The Marann (14 page)

Marianne laughed. The Sural gave a
one-shouldered Tolari shrug and smiled. “Have you more
questions?”

“Why aren’t you out there,” she
pointed upward, “in the stars?”

He rose from his chair and paced,
hands clasped behind his back. “When our civilization was young, we
went to the stars,” he began. “Thousands of years ago.”

“Thousands?
” she gasped. “In
Tolari
years?”

“Your people still killed each other
with weapons made of bronze,” the Sural continued. “Perhaps
fifty-five hundreds of standard years. We found this arm of the
galaxy then much as you see it now: an assorted collection of
dissimilar races, all vying for what they saw as a limited quantity
of resources, all protective of
their
space
. We
thought to trade, to exchange knowledge and culture, to learn about
other races and civilizations. The peoples out there,” he waved at
the ceiling, “had more interest in gaining an advantage from us or
over us. We threaded our way through the petty rivalries for a
hundred years or so, then wearied of it and returned to our own
world.

“On occasion, a leader of the ruling
caste will conceive the idea of sending out ships to renew old
alliances in the sector, but it has been many hundreds of our years
since that last occurred, and now the possibility no longer exists.
None of the space-faring races of your Trade Alliance have known us
to leave our planet. The races we once knew have all moved on, or
died out, or annihilated themselves, or gone back to their
homeworlds and turned inward, as we have. We are content here, on
our own world, developing our art, our science, our
culture.”

“Then why let humanity make contact?”
Marianne asked. “Why am I here?”

“Because I can end such contact any
time I decide. Allowing a relationship with Earth was not an
irreversible decision. And it was good to see how our human cousins
fared, that they had risen above their barbaric nature and become
an interstellar civilization.”

Marianne blinked. “Cousins? What do
you mean,
cousins
?”

“We are related, you and I. Is it not
obvious?”

“Well—no, not entirely. There’s the
little matter of your ability to disappear into thin
air.”

He smiled. “I cannot share anything
regarding that with you. I can only say we are related. Your
government has not yet obtained a tissue sample from one of us—but
when they do, they will discover this for themselves. A Tolari and
a human could produce fertile offspring, so long as the mother was
Tolari.”

“Why must the mother be Tolari?” she
asked, frowning.

“Otherwise, the child would die long
before birth.”

“But—”

He shrugged a shoulder. “If you like,
I will allow you to ‘obtain’ a Tolari tissue sample to phase up to
your ship. That would create quite a distraction, I should think.”
He flashed a crooked smile. “It will give you time to
consider.”

“I bet they’d be excited enough not to
ask
me
too many questions,” she said.

The Sural nodded, a thoughtful
expression on his face. “Proctor,” he added, “you will find the
guards in your quarters have learned English. Consider choosing
another language to speak when you wish the Admiral to believe you
conceal something from me.”

She blanched a little, thinking about
some of the things Adeline said. “You’ve been spying on me!” she
exclaimed.

“You have been spying on me.” His
voice was mild. “How do your people put it?
That makes us
even.
” The saying seemed to amuse him. “All the same, it is not
espionage to observe what happens in my own stronghold—or, as
Tolar’s ruler, what comes into Tolari space.”

“How much of what I say on the comms
gets to you?” she asked, biting her lip and holding her
breath.

“Everything you say is reported to me,
and I receive a copy of every report you send to your
Admiral.”

She buried her face in both hands and
groaned, too embarrassed even to be angry. He chuckled. “You must
think I’m a fool,” she said into her palms. “I feel like seven
different kinds of an idiot.”

The Sural stopped pacing and half-sat
on the table next to her. “Do you feel I have betrayed
you?”

“I should,” she said, peering at him
through her fingers. Anger eluded her, but she should be
furious.

“No, you should not. I pledged my life
to protect you. To that end, I must know as much as possible. Your
people have not left behind all their more treacherous habits, and
as for mine—there are those among the provincial rulers with more
ambition than is good for them. They forget they cannot harm
me.”

“Old age and treachery defeat youth
and beauty,” she quoted in English.

He laughed, nodding, eyes
glinting.

“You adhere to your guarantee of my
safety more than my own government does.”

The Sural smiled. On a whim, he let
the warmth he felt show.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “Why
are
you protecting me? I’m an enemy spy.”

“You are hardly my enemy, proctor, and
you are not an intelligence operative. You are my daughter’s tutor,
who is being shamefully used by her own people.”

She eyed him. “You’re an empath. Truly
an empath.”

“Yes,” he answered, sensing a fearful
suspicion growing in her. “What troubles you?”

“How much of what
I
feel can
you—sense, or read, or whatever?”

He fell silent, thinking about it for
a time, staring at her. She valued her privacy—a privacy she could
not know was impossible to maintain on his planet. He spread his
hands. “Physical contact is required to fully read another. I gave
explicit orders when you arrived that no one was to touch
you.”

“Oh,” she said, relief radiating from
her. Then she blinked, and the relief turned back to suspicion.
“Wait a minute. Storaas has, at least twice. The last time was just
a few days ago. He took my hand under his arm as we walked in the
garden.” Her eyes went wide. “Was he
reading
me?”

The Sural raised an eyebrow. “Very
likely,” he answered, watching her. She flared, indignant,
struggling to repress it.
Magnificent
.

“That’s—that’s—” she
sputtered.

“Not against my orders,” he
finished.

“What?
” Shock slackened her
jaw.

He laced his fingers together over one
thigh. “I told him to find a suitable opportunity to read
you.”

She opened her mouth and closed it
again, the shock giving way to an anger she fought to control. The
guards flickered into sight, watching her, alerted by the strength
of her ire.

“Have a care, proctor,” he said,
gesturing the guards to stand down. They disappeared
again.

She heaved a heavy sigh, deflating. He
could sense her getting a grip on runaway emotions.

“I—” She sighed again and withdrew
into herself, taking refuge in formality. “Forgive me, high one,”
she said in an even voice, setting her face and looking down at the
table. She was soft and gentle again, but sadness drifted from her.
“The familiarity with which we speak sometimes allows me to forget
who and what you are.” She fell silent, staring at her hands and
taking ragged breaths.

He had hoped for a more positive
response. He suppressed disappointment as she continued to gaze at
her hands on the table, letting the silence lengthen. If he told
her the truth, he risked an even stronger reaction.

“I asked him to read you because I
know you hide something,” he said.

Her head jerked up, and she flared
with indignation again. “I’m not a spook!”

“I did not say you were.”

She grumbled and shifted in her chair.
Her gaze wandered to the windows. “I’m just a schoolteacher,” she
said. “I’ve never done anything else.”

“Of that much, I am certain,” he said,
“but you hide something, all the same. Something which pains
you.”

She went still and looked up at him,
her eyes huge and frightened. Startled, he extended a hand. “I will
never harm you,” he said. “Will you trust me to help
you?”

For a moment, it seemed to him as if
she might take his hand. Then her presence shattered into panic,
and she stood in a rush, knocking her chair backward, staring at
his hand as if he might strike her. She paced over to the windows,
agitated, hugging herself. Confounded, he went still and remained
leaning against the table, allowing her time to calm.

“It’s personal,” she said. “Nothing to
do with you, or Kyza, or my sneaky government.” She sat in a low
chair near a window and drew her knees up under her chin. “You need
not be concerned.”

He pushed away from the table and took
a chair near hers. It had everything to do with him, he thought,
but pursuing it would only frighten her more.
What demon hurt
you?
he wondered.

“Hey!” She straightened and swiveled
to face him. “You put your hand on my shoulder in the transport
pod!”

He spread his hands. “Forgive me,” he
said. “I could not resist the opportunity to see the hevalrin
through the lens of your perceptions. Your wonder was
delightful.”

Marianne mumbled something, mollified.
She leaned her jaw on one hand and winced.

He sensed pain. “What was that?” he
asked, focusing on her.

“Nothing, just a toothache,” she said.
“I’ve had them before. It’ll go away.”

He made a motion. “You will see my
apothecaries.”

She started to protest. “High one,
it’s not—”

“You will see my
apothecaries.”

She sighed as a woman in a pale yellow
robe entered the room and bowed to the Sural.

“The human proctor has a physical
ailment,” he told the woman. “You will examine her and determine
what needs to be done for her.”

“Yes, high one,” the woman said. She
bowed to Marianne. “Proctor, if you will honor me with your
presence in my examination room?”

Marianne sighed again and quit her
chair to follow the apothecary.

<<>>

“I need to have my wisdom teeth
aligned,” Marianne told the Admiral. “The Sural’s apothecary said
the toothaches are just going to keep getting worse until I do. The
Tolari have advanced enough dentistry to do it, but they need
anesthetics for it and they don’t have any which will work on me.
They need those and some basic physiological information, and they
can do it.”

“Most people get their alignment done
at age twelve,” the Admiral said with ill humor. “Why didn’t your
parents have it done then?”

Marianne winced a little. “They had
other worries at the time.”

The Admiral grunted. “All right, I
think I can okay this on my own authority, but I want to check on a
few things first to be sure. I’ll get back to you tomorrow on
it.”

“That’s more than soon enough,
Admiral. It’s not an emergency.”

“Howard out.”

<<>>

Marianne fidgeted with her hands as
the Sural’s head apothecary prepared her for the procedure. The
apothecary, a serene and graying woman who went about her work with
grace and a sure touch, shunned the dental instruments phased down
from the ship in favor of her own arcane devices.

After making sure Marianne couldn’t
feel what she did, she prodded and pulled with various gadgets for
what felt like a half hour. Marianne had no idea what the woman
did. From cheekbones to chin she had no feeling, and she wasn’t
even sure when her mouth was open or shut unless her ears happened
to wiggle. She closed her eyes and recited poetry to herself,
trying to ignore the strange non-sensation, until the apothecary
called her name to get her attention.

“We are finished, proctor,” she
said.

Marianne opened her eyes and tried to
smile. The lower half of her face refused to work. She would have
frowned, but she couldn’t do that either. She knitted her eyebrows
together.

“Forgive me, proctor, but your ship
did not phase down an antidote for the anesthetic,” the healer
apologized. “It will be some time before sensation returns. Until
it does, I suggest you drink with care and avoid eating. You will
have some discomfort. When you need relief from it, have a servant
summon me.”

Marianne nodded. She sat up and bowed
her gratitude rather than try to speak and embarrass herself. The
apothecary accompanied her to the door of her quarters. She bowed
her thanks again and headed to her sleeping mat for a
nap.

The next morning, she could eat
nothing for the pain in her face and had to make a morning meal of
tea. As she sipped, its warmth soothed her aching jaws. Absorbed in
her misery, she didn’t notice the Sural until he took his usual
place at the table. Kyza carried her food into the
kitchen.

“Proctor,” the Sural said. Something
in his tone prompted her to meet his eyes. His brows creased
together, and his mouth was a horizontal slash. “It is not only for
your own sake you must see my apothecary.” He nodded toward the
kitchen. “Our children find pain in others difficult to tolerate.
Kyza is avoiding you for it.”