Morgan impaled a flat sliver with unnecessary force. “You’re forgetting something, Clanswoman.”
Rael’s lips tightened at Morgan’s unwelcome contribution. “This isn’t your affair, Human. You’ll be paid—”
I bristled, but Morgan’s low chuckle was more effective. “There’s only one person who can send me away.” The knife was thrust deep into the moss; the carved wood tossed accurately to join others in the growing woodpile beyond Barac. “And until this matter is settled to
my
satisfaction, not even you, Sira, could force me to leave.” The sudden sternness of his voice was a more telling commitment than any flowery speech. I drew one hand in the air above Morgan’s brown hair, watching the taut muscles of his shoulders and neck relax, enjoying my ability to affect him.
“What do you think we’ve forgotten, Human?” Barac demanded, an unusual heaviness in his tone and expression. “Your feelings?”
“Look past Sira and me for once, Barac,” Morgan said, straightening. “And tell me something: Who invaded and so thoroughly blocked Sira’s mind, despite her power? Who took Sira from her refuge and dumped her on Auord?”
“My father.” They all looked at me. I was a bit surprised at myself, then continued: “I remember him taking me to Auord.”
Rael and Barac looked from Morgan to me in comic unison. “Jarad?” Barac exclaimed with disbelief. “He’s a member of Council himself. He’d be the last to disobey—”
“It was him,” I kept my voice level. “I remember. But I don’t remember why.” Nor did I know why I was continuing to try and explain myself. To the two of them, I was damaged, not responsible. I could sympathize; certainly I wasn’t behaving as expected. I should get rid of them both, simplify life again.
No, Sira,
Morgan’s thought intruded gently, his hand on mine.
We need them.
I didn’t question his ability to know my thoughts.
We could take the
Fox.
I could block them from the M’hir until we were too far for Rael to reach.
We could,
he agreed.
And we may yet. But not now. There’s more they’re hiding. We need—
A low-pitched whistle sounded, a startling interruption to the inner speech. Morgan drew a comlink from his belt, holding it close to one ear. He spoke into it briefly before restoring the instrument to its place.
“Terk,” he said, aloud, looking at me with a small frown. “He wants me on the ship. Something wrong with the orbit stabilizer.”
I stood with Morgan. He gave a shrug. “It’s possible. Terk doesn’t have the patience for the old girl.”
Rael and Barac rose, too, their suspicion plain. “I’ll take Morgan,” Barac said to me. Their doubt scraped along my nerves.
“Fine,” Morgan accepted easily. “Knowing Terk, he’s probably annoyed with all the locks he’s encountered while snooping.” A flash of blue eyes to me, a quick whisper to Huido, and he and Barac disappeared.
Almost instantly, I was riveted in shock. Morgan’s anger and surprise burned through my mind. A trap! Without a second thought, or heed to Rael’s frantic voice, I
pushed . . .
. . . and stood in the control room of the
Silver Fox
for the first time since Plexis.
“So you did find Fem di Sarc, Barac.” The woman’s brow lifted. “Or has she found you?”
“What have you done to Morgan?” I didn’t look at the crumpled figure at my feet. I didn’t need to—my other sense had already begun a thorough check.
“Took a stun,” Barac answered, his tone implying a stupidity beyond belief. “How the trigger-happy fool missed me, I don’t know.”
A groan from Morgan made me bend down. Barac helped me raise him to his feet. “A misunderstanding, Clanswoman,” the woman said smoothly, thumbs tucked into her belt, her eyes missing nothing of me, narrowing a bit at the outsized coveralls I wore. “Captain Morgan was regrettably swift in drawing his own weapon—”
I returned her stare, no longer intimidated by the insignia of a Trade Pact Enforcer. “What else did you expect, finding you on our ship!” I said furiously. “Who are you? What right—”
“This is Commander Bowman, Sira,” Morgan said, his voice thick but clear. His attention was on a man standing to one side. This must have been the one who fired the stun. “And I think I told you about Russell Terk. I thought you’d call reinforcements.” Morgan smiled. “Good.”
Barac and I looked at Morgan as if he’d taken leave of his senses, or perhaps the mild stun hadn’t quite worn off. Bowman scowled. “I’ve a few questions for you, Morgan,” she said sharply, “beginning with the disaster on Plexis.”
Morgan’s tanned, regular features assumed the almost angelic innocence I knew signified full-speed plotting. “Let me explain,” he offered. And did.
No place like home, I decided, turning the fresher to warm air, listening contentedly to the
Fox
’s throbbing engines.
True, I reflected, lifting my hair to let the air dry my back, it was somewhat crowded on board. But not as much as it would have been before the timely arrival of Bowman and her cruiser. Morgan had persuaded the rather testy commander to transport Yihtor to Camos— to be charged there with the murder of Kurr, among other things. Huido and Barac went along as his keepers. They were hostages for our good behavior as well; the latter a politely unstated condition. Fortunately, Bowman remained sufficiently intrigued by the Clan and Clan business to tie her ship to Barac’s comet for a while longer.
The Clan enclave on Acranam had somehow never been mentioned as part of Yihtor’s plot. Not only were the Enforcers woefully overmatched, despite their mind-deadening devices, the existence of so many Clan revolting against the Council was, to quote Barac, not Human business. I was glad, and maybe a touch sympathetic— Acranam was a beautiful world, especially with Yihtor gone.
“My turn!” I obediently slid into my cleaned coveralls and opened the stall door. Rael smiled and rumpled my hair. “I thought you were going to wash yourself away,” she teased, sensing my relaxed mood.
“Nothing wrong with a little cleanliness,” I said primly, squeezing to one side in the small cabin to let her pass. After the fresher closed, I paused a moment, brush in hand, admiring the luminous white flowers Morgan had somehow found time to paint along the ceiling’s edge. They might even have fooled the hapless insects of Acranam. I went forward to the control room, smiling to myself.
It’s good to be home,
I sent to Morgan. He was busily checking controls, obviously enjoying the feel of command again. My cheeks began to burn; why had I used
home,
as though I had some right to stay here? Sitting on the copilot’s couch, I started brushing out my hair, sensitive to a tension that for once had nothing to do with my tightly suppressed power.
Morgan’s lean, brown hand took the brush from mine, drawing it through my hair with long, slow strokes. He hummed quietly to himself as he groomed the heavy stuff lock by lock. I found the process almost unbearable and wasn’t sure why. “Stop it, Jason,” my voice belonged to a stranger.
Morgan immediately put down the brush, then sat beside me so that we faced each other across the seat. “What’s wrong, Sira?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, then stopped, confused. Why should I feel uncomfortable with Morgan? He was my friend and more. I hated to admit it, but Yihtor was right about me. I was a half-thing, not Chosen or Unchosen, not Clan or Human.
“Rael’s quite beautiful,” I said, rather than delve further in my own turmoil. The question brought back some of my fierce jealousy and I instantly regretted it. Morgan smiled.
“So are you,” he replied softly.
“Now,” I reminded him, feeling an odd pang. “I wasn’t before.”
His smile grew, as if Morgan read more into my words than I’d intended. “That’s your opinion,” he said firmly. “You haven’t really changed.” A quick tug on a waving strand of hair. “This.” A downward gesture. “That. But you’re still who you were, Sira.”
“For how long?” I closed my lips tightly after the question, too many thoughts clamoring to be heard, too many fears waiting to pounce.
The bleakness in his face echoed the dread of my own thoughts. His mind touched mine.
Barac and Rael are right about one thing. You must recover what was taken from you, Sira. Even if it means I lose.
I wished I could borrow some of Morgan’s courage. I leaned toward him and he swept me close in an embrace almost painful in its strength, as if his fear was as great as my own.
Chapter 32
“PSST. Sira. You awake?”
The soft whisper startled me until I recognized the voice. “Rael? What’s the matter?” I peered into the darkness of the cabin, trying to see her. I must be half-asleep. I ordered on the portlight.
Rael stood looking down at me. She was dressed, which I expected, since it was my turn to sleep. What I found unexpected was the pale and set expression on her face. “What is it?” I repeated.
“I have to talk to you, Sira. Please let me stay.”
“You might as well,” I said, trying not to sound unfriendly, trying to remember if ruining a good night’s sleep was what sisters did to each other. I made myself comfortable in a corner of the hammock. Rael pulled out a crate from those lining the opposite wall of the galley cubby and perched on it, her whole body expressing a need for action. “Well?” I prompted, yawning.
Inside, I was awake enough. The past two days had gone by too calmly. I’d suspected Rael of biding her time, waiting for a moment when Morgan wasn’t present, for a moment when I might be more approachable. I thought I’d be polite and listen; where was the harm in that?
“We’ve been contacted by Camos Port Authority. We’re insystem, waiting for clearance.” That news was enough to scour away the last remnants of my rest.
Rael continued: “By now, Barac will have contacted his superiors and they will report to the Council. There’ll be a hearing of Yihtor’s crimes—by Clan, not, as Bowman plans, by Human justice. The Council will learn everything when they scan Yihtor; the truth can’t be hidden.” Rael hesitated. “However, this takes time. Until then, Barac won’t tell Council about you or about Morgan—we agreed on this. I trust him.”
“What are you saying? I thought you wanted me to come to Camos—to this Council of yours.”
“Yes. But.” Her delicate fingers clasped and reclasped each other. “Barac and I have been troubled,” Rael began at last. “What exists between you and that Human—”
“Morgan.”
Rael nodded. “Between you and Morgan, Sira, is a closeness, a bond such as I’ve never seen before outside of heart-kin.” She made a soft, sad sound. “You don’t remember. Clan Joinings aren’t like the life-pairings of other species, with affection or love as part of them. A few might turn out that way; most, like mine, appease a drive, no more. I despise my Chosen, and, to be honest, he isn’t fond of me; at the same time our link is soul-deep and for life. When we’re assigned children, he’ll come to me and perform his function. Afterward, we can hope never to have to share a planet.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be,” my sister said quickly, a proud flash in her dark eyes. “Once Chosen, a Clanswoman can go anywhere, do anything, and be answerable only to herself. My life’s a good one. I’ll return to it willingly once I’m certain you’ll be all right.” Rael looked at me for a long moment, as if she weighed some consequences in her mind. “Heart-kin, I can’t bear to cause you pain. Barac and I have decided to take steps to hide Morgan from the Council.”
My mouth went dry. “Why? What haven’t you told me? What threat do they pose to us?” A faint alarm sounded deep in my thoughts.
Rael shook her head. “Don’t be afraid, Sira. You’re an innocent victim. The Council will help you.”
The alarm grew louder, almost painful. I strengthened my barriers to prevent it from echoing into Morgan’s mind. “But this Council is a threat to Morgan. That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? But why? Morgan’s done nothing except help me, save my life, and more.”
Another shake of Rael’s head loosened anxious tendrils of black hair from their fastening. “Regardless of what Morgan’s done or is, regardless of anything we say or do, the Prime Law requires his memory of us be erased and his power stripped.” I don’t know what Rael read in my face, but her voice grew defensive. “How else do you think we’ve survived on Human worlds for so long? Barac’s already protected Morgan long after the Law should have been carried out.” She leaned forward, eyes intent. “And how much worse if they so much as suspect a Human’s connection with a Chooser.”
“We must stop the
Fox,
” I decided with a sense of unreality, pushing to my feet. “We can’t take Morgan to Camos.”
“Agreed,” Rael said swiftly. “But what would our Enforcer escort do if the
Fox
changed course? What of Barac—and Morgan’s friend?”
“What can I do, then?” I demanded. I stretched out a tiny portion of power, touched her shields only to find them gone, revealing her thoughts. “You want me to leave him,” I said, recoiling. I sank back down.
Rael nodded. “You could return to Camos ahead of us, right to the Cloister, itself, as if you’d never left. It separates you from Morgan before any Clan sense what you mean to each other. Bluff. Use up time. Confuse any who question you. Meanwhile, Barac will delay Yihtor’s scan as long as possible. Morgan can lift from Camos and be systems away before Council suspects his existence.”
“They’ll hunt him down,” I objected numbly, already halfway to accepting her plan of action, searching for holes with a sort of shocked calmness.
Rael spread her hands. “From what I’ve seen of your Morgan, he knows how to survive.”
“So I must lose him in order to save him?”
She showed her discomfort but was frank in return. “What future had you anyway, Sira? You’re doing Morgan a favor. Once your mind is restored, you’ll understand why all this was impossible from the beginning.”
I shook my head from side to side, wondering why I was unable to cry when every part of me was in so much pain. “No. Despite what you believe, I’ve made the Choice of my lifetime.”