Kinsman's Oath

by Susan Krinard

  He had taken the gift Aino'Kei Miklos had offered, knowing it might be a ploy to make him more vulnerable. In his heart was the conviction that he might never see Cynara again. He could not determine the source of that fear, nor why he felt such despair when he considered the completion of his assignment.

  You will not betray Cynara. That knowledge should have severed any ties that restrained him. But he had found much to honor in Lord Miklos, despite his disrespectful questions to Cynara.

  Ronan was not even a true prisoner here, though he knew escape would be no simple matter. Escape was not an option. In order to acquire the unrestricted freedom he needed to search out vulnerable and knowledgeable minds, he had to pass the tests these humans set him.

  But when the guard came, an hour after a server had brought him a breakfast of bread, thinly sliced meat, and fruit, it was not to take him to a place of questioning but to Lord Miklos's room of books.

  "Good morning," Miklos said, waving him to a seat. "I hope the morning meal was to your liking."

  Ronan listened for mockery in the aino'kei's voice and did not hear it. He answered with neutral courtesy and attempted what he had not dared at their first meeting, a swift and shallow touch of Miklos's mind.

  It was, as he had expected, fully shielded. Miklos was no telepath, but he had been prepared to deal with one. He smiled, unaware, and leaned across his desk.

  "I won't pretend that you don't have an ordeal ahead of you, Ronan," he said. "But I wanted to reassure you that no one here wishes you ill. I will be present during the questioning. Before then, however, I'd like to show you something of the palace."

  Ronan kept his face expressionless as he examined Aino'Kei Miklos's motives. He did not behave as if he faced a potential enemy. Nor was he a stupid man. It made no sense for him to invite Ronan within the walls of his House as if they were kin.

  Miklos had his ve'laik'i, to be sure, and they would be ready for any aggression. But still it made no sense—unless Miklos had a hidden plan of his own to draw out Ronan's knowledge by subtle and devious means.

  "I am honored," Ronan said, inclining his head.

  "No formality, please," Miklos said. "You see, Ronan, I'm convinced, like the captain, that you will be of great assistance to the Alliance in understanding the shaauri. Understanding is the first step toward peace, and that is what we desire above all."

  "Why should humans want peace when shaauri have stopped their trade and killed their kin?"

  "You speak of humans as if you weren't one yourself."

  Miklos said, smiling to lighten his words, "but I suppose that's no wonder. You were only a child when the shaauri took you." He pretended interest in one of his books and half pulled it from its shelf. "You were kidnapped, I understand."

  "I was taken on a raid, such as shaauri youths often venture during Walkabout."

  Miklos sighed and pushed the book back in place. "It seems likely that our database will turn up the names of families who lost a child that year, or who were killed in a shaauri attack. You do wish to find your human kin?"

  Were these questions part of Miklos's scheme? Of what use could they be to him? "Yes," Ronan said warily. "It was my purpose in escaping the shaauri."

  "Of course." Miklos straightened the tunic of his dark brown suit. "Come. We can talk as I show you the palace."

  He led Ronan out the private door behind his desk, and as expected, two of his men fell in behind. Miklos apologized with a chuckle, as if their presence were an offense rather than a necessity.

  "Persephone is a peaceful world," he said, "but my grandmother used to say that peace is founded on strength."

  "So the shaauri would say as well. 'The House strong in ve'laik'in is sure in Path.'"

  "Indeed. My brother-in-law, Jonas Kane VelArhan, came to believe that the differences between our species are not nearly so great as either side would believe. Jonas married my sister after they stopped the first Kinsman coup attempt thirty-odd years ago. We had every reason to believe that their efforts would assure a continuation of the peace we enjoyed after the First War. But it was not to be.

  "My sister and the man she chose as husband saved my life that day," Miklos said, turning down a corridor toward the center of the palace. "I told you that even I had been young and reckless once, before responsibility came to rest on my shoulders. There are times when I wish I could go back to those days, dangers and all."

  "You were selected for your Path at birth," Ronan said.

  "I'm afraid you're right. Ah." He paused at immense double doors flanked by guards in more elaborate costume. "In a few moments, I hope to be able to introduce you to some of my family."

  There was a great wrongness here. Ronan stopped when Miklos would have approached the doors. Ne'lin fool. Take what he offers.

  But he could not. "I do not understand you, Aino'Kei," he said. "You take me among your kin, though I may be your enemy."

  Miklos held his gaze. "Are you, Ronan? Are you my enemy?"

  He is OutLine, OutClan. There is no shame in deceit. "No."

  "I haven't telepathic gifts like my sister had, but I have a certain sense, if you will. And I trust your captain's judgment. She thought you were worth saving. So do I."

  Ronan looked away quickly, unable to trust his voice.

  "Well," Miklos said, "come along, then."

  The doors swung open, held by two of the decorated attendants. The wide hall was carpeted, its length punctuated by numerous tables set with sculptures of naked human figures and containers of flowers. The colors were warm, earth tones such as those preferred by shaauri.

  Many smaller corridors and antechambers opened up from the hall, but Miklos passed them by. The security men and women here were not so conspicuous, but Ronan recognized and noted their positions. It was information he might require later.

  A second set of high doors led to another hall, and then to a glass-walled room, furnished with padded chairs and heavy woven carpets, overlooking a hidden garden. Miklos stopped at the window and invited Ronan to join him.

  In the garden several young humans of various ages were at play, tossing a ball back and forth as an adult looked on indulgently. Ronan saw a resemblance among some of the ba'laik'i, markings of kinship that were not so readily apparent among shaauri.

  "My great-nieces and -nephews, the grandchildren of my elder brother Hector and offspring of my nephew Ambros." He smiled with genuine pride and pleasure. "I have none of my own, so I tend to spoil them. Do shaauri spoil their children?"

  Ronan remembered the little treats Hanno had often brought him after a particularly nasty beating, the way her fur had smelled when she held him close with crooning songs passed down among the li'laik'i of Ain'Kalevi.

  "All children are valued," he said seriously.

  "Even you?"

  Startled, Ronan stared through the glass. Had Cynara found the means to speak to Miklos of his childhood, the portions she had taken from his mind and those he had confided to her?

  Use it. Make him pity you, as she did.

  "I was human," he said. "I had to prove my worth."

  "That's how' you received the scars?"

  "Janek reported this to you."

  "I have several reliable sources of information, but you need have no fear that any will be used to Cynara's detriment."

  "The captain can care for herself."

  Miklos merely smiled. "Ah. The one who has the ball now, with the freckles and brown hair? That's my favorite great-niece, Melanthe, Kori's granddaughter and the child of my nephew Ambros. Quite a little spitfire even at the age of ten."

  Ronan remembered that Magnus Jesper had referred to Cynara by that bali-name. "A child of strength and spirit," he said.

  "Do you hope for any of your own?"

  "I never considered it."

  "You're lying." Miklos turned a pleasant face on him as if he had not just delivered a breathtaking insult. "You want children. You want a family, to make up for what you lost in your o
wn childhood."

  "I was adequately cared for by the shaauri."

  "So well that you escaped and betrayed them."

  Ronan made his emotions disappear. "I could never be one of them."

  "But now your life has changed. You may find a mate of your own kind. The captain—"

  "Do not speak further of her, Aino'Kei."

  "Because you see no future between you?" Miklos kept his mild manner, refusing to react to Ronan's deliberate insolence.

  Ronan bared his teeth. "No more."

  "Very well. I apologize for my inquisitiveness."

  Apology from one of high rank could be interpreted as disadvantage. Ronan's confidence returned. In the garden beyond the window, a man walked out among the children and paused to speak to their li'laik'in.

  Janek. He stood among the children, smiling, as if he belonged there. A moment's study of several of the children convinced Ronan of a resemblance between them and the Persephonean Observer.

  Ronan glanced at Miklos to gauge his reaction. The Second's face revealed a moment of chagrin and then resumed its bland, pleasant expression.

  "I did not know," Ronan said softly, "that Ser Janek was of your House."

  "That was why he was chosen to observe aboard the Pegasus—he always preferred working behind the scenes. It was highly unlikely he'd be recognized." Miklos sighed. "I see no reason to withhold information from you now that you've seen him in the palace. Phineas Janek is, in fact, my nephew Damon, another of Kori's children."

  "A Challinor."

  "Yes."

  "He works in your intelligence division, to gather information about enemies?"

  "And allies, where critical projects are involved." His eyes narrowed. "You have divined a great deal during your journey aboard the Pegasus, telepathically or otherwise. You know die ship is not an ordinary one."

  "I know."

  "We must, of course, ascertain exactly how much you know and what you might do with the information if given complete freedom."

  "No matter what you decide, Aino'Kei, you cannot release me. I know who Janek is, and I would report it to Captain D'Accorso."

  "Who already has suspicions of her own." Miklos looked as though he wished to touch Ronan, and Ronan backed a step away. "Your honesty in this matter goes far in convincing me that you are as trustworthy as Cynara claims."

  Ronan shook his head. "I do not understand these human ways."

  "Not even humans always understand them." The child Melanthe waved, and Miklos waved back. Janek—Damon—glanced up and seemed to see Miklos and Ronan for the first time. His expression darkened.

  "I know that you and my nephew were not the best of friends aboard the Pegasus," Miklos said, "and he has made his opinion of you quite clear. He doesn't trust you, Ronan. I must take his opinion into consideration. But his is not the only one."

  Damon's mouth moved, but his voice was muffled by the glass. Melanthe ran up to the window and pressed her face against the surface, flattening her nose in a deliberately grotesque mask. She laughed up at Miklos. He made a face in return.

  The affection was real. Ronan tried to imagine what it would have been like to grow up with such closeness—not only the kindness any li'laik'i might show a child, but the true knowledge of belonging, of acceptance. He smiled at the girl, hesitantly, and she grinned back.

  "Come," Miklos said. "There are others I wish you to meet." He stepped away from the window, expecting Ronan to follow. Damon Challinor's eyes met Ronan's in open challenge, and then Ronan turned his back and went after Miklos.

  They passed adjoining corridors connecting various office and sitting rooms and came at last to a wing that seemed devoted to practical affairs rather than family comfort. Miklos walked through a pair of ordinary doors into a reception area, where an administrative clerk rose from his desk and quickly bowed acknowledgment.

  "I haven't an appointment," Miklos said, "but if Mes Carter VelShaan is available, I would like to speak to her." * VelShaan. A Kinsman name. Ronan made swift assessment of his own telepathic defenses.

  "I'll check at once, my lord," the clerk said. He spoke into his headset, and a moment later he nodded and addressed Miklos. "Mes Carter VelShaan is in her office, Lord Miklos. I'll escort you at once."

  "Unnecessary. I know the way." He smiled at the clerk and led Ronan through another set of doors. At once Ronan strongly felt what he had been expecting: the sensation of many powerful telepathic minds in close proximity.

  Kinsmen—the men and women who had chosen to stay with the Concordat when the Second War had broken out, splitting off from those who had gone to the shaauri. It was said that the strongest telepaths had allied with the shaauri. Yet Ronan knew that these were not weak or ineffectual minds.

  Concordat Kinsmen such as these would have placed the mental shields in Cynara, Charis, Damon, and Miklos. Such minds might break through Ronan's own shields and expose his true purpose.

  Unless he proved himself their superior, as his masters had been so certain he would.

  "I'm taking you to see the leader of our contingent of Kinsmen based on Persephone," Miklos said. "I am aware that you occasionally dealt with shaauri Kinsmen, but you weren't accepted among them. I think you'll find a better welcome here."

  "Is my questioning to begin now?"

  "No, indeed. This is informal introduction. Please be at ease." He reached the end of a corridor and paused at an open door. The Kinswoman was already there to meet him, a female of average height, age, and build with thick black hair and golden skin.

  "Lord Miklos," she said with a smile and a glance at Ronan. "Please, come in."

  They did so, while Miklos's men remained just outside. The Kinswoman's office was large, with a pleasant view overlooking another part of the garden. She greeted Miklos and then offered chairs to both her guests.

  Miklos sat. Ronan continued to stand even when VelShaan chose another seat across from them.

  "I believe you know why I've come today, Mes Carter VelShaan," Miklos said. "This young man is, of course, Ser Ronan VelKalevi, who has just come to us from the Pegasus and Dharma. Ronan, may I introduce Mes Brit Carter VelShaan."

  Ronan met the woman's eyes. If she had lived among shaauri at all—which her age made possible, since Kinsman children generally spent part of their childhood with their adopted Line, and she might have done so before the outbreak of war—she would grasp the fine nuances of his gaze. He did not offer challenge, admit lesser standing, nor acknowledge kinship. This was her territory, and hers was the first move.

  "Welcome, sh'kei'eivalin," she said in stilted Voishaaur. "Here are you among kin."

  The swift acknowledgment amazed and troubled him. She called him "Clan brother," acknowledging him as distant kin, not of Line but Clan, granted the protection of her House. Not all Clan-kin were given such privileges. Clans were large, like nations, and Lines within them might be at conflict.

  As his Line must be with hers.

  "I am honored, Aho'Ken," he answered, with the inflection that acknowledged her courtesy and rank.

  She smiled, close-mouthed. "As am I, sh'eivalin. We will speak in Standard," she said with a nod at Lord Miklos.

  "Very good," Miklos said. "You and your fellow Kinsmen, Mes Carter VelShaan, will be invaluable in re-introducing Ser VelKalevi to humanity after his long stay among shaauri."

  VelShaan studied Ronan more carefully. "I know this will be a difficult time for you, Ronan. We'll do all we can to help."

  "After you probe my mind."

  She, like Miklos, failed to take offense. "It is necessary, as I'm sure you understand. A human raised since early childhood among a human-hating Line like Kalevi may have… suffered far more than physical scars."

  "Shaan was allied to humans, like Arhan."

  "Still is, we believe, though communications have been sporadic at best. The prohuman Lines have been under constant pressure since the War began. Perhaps you will be able to update our incomplete intelligence on cu
rrent shaauri politics."

  "It is why I am here."

  "Of course." She offered refreshments, which Miklos accepted. A moment later she returned with three steaming mugs of liquid that Ronan immediately recognized as arao. His mouth watered.

  "Ah," Miklos said with approval. "I've developed a taste for this stuff ever since Kori made me try it."

  Ronan took his mug and savored the complex aroma of spices, fruit, and nuts. He drank the arao with real gratitude, only recalling afterward that it was the human way to drug potential enemies.

  "There is so much we have yet to learn from the shaauri—those Lines that don't hate humanity," VelShaan said. "Our goal is, and has always been, lasting peace and understanding. As long as the antihuman factions control shaauri politics, we have little hope of progress. You may provide the key." She finished her drink and set it aside. "I understand that your telepathy was tampered with when you were a child. We'll do everything possible to heal and train you to use your gifts properly. You'll become one of us."

  Ronan could find no response. Whatever VelShaan's motives, there was genuine kindness in her, and sympathy that did not extend to offensive pity. She treated him almost as an equal.

  Yet when she spoke of peace, could she truly mean it? Was it not simply a lie among other lies to cover rapacious human plans for conquest?

  "All your life you've been punished for being human," VelShaan said. "That has ended. You will be yourself, Ronan, and valued for all your qualities, human and shaauri." She turned to Miklos. "Have you scheduled a time for the debriefing, Lord Miklos? I'll want to be sure that my seniors are available and prepared."

  "If Ronan is agreeable, I'd thought tomorrow morning. I'd like to spend the rest of the day showing him something of Persephone."

  "We'll be ready."

  "Excellent." Miklos rose. "Until tomorrow, Mes Carter VelShaan." He nodded and walked toward the door. Ronan hesitated.

  "Why?" he asked VelShaan. "Why did you and your people choose to remain among humans?"

  "Because we're human, and we saw a chance to serve. Because we saw what hatred and misunderstanding could do to two intelligent species. Because people like us are needed if there is ever to be peace again. Tan uri-kah, Ronan."