Salomen rose from her chair and tapped her over the heart. “You just look like a tough warrior on the outside. In here, there’s a pile of goo.”
“Don’t tell. My reputation would be destroyed.”
“That’s the trouble with warriors. They all want to look tough to hide their soft hearts. I’ve seen harder hearts in the Granelle Producer Caste House.”
“Warriors have selectively soft hearts,” Vellmar informed her. “We’re only gooey for those who need us. And those kittens need me. So what do I feed a passel of vallcat kittens?”
“At this stage? Their mother would probably bring them a long-eared field digger.”
“Perfect. We can pick one up at the market.” This would be easier than she thought.
“No, we can’t.”
“We can’t?”
“We’ll have to find a specialty butcher. It needs to be freshly killed, with the fur still on.” Salomen laughed at her grimace. “You are a soft bunch. You’ve never butchered your own food, have you?”
“I prefer mine already…plucked.”
“Then this will be an education for you.”
As it turned out, it was an education for more than just Vellmar. By the time she located a butcher who could supply their needs, Lancer Tal had returned from her morning meetings. She wanted to go along, which necessitated not just the Bondlancer’s Guards but also the Lancer’s. While the preparations were being made, Linzine, Khasa, and Jerran appeared—by direct invitation of the Lancer, Vellmar learned to her amazement—and wanted to accompany them as well. As word continued to travel, Colonel Micah, Senshalon, and Head Guardian Gehrain joined the group, losing no time in teasing Vellmar about her rescue mission. There were now seventeen people in need of transportation, which required a full-sized military transport, too large to land in front of the butcher’s shop. Lancer Tal took over the logistics, ordering most of the group to fly directly to the field in the military transport while she, Salomen, Vellmar, and Colonel Micah would take her personal transport to town.
The butcher nearly fell over himself with shock when both the Lancer and Bondlancer appeared in his shop, and it took all of Vellmar’s patience to convince him that they weren’t his customers, she was. After far too much obsequiousness, she finally made it out with a freshly killed field digger, which—to her considerable disgust—was still warm to the touch.
Salomen pronounced it to be perfect.
They landed next to the military transport, well away from the cordoned-off area around the vallcat den. Vellmar took one look at the crowd already standing just behind the ropes and was newly grateful for the full security. Since she had left this field yesterday afternoon, the den had become a tourist attraction.
“How in the name of our Goddess is the mother vallcat supposed to get through that?” she asked as their group walked over.
“She won’t,” Salomen said. “But I’m sure the crowd will disperse when the events are over for the day. And there are only two more days left in the Games. Once the temporary stands are disassembled, we can take down the cordon and there won’t be a visual marker to give away the den’s location.”
The Guards took up positions just inside the ropes, staring outward at the crowd, and Salomen informed the rest of their group that they would be staying behind as well. This was met with a chorus of groans, but the Bondlancer had learned to wield her authority, and no one questioned it. Only Lancer Tal accompanied them to the den itself.
They approached carefully, seeing no activity, and settled themselves just beyond the opening.
“How do we call them out?” Vellmar whispered.
“Unless you can imitate the grunt of a mother vallcat, you won’t be calling them. The blood will,” Salomen said. “Go ahead, cut it open.”
Vellmar stared at her. “Cut it open?”
Covering her eyes, Salomen laughed quietly. “Warriors. You all carry knives and you haven’t the slightest idea what they’re really used for. Give me that.”
Gratefully, Vellmar dropped the field digger into her outstretched hand.
Salomen pulled out a well-worn, curve-bladed knife, pinched up the skin on the digger’s back, slipped the knife in, and ripped downward with one brisk motion. Then she worked two fingers from each hand into the slice and pulled in opposite directions. The digger’s furry skin peeled off in two parts, now hanging over its head and rear feet.
“This isn’t how I’d butcher it for myself,” Salomen said in a low tone, “but the kittens aren’t concerned about skin and fur. They just need immediate access to the meat and organs. So you open it enough for them to get started.” She flipped the carcass over, inserted her knife under the belly tissue, and deftly cut upward, revealing glistening internal organs. Next she made side cuts halfway up each leg, then set the bleeding carcass on the ground at the lip of the den. “Now we wait.”
As she wiped her knife clean on the grass and sheathed it, Vellmar met Lancer Tal’s eyes over the top of her head. “Did you know she could do that?” she whispered.
The Lancer shook her head, her expression every bit as startled as Vellmar felt. “She hardly got any blood on her hands.”
“Amazing what you can learn from a producer, isn’t it?” Salomen didn’t take her gaze off the den opening. She wiped her fingers on a kerchief, and Lancer Tal was right. There was almost no blood on it.
They waited in silence for the kittens to appear. It didn’t take long. Within two ticks, the first kitten crawled cautiously to the opening, its nose wriggling as it scented the blood. When it saw the field digger, hunger overcame caution and it rushed out, falling upon its prey with a small growl. This seemed to be the magic call, and the other two kittens were soon competing for the meat. Between the three of them, they tore apart the field digger with a ferocious efficiency that was all the more surprising for their cute appearance. Vellmar’s respect rose as she watched. These weren’t helpless kittens; they were miniature predators.
“You’re just a little warrior with fur, aren’t you?” she murmured, watching the first kitten as it braced itself with two paws and wrenched away a mouthful of meat. “A new hunter, just learning her craft.”
Salomen glanced over and smiled. “And you saved her.”
“I did, didn’t I?” A rush of pride burned away the last vestiges of yesterday’s regret. She had done a good thing. True, it had cost her the title, but given a second chance, she would make the same decision. She lifted her head and found her mothers, standing with the Guards at the ropes. Khasa silently clapped her hands together, a gleeful grin on her face, while Linzine gave her an approving nod.
Vellmar grinned back at them. Never would she have imagined she could feel so good about losing a championship. She looked at Jerran, who rolled his eyes and shook his head, and laughed to herself.
By the time the kittens ate their fill, they had accepted their benefactors to such a degree that instead of retreating into the den, they sat down to clean their fur in the sunshine. With this important task complete, they flopped one by one into the grass, bodies tangled together, and slept.
“They’re trusting us to guard them,” Salomen said. “They wouldn’t sleep outside the den otherwise. We’re standing in for their mother.”
“So we can’t leave until they’re awake?” Lancer Tal asked. “Tyrina, I have meetings. Much as I’d like to stay, I cannot.”
“I know.” Salomen leaned in and kissed her. “I want to stay, though. Do you mind?”
“No, of course not. You’re being guarded by the best blade handler on Alsea.”
“Second best,” Vellmar corrected. “But I’m happy with that.”
Lancer Tal looked at the sleeping kittens, whose striped fur provided near-perfect camouflage in the grass. “You have a gift, Vellmar. Only Fahla knows how you could have seen something this small and this well hidden from almost one h
undred paces away. It wasn’t even your target. I trust you more today than I did yesterday, and yesterday I already trusted you with my life. Today I trust you with Salomen’s.” She gave Vellmar a short nod, then rose and walked away.
One of the kittens opened its eyes at the movement, its ears already alert for danger. It looked after the Lancer, then checked to see that Salomen and Vellmar were still there. Confirming their presence, it yawned, settled back, and slept once more.
Vellmar reached out and tentatively touched its fur. When it merely shifted deeper into the pile of bodies, she indulged herself by stroking it head to tail.
“How does it feel?” Salomen asked.
Vellmar smiled at her. “Like the best day of my life.”
CHAPTER 17:
Injustice
“I still don’t think it’s fair that she lost the championship title,” Milena complained. “They should have given it to her.”
“But she disqualified herself,” said Harren. “You can’t win when you break the rules.”
Jandahar thought that wasn’t exactly true, but it was much too soon for his children to be learning that particular lesson. “Harren’s right. Vellmar knew what she was doing. She made a choice, and sometimes that’s what you have to do in life. You can’t always have everything you want.”
“So you have to choose which thing you want more,” Harren said wisely.
Jandahar smiled. “And other times, you have to choose which thing is right, even if you don’t want it.”
“But that’s not fair! She did the right thing, and she was punished for it!”
“I don’t think Vellmar considered it a punishment, Milena.”
“I don’t see how she could not,” she grumbled.
CHAPTER 18:
Growing up
Vellmar spent the day at the Games with her family and found it to be an entirely different experience now that she was done competing. She was relaxed and able to enjoy the atmosphere without constantly thinking about her upcoming events. They sampled delicacies from various regions, watched as many events as they could get tickets to—which was quite a few, since competitors were given free access whenever seats were available—and took another, more leisurely walk through the tents of the weapons vendors. She remained content with her earlier choice; no other knives looked as good as the ones she already carried in her boots.
They rode the magtran back into the city for evenmeal at a restaurant that Jerran suggested. Not until they were seated did Vellmar learn where he had gotten the recommendation.
“You met Gehrain? After our mothers specifically told you not to?”
“Jerran,” Khasa sighed. “Really?”
“I didn’t join with him!”
“Not for lack of effort.” Vellmar was just angry enough to say that out loud.
He glared at her. “In fact, I made no effort. Even if I’d wanted to, I wouldn’t have. Do you know what he wanted to talk about? You!”
He looked so disgruntled that she forgot her ire and chuckled. “It shouldn’t surprise you. I’m the only thing you have in common.”
“Fahla, your ego doesn’t even fit in this room. We have other things in common, but I’m not going to bother listing them.”
“Please don’t. I have to work with him.”
A sly smile crossed his face. “He was very curious about why I call you VC, though.”
“You did not—” She stopped as his smile bloomed into a full grin. “Shek. You did.”
He began to laugh. “I did, and he said he thinks you should start using that name again, because it’s even more relevant now.”
Their mothers looked at each other. Khasa snorted first, then Linzine gave up and began laughing, and soon all four of them were clutching their stomachs.
“It’s true,” Vellmar admitted. “I could never have imagined how accurate that name would become.”
“Vallcat Vellmar!” Jerran sputtered. “The wild cat no one dared to cross in school, because you had sharper claws than anyone.”
“As I recall, I used those claws more than once to defend you.”
He sobered and gave her a thoughtful look. “You did. I always wondered why.”
“You’re my brother. Family comes first. Even if you were a little dokker.”
The evenmeal was one of the most relaxed times she could ever recall spending with her family, and when it was over, she surprised herself by inviting them for a tour of the State House. She had wanted to show it off to her mothers but had not envisioned including Jerran in the invitation—or that he would accept with unconcealed interest.
They spent a hantick wandering through the quiet corridors, enjoying the peace of the State House when most of the workers had gone home. After the general tour, Vellmar showed them the training room, which impressed Linzine, and then took them into the Council chamber. She pointed out some of the more interesting parts of the carved ceiling, but of course the real attraction was the famous bloodstain on the floor, marking the spot where Lancer Tal had killed the Challenger. After many questions, her family agreed that they were universally envious of her prime seat to that historical event. Vellmar, who had witnessed exactly what it had cost both her Lancer and her friend, kept her own counsel.
The tour ended in her quarters, which everyone marveled over.
“These are palatial,” Linzine said. “My First Guard quarters aren’t this big.”
“And the view!” Khasa exclaimed, gazing out the window at the State Park.
“I know.” Vellmar stood behind her. “I have a nice view out of my secondary quarters on the base, too.”
“It must be quite a change from Koneza.” Jerran had never seen her quarters there, but everyone knew Koneza was not a luxury post.
“It is. In more ways than just the quarters. But if I hadn’t been posted in Koneza, Lancer Tal would never have seen me.”
“You must have Fahla’s favor,” Jerran said. “It’s the only explanation. Even when you lose a championship, you win. It’s very annoying.”
She glanced at him, but for once he didn’t seem irritated about it. Shrugging, she said, “I didn’t plan that. I just did what I thought was right.”
“Which should always be our goal,” Khasa said. “Doing the right thing doesn’t always bring rewards, but sometimes it does. And the best reward is knowing that you can be proud of yourself.”
At the end of the evening, Vellmar walked them to the front gate and pointed the way to the nearby magtran station. As goodnights were exchanged, Jerran surprised everyone by saying he wanted to stay behind and speak with his sister for a few ticks.
Linzine and Khasa looked at each other, then him. “Are we going to get a call from the city detention center in the middle of the night?” Linzine asked.
“Ba,” Jerran grumbled. “I think we’re capable of civilized conversation.”
“Let them talk.” Khasa pulled her bondmate away by the upper arm. “They need to. Until tomorrow,” she said over her shoulder as she urged Linzine forward.
“Don’t kill him,” Linzine called back. “He’s still our son.”
“Why do they assume you would kill me?” Jerran asked. “Why aren’t they worried about me killing you?”
Vellmar bit her lip, then laughed.
Jerran scowled, but it didn’t last long as he chuckled with her. “Never mind, forget I said anything.” He gestured behind them. “Can we go for a walk on the grounds?”
Though baffled by his behavior, she turned back and led him to a path that would take them to the main walk, her favorite part of the grounds. Jerran walked silently beside her until they emerged onto the wider path, lined on both sides by enormous trees whose overarching branches made it seem as if they were passing through a tunnel.
“This is beautiful,” he said.
“It is. Lancer T
al and I run through here almost every day that we’re at the State House. I’m still not tired of it. I don’t think I ever will be.”
Another tick passed in silence, but she would not break it. Jerran had said he wanted to talk, so it was his job to start the conversation. In the meantime, she tilted her head back and inhaled happily. Some of the State House producers had been through today, trimming branches, and the air was full of the sharp scent of broken wood and crushed leaves.
At last he sighed and said, “I like who I am in Port Calerna.”
Unsure how she was supposed to respond to that, she took the safe route. “Bai said she’s proud of you. She said you found your own path.”
He nodded. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for either of our mothers to say they were proud of me?”
It would be so easy to make the obvious retort, but she held her tongue.
“And then I come here and it’s like I never left. Jerran,” he said in a perfect imitation of Khasa. “Fahla, I hate that tone. I hate feeling like I’m still in that place where I can never do anything right. And you’re still the perfect one.”
Her patience was running out. “Is there a point to this?”
“Yes. Just…give me a tick.” He leaned down to scoop a small twig off the path and snapped it into tiny pieces as they walked. “I like who I am in Port Calerna, but I don’t like who I am around you. And it occurred to me yesterday that I’m the only one who can change that. So that’s what I’m doing.”
“Ah…all right. What exactly are you doing?”
He threw away the last piece and dusted off his hands. “I’m telling you something you need to know. You said you and the Lead Templar were looking for different things. But you’re wrong.”