Nesul frowned, pushing himself more upright in his seat. “Why has this been allowed to continue?” he demanded.
“AlRel keeps a strict watch on him, Governor,” Rhyasha said. “We repeatedly pull him up about it, but he manages to hold them back by other means. He refuses either to take their previous experience into consideration, or to condense their courses. As for those who also attend the Warrior Guild, they are kept even farther behind! We do what we can, but you know that each guild is autonomous.”
“Then it’s time all the guilds were reminded that this is an interspecies emergency we’re dealing with,” said Nesul grimly. “It’s vital we have as many of the Humans as we can operating as fully trained telepaths as soon as possible, not only for the benefit of the Alliance but so that they can help their home world patrol their own sector of space!”
Raiban gave a grunt of surprise at his outburst, causing Nesul to look over at her. She shook her head in a negative and he turned instead to Konis.
“What’s the feeling among the telepath clans?”
“Grumblings and complaints to me that only echo what’s already been said. They won’t complain officially on behalf of their clansfolk, but they will corner me when they can,” he said. “I have a matter to bring to your attention tonight which may well have a bearing on this.”
“I’m aware of it, Konis. Leave it for the moment, if you will.” He looked at each of them in turn. “So the picture is uniform. Now Esken no longer holds the balance of power on the World Council, he’s trying to take it at a lesser level—divert it before it reaches us. We can’t act directly against him as it would take a vote of censure at an All-Guilds level to force him to resign in Sorli’s favor, and I’d rather avoid the scandal that would cause. Esken does have some good qualities when all’s said and done.”
“So did Ghezu, but look what he became!” Raiban said in exasperation.
“Ghezu was another matter entirely. We were able to conceal his treasonable actions because of the news blockage regarding the whole of the Forces desert action,” replied Nesul. “Thank the Gods Kaid did kill him and he wasn’t returned for a public trial!”
Raiban growled. “We couldn’t afford the scandal after so recently backing the Brotherhood’s change to full guild status.”
“Exactly Nesul’s point,” interrupted Konis. “We couldn’t afford a scandal involving Esken at that last All-Guilds Council, and we still can’t! We telepaths are so interwoven in the fabric of daily life that people can’t afford to doubt us—we’d have a planet-wide panic! So what is it you’re proposing, Nesul?”
“I’ve been looking into past precedents regarding similar circumstances, and if I can have the backing of those of you on the Council at tomorrow’s meeting, some of our larger problems could well be solved.”
“How?” demanded Raiban, lifting her glass again.
“We’re on a planetary alert at the moment, so special powers can be used. One of those is the ability to elevate a group of people with vital skills to the status of a guild for the duration of the emergency.”
“The priests,” said Rhyasha. “But what skills have they got that would help a war effort?”
Lijou leaned forward to pick up his drink. “The Brotherhood lay-priests have pastoral duties on the starships that include helping the injured, talking to those who have lost friends or lovers in action, and rallying the troops if morale falls,” he said. “Psychologically we have a measurably beneficial impact on the crew of any Forces craft, don’t we, General Raiban?”
Raiban began to grin. “I like that, Nesul. Very nice, very nice indeed. Yes, Father Lijou, your work on our vessels in deep space is vital. I would certainly endorse any recommendation that your people be elevated to guild status on those grounds.”
“Not quite guild status,” corrected Nesul. “But it would only require a rubber stamp at the next All-Guilds’ meeting to ratify our appointment. How about you, Konis? Would you cover our backs?”
“With pleasure, Governor. And I think I have a suggestion for the problem with our Terran telepaths. It could be suggested by your office that unless the proper procedures for accelerating their education are implemented at the Telepath Guild, they will be advising them to enter one or more of Shola’s temples as acolytes so that they can continue their training under the Brotherhood of Vartra.”
Raiban laughed loudly at this. “By the Gods, if that doesn’t get Esken off that broad rear of his, nothing will! He’ll see his influence in the vanguard of the new telepathic skills disappearing completely from his grasp! Tell me, Kusac, how are matters between you and Esken? You’re the only one Nesul hasn’t asked for a report, and there must be a reason for your presence.”
“Things are quiet. We give him periodic reports on the research Vanna and Jack are doing, the same ones that go to AlRel, and he leaves us alone,” said Kusac. “I must admit to being baffled as to why I was included.”
“For the insight and experiences you and your Leska have on the issue of the Terrans and Esken. And so I can catch up on news of that young cub of yours at the end of the meeting,” Nesul smiled. “You know what a family person I am. Which brings me to your problem, Konis,” he said, nodding in the direction of Kusac’s father.
“Several of the telepaths in high office have used their positions to avoid settling down with a life-mate and producing a family. The numbers involved are not large, but significant when you consider how many telepaths we’ve lost to mixed Leska pairings. I feel, Konis, although the situation isn’t yet that serious, that no telepath of breeding age should be exempt. We need to ensure that the lines of pure Sholan telepaths don’t die out because of a lack of cubs in this generation.”
Around him, everyone but Konis began to grin as they realized what Nesul was suggesting.
“You knew the clans had approached me on this matter,” he said. “It’s all very well for the rest of you, but who the hell’s going to tell Esken he’s got to bond? Not me, considering he views our family as taking a personal interest in making his life as difficult as possible!”
“A family could slow him down even more, provided he doesn’t go to the Consortias for a bride,” said Raiban.
“He can’t go to the Consortias,” snapped Konis, irritated by the fact that it seemed they were all looking to him to solve a problem he’d been hoping to avoid. “He has to marry a telepath, and one chosen by me as Clan Lord!”
“Even if he married a female of your choice, he could pack her off to his family estate as soon as she was pregnant,” Raiban pointed out.
“What you need is a female who won’t let herself be sent to the provinces, and who would keep him so busy domestically that he’d have little time left for plotting,” said Rhyasha thoughtfully. “Not a young female, an older one. Perhaps a widow? One with a couple of kitlings of school age, needing to attend the Guild. One who, on the face of it, should be quiet out of gratitude at being given a new husband.”
Konis’ eye ridges met as he looked at his life-mate. “What’re you planning? You’ve got someone in mind, haven’t you?”
Rhyasha nodded, smiling broadly. “Someone on our estate who would enjoy running circles round Esken! Not of our family, though her husband was, so Esken can’t accuse you of planting a spy in his den. She’d take to her change of status like a kitling to the hunt! Before Esken knows where he is, she’ll be entertaining at the Guild. It’s about time that place saw some life! It’s been getting progressively more like a tomb over the years!”
“Konis,” said Lijou, “may I suggest that you issue a letter to all Telepath Clan Leaders, and those in senior positions, saying something to the effect that because we are losing telepaths from the breeding program to the mixed Leska pairings, it’s important that a positive and active approach be taken to encourage their Clan members to enter into three-or-more-year contracts and have children, and insist that Leska pairs do the same. Round it off by saying you expect all senior telepaths to set an example
by taking life-mates if they haven’t already. Accompany each letter with a document detailing your choice of bride for that specific person. That should solve the problem of Esken feeling he’s being singled out by you.”
Lijou stopped for a moment before raising his hand in a negative gesture. “Before you say anything, yes, I do realize that includes myself.” His tone this time was more somber.
Kusac stirred and looked from his father to Governor Nesul. “Could I say something here? I’d like to suggest that some of the Brothers on my estate—and possibly more at Stronghold—be considered as suitable mates.” He glanced at his father, but there was no response.
“There are some now compatible genetically with us mixed Leskas, which means they have enough of a talent to form a Leska Link, but there are many others with gifts worth preserving and adding back into our gene pool. We can’t ignore those gifts or talents that are common to us and the Humans. And it’ll add much needed new blood into our families. It’s worth trying, especially as it looks from the DNA tests on her that Taizia and Meral’s cub is Talented.”
“I can’t authorize …”
“Yes, you can, Konis,” interrupted Raiban. “All you do is inform several chosen people that they’re part of a high security program. I think opening out the gene pool is a damned good idea. Might even breed back the fighting strain. Who’re you going to pick for Kaid?”
“Ah,” began Kusac.
“He’s part of my son’s Triad and as such is under no obligation to form a bond elsewhere,” Konis interrupted smoothly.
“The Triad is temple registered,” said Lijou. “Officially he’s also a life-mate to Carrie.”
“He’s only genetically compatible with the mixed Leskas,” said Kusac, finally finding his voice.
Raiban scowled. “Damned loss, if you ask me. Still, he’s no telepath, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter.”
“I can’t say this is part of a military research program when it isn’t,” Konis said, returning to the original discussion.
“It is as of now,” said Raiban. “Nesul, I take it you have no objection?”
Nesul considered the options for a few moments. It was novel for Raiban to ask his opinion, and he was enjoying it. “Yes. I think it’s worth a try, at least until the cubs born of such pairings are old enough to be tested for talents.”
“Then that’s decided, isn’t it, Konis?” She grinned. “Going to be a few long faces in a day or two. Damn, but I’d love to be a fly on the wall when some of the letters you’re sending out arrive!”
As they made their way to their respective vehicles, Raiban fell into step beside Konis.
“Y’know, Nesul’s been a lot easier to work with since our meeting on the Rynara. You brought him up to scratch on the whole interstellar business, didn’t you? Don’t deny it,” she said, grasping his shoulder briefly. “He couldn’t have gotten his understanding any other way. What I want to know is why it wasn’t done sooner.”
“I’m sure I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Raiban. Only Master Esken can authorize a transfer of that magnitude, and there are very few of us capable of doing it. It’s actually quite a dangerous procedure when a nontelepath is involved.”
“Been taking a page out of your son’s book, eh?” chuckled Raiban, eyes glowing with amusement in the light reflected from the palace. “Slippery slope, Konis. Once you start, it’s never as easy to live by the rules our groundling cousins swear by again! Good night to you.”
“Good night,” echoed Konis, watching her stride off toward her official aircar.
“Konis,” said Lijou. “A moment of your time, if you please.”
He turned to face the priest. “Certainly. What can I do?”
“Be aware that Esken will go to the Consortias as soon as the letter arrives,” he said. “He has the right, he isn’t a Clan elder who needs to make a dynastic marriage, and he’s of the right age group.”
“I know. It wasn’t worth arguing the point with Raiban. So just how do we make him marry the one we want?”
“It won’t be the problem you think. We’ve had dealings with Consortia Houses in the past, business dealings. I’ll have him watched. When we find out which House he’s gone to, I’ll approach it with a proposition.” He looked over at Rhyasha. “If your female is willing, we can time it so she’s at the Guildhouse for a couple of days for her official introduction to him and so on while she’s in season. Our Guild Master is far from sophisticated when it comes to females. If she lays the right trail, she’ll catch him.”
Rhyasha laughed quietly. “Oh, she can do that!”
“What about the Consortia?” asked Konis.
Lijou flicked an ear. “For the right sum, when she visits, she can ensure what she does makes him run to his intended bride.”
“This is too well thought out for a spur of the moment plan, Lijou,” said Konis.
“It’s an old ploy, Clan Leader, ask your wife. Don’t forget, since I went to Stronghold, I’ve had to train as one of the Brothers even though I couldn’t fight. How could I help govern them if I understood nothing of the way they work?”
“Why are you helping me like this?” Konis demanded abruptly. “What will you gain from it?”
Lijou shrugged. “The same as you and all of Shola. The freedom to grow and evolve.” He turned to leave.
“He wants Kha’Qwa,” said Kusac, once Lijou was out of earshot, “but he’ll never ask you. Let him bond with her, Father. She’s Talented. We three owe him so much.”
“Wait!” called Konis.
Lijou stopped and returned to face him again.
“You want Kha’Qwa?”
He hesitated before answering. “She’d be my choice, Clan Lord. Like Esken, I have no need to make a life-bonding.”
Konis’ ears moved backward, then righted themselves as he watched the priest. “You may have her—at a price.” Konis ignored the sharp intake of breath from his son. “I want you to take her as a life-mate in a temple wedding.”
Lijou’s mouth opened in a slow grin as he inclined his head to one side. “But of course, Clan Lord. I would have it no other way. I believe firmly that as Head Priest I should set an example to those entrusted to my care. Thank you—and good night to you and your family.”
As the three of them watched Lijou enter the Brotherhood’s vehicle, Konis sighed and began walking to their aircar.
“Why do I feel like I’ve been subtly manipulated?” he asked Rhyasha in a pained voice.
She linked her arm through his. “Perhaps because you have, but so very gently, and to such good purpose: that of making two people happy,” she said, her voice holding a purring note of affection.
A couple of days later, when Carrie came down from the nursery, she found the house a hive of activity with Kitra presiding over a large pile of greenery in the den. Pinelike needles and a scattering of red and purple berries lay on the floor around her.
“What’s this all about?” she asked, stepping carefully around her before squatting down to her level to see what she was doing.
“Midwinter decorations,” said Kitra, pausing. “Dzaka and I gathered them this morning on the way back from Mother’s. He’ll be back in a moment with a box of things she sent over for you.”
“Things?”
“I forgot, this is your first festival, isn’t it? Midwinter is one of our biggest festivals, when we celebrate the return of the sun and the start of the new year. Taizia says you call yours Christmas.”
“Yes, we do,” said Carrie reaching down to pick up a wreath that her bond-sister had already made. Kitra had woven several different thin evergreen branches into a large circle, crafting it so the various colored berries were distributed evenly throughout. “We even use similar colors, red and green.”
Kitra nodded. “The sign of life in winter, and when I’ve put the white-leaved branches in, you’ll have the newly spilled blood of the hunt on the snow, too.”
“Yeuch,” said Carr
ie. “Hardly a peaceful symbol!”
“Our festival isn’t the same, Carrie,” she reminded her quietly, returning to her weaving. “It’s a time when Ghyakulla, the Green Goddess, must fight the frost and snow demons to get her son back from Khuushoi, Goddess of Winter.”
“And the hunt?”
The door opened and Dzaka, carrying a large box, came in with Kusac.
“The hunt is when all the males go out to get food for Ghyakulla and her newly born son,” said Kusac, bending down to touch her gently on the cheek as he passed her.
“Hang on a minute,” said Carrie, turning round. “I thought Ghyakulla was getting her son back from Khuushoi! Where does this newborn come in?”
“It’s a mixture of images and beliefs, like any religion,” said Kusac, going down to the lounge level to get some mugs of coffee from the hot plate. “Everyone want some coffee?”
A chorus of affirmatives answered him.
“So what is it we’re celebrating, exactly?” asked Carrie. A large cushion appeared beside her. She glanced up at Dzaka in thanks and arranged herself more comfortably on it.
“Dzaka, you’re the real priest here, you tell her,” said Kusac as he poured out the drinks.
“Both are true, Carrie,” he said, squatting beside his box and Kitra. “Ghyakulla and Khuushoi are Sister goddesses. The land, as you know, is rich and fertile, full of the promise of life and good harvests. Winter is cold and sterile; nothing grows but the evergreens. So you see the natures of the two sisters. Ghyakulla had a son, a bright, loving child whom she cared for more than anything. Khuushoi was sterile, could bear no cubs, and in her winter fastness, she became jealous.”
“So she stole the child,” nodded Carrie. “It’s a familiar theme, but it’s usually a daughter that the Mother Goddess of Earth has.”
“It probably was originally, but now that child is Vartra,” smiled Dzaka.
“Why am I not surprised?” murmured Carrie.
“As you say. A new religion blended onto an old one after the Cataclysm.”
“Go on with the story.”
“I’m no storyteller, Carrie,” Dzaka excused himself. “The resident Storyteller will tell the tale properly on the first night of the festival.”
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