LINDSEY Johanna - Heart of Warrior

by Heart of Warrior (lit)

  “Damnit upside and down!” Brittany gave her exasperation free reign. “You can at least give me a region to relate to. Desert, arctic, tropics? Igloos, tents, what?”

  “Ali, so it’s the carpenter that’s going nuts with curiosity? Very well, their architecture is pretty impressive, some of it ranking right up there with a sultan’s palace, and no, you won’t find any Sha‑Ka’ani in that part of the world,” was added with a chuckle. “Now give it up, doll. If he chooses to enlighten you when this is over, it would be info you can’t be allowed to keep, so all of this is pointless. Whatever he tells you, I’ll have to erase before we go home.”

  “Erase?” Brittany gasped. “Are you talking about making me forget somehow?”

  “Necessary.”

  Brittany was outraged. “Is that how they’ve remained unknown? Anyone who finds out about them gets their memory tampered with?”

  “Are we getting disturbed by the concept of self‑preservation?”

  Brittany hissed, “Messing around with someone’s memories is a dangerous‑”

  “Not even close,” Martha cut in this time. “Meticulous, exact,

  no guesswork involved. Only what needs to be removed gets removed. Everything else remains intact.”

  “Are you talking about hypnosis?” Brittany asked, her tone only slightly calmer.

  “Something like that. That relieve your mind?”

  It did‑and it didn’t. “You aren’t planning on erasing my memories of him, are you?” was asked in a small voice.

  “Lucky for me, I don’t possess a single sentimental circuit. You’d be better off not remembering him, kiddo, believe me “

  “You need have no fear that you will be allowed to forget me, kerima” came from a new quarter.

  “Not another word, warrior, until we go over the facts of ShaKa’ani life again,” Martha warned in a seriously annoyed tone.

  “What Martha has to say will be listened to, but it will make no difference when the decision has already been made,” Dalden replied.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “It is too late for denials.”

  “I swear, you’re getting more and more like your father every day.”

  The disgust in that remark was thick enough to cut, yet Dalden replied with some pride in his own tone, “I am pleased to hear you say so.”

  “Where is the common sense you inherited from your mother? Never mind,” came out in a low growl. “We’ll discuss this later. Her rust bucket has stopped moving. Finish the task at hand, and then we’ll talk about decisions that don’t have a chance in hen of working.”

  Chapter sixteen

  SLOUCH DOWN. SOME MORE.” A SIGH. “ I suppose that will have to do. Now stay there and let me do what you’re paying me for.”

  Dalden watched Brittany walk away from him, a smile in his mind. He was aware that she had no doubt whatsoever that he would obey her and stay on the bench where she had told him to sit. She had no understanding yet that it was against a warrior’s nature to take directives of any sort from a woman. But a woman could be humored. And special allowances had to be made when dealing with females from planets other than Sha‑Ka’an. He understood that, for the most part. He didn’t like it, but he understood.

  But he continued to watch her as she moved about the atrium in the place she called City Hall, stopping one person after another to speak a few words with each of them. It was, in fact, becoming increasingly difficult to do anything but watch her, when she was in the same area as him.

  He wondered if it was the influence of his mother’s Kystrani blood that was making him have unwarriorlike reactions around her, or simply because Brittany reminded him in many ways of his mother. Or it could be no other thing than the instinct he had been warned would take over when he found his true lifemate.

  Whatever it was, it seemed to be beyond his control. Some dhaya juice could be wished for to eliminate the constant urge he had to carry her to some quiet place and make her his, but the abundant supply that had been brought along, which would have been more than sufficient for the original trip, hadn’t lasted for this extended journey and had been exhausted the previous month. He had to wonder if even that would have been sufficient, when what he was feeling was beyond his experience.

  She fascinated him in myriad ways. She spoke like a Kystrani Ancient. She was very much like his mother, taking matters in hand and issuing orders. She was bold, stubborn, creative. She took pride in a craft that a Sha‑Ka’ani viewed as slave labor. She was independent. She felt she needed no other protection than what the laws of her country supplied her. She cooked and worked like a Darash servant and saw that as a normal thing to do. She was fulfilling the roles of both male and female and doing so happily. Her culture was so different from his that indeed there seemed no point where the two could meet and coexist.

  He suspected that Martha would point out all of this. He was prepared for it with a simple answer that even Martha couldn’t dispute.

  “Tedra’s going to wish she had come along on this trip,” came out of the combo‑unit in Sha‑Ka’ani, so anyone passing near wouldn’t understand it.

  “Why?” Dalden asked in kind.

  “Because these people so resemble her Ancients, you might wonder if they didn’t evolve from one of the original colony ships.”

  “Would they not be more advanced if that were so?” Dalden asked.

  “Not if they lost all data and had to start over from scratch. Unlikely, though. And it’s possible for two planets to evolve in exactly the same way, which would account for the similarities.”

  “You like Brittany,” Dalden remarked. “This I have sensed.”

  A chuckle. “What you meant to say was that Tedra would like her. But let’s not be tepid. Your mother would love the heck out of her. She’d be like a never‑ending Ancients tape for her to listen to. Probables say they’d become great good friends.”

  “When your goals always center around my mother’s ultimate happiness, how then can you object to bringing Brittany home with us?”

  “Because unlike you, I can see down the road, and Tedra won’t be happy if two people she loves are making themselves miserable.”

  “Such would not happen.”

  A sigh, prolonged, exaggerated; then in a no‑nonsense tone, “Let’s spend a moment to open your eyes beyond a squint, shall we? You and this female have the hots for each other. This is fine, even healthy. No one’s objecting to you having a bit of pleasure while you’re here, time permitting. But you have got to start looking at this thing realistically, Dalden.”

  “Why do you think I am not?”

  “The fact that we’re having this conversation was a good clue” came out sarcastically. Then, “A man can be and often is blinded by his sexual drive, and yes, that includes warriors. Take away that driving force, and a completely different perspective is open to them. If they still feel the same afterward, well, then, they’re hooked. But half the time, and I do mean at least half, they find that it was no more than those primitive urges, and once satisfied, nothing is left, at least not enough to base permanent double occupancy on.

  Double occupancy was the Kystrani term for two people wishing to share their lives together. They used to call it marriage, as they did here. The Sha‑Ka’ani had no specific term for it, though even there it differed per country, what the partners called each other. In Kan‑is‑Tra, a warrior would choose the woman to be the mother of his children, and this was how she would be referred to. Generally, they called each other lifemates.

  “In all your years on Sha‑Ka’an, Martha, have you not learned that a warrior has a special instinct in the matter of his true lifemate? Many become impatient of experiencing this instinct and settle for a lifemate of indifference.”

  A snort came out of the box. “Careful, kiddo, or I might think you’re talking about love‑you know, that Silly emotion that warriors insist they don’t feel.”

  Dalden growled, “There is no simi
larity between instinct and that female emotion.”

  “I’m drawing a picture of rolling eyes. I’ve got eyes rolling on every monitor in the Control Room. You should see all these rolling eyes‑”

  “You cannot change the way a warrior is.”

  “Do I look stupid enough to try? But you’ve just hit it on the nose yourself, kiddo. It’s because of that very thing that you and the carpenter will never see eye to eye on any subject. And without some common ground, of which you two don’t have any, you simply can’t coexist compatibly.”

  “We will.”

  “Stubbornness won’t make it so. But I can see it’s going to take more than Just telling you it won’t work. Okay, let’s delve into a few of the specifics that my probables are based on. The woman can accept being ‘taken care of.’ That isn’t the problem, was the norm around here a few centuries ago, considered old‑fashioned now, but not so long ago that she wouldn’t know how it works. She’ll be bored silly, just staying home and not working herself, but like Tedra, she could find other things to occupy her.”

  “I am pleased to hear you say so.”

  “You won’t be after I’ve finished, because what she’ll never get

  used to is the warrior’s right to control all aspects of Sha‑Ka’ani life, with the woman stuck in a role of subservient silence. They used to be like that, but the women here have crawled out of that hole, and having done so, they’ll never crawl back in.

  “Do you see what I’m getting at? It’s against her nature to let a man make all decisions for her. It’s against her nature to accept a situation she doesn’t like without trying to change it. And she’d never accept that it can’t be changed. The rules that warriors have made for the protection of their women are so contrary to the way she was raised, she’d laugh in your face if you try to enforce them on her. You’d have one fight after another on your hands, kiddo, never ending. That’s how incompatible you and she are.”

  “Was I not to realize that you are describing life between my parents.

  A chuckle. “Must be the air up there.”

  Dalden didn’t miss the jibe. “I do not lack intelligence, Martha. “

  “I know you don’t, kiddo, but the warrior mentality gets in the way of it sometimes, which is why your people are still called barbarians. But we digress. I pointed out how it has worked for your parents, but you know me well enough to know there’s a catch coming.

  “Which is?”

  “There’s one big, and I mean really big, difference between your parents’ case and yours. Tedra knows how to compromise. She also grew up with full knowledge of a universe filled with a diversity of races and cultures. Her schooling in World Discovery prepared her to deal with that diversity and taught her the basic premises of the Confederation, that each planet is unique, each culture to be respected, not changed. Discovered races aren’t to be tampered with, aren’t to be ‘taught a better way,’ are to be left alone to evolve at their own pace in the natural order of things. So as much as she has wanted to change some of the things she really doesn’t like about Sha‑Ka’an, and you know exactly what I’m talking about, she wouldn’t dream of seriously tampering with the way things are.”

  “She has assisted many of the women.”

  “Of course she has. But she hasn’t tried to change the rules, she’s merely helped some of the women to be removed from those rules. “

  “By sending them off‑planet.”

  A shrug entered Martha’s tone. “Whatever works, kiddo, is one of Tedra’s mottoes. And besides, she usually gets anything she wants‑in the long run. It might take a challenge loss or two first, but eventually, your father gives her what she wants. She just knows better than to go after the impossible, like trying to bring a planet classed as barbaric up a notch or two on the civilized scale, or trying to change the way a warrior views things. And now we get to why it would be a completely different scenario for your Brittany. “

  “But she is Just like my mother.”

  “I hate to break it to you, warrior, but the way she talks is about all they really have in common. They were raised differently, with completely different cultures and beliefs. They probably have the same outlook on what rights a woman should have, because they both grew up in cultures of equality of the sexes. But it pretty much ends there. Yet this is only half the problem.”

  “I do not see what you have said so far to be a problem,” Dalden insisted.

  “And that is the other half. You think you’ll manage to overcome her objections, but you’re basing that assumption on your father’s success with Tedra. But you’ve overlooked a very simple fact. Because of your mother’s blood, which is in many cases held against you, you’ve spent most of your life trying to be the ideal warrior. This included embracing and obeying to the letter the laws and rules of your people, even when you might have disagreed with them. You’ve strived not to be different. You are con

  stantly trying to prove that Tedra’s blood has had no influence on you. You are different, but you refuse to accept that. And we’re talking years and years of struggle here, Dalden. Do you think you can set an that aside and finally be different?”

  “There is no reason for me to change or be different from what am.

  “I rest my case. That’s why it won’t work. You won’t compromise, and neither will she.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  BRITTANY HAD TO LAUGH AT HERSELF FOR THINKING that leaving Dalden on a bench under a slightly overhanging tree would keep him from notice, even slouched clown to detract from his height. Her experience at the mall with him should have told her otherwise, and every time she glanced back his way, she noticed the stares, people stopped in groups of two or three to covertly look his way.

  It wasn’t just his size and handsomeness. There was a confidence about him that went beyond the norm, a unique presence that commanded attention and speculation. People who knew their own worth, or felt capable of accomplishing anything, carried that kind of confidence. Politicians, celebrities, billionaires came to mind‑and perhaps specially trained military types, too, which was the only thing she could think of to explain it in Dalden’s case.

  Of course, that was just her take on it. She felt his confidence, his utter lack of the common worries that plagued normal individuals. Other people just might be simply agog at his looks.

  The end of lunch hour had not been the ideal time to start her job of finding Jorran, when most of the people passing through the hall just then were city workers on their way back to their offices. It meant there were too many people to talk to all at once, and that she was going to miss speaking to most of them.

  The easiest and most common question to stop people with was to ask for directions. Usually she could move on to the next person within seconds, unless she ran into someone who simply liked to talk and could take five minutes to say three words, but that only happened once.

  The mayor was on the premises. She’d ascertained that first, and briefly spoke with everyone in his waiting room, which was only three testy people who had missed their own lunches to try and get in to see the mayor instead, and apparently were wasting their time. She stayed out in the main hall after that, just kept her eye on the door to the mayor’s inner offices for anyone new conning along.

  After close to an hour, she finally had a reason to return to Dalden and, sitting down next to him, whispered to him, “Don’t look immediately, but that guy over there to the left of us with the curly brown hair and the pasty white skin is pretty weird.”

  Dalden did look immediately, and frowned in the direction where she had tilted her head. “Weird in what way?”

  “He not only talks somewhat like you, but he also told me that I didn’t see him, like he thinks he’s invisible or something. And that silly stick he’s carrying around like a wand‑”

  Brittany didn’t get to finish. Dalden shot off the bench with such amazing speed that she was left with her mouth hanging open. She didn’t think it was pos
sible that someone his size could move that fast, yet within seconds, he was across the hall behind the weird fellow and putting an arm around his shoulder like they were friends. They weren’t, of course, and there was a moment of grappling that seriously alarmed her, considering that the entire

  hall was probably watching them. But it didn’t last long, and a few words were quietly said, then the weird fellow was following behind Dalden as docilely as you please, back to the bench.

  Brittany’s alarm was gone. It now seemed like it had merely been two friends doing the weird wrestling‑type greeting thing. What was left was pure incredulity that had her simply staring at them as they reached her. What the hell had just happened?

  “You did not predict this was a possibility?” Dalden was saying to Martha, still in Sha‑Ka’ani. “That Jorran would not know to keep the rods off of women?”

  “You didn’t tell him,” Martha replied. “And Ferrill wouldn’t discuss the rods at all with him, so no, he didn’t know they only work on males. I knew that, but I gave him more credit. I figured he’d be smart enough to test the rods before putting them to use. He probably did, he just wasn’t smart enough to include women in the testing, likely because he envisioned his new home to be like his old home, where women are only slightly up on the scale from slavery. Speaking of which, that was quick thinking on your part, kiddo, to use the rod on him and have him think he’s your slave. They have them where he comes from, so this peon knows exactly how to imitate their behavior.”

  “Do you two know just how rude that is, to be talking that gibberish when someone is standing here who doesn’t understand a word of it?” Brittany growled finally, her impatience turning to pure vexation.