The Alliance (38 page)

“If all you two can do is indulge yourself in juvenile repartee, I’ll go and discuss the wedding plans with my mother. She, at least, will be sensible.”

“You think it’s a good idea, then.” The Tetrarch tried to look solemn.

“I’ve been waiting for him to suggest it, but I know how slow older men think and thought I’d have to be patient for a while longer.” There was an element of truth in Kayelle’s words and she let them feel it.

She found it odd how right it felt. She had no doubts. She had to be Jean-Paul’s wife. No other state was possible. Her first reaction had been for him, lest he be embarrassed, but this had hardened instantly into certainty. No other decision she would ever make would be this right.

“I’m glad you feel that way. I agree entirely.”

Kayelle didn’t know how he kept this private. It contradicted everything she knew about telepathy. Another proof Jean-Paul stood outside everything she’d ever known. She stepped close and gave him a hug hard enough to hurt her muscles.

“I’m going now,” she said. “If you hear my mother scream, ignore it.”

“She’s guessed most of it and is hoping for the rest.”
Jean-Paul smiled at her.

“Don’t take away all my surprises,”
she warned him as she turned to leave.

“I think you’ll find one or two more along the way.”

His thought was pure mischief and it turned her back to him. “
Is that a threat?”

“It’s more a promise. Now, go before the Tetrarch gets too suspicious.”

He was right. Her great-grandfather frowned, as if trying to catch a whisper on the edge of hearing.

“A kiss for the bride-to-be Great-grandfather?” she extemporized, anything to divert him.

“Of course, my child. I thought you’d forgotten me.”

She still sensed his disquiet. “My mind’s jumping this way and that, but I would never forget you,” she said. “Even if I can’t hold one thought in my head for even a second before another pushes it out.” It might suffice.

“I can tell you’re excited,” he said. “That’s all.”

“Bye, Great-grandfather.” She ran to the top of the stairs, turned, and waved before skipping down them like a girl, skirts flying indecorously.

* * * *

Her mother met her at the door, arms open wide, eyes bright with tears of joy. “I know,” she said. “I could feel your happiness from here. How much time do we have?”

Kayelle hugged her. “I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it. As soon as possible, I think.”

“The Tetrarch suggests ten days will give everyone time to get here.”
Jean-Paul used their private mode of communication.

“Ten days,” she passed it on to her mother.

“Ten days,” her mother’s voice rose. “Impossible. Tell that old fool it will be three weeks at a minimum. My daughter will be married properly.”

“I’ll pass it on,”
Jean-Paul laughed in her mind. “
Don’t worry, I’ll be polite.”

A small part of Kayelle’s mind quailed at this casual demonstration of Jean-Paul’s power. He maintained a private conversation at a distance, scanning her mind at the same time as he spoke with the Tetrarch. It took the special bond with her mother to communicate emotions over the same distance and only the Tetrarchs could send clear thoughts further.

“You have the ability to do everything I can.”
Jean-Paul surrounded her. “
It might take a little time, but it will happen. Your mother’s worried. Enjoy your time with her. Everything will work out. You trusted me before. Do the same now.”
Then he left her mind.

He was right. She smiled at her mother. “Sorry, I was wool gathering. You were saying….”

A shake of her mother’s head consigned her odd behavior to the idiosyncrasies of a bride-to-be and she continued her list of essential tasks before the wedding.

An hour later, they reached the guest list.

“How many of his family?” Her mother’s brow creased.

“Seven—mother, father, sister, brother, sister-in-law, nephew and his wife,”
Jean-Paul had the answer ready for her.

Kayelle passed it on.

“So few,” her mother gnawed her lower lip. “I can’t cut ours down below two hundred without offending.”

Jean-Paul’s laughter echoed in Kayelle’s mind. “
Tell her not to worry. My lot can cope with twice that number.”

“I need you,”
she sent deliberately, reinforcing it with every fiber of her body.

“Coming.”

* * * *

Jean-Paul lay on his back, Kayelle half across him, her limbs entwined with his. Her head rested on his chest. She’d fallen to sleep as simply as a child, almost in mid thought. Her parents had insisted he stay with them and Kayelle’s bedchamber was more comfortable than the ship. Fortunately, the sexual mores here were more relaxed for the Adepts and neither parent thought it strange he should sleep with their daughter. It saved a lot of creeping around in the dark.

He grinned at the thought of someone opposing Kayelle’s desires. They’d raised her in privilege, the beloved daughter of a wealthy family with a high proportion of Adepts. She didn’t accept restrictions meekly, a characteristic he’d used to combat the epidemic. She’d steamrollered opposition without offending, a rare talent, although being so startlingly beautiful gave her some advantage.

His mother, Dael, Karrel’s wife, Gabrielle, and Rachael, Jack’s wife, were all vibrant beauties. They turned heads everywhere, and even Anneke, his sister, compared favorably. Yet, Kayelle stood alone in a way not explicable by piecemeal analysis, although each of the others transcended minor blemishes and he saw none in her. Some indefinable element struck a chord in his soul matched by no other woman whenever she appeared.

“It must be love.”
Peter was there. “
I feel the same way about your mother.”

Jean-Paul checked that Kayelle still slept before he responded. “
I’m glad you didn’t arrive earlier.”

“Bit of a handful, is she?”
Peter’s humor sometimes reverted to his soldiering days. “
I always check…and so do the rest.”
He’d sensed the sudden fear in Jean-Paul’s mind. “
You’ve spent too much time away from us.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re right. Kayelle will need help in areas beyond me.”

Peter laughed in his mind. “
The girls are itching to interfere before you create too many assumptions of male superiority in her mind.”

Jean-Paul stifled the urge to follow suit. Laughter would wake Kayelle and she wasn’t ready for Peter yet. “
I’ll bet Anneke called them ‘false assumptions.’ She never gives us an inch. We need to marry her off. Give her a target that’s closer so the rest of us can get some peace.”

“You’ve been listening to Jack.”

Jean-Paul’s nephew might be the president of Feodar’s World, but Anneke had met Rachael long before he did and was her constant ally.

“He’s right.”

“Can you untangle yourself without waking her? It’s easier to talk face-to-face.”

Jean-Paul began the task one small movement at the time, pausing for long minutes when he sensed Kayelle’s disturbance. She murmured fretfully at one point and he froze. Peter said nothing, waiting with the ingrained patience of a veteran soldier, but Jean-Paul felt his presence and tried to hurry.

“Take your time, son.”
Peter missed nothing.

Once he was free, Jean-Paul rose from the bed and stood over Kayelle, scanning her mind for any sense of awareness. She slept on, her mind wrapped in a dream of wedded bliss.

“Come on,”
Peter intervened. “
That’s cheating.”

Jean-Paul stifled a laugh and stepped into Limbo, just brushing a vase of flowers decorating the dressing table.

“Come on,” Peter repeated. “Dael’s waiting.” He turned and summoned the portal to the beach camp.

They arrived there instantly, making Jean-Paul remember his first experience of Limbo when every portal seemed fixed in space and he’d had to walk from one to the next. This was much easier.

They stepped through and found Dael, Gabrielle, and Anneke waiting impatiently. They smothered Jean-Paul as they all tried to hug him at once.

“I think Kayelle would like him to survive until the wedding.” Karrel was there too, wearing a beaming smile.

“She’s gorgeous.” Rachael added her two-cents-worth.

“You’ve been peeking,” Jean-Paul accused, accepting Rachael’s embrace and Jack’s handshake simultaneously.

“If we waited for you, we’d all be old and gray,” Anneke counter-attacked, conveniently ignoring their immortality.

“How long do we have?” Dael was the practical one.

“She was sleeping soundly when I left,” Jean-Paul said. “A couple of hours at least. I can always plead a call of nature. They still have outside privies.”

“Good. Time to discuss how to handle this wedding. I’m looking forward to it. I like their fashions. We can show off in style.” The other women nodded their agreement while the males shook their heads in despair. “You must wear the kilt of this planet. We can make one in Viridian Green as a compliment to our hosts.” Dael nodded her satisfaction. Who’s going to attend you…Karrel or Jack?”

“Why not both?” Jean-Paul threw up his hands in mock despair.

“A great idea,” Gabrielle joined in. “It will give Kayelle a chance to reward two of her friends and I can get to dance with as many Viridians as I like.” She blew a raspberry at Karrel’s resigned shrug.

“
Après moi
, sister-in-law,” Anneke threatened. “I take priority, both in seniority and need. You’ve got your man.”

Jean-Paul felt their pleasure underpinning the banter. Kayelle would love this boisterous group. She’d fit as perfectly as if she’d been born for the role. He relaxed, his final worry dissipated by the high spirits around him.

“One of Torred’s bottles,” Jack suggested, looking around for Peter. He was already ready to celebrate when away from Feodar’s World, freed of the restraints he imposed on himself as president.

“We’ll keep them for when Kayelle can join us,”
Peter decided, surprising Jean-Paul because his father had translocated to the top of the sand hill separating the beach camp from the sea. “
There are other bottles. The Settlement believes Torred’s methods worth preserving, although they never quite replicate his touch.”

Peter translocated back to join the group in the camp. He smiled and Jean-Paul saw their friend in his mind. The discovery of the Viridian imprinting techniques had deepened Peter’s regret he’d not insisted on Torred and Samara becoming telepathic.

“It would have been too late for them,” he said. It felt strange offering comfort to his father. Peter was the rock anchoring them all.

“I know.” Peter’s pride in him was palpable. “Thank you. There’s a lot of your mother in you.”

“Drink up,” Jack had taken Peter at his word and passed out full glasses of excellent red wine. “A few more of these and my wife is likely to dance on the table.”

A picture formed in Jean-Paul’s mind of Rachael in a Federation uniform dancing abandonedly to the clapping assembled drinkers outside the inn on Feodar’s World. It was a memory straight from Jack’s mind and he shared it deliberately to tease his wife. Anneke topped him with a picture from his past he’d rather forget, his first time drunk, and the others laughed. There was no rancor, Jack wreathed the image with his love for his wife and Anneke’s was a fond rebuttal.

Peter and Dael had wandered away from the group, walking hand in hand to the top of the sand dune between the camp and the sea, a very special place for them. Here, their love had blossomed and their children conceived, Dael, in particular, spent every spare moment walking remembered paths, remembering special moments, and Peter indulged her need. They always wandered off like this, their thoughts private from the family.

Jean-Paul felt sorry when Peter returned and indicated it was time for him to return, his father had a mental clock that was rarely wrong. Hugs all around and he shifted into Limbo like stepping through a door. He didn’t pause, just re-ordered the portals in his mind so the one into Kayelle’s bedchamber was opposite and stepped through.

The water underfoot surprised him, the vase of flowers lay on its side, its contents on the floor, but the empty bed was of more concern. He extended his perception, seeking Kayelle. He’d have to explain his absence and didn’t want to have his lie revealed if she was where he said he’d been.

Nothing.

Puzzled, but not particularly concerned—she was probably searching for him—he probed further.

Still nothing.

Fear came, an irrational terror clawing at his mind, distracting him as he reached further and further with his mind. Still nothing.

“Peter!”

“Yes,”
his father responded.

“Kayelle’s gone.”
He took the shortcut of sharing what he knew directly.

“All come!”
Peter’s command carried the authority of years of soldiering and the family obeyed instantly, not pausing to question. Jean-Paul felt them around him as he stepped back into Limbo.