The Lawgivers: Gabriel (13 page)

“I can walk.”

“But you won’t,” he said grimly,
leaning over to scoop her up before she could object
further.

She surprised him when she didn’t
argue, but then he could see she was in too much pain for several
moments to say anything at all. She was still shivering, but he
juggled her until he’d managed to pretty much wrap his duster
around her.

He shifted his attention to the
villagers, discovering without much surprise that they were all
staring. He clenched his teeth to the point that his jaw ached,
struggling to tamp the anger that rose again.

They’d known about the attack and not
one of the bastards had either done anything to prevent it or tried
to help afterwards.

Of course that might have been because
of his presence, but he didn’t think so. If he hadn’t come to stop
it, if he hadn’t known to look for her, they would have left her
without any remorse.

It was the main reason he felt such
contempt for them, he realized. It might be due entirely to their
personal survival instincts, but their complete focus on their own
survival and lack of empathy, or at least an unwillingness to risk
anything for anyone else, made it hard for him to sympathize with
them or relate to them. Even in battlefield conditions, which was a
far more immediate life or death situation, the udai were prone to
risk their own lives to save the wounded. If the humans pulled
together and helped one another, he doubted they would be in such
desperate straits, but that seemed to be against their nature. They
were far more likely to seize upon one another’s weaknesses to
advance their own comfort.

“Gather your supplies,” he announced
finally, his voice as even as he could manage. “And move lightly.
We have to make up some time.”

Crossing the plateau, he waited until
the villagers started down the trail he’d shown them, struggling
for patience as they trudged down the incline, ignoring his order
to hurry. Finally, he bellowed at them. “Move!”

Alarm rippled through them, but they
picked up their pace.

He tightened his arms around Lexa when
he felt her jump.

Despite the tension he felt in her, she
lifted an arm and draped it around his shoulder as he started down
behind the primitives. Wryly, he dismissed the notion that it was a
lowering of her defenses. It seemed more likely it was from concern
that he’d drop her.

“Did you … kill the men?” she asked
once they’d reached the plain below.

Gah-re-al glanced sharply at her,
studying her for a long moment. “Did you want me to?”

She blinked at him, her lips parting in
surprise, but then frowned. “Did you beat them?”

“Unconscious,” he responded with
satisfaction.

“You left them.”

“Yes. It’s immaterial to me whether
they survive or not, but the death penalty was not warranted. It’s
up to them to survive … or not. They forfeited any aid they might
otherwise have gotten from my people."

Lexa had been satisfied enough with
Gabriel’s answers until that last. If she’d been able, she might
well have fought the two men that had attacked her to the death and
not considered it too harsh. She didn’t feel any less animosity
toward them that they’d paid for a beating with a beating, but it
seemed fair enough. That reference to ‘my people’ distressed her
inexplicably, though.

It seemed a perfectly natural thing to
say and she didn’t think he’d intended to emphasize the differences
between them by saying it. Nevertheless, it was a reminder—she had
her place and he had his.

As unhappy as those thoughts were, she
realized it depressed her on another level, as well. She didn’t
have any people. She might be as human as the villagers, but she
didn’t belong. She had no one she belonged to or with.

Those thoughts made her miss her little
sister and brothers more than she had in years, brought her to the
brink of tears for the first time in a very long time.

She pushed the thoughts from her mind
with an effort and, despite the throbbing from the battering she’d
taken, she dozed off.

Gabriel woke her trying to shift her
weight.

“I need to put you down to stretch my
arms for a few minutes.”

Rousing further, Lexa nodded. She
swayed when he put her on her feet, feeling vaguely drunk and more
than a little muscle strain. “I can walk,” she muttered, trying not
to grimace. “I need to walk anyway or I’m going to be too sore to
walk.”

Gah-re-al studied her doubtfully, but
he was definitely feeling the strain himself in his back, arms, and
shoulders, although he thought part of that was from trying to
pulverize the bastards that had assaulted her. After glancing from
her to the villagers ahead of them and doing a quick mental
calculation of their progress, he decided to let her have her way.
It would give him the chance to recover a little.

They’d made good time since he’d
managed to inspire the villagers to move a little faster. They were
still several clicks from the spot he’d chosen for an encampment,
though, and if Lexa could walk part of that distance it was bound
to improve his comfort level.

He discovered it only improved on the
physical level, though. It was painful to watch her struggling to
walk as if she wasn’t in pain. He could see that she was and anger
washed through him all over again.

It had taken an effort to stop himself
once he’d started pounding on the bastards. He wasn’t certain what
had finally lifted the fog of rage that had engulfed him, but he
wasn’t sure he was glad for it. He rather thought he was going to
regret not finishing them off more than he would’ve regretted
killing them. Strictly speaking, assault with attempt to rape
wasn’t punishable by death, but he didn’t know that they didn’t
mean to kill her before they were done and that would certainly
warrant a death sentence.

Beyond that, he didn’t like the idea
that they were still breathing and could decide to come after Lexa
again. He didn’t think that likely, but then it hadn’t occurred to
him before that that bastard would decide to attack her because
he’d stepped in to prevent him from beating her before.

It was the same man—one of them,
anyway. Ordinarily, he didn’t pay enough attention to the humans to
recognize one from another, but that one had made an
impression.

His anger shifted after a few moments
from the men that had attacked her to the order from headquarters
to leave her if she wasn’t able to keep up. He was completely
familiar with standard operating procedure in war situations where
focus shifted from the individual to the fighting unit as a whole.
Casualties were expected and there were times when it endangered
too many soldiers to try to get the wounded out, but this wasn’t
one of those situations.

Removal, relocation, and rehabilitation
was a mission to save the remaining humans and give them a chance
to start over. He’d thought the entire concept was designed to save
those most deserving of a chance at a better life. To callously
abandon the weakest among them made them no better than the humans
they held in contempt!

Essentially, that was what his job as a
Lawgiver had been designed to do—to protect the weak.

How the hell could they see that as
non-interference and necessary medical attention as unacceptable
interference?

It defied logic as far as he could see
and it fucking pissed him off!

He dismissed it after a while and
picked Lexa up again, ignoring her protests. “Tomorrow—if I think
you’re strong enough.”

“It’ll be worse tomorrow if I don’t
walk some of it off.”

“You did. That’s enough for now. You
should be in the med center,” he finished in an irritated
mutter.

“What’s med center?”

“The place we take anyone that’s sick
or injured so that they can get medical treatment.”

Lexa thought that over. “Oh. You keep
healers there?”

Amusement flickered through Gah-re-al.
“Something like that, I suppose.”

“Why is that funny?” Lexa asked
curiously, wondering whether to be insulted or not.

“We don’t keep them there. That’s where
they work.”

Lexa still wasn’t sure why the way
she’d said it sounded funny to him. “Your people go there when they
get the shit kicked out of them?” she asked, wondering what the
healers could possibly do about bruises and sore
muscles.

His amusement vanished. “If you mean by
‘getting the shit kicked out of them’ beaten up, that isn’t
something that happens.” He considered that and amended it. “Not
often. They treat illness and injuries.”

“Your people don’t fight over things?”
she asked curiously.

“Rarely. Not to say they don’t argue,
but no one wants to end up fined or imprisoned, so they usually
settle disagreements in a more civilized manner.”

Lexa digested that. “You have laws for
your people, too?”

Gah-re-al glanced down at her. “We have
the same laws for our own people that I enforce among
yours.”

“Seriously?” Lexa asked,
surprised.

“Seriously,” he responded, amused
again, although somewhat piqued, as well, that she was apparently
under the impression that his job was merely to punish her
people.

Lexa frowned. “But you said your people
didn’t fight.

She had a point. “The laws and the
enforcers insure that everyone is treated fairly—or as fairly as
possible—and the strong don’t prey upon the weak. It’s a failsafe
to make certain that everyone behaves in a civilized
manner.”

“Soooo …. You’re saying they might not
be as nice if they didn’t have to be?”

Good point! “They might not,” he
responded grudgingly but honestly. “I’d like to think they
would.”

Lexa fell silent for a while, thinking.
“Where are you taking us?”

Gah-re-al sent her another look of
surprise. “Specifically?”

Lexa nodded.

“To rendezvous with the social workers.
They’ll take all of you to a better place to live … teach you how
to live better.”

Surprise warred with doubt, disbelief
with a near painful desire to believe. “Really?”

“Truly.”

“This isn’t punishment,
then?”

“No.”

Lexa frowned, afraid to believe.
“Why?”

Because it would benefit the udai
colonists if the humans weren’t such a problem!

It occurred to him abruptly and
forcefully that he’d been looking at the entire situation wrong. He
and the others of like mind might be right. It was possible that
nothing they could do would change things significantly for the
humans. It was possible that they were beyond redemption or too
primitive in their thinking to learn the lessons they needed to
make a better life for themselves. In a very real sense, though,
the project wasn’t even about the humans. It was about the udai.
Were they truly as high minded and superior as they believed they
were? Maybe, and maybe not, but if they even aspired to be those
things, they were obliged to try to do their best for the less
fortunate. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” he responded,
realizing for the first time that it truly was.

Chapter Eight

Lexa studied Gabriel speculatively.
There was no getting around the fact that he still scared the pee
out of her. He unnerved her in an indescribable and completely
incomprehensible way considering he’d never hurt her and hadn’t
even offered to—not really.

She supposed that was because she still
didn’t completely trust him.

But she wanted to.

She’d wanted to before he’d dragged the
two men off of her and beat them within an inch of their lives.
Since that incident he’d been so … kind to her that she could feel
her guard crumbling.

She was afraid to let go of it. She
thought she was better off being afraid of him and distrusting him,
but the decision didn’t seem to be a matter of will. Slowly but
surely her defenses were falling to dust around her, her distrust
was giving way to trust, and she found herself less and less afraid
of him, enough so that she noticed him in a way she hadn’t
before.

In the beginning, she’d looked at him
as a beautiful, scary thing, a creature man-like but not human that
seemed to fit better in the realm of nightmares than dream
regardless of his physical beauty. Even when the seed had been
planted in her mind of being his woman she had merely fantasized
about it in a dream-like way. She’d been able to see him quite well
as a lover but hadn’t really been able to see herself in the role
of his lover.

It seemed now, though, that some veil
had been torn away and instead of seeing him as merely a man-like
creature, she’d begun to look at him through eyes that saw him
simply as another person, a man like any other that she’d ever seen
or known.

Except he wasn’t like any other man
she’d ever known. The differences went far deeper than his physical
appearance, but she thought it was those differences in the way he
behaved that made it possible to really notice and appreciate the
differences on the outside.