by Sharon Rose
Kena smiled at the woman. “Your name, please?”
“I am ShenLee.”
“Thank you.”
Travannesal said, “I decide in favor of ShenLee’s argument. Pernanyen, are you willing to link with Kena, follow every direction she gives you, and let her control the link?”
Her voice squeaked. “I am willing.”
Kena stilled her mind again. She surrounded Pernanyen with comfort. “You’ll be surprised. Don’t let it disturb you. Reach for me, now.”
Pernanyen finally did so. Then, she thrust back in the chair, quivering.
“Easy. All is well.” Kena said the words both aloud and within Pernanyen’s mind—slowly—letting seconds slip by between each sentence. “Let yourself settle. I will wait for you to grow accustomed. Be still.”
It took her a couple minutes. Pernanyen’s eyelids fluttered, and her shoulders twitched. When she calmed, Kena requested information that pertained to herself.
Indeed, Pernanyen was skillful. She set emotion aside and called specific memories to the surface. The recorded meetings with Ghent and others moved from Pernanyen’s mind into Kena’s. She heard reports of her own condition and of Ghent’s arrival. She listened to Travannesal, a beloved father, disown his daughter. This memory was too raw. Kena had to resist the heartbreak. Then, the law on constrained links flowed into her mind. This was not good. Last, she asked who VanDar was. Pernanyen recalled a circular chart of the ruling families and showed his position. Interesting. And ominous.
Draw away from me and rest, Kena said through the link. She, too, withdrew but stood quite still.
The room was silent, waiting. They could wait a little longer. Kena needed time to think.
There were really two problems: an incomplete constrained link and a collection of tra-pentazine. Had Ghent been able to resolve the latter?
The PitKreelaundun would not know she could link with Ghent without approaching him. She extended herself to Ghent and waited to see if he would join another link. When he did, she again felt the exhaustion within him. Still he formed no words.
Samples? she prompted, keeping the thought in his perception, but entirely within her own mind.
Must remove from…That was more concept than words, really. An image appeared, much like a display. It included all the Collaborative and PitKreelaundun areas.
That would place them too far away for study.
Another mixture of concepts and images came from him. Need provisions—access route.
Ah. Leonfir did not have authority to commit to something with such far-reaching implications. Kena would have withdrawn, but felt there was more Ghent wanted to tell her. She waited, not knowing what to ask.
Ghent slowly formed words. Leonfir convinced.
Of what?
A long pause. What Pernanyen sought.
The exhaustion was too much for him. She focused on what he needed. Peace. Rest by still waters. Again, she kept the words within herself, where he could glimpse the imagery. She waited a few seconds then withdrew.
Why had he put so much effort into telling her this?
Chapter Forty-Seven
Kena drew a deep breath and turned to Travannesal. She was about to tell him to proceed, when the doctor behind Ghent’s chair said, “Sir, Ghent just attempted to project telepathic energy. This is the second time he’s tried.”
“Has he recovered enough to link?”
“No, but I’m concerned that his attempts will tire him further. Either we should determine if he has some need to communicate, or we should take him to privacy, where he may sleep.”
Kena held her laugh in and looked to Ghent. “Do you want to leave?”
He shook his head, as she’d expected.
“He’s fine,” she assured the doctor. “How do you know when Ghent is telepathically active?”
“I placed an internal sensor—the same type the Prednians use.”
She asked Freltenloe, “Do I have one as well?”
“Yes, ma’am. Please don’t be alarmed. They’re not disruptive. They’re very simple to remove.”
Kena tilted her head. “I’m not alarmed. I’m amused. Don’t place any reliance on what it tells you. Travannesal, you may proceed.”
Instead of continuing the trial, he asked, “Have you linked with Ghent since you came into this chamber?”
She nodded. “Yes. Twice, in fact. But not really.” She stepped nearer to him. “This is where the words break down. It would be more accurate to say that I made myself available to Ghent, and he chose to telepathically communicate to my awareness. But as Freltenloe says, I was not telepathically active.”
He frowned, as if mulling over that. “Pernanyen, did Kena link with you a few moments ago?”
Gaping at Kena, she nodded.
“Freltenloe, what did Kena’s sensor indicate during the link with Pernanyen?”
Freltenloe looked almost as stunned as Pernanyen. “That she was telepathically active.”
Kena met Travannesal’s eyes. How would he phrase his next question?
As he watched her, a voice rose above the murmurs in the crowd. “Why do we delay while she mocks? Is this not a trial of Pernanyen? Put the—”
“Silence!” Travannesal quieted his voice and said, “Kena, will you explain why your telepathic energy could be detected during your link with Pernanyen, even though it wasn’t with Ghent.”
“Because I was telepathically active with her. It’s the only way Pernanyen can communicate with me. Ghent knows me, but Pernanyen does not.”
His eyes widened.
Kena slowed, emphasizing her words. “There is a huge difference between extracting facts and knowing a person. Some knowledge cannot be taken. It must be received.”
Still, he stared. “I gather that you employ two forms of telepathy. You used a different form with Ghent than with Pernanyen. Is that correct?”
She shook her head. “I would never phrase it so. You’re focusing on telepathy, which is the same mistake all the races of the Collaborative make. It will not give you the understanding you need.”
“What, then?”
“Telepathy is a concept of sairital beings,” Kena said. “Humans are not sairital beings, so we cannot be telepathic in the same sense that you are.”
“What are you, then?”
“I will use two words from my language: spirit and mind. I am a spirit. I have a mind. I live in a body. For comparison, I would say that you are a sairit, and you live in a body.”
“So, you differentiate two aspects of what we call sairit?” he asked.
“No. That is a common misconception.” How intent, he was, as one who truly sought understanding. She shifted position and tried again. “A Human mind does have some similarities to portions of a sairit. Sairital beings perceive the similarities and conclude that we are essentially the same as them. Our mind contains memory, emotion, reason, and part of our will. It does not contain our life energy, as a sairit does. That is part of the spirit and is available to the mind as it is needed. I have learned how to convert some of that into telepathic energy.”
She glanced toward Freltenloe. “That is why readings of Human emfrel and telepathic energy are so low. You only measure what is currently in use.”
Freltenloe nodded, but his frown held many questions.
Travannesal asked, “What, besides life energy, is included in spirit?”
Kena spread her hands. “It is the essence of who I am.”
He only looked more confused.
“What non-Human words could I use for this? There are none. It’s not important right now, anyway.”
“Did Pernanyen sense your spirit?”
“Oh, no! She got close, but didn’t contact it. She would have died if she had.”
Travannesal paused, so intent on her. “You said that Ghent knows you, but Pernanyen does not. I do not yet understand this.”
He wasn’t going to give up. She had to come up with something. And if that someth
ing could prevent them from forcing a link on a Human ever again, so much the better.
“Right, then. I will try a different approach.” She paced slowly while she thought. “Do your races ever use analogies to describe abstract concepts?”
“We are all one race, Kena, but yes, we use analogies.”
She sensed ire in the crowd, much like a molten thing bulging up from crevices. She looked around the room as she walked. The heat came from the PitKree, some more than others. The Laundun showed no awareness—not even Travannesal. She couldn’t deal with that now. It had subsided, anyway.
She drew on analogies she’d heard related to mind and spirit; like joints, or like marrow enmeshed in bones. No, too dependent on Human anatomy. She needed something more visible. Her lowered gaze suddenly focused on her hands—she’d interlaced her fingers as she walked. That would do.
“Suppose,” she said, lifting her hands as she spoke, “that my left hand represents my mind; and my right hand, my spirit.” She interlaced them, laying the fingers of each hand along the back of the other. “Then, my mind and spirit fit together like this, tightly enmeshed.”
She slid her fingers in and out. “They’re not really distinct like physical objects. We rarely think of which we are using, because we always use both. When we train for telepathy, however, we must learn to differentiate.”
“When I link, I draw back.” She separated her hands until her fingers lay only between each other. “In a surface link”—she tucked her fingers into her palms and brought the back of her left hand forward—“only the mind is available. Perfectly useful for exchanging information. That is mostly what Pernanyen saw.
“The very first time I linked with Ghent, he didn’t want facts, he wanted to know me. And he, of course, was willing to let me control.” She laid her fingers beside one another again and wiggled those of her left hand. “I was able to show him this: the part of my mind most deeply impacted by my spirit. It’s not the same as seeing my actual spirit, more like a reflection of spirit.
“When Pernanyen delved for deep understanding, it was like she forced her way down these paths.” Kena traced a fingertip down the back of her left index finger. She was silent for a moment, no longer able to look around at them as she walked back and forth. “As Pernanyen did so, I drew farther and farther back, trying to protect her. In the end, I was in a state somewhat like this.” Kena spread her fingers, tensed and widely spaced, only the center fingertips barely interlaced.
“A terribly unnatural state. Even humans don’t have a word for it.” Kena swallowed. “Fortunately, she stopped forcing her way in, because I was spent. An instant more, and she’d have breached the barrier and touched my spirit. A sairit is incompatible with spirit—no chance of survival.”
Travannesal spoke slowly, as though puzzling through a train of thought. “This is why you believed she was about to die.”
Kena nodded, then stressed her words. “And this, Travannesal of Frayunomen, is why no sairital being must ever attempt to control a link with a Human.” She turned to Pernanyen. “That is also why I had no choice except to fight you throughout that entire, excruciating link.” Kena stopped to let them ponder. She’d given them more than enough to puzzle over.
After a moment, VanDar said, “It appears that we now have sufficient understanding of Human law pertaining to telepathy. We may proceed with the trial of Pernanyen.”
Kena’s brows nearly merged with her hair. “That was a non-sequitur, if ever there was one. I am quite certain I did not state any laws.”
He seemed to shift under the force of her words. “You said, ‘no sairital being must ever attempt to control a link with a Human.’ I don’t know your process for formalizing a law, but it certainly sounds like an inherent law.”
“No,” Kena said. “That was an explanation with a warning, so all of you would recognize the danger and avoid it. Saying it’s a law makes as much sense as saying that it’s illegal to inhale water. It’s stupid, it’s potentially fatal, but it’s not illegal.”
Travannesal stilled a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I will convey this information to the other ruling families, so we may decide on appropriate measures to prevent future injuries. In the meantime, I do need to proceed with this trial. One difficulty has been that we do not know what laws Humans may have pertaining to telepathy.”
“None, of course.” Kena shrugged a shoulder. “Humans don’t link with other Humans, so there is no reason to create laws. Very few Humans can link with other races.”
“For those of you who can, what laws govern?”
“My spirit governs what I do when someone else’s mind is open to me. It is not a matter of law. It is a matter of knowing.”
His speech quickened, and he took a step nearer. “According to your knowing, then: Do Humans consider a constrained link permissible if both parties are able to perform their sides?”
He was getting frustrated, by the sound of it. Too bad. She wasn’t about to state a position that Humans didn’t have. “I would consider it impossible, rather than permissible. Humans do not engage in forced links, and sairital beings don’t survive forced links with Humans. How can I state a law, or even an opinion, for something that never before occurred?”
The vehemence of her reply hadn’t hurt. He smoothed his expression and gentled his voice. “Can you judge, by your knowing, whether Pernanyen’s forced link was—” He broke off as she shook her head.
“I—my spirit—can judge only my actions. Never another’s.”
Travannesal seemed drawn to her, stepping nearer yet.
Kena tried to grasp his intent as she had sensed the others’, but a wave of hatred overwhelmed her. She swept her eyes around, seeking the source. Once again, she found herself staring at VanDar. He looked puzzled by her sudden attention. What was this she was feeling? She backed up a step, and it subsided.
Travannesal also stepped back, his brow furrowed.
TarKeen studied her. “Kena, do you need—”
She shook her head. “Travannesal, there is nothing more I can explain.”
He resumed the proceedings, and Kena listened. There were no lawyers here. Anyone in attendance could raise accusations or argue them. Kena followed them easily, so long as they were in Prednian. Unfortunately, not everyone could speak that language. Interpretations became disruptive and led to a request that Kena be removed.
She said, “I don’t like translation delays any more than you do. Pernanyen, will you let me hear your understanding of the PitKreelaundun words?”
She nodded, looking uncertainly at Travannesal.
Someone objected. “No, she’ll learn our language.”
“Why,” Kena asked, “would that be a problem to a race that wants to improve relations?”
“We can use Prednian for that.”
“Ah. You want to understand our every word, but you want to hide your own? I wonder why there are communication difficulties between our races.”
A mixture of grumbling and soft laughter answered her. Travannesal seemed inclined toward the latter and said, “You may link.”
Another wave of hatred hit Kena as she drew near to Pernanyen. What was with that man? Yet, VanDar looked innocent as ever.
The link was no shock to Pernanyen this time. She eased into it, and Kena absorbed language—structure, grammar, meaning, and nuance—all from a native-speaker’s perspective. An unexpected treasure trove. Oh, dear, she would be in high demand among the Collaborative’s linguists.
The trial, which seemed to be more of a debate, continued. Things were not going well for Pernanyen. That was really no surprise, yet Kena’s very presence weakened the accusations. Before she’d entered the room, they had pointed out the severity of the injury Pernanyen had inflicted. Now, the injured party stood before them, fully capable. She was not only lucid and speaking, but even linking.
How little they understood of what she had suffered. Kena let that particular ignorance persist.
Some asserted that Pernanyen shouldn’t have forced a link upon a member of an unknown race. Kena’s recovery weakened this point as well. Others defended Pernanyen. She had acted within her authority. Her goal was admirable, and the need was great. Kena absorbed the meaning and intent of PitKreelaundun values and their decision-making processes. Most enlightening!
Eventually, Travannesal said, “I am hearing no new arguments. The only accusation which requires execution is non-completion of the constrained link. Kena, this reverts to you.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Kena released her link with Pernanyen and moved away from her. The flow of hatred she had been resisting eased with each step she took, only to resume as she approached Travannesal. She stepped back to find a respite. Her own exhaustion was becoming a problem. Sustain me, father.
Travannesal said, “Kena Talgarth, you have the right to a constrained link with Pernanyen. You will completely control such a link. We have a minor issue with timing. I will not delay your and Ghent’s departure. You have the choice of completing that link now, before you leave. If you prefer to sleep first—and I encourage you to do so—you may rest on the Ontrevay. I will permit you to return for the link and guarantee your subsequent departure when you wish it. If so, my only request is that you confirm whether you intend to return to complete the constrained link.”
Before she could answer, VanDar said, “Why do you place this added stress on her? Has she not suffered too much already? Ma’am, you are under no compulsion, whatsoever, to link with Pernanyen again.”
The gentle compassion of his words set Kena’s teeth on edge.
TarKeen said, “How unusual to hear you speak with such consideration, VanDar. It almost sounds like you wish to prevent her from choosing.”