Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine (3 page)

“They merely tolerate us because we could blow them from the sky at any moment and they know it.” Malley’s mouth twitched with scorn. “And so do you.”

“I admit it’s sometimes a strained relationship, but it’s something and more than we’ve ever had before.” LaRenna’s fingers unconsciously tightened about Malley’s hair until her eyes opened. LaRenna’s downward gaze was by far her most serious. “I want to help change things, be part of the peace. That’s why I chose to become Kimshee.”

“And go through apprenticeship training to do it. You’ll never finish your schooling.” Malley ran her finger down LaRenna’s soft palm. “Do you ever think about them?”

“Kimshee apprentices?”

“No, your birth parents. Don’t you ever wonder what they’re like or if you have Aut brothers and sisters?”

“Of course I do.” LaRenna scratched at her hand. “Who hasn’t? But I don’t very often. Belsas and Chandrey raised me with love. I feel almost guilty asking for more.” She pushed Malley away, rose to her knees, and peeked hopefully at the courtyard. “All clear. Let’s check our postings.”

“What was it like?” Malley lingered on the floor, still holding LaRenna’s hand.

“Being raised by the Taelach of All?” LaRenna settled cross-legged beside her.

“Uh-huh.”

“My gahrah is like most of your brooding types, pretty reserved, sometimes unemotional. I never could read her well enough to tell when I had overstepped my bounds.”

Malley raised a high arched eyebrow in suspicion. “Really?”

“She’d just smile like nothing happened and find me the most horrid chores to do around the housing compound.”

“She never smacked you?”

Shock sprang into LaRenna’s long-lashed eyes. “Why, no! Mamma would have exploded if Belsas ever had. When things got intense, Bel would just walk away. I probably would have preferred a thrashing to those chores or Chandrey’s lectures. It certainly would’ve been quicker.” LaRenna shook her head as childhood memories encroached her thoughts. “Those lectures made me feel so small.”

Malley dropped her handhold to smooth the bedrolls into inspection perfection. “I would have taken chores or words over a belt to the back end any day. Believe me, LaRenna, you would have too.”

LaRenna offered her friend a considering stare. Malley’s childhood had been impossibly rough, plagued by a pair of raisers who had never gotten along and had taken their problems out on their only child with regular ferocity. No wonder Malley had gone into military schooling at such a young age; it was an escape mechanism. “You make me feel privileged to have been raised by them. Chandrey and Belsas have always been close. That’s probably why they waited so long before they took a child to raise. I guess they were making sure of themselves.”

“Lucky you.” Malley’s expression turned dourer than ever. “Dressa and Whellen seemed to think raising me involved intense screaming and yelling. Not that it matters. I survived it.”

“And managed to rise above it, Third Engineer Malley Whellen.” LaRenna gave Malley’s hand a confident squeeze and then tugged her toward the door. “Come on, you overcharged sodium cell.” Laughing, she vaulted down the corridor to the floor-level lifts, dragging her reluctant roommate behind. “Let’s check our posts.”

Speak not of your Taelach daughters. Their birth is substantiation of your sin.

—Autlach saying

In the high plains of southern Vartoch, deep within the Taelach-owned lands opened for Autlach settlement, Sentry Commander Trazar Laiman watched his father polish two names listed on the Death Stone. Unlike the other forgotten names, these two were meticulously kept. “You keep their memory well.”

“You’ll be going soon, won’t you?” His father’s hands never wavered from their task.

“My launch leaves in an hour.” Trazar ran his palm over the top of the weathered boulder. “I wish I had better memories of M’ma.”

Laiman nodded slowly. “You weren’t yet six when she died. Mercy barely seven. Neither of you was old enough for many memories. I did what I could to make her seem real.”

At the sound of his father’s anguish, Trazar offered what comfort he could. “You did well by us.”

“I’m proud of my children.” But Laiman avoided his eyes. “I sometimes wonder how things would have been if she’d lived. Losing the baby destroyed her so. It wasn’t half a moon cycle later that she . . .” Laiman’s voice trailed off.

Curiosity topped Trazar’s better judgment, driving him to question what no one dare speak of. Minor inconsistencies in what little he had been told indicated his mother’s suicide but not his infant sister’s fate. “Why did the baby die? Nobody ever told me.”

Laiman gave his son a long, pained look. Memories hurt. So did lies. “She was a lot like you in the face, same chin, same jaw line. She even had the same birthmark on her ear. If only . . .”

“If only what? What happened to the baby?” Trazar stopped his father’s polishing hand with his own. “What happened?”

“It’s a long trip to the launches and two hard days to Langus. You’d best go.”

“Answer me!”

Laiman bowed his head, shoulders slouched and arms drawn as if cuddling the lost child. “She was perfect except—” He paused. “Then, despite my efforts, she was gone. No one could have prevented it. It doesn’t matter what took her, only that she’s gone.”

“I wish I’d known her.”

“Me, too,” mumbled Laiman, pushing away the invisible bundle. “Me, too.”

Trazar looked at the sun’s place in the afternoon sky, aware of the time but reluctant to leave. “I have to go. I’ll send word as soon as my post on Langus grants time.”

“Safe journey to you.” Laiman wrapped his arms around his son in a gruff embrace. Trazar had matured well. He was a full head taller than Laiman and almost twice as broad in the shoulder which, though not astounding for an Autlach, was unusual for the family’s small-statured genetics. Laiman admitted military training could fill one out in such a way, but liked to think a childhood spent in the fresh air of Vartoch’s single expansive continent had. “Be careful. Langus can be dangerous.”

“Not the base, Dah, and that’s where I’ll be.” Trazar turned and walked down the hillside toward the launch stop, his shoulder pack swaying with his pace. He wondered if things were really as his father said, or if possibly . . . ?

Laiman ran his hand over one of the Death Stone’s names. The ridged letters stung his fingers with the lie they contained.

LARENNA NELL LAIMAN

BIRTH/DEATH

DAY 4–CYCLE 10–RECORDED PZ4428

Turning back, Laiman watched his son fade from view. He longed to stop him and tell everything, something, anything about that morning twenty-two passes ago. It had been unfortunate, a terrifying event, and if anyone ever found out . . . Laiman shook his head. If anyone found out, the family lineage would be marred for generations. They would be known as producers of Taelachs, of white witches, of the barren, pale-eyed women who’d rather die in the fires than kneel before an Autlach husband. To seed or bear one was unnatural, despite any rumor the Taelach might spread about genetics. If anyone knew, Laiman’s descendants would be unmarriable, untrustworthy, barred from holding public or temple positions. No, it was too great a risk to tell Trazar. The midwife’s silence had cost the family’s savings, and the ties had been cut with the infant’s shushed cry. Laiman’s hands returned to LaRenna’s etched name. The Taelach pair had seemed stable enough. Well off. Not children, but the Taelach never sent children. Nor had he ever heard of them sending anyone besides the customary Kimshee, and worst of all Laiman had recognized the taller one’s voice. It was a voice few Auts could forget. Belsas Exzal had spoken to the Autlach people at large on several occasions since the Taelach civil war had ended. Laiman’s recognition of the voice had only made things worse. To be known as the sire of the Taelach of All’s daughter? No one could ever know. It would be the family’s ruin. The secret was his alone to bear and bear it he would, for the rest of his life.

Your post is your life. Guard it as such.

 —Sarian Military Standards of Honor

“It must be there somewhere. You’ve just overlooked it.” Malley fidgeted as LaRenna re-read the courtyard postings.

“For the third time, Mal, it’s not damn well there!” LaRenna flung the list at her dorm mate. “You look!”

Malley’s fingers drew over the series of names and destinations in hopes of spotting an error. Finding none, she gave LaRenna a nervous, lip-chewing glance. “You’re right! What gives—you fail a final or something?”

“Not bloody likely,” came the flustered reply. “There must be a mistake. I’d better check with the Master Yeoman. I’m sure she has my posting.” LaRenna cast her roommate a circumspect look and their eyes locked in the same dumbfounded manner. What could she possibly have done wrong? Had Quall been aware of her mischief? “I hope she has my posting.”

“I’m sure she does.” An odd grin splashed over Malley’s cheeks, scrunching her broad face as she turned toward the opened dormitory doors. “You check then come back to our room. I’ll be packing. I still can’t believe I’ve been posted to Master Engineer Ockson on the Predator. Praise be, my posting is to a Taelach ship. No Auts to deal with and no Kimshees to work under! No offense intended.” Malley bubbled with such excitement that LaRenna felt a twinge of jealousy. “Besides, I’ve no desire to be around the Master Yeoman. Grandmaster Quall lurks around there entirely too much.”

“Well, they are life mates.” LaRenna sucked her cheeks in dismay. “But I so hope Quall’s not around. Last thing I need is the Protocol Master on my back—again. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll need it if Quall is about.”

“Gee thanks, Malley.” With that thought weighing her mind, LaRenna jogged toward the Stores building, reciting a little prayer as she went.

Mother Maker take this day and make it work for me.

Your gentle help I’ll hold up high for all the world to see.

Your praises I will sing out loud, rejoicing in your light.

Give me the strength to do your work, do what you will as right.

The Stores was a massive facility located in the heart of the training grounds. It was easily ten times larger than the senior dormitory and all the darker, its echoing halls the dirge of many a disobedient student, LaRenna included. The outside columns were carved with the everyday scenes of Sarian life and the walls graced with paintings of Taelach folklore. LaRenna usually stopped to enjoy these captivating pictures but this time passed them without notice. She identified herself to the sentry posted outside the main doors then went down the hall leading to the Yeoman’s workroom. The door was ajar.

At her worktable, Wreed Qualls, Master Yeoman, her hair pulled into a neat twist, scribed on a thick bandit-hide scroll. “All the modern forms of recording and communications, and some of the Kinship still insist on the tradition of scrolls,” mumbled LaRenna. Some habits died hard.

“After six passes under my careful guidance, I would think you would have more presence of mind than to skulk in someone’s doorway.” Protocol Grandmaster Quall Dawn’s commanding voice boomed from a dimly lit corner. LaRenna cringed and took a small step forward. Sometimes even the most consecrated of prayers went unheard.

“Hmm?” The Yeoman squinted her bright, saucer-shaped eyes at the doorway. “Ah, Belsas’s daughter. Come in, child. We’ve been expecting you.” The word
we’ve
soured the remains of LaRenna’s breakfast. She swallowed hard.

“There’s been a mistake then?”

“Manners, girl!” Quall began to rise. “Remember our ranking before you proceed.”

“Apologies, Grandmaster Quall.” LaRenna folded her right arm across her chest to her left shoulder and bowed her head in salute.

“Quall,” reprimanded the Yeoman. “She’s graduate braided. The salute isn’t called for among officers of the Kinship in a setting such as this and you know it.”

“It is until she officially leaves my training grounds,” snapped Quall. The heavy heel of the grandmaster’s right boot tapped at a rapid pace, a sign that sent seasoned students fleeing for cover. “At rest Third Kimshee LaRenna Belsas. Have a seat and we’ll begin.”

LaRenna chose one of the oversized chairs facing the Yeoman’s worktable and sat in awkward silence, crossing and uncrossing her legs, wishing that her feet touched the floor. It made her feel like a child in need of discipline and for once, she truly didn’t know her crime. Yeoman Wreed picked up on her anxiety and sulked with displeasure. “Quall Dawn!” she exclaimed, pointing to the young officer in front of her. “Look at what you’ve done! You terrify every cadet to the point they won’t come see me unless their life depends on it.” Extreme discontent curled the Yeoman’s ruby mouth as she peered over her shoulder. “Come out of your hole and sit where we can see you.” She turned back to LaRenna with a smile. “She doesn’t bite, Third Kimshee. You know how her kind is—all bluff and bellow.”

Quall emerged from the corner grim-faced and settled into the chair next to LaRenna’s. “I might bite.” She sneered and smoothed the generous folds of her instructor’s robes. “It’s been rumored that I’ve consumed more than one of my students.”