B00CH3ARG0 EBOK (15 page)

The Sural stared at Marianne with accusation in his eyes, brows
climbing up his forehead.

“I didn’t tell her,” she said.

He turned to Laura and studied her. Marianne felt frank
admiration filter through him.

“I will consider your request,” he replied.

“Beloved, if she remains on Tolar as a human, she’ll develop
malnutrition eating the few foods not toxic to her,” Marianne pointed out. “I
had to have supplements from the ship to stay healthy.”

“No, it was necessary to allow Central Command to believe
that we could not provide for your nutritional needs. In truth, we could have. It
will not be difficult to provide Laura with the supplements she requires to be
healthy, for as long as she desires to remain human.”

“Laura,” she added, “it’s irreversible. If you become
Tolari, you can never change back, and … and this isn’t a bad thing, but you
need to know that you’ll live a long time.”

“How long a time?”

Marianne hesitated. “Centuries.”

Laura blanched. “Even longer to be a widow.” She looked down
at her hands. “It’s bad enough I have a good eighty or ninety years left to
me.”

“Beloved,” the Sural said softly to Marianne, “I must return
to my work.” He touched her face with his fingertips, sending an empathic pulse
of desire, which left her breathless. Then he pulled away and winked out of
sight.

Marianne blushed and fanned herself with a hand, catching
her breath.

Laura gave her a quizzical look. “Something just happened
between you two.”

Marianne coughed. “Tolari have more than one way to express their
feelings.”

“Are all Tolari men like that?” she asked, staring at the
space where he’d been.

“I don’t know. The Sural is the only man I’ve ever had,
Tolari or human.”

“Like a Latin lover, dark and passionate.”

“Very passionate,” Marianne said, blushing again. “I don’t
know why he did that. He used to be so intent on concealing Tolari emotion from
humans.”

“I did just decide to stay.”

“True.” She cocked her head. “Suralians are known for being
more reserved than the rest of the Tolari, but come to think of it, the Sural
has been less reserved since we bonded.”

Laura grinned. “Why do you always call him ‘the Sural’? Doesn’t
he have a name?”

“He used to, but not anymore.”

“What?” Laura’s mouth was pulled to one side, her forehead
wrinkled in consternation.

“Tolari rulers have their names taken away from them when
they take power. They believe they become living representations of their
provinces, and a name somehow gets between them and identifying completely with
their people. In place of their names, they’re called either by a title based
on the name of their province, or sometimes by the name of the province itself.

“That’s how I understand it, anyway,” she went on. “I asked
him once what his name was before he became the Sural. You should have seen
him. He looked at me as if I were a poisonous snake. The name his father gave
him is never spoken. By anyone. Ever. Apparently I was lucky that he was able
to fight his instinct to throw me out of Suralia. That’s what he would have
done to a Tolari who asked that question.”

“Huh.”

“He
is
Suralia. His life is tied to it. If Suralia
were destroyed, he would walk into the dark – stop his heart and his neural activity
and die. If he died in dishonor, it would go through his ruling bond and affect
every man, woman, and child in Suralia. They would all follow him into the
dark.”

“Including you?”

Marianne nodded. “I pledged my life to his.”

Laura shuddered. “Would I have to do that?”

“No, not if you don’t become Suralian,” Marianne answered. “You’re
under his protection, but as long as you don’t belong to another province, you
can stay in the stronghold indefinitely. You wouldn’t have rank or status,
either, but that’s not really much of a factor at this point.”

“Would they really do that? Commit mass suicide for him?”

Marianne shuddered. “I saw it happen to another province
after the
Alexander
left,” she answered softly. “More than three hundred
thousand people.”

“Oh. My.”

* * *

“Laura agreed to let Cena take the locater chip out,”
Marianne told the Sural at the midday meal, when he asked the whereabouts of
his new guest. “She’s still unconscious in the apothecaries’ quarters.”

“Excellent,” the Sural said. He took a bite of fruit and
mused. “It would be preferable now if she learned our language.”

“Hmm,” Marianne said, her mouth full. She swallowed. “She
may have some difficulty with that.”

“Explain.”

“She was a ship’s wife for ... I don’t know. A lot of years.
Anyway, in spite of that she still speaks only English. She should have picked
up at least one or two other languages over the years. Some humans are never
able to master a second language, and I think she’s one of them.”

The Sural nodded, his dark eyes thoughtful. “Let us see what
Storaas can do for her.”

A servant winked into sight in front of Marianne. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Howard will wake soon, high one,” the servant said, and
disappeared again.

Marianne got up to leave. The Sural caught her hand. She
smiled, sent him an empathic surge of affection, and pulled away to head for
Cena’s quarters.

Laura was stirring when she arrived. Cena scanned her.

She opened her eyes and immediately squinted. “Oh my head,”
she said. She looked up at Marianne. “You weren’t kidding about the headache.” She
groaned.

Marianne took her hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze.

“Do you want something for the pain?” Cena asked.

She nodded, the movement making her groan again. Cena helped
her sit up and handed her a small opaque vial. Marianne rolled her eyes. Laura
started to drink and stopped. “PAH!” She spluttered and gagged. “That’s
horrible!”

“Best to knock it back in one gulp,” Marianne said. “I think
Cena makes her potions taste bad on purpose.”

Cena’s mouth twitched.

Laura took a breath, held it, and swallowed the rest in one
go. She spluttered again, gagging and wincing.

“Good job,” Marianne said, patting her shoulder. Laura’s
eyes began to glaze. Cena helped her to lie back again.

“She will sleep through the afternoon,” Cena told Marianne
in a quiet voice. “She should wake before the evening meal.”

Marianne nodded. “You destroyed the chip?”

“Yes, high one. It is dust.”

* * *

Marianne escorted a subdued but ambulatory Laura to the
refectory that evening. While the Sural was absorbed with two of his agricultural
advisors, quietly discussing restoration of the destroyed cropland in Terelia,
Marianne busied herself with making sure that Laura used the food scanner
properly and answering her many questions.

“So now will you tell me why they keep calling you ‘high
one’?” Laura asked.

Marianne laughed. “Because I’m a member of the ruling caste.”

“No, seriously?”

“Seriously. They made me a member of the ruling caste –
though why, I couldn’t tell you. It’s never made any sense to me. But if you
look at the collar and cuffs of my robe,” she held up a wrist and pointed at it,
“there’s this embroidery. It tells you my status. Only ruling caste can wear it.”

“It’s pretty,” Laura said. “So it’s a sign of rank? Like the
pips on an admiral’s collar?”

“Exactly like that. The Sural’s robe is covered all the way
down to the hem because he’s also the planetary ruler. Provincial rulers just
have it down to the waist.”

“And you don’t know why they made you ruling caste.”

“I have no idea at all. It’s not like I could ever rule
Suralia, or any other province, for that matter.”

As they took their food to the high table, Laura had a
pensive look.

“Is something wrong?” Marianne asked.

“Did it hurt?”

“Did what hurt?”

“Taking the blessing, or however you say it. Turning Tolari.”

“No, no, you’d be fine. You sleep for half a day and wake up
with everything … different. When I woke up— I don’t know how to describe it. Kyza
said something to me, and I could hear things in her voice I’d never heard
before. I could feel where the Jorann, the Sural, and Kyza were sitting around
me, before I opened my eyes, and I could smell them, too.

“Food tastes different now. The grain rolls don’t taste
spicy to me. The fruit that was safe for me to eat when I was human is too rich
and sweet for me to eat very much. And music – oh Laura, you should hear the
music!”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Guilt stabbed Marianne. “I shouldn’t go on about it.”

Laura gave her a warm smile. “No, whether I decide to do it
or not, whether the Sural says yes or no, I’d like to know. Go on.”

“Well ... then there are bonds. They’re hard to describe. I
told you the Sural and I are bonded. That means I can feel his emotions as if
they were my own, and I can also sense him wherever he is. And when we touch
...” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Even just holding his hand, I can get
inside him, inside his feelings, where he lives.” She glanced over at him. “He’s
glorious inside.” She sighed and looked back at Laura. “I don’t know why he
loves me.”

“Oh, Marianne. You don’t give yourself any credit.”

“I’m not like you, Laura. I don’t come from Boston
aristocracy, or any kind of wealth. I come from generations of dirt farmers. I
never did anything important before I came here – I just taught young people
how to speak Spanish in a little town in the middle of nowhere. There’s really
nothing to me. But the Sural ... he’s the son of a 6,000-year-old dynasty. He’s
led his people for over two and a half centuries by Earth’s calendar, and he’ll
keep on leading them until he gets tired of it and gives Suralia to Kyza.”

“Opposites attract.”

Marianne snorted her tea and coughed. Cena looked over from
where she was sharing a meal with Storaas, studying Marianne briefly before
returning to her conversation.

“Seriously,” Laura said. “Look at me and John. He was this
brilliant young officer when I met him, rising fast, and me… Well, everyone
knows I’m not very bright. I’m just average at best, and that’s being generous.
I was pretty enough when I was young, but none of his friends really understood
what he saw in me other than my looks. I couldn’t keep up with him when he was
talking about his work.”

“What do you think he saw in you?”

“I could always tell what he was feeling. I was always there
for him. He called me his Rock of Gibraltar, said he could always count on me
to see to the heart of a matter. He thought I was wonderful.” Her eyes reddened,
glistening with unshed tears. She wiped them away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Marianne said. “I’ve lost people I loved
– my parents, my grandmother. It’s not like losing a husband, but I think I
understand a little. It has to be hard for you to be here, now.”

“We were married for forty-one years.” Laura’s voice was empty.

Marianne hugged her, and the brittle, sharp edge of Laura’s
grief came into focus.
My God
, she thought.
No wonder Tolari so often
follow their bond-partners into the dark.
The sense of loss was
overwhelming, and she couldn’t imagine what Laura was going through, having to
wake up to that every day. She glanced at the Sural again. He was watching
impassively, but she could feel the regret filling him for his part in her
distress. He wasn’t shielding himself from it.

The burden of leadership, she thought, turning back to
Laura.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s take a walk.”

Laura sniffled and nodded, following her out the door to the
gardens.

A fresh breeze and the chattering flutters seemed to help Laura
pull herself together. Marianne reached up and captured a flutter for her by
snaring its senses. It flew down and perched on her fingers.

“The Sural did this for me on my first day on Tolar,” she
said.

“Poor little thing,” Laura crooned at it. “Do you have
babies somewhere?”

Marianne loosed her grip on its senses, and it flew away,
calling and scolding. They both laughed.

It was
so
nice to be in the company of another woman
again, Marianne thought. Then she checked herself. That wasn’t fair. She did
have her friendship with Cena. Still, the busy apothecary never forgot status. Laura,
on the other hand, was unaffected and natural. It just felt good to be ... normal
... as they strolled through the cool of the early evening. Marianne named the
trees and flowers, and some of the species of flutters and insects.

Voices called out from a small gazebo, greeting them in
English. It was Cena and Storaas. Marianne angled toward them.

“This is Storaas,” she told Laura, as they took seats across
from the ancient, white-haired Tolari and his younger companion. “You remember
him from when you arrived? He’s the Sural’s family tutor.”

“Of course,” Laura said, a social smile coming easily to her
face. “How do you do?”

Storaas returned her smile with a warm one of his own. “I am
well, thank you,” he said. “The Sural has asked me to teach you our language.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’ve never been able to learn another language.”

“Then we shall have a challenge together,” he said with
obvious relish.

She laughed. “All right,” she said, and shook a finger at
him. “But don’t ever say I didn’t warn you!”

“I shall endeavor to remember that.” He chuckled, bowing in
his seat.

“So, what are the two of you doing out here?” Laura asked.

“The head apothecary has requested that I father her heir,”
he said placidly. “I am giving the matter some thought.”

“The genetic analysis is exceptional,” Cena added, “And an
apothecary with his sensitivity would be a formidable healer.”