Vellmar tried to remember any superior officer telling her that her opinions were valued and came up blank. Then she remembered her first night in Blacksun, when Lancer Tal asked her how she would find something that couldn’t be found, and realized that the message was precisely the same. The Lancer wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t value the answer.
“You don’t keep much distance yourself,” Senshalon said.
“I’m too new in the role. I haven’t had time to acquire my lofty superior-officer airs yet.”
“Well, in case you value my opinion, I advise you to watch Colonel Micah and see just how lofty he is. There’s a reason we’re all breaking our backsides trying to wake him up, and it’s not because of his professional distance.”
“Senshalon, there’s nothing I’d like more than to watch the colonel and learn from him. I just pray I have the chance to do it.”
He nodded soberly. “Me, too.”
There wasn’t much to say after that, and they passed most of the flight in a comfortable silence, reading or watching the scenery out the window. Twice Vellmar saw the healer check on Colonel Micah, and once Chief Counselor Aldirk wandered up the aisle from his aft cabin and vanished into the fore corridor, no doubt to consult with the Lancer on something. He returned half a hantick later, staring straight ahead and meeting no one’s eyes. Vellmar knew nothing about the man, but it seemed clear that he was a scholar caste snob.
By the time they reached the southern coast of Argolis, she was tired of her book and took a moment to make fun of Senshalon’s, which was a well-known historical romance set during the fall of Blacksun. Senshalon protested that he was reading it for the depictions of the battle, and Vellmar suggested he try nonfiction if he wanted accurate battle descriptions. After a few enjoyable ticks of banter, Vellmar was returning to her view when Senshalon said, “Wait. I wanted to ask you something.”
His tone got her attention, and she looked back to see a serious expression on his face. “Go ahead.”
“Is it true that you carry blades because you’re not accurate with a disruptor?”
“I carry blades because I’m more accurate with them than with a disruptor, and a good warrior always uses her best tools,” she snapped. “Anything else you want to know?”
“Whoa.” He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I, ah…shek, this isn’t working.” He took a deep breath and asked in a rush, “Will you teach me your technique?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not a perfect shot with a disruptor either. My best skill is hand-to-hand combat; I leave the long-distance accuracy to our snipers. And watching you and Lancer Tal in that house made me think that a better knowledge of blade handling could be a real asset for me in close-range fighting.”
She eyed him, trying to determine his agenda. He seemed earnest, but she had been burned before. “It takes a lot of practice to get that kind of accuracy.”
“I know, and I’m not striving for that. At least, not right now. It’s just that I saw an opportunity to expand my skills, and I was hoping you’d teach me.”
“Are you talking about knife fighting?”
“Yes. To start with, anyway. Eventually I’d like to learn to throw, too. What you did back there—it was spectacular.”
Her instinctive wariness finally retreated. “I can teach you. As long as you don’t mind getting a few holes at first.”
An enormous grin lit his face. “Speedy! Thank you!”
“You sound like you’re eighteen,” she said with a laugh.
“It’s not every day that a warrior gets the daughter of the world champion to train him. I’ll be learning from the best. When can we start?”
“Today, if you want.”
“I do,” he said instantly. “That would be great.”
“All right. Bring heavy gloves.”
His brow furrowed. “How am I supposed to handle blades with gloves?”
“Very carefully,” she said. “That’s the point.”
He looked at her suspiciously while she held a straight face for as long as she could. Then it cracked, and she laughed at his expression of disgust. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
“Wonderful, our new Lead Guard thinks she’s funny.” But he was smiling as well. “Were you serious about the gloves?”
“Very. I found arm pads in the training room, but no gloves. You’ll need them until you learn some basic techniques. Remember your early sword training?”
“Oh,” he said. “That’s what you meant by a few holes.”
“Unavoidable. Better to get them in training than elsewhere.”
He nodded. “Have you ever considered entering the Global Games?”
“And go up against my birthmother?”
“Hm. That is a problem.”
“Actually, I’ve thought about asking her not to enter one of the competitions for that very reason. But it seems a little selfish, asking her to forego a prize just so I can enter.”
“I think you should do it,” he said. “I can’t imagine your birthmother not being proud to see you accepting a prize, even if means she has to give one up. She’s the one who taught you, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then she’ll be proud.”
“Is that your opinion?” She lifted an eyebrow.
“It is. If you value it.”
She caught the meaning and looked at him with new eyes. Though she was only a few cycles older, she had the rank and experience he was still dreaming about. And she was the one who could provide for him what Lancer Tal had provided for Varsi…and for her.
“I value it,” she said. “Thank you. Perhaps this winter I’ll get further than just thinking about entering.”
He grinned. “Good! We’ll all be there cheering you on. You’ll be the first in our unit to be in the Games. Nilsinian almost got into the sniper competition two cycles ago, but he was knocked out of the final elimination round by half a point.”
“Ouch.”
“Yes, he sulked for days.”
“Why didn’t he try again last cycle?”
He shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him that. We tried, but he just growled at us.”
They got into a discussion of last cycle’s Games and who should have won, until Vellmar had a shannel craving and left to get a bag from the storage unit. By the time she returned, Senshalon was reading again.
She settled into her seat, her own book forgotten as she watched the first outlying mountain pass beneath them. They were almost home.
“Vellmar?”
“Yes?” she said, still looking at the view.
“Thank you again. I appreciate your taking the time for me.” She turned to face him as he added, “And don’t be surprised if some of the others want to join up once they see what’s happening.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be happy to train anyone who wants it.”
He nodded and buried his nose back in his book. Vellmar watched as they approached the highest peaks, a tingle of happiness buzzing through her. For once in her life, it looked as if she would not have to battle the prejudice of warriors who saw her lack of disruptor skills as a handicap. Senshalon had called her the best; he wanted her to teach him.
A smile crossed her face. Her first impression about this unit was right—this was her dream job.
CHAPTER 50:
Siblings
They landed at the Blacksun Healing Center first. Tal accompanied Micah’s stretcher and watched as the staff transferred him to his new bed. Part of her had secretly hoped that being in Blacksun might have some sort of magical effect; after all, this was home. But of course it didn’t. This room looked the same as the one in Redmoon, just with a different view out the window.
As
soon as they were left alone, Tal went to his bedside and held his hand.
“We’re home, Micah,” she said softly. “And the dokshin is falling from the sky, and I really need you. Please, please come back.”
His eyes moved briefly under his eyelids, but she had seen that before and no longer took it as a sign of impending consciousness. She stood with him for another tick or two, then reluctantly laid his hand on the cover. “I can’t stay. But I’ll be back. So will the Guards, including everyone who stayed behind, so don’t start thinking you’ll get to relax. We’re not done annoying you. And I’m bringing the entire Opah family here tonight, so you’ll be seeing some old friends. Well, except for Herot.”
It was hard to leave. Every single time was hard to leave, because she never knew if he would still be there when she came back. All she could do was hope, and that was getting more difficult every time she saw him.
Their next stop was the State House, where Aldirk, Gehrain, and Vellmar disembarked. As ranking officers, Gehrain and Vellmar had dual housing in the State House and on base, sleeping where Tal did while on duty. Since their leave took effect the moment they arrived in Blacksun, neither of them had any obligation to be at the State House, but they both said they planned to use the time to settle into their new quarters. Vellmar hadn’t even seen her base quarters yet, but she had decided to save that for later.
When they arrived at Blacksun Base, the remaining Guards piled out and scattered to their quarters. Tal, Salomen, and Thornlan were soon the only ones left on board, and Thornlan was only there to finish her post-flight review. Tal poked her head in to thank her and wish her a good day off, then went back to her private cabin.
“Delaying won’t make it any easier,” she said, leaning in the doorway.
Salomen looked up from where she was repacking several items in her bag. “I just wanted to get these put away.”
“And the four-hantick flight wasn’t enough time?”
When Salomen looked down without answering, Tal pushed off the door and walked over to crouch beside her. “I know you don’t want to do this. But you’ll feel better afterward.”
“Is that a theory or a guarantee?” Salomen asked sharply, focusing on her packing. Tal was quiet, and Salomen’s hands finally stilled. Staring into her bag, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m nervous and upset and taking it out on you. You’re right, I need to get this done.”
Tal put a hand over hers. “I’ll be right beside you.”
Salomen let out an inelegant snort. “It’s a sad statement when you have to support me while I speak to my own brother.”
“It won’t just be me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have company waiting for you outside. Shall I bring him in?”
Salomen frowned at her, then stood abruptly and left the cabin. Tal followed her to the transport door, where one of Salomen’s Guards was just arriving with Shikal.
“Father!”
He smiled at her as he stepped inside. “Hello, Salomen. Welcome back.”
She touched his palms and rested her forehead against his. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Tal breathed a sigh of relief and motioned for the Guard to make a discreet exit. As he tiptoed down the ramp, she turned and went back to her cabin, where she pulled her reader card from its pouch and settled into a chair at the conference table.
The Salomen who reappeared at her door was a different creature than the woman who had left it twenty ticks earlier. She walked straight over, threw her arms around Tal’s neck, and kissed her.
“Thank you,” she said. “This was exactly what I needed.”
Tal smiled up at her, happy that she had guessed right. Any answer she might have given was forestalled by Shikal’s low whistle as he came in.
“Lovely,” he said. “Now this is the way to travel.”
Tal reluctantly disentangled herself from Salomen and stepped over to offer Shikal her palms. “It surely takes the sting out of getting from one place to another. Well met, Shikal. It’s good to see you again.”
“Well met.” He curled his fingers around hers. “I don’t know how to thank you for bringing my son back. And I’m even more at a loss to express my sorrow about Colonel Micah. I know we’re scheduled for a Sharing tonight, but do you think I’ll be able to see him earlier?”
“Of course. He’d appreciate that. As for Herot, has Salomen told you that the only reason we were able to bring him back is because she found him?”
“We found him,” Salomen corrected. “And yes, he knows all about it. I called him from Redmoon yesterday, while you were sleeping.”
“Difficult times.” Shikal squeezed Tal’s hands once more before letting go. “There has been too much anger in our family, and too much betrayal for all of us. I can’t do anything about your political situation, but at least I can start the healing process for our family.”
Salomen went to her bag, tossed in the remaining items without a care for where they landed, and stood up with the barely closed bag over her shoulder. “I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”
He shook his head at her. “We’re getting nothing ‘over with.’ That sounds as if we will see Herot once and be done with it. He’s still a member of our family, and he needs healing just as much as the rest of us.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t agree. His wounds were self-inflicted. Ours were not.”
“But they cause the same pain,” he said. “And don’t forget that the wound which began all of this is one we all share.”
“I think the time has long passed when Herot could claim Mother’s Return as an excuse. He has no excuses, and I don’t want to hear any. I just want to hear that he understands what he’s done.”
“And if you hear that, will you forgive him?”
“I don’t know.” She motioned toward the door. “Shall we go?”
Tal looked at Shikal, who nodded. She picked up her own bag and led the way out.
It was a somber walk into the detention quarters, dampened even further by the light rain that began to fall. They left their bags at the front desk and were escorted through several corridors and locking barriers, finally halting by a door near the end of a long hallway. A warder unlocked the palm pad and stepped to the side.
When Salomen and Shikal stood still, Tal gently pushed in front of them, opened the door, and walked into the cell.
Herot was lying on his bunk, his back to the door. Though he did not stir at the sound of her entry, she knew he was awake.
“Herot,” she said.
He started in surprise and rolled over. “It’s you! Did you—?” His voice died when Shikal and Salomen stepped in.
“Hello, my son. I would say well met, but…” Shikal looked around the small cell, letting the implication finish his sentence.
Herot’s eyes were enormous as an extraordinary range of emotions flitted across his face. He started to rise, thought better of it, and slumped onto his bunk with a defeated air. “I hoped you’d come. And I wished you wouldn’t.”
“Why would you wish that?”
Herot mutely gestured at his cell, his face taking on the stony stillness of someone who was trying desperately to hold himself together. Tal had to block her senses against the strength of his and Shikal’s emotions, but she couldn’t block Salomen, who had not moved since her entry. Herot seemed afraid to look at her, alternating between staring at his father and the floor, and Tal knew he could sense her anger. Salomen was barely controlling it as she stood there, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“You are family regardless of your location.” Shikal was speaking for Salomen’s benefit as well. “Will you not give me a proper greeting, or have you forgotten how?”
Herot stood instantly, limped to his father, and held up both
palms. “I didn’t know if you would want it.”
“Of course I do.” Shikal clasped their hands. “I’ve been angry, yes. And hurt and grief-stricken and bewildered…but I’ve also worried about you, and I’m very, very glad you’re safe.”
Herot took in a shuddering breath of air. “I’m so sorry,” he said in a small voice.
“I know. But tell me, exactly what are you sorry for?”
“Everything.” A tear slipped from his eye, but he was still holding on. “Every single thing. The way I treated all of you, the things I said, the way I saw only what I’d lost and never what I still had…and especially that night. I can never make up for that night.”
“No, you cannot.”
The words were cold and clipped, and Herot visibly shrank as he met the rage in his sister’s eyes. Letting go of his father, he took a careful step toward her. “I know I can’t,” he said. “I know, believe me.”
“What the shek do you know, hm? Do you know that we lost Mother’s portrait? And all of her books? Do you know that we had to throw the quilt in the trash, along with everything else? The quilt she made when she was Jaros’s age and her mothers taught her how to sew?” She closed the small space between them, standing nearly chest to chest with him. “Do you know that I burned just as much as Andira when I tried to help her with the pain? Do you know that I watched her pass out from it? What do you know?” she shouted, and as he flinched, she shoved him, sending him flying back onto his bunk.
He landed awkwardly, pulling himself back into a sitting position as the tears streamed down his face. “I’m sorry—”
“That’s not good enough!” she shouted again.
Shikal put a calming hand on her shoulder. “Salomen…”
“No!” She brushed his hand away, her eyes never leaving Herot’s as she advanced to his bunk. “Sorry isn’t good enough. Sorry doesn’t begin to make up for what you put us through. And I know you’ve suffered as well, and I’ve hurt for you, and that made me even angrier. I don’t want to hurt for you. How can I still have any feelings like that when you’ve hurt me and Andira so badly?”
Without a Front: The Warrior's Challenge (Chronicles of Alsea Book 3) Page 39
