“I was visiting back home when your name was added to our case roster but the moment I heard about it I volunteered. My mentor refused to let me take your case. I can understand about who you are always getting in the way of who you want to become.” Jame paused at the minute furrow between Tigh’s eyebrows. That particular arrow appeared to have hit the mark. “I was born a princess and, so I wouldn’t have to put up with having a guard with me while I was away from home, the school promised it wouldn’t let me get into any dangerous situations. I tried to convince my mentor I didn’t think you were of danger to any of us. I mean, I grew up around warriors. My aunt would laugh at the school’s idea of danger.” Jame paused again, hoping for some response. But Tigh didn’t even twitch a muscle. “Anyway, all my well-meaning colleagues volunteered because it meant so much to me. You didn’t accept any of them so I finally convinced my mentor to let me give it a try.”
The silence lengthened until Jame was certain Tigh wasn’t going to speak.
“Anyway, that’s why I’m here. I want to argue your case. If you want me as your arbiter, I’ll return tomorrow with a first draft of the argument.” Jame watched Tigh’s nervous swallow and her eyes looking inward rather than at the ceiling. “All you have to do is agree to the preparation of the case. You’ll always have the choice to pursue it or not.” Another swallow rippled through Tigh’s powerful throat. “Just say yes or no.”
Silence enveloped them and Jame could hear voices rising up from the plaza. She stood and took one last look at Tigh.
“Yes.”
The word was so soft that Jame barely caught it. She froze and gazed through the bars, but Tigh still refused to look at her. “Thank you.”
TIGH RAISED HER eyes to whatever deity oversaw her destiny and tried to let what just happened penetrate her tired, confused mind.
By the Children of Bal, that arbiter was the one.
She wound the astonishing thought through in her mind until she was convinced it hadn’t been a hallucination or dream. For the first time since her cleansing, a tentative hope mingled on the fragrant breeze blowing in through the window.
STILL A LITTLE dazed from her strange encounter with the former Tigh the Terrible, Jame wandered into her room and stared in surprise at all the assistant arbiters there. She looked at Daneran. “Are we having a party?”
“You were gone long enough. Where have you been?” Daneran asked.
“I’ve been with Tigh.” A dozen bodies rushed her way and she took refuge in the common room. She held up her hands to fend off her colleagues. “Whoa. You’re more dangerous than Tigh the Terrible.”
The arbiters stopped their advance and chuckled at Jame and themselves. Ingel walked out of corridor to her chambers and leaned a shoulder against the wall.
“So tell us what happened.” Jadic looked ready to explode from curiosity.
Jame shrugged. “There really isn’t much to tell. I told her why I was there and why I wanted to argue her case and she agreed to it.”
“She listened?” Swene asked, astonished.
“She spoke?” Jadic’s eyebrows disappeared under his bangs.
“She listened and then she said yes,” Jame said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an argument to write.”
Her friends all spoke at once and barred the way back to her room.
“Why would she accept you and not any of us?” Tanerle, the most ambitious of the group, powered her tall imposing body to Jame.
“Weren’t you afraid?” Swene asked.
“She was on the other side of a locked door. Why would I be afraid?” Jame gave Swene a puzzled look before turning her attention to Tanerle. “Only Tigh knows the answer to your question.”
“Don’t give me that, you smooth talking Emoran,” Tanerle said. “I want to know what you did to make her listen to you when she didn’t let us utter more than a syllable.”
Jame glanced at Ingel, who raised an eyebrow back. “I just gave the answer. To Swene. Let me ask a question in return. If you were looking for an arbiter to argue a case for you, would you choose one who was too frightened to even face you?”
Ingel stepped into the circle of stunned arbiters. “This is a valuable lesson for any arbiter to learn. Always try to see the situation through your client’s eyes. Just because you’re an arbiter doesn’t mean people will overlook what you may consider a natural reaction, such as fear, toward a client or toward one of the two parties you have to judge.”
“But how could you not be afraid of her?” Jadic asked.
“She’s been cleansed.” Jame wondered why, in this particular case, that meant nothing. “That should be enough of a reason or have you suddenly stopped trusting the healers’ abilities to do their job?”
“Lesson number two,” Ingel said. “Always remember all the facts about a client or the defendants in a case. Don’t just focus on the most sensational facts that dominate the rumors. Now Jame has work to do, and I’m still expecting an essay on Scrytians’ General Laws from each of you tomorrow.”
With good-natured grumbles, the arbiters went to their rooms. Jame caught a beckoning nod from Ingel and followed her.
“Now that you’ve gotten past the first barricade, do you have an idea of how to argue her case?” Ingel asked after she settled behind her table and Jame collapsed into the visitors chair.
Jame gave her a sheepish look. “Not really. But I’m hoping that will come once I get to know Tigh a little better.”
“Allow me to give you a few suggestions,” Ingel said. “The usual arguments used for the Guards are not going to work in Tigh’s case, even if they’re just as valid. The Federation Council is wary of having Tigh the Terrible out in the world so the Tribunal is going to be a lot harder on her than the other Guards.”
“But it’s not fair,” Jame said. “It’s not her fault the enhancements made her a ruthless warrior. Besides, the Federation Council was more than happy with her when she was winning their major battles.”
“Unfortunately, she was little more than a volatile weapon and the most dangerous weapons are always destroyed after a war,” Ingel said. “You guessed that she misses being a warrior. That doesn’t necessarily mean the cleansing wasn’t successful, it just brought out some traits that had been dormant in Tigh before she was enhanced.”
“Is this one of Pendon’s theories?” Jame asked.
“Yes, it is,” Ingel said. “But it makes sense. There’s nothing of Tigh the Terrible in that confused and passive young woman I see roaming the corridors. It’s now on your shoulders to find out who Tigh is today and present that to the Tribunal.”
“I’ll do my best,” Jame said as the enormity of her task swept over her.
TIGH SAT ON the edge of the cot and stared at the neatly written and well-presented argument she held in her hand.
Jame, trying not to fidget, sat in her little chair in the corridor. Tigh proved to be a challenging client. She almost laughed at how much of an understatement that was. For one thing, Tigh never looked at her. For another thing, her method of communication was verbally spare but physically expressive. A simple shrug or lift of a hand could communicate as well as any word.
Jame spent much of their time together just deciphering the subtleties of this language of movement. She didn’t think Tigh was being deliberately uncooperative. Tigh was frightened and confused and, if Jame understood her body language, not entirely trusting of the rehabilitation process.
She knew she shouldn’t care about what Tigh thought of the document. Preparing arguments was, after all, a part of the job. But she was drawn to this enigmatic woman. More than she had ever been drawn to anyone. She wanted to get to know her, not say goodbye when the arbitration process was finished. She sighed and pushed down these unsettling thoughts.
Tigh laid the document on the cot, stood up, and shuffled to the window. She stared outside for several heartbeats.
“Why are you doing this?” Tigh asked without turning around.
Both surprised and delighted at the first full sentence from Tigh, Jame almost responded with what she had told Tigh during their first meeting. But something deep inside stopped her. “Because I want to.” She knew Tigh could sense she told the truth. That particular Guard enhancement seemed to resist cleansing.
Tigh turned around and for the first time gazed at Jame.
“Why?” Tigh’s intense blue eyes, softened by the cleansing and haunted by the memories of what she had done as a Guard, reached straight into Jame’s soul.
“Because you deserve it,” Jame said.
Tigh slid down the wall and pulled her knees to her chin. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Yes, you do.” Jame wanted to shake some sense into Tigh. “You are not Tigh the Terrible. You have the rest of your life to be the Tigh you wanted to be before you were recruited.”
Tigh shook her head. “That’s not possible.”
“Then be the Tigh you are today.”
Tigh sighed. “When people look at me they see Tigh the Terrible.” She captured Jame’s eyes. “When I look at myself I see a monster not worthy of being allowed to live a normal life again.”
“When I look at you, I see a woman who has the right to a life outside these walls.” Jame jumped to her feet and grabbed hold of the bars. Tigh raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to make up for the wrongs you did as Tigh the Terrible or do you want to spend the rest of your life in a cell, feeling sorry for yourself?”
Tigh pushed to her feet and lunged at the door. She wrapped her strong hands over Jame’s smaller ones and held them against the bars. They stared at each other for several heartbeats, so close that Jame felt the warmth coming off Tigh and a strange tingle flowing into her hands.
Tigh, confusion in her eyes, pulled her hands away from Jame’s and stumbled back.
Jame took a deep breath and held onto the bars to steady her lightheadedness. She had never reacted to another person like that before.
“We’ll try it your way for a while,” Tigh mumbled.
Chapter 7
The residence for the assistant arbiters was unusually quiet for that time of evening. The arbiters, along with the rest of the students at the school, were out enjoying the first beautiful day of early summer.
Jame gnawed on the end of her quill and gazed out the window at her colleagues. They were dashing around the green and kicking a leather ball in a loose game of Glak. The preparation of Tigh’s argument had taken longer than she usually spent on a case, and her regular course work had suffered. So, while her friends showed off creative techniques at playing Glak, she had to catch up on writing assigned essays. Anyway, she mused as she smiled, Tigh was well worth missing a game of Glak over.
Jame enjoyed the time she spent with the quiet warrior. They had developed a kind of rapport and found they could comfortably work together. Everyone else looked at her as if she had sprung wings when she told them she wasn’t having any problems with Tigh. But the others refused to see beyond Tigh the Terrible. Jame found it sad because she discovered in Tigh a sweet, almost shy woman with a wry sense of humor that seeped into their interactions.
A hard click of boots against the wood floor of the common room captured Jame’s attention. Many of the arbiters wore soft-soled boots so they wouldn’t disturb the studious quiet of the school. She took in the fine cut of clothing worn by the approaching pair before she noticed that the woman had startling familiar features.
“Jamelin Ketlas?” an older version of Tigh asked, as the pair stopped on the threshold of the chamber.
“Yes.” Jame put down her quill and stood to greet her visitors. This was a surprise. One of the sad tragedies of the rehabilitation process was that too many of the Guards’ parents had turned their backs on their children once the true nature of the enhancements had been revealed. Tigh was probably the last Guard anyone would suspect of having a supportive family.
“I’m Paldon Tigis and this is my life companion, Joul,” Paldon said. “We’re here for Paldar’s hearing tomorrow and were so looking forward to meeting you that we sought you out right away. We hope we’re not disturbing you.”
“Oh, no.” Jame waved a hand at her desk strewn with books and paper. “Just catching up on some school work. There’s a small parlor where we can go and talk, if you’d like.”
“As long as we’re not keeping you from your work, we’d very much like to chat with you for a while,” Paldon said.
Jame didn’t have much personal experience with Ingorans but still recognized the almost legendary politeness and ability to put others at ease that made them the best merchants in the Southern Territories. It also put her on her guard because they were notorious for striking bargains that made the other person feel they were the ones getting the better deal. She couldn’t imagine why they would want anything other than the full rehabilitation of their daughter.
“Tigh is also my work.” Jame smiled as she led them to a small chamber furnished with several hide chairs and a low table. She lit a fire and hung the always full pot of water over the flame.
“First off,” Paldon began as they settled into the chairs, “we both want to thank you for taking Paldar’s case. We know there’s been some doubts from all parties involved, including our daughter, about a positive outcome to this endeavor. But we have no doubt that she not only can rejoin society, but will be a welcome asset to it.”
“That’s very refreshing to hear, Merchant Tigis,” Jame said. “So many parents have turned their backs on their children during the cleansing process.”
Paldon gave Jame the perfect self-confident smile of a merchant. “They just don’t understand that once the enhancements are removed, their children are back to who they were before with one very important difference. They now have new skills and experiences that can only strengthen whoever they were before they were recruited into the Guards.”
Jame politely nodded and turned to the fireplace, pulled three mugs off a shelf, and pinched some herbs into each of them. A flowery fragrance tickled her nostrils as she poured the boiling water over the herbs.
She knew that everyone, from the healers to the Tribunal to the parents of the Guards, had set ideas on what the cleansing process was supposed to accomplish. None of these ideas reflected the reality but it didn’t seem to matter as long as their self-delusions weren’t contradicted.
“It does take the cleansed Guard time to adjust to being the way they used to be.” Jame decided the best strategy was to remain noncommittal until she understood Paldon’s reasoning.
“That’s why we’re pleased with the rehabilitation program,” Paldon said as she and Joul accepted the mugs of tea. “It’s very thorough and well regulated. Unfortunately, our concern is not with the efforts all of you are making in returning the Guards to society. We’re concerned about Paldar’s reluctance to go through the process.”
“It’s a natural reaction,” Jame said. “Some Guards have a harder time adjusting than others.”
Paldon frowned. “That’s what we don’t understand. She was such a well-adjusted child, well on her way to becoming an excellent merchant, with the combination of her striking looks and a wonderful presence that is the greatest gift a merchant can possess. Even as a youngster, she could smooth talk her way through a bargain as well as many of the established merchants. She truly had the gift.”
“We were very proud of her.” Joul’s gentle eyes creased in fond memory.
“You can imagine our concern that she seems to have lost this gift,” Paldon said. “We barely recognize our daughter in that withdrawn, uncommunicative young woman hiding in that tiny room.”
Jame composed her demeanor and words, understanding both the flaws in the rehabilitation process and that Tigh was not the person her parents seemed to think she was. According to Pendon, her behavior had been an act until she escaped to pursue what she really wanted to do. Jame could relate to Tigh’s motivation, having done the same thing herself at the same age. The difference was, Tigh neve
r had the opportunity to pursue her dream and now the faulty cleansing created a new Tigh needing new paths to follow.
“She’s only been through the first two steps in the process.” Jame realized Tigh now had two battles to face—gaining her freedom from the Military Tribunal and her parents’ expectations. “I’m sure you’ll see a difference once she’s around people again.” Jame was certain there’d be a difference, just not what Tigh’s parents expected.
Paldon smiled. “That puts our minds at ease. We know the healers mean well, but sometimes their evaluations can be a little too clinical and optimistic. But arbiters are trained to look at situations from all sides and form fair judgments. We know you’ll do everything you can to help Paldar so she can return to her place in the House of Tigis.”
Jame took the compliment with a gracious smile but wondered how much easier life would be if people weren’t continually pressured to meet someone else’s expectations.
PALDON TIGIS’S WORDS came back to Jame as she paused before Tigh’s door. A miserable looking Tigh was slumped forward with her elbows on her knees and hands buried in her hair. This certainly wasn’t the lively, smooth-talking young woman Paldon had described.
Jame slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. She hoped they could stop this nonsense of locking Tigh’s door after the hearing. She hoped her argument was strong enough to allow Tigh to go on to the next step in her rehabilitation.
“We still have a sandmark before the hearing,” Jame said.
Tigh nodded, not raising her head.
Jame sat at the little desk. “Your parents stopped by last night.”
“My parents,” Tigh said to the floor.
“They’re here for the hearing.” Jame watched with fascination Tigh’s body language.
“For the hearing,” Tigh repeated as if trying to figure out a riddle.
T.J. Mindancer - Future Dreams Page 6
