T.J. Mindancer - Future Dreams

by T. J. Mindancer

  “Jame.”

  Jame spun around. “Argis. What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” Argis strode into the room. “What are you doing here? You said you’d come home after you got your medallion.”

  “I sent you a letter explaining everything,” Jame said. “Why can’t you just accept my feelings have changed?”

  Argis shook her head in frustration. “How can you not see she’s just using you?”

  Jame crossed her arms. “You seem to be so good at knowing people without ever meeting them. How can you not see she’s not using me?”

  Completely lost in any battle involving words, Argis struggled to rein in her anger and frustration. “All we want you to do is not take any chances with her and come home and let someone else defend her.”

  “Are you questioning my judgment?” Jame asked. “You don’t think I have the ability to know when I’m being used or not?”

  “That woman is notorious for bending people to her will,” Argis said.

  “If that’s so, wouldn’t it have been easier for her to bend you to her will when she had the chance?” Jame asked. “You’d certainly be an impediment to her evil plans. The best strategy would have been to snare you in or make sure you couldn’t interfere.”

  Argis straightened. “I’d like to see her try.”

  “Are you saying you can withstand her compelling personality but I can’t?”

  Argis frowned. Why was Jame making it so confusing? Couldn’t she see what was going on? “That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just that . . .” Argis ran a hand through her wavy hair. “Can’t you just forget about this and come home?”

  “In a word, no,” Jame said.

  Argis found Jame’s forceful confidence foreign and unsettling. She wasn’t quite sure she liked Jame sounding so grown up.

  “I’m not going to turn my back on something I’ve made a commitment to, simply because you, my aunt, or the Council are experiencing fears about it. And I’m not going to give up what I want to do with the part of my life that is truly mine before I take over my duties as queen.” Jame captured Argis’s astonished eyes with her own. “I’ve discovered my feelings for you have changed. I felt it during my last visit home but I allowed Jyac to convince me it was just the pressures of finishing my studies and growing up. In retrospect, I realized I shouldn’t have given in so easy and that I did you a great disservice by not saying anything.”

  “But . . .” Argis choked. “But the challenge. The festival.”

  “They were things I let happen because Jyac assured me my feelings for you would blossom again,” Jame said. “I gave you several chances to step away from our relationship. The fact I completely forgot about the festival two years ago would have been enough reason for you. Even then I’d grown apart from you. I was hoping you’d find someone else.”

  “There will never be anyone else.” Argis couldn’t believe Jame’s words.

  “Would you really want me, feeling as I do?” Jame asked.

  “I know I could make you happy,” Argis said.

  “You wouldn’t even agree to do the one thing that would make me happy,” Jame said. “When I asked if you would give up your life in Emoria and support my wish to be an arbiter for a while, you couldn’t even find words to respond.”

  “I can’t give up my position,” Argis said. “I’ve worked too hard to get to where I am.”

  “So have I,” Jame said. “I’ve worked hard for this medallion.” She wrapped her hand around the silver piece at the base of her neck.

  “What about her?” Argis asked.

  “We’d be having this conversation whether I had met Tigh or not,” Jame said. “If Jyac believes Tigh is using me, then I invite a delegation to witness Tigh’s hearing and to monitor what happens afterwards. But I expect to be allowed to live my life as I choose if my aunt’s fears turn out to be unfounded.”

  “They’ll never agree to you being joined with that woman,” Argis said.

  “That won’t change how I feel about her,” Jame said. “I’m sorry, Argis. It hurts me to see you hurt. But if I returned to Emoria with you, we’d both be miserable. You have to believe me. Please go home and tell Jyac that Tigh’s hearing is a week from today. If she wishes to send witnesses, tell her I welcome it.”

  Argis straightened, knowing she couldn’t win this argument with Jame and she couldn’t force her to come with her. She had tried. Jyac was right. Her place was in Emoria to comfort a heartbroken Jame when she finally returned home.

  Chapter 16

  “They’ve been here for two days and they haven’t even made an effort to get to know you.” Jame hung her head as she and Tigh walked out of the archives.

  “Maybe they want to stay impartial observers,” Tigh said.

  “They just don’t want to know the truth,” Jame said.

  “Are you sure it’s wise to eat at the safe house tonight?” Tigh asked.

  “Yes,” Jame said. “I want them to see you as you truly are, not as this monster they hold in their minds.”

  “I was just thinking, it might be uncomfortable for you,” Tigh said. “Remember how the Emorans acted in Glaus.”

  “I’ll be all right.” Jame smiled at Tigh’s thoughtfulness. “And maybe their eyes will be opened a bit more.”

  A cool wind whipped around them as they entered the small alley that led to the safe house door.

  “Summer is passing,” Jame said. “It’s just as well we’re getting settled here in Ynit.”

  Tigh nodded. “The shutters need to be fixed before the cold sets in.”

  Lon opened the door and Jame saw the disapproval in her eyes.

  “Good evening, Lon,” Jame said. “We’re here for the evening meal.”

  “As you wish, my princess.” Lon bowed her head and led them into the common room. Jame exchanged glances with Tigh at Lon’s coolness.

  Still rather early in the evening, the chamber was only half full of women. Lon led them to a corner table where they could sit adjacent to each other.

  “Tea or ale?” Lon asked with a sigh.

  “Tea and Ingoran food for both of us,” Jame said.

  Shaking her head, Lon walked away, hands flicking signals to the different servers.

  Jame knew when the delegation from Emoria entered the room without even looking up from her plate of greens. A tense silence interrupted the noisy chatter and clatter around them.

  She watched as Sark led Tas and Poag to the table closest to them. The three arranged the chairs so that they faced the corner table, bowed solemnly to Jame, and sat down.

  Jame noticed they didn’t look at Tigh, who had stopped in mid-chew to observe the strange ritual. Now the delegation watched them as if they were the evening’s entertainment. Determined not to let them ruin her meal, she poured more tea into Tigh’s mug and explained the Emoran social structure in a low conversational voice as they ate their meal.

  “I think we’ve entertained my country women enough,” Jame said when only the bowl of sliced fruit and empty cups were left. “Just one more thing. Come on.”

  Jame approached the delegation’s table and captured each woman’s eyes. “I’d like you to meet my friend, Tigh.” She turned and smiled at Tigh, who stepped forward and stood next to her. “Tigh, this is Sark, Jyac’s Right Hand. Next to her is Tas, a childhood friend, and next to her is Poag, a member of the Elders Council.”

  Tigh straightened. “Well met, Sark, Tas, and Poag.”

  The delegation looked stunned as they stood up.

  “Well met, Tigh,” each said.

  Jame smiled. “Thank you for coming to see my first case as an arbiter.”

  TIGH SMOOTHED DOWN the white tunic and realized this would be the last time she would wear it. She looked at the packed trunk next to the door and experienced an ache of sadness. This had been her home since she had been fifteen and she felt more comfortable in the small cell than she ever had in her parents’ home.

 
No matter what happened that day, she would be moving on to somewhere else. If not James’ new quarters, then wherever the Tribunal sent her. She prayed that fate wouldn’t play a cruel trick on her by luring her into a false hope of happiness and then snapping it away. She quickly shook away those thoughts. The Tribunal had no reason not to grant her freedom.

  Familiar footfalls echoed in the corridor. Tigh always grinned at the thought of seeing Jame. She couldn’t control it and decided it wasn’t worth the effort to try. She turned her head just as Jame, wearing a matching grin, appeared outside the door.

  “Good morning,” Jame said.

  “Hey,” Tigh said as she tried to settle her nerves.

  “We have a little time.” Jame glanced around the cleaned and swept cell. “In a few sandmarks, we’ll be celebrating.”

  “Before we go.” Tigh fumbled with her belt pouch and pulled out a bundle of soft cloth. With trembling hands she held it out to Jame.

  Jame peeled away the cloth to reveal a bracelet made of delicate spun metals attached to a silver plate engraved with the Emoran crest of the crossed sword and bow.

  “It’s wonderful.” Jame’s voice choked with tears.

  “In celebration of your first case as an arbiter.” Tigh lost her voice when Jame found the inscription inside the silver plate.

  Jame stared at the words and then looked at Tigh with eyes glistening with love. “It’s the most wonderful thing anyone has ever given to me.” She wiped her tears with the cloth that had held the bracelet.

  Tigh captured her lips in a sweet kiss.

  “I hope I can make those words come true,” she said.

  Jame held up the bracelet so both could see the engraved words. “‘To my arbiter, from your warrior with love forever.’ You’ll always be my warrior in my heart. But, after today, you’ll be my warrior in every way. We can’t lose. I won’t let it happen.”

  Tigh beamed at Jame’s determination. Jame pulled off miracles as an everyday thing and this would be just one more ordinary miracle for her. She took the bracelet, clasped it around Jame’s wrist, and captured her hand. “It’s time.”

  Jame nodded and looked down at their intertwined hands. “It’s time.”

  JAME WAS SURPRISED to see as many people in the chamber as during the first hearing. Friends and family of a Guard at a hearing was unusual enough and it was almost unheard of for anyone outside the compound to be at a hearing to see an arbiter. But Tigh’s case was anything but ordinary.

  They took their place in the defendants’ box and exchanged uncertain glances when they saw the occupants of the front row. Mixing like oil and water, Tigh’s misguided, but loyal parents and the delegation from Emoria sat next to each other.

  “Bal help us if they try to talk to each other,” Jame muttered and Tigh hid an amused grin. But Jame could see the inhabitants of the first row were only interested in Tigh. Both parties watched her for the barest sign of the woman they thought she was and they looked confused and frustrated when all they saw was the Tigh they had been observing all along.

  Tigh discreetly found Jame’s hand and squeezed it. Jame gave her a smile that risked permanent creases to her face. She saw in Tigh all the confidence and reassurance she needed dressed in a dazzling blue.

  The side door creaked opened and the seven Tribunes filed in. Jame held her breath as she waited to see who sat in the middle chair. Onderal. She let her breath flow out in a disappointed stream. The pressure on her hand brought her attention to Tigh.

  “Remember Glaus,” Tigh whispered.

  Jame nodded as she pulled together her faltering confidence. She had stood up against an unfriendly city and won. Onderal could make the hearing difficult but he couldn’t break her, unless she allowed him to. Never, her mind growled with resolve. She straightened and turned her attention to the Tribunal.

  “The fourth case for today is the hearing for Paldar Tigis to determine her successful completion of the Guard rehabilitation program. She’ll be represented by arbiter, Jamelin Ketlas,” Onderal said in an even voice. “You may take the floor, Arbiter.”

  Jame released Tigh’s hand and stood up. She grounded herself by clasping her hands behind her back and looking around the chamber. “Thank you, Tribune Onderal. And thanks to all of our friends who have taken time out from the busy day to attend this hearing.”

  Jame was pleased to see the spectators react with supportive smiles. She knew of the rumors that had picked up on every step of Tigh’s struggle with her family, and her own clashes with her people. Their plight had captured the sympathy of the close community.

  “I could stand up here and relate the evidence of Tigh’s rehabilitation all day,” Jame said. “But it’s not my evidence that will win her freedom. Her freedom will only come when all of your fears and uncertainties are completely put to rest.”

  “How do you plan to do that?” Onderal asked.

  Jame spread out her hands. “It’s up to you. If you have any lingering fears or uncertainties, voice them and I’ll alleviate them for you.”

  “You’re a confident one, aren’t you?” Onderal looked Jame over with a dour expression. “There’s one issue that could compel us to deny your client’s freedom forever. The one failing in our rehabilitation. Former Guards have to regularly give in to the impulse to fight or they start to lose their humanity.”

  Jame glanced at the three Emorans, who exchanged startled glances. She knew that could be a strong excuse to separate her from Tigh.

  “And when does this impulse begin to overtake a cleansed Guard?” Jame asked.

  “Shortly after their cleansing,” Onderal said.

  “And what is done to alleviate this impulse while a Guard goes through rehabilitation?”

  “You should know. You’ve spent enough time with your client.” Onderal almost sneered.

  Jame shrugged. “I’ve never witnessed the impulse or the remedy all the time I’ve known Tigh. This impulse must not come very often, if I haven’t seen it.”

  The seven members of the Tribunal stared tensely at Jame.

  “According to the healers, the impulse is always present and must be indulged every three days. If the Guard can’t give in to this impulse, it begins to affect their personality,” Onderal said, although most of the spectators knew the details. “The healers control it by meeting with the Guard every other day and administering an antidote.”

  “I’d like to call Pendon Larke, the healer in charge of Tigh’s rehabilitation, before the Tribunal,” Jame said.

  The Tribunes exchanged puzzled glances as a grinning Pendon approached the bench.

  “Thank you for coming today, Healer Larke,” Jame said. “Could you relate to the Tribunal your experiences with controlling Tigh’s impulse to fight.”

  “I’m unable to speak on that subject.” Pendon let the silent shock hang for a dramatic moment. “I’ve never had to administer an antidote to Tigh for that particular problem.”

  The Keeper of the Bench sounded the pipe several times to bring the ensuing noise down to a stunned mutter.

  “What have you been doing to control her impulse?” Onderal asked.

  “Tigh has never manifested that problem,” Pendon said. “As has been stated before in this chamber, Tigh’s cleansing has been the most successful one we’ve ever attempted. She’s been freely wandering this compound all summer and, unlike the other Guards undergoing rehabilitation, there have been no reports of problems or incidents instigated by her. In contrast, the fourteen other Guards being rehabilitated during the same period have been involved in thirty-one angry disputes, sixteen incidents with patients in the injury ward, and twenty-three physical fights. And before you drag out the incident at the Emoran safe house, Tigh didn’t instigate that event and didn’t fight back. She doesn’t have the impulse to fight.”

  “How do you know it won’t suddenly emerge at some point?” Onderal asked.

  “How can we predict that about any of us?” Pendon asked. “Has anyone wi
tnessed even a passing anger from her? You, on the other hand, Tribune Onderal, have been sporting an angry scowl ever since you entered this chamber.”

  Onderal looked outraged, then, as if realizing he had just verified Pendon’s words, relaxed his expression. “Are you willing to stake your reputation on your testimony that Tigh is completely free from violent impulse.”

  “Yes. Except under one circumstance,” Pendon said, with a twinkle in his eyes. “I have no doubt Tigh would do anything to protect the person who has captured her heart.” He turned to a shocked Jame. “In other words, she possesses the most natural impulses in the world.”

  Onderal scowled at the sentiment and glanced at the Tribunes on either side of him. “Is that all you wish to say, Healer Larke?”

  “That’s all I need to say,” Pendon said before returning to his seat in the chamber.

  “Is that the only uncertainty and fear that you have concerning Tigh’s rehabilitation?” Jame asked, calming her growing anticipation of bringing this long ordeal to a close.

  The Tribunes murmured to each other for several heartbeats.

  “We are ready to deliberate the case,” Onderal said.

  The Keeper of the Bench sounded the pipe and the Tribunal went to their deliberation chamber.

  Jame sank down onto the bench and Tigh wrapped her hand around hers.

  “EVERYONE AROUND HERE seems to think that they’re a couple,” Poag muttered, as the three Emorans leaned forward in their seats and huddled their heads together.

  “That doesn’t mean that she’s not using Jame,” Sark muttered back.

  “But what if we’re wrong?” Tas asked, flicking furtive glances at the pair in the defendants’ box.

  “If we’re wrong we report it back to the queen. If we’re right, we do everything we can to get Jame away from that woman,” Sark said.

  THE SIDE DOOR scraped opened and the seven Tribunes, wearing inscrutable expressions, entered the chamber.

  A grim-faced Onderal cast impatient eyes about the chamber as the spectators returned to their seats and waited in tense silence. “Will the defendant stand.”