Without a Front (31 page)

“That's what I want! I want to go places and see things and fight for Alsea if the Voloth come back. I don't want to do what everyone else has always done.”

“Do you want to leave your friends and family behind?”

“I would miss you,” Salomen said.

Jaros was torn. At last he put the sword back in Tal's hand and turned to his sister, who enveloped him in a warmron. “You're only nine cycles,” she said as she squeezed him. “There's still so much for you to learn.”

“And in the meantime,” Tal said, retracting her blade, “you handled my sword very well. Thank you for being so careful.”

His enthusiasm resurfaced. “You're welcome. Can I hold it later? Will you show me how to make it come out of the grip?”

“Because you were so careful this time, yes, I will.”

“Okay.” Jaros bounced up and down. “You were speedy! Do you always win?”

Tal shook her head. “Colonel Micah has taken my sword away on many occasions.”

“Wow. He's speedy, too.”

“Yes, he is.” She looked up at Micah, who was happily discussing the bout with Shikal and a dozen of the field workers. “He taught me much of what I know.”

“Then you learned more from someone else,” Salomen said. “I saw his face when you disarmed him. He was surprised.”

Tal's pride was out of all proportion to the statement. “He hasn't seen that move in some time; I think he'd forgotten. And you're right, I learned it from an instructor after leaving Micah's unit.”

“That must have been strange for him,” mused Salomen. “Becoming your subordinate after being your superior and your instructor.”

“You're presuming that he's my subordinate. Micah never quite accepted that.”

“What's a subordinate?” Jaros wanted to know.

“Someone who takes orders from someone else,” said Tal.

“Oh.” He frowned in thought. “But I've heard you tell Colonel Micah what to do.”

“Yes, but did you actually see him do it?”

Jaros stared, and Salomen laughed as she rubbed his shoulder. “Lancer Tal is teasing. What she really means is that Colonel Micah is her friend more than her subordinate. But he still has to do what she asks.”

Further conversation became impossible when Nikin arrived, followed closely by several field workers, and Tal was soon busy answering questions and explaining some of the history and details of traditional sword training. She was surrounded by people whose smiles were open and friendly, whose questions were unguarded and lacking hidden motives, and with a start she realized that somewhere in the last half moon, she had become a part of Hol-Opah. These people saw her working in the fields with them every day and had come to accept her as an Alsean who simply had a different life than they did.

From the beginning she had seen Hol-Opah as a sanctuary, a world apart from the rest. Now she was beginning to see it as home.

Then she felt a sharper note and looked past Nikin to see Herot on the edge of the crowd. He was watching her with a frown, and when their eyes met, he turned and walked away.

Well, most of them accepted her. There was always an exception to the rule.

She just wished the exception weren't Salomen's brother.

CHAPTER 51
Fighting words

 

Tal couldn't remember the last
time she had taken this much care with her appearance. She had been to banquets studded with the planet's political and entertainment elites and not given half this much thought to how to arrange her hair. It was a little embarrassing.

At least she didn't have to think about her outfit. Micah had already picked it out for her last night in Blacksun, saying that only one thing would do for tonight's date. She had protested that it was far too formal for a small village like Granelle, but Micah would have none of it. “The village is not the point,” he said. “Your evenmeal companion is.”

She pulled on the black trousers, tailored to fall perfectly over boots, then stepped into her shiniest and most formal dress boots, with a heel that she would never wear if she needed to move quickly. A high-necked crimson top, buttoned at the side of her throat, denoted her caste and rank by virtue of its color and the almost incandescent glow of the precious bluestones which served for buttons. It was doubtful that anyone in Granelle had seen its like. But the short white jacket was bound to draw the most attention, with its intricate gold patterning on the front, back, and wrists, formal braid at the right shoulder, and dark blue starburst over the heart. It was a dress uniform that stated exactly who she was and where she came from.

Feeling like a trainee on her first date, she descended the back stairs and headed for the porch, where Guard Varsi waited to escort her to her transport. Out of habit she scanned the area before reaching the door, sighing when she felt a second and much less welcome emotional presence on the porch. She opened the door, nodded at Varsi, and walked down the steps with the Guard at her heels. There were more important things on her mind than a sullen young man.

“Well, now I know why you weren't interested in me.” The tone was venomous enough, but it was the surge of anger behind it that made Tal stop and turn.

“Do you? Perhaps you might enlighten me.”

Herot stared insolently from his chair. “It was Salomen all along, wasn't it? Looks like she's held out against you so far, if you're going to such an effort just to shek her. Meadowgreen and opera house clothes; you can probably buy her with that. But then what? I can't imagine she'll hold your attention for long once you've taken what she's selling.”

She should have risen above such obvious baiting. But his words short-circuited her normal control, and the instant rage sent her back up the porch steps.

Herot sat, watching her approach with a smug grin, but it slipped when she grabbed his hand, dug her thumb into the pressure point, and twisted his wrist sharply as she pushed his elbow up. Every major joint in his arm—wrist, elbow, and shoulder—was now under extremely painful pressure.

“Shekking Mother!” He scrambled up, forced to follow the direction she was pushing his arm.

She kicked the chair out from behind him and marched him backward into the porch railing, where she bent him over the handrail.

“Don't think that I have any compunction about teaching you more lessons,” she growled. “You're making it abundantly clear that you're in desperate need of them. And if you ever speak of your sister that way again, the next lesson will be swift and painful.”

He stared at her, awash in a toxic mix of hatred, anger, and fear that she might really hurt him. But when she let him go, a new emotion rose above the rest.

Standing upright, he straightened his jacket with exaggerated care and gave her a cocky smile.

“I knew you wouldn't do anything,” he said. “Not in those clothes. You need to keep them clean to shek my sister.”

She put her body weight into the strike, and with a whoosh his lungs emptied. Red-faced and open-mouthed, he collapsed onto his knees and fell to his side, clutching his abdomen and gasping for air.

“I could have hit you just a bit higher,” she said. “But that would cause so much damage that I'm afraid it would interrupt my plans for a lovely evening. So you can keep that bruise as a reminder that my respect for your sister is the only thing between you and a visit to the healer.” She paused, waiting for him to look up. When he didn't, she added quietly, “Do you think Nashta would be proud of you right now?”

The spike of anguish was the first honest emotion she had ever sensed in him, and she knew the verbal blow had hurt far more than the physical one. With a quick nod at Varsi, who was poised and ready an arm's length away, she walked off the porch and didn't look back.

She had left her personal transport some distance from the house, at the bottom of the hill and behind a grove of trees that shielded it from view. It took nearly the entire walk there to shake off her anger. Hearing Herot use such a crude term in reference to Salomen had fired her blood faster than anything had in a long time, and she was shocked at how much she had wanted to hurt him. Salomen deserved a Shared joining, not some purely physical satiation of need. She deserved reverence and love.

The image that flashed into her mind took her breath away. She saw Salomen, bare-shouldered under a thin sheet, smiling up at her, waiting for her touch with a heated desire in her dark eyes…

Fahla! She could not be thinking that way. Salomen already saw through her front; there was no telling what she might say if she felt that little mental meandering
.

“You may speak,” she told Varsi, needing the distraction. “You've been simmering all the way out here; it's not healthy to keep such anger inside.”

“It's not healthy to speak openly to my superior, either,” Varsi said.

Tal looked over, surprised by her candor. “That depends on the superior and the situation. In this case, your superior is honestly interested in your thoughts.”

Varsi eyed her, plainly nervous. Then she shook her head and smiled. “They're not all that valuable. I was merely wishing you'd hit him higher. If my brother said that about me, I'd make sure he didn't say anything else for quite some time.”

“It was tempting, believe me. But it wouldn't have been worth the consequences.”

“I think that's Herot's problem.” Varsi was feeling slightly more at ease. “He hasn't learned to consider consequences.”

“I think that's only one of Herot's problems.”

“True words. Another one is you.”

Tal stopped. “Me?”

She felt a surge of nervousness from her Guard and remembered Salomen's words from the night before.
You have no understanding of how intimidating you can be.

“I've never disciplined a subordinate for speaking honestly so long as the honesty is accompanied by respect,” she said. “If people told me only what they thought I wanted to hear, I'd never hear anything of value. So I'm interested in what you have to say.”

Varsi dipped her head in a small salute. “Thank you, Lancer Tal. We—I mean, the Guards—we all know that Nashta Opah went to her Return very recently. And we can see the effects of that still, particularly in Raiz Opah. She's the head of her family now and partly a mother to both Jaros and Herot. You're taking Raiz Opah on a date. That makes you a problem for Herot.”

Tal frowned. “I don't interfere in their relationship.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Varsi said, “Not yet.”

There was a long pause while Tal processed this new point of view. When she followed the statement to its logical conclusion, she shook her head at her own blindness. That would explain a few things, wouldn't it?

Her silence had made Varsi nervous again, and she couldn't resist the temptation. “Your opinion is incorrect,” she said sternly. The worry increased as Varsi opened her mouth, but Tal held up her hand. “You said your thoughts were not valuable. I disagree. I find them quite valuable and expect that you will continue to share them if I ask.”

“I…oh.” Varsi relaxed. “You do?”

“Did I not just say so?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then you can take me at my word.” She resumed her walk. “Let's go. If I'm late for this particular date, I'll never hear the end of it.”

All thoughts of Herot and his problems faded once she was cocooned in the familiar comfort of her transport. She lifted off and flew toward the main house, waggling her wings just for the fun of it as she passed over Varsi. In a few ticks Salomen would be sitting beside her, not as a delegate or as the head of Hol-Opah, but as the woman she was taking out for a romantic evening. This was new territory.

Micah was standing on the porch when she landed in front of the house. Her body buzzed with nervousness and excitement as she ran up the steps and stopped with a breathless “Is she ready?”

His slow grin was maddening. “Well, I'm not entirely certain, Lancer Tal. I believe you might wish to ring first and see what awaits you.”

Rolling her eyes, Tal stepped past him and pulled the old-fashioned bell by the door. “You're enjoying this far too much,” she muttered.

“Yes, I am,” he agreed cheerfully, but Tal paid no attention. She was too busy staring at the vision in the doorway.

Salomen wore a filmy burgundy dress that skimmed every one of her curves, ending just below her knees to expose toned, tanned calves. Delicate sandals encircled the feet that Tal normally saw in work boots.

That alone would have sent her heart rate up, but nestled against Salomen's upper arms was a beautifully embroidered wrap that left her chest and shoulders uncovered…and oh, dear Fahla, her shoulders were bare. The straps holding up that dress were so thin that Tal could simply brush them to the sides, leaving all of that flawless skin—

She shook herself out of that fantasy, only to have her eyes fall into a lovely cleavage that was not so much exposed by the dress as enhanced by it. And if Salomen hadn't meant to draw Tal's eyes there, then she shouldn't have worn the pendant that hung on a fine gold chain, resting just between the swells of her breasts.

With an effort, Tal dragged her gaze upward, meeting a very knowing smile. She smiled back, acknowledging that she'd been caught.

She was used to seeing Salomen's dark hair in a sensible tail, which kept it off her neck during the hot field work, but now it was down, gleaming in the light, and brushing one of those bare shoulders. On the other side it was caught up in a golden clip that sparkled with precious stones. Tal's hands itched to undo the clip, beautiful as it was, and release the strands it held captive. She wanted to run her fingers through that hair and see for herself whether it was as soft as it looked.

Goddess above, she wanted—

“Good evening, Andira.”

Tal swallowed. “Good evening. Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“It was my great pleasure.” Salomen looked past her. “Is that our ride for the night?”

“That's my personal transport,” Tal said inanely, and wanted to slap herself.

“Very nice.” Salomen's eyes were alight with merriment. “I'd invite you in to meet my father, but I think we can skip the usual preliminaries.”

“Thank Fahla.” It came out before she could stop herself, and Salomen laughed.

“Shall we go, then?” She walked past Tal and off the porch, leaving a subtle scent behind.

Tal turned in a daze, sniffing appreciatively. Not floral, but spicy—so perfectly appropriate for Salomen.

Her date paused at the bottom of the steps to look back. “Are you coming, or am I going to fly myself?”

Micah chuckled.

“Shut up,” Tal whispered, and chased after her.

She caught up just as Salomen was tugging on the passenger door release. “It needs a programmed biosign,” she said, covering Salomen's hand to still her efforts.

The door slid open at her touch on the sensor, and Salomen looked into the four-seater craft. “Am I correct in guessing that I would be unable to buy this particular model at our local merchant?”

“You're correct. There are only three merchants on Alsea who sell these. And they have very few customers.”

“All warrior caste, no doubt.”

“Actually, most of their customers are merchant caste. The average warrior has no need of such protection.”

Salomen turned to her. “And I hate that you do,” she said quietly.

“I know. But the truth is that when we bond, you'll have need of it as well.”

“I know, and I hate that too.”

They stood looking at each other, until Tal said, “Wait here.” She ducked inside and stepped across to the pilot's seat, then entered a command on her console. “Put your palm on the sensor.”

Salomen lifted her hand, and the console chirped.

“Good. You're programmed. Please come in.”

Ducking her head, Salomen entered and sat next to Tal with a swish of fabric. The door slid shut, enveloping them in silence as Tal watched her taking in the details of the plush interior.

“As Jaros would say, this is speedy. Are you trying to impress me?”

“This comes with my title. It's not a matter of impressing you, it's a matter of logistics. If I'm going out without Guards, this is the transport I use. It's armed with a disruptor, and the hull will deflect both projectile and energy weaponry. There's not much that can reach me in here.” She waved a hand at the interior. “The quiet flight, cushy seats, and military-level electronics are pretty speedy, too.”

Salomen nodded. “I understand. I also understand that you sidestepped my question.”

“Are you impressed?”

“Very.”

“Good, because there's more.” She touched a control, and the windows took on a slight sheen. “I've just activated the privacy screen. We can see out, but no one can see in.”

“Ah. Another safety feature.”

“Correct. It has other benefits as well.”

They smiled at each other, enjoying the light moment. But Tal soon forgot everything else in her study of Salomen's appearance.