergeant Fergus, would you be so kind as to go start up the shuttle?”
Fergus blinked, nodded slowly, and went back inside the shuttle.
Rafi looked up at Dllenahkh with an expression of immense relief and gratitude. “I’ll go get her stuff.”
“Thank you,” said Dllenahkh, inclining his head. His gaze followed the boy as he ran off, then returned to fix coldly on Ioan.
Rafi soon returned, out of breath, with my bag. I took it from him and made an impossible promise. “It’ll be all right. I’ll make it right, I swear.”
He nodded, his eyes bright with tears, and ran back into the house. I gave Ioan one glance, then retreated to the shuttle with Dllenahkh at my back.
He gave Fergus the order to lift off, then faced me with a very somber look. “I apologize. I should have realized earlier that you needed help.”
I was breathing more easily as I looked out the window and watched the homestead getting farther away. “It’s all right. Ioan knows he can’t get to me. I just wish I could do something for Maria. It’s not right, the way he treats her.”
“Then you should report him,” Dllenahkh said, his tone adamant. “I understand that there are procedures for dealing with Cygnians who have strong psi abilities and use them inappropriately.”
“He does love her,” I mumbled. “And they might take Gracie and Rafi away from them—that would be horrible.”
“Nevertheless,” Dllenahkh said gently, “he was prepared to force you to stay with them. Can you overlook that?”
“He knows he can’t get to me,” I repeated sulkily. “I would have gotten out of there. Not being ungrateful for your help or anything. I just don’t think it’s serious enough to warrant a report.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Fergus give Dllenahkh a quick sideways glance.
“Delarua, look at me.” Dllenahkh’s voice was still gentle, but there was a hint of steel in it.
I faced him angrily. “Don’t you ‘Delarua’ me. I told you, I can handle it!”
“Then let us be sure. Let me touch your mind, a brief touch only, to be certain that he has not influenced you.”
A sick feeling shot through me. I stood up and stumbled to the back of the shuttle. “Keep away from me,” I whispered, turning my head so they couldn’t see the tears starting.
“Delarua—” Dllenahkh said again, implacable.
“Don’t touch me, don’t you dare come near me—”
“Delarua!” This time it was Fergus, shouting over his shoulder from the pilot’s seat. “This isn’t you! Can’t you see that? You have to trust the Councillor, because I am not setting down this shuttle until I know for a fact that you are in your right mind!” He heaved a frustrated breath and continued. “I’ve been through training for this kind of thing, learning to recognize when someone’s tampered with your thoughts. And let me tell you, that man back there? He’s subtle. He’s good. I’ve never known a Cygnian that could do what he did just now. Don’t underestimate him.”
I slumped to the floor. I wanted it all locked up in my mind: the dreams, my secret longings. I thought about the shame it would bring on my family to have all this known. I pulled my knees up to my chest and pressed my fists into my eyes, struggling to be calm, to breathe deeply, to think clearly.
When I lowered my hands and opened my eyes, Dllenahkh was kneeling in front of me. His face was neutral, with no trace of judgment.
I spoke softly. “A brief touch only? You won’t look at my thoughts, my memories?”
He nodded. “A brief touch. Not an invasion, not a link. Only what you permit.”
I bowed my head. A moment later, I felt his fingertips brush my forehead and press firmly as if setting his fingerprints there. Then they withdrew. That was all.
I looked up, relieved. “There! That’s taken care of—”
Then it came flooding back. All the times I’d silenced my own comm, the forced surge of an old passion long laid to rest, dreams that were not of my mind’s making, and every look of disappointment and despair that poor Rafi had given me.
“That bastard,” I choked out. “That bastard!”
Dllenahkh stood up and backed away gracefully. Adrenaline pushed me to my feet, and I slammed the wall behind me with a fist. “Fergus, how much longer to Ophir?”
“Twelve minutes, ma’am,” he said. The words sounded as if they were coming through a savage grin.
I marched back to my seat. “Make it five. I need to speak to the Commissioner as soon as possible.”
Dllenahkh returned to his seat beside me. I looked at him steadily, still feeling that slick veneer of shame over my thoughts but refusing to give in to it. “And Dllenahkh—thank you.”
He only inclined his head in response, but I imagined I saw a hint of approval amid his neutrality. I didn’t know why he was being so generous. He had gone straight into the heart of a brewing riot with nothing but his principles to arm and shield him. I was finally standing up for the truth after fifteen years wasted in equivocation.
Yes, equivocation. It was still my call, still my responsibility. If there was one thing that shook me after Ioan’s influence was wiped from my mind, it was the realization that he never manipulated an emotion that wasn’t already present to some degree, no matter how small.
I remembered this as I went to Qeturah. It helped keep my anger and motivation high. I went straight to where she was sitting in the conference room, going over the last of the inquiry notes with Joral, Nasiha, and Tarik.
She looked up at me.
“I’m here to talk to you directly.” My throat closed up, making my voice crack, but I gritted my teeth and pushed the words past the barrier. “I have a problem, and I need your help.”
Zero hour plus one year one month nine days
Dllenahkh stood on the main balcony of the hotel and regarded the city streets and distant banlieues of Ophir, dreamlike in a haze of damp morning air. He breathed lightly not merely to avoid the moisture but to keep the la
st of the calming air of the Montserrat monastery deep in his lungs. It had been unusually difficult to put aside the novice robe the night before.
Footsteps approached, but he did not turn. Eventually Dr. Daniyel stood beside him and rested her hands lightly on the dew-damp stone of the balustrade. Recognizing the diffidence in the gesture, he merely offered a nod of greeting and waited for her to speak.
“Thank you for helping her,” she said quietly. “We didn’t know.”
He frowned slightly as he looked at her. “We are all of us somewhat damaged, whether or not it may appear on our medical records.”
She took the gentle rebuke with a rueful smile. “I have withdrawn my recommendation that you be removed from the mission team,” she informed him. “I understand now that the circumstances were unusual, and I trust your ability to function in the future.”
He bowed his head and lowered his eyes. He did not want to seem rude, but neither did he wish to appear grateful. He settled for staring at the landscape again.
“First Officer Delarua is insisting that she too is able to continue in her role.” Dr. Daniyel spread her hands palms upward. “I’m not convinced, but I don’t like to make the same mistake twice. There’s also the question of her psi profile.”
He frowned in earnest. “I have seen it. It does not match her demonstrated abilities.”
“In light of recent events, no. Cygnians have always been hard to assess. You’d expect something with Ntshune, Sadiri, and Zhinuvian lineage, but some of the strangest things come out of Terra—a touch of second sight here, a little miracle there. Most of them are charlatans, it’s true, but even the simple power to persuade and be persuaded can be a psi ability. We’re very good at fooling others … and fooling ourselves.” She shook her head, momentarily pensive, then added, “I’d like you to keep an eye on her not only professionally but personally.”
He let his surprise show.
“She trusts you,” Dr. Daniyel said.
He faced her fully. “Does she trust you?”
She let the rhetorical question pass, her gaze flickering away as if her conscience had been touched. He would have withdrawn once more into quiet courtesy, but the small glimpse of vulnerability made him push harder.