A Thousand Words For Stranger (10th Anniversary Edition) (42 page)

After a while, I realized we weren’t alone. Two slumbering forms, swathed in blankets, lay on the edge of the firelight. Reflections from two dozen shiny disks marked the spot under the trees where Huido stood, a silent sentry. I waved a greeting to the huge creature before asking Morgan silently:
Barac and Rael?

I couldn’t have reached you without them, Sira.
Morgan’s mental voice bubbled with the same joy I felt. Then a hint of something not quite so happy.
They’re not a threat to you.

No threat to me?
I replied somewhat curtly, while at the same time nestling more firmly against him.
A threat to you, certainly. A threat to
us,
beyond any doubt.

Light fingers stroked my hair, investigating its new fullness. I closed my eyes, not needing vision, feeling the living stuff quiver under Morgan’s touch, winding in soft whirls around his hand, slipping up his arm to whisper across his cheek. “Sorceress,” Morgan growled out loud, but very quietly, his other hand buried deep in the hair at the back of my neck.

How inevitable, that I should turn in his light hold to look up and see how his blue eyes darkened. Inevitable, that my aching right hand should search out and grip his warmly in the welcome Yihtor had thought to force. In answer to some echoing need of his own, Morgan’s mouth lost its smile, coming down to press with infinite gentleness on mine. This was all there was, and should be, to life—a mutual comfort and excitement beyond any of my imaginings.

Soon I pulled away, wary of the growing restlessness within my thinly-controlled power, softening the movement with a smile from deep inside.
I mustn’t lose my concentration, Captain,
I sent with a teasing note new to me.
Seeing as I’m all that keeps our prisoner in his current amiable state.

Morgan shifted me rather unceremoniously to the soft moss, jumping up to walk rapidly to where Huido leaned sleepily against a tree trunk able to dwarf even his dimensions. Puzzled, but intrigued, I watched as the two of them conversed briefly, then came back to the fire, Huido’s assortment of weapons and tools clattering with each hasty step.

The noise of Huido’s approach was enough to disturb the sleepers; each in turn sat up with almost comic haste when they saw me sitting comfortably by the fire, hands stretched to its warmth. Rael recovered first and rushed to kneel by my side, reached to embrace me then stopped—perceptive enough to recognize my involuntary stiffening as a warning. “Sira. I’m so glad you’re all right—” she began, beautiful eyes sparkling with tears.

“Is she?” Barac asked, his question aimed at Morgan. I bristled.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask, Barac?” There was a fury in me I didn’t quite understand.

“My apologies,
Chosen.
”

“Barac!” Rael exclaimed, her anger amplified by her aroused power.

He spread his arms wide. “Am I struck dead? By your outrage—or by the unleashing of a true Chooser?”

“Enough.” Morgan’s voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking its authority. He stepped forward, a small black case in one outstretched hand. “Huido’s looked after this memento of the
Torquad
for me. I thought it might come in handy.” A click and the lid opened, revealing contents with which I was regrettably most familiar. I smiled.

“A mind control drug—developed by Yihtor,” I said for the Clans’ benefit. “Its effect is temporary.” Morgan sent me a flash of comfort; a vow of protection mixed with a plea for my approval. I gave it with a nod, appreciating the irony. Morgan knelt beside Yihtor’s body and prepared the syringe.

“Human, we can’t permit this,” Barac protested. “It is forbidden—”

“I can’t hold him forever,” I snapped.

Barac frowned, looking from the unconscious Clansman to me in bewilderment. “But how are you holding him at all? I sense no output.”

“Be grateful you don’t, Cousin,” Rael said slowly, comprehension warring with disbelief on her face. “Don’t you see? Sira has mastered the Power-of-Choice.”

“Impossible,” Barac said, a humoring tone to his voice. “That can’t be. Besides, she’s Commenced—”

“Morgan, please,” I urged him. They could talk all they wanted once I was free. Morgan reached for Yihtor’s arm. His hand slowed as another tried to control it.

“How dare you!” I lashed out at Barac, severing his line of force. Before Rael could interfere, I expanded my shield to include Morgan, feeling him reinforce his own barriers. I relaxed, but glared a warning at my sister and cousin.

“There. Release him now, Sira,” Morgan said, tossing the case back to Huido. The Carasian snapped it from the air with definite satisfaction. Rael and Barac looked ill. Well, they’d never been at Yihtor’s mercy, or Roraqk’s. I had no sympathy for them, their Clan morals, or Yihtor.

I closed my eyes to concentrate. There’d been no point telling Morgan I wasn’t sure I knew how to pull my power’s doppelganger out of Yihtor’s mind. I needn’t have worried. As I extended my thoughts outward and touched the Power-of-Choice tentatively, it snapped back to me like an elastic cord, burning and sharp on contact. In a panic, I withdrew deeper into myself. I felt it boil outward in search of Morgan.

I knew how to stop that. Fighting pain, I encompassed and buried the blackness, shivering as it rumbled and complained. Done. But my preoccupation kept me from withdrawing before Yihtor regained consciousness. Suddenly, I was aware of him at every level of my mind.

His emotions threatened to drown me. I barely flung one off when another hammered at my deepest shields: lust, hatred, pride, ambition. Overlying them all was need and triumph. He was free!

Then, I shared his horror as he discovered his power dwindled into its drugged coma. Or was I remembering my own despair? I was shaking, my head whipping back and forth, my teeth puncturing my lips. No. I was being shaken, that recognition enough to bring me completely back to myself.

When I opened my eyes and looked at Morgan, he released his bruising grip on my shoulders and gathered me close, muttering something that was part apology and part scolding. I tasted the blood in my mouth. My neck felt like rubber and I ached from spine to forehead. But I was free of Yihtor. I pushed myself back so I could meet Morgan’s concerned eyes. “Was that the easiest method?” I asked him, rubbing my head. He shrugged.

“It worked.”

Yihtor sat hunched before the fire, eyes squeezed shut, barely breathing. Huido stood behind him, close enough that his sponge-toed feet were on either side of the Clansman. Yihtor didn’t appear to notice. Barac stared at me, an odd mix of resignation and longing in his firelit face.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me, Barac,” I said. “Rael was right; I’ve learned to control what she called the Power-of-Choice. You’re safe. And so are you, Jason,” I added, holding out my hand. Ignoring Barac’s choked warning. Morgan wrapped his fingers around mine confidently, looking down at me with that warmth deep in his eyes.

“No!” Yihtor’s hoarse shout surprised us all. I felt a jolt of fear as I watched him leap to his feet, power and grace in every move. But Huido’s clawed arms moved even faster, the heavier, larger handling claws spanning Yihtor’s waist and lifting him overhead as the two finer arms clamped the Clansman’s arms to his sides. Paired needle-sharp points slid from the shadow of the Carasian’s head carapace, their tips aglitter in the firelight.

“No. Don’t hurt him,” Rael said quickly. “Please. He can be helped by our people. We mustn’t waste his power.”

The Carasian ignored her, busy turning Yihtor this way and that, angling those killing fangs as if deciding upon the best spot to strike. His movements were ponderous, his violence inevitable rather than sudden. The Clansman yammered something.

I watched, my first reaction of hot satisfaction dissolving. Were we no better than Roraqk now, to kill a helpless prisoner? I eyed Huido’s immense form dubiously. Convincing him wasn’t within my ability.

Meanwhile, Morgan had slipped close to his friend. He rapped his knuckles on one armored shoulder to get Huido’s attention. One eye bent to look at him, unwillingly, I thought.

“You know you always get sick afterward,” Morgan said very calmly, though he had to shout to be heard over Yihtor’s screams.

Huido shuddered, making a rain on tin sound. Morgan put his foot into the Carasian’s knee joint, using it as a stair so he could reach over to grab the Carasian’s fangs. Huido froze, all his eyes whipping down to Morgan. His claws opened slowly, dropping Yihtor to the ground where the Clansman huddled groaning, arms tight around his middle.

Morgan let go and jumped down. Huido’s eyestalks parted, his fangs vanishing into shadows. With another shudder, he lurched away into the dark. “You’ll thank me later,” Morgan called after him.

Rael had watched curiously as Morgan bandaged Yihtor’s broken ribs, then sedated the morose Clansman. She apparently could have healed him using her power, but, in her words, she wasn’t a charity. Huido stood guard, Yihtor having been put into the escape pod once I’d finished changing into real clothes again. The Carasian seemed totally recovered from his killing frenzy, and spent his time transferring a nutrient broth Morgan had found for him from handling claw to mouth.

The flowers’ light faded quickly in the predawn glow. We shared a breakfast of emergency rations with a false camaraderie, avoiding the arguments to come. Afterward, Morgan took Barac with him to scout the immediate area; the Human, despite his own abilities, carried an assortment of tiny detecting devices which Barac viewed with scorn.

Rael and I could see them occasionally through gaps between the trees. I stretched lazily, soaking up the peacefulness of the growing things around and above us. The air was fresh, scented, and warm.

“You know him better than we do,” Rael said suddenly. I rolled over to look up at her.

“Morgan?”

She checked the ground before sitting on a corner of blanket. “His shielding is remarkable—for a Human.”

I kept my grin to myself. “Frustrated?”

Rael’s full lips curved in a rueful smile. “Totally. I’m used to our kind, to sharing emotions, reasons, arguments. With Morgan, I have to look at his face before I know if he’s going to agree or disagree—and then I’m never sure anyway. Tell me, Sira. What does he think of us? And why has he helped you?”

I rolled onto my back again and studied the puzzle of leaves overhead. The flowers were closed into tight shiny globes. I watched as a furred animal hung by its tail to pick and chew one with relish. “Morgan’s my Captain. Spacers take care of their own.” Before Rael choked on that, I added: “I expect he thinks you’re arrogant, self-centered, and beautiful.”

She laughed. “And I think you’re impossible these days, Sira di Sarc!” I peered at her, my peace of mind shattered by the name. Rael didn’t seem to notice. She was gazing around the campsite and surrounding forest. “I can’t wait to get back to Deneb,” she said abruptly, giving an exaggerated shiver. “This overgrown garden is no place for civilized beings.”

“I like it.”

Rael laughed again, a sound like tinkling bells. “You’ve never been one to enjoy outsystem lifestyles, Sira. You’ll know better once Cenebar restores your memories.”

I made some excuse so I could move away from her. I didn’t want to hear any more. I liked the sound of Sira di Sarc less and less. I was Sira Morgan. I would stay Sira Morgan.

I looked over to where Morgan and Barac were returning to the camp. Morgan found me immediately, seeking unerringly between the massive root buttresses to where I sat in their shade. A wave of understanding slipped across the surface of my mind, then away, leaving behind a companionable warmth. All this while Barac argued with him, his patronizing tone carrying, if not the words.

Rael stood and moved aside as Morgan came near, a graceful and, I thought, involuntary motion. She, like Barac, found Morgan’s humanness almost intolerable.

Restore my memories? If they would make me see Morgan the way Barac and Rael saw him, if they cost me the smallest part of my feelings for him—I didn’t want them.

Chapter 31

“I BELIEVE you believe what you say,” I conceded, trying hard to sound interested.

Rael and Barac had finally brought their discussion of my future to a halt. Huido was apparently asleep standing up, though somehow I doubted the Carasian’s inattention was as blatant as it seemed. Morgan was, to all appearances, engrossed in carving a piece of soft wood with a small knife; he leaned lazily on an elbow at my side.

“You’re trying to ignore the truth!” Rael was close to exasperation. “I don’t understand you. Why won’t you let us discuss this with you properly?”

I didn’t bother to answer that again. Rael and Barac were, or at least acted, deeply insulted by my insistence on verbal communication. Their reaction was understandable, though I disliked making them angry. In a way, it was their own fault. They’d convinced me of their desperation that I accept their decisions. So how could I trust them in my mind?

They’d abandoned hints or veiled meanings quite early, once it was plain I couldn’t understand them. What I could understand, as plainly as if it were shouted, was that both Rael and Barac had secrets, secrets they especially wanted to keep from Morgan.

“Come with us. You must return to Camos,” Rael said, perhaps mistaking my long pause for wavering. “It’s possible Cenebar can even do something about your condition.” Her eyes flicked over my coveralls.

I see nothing to improve,
a sly mental voice intruded. I glanced down to see Morgan’s warm grin. A rush of blood to my cheeks brought an answering smile. The innocent exchange didn’t escape Rael.

“How can you be so blind!” It was almost a shout. I faced her again, my own anger rising only to be quelled as her passionate outburst continued. “You haven’t made Choice, Sira, either by Council sanction or by the realities of life. You’re somehow hanging in the midst: kept from killing the unChosen—and your precious Human—by the most unnatural self-control ever conceived! How long can it last? Another hour? A day?”