Future Dreams

by T. J. Mindancer

  Tigh and Jame stood up. Tigh couldn’t keep the nervous flutters away and resisted the need to take Jame’s hand.

  “The case of Paldar Tigis has been a unique one from the beginning of her recruitment into the Guards.” Onderal’s voice was laced with reluctant resignation. “But she had always been a model soldier and she led the victorious campaigns that ended the Wars. She has also been a model patient in the rehabilitation program. But we still have the issue of outside perception to deal with. The situation that happened in Glaus will be a common occurrence until the world gets used to a cleansed Tigh the Terrible. We also know that reversals can occur, despite our diligence in the cleansing process. We’re releasing Paldar Tigis from service to the Southern Territories under the following conditions.”

  He paused to let the mumbled reaction subside.

  “Paldar Tigis must report to the healers every two fortnights for a year as a precaution. If at any time during her life she shows any reversal in the cleansing process, she is to be taken back into the custody of the state. Are these conditions understood?”

  Tigh clasped her shaking hands behind her back. “Yes, Tribune.”

  “Do you agree to these conditions?”

  “Yes, Tribune,” Tigh said.

  “Then we release you from your service to the state,” Onderal said. “Come forward and receive your sword.”

  A startled Tigh blinked at Onderal. No one had told her they got their swords back. Jame stepped out of the defendants’ box and guided Tigh to the Keeper of the Bench, who held a scabbard and sword.

  The Tribunal stood.

  “For your military service to the Southern Territories, we present your sword as a gift,” Onderal said.

  Tigh stared at the scabbard for several heartbeats and then accepted it from the Keeper of the Bench. The memories of the solid feel of the weapon in her hands and how it had been a part of her body and soul saturated her senses.

  She turned to Jame and dropped to one knee. “I pledge my sword to the service of Jamelin Ketlas to be her peace warrior for as long as she’ll have me.” Her emotion-filled words were for Tribunes’ ears but her eyes were all for Jame.

  Jame stared at Tigh with an expression that was both stunned and delighted. “I wouldn’t want anyone else as my protector.”

  The Tribunal engaged in a muttered conference and then returned their attention to Jame and Tigh.

  “In that case,” Onderal said, “you must report to peace warrior training to gain your medallion and become, once again, a servant of the state.”

  The solution was so simple, Tigh wondered why none of the people in charge of her rehabilitation had thought of it. She could have her freedom and still be under the authority of the state, making her much easier to control if there was a need.

  Tigh grinned and stood up. “I’ll report first thing in the morning.”

  “Very, well. Good luck.” A relieved looking Onderal and the other Tribunes sat back on the bench. “Next case.”

  SHOCK WAS TOO mild a word for what Sark felt as the Emoran delegation followed the other spectators out of the chamber into the warm afternoon sun.

  “Jyac’s not going to be happy,” Sark said as they joined the knots of people waiting for Tigh and Jame to finish their paperwork.

  Tas shook her shaggy head. “Argis is going to be livid.”

  “Gindor is never going to understand.” Poag stared at the adobe brick ground.

  “If she doesn’t feel ready to come home, we just have to give in to her wishes,” a woman said.

  The Emorans looked up to see Paldon and Joul Tigis walk by.

  “She just needs to settle her life down a bit,” Joul said.

  Paldon stopped walking. “She could learn a lot from being the companion to an arbiter.”

  “This could turn into a treasured gift for the House of Tigis,” Joul said.

  Sark was so intrigued by Tigh’s parents’ foreign attitude that she didn’t notice Jame until she was next to her.

  “My princess,” Sark said as she watched Tigh follow after her parents.

  “Thank you for attending my first case as an arbiter.” Jame had an ironic twinkle in her eyes. “We’re having a little celebration in our home a sandmark from now. I’d love for you to be there.”

  Sark turned to Tas and Poag. Their expressions went from outrage to puzzlement to curiosity. It’d be an opportunity to observe Tigh, now that she no longer needed Jame’s arbiter skills. The pledge of her sword may have been a ruse. At least, that was what they were suppose to think given their queen’s and the Council’s conviction that Tigh was using Jame. Sark didn’t dare to admit it out loud but she’d be surprised if Tigh was anything but sincere in her pledge.

  “We’ll be there,” Sark said.

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Jame’s sincerity made Sark feel a little guilty about their mission. Everything had been so clear and so certain back in Emoria.

  TIGH SHUFFLED HER soft boots against the ground as she listened to her mother’s speech about how proud they were of her and that they understood her need to rediscover her life before returning to Ingor and taking her place in the House of Tigis. She knew her destiny was wherever Jame led her, but she didn’t want to disappoint her parents. They had suffered enough because of her.

  “Thank you for understanding,” Tigh said. “I’ll be sharing Jame’s quarters with her. She’s moved into regular housing. We’re having a little celebration. I’d like for you to attend.”

  “We’d be delighted,” Paldon said. “It’ll give us a chance to thank everyone for the excellent job they did in restoring our daughter to us.”

  TIGH FINALLY MADE it past the well wishes of their friends and found Jame. She was surprised at how many lives both of them had touched during her rehabilitation.

  “I think we’re going to have a full house,” Jame said when they ducked down the side lane to their new quarters.

  Tigh nodded. The numbness that had accompanied the realization that her ordeal was over had worn off and the reality that she was free hit her with full force. For the first time, she was free to make her own choices for her life and she had given that privilege to Jame. She had never experienced such a wonderful feeling.

  Tigh glanced around and tugged Jame into an alley. Before Jame had a chance to say anything, Tigh enveloped her in her arms and gently assaulted her lips.

  “Thank you,” Tigh said as she soaked up Jame’s closeness.

  Jame snuggled closer. “Thank you for allowing me into your life.”

  Tigh smiled. “I had no choice. You bewitched me with your voice. Now I’m yours forever.”

  Jame looked up with eyes full of wonder. “Forever. Sounds fine to me.”

  Chapter 17

  Tigh grinned at the inscrutable expressions on her parents’ faces as a glowing Bede described how she was a natural for treating sick and injured children. This also helped raise her spirits as she dealt with too many people in a small space. The sooner her parents realized she hadn’t changed in the way they had hoped she would, the better. Her sisters were much more suited to the family business.

  As she wove around the clusters of friends, Tigh noticed she was being trailed by a group of children and she escaped out the back door.

  SARK WAS NOT a happy soul. She looked around the tidy enclosed back yard at the freshly dug holes waiting for a fall planting and realized Jame was serious about making this place her home. She watched as Jame and her mentor discussed what to plant as they hovered over a cascade of pots in the corner of the tiny lot. She found it disconcerting to see her princess so comfortable around these people from all over the Southern Territories. No one in Emoria had even considered that Jame had become a part of this strange but close community at the military compound.

  “What do you think?” Tas asked as she juggled a plate of food and a mug of spiced ale.

  Sark sighed. “She seems to be well respected.”

  “They both seem to be
well respected,” Tas said.

  They watched three children crawl all over a patient Tigh while she received genial congratulations from several healers and counselors.

  “Even if we were wrong about Tigh, she still isn’t a suitable consort for our princess,” Sark said. “Surely Jame sees that.”

  A bemused laughter bubbled up from the people as Tigh lifted one child to straddle her neck and cradled the other two youngsters in each arm.

  “I told you she was strong enough,” the girl clinging to Tigh’s head said.

  Pendon laughed. “The back of an ox.”

  A grinning Tigh lowered the children in her arms to the ground and swung the delighted girl from her neck and over her head. She held her there for several heartbeats and then her lowered her to the ground.

  Sark saw Jame. “Keep mingling.”

  Tas swallowed a mouthful. “With pleasure.”

  Sark strode to Jame.

  “She’s so good with children,” Jame said.

  “She appears to be,” Sark said. “May I have a private word with you?”

  Jame nodded and led Sark through the house into the quiet bedroom and shut the door.

  Sark looked around the neat oversized room with a cozy sitting area near the fireplace, the chests that contained their clothes and other possessions, the large bed, the black bladed sword in its scabbard hanging on the wall . . .

  “We just moved in Tigh’s things,” Jame said. “She had to stay in her own quarters until she was released from the state.”

  “So she hasn’t been living here with you yet?” Sark asked.

  “Not yet,” Jame said.

  “Rehabilitated or not, the queen and the Council are not going to accept her as a suitable life companion for you,” Sark said. “You have to realize, deep down, that a union with that woman will never work.”

  “Why do you think Tigh and I won’t be happy together?” Jame asked.

  “It’s obvious. Look at her family. You come from completely different backgrounds. You have nothing in common.”

  The last thing Sark expected was Jame’s laughter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh, but I have more in common with Tigh than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “You’re as different as night and day,” Sark said.

  “Argis and I are as different as night and day,” Jame said. “Tigh and I understand each other so well it’s almost as if we share the same skin. Before you say that I’m blinded by love, you should know we would have been companions even if we were just friends.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because she’s my best friend.” Jame smiled at the simple answer. “There’s no judgment or expectations, just supportive acceptance between us. I can be myself around her and she shows her true self to me.”

  “Argis was your best friend,” Sark said.

  “Argis is a close friend but our friendship has always been based on a kind of role-playing,” Jame said. “She plays the role of the warrior worthy of being the consort to her princess. She only sees me in terms of what everyone expects me to be and not who I truly am. I asked her if she’d be willing to be my companion as I pursued being an arbiter for a while and the idea was so foreign to her she couldn’t see my need to be an arbiter was the same as her need to be a warrior.”

  Sark was startled by Jame’s mature observation. “Argis only acts that way because it’s how she was raised to act. It doesn’t diminish how much she loves you.”

  “She loves an image of me that doesn’t exist,” Jame said. “I’ve been able to discover myself here and I like who I am as an arbiter and as a member of this community. Being an arbiter will help me be a better queen than living under the protective watchful eye of Argis. I know you’ve always felt my peaceful leaning equals the inability to take care of myself. I can take care of myself very well. But to make you feel better, I’ve been lucky to have found someone who not only understands my desire to be an arbiter but who is capable of protecting me if need be.”

  “Jyac would have convinced Argis to be with you while you practiced your trade,” Sark said.

  “Jyac knows my feelings for Argis have changed,” Jame said. “She knew it during my last visit to Emoria. I don’t love Argis and even if I had never met Tigh, I’d have broken off my relations with her. I told this to Argis a scant week ago. I truly believe she’s only in love with the person I was before I came here. I’m not that same person and I don’t regret who I’ve become. Argis and I would be miserable together.”

  Sark had observed Jame’s reserve toward Argis in Emoria and now realized the reason behind it. Maybe they had all been a little too certain about what turned out to be just another adolescent romance.

  “If you’ve broken off your relations with Argis, then that’s between the two of you.” Sark tried to pull together the most diplomatic words possible. “All we ask is you don’t rush into anything with Tigh. You’ve only known each other a season. Not long enough to undertake something as serious as a joining.”

  “If Tigh were an Emoran you wouldn’t be saying that,” Jame said.

  “All the more reason to take it slowly,” Sark said. “She comes from a different culture and she’s been subjected to all sorts of mental and physical alterations. You can understand why we’re apprehensive about your association with her.”

  “I understand.” Jame nodded. “That’s why I invited a delegation to witness her hearing and to observe her behavior. That’s why I’ve asked for permission to bring her to Emoria so everyone can see what a perfect companion she is for me.”

  “I’ll fairly report what we’ve observed here,” Sark said. “But I can’t guarantee Jyac or the Council will believe me.”

  “All that’s needed is for Tigh to come to Emoria with me,” Jame said. “That’s all I ask. Just give her a chance to prove she’s a worthy life companion for me.”

  Sark studied Jame, knowing that, under normal circumstances, she made a reasonable request. But the specter of Tigh the Terrible loomed too darkly in their minds. “I’ll make sure Jyac understands how important that request is to you.”

  “Thank you.” Jame smiled. “I know Jyac will want to see Tigh when she knows how happy I am with her.”

  JAME WANDERED THROUGH her new quarters, taking in the interesting mixes of people. Tas was flirting with Pakar, the assistant healer at the injury ward. Sark was talking with a pair of soldiers. Daneran and Jadik were teaching a young girl how to juggle fruit. She hoped they remember to clean up any resulting mess. Tigh and her father exchanged quiet words in the small front yard. Poag and Paldon Tigis were having an animated conversation near one of the food tables.

  Jame stopped and stared at the two older women. She approached the food table, acting as if she were looking for a particular morsel to eat. When she slithered close enough to the women to be in earshot, she almost dropped the pastry she had picked up.

  “It doesn’t matter how much greater the distribution, we’d still be paying you a part of our current profit.” Poag’s voice was edged with the joy of battle, a sentiment reflected in the eyes of Paldon Tigis.

  “If we take care of everything but the production, you can concentrate on making the best swords and knives possible,” Paldon said.

  “We already make the best swords and knives.” Poag’s eyes glistened with a knowing humor. “You wouldn’t be discussing them with me if we didn’t.”

  Paldon graciously nodded her head. “You got me there, my friend. The House of Tigis has a nose for finding the best of everything.”

  Jame sighed and decided she needed some air. It would be the greatest of ironies if the House of Tigis became the distributor for the single moneymaking industry Emoria had to boast.

  She took one step out of the front door, stopped, and stared at the strange spectacle in front of her. Tigh and her father were doubled over with laughter. She had never witnessed such demonstrative behavior from either of them. Tigh, without a doubt, had inherited her quiet
personality from her father.

  The tension Tigh had worn like a second skin was gone, Jame realized. The result was a relaxed, good-humored young woman.

  Tigh saw Jame and held out an inviting arm to her.

  Jame accepted the invitation and wrapped her arms around Tigh. “You two seem to be enjoying yourselves.” She smiled at Joul.

  “My father was just telling me about my younger sister’s joining,” Tigh said. “Everything that could have gone wrong, did. And then some.” She caught her father’s eyes and both shook with laughter.

  Jame grinned. “You’ll have to tell me the story sometime.”

  “Let’s just say Pandon is more like her mother than Tigh is,” Joul said with quiet humor dancing in his eyes. “Patlin is going to be joined within the year, we think. I know she’d like for her big sister to be there. You were always her favorite.”

  Tigh nodded. “Just send word but it’ll depend on Jame’s job.”

  Joul smiled at Jame. “And what about your own joining?”

  Jame exchanged a long look with Tigh.

  “Jame has petitioned for an Emoran joining,” Tigh said.

  Joul frowned. “Petitioned?”

  “Emorans must have special permission to be joined with an outsider,” Jame said.

  “Ah. We have no such restrictions in Ingor.” Joul raised meaningful eyes to Tigh.

  “We’ll remember that.” Tigh tightened her hold around Jame’s shoulder.

  Several boisterous women burst through the door onto the front yard. Tas, trailed by a bemused Pakar, faced off with a young lean soldier. They drew their swords and the clash of metal echoed in the quiet lanes of the arbiters’ corner.

  Jame dramatically covered her face with her hands. “Warriors.”

  Tigh laughed. “I guess Rodel didn’t take kindly to Tas flirting with Pakar.”

  “That’s the story of Tas’s life,” Jame said. “If there’s trouble, she’ll find it.”