“Sorry,” said Kusac, ears flicking back and remaining there in apology. “She’s a fully active telepath,” he explained to Vanna. “She picked up the idea of you dropping her from me. I keep forgetting she can do that.”
“I should have guessed,” said Vanna wryly. “How could a child of yours be normal, even for a hybrid?”
“We’re pretty sure it was the power of the Margin gateways that wakened her Talent so early,” said Carrie, passing the now quiet cub to her friend.
“She’s so tiny, and so sweet,” purred Vanna as she gathered the cub into her arms. Kashini trilled with pleasure, and grabbing Vanna’s finger, pulled it toward her mouth, proceeding to chew on it.
“Ouch! You have sharp teeth, kit!” she said, removing her finger from danger and playing pat with her instead. “How do you manage to feed her, Carrie?”
“I don’t any more. Her nurse does for the moment, but not for much longer. We’ve had to give her solid food as well because she’s so hungry.”
“She’s lovely, cub, and doing so well!” she sighed. “I really have to go now.” She handed her back to Kusac. “We’ll see you later tonight when we’ll have your real presents.”
“See you then, Vanna,” said Kusac, tucking Kashini over his shoulder as she left.
Carrie moved to his side, lifting his free arm so she could wrap it around her shoulders. As she rested her head against his chest, she felt the almost inaudible purr that vibrated through him.
All I ever wanted, I now hold in my arms, he sent.
So do I, Kusac. She reached up to touch Kashini’s foot where it protruded from the bottom of the blanket. Cupping her hand around it, she gently rubbed her fingers along the webbing between her cub’s toes, feeling them open wider as Kashini began to purr with pleasure.
A discreet knock at the door and Yashui, the nurse, entered. “Time for her to go upstairs, Liegena,” she said quietly.
Carrie sighed and let Kashini’s foot go. “See you later, little one,” she said, moving aside so Kusac could hand her over.
As she sat back down at the table, she watched her life-mate lay his cheek alongside their daughter’s, his tongue flicking out to lick her gently behind the ear before he handed her over to Yashui. The sight brought tears to her eyes. She rubbed them away hurriedly, ashamed at being still so emotional.
“Could Brynne have fathered Mara’s child?” she asked when they were alone.
“It’s not him,” said Kusac positively. “Vanna told me he’s been too busy with that Derwent person. Despite some of his strange ideas, Brynne’s been settling down, too. No other females at all, and he’s devoted to his son. He wouldn’t risk all that to be with Mara, knowing the trouble she caused for Dzaka and Kitra.”
“Just a thought.”
“I’m sure it isn’t one of the Leska males.”
“Well, with Jissoh and Nyash watching her, we should know soon.”
“I’ve got to go and get ready for the hunt. Will you be coming up to Mother’s with me now?”
“Of course. Don’t forget, you’ve to bring me something back for the feast tonight.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I get the biggest rhakla out there. I’ve got my reputation to live up to, after all.”
Lijou stood at his bedroom window looking down into the main courtyard. Below, the younglings were still sweeping the night’s fresh snowfall aside. Already the bones of the central fire had been relaid in preparation for the festivities later.
He felt Kha’Qwa’s presence draw nearer, feeling the gentle touch of her mind, then her hand as she joined him.
“Good morning,” she said, leaning against him, her tail twining round his leg. “What holds your attention so closely this morning?”
He hesitated. How to put it into words? “Have you ever felt as if you’re standing at the doorway to the future? I feel as if I’m there now, looking through it and wondering what will happen. And although I’m part of it, although I helped open the door, I’m afraid to go forward, Kha’Qwa.”
“Afraid of what?”
“The changes.”
“I see none, Lijou. I see only the traditions of over a thousand years as our people get ready for Nylam’s Day,” she said, looking out of the window.
“Look more closely and you’ll see.” He pointed to a couple of black-robed figures hurrying across to the courtyard. “Already our tutors are wearing their new colors, proclaiming them Priests, not lay-brothers. The old year ends tonight, Kha’Qwa,” he said, laying his arm across her shoulders and continuing to look down into the courtyard. “A new year, and new lives for all of us. Our right as a guild to choose those who possess lesser talents is being laid down in the new charter Rhyaz is drafting. In future, when we visit the guilds to recruit, we can openly take those we need. So much has happened this past year, and there is so much more still to come.”
“Are you that afraid of change?”
“Some changes,” he sighed. “But not others.” His hand tightened briefly on her shoulder. “Not our new life together. I don’t think Konis expected us to life-bond so soon!”
As he continued to watch the courtyard, he saw a small figure enter through the main gates. “I wonder what brings T’Chebbi here today. Who could she be coming to see?”
“It could only be Kaid.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” she said with conviction. “I’ve never seen her so animated as she was when they were here to rescue him.”
Lijou thought back over his last few meetings with T’Chebbi. “You could be right. I hope so. It worried me when he said he intended to stay here for Midwinter.”
“If only for a short while, let the world take care of itself,” she said, lowering her voice to the level of a soft purr and turning him away from the window. “You should be enjoying this morning with me. With all your talk of new years and new lives, tell me, how does it feel to be a newly mated male, and a father?”
“Believe me, it feels good, Kha’Qwa, and I don’t mean to seem …” He stopped in mid-sentence, his attention suddenly completely focused on her. “What did you say?”
She laughed and began to move away from him. “I thought that would get your attention.”
Reaching out, he grasped her by the arm, pulling her close again. “What did you say?” he asked her again. Pregnant? It wasn’t possible—was it? How could they possibly raise a cub at Stronghold!
She stretched up to touch his neck. “You’ve never bothered to shield your thoughts from me, Lijou, and I’ve enough Talent to read you. You said the Clan Lord wanted us to set an example, so when I picked up what was in your mind last night, I decided it was time. I was right, wasn’t I? You do want us to share our cubs, don’t you?” She tilted her head on one side, widening her eyes innocently as she looked into his.
“You never told me.” A father? He was going to be a father at his age? And she could hear his thoughts?
“At your age?” she scoffed. “You’re of an age with the Clan Lord! As to being able to hear you, many of us had our gifts boosted by the new virus, Lijou, even you. I just never had the need to mention it till now.”
“You’re pregnant? Since last night?” He was finding it difficult to take in her news.
She nodded. “Did I make the wrong decision?”
“No. No, of course not,” he said. “Are you positive? How can you be so sure after only one night?” He suddenly realized he didn’t want her to be mistaken. She was right, this was their life. For too long he’d lived for his Guild, then the Brotherhood. Now, before it was too late, he wanted a life that was his—his and Kha’Qwa’s.
“I’m sure,” she answered with a gentle laugh as his hand touched her neck in an intimate gesture of affection. “We females know these things.”
“Perhaps we should make sure,” he said, running his fingers through her short flame-colored curls. He still hadn’t gotten over his relief at her acceptance of him as a life-mate.
Tall, and slim as any youngling, it had surprised many of Stronghold when the lively fiery colored Kha’Qwa had become his Companion several months earlier.
“It only takes once, honestly.”
“I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed if you found you were mistaken.” He began to nuzzle her cheek. “It would be so upsetting for you.”
“You’re so thoughtful,” she purred.
“Better to make absolutely sure.”
“Mmm. What about your duties this morning?”
“Vriuzu’s on his way to see to them,” he mumbled, catching the edge of her ear gently with his teeth.
“That’s all right, then.”
When the library door opened, Kaid knew it was T’Chebbi. He looked up, eye ridges meeting in a frown. “Is something wrong at the estate?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she replied, approaching the desk where he was working. “Needed to come. Have things in storage to collect. Meant I could see you, too. Not good to be without friends at this time of year.”
“I’m used to being alone,” he said, turning back to his work.
“Maybe we share our solitude for a short while.”
He looked up sharply, catching her slight smile as she took the seat opposite him. He hadn’t expected her to pay him another personal visit, especially after she’d avoided saying good-bye.
“Look tired, Tallinu. Still get bad nights? What does Father Lijou say?”
“I haven’t mentioned it to him.”
“Should. You need help.”
He felt anger flare and repressed it, determined not to lose his temper with her. “Did you come here just to scold me, T’Chebbi? Or is there something else you want? I am capable of organizing my own life, you know.” He switched off his comp pad. She was obviously determined to talk to him.
Her mouth opened in a deep grin. “I haven’t eaten yet. Won’t serve me as first meal’s over, but they’ll serve you. Always would.”
“You’re hungry? That’s all?” Maybe it was no more than she said, a visit to collect the last of her belongings from the Guild.
She flicked her ears in agreement.
He gathered up the comp and book he’d been using and stuffed them into his robe pocket as he got to his feet. “I can’t promise you that they’ll cook for us,” he began.
“Will,” she interrupted him. “Said you hadn’t eaten either, and if you came, they’d feed me, too.”
Now she’d mentioned it, he realized he was hungry. “I prefer to go in at the end of the meal times,” he said, opening the door. “Students never seem to keep quiet, even when they’re eating.”
T’Chebbi touched his arm, holding him back for a moment. “Tallinu, can’t say good-byes—couldn’t be there when you left. I do want to spend more time with you—if you want to.”
Kaid grunted noncommittally as he stepped into the corridor—and the dark.
It was night. He stood at the head of a small group of warriors, waiting for the clouds to cover the moon once more. A sound to his right drew his attention, and he turned to see T’Chebbi. Her upper arm was bound with a bloodstained makeshift bandage.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, the sight of her throwing him into confusion. “You should be on Shola.”
“Kaid!” The voice was as insistent as the hands that were shaking him by the shoulders. Gradually the dark receded, and the corridor came back into focus, as did T’Chebbi. Leaning against the wall for support, he reached an unsteady hand out to touch her arm, an arm unblemished by any injury.
“Kaid, we are on Shola,” she was saying. “Whatever you saw, it’s not happening.”
“I know. It was a vision. Jalna, I think, except you were there.”
“Kusac’s asked me to go,” she said quietly. “What did you see?”
“Something and nothing,” he said, pushing himself upright again as he tried to dispel the images. “It’s unreliable, T’Chebbi. Just flashes, nothing even worth seeing.”
“You saw me with you on Jalna.”
“That’s all I saw. The visions are too short to be of any use.” He was annoyed and frustrated. This was happening on average now once or twice a day. All his research over the last few days had turned up no probable cause for it.
“Perhaps have food sent up,” said T’Chebbi. “You’re overtired. Maybe that causes them.”
He hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. Lack of sleep certainly didn’t help.
Lijou shook Kha’Qwa gently. “We have to get up,” he said. “Vriuzu sent that Kaid had another of those episodes.”
“What was it?” she asked.
“Too short for him to pick it up. Why won’t Kaid come and tell me what’s happening? We’d have a chance of helping him sooner that way! I hate having to have him monitored like this. I feel like I’m spying on him.”
“He won’t blame you, Lijou.”
“I still don’t like it,” he grumbled, throwing back the covers.
A full stomach made the world a friendlier place, Kaid decided. Their talk had been of changes on the estate since he’d left.
“Jissoh’s a good choice for Mara. She’s outgoing and doesn’t easily take offense. With any luck, they might strike up a friendship. Nijou and Khy are fine for Zhyaf. Garras is handling things well. I knew he’d be a capable second for Kusac. This cub of Mara’s, though.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “Where did such a new element come from? How is it possible that we have an unknown compatible Human on the estate?”
“The new virus.”
“Not possible. A lot of folk took colds, even the Human archaeologists had their own health problems, but they weren’t necessarily connected. Unless Vanna’s proved otherwise?”
“Her people still working on it,” said T’Chebbi, leaning forward to replace her mug on the table between them. “She’ll find out soon.”
Memory tugged at him as he caught a trace of her scent. “Tell me,” he said, “that perfume you wore …?”
Her ears twitched with embarrassment. “Was an aphrodisiac,” she admitted. “Special one, though. Enhances any interest your partner has, doesn’t create it.”
“A fine distinction,” he said dryly.
“Yes,” she insisted. “One I learned of when was Consortia. Didn’t make you want me, only made you lose inhibitions.”
“Did you bring it with you?” He was curious to know.
She hesitated. “Maybe. Wouldn’t use it again unless you ask. Wanted you once to see me as a female, one you might want. That was all. If you were interested, perfume helps, if not, nothing. You wouldn’t notice it.”
The meal had made him feel relaxed and slightly drowsy. Obviously the need to pick up her belongings had been at least partly an excuse. He held his hand out in an invitation to her. “You won’t need it this time,” he said as she accepted.
This pairing was gentler and slower as they took their time to see each other in a new way. There wasn’t the mental rapport he had with Carrie, but he could sense what pleased T’Chebbi, and she certainly knew how to give him pleasure.
Instinctively, as they began to climax, he reached mentally for her only to feel his mind explode into many pieces as a memory that had been deliberately hidden from him returned. With devastating clarity, he began to relive what had happened to him during the night he’d spent in the shrine before Kashini’s Validation.
Along the corridor from Kaid’s rooms, Lijou was alerted and this time, he experienced it, too.
Tallinu!
He needs to be focused on us.
He’s not listening! Tallinu! Tallinu!
He calls himself Kaid now.
Kaid, dammit! Kaid!
Confused, his chanting faltered as he tried to sense who was calling him.
He’s not responding. We can’t keep this up much longer.
Get the doctor to do it. He’s supposed to be the god, after all. Maybe he’ll listen to him.
God? What talk was this of gods?
I can�
��t! The voice woke more memories.
You’d better, because we can’t bring him back otherwise!
He heard the implicit threat. The litanies and chants all forgotten, he began to mentally back away. This didn’t feel right. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to know. Then his mind was grasped and held. Powerless, he now heard a voice he recognized only too well.
Kaid, we’re not finished yet. There’s work still to do.
No! I’ve done enough for you! No more, Vartra, no more! His mind shouted the refusal.
You will return once more. You’re at the heart of matters both here and in the future. You have to return!
NO!
Got him!
As if from a great height, he saw his body slump forward onto the floor. A white rime of frost began to form over his robe, then, as panic began to take hold, the image vanished as he was swept into a maelstrom of sound and heat and pain.
Fire licked along his limbs, burning and consuming him. The smell of seared fur and flesh filled his nostrils, and as he opened his mouth to scream, flames gushed out. Mercifully, he blacked out.
“You nearly lost him!” The voice was female, angry.
“Until the good doctor believed us and lent his strength.” Male. Then everything faded into blackness.
“He should be coming round any time now. I only gave him a light sedative.”
A sharp prick against his arm almost made him flinch, but he suppressed it in time. He feigned unconsciousness, using his passive senses to see what he could learn first. No telepathy, they’d sense it immediately. The room they were in was small—no echoes—and smelled of antiseptic. Medical area then. So far, two voices, but there should be more.
“Are you sure it’s necessary to wake him?” A third voice. “He’s not going to appreciate being brought back, nor what you’ve done to him.”
There was a familiarity about the voices, but he was still confused. He realized his limbs were bound to the surface on which he lay. That didn’t please him.
A snort of laughter. “You don’t know the meaning of anger! And he’s awake, listening to all you’ve been saying.” That voice he did recognize. Goran, Vartra’s security chief.
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