Kinsman's Oath

by Susan Krinard

  Family. The word felt wrong to her, but she used it for Ronan's sake. He needed complete support and no hint of doubt.

  "Shaauri of different Lines do not intrude upon one another without good reason," he said. "By such custom is conflict avoided."

  There would be conflict enough in store for both of them. Cynara looked toward the few one-story buildings that comprised the spaceport facilities. "No welcoming party?"

  "Only one shaaurin watches the spaceport. It requires time for Aarys's message to reach Ain'Kalevi."

  "Because they don't keep advanced communication systems." Even with Ronan's description, she wasn't sure what to expect of the Kalevi settlement. Woods crowded close around the cleared area of the spaceport, and she could see the white tops of mountains to the north and east. The sky was blue, heavily overcast in the west, with a brisk wind threatening to blow the storm directly toward them. The look of the place reminded Cynara of the northern islands of Cabiria on Dharma, lands where summers were brief and winters often snowbound.

  According to Ronan, Kalevi House compounds were widely spaced, sprawling communities divided by natural borders. Their people grew cold-hardy crops, kept domestic animals, and hunted as their ancestors had done.

  Given Ronan's experiences in childhood, the colonists were as primitive in their behavior as they were in their chosen way of life.

  She shivered. Ronan moved closer to her, sharing his natural warmth.

  "It is cold for you here," he said.

  "No worse than the Cabirian taiga during Solstice. Don't worry about me."

  "Remember what I told you—"

  "Keep quiet, avert my gaze, and don't speak unless spoken to." She grimaced. "It's not in my character to be quite so… retiring."

  "I know." He brushed her hair away from her face. "At least your hair is red."

  She was about to ask if he intended that as a joke when he looked sharply toward the edge of the clearing opposite the buildings. A lone shaaurin emerged from the trees. He—it—was very tall, and its fur was faded with age, but it carried itself like a warrior.

  Ronan had stopped breathing. She grabbed his cold hand. His mind was in the grip of emotions so intense she could not help but feel them.

  "Who?" she asked.

  He tugged on her hand, pulling her toward the shaaurin. The thump of his pulse leaped from his palm to hers. Only as they neared the shaaurin, so close that she could see his broad, bewhiskered face, did she realize who the alien must be.

  "Sihvaaro," Ronan whispered.

  Cynara released his hand. He strode the last few steps and dropped to his knees, overcome.

  The old shaaurin gazed down on him with as benevolent an expression as a nonhuman face could hold. "Ronan," he said, the name recognizable to Cynara's untrained ears.

  Ronan bent his face skyward, exposing the length of his throat, and Sihvaaro took his head between long-nailed hands. It was a welcome, and a benediction. Like a child meeting a much-beloved uncle, Ronan jumped to his feet and embraced the old shaaurin. Then he turned toward Cynara. His face shone with a joy and serenity that took her breath away.

  "Sihvaaro," he said, followed by a string of sounds that included her full name. His eyes were warm with pride.

  "Cynara D'Accorso," he said, "my teacher and friend, Sihvaaro Kio'laii."

  Sihvaaro inclined his head. "It is an honor," he said in fluid Standard, "to greet Cynara D'Accorso, lifemate of Ronan VelKalevi."

  * * *

  Chapter 23

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  Cynara barely remembered not to stare. "Pardon me?" she stammered.

  Ronan flushed. He spoke rapidly to Sihvaaro and joined Cynara.

  "He does not understand," he said quietly, not meeting her gaze. "Sometimes he… senses things, and can be mistaken."

  "Are you saying he's a telepath?"

  "There are no shaauri telepaths. Sihvaaro has a… gift."

  Cynara decided that circumspection was better than awkward questions. "Did you expect him to be here?"

  "I hoped." He smiled with an almost childlike pleasure. "It will be easier with Sihvaaro's aid."

  She studied the alien more carefully. Ronan had never said anything but good about his teacher, yet their relationship remained a mystery to her. Sihvaaro had taught Ronan how to defend himself, and how to bear his difficult life. He had given Ronan something like love. That was enough for Cynara.

  "Honored teacher," she said, hoping the salutation was adequately respectful. "I value your welcome."

  Sihvaaro's ears flicked forward and back. "I welcome you," he said, "but I do not speak for Ain'Kalevi. They will be here soon, and perhaps others." He turned to Ronan. "Your mission?"

  Ronan's eyes widened in real surprise, and the sides of his mouth stretched in a grimace.

  "You knew?"

  "These Kinsmen thought their work most secret, and prevented you from telling me," Sihvaaro said with hissing shaauri laughter, "but they underestimated us both, did they not? You are here alive, with your full memory, a mate, and perhaps the means to catch certain humans in their own trap."

  "I should have expected you to unearth their plans. How much do you know?"

  "Not enough. But perhaps you have what I lack."

  "We must speak further of this."

  Sihvaaro laid his hand on Ronan's shoulder, dwarfing him. "You wonder why I vanished at the time you needed me."

  "No, Sihvaaro."

  "I will tell you. It was necessary for me to play ignorant so that I could learn as much as possible. When I discovered the full nature of their plans for you, and that they intended to take your memories, I considered who best to approach with this information. I spoke to Aho'Ain'Kalevi, but she, as you remember, had always been circumspect. I was prepared to take you from the Kinsmen myself.

  "But these humans are most clever. They convinced the First that I wished to deliver you to one of the former prohuman Lines, where you could serve no useful purpose or might even work against Kalevi. Soon after you departed, Va Pohomi was challenged and deposed by Lenko. He now rules as First."

  Though she missed the subtleties of Sihvaaro's tale, Cynara couldn't mistake the gravity with which he spoke the final sentence, or Ronan's reaction to it. "I assume this is bad news," she said.

  "Pohomi was a shaaurin of reason, though cautious in her decisions," Sihvaaro said. "She accepted Ronan's presence and supported his wish to aid shaauri-ja. though she could not know the Kinsmen's hidden purpose. Lenko not only despises humans, but has great hatred for Ronan."

  Cynara met Ronan's gaze. "Personal hatred?"

  "Lenko is of Arv'Kalevi, Third House. Their settlement lies some kilometers away, near the mountains." Ronan hesitated. "Arv'Kalevi is the most intransigent in hatred of humans. Before he left for Walkabout, Lenko was one of those who took pleasure in hunting me when I ventured away from Ain'Kalevi-ja. Sometimes he and his fellow ba'laik'i caught me alone."

  The shaauri "children" who had beaten and scarred him. "And no one defended you or tried to stop them until Sihvaaro?"

  "Many hated me even here in Second House holding. It was necessary to prove my worthiness to survive."

  Cynara could not contain her loathing, even for Sihvaaro's benefit. "I'd very much like to get my hands on this Lenko and his friends."

  "Do not consider such a move," Sihvaaro said. "You would be killed. It is necessary to act with prudence."

  "Sihvaaro is correct," Ronan said, touching her hand. "Lenko is my enemy, but others are not."

  She curbed her anger. "I'll do my best to follow your instructions, but don't expect miracles."

  "I do not." He displayed the edges of his teeth. "But if Lenko offers to harm you, I will have to kill him."

  Then I'd better make damned sure I don't provoke Lenko and get you killed. "At least the Kinsmen aren't here yet."

  "It is surely a matter of days before they arrive," Sihvaaro said. "They have longer ears than many shaauri." He turned back to Ronan and res
umed his story. "When Lenko became First, it was necessary for me to depart from Aitu. I did not know where you had gone and had no way to warn you of the change."

  "Yet you anticipated my return and risked Lenko's anger to meet me on Aitu."

  Sihvaaro's fingers flicked in a rippling gesture that might have been a shrug. "I am old. You are my student and my chosen kin."

  "You are accepted at Kalevi-ja once more?"

  "I believe that others of Kalevi have also begun to suspect these Kinsmen of some illicit purpose," Sihvaaro said, "though even the va'laik'i will not approach Lenko without sure proof. As long as the First thinks only of his hatred for humans, he will not be reasonable."

  "Then we should not remain here," Ronan said, "but go directly to A'Aho-Kei'hon'vekki on Aur."

  "This would be logical if we had a ship for such a voyage. It may be that one will come. Until then, we must be prepared to act swiftly and with cunning." He tilted an ear at Cynara. "Yes, even with human deception."

  Cynara smiled. "It's comforting to know that we humans can teach shaauri something useful."

  "I have taken my old dwelling on the east border of Ain'Kalevi-ja," Sihvaaro said to Ronan. "Lenko and his allies have not troubled me there. Others watch, however."

  "The Kinsmen will want to silence Ronan," Cynara said, "and that's assuming this Lenko doesn't get him first. I admit my ignorance of shaauri politics… but will any Kalevi listen to Ronan if Lenko is against him?"

  "Even a First is not all-powerful," Ronan said. "The Second and Third also have great influence, and any of them are subject to challenge. Others will listen. But even if they believe, Kalevi is not enough."

  "What exactly do you plan to tell the ones who will listen?"

  "First I will approach Lenko and determine his knowledge and intentions. He will not simply kill me without warning. I will tell him that you are my hostage and under my protection."

  "And if they try to take me, like the Aarys youngster did?"

  He answered with his eyes, suddenly cold and utterly determined.

  "Sihvaa—" She looked for the big shaauri and discovered him vanished, as silent as a mouse in the tall grass of the clearing. Not even a ripple marked his passage. "He's gone!"

  "To watch for those who come. He will warn us." Ronan brushed the tips of his fingers along the back of her hand. "You are not afraid."

  It was a statement, not a question. Cynara was warmed by his confidence, and unaccountably aroused by his caress. "I should be, if I had a gram of sense—enough for both of us. Sihvaaro seems a good man. He obviously cares for you."

  "He likes you, Cynara. Shaauri do not express such things as humans do, at least not in words."

  "Sihvaaro seems to have many talents."

  "He is unlike any shaauri I have known."

  "But he isn't Kalevi?"

  "He is of all Lines, and none. In his House of origin, he was selected ve'laik'in, of Blood. But he learned a different way and won rare exemption to follow a second path—that of riama, Spirit. Sihvaaro believes that Selection is not a biological necessity, and can be set aside. That is why he is called Sihvaaro kio'laii—of all Paths."

  "All Paths. Surely that's a challenge to shaauri social order."

  "He belonged to a group of—you would call them 'warrior-monks'—who were honored a hundred years ago on many shaauri worlds. They traveled from House to House and world to world, teaching their ancient fighting techniques and the philosophy of the Eightfold Way. Nearly all of them have vanished. Sihvaaro found a place on Aitu because he won the respect of Kalevi and the other Lines here, surpassing their skills in tracking, hunting, and combat. Still he is considered strange, almost ne'lin, and can never rest easy."

  "He recognized someone like him when he began to teach you."

  "I do not know why he chose me. Someday I will explain—" He broke off as a harsh, rising whistle sounded from a stand of conifers a hundred meters distant. "They come." He cocked his head. "Darja."

  He gave the word an explosive sound. "Enemy?" Cynara asked.

  He opened his mind. In the fraction of an instant she saw through a child's eyes and recognized shaauri who, like Lenko, had beaten Ronan whenever he wandered away from the Kalevi compound.

  "How many enemies do you have on this planet?"

  "Do not worry," he said, pushing her behind him. "I am not so easily defeated as I was in childhood."

  "If you think I'm going to let you fight alone—"

  He faced her and grasped her shoulders. "You are brave, Cynara, and skilled in defense. But you must leave this to me."

  "Not if you're going down."

  "I will not."

  Shaauri loped out from the cover of the woods, five individuals who looked very much like Sihvaaro and the Aarysi. Each of them bore at least one visible firearm. As they drew closer, Cynara saw that all of them bore the stripe pattern of ve'laik'i warriors. Bullies.

  Instinctively she reached for her sidearm, which of course she had left on the lifepod. There was only one thing to do: Trust Ronan… and show absolutely no fear.

  "Will they shoot us?" she asked.

  "No. They will fight as I do." He shifted his weight and flexed his muscles. "Bodies only."

  "Ronan—"

  "Do not interfere unless there is treachery." To her surprise, he reached out with his mind and bestowed the gift of his pride in her, his warmth, his affection… what she almost dared call love. It fortified her like full body armor and a whole array of crack marines. She set her legs apart and watched the Darjai come with a wicked smile.

  One ran ahead of the others and stopped, ears cocked forward and shoulder fur standing on end. "Ne'lin!" it called, and spat a phrase that couldn't possibly be anything but insult and challenge.

  Ronan answered, hardly lifting his voice above a whisper. The challenger clicked its teeth and charged.

  Ronan had five seconds to brace himself before the ve'laik'in was on him. He took the full weight of the alien, turned his hip, and sent the shaaurin flying over his shoulder. It happened so quickly that Cynara missed the individual elements of his counterstrike.

  A second Darja moved forward and issued another, longer challenge, rasping like chisel on stone. This time Ronan met the attack by dodging to the side at the last possible moment, making his body small as if he'd folded in on himself. The shaauri's filed nails struck him a glancing blow. It recovered its balance and sprang up only to be felled by a brutal chop from Ronan's right foot.

  Cynara had already turned to watch for the first shaauri's recovery. It struggled to its feet, and she prepared to fight it off by any means she had. But it did not attack. It backed away, ears flattened, glaring hatred.

  The second shaauri did the same, clutching its belly as it joined its companion.

  "These will not attack again," Ronan said between breaths. His shipsuit was torn where the second attacker had scored him, and three parallel red lines marked his skin. He seemed not to notice. "They will come one at a time, by custom, and retire only when shoulders touch the earth."

  "That's comforting. Only three to go."

  "They send their lesser ve'laik'i first." He flexed his arms and performed a gliding, graceful exercise that turned his muscles liquid. "Stand apart."

  Their conversation had muted the third warrior's challenge. Its charge shifted abruptly to the right, directly toward Cynara. Ronan sidestepped to meet the warrior. The shaaurin slammed into him full on, and both fell. Blue shipsuit and barred red fur mingled in striking limbs and heaving bodies.

  Do not interfere, Ronan shouted into her mind. She clenched her fists to the point of pain and forced herself to wait. Briefly the shaaurin gained the upper hand, straddling Ronan with nails like razors poised to strike. Cynara snatched up a fallen tree branch. In the same instant Ronan flipped his enemy over, knelt on the shaaurin's back, and forced its head to the ground.

  But the ve'laik'in didn't quit as Ronan had promised. It heaved its bulk with ferocious strength,
kicking Ronan up and away. Ronan rolled as he fell, recovering quickly, but the Darja warrior crouched and launched itself at Cynara.

  In a second, it was on her. In another, Ronan had the warrior by the neck. He snapped his opponent's head to the side and threw the shaaurin to the ground.

  The ve'laik'in lay absolutely still. Ronan staggered back, holding his hands out to his sides. His shipsuit was torn in a dozen new places, his lower lip was split, and two of the fingers on his left hand were bent at awkward angles.

  Cynara grabbed him before he fell. "Dead?"

  "Yes. I did not intend—" He broke off and pushed Cynara away as the other warriors dropped to their knees beside their fallen companion. One of them lifted its face to the sky and roared. The others swung their heads to stare at Ronan and Cynara.

  "They didn't follow your rules," Cynara said. "They'll try to kill us now, won't they?"

  "Perhaps not." Cynara followed Ronan's gaze to the tall grass moving with as many as twenty shaauri, Sihvaaro among them.

  "Kalevi?" she asked.

  He nodded and touched his injured lip. "Watch."

  The Darjai had also noticed the approaching Kalevii, and began to make sounds so high-pitched that they hurt Cynara's ears. At once they gathered up their comrade and bounded away.

  'They know they cannot prevail… now," Ronan said, hearing her thoughts.

  "I thought Darja and Kalevi are of the same Clan."

  "They are. That does not mean they are always close allies. The Darjai avoid a beating or worse by retreat."

  "Would they have let you go if you retreated?"

  "I am not shaauri."

  Cynara was in the mood to tear out several fistfuls of red shaauri fur. Instead, she carefully took Ronan's arm to examine his broken fingers. "How badly are you hurt?"

  "Kalevi healers will cure me." He urged her to readiness with his mind and stood very straight. "Aino'Ain'Kalevi Samit, the Second of my House."

  "Male or female?" she whispered.

  "Female. As a majority of ve'laik'i are male, so most va'laik'i are female."

  'That's useful to know." Cynara shut her mouth as the leader stopped several meters from Ronan, Sihvaaro a little apart from her attendants. Unlike the Darja warriors, Samit carried herself with neutral dignity, wearing robes not unlike those of the Aarys leaders but in mingled tones of red that nearly matched her fur. She clutched a tall, carved staff in one hand, and a silver pendant hung from her neck.