Without a Front (18 page)

CHAPTER 32
A well-kept secret

 

Tal slept like the dead
that first night, so tired that she failed to wake at her usual hantick and missed her morning run. Micah's knock on her door finally woke her, and she barely made it to mornmeal in time. It was just as well, since she couldn't have run more than four steps this morning. As it was, she could barely lift her fork to her mouth.

If she had thought yesterday afternoon was hard, today was worse. Her muscles were already aching, and now she was asking them to do exactly the same thing for twice as long. Midmeal couldn't come soon enough, and by the end of the day she would happily have slept on the ground in her row. The idea of walking as far as the skimmer was almost more than she could handle.

Her steps dragged as she hauled herself to the end of her row, but when she saw Salomen standing near the skimmer, her spine stiffened of its own accord. Micah would light her funeral pyre before she'd let that woman see her aches and pains.

She nearly fell asleep in the shower. Dressing took more time than usual, and she cast longing glances at the bed, which was exerting an almost physical pull. This was ridiculous; at this rate she might actually plant her face in her plate at evenmeal. It was time for drastic measures. She dug out her healing kit and injected herself with a stimulant, closing her eyes until she felt the familiar rush. The last time she had needed stims was after the
Caphenon
crashed. Of course, she had been preparing for war then.

In some ways, it felt as if she was doing the same now.

She was just tucking away her kit when she felt a presence outside her door and was immediately annoyed that she could already recognize Salomen's emotional signature. The woman was distinctive; she had to admit that much. Thank Fahla she had already injected herself. Five ticks earlier and she would not have been able to conceal her exhaustion.

She opened the door before Salomen could knock and took some satisfaction in her surprise. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to tell you that there are fresh towels in your bathroom. I meant to bring them up earlier, but you beat me into the shower.” Salomen held out a small tube. “And this will help your muscles.”

Tal looked at the tube as if it were poisonous. “What about my muscles?”

“Lancer Tal, while you're under my roof, you're under my care. If you think I can't see what you're trying to hide, then either you're blind or you think I am. I assure you I am not.”

Tal glared at her but had no way to refute her statement without an outright lie. She took the tube with little grace. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

It should have ended there, but Salomen kept looking at her, and Tal couldn't close the door in her face. “Was there something else?”

“Why are you here?” Salomen asked.

“You accepted my challenge.” Something was off; her empathic senses were tingling.

Salomen shook her head. “That's the political answer. You could have refused my counterchallenge without losing face—surely a Lancer can't easily leave the capital for an entire moon. That's why I made it, so we'd both have a way out. But you came anyway, and I've been watching you killing yourself for two days trying to prove something you have no need to prove. I just can't figure out why.”

Tal went still, shocked by what she had just felt. It was impossible. There was no way a mid empath could be doing that.

But she was.

“Great Goddess, you're probing me,” she breathed.

Salomen's eyes went wide, her instant fear slicing into Tal's mind. “No, I—”

“You are. Don't lie to me.”

“I…I didn't mean to. It was an accident. I'm sorry.”

Tal stared into dark brown eyes, focusing all of her empathic powers directly on Salomen's mind. It would have been a violation at any other time, but Salomen's own transgression had changed the rules.

There was no sound but that of panicked breathing. Tal made her probe as gentle as she could under the circumstances, but Salomen still felt it and was terrified by the invasion of her mind. Instinctively, Tal expanded her own front, protecting Salomen from being read by anyone else. Even the least empathic Alseans were usually sensitive to their own kin, and terror like this was bound to be picked up. Jaros in particular would be upset; he was closely bonded to his sister.

At last she withdrew from her probe and took a step back, letting physical distance reduce the perceived threat. “How is it possible that you're this strong and yet untrained?”

Salomen sagged against the doorframe, her distress transmitted as clearly as if she were a child.

Feeling awkward at the shift in their dynamic, Tal took her hand, drew her into the room and shut the door behind them. Gently pushing Salomen onto the foot of the bed, she crouched on her heels in front of her. “It's all right. I'm not going to report you.”

“But I probed you.” Her voice was so small that Tal had to lean in to hear. “I probed the Lancer. Fahla, I didn't even realize… I'm so sorry. It was an accident, I swear. Please forgive me.”

“I already have. But you haven't answered my question. This is important.”

Salomen said nothing, but Tal could feel her fighting a resurgent panic.

“Look at me.” Wide eyes stared into hers, and she gave a reassuring nod. “Take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Good. Now another.”

The fear receded, and Salomen shook her head. “You're being kinder than I have a right to expect.”

“I would not prosecute an innocent probe. You have no control, but you need to learn it. Probe the wrong person and you could be in serious trouble. Do it more than once and you could find yourself in the Pit.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Why aren't you scholar or warrior caste? With your powers you should have been marked by your tenth cycle.”

She shook her head.

“Tell me.”

Clearly, Salomen wished to be anywhere else, but under Tal's steady gaze she finally gained control of both her emotions and her voice. “Because I didn't want to go.”

“Most children are afraid of the separation, but it's necessary. How did you manage to stay out of the system?”

“Please get up. You're making me uncomfortable there.”

Tal sat on the bed next to her. “And you're stalling.”

Salomen rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. “I never spoke of my powers,” she said to the floor. “No one in my family has them, nor did any of my friends. They marked me as something…different. I didn't want that. I never asked for it.”

Tal came from a family of strong empaths; her own talent had been celebrated and nurtured. But she could easily imagine how confusing such powers might be to a young child who did not understand them.

“Then the testers came and spoke of changing castes and all that a high empath could look forward to. I was ten cycles and from a producer community. All I knew of warriors was what I read in books. They always seemed to be sleeping outside in the rain, or getting in fights and having friends die, and they never stayed at home. I couldn't imagine it. The only scholars I knew were my teachers, and I didn't care for any of them either. The idea of leaving my family was frightening enough; doing it to become like my teachers or like those warriors in the stories was unthinkable. I would not let them take me.”

“Determined and stubborn even at ten cycles.”

Salomen raised her head and looked at her.

“Merely an observation,” Tal added.

“Not an accusation?” There was a hint of humor in the question.

“No. Now tell me how you avoided being marked.”

“I don't know. I went to my test knowing that I could not allow them to see what no one else had. And they didn't.”

“You beat the testers?” She had expected Salomen to say that she skipped her testing and somehow the omission was lost in the records. This story was barely credible.

Salomen shrugged. “I did what I had to.”

“What you did was beyond belief. Testers are high empaths and extensively trained in the detection of empathic gifts, including all the ways of keeping them hidden. You weren't the first child to try to fool them, but you're the first one I ever heard of who actually succeeded.”

“I never heard of it either. If I'd known then what I know now, I probably wouldn't have had the courage to try. I'd have assumed it was impossible.”

“Isn't it amazing what you can do if you just believe it?”

Salomen studied her. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Because I just scared you halfway to your Return and I really didn't mean to. But this cannot continue. An untrained empath of your strength is a danger.” Tal held up her hand at the surge of dread. “No, don't worry. I said I wouldn't report you and I won't. But there is a price.”

Instant wariness. Salomen might be a strong empath, but she had no ability to front her emotions from Tal's senses. “And what is that?”

“You will accept an instructor immediately. I know several who would be honored to train one of your strength. The Whitemoon Sensoral Institute could—”

“No. I won't go.”

Tal could not believe her ears. “You'd rather be reported?”

“Lancer Tal, please—I cannot leave my family. Not for that length of time. Don't you see the role I play here? I'm the head of our house. If I spent the next five cycles in Whitemoon, what would happen to my father? And Jaros? Nikin and Herot can run the holding, but they don't have the capacity to hold our family together.”

Tal considered her thoughtfully. Taking a child of ten from her family was one thing; removing the head of the house was another. Salomen had a point. Full training, and the change of caste it would entail, would devastate her family. The law did not exist merely to protect less gifted Alseans. It was also meant to make sure that gifted empaths were detected and given the means of developing their powers. Allowing Salomen's tremendous potential to go undeveloped would be a tragic waste, but it was her loss and affected no one else. If Tal could guarantee that she had sufficient skills to protect other Alseans from the potential misuse of her powers, then the main concern of the law would be satisfied.

“Then there's only one alternative,” she said. “I'll instruct you.”

“Ah. Right. The Lancer of Alsea just happens to have sufficient spare time to spend five cycles training a single person—I think not.”

“No, I don't have five cycles. But I have two moons, and in that time I can teach you the basics. You only need to know enough to protect yourself.”

Salomen's laugh had no humor in it. “And you believe I would allow you into my mind?”

“Stop me if you can.” Tal dove in, penetrating without effort and projecting her intent.

“I agree to your terms. Please train me.”

She withdrew and watched the shock register.

“I didn't mean that!” Salomen said in horror.

“Of course not. But you have the power to do what I just did. You have the strength for covert projection and empathic force. You could make someone transfer their fortune to you, or influence a Council member's vote. You could even use another Alsean to commit murder. You
are
a danger.”

“I would never do any of those things! For Fahla's sake, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't know how.”

“I believe you, but in this instance I'm afraid your word is not sufficient. There's another danger as well. Though you're not a criminal, you could easily be used by one. I had no trouble entering your mind, even with you on your guard. Another strong empath could do the same thing, with more sinister intent. You could be forced to use your powers under someone else's control.”

“But I—”

“Salomen, listen to me. You've avoided discovery so far, but your luck won't hold out forever. You're using your empathic strength every day without thinking about it, aren't you? How did you know I tore open my arm yesterday? And don't tell me you just happened to be walking by and heard me.”

Salomen couldn't hold her gaze. “I felt it.”

“I thought it was an unfortunate coincidence that you were the one to find me. Someday there will be one too many coincidences, and now is not a good time for a high empath to be caught breaking Fahla's covenant. It's been a cycle and I still have people calling me a war criminal. Did you see what happened to the high empaths working with the smugglers in Whitemoon?”

“A lifetime sentence in the Pit,” she whispered. “I couldn't believe it. All they did was make a few people look the other way.”

“Right now, that's all it takes to destroy a life.”

Salomen dropped her head back into her hands.

“I'm sorry,” Tal said, “but I cannot allow this situation to continue. Either accept me as your instructor, or leave your family for a full training and change of caste.”

“Shek!” Salomen looked at her in despair. “Such an attractive set of options. Abandon my caste or allow the most proud, unfeeling, arrogant woman I have ever met full access to my mind.”

The words hit with surprising force. Certainly Tal felt the same about Salomen—at least regarding the pride and arrogance—so why would it bother her to hear that Salomen viewed her that way?

“What you lack in tact or consideration you certainly make up in honesty,” she said. “But you needn't have made the effort; I already know what you think of me. You have a choice. Consider it, and give me an answer by tomorrow night.” She stood up. “Now if you don't mind, I have a few things to do before coming down to evenmeal.”

Slowly, Salomen made her way to the door. She looked back once, then shook her head and walked through.

The moment the door shut behind her, Tal dropped back onto the bed. “What a mess,” she whispered.