Without a Front

by Fletcher DeLancey

  She settled down to work, but her concentration was interrupted after just four dispatches when she felt Salomen approaching her door. She glanced at her wristcom, startled by the time. Salomen clearly did not put off distasteful tasks.

  “Enter,” she said without waiting for the knock.

  The door opened and Salomen walked in. Her bearing exuded self-confidence as she closed the door behind her, but her emotions told a different story.

  “I accept you as my instructor,” she said stiffly. “I think you know this is not my desire. But it’s the only choice I can make. You will not mention this training to my family. They’re not aware of my…talent. I’ve told them that we’ll be working on delegate matters in the evenings.”

  Tal nodded. “Then I accept you as my student, and your family will hear nothing of it from me. Please sit.” She indicated the chair she had placed facing the window seat.

  Salomen sat, her back rigid.

  Tal looked at her in silence, then raised her eyes to the portrait of Nashta Opah.

  “Tell me about your mother,” she said.

  “What?” Salomen frowned. “My mother has nothing to do with this.”

  “Everything that makes you who you are has something to do with this.” Tal rolled up her reader card, put it in its case, and sat up straight. “Your emotions cannot be unlinked from your past or your present. To be effective as your instructor, I need to know you. I already know the present. But I need you to tell me about the past.”

  “And this is what any other instructor would say?”

  Tal let that question hang in the air before asking, “Are you accusing me of something?”

  “I don’t… No. I’m not.” Salomen took a deep breath. “This frightens me.”

  Tal already knew that. She just hadn’t expected her to admit it.

  “It takes true courage to admit fear,” she said. “I respect courage. It will be my honor to teach you.”

  Salomen’s expression shifted. “Thank you. From you, that means something.”

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for accepting me. Now, will you tell me about your mother? I’d like to know more about the woman whose presence still breathes in this house.”

  Salomen leaned back in her chair, brushing an invisible bit of lint from her pant leg as she thought. “My mother was my best friend. We were the only women in a house full of men, so we naturally gravitated toward each other.” She looked toward the window at Tal’s back, not quite meeting her eyes. “But it was more than just that. I shared everything with her, far beyond the age at which most young women begin keeping secrets from their parents. I just never felt the need to assert my independence…maybe because Mother treated me with so much respect. From the moment of my Rite of Ascension, she treated me almost as an equal, asking my advice on things and telling me some of her hopes and dreams.”

  At last she met Tal’s gaze. “I was there when Jaros was born. As you might have guessed, he was a surprise.”

  Tal nodded; the age difference between Jaros and Herot made that fairly obvious.

  “I’ve never been able to prevent myself from feeling the emotions of others,” Salomen said with a half-smile. “Even at the best of times. But when the healer put Jaros in Mother’s arms, I had to sit down. Her love for him was—” She searched for the words. “Overwhelming. It was so strong that it hit me physically. To this day I think it must have lodged in my heart. I don’t love him like a brother; I love him like my own child. I always have. And when Mother fell ill…”

  There was a long pause while she struggled. Tal said nothing, respecting her grief.

  “She asked me to finish what she could not,” Salomen said at last. “It was never a burden to me. I accepted without a second thought. But it’s been very hard without her. I miss her. I miss my best friend.” She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them, unwilling to say anything more.

  Tal was surprised at the depth of her own sympathy. Salomen Opah had been an unremitting pain in her backside since their very first meeting, but this kind of grief was something she would not wish on even an enemy. And after seeing Salomen in her own home, surrounded by her family, Tal’s opinion of her had changed. Fahla only knew why, but she wanted to help.

  “My mother was my friend too,” she said.

  Salomen lifted her head, a startled look in her eyes.

  “But my father was my best friend. I was a little too…active for Mother’s tastes. She was scholar caste and had hopes for me that didn’t include wielding a blade or a molecular disruptor. But I wanted to be like my father. He was my hero.”

  “So you chose his caste and his name.” Salomen had been drawn in despite herself.

  “Mother was very good at fronting her emotions, but I always knew it hurt her when I chose not to be Shaldone. She told me that as a scholar I had the potential to be Lancer. She never had faith in my abilities as a warrior, or maybe she just tried to steer me to a safer place. But Father believed enough for both of them. The moment my warrior training began, my Lancer training began as well. I think it never occurred to my father that I would not be Lancer someday.”

  “Well, he was right.”

  “He was.” Tal hesitated before saying the rest. “But his dreams cost both him and my mother their lives.”

  Salomen’s brows drew together. “But your parents died in a transport accident.”

  “You’ve done your research, I see.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I’ve worked with you for nearly five moons now,” Tal interrupted. “Your thoroughness doesn’t surprise me. But in this case you didn’t find the whole truth. That transport crash wasn’t an accident.”

  This was not something she told casual acquaintances. In fact, the circumstances of her parents’ deaths had been kept from public knowledge. But she needed Salomen to trust her in order for the training to be effective, and the best means of earning trust was giving it.

  Salomen was staring at her. “Are you…they were murdered?”

  “They were assassinated,” Tal said flatly. “My father had made alliances and deals for my benefit, preparing as much of my way as he could with the connections he had. But others saw his actions and misinterpreted them. They thought he sought the title of Lancer for himself. So they removed him, and my mother along with him. I don’t think she was actually targeted, but it didn’t matter.”

  “Lancer Tal…” Salomen’s voice was pained. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I know you are. Thank you for that.”

  “But…why did they leave you alive? I mean, sooner or later it must have become obvious that you were seeking the title.”

  Tal watched her for a moment, considering her answer. “When you researched me, did you learn about the Truth and the Path?”

  “The warrior’s code. I know of it, but no, I didn’t spend much time on the details.”

  “There are a few overriding principles. Loyalty and honor govern our lives and bind us to certain paths. For instance, we’re bound to avenge any mortal harm to our oath holder. The tie to family is, of course, the strongest and most sacred of all. When I learned the truth about my parents’ accident, I was bound by the code to avenge them.” She paused. “It was not a hardship.”

  “When you say avenge,” Salomen said slowly, “I have a feeling you’re not referring to capturing the assassin and turning him over to the Alsean Investigative Force.”

  “In certain cases, the wronged party can apply to the AIF for special dispensation. I applied.”

  They stared at each other in silence.

  “So you…killed him?” It was a hesitant question, spoken by one who wasn’t certain she wanted to know the answer.

  “There were three. And yes, I fulfilled my obligation.”

  “Good Fahla. Suddenly I’m understanding who I have under my roof. You a
re a terrible enemy.”

  “I’m a good friend and ally, and a loyal warrior. And as your instructor I will also be your friend and ally.”

  “Well, I would certainly prefer that to making you an enemy!” Salomen ran her hand through her hair. “Shek! This is…” She dropped her hand and shook her head. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

  “There’s nothing comfortable about this kind of instruction. That’s not what I seek. I seek your trust.”

  “I’m supposed to trust a woman capable of what you’ve just admitted to?”

  “If someone hurt Jaros, and I mean really hurt him, on purpose, what would you be capable of?”

  Clearly, Salomen had never considered this, not in a conscious, honest manner. At last she said, “I would kill them with my bare hands.”

  “Then perhaps you understand me more than you thought.”

  Tal waited, undisturbed by the long silence, and knew when the decision was made. The sense of resolution that descended on Salomen’s mind was critical to their relationship as instructor and student.

  “I’m not sure why you’ve told me this. But it does give me a different view of you. You make me nervous, Lancer Tal. You’re not a safe woman.”

  “I’m not in a safe line of work.”

  “I don’t think I fully realized that until tonight. But I believe I can trust you. We’re here right now because you chose not to follow the letter of the law and report me.” She fixed Tal with a penetrating look. “I don’t understand the code you follow. But if you’re offering your friendship and alliance, I accept it.”

  Tal noticed that she didn’t offer her own friendship in return. This woman did not give of herself lightly. Neither did Tal, but she had a better understanding of the nature of the relationship they were about to enter.

  “Then we can begin,” she said.

  Salomen nodded, visibly preparing herself.

  “This won’t resemble traditional instruction in any way. We don’t have time for that. My priorities are to teach you blocking and fronting techniques, and the discipline to prevent yourself from probing others. You’re very strong, but you have neither control nor consistency. I hope I can help you with both of those, but if I cannot, control is the most important.”

  “Am I really that strong?”

  It was an odd question from a high empath, but Salomen had never been properly assessed.

  “You fooled the testers when you were ten. And you fooled me until last night. I’m embarrassed that I thought you were a mid empath.” Tal caught the sense of pleased pride and added, “Why am I not surprised that the happiest you’ve been all evening is when I admit you made me look like a grainbird?”

  One side of Salomen’s mouth quirked up. “I suppose it’s just nice to know I could hold my own against the all-seeing Lancer Tal.”

  Tal swallowed her instinctive retort and reminded herself why they were there. “We’ll start with the first step in both blocking and fronting,” she said. “Close your eyes.”

  Salomen looked at her for a long moment, and when she finally obeyed, Tal felt as if a major victory had been achieved. This was not going to be a traditional student-teacher relationship at all.

  In a lower voice, she said, “Now think of a time when you were utterly serene. Calm, content, quiet…at peace. Perhaps somewhere special, a place that you love, where you smile just from the pleasure of being there. Tell me when you have that in your mind.”

  She remembered needing several attempts to find the right thought in her own training. Salomen spoke in less than one tick.

  “I have it.”

  “Good. Focus on that. Close down every other thought, every other concern. There is nothing right now but that single thought. This is your place of serenity. It’s a place only you know about, a place where you can go and no one else can follow. Just stay there and enjoy it. Hold that place close.”

  She extended her own senses, feeling Salomen gradually centering herself. When no more progress had been made for several ticks, she judged that Salomen had gone as far as she was capable—which was surprisingly far for a beginning student.

  Sharpening her senses to a focused point, she reached out with a light probe.

  “Oh!” Salomen’s eyes flew open. “What was that?”

  Tal couldn’t stop her smile. She felt oddly proud.

  “That was something you shouldn’t be detecting at this point in your training. It was me probing you, and the fact that you felt it puts you several steps ahead of where I thought we’d be starting. Your powers are very impressive.”

  “Thank you. But why didn’t I feel it last night, when you made me say what you wanted?”

  “Because last night your mind was spread thinly, which is normal for an untrained person. A scattered thought pattern is easy to penetrate. But when you focused yourself as you just did, your emotions and mental powers coalesced into something far more dense. My probe impacted your thoughts, and that’s why you sensed it.”

  “Remarkable,” Salomen breathed. “Can we do it again?”

  Tal almost laughed; in that moment she had sounded just like Jaros. “We can, and we will,” she said. “So many times that you’ll grow tired of it.”

  “I do not think I will ever grow tired of this.”

  “We’ll see.” But Tal remembered the joy of learning control. “Ready for another try?”

  Salomen closed her eyes, a small smile playing about her mouth. “I’m ready.”

  “Then concentrate, and take yourself back to your place of serenity.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Tell me a story

  Life at Hol-Opah settled into a pattern. Tal began each day with her run, using the exercise as a means of exploring every corner of the Opah holding. After mornmeal, she worked in the fields with the Opah family and their workers. She listened to the spare conversation of people who had known each other for a lifetime, and found herself wondering about the richness of detail that was absent from their words but plainly present in their memories.

  At one time or another, each member of the Opah family contrived to work next to her. She enjoyed her conversations with all of them except Herot, who reminded her of a first-cycle warrior who hadn’t yet had his ego deflated to the proper size. Salomen’s arrogance at least had a reasonable source: she was intelligent, determined, and accomplished. Herot just thought he was.

  Upon ending her daily field work, Tal became the Lancer again, reading dispatches and reports, consulting with her advisors, and making the thousand decisions that rested in her hands. Sometimes it truly felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders as she took responsibility for allocation of resources, health issues, social issues, environmental concerns, and—new since the crash of the Caphenon—planetary defense, interplanetary diplomacy, and breathtaking technological advances.

  With decisions in hand, she would send instructions to Aldirk, who never missed an opportunity to inform her of how difficult this arrangement made his life. When he arrived at the holding for their first meeting, she left the field at midmeal to spend the afternoon sorting out the kind of minutiae that made her question her own sanity for giving so much of her life and soul to this position. Making the big decisions was one thing; dealing with the innumerable political calculations that made actual progress possible was something entirely different.

  At the end of the day, when she had completed both her fieldwork and her Lancer’s duties, she became an instructor. Every night after evenmeal, Salomen came to her room for a lesson. Tal found herself looking forward to these sessions, which were a unique mixture of study, practice, and subtle battle, demanding a mental flexibility very different from what was normally required of her.

  Salomen was a worthy opponent. She would walk in, stiff and reserved, and Tal would smile from the window seat and disarm her with questions she knew Sa
lomen did not expect: what kind of toys she played with as a child, how her parents met, why she chose the various crops she planted. When she asked why the Opah fanten tasted so much better than anyone else’s, she had the rare enjoyment of watching Salomen’s reserve melt away in her earnest response on the advantages of the feed she used for the animals, as well as the unique quality of the grass they grazed on in the south pasture. When Salomen discussed her holding, she seemed to forget her distrust and speak almost as to a friend. Perhaps, Tal mused, it was because she was speaking of a friend, for that seemed to be how she viewed her holding—as an old, dear, and well-loved friend, worth every bit of the love and labor she poured into it.

  One night, she asked why the holding used so many field workers instead of investing in labor-saving equipment. Her query inspired a startled look and then a lecture on the economics of the Opah holding, as she learned that most of the profits of each cycle’s harvest went to pay off last cycle’s debts and the laborer’s wages.

  “But if you took out a second loan to buy the equipment, you would be using the profits to pay that instead of worker’s wages,” Tal said. “And within a few cycles you’ll have paid off the equipment and can begin investing the profit in other improvements.”

  “And just how ‘improved’ do you think my workers’ lives would be?” Salomen asked. “I don’t employ them simply to work my fields. I employ them because they’ve always worked this holding, as their parents did before them and their grandparents before them. I have a responsibility to them, handed down to me through the same generations. We depend on each other, and I will not be the first to end that.”

  Suddenly, Tal understood a great deal more about the woman facing her and found her respect rising. She and Salomen had more in common than she had first thought.

  “That’s why I’m so afraid of your policies,” Salomen continued. “By destroying our profitability, your matter printers will end the livelihoods of these people more surely, and more quickly, than any equipment I could buy.”