B00CH3ARG0 EBOK (6 page)

He paused before speaking. “It is—” he smiled as Kyza
scooted between them and disappeared into the refectory “—a true pleasure to
teach a new student, a fresh and different mind. It is something I have not
experienced in a long, long time.” He took one of her hands and patted it in a
grandfatherly fashion. “It is refreshing!” he said with zest in his voice. Then,
more soberly, he added in English, “Thank you.” With a fond smile, he continued
on into the room. Marianne followed him, a warm feeling making her eyes moisten.

* * *

“He was my tutor when I was a child,” the Sural told her
later, as they walked through the flowers in the garden, “and my father’s
before me.”

“Just how old is he?” Marianne asked.

“I do not know. It is not a question we ask.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Once we are of age, an adult is an adult. The question is
rude.”

She made a noise. “Human women can be that way. ‘It’s not
nice to ask a lady her age,’” she intoned nasally in English.

He grinned. “And how old are you?”

She gave him an affectionate shove. He laughed and draped an
arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer.

“And who says Tolari don’t have a sense of humor?” she
asked.

“Do humans say that of us?”

“Frequently.”

He chuckled.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“One hundred forty-two,” he replied, without hesitation.

She halted, gaping at him. “Seriously?” she asked. “
Tolari
years?”

He turned to face her, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Oof.” She shook her head. “That’s ... that’s ... more than 280
standard
.
.. and you were given the Jorann’s blessing when I was, so
you’ll be...” Her mind reeled. “How long do Tolari live, anyway?”

“Until we decide to allow ourselves to grow old and die,” he
said. “In truth, most of us choose not to extend our lifespan with the Jorann’s
blessing. Without it, we live some 150 of our years. It is mainly rulers, caste
leaders and those with great talents who choose to take the blessing.”

“Humans grow old and die whether they want to or not.” She
sighed. “I guess I should be surprised you don’t have more children than you do.”

Another chuckle. “That idea seems to live in your mind,
beloved.”

Her mind went back to the conversation with Cena that
morning, and she nodded. He took her hand to tuck it under his arm, tugging her
along.

“Something troubles you,” he said.

“I don’t know how to talk about it without getting upset.” She
tried to gather her thoughts. “You know I’m jealous of – of those women who…”

“Who request an heir of me?” he finished. “What do you
fear?”

“Cena said you can’t love another woman, but I’m still
afraid that you’ll find someone who makes you regret... ” She fell silent,
unable to finish.

He turned again and wrapped his arms around her. “Oh
beloved,” he murmured into her hair, “how could I regret giving you my heart? It
is
your
smile that I live to see.”

She looked up at him. “My smile? That’s all?”

“That is everything, beloved.”

Six weeks. Forty days, Marianne corrected herself groggily,
but last night ... no nightmare. It was the third night in the past ten that
she’d slept without waking up screaming. She stretched, grateful for the
reprieve, feeling better rested than she had since she’d discovered she was
pregnant.

She glanced out the doorway to the sitting room to find the
light on her comms unit flashing. She blinked, reaching for the Sural with her
senses. He was somewhere in the sitting room, his familiar presence solid and
comforting. He met her probe with an empathic caress. With a last frown at the
blinking light, she went into the bathing area to wash and dress.
Let them
wait,
she thought.

A few minutes later, a little more awake, she joined the
Sural. “Is it short range?” she asked.

He swiped at his tablet. “No. The signal originates at the
star you call Tau Ceti.”

“From the station or the planet?”

She threw a cloth over the flashing light and picked up her
hairbrush. She sat at her desk, watching the light blink through the material.
I
bet they’re not going anywhere before I answer them.

“It carries the station’s signature.”

She brushed her hair, wondering who it could be. The light
kept blinking, irritating her. Why couldn’t they leave her alone? Why was a
schoolteacher so important? She pushed away the discontent filling her. Giving
the Sural a resigned glance, she opened the comms channel.

Adeline Russell’s face smiled out of the monitor. Part of a
Central Command Security banner was visible behind her. Marianne blinked,
struggling to keep the realization off her face. Addie had been a mole after
all.

“Marianne!” Adeline exclaimed. “You look radiant!”

Marianne kept her voice flat. “Citizen Russell.”

“Ouch.” Adeline looked hurt. “Why so formal?”

“You’re a spook.” Adeline made no move to deny it, so
Marianne took the initiative. “What do you want?”

“Straight and to the point – I like that about you.” She
smiled winningly. Marianne didn’t react, and the smile faded. Adeline cleared
her throat. “Right. Here’s the deal. Earth wants you back. You can name your
price, any price. Money, prestige, fame, even a certain amount of political
power. Almost anything you want. Just name it.”

“What if I wanted to be Earth’s representative to the
Terosha Federation?”

Adeline went wide-eyed, speechless for a moment. “It would
take some time,” she said slowly, “and you’d need stillness training, but it
could be arranged.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No joke, Marianne. You want it, you got it. Is that the
deal?”

“No.”

Adeline deflated a little. “Marianne,” she said, “tell me
what you want, really. I just want to help.”

Dishonesty colored her voice like a grotesque rainbow. It
nettled Marianne. “Oh really? Is that what you were trying to do when you
convinced Admiral Howard to phase me off Tolar against my will? Helping? Is
that what you were trying to do when you convinced him to try sneaking back
into Tolari space? When you convinced him to disobey the Sural’s order to
leave?”

Adeline’s eyes flicked off-screen and back.
Got you
,
Marianne thought.
Who’s watching you now?
“His death is on your head,
you know,” she continued. “He’d be alive if you hadn’t pushed him to force the issue.”

“That’s not fair.”

“How’s Laura?”

Adeline leaned back. “I’m going to recommend that
mid-afternoon is a better time to call you,” she said. “You’re brutal when you
first wake up.”

Marianne gave her a grim smile. “Just how high up the food
chain are you in Central Command Security?”

“I’ll answer that when you tell me who took the locater chip
out of your head. And how they did it.”

“I’m a linguist, not a physician.” Marianne grimaced. “Poor
Smitty. And he told so many people what a great intelligence operative you’d
make.” She leaned forward. “I’ll tell you what I want,” she said in a low voice.

“I’m listening.”

“I want you to leave me alone. A schoolteacher with no
family can’t possibly be worth all this trouble. Keep trying to abduct me, and the
Sural will never reestablish diplomatic relations with Earth.”

All expression drained from Adeline’s face. She nodded. “I’ll
pass that on to Central Command.” She stopped while reaching for the comms
switch and asked in a cheery voice, “By the way, Marianne, I just have to know
– when are you due?”

Marianne’s jaw dropped. Adeline laughed merrily and cut the
connection.

The Sural stood and crossed the room to sit on the edge of
her desk.

“How did she know I’m increasing?” she asked in stark disbelief.

He glanced back at the blank monitor screen for a long
moment, rubbing his chin. “She is very good at the science of observation, for
a human.”

“And to think I believed she was just the Ambassador’s pious,
if somewhat brazen, wife.”

“She was never just the Ambassador’s wife.”

“I wonder what else she figured out...”

“There is no way to know.”

She changed the subject. “I didn’t have the nightmare last
night.”

“I know,” he said with a glad smile. “Still, you seem
discontented.”

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she answered,
looking away. “I just wish – I just wish – I don’t like knowing that sooner or
later, you’re going to take joy in another woman.”

The Sural laughed. He
really
laughed. Then he took a
look at her face and laughed even harder, collapsing onto a chair and dissolving
into mirth. Several minutes passed before he could get control of himself. A
smile crept onto her face as she watched him. He wiped away the tears of
laughter and pulled her down in the chair with him to fold her in a hug.

“Oh beloved,” he sighed with a chortle. He sniggered and
stifled another laugh. “When a man is bonded, it is not the same,” he added, resuming
his composure.

“Yes, but still—” Pain lanced through her middle. She
doubled over.

“Marianne!”

The world spun and went dark.

* * *

Marianne realized she was awake, a long while later. Her
thoughts flowed like mud.

Something was wrong.

She opened her eyes and found herself on a bed in the
apothecaries’ quarters. There was something she should be concerned about ... The
thought slipped away. She tried to sit up but floundered, tangled in a sheet. An
apothecary appeared and pressed her back down.

“High one,” he said, “you must lie still. We are trying to
save your child.”

She should be upset by that. Child... child... what about
the child...needed saving? Why? Her senses tickled. The Sural appeared at her
bedside, his face an impassive mask, distress whirling through him.
The
baby,
she thought.
He’s worried about the baby.
She frowned.
Tolari don’t worry.

He put a hand on her cheek. She tried to look back at him,
but her eyes wandered, refusing to focus.

“She is barely conscious, high one,” a voice above her said.
“It is doubtful she is lucid enough to realize you are here.”

“Will the child survive?” the Sural asked.

“Perhaps,” said Cena’s voice from somewhere in the room. “But
more likely not.”

A stab of grief sliced through her. She couldn’t tell if it
was hers or the Sural’s.

“Do all you can,” he said, his voice devoid of expression.

“Of course, high one.”

He disappeared from view, but she could sense him nearby,
watching. She sighed and let darkness envelop her.

* * *

“So,” the voice said, “you say she’s not answering her
comms.”

“That’s correct, sir,” Adeline replied.

“And you’re certain she’s pregnant with this – alien’s – get?”
Disgust filled the voice.

“Oh, absolutely. She’s the Sural’s wife, you know, and
there’s only one reason a woman glows like that.”

“So they’re probably taking care of her, if she’s pregnant
with the Tolari leader’s brat. How did that happen?”

Adeline’s lips twitched. “The usual way, I suspect.”

“Citizen Russell—” the voice began to say in a dangerous
tone.

“The Tolari are nearly human,” she interrupted. “They’re
really just a racial variant, when it comes down to it, possibly derived from North
American aboriginals, to judge by their appearance. The brains at the science
board think that they’re descended from us – or we’re descended from them – but
one way or the other we can produce viable offspring with them.”

“You miss my point, Citizen Russell. Marianne Woolsey is
physically unable to conceive or carry a child. She had herself sterilized at the
age of eighteen. We’ve got to get a look at her just for that, but the more
important issue is that we need to know what she knows. After eight years of living
with them, she’s sure to have the information we want.”

“No ship we send into Tolari space ever gets near the planet,”
Adeline pointed out. She heard an oath and the impact of a fist on a desk.

“See what you can do about that.”

“I’ll do what I can, sir.”

“See that you do.”

The comms light winked out.

* * *

Reaction shot through the stronghold. It was more than just
the ripples that sometimes ran through the guard when something surprising
happened; this was more like a series of empathic shocks. The Sural,
reluctantly but dutifully working in his private study while Marianne’s daughter
hovered at the edge of the dark, looked up from a report and signaled a guard
to investigate.

There was nothing he could do for Marianne or her child
while she lay unconscious. He cursed himself a fool for failing to realize that
she had not bonded with her daughter, that she had believed her daughter’s
discontent to be her own and pushed her away. The child, starved for her
mother’s bond, was on the brink of death.

The guard returned moments after leaving him, pouring with
emotion she was too overwhelmed to control.

“Speak,” he ordered.

“High one, it is the Jorann!”

He bolted for the door, skidding into the corridor outside
his quarters to bow low. The Jorann – tall for a woman, fair, and yellow-haired
– stopped in front of him, her expression solemn. She carried an ornate crystal
box full of something white. Her blessing.

“Grandson,” she said. “You are distressed.”

There was no point in denying it. “Yes, highest. You honor us
with your presence.”

“Take me to the Marann.”

“Yes, highest.” He indicated the direction with one arm, gave
another small bow, and turned to lead the way.

Marianne was still unconscious when they entered the
apothecaries’ quarters. The Jorann waved the bowing apothecaries away and went
to her bedside, opening the crystal box as she walked.