“We didn’t know if the Protectorate would agree to our proposal. It would have been cruel to raise your hopes for something that might not happen, but we also didn’t want to lose time before training you.”
“The Phoenix has a crew of one thousand two hundred and sixty-four,” Lhyn said. “Sixty-five, when I’m there. None of us can keep from broadcasting our emotions. Lanaril said that would be loud even for a mid empath.”
“Are they all like you?”
Lanaril laughed, a full, rich sound that Rahel had not heard from her before. Lhyn’s embarrassment blossomed into a larger flare.
“No one is like Lhyn,” Lanaril said. “You’ll find that her words match her emotions. She doesn’t hide.”
“Gaian cultures vary quite a lot,” Lhyn added. “But none of us are empathic, so most of us take advantage of the fact that our emotions can’t be read. We say one thing but mean another. We have languages that can be in real-time conflict. For instance, I might say ‘I don’t care,’ while my body cues are saying ‘I care a whole lot, but I don’t think I should.’ There are entire academic disciplines devoted to recording body cues of different Gaian cultures and translating them into languages.”
Rahel nodded. This was one of the first things Lhyn had said that she understood. “I learned a long time ago that people speak three languages. One with their words, one with their bodies, and one with their actions. Gaians don’t sound much different from Alseans in that respect.”
Warm approval rode the back of a frisson of excitement as Lhyn smiled at her, then turned to Lanaril. “You were right. I like her.”
It was impossible to be around someone so completely open with her emotions—and so happy to be speaking with Rahel—and not like her in return. “Bridge the cultures,” Rahel said. “You’re my guide? Lanaril said I would have someone to help me learn to fit in.”
“I’m your guide. And delighted to have the opportunity.”
She needn’t have added that last part; Rahel could sense it from a room away. High empaths must feel this sort of thing all the time. And even though the emotions were a pleasure to absorb, she concentrated on bringing up her blocks just to test her ability.
The pile of brilliant crystals faded and grew more distant. She could still identify them, but they were no longer taking up all of her vision. Then she pushed a little harder, using the strength she had developed to keep Salomen out.
Lhyn’s emotions vanished.
Trust me, Salomen had said.
She released her blocks and grinned at Lanaril. “Salomen is very good at not telling the truth while not lying, either. But you lied. You said it was about feeling more confident around high empaths.”
Lanaril was wearing her unrepentant smile. “Do you feel more confident?”
“The only high empaths I’m around are you, Salomen, and Deme Zeras. And Salomen’s Guards.”
“My question stands.”
Rahel thought about it. “I’m much more confident. But I can’t say that’s from my training.”
Lanaril gracefully brought her hands together on the table. “I’d say the results speak for themselves.”
“Don’t try,” Lhyn said. “You’ll never beat her at that game. But you were lucky to have her as a counselor. She’s the best, and I say that from personal experience.”
“She counseled you?” Rahel could not imagine this vibrant woman needing Lanaril’s services.
“I think she’ll always counsel me. It’s kind of built into her friendship.”
Oh, Fahla. They were friends. And Lhyn was bonded to Captain Serrado, who was friends with Lancer Tal . . .
Her heart sank. She had thought that serving aboard a Protectorate ship meant she could leave this behind. Captain Serrado would know, of course, but she had hoped no one else would.
“You know what I did,” she said.
“Yes. I also know why you did it.” Lhyn’s eyes were full of the sympathy that poured off her skin, but there was also a strangely misplaced sense of guilt. “It’s not in your official Protectorate record, if that helps. Ekatya and I will be the only ones on the Phoenix who know. Oh, and Dr. Wells. She has to know, because she’ll be responsible for your ongoing checkups.”
“Why don’t you care?”
“I cared a lot when I first heard. But then I found out the rest of the story.”
“Are all Gaians this forgiving? I would hate anyone who hurt Salomen now.”
“Not by any means. But . . .” She glanced at Lanaril. “I’ve learned a few things about forgiveness. There’s nothing like needing it yourself to make you realize just how much it’s worth. And I’m not much for hating. I did hate someone for a while, just as hard as I could, but then I realized it was only hurting me. He would have laughed if he’d known. So I stopped. There’s no benefit. Don’t hate yourself, Sayana.”
“Rahel, please. I don’t go by my family name.”
Fascination rose in a cloud and overwhelmed the room. “Really? But you’re a First Guard.”
Rahel shrugged. “I was never part of a unit. I worked alone most of the time, and Shan—my oath holder called me Rahel.”
“How interesting. I’m going to have more questions about that. About everything, really. Your story is amazing. Do you know what a phoenix is?”
Dazed by the sudden shifts in topic, Rahel shook her head.
“It’s an old legend from Ekatya’s home planet. A phoenix was a bird that was associated with the sun. It could live for hundreds of cycles, and when it finally died, it died in flames. It would burn to a pile of ashes.”
“Like on a pyre?”
“Yes, except there was no pyre. It self-combusted. Then it would be reborn and rise up from the ashes to fly away. Ekatya’s new ship is a twin of her old one. It’s the resurrection of the Caphenon; that’s why they named it the Phoenix. So it’s very apropos that you’ll be serving on it. You’re embarking on a new life.”
A resurrection. Three moons ago, she had almost walked straight to her Return. Now she was starting over.
“Rising from the ashes,” she repeated.
Lhyn nodded. “Some tales said that when the phoenix died, it died old and tattered. Its head drooped, and its feathers were worn and broken. But when it was reborn, it flew out of the ashes with all the strength of its youth. Its feathers were so bright that no mortal could look at them for fear of being blinded.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever blind anyone,” Rahel said. “But I would like to fly.”
73
AN HONORABLE WARRIOR
Her first oath of service had been sworn at the end of Dock One when she was twenty cycles old.
Her second would be sworn at thirty-six, beneath the ancient molwyn tree in Blacksun Temple.
But she had no sword. Hers was in Whitesun, and she was not yet free to travel. Even if it were somehow brought here, she would not swear to Salomen on a weapon gifted by Shantu. Some things were not appropriate.
Instead she stood in front of Lead Guard Ronlin, accepting the loan of his sword.
“You ever hurt her again, I’ll kill you with this.” He held out the grip.
“If I ever hurt her again, you won’t need to bother.”
He stared into her eyes for several pipticks, then nodded once and let go. “Good.”
She studied the grip. Unlike hers, it was worn with use.
“Lead Guard?”
When he turned back, she tapped his grip against her sternum. “I swear on my honor that I’ll spend my service to her making it right.”
“The honor she’s giving you?” he asked pointedly.
“No. The honor she’s giving back to me.”
He tilted his head, then stood straight and thumped his fist to his chest. “First Guard,” he said, acknowledging her higher rank for the first time.
Her throat closed, but he did her the courtesy of giving no sign that he sensed it. Without a word, he took his position next to the steps leading to the temple deck.
She glanced at the sleeve of her new dress uniform, which matched Ronlin’s but for one detail: hers bore the red chevrons of a First Guard.
Salomen had sent the uniform to her retreat quarters, delivered by a tailor who took her measurements and made the alterations then and there. Rahel had watched every step of the process, unable to take her eyes off the clothing that represented her future.
In both the Lancer’s and Bondlancer’s Guard units, the uniform colors changed to reflect the caste of the title holder. It had been a very long time since the Bondlancer’s Guards wore the deep green of the producers. Rahel had rarely needed a uniform in the course of her duties, and never missed it, but that changed the moment she put on her newly altered jacket and straightened the sleeves. Standing in her tiny retreat room, wearing the colors of the Bondlancer, she thought that being Alsea’s first space explorer might be the lesser of her honors.
Now she tugged the sleeves one more time, despite their already perfect placement, and lifted her gaze to the molwyn tree. Sunlight streamed through the glass roof, bathing the tree in a nimbus of light and illuminating the small cluster of people standing beneath it. Other than the Guards encircling the deck, they were the sole occupants of the temple. It had been closed for this ceremony due to Salomen’s presence.
Rahel settled her shoulders beneath the weight of the jacket and walked through the line of Guards. The only sound was that of her boots thudding on the wooden steps and then the boards of the deck, every step counting down the last moments of her outcaste exile.
Salomen waited for her by the black trunk of the tree, a striking figure in the regalia of the Bondlancer. The shield of Alsea blazed across her chest, and her sleeves were studded with metallic discs that reflected the light with her slightest movement. Her cape was magnificent, the producer’s dark green providing a background for a larger Alsean shield embroidered in black and gold. Heeled boots made her taller than usual, and her bearing was proud and strong.
Behind her, Lanaril was resplendent in her ceremonial garb. Her deep blue tunic was delicately embroidered with a shining silver molwyn tree that rose from her hips to her collarbones. The pattern was repeated in gray embroidery on the black trousers that fell over shining black boots.
On either side of Lanaril were Lhyn, wearing the dark blue cape of a scholar and an Alsean vest with a smaller molwyn design, and Captain Serrado, in a Fleet dress uniform.
Standing slightly to the side were Sharro and Ravenel in full capes and beaming smiles. Rahel had always loved her mother’s tricolored cape, but these days Sharro wore a distinctive design of her own. Not satisfied with the solid purple of her caste, she had edged her cape in the yellow, green, and blue of the crafters, honoring her bondmate. The debut of her new design at their bonding ceremony had apparently started a trend in Whitesun.
As always, she used her hair streak to make a statement. It was splendidly crimson, matching Rahel’s cape, but bore a slash of producer green as well.
Rahel stopped in front of Salomen and was suddenly assailed by doubt. As a youth, she had seen her dreams snatched away too many times, always just as she reached for them. It had happened again just half a cycle ago, when Shantu promised that they would make history together and instead left her with nothing. Now her future was in the hands of a woman she barely recognized. In that majestic clothing, exuding such power, Salomen was every bit the Bondlancer and the vessel of Fahla.
Then Salomen gave her a warm smile, and the regal image dissolved into her friend. Rahel’s body settled with relief as she smiled back.
“First Guard Sayana,” Salomen said in a clear voice. “You have walked a long and dark road to meet me here, beneath this sacred tree. I am overjoyed to stand with you now, in the light and under the watchful gaze of Fahla. For I am in need of a loyal warrior, and you are in need of an oath holder. Though we met under distressing circumstances, we know that beginnings do not dictate the end.”
Rahel kept her head high despite the familiar shame. Salomen’s word choice minimized the violence of their meeting, but she would never forget.
“You have healed from a grievous hurt,” Salomen continued, her eyes soft with understanding. “I have learned the pain of causing harm—and the great, healing gift of forgiveness. Both of us have outgrown our old skins. I believe that, should we join forces, we could be greater still.”
She gave Rahel a slight nod, silently telling her to speak.
“Bondlancer Opah.” Rahel was pleased to find that her voice did not shake. “I am not the only one who forgave. Your generosity of spirit is as great as it was unexpected, and my debt to you will last a lifetime. You have given me a gift beyond price. Not just absolution, but the return of my honor, my name, my caste . . . my dreams. If I had any part in aiding you, then it was and continues to be my greatest pleasure, second only to one: the pleasure of serving you.”
She activated the grip and watched the sword blade appear, individual sections assembling themselves into a solid, gleaming whole faster than she could see. As she held the sword in a vertical position, she saw this ceremony in a new light.
When she had sworn to Shantu, she had been too young and excited to realize the significance of an oath holder standing, weaponless and with throat bared, in front of a warrior holding a naked sword.
This was a ceremony of trust.
“I stand before you with a clear heart and an honorable name,” she said, and now her voice did tremble. “I wish to serve you in any capacity I am able. I place my strength between you and harm, my sword between you and your enemies, and my last breath between you and death. This I swear in Fahla’s name. I am Rahel Periso Sayana, and I ask this gift of you: Will you accept my service?”
She let the blade fall to a horizontal position, caught the tip on her palm, and dropped to one knee as she held out the sword with both hands. The full cape pooled around her, soft crimson fabric folding onto the boards of the temple deck.
For just a moment, as she looked down, she would swear she saw the glint of Wildwind Bay breathing beneath her.
She remained in a kneeling position, her neck bowed and bared. When Salomen took the sword from her hands, she understood the other half of the ceremony.
The sword was retracted with a quiet metallic slide. Her trust was given and answered.
“Please stand, Rahel Periso Sayana.”
She rose to her feet.
Salomen took her hand and rested the sword grip across her palm, covering a wound that was no longer there. “You offer me a sword extended, and I return it to you sheathed. I accept the gift of your service with a glad heart, and trust that you will stand between me and harm. Should your last breath be expended in my defense, I swear to you that your name will be honored to the utmost of my ability, and the flames from your pyre will reach the stars themselves.”
She released Rahel’s wrist. “Captain Ekatya Serrado, please come forward.”
The famous captain was shorter, with gleaming black hair cut just below the shoulders and dark blue eyes that missed nothing. She carried herself like a warrior, Rahel thought.
“Captain Serrado, I name you my proxy in holding the oath of Rahel Periso Sayana for a period of one cycle. Do you understand your responsibilities as an oath holder?”
“I do.” The captain’s voice rang through the temple.
“Do you accept these responsibilities?”
“I do.”
“Do you agree that service is a gift to be earned, not an obligation to be abused?”
“I do.”
“Then First Guard Sayana is now in your service.” Salomen lowered her voice. “I expect you to bring her back whole and unharmed.”
Captain Serrado’s smile held the intimacy of a friend as she responded, “I’ll do my very best.” She turned to Rahel and held up a hand. “Welcome to my crew, First Guard Sayana.”
Rahel met her palm, amazed at how much this woman kept behind her calm expression. “Thank you, Captai
n Serrado. I look forward to serving.”
Salomen’s Guards left immediately after the ceremony, except those who were working her detail. Lead Guard Ronlin remained and accepted the return of his grip with a crisp salute. Rahel acknowledged it with a nod, the simple exchange of gestures making her chest ache with happiness.
Sharro stepped up and brushed gentle fingers along her jaw. “You’re not a fierce warrior today,” she said quietly. “You’re an honorable one.”
There was nothing she could say to that without embarrassing herself in front of the other Guards. Instead, she held both of Sharro’s hands and kissed her cheek, then rested their foreheads together. Feeling Ravenel’s hand upon her back, she turned and met her in the same familial gesture.
“Bondlancer Opah was right,” Ravenel said when they separated. “It has been a long and dark road. But what a shining figure you are at the end of it!”
“She already has an idea for a statue.” Sharro’s dimple deepened in a mischievous smile.
“Oh, no. Tell me that’s a joke.”
“Are you impugning my art?”
“I’m certain she’s doing no such thing.” Salomen had joined them. “Rahel has far more respect for you than that.”
“Bondlancer.” Ravenel held her hand over her heart. “Thank you for giving my daughter such an honor. You’ve done far more than keep the promise you made me in the healing center.”
“And she has done far more than keep the promise she made to me. I’m envious of Captain Serrado, to speak truth. Part of me doesn’t want to let Rahel go. I know you understand that.”
“I do. It’s always been hard to let her go. But I learned a long time ago that it’s the only way to keep her.”
“You can’t hold a fistful of water,” Sharro agreed. “But you can cup it in your palm.”
Salomen shot Rahel a knowing look. “You did say she would give Lanaril competition.”
“I didn’t lie, did I? That’s how I understood Lanaril so well.”
“I hear my name.” Lanaril walked toward them and gestured at Captain Serrado and Lhyn, who were making their way to the inner temple doors. “We need to reopen the temple, but I’ve arranged food and drink in my study. If you would join us?”
Outcaste Page 49
