Without a Front (8 page)

CHAPTER 9
Procrastination

 

Despite Micah's advice and the
urgings of her own conscience, Tal let another nineday slip by without revealing herself to Darzen. She hated herself for being a liar and a coward, but every time she thought about a Sharing, she would see a certain smile on Darzen's face or a hand gesture she had come to love, and her courage would fail her. What if the truth meant she never saw any of those things again? If that was to be the result, then shouldn't she enjoy as much of this time as possible before it came to the inevitable end? Her heart had been too recently broken for her to invite a repetition so soon.

In the meantime, she guiltily enjoyed these precious days. What a refreshing change it was to run with her lover instead of a unit of Guards! To sit on rocks and talk, walk up into the canyons, or enjoy a meal together—all simple pleasures that Tal found exotic. She even enjoyed watching Darzen pick a restaurant, just for the novelty of having someone make a decision based on the menu rather than security concerns. Darzen was choosy about her food, and the odds of them staying at a restaurant once they had seen the menu were about one in three. The benefit was that Tal became acquainted with a number of excellent restaurants in the village. While sitting to midmeal in one of them, she was delighted to discover horten soup on the menu and was preparing to order it when Darzen wrinkled her nose.

“You don't like horten soup?” Tal asked incredulously.

“No. How can you eat it? It's just…unbearable.”

“You've never had it made properly if you can say that.”

Darzen shook her head. “I tried it at the most expensive restaurant in Whitesun. I couldn't get past the smell of it.”

“That's part of the experience! Fahla, I could just breathe in the fumes and be happy.” Tal had never met anyone who didn't like horten soup. It was a delicacy available only during limited times each cycle and could send one to the stars if properly prepared. She would walk ten lengths for a good bowl of it.

“I've heard other people say that, too. But I have no idea what any of you are talking about. It smells like urine.”

Tal laughed. “It does not! You must have a few wires crossed in your nose. But if that's your perception, I can certainly see why you wouldn't want to eat it. I hope you won't mind if I do.”

“Actually…” Darzen hesitated. “I would. If you could keep the smell on your side of the table, that would be fine. But it doesn't stay there.”

“Then I'll order something else.”

“Thank you. Their dokker stew is supposed to be excellent, according to the owner of my inn.”

“Dokker stew it is,” Tal said, secretly mourning her horten soup. Oh, well. She could come back this evening and get some to take back to her cabin.

True to the word of Darzen's innkeeper, the dokker stew was very good, as was the rest of the meal. They got into a discussion about the most popular authors of the day, discovering that they had similar tastes and had enjoyed several of the same books. Darzen had more reading time, however, and kept coming up with titles that Tal had heard of but hadn't yet read.

“I can't believe you haven't read that one,” Darzen said. “Galness is one of my favorite authors! She makes history come alive.”

“Maybe so, but she's not terribly accurate while breathing all that life into her histories.”

“How can you judge if you haven't read it?”

“I read one of her earlier books about the founding of Whitemoon. She glossed over the abuse of the builder caste during that era and glorified the scholar caste to no end.”

“The scholar caste was solely responsible for the planning and architecture of Whitemoon. I don't think she glorified its role at all.”

“Do I detect a bit of caste centrism here?” Tal teased. “Certainly the scholars planned the layout and designed the buildings, but they had builder input in the process. Galness skipped right over that part.”

“But input isn't the same thing as design. That's like saying I should get credit because you captured a criminal after I told you where he was hiding. You're the one with the skills; you're the one who completed the job. I just gave you input that helped you do what you're trained to.”

“In that instance, I would certainly give you credit for enabling the successful capture, because it might not have happened without you. And in the Whitemoon example, I think a better analogy would be if you saw a beautifully engineered boat that someone had forgotten to tie down. You picked up the mooring rope, which was just about to fall in the water, and tied the boat to the dock. You didn't design that boat, but if you hadn't tied it down it would have drifted off and been of no use to anyone. The builder caste had a similar input into the layout and building design of Whitemoon. They were the practical ones who said, ‘Certainly that
looks
nice, but it won't actually work.' Not only did Galness write them out of her history, she also omitted any mention of the abuse they suffered while turning those designs into reality.”

Darzen gave her a knowing smile. “From your spirited defense of the builders, I'm guessing your family reaches into that caste.”

“What would you like to bet on that?”

“Nothing, based on that answer. I admit I'm surprised.”

“That I would defend against an injustice when I see it? I'm a warrior. That's part of my caste responsibility.”

“Even when reading a book?”

Tal had to laugh at the innocent expression on her face. “All right, perhaps I take my responsibility a little further than most. But if Galness were a true representative of her caste, she'd make a little more effort to round up all of the facts before writing the first word.”

“You realize you're insulting one of my favorite authors.”

“But not your caste. Besides, is it an insult if it's accurate?” Tal picked up her glass of spirits. “If you can prove me wrong, I'll retract my so-called insult immediately. Can you?” She took a sip of the excellent drink—Darzen had a knack for picking the good ones—and tilted her head as if listening. “Hm. I didn't hear anything. Do you need more time?”

Darzen shook her head, her lips compressed as she tried not to smile. “My birth mother would call you impudent.”

“Ah, the dreaded mother weapon, only to be dragged out when all others fail. Which means you must be conceding my point.”

“I'll concede your point only after I've looked into the history myself. Now I'm curious.”

“Fair enough. You do your research and report back when you're done.”

“In the meantime,” Darzen said, “you should read another of her books and tell me if you still hold her in such a low opinion. I'd recommend
When the Mountain Fell
. It's about the conquest of Blacksun.”

Tal grinned. “You realize that I know every detail of that battle.”

“Of course. You're a warrior.” Darzen matched her grin with one of her own. “If Galness gets that right, you'll have to concede her skill as a historian.”

“Only for that book.”

“Are you trying to be argumentative?”

“No,” said Tal. “I never have to try very hard.”

CHAPTER 10
Invitation

 

It was a bright, clear
morning when reality finally intruded on Tal's vacation. She and Darzen were running their now-familiar route on the beach, saying little but enjoying each other's emotional presence. Tal watched a flock of sandbirds drilling down for a meal and wondered how they managed to locate their prey. What did they see at the surface of the sand that looked any different from the rest of the beach? She had never thought about it before and was enjoying the mental distraction enough that it took a moment for Darzen's words to penetrate.

“I'm leaving in three days.”

Tal stopped so quickly that she left deep gouges in the sand. She bent over with her hands on her knees, not so much to recover her breath as to give herself a moment to prepare. When her front was in place, she straightened, meeting Darzen's gaze with outward calm. “You never spoke of a departure time before.”

“I didn't want to think about it. This time with you has been too…”

“Perfect,” Tal suggested.

Smiling, Darzen said, “Yes. Perfect. I have loved every tick that I've spent with you. But my time is running out, and there's still so much I don't know about you.”

“I know. I do want to Share with you, truly. It's just…” She paused, searching for the right words, but Darzen saved her the effort.

“Whatever it is, it can't be that terrible. Can it?”

“It's not to me. But I don't know if it will be to you. And I'm afraid of finding out.”

“You're a warrior. You're not afraid of anything.”

“No warrior worth her training would ever say that. It's usually a prelude to death.” Or at least disaster.

“This is hardly a life-or-death situation.”

“It's
my
life.”

Darzen tilted her head to one side, watching her. “I can feel it,” she said softly. “Please, Dira. Share it with me. Otherwise, this is as far as we'll ever go.”

“I know.” Tal turned to watch the waves, hoping for inspiration. A warm hand burrowed into hers, and she relaxed as they stood side by side, holding hands and looking out to sea. It should have been an awkward moment, but Darzen somehow made it comfortable. Rarely had Tal felt so at peace with another person, and in the end it was that peace that made her decision for her. She turned back to Darzen, releasing her hand and reaching out to cup her face instead. Gently rubbing her thumbs over the narrow cheekbone ridges that had fascinated her from their first meeting, she asked, “Will you Share with me tonight?”

Darzen's smile was dazzling. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”

Their kiss was as comfortable as everything else about the relationship, and Tal felt a sudden surge of hope. Tonight would undoubtedly be a shock for Darzen, and Tal would have a lot of explaining to do. But after their Sharing, Darzen would understand her need for this brief interlude of anonymity. She understood so much already, even without an empathic connection.

This Sharing would be the gate to their future. Suffused with certainty, Tal wondered why she had waited so long.

CHAPTER 11
Lancer Tal

 

Darzen brought an expensive bottle
of spirits to Tal's cabin that night. “I thought this might help relax you,” she said as she took off her jacket. “Besides, we have to enjoy things like this while we still can.”

“What do you mean?” Tal busied herself opening the bottle.

“The matter printer technology. I know you're loyal to the Lancer, but I must say that in this instance she's been very unwise. Not to mention stubborn. I hear the Council has a thousand concerns about it, but she's overriding them all. This technology will be an economic disaster.”

With the ease of long practice, Tal strengthened her emotional front as she poured two glasses. “Why do you say that?” she asked, offering a glass.

Darzen took it and held it up. “Because it will turn items like this into luxury products that only the wealthy can afford. Lancer Tal speaks of that technology as a great equalizer, but in reality it will polarize our culture. The vast majority of us will use matter printer products because they'll be so cheap, costing only the energy required to produce them. That means fewer buyers of real products, which means the price of real products will increase exponentially, until only the elite can afford them. If the producers and the merchants don't die out altogether, that is.”

“I think you're underestimating the Lancer.” Normally, Tal enjoyed their intellectual debates, but tonight of all nights she did not want to participate. “I also think we should leave politics out of the evening, don't you?”

“This isn't politics. It's economics, and that's my life.”

“I know that, and you're very good at it. I just hoped we could move to a different topic.”

“Why?”

“Because it's our Sharing! I didn't expect to be discussing matter printer economics tonight.”

“We have plenty of time. I hadn't planned to begin our Sharing as soon as I walked in the door, did you? I was expecting a glass of spirits, a few snacks, some time to talk… It's been a few cycles since I've done this.”

A sudden realization led Tal to skim her emotions, confirming what she suspected. Darzen was nervous and had no idea why matter printer economics might be a touchy issue, and whose fault was that?

She projected calm, watching as it took visible effect. “You're right. It doesn't matter what we talk about. What matters is that you're here, and you've brought some very good spirits.”

Darzen smiled and raised her glass. “To good spirits, then. May we enjoy them while they last.” She took a sip and added, “I've been stockpiling my favorite spirits at home. It's a pity that I can't do the same for all of the other products that won't be available by this time next cycle.”

“Surely you're just a little on the pessimistic side. There will be changes, yes, but they'll hardly be as drastic as that.”

“What you call pessimism, I call realism. This technology is putting the very fabric of our culture at risk. Have you never thought of this?”

“I have,” Tal said. “And I believe the risk can be minimized with the proper preparation before the matter printer technology is released.”

“Well, if I'm realistic, you're optimistic.” Darzen gave her an appraising look. “I'd be tempted to say foolishly so, but I know you too well. You have specific ideas. You got them from the Lancer, didn't you?”

“Yes.”

Darzen wanted details, probing after them until Tal gave up, motioned her to one of the dining chairs, and settled herself on the opposite side of the table with the bottle of spirits between them. This wasn't what she'd had in mind, but clearly her original vision of their evening was not working out.

The level of spirits steadily decreased as Tal outlined her plan for the release of the technology and answered any number of discerning questions. By the time the last drop was poured, Darzen was smiling and shaking her head.

“You're wasted as a warrior. You'd be far better used as an economist. Perhaps the Lancer gave you these ideas, but you've obviously expanded on them yourself. I can feel your involvement with this issue.”

“I
am
involved. That's what I wanted to tell you, before we—”

A sharp knock startled her. She had been so focused on Darzen that she hadn't sensed an approach. Extending her senses, she was dismayed to feel one of her Guards outside, and in an agitated mood.

“Excuse me,” she said as she rose.

Senshalon was standing stiffly at attention on her porch. “Forgive me, Lancer Tal,” he said breathlessly. “I know you asked not to be disturbed, but Lead Guard Gehrain ordered me to alert you. There's been a containment failure at the Redmoon fusion test facility.”

Great Mother, she had actually forgotten. They were testing the prototype today. It was only a one-fifth scale reactor, but it if had been up to full pressure when it failed…

“When did it happen?” she asked.

“Half a hantick ago.”

“Fatalities?”

“Yes, but I don't know any details.”

“Tell Gehrain to get everyone ready to go. Is Colonel Micah on the grounds?”

“He was in town, but he's on his way back now.”

“Then we'll leave when he gets here. Thank you, Senshalon.”

He brought his fists together against his chest, bowed briefly, and ran off the porch.

She closed the door and took a moment to gather herself before turning back to her guest. Darzen's gray eyes were as wide open as her emotions, and Tal winced at her mingled hurt and shock.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “This is not how I wanted you to find out.”

Darzen stared wordlessly for several pipticks, searching Tal's face. “Lancer Tal?” she whispered. “You're Lancer Tal? Oh, Fahla—” A sudden understanding colored her emotions. “Lancer
Andira
Tal.”

“Dira was my childhood nickname, and Shaldone is my mother's family name. I took my father's name when I chose his caste.” Tal pulled a small neutralizer out of her kit and deactivated the colorizers. In a moment she was stripped of her anonymity, looking into Darzen's eyes and hoping for understanding. “You would have known tonight. I had to tell you before we could Share. There's so much I wanted to tell you, to show you, but—”

Darzen held up one hand, her lips tightening as her emotions hardened. “This was your secret. Not some sad past history or an act you thought I might disapprove of. You were hiding your very identity from me.”

“No, I wasn't. I mean—you've seen more of my real identity than most people. I hid my hair and eye color, not myself. You
have
seen me.”

“That is not true.” Darzen's voice rose. “You showed me only the tiniest part of yourself. What was this, some sort of game? Was I the prize? I was falling for you, Dira.” She stopped and shook her head. “Andira. Goddess above, I didn't even know your name. You let me fall for a shadow.”

“Wait, please—”

But Darzen was already pulling on her jacket. She zipped it up and pinned Tal with a glare, her anger fueled by the hurt and betrayal right at the surface of her emotions.

“You're not the woman I knew. Dira wouldn't deceive me this way. She wouldn't stand by while I made a fool of myself!” Her frown intensified. “No wonder you had such a grasp of matter printer economics.”

“I deceived you because I was afraid of exactly this! And you have been anything but a fool. Will you please just take one tick and think about what we've had together? Everything has been true and real. Everything except my title.”

Darzen yanked open the door. “There's just one problem with that, Lancer Tal. Your title
is
everything.” With a rustle of fabric she was gone, leaving the door open behind her.

“Shek!” Tal took a step toward the door and stopped. She couldn't chase after Darzen; there was no time. Her responsibilities had reappeared, and there was nothing she could do now. She had barely enough time to throw a few clothes into her bag as it was.

Quietly, she closed the door and began to pack. Darzen would have to wait.