A Thousand Words For Stranger (10th Anniversary Edition) (37 page)

Terk, on the other hand, looked decidedly surly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Bowman wants your hide. The word’s out on you at last, Morgan—”

“You agreed to follow our orders, Enforcer,” Barac said mildly enough. Terk scowled but subsided.

“How can he help us find Sira and Yihtor?” Rael’s brow was raised in inquiry. “He has no power.”

Morgan laid one hand affectionately on the control panel before the pilot’s couch. “Ah, but our good Enforcer’s an expert with scanning equipment—”

“Of which I’ve seen none on this scow of yours.”

Morgan cheerfully ignored Terk’s interruption, and shook his head at Huido’s growl. “We do have Terk. And we have a pilot—a much better pilot, I add with all modesty. We each have our gifts, Russ. And we have the Fox—a much better name than Wayfarer, don’t you agree. So if Yihtor has built himself a city, we should be able to find it.” During this little speech, Morgan moved over to the panel before the copilot’s couch. He touched a series of buttons seemingly at random, then stood motionless, eyes shut, hands steepled in a gesture that drew surprised approbation from Barac.

“Mind-locked. When did you—” Then he, too, was silent as the panel slowly flipped itself until an entirely new array of levers, buttons, and screens were revealed. Terk exclaimed incoherently, rushing forward to peer greedily at the exposed instruments. Barac opened his mouth, then closed it over a question he doubted would be answered.

Morgan stood back, watching quietly. Rael turned and looked at him. “See? I can be useful, Clanswoman,” he said in a low voice, pitched for her ears only.

“Very useful, Human,” she agreed in a similar tone. “Good. I dislike wasting my time or strength.” Then Rael shrugged. “We’re reasonable people. We would have delayed restoring you had we known you couldn’t provide the locate. We wouldn’t have harmed you.”

“And if I come between Sira and the Clan?” A mere whisper of sound. Morgan’s pale face was impossible to read. He might have been asking the time.

“An unwise position,” Rael narrowed her eyes in speculation as she looked at Morgan. “Unwise and dangerous.” Suddenly, her mouth twitched into a tiny, conspiratorial smile. “You begin to interest me, Human.”

Morgan bowed slightly. “I’m honored, Clanswoman.”

Rael’s voice remained light, but there was no mistaking the warning in her eyes. “Just don’t get in my way.”

Chapter 26

THE boredom of waiting out the paralysis of the stunner had blurred into a long, unexpectedly peaceful sleep. I woke easily, lying in the silent darkness, letting the bits and pieces of days before drift past and sort themselves into order. Events had worked in my favor after all; Morgan and Huido should be safe with Rael. Yihtor? Yihtor was a distant problem.

And I was safe—safe and hidden where no one could find me. Locating through the M’hir to another person took intimate knowledge: the kind I’d gained of Huido from Morgan’s mind during our heart-search for the Carasian; the kind which had settled around the edges of my link to Morgan. Who would know me? Only Morgan knew
this
Sira, and he wouldn’t help my enemies; one of the very few things of which I was sure.

Later, after a carefully rationed meal from Rael’s supplies, I sat looking out over the mist-hung treetops, admiring the myriad stars of Acranam’s night sky. The occasional grunt and rustle from the forest below echoed into a deep peace. This momentary freedom, this solitude, slipped around my thoughts like a cooling ointment. I stretched back against the rock, relaxed enough to want to think. Was I any wiser concerning the Sira-that-had-been? Or her business here?

I itemized what I knew, marking each recollection with a poke into the moss by my feet. Rael called me a Chooser—as had Yihtor. The term meant nothing to me, I thought, then frowned; it had been important enough to them. Yihtor had been furious when he thought I wasn’t one, then placated when his probing reassured him I remained at least partially as he expected.

I paused to drink slowly from my canteen. Okay. So what was a Chooser? Someone who selected or chose something. What? Oh, yes. I felt my cheeks warm as I remembered what Rael said: a life-partner. That was clear enough. Yet Rael referred to this business of Choice as if it had nothing to do with me, but rather was decided by some ruling Council and, more puzzling, by this power in my mind.

I watched a shooting star trail across the night sky as the answers slid into place with a neatness that signified the truth, or at least a good part of it. What I thought of as an evil force, that darkness which menaced Morgan yet saved me from Yihtor—I couldn’t control it, not to any extent.

So I’d been right, in a way, to wonder if a mental disorder had led to my imprisonment among the Clan. Something inside, something a part of me, was capable of acting on its own. Those actions, not mine, were the source of the Clan’s concern.

Nice to have a clear goal,
I decided, satisfied by my reasoning if not its result. I’d have to learn to control this force within me before I went back to my friends. Friends? Kin? I stabbed a finger into the moss, reaching the grit and rock beneath. How could I claim any connection to people I didn’t know?

A dark cloud drifted by and a face formed where the light of the rising moons brightened it to soft gray. I almost whispered his name, then stopped, overcome by a sudden agony of self-consciousness. A ridiculous reaction, considering how alone I was.

I hated being alone. Hated being away from
him,
the correction coming from some uncontrolled place in my mind. I ignored the words and almost the thought. I was used to fighting myself by now. And to winning.

So much for the romantic jungle hermitage—given that I was equal to the task of surviving away from civilization anyway. At least my ability on that score needn’t be tested for a while, I mused, one hand resting on the plump pack I’d stocked, was it only yesterday?

My shoulders were beginning to ache; the rock wall I was leaning against had grown cold. Reluctantly, I decided to withdraw inside to the warmth of Huido’s heating box for the night. I took one last look at the now cloudless sky, feeling just as empty and cold. I bit my lip until it hurt. I would not be controlled by some mindless force of instinct. I quivered with the effort to remain rational, calm, in command of myself. My hair stirred.

Stirred? I reached my hand cautiously upward only to snatch it back as a lock lifted softly to meet my fingers. Suddenly I was blinded by clouds of hair growing longer, lusher, vitalized by some life of its own.

I tried to contain the stuff into some kind of order, then ceased, helpless as hair wove itself about my fingers. Moments later, I found myself cautiously moving aside long strands which flowed with unfamiliar weight over and past my shoulders. By moons’ light, it was beautiful, glowing, with glints of deep gold.

Eventually, the stuff hung quiescent down to my waist, no longer crackling with life, at last behaving more like hair. But such hair! I stroked the heaviness of it with an almost guilty delight, distrustful of its origin.

When I finally settled beside Huido’s box for a hopefully uneventful sleep, I took some of my new hair in one hand and rubbed it slowly against my cheek, breathing its brand-new scent. My blocked memory seemed closer somehow. I almost caught hold of something vital, then hissed with frustration as the thought swirled out of reach and was gone again.
Patience,
I told myself sternly. The present was becoming more complicated than my past. Tomorrow would be soon enough to begin exploring the source of my problems.

 
Awake, I’d been careful not to let my thoughts stray toward dangerous territory. Asleep, and dreaming, though my mental barriers remained in place, the rest of my mind began to drift. I dreamed a face, imagined it smiling in welcome, and greeted it like a fool.
Jason.

Only a dream, yet the face lost expression—hiding behind that mask of protective stillness Morgan could assume so easily. The eyes searched, but didn’t see me.
Rael? Is that you?
His lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear sound, only feel the words.
Rael?

It’s Sira,
I corrected him, strangely loath to be so mistaken, even in a dream. What was wrong with him?
Are you all right?

Rael, come quickly
—I was shocked when my sister’s face came into view alongside Morgan’s. She was looking at him with a question in her dark eyes, one hand lazily sweeping heavy black hair back over her shoulder. I stared at the picture formed by the two of them, tormented beyond reason yet unable to look away—to wake up—to refuse the vision or the pain it brought. Somehow I fought the blackness rising inside me. Somehow I kept still. Until at last, exhausted, I was able to open my eyes and erase the final dreadful image of Rael’s slender fingers on Morgan’s brow.

The sun was already up, sending fingers of dust-filled light into the back corners of Huido’s cave. I took a carelessly generous drink, then compounded my folly by pouring more of the canteen’s contents over my hot face.

It had been more than a dream, I told myself grimly. Less than real, perhaps, but with sufficient truth in it to make me think. My sister was everything I wasn’t— beautiful, mature, whole. Why shouldn’t Morgan be with her? Maybe even want her?

I shook my head to clear it, but couldn’t. The rational part of my brain was aghast at the depth of my jealousy. Who was I to presume I knew Morgan’s mind? And what about my sister? Surely Rael should be able to choose for herself.

Why had I used that word? The canteen dropped to the floor where the last of its contents poured out unheeded, darkening the sand of the cave floor. Choose. Chooser. The darkness buried deep within me had indeed made its Choice. I felt short of air as the inevitable reared up to confront me. Of course I was jealous of Rael. Or rather my power’s dark aspect knew jealousy. I remembered the compulsions I felt on the
Fox,
how I had been drawn to Morgan before I’d ever developed any true feelings for him. Jason Morgan, though he was mercifully unaware of it, had been chosen by that obscenity within me.

I spotted the now-empty canteen and picked it up absently—far more concerned with the implications of this latest revelation. What was I now, if this meant I’d made a choice? A Chooser—or some other Clan thing I didn’t know? Yihtor sensed something different about me, something he didn’t understand. What did it all mean to Morgan, who was, after all, Human and not Clan? Could I go to him safely or not?

My instant desire to go to Morgan was almost overpowering; the thought made my heart pound wildly and the blackness in me rise again.

I gripped the strap of the canteen tightly, made myself think about another need. I was thirsty. I built up the thought of thirst until I could almost imagine my lips were dry. It was a relief to have my mind and body agree on something.

I could see the small stream from the cave, threading its glistening path along the base of the rocks and vanishing quickly under the forest canopy. The sun was bright, forcing me to narrow my eyes to slits, but it wasn’t high enough to produce the punishing heat so apparent in Yihtor’s stronghold.

It took all my attention to slide down the talus slope under some sort of control. With each step, my foot sank into pebbles and I slipped more than walked. Huido could never have made it without falling.

As I scrabbled at loose stone to slow my headlong rush downward, something struck me from behind. The shock of the blow sent me flying all the way to the narrow streambed, scraping elbows and knees. I had time for a too-close glimpse of formidable claws and a drooling, fanged mouth before concentrating with frantic speed. I
pushed
. . .

. . . and sprawled on the cool earthen floor of the cave. I didn’t dare look outside. Such was the power of suggestion, my mouth was already feeling thick and dry. Once my nerves settled, I would have to try to reach the stream again. But next time I would step through the M’hir, Morgan’s blaster ready in my hand.

“Rael, come quickly!” Morgan’s voice was low-pitched, but with an underlying urgency that drew the Clanswoman to his side immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s something—someone—here. No,” a disgusted shake of his head, “whatever it was is gone now.”

Rael glanced around the small galley. They were alone, Barac taking his turn resting in Morgan’s cabin while Huido and Terk manned the controls. The ship was in low orbit around Acranam, sweeping from pole to pole. Rael returned her gaze to the Human, one brow raised curiously. “What did you feel?” Her fingers hovered over his forehead.

“My name—an unclear image. I thought at first it was you trying to contact me.”

Rael looked faintly insulted. “Why would I do that, Human?”

“Forgive me, Clanswoman.” Morgan chose to be amused, but on another level he was impatient. “Who else or what else could it have been?”

“You’d know Yihtor’s touch?”

“I’ll never forget it. It wasn’t him. And my shields are tight. How would he have found me?”

Rael chewed on a thought for a moment, her expression showing distaste. “Could it have been Sira?” she asked with obvious reluctance.

“It was very strange, faint. No, I don’t think so. I’d know Sira.”

“Do you really think you know my sister?” Rael’s smile was condescending.

“Do you?”

Rael bristled. “Of course. I’m her sister, and heart-kin as well.”

“And what does that matter? Sira barely remembers your face.” Morgan shrugged slightly. “I don’t mean any insult, Gentle Fem. The reality is that you and I know different Siras.” He pointed to the servo-kitchen. “Care for a drink? The selection’s fair, as I’m sure Barac’s discovered.”

The Clanswoman accepted graciously, but her dark eyes continued to smolder as she took a seat opposite Morgan. “One thing I want you to remember, Captain. Sira is Clan— not Human. All your dealings with her must be based on that fact.”