Without a Front

  “Thank you. I had an excellent instructor.”

  “In diversion tactics? I think not.”

  Several silent pipticks went by while they looked at each other. Tal was fascinated by the richness of Salomen’s dark brown eyes, which were not one shade but several, lightening toward the center, where a golden ring encircled each pupil. It was the sort of detail only a lover could see, and she reveled in having that right. As Salomen stared back at her, Tal wondered what details she was seeing.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Salomen said. “I was thinking about that on the way home—how when you first arrived, I was counting the days until you’d take your irritating self and your entourage and get off my land. And now you’re leaving for three days and all I can think about is what a damn long time that is.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing. I already missed you tonight; three days will be interminable. And on top of that, I feel guilty for leaving Hol-Opah right at the worst time.”

  Salomen straightened and pulled away. “You must be joking. Hol-Opah is not your responsibility. Alsea is.”

  “I know. But I made a promise.”

  “You did not; you made a challenge.”

  “True. But when I agreed to your counterchallenge, to me it was a promise.”

  “Are all warriors as relentlessly hard on themselves as you?”

  “Some of them, yes.”

  “Warrior caste house meetings must be a jolly time for all, then.”

  Tal laughed. “You’d be surprised. Someday I’ll have to take you as a guest.”

  “Perhaps I should have done that tonight. You would have been a more convincing speaker than I.”

  “I disagree. I’ve heard you speak many times; you’re very convincing. And in this instance I think a defense of my policies made more of an impact coming from you than they would have from me.”

  Salomen sighed. “I don’t know if it made an impact at all.”

  “Give it time. People often need to think about something before it really sinks in. I don’t expect my speaking tour to bring about instant results, but in a nineday the general opinion could be entirely different. In that same nineday, you may find your peers thinking differently as well.”

  “I hope so. Of course,” Salomen added darkly, “none of this would be necessary if Darzen hadn’t been so jealous. If I ever meet that woman, she would be wise to walk the other way.”

  “Darzen wasn’t jealous. She was angry.”

  “You may be a highly trained empath, but when it comes to yourself, you don’t always see clearly. She was jealous of your title.”

  “I assume you plan to explain your reasoning for this rather interesting conclusion.”

  “Of course.” Salomen pulled away, bringing her legs up on the cushion and resting her back against the opposite wall of the window seat. “Ah. Better.”

  Tal watched in some bemusement. “Is this going to take so long that you have to get comfortable for it?”

  Salomen ignored her. “We’ll begin with point one. When your relationship began, she thought you were merely a Lancer’s Guard. A respectable rank for a warrior, to be sure, but otherwise not too challenging for a highly placed economist who advises the second-largest city council in the world. You were of a manageable intellect and rank, or so she thought.”

  Tal opened her mouth to object, but was silenced by Salomen’s upraised hand.

  “You asked me to explain, so do me the courtesy of allowing me the floor.”

  “Yes, Raiz Opah,” Tal said with a grin. “You’re bringing back fond memories of our delegate meetings.”

  Salomen’s serious expression broke for a moment before she recomposed herself. “Point two. The night of your breakup, when you began discussing matter printer issues, she assumed that you had gotten your ideas from the Lancer. She did not credit you with the necessary education or intellect to have produced those ideas on your own.”

  “Now, that—”

  “Point three,” Salomen continued. “When you proved that you did indeed have the intellect to have expanded on those ideas, she told you that you were wasted as a warrior and would be better suited as a…what?”

  “Economist,” Tal answered grudgingly.

  “Rather patronizing, don’t you agree? Moving along to point four. When your true identity was revealed, what did she tell you? That you’d made a fool of her. Implying that she felt foolish for not knowing the true breadth of your capabilities, and perhaps implying that she would not have accepted you as a potential mate had she known that those capabilities were so advanced. After all, what did you hide? Your personality, your character traits, your intelligence?”

  “Well, there was the little matter of my hair and eye color.” Tal crossed her arms and tried not to look as if she were enjoying herself.

  Salomen waved that aside. “I’m talking about real characteristics. Things that make you who you are. You would still be Andira Tal if your eyes and hair were brown. You would not be Andira Tal if you were less articulate or intelligent, or if you were boorish or judgmental or unfair. Did you pretend to be any of these things?”

  “No. Quite the contrary, I was more myself during that moon than I was for some time before or after. But I did pretend to be something I was not.”

  “My esteemed Lancer Tal, you make my argument for me. You pretended to be ordinary. And Darzen was upset because she found, to her dismay, that you were not ordinary at all. What did she tell you at the end?”

  Suddenly, Tal wasn’t enjoying herself any more. Those words still hurt. “She said that my title was everything.”

  Salomen watched her for a moment, then said quietly, “She made the same mistake I did. She didn’t know you well enough to understand the distinction between who you are and what you do. Which brings us to point five, the last one. When she understood that she was outclassed in rank and accomplishments, and that you would be a continual challenge to her sense of herself as a superior being, she walked out the door. You were more than she would ever be. If her motivation had been simple anger, why wouldn’t she have answered any of your calls, even after two moons? Most people move beyond anger with enough time. But it’s harder to get past jealousy and a threat to one’s self-esteem.”

  Tal could only stare. She went over Salomen’s points again, seeing her time with Darzen from a radically different point of view. It all made perfect sense. Had she really been such a poor judge of character?

  No, she decided, it wasn’t about that. She had just seen what she wanted to see—and so had Darzen.

  “You’re wrong about one thing,” she said. “I am most certainly not a more convincing speaker than you. Your debating skills are second to none.”

  “Thank you. But have I convinced my most important audience?”

  “Well, you’ve given me a great deal to think about. Perhaps it was jealousy; you make an excellent case for it. Perhaps it was anger, or a mixture of both. Either way, it’s done and I can no longer feel any regret for it. Darzen left me free to be here.”

  “Darzen threw this away with both hands. She could have been the one sitting next to you, sharing this time. I dislike her by reputation alone, but I’m grateful to her idiocy.”

  Chuckling, Tal said, “I’ll be sure to pass that along if I ever speak to her again.”

  “While you’re at it, give her my com code and ask her to call. I have other things I’d like to tell her.” Salomen stretched, making a tiny “eep” sound of satisfaction. “I’m feeling much better now. Are we having a lesson tonight?”

  “Do you want one? I thought you’d be too tired after your meeting.”

  “I’m not so tired anymore. Besides, we had no lesson last night, and we won’t have any for the next three. We cannot miss this one.”

  “All right. Then let’s—”

  “Wait.”
Salomen sat up and swung her legs off the window seat. “I have to move.”

  Tal watched in bemusement as she hopped off, went to her usual chair, and sat down.

  “Now I’m ready.”

  “What was that about?”

  “I can’t be sitting next to you. It’s too distracting. What are we working on tonight?”

  Oh, this was too easy. “Broadsensing,” Tal said with a grin. “And tuning out distractions.”

  CHAPTER 56

  Betrayer

  Micah stood at the side of the stage, listening to Tal while watching the crowd. As a Lancer’s Guard, he was atypical for his low empath rating, but he had learned to make up for it with the other senses Fahla had given him. He was very skilled at reading facial expressions and body posture, a physical language which often told him things that high empaths could not see. Sensing deadly intent in a crowd was one thing; localizing it to an individual was a different matter.

  Being a believer in utilizing all available tools, he also had ten of his most powerfully empathic Guards stationed around the auditorium and ten more on the outside, watching all entrances from various hidden positions and constantly broadsensing. This was not a private holding; it was a public auditorium in the largest city in Pallea. Anything was possible.

  He glanced at Tal, who made an imposing figure in her red and black dress uniform as she stood beside the podium, one hand resting on it while she talked. People meeting her for the first time were often surprised at her lack of stature, but they soon forgot it when she began to speak in those calm, measured tones. At the moment she was addressing an audience of eight thousand Alseans—in addition to the unknown millions watching the real-time vid in their homes—and she had their rapt attention. Tal had risen to the occasion during this tour, her confidence and thorough grasp of detail shifting the general mood of the crowd first in Blacksun last night, then in Redmoon this afternoon, and now in Whitesun. At each speech she had methodically decimated the economist coalition’s forecast, using explanations and examples that even the least educated Alsean could understand. Micah saw the growing belief and support in the audiences and was forced to agree with Aldirk for once in his life: this tour had been absolutely necessary.

  Not that public opinion had been magically reversed, of course. Many chose not to watch the speeches or simply ignored everything Tal had to say. She had been driving radical change for over a cycle now, and there were those who would resist no matter how much evidence piled up in its favor, simply because it was change. These were the people who had pounced on the economist coalition’s statement as proof of Tal’s folly. The fringe element demanding her prosecution as a war criminal had joined forces with them, pointing to the predicted doom of Alsea as more evidence that she was intent on destroying them all. “First our souls, now our savings” was the new tag phrase. There had even been demonstrators in both Blacksun and Redmoon during Tal’s speeches, though warriors from the local bases had blocked their access to the auditorium.

  He could understand those who feared the matter printers. But the ones calling Tal a war criminal… He wished he could hand those over to the Voloth. Perhaps a taste of slavery would give them a better appreciation of Tal’s decision.

  “Gehrain to red team, UT in section yellow, first five rows. Senshalon, advance.”

  The quiet voice in his ear put Micah on alert. A UT was an Unidentified Threat. Gehrain had sensed something, but couldn’t localize it. Just to be safe, he had dispatched the nearest Guard to check it out.

  Micah slipped on his scanning glasses and ran his finger down the temple until they were properly focused on the section halfway across the auditorium. The faces of the audience came into crisp view, and he began a sweep from one side to the other, checking expressions and body language.

  He found her in the middle of the second row, an older woman watching Tal with too much intensity. Just as he tapped his earcuff to inform the Guards of her position, she stood up.

  Senshalon, who had been walking rapidly down the aisle, broke into a run.

  “Betrayer!” the woman screamed.

  Tal stopped speaking and shifted subtly into a readiness stance.

  “Betrayer! First you sell our souls and now you’ll destroy the rest of us. You should be outcaste! You’re an abomination! Fahla weeps to see what you have done!”

  She lifted her arm to throw something, but Senshalon reached her first. The largest man in their unit, his bulk hid a surprising speed and agility. He loomed up behind her and yanked her raised arm back in a hold, putting his other arm around her middle and lifting her off the ground. She screamed and struggled, kicking her legs as he carried her out of the row and into the main aisle. Two other Guards converged on them, helping Senshalon subdue her and march her out of the auditorium. Her screams and curses could be heard with every step as she castigated Tal for being evil incarnate and bringing doom on Alsea. She managed one more “Betrayer!” before she was hustled out and the door shut behind them, plunging the auditorium into a shocked silence.

  “It’s always best to wait for the question-and-answer period,” Tal said.

  A ripple of nervous laughter swept the auditorium, and Tal resumed her speech as if nothing had happened.

  “Who was she?” Tal asked as soon as she got off the stage. “And what was she trying to throw at me?”

  Micah handed over the framed photograph that Senshalon had taken from the woman. “You’re not going to like it.”

  “This is what she was holding?” Tal frowned as she took the frame. “Who is—oh, Fahla. Tell me this wasn’t her daughter.”

  “It was.”

  The expensive frame was a jarring contrast to the photograph inside it, a photo that anyone on Alsea would have recognized in a piptick. It was a woman hanging from a tree branch, her head tilted to one side—the first suicide of a Battle of Alsea veteran.

  Tal sat at the dressing room table with none of her usual grace. “Shekking Mother. No wonder she hates me.”

  “I’m sorry, Tal.” He wished it had been anyone else. Someone with an irrational hatred or fear, someone whose ears were closed to persuasion and eyes closed to possibility. Not someone with a legitimate reason to despise Tal, whose distress was showing in the shaking of her hands as she held the frame.

  “Is she all right?”

  Micah wasn’t entirely sure what she was asking. “Senshalon didn’t hurt her. She’s being processed right now at the base.”

  “What? No. Get her out of there.”

  “Tal, she threatened you.”

  “She screamed at me. That’s not a physical threat. And don’t even think of telling me she was going to hurt me by throwing a Fahla-damned frame!” Tal slammed the frame down on the table, cracking it from top to bottom. “Shek!” She dropped her face into her hands, then looked up at him in misery. “Of all the—I thought we’d run into Darzen here. I spent all afternoon getting ready for that. This was the perfect venue for her to publicize her predictions.”

  “I know,” he said gently. He’d been dreading that possibility too, but he’d have traded this for Darzen in a heartbeat.

  Tal stared at the cracked frame. “Do you think I should see her?”

  “Are you asking if you can help her?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t think she would hear anything you might have to say. You sent her a handwritten letter right after it happened, and I know how much time you spent on that. It didn’t do any good. She needs someone to blame for her daughter’s suicide, and she’s made you her monster. Showing up in person will probably make it worse. You can’t fix everything. Let this one go.”

  Tal sat back in the chair, still staring at the frame, and finally nodded. “You’re probably right. But I’m not pressing charges, and I want her released.”

  “That’s not a good precedent—”

  “I
don’t care. Just get someone to take her home.”

  “All right. I’ll take care of it.” He picked up a water flask and the portable vidcom unit and put them in front of her. “Drink this and then call Salomen.”

  “I will.”

  When he left, she was already tapping in the com code.

  CHAPTER 57

  Fallout

  “I must say I’m impressed,” Challenger said. “Demonstrators in the streets? I didn’t expect that.”

  “Never overestimate the intelligence of the voting public,” Spinner said. “That might just be Lancer Tal’s greatest weakness. It’s why she didn’t see this coming.”

  “Yes, it’s such a pity that an entire cycle of effort seems to have been wasted.”

  Spinner chuckled. “I assume you saw the old woman in Whitesun.”

  “I did. For a moment I thought you might have paid her to do that.”

  “And have that exposed when they scanned her? Not likely.” Spinner’s humor abruptly vanished. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how dense Challenger could be. Then he reminded himself that Challenger would always be three steps behind him, and his spirits rose again. “That woman is just one of many. If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.”

  “And in the meantime, Lancer Tal’s polling continues to plummet.” Challenger gave him a hard look. “Please tell me it’s time. Because as much as I admire what you’ve accomplished, my patience is running short.”

  Spinner ignored the not-so-subtle threat, but he wouldn’t forget it. He wouldn’t forget any of them. “It’s time. But we must be extremely careful in these early stages. Speak only to those you trust without question. Not a breath of this can get out until we have the support we need.”

  “Of course.” Challenger was instantly in a fine mood. “I’ll begin right away.”

  “And you have the holding space ready?”