Kinsman's Oath

by Susan Krinard

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  Chapter 26

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  Cynara heard Ronan's cry, first with her ears and then with her mind. His grief pounded her down, turning her bones to jelly, overwhelming any hope she had of rational thought.

  The fight was over. Sihvaaro had lost. Ronan had lost. The maelstrom of his emotion held nothing of hope or even the determination to survive. He meant to die defending her, avenging his teacher.

  And she could not reach him. He was cut off from her more surely than at any time since she had known him, even before he had recovered his memories and his telepathic skills. His absence gaped like an open wound.

  She was alone—captive, paralyzed, outmatched. Inadequate. Fatally weak. Unable to devise a single worthy plan to get them out of this mess. A shaauri warrior held her in an iron grip, and a hundred more surrounded her.

  But she wanted Ronan to live. Suddenly she loved life itself more fiercely than her family, her command, her freedom. No sacrifice would be too great if it was within her power to make.

  What would you give, Cynara? a voice demanded.

  Her lips moved to answer before she realized that the words came from within.

  Not alone. Of course. Ronan had banished her, but she had another ally.

  Tyr. Tyr, whose nerve and assurance she had admired all her life. Tyr, who never panicked or hesitated. Tyr, who always found a way.

  She turned inward, ignoring the ve'laik'in's grip, the howls of shaauri threat, the terror that blocked the breath in her throat.

  I know you're with me, Tyr, she began. Ever since I was a child, I wanted to be you. You gave me yourself, but I was always afraid to let you share this body. Afraid your strength would overwhelm me, prove I was nothing.

  Now I set you free. I call on you to purge me of all weakness, all fear. Give me your courage, your confidence, your cool reason. Make me strong, and I'll never restrain you again.

  She waited in her private silence, light-headed with terror and a wild surge of hope. Her stomach heaved. A presence stirred in its place of exile, rising up in triumph.

  Tyr had answered, like an ancient god of war presented with an offering of flesh. New strength flowed into Cynara's chest and shoulders and legs. Her muscles seemed to expand, the flow of her blood increase. The remnants of fear vanished.

  This was what it was to be truly superior, to be secure in one's place in the scheme of things. Emotion and doubt no longer clouded her thoughts. Remarkable how very clear matters seemed, how obvious her priorities now that her sentimental frailties had been left behind.

  This was what Tyr had tried to give her, what she'd so mistakenly refused out of womanly fear. She smiled Tyr's smile and weighed the situation with cool detachment.

  She hadn't resisted Ronan's warrior friend Mairva when the female had taken her into custody just before the fight; better a shaauri well-disposed toward humans than one of Lenko's cronies. Then Sihvaaro had offered to fight in Ronan's place. Even without the most rudimentary understanding of shaauri language, she had recognized Ronan's protest, his grief, his ultimate surrender.

  But the old shaauri was no match for his opponent. He'd died, and Darja had won. Driven to madness in his anguish, Ronan faced a hundred hostile shaauri in defiance of tradition and the leaders of his House. If the Darja warriors didn't see to his death, Lenko would.

  Ronan's torment no longer influenced her, nor did she owe any loyalty to his friends. She turned her head slightly to observe her captor's face. Mairva's grip on her shoulders had loosened; she, like all the other shaauri, seemed mesmerized by what had occurred in the arena. Perhaps she wished to rush to Ronan's defense, but shaauri custom restrained her.

  The ve'laik'in would naturally assume that her human captive was incapable of resistance in the face of impossible odds. If shaauri were in any way susceptible to telepathic suggestion, such an assumption might be strengthened at just the right moment.

  Cynara estimated the precise angle of the bone-hilted blade held in a sheath at Mairva's waist, and calculated the most economical move to take it. She called upon her combat training and all Tyr's personal tricks. When she struck, she struck true. The knife's carved hilt bit into her palm. She writhed free of the startled ve'laik'in's hold and launched herself toward the First of House Ain'Kalevi.

  Astonishment was her ally. The shaauri moved belatedly, and most didn't move at all. Cynara reached Lenko an arm's length ahead of the nearest Kalevi warrior and thrust the knife's point straight up under the First's bewhiskered chin.

  Lenko froze. So did Samit, and the third heavily striped shaaurin beside her. The approaching warriors stopped.

  She could just feel Ronan, very far away.

  "Listen to me," she said, her face inches from Lenko's half-open mouth. "And don't move."

  Lenko stuttered a protest. Cynara grinned. "If you don't understand, you'd better find someone to translate."

  The First squeaked, and Ronan's friend Annukki appeared. She glanced at Cynara without expression and answered her leader.

  "I know a little of human tongue," she said. "Speak."

  "Good. Tell Lenko that I expect him to release me and Ronan. I don't care what he has to do or say to convince Darja, but that's the only way he's staying alive."

  Annukki translated. The remaining shaauri, Kalevi and Darja alike, held absolute silence. They were utterly confounded by this unprecedented and unlawful attack on a leader by a weakling human.

  Lenko was frankly terrified. He began to speak. Several ve'laik'i moved. A human voice shouted warning.

  All at once the Darja shaauri moved in a mass toward the Kalevi, rumbling sounds that could only be threats. Cynara turned her head just enough to observe Ronan blocking their way as though he could stop them single-handedly.

  "Do it now," she hissed at Lenko. The First cried out again, flinching from the bite of the blade. Kalevi ve'laik'i turned as one to face the Darjai. Two hundred armed shaauri stood opposite each other, only a few body lengths and a lone human keeping them apart.

  The surprises were far from over. Samit stepped forward and addressed Cynara gravely.

  Annukki's ears flattened in what Cynara had begun to recognize as extreme dismay. "Aino'Va Samit says," she translated, "you have right to fight Va Lenko for leadership of Ain'Kalevi." She hesitated, her ears still firmly lowered. "Va Samit did not have to tell you this thing, Human. It gives great power." Samit spoke again, and Annukki's ears pricked. "Va Samit says that if you grant her right, she will fight Va Lenko in your place. But you must give up right to lead Ain'Kalevi."

  Cynara laughed. Lenko whimpered. "One small rebellion opens the floodgates," Cynara said. "Ki Annukki, tell Aino'Va Samit that I accept." She fell back and tossed the knife toward Samit, who caught it deftly in midair.

  Samit spoke to Lenko, who cringed as if he had lost whatever skill and courage had won him his position. It was clear that he wasn't going to put up much of a fight to retain it.

  "Come," Annukki said. "Va Samit will soon take leadership from Lenko, and must deal with Darja. She will let you and Ronan depart, but she must go now."

  Cynara searched for Ronan behind the wall of Kalevi warriors. Mairva pushed through with her human friend in tow.

  Ronan's expression was blank, and Cynara knew that she should be terrified of what she saw in his eyes. She felt nothing. Hanno ran up to Ronan and stood trembling, expressing with ears and eyes what Cynara couldn't.

  "Ve Mairva says that there is time to go to Ronan-ja to collect supplies," Annukki said, "then you must go to forest. Ronan is in madness. Will you help him?"

  "Yes." She took Ronan's arm. It was rigid and at the same time lifeless, and she felt no response from his mind. 'Take me back to Ronan's hut."

  Mairva turned and led Cynara through a gathering of dazed shaauri and onto a path leading away from the arena. Ronan allowed himself to be steered along; his utter lack of mental presence convinced Cynara that he was in a state of emotional shock. He'd have t
o snap out of it once they were clear of the settlement.

  At Ronan's hut, Mairva efficiently gathered up provisions—^iried fruits and meat, a rolled length of canvas-like material, hunting implements—and arranged them in a large pack made of tanned hide. The ve'laik'in tossed Cynara a heavy shirt and trousers woven of animal wool much like her vest. Cynara helped Ronan dress and settled the pack over her shoulders.

  Annukki appeared at the door, ears cocked behind to catch any sounds of pursuit. Another black-barred shaaurin joined her.

  "Human," Annukki said, "This one is Va Riko, also Ronan's… friend." She spoke the word gingerly, testing its strangeness. "He it was who made Va Samit think of challenge. Va Riko bids me tell that a ship comes to the port. There you must go."

  "A ship?" She glanced at Ronan, who remained unresponsive. "What ship?"

  "We do not know. But you must leave Ain'Kalevi-ja. Aino'Va Samit let you go, but she cannot guarantee safety from Darja."

  None of the possibilities looked promising. Trying to survive in the wilderness was not Cynara's idea of a tenable long-term solution. If the newly arrived ship were any kind of shaauri vessel, it wouldn't be likely to provide sanctuary to a pair of humans—especially when Ronan was incapable of communication.

  But if it were the Kinsmen's ship… she might have bargaining power.

  "Show me the right direction," she said. "I'll take Ronan there."

  "Ve Mairva and I will accompany you," Annukki said. "Come."

  Cynara followed the two shaauri to the edge of the settlement. Distant noise hinted at ongoing conflict in the arena, but no one had yet come looking for the errant humans.

  Ronan fell into a steady pace beside her, gazing straight ahead. She concentrated on the path that led up the hill and into the forest. A few small, white flakes of snow powdered her shoulders and the shaauri's fur. She had a sudden, vivid memory of Bifrost, and Ronan virtually naked in the howling fury of a perpetual storm.

  He was responsible for that storm and the turmoil that followed. He'd been nothing but trouble since the day he'd come aboard the Pegasus. If she had it to do over again…

  She shook such irrelevant speculation from her mind like the snow from her hair. Sometime later Mairva signaled a halt, and they paused at the edge of a familiar clearing.

  On the other side lay the spaceport buildings, the landing field, and the ship. Cynara recognized it as some kind of shaauri vessel, but its markings were indecipherable to her eyes.

  "I must find out who they are," she said to Annukki. "Can you identify the ship if we go closer?"

  The shaaurin indicated agreement, and all of them, including Ronan, crouched in the tall grass. They worked their way forward, Mairva in the lead, until they had a clearer view of the ship and the several figures moving on the ground beside it.

  Human figures.

  "Kinsmen," Annukki hissed.

  Cynara settled onto her haunches, drawing Ronan down beside her. "You see how it is," she said coolly, as if he might answer. "Your friends have made it clear that we won't be welcome in the settlement, and Darja will keep coming after us. Even if you were in your right senses, I don't know how long we could live off the land with little hope of rescue." She laughed. "We did want the Kinsmen to take the false intelligence. Now we have our chance."

  Ronan blinked, and the first flicker of life came into his eyes. "Yes," he croaked. "Let them take us."

  Mairva moved closer and spoke to Ronan in a low voice. He reached out, palm up, and she laid her huge hand over his. After a moment he exchanged the same gesture with Annukki.

  "Kei'lai, " the shaaurin said. She looked at Cynara. "Ancestors watch and guide." With only the faintest rustle of dried grasses, she and Mairva vanished.

  'They go back," Ronan said, staring at the Kinsman ship. "They have done all they can."

  "Can you do what needs to be done?"

  "Yes."

  'There's a good chance they'll realize the intelligence is a trap."

  "They will not discover it from me. But you have lost the barriers the Persephoneans put into your mind."

  "I'm prepared to take that risk. We'll tell the Kinsmen at least part of the truth—you were caught on Persephone trying to assassinate the Archon, and they let you go because they discovered that you were a Challinor."

  "And what will we tell them is the reason that you are with me?"

  "You believed I had knowledge that might be of use to the shaauri, so you abducted me. Convince yourself, and you'll convince them." She smiled coldly. "Unfortunately, an old rival took over your House, and your enemies here are trying to kill both of us. You don't even have to pretend that you like the Kinsmen, as long as they believe that going to them was our only chance of survival."

  "You have it very well planned, Aho'Va."

  "I plan for both of us to survive. Let's go."

  They stood up, chest and head above the grass. One of the distant figures turned toward them.

  A silent alarm was given. At the edge of the tall grass, where it had been mown short to accommodate landing ships, three armed Kinsmen came to claim them.

  The two men and single woman wore uniforms of dark red with black bars on back and shoulders designed to mimic the striping of shaauri fur. They stopped well short of Cynara and Ronan, weapons raised.

  Cynara felt the assault of several minds on her own, sifting her surface thoughts. If Ronan suffered the same scrutiny, his face didn't show it.

  The Kinswoman raised her brows. "We were expecting you," she said to Ronan. Her gaze sought Cynara's. "You must be the Concordat agent Lenko told us about. Artur will be very happy to see you both."

  The ship lifted from Aitu as soon as the Kinsmen and their prisoners were aboard. Its interior was very much like the one Ronan had seen before they had stripped his mind of memory. Perhaps it was even the same vessel.. It was modeled after a shaauri striker but on a smaller scale, adapted for human use and heavily armed. Artur Constano VelRauthi was clearly prepared for attack and defense.

  But by whom? Did he already fear what the shaauri might discover?

  Ronan glanced at Cynara again, clearing the last confusion from his thoughts. He had been mad for a time after Sihvaaro's death, and thus had forfeited the chance to protect her until the Arhan ship arrived. Sihvaaro had been wise to summon them, but they would come too late.

  He had lost more than Sihvaaro in the past few hours, but he had no one to blame save himself. He had withdrawn too far, disgracefully abandoned Cynara in her time of greatest need.

  And she had changed. She had taken command in spite of her limited knowledge and many disadvantages, never hesitating to do what must be done. She was true aho'va, as he had known from the beginning. That was not what convinced him that she had inexplicably altered.

  She looked as she always had, except for the utter coldness of her eyes. But her voice had undergone an unmistakable transformation, along with everything she did and said—sometimes in only a subtle nuance, at others so blatantly that it was as if another soul spoke through her mouth.

  That other soul was unreachable. She had closed her mind from him as well as the Kinsmen. He had begun to believe that she was invulnerable to any probe to which they might subject her.

  She was lost to him. All that remained was to keep her alive until she had the opportunity to escape.

  He shut such thoughts behind a barrier thick as the ship's hull and let the Kinsmen push them through the main corridors, past stations manned by Kinsman technicians and into a narrower corridor of many doors. One of these led to the inevitable holding cell, cold and sparsely furnished.

  Ronan had learned to expect dry humor from Cynara under such circumstances. He waited for her to speak, but she simply sat down against the bulkhead and ignored him.

  Sihvaaro, my father, you are my only Ancestor. Guide me now.

  He sat opposite Cynara and stared at her until she looked up. Her eyes were glazed with ice like Lake Ashti in the Month of Brittle Bra
nches. What agonies had she suffered for his sake?

  "Cynara," he said. 'Tell me what has happened."

  She looked through him. "I want to stay alive."

  Ronan had not believed himself capable of breaking under rightful chastisement, or even her justified contempt. But it came to him then how much he had come to rely upon Cynara's warmth, her unfailing concern for others, the affection he had taken far too much for granted.

  "You have changed," he whispered.

  "Because I fought for both of us?" She smiled. "What did I do that you found so disturbing? Escape your warrior friend? Threaten Lenko and start a coup among the Kalevii? Or take you out of there when you were as helpless as an infant?"

  She mocked him, and yet she spoke as if those very feats must excite his amazement. The Cynara he knew was courageous and determined, and none of her recent actions were beyond her abilities.

  "You fought bravely and well," he said. "You saved my life and confounded Lenko. You have won the respect of many who would have killed you."

  "Their respect means nothing," she said. "You're allowing yourself to be vulnerable, Ronan. They might be listening even now." She turned her face aside. "Sihvaaro's dead, and you can't bring him back."

  Her words clawed at his heart. "He died for me. For us."

  "And you feel guilt. You should have died in his place. Poor Ronan." Her profile was carved of granite. "If I hadn't acted as I did, Lenko would have handed us both to Darja."

  Ronan drew his knees up to his chest and closed his eyes. You believed she was my true lifemate, Sihvaaro. I never believed she would accept me. But at least she will not grieve. She will be free.

  "You are right," he said quietly. "I am not strong. I would have failed."

  "Your self-pity becomes tiresome. All I expect is that you do what is necessary."

  To survive. But mere survival had never been enough for this woman, not at any cost. "Who are you?" he asked. "Whose voice speaks to me now?"

  She didn't answer, but her fingers trembled when she pushed at her hair.