by S. L. Viehl
She wasn’t giving up. Not without a fight. “You have another revolution of education to complete, my
ClanSon, before you can assume even a junior security officer’s position.”
“The Varena have made it clear I am not to expect a position on any of their vessels. No other House will
hire me. The militia have rejected every one of my applications.” He stared at my shades and the side of
his mouth curled in a bitter half smile. “I will complete my education elsewhere.”
I silently willed him not to say anything more on that subject. If his ClanMother learned where he
intended to finish his schooling, I would be dead.
The hand over Qelta’s heart curled into a fist. “This is her doing, is it not? This Terran. Has she lured you
into taking this journey? Promised you rewards and glory?”
Kol said, “No.”
At the same time, I said, “Yep.”
“I will not permit you to leave us, Kol.” His mother crossed the distance between them and grabbed his
big arm. “Do you hear me? I forbid it.”
“You cannot.” Kol stared steadily at her. “It is my right.” He shook off her hand. “Who was my sire?”
I pressed a hand to my forehead. Oh, Christ, Kol, don’t do this now.
“Your ClanFather is Nla, of course.”
“No.” He made a vicious gesture. “I was born outside bond. I have no ClanFather.”
“Kol.” Qelta’s eyes bulged, and she reached out to him, flinching when he jerked away. “Never say such
a thing. Nla has been your ClanFather since we Chose.”
That was the whole problem. Qelta and her bondmate had yanked Kol out of HouseClan Varena, exiled
themselves among the Torin, and never explained that they’d done it because he was the illegitimate son
of a Terran slave owner. They’d just expected him to swallow whatever waste they handed him about it
when he asked questions. Like now.
It pissed me off.
“He knows about the MoonWave, Qelta.” I stepped between them and faced her. “I told him about his
sire.”
Her whole body tensed, and her claws emerged. “I should never have allowed you to pass over our
threshold.”
She didn’t scare me. “Too late.”
“Who was it?” Now Kol came around me and advanced on Qelta. “Who violated you?”
She gave me a quick look, and her skin turned a chalky color. “I know not of whom you speak.”
“He was Terran; that much I know.” He swung a hand toward me. “Was he Sajora’s sire, as well? Tell
us!”
That was something I hadn’t considered—could Kol be my half brother? Afraid Qelta might tell him more
than I wanted him to know, I grabbed his arm. “Let’s just get out of here, okay?”
“Yes. You should leave.”
The three of us looked around to see Nla standing in the doorway. The man who had adopted Kol was a
tall, dour man who had said exactly three words to me over the last week. He never went near his
bondmate, and Qelta seemed to avoid him just as fervently. From what I’d observed, Nla seemed
happiest contemplating the intricacies of journey philosophy, or working in the vast Torin botanical fields.
He also treated Kol like he had a permanent bad smell.
“We are leaving, Nla.”
I guessed that was the first time Kol had ever addressed his ClanMother’s bondmate as anything other
than ClanFather. Qelta gasped as though struck, then began to weep.
“Kol.” Nla’s claws were out, and he appeared ready to gut his own adopted son. “You do not honor the
House.” He gave me the usual disgusted look.
Qelta shuddered. “This female has polluted his mind with her outlandish tales.”
“The outlandish truth,” I said. Well, mostly.
“I am leaving.” Kol jerked his cases from his sleeping platform, handed one to me, then walked around
Qelta.
She clutched his arm at once. “Do not take this path, my ClanSon. I beg you.”
Kol paused. “Was it truly as Jory told me? Was I sired by a slave owner? Sired in rape?” Qelta closed
her eyes, swallowed, and gave a jerk of her head that passed as a nod. “I would have his name from you,
ClanMother.”
“No.” Her white eyes snapped open, wide and furious. “I will not speak it.”
My ClanBrother’s face turned to stone. “I will find him anyway.”
Qelta looked from Kol to her bondmate, then slowly let her hand fall to her side. She covered her face
and sobbed.
“Good-bye, ClanMother.” Nla blocked his path, and Kol met his gaze. “I would leave now, my
ClanMother’s bondmate.”
A huge fist seized the front of Kol’s tunic, and the quiet man’s face turned a little purple. “You have never
brought honor to our name, Jakol.”
“Indeed.” He didn’t blink. “That will soon change.”
Nla released him and pushed past us to get to his bondmate. He enfolded her shaking form in his long
arms, more to hold her back than to show affection, then glanced at Kol. “I would wish you safe journey,
ClanSon of my bondmate.” He gave me the gesture that meant something like Good riddance, trash.
Keeping his dignity, Kol made the gesture a dying man performed for his kin. “Walk within beauty,
HouseClan Varena.”
Then, without another word, he stalked out of the only home he’d ever known.
I regarded the couple with a tinge of sympathy as I went to follow him. “Don’t worry. I’ll look out for
him.”
Qelta suddenly lashed out at me, and the tips of her longest claws caught me across the chest. Four
parallel slashes appeared in my tunic and began to darken.
I pressed my hand against the scratches, then wiped the blood on the front of my trousers. What a bitch.
She would have taken a second swipe, but Nla caught her arms.
“Yeah. Well.” I smiled. “It’s been a real charge.”
We got on the local glidebus and sat all the way in the back where we wouldn’t be bothered. Kol didn’t
notice the wounds until we were halfway to Transport. Then he did. At the top of his lungs.
“You are hurt.”
“It’s nothing.” I stared out at the incredible expanse of sweeping planes all around the glidepath. I wasn’t
going to miss the people, but Joren itself had grown on me. What would my life have been like if I’d
grown up here? “Your mom has pretty decent reflexes, by the way.”
“Let me see.” He was already yanking aside my scarf, pulling open my tunic, and poking at me.
I slapped at his hand. “They’re just scratches, Kol. I’ve gotten worse during pregame warm-ups. Relax,
will you?”
“They are not mere scratches.” That was when he noticed the scars around my neck. “Mother of—What
is this?”
“Stop yelling; it’s just a ligature mark.” I was distracted by his smell for a moment. Our sweat had no
odor, but there was a strange scent coming off his skin. The closest match I could think of was rain on
pine needles.
“Ligature?” He lifted my curls away from my neck and found out it went all the way around. “Someone
tried to strangle you?”
“Couple of times.” I ran my fingertip along the shiny badge of honor I’d earned as a six-year-old.
“Occasionally Terrans get a little hostile about alien kids running around their world. A group of older
kids caught me topside and tried to hang me with component wire. Only I was too heavy, and it
snapped.”
His eyes narrowed, the tips of his claws emerged, and for a moment every sound around us seemed to
disappear.
“I have worse scars from playing ball.” I broke the spell by giving him a cocky grin. “But I’m not showing
you those.”
He unfastened my tunic and pressed his sleeve over the worst of the four parallel gashes on my sternum.
Other passengers were also paying close attention to that region of my body, but not because of the
wounds. From the gestures a few made, it was my small, pale breasts that had them mesmerized.
I didn’t know why. Jorenian women all had a lot more stock than I did in that department.
Maybe it’s because my nipples are pink instead of blue-green. “Kol?” He looked up. “Mind covering
up my chest before the driver crashes this vehicle into something?” His hand pulled my tunic back down
over the scratches. Disappointed gazes turned away. “Thanks.”
He stared out the view panel for a while. Then he spoke, startling me. “I was not going to travel with you.
Yet had I chosen differently—”
“You’d still be in the same rut. I understand.” And I did. It had taken deportation, an assassin, and
coming here to wake me up. “Terrans call it being between a rock and a hard place.”
Kol chuffed out something that resembled a laugh. “An appropriate analogy. The others, they will be
waiting at the shuttle for us?”
If they weren’t, I’d never convince Kol to go with me alone. These people were clannish to the extreme.
“Probably.”
When we arrived at Transport, I bypassed the main terminal and took Kol directly to Uzlac’s vessel. As
I’d expected, he was not impressed. He stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his cases on the
docking pad.
“You contracted space on a Ramothorran star shuttle?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my chest, which stung and was still oozing a little blood here and there. “So?”
Kol picked up his cases and did an about-face. “Good-bye, Sajora.” Off he went in the opposite
direction.
“Kol. Kol. Hold on.” I had to trot to catch up. “Give me a break, will you? I’m not wealthy. Under the
circumstances, it was the best I could do.”
He kept moving. “Do not tell me what was the worst, I beg you.”
Suddenly I got mad. Very mad. I’d gone through a great deal of trouble to get to this stupid planet. Spent
every credit I had. Listened to a lot of threats and nasty accusations, gotten myself chased, jolted, and
clawed. Just to keep a promise to a dead woman who would never know anyway. Now Kol was
walking.
Some surrogate brother he was.
“Fine. Stay here and be bored to death for the rest of your miserable life. Just remember, I gave you an
out and you ran away from it.” I threw my wristcom at him, and it bounced off his back. “Did you hear
me, you blockhead?”
He hesitated, rattled something off in Jorenian too fast for me to follow, then stalked away.
God, he’s really going to bail on me. But why was I surprised? That’s what everyone did.
“Yeah? Well, same to you, pal.” I grabbed my case and headed for Uzlac’s docking ramp. “As if I
needed this shit in the first place.”
“Jory.”
I ignored him. In a remote sense I was relieved. I didn’t want them with me, not when I found Kieran. I
didn’t want anyone with me when I found Kieran.
“Jory.” Kol’s voice thundered across the space between us. “They come.”
My fury subsided as I turned to see the other five approaching us. “Tell them whatever you want. I’m
leaving.” I made an obscene Terran gesture that used to get me a good smack from Mom once she’d
discovered what it meant.
“I did not arrange this,” Kol said. “You tell them.”
“They’ll figure it out.” He was being such a jerk. “I’m getting on this shuttle and jaunting to Reytalon. Go
back to chopping grass and being ignored in the quad. Maybe in a few years they’ll give you a longer
chain.”
I entered Uzlac’s main cabin and found the agitated trader waiting for me. Not exactly an inspirational
vision.
Ramothorrans were blocky humanoids with intense black eyes and single-nostril noses. Uzlac was a bit
overweight, even for one of his kind, and his bulk made the deck panels groan beneath his stumplike feet.
As usual, he got right down to business. “Go now, fern Jory.”
I gave him my case. Maybe, just maybe, something I’d said would budge Kol. “You can wait another
minute, Uzlac. It won’t kill you.”
“Giant blue people will. Go now.”
“All right.” I went back down to the exterior entrance panel and stuck my head out. My six surrogate
siblings were having an intense discussion and, from the looks on their faces, not one of bliss and
harmonious agreement.
They’ll probably argue about it until the yiborra grass grows up and over them.
“We’re firing engines!” I shouted. “If you’re coming with me, get on the goddamn ship!”
The group’s hands got busy, voices rose; then Nalek, Danea, and Renor started toward the ramp. They
said nothing to me as they filed past. Galena made an apologetic gesture to Kol and tagged after them.
Osrea did something less tactful but also came on board.
That left Kol standing there, tall, proud, and resolute.
And alone.
” ‘Bye, brother!” I yelled, and made as if to go back into the main cabin.
At last Kol stomped over. His feet nearly left dents in the ramp alloy as he boarded Uzlac’s shuttle. “I do
not wish to be your ClanBrother,” he snarled as he went by me.
“Sorry, can’t pick your relatives.” I came up behind them and fixed Uzlac with my best evil eye. “You
clear out those cabins like I told you?”
The Ramothorran made a wet, disgusting sound with his lips. He was examining poor little Galena with so
much interest I thought I might have to repeat myself. “Yes. Clear. Go now.”
Might as well set some ground rules right here and now. I walked over, grabbed the trader by the
front of his soiled tunic, and pushed him against the closest interior hull panel. You had to be firm with the
hired help, especially when they were Ramothorran lechers.
“Pay attention, you pig. These people are my family. You treat them with respect, or I’ll dismember you
and toss the pieces out a pressure lock.” I tapped one of my claws against what passed as his chin.
“Understand me?”
“Yes.” Uzlac glanced down, saw the rest of my claws, and gulped. “Go now.”
I shoved him toward the helm compartment, then looked at my “family.” They were all, with the
exception of Renor, whose face I couldn’t see beneath the hood, gaping at me.
I sighed and waved. “Come on. I’ll show you where we’ll be spending the next two fun-filled weeks.”
Jorenians were much more fastidious than ex-shockball runbacks, so I expected them to be dismayed
by the cramped, dingy little quarters Uzlac had allocated for us.
They were.
“There are only two rooms,” Nalek said, a frown creasing the ridges on his dark green face as he studied
the limited furnishings and lack of deck space, all covered with the dust of neglect.
“Boys in one, girls in another,” I said as I tossed my case in through the adjoining door panel. The
movement made my chest burn. “Galena, give me a hand in here for a minute.”
To save explanations, I made sure I closed the door panel before I stripped off my tunic.
My little ClanSister gasped when she saw the purple-encrusted gashes Qelta’s claws had left across my
sternum.
“Jory!” She pushed me down on one of the sleeping platforms. “Who did this to you?”
“Kol’s mom.” I opened the first-aid kit I’d taken from my pack and gave the mini hand-laser to her before
I flopped backward. “You’re going to have to seal up the bottom one; it’s pretty deep.”
“Seal?” Horrified, Galena dropped the instrument next to me. “You mean burn you?”
“I’d do it myself, but I can’t see it all that well.” I beckoned to the bare wall panels. “No mirrors in here,
either.” I rolled my eyes at her expression. “It’ll only take a minute, sweetheart. Just point, press, and