T.J. Mindancer - Future Dreams

by T. J. Mindancer

  The Council took some time to confer on this. Their smug expressions told Jame they didn’t believe she could prove her case to them.

  Yanders faced Jame and Tigh. “We’ll agree to your terms.”

  “Thank you, Mayor.” Jame raised her eyes to the Council members. “I would like to call Patch Lachlan before the Council as evidence of the success of the Guard rehabilitation program.”

  The stunned spectators gasped and twisted around, expecting the notorious Guard to enter the back of the chamber. When no one appeared, they settled into a tense, expectant silence.

  A woman wrapped in the robe of an acolyte to Bal rose from a Council bench. The shocked silence wove a profound and satisfying feeling within Tigh.

  Chapter 15

  Jame woke from the kind of dream that could only come from the warmth and security of being wrapped in strong loving arms. She peered up in the gray light of the predawn and was surprised to see Tigh awake, just holding her. She shifted and captured Tigh’s attention.

  “Why aren’t you asleep?” Jame tightened her hold around Tigh.

  “I was thinking.” Tigh brushed her fingertips over Jame’s arm.

  “Thinking?” Jame asked.

  Tigh sighed. “About Patch.”

  Jame looked up amused. “You know, it’s not nice to be thinking of another woman while you’re sharing a bed with me.”

  Tigh swooped down for a kiss and gifted Jame with an affectionate look. “I was just thinking about what she has to do to satisfy the need to fight.”

  Jame nodded against Tigh’s shoulder. “She’s lucky there are several other Guards in Glaus she can spar with.”

  “But fighting contradicts her personality and her profession as an acolyte to Bal,” Tigh said. “Her life is dedicated to nonviolence and helping the needy in the community and yet she has to fight to maintain her sanity.”

  Jame lifted her head. “What about you?”

  Tigh frowned. “I don’t understand why. But I don’t have the need to fight, only the want. To Patch, it’s like an addiction that has to be fed or she starts taking it out on everyone around her. I miss fighting and want to feel a sword in my hands again. I miss pulling my mind and body together into a single purpose of engaging an opponent. But I don’t have to fight.”

  “That’s good,” Jame said. “You’ll make a perfect peace warrior.”

  Tigh gazed down at Jame. “I just wish I could help her.”

  “Maybe they’ll learn what went right with your cleansing and be able to help the others,” Jame said.

  “Maybe.” Tigh wiped a few golden strands from Jame’s face. “Are you going to be noted in the legal interpretations again?”

  Jame laughed and buried her head in Tigh’s shoulder. “I wish Ingel would quit telling me how amazed she is at my arguments. I’m just doing what she taught us. Finding the best argument for the case.”

  “But most arbiters don’t have the Emoran tracking instinct to know how and where to find the best argument,” Tigh said. “Your warrior training is much more a part of you than you might think.”

  “I know,” Jame said. “It’s ironic my warrior knowledge helps me in a peaceful profession but Patch can’t channel it to help her.”

  “That’s because you were born a warrior and raised around warriors,” Tigh said. “You’ve seen warrior skills and knowledge applied to all aspects of life.”

  “I don’t regret coming from a warrior society,” Jame said. “I don’t even regret my warrior training. I just sometimes regret I was born a princess.”

  Tigh pulled Jame up and captured her lips with loving devotion. “That’s because you’re young and want to live the life of your choosing. But that princess is very much inside you, in everything you do. Without you knowing it, you’ve been able to incorporate it into your life as much as the warrior skills.”

  “I don’t mind that part.” Jame returned the kiss. “I just wish everyone in Emoria would leave me alone until I’m ready to return home.”

  “Maybe winning the case yesterday will send the message that it would be a waste for you not to be an arbiter for a while.” Tigh settled them back onto the bed.

  “I hope so,” Jame murmured. Lost in thought, she watched the sun rise as Tigh drifted off to sleep.

  GINDOR WAS NOT the kind of woman who took lightly what she perceived to be irresponsible behavior. She bent her white head over the letter that Jame had sent from Glaus, noting that it was several days old.

  The remaining eleven members of the Council settled into their places at the half moon table in the Council chamber. Jyac and Sark sat midway down the long straight edge of the half moon, watching Gindor’s face shift through reactions, each hardening into greater anger and dismay.

  Gindor lifted blue-gray eyes surrounded by smooth skin and took the time to study Jyac. “Why are you just showing this to us?”

  “We thought the problem would sort itself out,” Jyac said.

  Gindor raised an eyebrow. “And how was the problem supposed to do that?”

  “We determined that Tigh the Terrible is just using Jame and will turn on her when her rehabilitation is complete,” Jyac said. “When she wrote that letter, she was going to argue that Tigh was harmless to the people of Glaus. We were positive she wouldn’t be able to win. Once she lost, Tigh would have nothing more to do with her.”

  “So why are we looking at this letter now?” Gindor asked.

  “Jame won the case,” Jyac said.

  The Council murmured both surprise and admiration for their young princess.

  Gindor frowned. “You mean she was able to convince the city council of Glaus that Tigh the Terrible was just another citizen visiting their town?”

  Jyac nodded. “Yes. According to Balwen, who witnessed it, Jame did it in under a quarter sandmark.”

  Gindor shook her head. “So that means we still have a problem.”

  Jyac sighed. “Yes. Jame has grown extremely attached to that Guard. And now she thinks she’s in love with her and wants to be joined. We were thinking of sending a delegation to get a better understanding of the situation.”

  “A delegation?” Gindor pressed Jyac back with her penetrating eyes. “We need to get Jame out of there. She’s obviously in serious danger.”

  “We also thought, once she finds out the truth behind Tigh’s association with her, she’ll return to us heartbroken but a little wiser with her emotions,” Jyac said. “If we try to force her out now, she may completely rebel. Sometimes it’s best to make a mistake and learn from it.”

  “Do you think Tigh the Terrible will let her walk away with just a broken heart?” Gindor asked. “The woman is ruthless and cruel.”

  “Supposedly she’s not like that anymore.” Jyac frowned. “Argis punched her in the mouth and she made no move to fight back. Guards can’t help but fight back, it’s a part of their enhancements.”

  “Of course she didn’t fight back.” Gindor shook her head in exasperation. “She wasn’t going to jeopardize her relationship with Jame. I’m sure the cleansing took away only the impulse to fight. The ability is still very much within her.”

  “Maybe,” Jyac said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Jame is headstrong enough to hold it against us if we storm in there and forcibly bring her home.”

  Gindor stared at Jyac. “So you’re willing to risk her getting hurt, maybe killed, when that woman turns on her?”

  “Of course not,” Jyac said. “We’re going to have several warriors stationed at the Ynit safe house. The moment Jame wins that woman’s rehabilitation, they’ll be ready to act.”

  Gindor glared at Jyac for several heartbeats then relaxed and glanced at the Council members on either side of her. “Argis included?”

  Jyac sucked in her breath. “We want to be unobtrusive.”

  “We won’t be able to keep Argis away,” Gindor said. “She obviously doesn’t know of this new development because she hasn’t taken off for Ynit.”

 
“We were hoping you could convince her that she’d better serve the mission if she was here to receive Jame upon her return,” Jyac said.

  “Would you agree to that if you were in her position?” Gindor asked.

  “I think Jame was having second thoughts about Argis before she met Tigh the Terrible,” Jyac said.

  “Then she should have let Argis know.”

  Jyac arched an eyebrow. “Have you ever been able to tell Argis something she doesn’t want to hear?”

  “Then let Argis go on her own to talk some sense into Jame,” Gindor said.

  “The last time she did that, Jame got angry with her and sent her home,” Jyac said. “Jame’s not going to be reasonable until she has that arbiter’s medallion.”

  Gindor crossed her arms. “Which should be before Tigh is rehabilitated. Right?”

  Silence shrouded the chamber.

  “Yes,” Jyac said. “Maybe once she reaches her goal, she’ll lose interest in defending that woman.”

  “Maybe Argis will be able to help her change her mind,” Gindor said.

  Jyac nodded. “I think we should make extra tributes to Laur in support of Argis’s mission.”

  CONTENTMENT. THE IDEA was so foreign to Tigh it took several days for her to put a name to the warm relaxed feeling that had enveloped her since they returned from Glaus. Just sitting across from Jame in the crowded mess hall eating a midday meal was enough to bring peace to her inner world.

  “Why do you think Ingel wants to see both of us?” Jame frowned at the note a young student arbiter had delivered to her.

  “We haven’t gotten into trouble lately,” Tigh said.

  “Unless she has a problem with my late night visits to your cell,” Jame said. “She’d have said something before now.”

  “If it was serious, she’d want to see us right away,” Tigh said.

  Jame nodded as she scooped a forkful of greens into her mouth. “We do seem to get into trouble, don’t we?”

  Tigh gave her an impish grin. “I’ve never gotten into any kind of trouble until I met you.”

  Jame looked down at her food. “Uh, I wish I could say the same.” She glanced up and caught Tigh’s affectionate gaze.

  AS THEY WALKED across the compound, Jame couldn’t help but wonder at how the reactions to seeing them together had changed in the span of a season. At first the reactions had been puzzlement and fear. Then they had shifted to respect and curiosity. People even nodded to them in greeting. She couldn’t help but smile at the irony as they strolled across the cloud darkened plaza. A sporadic rumbling foretold an afternoon storm.

  Daneran ran down the steps of the arbiters’ school as Tigh and Jame approached.

  “Ingel wants to see you,” Daneran said.

  “We know,” Jame said as Daneran nodded and hurried away.

  They walked across the empty common room to the office and found Ingel relaxing in her back parlor. The remnants of her midday meal sat on the low table in front of her.

  “Come in,” she said when Jame and Tigh hesitated at the door. “Please sit.”

  She waved a thin hand at the long couch on the other side of the table.

  “I’ve got something here that I think is yours.” Ingel lifted the lid off a wooden box on the table and pulled out a small silver box. “Take it.”

  Jame took possession of the box, noting the elaborate arbiter seal engraved on the top. She pulled off the lid and stared at the brilliant silver medallion. “I thought . . .” She looked at Tigh who smiled with pride and then at Ingel.

  “You’ve more than proven your skills as an arbiter,” Ingel said.

  “The judging part of the job is fine, but what about when I’m arguing for one side or the other? I can’t argue cases if I know the client is guilty,” Jame said.

  “How you choose to practice is up to you,” Ingel said. “Under normal circumstances, I’d envision your quest to defend only the innocent to be impossible.”

  Jame cocked her head. “What do you mean, under normal circumstances?”

  “What are Tigh’s plans, once she’s rehabilitated?” Ingel asked.

  Jame turned to Tigh. “We haven’t mentioned it because we didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize her case. She wants to be a peace warrior. My peace warrior.”

  Ingel nodded. “I thought so. You want to be an arbiter-at-large and I assumed that you wanted Tigh to be with you. Since she can perceive whether a person is telling the truth or not, you won’t ever have to worry about the veracity of your client. It’ll also make judging cases easier.”

  Jame couldn’t believe how a random skill from Tigh could be the perfect solution to the one problem that had gnawed at her since she began her studies. Their beliefs and skills meshed together and she knew without a doubt that they were destined to work in tandem. She pulled Tigh into a joyous hug.

  “I took the liberty of putting your name in for a residence here in the compound,” Ingel said. “Most arbiters-at-large use Ynit as a home base until they find somewhere else to settle. I was able to secure a two room place in the arbiters’ corner.”

  “Two rooms?” Jame asked.

  “I assured the housing committee you’re to be joined,” Ingel said. “Was that assumption incorrect?”

  “No, no,” Jame said. “We’re going to be joined as soon as possible after Tigh’s last hearing.”

  “Congratulations to both of you,” Ingel said. “I have the feeling you’ll have an interesting life together.”

  ONE OF THE advantages of having a close personal acquaintance with a warrior was having someone strong enough to move cumbersome belongings. Not only that, Tigh got the last of Jame’s possessions into her new quarters before the clouds exploded with heavy rain.

  Jame looked around at the two big rooms and her scant belongings piled in a corner and was thankful the place was furnished with a table and benches and a bed. But it would still feel empty, even after Tigh moved in her few belongings. They’d fill it up together. The idea washed over her. She realized for the first time in her life she felt centered and truly happy.

  Warmed by this idea, she cast affectionate eyes at Tigh’s efforts to coax a flame from the few bits of wood she found in the tinderbox near the fireplace that dominated a corner of the main room. She had taken one last trip before the rains and returned with a large wooden box, now resting on the table.

  The blaze finally sputtered to life and Tigh turned her attention to the mysterious box. She pulled off the lid, removed several parchment bags, and spread them out on the table. Then she took out piece after piece of Ingoran cooking pots and skillets, delicate serving and eating dishes and intricately carved utensils.

  “Where did you get these?” Jame ran her fingers over the smooth dishes with the House of Tigis seal enameled into them.

  “From under my cot,” Tigh said. “They’re the only things I brought with me from Ingor. I kept them under the cot for safekeeping. I got the food from the kitchens on my way back.” She nodded at the parchment bags.

  “The first meal in our home,” Jame said.

  Tigh leaned forward and kissed Jame. “This is only a housewarming meal. The full Ingoran feast will be for when I’m moved in.”

  “When you’re no longer the ward of the state.” Jame nodded, not looking forward to two long weeks alone in the house.

  “We can spend the time getting more furniture and other stuff in here,” Tigh said.

  Jame grinned at the idea of wandering around Ynit scouring the shops for things to make the empty rooms feel like home. “I have some money saved up.” She moved her fingers and calculated how much they’d need to make the place comfortable. Now that she was a full arbiter she was no longer on the compound payroll.

  “I have a pension,” Tigh said. “Between us we ought to be able to fix this place up.”

  Jame stepped around the table and wrapped Tigh in her arms. “It’s funny. All winter I both dreaded and looked forward to finishing my studies. I was confu
sed about how I felt about home and about everyone’s expectations of me. Everything was so uncertain once I got my medallion.” She looked up at the tender eyes gazing down at her. “Then I met you and I suddenly knew my destiny. I’ll not let anything split us apart. If we don’t meet the expectations of others, we’ll create our own world to inhabit.” She looked around the chamber, cozy, even with the rain pounding against the roof and spreading an unrelenting curtain of water outside the large front window. “This place will be a nice start.”

  “HOW DO PEOPLE live in Bal be cursed cities?” Argis stared down the same lane for the fourth time. “What is Jame doing with her own quarters, anyway?” She ignored the startled looks from several healers walking past her. Giving in to the heat of the day, she left her cloak at the safe house and wandered around the military compound in just her Emoran leathers.

  “You,” Argis barked at a tall gangly girl. “What’s your name?”

  The girl looked around and then stared wide-eyed at Argis. “Goodemer.”

  “Do you know where Jame lives?” Argis asked.

  Goodemer nodded. “Yes.”

  Argis gentled her tone. “Could you show me?”

  “Yes. It’s just this way.” Goodemer led Argis down several awkward turns into a half-hidden lane. “This is it.” She pointed to a small adobe structure nestled against the back of a taller building and surrounded by equally small residences.

  Argis stared at the cheerful place that Jame called home. She turned to the girl. “Thank you, Goodemer.”

  “You’re welcome.” Goodemer flashed a good-natured smile at Argis and then rushed back down the lane.

  The window shutters were closed, but the door was open and Argis stepped onto the threshold. Before her was a bright whitewashed room molded out of adobe. Jame stood with her back to the door, putting dishes on a set of shelves that lined the back wall next to the fireplace.