Without a Front (33 page)

Tal dropped the twig back in its bowl. “I'm so sorry.” She picked up the bowl and began to rise, but Salomen put a hand on her wrist.

“No, please. I think…I would like to have some new memories to associate with that scent.”

Tal put the bowl back. “Then I'll do my best to make this the first of many new memories.”

“You already have. So tell me, what makes Valkinon better than Tollisan?”

“Have you ever had either?”

“No.”

“Well, Tollisan is all name recognition and very little delivery. Personally, I think most people who buy it do so entirely for the ego boost. If they knew anything about spirits, they wouldn't drink it. But they want to be seen spending an enormous number of cinteks.”

“And Valkinon?”

“Is a spirit from the Highmont district, produced by a maker who has very little name recognition because he doesn't pay for advertising. But he doesn't need to. Anyone who seeks out good-quality spirits will eventually hear his name. He charges less for his spirits because his own costs aren't that high, meaning a less affluent Alsean can afford a better spirit than the type more affluent Alseans tend to drink.”

Salomen narrowed her eyes. “Did I just hear an economics lesson? Perhaps something you've been trying to convince my caste?”

Tal had to smile. “Not intentionally, no, but the principle is the same.”

Their waiter arrived with two glasses and a bottle. Silently, he set the glasses in front of them, braced the bottle with one hand, and pulled the tab with the other. The cap popped off, clattering to the wood floor as a puff of blue mist floated from the bottle. Tal watched in anticipation as he poured, picking up her glass as soon as he left. “I should warn you that you're about to be ruined for anything less.”

Salomen raised an eyebrow that said
We'll see about that
, and took a sip. The second eyebrow joined the first. “Oh, Fahla. This is wonderful.”

“Mm-hm.” Tal was enjoying her own drink. “I believe it's your turn.”

“What?”

“I chose the spirits, but the food is another matter. You live here. What would you recommend?”

“Andira, this is Meadowgreen. Everything is good.”

Tal shook her head. “Insufficient. Not to mention a startling lack of assertiveness on your part. You tell me what to do every day in the fields and now you won't recommend a meal?”

Salomen leaned close. “Do you want me to tell you what to do?”

The low voice sent a shiver down Tal's spine, and she leaned in as well. “I've already experienced that. But I do wonder whether you would take orders as well as you give them.”

“You'll have to wait to learn that, my Lancer. I give up no secrets.”

Tal was now regretting the high-necked shirt, and Salomen gave her a slow smile.

“You seem a little warm. Perhaps we should begin with a cold soup.”

“An excellent idea,” Tal said, resisting the urge to undo a few buttons at her collar.

Salomen sat up straight. “Then let's see what they offer.” She pushed the control on her side, and a small section of the table slid back to reveal the electronic menu. “Oh, look. Horten soup, this close to harvest? Corsine must have imported it from central Pallea. I could make this for us next nineday for a tenth of the cost, and it would be much fresher.”

“You can?”

“Certainly. Would you like me to?”

“‘Like' is probably not a sufficient term. I adore horten soup. The last time I was in central Pallea during harvest, I brought back an enormous container of it and vacuum-stored it. I rationed it out to myself at the rate of one bowl every nineday, and was crushed when it was gone.”

“You vacuum-stored horten soup? Oh, no no no.” Salomen shook her head. “You must have it fresh.”

“All right,” Tal said quickly. “If you say so.”

“I see I have my work cut out for me. If you can wait a few days, I think I can promise something that will curl your toes with gastronomic happiness.”

“Then I can wait. But it won't be easy.”

“Nothing really good ever is.”

Tal couldn't keep the grin off her face as Salomen went through the menu, discarding various dishes as too expensive or too common—“I could make this at the holding as well; why is Corsine asking a Lancer's ransom for something this easy?”—and finally settling on a soup, main dish, and dessert. When she slid the cover back over her menu and looked up, heat suffused her cheeks. “What?”

“I was just enjoying watching you concentrate. You develop an adorable crinkle right here.” Tal pointed at her own forehead, just above her nose.

“I do not crinkle.”

“You do. I've watched it for nearly three ninedays.”

“Thank you very much; now I'm embarrassed.”

“Is that all it takes?”

“Always looking for the tactical advantage, aren't you?”

“Of course. It's part of that greatest warrior thing.”

Salomen chuckled. “I knew you wouldn't let that go.”

“Do you blame me? All this time I've wondered if anyone on Hol-Opah even knew what I did in that battle. No one has mentioned a word or asked any questions, not even Jaros. And if Jaros isn't asking me, it can only be because he has no idea.”

“Or because he was instructed not to.”

Tal sat back in her chair. “Really?”

Salomen took a leisurely sip of her spirits. “You were such an arrogant ass when you challenged me. I couldn't bear the idea of you coming to my holding and being treated like Fahla's favorite by my own family and field workers. So I told everyone to act as if you were just a regular guest who had nothing to do with the Voloth. I wasn't going to allow you any edge based solely on your rank or title—or even the fact that you single-handedly turned that battle.” She drummed her fingers lightly on the glass. “Then after your first few days with us, when you never brought any of that up yourself, Father said you might prefer it that way. That it might be a relief for you to be treated as if none of that had happened.”

“So you were motivated by competition, while Shikal was being compassionate.”

Salomen's gaze turned sharp. “You let me think you needed twenty Guards and waited a full day to tell me otherwise. Don't talk to me about competition.”

Tal couldn't help it; just the memory of that vidcom call made her snort with laughter. “And you should have seen yourself when I told you. You were trying so hard to be calm about it, but the relief was written all over your face.”

“Were the homicidal thoughts written there, too?”

Tal laughed harder. “No, you managed to keep those to yourself until the first day, when you toured me around.”

“Oh, you were a dokker's backside that afternoon,” Salomen said, but her lips were twitching.

“I know I was. Somehow you managed to neutralize every diplomatic instinct I ever had, along with most of my manners. And then I couldn't understand why you were so nice to Gehrain and Micah when you were such a vallcat with me.”

“And people say you're a strategic thinker.”

“I am when my head isn't on backwards. I'm sorry, Salomen.”

“Well…” Salomen blew out a breath. “I'm sorry, too. You were right, you know. When you said I was defensive about my position. I'm proud of Hol-Opah, but you were coming from the damn State House. I just knew you were looking at everything and thinking how shabby it was.”

“Actually, I was looking at everything and thinking how beautiful it was. Including you.” She enjoyed Salomen's smile and added, “Shikal was right, too. It
has
been a relief to be treated like a normal person. So please don't change anything.”

“Too late for that,” Salomen said quietly. Her gaze shifted past Tal's shoulder, and she stiffened. “Well, the air in here just became a great deal more stifling.”

Tal had already sensed it and could see the new arrivals from the corner of her eye. “Who are they?”

“The overweight pompous one is Gordense Bilsner. His equally pompous bondmate is Iversina, and the obnoxious boy is Cullom, Gordense's son by his first bondmate.” Salomen looked back at Tal. “You're surprised.”

“The last person I heard you describe so unkindly was me. You're usually less judgmental.”

“I was wrong about you because I didn't know you, but I know the Bilsners very well. Believe me, the descriptions are well-earned.” Salomen's expression hardened as she added, “They don't treat their field workers well. Many of them have come to Hol-Opah to ask for employment, and they've told me stories to raise your hair. I've taken all that I could, and only wish I could rescue them all. No one deserves the treatment that passes for normal at Hol-Bilsner. Gordense and Iversina are insufferable at caste house meetings; they think that owning more land makes them better than anyone else. It's particularly annoying with Iversina because she should know better. She comes from a poor family, but apparently her memory is short. Unfortunately, Cullom has absorbed their self-inflating beliefs and mixed them with the arrogance of youth.”

“A bad combination.”

“Very bad. And he and Herot have become friends.”

Tal shook her head. “Now I understand your concern.” She watched in her peripheral vision as the Bilsners were led to a table near the center of the room. Gordense was not pleased with the location and motioned toward the tables by the windows. Then he saw her and Salomen, and Tal felt a swell of outright hatred. He spoke to his bondmate as they sat, causing a surge of negative emotions from his family.

“They clearly don't like one of us. Which one is it?” Tal took a casual sip of her drink, her senses alert.

“That's difficult to say. Gordense has made a point of snubbing and undermining me at every opportunity since I turned down his bond offer. But he—” She stopped as Tal abruptly thumped her glass to the table.

“That little fanten made you a bond offer?”

“No, he made my land a bond offer. Our holdings adjoin; if we had bonded, we would have controlled most of the land in this district. I never deluded myself into thinking it was anything more than political or financial, which is why I could never understand his anger when I said no. It was business for him, but he took the rejection personally.”

“The rejection meant he didn't get what he wanted, and to someone like that, it becomes personal.” Tal knew the type. She had dealt with far too many of them on the Council.

“The odd thing is that on the surface, he's been very friendly to me since I began speaking out against…ah…”

“Against me?” It was not unexpected, after all.

Salomen took a steadying drink of her spirits. “Yes. I thought your policies were an extraordinary danger to our caste, and I said what I thought at our caste house meetings. I'm sorry to have been one of the voices that have caused you such trouble.”

“Don't be. You were true to your beliefs, and I respect that.”

“Do you forgive everyone so readily?”

“I forgive based on truth. When you were convinced that my policies would destroy your caste, you spoke your truth. The important thing is that you've learned a new truth, and tomorrow you'll be speaking it before your peers. That's integrity. Why would I need to forgive that?”

“Every day I learn something more about you, and every day I wonder how I could have been so wrong.”

“We were both wrong. But I'm happy with where we are now.”

Salomen reached across the table and took her hand. “I am, too. For all my fear of this, I'm very happy.”

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of their soup. Salomen released her hand and sat back, smiling sheepishly. As the waiter departed she said, “Caught holding hands like a pair of pre-Rite lovers.”

“Oh, no, this was much worse. You were caught holding hands with the single most dangerous person to your caste. Not only that, but one of the most powerful landholders in the district saw it. You're in trouble tomorrow.”

“Gordense saw it?”

“He can't keep his eyes off this table.”

“Damn. I didn't think about that. My word will mean less tomorrow if Gordense can accuse me of personal involvement.” Salomen picked up her spoon and took a sip of her soup. “Oh, this is good.”

Tal sampled hers and bit back a moan. “Fahla! Corsine should have a restaurant in Blacksun. He'd have every wealthy Alsean at his door, begging for a reservation. Why is he here in Granelle?”

“Because his bondmate was born and raised here. She hates Blacksun.”

They both paused, and by mutual unspoken agreement decided not to pursue that line of conversation.

“I think your personal involvement could be to your advantage,” Tal said. “Surely everyone knows that you're not easily fooled, nor do you say anything you don't mean. If you tell your peers that you're revising your opinion precisely because of what you've learned from our discussions—will they not respect that?”

“Hm. They might.” Salomen thoughtfully sipped her soup. “In fact…” Another sip, and her face brightened. “That might just be the key. I'd planned to avoid all mention of our relationship, but perhaps I should do the opposite. Acknowledge it so it can't be used against me and use it to strengthen my testimony.”

“Who knew that producers could be such strategic thinkers?”

“If you haven't learned by now that strategy is a part of our daily lives, then I've taught you nothing these last three ninedays.” Salomen frowned. “But if I had my wish, I wouldn't be wasting my time thinking about this. Neither would you. It's so unfair that after all your work, a few individuals could jeopardize everything.”

“Actually, it's one individual.”

“What?”

Tal exhaled. “I think I need to tell you about Darzen Fosta.”