Vellmar the Blade

by Fletcher DeLancey

  “Shekking Mother,” Lancer Tal breathed, rising to her feet. “Absolutely incredible!”

  “How did she know it was me?” Vellmar was still stupefied as she stood upright.

  “She smelled you. Did you see her sniffing her kittens? And then she came over here and sniffed you. You’ve been petting them, haven’t you?”

  “I have.” Vellmar had felt guilty about it, but they were so irresistible.

  “Your scent is on their fur. And surely she must be able to smell that there were other carcasses here that she didn’t bring. That’s how she knew her kittens have been eating while she was gone. I’ve no idea how she knew we were here, but she certainly knew you were the one.” An enormous smile broke across Lancer Tal’s face. “I cannot wait to tell Salomen how right she was about that tunic design!”

  “She drew that?”

  “She was drawing the joke version the night you slept in our quarters. But when you said the kittens were just little warriors with fur, she had the idea for the second one.”

  Vellmar looked at the den, now a barely distinguishable darkness in the grass. “When I become head of my family, I’m changing our family crest. Salomen’s design is…it’s unique and beautiful and I want to keep it. I want the Vellmars to remember the honor of a crest drawn by the Bondlancer.”

  “And what that crest means,” Lancer Tal said. “Vallcat Vellmar.”

  “Oh, Fahla. You too? Did Gehrain tell everyone?”

  “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” She chuckled. “I don’t know why you’re complaining about it. It’s a perfect nickname. You could have been named after a hedgedog.”

  “No, that was my brother, the one who wags his tongue like a bored merchant.”

  Now Lancer Tal laughed out loud. “Perhaps, but you should have seen Salomen’s face when I told her about your nickname. She was just finishing her second drawing then, and she was thrilled to learn how relevant it really was. Oh, and she said you always look unsettled when she calls you Fianna, so she’s going to try VC and see if that’s easier for you.”

  Vellmar smiled as she thought about another person who insisted on calling her Fianna. “I’m getting used to it these days. Seems like I’m getting used to quite a few new things.”

  “Aren’t we all,” Lancer Tal said.

  CHAPTER 21:

  Just like you

  Jandahar ended his story and looked for signs of wakefulness in his children. They were both asleep, breathing deeply. Harren’s mouth was slightly open, his face relaxed as only a child’s could be, and Jandahar dropped a kiss on his forehead before straightening out the blankets that had already gotten tangled.

  Milena was frowning in her sleep, apparently still indignant over Vellmar being punished for doing the right thing. She was such a fierce child, so concerned with fairness and justice. But unlike others her age, she did not reserve that concern solely for herself. She was just as likely to be outraged about injustice to another, a tendency that had already resulted in several fights at school on behalf of younger children.

  He kissed her as well, then tucked an errant foot back under the covers.

  As he turned toward the door, he smiled at the sight of Milena’s favorite painting. Others had come and gone, but this one seemed to be standing the test of time. It was Vellmar the Blade, wearing the family crest she had created in honor of the hunting cats. At her side sat a giant vallcat, its head coming all the way to her waist, and she rested one hand on its neck. Her other gripped a gold and silver sword, ablaze with reflected light.

  “She wants to be just like you,” he told the painted figure. “And I think she’s well on her way.”

  He tapped the painting as he passed, then turned out the light. A last look into the darkened room confirmed that his children were still asleep, probably dreaming of glory and Games and ferocious vallcats. Sometimes he envied their simple dreams, but then he reminded himself that his job as a father was to keep that simplicity in their lives for as long as he could. So far, he was doing well.

  With a quiet tread, he stepped into the hall and closed the door, leaving them to their dreams.

  CHAPTER 22:

  Second chance

  After her adventure with the vallcat, Vellmar was too energized to simply sit in her quarters. She saw Lancer Tal safely to the State House, changed back into her new tunic, and set off across the State Park to Blacksun Temple.

  Though temples were at the service of Alseans twenty hanticks a day, Lead Templars were not. It took some convincing before an aide finally called Lanaril in her personal quarters and informed her that Lead Guard Vellmar was asking to speak with her.

  The aide tapped out of the call and looked her up and down. “She’ll meet you in her garden,” he said in a disbelieving tone. “Please come with me.”

  She followed him along a curving corridor and out a small back door into a walled section of the temple grounds she had never seen before. The garden was not large, but it was well cared for, with a small fountain splashing in one corner and vines nearly obscuring the stone walls. Beautifully coordinated banks of flowers and greenery set off three benches, one of which looked onto the fountain. The other two were placed on opposite sides of the ancient molwyn tree in the garden’s center, their curved design creating a not-quite-closed ring around the trunk. Scattered around the garden, ingeniously placed ground lights lent the space a soft, welcoming feel.

  The aide gave her one more skeptical look before leaving her alone.

  For a moment she stood motionless, absorbing the peace of this place that was Lanaril’s private escape. Then she trod the path to the nearest bench beneath the tree, sat down facing the door, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

  When the door opened again a tick later, she kept her eyes shut and smiled. Lanaril was coming to her. She wanted to put off the moment of seeing her until she had wrung every bit of enjoyment out of this anticipation.

  Footsteps whispered along the stone path; Lanaril was wearing soft-soled shoes. Vellmar recognized the stride, having watched it enough times on Mahaite to memorize it. She had noticed then how Lanaril moved with a quiet grace and wondered if it had to do with many cycles of walking soundlessly in the temple, keeping her presence from interfering with the worship of others. Lanaril had said that her job was never to intrude, but simply to be there when she was needed.

  The footsteps drew nearer, then stopped in front of her. A subtle scent of spicewood drifted to her nose, and her smile grew.

  After a moment, she heard the slight rustle of clothing and felt the air move as Lanaril sat beside her.

  “So this is the famous tunic,” Lanaril said. “Salomen was hoping you would like it enough to wear it.”

  “I don’t like it.” Vellmar opened her eyes and turned, finally allowing herself to drink in the beauty of Lanaril Satran. Her rich skin glowed in the lights, and her deep brown eyes shone with humor.

  “You seem very comfortable in a tunic you dislike.” Lanaril lifted a hand as if to trace the design, but diverted the move into a rub of her bare arm.

  “I didn’t say I disliked it. It’s just that like isn’t a good enough word. I’m honored to wear a crest that Salomen designed, and after tonight, I’m proud to bear a vallcat on my chest. Or three.” She unclipped the belt cinching the tunic around her waist and let it fall to the bench. Then she unfastened the tunic, took it off, and draped it over Lanaril’s shoulders. “You look cold.”

  “I might have forgotten my jacket when I heard that the famous Lead Guard Vellmar was in my garden.” Lanaril pulled the tunic tighter and rested against the back of the bench. “It already smells like you.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible. I just got it.”

  Dipping her nose to the tunic’s opening, Lanaril smiled. “Trust me, it does.”

  With that single act, Vellmar knew that Jerran had
been right. “I do trust you,” she said. “I know you’ll always tell me the truth, which is why I came here to ask you a question.”

  A guarded look came over Lanaril’s normally serene features. “Yes?”

  “Why did you send me away if it wasn’t what you really wanted?”

  Her eyes drifted shut, and she gave a slight shake of her head. “Was it the salute?”

  “That meant everything to me, but no, it wasn’t that. My brother saw you watching me at the vallcat den. He said you looked like you had just realized you’d made a mistake.”

  “You come from a perceptive family, it seems.”

  “He’s…more perceptive than I ever gave him credit for.” If only he could hear her say that.

  Lanaril looked up into the tree, her thoughts showing in the set of her features. When their eyes met once more, Vellmar braced herself for the quiet battle she had come here to fight.

  “Fianna, what we had on Mahaite was beautiful and exactly what I needed. It was a perfect, protective bubble from my real life. I wanted to keep that perfection. I knew it couldn’t survive Blacksun.”

  “But you never told me why.”

  Lanaril held out her hands, as if to indicate the whole city. “So many reasons. Our age difference, our caste difference, our rank difference—”

  “Those are excuses, not reasons.”

  Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “Is this the arrogance of a new champion?”

  “I’m not the champion. Not this cycle. But you told me that you didn’t want more, and I accepted that. I walked away because that was what you wanted. I don’t think it’s what you want anymore, and you’ve admitted as much. So I need to hear a much better reason—a real reason—before you’ll convince me to walk away again.”

  “Fahla save me from overconfident warriors.” Lanaril brushed her hands through her hair, and Vellmar followed the movement. She remembered the feel of that silky hair, the same color as her own but so much softer.

  Smiling at the memory, she said, “I just lost to my birthmother, who showed me the difference between skill and experience. If I was overconfident before the Games, I’m not now.”

  Lanaril laughed. “The journalists certainly bent that corner of the story. I don’t know how they could, after seeing you and your birthmother together. It’s so obvious that she loves you and was thrilled to have you at her side.”

  “Journalists only tell the part of the story that sells. And you’re only telling me the part of the story you think you can sell me. I’m still waiting for the rest.”

  “Annoying, obstinate…” She straightened and pointed back toward the temple. “Do you know what I do in there, every day? All day?”

  Knowing that any answer she gave would be the wrong one, Vellmar shook her head.

  “I give. I give myself to anyone who needs me, and they all need me. They need me to reassure them, to understand them, to help them understand themselves…to tell them that I know their pain or suffering, to tell them that it won’t hurt forever. And every time I give, I am diminished by it. Not much and not permanently, but there is a cost to what I do, and I pay it every day.”

  A shadow of grief crossed her face. “Today I spoke with a man who can’t conceive, who thought he was being punished for something, because how else could he explain not being able to bear a child for his bondmate? They had planned two, one borne by each, and he couldn’t keep up his side of the bargain. It’s a biological malfunction, a harsh truth of life, but he felt it in his heart and soul, and he needed my help. That is what I do with my days. I stand between the profane and the divine, I help people find meaning and acceptance, and I do that regardless of my own state of faith.”

  Though her front was still perfect, as it had always been between them, her emotion showed in her eyes, in the line of her mouth, in the way her spine now slumped as she leaned against the back of the bench. “They come in to tell me the good news, too, and there’s nothing I love more than joining in those celebrations. If my days were filled with only that, I would have so much to give you. But they’re not. I go to my quarters at the end of the day, and more often than not, I have nothing left. That’s not much to offer a partner.”

  Vellmar willed her hands still, though they ached to provide comfort. “And that’s what you think a partner is? Someone who only takes from you?”

  “No, of course not, but…” Lanaril sighed. “Taking is half of it. You should be able to expect certain things from a partner, but I can’t make you any guarantees.”

  “I’m not asking for a guarantee. I’m just asking for a chance.”

  She had never heard Lanaril’s laugh sound cynical until now.

  “I’ve heard that before. People say one thing and do another. Even with the best of intentions.”

  Ah, now she understood. “Someone made you a promise once. And then they broke it.”

  “I don’t blame him. He didn’t understand what he was promising.”

  “Then he didn’t understand what a promise is. It’s not something you agree to when everything is perfect and then renege on when things go wrong. My whole life has been about oaths and promises. Sometimes they’re not easy to keep. But I’ve never broken one.”

  Lanaril looked at her thoughtfully. “You would have a different view of it, wouldn’t you?”

  Vellmar had never realized it before now, but Lanaril was a protector, just like herself. She simply protected different things, intangible things. But who took care of the protector?

  “I don’t have that much to give, either,” she said. “My duty shifts rotate depending on what Lancer Tal needs, and I’m always on call for her. But what I do have left, I would like to give to you.”

  A slow smile lit up Lanaril’s face. “That was a beautiful non-promise.”

  “I won’t make you a promise until I know I can keep it. But if you’ll allow it, I can take some of that burden. Lancer Tal requires my attention, not my faith. She doesn’t need my comfort or affection. She gets that from Salomen. I still have that to offer.”

  “And what will you ask in return? What will you need from me?”

  “You.” Vellmar pointed at the temple. “Those people seek your comfort, your guidance, but they don’t seek you. Do they even see you? I want Lanaril, not the Lead Templar. I want to see past your front, to know who you really are. To be the one allowed to give you the comfort you need.”

  “Fianna…” Lanaril sounded weary. “Sometimes that person you’re talking about—she’s all I have left at the end of the day. I don’t know if I can give her up as well.”

  “Not give her up. Share her. There’s strength in sharing. On Mahaite, you said I gave you the peace you needed. Why would I not be able to do that here? I’m the same person.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “I don’t believe that. You’re the same person, just dividing yourself a different way. I don’t think Fahla expects you to spend your life alone. She didn’t expect it of Lancer Tal.”

  Lanaril’s eyes widened, and Vellmar wondered if she had finally stumbled onto a winning argument.

  Throw enough blades, she thought, and one of them is bound to hit the red zone.

  “You have such passion,” Lanaril said. “I saw it on Mahaite and at the Games, and then I saw a whole different side of it when you saved those vallcat kittens. And here is yet another side. It’s quite a sensation to have all of that directed at me.”

  Vellmar clamped down on the inappropriate thought. She was balanced on the edge of a knife; Lanaril could go either way.

  After a long, silent suspension of time, Lanaril reached for her hand. The truth of her emotions sang through her skin.

  “I will accept your non-promise,” she said. “If you’ll accept my non-guarantee.”

  Vellmar’s smile was half relief and half giddy joy. “Do we seal this deal with
a warrior’s clasp, or is there a scholar equivalent?”

  Lanaril answered that with a kiss, and as Vellmar slid her hand around the beautiful curve of her jaw—a right that was hers once more—she marveled at the fact that she had Jerran, of all people, to thank for this second chance.

  She would have to tell him. Later.

  Glossary

  UNITS OF TIME

  piptick: one 100th of a tick (about half a second).

  tick: about a minute (50 seconds).

  tentick: ten ticks.

  hantick: 10 tenticks, just shy of 1.5 hours (83.33 minutes). One Alsean day is 20 hanticks (27.7 hours) or 1.15 days.

  moon: a basic unit of Alsean time, similar to our month but 36 days long. Each moon is divided into four parts called ninedays. One Alsean moon equals 41.55 stellar days.

  cycle: the length of time it takes the Alsean planet to revolve around their sun (13 moons or approximately 17 stellar months).

  UNITS OF MEASUREMENT

  pace: half a stride.

  stride: the distance of a normal adult’s stride at a fast walk (about a meter).

  length: a standard of distance equaling one thousand strides (about a kilometer).

  GENERAL TERMS

  ba: short name for bondparent (either bondmother or bondfather).

  bai: short name for birthparent (either birthmother or birthfather).

  bondmate: a life partner.

  cintek: the Alsean monetary unit.

  dartfly: a small, bloodsucking fly known for its speed and agility.

  dokker: a farm animal similar to a cow. Slow moving and rather stupid, but with a hell of a kick when it’s angry or frightened.

  evenmeal: dinner.

  Fahla: the goddess of the Alseans, also called Mother.

  fanten: a farm animal similar to a pig, used for meat.

  front: a mental protection that prevents one’s emotions from being sensed by another.