He broke off and cast an uneasy glance over Tikaya’s shoulder. Rias had come up behind her without a word or a sound. Blood trickled from the side of his eye and his ear, and Tikaya ground her teeth, not regretting her attack on Yosis for a second. If there weren’t policemen edging closer, she’d be tempted to punch him again.
Rias eyed the professor, but Tikaya couldn’t guess what was going through his mind. None of the rage she felt seemed to burn in his eyes. How could he be so calm?
“Take them both to jail.” Yosis had moved away from Tikaya and Rias and was standing—hiding—behind one of the patrollers. “You see what kind of animal she’s become under his influence?”
“His influence?” Rias asked mildly. “I haven’t pummeled anyone.” He rested his hand on Tikaya’s back and gave her a half smile. She blushed, though she had the impression he was pleased that she’d beaten up some fellow on his behalf.
“What were you doing in the library at night?” the ranking policeman asked.
Tikaya opened her mouth to proclaim that she was on the faculty and could visit the library any time she wished—no need to mention the second-floor lock picking, but Rias answered first. “Searching for a private spot. Between her family-filled home and the thin walls of the Pragmatic Mate, we’ve found it difficult to... visit with each other.”
Tikaya blushed harder. She could understand making up a story to cover their true interest, but she didn’t want all of these strangers imagining her... visiting.
“Are you telling me that you were using the library for some sort of... tryst?” the policeman demanded.
“We are both academically inclined,” Rias said. “And those posh reading chairs on the first floor are quite comfortable.”
That earned a round of glowers, and a lip curl from the official who was probably even then vowing to never read in those chairs again.
Tikaya nudged Rias with her elbow. “Stop helping,” she whispered. As it was, this news would likely spread all over town. If she was going to go visit Parkonis’s mother, she didn’t want the woman thinking she’d become the sort who... violated library reading chairs with men.
“Ma’am?” the policeman asked again.
“Though I’m inclined to have Ms. Komitopis put in jail,” the female official said, “her father would create a fuss over that. Take her home and leave someone to ensure she stays there. If Professor Yosis wishes to file a complaint of assault, we’ll have a judge attend to it.”
Stay at home? How was she supposed to find a power source for Rias if she had to stay at home?
“I want a full psychiatric evaluation done on her,” Yosis said.
Tikaya slumped. As satisfying as beating him into the ground had been, the repercussions were going to be unpleasant. She imagined a flock of telepaths descending on her home to “evaluate” her.
“And him?” the policeman asked.
“Yosis’s summons was heard,” the official said.
“What does that mean?” Rias murmured.
“I’m not sure,” Tikaya said.
“My colleagues are coming?” Yosis asked. “Excellent.”
“Reinforcements?” Rias guessed.
Something about the smug expression on Yosis’s battered face made her think it might be worse. A moment later, Yosis turned his head toward the street. A cluster of men and women in the white robes of the Practitioner School strode onto the Polytechnic campus. A pair of gold braids were sewn into the sleeves of each person, a couple of inches above the hem. Tikaya’s stomach sank. These were faculty members from the College of Telepaths.
The policemen stepped back, perhaps happy to hand the Rias problem off to someone else. The practitioners joined Yosis, bent their heads, and conferred for a moment before forming a line facing Tikaya and Rias.
“It is time to see why this enemy of our people is really here,” a white-haired telepath said.
Though Tikaya already stood in front of Rias, she eased over so she more fully blocked him from them. “What are you planning to do? He’s my guest here, and even if he weren’t, there are laws about using invasive mental techniques on people.”
“On Kyattese citizens, yes, but he is not a citizen.”
“There are treaties about employing those techniques on Nurians and Turgonians as well,” Tikaya said.
“Ah,” the white-haired man said, “but I’ve been informed that he’s no longer a Turgonian citizen. The police said you made a statement to that effect during your questioning, is that not true?”
Tikaya stared at him. Dear Akahe, what did they plan to do to Rias that they needed to go fishing for loopholes in the law?
“He has also told me that he’s in exile,” Yosis said. “As odd as it seems, he’d have more protection here if he were still a Turgonian citizen.” The professor smiled sweetly at Rias around his split lip. “You wouldn’t care to change your stance would you? Admit that you’re still the emperor’s man?”
“I am not,” Rias said without hesitation.
Emotion welled in Tikaya’s throat. Rias might tell a story about a lovers’ tryst to protect what he doubtlessly thought was some greater good, but he wouldn’t lie to save himself.
“He’s my guest,” Tikaya said. “I invited him here to meet my family. Taking him off for... whatever inimical mind probes you have in mind is unacceptable.”
Rias stirred at the mention of “mind probes.” Maybe she shouldn’t have been so blunt. Whatever mental intrusions he suffered in the past couldn’t have been a pleasant experience. Mind rape. She didn’t think her people would be cruel, but the very act of drilling into someone’s thoughts... It couldn’t be anything other than painfully invasive.
“Inimical?” said the white-haired man. “Really, Ms. Komitopis, there’s no need for histrionics. I assure you, we are professionals. We merely seek the truth.”
The truth. Gali had also sought the truth when she probed Tikaya’s mind.
Tikaya looked at Rias over her shoulder, tempted to tell him to sprint into the darkness and find passage off the island before they could find him. He could send a note, let her know where he landed, and she would go to him. Even if it meant leaving her family and her career for the foreseeable future. She opened her mouth to say as much, but Rias winced.
“Come,” Yosis said. “Now.”
“He’s not a hound,” Tikaya snapped at him, fingers curling into a fist again. She wondered how long his range was. When had he first attacked Rias? Within a hundred meters of the library? Two hundred? A mile? She didn’t know how long Rias had been hunched on the carpet, in pain. She shouldn’t have left him alone up there.
“Perhaps not,” Yosis said, “but, like a hound, he’ll learn that pain comes with aberrant behavior. Appropriate behavior offers the cessation of pain.”
Yosis either thought Rias couldn’t understand him or that he was an idiot. Or maybe he knew that Rias understood him and was arrogant enough to think he could break him even with that awareness.
“We’d best call it an evening, Tikaya,” Rias murmured and walked toward the practitioners, his hands clasped behind his back. He gazed over his shoulder at her. “Perhaps we’ll have a chance to revisit the chairs another time.”
Two policemen stopped him and patted his waist and pockets before allowing the practitioners to take him. Nothing came of the search. Had he not had time to finish tracing the map? Or maybe he’d hidden his work on his way out. He’d mentioned the chairs twice.
A policewoman headed in Tikaya’s direction. Searching for that map would have to wait.
The officials turned away, apparently feeling their work was done. Tikaya jogged over and planted herself in front of the female who’d been giving orders. “Ma’am, I request that you assign someone different to follow Rias around. Professor Yosis seems to have some sort of vendetta. Either that or he’s just a small man who’s relishing this chance at power far too much.”
“Ms. Komitopis, I suggest you go with the police and stay
home and out of trouble. Your time spent with the Turgonians and your actions of late have many people questioning your loyalties and what you seek to accomplish in bringing a hated enemy here.”
Tikaya, beginning to question what she sought to accomplish as well, didn’t have an answer. Perhaps it was time to give up. She and Rias could return again in a few years, when time had softened the pain of the war—and people’s hatred of Turgonians. She watched the practitioners stalking away, Rias hemmed in between them, his head and shoulders above the tallest of them. His size mattered little. They had him. If she chose to leave, how would she get him away from them?
When Tikaya didn’t respond, the official stepped past, heading for the street.
“Can you at least tell me when the president is due back?” Tikaya asked. He was the one person who could wave his hand and see to it Rias was treated well, and he was the one person who owed Rias a favor. If he knew about it.
“That is unknown. Goodnight, Ms. Komitopis.”
The policewoman who remained cleared her throat and pointed Tikaya toward a different road, the one leading to her family’s plantation. A short, sturdy lady with pale brown hair, the woman didn’t appear as threatening as the practitioners, but her presence could certainly keep Tikaya from continuing the research she and Rias had started that night. An agate rank button pinned on her uniform shirt glowed faintly, reminiscent of moonlight, and Tikaya recalled that the police could communicate with each other from different parts of the city. Yes, her every movement would likely be reported.
Tikaya sighed and headed toward the tree where she’d left her bicycle. After the practitioners and officials disappeared into the city, Elloil ambled out of the bushes, pushing his own bicycle.
“Ho, there, Tikaya,” he said. “Where have you been? Mother sent me to look for you.” He turned his shoulder toward the policewoman and mouthed something that might have been, “I tried. Didn’t you hear my warning?”
Tikaya only shrugged. Maybe Rias had heard it, but it hadn’t come soon enough to help.
“Are you all right?” Ell asked after she’d collected her bicycle.
“Of course not.” Tikaya gazed toward the dark, empty street that had swallowed Rias and his pack of watchdogs. “I’m waiting for him to wake up, decide I’m not worth all this pain, and disappear. I don’t think there’s a prison that could hold him, if he were determined to escape.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Are what?”
“Worth it.” Ell smiled.
Tikaya tried to feel better at his assertion, but couldn’t manage it.
CHAPTER 9
Tikaya sat on the steps of the lanai, gazing out at the sea and ignoring the stack of books at her side. Her colleague Liusus had brought a pile of work over that morning, certain she’d find her confinement restless. Given that Liusus had not approved of Tikaya’s interest in “maritime archaeology,” she had expected frowns of disapproval, but apparently nobody knew that she and Rias had been in the Oceanography Wing. He must have put everything away and locked the door before Yosis’s attack. Tikaya had been too embarrassed to ask if the entire island thought she’d been polishing Admiral Starcrest’s sword in the Polytechnic library.
“Nobody’s been able to figure out what to do with that sphere,” was what Liusus had said when Mother dragged the two of them inside, insisting Liusus have lunch before returning to work. “When I told them that it lights up and shows pictures, it was amusing to see so many stuffy old archaeologists and philologists completely agog. Once the smoke around your Turgonian blows away from the island, the dean will be leaning on the government, begging, imploring, and otherwise bribing them for permission for you to come back to work.”
Tikaya had mulled over whether she could use that somehow to escape house confinement. Under normal circumstances, she’d love to return to work to study alongside her colleagues, but she was too worried about Rias to think about the ancient technology. Once Liusus left, Tikaya ignored the stack of books and let the mystery of his disappearing basin fill all the space in her head. She itched to get back to the Polytechnic and find everything she could on that missing year.
The policewoman, however, sat on the end of the lanai, munching on taro chips and lemonade. Tikaya tried not to find it a betrayal that Mother was feeding her keeper. Mother fed everyone. If the Turgonian emperor showed up at their door, he’d likely have a platter of roasted pork and grilled pineapple in his hands before he could sit down.
As if the thoughts had produced her, Mother pushed open the sliding screen door and came out with a pitcher. “More lemonade, dear?” Without waiting for a response, she filled Tikaya’s glass and the policewoman’s as well.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the woman said, though she cast a furtive glance toward the road, as if she were worried some superior would chance upon her enjoying refreshments while on duty.
“Tikaya, dear,” Mother said, “you haven’t eaten.” She tilted her chin toward a plate sitting on the railing. “How are you going to gain your health back when you don’t eat?”
“My health is fine, Mother. I’m just busy thinking.”
“You spend too much time thinking. You always have.” Mother set the pitcher down and settled on the steps next to Tikaya. “What is it today? Your young man or the trouble you’ve stirred up?” She glanced toward the policewoman.
Despite herself, Tikaya smiled at hearing Rias called her “young man.” “They’re inextricably intertwined right now, but I’m most worried about him. The College of Telepaths has him. They could be forcing their way into his head right now.”
“I’m sure that won’t happen, dear. That’s not ethical, and the treaty—”
“They’re ignoring the treaty. Because he’s no longer a Turgonian citizen, they think they can.”
Mother frowned. “That’s abhorrent. I’ll talk to your father. As a Komitopis guest, your fellow should be afforded some protection.”
“If Father would be willing to claim him. That seems... unlikely.”
“I’ll talk to him when he comes in from the fields tonight.”
“Rias has been a prisoner before,” Tikaya said. “Tortured and mind-assaulted by the Nurians. I didn’t think... I wouldn’t have brought him here if—”
“I’ll talk to your father, dear. I promise. If he wants to continue enjoying my cooking and good favor, he’ll listen.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Tikaya doubted her gratitude sounded sincere. She didn’t want to underestimate her mother’s ability to influence people, especially those who lived within her domain, but she doubted Father would prove malleable on this topic. Besides, tonight might be too late. The telepaths may have already done their work on Rias.
“It’ll turn out,” Mother said. “We may not have an aristocracy, the way the Turgonians and Nurians do, but our family has played a significant role in Kyattese history since the beginning. The government won’t ignore us.”
Tikaya gazed past her mother and at the door carving highlighting the first landing. “Yes, that’s true, isn’t it? A Komitopis captained one of the colony ships, and many of our ancestors have served in office over the years.”
Mother nodded. “As president several times, among other positions.”
And what, Tikaya wondered, had her ancestors been up to in the 390s? In 397, specifically. “You keep a journal, don’t you?”
Mother cocked her head at this change of topic. “Yes, I write it in almost every day.”
“Do you know if other people in the family have? Throughout history?”
“Yes, of course, it’s commonly done. Unlike some of the first colonists that let their ancestors go rural, the Komitopises have always prided themselves on literacy and education.”
Tikaya lowered her voice. She doubted the policewoman had any knowledge of government intrigues, but who knew what she would report back? “Do we have an archive of family history or anything like that?”
“An archive? That’s an
optimistic word for it, but there are crates full of books and family relics in the attic.” Mother offered a crooked smile. “Crates full of utter junk too. Organizing it all would be a project for...” She lifted her eyebrows. “Perhaps for someone confined to the house and seeking to distract one’s mind from grim thoughts.”
“Mother, are you trying to trick me into cleaning the attic?” In truth, Tikaya was delighted to have an excuse to run up there and hunt around. She wondered if her mother knew that and had made the suggestion for the benefit of the policewoman.
“Of course not, dear.” Mother’s eyes grew wide and her smile innocent. “More lemonade?”
“Maybe later.” Tikaya helped her mother up. “This is the original house our family built, isn’t it? So there might be items dating all the way back to the original colony up there?”
“The original house, yes, though it’s grown and expanded quite a bit over the years. I honestly have no idea what’s up there, though the older stuff would be in the west wing. That was the original bungalow.”
“Thank you.”
Tikaya nearly ran into the house and up to the second floor where a creaking pull-down ladder led to the attic. Faint light seeped in through vents at one end. Dusty crates filled the dark space, and she tripped before she’d taken a step. She recovered, clunking her head on the low gabled roof, and thought about retreating for food and water and other spelunking supplies after taking in the sheer bulk of furnishings, crates, trunks, and various—as Mother had called it—junk that stuffed the space. There weren’t any aisles. There were simply areas that would be easier to climb over than others.
Once Tikaya lit a few lamps, she began the hunt for bookcases and other book depositories—such as the ash can she upended, dumping out magazines filled with hand-drawn nude women.
“Lovely. My family members thought it important to collect the earliest forms of Kyattese pornography.” Regardless, she eyed them long enough to date them. Less than seventy years old. “Ugh,” she muttered at the thought that they might have belonged to Grandpa or one of his brothers.
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