Without a Front

  The tour ended at the main house, with Salomen leading Tal up the back stairs and to the guest room. Standing just outside the doorway, she said, “Please make yourself at home. We sit to midmeal in half a hantick.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Tal said. “You’ve gone out of your way to make my staff comfortable, and I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.” The words were courteous, but the warmth she had shown Gehrain was nowhere to be seen.

  Tal gave a mental shrug. “I’ll see you downstairs, then,” she said, and began to unpack.

  CHAPTER 31

  A new field worker

  Midmeal was a pleasant affair. Tal liked the gracious but comfortable atmosphere of the dining room, and Salomen’s family had enough questions to keep the conversation easy and light. Beside her, Micah rumbled with laughter at many of the questions coming from Jaros, who was overwhelmed at having two high-ranking warriors at his table and determined to make the most of his opportunity.

  Eventually, it came to light that this was an unusual meal: during the busy harvest season, the family normally ate in the fields to save time. Tal caught Salomen’s eye and saw a telltale glint in them. Don’t expect such coddling after this, it said, and Tal gave her an acknowledging smile. She would bet half a moon’s salary that Salomen was planning to run her into the ground this afternoon.

  When Shikal joined them in the six-seat skimmer for their journey to the fields, she had second thoughts. Shikal was older than Micah. If he was involved in today’s activities, then the labor couldn’t be very physical.

  Nor was it. After presenting Tal to her field workers—who politely welcomed her but otherwise kept their distance—Salomen set her up in a row of panfruit vines and showed her how to determine which were ready for harvest. It was simple enough, and for the first hantick Tal quite enjoyed it, though she had to be careful of the thorns on the vines. The sun was warm, the air was laden with the sweet scent of crushed panfruits that had fallen too early, and she was cocooned in a world all her own with the vines towering on either side of her. The only sounds she could hear were bird calls, the conversation of field workers, and the occasional clack of crates being stacked together at the ends of the rows. The work was simple enough to lull her into a state of serenity, and she thought this challenge might have been the best idea she’d ever had. As she expected, this was practically a vacation.

  By the end of the second hantick, the repetitive motion of picking panfruits was beginning to make itself felt. The vines were taller than she was and the fruits grew all along their lengths, so she was both reaching over her head and squatting down to pick at ground level. Up, down, up and down, and the sun was warmer than it had been earlier.

  After the third hantick, she had been scratched several times by thorns and was dripping with sweat. Her arms, legs, and back ached. Salomen had started in the row right next to hers, but was now two rows away. Tal couldn’t believe how fast that woman moved. In fact, everyone was picking at least twice as fast as she was, including Jaros, and he couldn’t even reach that high.

  A field worker appeared at the other end of Tal’s row and began picking. She scowled; he had no doubt been sent by Salomen to help her finish so she could move ahead with the others. She was not used to needing help to keep up and resented this unknown man with his damned efficiency.

  He progressed rapidly toward her, and she did her best to speed up, but it was taking a great deal more effort to move from a squat to a stand. She’d had training missions that were easier than this.

  They met two-thirds of the way down the row, and he smiled at her. “Never thought I’d see the Lancer in the fields of Hol-Opah. But you’re doing fine.”

  “I am? I thought I was slower than a zalren after a big meal.”

  He laughed. Zalrens might be the most venomous of their serpents, but they tended to swallow prey three times their size and not move for days afterward.

  “Nah, you’re doing well for a beginner. Salomen didn’t think you’d finish the last row.”

  She bristled. “Then I’m happy to have surprised her.”

  “Aye, you did that. And me as well; I thought you’d be soft.”

  He had even less of a front than Salomen, and his lack of judgment made it possible for her to drop her irritation. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and offered him a genuine smile. “Warriors aren’t supposed to be soft, Raiz…?”

  “Just Jeshen. Can’t be bothered with titles except in town.”

  She held up a palm. “Well met, Jeshen.”

  “Well met. Shall we take a break and then start a new row?”

  “A break?”

  “Aye, every hantick and a half. Didn’t Salomen tell you?”

  That little—

  “It must have slipped her mind,” Tal said.

  “Well, she’s had a lot on it lately, what with making Hol-Opah ready for you. Come on, let’s cool down.”

  He led her out of the row and over to a mobile refreshment unit, where Tal washed her hands and face in the cold water and thought it was paradise. A selection of small pastries had already been well picked over, but there were enough left to quiet the rumbling in her stomach. She had so many other aches and pains that she hadn’t even noticed her hunger until now.

  She peppered Jeshen with questions about the holding, and in twenty ticks learned more about Salomen than in five moons of delegate meetings. Nashta had trained her daughter to take her role as both landholder and family head, so none of the field workers were surprised when Salomen took over after Nashta’s death. Shikal had never been family head; Jeshen called him the “family heart” instead. And while Nikin might have been expected to inherit one or both roles as the eldest sibling, he always deferred to Salomen. Tal thought about the gentle man she had met earlier that day and understood why Nashta chose to pass the responsibilities to her more fiery daughter.

  Jeshen’s respect for Salomen was obvious, and he spoke warmly of the way she cared for her field workers. Landholders had a traditional duty to their workers, but not all of them upheld that duty with the same care. Salomen was well known in this district for being tough but very fair, and kind to those who needed help.

  Tal definitely believed the tough part. The kindness she would believe when she saw it.

  Going back to work was harder than she expected. The twenty-tick break had been just long enough for her muscles to stiffen, and asking her legs to squat, stand, and squat again was torture. She was glad Jeshen was at the other end of the row; at least she could grumble about her aches and pains without being overheard. Her arms felt like dead weight, and she was getting scratched by the thorns more and more often.

  A quarter of the way down the row, she reached deep into the vine for a particularly well-buried panfruit and let her tired arm drop too soon. A thorn ripped into her skin, tearing open a bleeding wound that burned.

  “Ouch! Spawn of a fantenshekken!” She gripped her arm to stop the bleeding, but thought better of it when she remembered how filthy her hand was. The blood dripped off her elbow and the burning increased. Were those damned thorns tipped in some sort of toxin? Why hadn’t Salomen warned her?

  She rolled her eyes. Of course Salomen hadn’t warned her; what was she thinking? That woman had probably been waiting for this.

  She walked back up the row, intending to wash off her arm at the refreshment station, but stopped when she saw a familiar figure coming toward her at a fast trot.

  “Are you all right?” Salomen reached for her arm. “Let me see.” Her hands felt cool on Tal’s aching arm as she examined the wound.

  “It’s just a scratch,” Tal said. Why did it have to be Salomen who found her bleeding?

  “No, scratches are what’s covering the rest of your arms. I can’t believe you’re picking with your sleeves rolled up. You look like you lost a fight with a vallcat.??
?

  Only then did Tal notice that Salomen’s long sleeves were still fastened at the wrist. Come to think of it, Jeshen’s had been, too.

  “It’s hot,” she said lamely.

  “Of course it’s hot. That doesn’t mean you should be tempting fate and Fahla. All right, let’s get this taken care of.”

  Tal followed her out of the row, feeling like a new trainee being called out for a stupid mistake. The embarrassment intensified when Salomen took over, washing her arm and pressing a clean cloth against the wound.

  “I can take care of it myself.”

  “The way you’ve taken care of yourself so far? You’ll excuse me if I prefer to be sure.” Salomen lifted the cloth and checked for bleeding.

  “I do not need—yeow!” Tal sucked in a breath, staring at the white foam on her arm. Salomen had sprayed it with something that felt like icicles shooting under her skin.

  “Sorry,” Salomen said, but her amusement belied the apology. “Perhaps I should have warned you about that. It’ll feel better in a moment.”

  Tal wanted to suggest that she could have warned her about the thorns, too, but clamped her mouth shut and watched the foam on her arm melt away. By the time it was absorbed, both the initial burning sensation and the icicles had vanished.

  “Ah,” she said in relief. “Whatever that was, it worked.”

  “Panfruit thorns can be nasty. Keep your sleeves rolled down.”

  “Thanks for the timely advice.”

  Salomen glanced up, then returned her attention to the skin sealer she was applying to the cut. “I didn’t think the Lancer of Alsea needed anyone’s advice.”

  Tal bit back three different rude answers before saying, “If that’s true, the government is wasting its cinteks on my advisors.”

  “Do you listen to them?”

  “That depends on whether their advice is worth taking.”

  “Of course.” Salomen rolled down the sleeve and fastened it at the wrist. Without pausing, she rolled down the other as well, making Tal feel like a child being dressed by an adult. “Best get back to it before Jeshen finishes your row.”

  She walked away, leaving Tal shaking her head.

  “Kind to those who need help?” she muttered. “Sure, Jeshen. I believe that.”

  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 p
robe. 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.