T.J. Mindancer - Future Dreams

by T. J. Mindancer

  “Yeah.” Jame looked down at the mug. “I’m going back to Ynit in a few days. My last course starts soon and I don’t want to miss any of it.”

  “I know you have your heart set on finishing your studies,” Jyac said. “We all admire your persistence in achieving such a difficult goal. One of the reasons I wanted you to visit before you began this last part of your studies was to remind you that we’re all waiting for you to bring your newly acquired skills to Emoria.”

  “How can I ever forget my home?” Jame smiled, not having the heart to tell Jyac that she wanted to use her skills out in the world before settling back home. She didn’t want to deal with any more pressure than she already felt.

  “Argis is very proud of you,” Jyac said. “She admires your dedication.” Jame nodded, studying the mug. “I think I know what your problem is. You’re just trying to keep from getting too attached again because you’re leaving so soon. I know it was difficult for both of you when you left the last time.”

  “That’s probably it.” Jame knew that countering Jyac was futile. “I’m just so close to finishing. I can’t wait until I have my arbiter’s medallion.”

  Jyac smiled and took Jame’s hand. “When you return, I think you’ll find how easy it’ll be to fit back into our little world. Our people are looking forward to a royal joining and I have the feeling you and Argis will be more than ready to settle down by then.”

  Jame tried to muster some enthusiasm but truly couldn’t. “I hope so.”

  “GREETINGS, FIERCE WARRIOR woman.” Jadic, a young man with sandy hair, whipped an invisible sword from over his shoulder and mimed a salute.

  Jame grinned at the cluster of assistant arbiters gathered outside one of the dozen doors lining the round common room of their living quarters. Her friends never missed an opportunity to tease her about her Emoran background.

  “You missed all the excitement,” Daneran said. She was a small woman with dark hair and gentle eyes.

  “Excitement?” Jame joined her colleagues and dropped her pack on the floor.

  “About Tigh the Terrible,” Jadic said.

  “What about her?” The image of the feral young woman in the cage flashed through Jame’s mind. How many of her dreams had been haunted by those eyes?

  “While you were gone, she received the post-cleansing counseling from Pendon Larke,” Daneran said. “I’m not afraid to admit that I was spooked by her walking around.”

  Jame frowned. “But she’s been cleansed.”

  “Cleansed or not, she’s still intimidating.” Jadic shook his shoulders as if warding off a chill. “Those eyes alone are enough to scare the life out of me.”

  “Anyway, she made it through the second step.” Daneran flashed Jadic an impatient look. “Her name was added to our case roster four days ago.”

  “Really?” Jame said. “Who took her?”

  “That’s the thing. None of us wants to argue her case,” Daneran said. “None of us really wants to mar our records with losing a case.”

  “You don’t think you can successfully argue her case?” Jame looked around at her friends.

  Daneran shrugged. “This is Tigh the Terrible we’re talking about.”

  “She isn’t anymore.” Jame picked up her pack and turned to the doorway that led to their mentor’s chambers. The others assaulted her with persuasive words of reason.

  “I know you always go for the underdog, but she’s a lost cause,” Jadic said. “She’s not worth risking your career over.”

  “She deserves a chance to live a normal life, just like all the rest of the Guards.” Jame leveled a steady gaze at her friends. “We can’t turn down a case simply because it might damage our careers. If we do that, we take justice into our own hands and become both the judge and the executioner. I’m going to take the case.”

  She ignored the chorus of protests and strode down the crooked corridor to their mentor.

  “Ah Jame, welcome back.” Ingel Renat looked up from her paper-strewn table.

  “I want to take Tigh’s case,” Jame said. “And thank you, it’s good to be back.”

  Ingel gazed at Jame for a heartbeat and sighed. “I appreciate your offer, Jame. But this could violate the promise to your aunt that we wouldn’t allow you into potentially dangerous situations.”

  Laur’s waterfalls. It had seemed like a harmless compromise when Jyac had insisted that she have a royal guard with her in Ynit. The last thing she wanted was something that set her apart from the other students. Besides, she didn’t want her every action reported back home.

  “But she’s been cleansed,” Jame said.

  “Yes, that’s true.” Ingel fiddled with her pen. “But the potential for danger is there.”

  “But that could be said about any case involving a Guard,” Jame said. “Logically, she should be less dangerous.”

  “The truth is, the healers aren’t quite sure how effective the cleansing process is on the Elite Guards.” Ingel brushed back a shock of white hair. “Their personality reversals are so extreme, residual effects from the enhancements may linger.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Jame clasped her hands behind her back. Her friends, clustered around the door, groaned. “The healers aren’t sure if the cleansing process worked, yet she’s made it through the post-cleansing procedure and her name is on our case roster. Sounds to me like Tigh is being set up to give someone an excuse to find some other means of dealing with her.”

  “The healers are just being cautious,” Ingel said.

  “Then let me take her case,” Jame said.

  “It’s a matter of how dangerous your aunt will perceive the situation.” Ingel gave Jame an imploring look.

  “She doesn’t know which cases I take,” Jame said.

  “Anything involving Tigh is bound to get out.”

  Jame and Ingel stared at each other for several heartbeats.

  Just as Jame opened her mouth, Jadic spoke up. “If it means that much to you, Jame, I’ll take the case.”

  Jame gave Jadic a wry look. “I thought you said she was scary.”

  He chuckled. “It’ll be a good learning experience. It’ll help me develop skills at dealing with clients who scare me to death.”

  “Are you sure, Jadic?” Ingel asked.

  “I’m sure.” Jadic nodded, not looking at all sure.

  AN ARBITER HAD volunteered to argue her case. Tigh envisioned a young, eager student taking the case on a dare. After four days of nervous apologies from Pendon, she figured a dare was the only way to get anyone to take her on.

  She sat on the edge of her cot with her mid-day meal tray balanced on her knees and cut her asparagus into neat uniform pieces. She savored the way the sharp knife sliced through the tender shoots.

  The assistant healer down the corridor was exchanging words with someone. She speared a piece of asparagus with her fork and chewed off a bit. Much to her delight, the military cooks prepared Ingoran food better than most Ingorans. She’d have to discover their secret when she finally left this place. She popped the rest of the piece into her mouth, then dissected the plate of marinated palm hearts nestled in an intriguing assortment of greens.

  A throat cleared to get her attention. She almost laughed, considering she had heard this person wheezing as he climbed the final flight of stairs. The stillness on her floor acted as a magnifier for any foreign sound. She cut her vegetables into precise mouth size bits.

  “Uh . . . excuse me.” The voice of a young male grated her ears as it cracked from tense fear.

  Tigh gathered a forkful of greens and savored the delicate flavor that saturated her mouth. She then investigated the potato dish that she had never seen before. The cooks were endlessly creative in the preparation of her food.

  “I’m, uh, Jadic Pondersac.” The voice quavered. “I’m here to argue your case—”

  Tigh emitted a low growl and then chuckled as she stuck her fork into the mound of potatoes. The only thing left of the arbiter was
the echo of rapid footfalls in the corridor.

  How could she expect an arbiter to defend her if the person was frightened silly of her? She stared at the tarnished mirror across the cell and wondered if she had just scared off her last chance at freedom.

  She filled her fork and tasted the new offering. No. She did the right thing. Her freedom would have been as much at risk with that trembling rabbit than if no other arbiter stepped forward and volunteered.

  She had seen only one face since her return that hadn’t shown any fear of her. Her enhancements gave her the ability to sense fear as keenly as a wild animal was known to do and all she had felt when she held that young woman’s eyes was curiosity and sympathy.

  “It’d be my luck she’s the cook’s assistant,” she said to the wall.

  Chapter 6

  After reading the same sentence for the fifth time, Jame gave up trying to study. She’d been determined to stay out of the almost insane activities of her colleagues during the last two days. What began as a noble but sincere gesture from Jadic, turned into a challenge for all comers to take a try at. That in turn became a constant chatter of who had the scariest encounter with the former Tigh the Terrible.

  The twelfth and last assistant arbiter, aside from Jame, had just left to meet the challenge. Her confident boasting still echoed in Jame’s ears.

  Jame pushed back from her little table tucked in the corner of the room she shared with Daneran and looked through the doorway into the common room. All the other assistants were clustered together trading for the umpteenth time what they would do if they had another chance to face Tigh the Terrible.

  Jame knew what they had done wrong. She’d gathered from the rumors and whisperings in the corridors that Tigh, unlike the other Guards who had gone through the cleansing process, had actually enjoyed being a warrior and missed it. Whatever she had wanted to be before she was recruited, she wanted to be a warrior now.

  Tigh’s problem was how society would accept a Tigh the Terrible in peacetime. Her whole attitude revolved around the warrior’s code of behavior and if Jame’s well-meaning colleagues displayed even a bit of the fear they admitted to feeling in Tigh’s presence, Tigh would think they weren’t capable of defending her.

  Growing up in a warrior society does have its advantages, Jame mused, as the chatter ceased and her friends’ attention turned to the outside door. That was quick.

  A breathless Swene charged into the common room. Her long red hair was disheveled from the spring winds. “I’m not embarrassed to say that I was wrong. There’s one human being in this world beyond the skills of an arbiter.” The others, ravenous for the details, gathered around her.

  Jame took a deep breath and stared at the wall for a few heartbeats. She stood, shook the long hours of study from her legs, and slipped down the crooked corridor to Ingel’s chambers.

  Ingel was watering the jungle of plants in front of the window and speaking soft words of encouragement to them. Jame wandered to the nearby wall, leaned against it, and watched this familiar daily ritual of one of the most celebrated arbiters in several generations.

  “I never knew you had such an interest in the art of watering plants,” Ingel said.

  Jame shrugged. “If it gets me what I want, I’ll learn everything there is to know about the subject.”

  “That’s what I like about you, Jame. Always to the point.” Ingel smiled and checked the soil of a small plant with large floppy leaves. “What makes you think you’ll succeed where the others have failed?”

  “I understand warriors,” Jame said.

  Ingel lifted respectful eyes to Jame. “Unfortunately her antics with the others haven’t improved the perception that she’s still dangerous.”

  “She has a right to select her own arbiter,” Jame said.

  Ingel inspected a bud on a sprawling vine. “She could have chosen a less hostile method of turning down their offers.”

  “She’s just living up to our expectations of her,” Jame said. “If she were really dangerous or violent she would have physically hurt them. From what I’ve gathered, she just turned on the warrior intimidation act a bit.”

  “Are you so sure it’s an act?” Ingel put down her watering pail and pulled off her gloves.

  “If she’s been cleansed, it’s an act,” Jame said. “If she hasn’t been cleansed, then the healers will be in big trouble with the Tribunal. She’s been allowed to walk around here and no one’s seen any hint of aggression from her. Tigh still thinks she’s a warrior. My friends aren’t warriors and they don’t understand how warriors think. I was a warrior in training practically up to the day I first stepped foot inside this school.”

  “I still don’t want to be in the position of explaining this to your aunt, if something happens,” Ingel said.

  “What can happen?” Jame stretched out her hands. “Her antics, as you call them, have forced them to lock her door. All I’ll do is stand outside and ask if she’ll let me present her case. No harm will come of it and maybe, if I get lucky, she’ll let me help her.”

  Ingel sighed and stared out the window at the fortress across the plaza. “Tigh’s on my roster and I’ll eventually have to find an arbiter to argue the case. As long as she’s secure behind a locked door, you should be safe enough.” She turned to Jame. “All right. The case is yours.”

  “Thank you, thank you.” Jame grabbed Ingel’s hand. “And don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

  TIGH LAY ON her cot, listening to every sound. Two sandmarks had passed since the last scared rabbit cowered at her door. Was that all that they had to offer? She wondered how the other Guards could have allowed these spineless youngsters to argue their cases for them.

  Maybe the problem was with her. She blinked at the spidery patterns on the adobe ceiling and couldn’t bring herself to believe she was so different from her former comrades.

  She reached out her hearing at a distant sound. Just the assistant healer shifting in his chair. They may have been spineless lambs but they had made the last two days more interesting for her. Even if her entertainment was at her own expense—a displeased Pendon Larke and a locked door.

  The assistant healer was talking to someone. She concentrated on the noises. It sounded like a young woman this time. The healer seemed to be trying to dissuade her from making this visit. She frowned. All the other arbiters had been let through with little more than a sympathetic well wishing.

  Two sets of footfalls echoed down the corridor instead of the usual one. Now Tigh’s curiosity was afire. She wondered at how starved for diversion she was, to find a minor change in the routine so intriguing. She picked up the sound of something being placed outside her door. Probing the direction with her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of a chair. Planning to be here a while?

  “Thank you.” A gentle voice laced with a confident strength touched her ears.

  THE ASSISTANT HEALER glanced into the cell at Tigh and then at Jame. “I’ll be at my desk.” He pointed down the corridor. “Don’t hesitate to call for help.”

  Jame gave him a reassuring smile and nodded. He walked away, looking back at her several times.

  Jame sat in the chair and gazed through the bars in the door. The cell was as austere and tidy as the other Guards’ quarters. In shocking contrast to the last time Jame had seen her, Tigh was dressed in the simple white cotton tunic and leggings worn by the cleansed Guards. Her clean face revealed a striking fair-skinned young woman. The deep tan from years spent as a warrior had faded during her confinement. Tigh was stretched out on her back with hands behind her head and appeared unaware that anyone was outside her door.

  Jame cleared her throat. No reaction from Tigh.

  “I’m . . . uh . . . I’m Jame, assistant arbiter.”

  Tigh continued to stare at the ceiling.

  “I’m just going to talk a bit. I have a story I really want you to hear.” Jame took in a ragged breath. This nervousness was unusual for her and she didn’t quite know how to
handle it. She gazed at her hands for a few heartbeats as she centered her nerves and her thoughts. “I just want you to understand why I’m here and why I want to argue your case.”

  She waited in silence, trying to gauge the reaction from Tigh the Terrible. The other arbiters hadn’t been given a chance to state their case before Tigh intimidated them into making a quick journey back down the corridor. Jame, having grown up around warriors, was prepared for that kind of confrontation. This lack of acknowledgment of her presence was more disconcerting than overt threatening behavior.

  Jame sighed. She’d come this far, she just may as well do what she was there to do. Even if Tigh didn’t understand, she’d feel better for trying. She cleared her throat and spoke in an easy tone, as if she were relating the story to her friends.

  “I was walking across the plaza two moons ago. It was a beautiful evening and I stopped on my way to a lecture to revel in the last glow of the sun before nightfall. A wagon rolled in and I thought, another Guard has been captured. I stopped to let the wagon pass and the Guard in the cage was awake and alert, taking in everything around her. She captured my attention, pulling me in with the force of her personality. I admit I probably looked pretty silly standing there with my mouth hanging open, unable to tear myself away from those intense blue eyes. Then, as the wagon rolled away, the Guard laughed, breaking the spell she’d cast over me. For half a heartbeat I caught a glimpse of the woman beneath all the grime and the blood and the cold madness. I saw sadness and regret in those eyes. I’ve seen hundreds of uncleansed Guards as they were brought back here. I’ve never witnessed even a hint of humanity in them. They were like wild animals showing nothing but rage at being captured and caged. I realized, out of all of them, that you had the best chance of being completely rehabilitated because the extremes in how the enhancements affected you came from your deep sense of humanity.”

  Although Tigh never moved during her narrative, Jame noticed a slight relaxing of her facial muscles and more blinking. She was listening at least.