Linzine looked at Vellmar, the pride glowing in her eyes. “She is good, isn’t she?”
“Please tell me you don’t have any more children waiting somewhere, ready to take even the gold medals away from us.”
“I do, but you don’t need to worry about him. He’s a Mariner.”
He gave her a mock frown. “That’s not making me worry less.”
“He doesn’t care about blade handling.” Vellmar leaned around her mother to speak. “His main interests are spirits, parties, and men. You have no need for concern.”
“Fianna.”
“It’s true, Bai.”
“It’s not true.” Linzine turned toward her and lowered her voice. “All right, it’s not true anymore. You haven’t seen him in cycles; give him some credit for growing up.”
“When did that happen?”
“It started when you left. He needed to get out from under your shadow.”
“Just because I’m taller—” Vellmar stopped as her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Right, old joke,” she muttered. “But I’ve never understood why you let him blame me for his problems.”
“He doesn’t blame you—”
“Oh, Bai, I’m not a fanten to be fed that slop. He does blame me, and he always has. As if my successes somehow curse him to fail.”
“Your successes…made him reluctant to try.”
“That is not my fault!”
“No, it’s not.” Linzine sighed. “Fianna, look at it from his point of view. All his life you’ve beaten him at everything. You’re a far higher empath, you took to blade handling like you were born with one in your hand, you were at the top of all your classes, you’ve advanced so swiftly through the ranks—”
“And except for the empathic ability, I’ve worked for everything you just mentioned! He always had that option; he just chose not to take it.”
“Have a little sympathy. How would you feel if you spent your days watching someone else do everything better than you?”
“I do exactly that right now. Her name is Lancer Tal. The only thing she doesn’t do better than me is blade handling. How do I feel about it? Honored to be serving her and hopeful that someday I can learn to be as good as she is.”
Linzine snorted. “Probably not the best comparison, daughter.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s the Lancer. She was practically born into that title; her whole life has trained her for it. I have always admired the way you set your goals high, but you should moderate that one.”
“Are you truly telling—”
“I’m up.” Linzine gave her an apologetic glance and walked to the competitor’s box.
Vellmar quietly stewed as her birthmother made a perfect throw. When it was her turn, she stepped into position and somehow knew that this one was not going to land where she needed it to.
It hit the target half a finger’s width from the center, and the crowd roared even more loudly than when she had landed her last perfect throw.
They were cheering for her to lose?
“Don’t listen to the crowd,” Linzine said when she returned to her seat. “They don’t care which one of us wins. They just don’t want it to be the same one each time. Since you won the last event, they’re cheering for me now.”
“Well, you just won this event, so I’ll look forward to all the crowd support tomorrow.”
Linzine gazed at her steadily. “I am very proud of you, Fianna. I always have been.”
That was not something their family said out loud very often. Vellmar ducked her head. “Thank you.”
“I’m proud of your brother, too, because he has finally found his own path and is walking on it with steady strides. It’s not your path, and that’s all right. I ask only that you respect it when you see him.”
“When I—” She looked up in horror. “He’s coming here?”
“Your ba is bringing him. I was hoping they would be here by now, but she called and said they were held up at the magtran station. They should get here in time for the medal ceremony.”
She had been looking forward so much to seeing her bondmother, but now her anticipation suffered a sudden decline. It had never occurred to her that her brother would want to come to see her compete.
Now that she was thinking about it, though, it did make sense. He wasn’t coming to see her win. He was coming to see her lose. It would probably be the highlight of his life to see his sister lose a championship.
By the time her turn came again, she had managed to shake off her unhappiness and remind herself why she was here and how much she had enjoyed it until now. She made two more perfect throws, but her single error had cost her. Her birthmother took the red medal, and she took the blue. They were now tied.
At the ceremony, she stood beneath the blue banner and watched the gold medalist accept his prize. He waved to the cheering crowd, which grew louder when the music changed to signify a higher medal being awarded. The volunteer walked toward her with a blue medal resting on a padded tray, and behind him two people sidled into the competitors’ rest area. She would have recognized them at any distance.
As much as she and her birthmother resembled each other, so did Jerran and his birthmother. Both were shorter, with jutting chins and curly brown hair, and both walked with the same hip-rolling stride. They came to the front and applauded while the volunteer pinned Vellmar’s medal to her competitor’s vest.
Jerran was smirking as he clapped, and he raised a fist to his chest in a mocking salute. She ignored him, looking to her ba instead, who was jumping up and down with glee. The sight made her grin; her bondmother had always been more overt than her birthmother.
The jumping increased in height when Linzine accepted her red medal, and Vellmar laughed just watching it. Her mothers were quite a pair, and it was a joy to see them here in Blacksun. For their sake, she could tolerate Jerran.
After all, it was only for three and a half days.
CHAPTER 9:
Family
“You should be more like Jerran,” Milena told her brother. “He flew all the way from Port Calerna just to cheer for Vellmar. You didn’t even want to come to my demonstration bout.”
“But it’s so boring,” Harren protested. “Everyone in your class was doing the same moves. And I’ve seen you doing them in our garden eleventy million times. It didn’t look any different.”
Jandahar could sympathize. He was happy to support Milena’s love of the Alsansa fighting style, which gave her a constructive outlet for her boundless energy, but watching thirty children taking turns performing the exact same series of moves had taxed even his patience. He was proud of Harren for not whining until the twentieth repetition.
“That is how good competitors become great ones,” he said gently. “Remember what Vellmar always said: the difference between good and better is a matter of effort. Your sister is making that effort.”
“Because someday I’m going to be in the Global Games!” Milena flopped onto her side, looking at Harren with bright eyes. “And you’ll come to watch me.”
“I want to see you in the Games. Those will be exciting. Not like your boring demonstration bouts.”
“They’re not boring!”
“They are too. Why can’t we just go to see you instead of having to watch everyone else?”
“Because that’s rude! You have to watch everyone. Jerran watched everyone, even though the only person he wanted to see was Vellmar. He was a good brother.”
“Milena,” Jandahar said mildly. “Harren is a very good brother, and you know that. He came to your bout and cheered for you, did he not?”
She flopped onto her back again. “Yes. But he just said it was boring.”
“The other ones were boring.” Harren tried for diplomacy. “Not you. You were the best.”
Back onto her
side she went, her eyes sparkling. “I was?”
Harren nodded.
“Good.”
Jandahar cleared his throat and resumed his story. “So after many cycles of separation, Vellmar and her brother were reunited at last. Their joy was so great that even a low empath could have sensed it.”
CHAPTER 10:
Swimming
“So, blue!” Jerran said jovially as the four of them walked to the competitor tent. “Nice color! I’ve always preferred it to red.”
“Then you won’t like my medal from yesterday,” Vellmar said.
“What happened between yesterday and today?”
“Bai took me back to her unit last night and poured half a lake’s worth of spirits down my throat.”
“Linzine, really?” her bondmother said. “You got her drunk?”
“I didn’t get her drunk!” Linzine protested. “My unit did.”
Jerran laughed uproariously. “You fell for that? You should spend more time with Mariners. We could train you to hold your drink.”
“Thank you, I don’t need training in that. I just need Bai to stop cheating.” Vellmar shot her birthmother a grin.
“I’ll have to now,” Linzine said without a trace of guilt. “It could only work once.”
“If she were less intelligent, it could have worked twice.” Khasa Londin looked at her daughter with sparkling eyes. “Fortunately for her, we gave her the best of both of our brains.”
“But you left out the evil parts,” Vellmar said. “I’m much less devious than either of you.”
Jerran snorted. “That’s not an advantage in Blacksun. Shouldn’t you be more devious? I always hear what a pit of zalrens this city is.”
“I’ve heard that, too. And I’ve certainly seen some of it.” Vellmar thought back to the events of her very first nineday in Blacksun, when she had helped Lancer Tal strategize to survive a fight to the death. “But I’ve also met some wonderful people. Some of them I’m lucky enough to call friends.”
She refrained from mentioning that one of those individuals was the Bondlancer herself. There was no telling what her mothers would say, and she didn’t want to know what Jerran would think of it.
The competitors’ tent was a hive of activity, with some competitors prepping for upcoming events, others coming in after finishing theirs, and volunteers scurrying in all directions. Vellmar and Linzine picked up their gear bags, bathed and changed in the temporary shower, and rejoined the others just outside the tent.
Vellmar nearly dropped her bag when she saw Head Guardian Gehrain speaking to her brother. He was out of uniform and looking relaxed as he laughed at something Jerran said. She joined the conversation and somehow managed to maintain a semblance of calm while accepting Gehrain’s congratulations and making introductions. When Gehrain excused himself five ticks later, she rounded on her brother.
“No. Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?” he asked innocently.
“He is my supervising officer! Find someone else.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that? He didn’t say how he knew you.” Jerran looked after Gehrain, whose height made him visible above everyone around him as he walked away. “And that is one fine-looking warrior. Whew.”
Vellmar threw up her hands. “Gah! You’re like a hedgedog in spring! And he already has a lover.”
“Not the impression I got,” Jerran said in a sing-song voice. “He seemed very…sociable for someone who shouldn’t be looking around.”
She looked at her birthmother in mute appeal.
“Jerran, that would not be good form. Fianna has to maintain a professional relationship with him.” Linzine gestured at the dense crowds milling around the tent and stands. “There is no shortage of options here.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. May I just remind everyone that I didn’t start this? He came up to me.”
“No, he came to see me, and you happened to be standing here.” Vellmar could feel herself shrinking, going back in age to her childhood when Jerran continually stole or hid her toys. She was a grown warrior, Lead Guard to the Lancer, and still her brother could set off her temper within a tentick of arrival.
Their mothers chattered happily during the walk to the magtran station. As Vellmar listened with half an ear, she realized that she had not seen Gehrain with his crafter lover in the last moon. It must be one of Fahla’s jokes that he would be ready for a quick and easy joining while her brother was in town.
Linzine stopped in front of the magtran map inside the soaring lobby of the station. Through the wall of glass comprising the north side, Vellmar could see the Games stands above the tops of the trees, banners of all colors flying from the highest points. She had attended these Games so many times to watch her mother, but that view looked different now. She was a competitor, not a spectator. She tapped her chest pocket, where her second medal was now nestled in its protective box, and smiled to herself.
“I don’t think so,” Khasa was saying. “I heard it’s not as good as it used to be.”
“What about Bellarnos?” Linzine suggested a restaurant whose name caught Vellmar’s attention. “I’ve heard it’s expensive but excellent, and I think we deserve excellent today.”
“It’s extremely good,” Vellmar said without thinking.
The others turned to look at her.
“You’ve been there?” Khasa asked.
“Ah…Lancer Tal and Bondlancer Opah have.”
“You guarded them there.” Jerran nodded in understanding.
She hadn’t, actually. Salomen had returned from an evenmeal with Lancer Tal and told her all about it. But she couldn’t say that without answering difficult questions about why the Bondlancer was discussing restaurants with her, so she cringed internally and lied to her family. It was only a nod of the head, not an actual verbal lie, but it felt just as bad.
“Well, if it’s good enough for the Lancer and Bondlancer, then it’s certainly good enough for us. Shall we celebrate?” Khasa beamed at her family and swept off toward the line that would take them to the southeast quadrant of Blacksun.
They could not find four seats together in the waiting capsule, so Vellmar sat with her bondmother while Linzine and Jerran took seats farther in the back.
“I’m sorry we missed your event,” Khasa said. “The Games seem to be getting more popular. Even the extra capsules on the lines weren’t enough; we couldn’t get a seat.”
A chime announced the thirty-second countdown.
“It’s all right, Ba. I’m just happy to see you now. It feels like it’s been a cycle.”
Her bondmother beamed. “Half a cycle, but I know what you mean.” She reached over and ran a hand down the back of Vellmar’s head, a gesture that never failed to make her feel both loved and at least twenty cycles younger. “Every time I see you, it feels like it’s been too long. I wish you weren’t so far away.”
Another chime warned of their departure, and their capsule accelerated through its transparent side tube and down the hill. Smoothly it curved around and shot into the main trunk, where a few pipticks later a slight jar indicated their connection to the front of the magtran. Their speed never changed, but instead of a single capsule, they were now the first of several in the magtran currently hurtling over the city in its elevated tube. The rear doors of the capsule opened, allowing short-distance passengers to begin making their way back. Since Vellmar and her family were crossing most of the city, they stayed put.
“Blacksun is closer to Pollonius than Koneza,” Vellmar said.
“Physically, yes. But we all know it’s a world apart from the rest of Alsea. And I do worry about you.”
“Ba…”
“Just a little,” Khasa assured her. “I know you can take care of yourself physically. I just worry about the rest.”
&nbs
p; “I’m not involved in the rest.”
“Fianna, I saw you during that combat challenge. Lancer Tal was on the floor of the Council chamber, and you were in the guest gallery. Next to the Bondlancer.”
She winced, having forgotten about that. Other aspects of the day had taken precedence. “I couldn’t guard her during the challenge,” she said. It was not a lie.
“No, but I was under the impression that her Guards would have been around the edge of the chamber floor.”
“They were. She asked me to watch Bondlancer Opah.”
“Who has her own Lead Guard. How does he feel about you moving in on his duties?”
“Ba, I’m not moving in on him! I don’t guard the Bondlancer.” Officially, she added silently. “But if the Lancer asks me to look after her bondmate while she’s fighting a challenge to the death, am I supposed to refuse?”
“No, of course not.” Khasa looked out at the city flashing by. “I just don’t want you wading into waters that are too deep.”
It wasn’t that Vellmar didn’t feel the same way, but hearing her ba say it like that got under her skin. “Maybe it’s time for me to learn to swim,” she said. As Khasa’s head swiveled toward her, she added, “Besides, Ronlin and I are friends. He would never worry about drawing lines like that.”
“Ronlin?”
“Lead Guard for the Bondlancer.”
“Ah.” Khasa seemed mollified. “It’s good that you’re making the right connections.”
The rest of the ride passed in less dangerous conversation. Soon they rose to make their way through the magtran to the last capsule, which was now only two capsules behind them. There were three seats available, leading to a brief argument between Vellmar and Jerran over who would stand. Vellmar eventually let Jerran have his way and sat down, watching the countdown clock at the front of the capsule and wondering about the engineering that allowed their capsule to detach without any discernible vibration. This was something that had changed since the crash of the Caphenon and the flow of Protectorate technology into Alsean building techniques. She remembered the moment of detachment being much more jarring a few cycles ago.
Vellmar the Blade Page 4
