Without a Front (24 page)

CHAPTER 41
Lesson in manners

 

Herot was late for mornmeal,
and when he finally shambled in, Tal swore she could see a black cloud over his head. She blocked her senses rather than be subjected to his anger and self-pity at such close range, and knew by the faintly distracted look on Salomen's face that she was doing the same.

“Salomen,” she said, “there's a situation forming that will require a great deal of my time in the next few days. I'm afraid I'll have to cut back on my field work. And would you mind a more frequent use of your parlor? And perhaps a few more guests?”

“Are you sure this isn't an attempt to wriggle out of pipe repair? I know how much you enjoyed it yesterday.”

“You
like
digging pipe?” Jaros asked incredulously.

“About as much as you like homework.”

“Oh.” Plainly, this made far more sense. “Maybe we could trade.”

“You'd rather dig pipe than do homework?” He nodded so enthusiastically that she couldn't restrain herself from ruffling his hair. “Well then, perhaps we can work something out.”

“Don't get your hopes up, Jaros. I have prior claim to the Lancer's time, or at least as much of it as she's able to give.” Salomen reached for the juice pitcher. “Can you tell us anything about the situation?”

Tal explained the coalition's report and the loss of civic confidence that was sure to follow unless she could head it off. She and her advisors would be meeting that very afternoon to determine a strategy, and a Council session had been scheduled in Blacksun for the next day.

“But surely you and your advisors took these considerations into account when you devised the original strategy,” Shikal said.

“We did.”

“And have these economists been privy to the development of that strategy?”

“No one on my team signed that letter. These people weren't involved in the original planning meetings. But I made the documents public as soon as they were complete.”

“So you made a decision and informed everyone else of it after the fact, and now you're surprised that some people disagree with it?” Herot asked.

Everyone stared at him.

“Herot…” Salomen began, but Tal cut in.

“I'm not surprised at all. I just wish the coalition had chosen a less damaging method to air its disagreements than a worldwide press release guaranteed to frighten the entire population.”

Jaros had been listening with a look of confusion. “I don't understand. You wouldn't do anything to hurt Alsea.”

“No, I would not.”

“Then why are these people saying you would?”

“Because they don't think she knows quite as much as she thinks she does,” Herot answered.

“Herot!” Salomen glared daggers across the table. “Where does this come from? You will not insult a guest of our home. Apologize, now.”

Herot glared right back. “You're not my mother!”

“Well, I'm your father,” Shikal said angrily, “and you
will
apologize.”

“Not to me.” Tal was watching Salomen's white face with concern, and when she lowered her blocks for a quick skim, her suspicions were confirmed. She turned to Herot. “You can't hurt me with words. But you certainly know how to hurt your sister, don't you? I believe you owe
her
an apology.”

Herot threw his napkin on the table and walked out, leaving a heavy silence behind him.

“Lancer Tal,” said Shikal, “Please accept my apologies in place of my son's. His behavior is inexcusable.”

“His behavior to me is…understandable. He learned a hard lesson this morning and hasn't worked past it. What I won't excuse is him diverting his anger from me to Salomen. I have no right to interfere in family issues, and there's more going on here than I'm aware of. But I'm here as a guest of Salomen, and her welfare is my concern.”

“Enough.” Salomen had found her voice. “Father, we don't need to involve the Lancer in this. Can we simply agree to move on with our day? We have much to do.”

Shikal agreed, but the rest of mornmeal was subdued until Tal told a story about a training mission that had ended with Micah falling face-first into a mud pit. Micah's outraged response to the story had most of the family laughing, and Jaros was wide-eyed with fascination. He was extremely reluctant to leave for school afterward, and only an affectionate swat on the rump from Salomen was sufficient to get him moving.

Soon after, Tal and Salomen were settling into the skimmer, which was bristling with the tools they were using on the irrigation project.

“Wait!” Tal said just as Salomen started the engine.

“What?”

“I forgot my gloves. Don't leave without me.”

“You only wish I would.”

Tal jumped out of the skimmer and jogged to the equipment outbuilding, where she had left her gloves drying the night before. Preoccupied with thoughts of how to defuse the economist situation, she didn't sense anything outside her own mind until two distinct sources of white-hot anger singed her
.
It was Herot and Jaros, and they were both behind the outbuilding.

She ran to the corner of the building and stopped abruptly, debating her course of action. Her instinct had been to step in, but this was between two brothers. Who was she to interfere?

Then she heard the dull thud of a body hitting wood and Jaros's cry, and that was all it took to send her around the corner wanting Herot's blood.

Jaros was picking himself up off the ground and rubbing his shoulder, while Herot stood over him threateningly.

“Leave my things alone, you little fantenshekken,” Herot snarled.

“I didn't take it! You probably lost it!”

Herot reached out to shove his brother again, but stopped when Tal moved into his field of view.

“You
are
having a bad day, aren't you?” She turned her attention to Jaros. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” he said sullenly.

She crouched in front of him, her senses alert for any movement behind her. “Are you sure?” she whispered.

He nodded, his expression growing more open. “I'm fine.”

“In that case, you're late.” She winked at him. “But before you go, I need to know one thing. Are we still allies?”

She felt understanding dawn. “Yes,” he said, casting a sidelong look at his brother.

“Then, my ally, you go to school, and I'll take care of this.”

Without warning he wrapped his arms around her, gave her a quick warmron, picked up his bag, and sped off. She took a moment to savor his spontaneous affection before turning to face the far less affectionate brother behind her.

“I see you're unaccustomed to rejection,” she said.

He glared at her. “I'm unaccustomed to being treated like dirt.”

“Really? How interesting. You certainly know how to treat others that way. I've seen you do it twice in half a hantick.”

“You have no right to speak to me of my family!”

“I have a right based on my alliance with Jaros. I always honor my alliances, which means any threat to Jaros is a threat to me. Would you care to push me into the wall now?”

He scowled at her and turned to walk away. In two steps she closed the gap, caught his arm, and swung him around. He threw his own momentum into the swing, raising his fist as he turned, but she caught it, tripped him up, and in a moment was sitting on his back as he struggled beneath her. His efforts were hampered considerably by the hold she still had on his arm, which was twisted up behind him.

“Let's consider your morning so far,” she said conversationally. “You've had a sexual interest in me from the moment we met—no, don't worry, I doubt anyone else knows except Colonel Micah…and Salomen…and the rest of your family except Jaros…oh, and all of my Guards. But after half a moon of receiving zero encouragement, you decided to push your interest on me by simply appearing for my morning run. It did not occur to you to ask permission beforehand, nor did you think your actions through to their possible conclusions. A serious flaw in your strategy, by the way.”

He growled and tried to buck her off, but stilled when she twisted his arm a little higher up.

Settling herself more comfortably, she continued. “You also did no research on your target. If you had, you would have known that I run ten lengths each morning, that my Guards are chosen in part for their ability to keep up, and that I don't tolerate interference in my morning exercise. Did you actually think I would slow my pace or even end my run because you couldn't keep up? Is that why you feel you were treated like dirt? You interfere with my activities and then feel mistreated because I didn't drop everything in order to adjust for your lack of consideration, your misplaced arrogance, and your appalling presumption?”

She paused, aware that Salomen was nearby. Turning her head, she saw her hostess leaning against the corner of the building, arms crossed over her chest. Their eyes met, and the message was clear: Salomen would not interfere.

“You earned this morning's lesson,” she said. “Actions lead to consequences. And just so you're aware, I reduced my Guard in order to assure your safety and health. I do not jeopardize my personal safety for dirt. But I did it for you.”

“You did it for your guilt,” he snapped.

“No, I did it because you're a member of my host family. That's all. You personally have earned no consideration from me, nor have your actions been worthy of any respect. But I really didn't think you'd be so obtuse as to earn two lessons in one day. Taking your anger out on your family is the mark of a very small man. Is that what you want to be?”

He was silent, but she had skimmed his emotions and knew the truth, even if he didn't recognize it in himself. She loosened her hold on his arm and leaned forward, speaking quietly and in a kinder voice. “It doesn't matter what others think of you. Be your own man. Prove them wrong. Prove
me
wrong.”

She released him and stood back, balanced on the balls of her feet as she watched him scramble up. He turned to her with fury etched in his face, and she closed her senses against it.

“I have nothing to prove to you!”

“But you do have something to prove to yourself. And what you're doing now isn't working, is it?”

He raised his eyes, seeing Salomen for the first time, then turned with an oath and stalked away. Tal watched him go for a few moments before walking back to her hostess.

“That was quite a show,” Salomen remarked.

“I'm surprised you allowed it.”

Salomen pushed off the wall, and Tal fell in step next to her as they made their way back to the skimmer.

“I allowed it because I knew you wouldn't hurt him. And I'm afraid that someday, somebody will if he doesn't pull himself together. He's made enemies in town. But I'm more worried about his choice of friends.”

“This is about losing Nashta, isn't it?”

Salomen gave her a startled glance, then shook her head. “After our training sessions, I should know better than to be surprised by anything you say. Yes, I think so. Herot adored her. They had a special bond.”

“I'm sorry this has been so difficult for you.”

Salomen stopped and looked toward the south border. “It has been, but I realized something back there, watching you do what none of us could. It's less difficult with you here.” She strode off again. “Come on, we're late already.”

Tal jogged to catch up, and they walked the rest of the way to the skimmer in silence. Salomen had just started the engine when Tal said, “Wait!”

“What now?”

“I never got my gloves.”

Salomen dropped her head to the steering yoke. “And you lead our world?”

CHAPTER 42
Open door

 

Tal returned to the house
after midmeal for a hastily arranged meeting with Tophalamon and Ponsard, her top economic advisors, and Miltorin, her communications advisor. For the rest of the afternoon they worked on a plan to deal with the expected fallout from the economist coalition's report, and by the end Tal was satisfied that they had a firm grip on the situation. She just wished it didn't involve quite so much of her time, but there was no way to avoid the public appearances. And tomorrow she had to go to Blacksun for the Council session, which was sure to be full of posturing. Some of the Councilors would seize on this publicity to further their own maneuverings for power within their regions and castes, and she wasn't looking forward to an entire afternoon of useless bickering. In fact she wasn't looking forward to leaving Hol-Opah at all, but the real world had intruded on her sanctuary.

After the meeting she recorded a message for the citizenry of Alsea, calmly countering the coalition's forecasts, reiterating her implementation plan, and assuring her people that if she had any doubt as to the benefit of the matter printer technology, she would never use it. She also reminded them that she had pursued a carefully thought-out and timed implementation precisely to avoid such catastrophes as those predicted in the statement, and that the opinion of the coalition did not reflect the opinions of her top advisors. A reference to the qualifications of her advisors left the distinct impression that the coalition was comprised of those who hadn't been good enough to be selected for the Lancer's team—a tidy bit of phrasing for which she could thank Miltorin. The man was a master manipulator, and Tal had originally brought him on her team not because she wanted him working for her, but because she wanted to avoid having him work against her. It had been a wise choice.

Though she sat in the parlor for the recording, viewers would not see Salomen's furniture in the background. To ensure the Opah family's privacy and to imbue the message with the authority of her office, the vid would be reproduced to appear as if she were speaking from her office in the State House, with the Alsean flag and the Seal of the Lancer behind her. Technology had its benefits, she thought as the vid crew packed up and trooped out.

Then again, so did generations of tradition. She had come to love this house, with its well-rubbed furniture and lived-in appearance. Salomen's home breathed history and life, and Tal could sense the energy its previous inhabitants had left behind.

She moved to the window and leaned against the sill, watching the nearby trees swaying in a gentle afternoon breeze. It was a beautiful day, and she would far rather have spent it in the fields than in a strategy meeting. On the other hand, if she had been in the fields she wouldn't have had her revelation.

It happened during a break from the meeting, when they were getting drinks and stretching their bodies. She had gone to this same window, letting her mind wander away from the task at hand, and had suddenly tuned into Salomen's emotions. For a moment she thought her hostess must be returning to the house. Tal held the highest empathic rating they could measure, but even her senses did not extend more than a few lengths. Yet when she examined the emotions and their source more clearly, she knew Salomen was still in the field, working on the irrigation project.

She could sense Salomen at
nine
lengths?

The meeting had resumed then, and she had to focus on politics and economics. But now the inevitable conclusion was knocking at her brain. Long-distance sensing was rare among Alseans, occurring only in those who were bonded tyrees.

But they weren't bonded. And they certainly weren't tyrees.

A shocking thought occurred to her: perhaps they weren't tyrees
yet
.

She thumped her forehead against the glass, welcoming the cool smoothness on her hot skin.

“This is not possible,” she murmured. “I know something is happening, but it cannot be that.”

She reached out with her senses, attempting to reproduce the connection. Nothing. Just the emotions of the Guards at the doors, and the vid crew and advisors who were still loading up their transports. Salomen was beyond her range. It was as if a door had opened in her mind, given her a brief glimpse of what lay on the other side, and then closed again.

Did she want that door to be open?

She honestly couldn't say. Because if it did open, permanently—if this really was a symptom of a future tyree bond—then it would provide more than an unprecedented, almost unthinkable view into Salomen.

It would give Salomen the same view into her.