Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine (10 page)

Krell hadn’t wanted anyone, least of all Healer Wileyse, to know about the phasing experience, but now found it necessary. She sighed.“What you’re seeing is the aftereffect of the rough start we had this morning. You see—”

“First Kimshee Krell Middle! Have you completely lost your mind?” Krell startled at the healer’s shrill reprimand. “Did you bother to read that woman’s records before you tested her?”

“Of course.”

“I mean her medical records, you dolt!” A frown pulled the corners of Wileyse’s thin, painted mouth.

“Number one, why would I read a student’s medical file? They’re confidential. Number two, I thought I told you never to—”

“Drop the tough act.” Wileyse pushed the high-glossed nail of her index finger into the tip of Krell’s nose. “I find it childish, bothersome, and unbecoming of your professional rank. If you had thought to read her medical history, you would have seen she’s been capable of high-level phasing since birth.”

“Impossible!” Krell swatted away the intruding finger. “The only ones capable of phasing from birth are true females, and none of them are old enough to have completed the Training Grounds.”

“Wrong!” Wileyse took great personal satisfaction in the correction. “Wrong! Wrong! WRONG! Your student is one.”

“Where’s her file?”

They went back to Wileyse’s cluttered workroom so Krell could read the fine details of LaRenna’s medical history. A single entry at the bottom of one of the screens repeated what the healer had said.

SUBJECT DEVELOPING PRIMARY SEXUAL CHARACTERISTICS DISTINCTIVE TO THOSE OF AUTLACH FEMALE. CAPACITY FOR REPRODUCTION CONFIRMED. NEW TAELACH VARIATION DEFINED—TRUE FEMALE.

Krell handed the recorder back to Wileyse. “So, she was the first.”

“Yes, she was.” There was a hint of superiority in the healer’s tone. “So, I wouldn’t phase with her again unless I was up to the level of control it demands. She’s vulnerable, hasn’t a notion of what she’s truly doing, and would be an easy target for someone without discretion.” Wileyse’s arms were folded across her small, rounded chest and she drummed her fingers knowingly against her bony elbow.

She knows more than you’ve the capacity,
thought Krell as she taunted Wileyse in a low tone. “Are you implying that I can’t handle myself?”

“Kimshees are never much for control, discipline, or commitment when it counts.” Wileyse’s distrust was common among well-off Taelach families. Kimshees were considered a necessary evil, reckless in their manners and morals. They spent far too much time among Autlachs, picking up the worst of their mannerisms.

“Sounds like a comment from a disgruntled ex.”

“It is.” Wileyse sneered. “One who knows your fear of commitment.”

“Commitment wasn’t the problem with you, Tatra Wileyse. Your habit of looking down that skinny nose of yours at everyone is what turned me away.”

Tatra’s slender fingers trembled against her arm. “I do not peer down my nose! What gets me is your need to seek out and sustain friendships with Auts. Aren’t your own people good enough?”

“It’s my job. It’s my post. It’s how I was raised. I’m a Kimshee, for the Mother’s sake! Try talking to Auts instead of down to them and you might find a friend or two. And if you’d ever stop obsessing over yourself—”

“Obsessing?” The healer chewed her bottom lip while she struggled for just the right retort. She wouldn’t give Krell the satisfaction of winning this argument. “I am not obsessed with myself. I’m a healer. Caring for others is what I do. How can I focus on myself when saving a life?”

“It’s the afterglow that slays me, Tatra, that smug look that crosses your face when you succeed. You’re so damn self-absorbed that I could never obtain a full pleasure phase with you, much less enjoy your mind. It was full of self-satisfaction before I ever phased in. The most important person in your life will always be pampered and spoiled, powdered and painted Tatra Wileyse.”

“What a hateful, vengeful bitch you are.”

“It’s been rumored.”

Tatra opened her mouth for another rejoinder when something familiar caught her eye. Krell had that look, that conquering look she always had following good sex. “You didn’t?”

Krell happily fed on the healer’s shock. “I said it was an intense interaction, didn’t I?”

“And intense means?”

Krell raised a brow. “Better than you.”

It was more than Tatra could take. “You mean to tell me you found a first phasing with that inexperienced little apprentice Kimshee better than anything we had in a pass and a half together?”

“Take it as you will.”

“Of all the—” Tatra quelled her barrage when her Autlach assistant appeared in the open doorway. “WHAT?”

“Healer Wileyse,” the young medic whispered his response. “Your patient is ready to depart.”

“Thank you.” Krell passed the Autlach, who promptly saluted. “Good to see someone around here has a few manners.”

Tatra stood in the doorway, hands balled on her knobby hips. “I hope you two are deliriously happy together,” she shouted.

Krell spun in the middle of the corridor. “The only thing I’m sorry for, Tatra, is ever thinking you’d be able to let me in! You never understood me or my ways. Who am I kidding, you never even tried.” She offered a final heated glare, spun back around, and stomped down the hallway.

“Oh, Krell.” Tatra swallowed hard as the Kimshee disappeared around a corner. “In hindsight, it’s surprising we lasted as long as we did. They say it takes a Kimshee to understand a Kimshee. Maybe it’s true.”

“Third Kimshee?” The examining room appeared empty when Krell entered. There was a shuffle and a hand waved from behind the changing screen, fingers wiggling a quick greeting.

“Here, First Kimshee.” LaRenna walked from behind the screen and whirled around, her multilayered skirts billowing as she turned.

All the anger Krell felt from the confrontation with Tatra dissipated. LaRenna looked as if she had been born Autlach, necessary if she was to succeed in reconnaissance against other Taelachs. Her eyes were a delicate fawn brown and her skin the sun-kissed warmth of the Langus farmwomen. She wore a fitted white cap-sleeved work frock, brown overskirts, and flat beast-hide slippers. The untamed mop on her head had been bobbed midneck and glistened with red highlights.

LaRenna viewed herself in the reflecting board above the examining room basin and howled dismay. “I look horrible! So, so, monochromatic. Brown! Every inch of me is brown or some variation thereof.” Her unhappiness increased with the awareness of Krell’s intense stare. “Oh my,” cried LaRenna. “Is it really that bad?”

Krell startled then looked away. “Your appearance merely reminded me of the descriptions of an Earth animal I’ve read about. You look like a wren.”

“What?” LaRenna stopped, thinking the word was an attempted play on her name.

“A wren.” Krell carefully spelled out the word. “Have you ever read any of the archeology files from the ancient human mining colony on Farstar?”

“Yes, First Kimshee, Belsas is a trained historian. However, I am not familiar with this term. Is wren another word for
plain
or boring in human?”

“No, it’s not.” Krell bit down to keep from admitting just how pleasant LaRenna’s appearance really was. “A wren is a type of animal called a bird. It’s small, brown, and covered with something called feathers.”

LaRenna groaned. “I resemble a dull, brown animal?”

“Birds are fascinating.”

LaRenna ventured another glance at Krell in the reflecting board. “Please tell me more, First Kimshee.”

“For one thing, they fly.”

“Like the winged rodents on Saria Three?”

“Similar, but to achieve flight, birds use wings, not skin stretched between the front and hind legs. Wrens are much smaller, too.” Krell sat on the examining table’s edge and leaned forward, cupping her hand for demonstration purposes. “They’d fit in the palm of your hand. That’s why I called you one.”

LaRenna leaned against the basin as she questioned the analogy. “You are referring to my physical size, First Kimshee?”

“It does concern me.”

“It was never a question during my initial training or coursework,” the pseudo-Autlach interrupted. “Why would it come into play now?”

“Never mind.” Krell stiffened then stood, pacing the room in quick, wide strides. “Practice sliding those lenses back. You’ll need speed if you fall into a fight.”

After several hard blinks and a bit of impatient instruction from her mentor, LaRenna did as instructed, refocusing through her natural pale blue color to find an intent look and phase from Krell waiting for her.
Not near good enough, girl. You lack control. This isn’t school. This is reality. I could have killed you twice over.

LaRenna was quick to push Krell’s presence into a far corner of her mind
. I’m trying, First Kimshee.

Try harder
. Krell gave LaRenna the equivalent of a mental pinch, then dropped her phase. “We’ll reduce your endeavors to working with Autlachs,” she said despite the want for more. “Most can master control of the Aut mind in a short time. But be warned, their minds are so open that it’s easy to overdo it.”

“And where do I find an Autlach willing to let me play with his head?”

Krell sighed at LaRenna’s naiveté. “Where Auts play, girl. The market. The best time to toy with an Aut’s mind is when you’re right beside him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Krell tossed LaRenna her cloak. “We’re going to the Common Grounds. It’s midday, so the place will be teeming with unknowing subjects.” And they were off, LaRenna once again running to keep up with her teacher’s gait.

Dearest LaRenna,

This note was given to Master Yeoman Quall to be forwarded to you. I pray it reaches you. Nobody will tell me where your posting is. It seems to be a closely protected secret. Just like you, disappearing without saying goodbye. You probably love the mystery of it. I hope you find the adventures you are seeking. Remember, I post on the Predator. Please send word as time allows. I miss you.

Yours always,

Malley Whellen

Third Engineer

Identical Taelachs feed off their twin’s negative energies, creating a disastrous combination of hatred and insanity.

—common Taelach knowledge

Bane woke with a jerk then stared at the ceiling, wondering how long he had been unconscious. Seizures came so frequently that he’d lost all sense of time. The hour, he surmised, must be evening because voices and the clanking of dishware echoed up the stairwell. The noise was louder than it had been in some time. Business must be good.

He rolled to his side and balanced on one elbow. His tunic was fresh, his bed linens clean, and a tray of warm food lay within easy reach. “Bless Starnes’s soul.” Bane was humbled by his loss of control. No matter how bad it became, and it was frequently that, his son always tended to his needs. Shaking, he reached for the water glass and drew a sip over his cracked lips, wincing at the pain that accompanied swallowing. He returned the glass to the tray and lay back, startling when another thud on the adjoining room’s wall made the water slosh. Footfalls vibrated and a low drawl cursed. Bane sank in his bedroll. If he pretended to be asleep, he might be left alone. Eyes shut tight, he listened to the disjointed ranting that flowed from the next chamber, praying they wouldn’t come to include him.

Brandoff stumbled across the room, a near empty wine crystal in her hand. “Stay upstairs, Brandoff. Be quiet, Brandoff. Quit your bellyaching, Brandoff. I’m sick of it!” Brandoff pried her boot knife from the wall, circled, and threw again. Thud! The knife sank to its intricately carved hilt. “Why’s it always me who ends up stuck high and away? Always me who’s left hanging while Cance makes things happen?” Thud! “Cance doesn’t trust me to take care of things. Why couldn’t I disguise my appearance, too?” She jumped back to avoid a bad throw that ricocheted off the wall, stepped on the blade’s tip to raise the handle, picked up the knife, and threw it once more. Thud!

Cance bounded up the stairway in an angry snit. The throws were audible through the bar’s thin floors. “Brandoff! What the fuck are you doing? This bar is packed and I’m trying to conduct a business meeting. I don’t have time for your games.” Thud! The knife sailed past Cance’s head, imbedding in the wall.

“I’m bored outta’ my mind. There’s nothing for me to do. Let me put my cloak on and come downstairs. I promise to stay out of the way and keep my mouth shut. Come on, Cance!”

Cance jerked the knife from the wall and flung it between her twin’s feet. “Not a chance. Hyped and drunk as you are, you’d pounce on anything that bounced or wiggled through the door. I’d have to keep constant watch on you.”

Brandoff slid the knife into its sheath then collapsed, weary with boredom, into a chair. “I’ll even work the kitchen, Cance. Come on. I’m going crazy up here.” Brandoff dropped to the floor, rattling the room again, her hair flying forward as she begged for something to do.