Kinsman's Oath

by Susan Krinard

  "I do not understand," he said after a few moments. "These males behaved badly, and yet you released them without punishment. Why did you not summon your ve'laik'i to deal with them?"

  "Because violence isn't the way to change the world," she said. Her grip softened. "By speaking to them as an equal, I compelled them to think about what they'd said and done."

  "Scatfish offal," Lizbet muttered. She touched Ronan's arm. "Thank you."

  "You are welcome," he said. "Would you have fought these men if they attacked you?"

  "Yes." Her voice dropped to a low pitch. "They never let me forget where I come from."

  "They are not worthy of you, An Montague."

  She smiled, and Ronan thought he saw a change in her walk, a longer stride and straighter posture. The three of them continued down the narrow lane, a human-built canyon of walls that pressed in on Ronan as the Pegasus's bulkheads had never done. Shaauri did not have such cities. It would poison them as surely as human influence, destroying the very essence of Aur within them. It had clearly driven Dharman males to madness.

  Yet Cynara had not unduly suffered from such debilities.

  She had grown in strength in the face of adversity, without the assurance of Path to guide her. She had the loyalty of other humans not-kin. When he completed his mission, would he be able to convince the War-Leader that not all humans were alike?

  He realized that he wished to do so—that in spite of the barbarity of many human customs and their endless desire to acquire everything within reach, not all were corrupt. No one could demonstrate this better than Cynara.

  If he could take her back…

  "Here," Cynara said, stopping him.

  The place looked little different from the drinking-house they had left. A small sign hung from a pole above the narrow door, depicting a leaping fish spouting water from its forehead.

  Cynara led the way into the dim interior. Ronan adjusted his sight and examined the room. Wooden tables and chairs had been arranged haphazardly across the tiled floor, and the smell of alcohol and cooking choked the air. It was unbearably close. Only a few of the tables were occupied.

  "Good," Cynara said. "It's quiet today. Follow me."

  She wove between the tables to a door at the rear of the room and passed into a short hall. Another door opened to a smaller chamber with only a few tables. Cynara sat at the largest and beckoned to Ronan and Lizbet. Ronan perched on the edge of the chair facing the door.

  "Are you thirsty, Ronan?"

  "Is plain water available?"

  'That is probably safest." She glanced toward the door, and a moment later a man came in. Unlike the males outside the other ale-house, he was immediately respectful of bearing. He began to speak. Cynara interrupted him with a smile. He bowed and continued in Standard.

  "D'Accorso-fila. Captain. Welcome back."

  'Thank you, Wil. Magnus Jesper asked us to meet him here. Has he arrived?"

  "Not yet, Captain D'Accorso, but he asked me to make you comfortable."

  "Thank you. Will you please bring water for my friend, and ale for Montagues/a and myself?"

  Wil cast a curious glance at Ronan and smiled at Lizbet. "At once, Magna." He hurried away.

  "Magna is much better than Filia," Lizbet said, wrinkling her nose. "That should be the address for unmarried women of high rank."

  "Of any rank. Until Dharma stops identifying women by the men they belong to, the confusion will doubtless continue." She glanced at Ronan. "In that sense, the shaauri have it better than we do."

  "Someone always has it better," a new voice remarked. Ronan sprang up from his seat to face yet another male, taller and narrower than the server and considerably older. His thin hair was aged to white, and his clothing was decorated in a manner similar to the drunken men but of much richer material. He carried a stick with a handle carved to resemble a snarling beast.

  "I've always liked this place," the man said, taking a deep breath. "Welcome home, Niece. Lizbet." He leaned on his stick. "This must be our fascinating visitor."

  "Uncle," Cynara said, rising to embrace him. Their touching was free in the way of humans, but the affection Ronan sensed was that of a ba'laik'in for its nurturer. "I'm so glad to see you." She linked her arm through his elbow and turned to Ronan. "Uncle, this is the shaauri prisoner we rescued, Ronan VelKalevi. Ronan, this is my uncle, Magnus Jesper Siannas."

  "VelKalevi, is it?" the old man said. "How very interesting."

  Ronan stood up in the human posture of respect. "Ronan," he corrected. "The other is not of my choosing, Va Jesper."

  "Ah. Of course." Jesper sat down at the table and leaned his stick against the chair. "Precisely what is 'Va'?"

  "It means 'of Will,'" Cynara explained. "A designation of high rank among shaauri."

  "Well, young man, you needn't be formal with me. I've taught far too many youngsters in my time to expect rigid manners."

  "A teacher?" Ronan asked.

  "Ronan was raised among shaauri, so he tends to categorize people by what he calls 'Path,'" Cynara said. "You would be of Will, but as a teacher you would also be Reason. Is that right, Ronan?"

  "Yes." He offered a slight smile to the elder. "I know it is not so simple among humans."

  "You're correct in that." Jesper studied Ronan with eyes as sharp as a warrior's. "You speak excellent Standard for a man raised among aliens."

  "He had human instructors," Cynara said. It was as if she were defending Ronan, and he grew warm with the memory of their touching in her cabin.

  "He can also pilot a darter. But that's not all of it, Uncle. As I told you in the message, he's a telepath."

  Jesper raised a shaggy white brow. "Like Kinsmen?"

  "Like us. His ability was stunted in childhood, but it seems to be coming back. That's why I asked you to use your influence on the Council. Janek is convinced that Ronan is an enemy of the Alliance. He's pushing for an immediate debriefing."

  "So I've heard. Janek has connections, but his highhanded behavior also wins him enemies. That's why I was able to get the debriefing delayed until tomorrow. I've taken personal responsibility for you and Ronan."

  "Thank you, Uncle. I don't want the Council or anyone else digging in Ronan's mind until he's fully prepared to face such an ordeal."

  "Quite understandable." He looked at Ronan. "I can offer you a room at my house, young man, unless you have other plans."

  "Will Cynara be there?"

  Jesper's brows rose higher. "Ah. The D'Accorso palace is not far from my residence. I'll want to hear all the details of the most recent voyage, so I expect my niece will be visiting often. You'll be staying with me as well, Lizbet?"

  "If you please, Magnus."

  "Poseidon's balls. I haven't been Magnus to you in years." He patted Lizbet's hand. "You can show our new guest around once we're there."

  As he finished speaking, the server arrived with a tray of glasses and, with a bow to Jesper, asked what he wished to drink. The elder ordered some unfamiliar beverage and turned to Ronan.

  "You aren't comfortable here," he said, "in this room, this city."

  Was it a reading of his body, or telepathy like Cynara's? "It is not like Aitu," Ronan said, carefully brushing the surface of Jesper's mind.

  Jesper seemed unaware. "I suppose it isn't like any shaauri world. But you have an excellent guide in my niece."

  Ronan withdrew his probe, fully satisfied that Jesper was a telepath at least as strong as Cynara. She had failed to mention this, though she had said that Jesper was of Persephone, not Dharma. Telepathic abilities were not limited to Kinsmen or Dharmans.

  The elder human studied Ronan with a slight frown. "If my niece says that you are to be trusted, I believe her. My own senses confirm her judgment. But it will be a great deal easier to convince the Council if I can tell them you'd be of use to the Alliance in our conflict with the shaauri." He hesitated and glanced at Cynara. "At the very least I can coach our guest in the best way to handle the Council an
d their questions."

  'That was what I'd hoped," Cynara said.

  The server arrived with Jesper's drink, and he took his time savoring each sip. "Ah, Remallan Ale. None better on Dharma." He noted Ronan's water. "Very wise of you to abstain, but we old men must be granted our little peccadillos."

  "What is your age, Va Jesper?"

  He laughed, and Ronan saw where Cynara had learned her way of showing amusement. "I am eighty-five, by Dharman reckoning… not greatly different from the old Earth calculation. And you?"

  "Twenty-nine human years."

  "Only a little older than my most precocious niece." Jesper finished his drink and grasped the head of his stick. "My car is waiting in the alley, if you would all accompany me." He rose with Cynara's help and walked purposefully toward the door. Lizbet caught up with him, but Cynara hung back.

  "What do you think of him, Ronan?" she asked.

  "He is a wise elder," Ronan said. "Very different from the other Dharman males. You are much like him."

  "How so?"

  "In your assurance as leader, in concern for other humans, in willingness to learn. And in the way you laugh at that which is not obviously amusing."

  "Irony," she said. "Absurdity. He did teach me how to look at life." She smiled. "Thank you. I consider that a compliment. Let's go."

  She took him to another motorized vehicle parked in the narrow lane around the corner, one much larger than the hired cab. The driver wore a plain jacket and trousers in deep gray with white trim. Cynara sat beside her uncle in the second row of seats, and Ronan took the third with Lizbet.

  The car moved as if on water, skimming back to the main street and uphill to the Third Gate. Though it was open as the others had been, Ronan saw the rim of ornate golden embellishments embossed into the polished wood.

  This was another world as different from Middleton as the city between the First and Second Gates was different from the ne'lin camp. Here the houses were not merely living places, but many-towered habitations with steeply pitched roofs and walls built of colored stone. Elaborately worked metal gates stood around the properties, half concealing gardens thick with growing things and fountains. Men and women in drab clothing worked among the trees and flowers.

  The road became much narrower here, winding its way up to the face of a sheer cliff where it made many sharp turns.

  "High Town," Cynara said.

  The car took them past several even more imposing estates before it turned again between silver posts and into the drive of a surprisingly modest house. Most of the land was given over to a lawn and garden. The driver parked and got out to open the passenger doors.

  Ronan felt more at ease in this place, where even a shaaurin might appreciate the open space and the wealth of natural decoration. From the paved walk across the lawn, one could look down upon the city, tiered between its Gates, and out to the ocean and several small islands.

  Another servant waited at the dwelling's front door, carved with images of sea creatures. He ushered them into the tiled hallway. Lizbet took her leave and turned down another hall.

  "You may wish to rest for a time, Ronan," Jesper said. "And you'll want to visit your parents, Niece."

  Cynara's mouth twisted. "They'll be expecting me."

  "Because they love you, Spitfire, no matter what you believe."

  She didn't answer. "I'll show Ronan to his room."

  "Come talk to me in the library when you're done."

  "Yes, Uncle." She nodded to Ronan and led him down the high-ceilinged hall where Lizbet had gone, past handsome painted images of water and a number of closed doors to a chamber near the end. It was more spacious than the guest cabin on the Pegasus, but the furnishings were spare and utilitarian.

  Ronan was pleased. "Tranquil surroundings make tranquil mind," Sihvaaro had often said.

  Ronan looked at Cynara, who waited awkwardly in the doorway. Tranquillity? There was no peace in knowing he must guard every thought and deceive these humans who had been kind to an OutLine stranger. No peace until he had completed his task and left Dharma, and this woman, far behind.

  "The room once belonged to Kord," Cynara said. "He always preferred a simple living space. If you need anything, touch the buzzer beside the door and my uncle's manservant will attend to it. I'm sure Jesper will invite you to join him at dinner—the evening meal."

  "And you?"

  "I must see my parents. I'll come for you as soon as we know what the Council intends."

  "Do not go."

  She was silent a long moment. "I may not be a traditional Dharman woman, but some habits are too deeply ingrained. To ignore my relatives would be unforgivable."

  "Yet you do not wish to see them."

  He had pushed too hard. Her expression closed, and she stepped through the door. "Please don't leave the grounds. I'll return as soon as I can."

  "Cynara." He followed her to the door and held out his hand. "Stay with me."

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  « ^ »

  Cynara stared at his hand and then at his face. "I can't," she said simply. "Good evening, Ronan."

  Once her footsteps had receded down the hall, Ronan retreated to the bed and sat cross-legged on the coverlet, beginning the chant to restore balance. Cynara's rejection meant nothing. She had duties imposed upon her by this world, as his duty belonged to shaauri-ja.

  Her hesitation had proved one thing. She had understood his invitation and had briefly considered it. Desire remained. He knew he did not entirely understand human courtship ritual; there were signals he was missing, words he must learn to speak. Must, for his mission.

  And he wanted Cynara for himself, knowing she would take nothing from him but pleasure. Nothing, least of all who he was or why he had come among humans.

  He performed the exercises with deliberation, finding it difficult to slow his heartbeat and calm his thoughts. Sihvaaro would have told him that he wanted too much. To want is to surrender all hope of understanding.

  Ronan stifled his desire. Slowly serenity returned. His mind became a conduit for all possibilities, all Paths, and in the silence of his meditation he felt Cynara's presence like a balm. The sound of her voice told him she was near.

  He went to the door and carefully opened it. Cynara and her uncle were out of sight around the corner of the hall, but he could hear every word they spoke.

  "You are attracted to him, Niece." Jesper chuckled. "Oh, come now—you're too enlightened to blush at such a discussion between us. You haven't known him long?"

  "Not long, Uncle. That's the inexplicable part."

  "On Dharma, we've sought to rule human desires as if they were trained seals. It has been my experience that the heart seldom runs in tandem with the mind."

  "But if this is only pity—physical attraction…"

  "If it's mere attraction, it will die of its own accord when the inevitable obstacles arise."

  "When you fell in love with Aunt—"

  "It was not my first choice to remain on Dharma. But now I know this was my true purpose, to help keep Dharma from slipping into the old ways until full trade is reestablished."

  "And Ronan?"

  "I like him. He has survived much, hasn't he? He may even prove worthy of you."

  "If the Council overreacts to his presence on the Pegasus—his mind could be seriously damaged."

  "Then we won't let that happen. Trust me, Spitfire. My instincts are seldom wrong. Until we are sure of him, however, he must remain on Dharma. You'll have many opportunities for courtship, and perhaps learn valuable information in the process."

  "I won't use my… attraction to spy on him."

  "I wouldn't suggest such a thing. I hope that your feelings for this man have laid the old fears to rest?"

  "Tyr…"

  "You are captain of the Pegasus."

  Footsteps sounded in the entry hall. Ronan withdrew into his room. After a time he heard a distant door closing and knew the disturbing void of Cynara
's absence.

  It was strange, that void, almost as if some invisible blade had carved a hollow in his gut—slow leak of blood, vague pain not quite erased by the discipline of the Eightfold Way. Such a wound could become deadly if left untended.

  He listened longer for the movements of humans about the house. When they had ceased, he went to the door and looked into the hall. Finding the way clear, he followed his senses to Lizbet's room and scratched on the door.

  Lizbet's bare, startled face appeared in the crack. "Ronan!" she said, glancing over his shoulder.

  "May I enter, An Montague?"

  She patted damp brown hair that smelled of recent bathing. "Come in."

  Her room was as small as his but vividly decorated in bright hues of red and gold and ocean blue, the bed heaped with cushions and tapestried hangings on the walls. Lizbet settled a sheer woven headcloth over her hair and adjusted the veil so that it covered her eyes. "Will you sit down, An Ronan?"

  "I am not an'laik'in" he said gently, taking the offered seat.

  "I'm sorry. If I offended—"

  "You did not. Ronan is sufficient."

  "Yes, of course." She pulled a brightly painted chair opposite his and folded her hands in her lap. "I've been trying to understand, but there is so much I don't know."

  "You were chosen as crew for the Pegasus. You must know a great deal, An Montague."

  "Lizbet. In Low Town, we never—" She hesitated, clenched her fists together. "Magnus Jesper took me in when I was very young, gave me an education, and prepared me for my duties on the Pegasus, as he did with Kord. Except for Captain D'Accorso, I'm the only Dharman woman on board." As if by habit, her hand rose again to adjust the head-cloth.

  "You wear this veil only on Dharma," Ronan said. "Cynara does not."

  "The captain is different from any woman I've ever known." She lowered her gaze. "You saw how it was in Middleton. But Cynara is a D'Accorso. That means a lot in Elsinore."

  "Is it also significant that she is a telepath?"

  "Many D'Accorsos have the ability, like the other burgher-lord families. But female telepaths aren't allowed to use their abilities. Cynara told me once…" She hesitated, biting her lower lip. "The lords are afraid their women will be corrupted by unsuitable thoughts from men, and that they're too weak and irresponsible to control their powers. Girls are punished if they are caught using telepathy. They're supposed to pretend it doesn't exist."