Outcaste: Book Six in the Chronicles of Alsea

“All right.” Rahel screwed her eyes shut and waited, focusing on the scent of cinnoralis.

  A warmth flowed over her, like a thick blanket on a cold winter night. Like lying on the couch with her head in Sharro’s lap. She felt comforted, cradled . . . safe.

  Her eyes popped open.

  “You were expecting pain?” Lanaril asked.

  “I didn’t think so, but maybe I was. This is . . .” She let out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s nice.”

  “Good. It’s meant to be.”

  It was an odd sensation. The warmth and kindness in Lanaril’s voice was also in her projection, a duality of sensory input that went straight into Rahel’s nervous system. It slowed her heartbeat, calmed her breathing, and relaxed her muscles. Part of her knew this was imposed on her from the outside and thought she should be more worried about it, but a larger part welcomed the strength that wrapped around her. In a flash of memory, she was back in Sharro’s room at the pleasure house, allowing herself to be vulnerable for the very first time. Then, as now, it was not a warrior who kept her safe. Yet she understood to the very marrow of her bones that she could let down her guard without fear.

  “Do I have your permission to continue?”

  She looked into Lanaril’s eyes, focused so intently on her, and wondered why she asked when it was right there in their touch.

  The answer came as Salomen rubbed a thumb over her other hand. Lanaril asked because Rahel was in control. Nothing would happen without her consent.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  Lanaril smiled, her understanding flowing through their skin contact. “Let’s start with the dream where the Voloth have high empath powers.”

  They went through her nightmares one by one, and Lanaril stayed with her for all of them. Her projection built a wall between Rahel and those fears. She felt removed from them, guarded by an impenetrable fortress, as if she were merely looking through a window at these distant things that could not hurt her.

  Lanaril was more than a warrior in this internal space. She was a force of nature, capable of something close to magic, and she was on Rahel’s side. The nightmares had no chance.

  When she said she was pulling away, Rahel could not believe the session was already over. The warmth dissipated, leaving her with an odd sense of energy fizzing beneath her skin.

  “How do you feel?” Lanaril asked.

  “Fahla’s farts and fantasies,” she blurted.

  Salomen burst out laughing. “I don’t imagine these walls have ever heard that one.”

  “Sorry, it just came out. It’s a Whitesun phrase.” Rahel glanced guiltily at Lanaril, who showed no sign of being put off by the unseemly language.

  “It’s all right. You’re at ease; that’s what we want.”

  Relieved, Rahel let her elation show. “I didn’t know it could be like that. It was fantastic!”

  “Your only experiences with high empath powers before now were traumatic. It’s not a surprise that you didn’t know what it could be like.” Lanaril leaned back, resting against the support of her chair. “I’m very happy I could finally show you.”

  She must have been tired. Rahel knew enough about projection to know that doing it for half a hantick took considerable effort. In a rush of affection, she said, “You remind me of Sharro in so many ways.”

  “A compliment of the highest order.” Even Lanaril’s smile was fatigued, but it still transformed her face. “Is it because I give comfort?”

  “Partly. And because giving comfort brings you pleasure.”

  She nodded. “I’ve been looking forward to this since we started. This was a wall you had to climb before you could finish your journey.”

  “But we’ll do it again, right?”

  “Indeed we will. As many times as it takes.”

  Lanaril had said Rahel would feel different, but Salomen was still shocked by the change. Over those five days in the healing center, she had grown familiar with Rahel’s emotional signature. It was a jolt to realize that the person she had known was not real.

  As a small child, she had once found a tree on the bank of the Silverrun River that was overgrown with watervines. Having never seen it without them, she thought that thick mass of foliage was the tree. One day, her mother worked with a field crew to cut down the vines, and Salomen cried because her tree was gone. She didn’t recognize what was left. Her mother sat her down and explained that this was the tree, and it had not been happy or healthy while being suffocated by watervines. Now it could feel the sun on its leaves and grow.

  She had not understood that Rahel was choked by watervines. This woman, with her bright smile and easy laugh, who swore in the temple and showed such open affection toward Lanaril—this was what Rahel looked like when the watervines were cut away.

  She had felt strangely drawn to the previous Rahel. Their shared trauma in Pollonius linked them in a way that no one else could truly understand. She had admired her courage and pitied her anguish, but had not thought of her as someone who could be a friend.

  Andira, Fianna, and Ronlin would all be horrified if they knew how much she wanted to make a friend of this Rahel.

  When Rahel asked hopefully if she and Lanaril would do more projection exercises, Salomen touched her hand and said, “Does that mean you won’t need me for the next one?”

  “No, I’ll be fine now. But thank you for coming today. It really helped in the beginning.”

  “Not in the end?”

  She had never teased Rahel before. The poor woman didn’t know how to respond.

  “You’re always a help. I’d love to have you here for every session. But you’re the Bondlancer. You can’t keep doing this. I’ve never understood why you did.”

  “Because I owe it to you.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “Rahel,” Lanaril interrupted, “do you remember what we talked about yesterday? About the pain of hurting people when you didn’t mean to? Salomen hurt you very badly. But she didn’t mean to.”

  Rahel frowned in thought before her face cleared as a realization washed across her emotions. “I was telling Lanaril how important it was that you accepted my apology. I’ll never not be ashamed of what I did to you, but it’s easier knowing that you forgive me. Lanaril reminded me that I didn’t accept yours.”

  Salomen was not prepared for this. She was here to support Rahel, not be subjected to her own vulnerability.

  “It wasn’t because I didn’t want to,” Rahel said. “I was just . . . overwhelmed. And terrified, because you were Fahla’s vessel—” She stopped, then spoke more deliberately. “Salomen, I accept your apology for hurting me. You said it wasn’t forgivable, but it is. I forgave you that day. And I hate the thought of you feeling like you owe me. You don’t. I owe you.”

  Salomen’s breath caught in her throat. She had been certain that she would go to her Return without forgiveness. Her crime was unthinkable; she couldn’t imagine forgiving anyone who perpetrated that sort of violence on her. Yet Rahel had just offered it as if it were already established fact.

  She blinked back the tears and glared at Lanaril. “A little warning would have been nice. You could have said this would be one of those sessions.”

  “I can’t always predict what will happen,” Lanaril said with an unrepentant smile.

  Salomen let that one go unchallenged and turned back to Rahel. “How can you? After the—after what happened when you were seventeen?”

  Rahel shrugged. “They were two different acts. Yours wasn’t malicious.”

  “That’s what Andira said. The first day, when you thanked me for not—” She waved a hand. “Finishing.”

  “You can say it. For not killing me.”

  Trust a warrior to be blunt, Salomen thought.

  “What you did to me—it hurt, yes. Even more than what he did. But it only hurt then. It doesn’t now. Does that make sense?”

  “No.”

  Rahel tried again. “He changed my whole life. I was
afraid of high empaths from the age of seventeen until now. But I’m not afraid of you.”

  The words hit with almost the same force as when Fianna had spoken them. Salomen swallowed hard and saw Rahel look to Lanaril, worried and seeking assurance. Lanaril gave her an encouraging nod.

  She was in a Fahla-damned counseling session that she hadn’t signed up for. Lanaril was going to hear about this in some choice language. But first she wanted the answer to a question that had haunted her for more than half a moon.

  “You have no idea what it means to me to hear you say that,” she said. “But I still don’t understand why you’re not afraid. You never have been, not since I gave you my word.”

  “Maybe because I’m a warrior?”

  Her disbelieving look sent Rahel scrambling to explain.

  “Because I understand why you did it. I could put myself in your place. If some warrior I didn’t know had me in the position I had you, and I knew from our skin contact that she was going to kill Sharro? Or my mother? I would act to protect. And if I didn’t have a nonlethal option, I wouldn’t hesitate to use a lethal one.” She angled herself in the chair to face Salomen more fully. “You’re not a warrior. You didn’t know how to neutralize me safely. So you did the only thing you could.”

  “And you can just . . . dismiss it? Because you understand the instinct?”

  “If by dismiss you mean forget, no. I’ll never forget it. But I also won’t forget what you’ve done for me.” Rahel looked at her more closely then, her eyes widening with understanding. “Oh,” she said softly. “No, you can’t think—no, no. Salomen, that empathic rapist . . . I couldn’t sense him, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t see straight into his rotten heart. He was vile. He was a disgusting excuse for an Alsean who thought power was a weapon, something he could use to torture for his own pleasure. I can see straight into your heart, too. Whatever is at the other extreme from him, that’s what you are. Your heart is beautiful. Fahla trusted you with her power because she knew you wouldn’t abuse it.”

  Salomen clenched her jaw, then dropped her head and covered her eyes as the tears she had fought for the last few ticks overwhelmed her.

  The brush of a kerchief against her wrist was too familiar. Lanaril must have an endless supply of the damned things. She accepted it and dried her eyes, then gave up and sat erect. It wasn’t as if she could hide how this had affected her.

  “It’s all right,” Rahel said with a sympathetic smile. “I’ve cried a lake’s worth of tears in this room. I think Lanaril has staff who mop it out.”

  Salomen’s laugh was scratchy. “Thank you. I understand now. Though I’m not sure how you can see me that way.”

  Rahel lifted her hands, indicating the comfortable study. “How could I not? I’m here instead of in a detention cell. You could have locked me up and never given me another thought. You helped me instead. You’re still helping me.” She dropped one hand and held up the other, palm outward. “If you ever need one, you have a friend and a protector here.”

  A friend. Yes, she needed one. She met Rahel’s palm and watched her eyes brighten.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you,” Rahel said.

  “That’s not important. I never believed anyone could forgive what I did to you. It means everything to me that you do.”

  With a spark of nervousness, Rahel interlaced their fingers. “I’ll miss you.”

  “You won’t have to miss me. We’re going to be in class together.” Salomen squeezed her hand, reassuring her that she had not overstepped before letting go. “I’ll be learning some new empathic control techniques, and you’ll be learning how to build better blocks.”

  “I’m what? Why?”

  “One of your greatest fears is being vulnerable to high empaths,” Lanaril said. “While you’ve made significant strides there, you’ll have more confidence if you have more defenses.”

  Rahel looked between them. “But it doesn’t matter how well I learn to block. I’ll never be able to stop a high empath.”

  “Rahel,” Salomen said. “Trust me. It will help.”

  “I do trust you.”

  It was so immediate, almost automatic. As if there had never been a time when she didn’t. Salomen shoved the kerchief in her pocket, gave Lanaril a glare that told her she wouldn’t be getting that one back again, and turned a smile on Rahel. “Then I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

  Ravenel and Sharro came by her quarters for evenmeal, as they had every night since their arrival. Rahel was in high spirits, telling them all about her day and how she had not only overcome her worst fear, but also found a way to give something back to Salomen.

  “How do people get such wrong views of themselves?” she asked. “I wish I’d known earlier that she was comparing herself to him. I could have saved her that much.”

  “She may not have heard you before now,” Sharro said. “She has her own journey to make, just like you. Perhaps today was the first day you could hear each other.”

  “She said I’m a different person now. Do you think that’s true?”

  “Do you?”

  Rahel looked at her mother in exasperation. “Does she do this to you, too?”

  Ravenel laughed. “Every day. But I’ve learned how to get past it. It just takes a little . . . maneuvering.” She gave Sharro a look that made Rahel’s hair stand on end.

  “Stop! I don’t want to know any more.”

  Sharro’s dimple appeared. “How is a former prime so squeamish about the biology of joining?”

  “I’m not. I’m just squeamish about my mother’s biology.”

  “I did have a child, if you remember.” Ravenel glanced at Sharro, who nodded. As they clasped their hands atop the table, she added, “And I’ve been instrumental in creating three others.”

  Rahel stared at them. “Three?”

  Looking more nervous than Rahel could ever recall seeing her, Sharro said, “I’m pregnant.”

  “Oh, shekking Mother. I can’t believe it.” Rahel jumped to her feet, ran around the small table, and threw her arms around their shoulders. “I’m so happy for you! This is fantastic news.”

  They leaned their heads in, laughing as they accepted the awkward embrace. “It is fantastic news,” Ravenel said. “But the best part is that you’re happy about it.”

  “Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I didn’t want you to think I gave up on you.”

  Her smile dropped as she released them. “Because I let you think I was dead.”

  One of the worst moments of her therapy had been when she realized what her disappearance and lack of contact had done to her mother. The woman who lost an entire family had effectively lost her last remaining child, and Rahel could never make up for that.

  “Rahel, we’ve talked about this. I understand that you were sick. You had to take care of yourself first.”

  “Didn’t do a very good job of it, did I?”

  “You walked halfway to the end of Dock One in a storm and then walked back again. You chose to live. That took so much strength. You did take care of yourself, the only way you could. I just want you to understand that I had to take care of myself and Sharro, too.”

  “Every day, we hoped you would come through our door or send a message,” Sharro said as Rahel returned to her chair. “But we couldn’t suspend our lives. Do you remember what you told your mother at Brasalara? When we burned the pyres?”

  She shook her head.

  “You told me to build my own future,” Ravenel said.

  “I did? That sounds like something Sharro would say.”

  “Well, I did train you.” Sharro’s eyes sparkled with pride.

  “I took your advice. I need a new family.” Ravenel reached across the table for Rahel’s hand. “But I never wanted a family or a future without you.”

  Rahel absorbed the love in that touch. Her mother had so much of it to give, and now a second chance to give it.

  “How long?” she
asked.

  “Three and a half moons.” As always, Sharro heard the unasked question. “I was one moon along when you saw us on the bayfront. But you weren’t ready then.”

  “I wish I had been.”

  “You’ve always walked your own path,” Ravenel said. “I can’t say it hasn’t caused me grief, but it has also brought me unexpected gifts.” She let go of Rahel’s hand and wrapped her arm around Sharro’s shoulders.

  “And kept you alive.” Rahel pointed at Sharro. “Because she walked her own path as well.”

  “True words. I’m outnumbered by stubborn women.”

  “At least you answered my question.” Pleased to see their confusion, she added, “About whether you think I’m a different person. You waited until now to tell me.”

  “Clever girl,” Sharro said.

  “I remember the first time you called me that.” Rahel grinned at her. “That’s going to be the luckiest child on Alsea. I’m already jealous. She or he gets to have you two as parents.”

  “He.” Sharro stood up and walked around the table. Placing Rahel’s hand on her abdomen, she said, “It’s a little boy, and . . . his name is Periso.”

  Rahel’s fingers clenched in the soft fabric of Sharro’s shirt as her head fell forward. In her intensive therapy sessions during the past half moon, she had cried so much that she thought she had no tears left in her.

  She was wrong.

  68

  PROJECTION

  Six days per nineday, Rahel spent two hanticks training with her new empathic tutor and another hantick or more practicing on her own. Most of those days, Salomen was in training with her. Rahel didn’t know how she managed it with her Bondlancer duties, which were taking her all over Alsea on a speaking tour, but Salomen said it was amazing what could be done with a Serrado fighter. Her Guards went ahead by normal transport and secured the venue, while Salomen flew out, gave her speech, and was back in time for her next meal.

  She assured Rahel that thermal scanners were now part of the standard security sweep for both her and Lancer Tal.

  Their tutor was a short, silver-haired instructor from the Whitemoon Sensoral Institute. Deme Zeras had taken a sabbatical from those hallowed halls to work in a small temple study room with what were surely the two most unbalanced students he had ever taught. Rahel could barely comprehend some of the things he was teaching Salomen. Her own lessons were facile by comparison, but she could not deny the results. Her blocks were already stronger.