by Sharon Rose
“If I find you guilty of an illegal constrained link with Kena Talgarth of Earth, the sentence will be execution. Yes, death is permanent. If you are not guilty, the question of reinstating our relationship will be considered by the ruling council. Place no dependence on that possibility. Act in this moment.” He pointed at the floor. “Kneel.”
She stepped forward and dropped to her knees at his feet.
He unfastened the clasp at her shoulder as he spoke and removed the amber and topaz chain, symbol of the ruling family of Frayunomen. “Pernanyen, you are not my daughter. You have no family. You are forbidden to call yourself by the name of Frayunomen. In a moment, I shall link with you to complete the separation. You will not call to mind the link with Kena Talgarth. You will remain passive. Prepare yourself.”
She closed her eyes. Seconds slipped by. “I am ready.”
TarKeen wished to look elsewhere, but could not.
Travannesal’s hands gripped her head.
For an instant, relief spread over her face as the link ended her telepathic isolation.
Travannesal’s eyes nearly closed. He would be seeking the bond he had formed during her infancy. The bond he must sever. His lips tightened, then he released her head.
Devastation. No other word could describe her expression. Her hips gave way. She barely kept her torso upright, bracing herself with one arm. Agony contorted her face, but she uttered no sound.
Travannesal stated somber words. “The trial will now proceed. Pernanyen is charged with initiating a forced, constrained link with Kena Talgarth of Earth. The link has not yet been completed. We will begin by establishing the—”
A tone sounded. Travannesal stopped, and TarKeen stiffened. Only certain messages were allowed during the proceedings. TarKeen moved to read the message then showed it to Travannesal.
“Go to her,” Travannesal said. “Be prepared to link with me when you return.”
TarKeen inclined his head and left.
TarKeen halted inside the door. An energy field couldn’t have stopped him any quicker.
Kena finished her drink and set the glass down. She met his eyes—as aware of him as in their first meeting. How long ago, that seemed. “Thank you for coming to me,” she said. “I gather, it may not have been convenient.”
His eyes widened and lips parted, even before they formed words. “I am…delighted to see you so much improved.” He took the chair across from her as she clipped the music player to her belt and eased the volume down to a whisper. “Did music accomplish this?”
He sounded so puzzled. “Not really. It just…reminded me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The non-Human languages lack words for certain concepts.” She shrugged one shoulder. “It doesn’t matter right now. I need to know what’s happening.”
“You will be returned to the Ontrevay.”
She blinked. “Yes, but that isn’t what I asked. Recent past and now. That’s what I want to know.”
TarKeen seemed to emerge from his intent stare and look inward. “I will summarize for you. There were several conversations between our two ships, but they were…no more satisfactory than other interactions with the Collaborative. Pernanyen’s authority was suspended because you were injured during the link and your recovery seemed unlikely. Ghent has come to the Epri7 in order to take you to the Ontrevay and also to meet in person with Leonfir. They chose to link, which lasted a considerable time.”
Her forehead tightened. “Was Ghent put through the same thing I was?”
He shook his head. “It was entirely voluntary. The acclimation was not as difficult for him. He slept for a while before they linked. It was not constrained at all.” He waited a moment but continued when she did not respond. “The ruling families wanted a representative present because of our prolonged encounter. Unfortunately, Travannesal of Frayunomen was the only one close enough. He arrived about an hour ago.”
“Why is that unfortunate?”
“He is Pernanyen’s father.”
Kena emphasized her words. “So, why is that unfortunate?”
“Because Pernanyen must be judged. Her trial has started.”
“Trial for what?”
TarKeen stared at her. “For performing a constrained link that could not be reciprocated.”
Kena stared back, remembering Pernanyen’s obscure words before the horrors began. There was way too much that she didn’t understand. She stood. “Take me there, now, please.”
He hurried to his feet. “Ma’am, you have been unwell and have not slept nearly long enough. You should rest.”
Exhaustion did lurk beneath the surface. But her beloved wouldn’t have awakened her without reason. “True, but I am capable. I will attend this trial.”
He hesitated, frowning, but said, “I’ll escort you. Is there a manner in which Humans provide honorable escort?”
Did that matter so much? Still, she’d been a limp rag for days and had no idea how far she was about to go. “Walk beside me.” She used a simple demonstration to get him moving. Holding her palm against her navel, she said, “Hold your arm nearest me like so, and I’ll rest my hand on it.” The urge to hurry grew strong within her.
He matched her pace. After a couple minutes, he said, “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“How did you recognize that Freltenloe and I are different races? Had you already noticed a difference between FarNon and the others before you had an emfrel shield?”
“No, I can’t detect emfrel until I’m acclimated.”
“That didn’t seem possible to me either,” he murmured, “and yet…you noticed something.”
Kena sighed. “There are no Prednian words to describe this. Sometimes Humans know things that there is no physical means for them to know. It’s infrequent—or perhaps just so subtle that even we aren’t aware how often it happens. Like when I found Pearl. I felt a distressed child’s presence before I entered that craft. It’s the only reason I went in. But now when I think about it, I realize it should have been impossible.”
He grew silent for a while, his gaze inward until he needed to speak again. “We’re nearly at the trial chamber. I will introduce you to Travannesal of Frayunomen. Leonfir and Ghent are there in order to listen. They have only recently completed acclimation and linking, so they’re not participating. Pernanyen is there, of course, and also Freltenloe. There are about fifty others who may participate if they choose. You’re not required to say anything.”
“Understood. May I speak if I wish?”
“You may. It is my right to protect you. If you need something, or if anything at all disturbs you, tell me.”
His right? Interesting choice of words. They crossed an antechamber, and someone hurried to open the door for them. It looked to be carved from wood and swung on hinges. How strange to see such a thing in a ship.
A woman’s voice carried from the opposite side of the next chamber. Heads were turned in her direction. “How is it that you know enough about Human law to be sure they will approve your demand for judgement and sentence?”
A murmur of agreement passed around the room as TarKeen escorted Kena through the crowd. A gasp silenced the voices, and every eye turned to them.
Kena froze and gripped TarKeen’s arm. Universal surprise swept over her from the crowd, but what stunned her was the sharp contrast between consternation and gladness.
TarKeen demanded something in his own language. She felt the emfrel settle. He’d misunderstood, but no matter. They could use a little practice in controlling all that emfrel. Voices rose again. Comments revolved around why she’d been brought here when she was injured.
“Shall I take you out?” he whispered.
A simple no would not work. They needed to hear her capacity for speech. She answered loud enough to be heard by all. “I am quite capable of participating.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Kena walked at TarKeen’s side as he escorted her t
oward an open space at the front of the opulent chamber. Half-columns of marbled stone jutted from the walls and appeared to support carved arches. Some of them framed ornate doors, others a fabric like watered silk.
Pernanyen slumped on her knees, isolated in the midst of the open area. At the sight of her, fire leapt within Kena, tightening her chest and heating her lips. She turned her eyes away, compelling her lungs to release a cleansing breath.
A brown-haired Laundun man faced her. A golden band, the width of her palm, hung heavy from his shoulders. Its narrow plates interlaced in a fishbone pattern and reflected altering shades as they shifted with his movement.
Two people sat at the edge of the central space: Ghent and one other. Leonfir?
“One moment, please.” Kena squatted beside Ghent’s chair and looked up into his face. His brow fur puckered. Was he as worried about her as she was about him? She extended her presence and waited to see if he would link.
More comments filtered through her concentration, from doctors this time. They fretted over whether she was trying to link with him. She ignored them.
Ghent joined with her. He made no attempt to form words. She felt his deep exhaustion, but a calmness lay behind it that hinted at—was it completion, or success, perhaps? Concerns also lurked. To ease his worry, she let her peace drift toward him on the lazy stream they had once imagined together.
“True, but no link has formed,” Freltenloe said to someone. “She is not telepathically active.”
Ghent smiled at the same time that Kena uttered a small laugh. It provided an easy release from their link. She stood and moved into the open space.
TarKeen stepped back from Travannesal. Apparently, they had also linked. Just as well. TarKeen stated the formal introductions while Kena looked into amber eyes much like Pernanyen’s. How surreal. From rescue of a stranded child, to torturous invasion, to audience with a primary member of government.
Guide me, Father.
His presence stirred, bringing her awareness to him.
Travannesal said, “I am honored to meet a representative of the Human race. And relieved, as well, to see you so much improved from the latest report I received.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Kena said.
“May I ask what caused you to laugh a moment ago?”
Odd, but no matter. “Statements pertaining to Human telepathy are often ironic; for, it’s poorly understood. It seems much has happened that I’m unaware of. Also, these proceedings are unfamiliar to me. I wish to link with Pernanyen so I may quickly learn of these things.”
It took Travannesal a few seconds to answer. “Are you asking to perform your side of the constrained link?”
“I don’t even know the meaning of that term. Please give me a moment to learn. It won’t take long. I’m only asking for simple, public facts. I want no opinions or observations—a surface link only.”
Travannesal nodded, but said, “You have not slept very long. Are you certain you’re able to tolerate the link?”
Tolerate? Did he mean what she heard? Probably not. The anger deep within was her concern, not his. “Yes,” she said.
He angled his head, frowning. “Freltenloe, your opinion?”
“She is not adequately rested.”
As though he could know. Kena met Freltenloe’s eyes. “I am not a sairital being. You have no idea where my rest or my strength emanate from.”
He averted his eyes from the challenge in her gaze.
She turned back to Travannesal and tilted her head in silent question.
“We’ll wait for you to link with her.” He glanced to someone else. “Bring a chair.”
Kena looked down at Pernanyen. Her hands gripped her knees as though she needed to prop up her bowed shoulders. She didn’t even raise her eyes from the floor. A mixture of anger and pity swirled through Kena. She maintained her stillness, necessary if she was to get the information she needed.
“Pernanyen of Frayunomen,” Kena said.
Pain contorted her features.
Travannesal spoke. “It is no longer permitted that she be addressed by the name of Frayunomen. I have disowned her.”
Kena stared at him. A quiver ran through her. “I certainly hope you didn’t do that on my account.”
Again he paused. “I did it because she must be judged before you and Ghent leave. I’m the only one with that authority, but I cannot judge my own heir.”
So much, she didn’t understand—and must understand. Immediately! “Pernanyen, are you willing to link with me and permit me to control the link?”
“Yes! Completely. The entire link.” Her voice squeaked. Desperately willing, it seemed.
Someone placed a chair next to Pernanyen.
Kena pointed to it and said, “Sit there.”
Gasps sounded around the room. Now what?
“The chair is for you,” Travannesal said.
“Thank you, but I don’t need it. She does.”
“It’s appropriate in our culture that she kneel. It need not disturb you.”
Kena turned to him, her words firm. “But it does. It has meaning in my culture, as well. I cannot link with her kneeling at my feet.”
A barrage of comments surrounded her from the crowd, some in Prednian, some not. Why was there so much contention?
Someone declared, “If the accused presumes to take a seat, she disresp—”
Travannesal silenced the crowd with a single word. Pernanyen’s eyes pled with him. “TarKeen, put Pernanyen in the chair.”
He picked her up by the shoulders and placed her there.
No sooner had he done so, than another interruption occurred, this time from two men. Unsought awareness filled Kena. Her eyes darted back and forth between them. PitKree, both, with murderous intent. They side-stepped, changing position, for Pernanyen was no longer in their line of sight. Their movements were subtle—no one else paid attention. Yet, the intensity within her was almost painful. Father, why do you show me this? What do you want me to do?
Her face must have revealed something. TarKeen came to her side. “Who is disturbing you?”
She pointed. “That one—and that one.”
She sensed realization and tension within TarKeen. He spoke in his own language, and guards moved into the crowd.
One of the men objected, but Travannesal cut him off. “TarKeen has authority, both as commander of the Epri7 and as protector of Kena Talgarth. You know our law. Are you asking me to undermine it?”
The man glared but submitted to the grip on his arm.
“It is noted,” Travannesal said, “that these two have not spoken throughout the proceedings. Anyone else who has no intent to speak, or who is unable to control their emfrel, leave now. You can watch from elsewhere.”
The two men were removed, and some others left. The room grew very still. Kena found her gaze on another PitKree. All she felt was restrained intensity. Why?
TarKeen followed her gaze. “Does he trouble you?”
The man looked to Travannesal, his voice perfectly calm. “Sir, I am certain that I am projecting nothing at all.”
“That is a true statement,” Kena said and turned back to Pernanyen.
Kena drew on her awareness of her father, ready to differentiate mind and spirit. She paused, for he was showing her his view of Pernanyen—love extended to an injured child. The words from both song and scripture echoed in her mind. I delight in mercy. The anger Kena harbored was rendered ugly in comparison to his love and everlasting compassion.
Understanding formed. He wanted her to forgive Pernanyen. Oh, Father, must you ask that of me now? It is too much for me!
You need only permit forgiveness. I will do the rest for you.
I permit it. She surrendered the anger and turned her mind away, knowing how quickly her own pain would snatch it up again. Kena took a slow breath, reestablishing her focus on Pernanyen, while her father withdrew from the portion of her being where spirit and mind intermingled.
<
br /> Kena moved nearer, spreading her presence around Pernanyen, and gentled her voice. “Reach for me.”
“But…you said you wanted to control.”
Kena kept her voice soft. “I will. Reach for me.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
“You will understand once we are linked.”
“But if I—”
Kena threw her hands up and took hasty steps away. It was so hard to maintain patience! She licked her tight lips and turned back to Pernanyen, forcing herself to remember love toward an injured child. “Pernanyen,” Kena said, “it is not possible for me to establish a link with you unless you reach for me. I know this seems strange to you, but it will work if you do it.”
Travannesal said, “It seems that you request a contradiction.”
“Seems. Accurately stated, for it only seems contradictory. I can stand here and wrap words around this for hours, but none of you will grasp it. She will understand as soon as she initiates the link.”
The man whose intensity Kena had noticed before spoke. “It is currently not legal for Pernanyen to initiate any link, particularly with you. Only you have that prerogative.”
Stubborn people! “Who are you?” Kena asked.
“I am VanDar.”
“Do you believe you have the right to dictate how a Human performs telepathy?”
“No, ma’am.” VanDar inclined his head. “I speak because I’m concerned for you. You’ve already been unjustly injured, and I do not want it to happen again. You are under no obligation to link with her. Please don’t open yourself to further harm by letting Pernanyen control any portion of a link.”
“You may have the purest of intentions, but you know nothing of Humans.” Kena turned away from him.
“Pernanyen is PitKreelaundun and is bound by our law,” VanDar said. “It’s illegal for her to initiate the link.”
Now it was TarKeen’s intensity she felt, even though his face showed nothing as he stared past her at VanDar. What was going on between these people?
A woman spoke, the same voice Kena had heard when the door first opened. “It seems, we place unnecessary impediments. We object to Pernanyen’s name. We object to her sitting in a chair. Then, a couple of people interfere. Now, there’s an objection to a telepathic technique. Kena isn’t even asking for the constrained link. Only for basic information. Certainly, she has that right. Not only is she the one who was injured, but she is the only one who knows Human law. Since we desire justice, we should enable her, not raise objections.”