Without a Front (28 page)

CHAPTER 47
A different kind of bond

 

“Thank you for clearing your
schedule for me,” Andira said as she accepted a cup of shannel.

Lanaril set her own cup on the side table and took the other chair. “I thought we were past the ritual formalities. Of course I'd clear my schedule for you, and you should expect that by now.”

“It never hurts to be polite, or so my mother always told me. Of course, Father had something different to say.”

“Let me guess. Manners can be perceived as weakness?”

“Depends on who you're with. I prefer to spend time with those who see and appreciate them, like you.”

Lanaril was not immune to the compliment. “The more I know you, the more I understand how you won the election.”

“You didn't understand before?” Andira set her cup down. “That means you didn't vote for me.”

“Oh, no. We're not going down that path.”

Andira chuckled. “No, we're not. I'm content to know I'd have your vote if it ever came up again.”

“You would. I'd even vote twice, once for myself and once for Fahla.”

“Now there's an endorsement I could really use right now.”

“I heard. Is that why you're here?”

“In Blacksun? Yes. In your study, no. I need your expertise on a personal matter.”

The last time Andira had needed her for a personal matter, it had been a crisis of faith and a betrayal. Worried, she sat up straight. “What is it?”

Andira blinked at her before shaking her head. “Oh, no, nothing like that. Actually, it's a good thing. I think.”

Lanaril had begun to relax, but now tensed again. “You're sounding as clear as my copy of
Templar's Creed
. Which I never managed to finish. And why are you keeping up your front with me?”

In a moment she had full access; Andira had dropped her front.

“I'm sorry, I wasn't even thinking. It's force of habit when I'm in the State House.”

“I can certainly understand that. But it took me a long time to get you to drop your front with me. I don't want to go back.” Now that Lanaril could feel her, she relaxed entirely. Nothing in Andira's emotions warranted concern.

“A long time? Nine moons is a record for me. Or at least it was. How do you get to be Lead Templar without finishing the
Templar's Creed?
I thought you had to be able to quote page and verse.”

“You'd be surprised at how few templars actually read that monstrosity. I could make up page and verse and most of my peers would just nod their heads, pretending they remembered.”

“I knew it!”

They shared a laugh, settling in to each other's company.

“What do you mean, it
was
a record?” Lanaril asked. “Have you been going around Granelle without a front?”

“What a coincidence that you should mention that…”

Lanaril had been sipping her shannel, but the unmistakable warmth that burst from Andira made her inhale the drink. She coughed for a few moments before getting her air back.

“Are you all right?” Andira was leaning forward in her chair.

“Perfect,” Lanaril croaked, and cleared her throat. “You've met someone.”

“I have.”

“How wonderful! Is she warrior or scholar?”

“You might want to put that cup down.”

Lanaril looked at her, then set down the cup. “I'm ready.”

“She's a producer.”

Lanaril couldn't have stopped her smile had she tried. “The Lancer of Alsea and a producer? You're going to inspire a whole new crop of weepers. Forget
Merchant of the Mountains
, it'll be
Lancer in the Fields.
I can already hear the theme music.”

“That wasn't quite the response I expected.” Andira's amusement was bright to her senses. “And I had no idea your taste in entertainment was so bad. Guilty pleasure, Lead Templar?”

“I don't watch it, but my aide does. He keeps me apprised of the plot, such as it is.” She examined Andira more closely. “You thought I'd say what most of your caste and mine will—that she can't be good enough for you if she's a producer. Fahla doesn't make those distinctions. They're a limitation of perception we impose on ourselves.”

“I did think that,” Andira admitted. “But I should have known better. Thank you—I'm going to remember those words when the news gets out and judgments start raining down on us. And I can't wait for Salomen to meet you. I'll just introduce you and then sit back and listen.”

She recognized the name. It was hard not to; the producer's challenge to the Lancer had been global news for the last moon. “You fell for the woman who challenged you?”

“I don't know that I'd describe it as falling. It's more like we were pushed together. I spent half a moon in battle with her and then suddenly—” She made a helpless gesture. “Lanaril, I think she's my tyree.”

Lanaril was speechless. This was the very last thing she would have guessed.

“Having second thoughts about whether she's good enough for me?”

“No, not at all. Only Fahla can decide a tyree match. If Salomen Opah really is your tyree, then I could not be happier for you. The only thing you're sensing is my wish that she shared your empathic strength.”

“She does. In fact she might be as strong as I am, though it's difficult to tell when she's so untrained.”

“A producer high empath!”

“She didn't want to leave her caste, so she hid her powers. She fooled the testers at ten cycles.”

“Great Goddess.”

“She's one of a kind.” The smile on Andira's face said it all.

Lanaril rose, collected both of their shannel cups, and took them over to the sideboard. Then she pulled the stopper on a new bottle of spirits, poured two glasses, and brought them back.

“Start from the beginning,” she said.

Her astonishment mounted as she heard about battles of words and wills, delegate meetings, training sessions, intimate family moments, and an attraction that Andira still didn't recognize in hindsight. “I don't know when it all began,” she said, but Lanaril did.

“It began in that very first delegate meeting, when she refused to back down. How many people in your life stand up to you even when you're exerting the full power of both your will and your office on them?”

“I think you're confusing irritation with attraction.”

Lanaril smiled and motioned for her to continue.

The more she heard, the more she understood that Fahla had chosen the perfect match. All of Alsea would have expected their Lancer to find a bondmate in the elite circles of power or at least in one of the two ascendant castes. Instead, she had found a producer who was entirely beyond her experience. She hadn't known how to respond to a woman who not only didn't understand the accepted rules, but wasn't even playing the same game. For once in her life, Andira's caste, family name, and title meant nothing. It sounded as if her artful ability to manipulate others was hitting a stone wall as well.

Then Andira spoke of the first empathic flash, and a chill ran down Lanaril's spine. Her suspicion was confirmed with the account of the second, searing flash that had burned out both women's senses this morning. When Andira fell silent and looked at her for answers, Lanaril could hardly contain her awe.

“There is not the slightest doubt in my mind that you've found your tyree,” she said. “Not only that, but when you complete your bond, it will be of an extraordinary strength. You're not just tyree. You're the kind I've only read about.”

“I didn't know there were different kinds.”

“There haven't been recently. Or perhaps they existed but weren't recorded. Everything I know about them comes from older texts.” She went to her bookshelves and ran a finger down several spines before finding the one she was looking for. Quickly, she flipped through the pages. “Ah, here we go. ‘When Fahla touched them, and divine spirit met flesh, the chosen tyrees burned with her fire. Separated, the fire reached for itself, seeking union. In the conflagration their bond was sealed, and thereafter they bore the remnant sparks within them, never to be extinguished.'”

“So the empathic flashes are the fire of Fahla?”

Lanaril brought the book with her as she retook her seat. “You have been touched, Andira. I don't know when or how, but Fahla has come to you personally. Normal tyrees feel the empathic flash only once, during the bonding. For the two of you to be experiencing them before your bonding means that your empathic centers are reaching for each other. They're trying to connect, to complete that bond, from a distance that shouldn't be possible. And once you do complete it, your bonding will be irreversible.”

“All tyree bonds are irreversible. Unless they're broken from the inside.”

“You won't be able to break yours even if you wanted to. Remember, it says the remnant sparks are never to be extinguished. Once you bond, your minds will be permanently linked. As far as Salomen is concerned, you'll be without a front. You'll never be able to raise it again.”

Andira stared at her in utter shock. Finally, she repeated, “Never? Never as in, not even for one piptick will I be alone in my own mind?”

“You will always know her emotions, and she will always know yours. This is a truly sacred bond. You won't be able to block it. Not only that, but the connection transcends distance. You'll be able to feel each other no matter where you are. What you felt yesterday is just a glimpse of what will happen.”

Andira inhaled sharply. “Great Mother! Then we'll have a very long pre-bond. We need time to adapt.” She chuckled without humor. “Salomen in my mind every tick? No one could adapt to that.”

“Putting off the bonding ceremony won't make a difference. That has nothing to do with this.”

“But you said our minds will be permanently linked once we—” She stopped as Lanaril shook her head.

“For tyrees the process is different. The bonding ceremony is nothing
but
ceremony for you; it was created for all the rest of us who need a bond minister to complete the connection. Tyrees have no such need.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that the first time you Share, the connection will be made. Your bond will be complete.”

“Spawn of a fantenshekken! I cannot believe it. Great Mother, this is—I don't—Fahla!” Andira blew out a breath and rubbed her forehead. In a calmer voice she said, “We'll have to wait a long time for our Sharing, then. Damn, that will make this so much more difficult.”

“You don't have the luxury of waiting. You're carrying the fire of Fahla inside you. Do you think you're stronger than it is? That fire seeks its union. The empathic flashes will keep getting stronger and easier to set off until you do what it wants. You set this in motion the moment you joined; it can't be stopped now.”

“But…” Her embarrassment rippled outward. “We haven't joined.”

Lanaril frowned. “Are you certain?”

After a moment of silence they both laughed.

“Yes, I'm certain. I think I'd remember. It's only been a few days since we stopped fighting each other. Actually, it hasn't even been one day—this morning's fight was the worst of all.”

“I heard it ended well, though.”

They shared a smile before Lanaril began puzzling over this new wrinkle.

“I've never read of such a thing,” she said. “This type of bond doesn't just initialize spontaneously. It's set off by a physical connection. That's what allows the empathic centers to recognize each other.”

Andira's eyes widened. “A physical connection? Would a warmron do it?”

“I suppose it would, but that's not—” Lanaril stopped. “Really?”

“We shared a warmron three days ago,” Andira admitted. “I initiated it.”

That might have been the most shocking thing Lanaril had heard yet. “And she allowed it?”

“I can't tell you how it happened, because that's too personal even for this conversation. But I can tell you that I learned a great deal about warmrons from the Gaians. They share them freely, all their lives, with anyone they want. For them, warmrons can be anything from romantic to gestures of good friendship. I received several as part of our cultural exchange, and once I experienced that, I wondered why we see them only as an artifact of childhood or the province of lovers and bondmates.”

Lanaril could easily imagine it. Andira did tend to look for alternative paths; it was in her nature. It was also what made her a good Lancer. But in this instance, it had not worked in her favor.

“I think you might have answered that question now,” she said.

Andira dropped her head into her hands. “What were the chances?”

“I'm sorry this is so hard for you. A divine bond is supposed to be a joyous process between two people who have already found their way into each other's arms. But you've made yours into an uncontrollable avalanche, even with the best of intentions.”

“Surely it's not so uncontrollable. We can't touch without triggering empathic flashes, fine. Then we'll be careful and not touch each other. That won't be so difficult. This is still new to us; we're not ready for a joining yet anyway.”

And still she was trying to find a way around it.

“Not touching will slow the process, yes. But it won't stop it, and it will make you both miserable. Andira, I don't think you're grasping the fact that you are carrying a
divine flame
. This isn't like manipulating the Council into doing what you want. You cannot manipulate Fahla. Tyrees aren't meant to be apart, and your kind of tyree—well, there are stories about those who thought they could deny it or who were forcibly kept apart by evil. They began to lose their mental faculties as the better parts of their minds abandoned them in search of their partners. I don't think I'm overstating it to say that your ability to continue your life, and to govern as Lancer, depends on completing this bond quickly. If you would deny your tyree, you will also deny your future—and hers.”