Diana drew a steadying breath and raised her eyes. “You once said you were not afraid of me, Ona. I am still me. I have not changed.”
Elana swallowed, then nodded, uncomfortable, yet relieved at Di’nay’s astuteness. “It is not you that I fear.”
“I know.” She half-heartedly smiled. “It takes a while… give yourself time.”
“And you?” Elana looked to her hesitantly, she too caught by guilt. There was nothing on this world that she would want to deny Di’nay, and it hurt her to feel reluctance — uncertainty — at Di’nay’s slightest desire. Had she not once felt proud to draw her Amazon’s attentions? Did she still not find comfort and strength in the sleeping circle of her arms?
“I care for you,” Diana reminded her softly, “for all of you. Do not mistake my caring for demands.”
Her faltering smile grew stronger, and Elana nodded, feeling the intangible hug Di’nay wished her. There were many reasons why she loved this woman; this was just one of them.
† † †
Chapter Two
Thomas Baily was a man who had risen, as did so many in the Terran militia, to a level above his dubious abilities. And so he found himself plagued by a hundred small decisions that weighed far too heavily upon his mind. As Commander of an Imperial Charlie-IV Base, his problems were further compounded because of his planetary isolation — or maybe that was to his advantage? After all, he might not be able to seek advice from others with more experience, but his superiors were seldom around to scrutinize his decisions either.
Until today.
But then there is always That Day, even on an infrequently toured base.
Thomas tried to reassure himself that the Assemblyman on this tour might not be coming to censor him. This thing about Garrison and the plot against the Chairman had been well enough handled — except for the Council of Ten’s interference. But even that had turned to his advantage when the Amazon’s field equipment failed.
Leaning back in his chair he smiled, a crooked finger stroking his moustache. It was inventive of his crew to use birds instead of transmitters to send messages. Somewhat quaint, but all the same, it was a marvelously creative solution.
His pride was short-lived, however. He remembered the other half of the Assemblyman’s communiqué. “Coordinate arrangements for discharge and replacement of your three Amazons.”
As Assemblyman and as the military governor for this quadrant, Haladay had top ranked security clearance for everything Thomas might or might not be doing. He was also cleared for dozens of projects beyond a commander’s position. So Thomas Baily did not even hope that there had been a mistaken count. If Haladay said “three Amazons,” then Aggar housed three Amazons… unless his own people had misfiled the transfer papers for that last one? But no, that was five years back — it would have been caught before this. The personal computer had nothing either, and everyone on payroll had to go through that department.
So now where was this younger n’Athena? What was her other name? Drat — intolerably rude of them to have so few surnames for so many. How they ever kept their records straight was beyond him.
The deskcom beeped and Thomas snapped, “What is it?”
There was a pause, then Samuel Weis’ well-schooled tenor responded, “Cleis n’Athena is here, Commander.”
“Then get her in here!” Bristling impatiently, Thomas snatched up his computer pen and frowned down at the glass console in his desk top.
“A poor habit,” an insolent young voice announced, “taking your frustrations out on Samuel.”
The pen slammed against the glass as Thomas half-rose from his chair.
“You did send for me, didn’t you?”
He reddened, his thin moustache twitching. Damn her. She knew something. And she was just waiting for him to fall flat on his face.
Cleis n’Athena did enjoy disrupting Thomas Baily’s life. She had dealt with his bludgeoning incompetence for almost eight years now, and she only survived it by using a sarcastic antagonism.
“Want a drink?” He didn’t even pause to pick up a second glass.
She refused to acknowledge the game and dropped her rather rangy frame into a chair sideways, a leg dangling over the arm and her back to Thomas. Cleis was a good deal younger than Diana, although not young for an Amazon. A single tour of ten Terran years was the typical duty assignment, and she had served more than eight (compared to Diana’s twenty). Unfortunately she had spent all eight of them here with Thomas; it was one of the chief reasons she was accepting the early disability discharge. She’d been cut up once too many times, in the field — and in this office.
She brushed the shaggy hair from her eyes and with a finger flicked it free from her collar. She grinned at Thomas’ grimace at her gesture. Her unruly hair was not at all regulation, but it was befitting her field assignments, so there was nothing he could do about it. His eyes disapprovingly evaluated her bulky sweater, tight fitting pants, and sandaled feet. They weren’t regulation either, but she was off-duty.
He sat down still glowering at her, his drink already half gone.
“You wanted to know something about a third Amazon?” she asked carelessly.
“Who is she?” Thomas spat in frustration. This person was utterly infuriating.
“You tell me — ”
“You arrogant little bitch! Don’t play with me!”
“Since I’m a good half-foot taller than you and I’m not a canine, I’ll assume you’re being colorful.” Her smile was unperturbed and her gray eyes were still laughing as they met his. “But should I also assume you still want me here?”
“I want to know who she is?!”
“She’s a cultural supervisor, of course. We all are.”
“I know her title!”
Her leg swung down and she leaned forward with her own show of impatience. “Then tell me who you’re talking about. Diana, Elana or myself!”
“Elana!” His stomach churned at the matter-of-factness her voice carried. How the hell could he run a base properly if he didn’t even know who was in the field?
“Ahh, yes,” Cleis settled back in her chair, “the Assembly’s special assignment.”
He shifted uneasily with her words. Cleis fleetingly thought that this was being rather unfair to the man. But the thought didn’t raise enough guilt to change anything, and the fact that this scene had been played over and over again throughout the Empire for the last thousand years only reassured her. He would survive.
He forced a little more calm into his manner. “Yes, exactly what do you know about it — about her?”
“About her assignment? Very little. She’s been in the field without contact for about three years. She was to infiltrate some trading routes outside the three hundred mile mark that we’ve mapped to date. The Assembly contact muttered something about the locals never suspecting a woman so she went in alone as a woman.”
“Wouldn’t that be kind of difficult for one of you gals — on this planet, I mean.” He’d been on the cutting edge of more Amazons’ ire than he cared to remember. “The women here are — are so short.”
Cleis decided not to take offense at that archaic word gal; it wasn’t worth it. “I seem to remember Elana n’Sappho was much shorter than most. Smaller than you.”
The man shifted uncomfortably. There was undoubtedly more in that remark than its face value. “You met her then?”
“Of course I — ” Cleis halted in mid-sentence and suddenly leaned forward, feigning suspicion. “You don’t know any of this, do you?”
He straightened defensively, but she rushed on before he could open his mouth. “Damn it, Thomas! Don’t you ever read anything? You were only on Crigil III for two weeks! Do you realize she could get killed because you don’t prioritize her calls? What happens if she needs to come in in a hurry?!”
He drew a slow breath and pointed out, “There hasn’t been any message. She hasn’t been in any trouble. Let’s just calm down a bit, hmm?”
/> Cleis begrudgingly eased off her attack. No matter what his other faults were, he didn’t actually want to see anyone hurt.
“My problem is,” he cleared his throat a little, choosing his words carefully now, “that I can’t find her records in Personnel.”
“Probably because they aren’t there,” Cleis muttered.
“Do you know where they are then?” His voice was too sweet to be sincere.
“Since she’s working directly out of Haladay’s sub-committee, I’d suggest you look in his classifieds.” Her voice was just as sweet as his.
“Good enough.” The man’s lips thinned with his irritation, but she was not going to get to him again. “You said her last name is not n’Athena?”
“No, it’s n’Sappho.”
“May I ask how you spell it?”
“S-a-p-p-h-o. It means… wise diplomat.” She couldn’t help that last bit.
“Very well.” He rose politely, although it was obviously difficult, and offered his hand. “Thank you for your help.”
Cleis ignored the gesture and the dismissal, crossing her arms in front of herself. “I received a personal communiqué from Haladay that he’s arriving on the Belmont next week.”
He swallowed uneasily at the mention of Haladay’s name. “Yes, I know. He’s requested you meet him at docking and shuttle him down privately.”
“I assume you’ve no objections?”
A dozen or so, actually, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Haladay did not give orders to have them ignored. “Arrangements have been made. The shuttle craft will be waiting for you.”
“I don’t want a co-pilot.”
“No, Haladay specified ‘private.’” It was those types of specifications that kept him from transferring Cleis and every other Amazon off his base.
“I understand…” Cleis slowly got to her feet — hiding the fact that her third rib had just slipped out of place again, “…that Diana is working with a Council guide by the name of Elana?”
His moustache twitched with the realization that somewhere, somehow, he was being manipulated. He began to hate Haladay for engineering the whole thing.
“You know Diana contacted me a while back?” She didn’t wait for his nod. “This Elana is Elana n’Sappho, isn’t she? Did you or Haladay arrange that?”
He went pale as his ulcer kicked. With a sharp crack, he snapped the deskcom on and shouted for his secretary. “Weis! I want Haladay’s discs!”
“All of them, sir?”
“The classifieds. Now!”
“Yes, Commander.”
Thomas turned smugly to the Amazon before him. “I believe it’s your day off. Do enjoy it.”
“Never mind.” Cleis met this dismissal with a sarcastic grin. She paused at the door. “I’ll just ask Haladay about Elana.”
His chin quivered as the door slipped shut. That — that bitch!
The console on his desk blinked and he sat down abruptly. Security codes punched in and his fingerprints matched, the computer began to scan for the appropriate files. He reached for the rest of his drink and downed it quickly. One day — somehow — he’d figure out how to get around those women. Or maybe he could just get transferred to a nice, neat job without their interfering tricks!
There it was — Elana n’Sappho.
The screen flipped by and he frowned. As usual no photos, no fingerprints — nothing at all conclusive. Bloody stupid system these Amazons kept. Always took three times as long to verify any of their special agents as it took to check on anybody else in the universe! But that girl of the Council’s had had dark hair. Yes, it could have been black. And she’d been shorter than he — height could be right. He didn’t remember her eyes.
But she’d spoken Common, and it might explain why she put herself so far away from him at the table. Idiot, he could have blown her cover. But when the hell did she sign on? He personally reviewed everybody’s records as they came in. N’Athena had mentioned Crigil III?
He ran down her file to the assignment dates and her dispatch. Crigil III — the administrators’ conferences. Yes, that was why n’Athena had met her and briefed her; he’d been gone for ten — no, twelve days that year. And he obviously hadn’t checked his classifieds for updates. No, he winced — his stomach stabbing again with his most recent ulcer; it was like him to miss that sort of thing.
But three years was a dangerously long time to be solo, and if your base commander forgot about you, no one might ever remember. People died with that kind of carelessness, just as they died from breaking the safety regulations on fuel transfers. Damn… his stomach hurt, protesting both the liquor and his foolishness. He wanted to go back to a space barge — a simple refueling station. Diplomacy, field agents — military disputes were not what he wanted to be dealing with! Give him a good crew, decent flight controllers with a competent workshop and he could keep any supply line on schedule. But this, this was just useless chaos!
† † †
Cleis locked the door behind her and slumped back against it. She forced the air into her lungs with shallow, even breaths and fought the pain. It was the first day in two weeks that she’d gone without her rib belt, and apparently it was still too soon. Carefully she stood upright again, concentrating on making the muscles in her torso and back relax. Her fingers prodded beneath her arm along the right side of her rib cage. There it was. She drove the heel of her hand sharply into her side and gasped, feeling the rib pop back into place. The pain felt as keen as it had the day the sword struck her broadside.
Gingerly she walked across her apartment to the bedroom and fetched the rib belt. The healer had shown her that trick and had warned her against swinging a sword again. The medical chief here had ordered her to report for surgery so that he could weld the two ribs into one unbendable piece. He had warned her that procrastinating might mean she would puncture a lung.
In the end, she had agreed to go home for the operation as soon as Diana’s mission was done, and he had agreed not to take her off the active duty list until her ribs shifted out of alignment again. Thanks to the brace that wasn’t happening as often as it might have, and as long as the healer’s trick worked, she wasn’t going to report it when it did.
She fastened the velcro under her arms and reached for her music discs. She had a dozen bottles of various pills to take for this pain — that was the Empire’s medical community — but she preferred the music and a flat bed. The woodwinds swelled and lifted around her, the pain eased enough so that she didn’t feel nauseous, and her hands felt less clammy. It would be all right. She could deal with this, and at home the witches would tend her. She did not trust those doctors of technology with their knives and lasers… not after dear Lynn’s death. The hands of her Sisters would find the ways and follow the course of her body’s life. If they decided to operate, she would not hesitate; but a body was not a machine to be soldered or pinned together on a whim — it was a shelter of life to be nurtured and supported. No, she preferred to let the crones n’Shea do the tending.
Her thoughts turned to her Sister as her body began to drift with the music. She wondered what had happened to Diana’s transmitter and how badly this Garrison was injured. There had been no mention of Elana in that scribbled hawker’s message that the Council had delivered to Thomas. With a brief prayer, Cleis hoped the woman was safe. Even without meeting her, Cleis could not help but extend the Sisterhood’s bond to include her. The woman must be very special to have broken through the lonely wall of isolation that Diana had built in these last years.
Cleis did not regret the distance that had begun to separate her from Diana as much as she ached with knowing she could not heal the growing fatigue — the silent pain that was settling within her friend. It felt like a defeat of some kind. But Diana seldom seemed inadequate or incompetent, so Cleis truly did not understand the weariness. In the end she had merely decided that it was time for her friend to go home… time for her to remember that the Sisterhood was not a myth
.
Yet now there was this Elana. A woman who made Diana n’Athena ‘uncertain’ of her own homebound date. Perhaps it had not only been the Sisterhood’s shelter that Diana had grown to forget? Perhaps it had been their love as well?
Elana n’Sappho, what are you like? Cleis drew endless pictures of dark-haired, blue-eyed women through her mind. Are you truly blue-eyed? Perhaps you will be n’Shea… with the spells you weave about my friend’s fragile heart. And only twenty-five… twenty-six years in age? A year or two behind myself, but many seasons behind my Sister. What kind of enchanting wisdom do you possess to open her weary eyes again?
And Elana n’Sappho, how kind is your heart? Will you protect this tender soul you have won and let her guide you to our home? Or will you taunt the whims of destiny and bind her to Aggar — forever banished in the guise of man from her neighbors… from her Sisters?
No — Cleis thought of all she had come to know of her friend — this young woman would know, just as she did, that Diana was bound to the Sisterhood more strongly than even Diana might grasp. No, Elana n’Sappho, you will know she is to go home, and I with my Sisters will do anything necessary to ensure that you may go too.
† † †
Chapter Three
“She’s been very restless today,” Diana murmured, turning to look at the eitteh, who was pacing back and forth near the edges of the fire’s light.
It was the first night they had not camped in the shelter of a cave or ledge, since the ravine was narrow and offered no access to its heights. The larger canyon had broken off earlier into dozens of smaller chasms, and they found themselves settling beside a trickling little stream in scattered brush. The winged cat found no comfort from the black shadows of the sandstone walls, and she growled her distaste.
Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Page 39
