Without a Front (23 page)

“It is,” Salomen said in wonder. “And we are fools.”

“We are the result of generations of tradition. We're only fools if we continue to follow it blindly, even after our eyes are opened.”

“My eyes feel wide open.” Salomen's expression grew distant as she added, “I held my mother this way, just before her Return. I could feel her leaving. She was so fragile in my arms, and she smiled up at me with such joy. I thought then that she must be reliving her childhood, as they say we sometimes do when our minds leave our bodies. I couldn't understand any other reason for the way she accepted the warmron, and I couldn't stop myself from giving it to her. It felt selfish, and I was ashamed, but…she was so happy.”

“It's not selfish to give a gift.” Tal reached up to brush away a tear that Salomen seemed not to have noticed. “Your mother felt that for what it was. You made her last moments joyous, and none of us could ask for more than that.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“What have we been doing in this room if not to make such a question unnecessary? Look for yourself.”

Tal watched as Salomen centered herself and extended her senses. Her powers and discipline were remarkable; after just two ninedays of training, there was a pronounced change in her abilities. It took less than ten pipticks before Tal felt the brush of another mind against hers, and she willingly opened her emotions to the skim.

Salomen smiled sadly. “Thank you. You have no idea what your belief means to me.” She shook her head, releasing her hold and stepping back. “Of course you do. Sometimes I forget how powerful you are. You have such control that I'm almost never aware of it when you skim me.”

“I didn't need to skim you. Your emotions are stronger than you realize. To my mind, they're very clear.”

“Have I not gained any strength in my fronting, then?”

“Of course you have. But—” Tal stopped, and Salomen looked at her curiously.

“But what?”

There was no option but to speak a truth which Tal herself was just realizing.

“I'm paying closer attention.”

“Because I'm your student.”

Tal shook her head. “Because I care.”

Salomen frowned slightly in concentration, and Tal knew when she had sensed what she was reaching for. The tiny frown changed to a lovely smile, transforming her face.

“You're not what I took you to be. But perhaps I'm the one who hasn't been paying attention. The Lancer I thought I knew would never have said something so kind, nor would she have apologized to a mere landholder.”

“The Lancer did not apologize to a landholder. Andira Shaldone Tal apologized to Salomen Opah.”

“Salomen Arrin Opah,” Salomen corrected.

“Of course. I've just never heard you use your father's name.”

“Only on formal occasions. We producers seldom have need for all of our names, you know. Not like fancy warriors.”

Though the bait was temptingly dangled, Tal didn't take it. “I think I have little need of all my names in this room. When we're here, alone, will you call me Andira?”

“I'm honored.” Salomen narrowed her eyes. “Is this what any other instructor would say?”

Tal smiled as she recognized the words from their first night. “Not a single one I can think of. Are you accusing me of something?”

“Yes. I'm accusing you of being a friend.”

“Then I have no defense, and can only await the judgment.”

“No judgment,” Salomen said softly. “Just my thanks, and the offer of my friendship, whatever it's worth.”

“It's worth a great deal.” Tal knew this for a certainty. “I suspect you don't offer it easily, and I'm honored by it.”

Salomen looked away, her arms held tightly over her chest. When she looked back again, her expression was nearly as open as her emotions. “Do you think…I mean, could we…?”

“Yes.” Tal opened her arms, and Salomen lost no time moving into her embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

When they finally released each other, neither of them knew where to look. They had crossed a line, and everything after this was new territory.

Tal took refuge behind her teaching responsibilities. “You've done an admirable job of distracting me. But we're still having a lesson.”

“And what did you have planned for tonight?” Salomen played along, and Tal could sense her relief at having something familiar to fall back on.

“Broadsensing.”

“What?”

“Opening your senses to the point where you can feel the surface emotions of everyone around you.”

Salomen frowned. “I already do that. I don't like it. Can you teach me how to turn it off instead?”

“To learn one, you must fully understand the other.”

“I knew you'd say something like that. Remind me again why I chose you?”

CHAPTER 39
Caprice

 

Micah punched the feed button
for his reader card and divested himself of his belt and weapons as it loaded the day's news, dispatches, and reports. He was thoroughly enjoying being out of Blacksun, which sometimes felt like a pit of venomous zalrens. Point him toward an enemy or a clearly defined project, and he was a happy man. But Blacksun was full of shadows and half-truths and actions with multiple motives, and nothing was as clear-cut as he would have liked. He had never wanted to be involved in government, but he waded through those zalrens and more for Andira Tal. Besides being the daughter of his closest friends, she was a friend in her own right and had earned his loyalty ten times over.

He was grateful to her for bringing him on what he was increasingly considering a vacation. For once in her life, Tal was making things easy for him. Other than the morning runs, she didn't move around much, and in the last nineday had never left the Opah holding. It made guarding her no more challenging than guarding a dokker. He chuckled at the thought, knowing that she would be outraged at the comparison.

The chuckle died in his throat as he scanned the first story on his card. He went back to the beginning and read the whole article carefully, then dropped his head back to glare at the ceiling. Fahla was a capricious goddess, damn her.

“Couldn't you have let just
one
thing go right?” he demanded. “Why did it have to be her?”

CHAPTER 40
New runner

 

When Tal walked out the
back door just before dawn, she found an unwelcome addition to her running group. Herot dawdled near her Guards, conspicuous both in his lack of uniform and his bearing. The Guards stood straight, watching him with bemusement. As the brother of their hostess, he had certain rights, but no one had the right to run with the Lancer unless she had specifically stated it. And she certainly had given them no such statement.

Rolling her eyes, Tal trotted down the porch stairs. She was only surprised that Herot had waited this long.

“Good morning,” she said.

The Guards saluted, while Herot flashed her a smile.

“Good morning, Lancer Tal.” His tone hinted at a friendship to which he had no claim, and she resisted the urge to dump him on his backside.

“I have little time,” she said. “Did you wish to speak with me about something?”

“Nothing in particular.” He glanced at the Guards, then at her with what was probably supposed to be a charming grin. “I don't see you in the fields as often as I'd like, so I was hoping I might join you on your run.”

“Ah, then you're a runner.” She knew he wasn't.

“No, but I used to be. I've been meaning to start again, and I thought now would be a good time. You set such a good example.”

The contempt rolling off her Guards was palpable. They would love nothing more than for her to put this presumptuous young man in his place.

Guards, she thought, this is my gift to you this morning.

“Then by all means, join us.” With no further words she set off, running easily at half speed. She had already stretched in her room, preferring to do it in privacy. Her Guards knew this and had completed their stretches as well. Tal was reasonably certain that Herot had not, and the pace she was setting would render him very sore if he tried to keep up with cold muscles.

He did try. He even made an attempt at conversation, but she put an end to that by announcing that she was nicely warmed up now and it was time to begin the run.

“Begin?” Herot gasped, and that was the last word he said for quite some time. Tal was now running at full speed, and the effort of keeping up rendered him incapable of speaking, which Tal—and all the Guards, she knew—considered a vast improvement.

She showed no mercy, her speed unchanging even as Herot's distress became obvious. A part of her grudgingly respected him for pressing on. If he actually made it through their entire ten-length run, she might even revise her opinion of him.

Less than two lengths in, he stopped, tumbling onto his back in the grass and gasping for air.

Tal didn't slow down. “Make sure he gets back to the house,” she said, and Gehrain motioned to Varsi, the newest member of the squad. Tal felt Varsi's disgust at being left behind on what she no doubt considered garbage detail. There was also a sense of resignation, as if she had expected the assignment.

“Why Varsi?” she asked as they swept around a curve in the path.

Gehrain grunted. “Shekker beat me out of a quarter-moon's salary at tiles.”

“Oh, she's a young one. She'll learn.” It was dangerous to play tiles with a superior officer for just that reason: the warrior code of honor had never excluded revenge for a gambling loss. While she didn't engage in those behaviors—which made her a popular tile player—she also didn't discourage it in her Guards. In a culture as rigid as theirs, a little sublimation went a long way toward relieving pressure.

The rest of the run was blessedly peaceful, and she arrived back at the house in a relaxed frame of mind. She might even have stayed that way, but Micah intercepted her as she walked down the hall toward the shower.

“Tal. You need to see this.” He held out his reader card, and a comment on his poor timing died on her lips when she felt him. Micah was deeply upset about something.

She took the card from his hand and perused the text. It was an open letter to all major Alsean news agencies from a coalition of economists, declaring their opposition to the use of matter printers and their belief that such use would result in a global economic collapse.

“Shek.”

“Keep reading.”

Below the letter was a report containing a statistical assessment and projection, which had been undertaken over the course of six moons. The coalition had put a considerable amount of work into their report. This was no mere political opinion. It was serious, documented scholarly research, and it was going to have an enormous impact on both the Council and Alsean public opinion.

“Perfect,” she said. “That's just what I need right now.”

“Keep reading.” Micah folded his arms across his chest.

She scanned past the source list for the data, and came upon the list of signatures. There were more than fifty of them.

“Who in Fahla's name got fifty economists to agree on something?”

His expression gave her the sinking feeling that she knew the answer. With a sense of foreboding she scrolled down to the final line, which acknowledged the lead authors of the report. After staring at it for a moment, she returned the card to Micah. “Well,” she said with false cheer, “now I know why Darzen wouldn't return my calls. She was busy with her research.”

“I never thought she would do something like this. My instincts failed me. I believed she would be good for you.”

“I believed the same thing. At least our instincts are consistent.”

“Consistently wrong,” he said in disgust.

“I disagree. If circumstances had been different, Darzen could have been good for me. But I hurt her and damaged her pride, and we both know that few wounds go deeper than those. Besides—” she tapped the reader card—“everything here reflects what she told me on our last night, before she knew who I was. This is her truth.”

“Well, her truth is more wrong than my instincts.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Tal laughed. “I think you're more angry about this than I am.”

“Why aren't you? This is bad, Tal. You've spent the last cycle working and strategizing and educating and holding the hands of every Alsean who cannot envision a greater future, and now this. You know it will set off a firestorm.”

“I know.” The brief humor of the moment vanished. “I'm sure there's a message from Aldirk waiting for me, and I'm sure the next few ninedays are going to be a Fahla-damned battle, but we'll just have to fight it intelligently.” She looked longingly toward the shower. “And if the global economy is going to collapse, can I at least bathe first?”

Micah stepped aside. “I'll prepare the Guards for our departure,” he said as she walked past him.

She stopped and turned. “I'm not leaving.”

“You cannot stay.”

“Yes, I can. I agreed to a challenge. I'll leave when it's finished.”

“That was a ridiculous power play, and I never did understand the point of it, though I've certainly enjoyed my time here. But this is serious, Tal!”

“So is this!”

As he stared at her, she sighed and walked back. “Something is happening between Salomen and me,” she said in a low voice. “I don't know—”

“What?
” Micah burst out. “You and—”

She clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified at his volume. “A little discretion, please,” she whispered furiously. He nodded, wide-eyed, and she dropped her hand.

“You and Salomen? When did that start? And why didn't you tell me? Fahla, you keep your tiles close to your chest!”

He was hurt, she marveled. “I didn't keep anything from you. This has taken me completely by surprise. It's been creeping up on me so slowly that I noticed nothing until just last night.”

“Well, what happened last night?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again as she was swamped by a memory of Salomen in her arms. Micah's astonishment was as warm to her senses as the blood was in her face.

“Andira Shaldone Tal, you are
blushing
.” All concern for Alsea's economic future vanished from Micah's emotions, replaced by a sincere delight. “To think I should have lived to see this day! You and a producer? And not only that, but the most obstinate, argumentative, unyielding woman I have ever met besides…” He paused for theatrical effect. “Come to think of it, you're perfect for each other.”

“Funny, Micah. Enjoy it while you can.”

“Oh, I will.” He chuckled. “Are you going to tell Aldirk we're staying, or shall I?”

“Since you already seem to be in such a fine mood, why don't you? Then I can take a Fahla-damned shower, and we'll deal with the Darzens of the world.”

He nodded. “For what my opinion is worth, she's a fine woman.”

“I know.” She gave him a wry smile. “What I don't know is whether she holds the same opinion of me.”

He clapped her on the back. “If she doesn't now, she will soon. Go shower. You stink.”