The bushes, hidden beneath their blanket of snow, and the bare limbs of the trees still clad with the previous night’s frost gave the cottage an unearthly quality. He pushed the gate open just as Teusi, Noni’s attendant, opened the door.
“Well come, Brother Tallinu,” he said. “I’m on my way to the stores. Again,” he added with a wry smile as he stepped aside for Kaid to pass him.
“Don’t you get tired of this?” Kaid murmured, stopping for a moment.
Teusi grinned. “Yes, but the opportunity to learn her craft is worth the minor inconveniences. Have a pleasant visit.”
“What brings you here, then?” demanded Noni as Kaid closed the outer door behind him.
“It was you, wasn’t it, Noni? You sent Kusac, told him to ask to be my swordbrother, didn’t you?”
“Who said I did?” she demanded, continuing to stir the peppery smelling concoction on the stove.
“I do. Who else would have suggested it?” He moved over to the sink unit, leaning against it while he watched her.
“Like old times, Tallinu,” she said, glancing sideways at him. “You standing there in your priest’s robe, watching me prepare my bruise and cut ointment.”
“I’m only wearing the robe because…”
“It’s warm, it’s all you got with you, people expect it of youâ and it’s got nothing to do with how you feel about Vartra,” she supplied for him, her face creasing in a scowl. “I know, I heard it all beforeâ when you were a youngling and just started training here.”
It was Kaid’s turn to frown. “I wasn’t a youngling.”
“You were barely more than a cub!” she retorted, turning back to her potion. “Still had crib marks on your ass!”
“I’m not going to let you make me angry, Noni,” he said, folding his arms in front of him.
She nodded. “Better. You’ve got some of your self-control back. You needed it, Tallinu. Fill the kettle and put it on to boil, lad. I’m almost done here.”
Unfolding his arms, he pushed himself away from the sink and approached her.
“When they brought you in from Ranz, you were hard and brittle,” she said as he returned to the sink to fill the kettle. She waited till he’d finished and brought it back to her, setting it down on the hob.
“Everything was an excuse for a fight. You trusted no one and believed nothing. We were worried we’d lost you. Then, from one week to the next, you changed. Never did tell me what caused it.”
He shrugged, looking down at where his feet protruded from the edge of his robe. “Everything suddenly fitted together and made senseâ in those days.”
“Then you left. Put them into a real panic, that did.” She laughed at the memory. “Thought you’d run away. Sent scouts after you to bring you back.”
Kaid shifted uncomfortably, clenching the claws on his toes. “I’d only gone to get T’Chebbi.”
“Why? One as hard as you’d become, who’d killed so many in pack fights, why’d you go after her, Tallinu?” she asked, moving the pan away from the open hob and replacing it with the kettle.
“I said I’d get her out. Then the Brothers picked me up, and I couldn’t. I had to go back for her,” he said defensively.
“Why? She was nothing, only a low-life pack qwene. I’ll grant she was in a sad state when you brought her to me, but she meant nothing to you. You weren’t interested in her. Then later, when you and Garras became swordbrothers and were told to go after your first rogue telepath, what then?”
“We brought him in for training,” he said, adding sharply, “and T’Chebbi wasn’t a qwene! Where is all this leading? What’s your point, Noni?”
“Just that for all that hardness you had, you took on work that needed compassion,” she said, taking hold of the strings round the neck of the small ceramic pot within the larger pan of boiling water. Carefully she lifted it out, setting it down on the hob. She gestured for Kaid to take it over to the sink to cool down, a job he’d done many times for her in the past.
While he did, she took hold of her walking stick and made her way over to her easy chair.
“Compassion?” he said, joining her at the table. “I think not, unless you mean those we couldn’t save we killed quickly and cleanly.”
“There are easier ways of saving lives, Tallinu, and you knew it. Protection contracts…”
“Stop it, Noni. You’re seeing what you want to see, not what was. I chose that work because in Ranz I found I was good at it. I’ll ask again, where’s this all leading?”
“Yes, I sent Kusac to you. You needed to go back to what you knew, the skills you had always relied on. You needed to know you have a place in Kusac’s life that has nothing to do with either Vartra or the Triad. Now you know that.”
“A Noni-manufactured one,” he growled.
“D’you think for a moment that the Aldatan cub would put himself in your hands at my asking without wanting to do it himself?” she demanded. “A fine opinion you have of your Liege!”
“He’s no longer my Liege. I made him release me from my oath.”
“You what?” She was outraged. “Sometimes I despair of you, boy!”
“You don’t understand, Noni,” he began.
“Damned right I don’t! To force your Liege to release you is beyond…”
“Wait! Neither of us could take the swordbrother oath if he was my Liege!”
“Huh,” she said, only a little mollified. “I bet you didn’t tell him that, did you? You made some test of it for him, I’ll be bound.”
Kaid said nothing, refusing to meet her eyes.
Noni growled. “You ask too much of others, Tallinu.”
“Only what I expect of myself,” he replied quickly.
“Not everyone can meet your high standards. They’re unrealistic, and the sooner you admit it to yourself, the easier you’ll find life. Kettle’s boiled,” she said pointedly as on the hob, its low whistle was becoming a high-pitched shriek of urgency.
He muttered angrily under his breath as he got to his feet.
“What you’ve got to do, Tallinu,” she said gently as he moved the kettle then went about collecting mugs and the makings of a brew of c’shar, “is find a base from which to build your new life.”
He stopped dead and turned round to look at her.
“Yes, your new life. Your past is gone, as surely as the ashes of those that lived in the time of the Margins. You’ve to learn to live as a telepath, with new skills, new awarenesses, and new responsibilities. You don’t have to change the person you were much, just enough so you can accept what you now realize you’ve been all along. Since you didn’t know which way to turn, I reckoned building on your relationship with Kusac and Carrie would be good. In them you have two people who genuinely care about you, people you’d already let yourself be tied to. Unless you plan to force them to release you from those oaths as well?”
“I’m no oath breaker and you know it! I told you why I needed to be released from that oath!”
“Yes, so you did,” she nodded. “Now prove to me that my trust and faith in you hasn’t been misplaced.”
“Why should I?” he demanded. “Why should I have to prove anything to anyone?”
“Because I’m Noni, Grandmotherâ and it’s easier than proving it to yourself, which is what you’re trying to do.” Her voice was very quiet.
He looked at her for a full minute before turning back to his brewing. Slowly, almost ritually, he spooned the dried leaves into the brew pot, then poured the boiling water over them.
“The swordbrother oath is sworn in Vartra’s name,” he said when the silence grew too long. “As all our other ones are. I can’t swear by him, Noni. At him, yes, but not by him. And I haven’t decided if I want Kusacâ or anyoneâ as a swordbrother yet. It takes time.”
“And your other oaths, to them, and to Lijou?”
He gave her a scornful look over his shoulder and began to pour the drinks. “I gave them at a time when
I did believe.”
“What did you believe in? You didn’t know Vartra as a person existed then.”
“The God, of course,” he said, irritated, stirring in whitener and sweetener.
“So what changed?”
She was probing, pushing him in directions he didn’t want to go. “I’d prefer to drop this,” he said, picking up the mugs and taking them over to her.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said, accepting hers from him.
He resumed his seat at the table, sipping cautiously at the hot drink.
“What changed?”
He sighed. He didn’t want to do this, it wasn’t why he’d come. “You know very well. You saw my memories. He used me, Noni.”
“The person did, not the God,” she corrected him.
“It’s the same.”
“No. The God came after. Don’t confuse the two, Tallinu. Vartra the person is dust, probably not even that after so long.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind a memory began to niggle. The night he’d gone down with the fever. Had he had a vision, or had it been nothing but a fever dream? He frowned, prodding at the thought, trying to make it surface.
“Put yourself in his place,” Noni continued. “You’re working to increase the numbers of telepaths. Along come the Valtegans. They find out about telepaths and suddenly your research is vital to Shola, and threatening to them. They’ve been unstoppable so far, and all that might turn this herd of aliens is your enhanced telepaths. What would you have done?”
He realized she was talking to him and pulled himself back from his own thoughts. “What do you mean? I wouldn’t have been trying to alter what the Gods gave us in the first place!”
“Did you stop long enough to think that what Vartra did when he took you back had already been done, because you were here, and Kashini and Marak? He was merely playing out the role the older Gods gave him.”
“Gods? What Gods, Noni?” he asked angrily. “There are no Gods, only the voices of our ancestors speaking to us down through time!”
Noni caught his eye. “And just what is a God? Isn’t it a being with supernatural powers, who has the ability to appear to us in visions, to foretell the future? Don’t they exist outside the normal lines of time itself? All Gods probably began as people once, but their worshipers molded them into something more, kept their spirits alive rather than letting them seek the afterlife they probably craved! Haven’t you said many times that Vartra the God seemed to be expiating a great wrong He’d done? An ancestor that has to live on beyond death, who is controlled by his worshipers, doesn’t he fit the description of a God?”
Remember this meeting, remember what I told you. The memory of Vartra’s voice was so strong he shivered, spilling his c’shar. It was as if the God was whispering in his ear.
“What is it?” Noni demanded sharply. “Have you remembered something?”
“A visionâ or a fever dream,” he said, putting the mug down with a hand that was still far from steady. “He said I helped create Him by praying to Him and believing in Him. He can’t rest because of us.” He lowered his head.
“That’s what I just said,” agreed Noni. “His spirit, trapped for eternity, trying to make amends for what He did. Why did He come to you? What was His message?”
Ears laid back, Kaid shook his head, unwilling to speak.
“I’ll guess, shall I? Trust, and that He needed you. Am I right?” she asked softly. “He knew what was coming, didn’t He? He, the God, knew His efforts to make you forget when He was alive, had failed. That’s why He asked you to trust him.”
Mutely, Kaid nodded. He remembered it all now.
“And will you? Though the male He was might have used you, the God has never played you false. Whatever He did, He’s paid for it this last fifteen hundred years, Tallinu. Snared, neither alive nor dead, unable to rest for all that time. It beggars belief.” Her voice was hushed at the thought of it. “We have some responsibility for keeping Him trapped, Tallinu.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice hardly audible. “We do.”
Chapter 9
The hands that touched her face were gentle, yet she was aware of the strength within them that was being held in check. With a touch as light as a feather, the fingers trailed down her cheek, brushing her neck only hesitantly, before coming to rest on her shoulders. His body pressed against hers, his warmth gradually dispelling the chill that seemed to hold her in its thrall. She felt his breath against her cheek, then the touch of his face against hers. His pelt felt silky-soft against her skin. He said her name as if it were a caress. “Jo.”
With a stifled cry, she sat bolt upright in bed, shaking and sweating. Her first thought was for the two men sleeping by the fire. Straining her senses, she could detect nothing but the even sound of their breathing. The last thing she wanted was them knowing she’d been woken by the nightmare yet again.
The sound of him saying her name still echoed inside her mind as she pulled the covers around herself. Dawn lit the sky; it was nearly morning. She didn’t have to go back to sleep again, she thought with relief. He had to be dreaming about her, there just wasn’t any other rational explanation. But why? And why was she finding herself, against all reason, drawn to him, an alien? It just wasn’t logical! Equally irrational was why he was interested in her when he had enough troubles dealing with his Leska, Zashou. They were a couple. You just didn’t go around breaking up couples as if it were of no importance, no matter what his people’s morals were.
Then there was Krisâ and Taradain! Both of them hovering round her like predatory animals, waiting for the slightest sign of interest from her so they could stake their claim. She groaned. Why couldn’t they all realize that she didn’t want any of them! Her life was pretty well complete without the need for a man, thank you very much. Why did they think it wasn’t? Probably their biological hard wiring, she thought glumly. They couldn’t help it.
A movement from the fireside drew her attention.
“Can’t help what?” asked Davies sleepily.
Damn! She hadn’t realized she’d vocalized the thought.
Davies sat up. “Nightmare?” he asked quietly. “Want to talk about it?”
She opened her mouth to say no, then changed her mind and nodded.
Davies carefully pushed back his blankets and clambered to his feet. Clad only in the breech clout that was all the underwear this culture possessed, he was shivering as he picked up his robe and began to pull it on.
“Give me a moment, and we can go into the other room,” he whispered.
Again Jo nodded, straightening her legs out so she could lean forward to pull the drapes round the end of her bed for privacy.
A couple of minutes later, she joined him by the fire in the lounge. “I know it’s spring, but it’s still bloody freezing,” Davies said as he energetically poked the fire to coax a blaze out of it. “Now, what’s up?” he asked, sitting down in one of the chairs that still ringed the hearth from the night before.
Jo sat down beside him. “I don’t know, Gary, that’s the problem.”
“Try starting with the nightmare. You haven’t told me what it’s about yet.”
She rubbed her hands over her face, trying to rid herself of the lingering images, wondering how best to describe them. “It’s like having a phantom lover,” she said at last. “I’m there, in the dark, with someone. He’s touching my face, then he takes me in his arms and holds me close. That’s when I wake up.”
“That doesn’t sound like a nightmare,” he said gently.
“It wouldn’t be if it wasn’t who I think it is.”
“Let me guess. Rezac.”
She looked sharply at him. “How did you know?”
“Rezac and I had a talk the other morning,” he said. “You’re having the same effect on him, Jo, and he can’t help it either. Kris is the only one who might know what’s happening, but neither of you will talk to him.”
“How can I? He’s
interested in me, too. I can’t exactly ask him why I’m having erotic dreams about Rezac, if that’s what they are!”
Davies frowned. “What d’you mean? Do you think they aren’t dreams?”
“They’re so real, Gary. I can actually feel his touch! When I wake up, I can still hear him saying my name.”
“You’ve got to talk to Kris, Jo. You can’t let this situation go on any longer. It’s bad for all of us.”
“I know. I’ve got to choose one of them. You said that before, but I can’t.” She got to her feet and began to pace round the semicircle of chairs. “I can’t choose Rezac. He’s not human and, anyway, he’s got a partner. But why does it have to be anyone? This isn’t my problem, it’s theirs!”
“I don’t think so. I’ve a feeling that this business with Rezac is more. It seems to me it has all the signs of a Leska Link, but I’m no expert. That’s why you need to talk to Kris.”
“I don’t believe it does. Rezac was one of the first enhanced telepaths, wasn’t he?” She came to a stop in front of him. “It’s far more likely that he’s subconsciously reaching out to me in his sleep, sublimating his desires, if you like, and I don’t want either them or him!”
“If you’re right, then by choosing Kris, you’ll be letting him know in no uncertain terms that you’re not interested,” said Davies reasonably. “I know it’s their problem, but it’s also yours because only you have the solution. Unless, of course, you prefer Taradain?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, angry with him for even suggesting the young lordling. “He’s no more than a boy!”
“Then tell the poor little sod that you’re with one of the men here! If he gets the impression you’re stringing him along, we don’t know how he’ll reactâ or Killian, come to that.”
“He hasn’t said or done anything yet beyond general pleasantries,” she said, sitting down again. She was sick of it all. This was coming between them and their work. None of them needed distractions like this. As leader, what would she want done if it didn’t involve herself? She had to admit she’d be giving this hypothetical woman the same advice Gary was giving her. It had to be Kris. She couldn’t bear the thought of being with another alien after what she’d gone through with the Valtegans. She shuddered as the memories began to surface. Hurriedly she pushed them back down where they belonged.
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