Future Dreams (7 page)

Maybe the problem was with her. She blinked at the spidery patterns on the adobe ceiling and couldn’t bring herself to believe she was so different from her former comrades.

She reached out her hearing at a distant sound. Just the assistant healer shifting in his chair. They may have been spineless lambs but they had made the last two days more interesting for her. Even if her entertainment was at her own expense—a displeased Pendon Larke and a locked door.

The assistant healer was talking to someone. She concentrated on the noises. It sounded like a young woman this time. The healer seemed to be trying to dissuade her from making this visit. She frowned. All the other arbiters had been let through with little more than a sympathetic well wishing.

Two sets of footfalls echoed down the corridor instead of the usual one. Now Tigh’s curiosity was afire. She wondered at how starved for diversion she was, to find a minor change in the routine so intriguing. She picked up the sound of something being placed outside her door. Probing the direction with her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of a chair.
Planning to be here a while?

“Thank you.” A gentle voice laced with a confident strength touched her ears.

THE ASSISTANT HEALER glanced into the cell at Tigh and then at Jame. “I’ll be at my desk.” He pointed down the corridor. “Don’t hesitate to call for help.”

Jame gave him a reassuring smile and nodded. He walked away, looking back at her several times.

Jame sat in the chair and gazed through the bars in the door. The cell was as austere and tidy as the other Guards’ quarters. In shocking contrast to the last time Jame had seen her, Tigh was dressed in the simple white cotton tunic and leggings worn by the cleansed Guards. Her clean face revealed a striking fair-skinned young woman. The deep tan from years spent as a warrior had faded during her confinement. Tigh was stretched out on her back with hands behind her head and appeared unaware that anyone was outside her door.

Jame cleared her throat. No reaction from Tigh.

“I’m . . . uh . . . I’m Jame, assistant arbiter.”

Tigh continued to stare at the ceiling.

“I’m just going to talk a bit. I have a story I really want you to hear.” Jame took in a ragged breath. This nervousness was unusual for her and she didn’t quite know how to handle it. She gazed at her hands for a few heartbeats as she centered her nerves and her thoughts. “I just want you to understand why I’m here and why I want to argue your case.”

She waited in silence, trying to gauge the reaction from Tigh the Terrible. The other arbiters hadn’t been given a chance to state their case before Tigh intimidated them into making a quick journey back down the corridor. Jame, having grown up around warriors, was prepared for that kind of confrontation. This lack of acknowledgment of her presence was more disconcerting than overt threatening behavior.

Jame sighed. She’d come this far, she just may as well do what she was there to do. Even if Tigh didn’t understand, she’d feel better for trying. She cleared her throat and spoke in an easy tone, as if she were relating the story to her friends.

“I was walking across the plaza two moons ago. It was a beautiful evening and I stopped on my way to a lecture to revel in the last glow of the sun before nightfall. A wagon rolled in and I thought, another Guard has been captured. I stopped to let the wagon pass and the Guard in the cage was awake and alert, taking in everything around her. She captured my attention, pulling me in with the force of her personality. I admit I probably looked pretty silly standing there with my mouth hanging open, unable to tear myself away from those intense blue eyes. Then, as the wagon rolled away, the Guard laughed, breaking the spell she’d cast over me. For half a heartbeat I caught a glimpse of the woman beneath all the grime and the blood and the cold madness. I saw sadness and regret in those eyes. I’ve seen hundreds of uncleansed Guards as they were brought back here. I’ve never witnessed even a hint of humanity in them. They were like wild animals showing nothing but rage at being captured and caged. I realized, out of all of them, that you had the best chance of being completely rehabilitated because the extremes in how the enhancements affected you came from your deep sense of humanity.”

Although Tigh never moved during her narrative, Jame noticed a slight relaxing of her facial muscles and more blinking. She was listening at least.

“I was visiting back home when your name was added to our case roster but the moment I heard about it I volunteered. My mentor refused to let me take your case. I can understand about who you are always getting in the way of who you want to become.” Jame paused at the minute furrow between Tigh’s eyebrows. That particular arrow appeared to have hit the mark. “I was born a princess and, so I wouldn’t have to put up with having a guard with me while I was away from home, the school promised it wouldn’t let me get into any dangerous situations. I tried to convince my mentor I didn’t think you were of danger to any of us. I mean, I grew up around warriors. My aunt would laugh at the school’s idea of danger.” Jame paused again, hoping for some response. But Tigh didn’t even twitch a muscle. “Anyway, all my well-meaning colleagues volunteered because it meant so much to me. You didn’t accept any of them so I finally convinced my mentor to let me give it a try.”

The silence lengthened until Jame was certain Tigh wasn’t going to speak.

“Anyway, that’s why I’m here. I want to argue your case. If you want me as your arbiter, I’ll return tomorrow with a first draft of the argument.” Jame watched Tigh’s nervous swallow and her eyes looking inward rather than at the ceiling. “All you have to do is agree to the preparation of the case. You’ll always have the choice to pursue it or not.” Another swallow rippled through Tigh’s powerful throat. “Just say yes or no.”

Silence enveloped them and Jame could hear voices rising up from the plaza. She stood and took one last look at Tigh.

“Yes.”

The word was so soft that Jame barely caught it. She froze and gazed through the bars, but Tigh still refused to look at her. “Thank you.”

TIGH RAISED HER eyes to whatever deity oversaw her destiny and tried to let what just happened penetrate her tired, confused mind.

By the Children of Bal, that arbiter was the one.

She wound the astonishing thought through in her mind until she was convinced it hadn’t been a hallucination or dream. For the first time since her cleansing, a tentative hope mingled on the fragrant breeze blowing in through the window.

STILL A LITTLE dazed from her strange encounter with the former Tigh the Terrible, Jame wandered into her room and stared in surprise at all the assistant arbiters there. She looked at Daneran. “Are we having a party?”

“You were gone long enough. Where have you been?” Daneran asked.

“I’ve been with Tigh.” A dozen bodies rushed her way and she took refuge in the common room. She held up her hands to fend off her colleagues. “Whoa. You’re more dangerous than Tigh the Terrible.”

The arbiters stopped their advance and chuckled at Jame and themselves. Ingel walked out of corridor to her chambers and leaned a shoulder against the wall.

“So tell us what happened.” Jadic looked ready to explode from curiosity.

Jame shrugged. “There really isn’t much to tell. I told her why I was there and why I wanted to argue her case and she agreed to it.”

“She listened?” Swene asked, astonished.

“She spoke?” Jadic’s eyebrows disappeared under his bangs.

“She listened and then she said yes,” Jame said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an argument to write.”

Her friends all spoke at once and barred the way back to her room.

“Why would she accept you and not any of us?” Tanerle, the most ambitious of the group, powered her tall imposing body to Jame.

“Weren’t you afraid?” Swene asked.

“She was on the other side of a locked door. Why would I be afraid?” Jame gave Swene a puzzled look before turning her attention to Tanerle. “Only Tigh knows the answer to your question.”

“Don’t give me that, you smooth talking Emoran,” Tanerle said. “I want to know what you did to make her listen to you when she didn’t let us utter more than a syllable.”

Jame glanced at Ingel, who raised an eyebrow back. “I just gave the answer. To Swene. Let me ask a question in return. If you were looking for an arbiter to argue a case for you, would you choose one who was too frightened to even face you?”

Ingel stepped into the circle of stunned arbiters. “This is a valuable lesson for any arbiter to learn. Always try to see the situation through your client’s eyes. Just because you’re an arbiter doesn’t mean people will overlook what you may consider a natural reaction, such as fear, toward a client or toward one of the two parties you have to judge.”

“But how could you not be afraid of her?” Jadic asked.

“She’s been cleansed.” Jame wondered why, in this particular case, that meant nothing. “That should be enough of a reason or have you suddenly stopped trusting the healers’ abilities to do their job?”

“Lesson number two,” Ingel said. “Always remember all the facts about a client or the defendants in a case. Don’t just focus on the most sensational facts that dominate the rumors. Now Jame has work to do, and I’m still expecting an essay on Scrytians’ General Laws from each of you tomorrow.”

With good-natured grumbles, the arbiters went to their rooms. Jame caught a beckoning nod from Ingel and followed her.

“Now that you’ve gotten past the first barricade, do you have an idea of how to argue her case?” Ingel asked after she settled behind her table and Jame collapsed into the visitors chair.

Jame gave her a sheepish look. “Not really. But I’m hoping that will come once I get to know Tigh a little better.”

“Allow me to give you a few suggestions,” Ingel said. “The usual arguments used for the Guards are not going to work in Tigh’s case, even if they’re just as valid. The Federation Council is wary of having Tigh the Terrible out in the world so the Tribunal is going to be a lot harder on her than the other Guards.”

“But it’s not fair,” Jame said. “It’s not her fault the enhancements made her a ruthless warrior. Besides, the Federation Council was more than happy with her when she was winning their major battles.”

“Unfortunately, she was little more than a volatile weapon and the most dangerous weapons are always destroyed after a war,” Ingel said. “You guessed that she misses being a warrior. That doesn’t necessarily mean the cleansing wasn’t successful, it just brought out some traits that had been dormant in Tigh before she was enhanced.”

“Is this one of Pendon’s theories?” Jame asked.

“Yes, it is,” Ingel said. “But it makes sense. There’s nothing of Tigh the Terrible in that confused and passive young woman I see roaming the corridors. It’s now on your shoulders to find out who Tigh is today and present that to the Tribunal.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jame said as the enormity of her task swept over her.

TIGH SAT ON the edge of the cot and stared at the neatly written and well-presented argument she held in her hand.

Jame, trying not to fidget, sat in her little chair in the corridor. Tigh proved to be a challenging client. She almost laughed at how much of an understatement that was. For one thing, Tigh never looked at her. For another thing, her method of communication was verbally spare but physically expressive. A simple shrug or lift of a hand could communicate as well as any word.

Jame spent much of their time together just deciphering the subtleties of this language of movement. She didn’t think Tigh was being deliberately uncooperative. Tigh was frightened and confused and, if Jame understood her body language, not entirely trusting of the rehabilitation process.

She knew she shouldn’t care about what Tigh thought of the document. Preparing arguments was, after all, a part of the job. But she was drawn to this enigmatic woman. More than she had ever been drawn to anyone. She wanted to get to know her, not say goodbye when the arbitration process was finished. She sighed and pushed down these unsettling thoughts.

Tigh laid the document on the cot, stood up, and shuffled to the window. She stared outside for several heartbeats.

“Why are you doing this?” Tigh asked without turning around.

Both surprised and delighted at the first full sentence from Tigh, Jame almost responded with what she had told Tigh during their first meeting. But something deep inside stopped her. “Because I want to.” She knew Tigh could sense she told the truth. That particular Guard enhancement seemed to resist cleansing.

Tigh turned around and for the first time gazed at Jame.

“Why?” Tigh’s intense blue eyes, softened by the cleansing and haunted by the memories of what she had done as a Guard, reached straight into Jame’s soul.

“Because you deserve it,” Jame said.

Tigh slid down the wall and pulled her knees to her chin. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.” Jame wanted to shake some sense into Tigh. “You are not Tigh the Terrible. You have the rest of your life to be the Tigh you wanted to be before you were recruited.”

Tigh shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

“Then be the Tigh you are today.”

Tigh sighed. “When people look at me they see Tigh the Terrible.” She captured Jame’s eyes. “When I look at myself I see a monster not worthy of being allowed to live a normal life again.”

“When I look at you, I see a woman who has the right to a life outside these walls.” Jame jumped to her feet and grabbed hold of the bars. Tigh raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to make up for the wrongs you did as Tigh the Terrible or do you want to spend the rest of your life in a cell, feeling sorry for yourself?”

Tigh pushed to her feet and lunged at the door. She wrapped her strong hands over Jame’s smaller ones and held them against the bars. They stared at each other for several heartbeats, so close that Jame felt the warmth coming off Tigh and a strange tingle flowing into her hands.

Tigh, confusion in her eyes, pulled her hands away from Jame’s and stumbled back.