by S. L. Viehl
My adopted family didn’t wait for me to enter the terminal, but came out in a flood of towering bodies and grinning dark faces. Dozens of hands danced around me as I was greeted and welcomed and passed through an almost-continuous gauntlet of affectionate voices speaking my name and blessings and prayers to the Mother. At the center of the crowd was Xonea’s father and the Torin ClanLeader, Xonal, who touched his brow to mine before enveloping me in his arms.
“I have missed you, ClanDaughter,” he said, pulling me off my feet and whirling me around as he might a child. Since I was child-sized compared with the Jorenians, this was understandable. “You are well?”
“Thanks to Squilyp, Xonea, and our kin, yes, ClanLeader. I am.” I held on to his hands as I looked around at all the happy faces. “I thank you for this welcome,” I said in the ceremonial form of their language. “That the Mother chose to lead me to this House again is the only path I could ever wish to follow.”
Squilyp had coached me a little on the wording, and I didn’t even attempt the hand gestures, which were more complicated than anything I could have managed. But they understood me all the same, and a resounding cheer went up, spread out through the air until it echoed around the dock.
I was glad, too. The atmosphere on the ship had grown so tense as to be almost unbearable. Now I didn’t have to pretend people weren’t staring at me. Here they wanted to look and see me. Here I was with family; I was loved; I was venerated. Here I was valued and treasured, an essential part of something big and wonderful and important. I was a daughter of the House, a child of its Clan, and they had missed me.
Finally, I was home.
The trip from Main Transport over to HouseClan Torin’s pavilion took only a short time, during which I spoke at length with Xonal Torin in his private glidecar about the current political situation.
“We were not filled with joy at the prospect of allowing the Hsktskt delegation on planet,” he admitted, “but their Hanar offered many assurances, and Teulon Jado gave his full endorsement to the request. Apparently the two have grown to trust each other since the peace negotiations concluded.”
Despite their abandoning planetary raiding and slave trading, I wasn’t entirely convinced that the Hsktskt had been transformed into a benign, peace-loving civilization. “Have we signed any treaties with the Faction?”
Xonal shook his head. “The Hsktskt have extended several offers, but to date the council has avoided agreeing to any formal settlements with the Hanar. Few have forgotten that the last time they sent their troops to Varallan, it was for the purpose of invasion and enslavement of our people.”
“They wouldn’t have come here at all unless TssVar thought he had no other choice,” I said, thinking out loud. “We were never friends, ClanFather, only enemies with a healthy amount of mutual respect. Surely that hasn’t changed.”
“It has, somewhat, since Jarn went to Vtaga,” he told me. “By doing so, she averted a rekindling of hostilities between the Faction and the League, and she was able to stop the spread of the mind-plague that was destroying their population. TssVar owes you—and, by extension, our people—a debt he can never repay.”
“He owes me nothing.” I wasn’t going to take credit for what Jarn had done on Vtaga. I caught the look on Xonal’s face. “Of course, I don’t ever have to tell him that.”
He grinned. “It is good to have you back, my ClanDaughter.”
A Jorenian celebration could never be called a paltry gathering. Every member of the House came, and each one brought something to the party. They weren’t stingy. I saw enough food laid out on the banquet tables to feed five or six HouseClans.
Then there were the flowers, which my adopted people loved to use as decorations. Strung in swatches of color to imitate the multicolor skies, they festooned the ceilings and draped over entries and sprang in huge bunches from every imaginable type of container. The varieties and colors made me dizzy; it was a bit like being smacked in the face by ten thousand rainbows all at once.
“Cherijo.” A tall, solemn- faced warrior came and made a formal gesture of greeting before grabbing me in a gentle hug. “Welcome home.”
“Salo.” I remembered seeing him chasing after Marel when she came running out of the passenger terminal. “Thanks for taking care of my kid.”
He drew back and smiled. “She has brought much happiness to my bondmate and ClanDaughter.”
“I imagine she brought some other things, too.” I glanced at the young Jorenian female standing behind him. She was nearly as tall as Salo, but I didn’t recognize her. “Who’s this?”
“Healer Cherijo.” The girl smiled. “Do you not know me?”
I knew the voice. “Fasala?” It was Salo’s daughter, only much taller than I remembered. “Suns, you’re all grown-up now. Just yesterday you were . . .” But yesterday for me was five years ago for everyone else. Awkwardly I finished with, “You look wonderful, honey.”
“I thank you.” She had Darea’s regal smile, but mischief danced in her white eyes. “ClanMother says if I grow any taller, she will have to wear a neck brace when she speaks to me.”
“She is not yet majority age,” another familiar female voice grumbled, “and still I must alter the hems of her garments every season.” Darea Torin put an arm around Fasala’s waist before she regarded me. “Welcome back to Joren, Cherijo.”
“Darea, it’s lovely to see you.” She had been one of my best friends on the Sunlace, but now it was as if we were strangers all over again. “I appreciate you and Salo looking after Marel while we were . . . while I was . . . away.”
“She was our joy.” Darea kissed Fasala’s cheek before she turned to Xonal. “ClanUncle, may I have a moment alone with the healer? I have a message to relay to her that requires some privacy.”
Salo frowned until he met his bondmate’s gaze, while Xonal’s expression turned shrewd. “Do not keep her away too long, Darea, or my ClanSon may well call for a search of the pavilion.”
Four
I followed my friend out of the hall and down a corridor to Xonal’s offices, which like all the others were empty. As soon as we were inside, Darea secured the door panel and turned on the external viewer.
“Are you expecting someone to barge in?” I asked.
“Not at all,” she said, while making a discreet affirmative gesture at the same time. “So many wish to speak with you, I dare not keep you long.” She removed a device from her tunic and set it on a table in the center of the room before she switched it on. “Your pardon, Cherijo, but this will disrupt any recording drones in the immediate vicinity. I do not think anyone would dare plant monitors in the Clan-Leader’s chambers, but we cannot be too careful.”
I looked around. “Why would they bother?”
“Xonea has sent some oddly worded messages since leaving oKiaf space,” she admitted as she began moving around the room and checking things. “Both before and after you were returned to us. He also despised Jarn, as I am sure you have guessed by now, and kept her under constant surveillance.”
I needed to give my ClanBrother another hug the next time I saw him. “Good for him.”
“You do not understand the implications, Cherijo.” Her voice went tight. “Xonea never accepted what happened to you on Akkabarr. Over time his obsession with bringing you back to your mind and body grew unmanageable. It drove him to behave in an unseemly manner toward Jarn. Salo and I feared his anger would unbalance him, perhaps even drive him to do the unthinkable.” She made a gesture of frustration. “Now that Jarn has gone and you are returned to us . . .”
“He’ll settle down and be very happy?” I suggested.
“He honors you, Cherijo—you know this—but over these last years his feelings have become darker, more violent. Now they are unnaturally fixated.” She began pacing around me. “Xonal and Salo and I have discussed this at length. We are agreed that the only action that will appease him in his current state is to Choose you again.”
Now I was c
onfused. “He can’t. I broke his Choice years ago.” I eyed her. “Can he?”
“We cannot say. There is no precedent.” When she saw my frown, she added, “No Chosen has ever embraced the stars and then come back to us. You have done so twice now.”
“I can’t be compared to other Jorenians,” I reminded her, “not with my immune system.”
“You were not born to us, Cherijo, but still you are Torin by Choice and, as such, one of us.” Darea thought for a moment. “It has been said to us by some of the crew members that the bond between you and Duncan has been severed. I would know if this is true.”
I didn’t want to talk about this, not with Darea. She’d had a front- row seat to most of my relationship with Reever, and she knew how much I loved him, and what I’d sacrificed to be with him. But for those reasons and the friendship we’d once shared, I forced the words out.
“Duncan doesn’t want me anymore. He’s still in love—he still honors Jarn,” I amended. Jorenians didn’t have the word love in their language. “Under the circumstances, I can’t be with him anymore. So yes, I think our bond is history.”
“Duncan is not Jorenian, nor has he been adopted by the House, so the endurance of your bond is not subject to our laws,” Darea said. “If you should declare yourself free of him, and make this known to the House, I think Xonea will Choose you. And if you refuse his Choice—”
I finished that thought for her. “He’ll go crazy, just like Ktarka did.”
She nodded.
“I can’t believe this.” I sat down on one of the chairs by Xonal’s desk and rested my face in my hands. “So my choices are stay with Duncan, who I want to kill, or drive Xonea insane again, until he kills himself. Not a tough decision, is it?”
“Should you choose not to free yourself of your bond, I believe our ClanCousin will at last accept that he cannot have you.” She stopped roaming the room and came over to me. “For all the wrong he has done, Xonea has acted only out of honor and affection for you. Xonal is certain that with time and distance his improper feelings will fade. He may perhaps find another who will fill his heart and join his path.”
But until then I was stuck in a loveless relationship. “Tell Xonal and Salo that I understand, and I’ll explain things to Reever.” I stood up. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“The Hsktskt have come to Joren to speak with you.”
“Xonea mentioned it. Any particular reason why?”
“They brought a young male of their kind who was alterformed with alien DNA,” Darea said. “They seek the means with which to reverse the process so that the male may be restored to his natural appearance.”
“I seriously doubt that’s possible.” I hadn’t read about that in Xonea’s secured files, and I knew very little about alterforming, a recently developed practice of body modification through genetic grafting. “What did they try to change him into?”
“A Jorenian.” Darea’s mouth went tight. “I have seen vids of the male. The alterformation was quite successful.”
“That’s really not good.” The last thing anyone in the universe needed was a Hsktskt running around disguised as a Jorenian. “Where did they get the genetic material? From a dead captive?” Jorenians did not tolerate enslavement; at the first opportunity after capture, they committed suicide.
Darea made a negative gesture. “The cells were harvested from the body of one who was sent to embrace the stars.”
I had a bad feeling about this. “Tell me the rest.”
She put a comforting hand on my arm first. “The DNA was taken from the remains of your former Chosen. ClanSon Kao Torin.”
In the past I’d often been tempted to violate my physician’s oath and do a little harm. I might not have been completely human, but certainly I had all the ugly, petty emotions of one. After discovering from Darea that SrrokVar had used my first love’s DNA to alterform a rogue minion, I felt like wiping out a few species. Starting with the Hsktskt.
At least Darea understood that I was in no shape to return to the festivities, and promised to make a convincing excuse for me. I left Xonal’s offices and slipped down a side corridor to a communications room, where I notified HouseClan Adan of my presence on planet and requested a meeting be arranged with the Hsktskt delegation for the next day.
“Healer, we understood you were to stay at HouseClan Torin’s pavilion for a welcoming celebration,” the Adan communications officer said. “The Faction representatives are quite willing to wait to meet with you at a more convenient time.”
“Well, it’s convenient now.” The sooner I got this over with, the better. “I’ll be arriving in the morning. Would you please notify the ClanLeader and request a security detachment for me?”
“I will see to it at once, Healer.” The young, handsome blue face on the viddisplay darkened, and his tone deepened. “Do you have knowledge of some threat made against you by these offworlders, Lady?”
According to Xonea’s files I was still considered ClanJoren, which made me the honorary kin of every House on Joren. If I so much as hinted at a threat, the Adan would happily declare ClanKill on the Hsktskt and eviscerate the entire delegation on the spot. Even now I could see the dark blue tips of the young com officer’s claws emerging.
Maybe I don’t have to violate my oath personally.
The dark twinge of glee that accompanied my ugly thought made my stomach roll. When had I become so conniving and bloodthirsty? Had she done this to me?
“No,” I said firmly. “I misspoke. No threat has been made against me.” I had to come up with some excuse. “I’ve been away for a long time, ClanSon Adan. I still have to adjust to current political situations, which are very different now.”
“We are eager to assist you in any manner during this difficult time, Lady. Should you have any need while you are among our House, know that my name is Apalo Adan.”
“I thank you, Apalo. Until tomorrow, then.” I ended the signal, sat back in the console chair, and pressed my palms against my eyes. Behind me the door panel chimed. “Go away.”
The panels opened and closed. “Darea Torin told us that you were not feeling well.”
I swiveled around to face Shon Valtas. He was wearing a modified ceremonial robe of dark green and brown, and had braided several interesting-looking gold ornaments into his mane. He also wore a belt made of black daggers sheathed in some kind of dark blue leather and carried a short spear, the shaft of which had been decorated with fringes and tiny wood carvings. “Don’t you look ready to hunt down and kill something.”
He grimaced down at his garments. “These are oKiaf ceremonial garments. The Senior Healer insisted I dress for the occasion. He also sent me to check your condition.”
“Darea lied for me. I’m fine.” I got to my feet. “Excuse me. I need to arrange transportation to the capital for tomorrow morning.”
“I will accompany you.”
I gave him a suspicious look. “Are you still in love with her?”
The fur around his neck shifted as he realized what I meant. “My feelings for Jarn were inappropriate. After she made her commitment to Reever known to me, I struggled for some time—”
I whipped up a hand. “As much as I’d love to hear how you survived rejection, a simple yes or no will do.”
“No.”
“Great.” I eyed his weapons. “Disarm, get packed, and be ready to leave at dawn.” Now I had to go and lie to the Torins, requisition a glidecar, and have a conversation I didn’t want to have with the man who no longer loved me. I’d probably lie to him, too.
Xonea met me halfway in the corridor outside the great hall. “Darea said you were not feeling well.”
All this hovering was really beginning to get on my nerves.
“Bad headache. It’s starting to let up.” I touched my temple and tried to look pitiful. “I’ll have to skip most of the party, though. I have to take a trip to the capital in the morning to meet with the lizards. I’m on my way to tell
Xonal now.” I walked past him.
Xonea caught up with me. “I will accompany you.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Captain, but I know how busy you are, and I’ve already arranged an escort.” I kept my tone bland. “Healer Valtas is going with me.”
He didn’t like that. “Why take you the oKiaf?”
“Well, Shon was alterformed before being infected by the protocrystal and reverting to his original form,” I said, making a casual gesture. “Since the Hsktskt are interested in reverse-engineering the alterform process, it seems like a good idea to have him come along.”
Xonea tugged me to a stop. “I do not like you meeting with the beasts.”
“I’m told that we’re all good friends now.” Although his grip was a degree too tight for comfort, I tried to look puzzled instead of pained. “What’s not to like?”
“You have been through an arduous ordeal.” The lines around his mouth and nose deepened. “You should remain with kin so that we might care for you.”
Meaning I should stay behind so he could keep an eye on what was happening between me and Reever, and jump at any chance to Choose me. I still couldn’t believe the Torins had allowed this to go on for as long as they had. Why hadn’t Xonal talked to his ClanSon about his unnatural fixation?
“Shon Valtas is a qualified physician, and he’s well acquainted with my condition,” I reminded him. “Should anything unexpected happen, I’m sure he can cope. You can stay here and do whatever it is you need to do while you’re on planet.”
I didn’t sound very convincing, and Xonea wasn’t stupid. “What has Darea said to you?”
“The usual. ‘Hello. How are you? We missed you. We honor you. . . .’” I shrugged. “You’re not going to make me try to copy all the hand gestures, are you?”
Reever came into the corridor, and didn’t even glance at Xonea. “Cherijo, the Torin are waiting for you to address the assembly.”
“Speech time. Wonderful.” I rolled my eyes. “See you later, Xonea. Duncan.” I dodged between the two men and hurried into the hall.
