by Chris Reher
“Anything?” he whispered.
She reminded herself of the reason why she was here, why she had asked him for this most secret, most forbidden, of all khamals. As before, she began to look for the voice, casting her thoughts far beyond the confines of this planet and this solar system, somewhere out there where she believed the plaintive messages originated. “No,” she said, barely audible.
He pushed her further outside herself and she allowed him to settle her into the pillows of his bed. She was only dimly aware of him now and no longer sure where she was. Or why she was here at all. She winced when the sensations he brought about seemed almost painful in their intensity. “Still not there.” But perhaps something had woken. Something had noticed her. Yes! She smiled and reached out to that distant entity to lure its attentions.
“Maybe,” the Shantir said, looking into her unfocused eyes. The blue-tinted corners of his lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “If you weren’t just a half-breed Humanoid you’d be able to actually do this.”
“Uh, what?” she said indistinctly, not sure what she had heard him utter.
“You’ll never be Delphian, no matter how hard you try. You might as well make yourself useful in other ways around here.” He stretched out beside her and, vaguely, she felt his hand on her waist, moving upward. “It’s not bad enough that you’re half Human, you’re a GenMod freak like your mother. I’ve never understood why my esteemed Elder Brothers take you as one of their own. You’re an abomination.” He tugged her loose blouse from her waistband and let his hand slip around her back to touch the silky line of hair trailing along her spine, a most intimate touch among their people. “At least you’re Delphian in the parts that count.”
She gasped, enthralled by the grip he had on her mental state and stunned by the liberties this Shantir had taken with her body. Someone had surely spun up the room’s gravity and she wondered if she was aboard the research vessel already. She was barely able to move. But why was this man here? Why was he touching her? And what was he saying? She waved her hands in some barely coordinated fashion to push him away. The distant contact she so desperately sought faded from view.
He grasped her wrists and pinned them above her head. “You just keep tripping, half-breed,” he said. “I’ve been doing all the work so far. And taking the risk for your little jaunts. Time for you to show your gratitude.” His free hand continued to move over her body, his touch far from gentle. “Just keep looking for those voices.”
“Stop that,” she said and tried to pull out of his grasp. She felt his teeth on her skin and stared numbly at the thick braid of hair that had fallen across her chest. “Let me go,” she said, meaning their khamal, and tried to squirm out from under him.
He decided against drawing her deeper into the delirium. Not only was it dangerous, but the weak resistance she offered excited him quite unexpectedly. As was the thought that this was one of the sect’s most protected secrets, daughter of Tychon, member of the House of Phera, who lay here at the mercy of his superior mind and his stronger body. Untouchable because of her birth and unreachable because none of them here at the enclave would ever meet the standards of her father’s measure. That suited him just fine. He would meet Tychon’s disdainful eyes with the secret knowledge that his hybrid offspring had served in his, Shantir Tava’s, bed. She would not ever reveal anything he did to her because no one entered the forbidden khamal against their will. He reminded himself not to leave any marks.
* * *
“Are you having a laugh at my expense, Old Man?” Jovan could scarcely believe what Anders had just told him. He paced to the window of the library on the top floor of the Shantir enclave as if the moon from which Anders had placed this call could be seen in the sky today. But the air above them remained cold and blue and empty even of clouds.
“I’m not joking, Jovie.” The excitement in Anders’ voice was clear even when relayed by the utilitarian speakers in Jovan’s wrist unit.
“This is what happens when I sleep all night and let you people have all the fun,” Jovan said. “A moment, I’m with Shan Moghen.” Jovan looked from the com unit to his mentor, the senior leader of the Shantir enclave. “That asteroid changed direction last night,” he explained and nodded when the Shantir started to say something. “I know! And not just once. Then it turned into a direct trajectory to Delphi. Would have come down on the Syn’niel plateau. So they tried to deflect it and it crashed on Sola.”
“Not an asteroid, I gather.”
“Not even a bit.” Jovan lowered his voice. “But not artificial, either. Ander says it’s mainly organic, encased in minerals and crystal. Shielded somehow. Air Command’s known that for a while which is why they wanted to take a look at it while it’s in Delphian space. Can’t get much more restricted air space than that.”
“Organic? That is remarkable news, indeed,” Moghen said. “Life signs?”
“We’re still working on the scans,” Anders voice squawked near Jovan’s hand. “Now I know why we were asked to delay our trip back to Cet-Norwan. Targon didn’t include a full bio-lab with the orbiter they sent.”
“I’ve got to see this thing.”
“You do. Listen, can you find Cyann? We can really use her up here but she’s not answering my call. Nigel’s on the base, getting the Scout cleared for takeoff already, so get over there. This thing is unbelievable. I’ll have to figure out a way to tell Tychon we’re not leaving for a few more days.”
“With good reason.” Jovan said. “Cyann’s still downstairs with Shan Regin, I think.” He glanced at Moghen for confirmation before signing off his call from Anders.
Shantir Moghen rose to his feet. “You had better get up there before the Council decides they need to put up a fence around everything until they’ve debated it for a few years.”
Jovan laughed. “My thoughts, too.”
The elder Shantir gave him a rare smile. “These years away from here have changed you, son. You have grown. Perhaps in ways your peers never can. I wonder if living among the outsiders might benefit all of them. Delphi is so small and their capacity for learning is so vast.” He paused for a moment. “Even just learning how to laugh without reservation.”
“Council fears that they won’t return once they’ve left Delphi,” Jovan reminded him. “Many haven’t.”
Moghen gazed out of the window and lifted his ancient shoulders in a shrug. “We are a civilization in decline, Jovan. Unless we find a way to bolster our population, nothing will stop that. So what is the loss of a few more young men and women?” He seemed to realize the morbid direction his thoughts were taking. “And you returned, did you not? Perhaps someday you will return with the answers to our problem. We won’t find it here.”
Jovan nodded, unsure how to reply. “I’ll send news back from Sola as soon as I can.”
He left the Shantir and rushed with long strides to the broad stairway leading to the lower levels. “Cy,” he spoke into his wrist unit. “Cyann, meet me in my room right away. I’ve got something fun for us to do. Hurry up.” He jumped the last few risers and turned into the residential wing. Quickly, he changed out of his blue Shantir garb into a pair of scuffed leather trousers and a snug pullover. His old flight jacket was as comfortably worn as his boots. “Cyann!” he said when she had still not replied. “Where are you?”
He left his room again to look for her among the elder Shantirs with whom she was to study today. But a slammed door to his left drew his attention. When he turned he saw Cyann run toward him along the sunlit corridor.
“Hey, Cy. Didn’t you hear me call?”
She stumbled and nearly fell when she reached him. He caught her before she collapsed. She stared wildly but he was certain that she wasn’t seeing him at all. He felt her tremble in his arms.
“Gods, are you sick?” He half-carried her back into his room and sat her into a low armchair. Her hair and clothes were disheveled and she mouthed something he was unable to hear. “Talk to me!”
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Her unseeing eyes blinked slowly when he squatted beside the chair. Her hand lifted toward him but then dropped limply back into her lap.
“Look at my hand,” he said and held it up in front of her face. “Just follow it with your eyes.” He spoke soothingly, allowing her to calm and finally relax back into the chair. He placed his other hand on her wrist to link their minds, hoping to discover what had disturbed her so much. He gasped and nearly recoiled from her when he found the results of her khamal with Tava. “Gods, Cyann!” he breathed, fighting the impulse to break their link. With gritted teeth he sought to bring order to her disturbed thoughts, return her to this place from wherever she had floated. He felt it affect his own state of mind and struggled to remain focused even as he acknowledged the lure of the forbidden khamal.
Slowly, he brought her back from the chaos that had taken over her mind until she became aware of him. She blinked, recognizing him, and he quickly broke their mental link, relieved to escape unscathed. He pulled up another chair and sat facing her, holding her hands in his. “Better?”
She frowned and let her eyes wander around the room, still befuddled. “Why did you wake me?” she said. “I was almost there.”
“What?” he gasped. “Almost where? What are you talking about?”
“I know I almost found it. I could feel it. I know I did.”
“Cyann, you almost lost your damn mind. What were you thinking?” He gestured at her disarrayed clothes. “And what were you doing?”
She looked down at herself and fingered the hem of her shirt, noticed the open fasteners and comprehension slowly came to her. “No!” she whispered. “He wanted... He tried. He...”
“Who?” Jovan grasped her arm, pained when she jerked it away. “Who did this?”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. “He was going to hurt me. He wanted to. I saw it.”
“Tava.” Jovan stood up. “You stay here.”
Without waiting for a reply, he strode into the hall and to the Shantir’s room. He straight-armed the door aside to find Tava bent over a bowl of water. The man whipped around when the irate Jovan stormed into the room.
Jovan had grasped his collar and had pushed him up against the fragile door to his balcony before he realized that Tava’s face and the front of his tunic were drenched in blood. “What did you do to her?” he snarled.
“What she wanted,” Tava snapped back. “Little half-breed just didn’t want to pay her dues.”
Jovan kicked the door open and stepped forward to bend the Shantir over the railing. The cold air whipping past them did nothing to ease his temper.
Tava, however, was already deeply immersed in a khamal that allowed him to deal with the pain of his broken nose and Jovan’s threat meant little to him. “I might not care much for the old fools’ rules but you won’t break your vows. I’m still a Shantir and you can’t harm a hair on my head.”
Jovan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t try your luck. I’ve been gone a while.” But Tava was correct and both of them knew it. To assault a fellow Shantir, for whatever reason, was a transgression that would not be forgiven. He hauled the man back inside and flung him roughly to the floor. “Talk, and make it fast.”
“Or what?”
Jovan own mental processes were slowly succeeding in restoring his equilibrium. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “By this time tomorrow, you will be on a shuttle away from here to minister at the Cachna mines. Don’t make your life worse by having me discuss this with Shan Tychon. He’s made no oaths to stop him.”
Tava glared at him, knowing all too well that the ruling Shantirs’ high regard for Jovan would absolutely give him the leverage to make this possible. Tava himself was only a few more indiscretions away from banishment. “She was looking to make some sort of link to whatever spook she’s got in her head. No idea what that is, but she thinks it’s real. So I spiked her a bit.” He sat up and dabbed at his nose with a sleeve. “You probably know about that synapse aberration. Makes for an interesting little jolt if you know how to play with it. Not my fault she’s not all Delphian. How was I to know it’d hit her like that?”
“Yet you didn’t stop.”
Tava shrugged angrily. “She didn’t want to stop. I think it actually worked for her once or twice, whatever it is.”
“And then you decided you want a little something more.”
“Why not? She’s hard to ignore.” Tava struggled to his feet, keeping a wary eye on Jovan as he did so. “You and I both know she’d never tell her old man about this. And neither will you. He only needs a small excuse to tear this place to the ground. And even Phera himself won’t stop him this time.”
Jovan nodded, mostly to himself. After losing his son to the Shantir’s machinations, Tychon would not tolerate harm to his daughter at their hands. Years of careful peacekeeping between the enclave and his clan, mostly brokered by Nova and Anders, had finally made it possible for them to begin making amends. Tava, despite the taboos he had broken, would suffer the least if his assault on Cyann became known. He looked over the bloodstains on Tava’s clothes.
“She did this, in case you’re wondering,” Tava said. “The woman is stronger than she looks, even when she’s tripping.” He gingerly touched his face. “Damn GenMod broke my nose before I even got her britches off.”
Jovan once again grasped Tava’s shoulders and shoved him against a wall. “You are walking a very very fine line, Brother. I may be Shantir but my affinity is to Tychon’s house. Don’t ever forget that. I can do without the enclave. Can you?”
“You wouldn’t dare! Not for that little—”
Jovan’s hand closed over Tava’s forehead and the Shantir found himself unable to move. Every muscle in the man’s body went rigid and an icy pain stabbed from his neck to his tailbone as his nervous system reacted to Jovan’s touch. Jovan observed Taha’s face until it turned an interesting shade of purple before letting him fall to the floor. “Yeah, I would.” He stepped over the quivering heap of strained muscle and nerves and left the room.
* * *
Cyann flinched when the door to Jovan’s room opened, startling her out of the doze in which he had left her. Jovan closed the door to the hall and leaned over her to feel her face. He stared into the distance for a moment and it did not seem to her that he was checking her temperature. “Feeling better?” he asked.
She nodded. “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing. Should I have?”
She looked away and shrugged. “He hurt me.”
“Because you’re such a victim?”
Her eyes snapped back to him. She saw concern there, certainly, but anger as well. Why was he angry with her? “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You broke his nose. I think you’re even. Now you’ll tell me why you went to him in the first place. That was stupid and dangerous.”
She blinked, surprised by his tone. “Don’t shout at me. I know what I’m doing. He’s helping me.”
“You have no idea what you’re doing. That khamal can obliterate your frontal lobe. There is nothing about it that’ll help you.”
“You’re wrong! It worked... it works sometimes. It made me find the voice.”
He sat down on the chair he had pulled up earlier. “Are you sure? Cy, if Regin or even Moghen can’t help you, why did you think Tava could?”
“Because he’s not afraid to try something more powerful. I can hear that voice when I’m upset or in pain. The opposite of their exercises. They treat me like my head’s made of glass. I can handle this.”
“No you can’t. Even he said you’re not up to it. Powerful or not, it’s dangerous. And, in case you didn’t notice, it has some ugly residual effects.” He watched her expression for a moment. “You do know that, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been screwing up. That’s why you’re tired and distracted. How long has this been going on?”
“A few weeks,” she said grudgingly. She searched his face, looking for some clue to his tho
ughts. “You’re disappointed in me.”
He shook his head. “I’m worried about you, Cy. I don’t want to see you in this pain. I wish...” he started to say something and then seemed to amend it before speaking again. “I wish I could help you. I really do.”
She closed her eyes and leaned back into her chair. “You think I’m crazy, too? Making up imaginary friends like I used to when I was ten?”
“No, I don’t,” he said at once. “I think there are things we don’t know about you. But butchering your brain with this nonsense isn’t the way to find out.”
“I have to try!”
“And look where it got you. Has this voice ever told you anything useful?”
She shook her head and looked away. “No. It just calls. It’s hurt, I think. It needs me.”
“And you really don’t think that this might be you talking to yourself? An echo of yourself? Please at least consider that.”
She grabbed his arm. “Don’t tell Anders. Please. He’ll never let me go back to Cet-Norwan like this.”
“As well he shouldn’t.”
“Please, Jovie. I promise I won’t go back to Tava.”
“Seeing how you broke his face, I doubt very much that he’s inclined to let you.”
She sighed hugely. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” She leaned forward and touched his face, hoping to erase the furrows his anger and worry had painted there. Like all Delphians, male and female, he seemed chiseled from a solid piece of pale stone without a single curve to soften his features. But he had a smile that could light his eyes and transform every sharp angle into an expression of joy and tenderness. There was no smile for her now. “Thank you for looking out for me.”
He reached up to cover her hand with his. For a brief moment, he seemed like a stranger to her, not the protector of her childhood, not the young man who came and went in and out of her life as his endless studies had dictated. Eight years had changed both of them. And the distance between them had left them worlds apart, even here and now.
