He nodded, still in shock at seeing Tal like this. It brought back bad memories, and he began to understand what she had been going through.
“I think I know,” he said.
Once Tal had herself back under control, she and Salomen pulled up chairs and settled in for a long talk. She told him about everything he’d missed, which was an unbelievable amount, and he filled in the only piece she was missing. She nodded as he described the chase in the basement, her expression showing that he was only confirming what she’d already guessed. When he mentioned the metal control panel, however, her attention sharpened.
“Micah, you were out there in the middle of an open space with no cover anywhere in sight. What possessed you to shoot the panel instead of the warrior?”
He shook his head. “Something just wasn’t right about it. It was so shiny and new, and everything else in that house was dusty and old. And that warrior was ignoring disruptor fire…” He stopped and corrected himself. “No, she wasn’t ignoring it, because she was running an avoidance pattern. But she wasn’t returning fire, and this after she’d already pinned me down several times. It didn’t make sense. I had a moving target that I was having a hard time hitting, and a stable target that seemed to be very important to that warrior. And I thought that if it was important enough for her to risk her life to reach it, it was important enough for me to destroy it. But the moment I shot out that panel, she was in a rage. She just held the trigger down and poured it out, and I couldn’t roll away fast enough.”
“Interesting choice, Micah.”
He frowned. “I seem to be making a lot of them lately.”
“Let me tell you why that panel was shiny and new,” she said. “It had been installed just half a moon earlier. It supplied power to about fifty holes in the basement ceiling. And in those holes were enough explosives to blow the entire house into tiny little pieces, along with everyone in it.”
He stared at her, not understanding how she could look…amused while she said it.
“The house was a trap?”
She nodded. “It was a trap. Gehrain, Nilsinian, Dewar, Corlander, and Windenal would all be dead right now if you hadn’t shot that panel. And you, of course. Six lives saved by an instinctive snap decision under fire. Not bad for an old warrior.”
He thought over the whole scenario again, remembering where everyone was and what had been happening, and slowly the truth of it seeped in.
“It was the right decision,” he said.
“You’re damned right it was. So I hope you’ll reconsider that resignation. I know you never really took it off the table, not in your mind. I want it gone. I have need of an old warrior with instincts like yours. You have so much to teach our Guards, Gehrain and Vellmar in particular. Gehrain has done his best to fill in for you, but he needs more seasoning before he can be even half as valuable to me as you are. And Vellmar has all the makings of a future Chief Guardian, but she’s young, very young, and she needs a guide who understands how to shape her potential without shutting it down. What do you say?”
“I say you have a lot of nerve, asking hard questions of a man sitting in a healing center.”
“Only one question, and is it really that hard?”
He smiled at her. “No. It’s not. I want back in.”
Her answering smile was brilliant, erasing cycles of age in an instant.
“But we cannot go back to the way it was before,” he cautioned, “and I wouldn’t want to even if we could. Gehrain is ready to take over the day-to-day duties of running the two units. And I’d like to spend more time training and more time as Salomen’s Chief Counselor.”
“Done. Good choice, too. I would never have let you walk out of here if you’d said no. Now you can leave whenever the healers clear you.”
“So it was blackmail!”
“Of course not. It was a free and clear choice. Unless you made the wrong one.”
Salomen laughed. “Colonel Micah, you have no idea how glad I am that you’re back. Andira hasn’t sounded like this for too long.”
“You mean impertinent, demanding, and arrogant?” he asked.
“No,” she said, reaching out to caress Tal’s cheek. “I mean happy.” She shot Micah a stern look. “So I’m going to repeat her earlier order. Don’t you ever do that again.”
“Only if you two promise never to fight a ritual combat again,” he said.
“I think we can safely promise that,” said Tal. “Did we tell you that the Council voted not to remove the bloodstains? They wanted them to stay as a reminder, so people will remember the day when barbarism was brought back to the State House and precisely how far it got the challenger. It’s already a new stop on the State House tour.”
“Really? I can see the warrior caste voting for that, but the whole Council?” He shook his head. “I go away for a few days, and look what happens. The Council actually acquires some sense.”
CHAPTER 60:
Sentence
Micah made rapid progress at the healing center and was released well in time for the autumn feast at Hol-Opah. The Lancer and Bondlancer Guard units held a feast of their own in celebration, though Salomen commented that the feasts she normally attended featured a great deal of food and some spirits, rather than the other way around.
Tal laughed and asked if she would like another glass.
She spent most of the feast just watching Micah. Not enough time had passed for her to stop thinking of his walking, talking, joking presence as a miracle. He seemed to understand, though they never spoke of it after her loss of control when he first woke. They reverted back to their teasing ways immediately, and the sheer familiarity of it was all she wanted.
Micah moved to the food tables, a glass in one hand and his staff in the other, chatting with various warriors along the way. The staff was a required support for the moment. He would need it for at least another nineday as his new muscles finished their growth and locked themselves into his synthetic hip. Given the way he was already pounding it on the floor to emphasize conversational points, she foresaw it becoming part of his uniform.
Salomen passed him on her way back from refreshing their drinks, and Tal took an unreasonable amount of pleasure in watching her two favorite people spend a moment together, obviously enjoying each other’s company. Not too long ago, she had thought Fahla cruel enough to take one from her in exchange for the other. She should have had more faith.
“Trust Micah to turn a walking support into an intimidation factor,” she said when Salomen arrived and held out her drink. “He’s going to love using that staff during training.”
“I’m guessing he’ll love thumping it all over Aldirk’s office as well.”
“Oh, I think he’ll be thumping in moderation there. Aldirk will never let him forget that he was the one who woke him.”
Salomen smiled as she sipped her spirits. “There were about forty other people Sharing with him.”
“Yes, but Aldirk was the last. He’s positive that his presence was the one that finally jarred Micah awake. Micah’s torn between hating the very thought of it and being grateful to Aldirk for taking part.”
“Do you think they’ll get along better after this?”
“Of course not.”
Two days later, Herot appeared before the adjudicator. Tal sat with the Opahs, her presence causing a stir of anticipation.
The hearing was short; Herot’s guilt was not an issue. An officer from the Alsean Investigative Force presented the government testimony, and when the stern-faced adjudicator asked if any wished to add to the government’s case, every eye turned to Tal. She remained in her seat, an act that electrified the gallery. She could feel the attending journalists glowing with excitement over this unexpected aspect to their stories.
When the adjudicator asked if any wished
to speak on behalf of the criminal, Tal rose and set off such a furious round of exclamations and whispers that the adjudicator threatened to close the entire proceeding if the visitor gallery did not silence itself.
“Please speak, Lancer Tal,” she said gravely.
“Thank you, Honored Adjudicator. I am invoking my right to petition for a minimum sentence in the case of Herot Opah.”
The adjudicator slammed her palm on her desk, quieting the gasps and murmurs. “For what reason do you make this petition?”
“Herot Opah is a young man who had the misfortune of learning some important life lessons with the whole world watching. He made a mistake. A big one, attributed to pride and anger and selfishness, but others have made similar mistakes with less devastating impacts. We should not judge him by the end result of his mistake, which involved a chain of events beyond his control and several other players with far more sinister intent. We should judge him instead by the cause of it. And for that cause, he has apologized to me and asked my forgiveness. I have given it to him.”
The visitor gallery rustled and whispered, but this time the adjudicator didn’t seem to hear. She nodded at Tal, her stern expression softening. “I see. That does have weight.”
“I would like to add that he understands the full extent of his crime and that he has cooperated in every way possible with the government, including testifying before the Council at my request. These are not the actions of a criminal in need of long-term incarceration. Such a result would not benefit Alsean society, and it certainly would not be my preference. I believe that Herot Opah has done everything possible to make up for his mistake, and to punish him beyond the minimum sentence would serve only to warn others that cooperation and repentance have no impact on a sentence. That is not the message our justice system should send.”
“Thank you, Lancer Tal,” the adjudicator said as Tal sat down. “Are there any others who wish to speak on behalf of Herot Opah?”
“I do.” Salomen stood, and once again the room erupted into whispers and a few too-loud voices. They died down quickly at the adjudicator’s glare.
“Very well. Please speak, Raiz Opah.”
“Thank you, Honored Adjudicator. Though I do not have the Lancer’s right of petition, I speak as a victim of the crime for which this hearing has been convened. As you have heard in the government’s testimony, the shot that injured Lancer Tal was actually fired at me. I now live with the knowledge that my own brother directly enabled an attempt on my life. It is not an easy thing to know.”
Tal glanced at Herot, sitting in the prisoner’s box at the front of the room, and saw him close his eyes at his sister’s words.
“Yet I also believe that any sentence other than the minimum would be an inappropriate application of punishment. Herot understands the impact of his actions. He has apologized and asked my forgiveness as well, and I have given it to him. His incarceration, even for the minimum sentence, will tear the fabric of our family. The damage would be far greater should he be ordered to serve a longer sentence.”
“It seems to me that the fabric of your family is already torn,” the adjudicator said. “Can you tell me why I should not discount your testimony based on your family connection? How can I know that you would not make this request regardless of Herot Opah’s repentance or lack thereof?”
“Because if Herot had not apologized, if he had not asked forgiveness from both me and Lancer Tal, neither of us would be attending this hearing. And if his actions had been taken with true intent to kill or cause grievous harm, there would be no family connection at all. I am the head of our family, and I would have retracted the name of Opah. You’re welcome to scan me if you wish to confirm the truth of my statement.”
Her words ignited the gallery, and Herot stared at his sister in shock. She had never said that to him in her visits—as she had told Tal, there was no point. But it was certainly effective in convincing the adjudicator.
“That will not be necessary,” she said. “I believe I can take our future Bondlancer at her word. Thank you.”
Salomen nodded and sat down.
“Given that the two individuals most deeply affected by Herot Opah’s actions have both petitioned on his behalf, and that he has cooperated with the government in every way regarding his own and another related crime, this court will not presume to impose a justice beyond the minimum called for by our laws. Such an imposition, I am convinced, would not be justice but rather an abuse of it. Herot Opah will serve two cycles and no more.” She picked up the small mallet on her desk and struck the bell. “This hearing is adjourned.”
Amid the bustle and noise, Herot stood up and leaned against the waist-high bar separating him from the rest of the court. “Salomen!” he called.
Tal caught the eye of the adjudicator, who nodded and gestured to the AIF officer. He came over and saluted, then escorted them out of the guest box and up to the front of the room.
Herot reached for his sister’s hand and held it tightly. “Thank you. And thank you, Lancer Tal. This means a lot. I swear that when they release me, I’ll spend the rest of my life working to bring honor to the Opah name. I figure it will take about that long to erase the stain I made on it.”
“I’ll hold you to your word, Herot,” said Salomen. “Please be careful. That Opah name may be a hindrance to you in the next two cycles.”
“In that case, I’ll start working on honoring it that much sooner.”
“If your connection with us causes you any trouble, tell us,” Tal said. “Just because you’re not with us doesn’t mean you’re not still family. You don’t have to fight your battles alone.”
“With respect, Lancer Tal, right now I think I do.” He leaned over the bar and kissed Salomen on the cheek. “Until the first visit, then.”
“Until then. And don’t forget to keep your calendar clear for the twenty-third of Rosslin.”
“I will.” Turning to Tal, he held up his palm. “Take good care of my sister.”
Tal touched his palm. “You know I will.”
“I know. You’re the only person I’d ever trust her with.”
Her surprise must have shown on her face, because he actually winked at her before walking away at the side of the AIF officer. Tal stared after him.
“I think he enjoyed that,” she said.
Salomen nodded. “And I think you just saw a glimpse of who Herot used to be.”
CHAPTER 61:
The Chosen
Micah stretched his leg more comfortably and looked over at Tal. “Do you think it will be the same?”
She was watching her control panel as she lifted her personal transport off the State House landing pad. “Do I think what will be the same?”
“Being at Hol-Opah. The last time you saw all of the field workers, you were practically one of them. This time you’re Fahla’s Chosen.”
“If Fahla had truly chosen me, she’d eradicate that name,” Tal grumbled. She sat back in her seat, tilting the steering yoke, and Micah watched the domes of Blacksun begin passing beneath them.
“You’re the one who gave everyone the idea,” he pointed out, enjoying her discomfiture.
Tal had unprecedented public approval, the remaining opposition to the matter printers had dissolved into near nonexistence, the Council was giving her anything she wanted—though he knew that wouldn’t last—and yet through it all she muttered and moaned about her new title. He had something new to tease her with.
“That just makes it worse,” she said. “And if you keep poking me about it, I’m going to pull your emergency seat release.”
He grinned at her, then turned his attention to the view as he rubbed the top of his thigh. The muscles were still growing into his new hip joint, and sometimes they produced an ache that just screamed for him to rub it out. The problem was that the ac
he was deep inside his leg. He could never reach it, but he was compelled to try.
He turned his head in time to catch Tal watching him with an expression that had become all too familiar. “I’m all right,” he said. “Just a little itchy.”
“If you were itchy, you’d be scratching. That’s rubbing, and that means it hurts.”
“It doesn’t hurt. It just…throbs. Has anyone ever told you you’re like a winden with a newborn?”
It worked; her expression melted into amusement. “Not lately. Though I seem to recall accusing Vellmar of the same thing about half a moon ago.”
“And why was that?” He knew he had her.
“Because she was driving me insane worrying about me when there was no need. And don’t give me that look. I had a few easily sealed sword cuts. You have new body parts.”
“You have a new body part, too.”
“A tiny synthetic bone implant hardly counts. They just had to fill in a little chip in my arm. Sorry, but you win this contest. I’m well within my rights to worry about you, and there’s not a thing you can do about it.” She glanced over, her face serious again. “I earned that right.”
That shut him down, and he cast about for a safer topic. “Salomen was certainly distracted this morning. She came by my office to pick up a file clip, and it was the first time I ever felt that she wasn’t paying attention. This feast must be quite the production.”
Tal nodded. “Over ninety mouths to feed, and that was before we added ten Guards to the mix. And it’s a point of pride to produce most of the feast from the holding itself. I cannot believe they used to do this without hiring a cook. Apparently, the whole family has been working in the kitchen dome for the last half nineday. Salomen hasn’t said it, but I know she feels guilty about not being there this cycle. Even though she was delighted that Wynsill agreed to take her place.”
Without a Front: The Warrior's Challenge (Chronicles of Alsea Book 3) Page 47
