by Jaleta Clegg
Perhaps they could work together, Kuran thought as he walked past the enormous polished surface of the conference table in the reception room. And perhaps Atera would prove difficult. No matter. When one controlled the police and the military, one controlled the world.
Kuran seated himself in the end chair, the chair of Citizen Prime. It was huge, heavy and dark with age. And plain of any decoration, as it should be. He rested his hands in his lap, cradling his blaster between them, and waited for the rest of his rivals to be delivered to him.
Chapter 31
Another day of kicking rocks, I thought gloomily as I woke up. The cabin was cold in the early morning. The fire was only a few coals, glowing sullenly through a coating of ashes. I shivered at the thought of getting up. The floor was icy cold. Would it really matter if I didn't get up? My life was meaningless. I was doomed to spend the rest of it trapped in this chilly valley. I might as well stay comfortable.
My body had other ideas, as usual. I got up and padded across the cold floor to the bathroom, stopping only long enough to toss a small log onto the fire.
The room was still icy when I finished. Flames were barely beginning to lick up the sides of the log. I pulled the quilt off the bed and sat in a chair, wrapping it around me. Maybe I would sit all day in the cabin. My stomach growled at the thought. Lanoni'lai had made it clear to me after a week that those who didn't work, didn't eat. They'd given me one week to rest. So far I'd spent one day tangling yarn on their looms and another burning food. Yesterday they'd sent me to the terraced fields to work at repairing the stone walls. My thumb still ached from being smashed between two big rocks.
Lanoni'lai entered without knocking, as usual. I barely glanced at her. She set a steaming bowl of gruel on the table in front of me.
"You're going to be late," she said in her sweet, caring voice. I could hate her for sounding so nice all the time. "Bei'sool requested you work with him today, in the upper fields. The others know how you feel about crowding. It will just be the two of you. But you have to hurry."
She placed my boots next to my chair.
I glared at her. "And if I don't go, there won't be any food. What will you do if I choose to starve? Will that finally convince you to let me go?"
"You can't leave. And I don't think you'd let yourself starve, either. Now, eat and put your boots on. Bei'sool is waiting."
I shoved a spoon into the mush. It wasn't bad, sweetened with honey. I ate a bite then pushed my foot into a boot. Bei'sool was an empath. He was one of the few I could actually stand. He didn't treat me like some kind of mutated bug. He didn't barely tolerate my presence. He seemed to enjoy being with me. He was quiet in my head, so I could almost enjoy being with him. I didn't want to get him in trouble with the others. I ate another bite.
Lanoni'lai sat across from me. She watched me eat for a long moment.
"If you'd let us help, it might make things easier for you," she said.
"I don't want you in my head again."
Lanoni'lai looked down at her hands, clasped in front of her on the table. "I had similar trouble, when I first grew into my power." She ignored me rolling my eyes. "Most powers are easily identified by the time a child is five years old. But sometimes, at puberty—"
"The power explodes. The child's brain is in danger of growing out of its head unless the others step in and mess with the child's mind."
I watched her mouth tighten in annoyance. I deliberately baited her. I was tired of her offers to help. I wanted to deal with things my own way and in my own time.
"Adults gaining powers are very rare. Powers of your magnitude are even rarer. You have to let us help you."
"I'll be sure to call you if my head explodes," I said.
"This isn't a joking matter!"
"It's my head, not yours!"
"You don't understand," she said, back to being reasonable and sweet, "it isn't just you. All of us are linked. Together. And you are part of us now. If your powers grow out of control, if you slip, you will damage most of us, those who can't shield in time. Now do you understand why we must help you?"
"Self preservation is very understandable. And do you understand that that is why I can't stay here? I can't live like this the rest of my life."
"We can't let you leave. We have to protect ourselves. If they learn who we are, where we live, they will come and hunt us down like animals. They did before."
"Three hundred years ago." I shoved a lump of congealing mush to one side of the bowl. "What if I promise not to tell anyone?"
"You can't go," she said forcefully. "You still don't understand."
"I'm trying to preserve myself, just like you."
She shook her head. Her chestnut hair stayed still, pulled into a tightly braided knot. The streaks of silver caught the pale light from the window and glowed. Her face was tight with anger and the need to control it and herself. "You cannot be allowed to leave until you master your powers. And even then you may not be able to go."
I stopped to stare. This was new to me.
"This valley is shielded," she said more quietly. "It's a net, woven from all of our minds. You're part of it now. It's the only thing keeping you from going insane. You have to trust us. You cannot leave until you have gained complete mastery of your power. There is a chance you may never master it. Only here, where we can all help, will you be able to learn."
I slumped back in my chair, all anger drained out of me. I sensed the truth of what she said. She reached for my hand, then thought better of it. An unexpected touch could set off a surge of telepathic and empathic power from me that would leave most of the adults with headaches for the rest of the day. It had happened before.
"Do you understand now?" Her eyes, the color of pine trees, watched me intently, willing me to believe, to trust her.
"How do I learn control?" I asked, accepting the inevitable.
She pretended to smile. "You go carry rocks with Bei'sool." She held up her hand before I could begin to protest. "There are some exercises you can do. He'll show you. Keeping your distance while you practice is best for all of us. Bei'sool can shield himself from most of what you do. The rest of us can't."
I nodded, accepting what I couldn't change.
The air outside was cold, a layer of frost crusted every surface. The sun was just painting the far side of the valley in shades of peach and rust. I shivered in the gray light below. Bei'sool waited for me, standing patiently near the trail that twisted up the face of the terraces. He smiled in greeting. The rest of the villagers refused to even look at me.
"I have your lunch," Bei'sool said, holding up a package. "The sooner we begin, the sooner we finish," he said with a wink at Lanoni'lai.
I felt the bond between them, though I would have preferred to leave them their privacy. I had little choice. I was acutely aware of the thoughts and emotions of all of the villagers. Distance only bought me a mild reprieve. If I concentrated, even up on the highest terrace, I could still read their thoughts and feelings. I did my best to ignore it, but it was like an itch under my skin that I couldn't scratch.
I started up the path, knowing Bei'sool would join me soon enough. He and Lanoni'lai were engaged in a silent conversation, supposedly private. I didn't let them know I heard every thought.
I reached the first turn in the path and stopped, waiting for Bei'sool.
It hit me suddenly, a wordless screaming that ripped into my mind. I jerked around and was running before I was even aware I had moved. I ran for the entrance to the valley.
Bei'sool noticed. He ran after me, catching me in his brawny arms before I'd made it past the first row of cabins. I struggled to get free from him.
"Let me go," I begged. The plea for help was strong, the need to respond overwhelming.
"We've been over this," Bei'sool said calmly. "Lanoni'lai explained it to you. You can't leave."
I tried to shove his arms away from me, to slide under them. I had to answer that call for help. It grew more fran
tic as the moments raced by.
"Dace, I won't be tricked," Bei'sool said. "I cannot let you go."
"Don't you feel it?" I shouted. Tears of frustration and panic burned my eyes. "Let me go!" I pushed with my mind as well as my arms. Bei'sool staggered, his grip slipping.
I darted away, pulled to the source of that cry. The other villagers, who had been ignoring us up to this point, suddenly got involved. Maybe it was my mental shove. Most of them looked angry. They circled around me, blocking my way.
I ran into their linked arms, frantic to answer that pleading cry. I pushed and shoved. They blocked me, forcing me back. Bei'sool took my arms again. He was talking calmly, soft noises meant to soothe me.
"Can't you hear it?" I shouted at him, pushing his hands away from me, pushing at the mental cotton the others were trying to wrap around me.
"Hear what? I hear only the sounds of our mountain and the morning."
A scream split the air, shrill and terrified. All of the villagers paused at the sound. It came from the mouth of the valley. Bei'sool's head snapped up, staring beyond me.
"Now can you hear it?" I said, almost sobbing with my need to answer that cry.
I pushed his limp hands away from me. The villagers moved aside as I ran through them, towards the source of that screaming. The sound continued to tear the morning stillness to shreds. I was dimly aware of the others following me, moving more quickly as I outpaced them.
I came to the steep slope that led up and out of the valley. The barrier sparkled blue. I pushed, straining past it. It burned in my head, pulsing mental fire pushing me back into the valley. But the pulling terror and the screams drove me through the pain. I broke through with an effort that left me staggering and gasping.
I clawed my way up the rest of the slope, unable to stop even if I'd chosen to. I tumbled over the crest of the slope, losing my footing and falling in a heap on the snowbank beyond. The screams were loud here, echoing among the rocks. I scrambled to my feet, heading for the source of the terror without needing to even look for it. I was drawn like a fish on a line.
I was barely aware of the wolves as I brushed through their pack. All my attention was focused on the small figure crouched at the base of the cliff. The screaming was deafening, echoing from the rocks on all sides. I crouched down to crawl in next to where the child huddled in a small pocket of rocks.
"Shh," I whispered as I reached for the child. "You're safe. It's all right." The words came automatically, from some deeply buried level of my mind. I repeated the words, over and over, as I rocked the child. The screams slowly subsided.
The girl curled up against me. The screaming changed to a tired whimpering. I stroked matted hair off her face, murmuring soothing words over and over. As her whimpering subsided, so did the frantic need in my head to answer her cries. I rocked her, afraid to startle her into more screaming.
Her head drooped. Her breathing evened into sleep. I cradled her against me, feeling the weight of her mind lifting even as her body grew heavier. She wasn't very big. I couldn't even begin to guess how old she was.
I looked up to see the wolf leader watching me. She sat outside our rock pocket, her eyes holding amusement. She yipped once, a bark communicating both pride at bringing the child to me and relief that the screaming had finally stopped.
I reached with my mind for the wolf's. There was a disorienting moment of swirling sensations. I was suddenly seeing myself, a picture made up of smells as well as colors and heat, and the child I held. I touched vague memories of smells, sharp and pungent and wrong, and then finding the child in danger. There was nowhere to go but up the mountain, only the child did not seem to understand. The pack had to drive her, careful to keep her on the safe paths and out of sight of the others. The hunters had come, with strange fire and burning lights and evil smells. The pack was safe now that this one, the hairless one, had the other of her kind, the small one that shouldn't be outside of the den at such an age. The other one, the one who had a mind like a wolfpup, would keep her safe. The mountains were calling, with their whispering wind and blowing snows and secret places…
My cheek was stinging. I blinked rapidly, disturbed by the loss of colors. My nose felt dull, I smelled little but a lingering odor of smoke and unwashed body from the girl. Bei'sool slapped me again.
"Ouch," I complained.
He sighed with relief. He crouched over me, his hand raised to hit me again. "You were howling, calling the wolves," he said as if it explained everything.
I could still hear the pack, their haunting cries echoing across the cliffs. They were getting farther away with each call.
"They brought her," I said, not bothering to explain that for a moment I'd actually been a wolf.
"Bonding with animals like that is dangerous," Bei'sool said carefully, as if explaining that fire was hot to a small child. "It's too easy to get lost in their minds. Especially if they are intelligent."
"I didn't know I was doing it," I snapped.
"Which is why it isn't safe for you to leave the shelter of the valley," he said. "The veil is more than a way to keep others out. It also keeps us in and shields us from danger."
"I believe you," I said. "You don't have to tell me again."
He studied me, holding my face in his hand until he was satisfied I was telling the truth. He nodded once then bent his attention to the child in my arms.
"She's hurt," he said, concern knotting his brow. He reached for her, pulling her from my hold. She immediately began whimpering.
"Give her back," I said, scrambling up and holding out my arms. I could feel the panic starting to rise in her.
"You're in no shape to carry her," Bei'sool protested.
The child's eyes opened partway. Her whimpers grew louder. Her panic in my head was blinding me. I pulled her out of Bei'sool's grip. Her weight dragged me back down. She was heavier than I thought. I couldn't carry her.
She clamped her hand on my jacket, twisting it securely. I cradled her against me. She quieted, her head resting on my chest. Her eyes closed again.
Bei'sool stood over us, frowning at the exposed slope of snow. Wolf tracks led up to the rocks and back away. I stared at them, frightened at what had almost happened to me. I was definitely beyond anything I'd ever had experience with.
"Will she let me help you carry her?" Bei'sool finally asked.
I looked up at him. The sun behind him hid his expression. I didn't need to see it. I felt concern for me and for the girl and nothing more. The suspicion and anger and pain came from the others gathered at the top of the entrance to the hidden valley.
"I don't know," I said tiredly. The day was barely begun but I was already tired, worn out by the girl's panic.
He crouched back down, moving hair from her sleeping face. "Who is she?"
I shook my head. I had no more answers than he did.
"How did you hear her screaming before the rest of us?"
I shook my head again. "She called me. I felt her panic."
He put his hand on her forehead. His eyes narrowed in concentration, at once distant and yet so close. "You're linked to her," he said, puzzled. "Yet she is none of our blood. How can this be?"
"You don't have a monopoly on psychic powers."
My legs were cramping. I had to move. I tried to stand, holding the heavy weight of the sleeping child. Bei'sool put his arm around me, offering support. Together we managed to carry the inert child up to the trail.
Trey'nosaru blocked our entrance back into the valley. His wrinkled face was set in an expression of distaste. He was the eldest, the leader by default. The others offered him deference and respect and usually did what he asked. I stumbled to a halt in front of him, Bei'sool's help the only thing keeping me standing. The child sagged in my arms.
"You are no longer welcome," Trey'nosaru said. He made a weird gesture with his hands. Blue light flared around him.
I blinked, blinded by the flash. When it cleared, the old man was no longer sta
nding among the rocks. I hefted the girl higher in my arms and tried to take a step forward, onto the path that led into the valley.
Blue fire exploded under my feet, knocking me back. Bei'sool caught me and the girl before we tumbled down the slope. The force of the explosion knocked us all back. I sat in the snow, staring at the rocks.
"What was that?" I asked.
Bei'sool didn't answer. I glanced over my shoulder at his face. He was pale, his chin set stubbornly.
"The old fool has banned us. He curses us with the mountain death."
"He what?"
"He has sent us out to die of exposure or worse."
"Why?" I couldn't understand it. I knew they hated me, that they thought of me as an abomination to their ways and their understanding of the universe, but I hadn't expected this from them.
Bei'sool gestured at the girl I held. "Because of her."
"Then you heard it," I accused him. "You heard her calling for help."
He didn't answer me, not verbally. I felt his answer in the squirming mass of conflicting emotions inside him.
"You chose to ignore her," I said.
"Her voice was faint," he admitted. "It has happened before. They are not of our kind. They are unnatural, something not to be tolerated."
I shifted away from him, holding the child protectively. "They are a threat to your perceived superiority. You would have left her here to die."
"It is the natural way. It is what our laws decree must happen."
"And what about me?" I shouted at him. The girl whimpered in her sleep. "Would you have left me to die?"
"If you had been unable to pass the veil, yes." His words had the flat ring of truth.
"And what about the wolves? They helped me. They were helping her. They brought her to me."
"Bonding with animals is a perversion not to be tolerated," he said, the words precise and damning. He stood and backed away from me.
