“I’ve seen sixty-two cycles,” he reminded her. “My days of striving to overcome are behind me. At this point in my life, I should not be starting over. I should be taking this as a warning that I’ve reached the end of my abilities and that I need to retire before any real damage is done on my duty shift.”
“Dokshin,” she snapped. “Total, unadulterated, steaming dokshin. If I had suggested retirement a nineday ago, you would have been horrified. If I’d suggested that you were nearing the end of your usefulness, you would have set some sort of ambush for me to prove that you still have a few tricks up your sleeve. I’m not buying this one. Try selling me something else.”
His throat tightened. He loved this stubborn woman, and leaving her service was the last thing he wanted. But it had to be done, and she was making it so much worse. “Can you not just let me go? Don’t make me fight for this. It’s hard enough as it is.”
Her expression softened, but she shook her head. “I cannot. And not because of the security issue. Do you think that a Chief Guardian is all you are to me? You’re my advisor and my closest friend as well. You know that; you admitted as much when you said you didn’t resign yesterday because you wanted me to have some time with Salomen. You knew that your resignation would be personally upsetting for me, and you were right. I don’t want this.” She laid her hand palm up on the table between them, inviting a connection.
He looked at it, part of him not wanting to feel her, knowing it would make an already difficult task close to impossible. But to ignore such an invitation was a personal affront.
Carefully, he laid his hand on top of hers, closing his eyes as he sensed the very things he would have given anything to prevent. She was hurt, worried, and afraid, and instinctively he tightened his grip.
“I can’t function nearly so well as a Lancer without you,” she said, “nor would I be as happy in my personal life. I depend on you for far more than security. If you resign, you’ll leave a hole that I cannot fill. Denying your services is detrimental to me, to this office, and to Alsea by extension. You know this.”
“But you’ve already filled that hole. You have Salomen now. She’s proven her worth, and she certainly makes you happy—more so than I ever could as your friend.”
A sharp edge cut through her emotions. “I see. So now that I finally have two people on Alsea that I can trust completely and be myself with, you think that’s one too many? Good of you to make that decision for me.”
They stared at each other in a shared pain. “I have always been honored to be your friend,” he said. “And I will gladly keep that particular title for as long as you want me. But I cannot keep this one.” With his free hand he took his reader card from its holder, tapped it open, and slid it across the table toward her. “I’ve been training Gehrain with an eye toward his eventual promotion. You could do no better for a Chief Guardian.”
She didn’t even glance at the file on display. “Yes, I could, and I already am.”
“He advised me to move our empathic net farther out.”
Tal had been about to say something else; now she closed her mouth. This she had not expected.
He nodded. “You say it was impossible to anticipate Herot’s betrayal, but in a way, Gehrain and I both did. We knew that if we were going to spend an entire moon in one place, we should account for the possibility of inside information on your movements reaching someone with malicious intent. I was more concerned with you being in the middle of fifty field workers; I thought if there was any danger, it would be closer in. So I focused inward. Gehrain said we should also focus farther outward. But even with twenty Guards I couldn’t have set the net that far out and simultaneously maintained my watch closer in. I made a judgment call, but it was the wrong one. The only reason Salomen didn’t die is because you had the capacity to look farther out than the rest of us.”
There was an uncomfortable silence while Tal processed this new bit of information. At last she said, “You’ve trained him well.”
He inclined his head. “He already had good instincts. I’ve just worked with natural talent.”
“Nevertheless, he wouldn’t be as good as he is without your instruction. In time, I think Gehrain will be an excellent Chief Guardian. But not today.”
“Tal, I—”
“I want you to continue training him,” she interrupted. “With the understanding that he’s in line for a promotion when you retire from active service. But I’m not comfortable with Gehrain in that role just yet. Give me a compromise. Stay in my service for a while longer while you finish his training. Promote him to Head Guardian and start delegating some of your duties to him. I’ll have the benefit of two sharp warriors looking after my security, and you’ll have more free time for your new duties.”
“I’m sensing a trap. What new duties?”
“Chief Counselor to the Bondlancer.”
“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “No, no, no. I don’t think—”
“She needs you, Micah.”
That stopped him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she’s here in the State House with absolutely no idea of what it means to be a Bondlancer. She’s here because of a two-moon challenge that just turned into a lifetime, and I haven’t prepared her. No one has. She had to call you today to get clearance for Nikin’s visit; how appalling is that? She shouldn’t be feeling like a guest. She’s the second-highest title on Alsea, or will be once we hold our bonding ceremony. Someone has to guide her.”
She was right, of course. When Salomen had called him that morning, he had been ashamed that she found it necessary. In the chaos of the assassination attempt and its aftermath, no one had remembered that Salomen didn’t have State House protocols etched in her brain like the rest of them.
“Wouldn’t Aldirk be a better choice?” he asked, even though the very thought made him cringe.
“Aldirk is my Chief Counselor. I did ask him to start working with Salomen, but that can’t be a permanent solution. He doesn’t have time, and I don’t think he and Salomen will mix all that well. He’s a snob, and if I know her, she’s already put him in his place once or twice today.”
“She probably has.” Micah couldn’t help smiling as he envisioned the scene. “I would have paid to see that.”
“And I don’t mean that you should be taking over the organizational aspects,” she continued. “We’ll bring in a scholar for that. But Salomen needs someone she can trust, someone she likes, someone she can find comfort in while she’s learning a whole new life. And someone who can protect her. That’s you.”
She was pulling the ground from beneath his feet, and he didn’t know how to stop it. “How can you say that when I’ve already failed you once?”
“Because I still trust you with my life. More importantly, I trust you with her life.” She raised her eyebrows, letting that sink in before adding, “If you force me to accept your resignation, fine, but give me this much. Don’t make me do without you now. Of all the times you could leave me, this is the worst. Stay with me, train Gehrain, advise Salomen, and plan your retirement with a little more forethought. And if you don’t trust yourself, then trust your backup. Gehrain will make an excellent Head Guardian of both Salomen’s Guard unit and mine. You can work around this, Micah. Walking away hurts both me and Salomen. Please don’t do it.”
She was sincere; their palm touch made that clear. He could hardly believe that she still trusted him that much, but it was there in the emotions that she was freely sharing. He wanted to say no, to protect her from his limitations, to do the right thing…but her counteroffer was seductive, and he didn’t seem to have enough strength to fight it. Perhaps he’d never had that much strength to begin with. Fahla knew he didn’t want to leave. What if he could work around his limitations? Then he could stay in her service. He could still be of use. He could help
guide Salomen through the pit of zalrens she was now living in and keep her from becoming a tool to those who would attempt to use her naiveté. Salomen was intelligent and tough; she would soon understand the machinations that were always taking place beneath the surface, but in the meantime, she needed advice and protection. Those were things he could provide.
“If I delegate some of my duties to Gehrain,” he said slowly, “I’m going to need a new Lead Guard for you.”
Tal made a show of thinking about it, but her relief flowed through their touch. “There’s no one qualified for that position in my unit yet. We’ll have to look outside.”
“Agreed. And I already have.” He shrugged at her expression. “I was planning to retire. I had to find someone to take Gehrain’s place anyway.”
“Who did you find?”
He tapped his reader card to activate the next file. “I looked up her record after our trip to the Pit. She has the experience and the leadership qualities. And you liked her, which is a recommendation all by itself.”
Tal smiled as she read the file, topped by an image of Lead Guard Vellmar staring out with a stern look in her dark blue eyes, shadowed by the black hair falling over her forehead. “But can she run?”
“Yes, she can. And her empathic rating is as high as yours.”
She thumbed the reader card and read to the end before looking up with a raised eyebrow. “Impressive. She certainly does have the qualifications. I think she’ll fit in very well.” She squeezed his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
After a slight hesitation, he nodded. “We have a deal.”
“Good.” They released their palm touch and clasped forearms to close the negotiation. “Thank you, Micah. And I want to be there when you give Gehrain his promotion.”
“That’s a given.” He released her arm. “I just hope you won’t live to regret this.”
“I know I won’t. Now if you’ll tell Lead Guard Vellmar that she’s just received a promotion and a transfer, I’ll tell Salomen about her new Chief Counselor. She’ll be thrilled.”
“She’s been with Aldirk all afternoon. She’d be thrilled if you assigned her a talking grainbird.”
“Oh, I think I made a better deal than that.” Tal pushed the disruptor, wristcom, and earcuff to his side of the table. “I assigned her the one man in all of Blacksun that she likes and trusts.”
He clipped the disruptor to his belt and replaced the earcuff. Picking up the wristcom, he said, “From Salomen Opah, that means something.”
“Yes, it does.”
“It means something from you, too.” He settled the wristcom in place and met her eyes. “I’ll do my best to earn what you’re giving me.”
“I expect nothing less. But it’s not my gift you need to earn. It’s yours.”
He nodded, appreciating her quiet understanding. She caught his arm as he began to rise, pinning him with an intense gaze.
“Fahla is the only perfect one among us,” she said. “Everyone else makes mistakes. And everyone else must learn to forgive.”
Sometimes, he thought, Tal showed a wisdom that seemed to have been conferred at birth. Usually he saw her father in her, but at moments like these, she reminded him very much of her mother.
“True,” he agreed. “But not all mistakes are equal, nor do they have equal results. My mistakes carry greater consequences both because you gave me greater responsibility and because I accepted it. And I accept this new responsibility you offer, but with great care. There is a limit to forgiveness.”
He rose and saluted her, bid her good night, and left.
CHAPTER 19:
Salomen’s strategy
Tal stood on the landing pad, watching the transport settle to the ground and appreciating the role reversal. How many times had Salomen stood behind Hol-Opah’s main house, waiting for her?
The engines hadn’t yet spun down when the ramp extended. As soon as it touched the ground, the door opened, revealing Salomen. She waved at Tal and strode down the ramp like a warrior on a mission. Aldirk was a few steps behind her, moving more sedately, and behind him came two Guards.
Salomen walked straight up to Tal and enveloped her in a warmron. “What happened? You went from happiness to dread in two ticks. I don’t like feeling that when I can’t get to you.”
“Not here.” Tal held her tightly, closing her eyes as she soaked up the comfort. It was hard to remember that she had spent her entire adult life without this until just last moon. How had she functioned?
“Lancer Tal.” Aldirk offered a minimal greeting as he walked past.
Tal let go of Salomen but retained her hold on one hand. “Aldirk. Did it go well?”
He stopped and turned. “It did. We were able to deal with a number of details, and I believe the Opahs have a better understanding of the demands of such an event.”
A very diplomatic answer. Tal thanked him and led Salomen down the path into the park. One of the Guards followed, keeping a respectful distance.
“How did it really go?” she asked.
“As well as can be expected when you bring a scholar caste snob into the parlor of a bunch of uneducated producers,” Salomen said. “If he and I spend much more time together, one of us is going to get his ego pruned, and it won’t be me.”
“He did not say you were uneducated.”
“Oh, no, he neither said it nor did he let his front slip even a finger’s width. But I swear he looked for dirt on the chair before he sat down.”
Tal laughed. Poor Aldirk; he must have thought he was being punished for something.
“And as much as I appreciate your manners, my time with Aldirk is not what’s on your mind. What is?”
“Micah tried to resign.”
“He what?”
“My reaction exactly.” They reached a fork in the path, and Tal pointed left, toward the fountain. “I thought I was prepared for a serious talk, but I wasn’t ready for that one.”
“You refused, of course.”
“I don’t have right of refusal. He can leave my service any time if he feels it’s best. You know that from studying the oath ceremony: service is a gift, not a contract.”
They reached the fountain and sat on its smooth stone edge. The gentle plash of falling water soothed Tal’s nerves as she told Salomen about her meeting with Micah.
“I don’t understand,” Salomen said when she finished. “It sounds as if you found the perfect solution for a bad situation. Why are you so afraid?”
“Because it’s not a perfect solution. I just put a skin sealer onto a deep wound, and all I can do now is hope it holds long enough to stop the bleeding.” She dipped her hand into the small waterfall flowing over the fountain’s edge and tried to think of a way to explain. “All Micah agreed to was probation. But he’s his own judge, and he’ll be unforgiving. If he decides he’s failed his probation and resigns anyway, he’ll lose everything.”
“He’ll lose his job; that’s not—”
“It is, Salomen.” Tal gestured at the State House, looming through the trees. “This is his life. He never bonded, and he has no family of his own. I think he adopted me instead, back when I was a child. And he’s a father figure to most of the Guards. He doesn’t just train them; he mentors them, and they love him for it. If he retires due to failure of performance, he’ll lose his chosen family and all his sense of self-worth.” She swallowed hard and added, “I’ve attended funeral pyres for warriors who thought they’d lost everything and had nothing more to offer. I’ll be damned if I’m attending Micah’s.”
“That’s a real risk?”
“It is,” she said grimly.
They sat in silence, each wrapped up in her own thoughts, until Tal realized that the droplets hitting her skin were not coming from the fountain.
Salomen looked up at the approaching squall. “Time to go in. That looks like a heavy one.”
They jogged back to the State House, their Guard close behind. The breeze picked up, rustling through the fallen leaves, and when they opened the door, it pushed them through with a sudden urgency. The rain was already pouring down in sheets before the Guard shut the door behind them.
When they reached their quarters, Salomen went straight to the shannel dispenser while Tal walked to the windows and watched the rain-shrouded city. A flash of lightning was immediately followed by thunder; the squall was directly overhead.
Salomen arrived with two cups of shannel and an air of determination. “We have to make certain Colonel Micah never feels that he’s lost everything.”
Tal accepted her cup with a nod of thanks. “I wish it were that easy.”
“Part of it is. We may not be able to directly help him with his sense of self-worth, but we can offer him a family that would still be there even if he retired.”
“Are you talking about us?” Tal shook her head. “It’s not the same. Without his daily duties, the connection wouldn’t be there.”
“It would be if we made it a different connection.”
Tal watched her, trying to figure out what she had in mind. “All right, I give up. You have something in your pocket. Let’s see it.”
A smile spread across Salomen’s face. “If Colonel Micah has adopted you, that makes him the only elder family member you’re currently in touch with. And I need an elder to petition for inclusion into your family. I think you and I should petition him.”
Tal stared at her. “You’re serious?”
“You know I am.”
Yes, she did, but she couldn’t quite believe it. What Salomen was proposing was highly unorthodox, but…
“That could work,” she said.
Without a Front: The Warrior's Challenge (Chronicles of Alsea Book 3) Page 16
