Clan and Conscience

by Tracy St. John

  Ospar crooked a brow at him. “You left your parent clan, all serving the priesthood themselves, at the age of twelve. You spent the better part of your years traveling Kalquor with a group of roaming masters. You did not opt for temple life until recently. Isn’t that correct?”

  Rivek was startled that the Dramok knew so much about him. “How is it I have become a subject for you to study?”

  “Jol’s Nobek father told me that I should know everything possible about people I come into contact with—or potentially will come into contact with.”

  Jol’s dry tone mocked Ospar. “Like so many other things, my Dramok has taken that guidance to the extreme. I doubt Talu was talking about temple masters when he offered his advice.”

  “No doubt the recent events with the syndicate have made you more cautious,” Rivek noted diplomatically. “Priests have been known to stray from their better natures too.”

  “I suspect you of no such thing. I’m practicing for more nefarious types. I learned my lesson well.” When Jol closed his eyes, wincing and smirking at once, Ospar gave him an irritable glare. “Not a word about the lessons I haven’t learned, or I will pound you in front of this nice man.”

  Jol pleaded with Rivek. “He makes it so easy for me to point out his shortcomings, Master Rivek. It’s hard to resist temptation when he offers it every time he opens his mouth. Help me.”

  Rivek laughed at the exchange. It was no wonder his thoughts had gotten into the habit of straying to them when he tried to meditate. Or sleep. Or practice counseling in a market.

  He refused to join in their constant affectionate war. Instead, he asked, “Did you decide about your political future, Ospar?”

  “I did. I took what you said to heart. You were correct that I considered matters from only my own perspective.”

  “A failing a number of us deal with. It’s a rare man who will admit to it though.” Rivek hoped his demeanor conveyed how impressed he was that Ospar could do so.

  “The wish to enter politics still calls to me, much to my Nobek’s chagrin. I’m afraid I’ll be disappointing him once more.”

  “He won’t let you keep him in a blaster-proof bunker?” Rivek grinned at Jol.

  The Nobek chuckled. “Another failing of my Dramok’s.”

  Ospar darted a look at Jol. “I wonder, Master Rivek—I’d appreciate talking with you further about my plans, but I’m starved. Would you join us for lunch?”

  Rivek hesitated, but not because the idea didn’t appeal to him. His body warmed and pulse quickened. He recognized the infatuation for what it was.

  It may be best to not to feed this attraction. The next moment, he chastised himself. Nothing beyond friendship can happen here. The man is offering lunch, not clanship.

  Which Rivek would never agree to in any case. He was devoted to attaining as tranquil a mind as he could hope for. Enlightenment, a state of pure consciousness, if possible. That meant calm, which no intense relationship would allow for. Not with men as exuberant Dramok Ospar and Nobek Jol.

  A delicious sexual romp would be most welcome, however. I can allow room for that temporary distraction.

  And lunch. Lunch was always a good thing.

  Rivek bowed to Ospar in thanks. “Your offer is most gracious. I accept as I have no pride when it free food is involved. And lots of it. You are rich, right?”

  Jol barked a startled burst of laughter at the bald acknowledgment of Ospar’s financial situation. Or maybe Rivek’s enthusiasm for a gratis meal struck him as funny. Many thought priests had little humor, that they held themselves above such frivolity. Rivek chuckled to think of myriad ways he could surprise the Nobek.

  Meanwhile, Ospar clapped the Imdiko on the shoulder. “Tell me you like ronka steaks and seafood. My favorite eatery is just up the next level.”

  “I am pleased to know we have the same tastes. Lead on.”

  Ospar had good taste in food indeed and indulged his guest. When Rivek ordered a modest plate, reasoning he could have a snack later, the Dramok had protested. Then he ordered half a dozen combinations, declaring Rivek could partake of any of the fare he wished. Jol added four other dishes as well. They had a veritable mountain of food on their table twenty minutes later.

  Rivek relaxed on his floor cushion, enjoying the quiet nook of the eatery that looked out on the interior market. Buskers wandered past, juggling, performing acrobatics, tricking the eye with sleight-of-hand performances. The food itself was exquisite, perfectly prepared in every respect. With so much of it available, Rivek didn’t stint on filling his plate, happy to be spoiled at Ospar’s insistence. The priest was not surprised to see Jol eating every bit as much as he did—and more—but Ospar matched them bite for bite as well.

  Heading up a mining corporation must be hungry business, Rivek thought. Or maybe it was that Ospar was so lively. His energetic personality alone must have burned up plenty of calories.

  The conversation was fascinating, which Rivek found surprising. He had little interest in politics, but Ospar’s enthusiasm for it injected appeal where there had been none before. How could anyone not be affected, when confronted with a person who had such a passion for it?

  Rivek was impressed with Ospar’s new outlook on serving the public. He had the fervor of a leader who wanted to see things done for the right reasons. When the priest got beyond that surface charm, he saw someone who could do good for his fellow man.

  Ah, but that charisma distracted him, drew him in. As did Jol’s magnetism. When he wasn’t baiting his Dramok, his protectiveness for his clanmate was compelling.

  Rivek turned his attention to the Nobek. “How are you coping with your clanmate’s revolutionary fervor?”

  Jol grimaced, but good-naturedly. “I think I knew I had lost this fight from the start. When Ospar gets his teeth into something, he doesn’t let it go.” Admiration shone from his eyes.

  They were a virtuous pair in their own messy way. But far too tumultuous. Infatuated as he was, Rivek couldn’t imagine spending a lot of time in their presence. The disadvantages outweighed the entertainment they provided.

  No, Ospar and Jol were out of his comfort zone. Even with incredible ronka steaks thrown in. Rivek finished his with relish.

  Rivek said, “Jol, you seem certain of Ospar’s purpose. You act as if you comprehend his intentions with little difficulty. However, I was under the impression that you two didn’t know each other long before you clanned.”

  “That’s true. But Ospar is an open book, at least with me. What you see is what you get. Subtlety is not his strong suit.”

  Ospar shrugged. “If I trust a man, I’m honest with him. What’s so hard about that?”

  Rivek chuckled. “What indeed?”

  He was sure Ospar was a scoundrel in some respects, but the man did seem to have a good heart. Jol seemed as steadfast as a Nobek could be. Maybe that was where his fascination for the two came from.

  Chapter 19

  After their extended lunch—gratifying for more than the mere food, in Ospar’s estimation—he and Jol returned to Itga to do the afternoon’s duties. For Ospar, that meant finalizing candidates for an onsite director at the Eruz operation. With all the licenses and plans approved, they were a couple of weeks from breaking ground.

  Ospar didn’t enjoy his new office as much as the old one. It lacked the lovely view. He could have installed a large window-vid that would have given the illusion of the valley beyond the mountain, but it wasn’t the same. It might be pretty, but it wouldn’t be real.

  Emano had done his best to approximate the former workspace, so Ospar refused to complain. Yet it didn’t feel as comfortable. Part of the problem was his desire to leave the day-to-day operations. If he was to take his first steps, he should do so soon.

  But the fear of his uncles’ reactions made him hesitate. Even having won Eruz for them wasn’t making Ospar feel any better about approaching Tebrok and Sallid. Had he done enough to earn their blessing?

  Jol had se
ttled in upon their return from lunch. He sat at his desk, toiling over whatever he’d determined was that day’s assignment to keep Ospar safe from harm. He showed no sign of finding their shared office anything but perfectly adequate.

  Pulling his thoughts from the allure of politics and a certain stunning priest, Ospar concentrated on his job. After a few minutes, he had left desires for both behind, absorbed in applications, referrals, and references.

  He and Jol looked up when Imdiko Emano entered the room. The aide’s uncertain, flustered expression alerted them at once.

  Ospar closed out the files he’d been perusing without a moment’s hesitation. “Yes, Emano?”

  “Excuse me for disturbing you, Ospar, but a group of men is asking to see you.”

  Jol stood, his hand on the blaster at his waist. “With no appointment? For what reason?”

  “They’re area businessmen. And there are people from the office of the territorial council. Councilman Anerwa himself is with them.”

  Ospar jumped to his feet. A member of the council to the governor was there to see him? This had to be important—no doubt to do with the Eruz contract. “Show them in, by all means.”

  Emano rushed back out with unseemly haste. He returned a moment later, ushering in a bigger crowd than Ospar had anticipated.

  Dramok Anerwa led the pack. He introduced his aide and three Nobeks who made up his security detachment. Half a dozen area community leaders, whom Ospar had spoken to as he tested the local political waters, finished out the assemblage.

  Ospar came around his desk to bow. What in the world was going on? Everyone smiled pleasantly as they returned his greeting. He exchanged a curious look with Jol before welcoming his esteemed guest. “It is an honor to have you here, Councilman Anerwa.”

  Anerwa was about twenty years older than Ospar, a newer member of the territory’s legislative body. He had a reputation for shaking up the government’s old guard. Ospar had begun studying Anerwa’s rise to the council in hopes of learning a few tricks.

  The handsome Dramok had made a name for himself by confronting his fellow councilmen. He called out opponents to legislation written to benefit people over businesses. It was said he received death threats from the syndicate on a regular basis. The presence of his security team bore that out.

  He said, “Director Ospar, this is an honor for me as well. Allow me to congratulate you and all of Itga on the Eruz contract. It’s my understanding that your plans to excavate that range will benefit not just our territory, but in the long run, much of the continent’s eastern stretches.”

  “Thank you. Please, sit down. Emano, refreshments, please?”

  Ospar directed the group of eleven men to the conversation area. It wasn’t large enough to accommodate everyone for seating, but the Nobeks, including Jol, elected to stand anyway. As they all settled in, Emano brought in juices and water to those who wanted them.

  Anerwa thanked Ospar’s aide but didn’t dally long over pleasantries. He sized up Ospar with a keen gaze. With no prelude, he launched into the business that had brought him in. “Stopping Pladon’s backers, believed to be members of the Syodab Syndicate, was quite a feat. The crime organization is well-funded and in every inch of the territory. Everywhere, Director. But you kept them out of mining.”

  Ospar wondered if the rumors that the syndicate had gotten all the way into the council were true. Was that what Anerwa alluded to when he said it was everywhere? As closely as he identified with Anerwa’s policies and proposals, he prayed the representative wasn’t a part of that. “I had a great deal of help. Itga’s security personnel had more influence than I when it came to stopping Pladon.”

  When Anerwa’s glance went to Jol, who stood behind Ospar, the Nobek said in his quietly thunderous voice, “Ospar has a tendency to downplay his actions. He never backed down against the Syodab, Councilman. He gave no quarter, even after they made repeated efforts to kill him.”

  Ospar tried not to look full of himself.

  Anerwa gazed at him with approval. “I’m hearing great things about you, Director. Your community leaders whom I am close to—” he gestured to the businessmen who had come along, “—praise your efforts. Not just your actions against the syndicate, but as an ethical businessman. Your record at Itga bears that out.”

  I’ll remind him of this when I run for something beyond local office. Anerwa’s promotion would go far for Ospar’s entry into territorial politics.

  Out loud, he said, “I’m flattered that you all think so highly of me. Thank you.”

  “I’m not here to flatter you, Director Ospar. I’m here to tempt you. This district’s other representative, Dramok Lanjur, is up for re-election this cycle. It is no secret he and I don’t work well together.”

  Ospar understood why he’d caught Anerwa’s interest. He was going to be asked to help the campaign of whomever the councilman supported. “In my view, he is at cross-purposes to what is best for the region. For the whole territory.”

  “It may be worse. I suspect he enjoys Syodab’s financial sponsorship in exchange for legislative and judicial favors.”

  Ospar stared at him in shock. When he recovered his ability to speak, he managed one word. “Really?”

  “I’m sure of it. His policies alone further their activities. In addition, he introduces many initiatives that tie the hands of our law enforcement when it comes to getting convictions.”

  Ospar thought of Officers Axter and Golas, whom he had remained in contact with in the aftermath of the showdown with Pladon. A number of their department had come under investigation due to the information Jol had uncovered, and trials were pending. The number of resignations, firings, and suicides of those suspected of being in Syodab’s pay had meant a heavier workload for the honest Axter and Golas, but they found their job less frustrating these days—especially with several judges having been removed from duty.

  Anerwa continued. “The syndicate covers its tracks well when it comes to those at the top of its operations. Even so, there have been indications they fund most, if not all, of Lanjur’s campaigns and causes.”

  Ospar was delighted he might be able to hamstring the crime organization in the near future. “If you have a candidate you wish me to throw my support behind, I’ll be more than happy to do so.”

  “I do have someone in mind for Lanjur’s seat on the council. The man I want to partner with is young, idealistic, perhaps a bit impulsive. But he’s invested in the citizens of this territory. He is someone who can be counted on to put honor and Empire first, above all other considerations.”

  “Then of course I would help him.”

  “All the way?”

  Ospar didn’t trust the grin spreading over Anerwa’s face, as if he was about to pull him into something clandestine, and possibly, unethical.

  His voice firm, he said, “I’ll do what it takes to assist someone who will do his best for the people in a legal fashion. Money, campaigning…I’m at your disposal.”

  The business leaders sitting at the table were grinning every bit as much as the councilman. Anerwa chuckled. “I’m delighted to hear you say that. Unfortunately, the one luxury you don’t have is time, because the election cycle is upon us. You’ll have to file your candidacy within the month, Director Ospar.”

  Jol muttered an oath. The Dramok stared at Anerwa. He must have misheard him. “My candidacy?”

  “I recommend my own campaign manager to head up your team. He is without a doubt the worthiest for the job. I promise he’ll have your run for the seat up to speed soon enough to make it viable.”

  Ospar couldn’t believe his ears. They weren’t asking him to contend for a district committee seat. They weren’t requesting his support for another candidate. They wanted him as a representative in the territorial council. His dream, which he’d thought couldn’t be possible for at least another five years. Three, if he was lucky.

  Not five. Not three. Now.

  He asked again to be sure. “Me?” />
  “You.”

  Chapter 20

  Rivek gazed at Ospar. “Are you having second thoughts about politics then?”

  Ospar latched onto the calm voice as he paced around the priest’s consultation chamber. That silky-smooth tone somehow eased the emotional turmoil that Councilman Anerwa’s proposition had stirred up. His and the local leaders’ wish for Ospar to campaign for Lanjur’s territorial seat had sent the Dramok into an emotional tailspin.

  Jol and Emano had been as overwhelmed at the idea of Ospar running for such an important office. After all, he had no record of public service behind him. When neither of his most trusted associates were able to help him organize his thoughts, Ospar’s first instinct had been to consult with the serene Rivek. He’d wasted not an instant in dragging Jol with him to the temple for yet another unannounced visit.

  Already feeling better in the priest’s presence, he was able to say, “No, I think that’s where I should be. But I was going to start small. Ease into it. Transition bit by bit from Itga, so no one would be upset.”

  “So who wouldn’t be upset? The mining board? The employees? Ah, your uncles. You spoke of your concerns about how they’d invested time and money in you.”

  “I’d have to walk out on being director. They’d be forced to run Itga day-to-day until they settle on a new administrator.”

  “Is it beyond their abilities to do so? Can you help them find your replacement?”

  A pang of guilt stabbed Ospar in the gut. His tone uncertain, he said, “I could. I could start looking right now. I think they’ll still be disappointed in me for leaving.”

  “Ospar is their heir. They groomed him to assume control over the company for them, to keep it as their legacy.” Jol sat next to Rivek at the small table, stirring the herbal tea the Imdiko had brewed.

  Ospar smiled in relief at his Nobek. Jol got it. He’d been waiting for his clanmate to tease him about freaking out. Instead, Jol gazed at him with perfect understanding.