The Search for Kä (2 page)

Free of the shame,
I corrected myself,
but not of the memory.

She was occupied at that time with worry over Volitar, the man she had known as her uncle, and whom Molik had kidnapped
—
to coerce Tarani into helping a pair of assassins he was sending after the Lieutenant of the Sharith. When Molik (thanks to Thymas), Volitar (thanks to Gharlas) and Tarani's show (her own choice) were all dead, the girl's past was still with her.

I think that some of Tarani's feeling of “destiny” can be attributed to her need to have some new direction in her life. She came with me, partly, in order to leave behind her past.

That's why I can't bring myself to tell her the truth about Ricardo and Markasset,
I realized.
It's not only that she has trusted me, and that I've been lying by evasion whenever we've discussed my “dual” nature. If I tell her about Ricardo, I can't see any way not to tell her about Antonia, too
—
and that troubled period that centered around Molik will come sharply into focus again, with a slightly different perspective.

Antonia Alderuccio had been with Ricardo Carillo on the deck of that cruise ship when the meteor—or whatever it was—had hit us. She had been a recent acquaintance, and I had been so occupied in Gandalara that I had given her little thought, except to regret that someone so lovely and charming had been lost. It hadn't occurred to me that she might have come to Gandalara, too—until I had heard Tarani, in a moment of distracted passion, pronounce my name “Ricardo.” A man's name without a consonant ending is totally alien to Tarani's culture. I had realized, then, that Antonia had come into this world four years earlier, objective time, and in a different way.

I had occupied a body whose Gandalaran personality had recently died; Antonia had been forced to share her “host” with a live, native personality.

I'm absolutely convinced that it was Antonia who taught a sweet and sheltered sixteen-year-old girl the power of her body, and showed her how to use it. I'm also sure that Antonia has only meant to help the Gandalaran girl. Except for intensifying the conflict between control and helplessness that all adolescents suffer, Antonia's worldliness and maturity have generally been assets to Tarani. The human presence gave Tarani the same protection from Gandalara's mindpower that I have
—
a dualness that isn't subject to a uniquely Gandalaran force. But Antonia's undetected influence has brought a great deal of confusion and distress into Tarani's life.

Tarani and I have talked about the fact that two people such as we are needed, right here and right now, to keep anyone
—
least of all her cruel brother Indomel
—
from using the Ra'ira's power as a telepathic channel to tyrannize and, ultimately, destroy Gandalara. Ricardo and Antonia, it seems, are equally part of that destiny. I can't help being afraid that, once Tarani knows the truth, I'll be linked with that past she's trying to avoid, and—
I shuddered—
and she'll run from me, just as she runs from her past now.

I'd lose her,
I thought.
Them. Tarani and Antonia. I love them both, with passion, respect, protectiveness, tenderness, humility
—
with a magnitude neither Ricardo nor Markasset ever experienced.

When we find the sword
—
please, God, let that sword be the agent of their union.

I realized that I was actually and sincerely praying—the first time in a long while. And I was a trifle embarrassed to realize that what I was
really
praying for was what Ricardo would have called a “cop-out.”

I want the union between Tarani and Antonia to do my explaining for me,
I realized.
I want Tarani to understand and forgive, all in one blinding flash of comprehension.

I sighed.

It would be nice to be able to talk to Tarani without having to hide anything. Right now, no one knows the truth
—

*
I know.
*

I jumped when Keeshah's thought touched my mind. The feel of his fur under my hands and his body between my legs brought me vividly back to reality.

*
How is it, Keeshah,
* I asked, when I had recovered from my shock, *
that you can follow my thoughts without my knowing it, but I have to
ask
what you're thinking?
*

I was referring to our conscious conversation, not the rare moments in which he and I merged so completely that we could share one another's sensory perception.

*
You think more,
* he said.

I laughed aloud, remembering at the last second to muffle the noise so that I wouldn't wake Tarani. Yayshah looked around at me, her eyes slitted and her ears cocked back warily, then returned her attention to the route we were taking.

We had left behind the thick, tangled greenery that characterized the Valley of the Sha'um—although, strictly speaking, the area was less a valley than the verdant foothills at the junction of two mountain ranges. The Morkadahls ran roughly north and south, and another range of high mountains, which formed part of what the Gandalarans called the Great Wall, ran roughly east and west. I guessed there must have been a network of small streams trickling down from the higher ground, and probably a sort of underground delta effect, to support the lushness of the Valley.

We were traveling south, following the eastern edge of the Morkadahls. The countryside here was much like what I had seen on the western side of the range—twisted and curling dakathrenil trees mixed with lots of species of bushes. Unlike the towering forest that marked the home of the sha'um, few of these plants grew more than six feet high, preferring to cling to and shade the water-giving ground and, in the process, provide homes for the variety of small animals, insects and birds that shared their space.

Moving across the overgrown ground should have been little problem for the sha'um, who were accustomed to the much taller, more complicated, and occasionally barbed undergrowth of the Valley. But I could see that Yayshah was moving with exaggerated caution, placing her feet carefully.

*
She's having a harder time than you are, Keeshah,
* I said. *
Is it because of her cubs? Is it hurting her to travel?
*

*Don't know
,* the cat replied.

There was an overtone of worry in Keeshah's mind, and something more. I felt a sudden sense of alarm.

*
What's bothering you?
* I asked him.

*
Female here because of me. Cubs. Afraid. Don't want hurt.
*

*
Don't take all that blame on yourself,
* I said gently.

*
Yayshah came along because of Tarani, too
—
because she can talk to Tarani the same way you can talk to me.
*

I felt a sense of agreement from him. *
Woman knows what female needs. I don't.
*

There was sadness and guilt in the thought, guilt I was forced to share. Keeshah had been deeply enthralled in a period of his life which excluded me, a time when he had been totally preoccupied with the biological need to mate and reproduce. In order to achieve perfect communion with those needs, he had instinctively cut off the conscious functioning of our mindlink. He had been mate and father only, totally devoted to Yayshah.

Tarani and I had been cornered near the poison-filled volcanic crater the Gandalarans called the Well of Darkness. In desperation, I had called to Keeshah. Nothing short of imminent physical danger to me could have penetrated that instinctive blockage, I was sure—but Keeshah's devotion to me had let him re-establish our conscious link, and he had come to us. His presence had saved our lives.

Once he had broken it, Keeshah had not been able to achieve again the natural communion he had forsaken. Yet his loyalty to his family was still in operation, making him feel selfish and concerned that his preference for me would interfere with their welfare.

*
I know it troubles you that you can't take care of Yayshah the way you think you should,
* I told Keeshah.

*
But look at it this way
—
there are three of us now who love her. We won't let her or the cubs come to any harm.
*

When Tarani awoke, I asked her about Yayshah's caution.

“She moves easily,” Tarani said, after slipping into and out of a quick linkage with the female sha'um. “And I sense only a little discomfort because of the cubs. But her eyes seem to be hurting—I think the light hurts her eyes.”

“Of course,” I said. “The Valley is shady and relatively cool—she must be suffering from all this light and heat.” I looked up at the sky which was, as usual, smoky gray with the cloud cover. I didn't have to gauge the position of the brighter spot that marked the sun to tell that it was mid-afternoon; my Gandalaran inner awareness operated like a perpetual clock.

“Let's stop here and rest,” I suggested. “We can move on after dark, if we feel like it—it will be easier traveling for Yayshah.”

We found a spot between two tall boulders that was relatively shady. Yayshah snuggled down until she was both
on
and
in
the bushy growth at their feet, and went promptly to sleep.

*Hunt
,* Keeshah told me, and bounded away, headed for the higher hills.

“Keeshah's concerned about Yayshah,” I told Tarani, as we rearranged some vegetation to make a comfortable resting spot beside one of the big boulders. “Can you tell me how long it will be before the cubs are born?”

Tarani opened her backpack, dipped her hands in, and brought them out full of berries. She tipped one handful into my cupped hands and shook her head.

“I truly do not know, Rikardon,” she said. “If Yayshah were still in the Valley,
she
would know, probably down to the very minute. It would be …
natural
for her.”

Natural?
I wondered.
Meaning instinct? Or simply the same sort of inner awareness as the people have? That would mean that the sha'um have their own equivalent of an All-Mind. Not surprising
, I thought.
The very fact that sha'um can link with men and communicate rationally is proof of their intelligence.

But why would it need to be theirs? They might share ours. Keeshah and Yayshah have as much a sense of individual identity as do Tarani and I
—
more
, I corrected wryly,
considering that the question of “Who are you?” is a multiple-choice test for Tarani and me.

“You say she would have known, in the Valley,” I said to Tarani. “Do you mean she doesn't know, now?”

“I think she does know, at least in a general sense,” Tarani said. “But she cannot tell me. She does not think in ‘days' as we do. When I ask, she says only: ‘soon.'”

I looked over at the silhouette of the sleeping female. As she rested on her side, the underslung swelling that held the cubs—she had told us there were three—mounded out, higher than the cat's hips, and rose and fell with Yashah's breathing.

“We'll be in Thagorn in two days,” I said. “The cubs won't arrive before then, will they?”

“If the birth were that close,” Tarani assured me without hesitation, “she could not have left the Valley. For the last day or two, she will be too large and weak to move around much.”

Tarani finished her berries and set aside the pack. I had been collecting my berry pits in one hand; now I threw them all away from me and watched them scatter into the ground cover. I leaned back against the boulder. Tarani joined me and rested her head against my shoulder. I put my arm around her and drew her close against my chest.

“I miss the feel of your body against my back when I ride, “I said, my mouth brushing her dark headfur. “If Yayshah ever gets tired of you …”

She punched me in the side, and we wrestled playfully for a few seconds. She pulled free and knelt a few feet away, panting from the exertion, but laughing at me.

When her gaze fell on Yayshah, I felt a twinge of jealousy at the tenderness that appeared in her face. Only a twinge.

“I think it good that we are going no farther than Thagorn,” Tarani said. “When I asked you if it would harm the cubs for me to ride her, as she wished, do you recall what you said?”

“That she's the best judge of that,” I answered.

“She may not be,” Tarani said seriously. “She is the first of her kind to bear cubs outside the Valley, and she can rely on instinct only to a limited extent. She will know when the cubs
are
endangered, of course, but I do not feel sure that she can prejudge what
will
endanger them. Do you see?”

“I see,” I assured her. “But remember that in Thagorn, she will be in as natural an environment as we can provide for her—forested hills, free-running game, the company of other sha'um. Please don't worry, Tarani,” I said, aware that I was repeating the same thing I had told Keeshah. “Yayshah will not suffer harm from any action of ours.”

“I hope not, Rikardon. I—I couldn't bear it. Volitar died because of me, and Lonna—” Her voice choked off. I felt an odd sensation, like the crawl of an electric shock up my arm. Only this was
not
physical. It tingled in my mind. And it seemed to be getting stronger.

Is Tarani doing this?
I wondered.
Or is somebody doing it to her?

Whatever it was, it was most certainly affecting Tarani. She was kneeling in the viney ground cover. Her hands—long, finely boned, graceful—tensed on her thighs, and her whole body went rigid. She started making gasping sounds.

Yayshah twitched awake and looked at Tarani.

“Forgive me, Yayshah,” the girl gasped. “I would control it—but I cannot—”
She's doing it herself,
I realized.
She's doing it to herself.