darknadir (11 page)

* * *

Ruth had decided what she was going to do long before she delivered Kitra back to the Guild. On her return to the estate, she went to the villa in search of Dzaka.
By the time she'd finished talking to him, he had come to the conclusion that redheaded Sholans and Humans had a lot in common and was thinking fondly of his school days at Stronghold. Never had he been given such a dressing-down, even from Kaid, after the worst of his escapades. He was surprised at just how many Sholan swear words and phrases Ruth knew how to use.
"You've reduced her to the level of a child, Dzaka, in the eyes of her classmates at the Guild! If you thought she was so young, why did you let this go beyond the first night? Why string her along if you don't love her?"
"I do love her!" he retorted, stung by the accusation. "I asked her to be my Companion, didn't I? That's a commitment!" His tail hung low, brushing against the backs of his legs, and his ears were flat against his skull in embarrassment. This was almost as unbearable as his interview with Carrie and Rhyasha, Kitra's mother, had been. For an empath like himself, being exposed to Ruth's contempt for him and concern for Kitra was a grueling experience.
"That means nothing when it's kept from the rest of her world."
"I'm only trying to do what's best for both of us! The Clan Lord would never consent to any kind of bonding while she's so young and inexperienced. She has to meet other males...."
"Experience be damned! You just want the best of both worlds! Her and your freedom!"
"Not true!"
"Then prove it." Ruth's voice was suddenly quiet. "Go to the Guild and spend the night with her at the guest house. Go as her lover, her Companion. Show those jealous little jeggets that your female is no child, that she's worthy of the love of one of the Brothers. And go in your Brotherhood uniform!"
"What?" Her last comment had thrown him. "Why?"
"Because they're saying she's lying. That you're merely her keeper, her bodyguard."
Dzaka began to growl without realizing it. "They call her a liar?"
Ruth nodded. "They fantasize about attracting a Warrior or a Brother, but tell Kitra she's so young no one would look at her twice. They're making her life miserable, Dzaka."
"You're right," he said abruptly, getting to his feet. "I wasn't aware this was happening. I'll go to the Guild."
She waited till he reached the door. "Dzaka, if you stop at the kitchen, Zhala will have a basket of Kitra's favorite foods ready for you to take with you."
He grinned at her then. "You're a conniving she-jegget yourself, Ruth. So what should I wear? This robe, or my grays?"
"Oh, the grays, definitely. You're visibly armed and look so much more dangerous. The other females will be mad with jealousy!"
"Is that what attracted you to Rulla?" he asked innocently. He made a hurried exit as a cushion sailed through the air toward him.

* * *

From the moment he'd arrived at the Telepath Guild, he'd been noticed. As he made his way through the front doors, the Warriors on duty there snapped to attention and their officer came over to him.
"Good evening, Brother. No trouble I hope." His eye ridges met in a concerned frown.
"Nothing. Merely a social visit," said Dzaka. Mindful of Ruth's browbeating, he forced himself to continue. "I'm here to see my Companion."
The officer's eye ridges disappeared in surprise but he said nothing, merely nodded then rejoined his fellow guards.
Dzaka continued past them to the office, where he was subjected to more of the same stark curiosity when he requested overnight accommodation for himself and Liegena Kitra Aldatan. It was granted, of course, and they directed him to the classroom where her last lesson was about to finish.
Strengthening his mental shields, he headed off to wait for her. As the bell signaling the end of lessons began to ring, the students came surging out of the classrooms, slowing as they saw him lounging against the wall. This was going to be the truly difficult part. He was not one to show his emotions publicly; it was not the Brotherhood way, nor his.
"You're wearing purple," said a voice at his elbow.
Turning his head, he found himself looking down at a young female.
"Only telepaths can wear purple," she continued.
"And the Brotherhood," he replied. "We're En'Shalla, talented like you." He could sense Kitra now and turned back to look at the classroom.
She looked smaller than he remembered, standing there in the doorway, dwarfed by some of the larger females around her. Even shielded, he could always sense her to some degree, and now he could feel her confusion at his presence.
"Excuse me," he said, pushing himself away from the wall to go over to her.
"I see your bodyguard's checking up on you, Kitra," said one of the females beside her.
Kitra ignored her. "Dzaka, there's nothing wrong at the villa is there?" she asked, concern on her face.
"Nothing," he said, reaching out to touch her hair and breathe in her scent. "I missed you, that's all." It was true, and he was surprised at how easy it had been to say it. He let his hand slip down to circle her throat in an intimate gesture of affection.
She tilted her head, resting her cheek against his arm and smiled up uncertainly at him. "It's good to see you."
The gesture was wonderfully familiar and suddenly he forgot the reserve and training that made him suppress his emotions. The others ceased to exist; there were only the two of them. He swept her close with his other arm, bending down to nuzzle her cheek and jaw.
"I hope you're free till morning," he murmured in her ear. "I made plans for us."
She returned the embrace, and the glow of pleasure he felt from her made Ruth's chastisement worthwhile.
"What have you arranged?" she asked.
"The guest house. Zhala packed some food for us."
"You're teasing me!" she said, looking up at him as he drew her away from the classroom. "No, you're not, I can sense it! This isn't because of Ruth, is it? Because there was no need...."
"Maybe at first, but not now," he said. "You should have told me what was happening, how you felt. You're my Companion, Kitra, and I want to be with you, on Valsgarth estate and here in the Telepath Guild." He began to cover her face in tiny bites and licks, ending with a kiss.
There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, then a voice said, "Excuse me, Brother Dzaka."
Guiltily, they broke apart and turned to face Guild Master Sorli.
"I don't think the corridor is quite the place for such an enthusiastic greeting. We try to discourage the students from such behavior in public. Perhaps Kitra could show you the gardens, or one of the smaller common rooms?"
As Kitra clutched his arm in distress, Dzaka once more wished the floor would open up for him, until he saw a twitch of amusement at the side of the Guild Master's mouth.
"Better still, why not just take her to the guest house?" Sorli continued quietly. "Your rooms should be ready by now. And, Dzaka, it's nice to see you visiting Kitra. She's been a little low in spirits lately."
"Yes, Master Sorli," he murmured, edging toward the door again, Kitra's hand clasped firmly and reassuringly in his. "We were just leaving."
As fast as politeness allowed, they made their way out into the courtyard. Once there, Kitra began to laugh.
"What's so funny?" he asked, glancing at her as they headed over to where he'd parked the aircar.
"You. You should have seen yourself when Sorli came up behind us like that!"
"You were just as embarrassed," he pointed out. "And left with as little dignity as me."
She began to run, dragging him after her, her steps almost small bounds of sheer pleasure. "But what was best," she said, stopping at the side of his aircar, "What was really best, was T'Chya, Chisoe, and Ghaysa! I could feel them hating me when they saw you waiting there."
He looked round at her as he opened the hatch. Eyes sparkling with mischief, her unbound hair caught by a slight breeze, he hadn't seen her so happy in weeks— since midwinter in fact. "It really mattered that much?"
"I know it shouldn't have," she said, her eyes clouding over. "But they were
enjoying
mocking me!"
"Us, not you," he corrected her. He wanted to see her face light up again, wanted to feel her joy— hadn't realized how unhappy she'd been over the past month or two. Then she was filling his arms again, as all the feelings he'd tried so hard to hold back because of her age and his uncertainty over any future they could have, refused to be repressed any longer.
"I've missed you so much," he said, before gently taking hold of her ear with his teeth.
"You said that."
"More than I knew till now."
"You didn't say that before," she purred, reaching up to stroke his neck with gentle fingertips.
"And I love you." He felt her mind and her body suddenly become still. "I don't know why it took me so long to say it." He'd let go of her ear and was nibbling his way across her cheek.
Her hands took hold of the hair at either side of his neck and she pulled his face gently round to kiss him. "I know you do, Dzaka Arrazo."
Her mind touched his, filling him with her need for him. He pulled back with an effort, suddenly vulnerable to the attention they were attracting.
"It's your uniform," Kitra grinned. "Brothers are always considered distant, beyond normal emotions— and very dangerous."
He reached in to grab the container of food Zhala had given him, then sealed the aircar again. "This one certainly will be if we don't get away from here," he growled. "It's like a wave of curiosity! I can feel every one of them." He hustled her toward the guest house. "I don't suppose it's got dampers, has it?"
"Of course," said Kitra archly. "We can't let non-telepaths affect our tranquillity, can we?"

* * *

Later that night as they finally turned to the food that Zhala had packed, Kitra broached the subject of their future yet again.
"Mother's given us a year, Dzaka, that's all, then Father will have to choose a husband for me."
"We knew that would happen," he said quietly, reaching for his mug of wine.
"I don't want it to happen. We love each other, why should I have to life-bond to someone else? It doesn't make sense, Dzaka. Will you stand with me on this, ask for us to be married?"
He hesitated a moment before answering her. "I can't, Kitra. Nothing's really changed. We'd be told to wait until you're older, until you've seen more of life, have a career. And that I'm not a suitable life-mate for you. I'm gene-altered, there would be no cubs for us. There's more to the future for you than just finding a life-mate. No matter what happens, we can always remain Companions. No one can take that away from us."
"I want more! I don't care about cubs! I want you, not someone chosen by my father and approved by the Clan Council!" she said, taking the mug away from him and setting it on the night table, forcing him to pay attention to her. "People on the estate have a choice, why shouldn't we? Lots of people my age— and older— are complaining about it, now we realize there's an alternative. Only those who are Grade One and Two telepaths and from the main Clan families have to put up with arranged marriages, no one else! Why should we be so different?"
"You know why," he said, reaching out for her, but she avoided him. "Don't let's argue and spoil tonight. Let's enjoy what we have now."
She felt angry and cheated by his reaction. "If it was up to me, I'd fight for you," she grumbled, nevertheless allowing him to soothe her.
"When the circumstances are right, I'll fight anyone who tries to keep us apart," he said, and she could hear a hard note creep into his voice. "But not now. It's too soon. We could lose it all if we fight them now."

* * *
Day 4

The Brotherhood meditation lamp was said to be the oldest on Shola, one that had belonged to the first Temple of Vartra. There was reason to believe that claim now, thought Brynne, remembering that it was here in Stronghold that the person Vartra had carried out his most important work, that of binding the Humans and Sholans together.
Unbidden, a comparison between the lamp and some of the Victorian relics in a dingy old bric-a-brac shop back home in Norwich sprang unflatteringly to mind. He smiled to himself, then hurriedly suppressed it. This was the temple's most valued lamp, and it was a real honor for him to be included in the evening's senior students' meditation class. Even Jurrel had been nonplussed at the invitation. Taller than most, slim and rangy, the midnight-pelted Sholan and he were becoming fast friends. An able teacher, Jurrel had a fine understanding of the differences between life here and the freedom Brynne was used to on the estate.
"So Father Lijou believes that because of the memory transfers, you'll be able to join in this session?" his companion asked quietly as they settled themselves on the densely padded prayer mats.
"That's what he says. I need to use the skills to activate the acquired memories of them."
Jurrel grunted. "Makes sense. They've never done this before. Not enough of us have any dependable telepathic talent, though."
"We wait only upon your convenience," interrupted the tutor, with gentle sarcasm.
This time, it was much easier for him to let down his mental shields and link to the tutor. Joining with the others to become a part of the group consciousness was not so easy. He knew the solution, but balked at taking it, at consciously letting go of his Humanity to access his Sholan self.
Don't relinquish your Humanity,
came the tutor's thought,
just accept your Sholan side. Embrace it, let it carry you into our shared meditation.
Ghyan did this for me before,
he objected.
You must join us unaided. It is the Brotherhood way,
came Vriuzu's implacable reply.
He tried, but his Sholan side was what he was most afraid of: it was the beast within him— it was what he was drawn to in Vanna. He'd fought against it, repressed it out of fear, so that now it was almost impossible for him to access it.
It is what enhances your Leska Link.
Tomorrow was his Link day with Vanna. He'd have to return to the estate, leave Stronghold!
Despite his closed eyes, the temple seemed to lurch around him, and suddenly, his mind was open and beginning to merge with those around him.
The onslaught on his senses was so sudden and overwhelming that he really began to panic. He wasn't one person, but ten, with all their individual emotions and responses. Immediately, he felt the steadying presence of Father Lijou.
You're doing well, Brynne Stevens
, the Head Priest sent, using a private link.
This is how a meditation circle for those with Talents or gifts should be. This is the reality of your Sholan self. It is what and who you are. Use those senses, they are really yours, not just borrowed from your Leska.
He could recognize them all by scent now, especially Jurrel; hear their breathing, and sense their curiosity about him, the first of the Humans to visit Stronghold as a student. It was as if a door to another world had suddenly opened for him.
It was always there,
sent Father Lijou.
Only your fear kept the door closed.
Not just me, Derwent! He told me to be afraid, that to succumb to the Sholan way was to lose my path, to give in to the base senses that we Humans had evolved beyond!
He was furious, but mainly with himself for trusting a man who knew nothing about the Sholans.
He had the gift of Glamour,
sent Father Lijou.
In his company, the ridiculous seemed credible. We all have our Ghezus or Derwents. In the end, you recognized him for what he was, that's what matters. I will leave you to your studies now.
With that, the presence withdrew.
Lijou's link gone, he didn't realize he was now part of the group again. To sense so much, yet be rational and not driven by the Link's compulsion to mate, felt so strange. Then he felt the amusement of the group at his thoughts and would have retreated from them in embarrassment had the tutor not prevented him.
Let's use some of that rationality to proceed with the lesson.
"Focus on my voice," he said.
Brynne listened to the soothing voice slowly build a picture of a woodland scene in their collective mind. So real was it that he could smell the loamy soil and hear the birdcalls. Caught by the reality, he let his attention drift as he looked around him. A movement in the bushes claimed his attention; a wild jegget. Intrigued, he followed it off the path— and with a gut-wrenching lurch, he was in the deep forest, running for his life.
Through the bushes he crashed, branches whipping him about the face and shoulders, the uneven ground making his footing precarious. The sounds of his pursuers were loud— three of them at least. He had to reach the cave and safety.
The trees were thinning out. Ahead now he could see the rock face with the fissure that led to his hideout. They were gaining on him— the noises were louder, he could hear their labored breathing— or was it his own? He knew that even when he reached the ledge, it would take him precious seconds to squeeze through the split, seconds that from the sounds of the crashing behind him he didn't have. He gathered himself, risking all in one leap, praying that he hadn't misjudged it in his weakened condition.
Too low! He was too low! Hands and feet scrabbled for purchase on the crumbling surface as he propelled himself up onto the ledge and staggered toward the fissure. Sharp projections tore at his flesh as he forced himself through the narrow gap. He heard the lead feral land on the ledge in a flurry of loose stones, then its rank breath enveloped him as its jaws gaped wide, snapping shut just as he fell into the chamber beyond.
Shaking with shock and fear, he forced himself to crawl farther into the darkness, trying not to hear his pursuers snarl and yowl their anger and frustration at being balked of their prey. Terror made him forgetful of his surroundings and the low roof met his head with a resounding crack. Nausea and giddiness engulfed him as he passed out.