The Sixth Discipline

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  ***

  Two days later, Ran-Del was much clearer in his thinking. He was more alert and aware of his surroundings, and he had decided that it would be best not to tell anyone what he was experiencing, not even Francesca.

  His wife came to see him every day, sitting with him for hours at a time. Touched as he was that she cared enough to do it, he wished that she wouldn’t stay so long or sit so close to him. The medtechs were bad enough; they grasped his arm to give him a hypo, tucked in his bed covers, even bathed him, and the flood of perceptions that washed over him when they did these things was almost more than Ran-Del could bear.

  His pain made Francesca reluctant to touch him, but he knew her well, and even extreme closeness made it impossible for him to shut her out of his mind.

  Ran-Del closed his eyes. Was he going insane? Were other people’s thoughts intruding on his own, or did he somehow make up these flashes of images and words that popped into his head when he came into contact with others?

  A young woman came into the room, a medtech he had never seen before. She wore the drab green hospital uniform they all wore, but on her it looked almost alluring. Her hair was golden, like Bettine’s, but unlike Bettine, she wore it quite short, a gleaming golden cap that set off her elegant face nicely.

  She was brisk and professional in her movements, but her eyes studied him with a more personal interest. Ran-Del turned his face to the wall, unable to look at her as she studied his body and speculated on the more intimate aspects of his injuries.

  Ran-Del had never even thought to ask the doctor about the possibility of permanent damage to his nervous system. Just at the moment, the idea of the kind of prolonged, intimate contact that the medtech was thinking about terrified him. Ran-Del almost broke out in a sweat from worry.

  The woman’s thoughts drifted to her own affairs, and Ran-Del had a fleeting vision of her, wrapped in a naked, sweaty embrace with a black-haired man. When she moved away from him the image faded.

  “Ran-Del?” Francesca said, leaning over in her chair. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Ran-Del turned his head back to face his wife.

  “I’m fine,” he said, smiling a little to reassure her. Her concern for him came across as clearly as her affection. “I’m just a little tired.”

  Francesca stood up. “I think I’ll run along and let you get some rest, then. I’ll come back later tonight.”

  Ran-Del steeled himself for the goodbye kiss he knew she would give him. He managed not to flinch, and even returned the kiss.

  He had drifted in and out of sleep, eaten a meal, and then slept again, when he became aware of another presence in the room.

  Janis Uurtemo stood by the door, watching him.

  Ran-Del smiled a greeting. “Hello, Janis. I’m sorry I can’t get up.” He pressed the control on the bed so that he was propped up slightly.

  She moved closer and studied him carefully. “I wasn’t sure you were awake.”

  Ran-Del tried to chuckle but the rasping sound that came out alarmed even him. “It’s hard to tell these days.”

  Janis took a seat in the chair formerly occupied by Francesca. She had a bag with her, and she reached in and took out the book Clara Rangoon had given Ran-Del.

  “You left this in my bar,” she said, laying it on the bed next to him.

  “Thank you for bringing it.” Ran-Del stroked the cover lightly, feeling the coarse fabric under his fingers. “This book saved my life. If I hadn’t gone back for it, I’d have been way on the other side of the river when they attacked—too far for anyone to hear what was happening or to help me.”

  Janis clutched her hands convulsively. “I’m glad you left it, then.” She looked almost fierce. “Your wife is Baroness Hayden,” she said, as if accusing him of a crime.

  “Yes,” Ran-Del agreed, although it hadn’t been a question.

  “You never told me.”

  “Does it matter?” Ran-Del was suddenly aware that, although she was quite close, he felt no emanations from Janis except the old familiar emotional ones. There were no thoughts or images flooding his mind.

  “I suppose not,” Janis said bitingly. “A wife is a wife, at least to a Sansoussy. Although,” she added, “marrying into the House of Hayden seems to have been rather more dangerous than anything you could have done in the forest.”

  Ran-Del laid his head back against the pillow. Weariness made him long for a less personal subject to discuss. “You never told me how your grandparents came to be married. How did a woman of the Sansoussy marry a man from the Horde?”

  Janis hesitated, as if she weren’t sure she wanted to reveal this information. Finally she leaned back in her chair and spoke in a flat, deliberate tone. “Granny was a warrior. She lived in the north village of the Timber Cat People. Grandpa captured her on a raid—took her back as his prisoner and claimed her as his woman under their laws.”

  Ran-Del blinked. It reminded him just a little of his own marriage, but with the roles reversed. The woman had been the prisoner.

  Janis leaned forward and put her chin on her hand. She seemed to realize she had his full attention. “The first night, Grandpa had her tied up in his house. She wasn’t struggling or anything; she was meditating. He just watched her for a long time. Then he untied her, and she almost killed him trying to escape, so he tied her up again.

  “Grandpa wasn’t married,” Janis said, almost as an aside. She had left her hesitation behind and told her ancestors’ story with relish. “The Horde have very different ideas about men and women than they do among the Sansoussy. Grandpa had had several women but none he had wanted to make his wife. A wife has standing of sorts—rights, privileges.

  “Anyway, when he met Granny, Grandpa fell for her in a big way. He never forced himself on her, even though back then he thought he had a right to, because he was afraid she’d use the Fifth Discipline. But he kept her tied up for weeks in his house. It wasn’t much of a house, from what Granny said,” Janis added, smiling her amusement. “Anyway, after more than a month, Grandpa offered her marriage, and Granny refused him. He got really angry at that, and started talking wild, but Granny just sat there and let him rant. Granny had psy talent, and she knew him pretty well by then. She wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

  “Anyway, after another week, Grandpa was getting pretty grim—angry all the time and cussing Granny out a lot. Then one night, he snuck Granny out of the house, and out of the holding—that’s what the Horde call their villages—to where he had horses waiting. Have you ever seen a horse?”

  “Yes,” Ran-Del said. “They don’t live in the forest, but the Horde ride them when they come to raid our villages.”

  Janis nodded. “They’re Terran animals. The Horde steal them from farms, sometimes. Anyway, Grandpa put Granny on a horse, still all tied up, and he rode with her all the way back to the edge of the forest. When they finally got there, he untied her and told her she was free to go.”

  “What did she do?”

  Janis grinned at him. “She kissed him. She told him so long as it was clear that it was her choice, then she chose to stay with him. The only thing was, she wouldn’t live with the Horde. She said she wouldn’t bring up sons to be raiders and daughters to be subservient.”

  Ran-Del nodded. He could understand a reluctance to adopt a despised culture.

  “The Timber Cat People would’ve killed a man of the Horde after that raid,” Janis said, “so they came to a small farming town not too far from Shangri-La. They married, had a place of their own eventually, and raised five children. My mother was the middle child. She met my dad when she came into the city to shop. After Grandpa died, Granny came to live with us. She used to tell me stories when I was growing up, stories about the Sansoussy, and what it was like to live in the forest.”

  Ran-Del wondered if the Timber Cat people ever knew what had happened to their woman warrior. They would have mourned her as dead after her capture. Perhaps she had preferred to let them think that. “An
d that made you want to meet a Sansoussy,” he said. “Why didn’t you just go to the forest? My people aren’t hostile to strangers.”

  Janis shrugged. “I don’t know. I was only twenty when Dad died, and I inherited the bar. I was too busy learning how to run it to take time off for traveling. And somehow,” she shot him a look from under her brows, “I always had an idea that someday I’d meet one on my own, just like Granny met a man from the Horde.”

  Ran-Del shook his head, intrigued by her story but too tired to pay proper attention. “You’re too romantic to be practical. From what I know of the Horde, your grandmother was very lucky to survive let alone to fall in love.”

  Janis stared at the red bead on Ran-Del’s caste bracelet. “You must have been in at least one fight yourself?”

  Ran-Del nodded. “Three. One was when we were on a hunt, and we ran into a band of outcasts. The other two were attacks on my village.”

  “And you killed someone?”

  She had told him her history. It didn’t seem fair not to do the same. “I earned my warrior’s bead in my first fight. We were set upon from ambush. I was last in the line, because I was the youngest, so I had the most time to draw my bow. I shot a man through the chest. He died within a few minutes.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen. I had just come of age a few months before.”

  “What about the other two fights?” Janis asked. “Did you kill anyone then?”

  Her continued interest in his fighting career struck him as gruesome. “Why do you want to know?”

  Janis met his gaze for a second, but then she looked away. “I want to know about you. What’s wrong with that?”

  “I’m married, Janis,” Ran-Del said, keeping his voice gentle. Perhaps Francesca was right and he had led Janis on. No more. “If you know anything at all about the Sansoussy, then you know what that means. We don’t believe in half measures—marriages where people are free to do as they please.”

  “Your wife’s not a Sansoussy.” Janis voice was sharp. “What makes you so sure she sees marriage the same way you do?”

  Something jabbed at Ran-Del’s conscience. He realized he would hate Francesca talking this way to Freddie Leong. “I won’t discuss my wife or my marriage with you. If you have trouble accepting the situation, perhaps I should stop coming to Benjie’s.”

  “I can accept it,” Janis said quickly. “I just worry that your perception of it isn’t accurate.”

  Her argument sounded harmless enough, but Ran-Del knew better. “Even if that were true, then it would be my problem, not yours.”

  “All right,” Janis said, lifting her chin. “I’ll shut up about it, Ran-Del. But I can still be your friend, can’t I?”

  Ran-Del managed a smile. “Among the Sansoussy, we have a saying. It’s impossible to have too many friends.”

  Just at that moment, the door opened again. Francesca stood in the doorway, her eyes looking as cold as ice. Ran-Del felt her anger at once. It rolled into the room, filling the corners and somehow displacing air so that Ran-Del felt short of breath.

  Janis stood up abruptly. “Well, I’ll be going, Ran-Del. I hope you’re better soon.”

  “Thank you for bringing the book,” Ran-Del said.

  Janis murmured an inarticulate reply. She answered with no more than a nod when Ran-Del introduced her to Francesca, and quickly fled the room.

  “What did she want?” Francesca demanded.

  Ran-Del let his head drop back on the pillow. A rush of hot, angry thoughts pushed at him, even from across the room. “She came to see me because I was hurt. Don’t you visit friends when they’re ill or injured?”

  Francesca didn’t answer. Her mood changed to concern as she took in his appearance. The anger in the room dissolved into worry. “You look terrible. I’ll tell the guards not to admit anyone else for a few days.”

  “What guards?” Ran-Del asked, lifting his head.

  “There are at least two Hayden security staff outside your door day and night.”

  Ran-Del frowned. Was he a prisoner again? “Why?”

  Francesca moved closer. “Let’s be realistic, here, Ran-Del,” she said as she sat down. “Someone tried to kill you; we don’t know who yet, and they could very well try again. You’re going to have to be a lot more careful from now on.”

  Ran-Del let his head drop back on the pillow. “What’s involved in being more careful?”

  “Well,” Francesca said, hesitating, “the most important thing is that you should always have an escort when you leave the complex—two people at least—more if the situation demands it. And you need to tell Quinn when you’re going out and where, so she knows what’s going on.”

  Ran-Del closed his eyes, exhausted. “It sounds very much like being a prisoner again.”

  He could hear the frown in Francesca’s voice. “Does that mean you’re not going to be reasonable about this?”

  Ran-Del opened his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know. There’s no point in worrying about it. I can’t even get out of bed right now.”

  “You’ll be better soon,” Francesca said firmly. “The doctor said you’re doing splendidly. She’s asked a rehabilitation specialist to stop by tomorrow.”

  Ran-Del’s heart leaped with hope. “When can I go home?”

  Francesca looked pleased at his eagerness, even though she quickly dampened it. “You were fatally wounded only four days ago. You still need a lot of care.”

  “I could lie in bed at home as easily as I lie in bed here.” When Francesca smiled more widely, Ran-Del saw in her mind her joy that he had twice called the Hayden compound home.

  She stood up and plumped his pillows, then moved Clara’s book to the table by the bed. “I’ll talk to the doctor. We could always get doctors and medtechs out at the complex—whatever you need, Ran-Del.”

  Her concern enveloped him, a warm, muzzy, amorphous cloud that was so comforting, Ran-Del almost enjoyed it.

  “Have you eaten tonight?” Francesca asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then go to sleep,” Francesca said firmly. “I’ll sit here and watch you, and if you’re not asleep in fifteen minutes, I’m going to call a medtech and ask him or her to give you something to make you sleep.”

  She sat back down in the chair and watched him silently. Ran-Del’s last thought as he felt himself drifting off again was the sudden recollection that he had not detected any intellectual intimations from Janis Uurtemo.