The Sixth Discipline

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  ***

  Francesca told Ran-Del about Freddie’s visit that night at dinner. She didn’t tell him that Freddie had kissed her, but she wasn’t surprised when Ran-Del’s gaze narrowed as she spoke.

  “And?” he said.

  She sighed. No matter how useful his talent was, it had its down side. “And then he kissed me.” She paused, but Ran-Del still looked expectant. “So—so finally, I kissed him back.”

  Ran-Del’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “Are you quite certain you don’t still love him? Why else would you kiss him?”

  “It’s not that I love him. It’s was just that he’s so—so bruised, right now. The poor man is suffering. I didn’t have the heart to push him away.”

  Much as Francesca’s story annoyed Ran-Del, he admitted to himself that he was resentful mostly because he felt too guilty about what he had almost done with Janis to chastise Francesca about a mere kiss. He tried to unclench his jaw and said nothing more about it, aware that Francesca was pleased he was being so reasonable.

  That night, Ran-Del lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to Francesca’s deep, even breathing, and tried to determine what was bothering him so much.

  Eventually, he realized that it was shame. When he had gone up the stairs with Janis, he had known quite well what was in her mind, and he had gone anyway. Ran-Del knew now that neither Geldorf nor Merced had any plans to mention the incident to anyone else, and thus, Francesca was unlikely to find out about it. Nevertheless, Ran-Del knew himself, and this was enough to make him feel guilt. He dismissed the idea that it was the beer that had led him astray. The Sansoussy didn’t drink alcohol because it fogged the mind, but they knew better than to allow drunkenness as an excuse for misbehavior. It was only luck that he had thought about Francesca in time to stop himself from committing the crime of adultery.

  The more he thought about his actions, the more disturbed Ran-Del became. He considered what would have happened if he had done such a thing while he lived with his own people, what his grandparents would have said. The image of his grandfather sternly questioning him about his time on the plains with Francesca came to mind, and all at once, he knew what he had to do. Finally, having resolved his dilemma, Ran-Del was able to sleep.

  In the morning, he waited until Francesca had gone to work, and then he investigated the fireplace in the bedroom. Francesca had turned it on a few times, because she thought it made a romantic setting for making love. Ran-Del considered that as nonsensical as turning on the recycler or the dishwasher.

  Unlike the fireplace at Benjie’s, Francesca’s fireplace didn’t burn real wood. Carefully sculpted imitation logs never changed and were never consumed. Luckily, the flames and the heat were real enough, but Ran-Del saw no implements for tending a fire, not even a poker.

  Ran-Del opened the door hidden in the carved wooden moldings and followed the passage to the second hidden door that led to the bolt hole near the park. Once he was out in the city, he walked to the commercial district and kept walking until he found a shop that sold hardware. After he found what he needed among the building supplies, he made his purchase and headed back the way he had come.

  When he got back to the bedroom, Ran-Del turned on the fireplace. He took the steel rod he had bought and placed it carefully in the center of the artificial fire, directly over the flames, and then he hunted for something to protect his hands from the hot steel. He had just knelt in front of the hearth when he sensed Francesca’s presence coming nearer.

  Ran-Del jumped up and turned off the fireplace. Francesca came in before he could move away from the controls.

  “Oh, hello, Ran-Del,” she said. “I didn’t think you were here. I called and there was no answer.”

  Ran-Del glanced at the com set and realized he had ignored the message light. He never set the com to give him a verbal reminder because he hated having a machine talk to him. “I went out for a walk, but I came back,” Ran-Del said with partial honesty.

  “Is it me or is it warm in here?” Francesca asked. She walked closer to him and then she stopped and looked at the fireplace. “Have you had the fire on?”

  “Yes.”

  She frowned. “Whatever for?”

  Ran-Del didn’t answer. Francesca stared at the fireplace again. “What’s that?” She pointed at the steel rod lying across the still hot artificial logs.

  “Francesca,” Ran-Del said, “I need some privacy. Could you go into the other room for a few minutes, please?”

  Francesca moved closer still and studied the rod and the leather gloves on the hearth. She stopped abruptly and glared at him. “You’re going to burn yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Please, Francesca, I need to be alone for a while.”

  “I will not leave and let you torture yourself,” Francesca said angrily.

  Ran-Del sighed and turned the fireplace back on. He walked back to the hearth and knelt down beside the fire. Just as he did, the flames flickered and went out.

  Ran-Del looked up and saw Francesca with her hand still on the control.

  “Francesca!” he said rising to his feet, incensed. “This is my business. Will you please go away and leave me alone to do what I have to do?”

  “Why? Why do you have to burn yourself? Have you done something wrong?”

  “Yes,” Ran-Del said. “Now, go away.”

  “What was it?” Francesca shuddered suddenly. “This isn’t because you killed Hans for me, is it?”

  Ran-Del hesitated, but he couldn’t let her think that he was punishing himself for that. “No. It’s nothing to do with that.”

  “Then why? What could you have done that would be so bad—” Francesca stopped abruptly and stared at him suspiciously. “Did you sleep with Janis Uurtemo?”

  “No.”

  Francesca continued her scrutiny. “Are you telling me the truth, Ran-Del?”

  “Yes.” And then the strain of keeping his crime a secret became too much. “We didn’t make love, but I went upstairs to her apartment with her.”

  “I see.” Francesca moved closer to him. He could feel pain and anger warring in her. “What happened, Ran-Del?”

  Having admitted the truth, there seemed no point in hiding the details. “She kissed me. I kissed her back, and then we—we started to undress. After a little bit, I knew it was wrong, so we stopped.”

  “‘After a little bit’?” Francesca repeated. “How far did it go in that little bit?”

  Ran-Del shrugged. “She had most of her clothes off. I had my shirt off. We were—touching.”

  Anger won out. Ran-Del could feel Francesca’s ire becoming hotter and hotter and billowing out from her like a storm cloud. “Touching? Touching? I see why you were so understanding about Freddie Leong kissing me. What’s one little kiss—in front of two security guards—compared to naked touching all alone in Janis Uurtemo’s apartment?”

  “I wasn’t naked,” Ran-Del said.

  “But she was?”

  “Not quite.” Ran-Del could still remember the way Janis’ body looked, lying on her sofa.

  “So what stopped you?” Francesca said. “There you were, half naked and alone with this red-haired nymph. What made you stop what you were doing, Ran-Del? Did she get an attack of conscience?”

  “No, I did. I thought about you, and I knew I shouldn’t be there. I made myself stop.”

  Francesca flinched, as if his words were painful, and indeed he felt pain radiating from her. “I see. It was your Sansoussy upbringing?”

  “Partly. And partly I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  She looked away, and then she glanced down at the fireplace. “If you stopped, why do you have to abuse yourself like this? You didn’t actually commit adultery, did you?”

  “No. But I know right from wrong. I did wrong, Francesca, and I have to inflict punishment on myself.”

  She pursed her lips. “If you wronged anyone, you wronged me, and I don’t see any need for corporal punishment.”

&n
bsp; “It’s not up to you,” Ran-Del said, as gently as he could.

  She stepped close and touched his arm tentatively. Her anger had abated. “Not even if I forgive you?”

  Ran-Del put his arms around her. He could feel her fear for him, much as he had felt it the time he had caught her with Preston Sandoval. “I hope you do forgive me, but it won’t make a difference about what I have to do now.”

  She put her other hand on his chest as if to hold him at bay. “I’ll have the fireplace turned off permanently.”

  “Francesca,” Ran-Del said, “we’ve talked about this before. You can’t control me. I can’t live like that, with someone else making my decisions for me. I’m an adult, and a Sansoussy, and I have to have the freedom to live the way I was raised.”

  She glanced down at the steel rod and shuddered. “Even if it means torturing yourself for no good reason?”

  Ran-Del shook his head. “It’s up to me to say what reasons are good ones for what I do. It has to be up to me.”

  Francesca turned her head and laid it on his chest, clutching his shoulders convulsively. Ran-Del held her tightly for a moment, and then he released her and gently pushed her away. He switched the flames back on, and then knelt in front of the hearth.

  Francesca stood for a few seconds and then she started for the door. She stopped and spoke without looking back. “I’ll be in the sitting room if you need me.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ran-Del waited on his knees for a long time while the rod heated. He watched the flames, and he thought over what he had done and why it was wrong. He recalled walking up the steps to Janis’ apartment, knowing what she planned, and it came to him that he had been very lucky. If he had stayed, he would eventually have had to tell Janis that the affair had meant nothing to him. And if he had lost Francesca, he would have hurt himself as well as her.

  Finally, Ran-Del removed his shirt, and then he pulled on one of the gloves. Wrapping the other glove around the end of the rod for extra insulation, he lifted it from the fire. The steel glowed white hot.

  Quickly, before the rod could cool, Ran-Del held it straight across his chest and pressed it firmly against his flesh. The pain, exquisite and overpowering, made Ran-Del jerk reflexively as it washed over him, cleansing him of his transgression. Ran-Del counted slowly and silently, forcing himself to feel every moment of suffering. After five seconds he pulled the rod away and dropped it on the hearth.

  Ran-Del took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was over. He picked up his shirt, got to his feet, and switched off the fire, smiling to himself as he thought about what his grandmother would say if she could see Francesca’s fireplace.

  His wife was waiting for him when he came into the sitting room. She looked up from where she sat on the sofa, and her eyes darted to the burn on his chest in consternation. “Oh, Ran-Del! How could you do it?”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  She had a medical kit on the table beside her, and she picked it up. “Let me put something on it.”

  “In a few minutes.” Ran-Del sat down beside her.

  “Why not now? Why take a chance on letting it get infected?”

  “Because I need the pain. Your medicine has a pain killer in it. I need to feel the pain for just a little longer.”

  “How can you need pain?”

  “It helps, sometimes,” Ran-Del said leaning against the back of the sofa so that he was half reclining. “When I feel this pain, I remember that I almost hurt you very badly.”

  Francesca leaned back with him, and Ran-Del slipped his arm around her.

  “I don’t want you to suffer anymore,” she said, staring at the burn. The charred flesh puckered at the edges of the wound; he had burned himself right on top of the scars from the laser pistol attack. “How could you do it?”

  Ran-Del smiled. “I’m a Sansoussy. We have our own ways of learning.”

  “Learning? What could you possibly learn from doing that?”

  He pulled her close against his side and kissed her forehead. “Pain can be a teacher; so can reflection. While I was kneeling, watching the fire burn, I had time to think over many things.”

  She looked apprehensive, and he could feel her worry. “What things?”

  “The most important thing was that, finally, I came to know myself—to know my feelings.” He looked into her eyes and saw fear. “I came here because my Great-grandfather ordered it, Francesca. But if I were released from that order tomorrow, I wouldn’t go back to the forest. Great-grandfather was right that my destiny is here. I want to be where you are, to live in your city, and raise our children together.”

  Francesca watched his face intently, as if she could tell if he spoke the truth if only she watched him closely enough. “Are you certain, Ran-Del?”

  He nodded. “Quite certain, sweetheart,” he said, and he bent his head and kissed her gently. “I love you.”

  Francesca sighed. Ran-Del could feel relief and happiness flow from her, where rage and jealousy had been not so many minutes ago.

  “I’m glad,” she said simply. “And I’m glad that it was you who went hunting alone in the forest, that day when my father went looking for a Sansoussy to marry me.”

  Ran-Del smiled and his eyes went to her waistline. “I’m sorry he didn’t live to see you happy with me. And I’m sorry he won’t see his grandchild.” It was true. He hadn’t thought he could ever regret Baron Hayden’s death, but he did.

  She sighed again, with sadness this time. “I’m sorry, too, Ran-Del.” Then she chuckled, and Ran-Del was curious.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “I was thinking—Nisa’s baby will be my brother—our son’s uncle.”

  Ran-Del smiled. “That’s nothing. Bettine’s baby will be his great-aunt.”

  This made Francesca laugh. “Well, why not? It’s the same thing, really, except here in the city we accomplish it with technology. The Sansoussy just use an old man and a young woman, the oldest trick in the book.”

  Ran-Del pulled her as close as he could without adding to his discomfort.

  Without asking him for permission, Francesca opened the medkit and took out a tube of antiseptic. She broke the seal and then sprayed it over the burn.

  Instantly, Ran-Del felt the pain recede. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  After Francesca put the tube back in the kit, he took advantage of the lack of pain to reach out and pull her tightly against him, and then he nuzzled her neck gently.

  Francesca stared down at his chest. “Ran-Del, are you going to want to do that to our children?”

  The question shocked him. “Children are never burned. If they misbehave, they might be switched, but never anything worse. You're only allowed to inflict punishment on yourself after you're of age.”

  Francesca looked solemn. “We’re so different. We’ll have to work hard at getting along.”

  “That’s true in many marriages. Now that we love each other, it’ll be easier.”

  Francesca stroked Ran-Del’s bare chest, carefully avoiding the area with the burn. His eyes met hers.

  Just as Ran-Del leaned down to kiss her, the com set beeped in a loud insistent tone that said Francesca’s assistant needed her right away.

  Ran-Del grinned as he watched her stalk to the com set, cursing the whole time. As soon as she finished the conversation, he came up behind her and embraced her tightly, amazed at the thoroughness of the anesthetic spray.

  “I have to go,” Francesca said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. You married a Sansoussy, and I married a Hayden. We both have burdens we must bear.”

  She turned in his arms and embraced him. “True, but there’s always tonight.”

  Ran-Del hugged her back. “There’s always tonight.”

  After Francesca had gone, he lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He had spoken with truth and with certainty. He loved her, and he wanted to stay with her. Life in the city would be better becaus
e of that.

  And now that he had mastered the Sixth Discipline, life in Shangri-La should be safer. If the old shaman’s vision was true, it was here that Ran-Del would find his destiny. The question remained: what was it that his great-grandfather expected that a man of power could do in this city?

  Or was it a matter of what the city would do to him?

  Acknowledgments

  Like a lot of writers, I depend on a critique group for feedback. Mine is called the Writer’s Group From Hell, but it’s actually a wonderful group of people, and I would like to thank all members, past and present, for their help with this book.

  I would also like to thank my copyeditor Risa Stewart for her painstaking efforts at polishing both this manuscript, and the one for the sequel No Safe Haven. And finally, my thanks to graphic designer Monica Jorgensen, for doing such a great job on the covers.

  And of course, I have to thank my husband and my kids, for eating all that bottled spaghetti sauce.

  Carmen Webster Buxton