Without a Front (20 page)

Through the course of the day, Tal learned a new respect for her hostess. Salomen was physically strong, never flagging as she worked side by side with Tal. She didn't ask Tal to do anything she wasn't doing herself, and at midmeal she made sure that all of the field workers were taking the necessary time to relax and eat, even though a few protested that they could finish their tasks if given another quarter-hantick. Tal watched in interest, knowing that not all landholders treated their field workers with such care. But the Opah field workers seemed to be more than just hired laborers. They laughed and joked with Salomen, asking her questions and making observations that demonstrated a personal knowledge of her and her family. Salomen showed the same warmth and affection with them that she had at her own table, and their affection for her was plain to sense.

After midmeal they resumed the hard physical labor of loading newly cut grain into the bulk transport, and by the end of the workday, Tal was more than happy to throw her tools in the back of the skimmer and take a seat. It wasn't as bad as her first two days, but she was still relieved to be done.

Salomen settled in beside her and started the engine. As they sailed over the fields, she glanced at Tal and said, “You're doing well—for a soft politician.”

“Thank you so much. I look forward to the day you learn the difference between a soft politician and a trained warrior.”

Salomen smiled and turned her attention back to the controls. The rest of the drive passed in a silence that was oddly comfortable.

When they had skimmed back up the hill and pulled in beside the house, Tal gathered their tools and walked toward the equipment outbuilding.

“What are you doing?”

She stopped and turned. “Don't they need to be cleaned?”

“Eventually, yes, but we'll be using them again tomorrow and the day after. Leave them in the skimmer and we'll clean them when we're done.”

“And in the meantime, the grime and debris build up and they grow less and less effective. The first rule a warrior learns is that your weapons are only as good as the care you give them.”

“They're not weapons,” Salomen said. “They're tools
.
”

“Weapons
are
my tools. Along with knowledge, power, psychology, and any number of other items at my disposal. I try to keep all of them sharp.”

“You must take extremely good care of your tongue, then.” Salomen walked up the porch steps and vanished inside.

Tal stared after her, hardly believing that a producer had just called her sharp-tongued to her face. Did the woman have no respect at all?

Resuming her trek toward the equipment outbuilding, she chuckled. Rarely had she heard such a perfect example of the knife calling the sword a blade.

CHAPTER 35
Speedy

 

Evenmeal was more comfortable than
the previous night's had been, but the ease Salomen had shown at mornmeal was absent. Though she presented a sufficient front to avoid any questions from her family, Tal could sense her turmoil.

Fortunately, Jaros distracted everyone with his happy chatter about the day's lessons. Apparently, the Lancer's presence in their community had inspired his instructors to speak in more detail about the history, responsibilities, and legal issues associated with the title, and he was eager to demonstrate his new knowledge. He rattled off several rather bloody historical tales, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

“And, Lancer Tal,” he continued after quickly swallowing some food, “we also learned that there is a
fifth
way your term could end. You didn't tell me about the ritual challenge of combat this morning!”

“I didn't even consider it. That hasn't been invoked for several hundred cycles.”

“Tell us about it, Jaros,” said Shikal. He glanced at Tal and smiled, his pride in his son clear to her senses.

Jaros put his fork down, concentrating on his recitation. “It can only be used by a member of the warrior caste. If a warrior wants to take the title of Lancer, but he doesn't have enough caste support, he can challenge the Lancer to single combat. To the death.” Plainly, this was an extremely exciting thought. “The winner takes the title legally. Nobody can argue, even if they don't like the person who won.”

“Which is precisely why it's no longer in use,” Tal said. “It's a relic from the days when Alsean leadership passed from one military leader to another, by right of strength in battle. But good leadership requires more than strength in arms. It requires education, strategic thinking, understanding of Alsean nature and motivations, an ability to plan far beyond the current generation…in fact, a scholar often made a much better Lancer than a typical warrior, and ritual challenge of combat passed out of use shortly after the scholar caste became eligible for the title. Few scholars could have won such a challenge.”

“But they could choose a champion,” Jaros said.

“They could, yes. But Alsean culture has changed too much for those old ways. We no longer tolerate rulers who take their title violently. Any warrior who wants to challenge the sitting Lancer today would need the support of the warrior caste or risk being immediately unseated. And if a challenger has the support of the warriors, then the title would be taken by a caste coup, not a single challenge.”

“Oh.”

Tal wanted to laugh at his disappointment. “However, there's one aspect of the ritual challenge that still continues to this day.”

He perked up. “There is?”

“All warriors are trained in the art of sword fighting, even though swords haven't been part of Alsean warfare for generations. But they were the only weapon allowed in a ritual challenge.”

“Really? So you know how to use a sword?”

Tal nodded. “I'm not a master by any means, but yes, I've trained with a sword since I was your age.”

“Speedy! Do you have your sword here?”

Tal turned to Salomen. “Speedy?”

Salomen smiled. “The newest slang term. It means Jaros is impressed.”

“It means I want to see it! Fahla, don't you know what speedy means?”

“Jaros!” Three adult voices spoke at once, and Jaros sat back in his seat. Even Tal felt a little intimidated.

“You will not use the name of our Goddess so lightly,” Shikal scolded.

“But you do.” Jaros's tone was indignant, and Tal pressed her lips together to prevent the smile from escaping.

“That's because Father is an adult,” said Salomen. “When you pass your Rite of Ascension, you can do it too. But not before then.”

“That's not fair. If I can say it as an adult, why can't I say it now?”

“Because adults carry burdens that children do not,” Nikin said. “So one of our rewards is that we get to use words you don't.”

“What burdens? You don't even have to go to school!”

“We've already been to school. And now we have to work. And worry about things you don't have to worry about.”

Jaros grumbled under his breath, not buying a word of it.

Tal touched his shoulder. “I don't have my sword here, but I could have it brought later.”

He looked up, all disgruntlement vanishing under renewed enthusiasm. “Really?”

She nodded. “Perhaps I could even challenge Colonel Micah to a little sparring. It's been more than a nineday since I last slapped him with the flat of my sword.”

“Time has obviously clouded your memory,” Micah said. “The last time we sparred, it was you
who found yourself disarmed. My own sword was firmly in my hand.”

“My memory is perfectly clear. I'm afraid age has affected yours, though. Don't worry, Micah, there are many ways an aged warrior can make himself useful.”

“I never worry. As long as your youthful exuberance continues to overpower your wisdom, I'll always have a job.”

“How old are you, Colonel Micah?”

“Jaros,” said Salomen, “that is not an appropriate question to ask an adult.”

“I've no objection to answering,” Micah assured her, then turned to Jaros. “Sixty-two cycles.”

Jaros's eyes widened. “You're almost as old as Father!”

Amid the laughter, Micah said, “And aging faster than he, I'm sure. Serving the Lancer has made me old before my time.”

“I thought you appreciated the challenges of your job. Be sure to notify me if they become more than you can handle. I'll replace you with someone younger and more exuberant.” Tal looked at the boy next to her. “Perhaps Jaros would accept the position.”

“Yes!” Jaros lit up, then just as quickly deflated. “But I'm the wrong caste.”

“A boy of your intelligence and talents could challenge his caste.”

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she was pierced by a blast of disapproval. Across the table, Salomen frowned at her.

“Really?” Jaros asked excitedly.

“It's very rare, Jaros.” Salomen turned a more kindly expression on her brother. “And being in the warrior caste is not all glory and adventure, despite what you hear at school.”

Tal took the hint. “No indeed. Micah could tell many a tale of privation and hardship, and that was before he came to serve me.”

The laughter shifted the momentary darkness of Salomen's mood, and for the remainder of evenmeal Tal was careful to steer away from topics that might excite Jaros's imagination regarding his caste. It was clear that his desire to be a warrior did not sit well with his sister.

When the meal ended, Tal thanked her hosts and excused herself from the table, allowing Salomen as much peace and space as she could under the circumstances. She expected that the producer might need the rest of the evening to make her decision. After all, whichever way she chose would irrevocably alter her life.

CHAPTER 36
First lesson

 

Tal was a big fan
of the window seat in her room. The cushion was luxuriously comfortable, and if she sat sideways with her back to one wall, she had a lovely view of the Snowmount Range to soothe her eyes whenever she looked up from her reader card. If she had to spend her evenings reading reports and dispatches, the window seat was a fair consolation.

She settled down to work, but her concentration was interrupted after just four dispatches when she felt Salomen approaching her door. She glanced at her wristcom, startled by the time. Salomen clearly did not put off distasteful tasks.

“Enter,” she said without waiting for the knock.

The door opened and Salomen walked in. Her bearing exuded self-confidence as she closed the door behind her, but her emotions told a different story.

“I accept you as my instructor,” she said stiffly. “I think you know this is not my desire. But it's the only choice I can make. You will not mention this training to my family. They're not aware of my…talent. I've told them that we'll be working on delegate matters in the evenings.”

Tal nodded. “Then I accept you as my student, and your family will hear nothing of it from me. Please sit.” She indicated the chair she had placed facing the window seat.

Salomen sat, her back rigid.

Tal looked at her in silence, then raised her eyes to the portrait of Nashta Opah.

“Tell me about your mother,” she said.

“What?” Salomen frowned. “My mother has nothing to do with this.”

“Everything that makes you who you are has something to do with this.” Tal rolled up her reader card, put it in its case, and sat up straight. “Your emotions cannot be unlinked from your past or your present. To be effective as your instructor, I need to know you. I already know the present. But I need you to tell me about the past.”

“And this is what any other instructor would say?”

Tal let that question hang in the air before asking, “Are you accusing me of something?”

“I don't… No. I'm not.” Salomen took a deep breath. “This frightens me.”

Tal already knew that. She just hadn't expected her to admit it.

“It takes true courage to admit fear,” she said. “I respect courage. It will be my honor to teach you.”

Salomen's expression shifted. “Thank you. From you, that means something.”

“You're welcome. Thank you for accepting me. Now, will you tell me about your mother? I'd like to know more about the woman whose presence still breathes in this house.”

Salomen leaned back in her chair, brushing an invisible bit of lint from her pant leg as she thought. “My mother was my best friend. We were the only women in a house full of men, so we naturally gravitated toward each other.” She looked toward the window at Tal's back, not quite meeting her eyes. “But it was more than just that. I shared everything with her, far beyond the age at which most young women begin keeping secrets from their parents. I just never felt the need to assert my independence…maybe because Mother treated me with so much respect. From the moment of my Rite of Ascension, she treated me almost as an equal, asking my advice on things and telling me some of her hopes and dreams.”

At last she met Tal's gaze. “I was there when Jaros was born. As you might have guessed, he was a surprise.”

Tal nodded; the age difference between Jaros and Herot made that fairly obvious.

“I've never been able to prevent myself from feeling the emotions of others,” Salomen said with a half-smile. “Even at the best of times. But when the healer put Jaros in Mother's arms, I had to sit down. Her love for him was—” She searched for the words. “Overwhelming. It was so strong that it hit me physically. To this day I think it must have lodged in my heart. I don't love him like a brother; I love him like my own child. I always have. And when Mother fell ill…”

There was a long pause while she struggled. Tal said nothing, respecting her grief.

“She asked me to finish what she could not,” Salomen said at last. “It was never a burden to me. I accepted without a second thought. But it's been very hard without her. I miss her. I miss my best friend.” She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them, unwilling to say anything more.

Tal was surprised at the depth of her own sympathy. Salomen Opah had been an unremitting pain in her backside since their very first meeting, but this kind of grief was something she would not wish on even an enemy. And after seeing Salomen in her own home, surrounded by her family, Tal's opinion of her had changed. Fahla only knew why, but she wanted to help.

“My mother was my friend too,” she said.

Salomen lifted her head, a startled look in her eyes.

“But my father was my best friend. I was a little too…active for Mother's tastes. She was scholar caste and had hopes for me that didn't include wielding a blade or a molecular disruptor. But I wanted to be like my father. He was my hero.”

“So you chose his caste and his name.” Salomen had been drawn in despite herself.

“Mother was very good at fronting her emotions, but I always knew it hurt her when I chose not to be Shaldone. She told me that as a scholar I had the potential to be Lancer. She never had faith in my abilities as a warrior, or maybe she just tried to steer me to a safer place. But Father believed enough for both of them. The moment my warrior training began, my Lancer training began as well. I think it never occurred to my father that I would
not
be Lancer someday.”

“Well, he was right.”

“He was.” Tal hesitated before saying the rest. “But his dreams cost both him and my mother their lives.”

Salomen's brows drew together. “But your parents died in a transport accident.”

“You've done your research, I see.”

“I didn't—”

“I've worked with you for nearly five moons now,” Tal interrupted. “Your thoroughness doesn't surprise me. But in this case you didn't find the whole truth. That transport crash wasn't an accident.”

This was not something she told casual acquaintances. In fact, the circumstances of her parents' deaths had been kept from public knowledge. But she needed Salomen to trust her in order for the training to be effective, and the best means of earning trust was giving it.

Salomen was staring at her. “Are you…they were murdered?”

“They were assassinated,” Tal said flatly. “My father had made alliances and deals for my benefit, preparing as much of my way as he could with the connections he had. But others saw his actions and misinterpreted them. They thought he sought the title of Lancer for himself. So they removed him, and my mother along with him. I don't think she was actually targeted, but it didn't matter.”

“Lancer Tal…” Salomen's voice was pained. “I'm so sorry.”

“I know you are. Thank you for that.”

“But…why did they leave you alive? I mean, sooner or later it must have become obvious that you were seeking the title.”

Tal watched her for a moment, considering her answer. “When you researched me, did you learn about the Truth and the Path?”

“The warrior's code. I know of it, but no, I didn't spend much time on the details.”

“There are a few overriding principles. Loyalty and honor govern our lives and bind us to certain paths. For instance, we're bound to avenge any mortal harm to our oath holder. The tie to family is, of course, the strongest and most sacred of all. When I learned the truth about my parents' accident, I was bound by the code to avenge them.” She paused. “It was not a hardship.”

“When you say avenge,” Salomen said slowly, “I have a feeling you're not referring to capturing the assassin and turning him over to the Alsean Investigative Force.”

“In certain cases, the wronged party can apply to the AIF for special dispensation. I applied.”

They stared at each other in silence.

“So you…killed him?” It was a hesitant question, spoken by one who wasn't certain she wanted to know the answer.

“There were three. And yes, I fulfilled my obligation.”

“Good Fahla. Suddenly I'm understanding who I have under my roof. You are a terrible enemy.”

“I'm a good friend and ally, and a loyal warrior. And as your instructor I will also be
your
friend and ally.”

“Well, I would certainly prefer that to making you an enemy!” Salomen ran her hand through her hair. “Shek! This is…” She dropped her hand and shook her head. “I'm not comfortable with this.”

“There's nothing comfortable about this kind of instruction. That's not what I seek. I seek your trust.”

“I'm supposed to trust a woman capable of what you've just admitted to?”

“If someone hurt Jaros, and I mean really hurt him, on purpose, what would you be capable of?”

Clearly, Salomen had never considered this, not in a conscious, honest manner. At last she said, “I would kill them with my bare hands.”

“Then perhaps you understand me more than you thought.”

Tal waited, undisturbed by the long silence, and knew when the decision was made. The sense of resolution that descended on Salomen's mind was critical to their relationship as instructor and student.

“I'm not sure why you've told me this. But it does give me a different view of you. You make me nervous, Lancer Tal. You're not a safe woman.”

“I'm not in a safe line of work.”

“I don't think I fully realized that until tonight. But I believe I can trust you. We're here right now because you chose not to follow the letter of the law and report me.” She fixed Tal with a penetrating look. “I don't understand the code you follow. But if you're offering your friendship and alliance, I accept it.”

Tal noticed that she didn't offer her own friendship in return. This woman did not give of herself lightly. Neither did Tal, but she had a better understanding of the nature of the relationship they were about to enter.

“Then we can begin,” she said.

Salomen nodded, visibly preparing herself.

“This won't resemble traditional instruction in any way. We don't have time for that. My priorities are to teach you blocking and fronting techniques, and the discipline to prevent yourself from probing others. You're very strong, but you have neither control nor consistency. I hope I can help you with both of those, but if I cannot, control is the most important.”

“Am I really that strong?”

It was an odd question from a high empath, but Salomen had never been properly assessed.

“You fooled the testers when you were ten. And you fooled me until last night. I'm embarrassed that I thought you were a mid empath.” Tal caught the sense of pleased pride and added, “Why am I not surprised that the happiest you've been all evening is when I admit you made me look like a grainbird?”

One side of Salomen's mouth quirked up. “I suppose it's just nice to know I could hold my own against the all-seeing Lancer Tal.”

Tal swallowed her instinctive retort and reminded herself why they were there. “We'll start with the first step in both blocking and fronting,” she said. “Close your eyes.”

Salomen looked at her for a long moment, and when she finally obeyed, Tal felt as if a major victory had been achieved. This was not going to be a traditional student-teacher relationship at all.

In a lower voice, she said, “Now think of a time when you were utterly serene. Calm, content, quiet…at peace. Perhaps somewhere special, a place that you love, where you smile just from the pleasure of being there. Tell me when you have that in your mind.”

She remembered needing several attempts to find the right thought in her own training. Salomen spoke in less than one tick.

“I have it.”

“Good. Focus on that. Close down every other thought, every other concern. There is nothing right now but that single thought. This is your place of serenity. It's a place only you know about, a place where you can go and no one else can follow. Just stay there and enjoy it. Hold that place close.”

She extended her own senses, feeling Salomen gradually centering herself. When no more progress had been made for several ticks, she judged that Salomen had gone as far as she was capable—which was surprisingly far for a beginning student.

Sharpening her senses to a focused point, she reached out with a light probe.

“Oh!” Salomen's eyes flew open. “What was that?”

Tal couldn't stop her smile. She felt oddly proud.

“That was something you shouldn't be detecting at this point in your training. It was me probing you, and the fact that you felt it puts you several steps ahead of where I thought we'd be starting. Your powers are very impressive.”

“Thank you. But why didn't I feel it last night, when you made me say what you wanted?”

“Because last night your mind was spread thinly, which is normal for an untrained person. A scattered thought pattern is easy to penetrate. But when you focused yourself as you just did, your emotions and mental powers coalesced into something far more dense. My probe impacted your thoughts, and that's why you sensed it.”

“Remarkable,” Salomen breathed. “Can we do it again?”

Tal almost laughed; in that moment she had sounded just like Jaros. “We can, and we will,” she said. “So many times that you'll grow tired of it.”

“I do not think I will ever grow tired of this.”

“We'll see.” But Tal remembered the joy of learning control. “Ready for another try?”

Salomen closed her eyes, a small smile playing about her mouth. “I'm ready.”

“Then concentrate, and take yourself back to your place of serenity.”