Razor's Edge

by Lisanne Norman

“Come on!” he exclaimed, half-rising from the chair, “she’s lying! You don’t believe her, do you?”

  “Why should she lie?” asked Carrie. “You have paired with her, haven’t you?”

  “Only once! She’s trying to make me responsible for it, that’s all! It must be Zhyaf’s!”

  “Well, we’ll know when the cub’s born,” said Vanna equably. “We’re only interested in taking a few blood samples and the like from you so we can establish that you are one of us. You have no responsibility to Mara or the cub, as far as we’re concerned. That’s a private matter between the two of you. Although I should tell you that Mara has no need to make any male responsible for her cub, so she’s no reason to lie about it. You’re not on Earth, you know!”

  “I don’t want the cub. I want to abort,” said Mara quietly.

  Carrie watched Vanna’s eye ridges meet in a frown as she studied the Human girl through narrowed eyes. “You’ve decided, then,” she said. It was sad, but not unexpected.

  “I didn’t want it for the right reasons. I only wanted to avoid having Zhyaf’s cub. Ruth thinks I’m right.”

  Mara’s voice was quiet and controlled, with none of the self-justification Carrie would have expected from one her age. It looked like Ruth’s influence was beginning to have a positive effect.

  “I don’t think that’s your decision to make,” said Josh.

  Carrie leaned forward to touch Josh’s arm before Vanna could speak. “It is her decision, and only hers,” she said gently. “You claim you can’t possibly be the father, so why should you be entitled to an opinion? Children, and cubs, should only be brought into the world when they are wanted. Sholan females can choose whether or not to conceive at the time, we can’t.”

  “She just said she chose to get pregnant,” objected Josh. “Look, I’m not saying she should have the kid, just that it isn’t only her decision.”

  “I’ve decided,” said Mara flatly. “I’ll live with that decision. The cub shouldn’t have to. When can I come in?”

  “Leave it till tomorrow at seventh hour. Give yourself till then to be sure,” said Vanna. “Josh, would you mind going down to the lab and giving M’Zio a blood sample? We keep a database on our people, and we need to add you to it. We’ll also be asking Father Ghyan to contact you to test your Talent.”

  “Look, no offense, Physician, but I’m not interested. I enjoy my work, and something like this is going to bring my boss down on me like a landslide. Anyway, I’ve no intention of becoming a telepath, even if I was one of you. Which I’m not,” he added.

  “Don’t worry, Josh, we’ll take up as little time as possible,” Carrie reassured him. “Your place here at the dig isn’t dependent on Pam Southgate; she hasn’t got the power to dismiss you. We need to know what your abilities are, so we can get a clearer picture of what’s happening to the Talented in both our species. When we know what your strengths are, we can tell you, and then you can decide whether or not you want to develop them.”

  Josh stood there looking stunned. “It’s true, then.”

  “Your blood tests will confirm it,” said Vanna, getting up to call Rulla in to escort him down the corridor to the medic. “This will only take a few minutes. We’ll make sure you’re taken back to the dig.”

  Carrie waited till he’d gone before speaking to Mara again. “Why didn’t you tell us who it was?” she asked. “Did you think you’d be in trouble? You shouldn’t have, Mara. What you do is up to you so long as you don’t hurt anyone else. You’re an adult, you know, not a child.”

  Mara’s eyes began to flood with tears. “I thought I wanted a baby, but I don’t. I just didn’t want to have Zhyaf’s. I couldn’t do what my Mom did. She had too many kids, she never wanted me. She was glad when your people took me away.” She wrapped her arms around herself and began gently swaying back and forth as the tears spilled down her face. “I should have listened to you when you said I could only have Sholan cubs. You were right.”

  Carrie went to comfort her, sending to Vanna as she did.

  Get Ruth.

  Already on her way.

  Kneeling in front of her, Carrie folded the girl in her arms, holding her tight and murmuring reassuring words while pushing aside her anger at what was coming to light about the girl’s past. “It’s all right, Mara. You’re with us now. You have a family, people who care.”

  Though Mara rested her head on Carrie’s shoulder, she couldn’t relax and remained a small, tight knot of misery, her distress barely held in check.

  A minute or two later, the door opened and Ruth looked into the room. “I thought I’d find you here,” she said, coming in and going over to Mara. She placed a gentle hand against the girl’s cheek, then caressed her shoulder. “Come with me, my pet. I think it’s time we went home.” She looked at Carrie as she let Mara go and began to move back from her.

  “She’s told you what she wants to do, I see. Her decision didn’t come easy, I hope you realize that.”

  “I know it didn’t,” said Carrie, helping Mara up from the chair. “It’s taken a lot of courage for her to make this decision.”

  Ruth wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders, drawing her close against her side. Vanna handed her a tissue.

  “Dry your eyes, Mara,” said Ruth gently, pressing it against one of the girl’s tightly clenched fists. “You don’t want the world to know you’ve been crying, do you?”

  Automatically her hand opened as she responded to Ruth’s adult presence. She dabbed at her eyes, the tears already beginning to dry up.

  “That’s the girl. Now we’d best get back. I’m going to need your help with Vrada. That young male’s been up at the Shrine again, playing in the mud field they call a garden! You should see him! He’s like a walking mud ball—it’s caked into his pelt. I’ve told him it’s the scrubbing brush for him!”

  Mara began to smile. “Not really,” she said. “You wouldn’t do that to him, would you?”

  As they walked towards the door, Ruth made a noise very like a growl. “You haven’t seen the brushes they use to get that kind of dirt out, my girl! I’d call them scrubbing brushes. I’m going to need you to hold him under the shower while I scrub! I’m not having that muddy little wriggler running all over our clean house!”

  Carrie laughed as they left. “She’s not far wrong,” she said, returning to her seat. “I remember when Kusac was working on the villa. He used to come home covered in plaster and concrete.”

  “I suppose it must be easier to wash dirt off if you don’t have fur,” said Vanna absently. “Well, looks like we’re going to have to run those checks Kusac suggested after all. Thank Vartra we’ve got Mentor Sorli to deal with rather than Esken!”

  “The Gods have been kind to us,” Carrie agreed. “I leave for the Warrior Guild tomorrow, so I won’t be here to help you, but Dzaka and Garras will. Once you’ve identified all those with our particular genetic signature, try and persuade them to come to the estate. We want to see if it’s possible for them to have some degree of choice in a Leska partner.”

  “That’s if they are Leska material.”

  “They’re at least capable of being the third in a Triad if they haven’t the Talent to find a Leska,” said Carrie confidently.

  “What about the gestalt? What’s it for if not to trigger the changes?”

  “We’ve yet to find out, but we do know one of us can use it to harness the power of the other in moments of crisis. It doesn’t just double what you have. When we’ve triggered it, the energy we have access to is unbelievable. It’s far more than the sum of what we individually possess.”

  Vanna made a small noise of disbelief as she began to turn back to her work. “I’ll believe there’s another Leska trigger when I see it happening,” she said.

  “You will,” said Carrie, getting up. “I’ll wager you a meal in one of the best restaurants in Valsgarth.”

  “You’re on,” said Vanna.

  Kaid headed out of the main gates and
down the snow-lined road to the village of Dzahai. Overhead, the sun shone in a sky that was the sharp, deep blue of winter. The air was fresh, a breeze bringing with it the scent of the winter conifers on the slopes that sheltered Stronghold. Kaid breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment and enjoying the freedom of the morning. He’d been caged for too long, he needed a break. For nearly a month now, he’d had either Kusac or T’Chebbi constantly with him.

  He shook his head, sending his hair flying in every direction, then raked it back between his ears, imposing a little order on it. For the first time in weeks, it felt good to be alive, even if the coolness that had grown between him and T’Chebbi hadn’t yet been resolved. He’d purposely headed out early so as to avoid her. A group of youngling students passed him, mouths gaping in awe as they recognized him. He flicked an ear at them, instantly regretting it as the still tender scar on his forehead ached. Hurrying by, he took the righthand junction that led not to the center of the village, but to Noni’s.

  The bushes, hidden beneath their blanket of snow, and the bare limbs of the trees still clad with the previous night’s frost gave the cottage an unearthly quality. He pushed the gate open just as Teusi, Noni’s attendant, opened the door.

  “Well come, Brother Tallinu,” he said. “I’m on my way to the stores. Again,” he added with a wry smile as he stepped aside for Kaid to pass him.

  “Don’t you get tired of this?” Kaid murmured, stopping for a moment.

  Teusi grinned. “Yes, but the opportunity to learn her craft is worth the minor inconveniences. Have a pleasant visit.”

  “What brings you here, then?” demanded Noni as Kaid closed the outer door behind him.

  “It was you, wasn’t it, Noni? You sent Kusac, told him to ask to be my sword-brother, didn’t you?”

  “Who said I did?” she demanded, continuing to stir the peppery smelling concoction on the stove.

  “I do. Who else would have suggested it?” He moved over to the sink unit, leaning against it while he watched her.

  “Like old times, Tallinu,” she said, glancing sideways at him. “You standing there in your priest’s robe, watching me prepare my bruise and cut ointment.”

  “I’m only wearing the robe because …”

  “It’s warm, it’s all you got with you, people expect it of you—and it’s got nothing to do with how you feel about Vartra,” she supplied for him, her face creasing in a scowl. “I know, I heard it all before—when you were a youngling and just started training here.”

  It was Kaid’s turn to frown. “I wasn’t a youngling.”

  “You were barely more than a cub!” she retorted, turning back to her potion. “Still had crib marks on your ass!”

  “I’m not going to let you make me angry, Noni,” he said, folding his arms in front of him.

  She nodded. “Better. You’ve got some of your self-control back. You needed it, Tallinu. Fill the kettle and put it on to boil, lad. I’m almost done here.”

  Unfolding his arms, he pushed himself away from the sink and approached her.

  “When they brought you in from Ranz, you were hard and brittle,” she said as he returned to the sink to fill the kettle. She waited till he’d finished and brought it back to her, setting it down on the hob.

  “Everything was an excuse for a fight. You trusted no one and believed nothing. We were worried we’d lost you. Then, from one week to the next, you changed. Never did tell me what caused it.”

  He shrugged, looking down at where his feet protruded from the edge of his robe. “Everything suddenly fitted together and made sense—in those days.”

  “Then you left. Put them into a real panic, that did.” She laughed at the memory. “Thought you’d run away. Sent scouts after you to bring you back.”

  Kaid shifted uncomfortably, clenching the claws on his toes. “I’d only gone to get T’Chebbi.”

  “Why? One as hard as you’d become, who’d killed so many in pack fights, why’d you go after her, Tallinu?” she asked, moving the pan away from the open hob and replacing it with the kettle.

  “I said I’d get her out. Then the Brothers picked me up, and I couldn’t. I had to go back for her,” he said defensively.

  “Why? She was nothing, only a low-life pack qwene. I’ll grant she was in a sad state when you brought her to me, but she meant nothing to you. You weren’t interested in her. Then later, when you and Garras became sword-brothers and were told to go after your first rogue telepath, what then?”

  “We brought him in for training,” he said, adding sharply, “and T’Chebbi wasn’t a qwene! Where is all this leading? What’s your point, Noni?”

  “Just that for all that hardness you had, you took on work that needed compassion,” she said, taking hold of the strings round the neck of the small ceramic pot within the larger pan of boiling water. Carefully she lifted it out, setting it down on the hob. She gestured for Kaid to take it over to the sink to cool down, a job he’d done many times for her in the past.

  While he did, she took hold of her walking stick and made her way over to her easy chair.

  “Compassion?” he said, joining her at the table. “I think not, unless you mean those we couldn’t save we killed quickly and cleanly.”

  “There are easier ways of saving lives, Tallinu, and you knew it. Protection contracts …”

  “Stop it, Noni. You’re seeing what you want to see, not what was. I chose that work because in Ranz I found I was good at it. I’ll ask again, where’s this all leading?”

  “Yes, I sent Kusac to you. You needed to go back to what you knew, the skills you had always relied on. You needed to know you have a place in Kusac’s life that has nothing to do with either Vartra or the Triad. Now you know that.”

  “A Noni-manufactured one,” he growled.

  “D’you think for a moment that the Aldatan cub would put himself in your hands at my asking without wanting to do it himself?” she demanded. “A fine opinion you have of your Liege!”

  “He’s no longer my Liege. I made him release me from my oath.”

  “You what?” She was outraged. “Sometimes I despair of you, boy!”

  “You don’t understand, Noni,” he began.

  “Damned right I don’t! To force your Liege to release you is beyond …”

  “Wait! Neither of us could take the sword-brother oath if he was my Liege!”

  “Huh,” she said, only a little mollified. “I bet you didn’t tell him that, did you? You made some test of it for him, I’ll be bound.”

  Kaid said nothing, refusing to meet her eyes.

  Noni growled. “You ask too much of others, Tallinu.”

  “Only what I expect of myself,” he replied quickly.

  “Not everyone can meet your high standards. They’re unrealistic, and the sooner you admit it to yourself, the easier you’ll find life. Kettle’s boiled,” she said pointedly as on the hob, its low whistle was becoming a high-pitched shriek of urgency.

  He muttered angrily under his breath as he got to his feet.

  “What you’ve got to do, Tallinu,” she said gently as he moved the kettle then went about collecting mugs and the makings of a brew of c’shar, “is find a base from which to build your new life.”

  He stopped dead and turned round to look at her.

  “Yes, your new life. Your past is gone, as surely as the ashes of those that lived in the time of the Margins. You’ve to learn to live as a telepath, with new skills, new awarenesses, and new responsibilities. You don’t have to change the person you were much, just enough so you can accept what you now realize you’ve been all along. Since you didn’t know which way to turn, I reckoned building on your relationship with Kusac and Carrie would be good. In them you have two people who genuinely care about you, people you’d already let yourself be tied to. Unless you plan to force them to release you from those oaths as well?”

  “I’m no oath breaker and you know it! I told you why I needed to be released from that oath!”

>   “Yes, so you did,” she nodded. “Now prove to me that my trust and faith in you hasn’t been misplaced.”

  “Why should I?” he demanded. “Why should I have to prove anything to anyone?”

  “Because I’m Noni, Grandmother—and it’s easier than proving it to yourself, which is what you’re trying to do.” Her voice was very quiet.

  He looked at her for a full minute before turning back to his brewing. Slowly, almost ritually, he spooned the dried leaves into the brew pot, then poured the boiling water over them.

  “The sword-brother oath is sworn in Vartra’s name,” he said when the silence grew too long. “As all our other ones are. I can’t swear by him, Noni. At him, yes, but not by him. And I haven’t decided if I want Kusac—or anyone—as a sword-brother yet. It takes time.”

  “And your other oaths, to them, and to Lijou?”

  He gave her a scornful look over his shoulder and began to pour the drinks. “I gave them at a time when I did believe.”

  “What did you believe in? You didn’t know Vartra as a person existed then.”

  “The God, of course,” he said, irritated, stirring in whitener and sweetener.

  “So what changed?”

  She was probing, pushing him in directions he didn’t want to go. “I’d prefer to drop this,” he said, picking up the mugs and taking them over to her.

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” she said, accepting hers from him.

  He resumed his seat at the table, sipping cautiously at the hot drink.

  “What changed?”

  He sighed. He didn’t want to do this, it wasn’t why he’d come. “You know very well. You saw my memories. He used me, Noni.”

  “The person did, not the God,” she corrected him.

  “It’s the same.”

  “No. The God came after. Don’t confuse the two, Tallinu. Vartra the person is dust, probably not even that after so long.”

  Somewhere in the back of his mind a memory began to niggle. The night he’d gone down with the fever. Had he had a vision, or had it been nothing but a fever dream? He frowned, prodding at the thought, trying to make it surface.

  “Put yourself in his place,” Noni continued. “You’re working to increase the numbers of telepaths. Along come the Valtegans. They find out about telepaths and suddenly your research is vital to Shola, and threatening to them. They’ve been unstoppable so far, and all that might turn this herd of aliens is your enhanced telepaths. What would you have done?”